The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

28. Going On A Cruise

"It's a ghost ship," he murmured.

"No," Tyson said, fiddling with the strap of his duffel bag. "Bad smell."

"Yep," Ethan confirmed.

Annabeth frowned. "I don't smell anything."

"You're not a satyr or a Cyclops," Ethan told her. "You can't smell monster, remember? But we can. Isn't that right, Tyson?"

Tyson nodded nervously. Now that they were away from Camp Half-Blood, the Mist had distorted his face again. Unless you concentrated very hard, it seemed that he had two eyes instead of one.

"Okay," Annabeth said. "So exactly what do you smell?"

"Something bad," Tyson answered.

"Great," Annabeth grumbled. "That clears it up."

"He's not that wrong," Ethan said. "Actually, me too, I don't know what it is. It's just bad. It's . . . different from anything I've smelled before. Maybe there was something similar in the Underworld, but then, everything smelled weird there."

They came outside on the swimming pool level. There were rows of empty deck chairs and a bar closed off with a chain curtain. The water in the pool glowed eerily, sloshing back and forth from the motion of the ship.

Above them fore and aft were more levels—a climbing wall, a putt-putt golf course, a revolving restaurant, but no sign of life.

And yet . . . Y/N felt something familiar. Something dangerous. He had the feeling that if he weren't so tired and burned out on adrenaline from their long night, he might be able to put a name to what was wrong.

"We need a hiding place," he said. "Somewhere safe to sleep."

"Sleep," Percy agreed wearily.

They explored a few more corridors until they found an empty suite on the ninth level. The door was open, which struck Y/N as weird. There was a basket of chocolate goodies on the table, an iced-down bottle of sparkling cider on the nightstand, and a mint on the pillow with a handwritten note that said: Enjoy your cruise!

They opened their duffel bags for the first time and found that Hermes really had thought of everything—extra clothes, toiletries, camp rations, a Ziploc bag full of cash, a leather pouch full of golden drachmas. He'd even managed to pack Tyson's oilcloth with his tools and metal bits, and Annabeth's cap of invisibility, which made them both feel a lot better.

"I'll be next door," Annabeth said. "You guys don't drink or eat anything."

When she closed the door behind her, Ethan asked Y/N, "You think this place is enchanted?"

He frowned. "I don't know. Something isn't right. Just be careful."

They locked their door.

Tyson crashed on the couch. He tinkered for a few minutes on his metalworking project—which he refused to show to anyone, according to Percy—but soon enough he was yawning. He wrapped up his oilcloth and passed out.

Y/N lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He thought he heard voices out in the hallway, like whispering. He knew that couldn't be. They had walked all over the ship and had seen nobody. But the voices kept him awake.

Panic overcame him at once. He jumped out of the bed and ran to open the door of the suite. No one. The hallway was completely empty. Not a breath of air, not a soul other than his own, Ethan's, Percy's, Tyson's and Annabeth's, who was asleep behind the inside door, if all was well. If all is well, Y/N repeated to himself.