This Cold Year ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase²

―xv. damnation

NAOMI WAS LITTLE MORE THAN A SPECTATOR IN HER OWN SKIN. Her limbs felt heavy, like they weren't quite her own. The voice and words that spilled from her throat weren't hers, either—they were from a god older than time itself. 

Any moment now, Erebus murmured into her mind, one consciousness to another. 

What is this? Tartarus hissed. Why have you come, my disgraced son?

Damasen glanced at Annabeth, urging her on before he turned toward Tartarus. The Maeonian drakon stamped its feet and snarled. 

"Father, you wished for a more worthy opponent?" Damasen asked calmly. "I am one of the giants you are so proud of. You wished me to be more warlike? Perhaps I will start by destroying you!" 

Damasen leveled his lance and charged. 

The monstrous army swarmed him, but with a strength Naomi was surprised he still had, Erebus lifted her hands. Shadows swarmed the monsters closest to them, turning them into golden ash with a single touch, leaving Tartarus, Damasen, and the drakon to their battle. 

Erebus moved Naomi's feet, staggering toward the Doors of Death. Bob stumbled after her, his saber-toothed cat at his side. Percy gave them as much cover as he could—causing blood vessels in the ground to burst one after the other. Some of the remaining monsters were vaporized in Styx water. Others got a Cocytus shower and collapsed, weeping hopelessly. Others still were doused with liquid Lethe and stared blankly around them, no longer sure where they were or even who they were. 

Percy wrapped an arm around Naomi's waist, which was good—even with a god controlling her body, Naomi knew it wouldn't be long at all until she collapsed. Restraining Tartarus, even for a few minutes... it had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. And Erebus had done it for her. 

They reached the Doors. Bob was limping, golden ichor flowing from the wounds on his arms and chest. His janitor's outfit hung in tatters. His posture was twisted and hunched, as if Tartarus's breaking the spear had broken something inside him. Despite all that, he was grinning, his silver eyes bright with satisfaction. 

"Go," he ordered. "I will hold the button." 

Percy gawked at him. "Bob, you're in no condition—" 

"Percy." Annabeth's voice sounded hollow, close to breaking. "We have to."

No.

"We can't just leave them!" Percy protested. 

"You must, friend." Bob clapped Percy on the arm, nearly knocking him and Naomi over. "I can still press a button. And I have a good cat to guard me."

Small Bob the saber-toothed tiger growled in agreement. 

"Besides," Bob said, "it is your destiny to return to the world. Put an end to this madness of Gaea."

A screaming Cyclops, sizzling from poison spray, sailed over their heads. 

Fifty yards away, the Maeonian drakon trampled through monsters, its feet making sickening squish squish noise as if stomping grapes. On its back, Damasen yelled insults and jabbed at the god of the pit, taunting Tartarus farther away from the Doors. 

Tartarus lumbered after him, his iron boots making craters in the ground. 

You cannot kill me! he bellowed. I am the pit itself. You might as well try to kill the earth. Gaea and I—we are eternal. We own you, flesh and spirit!

He brought down his massive fist, but Damasen sidestepped, impaling his javelin in the side of Tartarus's neck. 

Tartarus growled, apparently more annoyed than hurt. He turned his swirling vacuum face toward the giant, but Damasen got out of the way in time. A dozen monsters were sucked into the vortex and disintegrated.