Sea Green Eyes

Chapter 65

"Oh relax," Castor waved. "I stop at the steamy parts. I don't need to see my baby sister be that much of a grown-up."

"Castor!"

"Love you."

Percy bumped her shoulder with his. "Rome was nice too. Before the whole quest thing."

Cressida managed to give him a wicked smirk as she pretended they were anywhere else in the world. "I'd settle for New Rome," she said, completely taking him by surprise. "So long as you're there with me like the parasite you are."

Percy laughed at that as he brought their conjoined hands up to lips and kissed hers. For a moment, Percy actually remembered what it was like to feel happy. He had the most amazing girlfriend in the world. They could have a future together.

"I love you," he said, and her smile grew a bit bigger as some of the tension eased off her shoulders.

"As you should. I am amazing after all."

Percy rolled his eyes. "You could say it back, you know?"

"I could. But it's more fun not to."

"Cress."

"Fine. I love you. Happy?"

"No. Why did that sound like such a chore for you?"

"Because it annoys you when it does, which makes it more amusing for me."

And Percy tugged her lips to his for a quick kiss before they kept walking.

"I love you," she said and now it was Percy's turn to smile.

"Aww. It's cute that you two can still do that bickering thing of yours even when you're heading towards the heart of Hell."

"Castor!" Cressida screeched and he just laughed. "You're such a buzzkill."

"You know, strangely, I've missed hearing those words."

"Oh, well I'm more than happy to insult you."

And for a second, the atmosphere was light before the darkness dispersed with a massive sigh, like the last breath of a dying god. In front of them was a clearing—a barren field of dust and stones. In the centre, about twenty yards away, knelt the gruesome figure of a woman, her clothes tattered, her limbs emaciated, her skin leathery green. Her head was bent as she sobbed quietly, and the sound shattered all Percy's hopes. He realized that life was pointless. His struggles were for nothing. This woman cried as if mourning the death of the entire world.

"We're here," Bob announced. "Akhlys can help. Akhlys!" Bob called.

The creature raised her head, and Percy's stomach screamed, Help me!

Her body was bad enough. She looked like the victim of a famine— limbs like sticks, swollen knees and knobby elbows, rags for clothes, broken fingernails and toenails. Dust was caked on her skin and piled on her shoulders as if she'd taken a shower at the bottom of an hourglass. Her face was utter desolation. Her eyes were sunken and rheumy, pouring out tears. Her nose dripped like a waterfall. Her stringy grey hair was matted to her skull in greasy tufts, and her cheeks were raked and bleeding as if she'd been clawing herself.

Across her knees lay an ancient shield—a battered circle of wood and bronze, painted with the likeness of Akhlys herself holding a shield, so the image seemed to go on forever, smaller and smaller.

"By the gods," Cressida gasped. "That's his shield. I thought Thalia was pulling my leg. I thought it was just a story."

"Oh, no," the old hag wailed. "The shield of Hercules. He painted me on its surface, so his enemies would see me in their final moments—the goddess of misery." She coughed so hard, it made Percy's chest hurt. "As if Hercules knew true misery. It's not even a good likeness!"