𝔗𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔶 - 𝔉𝔢𝔪𝔒ℭ𝔵𝔏𝔢𝔬 𝔙𝔞𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔷

17. I Hate Florida

"Kiera, wake up."

Salt water splashed in my face. Percy was shaking my shoulder.

In the distance, the sun was setting behind a city skyline. I could see a beachside highway lined with palm trees, storefronts glowing  with red and blue neon, a harbor filed with sailboats and cruise ships.

"Miami, I think," Annabeth said. "But the hippocampi are acting funny."

Sure enough, our fishy friends had slowed down and we're whinnying and swimming in circles, sniffing the water. They didn't look happy. One of them sneezed. I could tell what they were thinking.

"This is as far as they'll take us." Percy said.

 I nodded. "Too many humans. Too much pollution. We'll have to swim to shore by ourselves."

None of us were very psyched about that, but we thanked Rainbow and the others for the ride. Tyson cried a little. He unfastened the makeshift saddle pack he'd made, which contained his tool kit and a couple of other things he'd salvaged from the Birmingham  wreck. He hugged Rainbow around the neck, gave him a soggy mango he'd pocked up on the island, and said good-bye.

Once the hippocampi's white manes disappeared into the sea, we swam for shore. The waves pushed us forward, and in no time we were back in the mortal world. We wandered along the cruise line docks, pushing through crowds of people arriving for vacations. Porters bustles around with carts of luggage. Taxi drivers yelled at each other in Spanish and tried to cut in line for customers.

Now that we were back among mortals, Tyson's single eye had blurred from the Mist. Grover had put on his cap and sneakers. Even the Fleece had transformed from a sheepskin to a red-and-gold high school letter jacket with a large glittery Omega on the pocket. I had to dry us all of because Percy was too busy trying to talk to the fish around us. 

Annabeth ran to the nearest newspaper box and checked the date on the Miami Herald.  She cursed. "Shit! It's June eighteenth! We've been away from camp ten days!"

"That's impossible!" Clarisse said.

I just shrugged, I was knocked out for like, half the quest anyways.

A cold feeling hit me and I grabbed onto Grover. "Thalia's tree must be almost dead," I said. "We have to get the Fleece back tonight."

Clarisse slumped down on the pavement. "How are we supposed to do that?" Her voice trembled. "We're hundred of miles away. No money. No ride. This is just like the Oracle said. It's your  faults , Jacksons! If you hadn't interfered—"

"Our fault?!" I exploded. "Clarisse, how can you say that? You are the biggest—"

"Stop it!" Percy said.

Clarisse put her head in her hands. I sneered at her.

The thing was: I had almost forgotten this quest was supposed to be Clarisse's and not Percy's.

I thought about what I saw in the boiler room of the CSS Birmingham— Ares yelling at Clarisse, warning her that she'd better not fail. Ares couldn't care less about the camp, but if Clarisse made him look bad. . .

"Clarisse," I said. "What did the Oracle tell you? Exactly?"

She looked up. I thought she was gonna flip me off, but instead she took a deep breath and recited her prophecy.

" you shall sail the iron ship with warriors of bone,

You shall find what you seek and make it your own,

But despair for your life entombed within stone, 

And fail without friends, to fly home alone."