[act one; chapter five - making the bed]
She felt like it had begun to unfold. Like the white noise in the back of her brain had become the ringing in her ears. The scabs had begun to peel from her raw skin, and there was nothing she could do to stop the bleeding.
Andromeda was going on a quest. Finally. But even though there was triumph in her heart, dread sank into her stomach, dragging her down like a weight tied to her ankle. It was like her heart was so full with a childish joy, the kind that made her feel like she was on top of the world, but her stomach was so twisted into knots, it pulled her away from any happiness.
She felt like Icarus, but before he could get too close, someone pulled him away. She felt as though reality had grabbed hold of her wings and tugged, and now she was bolted to the ground, unable to get up.
Her father had patted her on the back and her brothers had given her hugs, and her friends and people throughout Camp had given her their congratulations, but with every word, she felt herself...drifting. Under the surface. That weight was pulling her further under the tide, and no one could pull her back up.
As it was announced that evening that the quest would be underway, Andromeda sat silently. She forced the smallest smile she could when everyone went up in cheers. She nodded her head, but let her eyes fall to her lap, where her hands picked and picked at the reddened skin around her nails. Her hair, too red for her liking, draped in front of her, and for a moment, a single, brief moment, she thought she was back in New Orleans. In the house that burnt to the ground, the one where the life she and her mother shared a life now mourned. She could feel the tears in her eyes, then, as they burned like the flames had against her skin.
Without a second thought, she pushed herself away from the table, ignoring the looks from her brothers, from Annabeth, from everyone. She exited the pavilion as quickly as she could, her hand clasped around the base of her neck, almost as if trying to stop herself from choking. On what, exactly? She didn't know.
She wandered towards the beach, her hands clawing at her hair. Pulling and tugging and tearing until her scalp screamed and cried, just like she wished to.
As her knees crashed into the sand, as her hands wound into her hair and yanked, all she could think about was how she felt so stuck in her thoughts. And for once, she wished she would go crazy. Lose her mind. Lose her sanity and the reality she was stuck in. But she realized, just then, that in her mind her hair was flames and the light that flowed within her hands were someone else's.
You couldn't go crazy if you already were.
And she realized that was what she had wished for herself. And gods, Andromeda was forced to lay in the bed that she had made.
———
Andromeda was the first one there. With her hair tied back, tight against her skin, and Mania on her finger. Two gold circlets, small and delicate, braced either wrist, and, should she tap them together, two sharp-edged shields would spin to life. She forced herself not to tug and tug on the bandaid that protected her skin from herself, the skin that had been picked at so much it had begun to bleed. She hadn't even realized it while she was sitting on the beach. It wasn't until she had walked back to her cabin, with blood on her shirt, that she noticed. And she hadn't thought to even care until her brothers, just about two years older than her, had stared at her, wide eyed and worried.
Castor and Pollux, of course, had acted out of brotherly love and helped clean her hands, but Andromeda had just been numb. She sat there, silently, not even wincing as they poured anti-bacterial ointment over her split skin.
Her finger was stained red, now. Not even washing it could remove the full extent of the blood she had spilled.
Chiron was waiting for them in his wheelchair. Next to him stood Argus, his many eyes on display, all blinking at once. The two had greeted her when she arrived, Chiron giving her a smile, one that sent her stomach churning. She felt nauseous, as if she could release all of what she had consumed (which wasn't much).
Finally, not long after her, the others arrived, looking to carry much more hope than her.
"This is Argus," Chiron said, though it was mostly directed at Percy. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."
The group of them turned, then, at the sound of footsteps. It was only one set, Andromeda knew before she even turned. The footfalls were familiar, eerily so.
Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes.
"Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you."
Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around. Andromeda said nothing, and did nothing, not even when something in her heart ached more than it should, more than she wished to acknowledge.
"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told Percy. "And I thought...um, maybe you could use these."
He handed the boy the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They were a classic sneaker, the kind that Andromeda would, possibly, wear.
Luke said, "Maia!"
White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling Percy so much, he dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared.
And for the first time since the day before, a laugh bubbled in Andromeda's mouth, her hand rushing to cover it.
"Awesome!" Grover said.
Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days..." His expression turned sad.
Andromeda had seen it. That shift. She had watched as he had gone from a go-lucky boy with hopes as high as Zeus' domain, to a boy cursed with melancholy. She had seen how it drove people away, people she knew he loved. Even her, for a short time.
"Hey, man," Percy said. "Thanks."
"Listen, Percy..." Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just...kill some monsters for me, okay?"
They shook hands. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns, then gave a good-bye hug to Annabeth, who looked like she might pass out.
Andromeda was the last person to receive a good-bye. Like it was an instinct, the two reached for each other, curling into one another. Luke's arms wound around her, while hers did the same. They stood at the same height, as they had for quite some time. The son of Hermes' hand curled around her shoulder, and she would've sworn she felt his breath stutter in his chest.
But then he was pulling away and saying, "Kill some monsters for me, Stormy girl."
And all she could do was nod and feel like someone had just closed a chapter in their book.
After Luke was gone, Andromeda turned to her best friend with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "You're hyperventilating."
"Am not." The latter denied.
"You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn't you?" Percy asked.
"Oh...why do I want to go anywhere with you, Percy?"
She stomped down the other side of the hill, where a white SUV waited on the shoulder of the road. Argus followed, jingling his car keys.
Percy picked up the flying shoes and had a sudden bad feeling. He looked at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"
He shook his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air...that would not be wise for you."
Andromeda watched as his expression changed before Percy turned to Grover, "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"
His eyes lit up. "Me?"
Pretty soon they'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy was ready for launch.
"Maia!" he shouted.
He got off the ground okay, but then fell over sideways so his backpack dragged through the grass. The winged shoes kept bucking up and down like tiny broncos.
"Practice," Chiron called after him. "You just need practice!"
"Aaaaa!" Grover went flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawn mower, heading toward the van.
Before Percy could follow, Chiron caught his arm. "I should have trained you better, Percy," he said. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason—they all got more training."
"That's okay. I just wish—"
"Chiron-" Andromeda began, only stopping when Percy did.
"What am I thinking?" Chiron cried. "I can't let you get away without this."
He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and handed it to the boy. It was an ordinary disposable ballpoint, black ink, removable cap. Andromeda's brows rose, knowing exactly what the object was from one of the many books in Chiron's office. She smiled and wrung her hands behind her back. A hero being given a weapon, it was one of the things that marked the beginning of the story.
"Gee," Percy said. "Thanks."
"Percy, that's a gift from your father. I've kept it for years, not knowing you were who I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You are the one."
It wasn't that Andromeda wasn't happy for Percy. She was. She was strangely proud. But Chiron's words sent a dangerously cold chill down her spine, the hairs on her arms standing up. For a moment she could see something that she had never seen before flash behind her eyes, burning deeply into her mind: two people who looked to be in their early 20s, their foreheads pressed together with soft smiles gracing their faces. The woman's hands were cupped at the nape of the man's neck, her lips moving as she spoke in words Andromeda couldn't form. The man puffed out a laugh, kissing her nose and then her cheeks and finally her lips.
The vision-like thing faded from her eyes quickly, just as Percy took off the cap of the pen, watching as it grew longer and heavier in his hand. In half a second, he held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs. On the hilt of the sword rests a trident, vines wrapping around the symbol just as they did Mania, a strange feeling swimming in Andromeda's stomach at the sight of it.
"The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron told him. "Its name is Anaklusmos."
"'Riptide,'" Percy translated, his expression changing from one of awe to surprise at his quick words.
"Use it only for emergencies," Chiron said, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but this sword wouldn't harm them in any case."
Percy looked down at the blade, noticing the vines that tangled with the trident, though he didn't voice his thoughts. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"
"The sword is celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blade will pass through mortals like an illusion. They simply are not important enough for the blade to kill. And I should warn you: as a demigod, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."
"Good to know."
"Now recap the pen."
Percy did as told, the sword turning back into a pen as if it had never changed.
"You can't," Chiron said.
"Can't what?"
"Lose the pen," he said. "It is enchanted. It will always reappear in your pocket. Try it."
Percy was wary, Andromeda could tell so she grabbed it from his hand and threw it as far as she could, watching the pen fall somewhere in the grass on the hill.
Chiron smiled at her impatience and Percy just stared, his mouth hung open.
"It may take a few moments," Chiron told him. "Now check your pocket."
Sure enough, when he reached his hand into his pocket, the pen was there.
"Okay, that's extremely cool," Percy admitted. "But what if a mortal sees me pulling out a sword?"
Chiron smiled. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."
"Mist?"
"Yes." It was Andromeda that replied this time, both Percy and Chiron turning to her. "Mist. It's a form of magic, I suppose. If you read the Iliad, it explains it some. It's extremely difficult to use but very effective once you know how to use it. It basically changes a mortal's perception of reality to how we want them to see it in order to hide our world. It's a trick to them, an asset to us."
Percy simply nodded and pocketed the pen.
"Chiron..." He said. "When you say the gods are immortal...I mean, there was a time before them, right?"
"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."
"So what was it like...before the gods?"
Chiron pursed his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."
"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So...even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?"
Chiron gave him a melancholy smile, silently glancing back at Andromeda who gave a small smile and looked down at her shoes. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, Percy. The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."
"Our destiny...assuming we know what that is."
Those words sent chills down the redheads spine. The idea of what destiny was supposed to be was something that had plagued her since she was little. Even before her mother had died. Destiny. It had always been engraved into her mind. She was familiar with it, the same way history was.
Achilles, who had succumbed to a fate without his love.
Perseus, who nearly lost his love on the path to his destiny.
Hercules, who lost himself on his path to fame and glory.
And every other hero. It almost felt as though happiness, of whatever that consisted of, was foreign to people like her. To all of the heroes. It was merely an idea, a dream, one that was always just out of reach, like the sun chasing shadows—it always was so close, yet just out of reach.
"Relax," Chiron told Percy. "Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."
"Relax," The boy murmured under his breath.. "I'm very relaxed."
Andromeda walked ahead of Percy, down the hill towards the car they would be taking. She twisted the ring on her finger, a strange thrumming going in waves across her body.
Magic, she thought.
A reminder from the gods who created the ring that she was on her way to create history. That in the end, she would find her destiny. Her Fate. It wasn't as though she had much of a choice. She had been forced into it all, before she even knew it was happening.
Argus drove them to the countryside and into western Long Island. The thrum of the car beneath her was foreign; it felt like a physical reminder of her anxiety, the same anxiety that thrummed in her veins.
"So far so good," Percy observed. "Ten miles and not a single monster."
Annabeth gave Percy an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain."
"Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"
"I don't hate you."
"Could've fooled me."
She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."
Andromeda scoffed quietly. "All of our parents are rivals."
"Why?"
Annabeth sighed. "How many reasons do you want? There are so many times throughout history where our parents cross paths, where those paths crossing leads to someone getting hurt. It's just...not meant to be."
"They must really like olives."
"Oh, forget it."
"Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand."
"I said, forget it!"
The thrum of the car beneath Andromeda did nothing to calm her, not like she had been told they sometimes do. Instead, she looked out of the window, feeling a flurry of emotions build in her chest. It felt like something within her was bubbling over, and she took it out on her hands. Once the picking began, she knew, it would not stop. Not until she drew skin from skin, and blood began to pool.
Traffic slowed them down in Queens, and by then, Andromeda had picked skin completely off around two of her fingernails. By the time they got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain, and she had three new bandaids.
Argus dropped them off at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from Sally Jackson and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox was a soggy flier with Percy's picture on it: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY?
Andromeda was the first person out of the car. The first one to see the flier. And the first one to reach for it, to tear it from the wall. To turn and see Percy staring at her, something akin to gratitude in his eyes. So she held it up and crumpled it, stuffing it into her pocket. He smiled, and so did she.
Argus unloaded the bags, made sure they all got their bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch the kids as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction Percy was looking. "You want to know why she married him, Percy?"
Percy stared at him. "Were you reading my mind or something?"
"Just your emotions." He shrugged. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"
"Your mom married Gabe for you," Andromeda spoke up. She tried to smile, to nod her head, make it seem like everything was okay. She knew everything wasn't right, but she wanted to help. Somehow, some way. "She was a protector, just like all of our parents, no matter if they realize it or not. Because when it comes down to it, they always protect us. That's typically why we're sent to camp, where we're safe. You hate Gabe, and with good reason. You call him names because of his repulsive behavior and his inappropriate personality, just all of him in general. But think, why would your kind, loving mother marry a man like that? To make sure you had a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and clothes on your back. She married him for you, because maybe it was better than it being just the two of you without any protection at all. When you first got here, Grover said he could smell Gabe on you."
"Thanks," Percy grimaced. "Where's the nearest shower?"
"I know it won't make sense, and you won't want to, but...you should be grateful. In any way that you can. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better." The satyr explained, backing up Andromeda's words. The two nodded at each other.
Percy looked at her. Watched her. The way her eyes flickered to the ground, the way her hands curled over each other, like she was trying to cover something up—what, he didn't know.
The rain kept coming down.
They got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was, as usual, unbelievable. And Andromeda, as usual, did not participate.
The game ended when Percy tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one bite, their Hacky Sack disappeared—core, stem, and all. Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but the other three were too busy laughing.
Finally the bus came. As they stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air like he could smell his favorite food, but something about the expression on his face gave something else away.
"What is it?" Percy asked.
"I don't know," Grover replied tensely. "Maybe it's nothing."
Andromeda bit her lip to keep herself from asking, though she could feel the air shift slightly as they all stepped onto the bus and took their seats. However, all the air seemed to be sucked out of her lungs as she clamped her hand on Percy's knee.
"Percy."
An old lady had just boarded the bus. She wore a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face, and she carried a big paisley purse. When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered, and Percy's heart skipped a beat.
It was Mrs. Dodds. Older, more withered, but definitely the same evil face.
He scrunched down in his seat, and Andromeda did what she could to help him hide the best that he could.
Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers.
They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves.
The bus pulled out of the station, and they headed through the slick streets of Manhattan.
"She didn't stay dead long," Percy said, his voice quiet and shaky. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."
"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth grumbled. "You're obviously not."
"All three of them," Grover whimpered. "Di immortales!"
"It's okay," Andromeda told them all. Her arms were crossed over her chest, hand clasped over her ring. She was ready; prepared should the volcano blow and the Furies unleash themselves. "It's the Furies. Just the three. We don't disturb them, and at some point soon, we slip out of the windows."
"They don't open," Grover pointed out.
"A back exit?" She suggested.
There wasn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, they were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.
"They won't attack us with witnesses around," Percy said. "Will they?"
"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminded me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."
"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?"
She thought about it. Even with all of the training, all of the knowledge, Andromeda was stuck. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof...?"
They passed through the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain. Andromeda felt her anxiety spike, felt it pick up like a storm brewing in her chest. She felt the air get trapped, felt build up, choking her, stopping her from breathing.
Mrs. Dodds got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the rest-room."
"So do I," said the second sister.
"So do I," said the third sister.
They all started coming down the aisle, towards the back of the bus where they sat.
"I've got it," Annabeth said, pulling something from her bag. "Percy, take my hat."
"What?"
She nodded. "You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."
"But you guys—"
"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth said. "You're a son of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."
"I can't just leave you all—"
Andromeda put a hand on his shoulder and nodded one single time. She forced a smile, and part of Percy knew everything would be okay.
His hands trembled as he took the Yankee's cap and put it on, his body disappearing.
He glanced back as he began his slow trek down the aisle, looking at Andromeda who sat calmly on edge of the seat. But he could see her hand hovering lightly over her ring, her amethyst eyes following the Furies with something in her eyes. Something dangerous.
Mrs. Dodds stopped suddenly, sniffing, and looked straight at Percy. Andromeda stiffly snapped her fingers, hoping the Mist worked enough to hide this boy who might just be something like a friend.
Apparently Mrs. Dodds didn't see anything, at least not something worse worrying about. She and her sisters kept going.
Percy continued forward with a small sigh of relief. Well, until noise from the back row stole all of the attention.
The old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws, and their handbags had turned into fiery whips. They were something out of a nightmare, like a thing crafted together.
The Furies surrounded Andromeda, Grover, and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"
In an instant, Andromeda was out of her seat swinging Mania in a wide arch at the three monsters. They shrunk back, hissing and screaming, cursing her, "Daughter of Madness, you partake in activities that cross the lines!"
The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, though what it was remained a mystery to the four that could see it for what it really was.
"He's not here!" Annabeth yelled, red in the face. Andromeda didn't know, at that moment, if it was from anger or fear. Maybe both. "He's gone!"
The Furies raised their whips.
Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it.
The bus driver was distracted, trying to see what was going on in his rearview mirror, so much so that he lost all focus. Suddenly the bus lurched to the side, the three Furies smacking into the windows as Andromeda put her arms out to brace herself.
"Hey!" The driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!"
The bus slammed into the side of the tunnel, Andromeda falling to one of her knees from the impact. She pressed her hands into the metal, hoping to feel that familiar pull in her gut, the one that told her earthy ground was nearby, hoping to somehow slow, or even stop, the bus.
They careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins.
Somehow the driver found an exit. They shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, barreling down one of those New Jersey rural roads where you can't believe there's so much nothing right across the river from New York. There were woods to their left, the Hudson River to the right, and the driver seemed to be veering toward the river at a speed so fast Andromeda worried not even the brake system would slow them down.
The bus wailed, spun a full circle on the wet asphalt, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on, flooding them in solid red. The door flew open, people, including the driver, rushed from inside the bus, just trying to escape the massacre that, no doubt, they were waiting for. The Furies regained their balance almost instantly. They lashed their whips, readying themselves to attack. Nothing, not a single thing, any of them did hurt them. Not one thing.
Percy ripped the cap from his head, turning towards the Furies. Andromeda wanted to curse him. To yell at him, to grip his shoulders and call him crazy. Even more so when he yelled, "Hey!" at the top of his lungs, face red, eyes wide.
The Furies turned instantly, baring their yellow fangs at him, and the exit suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. But, realistically, it was a football field away. It was too far. He'd never make it out, at least, not unscathed. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle, just as she used to do in class, about to deliver a horrible text grade. Every time she flicked her whip, red flames danced along the barbed leather, reminding Percy of the nights when Gabe lost his temper more than usual. It was something out of a nightmare, really.
Her two sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward the boy like huge nasty lizards hunting for their prey in a scorching desert.
"Perseus Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said, in an accent that was definitely from somewhere farther south than Georgia. "You have offended the gods. You shall die."
"I liked you better as a math teacher," he retorted, not thinking of the consequences of his words. That seemed like a pattern with him.
She growled.
Annabeth and Grover moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening, all while Andromeda stayed where she was, just behind the Furies.
Percy took the ballpoint pen out of his pocket and uncapped it. Riptide elongated into a shimmering double-edged sword, one that, to anyone who was sound of mind and body, was a threat in and of itself.
The Furies hesitated. Just slightly. Just enough.
Behind him, a warm heat hit him; energy sizzling through his body, Percy carefully and quickly looking past the Furies to find Andromeda with her own sword drawn. Its blade, half bronze and half gold, shimmered in the air, deadly and beautiful.
(Both the blade and her, he wanted to say.)
Mrs. Dodds had felt Riptide's blade before. She was familiar with its searing heat against her skin. But now, with Mania in its company, she hesitated.
"Submit now," she hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment."
"Nice try," Percy told her.
"Percy, look out!" Annabeth cried.
Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around his sword arm while the Furies on the either side lunged at him.
A bronze and gold blade slashed from beside the boy, Andromeda standing on the seats and lurching forward at a surprising speed. She was ruthless in her attack, pushing the Furies back, avoiding all injuries and attacks of any sort.
Annabeth got Mrs. Dodds in a wrestler's hold and yanked her backward while Grover ripped the whip out of her hands.
"Ow!" He yelled. "Ow! Hot! Hot!"
The Fury Percy was corned by came at him again, talons ready, but he swung Riptide in an arc—the same way he saw Andromeda attack with Mania—the monster turning to dust.
Mrs. Dodds was trying to get Annabeth off of her back. She kicked, clawed, hissed and bit, but Annabeth held on while Grover got Mrs. Dodds's legs tied up in her own whip. Finally they both shoved her backward into the aisle.
Mrs. Dodds tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down. Now, her chest was pinned as well, with Andromeda holding her down.
"Zeus will destroy you!" She promised. "Hades will have your soul!"
"Braccas meas vescimini!" Percy yelled.
Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on the back of Andromeda's neck, and she looked up at her friends, wide eyed. She knew that feeling. She knew it very well.
"Get out!" Annabeth yelled out, understanding. "Now!"
Percy, of course, was confused. He hesitated, even at Annabeth's warning. Andromeda grabbed his hand and pulled, tugging him with her as they ran through the aisle of the bus and onto the New York streets. Just in time. Just barely.
"We're going to die!" A Hawaiian shirted tourist with a camera snapped Percy's photograph. But Percy was too busy staying alive to have noticed, or, at least, to have it register fully in his mind. Not even the flash was enough to fully attract his attention.
"Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—"
The earth shook as the windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover, just as they had done. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an agonized wail from inside told them Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead.
"Run!" Annabeth said, pulling at all of them, urging them away. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!"
But before they could run away, just as their world seemed to collide with the mortal world right in front of them, Andromeda waved her hand in the air. Then they ran. They ran without looking back. Without witnessing the mountain of vines that encircles the bus like an anaconda to its prey, swallowing the bus whole.