Y/n Pov:
"Thermos!" Percy screamed as we hurtled toward the water.
"What?" I shouted.
Has he lost his mind?
I hope he finds it.
Oh, my gods! Shut up!
I was holding on to the boat straps for dear life. Annabeth held onto the one opposite boat straps, her hair flying straight up like a torch.
Tyson managed to open Percy's duffel bag and take out Hermes's magical thermos without losing his grip on it or the boat.
That's what he meant!
Arrows and javelins whistled past us.
Percy grabbed the thermos. "Hang on!"
"I am hanging on!" Annabeth yelled.
"Tighter!"
He hooked his feet under the boat's inflatable bench, and as Tyson grabbed Annabeth, Percy and me by the backs of our shirts, Percy gave the thermos cap a quarter turn.
Instantly, a white sheet of wind jetted out of the thermos and propelled us sideways, turning our downward plummet into a forty-five-degree crash landing.
The wind seemed to laugh as it shot from the thermos like it was glad to be free. As we hit the ocean, we bumped once, twice, skipping like a stone, then we were whizzing along like a speed boat, salt spray in our faces and nothing but sea ahead.
I heard a wail of outrage from the ship behind us, but we were already out of weapon range. The Princess Andromeda faded to the size of a white toy boat in the distance, and then it was gone.
~
As we raced over the sea, Annabeth, Percy and I tried to send an Iris message to Chiron. We figured it was important we let somebody know what Luke was doing, and we didn't know who else to trust.
The wind from the thermos stirred up a nice sea spray that made a rainbow in the sunlight—perfect for an Iris message—but our connection was still poor. When Annabeth threw a gold drachma into the mist and prayed for the rainbow goddess to show us Chiron, his face appeared all right, but there was some kind of weird strobe light flashing in the background and rock music blaring like he was at a dance club.
We told him about sneaking away from camp, and Luke and the Princess Andromeda and the golden box for Kronos's remains, but between the noise on his end and the rushing wind and water on our end, I'm not sure how much he heard.
"Percy," Chiron yelled, "you have to watch out for—"
His voice was drowned out by loud shouting behind him—a bunch of voices whooping it up like Comanche warriors.
"What?" Percy yelled.
"Curse my relatives!" Chiron ducked as a plate flew over his head and shattered somewhere out of sight. "Y/n, you shouldn't have let Percy leave camp! But if you do get the Fleece—"
"Yeah, baby!" somebody behind Chiron yelled. "Woohoooooo!"
The music got cranked up, subwoofers so loud it made our boat vibrate.
"—Miami," Chiron was yelling. "I'll try to keep watch—"
Our misty screen smashed apart like someone on the other side had thrown a bottle at it, and Chiron was gone.
~
An hour later we spotted land—a long stretch of beach lined with high-rise hotels. The water became crowded with fishing boats and tankers. A coast guard cruiser passed on our starboard side, then turned like it wanted a second look. I guess it isn't every day they see a yellow lifeboat with no engine going a hundred knots an hour, manned by three kids.
"That's Virginia Beach!" I said as we approached the shoreline. "Oh my gods, how did the Princess Andromeda travel so far overnight? That's like—"
"Five hundred and thirty nautical miles," Percy said.
I stared at him. "How did you know that?"
"I—I'm not sure."
Maybe it's because we're in the sea...
"Percy, what's our position?" I asked him.
"36 degrees, 44 minutes north, 76 degrees, 2 minutes west," Percy said immediately. Then he shook his head. "Whoa. How did I know that?"
"Because of your dad," I guessed. "When you're at sea, you have perfect bearings. That is so cool."
Tyson tapped his shoulder. "Other boat is coming."
I looked back. The coast guard vessel was definitely on our tail now. Its lights were flashing and it was gaining speed.
"We can't let them catch us," Percy said. "They'll ask too many questions."
"Keep going into Chesapeake Bay," Annabeth said. "I know a place we can hide."
I didn't ask what she meant, or how she knew the area so well. I risked loosening the thermos cap a little more, and a fresh burst of wind sent us rocketing around the northern tip of Virginia Beach into Chesapeake Bay. The coast guard boat fell farther and farther behind. We didn't slow down until the shores of the bay narrowed on either side, and I realized we'd entered the mouth of a river.
Suddenly I was tired and frazzled like I was coming down off a sugar high. I didn't know where I was anymore, or which way to steer the boat. It was a good thing Annabeth was directing me.
"There," she said. "Past that sandbar."
We veered into a swampy area choked with marsh grass.
I beached the lifeboat at the foot of a giant cypress. Somehow, being under the cypress felt like home. Most probably because the cypress is mother's sacred tree.
Vine-covered trees loomed above us. Insects chirred in the woods. The air was muggy and hot, and steam curled off the river. It wasn't Manhattan, and I didn't like it.
"Come on," Annabeth said. "It's just down the bank."
"What is?" I asked.
"Just follow." She grabbed a duffel bag. "And we'd better cover the boat. We don't want to draw attention."
After burying the lifeboat with branches, Tyson and I followed Annabeth along the shore, our feet sinking in red mud. A snake slithered past my shoe and disappeared into the grass.
"Not a good place," Tyson said. He swatted the mosquitoes that were forming a buffet line on his arm.
After another few minutes, Annabeth said, "Here."
All I saw was a patch of brambles. Then Annabeth moved aside a woven circle of branches, like a door, and I realized I was looking into a camouflaged shelter.
The inside was big enough for four, even with Tyson being the fourth. The walls were woven from plant material, like a Native American hut, but they looked pretty waterproof. Stacked in the corner was everything you could want for a campout—sleeping bags, blankets, an ice chest, and a kerosene lamp. There were demigod provisions, too—bronze javelin tips, a quiver full of arrows, an extra sword, and a box of ambrosia. The place smelled musty like it had been vacant for a long time.
"A half-blood hideout." Percy looked at Annabeth in awe. "You made this place?"
"Thalia and I," she said quietly. "And Luke. Before we found you, Y/n."
"So..." Percy said. "You don't think Luke will look for us here?"
She shook her head. "We made a dozen safe houses like this. I doubt Luke even remembers where they are. Or cares."
She threw herself down on the blankets and started going through her duffel bag. Her body language made it pretty clear she didn't want to talk. I grabbed the quiver full of arrows and with an arrow, I carved a drawing into the other.
"Um, Tyson?" Percy said. "Would you mind scouting around outside? Like, look for a wilderness convenience store or something?"
"Convenience store?"
"Yeah, for snacks. Powdered doughnuts or something. Just don't go too far."
"Powdered doughnuts," Tyson said earnestly. "I will look for powdered doughnuts in the wilderness." He headed outside and started calling, "Here, doughnuts!"
Once he was gone, Percy sat down across from me. "Hey, I'm sorry about, you know, seeing Luke."
"It's not your fault." I drew a geometric flower.
"He let us go too easily," Percy said.
I nodded. "I was thinking the same thing. What we overheard him say about a gamble, and 'they'll take the bait'...I think he was talking about us."
"The Fleece is the bait? Or Grover?"
I blew the extra pieces of wood away. "I don't know, Percy. Maybe he wants the Fleece for himself. Maybe he's hoping we'll do the hard work and then he can steal it from us. I just can't believe he would poison the tree."
"What did he mean," Percy asked, "that Thalia would've been on his side?"
"He's wrong."
"You don't sound sure."
I gave him a death stare.
"Percy, you know who you remind me of most? Thalia. You guys are so much alike it's terrifying. I mean, either you would've been best friends or you would've strangled each other."
"Let's go with 'best friends.'"
"Thalia got angry with her father sometimes. So do you. Would you turn against Olympus because of that?"
Percy stared at the floor. "No."
"Okay, then. Neither would she. Luke's wrong."
"So what did Luke mean about Cyclopes?" Percy asked. "He said you of all people—"
"I know what he said. He...he was talking about the real reason Thalia died."
Percy stayed silent.
I drew a shaky breath. "You can never trust a Cyclops, Percy. Six years ago, on the night Grover was leading us to Half-Blood Hill—"
I was interrupted when the door of the hut creaked open. Tyson crawled in.
"Powdered doughnuts!" he said proudly, holding up a pastry box.
Annabeth stared at him. "Where did you get that? We're in the middle of the wilderness. There's nothing around for—"
"Fifty feet," Tyson said. "Monster Donut shop—just over the hill!"
~
"This is bad," Annabeth muttered.
We were crouching behind a tree, staring at the doughnut shop in the middle of the woods. It looked brand new, with brightly lit windows, a parking area, and a little road leading off into the forest, but there was nothing else around, and no cars parked. We could see one employee reading a magazine behind the cash register. That was it. On the store's marquis, in huge black letters that even I could read, it said:
MONSTER DONUT
A cartoon ogre was taking a bite out of the O in MONSTER. The place smelled good, like fresh-baked chocolate doughnuts.
"This shouldn't be here," Annabeth whispered. "It's wrong."
"What?" Percy asked. "It's a doughnut shop."
"Shhh!" I shushed him.
"Why are we whispering?" he whispered. "Tyson went in and bought a dozen. Nothing happened to him."
"He's a monster," said Annabeth.
"Aw, c'mon, Annabeth. Monster Donut doesn't mean monsters! It's a chain. We've got them in New York."
"A chain," I agreed. "And don't you think it's strange that one appeared immediately after you told Tyson to get doughnuts? Right here in the middle of the woods?"
"It could be a nest," Annabeth explained.
Tyson whimpered. Annabeth's and my tone was making him nervous. He'd ploughed through half a dozen doughnuts from his box and was getting powdered sugar all over his face.
"A nest for what?" Percy asked.
"Haven't you ever wondered how franchise stores pop up so fast?" I asked. "One day there's nothing and then the next day—boom, there's a new burger place or a coffee shop or whatever? First a single store, then two, then four—exact replicas spreading across the country?"
"Um, no. Never thought about it."
"Percy, some of the chains multiply so fast because all their locations are magically linked to the life force of a monster. Some children of Hermes figured out how to do it back in the 1950s. They breed—"
Annabeth froze. I looked where she was looking and froze too. A flipping Hydra.
"What?" Percy demanded. "They breed what?"
"No—sudden—moves," Annabeth said as if her life depended on it. "Very slowly, turnaround."
Then I heard it: a scraping noise, like something large dragging its belly through the leaves. Percy turned. It was hissing, its front half writhing in all different directions.
Percy took out his ballpoint pen. A lot of monsters have terrible eyesight. The Hydra might pass us by. But if he uncapped his sword now, the bronze glow would certainly get its attention. Percy locked eyes with me. I gave him a silent warning. Not yet.
Percy understood. We waited.
The Hydra was only a few feet away. It seemed to be sniffing the ground and the trees like it were hunting for something. Then I noticed that two of the heads were ripping apart a piece of yellow canvas—one of our duffel bags. The thing had already been to our campsite. It was following our scent.
My heart pounded out of my chest.
Tyson was trembling. He stepped back and accidentally snapped a twig. Immediately, all seven heads turned toward us and hissed.
"Scatter!" Annabeth yelled. She dove to the right.
I rolled to the left. One of the Hydra heads spat an arc of green liquid that shot past my shoulder and splashed against an elm. The trunk smoked and began to disintegrate. The whole tree toppled straight toward Tyson, who still hadn't moved, petrified by the monster that was now right in front of him.
"Tyson!" Percy tackled him with all his might, knocking Tyson aside just as the Hydra lunged and the tree crashed on top of two of its heads.
The Hydra stumbled backwards, yanking its heads free then wailing in outrage at the fallen tree. All seven heads shot acid, and the elm melted into a steaming pool of muck.
"Move!" Percy told Tyson. Percy ran to one side and uncapped Riptide, hoping to draw the monster's attention.
It worked.
The sight of celestial bronze is hateful to most monsters. As soon as my glowing blade appeared, the Hydra whipped toward it with all its heads, hissing and baring its teeth.
The good news: Tyson was momentarily out of danger. The bad news: Percy was about to be melted into a puddle of goo.
One of the heads snapped at him experimentally. Without thinking, Percy swung his sword.
"No!" I yelled.
Too late. Percy sliced the Hydra's head clean off. It rolled away into the grass, leaving a flailing stump, which immediately stopped bleeding and began to swell like a balloon. In a matter of seconds the wounded neck split into two necks, each of which grew a full-size head. Now we were looking at an eight-headed Hydra.
"Percy!" Annabeth scolded. "You just opened another Monster Donut shop somewhere!"
Percy dodged a spray of acid. "I'm about to die and you're worried about that? How do we kill it?"
I remembered the story. Heracles had cut the Hydra's heads and burned the stumps before they regrew.
"Fire!" I said. "We have to have fire!"
Percy backed up toward the river. The Hydra followed.
I drew my bow and arrow and tried to distract it by making holes in it. One of its heads swung at me and I shot an arrow between its eyes, but that just made it angrier.
Annabeth moved in on my left and tried to distract one of the heads, parrying its teeth with her knife, but another head swung sideways like a club and knocked her into the muck.
"No hitting my friends!" Tyson charged in, putting himself between the Hydra and Annabeth and me. As I got to my feet, Tyson started smashing at the monster heads with his fists so fast it reminded me of the whack-a-mole game at the arcade. But even Tyson couldn't fend off the Hydra forever
We kept inching backwards, dodging acid splashes and deflecting snapping heads without cutting them off, but I knew we were only postponing our deaths. Eventually, we would make a mistake and the thing would kill us.
Then I heard a strange sound—a chug-chug-chug that at first, I thought was my heartbeat. It was so powerful it made the riverbank shake.
"What's that noise?" Annabeth shouted, keeping her eyes on the Hydra.
"Steam engine," Tyson said.
"What?" I ducked as the Hydra spat acid over my head.
Then from the river behind us, a familiar female voice shouted: "There! Prepare the thirty-two-pounder!"
I didn't dare look away from the Hydra, but if that was who I thought it was behind us, I figured we now had enemies on two fronts.
A gravelly male voice said, "They're too close, m'lady!"
"Damn the heroes!" the girl said. "Full steam ahead!"
"Aye, m'lady."
"Fire at will, Captain!"
Annabeth understood what was happening a split second before we did. She yelled, "Hit the dirt!" and we dove for the ground as an earth-shattering BOOM echoed from the river. There was a flash of light, a column of smoke, and the Hydra exploded right in front of us, showering us with nasty green slime that vaporized as soon as it hit, the way monster guts tend to do.
"Gross!" I screamed.
"Steamship!" yelled Tyson.
Percy stood, coughing from the cloud of gunpowder smoke that was rolling across the banks.
Chugging toward us down the river was the strangest ship I'd ever seen. It rode low in the water like a submarine, its deck plated with iron. In the middle was a trapezoid-shaped casemate with slats on each side for cannons. A flag waved from the top—a wild boar and spear on a bloodred field. Lining the deck were zombies in grey uniforms—dead soldiers with shimmering faces that only partially covered their skulls, like the ghouls I'd seen in the Underworld guardingHades's palace.
The ship was an ironclad. A Civil War battle cruiser. I could just make out the name along the prow in moss-covered letters: CSS Birmingham.
And standing next to the smoking cannon that had almost killed us, wearing full Greek battle armour, was Clarisse.
"Losers," she sneered. "But I suppose I have to rescue you. Come aboard."