OLDEN CROWN
━━ interlude
━━ PERCY KEPT DREAMING of this girl.
Sometimes it was just fragments of her: glimpses of curly, black hair, or flickers of a smile that was graced with a dimple on the left side, or amused eyes that were the color of deep amethyst. Most times, it was her laugh—light and airy, and so comfortable to listen to. Percy yearned to hear it again and again. Her eyes would glint like gems whenever she would grin at him, or roll them whenever he said something stupid. He could feel her interlocking their arms or fingers, almost like she was guiding him. But whenever he would try and hug her—gone. She would disappear like smoke, or like she was running away from him like water. No matter what he did, she kept getting further and further away, to the point he barely remembered what she sounded like or what she looked like.
But there was one thing he remembered—her name. He remembered it like it was his own name—like it was rooted into the very back of his mind, as if nothing could sever him from it.
Elisa.
Elisa, Elisa, Elisa.
He repeated it to himself like a mantra; to keep going, to not stop dead from exhaustion, to keep running, to keep fighting, to keep killing these stupid fucking gorgons—
They should've died three days ago when he dropped a crate of bowling balls on them at the Napa Bargain Mart. They should have died two days ago when he ran over them with a police car in Martinez ( a car he definitely didn't steal ). And they definitely should have died this morning when he cut off their heads in Tilden Park.
No matter how many times Percy killed them. No matter how many times he watched as they crumbled to powder, they just kept re-forming like large evil dust bunnies—limbs configuring together, fingers twisting into talons, and heads merging together from the pile. And Percy could never seem to outrun them.
He reached the top of the hill and caught his breath, the stitch at his side begging him to stop running. How long since he'd last killed them? Percy had to think back ... two hours, maybe? They never seemed to stay dead longer than that.
"Fuck me," he groaned, squinting as the sun glared down on him, making his skin burn. His forehead was drenched with sweat. "Can't they just die already?" he grumbled under his breath.
The past few days, he'd hardly slept. He'd eaten whatever he could scrounge—vending machine gummi bears, stale bagels, even a Jack in the Crack burrito ( a new personal low for him ). His clothes were torn, burned, and splattered with monster slime. He stunk worse than sewage ( which for some odd reason ... he knew. Something about a fire-breathing giant and her with a gold shield ).
He'd only survived this long because the two snake-haired ladies—gorgons, they called themselves—couldn't seem to kill him either. Their claws didn't cut his skin. Their teeth broke whenever they tried to bite him. It was like his skin was made of iron, but this gift also seemed to take a horrible toll on his energy. Percy knew he couldn't keep going much longer. Soon he'd collapse from exhaustion, and then—as hard as he was to kill, he was pretty sure the gorgons would find a way.
Elisa.
Percy forced himself to stand up straighter, wincing at the ache in his side and his joints. Where to run? Where could he go next?
He scanned his surroundings. Under different circumstances, he might've enjoyed the view, but his nerves were far too jittery. To his left, golden hills rolled inland, dotted with lakes, woods, and a few herds of cows. To his right, the flatlands of Berkeley and Oakland marched west—a vast checkerboard of neighborhoods, with several million people who probably did not want their morning interrupted by two monsters and a filthy demigod.
Farther west, San Francisco Bay glittered under a silvery haze. Past that, a wall of fog had risen and swallowed most of San Francisco in a grey mass, leaving just the tops of skyscrapers and the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge.
A vague sadness weighed on Percy's chest. Something told him he'd been to San Francisco before ... he didn't know when, didn't know why, not even how—Percy just knew there was a connection. San Francisco had a connection to Elisa. He had been here with her. He knew it—he remembered her smiling at him, covering her mouth as she laughed at something stupid he was doing. Or ... maybe that was just his mind coming up with answers.
His memory of her was frustratingly dim. Maybe so frustratingly dim that his own mind had taken it upon itself to create memories. But Percy was so sure he had been to San Francisco with Elisa. One thing he knew for certain was that he felt bare without her. He knew that with a terrible ache in his heart.
But the wolf had promised he would see her again and regain his memory—if he succeeded in his journey.
He had to succeed.
Should he try to cross the bay? It was tempting. He could feel the power of the ocean just over the horizon. Water always revived him—saltwater being the best for him. He'd discovered that two days ago when he had strangled a sea monster in the Carquinez Strait. ( An enlightening experience, Percy must say. ) If he could reach the bay, he might be able to make a last stand. Maybe he could even drown the gorgons. But the shore was at least two miles away; he'd have to cross an entire city.
But that wasn't the only reason he hesitated. The she-wolf Lupa had taught him to sharpen his senses—to trust the instincts that had been guiding him south. And he could feel the senses pulling him. The end of his journey was close—almost right under his feet. But how could that be? There was nothing on the hilltop.
The wind changed. Percy stiffened—he caught the sour scent of reptiles. A hundred yards down the slope, something rustled through the woods—snapping branches, crunching leaves, hissing.
The gorgons were back.
Percy swore to himself again. He wished their noses weren't so good—they had always said they could smell him because he was a demigod; the half-blood son of some old Roman god. Percy had tried rolling in mud, splashing through creeks, even keeping air freshener sticks in his pockets so he'd have that new car smell; but apparently, demigod stink was hard to mask.
He scrambled to the west side of the summit. It was too steep to descend; the slope plummeted eighty feet, straight to the roof of an apartment complex built into the hillside. Fifty feet below that, a highway emerged from the hill's base and wound its way toward Berkeley.
Percy winced silently. He was trapped.
He stared at the stream of cars flowing west toward San Francisco. He wished he were in one of them. Then he realized the highway must cut through the hill. There must be a tunnel ... right under his feet.
He knew he had to go there—go to that tunnel. He was in the right place, just too high up. He had to check out that tunnel. He needed a way down to the highway—fast.
He wondered—prayed—that would be it. Percy would make it to the tunnel, and she would be there, waiting for him. Would she smile at him? Would she laugh and roll her eyes like she couldn't believe she found him amusing like she always did in his dreams? Or would she chide him for being an idiot? She did that a lot in his dreams, too.
The thought of finding her made him sling off the backpack as fast as light. He'd managed to grab a lot of supplies at the Napa Bargain Mart: a portable GPS, duct tape, lighter, superglue, water bottle, camping roll, a Comfy Panda Pillow Pet ( as seen on TV ) he had named Blackjack ( the name was strangely familiar; it brought Percy some comfort ), and a Swiss army knife—pretty much every tool a modern demigod could want. But he had nothing that would serve as a parachute or a sled.
That left him two options: jump eighty feet to his death, or stand and fight. Both options sounded pretty bad.
Elisa.
Percy reached for the pen in his pocket.
The pen didn't look like much, just a regular cheap ballpoint, but when Percy uncapped it, there was a sharp shring!, and the pen extended into a glowing bronze, leaf-shaped, double-edged sword. The blade balanced perfectly. The leather grip fit his hand like it had been designed specifically for him. Etched along the guard was an Ancient Greek word—that Percy somehow understood—Anaklusmos: Riptide.
He'd woken up with this sword his first night at the Wolf House—two months ago? More? He'd lost track. Either way, he found himself in the courtyard of a haunting burned-out mansion in the middle of the silent woods. He was only wearing shorts, an orange T-shirt, and a leather necklace with a bunch of strange clay beads. Riptide had been in his hand, but Percy had had no idea how he'd gotten there, and only the vaguest idea of who he was. He'd been barefoot, freezing, and confused. And then the wolves came ...
"There you are!"
Percy stumbled away from the gorgon, almost falling off the edge of the hill. There, right besid him, was one of the gorgons. It was the smiley one—Beano.
( That really wasn't her name. Percy had a feeling he was dyslexic, because words got twisted around when he tried to read. The first time he'd seen the gorgon, posing as a Bargain Mart greeter with a big green button that read: Welcome! My name is STHENO, he'd thought it said BEANO. )
She was still wearing her green Bargain Mart employee vest over a flower-print dress. If you looked just at her body, you might think she was somebody's dumpy old grandmother—until you looked down and realized she had rooster feet. Or you looked up and saw bronze boar tusks sticking out of the corners of her mouth. Her eyes glowed red, and her hair was a writhing nest of bright green snakes. But the worst thing about her? She was still holding her big silver platter of free samples: Crispy Cheese 'n' Wieners. Her platter was dented from all the times Percy had killed her, but those little samples looked perfectly fine. Stheno just kept toting them across California so she could offer Percy a snack before she killed him. He didn't know why she kept doing that, but if he ever needed a suit of armor, he was going to make it out of Crispy Cheese 'n' Wieners. They were indestructible.
"Try one?" Stheno offered.
Percy fended her off with his sword. "Where's your sister?"
"Oh, put the sword away," Stheno chided. "You know by now that even Celestial bronze can't kill us for long. Have a Cheese 'n' Wiener! They're on sale this week, and I'd hate to kill you on an empty stomach."
"Touching ..." murmured Percy. "But I'll have to pass."
"Stheno!" The second gorgon appeared on Percy's right so fast, he didn't have time to react. Fortunately, she was too busy glaring at her sister to pay him much attention. "I told you to sneak up on him and kill him!"
Stheno's smile wavered. "But, Euryale ..." " She said the name so it rhymed with Muriel. "Can't I give him a sample first?"
"No, you imbecile!" Euryale turned toward Percy and bared her fangs.
Aside for her hair, which was a nest of coral snakes instead of green vipers, she looked exactly like her sister. Her Bargain Mart vest, her flowery dress, and even her tusks were decorated with 50% off stickers. Her name badge read: Hello! My name is DIE, DEMIGOD SCUM! ( How touching. )
"You've led us on quite a chase, Percy Jackson," Euryale said. "But now you're trapped, and we'll have our revenge!"
"The Cheese 'n' Wieners are only $2.99," Stheno added helpfully. "Grocery department, aisle three."
Euryale snarled. "Stheno, the Bargain Mart was a front! You're going native! Now, put down that ridiculous tray and help me kill this demigod. Or have you forgotten that he's the one who vaporized Medusa?"
Percy stepped back as silently as he could. Six more inches, and he'd be tumbling through thin air. "Look, ladies, we've been over this. I don't even remember killing Medusa. I don't remember anything! Can't we just call a truce and talk about your weekly specials?"
Stheno gave her sister a pouty look, which was hard to do with giant bronze tusks. "Can we?"
"No!" Euryale's red eyes bored into Percy. "I don't care what you remember, son of the Sea God. I can smell Medusa's blood on you. It's faint, yes, several years old, but you were the last one to defeat her. She still has not returned from Tartarus. It's your fault!"
Percy didn't really get that. The whole "dying then returning from Tartarus" concept gave him a headache. Of course, so did the idea that a ballpoint pen could turn into a sword, or that monsters could disguise themselves with something called the Mist, or that Percy was the son of a barnacle-encrusted god from five thousand years ago—But he did believe it. Even though his memory was erased, he knew he was a demigod the same way he knew his name was Percy Jackson and that he was missing a pretty girl called Elisa. From his very first conversation with Lupa the wolf, he'd accepted that this crazy messed-up world of gods and monsters was his reality. Which pretty much sucked.
"How about we call it a draw?" he said, spreading his hands. He tried not to sound sarcastic—which was hard for him—but he couldn't seem to help it. "I can't kill you. You can't kill me. If you're Medusa's sisters—like the Medusa who turned people to stone—shouldn't I be petrified by now?"
"Heroes!" Euryale scoffed in disgust. "They always bring that up, just like our mother! 'Why can't you turn people to stone? Your sister can turn people to stone.' Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, boy! That was Medusa's curse alone. She was the most hideous one in the family. She got all the luck!"
Stheno looked hurt. "Mother said I was the most hideous."
"Quiet!" Euryale snapped. "As for you, Percy Jackson, it's true you bear the Mark of Achilles. That makes you a little tougher to kill. But don't worry. We'll find a way."
"The mark of what?"
"Achilles," Stheno said cheerfully. "Oh, he was gorgeous! Dipped in the River Styx as a child, you know, so he was invulnerable except for a tiny spot on his ankle. That's what happened to you, dear. Someone must've dumped you in the Styx and made your skin like iron. But not to worry. Heroes like you always have a weak spot. We just have to find it, and then we can kill you. Won't that be lovely? Have a Cheese 'n' Wiener!"
Percy didn't remember any dip in the Styx. Then again, he didn't remember much of anything. His skin didn't feel like iron, but it would explain how he'd held out so long against the gorgons. Maybe if he just fell down the mountain ... would he survive? He didn't want to risk it—not without something to slow the fall, or a sled, or—
He looked at Stheno's large silver platter of free samples ... That could work ...
"Reconsidering?" Stheno asked. "Very wise, dear. I added some gorgon's blood to these, so your death will be quick and painless."
Percy's throat constricted. "Y-you added your blood to the Cheese 'n' Wieners?"
"Just a little." Stheno smiled. "A tiny nick on my arm, but you're sweet to be concerned. Blood from our right side can cure anything, you know, but blood from our left side is deadly—"
"You dimwit!" Euryale screeched. "You're not supposed to tell him that! He won't eat the wieners if you tell him they're poisoned!"
Stheno looked stunned. "He won't? But I said it would be quick and painless."
"Never mind!" Euryale's fingernails grew into claws. "We'll kill him the hard way— just keep slashing until we find the weak spot. Once we defeat Percy Jackson, we'll be more famous than Medusa! Our patron will reward us greatly!"
Percy gripped his sword. He'd have to time his move perfectly—a few seconds of confusion, grab the platter with his left hand ... Keep them talking, he thought. "Before you slash me to bits," he said, "who's this patron you mentioned?"
Euryale sneered. "The goddess Gaea, of course! The one who brought us back from oblivion! You won't live long enough to meet her, but your friends below will soon face her wrath. Even now, her armies are marching south. At the Feast of Fortune, she'll awaken, and the demigods will be cut down like—like—"
"Like our low prices at Bargain Mart!" Stheno suggested.
Euryale screeched and stormed toward her sister. Percy took the opening, acting faster than he expected too after running for so long. He grabbed Stheno's platter, scattering poisoned Cheese 'n' Wieners, and slashed Riptide across Euryale's waist, cutting her in half. He raised the platter, and Stheno found herself facing her own greasy reflection.
"Medusa!" she screamed.
Her sister Euryale had crumbled to dust, but she was already starting to re-form—coming up together, twisting like a funnel cloud, only with the horrific addition of mismatched red eyes and bore tusks. "Stheno, you fool! That's just your own reflection! Get him!"
Percy slammed the metal tray on top of Stheno's head, and she passed out cold, crumpling to the ground. He then put the platter behind his backside, said a silent prayer to whatever Roman god oversaw stupid sledding tricks, and jumped off the side of the hill.
ˋˏ [ 👑 ] ˎˊ
The thing about plummeting downhill at fifty miles an hour? Once you realize it's a bad idea, you're already halfway down. That's far too late.
Percy narrowly missed a tree, glanced off a boulder, and spun a three-sixty as he shot toward the highway like a cannonball just shot from a cannon. The stupid snack tray did not have power steering. He heard the gorgon sisters screaming and caught a glimpse of Euryale's coral-snake hair at the top of the hill, but he didn't have time to worry about it. The roof of the apartment building loomed below him like the prow of a battleship. Head-on collision in ten, nine, eight ...
Percy gritted his teeth as he swiveled sideways. Pain shot through out his body, jarring his bones and making them rattle—but he managed to not break his legs on impact. The snack platter skittered across the roof and sailed through the air—the platter went one way, Percy went the other. As he fell toward the highway, a horrible scenario flashed through his mind: his body smashing against an SUV's windshield, some annoyed commuter trying to push him off with the wipers. Stupid sixteen-year-old kid falling from the sky! I'm late!
But miraculously, a gust of wind blew him to one side—just enough to miss the highway and crash into a clump of bushes ( still very painfully, mind you ). The bushes didn't scratch his skin, but they tugged and ripped at his shirt, and that hurt his chest more. He was attached to the shirt, despite not knowing even why he was.
Percy groaned, letting time pass by for a moment. All he wanted to do was lie there and pass out—but he couldn't. He struggled to his feet. His hands weren't scratched up. No bones seemed to be broken, which was a good thing. He still had his backpack. Somewhere on the sled ride he'd lost his sword, but Percy knew it would eventually reappear in his pocket in pen form. That was part of its magic.
Up on the hill, the gorgons were picking their way down the slope, going slower than Percy but with a lot more control. Those chicken feet must've been good for climbing. He figured he had maybe five minutes before they reached him.
Next to him, a tall chain-link fence separated the highway from a neighborhood of winding streets, cozy houses, and tall eucalyptus trees. The fence was probably there to keep people from getting onto the highway and doing stupid things—like sledding into the fast lane on snack trays, for example—but the chain link was full of big holes. Percy could easily slip through into the neighborhood. Maybe he could find a car and drive west to the ocean. He didn't like stealing cars, but when push comes to shove ( see in: "push" two gorgons out for blood, and "shove" they keep trying to fucking kill him ), you do what you must.
He glanced east, and up above—Just as he'd figured—a hundred yards uphill the highway cut through the base of the cliff. Two tunnel entrances, one for each direction of traffic, stared down at him like the eye sockets of a giant skull. In the middle, where the nose would have been, a cement wall jutted from the hillside, with a metal door like the entrance to a bunker.
It might have been a maintenance tunnel. That's probably what mortals thought, if they noticed the door at all. But they couldn't see through the Mist—Percy could. He knew the door was more than that. Three kids in armor flanked the entrance. They wore a bizarre mix of plumed Roman helmets, breastplates, scabbards, blue jeans, purple T-shirts, and white athletic shoes. The guards on the right looked both like girls, though it was hard to tell for sure with all the armor. The third one on the left was a stocky guy with a bow and quiver on his back. All three held long wooden staffs with iron spear tips, like old-fashioned harpoons.
Percy's breath hitched. His gut told him that this was it. After so many horrible days, he'd finally reached his goal. His instincts told him that if he could make it inside that door, he might find safety for the first time since the wolves had sent him south.
He might find her. He finally might see Elisa again.
( So why did he feel such dread? )
Farther up the hill, the gorgons were scrambling over the roof of the apartment complex. Three minutes away—maybe less.
Part of him wanted to run to the door in the hill. He'd have to cross to the median of the highway, but then it would be a short sprint. He could make it before the gorgons reached him. Part of him wanted to head west to the ocean. That's where he'd be safest. That's where his power would be greatest. Those Roman guards at the door made him uneasy. Something inside him said: This isn't my territory. This is dangerous.
"You're right, of course," said a voice next to him.
Percy jumped. "What the f—"
At first, he thought Beano had managed to sneak up on him again, but the old lady sitting in the bushes looked far more repulsive than the gorgons. She looked like a hippie who'd been kicked to the side of the road maybe forty years ago, where she'd been collecting trash and rags ever since. She wore a dress made of tie-dyed cloth, ripped-up quilts, and plastic grocery bags. Her frizzy mop of hair was grey-brown, like root beer foam, tied back with a peace sign headband. Warts and moles covered her face. When she smiled, she showed exactly three teeth.
"It isn't a maintenance tunnel," she confided. "It's the entrance to Camp."
A jolt went up Percy's spine. Camp. That word made him feel warm inside: camp meant the smell of smoking marshmallows over a warm fire, the sound of singing and a laugh—her laugh. Yes, that's where Percy was from. Camp; home—they were one in the same for him. Maybe Elisa was up there, waiting for him.
But something felt wrong. That warm feeling turned into a chilling one.
The gorgons were still on the roof of the apartment building. Then Stheno shrieked in delight and pointed in Percy's direction; they had spotted him, and now, they were on the way to kill him.
The hippie old lady raised her eyebrows. "Not much time, child. You need to make your choice."
"Who are you?" Percy asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The last thing he needed was another harmless mortal who turned out to be a monster.
"Oh, you can call me June." The old lady's eyes sparkled as if she'd made an excellent joke. "It is June, isn't it? They named the month after me!"
"Okay ..." Percy looked around, rubbing his arm. "Look, I should go. Two gorgons are coming. I don't want them to hurt you."
June clasped her hands over her heart. "How sweet! But that's part of your choice!"
"My choice ..." Percy glanced nervously toward the hill. The gorgons had taken off their green vests. Wings sprouted from their backs—small bat wings, which glinted like brass.
( Since when did they have wings? That's not fair! ... But what about this had been fair? ) Percy hoped they were ornamental. Maybe they were too small to get a gorgon into the air. Then the two sisters leaped off the apartment building and soared toward him.
This was going so great.
"Yes, a choice," June said, as if she were in no hurry. "You could leave me here at the mercy of the gorgons and go to the ocean. You'd make it there safely, I guarantee. The gorgons will be quite happy to attack me and let you go. In the sea, no monster would bother you. You could begin a new life, live to a ripe old age, and escape a great deal of pain and misery that is in your future."
Percy was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the second option. "Or?"
"Or you could do a good deed for an old lady," she said. "Carry me to the camp with you."
"Carry you?"
( Percy prayed to any god listening that this old lady was pulling some sick joke. )
June hiked up her skirts and showed him her swollen purple feet. "I can't get there by myself," she said. "Carry me to Camp—across the highway, through the tunnel, across the river."
What river? Percy thought. Either way, it didn't sound easy. June looked pretty heavy. The gorgons were only fifty yards away now—leisurely gliding toward him as if they knew the hunt was almost over.
Percy looked at the old lady. "And I'd carry you to this camp because—?"
"Because it's a kindness!" she said. "And if you don't, the gods will die, the world we know will perish, and everyone from your old life will be destroyed. Of course, you wouldn't remember them, so I suppose it won't matter. You'd be safe at the bottom of the sea ..."
Percy swallowed. The gorgons shrieked with laughter as they soared in for the kill. His heart hammered in his chest. Drifting to the bottom of the sea to die of old age sounded like a decent offer. He could go for the easy choice, but for some reason, he knew that wouldn't give him an easy life ...
"If I go to the camp ..." he said, meeting the woman's gaze; despite her appearance, her eyes were young—full of mirth and delight, "will I get my memory back? Will I see Elisa again?"
There was a ghost of a smile on June's face. She knew something Percy didn't, and it infuriated him. "Eventually," she mused. "But be warned, you will sacrifice much! You'll lose the mark of Achilles. You'll feel pain, misery, and loss beyond anything you've ever known. But you might have a chance to save your old friends and family, to reclaim your old life. To have a chance of saving Elisa Bardales from her own mind."
Elisa Bardales.
Elisa Bardales ... Of course she'd have a pretty last name like Bardales.
He looked back to June. Save her from her own mind? Did that mean he had before? Percy felt like—from what his dreams said, so maybe they weren't too accurate—that she spent more time saving him than he did saving her. But ... if she was in danger, Percy had to find her in time.
The gorgons were circling right overhead. They were probably studying the old woman, trying to figure out who the new player was before they struck.
"What about those guards at the door?" Percy asked.
June smiled. "Oh, they'll let you in, dear. You can trust those three. So, what do you say? Will you help a defenseless old woman?"
Percy doubted June was defenseless. At worst, this was a trap. At best, it was some kind of test.
( And Percy hated tests. Since he'd lost his memory, his whole life was one big fill-in-the-blank. He was __________, from __________. He felt like __________, and if the monsters caught him, he'd be __________. )
Then he thought about Elisa, the only part of his old life he was sure about. He had to find her.
"I'll carry you." He scooped up the old woman into his arms.
She was lighter than he expected. Percy tried to ignore her sour breath and her calloused hands clinging to his neck. He made it across the first lane of traffic. A driver honked. Another yelled something that was lost in the wind. Most just swerved and looked irritated, as if they had to deal with a lot of ratty teenagers carrying old hippie women across the freeway here in Berkeley on the regular.
A shadow fell over him. Stheno called down gleefully, "Clever boy! Found a goddess to carry, did you?"
A goddess? What was the goddess of—nasty breath?
June cackled with delight, muttering, "Whoops!" as a car almost killed them.
Somewhere off to his left, Euryale screamed, "Get them! Two prizes are better than one!"
Percy bolted across the remaining lanes. Somehow he made it to the median alive. He saw the gorgons swooping down, cars swerving as the monsters passed overhead. He wondered what the mortals saw through the Mist—giant pelicans? Off-course hang gliders? The wolf Lupa had told him that mortal minds could believe just about anything—except for the truth. Their minds just couldn't handle what the true reality was.
Percy ran for the door in the hillside. June got heavier with every step. Percy's heart pounded. His ribs ached.
One of the guards yelled. The guy with the bow nocked an arrow. Percy shouted, "Wait!"
But the boy wasn't aiming at him. The arrow flew over Percy's head. Behind him, a gorgon wailed in pain. The second guard readied her spear. And the third was gesturing frantically at Percy to hurry.
Fifty feet from the door. Thirty feet—
"Gotcha!" shrieked Euryale. Percy turned as an arrow thudded into her forehead. Euryale tumbled into the fast lane. A truck slammed into her and carried her backward a hundred yards, but she just climbed over the cab, pulled the arrow out of her head, and launched back into the air.
Percy reached the door. "Thanks," he told the guards. "Good shot."
"That should've killed her!" protested the archer.
"Welcome to my world," Percy muttered.
"Frank," the girl said. "Get them inside, quick! Those are gorgons."
"Gorgons?" The archer's voice squeaked. It was hard to tell much about him under the helmet, but he looked stout like a wrestler—but he could only be fourteen or fifteen. "Will the door hold them?"
In Percy's arms, June cackled. "No, no it won't. Onward, Percy Jackson! Through the tunnel, over the river!"
"Percy Jackson?" One of the female guards was darker-skinned, with curly hair sticking out the sides of her helmet. She looked a little younger than Frank—maybe fourteen, nearly fifteen. Her sword scabbard came down almost to her ankle. Still, she sounded like she was the one in charge.
The second female guard was pale and her eyes were a vibrant, royal blue under her helmet. "Okay, gorgons" —she pointed at the two terrors— "and a demigod" —she pointed at Percy— "but, who—"
She started to point at June, but Percy cut her off. "Never mind," he said. "We just need to get inside."
The girl with darker skin stood a little taller. "I'll hold them off," she offered.
"Hazel!" the girl with blue eyes protested. "Don't be crazy."
"Abilene—" Hazel gripped the other girl's arm. "The earth—plants!"
Abilene's eyes widened. "Okay. Frank—you take—them," she gave Percy and June a weirdered-out look, "and go!"
"What?" Frank protested. "No way!"
"Yes way!"
Frank cursed in another language—was that Latin?—and opened the door. "Come on!"
Percy followed, staggering under the weight of the old lady, who was definitely getting heavier. He didn't know how those two—Hazel and Abilene—would hold off the gorgons by themselves, but he was too tired to argue.
The tunnel cut through solid rock, about the width and height of a school hallway. ( Percy went to school, right? Surely, he did. But ... how many did he attend? ) At first, it looked like a typical maintenance tunnel, with electric cables, warning signs, and fuse boxes on the walls, lightbulbs in wire cages along the ceiling. As they ran deeper into the hillside, the cement floor changed to tiled mosaic. The lights changed to reed torches, which burned but didn't smoke. A few hundred yards ahead, Percy saw a square of daylight.
Percy's arms started shaking—with each step he took, it seemed as if the old lady was just getting heavier and heavier. June mumbled a song in Latin, like a lullaby, which didn't help Percy concentrate any.
Behind them, the gorgons' voices echoed in the tunnel. Hazel and Abilene shouted over one another. Percy was tempted to dump June and run back to help, but then the entire tunnel shook with the rumble of falling stone. There was a squawking sound, just like the gorgons had made when Percy had dropped a crate of bowling balls on them in Napa. He glanced back. The west end of the tunnel was now filled with dust.
"Shouldn't we check on them?" he asked.
"Hazel and Abi will be okay—I hope," Frank said. "They're good underground. Just keep moving! We're almost there."
"Almost where?"
June chuckled. "All roads lead there, child. You should know that."
"Detention?" Percy asked.
"No—Rome, child," the old woman said. "Rome."
Percy wasn't sure he'd heard her right. Yes, his memory was gone. His brain hadn't felt right since he had woken up at the Wolf House. But he was pretty sure Rome wasn't in California.
They kept running. The glow at the end of the tunnel grew brighter, and finally, they burst into sunlight.
Percy skidded to a stop, stopping until he froze entirely. Spread out at his feet was a bowl-shaped valley several miles wide. The basin floor was rumpled with smaller hills, golden plains, and stretches of forest. A small, clear river cut a winding course from a lake in the center and around the perimeter—straight for a point until it made a large half circle, like a capital G. There were live oaks and eucalyptus trees, gold hills, and bright blue skies. That big inland mountain—what was it called, Mount Diablo?—rose in the distance, right where it should be.
It was beautiful, stunning even, but Percy felt like he'd stepped into a secret world. In the center of the valley, nestled by the lake, was a small city of white marble buildings with red-tiled roofs. Some had domes and columned porticoes, like national monuments. Others looked like palaces, with golden doors and large gardens. He could see an open plaza with freestanding columns, fountains, and statues. A five-story-tall Roman coliseum gleamed in the sun, next to a long oval arena like a racetrack.
Across the lake to the south, another hill was dotted with even more impressive buildings—temples, Percy guessed. Several stone bridges crossed the river as it wound through the valley, and in the north, a long line of brickwork arches stretched from the hills into the town. Percy thought it looked like an elevated train track, until he realized it must be an aqueduct.
But the strangest part of the valley was right below him. About two hundred yards away, just across the river, was some sort of military encampment. It was about a quarter mile square, with earthen ramparts on all four sides, the tops lined with sharpened spikes. Outside the walls ran a dry moat, also studded with spikes. Wooden watchtowers rose at each corner, manned by sentries with oversized, mounted crossbows. Purple banners hung from the towers. A wide gateway opened on the far side of camp, leading toward the city. A narrower gate stood closed on the riverbank side. Inside, the fortress bustled with activity: dozens of kids going to and from barracks, carrying weapons, polishing armor. Percy heard the clank of hammers at a forge and smelled meat cooking over a fire.
Something about this place felt very familiar—familiar to the point of bringing an aching in his chest ... but not quite right, either.
"Camp Jupiter," Frank said. "We'll be safe once—"
Footsteps echoed in the tunnel behind them. Hazel and Abilene burst into the light. They were both covered with stone dust and breathing hard. Hazel had lost her helmet, so her curly brown hair fell around her shoulders. Her armor had long slash marks in front of the claws of a gorgon.
Abilene was tucking her helmet under her arms, wiping the dust off her face. Her wavy brown hair was coated in the dust, too. Blinking against her skin, almost like stars, brown freckles coated her skin like a tan—or maybe she was just unable to tan, and this was the best her skin could do. Her blue eyes were large and round as she looked back. Her armor was slashed and cut too—one of the gorgons had tagged her with a 50% OFF sticker.
"We only slowed them down," said Abilene, righting the helmet as it almost fell. "They'll be here any second."
Frank cursed. "We have to get across the river."
June squeezed Percy's neck tighter. "Oh, yes, please. I can't get my dress wet."
Percy bit his tongue. If this lady was a goddess, she must've been the goddess of smelly, heavy, useless hippies. And if she was a goddess, why couldn't she just get herself across? ... But Percy had come this far. He'd better keep lugging her along.
It's a kindness, June had said. And if you don't, the gods will die, the world we know will perish, and everyone from your old life will be destroyed.
If this was a test, he couldn't afford to get an F.
Percy stumbled a few times as they ran for the river. Frank and Abilene kept him on his feet as Hazel lead the way. When they reached the riverbank, Percy had to stop to catch his breath. The current was fast, but the river didn't look deep. Only a stone's throw across stood the gates of the fort.
"Go, Hazel, Abilene." Frank nocked two arrows at once. "Escort Percy so the sentries don't shoot him. It's my turn to hold off the bad guys."
Hazel nodded and waded into the stream. Abilene ushered Percy after them, nodding fervently.
Percy started to follow, but something made him hesitate. Usually he loved the water, but this river seemed ... powerful, and not necessarily friendly. Something told him to stay away from it.
"The Little Tiber," said June, her tone dripping with sympathy. "It flows with the power of the original Tiber, river of the empire. This is your last chance to back out, child. The Mark of Achilles is a Greek blessing. You can't retain it if you cross into Roman territory. The Tiber will wash it away."
Percy was too exhausted to understand all that, but he got the main point. "So ... if I cross, I won't have iron skin anymore?"
June smiled. "So what will it be? Safety, or a future of pain and possibility?"
Behind him, the gorgons screeched as they flew from the tunnel. Frank let his arrows fly. From the middle of the river, Hazel yelled, "Percy, come on!"
Up on the watchtowers, horns blew. The sentries shouted and swiveled their crossbows toward the gorgons.
Percy took a deep breath. Elisa, he told himself. Elisa, Elisa, Elisa, he reminded himself, as if her name was a mantra. To keep going, to keep pushing on.
He forged into the river. It was icy cold—strength surged through his limbs; they tingled like he had just been injected with caffeine. When reached the other side and put the old woman down, the camp's gates opened. Dozens of kids in armor poured out.
Abilene turned with a relieved smile. Then she looked over Percy's shoulder, and her expression changed to horror. "Frank!"
Frank was halfway across the river when the gorgons caught him. They swooped out of the sky and grabbed him by either arm. He cried in pain as their claws dug into his skin.
The sentries yelled, but Percy knew they couldn't get a clear shot—they would only end up killing Frank. The other kids drew swords and got ready to charge into the water, but they'd be too late.
Percy acted without thinking. Right before digging his nails into his skin, he thrust out his hands. Something pulled within him—an intense tug from the put of his gut, and like that, the Tiber obeyed his will. The river surged. Whirlpools formed on either side of Frank. Giant watery hands erupted from the stream, copying Percy's movements. The giant hands grabbed the gorgons, who dropped Frank in surprise. Then the hands lifted the squawking monsters in a liquid vise grip.
He heard the other kids yelping and backing away, but he stayed focused on his task. He made a smashing gesture with his fists, and the giant hands plunged the gorgons into the Tiber. The monsters hit bottom and broke into dust. Glittering clouds of gorgon essence struggled to re-form, but the river pulled them apart like a blender. Soon every trace of the gorgons was swept downstream. The whirlpools vanished, and the current returned to normal.
Percy stood on the riverbank, breathing heavily. His clothes and his skin steamed—as if the Tiber's waters had given him an acid bath. He felt exposed, raw ... vulnerable.
In the middle of the Tiber, Frank stumbled around, looking stunned but perfectly fine. Abilene rushed out and helped him ashore. Only then did Percy realize how quiet the other kids had become.
Everyone was staring at him. Percy searched their faces, hoping that amongst the staring crowd, would be Elisa ... but none of them looked like the girl from his dreams.
"Well!" June said, breaking Percy from his search. She was the only one who didn't look fazed. "That was a lovely trip. Thank you, Percy Jackson, for bringing me to Camp Jupiter."
One of the girls made a choking sound. "Percy ... Jackson?"
She sounded as if she recognized his name. Percy focused on her, hoping—praying—but ... it wasn't her either.
The girl who spoke was obviously a leader. She wore a regal purple cloak over her armor. Her chest was decorated with medals. She must have been about Percy's age, with dark, piercing eyes and long black hair. Percy didn't recognize her, but the girl stared at him as if she'd seen him in her nightmares.
June laughed with delight. "Oh, yes. You'll have such fun together!"
Then, just because the day hadn't been weird enough already, the old lady began to glow and change form. She grew until she was a shining, seven-foot-tall goddess in a blue dress, with a cloak that looked like goat's skin over her shoulders. Her face was stern and stately. In her hand was a staff topped with a lotus flower.
If it was possible for the campers to look more stunned, they did. The girl with the purple cloak knelt. The others followed her lead. One kid got down so hastily that he almost impaled himself on his sword.
Hazel was the first to speak. "Juno."
Frank kicked Abilene in the shin, and she snapped out of her stunned stare. She, Frank, and Hazel all fell to their knees. This left Percy the only one standing. He knew he should probably kneel too, but after carrying the old lady so far, he didn't feel like showing her that much respect.
He narrowed his eyes on the goddess. "Juno, huh?" he said. "If I passed your test, can I have my memory and my life back?"
The goddess smiled. "In time, Percy Jackson, if you succeed here at Camp. You've done well today, which is a good start. Perhaps there's hope for you yet." She turned to the other kids. "Romans, I present to you the son of Neptune. For months he has been slumbering, but now he is awake. His fate is in your hands. The Feast of Fortune comes quickly, and Death must be unleashed if you are to stand any hope in the battle. Do not fail me!"
Juno shimmered and disappeared. Percy looked at the three who had helped him for some kind of explanation, but they seemed just as confused as he was. Frank was holding something Percy hadn't noticed before—two small clay flasks with cork stoppers, like potions, one in each hand. Percy had no idea where they'd come from, but he saw Frank slip them into his pockets. Frank gave Percy a look like: We'll talk about it later.
The girl in the purple cloak stepped forward. She examined Percy warily, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she wanted to run him through with her dagger.
"So," she said coldly, but her voice was still stern, "a son of Neptune, who comes to us with the blessing of Juno."
Percy was exhausted. He was aching, and in a ton of pain. He had just spent gods know how long fighting monsters and wondering how he had survived. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a girl who he didn't know looking like she wanted to kill him. "Look," he told her, "my memory's a little fuzzy. Um, it's gone, actually. Do I know you?"
The girl hesitated. "I am Reyna, praetor of the Twelfth Legion. And ... no, I don't know you."
That last part was a lie—Percy could tell from her eyes. But he also understood that if he argued with her about it here, in front of her soldiers, she wouldn't appreciate it.
"Abilene, Hazel," said Reyna, "bring him inside. I want to question him at the principia. Then we'll send him to Octavian. We must consult the auguries before we decide what to do with him."
"Whoa—what?" Percy asked. "What do you mean, 'decide what to do with' me?"
Reyna's hand tightened on her dagger hilt. Percy could tell she was not used to having her orders being questioned. "Before we accept anyone into Camp, we must interrogate them and read the auguries. Juno said your fate is in our hands. We have to know whether the goddess has brought us as a new recruit ..."
Reyna studied Percy as if she found that doubtful. Percy set his jaw, pinching his eyebrows together.
"Or," she said more hopefully, "if she's brought us an enemy to kill."
👑 NOV. 1ST, 2023 / i saw this theory about why percy only remembered annabeth's name- bc that's what helped him survive river styx. now idk if that's what riordan intended when making percy only remember annabeth, but that's what I'm going with! (or in this case, percy only remembering elisa's name bc she is what helped him survive the river styx)
first peek at abilene huhuhu i love her (she had, like, two lines this chapter ,,) but that doesn't matter!!
it is weird to actually be writing son of neptune rn- like i've been thinking about this act for so long that it's weird to actually be here writing it
i made this chapter an interlude instead of a "001" bc ... this is abilene's story not percy's (yes percy will still have importance) but this is to explore abliene's character and set up for her character arc for the future- so that's why i made this an interlude (a long ass interlude) bc i still wanted to write percy missing elisa but i also thought it shouldn't be a first chapter
anyways,, thoughts?? opinions??
(not edited, nor proofread)