THE NEXT MORNING, Ophelia woke to to the breakfast bell sounding throughout the ship. A few moments later, there was a knock on her cabin door.
"Phee, you up?" Leo asked through the door. "We're landing in Kansas."
Ophelia couldn't do much but groan as she sat up, still savoring the edges of sleep. For once, she'd had a relatively peaceful night free of horrific demigod dreams, and she really wished it didn't have to end so soon.
Leo opened her door and poked his head in. "You awake?"
"Unfortunately," she grumbled.
"Do you wear anything you haven't stolen from someone else?" Leo asked, looking at her sleep-shirt. "I'm like 99% sure I saw Jason wearing that the other day."
Ophelia rolled her eyes. "My dad's the god of thieves, what do you expect?"
Leo nodded in understanding. "Makes sense. Anyway, we're setting down a few miles outside Topeka. And, um..." He glanced out in the passageway, then leaned inside again. "I'm really sorry about yesterday, Phee. I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to—"
Ophelia shook her head. "It's fine, Leo," she told him. "You weren't yourself—you were literally possessed. I don't blame you for that."
"Still..." Leo said. He pointed at his own face, right around the spot where he'd elbowed hers. "If you want to punch me in the face to get back at me, I'm totally cool with that."
Ophelia chuckled quietly, rubbing her eyes. "I'm good," she said.
"You sure? I've been told I have a pretty punchable face," Leo said.
"Oh, you do," Ophelia agreed. "But I don't make a habit of punching the people I love."
Leo blinked, looking a little like a startled owl. "You love me?"
Ophelia sighed. "You're one of my best friends, Leo. Of course I love you."
Leo put a hand over his chest. "I love you too, Phee."
From above, they heard Coach yell, "Thar she blows! Kansas, ahoy!"
"Holy Hephaestus," Leo muttered. "He really needs to work on his shipspeak. I'd better get above deck. See you in a few."
Ophelia got ready quickly, changing into a pair of running shorts and a plain, light blue t-shirt. It was certainly less conspicuous than the ungodly orange of the Camp Half-Blood t-shirts, and it wouldn't put a direct target on their backs if the Romans caught up with them while they were in Kansas.
She slipped her compass into her pocket and headed down to the mess hall for a chocolate chip muffin.
She joined the others on the deck as the ship began to descend into a field of sunflowers. Ophelia stood at the rail of the ship between Piper and Jason, Jason's arm wrapped loosely around her waist. He used his free hand to steal a piece of her muffin, smiling innocently at her playful glare. Everyone was in visibly better spirits that morning.
"So!" Annabeth said, plucking Piper's bagel right out of her hand and taking a bite before handing it back. "Here we are. What's the plan?"
"I want to check out the highway," Piper said. "Find the sign the says Topeka 32."
Leo spun his Wii controller in a circle, and the sails lowered themselves. "We shouldn't be far," he said. "Festus and I calculated the landing as best as we could. What do you expect to find at the mile marker?"
Piper explained what she'd seen in her knife—the man in purple with a goblet.
"Purple shirt?" Jason asked. "Vines on his hate?"
"Sounds like Bacchus," Ophelia said, remembering the god from hers and Jason's quest to find a leopard he'd somehow managed to misplace.
How you could misplace a leopard, Ophelia still couldn't understand.
"Dionysus," Percy muttered. "If we came all the way to Kansas to see Mr. D—"
"Bacchus isn't so bad," Jason said. "I don't like his followers much..."
Ophelia bit back a shudder, remembering the encounter she and her friends had had a few months ago with the maenads.
"But the god himself is okay," Jason continued. "We did him a favor once up in the wine country."
Percy looked appalled. "Whatever, man. Maybe he's better on the Roman side. But why would he be hanging around Kansas? Didn't Zeus order the gods to cease all contact with mortals?"
"The gods haven't been very good at following that order," Frank noted. "Besides, if the gods have gone schizophrenic like Hazel said—"
"And Leo said," Leo added.
Frank scowled at him. "Then who knows what's going on with the Olympians? Could be some pretty bad stuff out there."
"Sounds dangerous!" Leo agreed cheerfully. "Well... you guys have fun. I've got to finish repairs on the hull. Coach Hedge is gonna work on the broken crossbows. And, uh, Annabeth—I could really use your help. You're the only other person who even sort of understands engineering."
Annabeth looked apologetically at Percy. "He's right. I should stay and help."
"I'll come back to you." Percy kissed her on the cheek. "Promise."
Frank slid his bow off his shoulder and propped it against the rail. "I think I should turn into a crow or something and fly around, keep an eye out for the Romans."
"Why a crow?" Leo asked. "Man, if you can turn into a dragon, why don't you just turn into a dragon every time? That's the coolest."
Frank scowled. "That's like asking why you don't bench-press your maximum weight every time you lift. Because it's hard, and you'd hurt yourself. Turning into a dragon isn't easy."
"Oh." Leo nodded. "I wouldn't know. I don't lift weights."
"Yeah. Well, maybe you should consider it, Mr.—"
"Whoa whoa," Ophelia said, stepping between the two and scowling at both of them. "None of that."
"I'll help you, Frank," Hazel offered. "I can summon Arion and scout around below."
"Sure," Frank said. "Yeah, thanks."
Hazel turned to Percy. "Just be careful when you go out there. Lots of fields, lots of crops. Could be karpoi on the loose."
"Karpoi?" Piper questioned.
"Grain spirits," Hazel explained. "You don't want to meet them."
"That leaves four of us to check on the mile marker," Percy said. "Me, Jason, Ophelia, and Piper. I'm not psyched about seeing Mr. D. again. That guy is a pain. But, Jason, Ophelia, if you're on better terms with him—"
"Yeah," Jason said. "If we find him, we'll talk to him."
❖
Once they made it out of the sunflower field the Argo II had landed on and made it to the highway, Ophelia pulled out her compass. "Topeka 32," she said.
The needle pointed straight ahead down the road, declaring 8mi.
"Whoa, you have a magic compass?" Percy asked.
"Yeah," Ophelia said. "And it says the mile marker's straight ahead, eight miles away."
Percy made a face. "So we have eight miles to walk?"
Jason peered both ways down the deserted road. "No cars..." he said. "But I guess we wouldn't want to hitchhike."
Ophelia looked around at the ghosts surrounding them, far too many with slit throats and other bloody wounds. One of them—a girl no older than Ophelia—looked at Jason in horror. "No! Don't risk it!"
"I'm gonna go with the ghosts of way too many murder victims and say that's not a good idea," Ophelia said.
Percy blinked. "Wha—ghosts? I thought you were a daughter of Mercury?"
"I'm a legacy of Trivia on my mom's side," Ophelia explained casually. "She did some bad stuff, got cursed to see ghosts, I inherited the curse after she died—that's the gist of it."
"How many ghosts are there?" Piper asked, her expression wary.
Ophelia glanced around at the dozens of murdered hitchhikers and car accident victims who never passed on, then looked back at Piper. "You really don't want to know."
Piper shuddered visibly. "Okay, no hitchhiking. We've already spent too much time going overland, anyway. The earth is Gaea's territory."
"Hmm..." Jason snapped his fingers. "I can call a friend for a ride."
Percy raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah? Me too. Let's see whose friend gets here first."
Jason whistled. He'd only succeeded in summoning Tempest three times since he first tamed the storm spirit last winter. Today, the sky was so blue, Ophelia wasn't sure he'd come.
Percy just closed his eyes and concentrated.
Ophelia and Piper looked at each other, leaving the boys to call their rides.
Thunder crackled in the clear sky. Jason smiled. "Soon."
"Too late." Percy pointed east, where a black winged shape was spiraling toward them.
"A black pegasus?" Piper asked. "Never seen one like that."
The winged horse came in for a landing. Ophelia stepped back, immediately wary of the creature. The pegasi back at Camp Half-Blood hadn't been huge fans of her, much like the naiads—it was like Neptune/Poseidon had put out an Ophelia Imai sucks message to all the creatures in his domain for what she'd done to Maren.
Which, if she thought about it long enough, was pretty hypocritical seeing as if he'd suspended half as much effort in being a decent father, Maren might never have betrayed the legion and Ophelia wouldn't have had a reason to kill her.
But what were gods if not raging hypocrites?
Percy's pegasus trotted over to him and nuzzled his face, then turned his head inquisitively toward Piper, Jason, and Ophelia.
"Blackjack," Percy said, "This is Piper, Jason, and Ophelia. They're friends."
The horse looked at Ophelia, nickering.
"Yes, even Ophelia," Percy said.
The horse nickered again, and this time Percy just rolled his eyes. "Maybe later," he answered.
"What does Blackjack want?" Piper asked.
"Donuts," Percy sighed. "Always donuts. It'll be a tight fit, but he can probably fit all four of us if—"
Suddenly the air turned cold. Ophelia's ears popped, and about fifty yards away, a miniature cyclone three stories tall tore across the tops of the sunflowers. It touched down on the road next to Jason and took the form of a horse—a misty steed with lightning flickering through its body.
"Tempest," Jason said, grinning broadly. "Long time, my friend."
The storm spirit reared and whinnied. Blackjack backed up skittishly.
"Easy, boy," Percy said. "He's a friend too." He gave Jason an impressed look. "Nice ride, Grace."
Jason shrugged. "I made friends with him during our fight at the Wolf House. He's a free spirit, literally, but once in a while he agrees to help me."
Percy and Jason climbed on their respective horses. Ophelia took Jason's hand and climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms securely around his waist. Piper hopped onto Blackjack, and the horses took off.
Tempest raced down the road with Blackjack soaring overhead. They didn't pass any cars on the road, thankfully—gods only knew the kinds of accidents a tornado horse could cause—and in no time, they made it to the mile marker.
Blackjack landed. Both stallions pawed at the asphalt, looking a bit miffed at having to stop so suddenly, just when they'd found their stride.
Blackjack whinnied.
"You're right," Percy said. "No sign of the wine dude."
"I beg your pardon?" said a voice from the fields.
Tempest turned quickly, and Ophelia tightened her grip on Jason's waist to keep from falling off.
The wheat parted and a man stepped into view. He wore a wide-brimmed hat wreathed with grapevines, a purple short-sleeved shirt, khaki shorts, and Birkenstocks with white socks. He looked maybe thirty, with a slight potbelly.
Yep—definitely Lord Bacchus.
"Did someone just call me the wine dude?" he asked in a lazy drawl. "It's Bacchus, please. Or Mr. Bacchus. Or Lord Bacchus. Or, sometimes, Oh-My-Gods-Please-Don't-Kill-Me, Lord Bacchus."
Percy urged Blackjack forward, though the pegasus didn't look too happy about it.
"You look different," Percy told the god. "Skinnier. Your hair is longer. And your shirt isn't so loud."
Bacchus squinted up at him. "What in blazes are you talking about? Who are you, and where is Ceres?"
"Uh... what series?"
"Lord Bacchus means Ceres, the goddess of agriculture," Ophelia explained. "You'd call her Demeter."
Jason nodded respectfully to the god. "Lord Bacchus, do you remember us? We helped you with a missing leopard in Sonoma."
Bacchus scratched his stubbly chin. "Ah... yes. John Green."
"Jason Grace."
"And... Juliet May."
"Uh... Ophelia Imai," Ophelia corrected.
Bacchus waved a dismissive hand. "Ah, I knew it was one of those Shakespearean names. That's one of my kids, y'know?"
"I remember from last time, Lord Bacchus," Ophelia said, trying to sound as polite as possible.
"So," the god said. "Did Ceres send you, then?"
"No, Lord Bacchus," Jason said. "Were you expecting to meet her here?"
The god snorted. "Well, I didn't come to Kansas to party, my boy. Ceres asked me here for a council of war. What with Gaea rising, the crops are withering. Droughts are spreading. The karpoi are in revolt. Even my grapes aren't safe. Ceres wanted a united front in the plant war."
"The plant war," Percy repeated. "You're going to arm all the little grapes with tiny assault rifles?"
The god narrowed his eyes. "Have we met?"
"At Camp Half-Blood," Percy said. "I know you as Mr. D—Dionysus."
"Agh!" Bacchus winced and pressed his hands to his temples. For a moment, his image flickered. "Stop that!" he demanded. "Stop thinking about me in Greek!"
Percy blinked. "Uh, but—"
"You you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused? Splitting headaches all the time! I never know what I'm doing or where I'm going! Constantly grumpy!"
"That sounds pretty normal for you," Percy said.
The god's nostrils flared. One of the grape leaves on his hat burst into flames. "If we know each other from that other camp, it's a wonder I haven't already turned you into a dolphin."
"It was discussed," Percy assured him. "I think you were just too lazy to do it."
Ophelia felt like she was watching a slow-motion car wreck. Did Percy Jackson have some kind of death wish?
"Lord Bacchus!" Piper interrupted, hopping off of Blackjack's back.
"Piper, careful," Jason warned.
The daughter of Aphrodite shot her friends a look that said I've got this. "Sorry to trouble you, my lord," she told the god, "but actually we came here to get your advice. Please, we need your wisdom."
The god frowned, but the dangerous purple glow faded in his eyes. "You're well-spoken, girl. Advice, eh? Very well. I would avoid karaoke. Really, theme parties in general are out. In these austere times, people are looking for a simple, low-key affair, with locally produced organic snacks and—"
"Not about parties," Piper interrupted. "Although that's incredibly useful advice, Lord Bacchus. We were hoping you'd help us on our quest."
Piper told the wine god about the Argo II, their voyage to stop the giants from awakening Gaea, what Nemesis had said about Rome being destroyed in six days. She described the vision she'd seen in her knife, of Bacchus offering her a silver goblet.
"Silver goblet?" The god didn't sound very excited. He grabbed a Diet Pepsi out of thin air and popped the top of the can.
"You drink Diet Coke," Percy said.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Bacchus snapped. "As to this vision of a goblet, young lady, I have nothing for you to drink unless you want a Pepsi. Jupiter has put me under strict orders to avoid giving wine to minors. Bothersome, but there you have it. As for the giants, I know them well. I fought in the first Giant War, you know."
"You can fight?" Percy asked.
The god snarled. His Diet Pepsi transformed into a five-foot staff wreathed in ivy, topped with a pinecone.
"A thyrsus!" Piper said, clearly trying to distract the god before he attacked Percy. "Oh, what a mighty weapon!"
"Indeed," Bacchus agreed. "I'm glad someone in your group is smart. The pinecone is a fearsome tool of destruction! I was a demigod myself in the first Giant War, you know. The son of Jupiter!"
Jason flinched, probably not too thrilled at being reminded that the Wine Dude was technically his big brother. Ophelia patted his shoulder in sympathy.
Bacchus swung his staff through the air, though his potbelly almost threw him off balance. "Of course that was long before I invented wine and became an immortal. I fought side by side with the gods and some other demigod... Harry Cleese, I think."
"Heracles?" Piper suggested politely.
"Whatever," Bacchus said. "Anyway, I killed the giant Ephialtes and his brother Otis. Horrible boors, those two. Pinecone to the face for both of them!"
Piper looked like she was connecting a series of dots in her head. "Lord Bacchus. Those two giants, Ephialtes and Otis... would they happen to be twins?"
"Hmm?" The god seemed distracted by his thyrsus-swinging, but he nodded. "Yes, twins. That's right."
Twins snuff out the angel's breath.
Piper looked at her friends. "That's why we're here," Piper told the god. "You're part of our quest!"
Bacchus frowned. "I'm sorry, my girl. I'm not a demigod anymore. I don't do quests."
"But giants can only be killed by heroes and gods working together," Piper insisted. "You're a god now, and the two giants we have to fight are Ephialtes and Otis. I think... I think they're waiting for us in Rome. They're going to destroy the city somehow. The silver goblet I saw in my vision—maybe it's meant as a symbol for your help. You have to help us kill the giants."
Bacchus's expression hardened, and Ophelia removed her arm from around Jason's waist, her hand moving to her pocket.
"My girl," the god said coldly. "I don't have to do anything. Besides, I only help those who give me proper tribute, which no one has managed to do in many, many centuries."
Blackjack whinnied uneasily.
"What kind of tribute?" Percy asked.
Bacchus waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing you could handle, insolent Greek. But I will give you some free advice, since this girl does have some manners. Seek out Gaea's son, Phorcys. He always hated his mother, not that I can blame him. He didn't have much use for his siblings the twins, either. You'll find him in the city they named after that heroine—Atalanta."
Piper hesitated. "You mean Atlanta?"
"That's the one."
"But this Phorcys," Jason said. "Is he a giant? A Titan?"
Bacchus laughed. "Neither. Seek out the salt water."
"Salt water..." Percy said. "In Atlanta?"
"Yes," Bacchus said. "Are you hard of hearing? If anyone can give you insight on Gaea and the twins, it's Phorcys. Just watch out for him."
"What do you mean?" Ophelia asked.
The god glanced up at the sun, which had climbed to almost high noon. "It's unlike Ceres to be late, unless she sensed something dangerous in this area. Or..." The god's face suddenly went slack. "Or a trap. Well, I must be going! And if I were you, I'd do the same!"
"Lord Bacchus, wait!" Jason protested.
The god shimmered and disappeared with a sound like a soda-can top being popped.
❖
apparently it's canon that shakespeare was a son of apollo, but FUCK THAT bacchus/dionysus is literally the god of theatre—if shakespeare's a demigod, that's his pops.