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*
Poison Bites Back
When Jason woke, he could hear the thunder and waves crashing outside from within the cabins. His first thought – being one of the only demigods on board with storm powers – was that he needed to get to the top deck to help with the storm. Getting to the deck was not easy, though; the ship was tilting so violently that he had to literally climb the floor to get out of sickbay. The hull creaked and the engine groaned like a dying whale. Jason climbed the stairs to the middle deck. His legs shook like jelly and his head spun. The ship pitched to port, knocking him against the opposite wall.
He watched Hazel stumble out of her cabin, hugging her stomach. She groaned. “I hate the ocean!” Then she saw Jason and her eyes widened. “What are you doing out of bed?!”
“I’m going up there!” Jason said, pointing to the upper deck. “I can help!”
Hazel looked like she wanted to argue. Then the ship tilted to starboard, and she staggered toward the bathroom, hands over her mouth.
Jason had to fight his way to the stairs. He hadn’t been out of bed in a day and a half, ever since Annabeth and Piper got back from Sparta and he had unexpectedly collapsed. He felt weak, muscles unused for so long, and they rebelled at the effort, his legs feeling numb. The worst part was his gut, which felt like Michael Varus was standing behind him, stabbing him repeatedly and yelling, “Die like a Roman!”
But Jason was tired of being pitied and treated like glass. He was tired of how his friends whispered their worries behind his back. And he was tired of dreaming about being stabbed, over and over again. He decided that he had spent enough time nursing the wound in his gut – either it would kill him, or it wouldn’t. It wasn’t getting any better with bedrest and there weren’t many other options, but he wasn’t going to waste time waiting for the wound to decide. He needed to do what he could to help his friends, regardless of his health.
Somehow, Jason made it above deck. What he saw up there made him almost as nauseous as Hazel.
A wave the size of a skyscraper crashed over the forward deck, washing the front crossbows and half the port railing out to sea. The sails were ripped to shreds from the winds. Lightning flashed all around, hitting the sea like spotlights. Horizontal rain blasted Jason’s face. The clouds were so dark that he honestly couldn’t tell if it was day or night. Around Jason, the crew was doing what they could – which, unfortunately, wasn’t much.
Leo had lashed himself to the console with a bungee cord harness. That might have seemed like a good idea when he rigged it up, but every time a wave hit, he was washed away. Then he would be smacked back into his control board like a human paddleball. Meanwhile, Piper and Annabeth were trying to save the rigging. Since Sparta, they had become quite a team – able to work together without even talking, which was just as well, because they couldn’t have possibly heard each other over the storm. And Frank had turned into a gorilla; he was swinging upside down off the starboard rail, using his massive strength and his flexible feet to hang on while he untangled some broken oars. Even Festus was trying to help. He spewed fire at the rain, though that didn’t seem to discourage the storm any.
It looked like the crew was trying to get the ship airborne, though they weren’t very successful. Even if they managed to take off, Jason wasn’t so sure that the sky would be any safer.
Only Perseus was having any luck. He stood by the centre mast, steady on his feet, and his hands were extended like he was on a tightrope. Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t being knocked around when the ship bobbed to and from. Every time the ship tilted, he pushed in the opposite direction and the hull stabilised. He summoned giant waves of water from the ocean to slam into the larger waves before they could reach the deck. And each time a gust of wind pushed more rain and hail toward the ship, Perseus would reach out a hand and pull, redirecting the pounding rain back into the ocean.
Watching everyone as they stumbled around the deck, looking like sopping wet cats, Jason could only think that Perseus looked like a god amongst them all.
Water – and chaos – were definitely his elements. And with the storm as bad as it was, Jason realised belatedly that the only reason the ship hadn’t been capsized or smashed to bits was because Perseus was there. Without him, the Argo II wouldn’t have stayed in one piece for this long.
Jason staggered toward the centre mast.
Leo yelled at him – probably something like “go downstairs!” – but Jason simply waved back with a smile. He made it to Perseus’ side and grabbed his shoulder for balance. Perseus barely moved, steady like concrete, acting as a support for Jason to keep his feet on the tilting deck. Perseus nodded at him in greeting. He didn’t look shocked or demand that Jason go back to sickbay, and Jason appreciated that.
Jason knew that Perseus could stay dry if he wanted to, but his dark hair was wet and plastered to his face. His clothes were ripped and soaked. His deep green eyes almost glowed with power, flashing with each bolt of lightning that lit up the sky. His brows were furrowed with concentration as he single-handedly continued to keep the ship afloat in the storm. Jason almost found Perseus handsome, no matter his disheveled appearance – or maybe that was why Jason found it so attractive. Regardless, Perseus obviously had bigger things to worry about than how he looked.
Perseus leaned over, putting his mouth by Jason’s ear, and shouted something. But over the storm, Jason could only make out a few words. “Thing … down … stop it!”
He pointed over the side of the ship.
“Something is causing the storm?” Jason yelled back.
Perseus gave Jason a grin and tapped his ears. Clearly, he hadn’t heard a word Jason had said. Perseus made a gesture with his hand, like someone diving overboard. Then he tapped Jason on the chest.
“You want me to go?” Jason asked, shocked. If he were being honest, he felt kind of honoured. Everyone else had been treating Jason like he was fragile. But Perseus – well, he seemed to figure that if Jason was on deck, he was ready for action. “Happy to!” Jason shouted. The wind ripped away his words. “But I can’t breathe underwater!”
Perseus shrugged, as if saying, “sorry, can’t hear you!”
Then, Perseus ran to the starboard rail, pushed another massive wave twice the size of the Argo II away from the ship, and jumped overboard. Jason looked over at Piper and Annabeth. They both clung to the rigging, staring at where Perseus had jumped in shock.
Piper’s expression screamed: IS HE OUT OF HIS MIND?!
Jason gave Piper a thumbs-up. It was partly to assure her that Perseus would be fine – which Jason wasn’t sure about – and partly to agree that yes, Perseus was, in fact, crazy – which he was sure about.
Jason made his way to the railing, gut hurting the whole time, and looked up at the storm. Winds raged and clouds churned. He could sense an entire army of venti swirling above the ship, too angry and agitated to take a physical form, but still hungry for destruction. Jason raised his arm and summoned a lasso of wind. He had learned long ago that the best way to control a crowd of bullies was to pick the biggest, meanest kid, and force him into submission, then the others would fall into line. Jason lashed out with his wind rope, searching for the strongest and most ornery ventus in the storm.
He lassoed a nasty patch of storm and pulled it in.
“You’re serving me today,” he growled.
Howling in protest, the ventus encircled Jason. The storm above the ship seemed to lessen just a bit, as if the other venti were thinking, oh shit – that guy means business.
Jason levitated off the deck, encased in his own miniature tornado. Spinning like a corkscrew, he plunged underwater. For some reason, he had assumed things would be calmer underwater. Not so much. Of course, that could have been due to his mode of travel. Riding a cyclone to the bottom of the ocean gave him some unexpected turbulence. Jason dropped and swerved with no apparent logic, his ears popping, and his stomach pressed against his ribs.
Finally, Jason drifted to a stop next to Perseus. The dude was just standing in the water like it was air, like some kind of fish Jesus. He peered over a ledge jutting out over an even deeper abyss.
“Hey,” Perseus greeted, casual.
Jason could hear him perfectly, though he didn’t know how.
“What’s going on?”
Perseus pointed into the void. “Wait for it.”
Three seconds later, a shaft of green light swept through the darkness like a spotlight, and then it disappeared. “Something is down there,” Perseus said, “stirring up this storm.” He frowned, though he didn’t look too worried with the sudden realisation. He turned and sized-up Jason’s tornado. “Nice outfit. Can you hold it together if we go deeper?”
“I have no idea how I’m doing this,” Jason admitted.
“Okay. Well, just don’t get knocked unconscious.”
“Shut up.”
Perseus grinned, looking worryingly excited. “Let’s see what’s down there.”
*
They sank so deep that Jason couldn’t see anything except for Perseus swimming next to him in the dim light of his imperial gold blade. For some reason, Perseus didn’t seem to have the same vision impairment, and he didn’t run into seaweed and random rocks like Jason. Every so often, the green searchlight shot upward. Perseus swam straight toward the source. Jason’s ventus crackled and roared, straining to escape. The smell of ozone made him lightheaded, but he kept his shell of air intact.
Finally, the darkness lessened below them. Soft white luminous patches, like schools of jellyfish, floated before Jason’s eyes. As he approached the seafloor, Jason realised the patches were glowing fields of algae surrounding the ruins of a palace. Silt swirled through empty courtyards with abalone floors. Barnacle-covered Greek columns marched into the gloom.
In the centre of the complex rose a citadel larger than anything Jason had ever seen, its walls encrusted with pearls, its domed golden roof cracked open like an egg.
“Atlantis?” Jason murmured in awe.
“That’s a myth,” Perseus said, exasperated.
“Uh … don’t we deal with myths?”
“No, I mean it’s a real myth. The kids story you’re thinking of – it’s not actually true. The closest thing to it is my dad’s kingdom in the Atlantic, known by the same name.”
Embarrassed, Jason stayed silent as they floated through the broken dome and down into the shadows. Perseus frowned and looked around. “This place seems familiar …” Perseus’s voice was soft – nostalgic. “It’s almost like I’ve been here before –”
The green spotlight flashed directly below them. It blinded Jason and he dropped like a stone, touching down on the smooth marble floor. When his vision cleared, he saw that they weren’t alone.
Standing before them was a twenty-foot-tall woman in a flowing green dress, cinched at the waist with a belt of abalone shells. Her skin was as luminous white as the fields of algae. Her hair swayed and glowed like jellyfish tendrils. Her face was beautiful but unearthly – her eyes were too bright, her features were too delicate, and her smile was too cold, as if she had been studying human smiles and hadn’t quite mastered the art. Her hands rested on a disc of polished green metal about six feet in diameter, sitting on a bronze tripod. It reminded Jason of a steel drum he had once seen a street performer play. The woman spun the metal disc like a cake turn table, then began to delicately hit it like a bongo.
Several shafts of green light shot upward and churned the water, shaking the walls of the old palace. Shards from the domed ceiling broke and tumbled down in slow motion.
“You’re making the storm,” Jason realised.
“Indeed, I am.” The woman’s voice was melodic, yet it had a strange resonance as if it extended past the human range of hearing. Pressure built between Jason’s eyes.
“It’s a beautiful storm. Lots of destruction – genuinely, it’s great work. But who are you, and what do you want?” Perseus asked, hands on his hips.
The woman turned toward him, and her expression was unamused. “Why brother, I’m your half-sister, and I wanted to meet you before you died.”
Well, that couldn’t mean anything good.
Jason knew they only had two options – fight or talk. Usually, when faced with a creepy twenty-foot-tall lady with jellyfish hair, Jason would have gone with ‘fight.’ But she had called Perseus “brother,” and that made Jason hesitate. “Perseus, do you know this … individual?”
“Give me one sec, dad has a lot of kids.” Perseus’s face scrunched in thought. He bit his bottom lip and began counting on his fingers. Jason looked between him and the lady, who was beginning to look increasingly pissed off, silently urging him to hurry up before they were both killed. Jason started to get concerned when Perseus got up to fifty and lost count. Then finally, Perseus seemed to have an epiphany. “Oh, I remember now! You’re Kymopoleia.”
The pale lady raked her fingernails against the metal disc, making a screeching sound like a tortured whale.
“No one knows me!” She wailed. “Why would I assume my own brother would recognise me? I always – wait, what?”
Perseus and Jason exchanged looks.
“Kymopoleia,” Perseus repeated. “You’re the goddess of violent seas and storms. Your name is kind of long, though, so I’m just going to call you Kym for short.”
Jason was silently dying on the inside. Perseus was going to get them killed talking like that. How the hell had this guy survived so long in Tartarus?
The goddess – seemingly fed up with her brother – turned away from Perseus, ignoring him, and put her full attention on Jason. She pointed with her index finger and traced his outline in the water. Jason could feel his captured air spirit rippling around him, as if it were being tickled.
“I know you, Jason Grace,” said the goddess. “Son of Jupiter.”
“Yeah … I’m a friend of Perseus’.”
Kymopoleia’s eyes narrowed. “So, it’s true … these times make for strange friends and unexpected enemies. The Romans never worshipped me. To them, I was a nameless fear – a sign of Neptune’s greatest wrath. They never worshipped Kymopoleia, the goddess of violent sea storms!” She spun her disc. Another beam of green light flashed upward, churning the water, and making the ruins rumble.
“Uh, yeah,” Perseus said. He gave a sheepish smile. “The Romans aren’t big on navies. They had, like, one rowboat. Which I sank, very violently. Speaking of violent storms, you’re doing a first-rate job upstairs. It’s very destructive. Very beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Kymopoleia seemed pleased at the praise.
“The thing is, our ship is caught in it, and it’s kind of being ripped apart. I’m sure you didn’t mean to, though –”
“Oh, yes, I did.”
“… you did.” Perseus grimaced. “Well … that sucks. I don’t suppose you would cut it out, then, if we asked nicely?”
“No,” the goddess agreed. “Even now, the ship is close to sinking. I’m rather amazed it has held together this long. Excellent workmanship.”
“Thanks,” Perseus said, sarcastically, “I’ll pass that on to Leo.”
Sparks flew from Jason’s arms into the tornado. Jason thought about the rest of the crew frantically trying to keep the ship in one piece. By coming down here, Perseus and he had left the others defenceless against the storm. They had to act soon, or their friends would be joining them at the bottom of the sea. Besides, Jason’s air was getting stale. He wasn’t sure if it was possible to use-up a ventus by inhaling it, but if Jason was going to have to fight, he had better take on Kymopoleia before he ran out of oxygen.
But the thing was – fighting a goddess in her home court wouldn’t be easy. Even with Perseus, who was also in his element, it would be hard. And even then, if they managed to take her down, there was no guarantee the storm would stop.
“So … Kymopoleia,” Jason said. “What could we do to make you change your mind and let our ship go?”
Kym gave Jason her creepy alien smile. “Son of Jupiter, do you know where you are?”
Jason was tempted to say “underwater.”
“You mean these ruins? An ancient palace of some sort?”
“Indeed,” Kym nodded. “The original palace of my father, Poseidon.”
Perseus grinned and snapped his fingers. “That’s why I recognised it. Dad’s new crib in the Atlantic is kind of like this.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Kymopoleia grumbled. “I am never invited to see my parents. I can only wander the ruins of their old domains. They find my presence … disruptive.”
“Gods, I have no clue why.”
Jason hit Perseus over the head for that comment.
Kymopoleia spun her wheel again. The entire back wall of the building collapsed, sending a cloud of silt and algae through the chamber. Fortunately, the ventus acted like a fan and blew the debris out of Jason’s face.
“Disruptive?” He tried. “You?”
“My father does not welcome me in his court,” Kymopoleia growled. “He restricts my powers. This storm above? I haven’t had this much fun in ages, yet it is only a small taste of what I can do!”
“A little goes a long way,” Perseus said. “Anyway, about you changing your mind –”
“My father even married me off,” Kymopoleia said, her voice a whine. “Without my permission. He gave me away like a trophy to Briares, a hundred-handed one, as a reward for supporting the gods in the war with Kronos aeons ago.”
Perseus’s face brightened. “Hey, I know Briares. He’s a friend of mine. I freed him from Alcatraz.”
“Yes, I know.” Kymopoleia’s eyes glinted coldly. Her voice was bitter. “I hate my husband. I was not at all pleased to have him back.”
“Oh, so … is Briares around?” Perseus asked, hopeful.
Kymopoleia’s laugh sounded like dolphin chatter. “He’s off at Mount Olympus in New York, shoring up the gods’ defences. Not that it will matter. My point, dear brother, is that Poseidon has never treated me fairly. I like to come here, to his old palace, because it pleases me to see his work in ruins. Someday soon, his new palace will look like this one, and the seas will rage unchecked.”
Perseus looked at Jason. “This is the part where she tells us she’s working for Gaea.”
“Yeah,” Jason said, equally exasperated. “And that the Earth Mother promised her a better deal once the gods are destroyed …” He turned to the goddess. “You do understand that Gaea won’t keep her promises, right? She’s using you, just like she’s using the giants.”
“I am touched by your concern,” the goddess said, her voice eerie. “The Olympian gods, on the other hand, have never used me, eh?”
Perseus spread his hands out in a shrug. “At least the Olympians are trying. After the Second Titan War, they started paying more attention to the other gods. A lot of them have cabins now at Camp Half-Blood; Hades, Iris, Nemesis, and Tyche – along with others, too. We give them offerings at every meal, cool banners, special recognition in the end-of-summer programmes –”
“And do I get such offerings?” Kymopoleia asked.
“Well … no. It’s normally just the gods who have children at camp, but that can change. I can –”
“Then save your words, brother.” Kymopoleia’s jellyfish-tentacle hair floated towards him, as if anxious to paralyse new prey. “I have heard so much about the ‘Great Percy Jackson.’ The giants are quite obsessed with capturing you. I must say … I don’t see what the fuss is about.”
Perseus did not look happy. “Thanks, sis. But first off – it’s Perseus, not Percy. And if you’re going to try to kill me, I’ve got to warn you that it’s been tried before. I’ve faced a lot of goddesses recently – Nike, Akhlys, and even Night herself. Compared to them, you aren’t really scaring me. Also, you laugh like a dolphin.”
Kymopoleia’s delicate nostrils flared.
Jason readied his sword.
It was almost like Perseus wanted to be killed.
“Oh, I won’t kill you,” Kymopoleia chuckled darkly. “My part of the bargain was simply to get your attention. Someone else is here, though, who very much wants to kill you.”
Above them, at the edge of the broken road, a shadow appeared – a figure even taller than Kymopoleia.
“The son of Neptune!” A voice boomed.
“It’s Poseidon …” Perseus muttered.
The giant floated down. Clouds of dark viscous fluid – poison, perhaps – curled from his blue skin. His green breastplate was fashioned to resemble a cluster of open hungry mouths. In his hands were the weapons of a retiarius – an ancient Roman gladiator – with a trident and a weighted net. Jason had never met this giant before, but he had heard stories, and that only meant bad things were coming.
“Polybotes.” Jason was shocked. “The anti-Poseidon.”
The giant shook his dreadlocks. A dozen serpents swam free – each one lime green with a frilled crown around its head.
Basilisks.
“Indeed, son of Rome,” Polybotes said. “But if you’ll excuse me, my immediate business is with Perseus Jackson. I tracked him all the way across Tartarus. Now here, in his father’s ruins, I will finally get to crush him once and for all!”
By the gods, this whole thing was going down-hill one dead body after another.
Jason absolutely hated basilisks. The little scum-suckers loved to burrow under the temples in New Rome. Back when Jason was a centurion, his cohort always got the unpopular chore of clearing out their nests. A basilisk may not have looked like much – just an arm-length serpent with yellow eyes and a white frill collar – but it moved fast and could kill anything it touched. Jason had never faced more than two at a time. Now a dozen swam around the giant’s legs. The only good thing was that, underwater, the basilisks wouldn’t be able to breathe fire, but that didn’t make them any less deadly.
Two of the serpents shot toward Perseus. He easily sliced them in half with his blade, Anaklusmos. The other ten basilisks swirled around him, just out of his blade’s reach. They writhed back and forth in a hypnotic pattern, looking for an opening. One bite, one touch, was all it would take.
“Hey!” Jason yelled. “How about some love over here?”
The snakes ignored Jason. How rude.
So did the giant, who stood back and watched with a smug smile, apparently happy for his pets to do the killing. Jason turned to the goddess, desperate.
“Kymopoleia,” Jason said, “you have to stop this.”
She regarded Jason with her glowing white eyes. “Why would I do that? The Earth Mother has promised me unrestricted power. Could you make me a better offer?”
A better offer.
Jason sensed the possibility of an opening – room to negotiate. Gods and goddesses loved to talk. There was absolutely no loyalty to be had – they would change sides as easily as the tides changed. But what did he have that a storm goddess would want?
The basilisks closed in on Perseus.
He flung out his hand, and large shards of ice formed in the water, impaling three of the serpents. He made a fist with his free hand, and one of the basilisks burst from the pressure of the water closing in on it. Perseus was making quick work of the monsters, but Polybotes only shook his head and created more. Soon, over twenty basilisks were circling Perseus. He kept killing them with a combination of his blade and the water surrounding them, but they just kept coming.
Jason could charge in and help; he and Perseus could kill the basilisks together. But that would take too long while their friends fought for their life on the Argo II. He needed a quicker solution. Jason glanced upward. A thunderstorm raged above, but they were hundreds of feet down. He couldn’t possibly summon lightning at the bottom of the sea, could he? Even if he could, water conducted electricity a little too well. He might fry both himself and Perseus. Unfortunately, Jason couldn’t think of a better option.
He thrust his sword upward. Immediately, the blade glowed red-hot.
A diffuse cloud of yellow light billowed through the depths, like someone had poured liquid neon into the water. The light hit Jason’s sword and sprayed outwards in ten separate tendrils, zapping the basilisks. Their eyes went dark, their frills disintegrated, and all twenty serpents turned belly-up and floated dead in the water.
“Next time,” Jason said, “look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Polybotes’ smile curdled. “Are you so anxious to die, Roman?”
Before Jason could speak, Perseus raised his sword. He hurled himself at the giant, but Polybotes swept his hand through the water, leaving an arc of black oily poison. Perseus charged straight into it faster than Jason could yell, “Dude, what the fuck are you doing?!”
Perseus snarled and spat as he breathed in the poison. Miraculously, he didn’t drop dead on the spot. The giant threw his weighted net and Perseus grappled with it, slicing with Anaklusmos to escape. He became entangled as the poison thickened around him, blocking him from Jason’s view. Fear shot through Jason.
“Let him go!”
The giant laughed cruelly. “Don’t worry, son of Jupiter. Your friend will take a long time to die. After all the trouble he has caused me, I wouldn’t dare kill him so quickly.”
Noxious clouds expanded around the giant, filling the ruins like thick cigar smoke. Jason scrambled backwards, not fast enough, but his ventus proved a useful filter. As the poison engulfed him, the miniature tornado spun faster, repelling the clouds. Kymopoleia wrinkled her nose and waved away the darkness, but otherwise it didn’t seem to affect her.
From within the dark cloud and tangled net, there was an angry shout.
Jason went to help, but the giant blocked him with his huge trident.
“Oh, I can’t let you ruin my fun,” Polybotes chided. “The poison will kill him eventually, but first comes paralysis and hours of excruciating pain. I want him to have the full experience! He can watch as I destroy you, Jason Grace!”
Polybotes advanced slowly, giving Jason plenty of time to contemplate the thirty-foot-tall tower of armour and muscle bearing down on him. He managed to dodge the trident and used his ventus to shoot forward. Jason jabbed his sword into the giant’s reptilian leg. Polybotes roared and stumbled, golden ichor pluming from the wound.
“Kymopoleia!” Jason yelled. “Is this really what you want?”
The storm goddess looked rather bored, idly spinning her metal disc. “Unlimited power? Why not?”
“But is it any fun?” Jason asked, desperate. He was pulling at straws, hoping to catch her attention. “So, you destroy our ship. You destroy the entire coastline of the world. Once Gaea wipes out human civilisation, who is left to fear you? You will still be unknown.”
“Unknown?” Kymopoleia echoed.
Polybotes turned. “You are a pest, son of Jupiter. You will be crushed!”
Jason tried to summon more lightning. Nothing happened.
Uh oh.
*
Perseus would like to say he barrelled into the poison on purpose, planning on using it against Polybotes, but that would be a lie. He had simply been too impatient and angry to care that he was charging a being who could turn water into poison, like a toxicology Jesus. Why was he angry? Well, firstly, the Argo II was almost capsized due to a moody goddess who wanted attention from her father. Perseus had been saving the gods for years with his friends, and the attention brought nothing but trouble. And then, as if the Fates were trying to make his life even worse – which they probably were – Polybotes showed up.
Fucking giants.
Perseus hadn’t felt this angry since Tartarus, since that time he fought against Akhlys and – well, he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about choking on poison, the light-headedness of the moment, the fear etched onto Annabeth’s face … Except that he couldn’t help how he wanted to take control of the poison. He wanted to choke Polybotes and Kymopoleia until they begged for mercy like Akhlys. He wanted to hear them scream and choke. Perseus wanted to give them a one-way ticket to Tartarus, see how his sister enjoyed the Pit, and what would she think of him, then?
The cloud of poison engulfed Perseus, and he had flashbacks to his encounter with Akhlys. He could barely make-out the voices of Jason, Polybotes, and Kymopoleia.
Every nerve in Perseus’ body itched.
He had a choice. He could hold back and probably get both him and Jason killed, or he could risk seeing Jason’s expression twist into horror and fear, just like Annabeth’s.
If he chose the first option, he would never see those he loved ever again – his mother, the camps, and Reyna. He would lose warm blue cookies, smile lines, and tight embraces. He would lose the camp that he had come to call home and grown to love to lead. And he would lose those dark obsidian-coloured eyes, hope-fear-desperation-need, and unconditional love.
If he chose the second option, he might lose yet another friend – and word might spread of his monstrosity among the crew, further ostracising him, and making the journey that much harder.
He already knew which option he would choose.
Perseus sliced through the net and swam out into the cloud of noxious liquid. He clenched his jaw and flung out his hand, reaching for the poison. He let out a startled breath at how easy it came as the familiar feeling flooded his veins. It was no longer foreign – it was like an old friend, warm and welcoming. The poison responded as aptly as water. Perseus’ lips turned upwards. This wasn’t any different from Tartarus; you kill, or you get killed – and you had to be willing to do whatever it took to survive.
“You did what you had to do,” Reyna had said, so soft one would think Perseus actually deserved her love. “You think I’d throw you away for clawing your way back out of that?”
It was the same principle now.
Perseus was going to show Polybotes just how stupid he was to go after him and his friends. He wasn’t going to show the giant any mercy.
Not just him – all the giants were going to pay.
Somewhere above, Polybotes lunged. Perseus launched himself out of the poison and bared his blade, Anaklusmos. He watched as Polybotes went after Jason, and he growled at him.
“Get the fuck away from him.”
*
Jason managed to avoid the prongs of the trident again, but the giant swung the other end around and smacked him straight in the chest. Jason reeled back, stunned. The wound in his gut ached, hurting even more from the hit. Polybotes came in for the kill, grinning. Just before the trident would have impaled him, there was a yell from behind the giant.
“Get the fuck away from him.”
Polybotes paused just long enough for Jason’s ventus to act on its own. It spiralled sideways, whisking him thirty feet across the courtyard. Jason turned to see Perseus, alive and well. The cloud of poison that had once engulfed his body now hung eerily behind him. Jason wanted to be relieved that Perseus was okay, but the look on his face made him want to crawl into a hole and hide for the next few centuries. Perseus looked like he was out for murder. And Jason wasn’t the only one cowed – even the giant froze.
“So, the son of Poseidon has a few tricks up his sleeve.” Polybotes chuckled uneasily. He gripped his trident tighter. “But you, alone, cannot stop me –”
“You – shut up,” Perseus said. Surprisingly, Polybotes fell silent – though whether that was from pure shock or if he was actually listening, it was unsure. “First, I’m going to gut you, then personally send you to Tartarus. Preferably straight into the River Phlegethon, to get you nice and toasty and give you a small taste of what I had to go through. And when I'm done with you –” he looked over at Kymopoleia, and Jason suddenly felt very sorry for her “– I’ll deal with you.” The toxins and poison swirled and formed into the shape of a very large and very sharp spear.
Polybotes was obviously not the one doing it. His ugly face paled at the sight. “You’re a son of Poseidon, you should not be able to –”
“Oh, get over it,” Perseus snapped.
The cloud of poisonous liquid surrounded the giant and Perseus attacked, shooting through the water so fast that he was nothing but a blur.
“Actually, Jason Grace,” Kymopoleia said, studying her fingernails in mock disinterest, voice higher in pitch. Jason could tell that she was slightly unsettled by Perseus. “Now that you mention it, I do enjoy being feared by mortals. I am not feared enough.”
“I can help with that!”
Jason dodged the body of Polybotes as he was thrown halfway across the ruins with the power of the currents. Perseus lunged after the poor guy. He viciously stabbed the giant in the eye with his celestial bronze sword. Golden ichor spilled out, staining the water, and Perseus grinned. Jason thought he looked like a total badass.
“ARGH!” The giant staggered away from Perseus.
“You know that gods depend on mortals. The more we honour you, the more powerful you get.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been honoured.”
She ignored Polybotes, who was now stampeding around her, trying to swat Perseus away with his trident. It was quite comical. A giant running away from a demigod, like a little kid at recess, instead of a powerful being capable of fighting gods. Despite Perseus’ progress, it didn’t hurt to have an extra goddess on their side. This could work in their favour if Jason persuaded Kymopoleia to join their cause. After all, you needed both a demigod and a god to kill a giant.
“I can change that,” Jason promised. “I will personally arrange a shrine for you on Temple Hill in New Rome. Your first ever Roman shrine! I’ll raise one at Camp Half-Blood as well, right on the shore of Long Island Sound. Imagine, being honoured –”
“And feared.”
“– and feared by both Greeks and Romans. You’ll be famous!”
“Stop it!” Polybotes cried, swinging his trident like a baseball bat.
Perseus dodged. Jason ducked. Kymopoleia did neither. The giant slammed her in the ribcage so hard that strands of her jellyfish hair came loose and drifted through the poisoned water. Polybotes’ eyes widened.
“I’m sorry, Kymopoleia. You shouldn’t have been in the way!”
“In the way?” The goddess said, her voice scarily even. She straightened her shoulders. “I am … in the way?”
“You heard him.” She was their only hope of killing Polybotes. “You’re nothing but a tool for the giants. They’ll cast you aside as soon as they’re through destroying the mortals. Then no demigods, no shrines, no fear, and no respect.”
“Lies!” Polybotes shrieked, then tried to stab him, but Jason quickly hid behind the goddess’ dress. “Kymopoleia, when Gaea rules, you will rage and storm without restraint!”
He flinched when Perseus threw Anaklusmos like a spear, effectively knocking his trident out of his hands. The trident sunk into the depths below. Perseus held out his hand and Anaklusmos came flying through the water, back to him. He held it out, threatening.
“Will there be mortals to terrorise?” Kymopoleia asked.
“Well … no.”
“Ships to destroy? Demigods to cower in awe?”
“Um …” It was obvious Polybotes knew things weren’t going well.
“Help us,” Jason urged. “Together, a goddess and a demigod can kill a giant.”
“No!” Polybotes looked nervous. “No, that’s a terrible idea. Gaea will be most displeased.”
“If Gaea wakes,” Jason emphasised. “The mighty Kymopoleia can help us make sure that never happens. Then all demigods will honour you big-time!”
“Will they cower?” Kymopoleia asked.
“Tons of cowering, if you want!” Jason promised. “Plus, your name in the summer programme, a custom designed banner, a cabin at Camp Half-Blood, two shrines – I’ll do even more if you agree to help us!”
“No!” Polybotes wailed.
Kymopoleia turned on the giant. “I’m afraid that deal beats what Gaea has offered.”
“Unacceptable!” The giant bellowed. “You cannot trust this vile Roman!”
“If I don’t honour the bargain,” Jason said, “Kymopoleia can always just kill me. With Gaea, she can’t do that, so she has no guarantee.”
“That,” Kymopoleia admitted, “is hard to argue with.”
As Polybotes struggled to answer, Perseus charged forward and stabbed his sword in the giant’s breastplate. He twisted it and grinned, eyes alight with a flame. They practically glowed green, like liquid Greek fire. The clouds of poison condensed around Polybotes’ head, and the giant started to choke from his own poison. Kymopoleia lifted her bronze disc from its pedestal. “Say goodbye, Polybotes.”
She spun the disc at the giant’s neck.
As it turned out, the rim was sharp.
Polybotes found it difficult to say goodbye because he no longer had a head.
“Poison is a nasty habit.” Kymopoleia waved her hand, and the murky clouds dissipated. “Second-hand poison can kill a person, you know?”
Jason wasn’t too fond of first-hand poison, either, but he decided not to mention that.
Perseus swam out from behind Polybotes’ corpse. Jason was relieved to see that he wasn’t hurt. And then he began to take deeper breaths – the oxygen from the ventus was getting thin. But he hoped it would hold-out long enough to finish the deal with Kymopoleia.
“Are you okay?” Jason asked. Perseus nodded. Then, Jason got right to the point. “What the hell was that?!”
Perseus blinked. “What was what?”
“The poison!” Jason exclaimed. “How the hell did you do that? Last time I checked, your father was the god of the sea, not the god of every liquid everywhere!”
“Uh … did you promise Kymopoleia a cabin at Camp Half-Blood?”
“Don’t change the subject!” Jason said. “What was –”
“Indeed, he did.” The goddess loomed over Jason. “And I expect him to deliver.”
“I will,” Jason squeaked out. “When we win this war, I’ll do it. I’m going to make sure all the gods get recognised.” He put a hand on Perseus’ shoulder. “My friend here started that process last summer. He made the Olympians promise to pay more attention to other gods.”
Kymopoleia sniffed. Her distaste was obvious. “We know what an Olympian promise is worth.”
“Which is why I’m going to finish the job.” Jason didn’t know where the words were coming from, but the idea felt right to him. “I’ll make sure none of the gods are forgotten at either camp. Maybe they will get temples, or cabins, or at least shrines –”
“Or collectible trading cards,” Kymopoleia suggested.
“Sure.” Jason smiled. “I’ll go back and forth between the camps until the job is done.”
Perseus whistled. “You’re talking about dozens of gods.”
“Hundreds,” Kymopoleia corrected.
“Well, then …” Jason let out a breath. “It might take a while, but you will be first on the list: Kymopoleia … the storm goddess who beheaded a giant and helped defeat Gaea.”
Kymopoleia twirled her jellyfish hair. “That will do nicely.” She regarded Perseus. “Though, I am still sorry that I won’t get to see you die.”
“You know, I get that comment a lot,” Perseus said. “Now, about our ship –”
“Still in one piece,” Kymopoleia said. “Not in very good shape, but you should be able to make it to Delos.”
“Thank you,” Jason said.
Kymopoleia turned over the disc, revealing straps on the bottom side like a shield. She slipped it over her shoulder, like a turtle shell, then turned to the demigods. “I will be watching your progress. Polybotes was not boasting when he warned that your blood would awaken the Earth Mother. The giants are very confident of this.”
“My blood, personally?” Perseus asked. He looked worried.
Kymopoleia’s smile was even creepier than usual. “I am not an oracle, but I heard what the seer Phineas told you in the city of Portland. You will face a sacrifice that you may not be able to make, and it might cost you the world. Despite what you may think, you have yet to face your fatal flaw, my brother. Look around. All works of gods and men eventually turn to ruins. Would it not be easier to flee into the depths with that Roman girlfriend of yours?”
Perseus scowled as if he had just washed his mouth with soap. “I have faced my fatal flaw. Juno offered me a choice like that, too. And I’ll give you the same answer, still: I don’t run when my friends need me.”
Kymopoleia turned her palms up in a shrug. “And therein lies your flaw – being unable to step away. I will retreat to the depths and watch this battle unfold.”
“Well, then,” Jason said, “Now that that cheery stuff is out of the way: any pointers on defeating a primordial who can’t be defeated?”
Kymopoleia seemed to consider her answer for a moment. “Gaea is not a mere enemy. She is the pulse beneath your feet, the heartbeat of the earth itself. You cannot crush stone with a sword. But you …” She traced her finger through the water, staring at Perseus with her white eyes. “You are more than water now. You have felt it stirring within you, have you not? The power to command not just the tides, but the blood of the world. To pull at the essence of life and death. Do you not see, Perseus Jackson?”
Jason tensed, his hand tightening around his sword. He didn’t understand. “Are you saying that Perseus is going to … kill her?”
Kymopoleia gave another creepy smile. “He will not just kill her. He will unmake her. The storm in his veins will rise, and Gaea will fall. But it will not be easy. It will demand everything. His heart, his mercy, and his very soul.”
“And if I refuse?” Perseus demanded. “If I don’t want to become …” He glanced at Jason warily. “… whatever you’re talking about?”
Kymopoleia shrugged. “Then Gaea will rise, and the world you love so much will be swallowed whole.” She said it like it was nothing – like it didn’t matter to her either way. “The choice is yours, brother. But know this: you cannot run from the storm. You are the storm. And when you rise … well, even the Earth Mother will tremble.”
For several moments, silence stretched between the three of them, broken only by the distant echo of the storm subsiding above.
Jason exhaled shakily. “Kymopoleia, you said you’re not an oracle? They should definitely give you the job.”
Kymopoleia let loose her dolphin-like laugh. “You amuse me, son of Jupiter. And if you do happen to win, remember your promise, pontifex.”
It took Jason a moment to process her words. “I’m not a priest.”
“No?” Kymopoleia’s white eyes gleamed. “By the way, your ventus servant says he wishes to be freed. Since he has helped you, he hopes you will let him go when you reach the surface. He promises he will not bother you a third time.”
“A third time?”
Kymopoleia paused, as if listening to something. “He says he joined the storm above to take revenge on you, but had he known how strong you have become since the Grand Canyon, he never would have approached your ship.”
“The Grand Canyon …” Jason recalled that day on the skywalk, when one of his jerk classmates turned out to be a wind spirit. “Dylan? Are you kidding me? I’m breathing Dylan?”
“Yes,” Kymopoleia said. “That seems to be his name.”
Jason shuddered. “I’ll let him go as soon as I reach the surface. No worries.”
“Farewell, then.” The goddess waved. “And may the Fates smile upon you … assuming the Fates survive.”
Then she was gone.
And they needed to leave, too.
Kymopoleia’s words freaked Jason out, he was running out of air, and everyone on the Argo II would be worried about them. But Jason was still light-headed from being smacked with Polybotes’ trident, and Perseus insisted on letting Jason catch his breath before they went up. “I’ll make sure you don’t drown,” Perseus reassured Jason. “If one of my friends drowns with me nearby – well, that would just be unlucky.”
It didn’t exactly have the calming effect that Perseus had probably meant for it to have, but Jason was still touched. “Thanks, man. You saved my life.”
“Hey, that’s what we do for our friends. But, uh … the part where the poison choked Polybotes – maybe we can keep that detail to ourselves?” Perseus’s expression – a mix of pleading and sternness – unsettled Jason.
Jason smiled. “You got it … only if you explain. Spill.”
Perseus scowled. “Blackmail? Seriously? I thought you were better than that.”
Jason shrugged, acting innocent. “Oh, you don’t have to say anything. I’m sure everyone would love to hear the heroic tale of how Perseus Jackson killed the giant Polybotes with his own poison –”
“Okay, okay!” Perseus relented.
Jason grinned. “Take your time.”
Perseus groaned. “I didn’t want to tell anyone about the ability because Polybotes was right – I shouldn’t be able to do it. It’s not a power of Poseidon at all.”
“But you did it anyway,” Jason pointed out.
Perseus glared. “Not helping. Anyway, the first time, it happened at Camp Jupiter. I redirected some of Polybotes’ poison that he threw at me. I didn’t think about it at the time, because I had more important things to pay attention to. But the second time … it happened in Tartarus. Annabeth and I – we were tricked by the goddess of misery, Akhlys, and she tried to kill us with poisonous plants and fumes. I’m not sure how I did it, but if I hadn’t, we would have died. I didn’t have a choice, okay? It’s kill or be killed down in the Pit. So, I choked and killed Akhlys with her own poison. And it felt good, you know? But in a bad way. I learned poison wasn’t so different from water. Thank the gods Night didn’t seem to care, because I killed way too many of her kids to survive the wrath of an immortal mother.”
Jason blanched. “Night, capitalised? Like Night the primordial?”
Perseus waved Jason off, as if meeting Night personified was an everyday occurrence. “Yeah, whatever. But the thing is … I didn’t mean to. I was desperate. I was willing to do anything to survive in the Pit – to get back to …” He swallowed thickly. Jason knew what he was going to say. To get back to Reyna, who he had begun to date sometime in the week he spent at Camp Jupiter, leaving Annabeth behind. Jason had noticed how it crushed Annabeth but couldn’t deny that Perseus looked happier. “And if I didn’t use Polybotes’ poison against him now, we probably wouldn’t be here right now.”
Jason tried to process what he was hearing, but he had no words. “But … you …”
Perseus laughed self-depreciatingly. “Yeah, I know. Just don’t tell the others. It’s not something I want to advertise. Please – for me?”
Perseus looked at Jason pleadingly. In the water, his curls swayed gently. His eyes were a bright sea green and shone in the dark depths. His lips were in a pout.
Jason swallowed thickly. His stomach twisted in knots. It felt like he was promising to cover for a crime – it wasn’t right. But he couldn’t say no to that face. Perseus had said it himself – that he shouldn’t have been able to control the poison. And quite frankly, it had scared Jason. Perseus had looked like he was enjoying the torture too much, like he enjoyed causing pain. Maybe there was a reason Annabeth had begun to distance herself from Perseus.
But Jason could never betray Perseus’s trust.
“Well, what are friends for?” Jason asked weakly.
Perseus’s shoulders relaxed.
Perseus smiled back at Jason. “Thanks, bro.”
“So …” Jason let out a breath. “Do you understand what Kymopoleia meant?”
Kymopoleia’s words had clearly been meant for Perseus, but Jason could make no sense of them.
“You are more than water now,” Kymopoleia had said. “The power to command not just the tides, but the blood of the world. To pull at the essence of life and death … He will not just kill her. He will unmake her.”
“And if I refuse?” Perseus had asked.
“Then Gaea will rise, and the world you love so much will be swallowed whole,” Kymopoleia had said. “But know this: you cannot run from the storm. You are the storm. And when you rise … well, even the Earth Mother will tremble.”
But what could Perseus possibly do to make the Earth itself tremble in fear?
Perseus, meanwhile, was studying Jason’s face. Jason fidgeted under his blank stare. “She mentioned that Gaea is the heartbeat of the earth. I’m thinking … Ouranos.”
Jason blinked. “Ouranos?”
“The sky primordial,” Perseus explained. “The titans defeated him by calling him down to earth – away from his home territory. He didn’t have power there. Then they ambushed him, held him down, and cut him up into tiny pieces. So tiny, that he still hasn’t reformed after countless millennia.”
Jason stared at the silt swirling between the columns of the old palace. His nausea from the swaying Argo II came back. He felt sick thinking about the gruesome story. “And how would we do that with Gaea?”
He recalled the line from the prophecy: “to storm or fire the world must fall.”
Kymopoleia had called Perseus the storm. She had said he would make a big sacrifice. Jason thought he knew what that meant now.
“I don’t run when my friends need me,” Perseus had said.
“And therein lies your flaw,” Kymopoleia had warned, “being unable to step away.”
Today was the twenty-seventh of July.
In five days, Jason would know if he was right.
Perseus seemed to sense what Jason was thinking. He turned to Jason with an expression that voiced a thousand thoughts, but Jason couldn’t decipher them. He wished he could. Perseus had an unusual light in his eyes. He almost looked like a god in that moment, like he knew something that Jason did not.
“Jason,” he said, “all prophecies can be interpreted differently. In the end, it’s unpredictable.”
“Let’s get to Delos first.” Jason chose to ignore his strange feelings. “Apollo and Artemis might have some advice.”
Perseus didn’t seem satisfied with Jason’s response. He almost seemed disappointed. “Okay, then. Why did Kym call you a Pontiac?”
Jason’s laugh literally cleared the air. “Pontifex. It means priest.”
“Oh.” Perseus frowned. “It still sounds like a kind of car. Will you have to wear a collar and bless people?”
Jason shook his head. “Nah – the Romans used to have a pontifex maximus, who oversaw all the proper sacrifices and whatnot, to make sure none of the gods got mad. Which I offered to do … I guess it does sound like a pontifex’s job.”
“So, you meant it?” Perseus seemed happy. “You’re really going to try to build shrines for all the minor gods?”
“Yeah … I guess so. I never really thought about it before, but I like the idea of going back and forth between the two camps – assuming, you know, we make it through next week and the two camps still exist. What you did last year on Olympus, turning down immortality and asking the gods to play nice instead – that was noble, man.”
Perseus grunted. “Believe me, some days I regret the choice. Oh, you want to turn down our offer – okay, fine! ZAP! Lose your memory! Go to Tartarus!”
Jason winced. “I mean, you did what a hero would do, and I really admire you for that. The least I can do if we survive is continue that work – make sure all the gods get some kind of recognition. Who knows? If the gods get along better, maybe we can stop more of these wars from breaking out.”
“That would be good,” Perseus agreed. Then he looked at Jason. “You know, you look different – better different. Does your wound still hurt?”
“My wound …” Jason had been so busy with the giant and goddess that he had forgotten about the sword wound, even though he had been dying from it in sickbay only an hour ago. There had been a strange feeling in his gut, and he had ignored it. Jason lifted his shirt and pulled away the bandages. No smoke. No bleeding. No scar. No pain. “It’s gone.” Jason was stunned. “I feel fine. What the hell?”
Perseus grinned. “You beat it, man! You found your own cure!”
Jason considered that. He guessed that it must have been true. Maybe putting aside his pain to help his friends had done the trick. Or maybe his decision to honour the gods at both camps had healed him, giving him a clear path to the future. Roman or Greek – the difference didn’t matter. Like Jason had told the ghosts at Ithaca, his family had just become bigger. Now he could see his place in it. He would keep his promise to the storm goddess, and because of that, Michael Varus’ sword meant nothing.
“Die a Roman.”
But Jason would not. If he had to, he would die a son of Jupiter, a child of the gods.
“Come on.” Jason smiled at Perseus. “Let’s go check on our ship.”
*