pocket full of posies
❛ ix. free-falling matriarchy ❜

━━━━━ THEY BARELY GOT away with their lives. And Posie felt horrible; Percy was knocked out cold; Annabeth was mumbling plans under her breath; Clarisse had gotten thrown gods-know-where; Tyson was ...

              Did Posie mention she felt horrible yet? And not even horrible; she felt worse than horrible.

              They had escaped on a rowboat that had a makeshift sail Annabeth hand-stitched out of grey uniform fabric. She and Posie managed to salvage some supplies from the wreck—Hermes's Flask ( now empty ), an airtight bag full of ambrosia, a couple of sailors' shirts, and a bottle of Dr. Pepper.

              As the daughter of Athena tacked the wind, Posie glanced over at Percy. They had found him unconscious in the water, and with his knapsack bitten in half by Scylla. They had to fish him out of the water, and nearly toppled the lifeboat over doing so. Most of his stuff had floated away, but he still had the bottle of multivitamins given to him by Hermes. Part of her wondered why that stayed with Percy.

              "The fall couldn't have killed him," Annabeth spoke up, a blond braid falling into her eyes. She pushed it away, narrowing her eyes on the ever-going sea surrounding them. "You know what happened last year."

              "Yeah," sighed Posie. "I know. St. Louis Arch."

              Still can't believe he did that ... Onesimus grumbled. Five hundred feet!

              Posie's hands wouldn't stop shaking. Every minute or so, she would check to see if the green was starting to seep through her palms—she knew it wasn't, that burn wasn't there—but she couldn't help but to check. The adrenaline from the attack and her explosive anger had transformed into anxiety now. The moments plagued her mind—the mistakes she had made, all the what-ifs if she had done something different, the sick feeling of watching the CSS Birmingham explode knowing who was left on the ship.

              It wasn't too much later when Percy woke up. Neither Posie nor Annabeth noticed, too caught up in their own minds, but when he groaned, they looked in unison. Percy was trying to sit up, but his expression flashed—exhaustion.

              "You need to rest," Posie advised, a prick of anger still remaining. She still struggled to forget how badly Annabeth and Percy treated the Cyclops. It just wasn't fair to Tyson. "You'll need it."

              "Tyson ...?" Percy came out with.

              The daughter of Apollo winced. Annabeth looked at her before shaking her head and nearly whispering, "Percy, we're really sorry."

              So sorry you treated him like shit. It wasn't Onesimus's bitter tone this time, it was Posie's voice. The anger wasn't gone, just simmering for now.

              Percy didn't respond after that. Posie couldn't bring herself to say anything. But Annabeth muttered, "He may have survived. I mean, fire can't kill him." but it was pretty half-hearted.

              Posie struggled to feel so much resentment for these two. She had never felt something like this—not even for Apollo. The only way she could explain it was she had expectations for Annabeth and Percy; she'd known them as people—as friends—; fought monsters together; fought for their lives together; and even survived the Underworld; but she had never thought of them mistreating someone so sweet and kind. But when it came to Apollo ... she didn't have any expectations for him ( but he still somehow managed to disappoint her, but that's another story ).

              Posie knew what it felt like to be the odd man out when it came to family. She knew what it felt like to stand on the sideline, watching as family made memories—things they could hold onto when the times got rough. And Tyson had it rough, and times got even rougher, but what did he have to hold onto? A brother who was embarrassed by him and pretended they weren't actually siblings, a girl who shuddered and sneered every time she saw him, and another girl who struggled to be a shoulder to lean on.

              She felt anger at Annabeth and Percy, and sympathy for Tyson, but she also felt overwhelming regret—Posie felt guilty for not having tried harder to help Tyson. Time again, she stood on the sideline, watching as people mistreated Tyson. And only just when she found the backbone to stand up, had she been too late.

              Tyson gave his life for them. And they repaid him by treating him horribly.

✿

Waves lapped at the boat as they sailed for hours. Now that they were in the Sea of Monsters, the water glittered a more brilliant green, like Hydra acid. The wind smelled fresh and salty, but it carried a strange metallic scent, too—as if a thunderstorm were coming. Or something even more dangerous.

              Something Onesimus said went across Posie's mind; I know what you're about to sail into.

              Onesimus, she spoke up, how much do you know—exactly?

              He was silent for a moment. Snippets, he admitted. What that man wants me to know.

              The one who talks to me in my dreams?

              Sounds a little romantic that way, but yes. Him. And he's not exactly forgiving when it comes to answers.

              Well, neither are you, she retorted.

              I tell you what he tells me, Onesimus responded. I am only a messenger here. But if push comes to shove ... He sighed.

              What? asked Posie. What do you mean?

              Forget it, Onesimus dodged her questions. I doubt it will come to that. Just keep your wits about you. And—maybe don't make enemies with your friends.

              Onesimus—

              I know you're upset, but there's a reason for everything, Posie, he insisted. They may not be good reasons, but there are reasons. You have your reasons to want to help Tyson, Annabeth and Percy have their reasons to not help him. Doesn't make it right, but yelling at them wasn't right either.

              Posie knew it was wrong to yell, but she didn't know what else to do in that moment. Instead of responding, she crossed her arms and looked out to sea. No matter which way they turned, the sun seemed to shine straight into her eyes. ( Maybe this was a good time to check if she actually could get a sunburn as a daughter of Apollo, God of the Sun. ) The three of them took turns sipping from the Dr. Pepper, shading themselves with the sail as best they could.

              Percy told Annabeth and Posie about his latest dream concerning Grover. Posie gnawed on her bottom lip, debating. "I've been having dreams about an island," she admitted. "One with a golden fleece on it."

              Annabeth looked over, eyes calculating. "What happens? Do you see Grover?"

              The daughter of Apollo shifted. "Well ... no. But I hear a monster—I think it's a monster. It was yelling—screaming—and then I woke up. That's it." Posie didn't feel so bad lying anymore. Besides, it was only a half-lie this time. Before Percy or Annabeth could say anything, she was quick to add, "Important thing is, I saw a golden fleece. The Golden Fleece. It must be."

              By Annabeth's estimate, they had less than twenty-four hours to find Grover, assuming Percy's dream was accurate, and assuming the Cyclops Polyphemus didn't change his mind and try to marry Grover earlier.

              You've had worse odds stacked against you, Onesimus said casually.

              Like what?

              Trying to get into the Underworld without actually dying, he reminded her. And then facing Hades and basically accusing him of trying to start WWIII. You lived through that.

              Posie shook her head, rattling Onesimus before he could continue listening things off. "We'll make it. We'll figure it out. We have before."

              "Yeah." Percy stared at the green ocean, his expression bitter. "You can never trust a Cyclops."

              She knew it wasn't meant for her, but Posie still found herself wincing.

              Annabeth stared across the water. "I'm sorry, Percy. I was wrong about Tyson, okay? I wish I could tell him that."

              "We could have," it tumbled out of her mouth before she could think about what she was saying, "but ... you know. We wasted that chance."

              Both stared at her, a sort of shocked look on their faces, as if they couldn't believe Posie had just said something so rude. In all honesty, Posie couldn't believe it either. She stared back, not wanting to take back what she said ( because she had meant it, even if she hadn't meant to say it ), but she also didn't want them to say anything about the comment.

              "Look," she scrambled for something to say, "we just have to do this for Tyson and Grover, right?"

              After a beat of silence, she added, "And Clarisse, too."

✿

Posie still felt angry. But it was more of a generally upset feeling now. She still struggled to understand how easily Percy and Annabeth tried to write Tyson off, but she knew staying mad at them wasn't the answer. Besides, it was hard to stay mad at them. Despite how upset she was for what they had done after all they had gone through together, they still had gone through all of that together.

              She looked down at her measly possessions—hardly anything left. All she had was the ring from the Underworld ( she still noticed how the emerald green eyes glinted in the sun, the same color her hands glowed ) and the two borrowed daggers from the shed beside Cabin Six.

              Percy turned the empty wind Flask over in his hands. He frowned at it, then frowned at Annabeth. He breathed before asking, "Annabeth, what's Chiron's prophecy?"

              The daughter of Athena pursed her lips. "Percy ... I shouldn't—"

              "I know Chiron promised the gods he wouldn't tell me. But you didn't promise, did you?"

              "Knowledge isn't always good for you."

              "Your mom is the wisdom goddess!"

              Posie gave the boy a look. "Every time a hero learns their fate—or the future—they try to change it. It never works. Trust me, I've seen them try."

              "Do you know Chiron's prophecy?" asked Percy.

              The daughter of Apollo shook her head. "Not any of the lines, if that's what you mean."

              "Then why'd he make you swear on the River Styx?"

              She shrugged. "Guess he thought I might've seen something in my dreams." She added quickly, "Which I haven't."

              Posie ... Onesimus said slowly. The golden knife? The golden eyes?

              Shut up! she snapped at him. We don't know what that means. Not yet, anyway.

              Percy looked between the two of them. "The gods are worried about something I'll do when I get older," he guessed. "Something when I turn sixteen."

              Posie frowned. The visions Onesimus was referring to flashed across her mind—an old dream she had forgotten. Fire; bloodbaths; green eyes; yellow eyes' the slowing of time; a golden knife. The dream happened on the first night she stayed in Cabin Eleven, and continued almost daily until she was claimed and moved into Cabin Seven. She hadn't had the dream for almost two years until the night Percy defeated the Minotaur on Camp Half-Blood's borders.

              At the time, she didn't understand it, especially when she was ten and unclaimed. And the last time she had the dream, the night Percy arrived at Camp, she still didn't understand. And a year later, nothing's changed. Onesimus clearly thought it was important, and it must be considering she saw it the night Percy arrived at Camp, but that meant nothing if she didn't understand what the dream was trying to tell her.

              Part of her wanted to understand, but a bigger part of her wanted to hide away from it all. ( Good choice, Onesimus agreed happily. Don't think about any of that! )

              Annabeth twisted her Yankees cap in her hands. "Percy, I don't know the full prophecy, but it warns about a half-blood child of the Big Three—the next one who lives to the age of sixteen. That's the real reason Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades swore a pact after World War II not to have any more kids. The next child of the Big Three who reaches sixteen will be a dangerous weapon."

              "Why?"

              "Because that hero will decide the fate of Olympus. He or she will make a decision that either saves the Age of the Gods, or destroys it."

              Percy grew quiet. "... That's why Kronos didn't kill me last summer."

              She nodded. "You could be very useful to him. If he can get you on his side, the gods will be in serious trouble."

              "But if it's me in the prophecy—"

              "We won't know who the child of the prophecy is until a child of the Big Three reaches sixteen," Posie interrupted. "You're thirteen. And not to, like, kill your hopes or anything, but three years is a long time for half-bloods."

              "Kill my hopes," Percy scoffed. "You just killed them and lifted them, Posie."

             "You're welcome."

              "When Chiron first learned about Thalia," Annabeth started, "he assumed she was the one in the prophecy. That's why he was so desperate to get her safely to Camp. Then she went down fighting and got turned into a pine tree and none of us knew what to think ... Until you came along."

              On their port side, a spiky green dorsal fin about fifteen feet long curled out of the water and disappeared. Posie's insides curled as she thought about it swimming beneath them and their dingy lifeboat.

              "This kid in the prophecy ... he or she couldn't be like, a Cyclops?" Percy asked. "The Big Three have lots of monster children."

              Annabeth shook her head. "The Oracle said 'half-blood'. That always means half human, half god. There's really nobody alive who it could be, except you."

              "Then why do the gods even let me live? It would be safer to kill me."

              "It would be," Posie agreed.

              "Thanks a lot," the son of Poseidon grumbled.

              "I'm not trying to make a joke here," Posie insisted. "I'm being serious. It would be easier to just kill you and get rid of the dust—and wait for the next child of the Big Three to come around—but the gods are probably scared to offend Poseidon. That's an easy way to offend a god; killing their kid."

              "And the other gods," Annabeth sighed, "are probably still watching you, Percy. Trying to decide what kind of hero you're going to be. You could be a weapon for their survival, after all. The real question is ... what will you do in three years? What decision will you make?"

              "Did the prophecy give any hints?"

              Annabeth hesitated.

              She might've said more, but just then a seagull swooped down out of nowhere and landed on their makeshift mast. Annabeth looked startled as the bird dropped a small cluster of leaves into her lap.

              "Land," she said. "There's land nearby!"

              Posie sat up. Sure enough, there was a line of blue and brown in the distance. Another minute and she could make out an island with a small mountain in the center, a dazzling white collection of buildings, a beach dotted with palm trees, and a harbor filled with a strange assortment of boats.

              The current was pulling their rowboat towards what looked like a tropical paradise. Onesimus muttered something but Posie was too entranced to even notice or care to ask.

✿

"Welcome!" said the lady with the clipboard.

              She looked like a flight attendant—blue business suit, perfect makeup, hair pulled back in a ponytail. She shook their hands as they stepped onto the dock. With the dazzling smile she gave them, you would've thought the three just got off the Princess Andromeda rather than a bashed-up and washed-up rowboat.

              Then again, their rowboat wasn't the weirdest ship in port. Along with a bunch of pleasure yachts, there was a U.S. Navy submarine, several dugout canoes, and an old-fashioned three-masted sailing ship. There was a helipad with a 'Channel Five Fort Lauderdale' helicopter on it, a short runway with a Learjet, and a propeller plane that looked like a World War II fighter. Maybe they were replicas for tourists to look at or something.

              That must be it, Posie decided, suddenly sure of herself. Replicas.

              Will you stop ignoring me? Onesimus demanded.

              She continued to ignore him.

              "Is this your first time with us?" the clipboard lady enquired.

              Posie, Annabeth, and Percy exchanged looks. Annabeth said, "Um ..."

              "First—time—at—spa," the lady said as she wrote on her clipboard. "Let's see ..."

              She looked the three teenagers up and down critically. "Hm ... An herbal wrap to start for the young ladies. And of course, a complete makeover for the young gentleman."

              "A what?" Percy asked immediately.

              A complete makeover. Obviously, Onesimus grumbled.

              She was too busy jotting down notes to answer. Percy sent Posie a questioning look, but she just shrugged.

              "Right!" the lady said with a breezy smile. "Well, I'm sure C.C. will want to speak with you personally before the luau. Come, please."

              They all looked at each other. Posie had grown accustomed to falling into monstrous traps as a half-blood, and more often than not, the traps looked too good to be true to lure unsuspecting demigods in. So she expected the clipboard lady to turn into a snake, or a demon, or something else, any minute. But, on the other hand ... they had been floating in a rowboat for most of the day. She was hot, tired, hungry, and dehydrated, and when this lady mentioned a luau, her stomach flipped and started begging.

              "I guess it couldn't hurt," Annabeth muttered.

              It most definitely could! Onesimus snapped.

              Onesimus was right, it could.

              They followed the lady with the clipboard anyway.

              The place was amazing. There was white marble and blue water everywhere Posie looked. Terraces climbed up the side of the mountain, with swimming pools on every level, connected by waterslides and waterfalls, and underwater tubes you could swim through. Fountains sprayed water into the air, forming impossible shapes, like flying eagles and galloping horses.

              Posie stopped for a moment, Percy bumping into her. Tyson loved horses, she heard him gushing about it as she walked past the stables. His voice had practically been rattling the walls, scaring pegasus all around. Then, she ducked her head and quickened her pace, but now, her eyes burned and her lips pulled into a deep frown.

              From what she knew about Tyson—loving horses and picking up at forging with Cabin Nine—she figured he would've loved those fountains. But he wasn't here to enjoy it. And it wasn't like she could snap a picture and show it to him later.

              "Posie, look ..." Percy laid a hand on her shoulder. He surely could read the hurt on her face, she had never been good at concealing her expressions. "I wanted to say I'm sorry—"

              "Come on," she interrupted him. "We need to keep moving."

              They passed all kinds of tame animals. A sea turtle napped in a stack of beach towels. A leopard stretched out asleep on the diving board. The resort guests—only young women, as far as she could see—lounged in deckchairs, drinking fruit smoothies or reading magazines while herbal gunk dried on their faces and manicurists in white uniforms did their nails. Posie figured that would be Silena and Drew's dream day, to be pampered like this.

              As they headed up a staircase towards what looked like the main building, Posie heard a woman singing. Her voice drifted through the air like a lullaby. Her words were in some language other than Ancient Greek, but just as old—Minoan, maybe, or something like that. Posie could understand what the woman sang about—moonlight in the olive groves, the colors of the sunrise. And magic. Something about magic.

              They came into a big room where the whole front wall was windows. The back wall was covered in mirrors, so the room seemed to go on forever. There was a bunch of expensive-looking white furniture, and on a table in one corner was a large wire pet cage.

              The lady who'd been singing sat at a loom the size of a big screen TV, her hands weaving colored thread back and forth with nimble, skilled fingers. The tapestry shimmered like it was three-dimensional—a waterfall scene so real Posie could see the water moving and clouds drifting across a fabric sky.

              Annabeth caught her breath. "It's beautiful."

              The woman turned. She was even prettier than her fabric. Her long dark hair was braided with threads of gold. She had piercing green eyes and she wore a silky black dress with shapes that seemed to move in the fabric: animal shadows, black upon black, like deer running through a forest at night.

              "You appreciate weaving, my dear?" the woman asked.

              "Oh, yes, ma'am!" Annabeth said. "My mother is—"

              She stopped herself. You couldn't just go around announcing that your mom was Athena, the goddess who invented the loom. Most people would lock you in a rubber room.

              Their hostess just smiled. "You have good taste, my dear. I'm so glad you've come. My name is C.C."

              "Your voice is amazing!" Posie added. "You have really good control."

              The woman's eyes twinkled. "Do you sing, my dear?"

              "Oh, no." Posie shook her head. "My siblings, they do. Music sorta, um, runs in the family."

              ( Just like Annabeth, Posie couldn't announce the fact her sibling got their musical talents from Apollo. )

              Runs in the family, Onesimus grumbled. Geez ... way to be on the nose.

              And the woman turned to Percy and frowned. A complete shift in mood. She looked at him with a twinge of disapproval, as if he'd failed some kind of test. "Oh dear," she sighed. "You do need my help."

              Ouch, Onesimus winced.

              "Ma'am?" Percy asked.

              C.C. called to the lady in the business suit. "Hylla, take Annabeth and Josephine on a tour, will you? Show them what we have available. The clothing will need to change. And the hair, my goodness. We will do a full image consultation after I've spoken with this young gentleman."

              Posie frowned. "My clothes ...?" She glanced down. "What's wrong with my clothes ...?"

              "But ..." Annabeth's voice sounded hurt. "What's wrong with my hair?"

              C.C. smiled benevolently. "My dear, you are both just lovely. Really! But you're not showing off yourself or your talents at all. So much wasted potential!"

              "Wasted?" Posie asked, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

              "Well, surely you're not happy the way you are! My goodness, there's not a single person who is. But don't worry. We can improve anyone here at the spa. Hylla will show you what I mean. You, my dear, need to unlock your true self!"

              Posie was almost insulted. Almost. "But ... what about Percy?"

              "Oh, definitely," C.C. said, giving the boy a sad look. "Percy requires my personal attention. He needs much more work than you."

              The guinea pigs squealed like they were hungry. Posie glanced at them, the muscles behind her eyes hurting.

              Annabeth and Posie glanced at one another. "Well ... I suppose ..." the blonde murmured.

              "Right this way, dears," Hylla said. And Annabeth and Posie allowed themselves to be led away into the waterfall-laced gardens of the spa.

              They walked past the waterfalls, Hylla briskly leading the two half-bloods. Posie took in the sights, spotting all sorts of different flowers—blue passionflowers, jacarandas, orchids, canna lilies, gardenias. The gardens were bursting with life, but the whole island was, too. She could practically hear Katie Gardner gushing now.

              "Do you like the gardens?"

              Poise blinked, returning her attention back to Hylla, who was watching expectantly. "Oh, um, yes. I suppose. Not like Cabin Four—"

              Annabeth elbowed her in the side.

              Hylla didn't seem to notice, continuing to walk. Annabeth and Posie followed after her. As they traveled, she declared, "After you've finished each of your makeovers, will give you a tour of the island. What places would you like to see?"

              Annabeth's grey eyes glittered with excitement. "Do you have a library?"

              Hylla nodded. "I'm assuming you would want to see it?"

              "Of course!" The daughter of Athena nodded.

              Hylla turned to Posie, who shrugged. "I dunno ..." she mumbled. "I don't really have anything I'd like to see."

              "Surely, there's something." Hylla frowned.

              I'd like to see an exit! Onesimus said, as if Hylla could hear him.

              Posie ignored him. "Um ... a music room maybe. I like writing lyrics, so maybe I could ... Or—never mind, it's gonna sound embarrassing."

              Hylla frowned. "No, it won't be. We won't judge you."

              The daughter of Apollo wiped the sweat off her palms. "An astronomy room. Or a place to look at the stars at all."

              Annabeth shook her head knowingly, having heard Posie's rants about the stars before. But Hylla just frowned.

              "Why did you think that would be embarrassing?" She sounded earnest.

              Posie shrugged, unable to answer with honesty. She couldn't just say that it was weird for a daughter of Apollo to be so obsessed with the night sky and stars. It was a little strange, the children of Apollo were scared of the dark, after all, and here Posie was, obsessed with it.

              "Forget it," she answered quickly. "Can we just, um, get on with the makeover? Please?"

✿

Posie didn't know what she expected to be the makeover. Apparently, she hadn't spent enough time with Cabin Ten in her three years at Camp Half-Blood to know. But with how light she felt, Posie might have to change that. ( If there was a Camp to go back to anymore ... )

              They washed her hair ( something she desperately needed ) and styled it into a pretty half-up, half-down look. She didn't understand what the lady had done and her explanations didn't help any, but Posie liked the style, especially when they pulled out small strands and curled them to frame her face. And the makeup was simple, too; mostly just some mascara and a red lip tint, among some smaller fixes like dabs of concealer for pimples and whatnot.

              Posie figured them talking about what hairstyle would suit her face best, or what kind of makeup they should do, would make her even more self-conscious than she already was, but the assistants were so kind about it. They never made anything out to be wrong, or that she was at a disadvantage, but they explained it as trying to find the best fit.

              And right now, they shoved a white gown into her arms. "This," a girl named Reyna declared.

              "What is it?"

              "A dress similar to C.C.'s," responded Reyna. "Only white. Your friend Annabeth is wearing the same dress."

              Annabeth had already finished her makeover, exploring the library for a second time. Posie figured it would be the next day before they managed to get her out.

              "Oh." She held the folded dress closer to her chest, cringing at the thought of wearing something like C.C.'s dress. "Do I have to wear this?"

              Reyna frowned. "Do you not want to?"

              "I guess not." Posie shrugged. "But—never mind. Where do I change?"

              "Here." Reyna led Posie to a door leading out of the gigantic spa room they currently stood in. "Go down the hall and take your first left. Should be right there."

              "Is the girls' room on the right or left?" Posie asked.

              Reyna blinked. "You mean changing room?"

              Posie flushed. "So not a bathroom?"

              "Well, we don't have girls' bathrooms, no," said Reyna. "They're just bathrooms ..."

              "Oh." Posie shuffled on her feet. "Well ... I'll go change, then."

              She left through the door quickly, hurrying down the hall. She made the first left she could find, expecting to find a line of small rooms to change in, but what she found was Apollo.

              "Hey, Little Posie!" He leaned against the white walls with a blinding smile.

              She blinked up at her father, who smiled back. "Wha—Dad? What are you doing here?"

              "Ah, not so loud, Posie!" He swung an arm over her shoulder, leading her further down the hall. "I'm not supposed to be here. This will be our little secret, m'kay?"

              She didn't respond, staring at her father, who led her around like he knew the place like it was the back of his hand. They walked twenty more steps and Posie found herself facing a line of fifteen changing rooms.

              "What?" She looked to Apollo. "Are you gonna give me fashion advice or something?"

              He gave her a look. "Do I look like Aphrodite to you?"

              "I've never met Aphrodite, so I don't know ..."

              "No." Apollo shook his head. "Well—yes. That dress is going to be so impractical for the quest." He snapped his fingers and the white gown disappeared from Posie's clutch. He pointed lazily to the closest changing room and declared, "We don't have a lot of time!"

✿

For being a guy, Posie figured her father did pretty well in styling an outfit. ( But she might be giving her father too little credit in this situation. )

              You're giving him too much credit, Onesimus answered easily.

              With a white top with embroidered edges and soft yellow fabric shorts that went to her upper thighs, Posie looked a little too fashionable for a quest that was sailing the salty oceans. She fixed the straps of her shirt, frowning at the silver necklaces and bracelets Apollo thought fit with the rest of the outfit. She smoothed down the three buttons that held the shorts together and stepped out.

              Apollo raised his eyebrows at her. "I think I'd make a pretty good Aphrodite if I say so myself."

              Posie pursed her lips. "Sure."

              "Here, can't forget these." He tossed her a pair of yellow sunglasses.

              Posie turned them over in her hands. The glass was tinted yellow, but the frames were chunky and a clean white. But where the joints of the accessories were, were tiny little sunflowers. She tucked them away into the back pocket of her shorts.

              Apollo didn't seem to mind, telling her to follow him. He walked briskly down the halls, leading her a different way than they originally went. She didn't question it, despite wanting to ( and Onesimus wanting her ). He glanced down each meeting hall they passed by, and Posie couldn't help but do the same.

              They went through a door that led to the outside, hurried through some gardens, and Apollo took out jangling car keys from the pocket of his pants. He clicked a button and Posie heard to quick Beep! Beep!

              She frowned. "What?"

              He glanced back. "Sun chariot," he answered, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

              Her frown only deepened. "You're seriously gonna drive me away?"

              "No, I have to drop you back off," he responded. "Think of it as a small driving lesson."

              "I'm thirteen."

              The God of the Sun winked. "You can never start learning too early."

              He wasn't going to take No for an answer. No matter how much Posie objected, Apollo had some sort of retort. You can't teach me! she would insist; I'm your dad, every dad teaches their kid how to drive! he responded. I'm too young! she rebutted; Nonsense! You're mentally, like, fifteen. Perfect time to learn! He waved his hand; Posie couldn't help but respond, Yeah, it's the trauma.

              ( Apollo didn't like that response too much. Onesimus thought it was pretty funny, but Posie thought that was mainly how she managed to render Apollo speechless for a time. Did Posie mention Onesimus doesn't like Apollo yet? )

              Eventually, Apollo caved: Posie would sit shotgun as Apollo drove. He didn't seem happy, but Posie was nearly in tears at the prospect of diving the sun chariot at thirteen.

              The sports car lifted hundreds of feet into the air. Apollo lazily turned the car in one direction—Posie recognized it as west immediately, maybe her version of Percy's ability to recognize where they were in the sea—and hit a button.

              "Automatic driving," he explained before Posie could panic at the fact he took his hands off the wheel. "Great thing, you know."

              "You tried to get me to drive and you had automatic driving this whole time?" she demanded.

              "Hey," he shrugged, "you have to learn how to drive at some point."

              "I'm thirteen!"

              "Three years is not that long of a time, Little Posie," he replied. "Maybe just a little bit longer for half-bloods. But it'll go by in a blink of an eye." He frowned a little, eyes suddenly somber. "Look, I've been thinking about our last talk—"

              "Our only talk"

              "—and I've done some thinking," he continued like Posie hadn't spoken. "I've realized leaving you in the dark about the foresight stuff was wrong, and that Chiron and I should've said something. But I think we were both afraid of facing the truth. When a child born with the gift of foresight comes around, that normally means bad things."

              Posie frowned. "Oh, thanks," she grumbled.

              He gave her a look. "Don't take it personally. Any child born with the gift of foresight means bad news. And it's not an easy burden, either. There aren't many who understand the gravity of the gift. It's easy to ignore when you don't have to face it every day."

              Like how you ignore your children, Onesimus grumbled.

              Posie swallowed. "Yeah ..."

              "And that voice you mentioned—"

              She sat up straighter, eyes panicked. "That was just the dreams!" she said quickly. "I—I was, um, getting confused. That's all."

              Apollo stared. "Josephine, that's not what you told me last summer. Onesimus. That's what you called him. And he was telling you bad things. Then he changed—started being nicer, giving advice, he'd give you answers."

              Answers Apollo won't give! Onesimus added.

              You haven't even given me anything yet! Posie shot back.

              She stared at her father, unable to come up with a response. Apollo had a question, though; "Why do you not want anyone to know about it?"

              Posie gave him a look. "I can't just tell people a hear a man talk to me in my head. Even for kids of the gods, I'd be sent to a mental institute."

              "Well ..." Apollo considered, "fair enough. Have you learned anything more about this voice?"

              "Onesimus," corrected Posie. "And ... yes. From that man. The one who told me I would fall in time. He said he created Onesimus from my ... um, fears and self-doubts. That Onesimus is a manifestation of those feelings. He also said I'd get more answers this summer. Something about sick to my stomach."

              Well, go ahead and tell him everything ... Onesimus grumbled. Surely, we can trust Apollo with this information, right? His voice was laced with sarcasm.

              Posie certainly hoped she could. It was her father, after all, and it was too late because she already told him. Surprisingly, Apollo was a good listener. The more he heard about the man from Posie's dreams, the deeper his frown became.

              When she finished, the first thing he said was, "Stay wary."

              "Well, obviously." Posie rolled her eyes. "Do you see why I trust Onesimus? Even he doesn't trust that man!"

              "Still," the god insisted. "Don't believe anything he tells you."

              "But why does that man keep bringing up sickness like that?"

              Posie understood the moment Apollo looked at her, blue eyes more serious than she had ever seen. That sick feeling the man warned her about appeared and got lodged in her throat. She felt so suffocated, that she almost grabbed at her throat.

              "You—" Her voice was shaky. "Not only foresight, but plague—"

              "I'm sorry, Little Posie." Apollo's eyes were sad. "I had hoped it would never happen again, but ..."

              Before she could ask, he reached into the console and took out a pair of daggers. She recognized them immediately—Anthos and Arsis. Or perfect replicas, at least. He handed them over, and she could clearly see the gold stamps of a name on each leather hilt.

              "Those should be able to withstand it," he said quickly. "Unlike the ones you and Lee designed."

              Posie grabbed them, finding comfort in the hilts she had grown so accustomed to. That feeling was still lodged in her throat. "Have you told Chiron? Anyone?"

              "No one." Apollo shook his head. "I've talked to Chiron since he left Camp, but I didn't talk to him about this. Even this, I didn't want to admit."

              She took a shaky breath. "Is there any way I can ... learn to control it? Like a crash course for plagues?"

              Apollo looked uncomfortable talking about this. He pursed his lips. Posie could tell he was trying to find the nicest way to tell her No. "Thing is ..."

              "There isn't a way," she finished for him.

              "... Yeah. There's not."

              But Apollo didn't sound too sure.

              Posie frowned. Finally, she had learned what exactly was wrong with her, but she slammed into a dead end faster than the speed they were currently flying in the sun chariot.

              "To lighten the mood," he spoke up, trying ( and failing ) to have a cheerful tone, "when I did talk to Chiron, he mentioned meeting someone named Shiloh Easton."

              "My aunt," Posie answered, looking confused. "But—she and my dad lost contact years ago. When I was really young. Something about money. Beau never really explained it to me."

              "Ah, yes, of course not. He didn't want to admit where he went wrong." Apollo shrugged. "As attractive as he was, he wasn't good at money management."

              Posie's nose curled. "Okay, let's not. Do you know why they lost contact?"

              Apollo winked. "I see all, I know all." —So do you know how much you suck? Onesimus hissed— "Of course I know! Beau was having money troubles—he couldn't pay rent and feed you—so Shiloh offered for you to live with her and her boyfriend, but, well, that was a blow to Beau's ego. Really upset him."

              "Odd, considering he didn't even want or like me." Posie rolled her eyes.

              Apollo seemed a little stunned by her bluntness. "If I had known what kind of father he would've been—"

              "It's fine," she said quickly. "What about Shiloh? Why did Chiron mention her?"

              "He thought it might be good for you to spend time with mortal family—completely mortal. I suppose he's right. You've spent a lot of years cooped up at Camp Half-Blood, I'd think it'd be good for you to live in the mortal world for a while. They sound cool. Certainly cool enough for my daughter."

              Posie smiled, but it didn't come close to reaching her eyes. Apollo's avoidance of the topic of her curse really bothered her. "But ... how am I gonna live with them? What if I never see Chiron again to talk to him?"

              Apollo winked. "It'll all work out, Little Posie. Promise!"

              He made a faux-shocked noise, looking down at his gold watch. "Look at the time, Pretty Posie! It's time for you to get back to your friends. They really need the help right now—especially Percy. I doubt he enjoys his ... new form. Oh, and tell that C.C. lady that her magic will never be as good as the real sun for me, Posie."

              His daughter frowned. "Magic? C.C.? What?"

              He opened the passenger door, unbelted Posie as she balked, and declared, "Remember; this meeting didn't happen! And don't forget your vitamins! Vital for health!" and shoved her as hard as he could.

              "It'll all work out!" he yelled down to her as Posie free-fell for the ocean.

              Then, a flash of darkness, Onesimus cursing, and Posie landed on grass.

✿

Posie didn't understand how she survived that fall. She fell thousands of feet through the air, it wasn't possible! Apollo had a role to play in it, she was sure, but it still was shocking. She was supposed to be a Posie Pancake, not a living Posie.

              She scrambled to her feet, looking around. She had landed in a circle of dead grass, blackened and brittle. It crushed under her feet as she ran through the garden where Apollo had previously parked the sun chariot. She ran the route Apollo and she had taken, holding onto Anthos and Arsis tightly. But before she could get too far, she ran right into Reyna, who stumbled back.

              "Kn-knives!" she shouted, but Posie shushed her.

              "Don't say anything!" Posie begged. "Look—where's Annabeth?"

              Reyna frowned. "What are you going to do?"

              "Where's Percy?"

              The girl flinched, and that was enough answer for Posie. "Seriously, Reyna, where are they? I need to get to them!"

              Reyna looked conflicted, but pointed in a direction. Before Posie left, she grabbed the girl's arm. "What does C.C. do to them?"

              Reyna shook her head. "We're not allowed to talk about it. Not until you agree to study here."

              Sounds like a cult ... Onesimus muttered bitterly.

              "And study magic here?" Posie prompted, and Reyna nodded.

              The daughter of Apollo frowned, but fished out the two daggers she had taken from the shed behind Cabin Six. She grabbed Reyna's hands and placed the hilts in the girl's palms. "Do you know how to use daggers?"

              Reyna shook her head. "Well," said Posie, "just wave them wildly at something. Hopefully, that'll do just enough."

              "Why are you giving these to me?" asked Reyna.

              Yeah, really? asked Onesimus. We're gonna trust a random girl to wield some knives? What if she turns on us?

              "I, um, got some better weapons. And I think you'll need them—call it a hunch. And it all goes bad, I'm sorry."

              Posie had a strong feeling it would go sourly. Call it a hunch.

✿

She found her way to the room they had met C.C. in, bursting inside. The room paused, looking at her.

              "Posie!" Annabeth looked relieved. "Where have you been?"

              "You, girl!" C.C. pointed at Posie. Her other hand held a flame in her palm. "How many great female half-blood heroes can you name?"

              The daughter of Apollo blinked, thinking of the conversation she had with her father. Why was C.C. asking about female heroes? Shouldn't she want to, like, kill Posie?

              "Um ... there was Atalanta, Amelia Earhart—"

              "Bah! Men get all the glory!" C.C. closed her fist and extinguished the magic flame. "The only way to power for women is sorcery. Medea, Calypso, now there were powerful women! And me, of course. The greatest of all."

              Not self-absorbed or anything ... Onesimus grumbled.

              "You ... C.C. ... Circe!" Annabeth declared.

              "Yes, my dear."

              Annabeth backed up, and Posie raised her daggers, but Circe laughed. "You need not worry. I mean you two no harm."

              "What have you done to Percy?" Posie demanded.

              Circe shrugged lazily. "Only helped him realize his true form."

              New form ... True form ... Posie's eyes scanned the room, sliding over to the dirty metal cage where guinea pigs were housed. One was panicking, scratching at the bars. Her eyes widened. That was what Apollo meant.

              Did you know? she asked Onesimus.

              I had heard rumors ... he admitted.

              And you didn't tell me? she practically screeched.

              You wouldn't listen to me! he snapped back.

              "Forget him," Circe advised. "Join, and you two can learn the ways of sorcery."

              "But—"

              "Your friend will be well cared for. He'll be shipped to a wonderful new home on the mainland. The kindergartners will adore him. Meanwhile, you will be wise and powerful. You will have all you ever wanted."

              Posie couldn't believe what she was hearing. Leave Percy to be a classroom pet? That was horrible!

              But ... she saw how happy these girls looked on the island. And to learn magic—that sounded amazing. And if she could hideaway on this island, ignore everything she had just learned about her curses ...

              No. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Not to Percy. Not to Annabeth. Not to Grover, Tyson, Clarisse, Wyatt, and everyone else Posie would be leaving behind. She couldn't just abandon them in hopes of ignoring her problems for the rest of her life.

              "Let me think about it," Annabeth murmured, a sort of dazed look on her face. "Just ... give me a minute alone. To say goodbye."

              "And what about you, Josephine?" Circe turned to her, eyebrows raised. "What is your decision? You can stay with me on this island and learn magic. You have the makings of a sorceress, a powerful one. Staying here would leave you immortal and powerful. It would be foolish to refuse. What do you choose?"

              "I—I don't know," she admitted, chest tight. "I need—"

              "Oh, my dear." Circe's voice was sad and sympathetic, as if she understood the pressure placed on Posie. ( She doesn't care! Onesimus was yelling at Posie. It's all a guilt tactic! ) "I understand your hesitation. This journey ... it's been hard, hasn't it? You feel like you're holding people back? You feel guilty for everything that has gone wrong? Like it's all your fault."

              Posie didn't understand how Circe could read her so easily.

              "We need time to think," Annabeth cut in sharply, holding onto Posie's arm. "Give us some time."

              Circe didn't act shocked at Annabeth's intervention. "Of course, my dears," she cooed. "One minute. Oh ... and so you have absolute privacy ..." She waved her hand and iron bars slammed down over the windows. She swept out of the room and Posie heard the locks on the door click shut behind the sorceress.

              Posie shook off Annabeth's grip and ran over to the cage, and Annabeth followed.

              "All right," the blonde put her hands on her hips, "which one is Percy?"

              Every guinea pig squealed in unison. Posie sighed, looking desperate. Her eyes scanned the room, noticing Percy's clothes sticking out from under the loom Circe had been using earlier.

              Vitamins. Apollo had mentioned vitamins.

              She rushed over and rummaged through the pockets, grabbed the bottle of multivitamins, and opened the cap. She tossed Annabeth a lemon chewable and grabbed a purple one.

              "Take it," she said as Annabeth frowned at her. "Don't ask. It's ... just a hunch."

              By hunch, you mean Apollo meddling, Onesimus murmured. But sure, a 'hunch'.

              The two finished their vitamins just as the door flew open and Circe came back in, flanked by two of her business-suited attendants.

              "Well," she sighed, "how fast a minute passes. What is your answer, my dears?"

              "This," Annabeth said, and she drew her bronze knife.

              The sorceress stepped back, but her surprise quickly passed. She sneered. "Really, little girl, a knife against my magic? Is that wise?"

              Circe looked back at her attendants, who smiled. They raised their hands, as if preparing to cast a spell.

              "What will Annabeth's makeover be?" Circe mused. "Something small and ill-tempered. I know ... a shrew!"

              "You won't be giving any more makeovers!" Posie said, that burn beneath her hands beginning. Despite the prick of fear about ruining these daggers, she took Apollo's word and hoped they would be able to withstand her curse. The green seeped into the blades like liquid.

              The attendants and Circe looked surprised. Apparently, they didn't know Posie could pull that stunt.

              And it gave Annabeth enough leverage to pull a fast move. She leaped forward and stuck the point of her knife against Circe's neck. "How about turning me into a panther instead? One that has her claws at your throat!"

              "How!" Circe yelped.

              Annabeth held up my bottle of vitamins for the sorceress to see.

              Circe howled in frustration. "Curse Hermes and his multivitamins! Those are such a fad! They do nothing for you."

              Clearly, they do ... Onesimus muttered.

              "Turn Percy back to a human or else!" Annabeth said.

              "I can't!"

              "Then you asked for it."

              Circe's attendants stepped forward, but their mistress said, "Get back! They're immune to magic until those cursed vitamins wear off. And I do not know what those daggers can do."

              Onesimus snickered, like it was something to be proud of. Posie, however, still struggled with it.

              Annabeth dragged Circe over to the guinea pig cage, knocked the top off, and poured the rest of the vitamins inside.

              "No!" Circe screamed.

              The guinea pigs scrambled around the vitamins, and before Posie knew it, the cage exploded. Seven men, including Percy, all landed around the remnants of the cage, looking disoriented. They were all blinking and shaking wood shavings out of their hair.

              "No!" Circe screamed. "You don't understand! Those are the worst!"

              One of the men stood up—a huge guy with a long tangled pitch-black beard and teeth the same color. He wore mismatched clothes of wool and leather, knee-length boots, and a floppy felt hat. The other men were dressed more simply—in breeches and stained white shirts. All of them were barefoot.

              The big man bellowed—a weird sound of a human trying to imitate a guinea pig. "What's the witch done t'me!"

              "No!" Circe moaned.

              Annabeth gasped. "I recognize you! Edward Teach, Son of Ares?"

              "Aye, lass," the big man growled. "Though most call me Blackbeard! And there's the sorceress what captured us, lads. Run her through, and then I mean to find me a big bowl of celery!" He bellowed again, the same bad imitation of a guinea pig.

              Circe screamed. She and her attendants ran from the room, chased by the pirates. Although they had been successful in saving Percy, Posie felt they had just doomed the rest of the island.

              "The workers ..." she muttered. "Oh, my gods. What have we done?"

              "Don't sweat it," Annabeth said, sheathing her knife. "We did what we had to. Let's get out of here."

              Posie didn't like it, but she sheathed her daggers ( after the green glow died away ), and turned to face the remnants of the cage. Percy stared, face red. "You look nice," he blurted.

              Annabeth raised her eyebrows. "Who was that for, Percy? It better not have been for me—"

              "No, it wasn't! I mean ..." He grumbled under his breath. "Forget it. Just—thanks, you guys. I'm really sorry—"

              But Posie just hugged him. She squeezed his shoulders and said, "I'm just glad you're not a guinea pig. I would hate for you to have ended up a classroom pet."

              The blush on his cheeks spread to his neck. "Yeah, me too."

              Annabeth tied back her freshly braided hair. "Come on, you guys," she said. "We have to get away while Circe's distracted."

              The three ran down the hillside through the terraces, past screaming spa workers. and pirates ransacking the resort. Blackbeard's men broke the tiki torches for the luau, threw herbal wraps into the swimming pool, and kicked over tables of sauna towels. Posie felt horrible for it all, but focused on getting out alive before the guilt could eat away at her.

              "Which ship?" Annabeth said as they reached the docks.

              Percy looked around desperately. Then, he saw something and pointed. "There."

              Posie blinked at the ship. "What?"

              "I can make it work," he insisted.

              "How?"

              He couldn't explain. He just grabbed Posie's hand and pulled her towards the three-mast ship. Painted on its prow was the name: Queen Anne's Revenge.

              "Argh!" Blackbeard yelled somewhere behind them. "Those scallywags are a-boarding me vessel! Get 'em, lads!"

              "We'll never get going in time!" Annabeth yelled as they climbed aboard.

              Posie looked around helplessly at the maze of sail and ropes. She didn't know anything about modern-day boats, let alone ships three thousand years old. She could see the pirates running down the stairs, waving tiki torches and sticks of celery.

              "Mizzenmast!" Percy yelled suddenly.

              What the hell did he just say? Onesimus asked loudly, rattling Posie's eardrums.

              Annabeth and Posie looked at him, wondering if the celery had done him in. But in a matter of a couple of seconds, the air was filled with whistling sounds of ropes being snapped taut, canvases unfurling, and wooden pulleys creaking.

              Annabeth and Posie ducked as a cable flew over their heads and wrapped itself around the bowsprit. "Percy, how ..." the daughter of Athena muttered.

              The sails rose, the rudder turned, and the Queen Anne's Revenge lurched away from the dock. By the time the pirates arrived at the water's edge, the half-bloods were already underway, sailing into the Sea of Monsters.

✿  SEPT. 3RD, 2023  /  i didn't mean for this chapter to get so long ,, its around 8600 words not including author's note

so i'm not proofreading this- deal with any mistakes

please <3

um apollo the dilf comeback- trying to be a good dad but just ends up being very irresponsible (on brand)

and power reveal ?? most people have guessed it by now- but posie's in denial so she's not going to want to talk about it

and reyna !! my pookie bear <3

her appearance does have a lot of meaning behind it besides just being a cool cameo (so have fun guessing with that)

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??