Jax took a bite of his cheese-and-mustard sandwich and wondered if this was a terribly inappropriate time to be eating.

He shielded his eyes. The dock was packed this morning; people waved golden banners, cheering and stomping and screaming. A child on her father's shoulders held up a sign that said "Thank-You, Persophecles!" in red letters. Up on the ship, Percy was giving a speech, throwing around a lot of words like strength, courage and honour. His cousin, Jax reflected, probably could have used a bit more creativity in his vocabulary.

He took another bite.

Mustard dripped on to his shoes.

Jax shifted the sword he was holding, being careful not to stab himself in the foot. He'd done that once accidentally. Still had the scar to prove it. The silver blade threw off cold sparks in the sunlight.

He polished off the sandwich, watching as his parents ascended the ship. His father was freshly bathed and dressed in formal wear, carrying a ceremonial shield; his mother was in a pretty summer dress. She kissed Percy on both cheeks as the crowd roared its approval. The ham sandwich felt gluey in Jax's chest.

"Oi," a female voice said. "Mustard."

Jax turned.

Romes stared up at him. Her green eyes were narrowed, her dark lashes casting shadows across her face. A purple bruise bloomed on her shoulder. And Jax — who was already aware that he would later replay this moment in excruciating detail — pointed his finger to his chest in a who, me? gesture.

"Yes." Romes looked amused. "You. The guy eating mustard. Can you move to the left?" She gestured to his tall frame. "I can't see anything."

"Oh." Jax took a hasty step. "Yeah. Sorry."

Romes tilted her head. "You have mustard on your chin."

"Ah." Jax scrubbed at his face. "Thanks."

Sweat formed on his palms. Romes was even prettier up close, with a full pink mouth and a freckle under her left eye. She looked like the type of girl that liked black petunias. Or maybe, Jax thought, she looked like the type of girl that enjoyed crushing heart-shaped flowers in her hand.

Romes squinted at him. "I know you."

Jax lowered his hand. "Do you?"

"You were staring at me yesterday," Romes said.

Jax's mouth went dry. "Oh, no, I wasn't..." He shifted the sword. "That pig looked really good."

Romes raised an eyebrow. Jax didn't blame her; he'd been vegetarian for four years now, and the smell of cooked meat made him want to be sick. Still. He'd said what he'd said, so the only option left was to commit to it.

"You're Jax Blackwater, right?" Romes nodded at the ship. "And that's your cousin?"

"Yeah," Jax said.

They watched as Percy accepted a wreath from a young boy. Steel-coloured clouds rolled in overhead, casting the ship in shadow. His father glanced up, studying the shifting weather with a wary gaze.

"Why aren't you up there?" Romes asked.

"I woke up late," Jax lied.

Truthfully, Percy hadn't invited him to stand on the ship, which was fine by him. When he was a child, Jax had stopped midway through a presentation on the mating habits of snapping turtles to throw up in a shoe. He didn't do well in front of crowds.

"Nice sword," Romes said.

Jax tore his eyes away from the boat. "Oh. Thanks."

"Can I see it?"

She held out a hand. Jax passed the weapon to her. Romes swung it, the metal flashing between her fingers, and Jax — who didn't want to offend her — tried to step back in a relaxed and casual way.

"Longsword." Romes weighed the sword in her hand. "Steel and leather. Nice craftsmanship. I'm guessing just over a kilogram?" Her green eyes flicked up. "You have good taste."

"Oh, it doesn't belong to me," Jax said. "It's my father's sword. I'm just... holding it."

Best not to mention that his father asked him to collect the sword from the cleaners, Jax decided. He didn't want to ruin the moment. Romes stroked a finger down the blade, her touch surprisingly gentle.

"Does it have a name?" Romes asked.

"Wind-Singer," Jax said.

She passed the sword back. "Pretty."

A low horn sounded. White sails snapped up. Jax squinted at the boat, watching as his parents and several other people started down the plank. Percy and his companions must be setting off soon, he realized. And just in time; the black sea was frothing now, shifting like blood bubbling under skin.

A dark shape passed under the water. Jax frowned.

Romes nudged his arm. "Do you see that?"

"What is it?" Jax asked.

Romes shielded her eyes, squinting out at the black waves. One beat passed. Two. She inhaled sharply. "Oh, shit."

The water exploded.

Monsters swarmed the boat. Pinchers smashed the wood, ripping apart the hull; a forked tail sliced through a sail. Screams pierced the air. People were scattering across the dock, snatching up children and dogs and wooden picnic baskets. Jax watched, stupefied, as a crab-shaped monster snatched a woman off the dock and dragged her beneath the waves.

"Steady, men!" Percy raised his sword. "To me!"

His cousin summersaulted through the air, landing on the dock. Percy was a golden blur, slicing and maiming and hacking. He moved like a flame, Jax thought, burning a blazing path across the dock; nothing survived his assault.

Romes seized his arm. "Run."

"Excellent idea," Jax said.

They ran. The smell of burnt wood and saltwater assaulted his senses. Jax was dimly aware of his father shouting, of more men running to help, but he didn't turn around. Everything narrowed to the slap of his sandals against the wooden dock.

Romes was faster. She reached the lighthouse first, scrambling up to higher ground. She shielded her eyes. "I think we're winning."

Jax risked a glance.

Percy was hacking apart a gelatinous worm. Several of his companions whirled around the docks, fending off monsters and shepherding people to safety. At least half of the monsters had vanished. A spark of hope flickered in his chest.

Jax scrambled up the bank.

The sea was roiling, tearing at the ship with vicious teeth. Shadows slithered beneath the water. Jax squinted, trying to work out how many monsters were still sheltered in the waves. Ten? Twenty? The splotch was very dark, spreading like ink.

Something smashed through the ship.

A dark head broke the surface, water rolling down its neck. The shadows drew closer to the surface; they seemed to be moving in tandem. Because it wasn't a swarm of monsters, Jax realized, his blood running cold; it was one monster.

A sea dragon.

"Oh, no," Romes said. "Is that...?"

His face felt numb. "Please tell me that I'm imagining it."

Foam frothed at the sea dragon's mouth; it dripped on to the dock, burning large holes in the wood. Romes went pale.

"Does that thing spit poison?"

"Oh, god," Jax muttered. "I can't look."

He tore his gaze away. His stomach was churning, and he could taste mustard at the back of his throat. The screams grew louder. He could feel Romes leaning forward, straining for a better look. "I think it has glass fangs."

Jax moaned. "Stop. I'm going to be sick."

"Jax," Romes cried.

Jax looked up just in time to see a dark shape fly at him.

People screamed. He threw his hands up. The movement was ingrained. Instinctive. Something silver flashed, and it took Jax a moment to realize that he was still holding the sword, that the sword was now above him. There was a wet thunk. Green pus showered down, sliding down his shoulders in warm gobs.

Jax lowered the sword; a carcass slid off the end of it.

Romes exhaled. "Nice one."

Jax stared down at the dead monster, which was now oozing guts all over the grass. "I really don't feel well."

"You're alright."

His stomach seized. "No, really I—"

Jax doubled over.

Acid burned in his throat. His stomach convulsed, over and over again, and he squeezed his watery eyes shut. Not that it mattered if he cried, Jax thought; the monsters were here already. It was too late.

When Jax opened his eyes, Romes held out a handkerchief. He accepted it, wiping at his face with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Feel better?" she asked.

Jax's voice was a croak. "Do you have any water?"

"No."

He braced a hand against the lighthouse. "How's it looking?"

"Bad," Romes said grimly.

Jax forced himself to straighten, to turn toward the carnage; men lay scattered across the dock like broken puppets. The sea monster spat venom. Winged monsters plucked screaming citizens from the docks, and a large, hungry monster lurked in the waves, its jaws snapping open and shut like a flytrap plant.

"We need to go," Romes said. "Now."

Her green eyes flickered over the chaos. Searching for someone? Planning their escape? Jax had no idea. Bile rose in his throat. He felt like the whole world was shifting underneath him, like he was standing on that sinking ship.

"There are monsters everywhere," Jax said.

Romes's mouth tightened. "We'll have to risk it."

"Look," Jax said, "I know I killed a monster, but I should really emphasize that I'm not good with a sword." His heart pounded in his ears. "Like, I stabbed myself in the foot one time. There was blood all over the living room carpet. Mum told me that—"

"Percy."

The word was a high-pitched scream. Jax whirled. He saw his mother first, her hands over her mouth, eyes wide with terror. And then he saw Percy: Percy, who was charging at the sea monster, his sword held aloft; Percy, who let out a battle cry, his handsome face narrowed in determination.

A tentacle lashed out.

The sea monster plucked Percy up by the ankle. Percy slashed and spun, his sword slashing the monster's skin. The sea monster roared, flinging his cousin through the air; his body smashed against the ship. Once. Twice.

Percy hit the dock.

His cousin's neck was bent at an unnatural angle, his limbs sprawled out all wrong. A large bloody gash ran down the side of his head. He was dead, Jax realized, his mind whirling. Persophecles was dead.

His mother let out a keening scream, sinking to her knees. His father made a strangled noise. All around them, monsters slunk back into the water, as if they'd accomplished exactly what they came for. As if nothing else mattered now.

"Bugger," Romes muttered, squinting at the dock. "He's dead, isn't he?"