CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
FINLEY                BRIGGS

When they got into town, Hazel led them along Third Avenue. There was a railroad station, and a big white two-story Seward Hotel. They thought about stopping there, but Hazel didn't think it would be a good idea to traipse into the lobby covered in mud, nor was she sure the hotel would give a room to four minors.

Instead, they turned toward the shoreline. Hazel's old home was still there, leaning over the water on barnacle-encrusted piers. The roof sagged. The walls were perforated with holes like buckshot. The door was boarded-up.

"Come on," she said.

"Uh, you sure it's safe?" Frank asked.

Hazel found an open window and climbed inside. Her friends followed. The room hadn't been used in a long time. Their feet kicked up dust that swirled in the buckshot beams of sunlight. Moldering cardboard boxes were stacked along the walls. They had faded labels, but don't act surprised at the fact Finn couldn't tell you what they said.

"Hey, it's warm in here," Finn shrugged, trying to bring the mood up. "At least we won't hypothermate in the cold."

"Is hypothermate a word?" Percy asked.

"Sure, it is."

(It is not.)

Hazel climbed over a stack of boxes in the corner. An old sign was propped against the wall. Finn thought they would find a bare wall behind it, but when Hazel moved the sign, photos and drawings were pinned there. The sign must have protected them from sunlight and the elements. They seemed not to have aged, even if they were Hazel's from far too long ago. Finn could tell from the childish crayon-style of them. Next to the drawings, a woman stared out from one photograph, smiling in front of a business sign. There was also a photo of a boy with curly black hair with tanned skin and a crazy grin at a carnival.

Frank's fingers hovered over the photo. "Who—" Finn shoved him harshly, because he had yet to notice that Hazel was crying. "Sorry, Hazel. This must be really hard. Do you want some time—"

"No," she croaked. "No, it's fine."

"Is that your mother?" Percy pointed to the photo of the woman. "She looks like you. She's beautiful."

"And cool," Finn added. "I need to go to New Orleans, if this is what the city's like."

Again, a poor attempt at brightening up the atmosphere.

"Who is that?" Percy asked, studying the picture of the young boy. He looked really spooked. Finn couldn't understand why.

"That's... That's Sammy," Hazel managed. "He was my—uh—friend from New Orleans."

"I've seen him before," Percy said.

"You couldn't have," Hazel said. "That was in 1941. He's... He's probably dead now."

Percy frowned. "I guess. Still..." He shook his head, like the thought was too uncomfortable.

Frank cleared his throat after sharing a look with Finn. "Look, we passed a store on the last block. We've got a little money left. Maybe I should go get some food, and Finley and Percy some clothes, and—I don't know—a hundred boxes of wet wipes or something?"

Finn watched unsurely as Hazel put the gold prospecting sign back over her mementos. "That would be great," she said. "You're the best, Frank."

"Yeah, Frankie," Finn grinned, now that it seemed appropriate to do so. "Help us de-mudify."

"Okay, now you're just making up words," Percy decided.

"I really don't know what you're talking about."

Frank sighed. "Be back soon."

Once he was gone, Finn, Percy, and Hazel made temporary camp. Finn and Percy took off their jackets (or, in Finn's instance, Frank's) and tried to scrape off the mud. Hazel found them some old blankets in a crate they could use to clean up. The three of them discovered that boxes of greeting cards made pretty good places to rest if you arranged them like mattresses.

Percy set his sword on the floor where it flowed with a faint bronze light. Then he stretched out on a greeting card mattress.

"Thank you for saving me," he said to Finn. "I should've told you that earlier."

"Please no," Finn begged. "We're not starting the sappiness up again. If I hadn't saved you, your ghost would've annoyed me for the rest of eternity."

"That's true," Percy agreed. "But when you die, you can get back at me by annoying my ghost."

"My ghost wouldn't go near your ghost."

"Your ghost should be honored by the thought of going near my ghost," Percy told her, as if it were fact. "Hazel, tell Finnegan that her ghost should be honored by the thought of going near my ghost."

"I'm not getting involved in this."

"Whatever." Then Percy sighed. "I just... When I was down in the mud, I remembered that line from Ella's prophecy—about the son of Neptune drowning. I thought, 'This is what it means. I'm drowning in the earth.' I was sure I was dead."

His voice quavered like it had his first day at camp, when Finn and Hazel had shown him the shrine of Neptune. So Finn ruffled his hair a little, the same way she had back then.

"Come on, skipper," she said. "That prophecy wasn't complete. Maybe the rest said you'll drown someone else. That'd be fun."

He looked at her cautiously. "You think so?"

"That it would be fun to drown someone? Absolutely."

"That's not what I meant," Percy said, even if Finn had already known that.

"Percy," Hazel said reassuringly, "you're going to make it back home. You're going to see your girlfriend Sylvie."

"You'll make it back, too, Hazel," he insisted. "We're not going to let anything happen to you."

Hazel picked up an old valentine. The lacy white paper fell apart in her hands. "I don't belong in this century. Nico only brought me back so I could correct my mistakes, maybe get into Elysium."

"There's more to your destiny than that," Percy said. "We're supposed to fight Gaea together. I'm going to need you at my side way longer than just today. And you, Finley, and Frank. This life is worth fighting for, Hazel."

"Exactly," Finn nodded. "There's no other short, little middle schooler out there that I can freak out. If you're not letting me die, then I'm not letting you."

Hazel closed her eyes. "Please, don't get my hopes up. I can't—"

The window creaked open. Frank climbed in, triumphantly holding some shopping bags. "Success!"

He showed off his prizes. From a hunting store, he'd gotten a new quiver of arrows for himself, some rations, and a coil of rope.

"For the next time we run across muskeg," he said.

From a local tourist shop, he had bought four sets of fresh clothes, some towels, some soap, some bottled water, and, yes, a huge box of wet wipes. It wasn't exactly a hot shower, but Finn ducked behind a wall of greeting card boxes to clean up and change. The only thing she was missing now was alcohol.

"So," Hazel said. "Now we find a boat to Hubbard Glacier."

Frank patted his stomach. "If we're going to battle to the death, I want lunch first."

"Of course you do," Finn mumbled. 

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Frank knew the perfect place (a self-proclaimed statement, but sure), so he led them to a shopping plaza near the wharf, where an old railway car had been converted to a diner. Finn had to give it to Frank—the food smelled amazing. While Finn, Percy, and Frank ordered, Hazel wandered down to the docks and asked some questions. When she came back, not even the cheeseburger and fries seemed to cheer up her desolate mood.

"We're in trouble," Hazel said. "I tried to get a boat. But... I miscalculated."

"No boats?" Finn asked.

"Oh, I can get a boat," she said. "But the glacier is further than I thought. Even at top speed, we couldn't get there until tomorrow morning."

Percy turned pale. "Maybe I could make the boat go faster?"

"Even if you could," Hazel said, "from what the captains tell me, it's treacherous—icebergs, mazes of channels to navigate. You'd have to know where you were going."

"A plane?" Frank asked.

Hazel shook her head. "I asked the boat captains about that. They said we could try, but it's a tiny airfield. You have to charter a plane two, three weeks in advance."

"The Feast of Fortuna is bringing us excellent luck," Finn said with mock enthusiasm.

They ate in silence after that. Finn's cheeseburger was excellent, but she couldn't concentrate on it. She'd eaten about three bites when a raven settled on the telephone pole above and began to croak at them.

Finn shuddered. Didn't ravens symbolize death, or something emo like that? Was she actually going to die today?

After confessing her wretched truths to Percy, Hazel, and Frank, their kind words of encouragement had almost convinced Finn that Gaea had been lying just to scare her. But it was hard to fully believe that when Gaea always spoke with such certainty, even for a sleeping goddess. She didn't just say Finn was going to die—She knew exactly how and when it would happen, too.

Finn had a bad feeling that Gaea was telling the truth.

Suddenly, the raven's cawing changed to a strangled yelp.

Frank got up so fast that he almost toppled the picnic table. Percy drew his sword. Hazel unsheathed her spatha.

Finn followed their eyes. Perched on top of the pole where the raven had been, a fat ugly gryphon glared down at them. It burped, and raven feathers fluttered from its beak.

"Gryphons do not know how to take hints!" Finn scowled, standing and pulling her gun from out her thigh holster.

She raised her gun, trying to get a perfect aim, but the gryphon shrieked so loudly the sound echoed off the mountains. Finn flinched, and the bullet grazed past.

"I think that's a call for help," Percy warned. "We have to get out of here."

With no clear plan, they ran for the docks. The gryphon dove after them. Percy slashed at it with his sword, but the gryphon veered out of reach.

They took the steps to the nearest pier and raced to the end. The gryphon swooped after them, its front claws extended for the kill. Hazel raised her spatha, but an icy wall of water slammed sideways into the gryphon and washed it into the bay. The gryphon squawked and flapped its wings. It managed to scramble onto the pier, where it shook its black fur like a wet dog.

Frank grunted. "Nice one, Percy."

"Yeah," he said. "Didn't know if I could still do that in Alaska. But bad news—look over there." About a mile away, over the mountains, a black cloud was swirling—a whole flock of gryphons, dozens at least. There was no way they could fight that many, and no boat could take them away fast enough.

Frank nocked an arrow. "Not going down without a fight."

Percy raised Riptide. "I'm with you."

Finn was very much not. Fortunately for her, just then, she heard a sound in the distance—like the whinnying of a horse.

Hazel cried out desperately, "Arion! Over here!"

A tan blur came ripping down the street and onto the pier. The stallion materialized right behind the gryphon, brought down his front hooves, and smashed the monster to dust.

Finn had never been so happy to see that horrible horse.

"Good horse!" Hazel beamed. "Really good horse!"

Frank backed up and almost fell off the pier. "How—"

"He followed me!" she cheered. "Because he's the best—horse—EVER! Now, get on!"

"All four of us?" Finn said. "Can he handle Percy and Frank's weights?"

From either side, the boys hit her. Arion whinnied in response.

"Alright, rude. You just sound like Briggs," Percy said. "Let's go."

They climbed on, Hazel in front, Finley, Percy, and Frank balancing precariously behind her. Frank wrapped his arms around Hazel's waist, with Finn behind him, and Percy behind her.

"Run, Arion!" Hazel cried. "To Hubbard Glacier!"

The horse shot across the water, his hooves turning the top of the sea to steam.

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Riding Arion was absolutely not better than riding behind him on a chariot. Finn didn't care how gleeful Hazel was. Finn, Percy, and Frank couldn't relate in the slightest.

The trio's teeth were clenched and their eyeballs were bouncing around in their heads. Frank's cheeks jiggled from the g-force. Finn had already thrown up her lunch. Percy sat in back, hanging on tight, desperately trying not to slip off the horse's rear. She hoped that didn't happen. The way Arion was moving, Hazel might not notice Percy was gone for fifty or sixty miles.

They raced through icy straits, past blue fjords and cliffs with waterfalls spilling into the sea. Arion jumped over a breaching humpback whale and kept galloping, startling a pack of seals off an iceberg.

It seemed like only minutes before they zipped into a narrow bay. The water turned the consistency of shaved ice in blue sticky syrup. Arion came to a halt on a frozen turquoise slab.

A half a mile away stood Hubbard Glacier. Finn couldn't quite process what she was looking at. Purple snowcapped mountains marched off in either direction, with clouds floating around their middles like fluffy belts. In a massive valley between two of the largest peaks, a ragged wall of ice rose out of the sea, filling the entire gorge. The glacier was blue and white with streaks of black, so that it looked like a hedge of dirty snow left behind on a sidewalk after a snowplow had gone by, only four million times as large.

As soon as Arion stopped, Finn felt the temperature drop (and her nausea rise). All that ice was sending off waves of cold, turning the bay into the world's largest refrigerator. The eeriest thing was a sound like thunder that rolled across the water.

"What is that?" Frank gazed at the clouds above the glacier. "A storm?"

"No," Hazel said. "Ice cracking and shifting. Millions of tons of ice."

"You mean that thing is breaking up?" Finn asked incredulously.

As if on cue, a sheet of ice silently calved off the side of the glacier and crashed into the sea, spraying water and frozen shrapnel several stories high. A millisecond later the sound hit them—a BOOM almost as jarring as Arion hitting the sound barrier.

"I shouldn't have asked," Finn said. "Why do I ask? I need a drink."

"We can't get close to that thing," Frank said.

"We have to," Percy said. "The giant is at the top."

Arion nickered.

"Jeez, Hazel," Percy said, "tell your horse to watch his language."

Hazel laughed. "What did he say?"

"With the cussing removed? He said he can get us to the top."

Frank looked incredulous. "I thought the horse couldn't fly!"

This time Arion whinnied so angrily, even Finn could guess he was cursing.

"Dude," Percy told the horse, "I've gotten suspended for saying less than that. Hazel, he promises he'll see what he can do as soon as you give the word."

"Uh, hold on, then, you guys," Hazel said nervously. "Arion, giddyup!"

Arion shot toward the glacier like a runaway rocket, barreling straight across the slush like he wanted to play chicken with the mountain of ice.

The air grew colder. The crackling of the ice grew louder. As Arion closed the distance, the glacier loomed so large, Finn got vertigo just trying to take it all in. The side was riddled with crevices and caves, spiked with jagged rides like ax blades. Pieces were constantly crumbling off—some no larger than snowballs, some the size of houses.

When they were about fifty yards from the base, a thunderclap rattled Finn's bones, and a curtain of ice that would have covered Camp Jupiter calved away and fell toward them.

"Look out!" Frank shouted.

"Unnecessary!" Finn snapped.

In a burst of speed, Arion zigzagged through the debris, leaping over chunks of ice and clambering up the face of the glacier.

Finn, Percy, and Frank all cussed like horses and held on desperately. Percy's grip was cracking Finn's ribs. Somehow, they managed not to fall off as Arion scaled the cliffs, jumping from foothold to foothold with impossible speed and agility. It was like falling down a mountain in reverse.

Then it was over. Arion stood proudly at the top of a ridge of ice that loomed over the void. The sea was now three hundred feet below them.

Arion whinnied a challenge that echoed off the mountains. Percy didn't translate, but Finn was pretty sure Arion was calling out to any other horses that might be in the bay: Beat the fuck out that, dick-heads!

Then he turned and ran inland across the top of the glacier, leaping a chasm fifty feet across.

"There!" Percy pointed.

The horse stopped. Ahead of them stood a giant Roman camp like a giant-sized ghastly replica of Camp Jupiter. The trenches bristled with ice spikes. The snow-brick ramparts glared blinding white. Hanging from the guard towers, banners of frozen blue cloth shimmered in the arctic sun.

There was no sign of life. The gates stood wide open. No sentries walked the walls. Still, Finn had an uneasy feeling in her gut. There was an oppressive sense of malice and the constant boom, boom, boom, like Gaea's heartbeat. It felt like the earth was trying to wake up and consume everything—as if the mountains on either side wanted to crush them and the entire glacier to pieces.

Arion trotted skittishly.

"Guys," Percy said to Finn and Frank, "how about we go on foot from here?"

Frank sighed with relief. "Thought you'd never ask."

"I need help getting down," Finn said. "And, also, I'm going to throw up."

The boys dismounted first before Percy grasped Finn's hand and helped her off. She doubled-over the moment her feet hit the icy ground, and unsurprisingly, retched into the ice. Percy didn't let go, so that Finn had something to ground her as her head spun. They took tentative steps. The ice seemed stable, covered with a fine carpet of snow so that it wasn't too slippery.

Hazel urged Arion forward. Finn, Percy, and Frank walked on either side, gun, sword, and bow ready. They approached the gates without being challenged. Finn was trained to spot pits, snares, trip lines, and all sorts of other traps Roman legions had faced for eons in enemy territory, but she saw nothing—just the yawning icy gates and the frozen banners crackling in the wind.

She could see straight down the Via Praetoria. At the crossroads, in front of the snow-brick principia, a tall, dark-robed figure stood, bound in icy chains.

"Thanatos," Hazel murmured.

Finn felt as if her soul were being pulled forward, drawn toward Death like dust toward a vacuum. Hazel must've started to pass out again, because she almost fell off Arion. Frank caught her and propped her up.

"We've got you. Nobody's taking you away," he promised. "Or you, Finley. You're both making it out."

His words sounded so sincere that Finn could almost believe they were true. But Gaea promised her things, too—Before you even release Thanatos, my forces will land you in the Underworld to rot forever.

"I'm alright," Hazel managed.

"Right," Finn forced carelessness into her tone. "Don't worry about us."

Percy looked around uneasily. "No defenders? No giant? This has to be a trap."

"Obviously," Frank said. "But I don't think we have a choice."

Finn wanted to turn around, but Hazel was already urging Arion through the gates. The layout was so familiar—cohort barracks, baths, armory. It was an exact replicate of Camp Jupiter, except three times as big. Finn felt tiny and insignificant, as if they were moving through a model city constructed by the gods.

They stopped ten feet from the robed figure.

Now that Finn was here, she felt a reckless urge to finish the quest. She knew she was in more danger than she'd been fighting the Amazons, or fending off the gryphons, or climbing the glacier on Arion's back. Instinctively Finn knew that "Gaea's forces" could simply appear to offer her up to Thanatos, and she would die.

But she also knew that if she didn't see the quest through, if she didn't face her fate bravely, she would still die—in cowardice and failure, just like Camp Jupiter always expected from her. She couldn't let them be right.

"Hello?" Hazel called, voice shaky. "Mr. Death?"

The hooded figure raised his head.

Instantly, the whole camp stirred to life. Figures in Roman armor emerged from the barracks, the principia, the armory, and the canteen, but they weren't human. Their bodies weren't much more than wisps of black vapor, but they managed to hold together sets of scale armor, greaves, and helmets. Frost-covered swords were strapped to their waists. Pila and dented shields floated in their smoky hands. The plumes on the centurions' helmets were frozen and ragged. Most of the shades were on foot, but two soldiers burst out of the stables in a golden chariot pulled by ghostly black steeds.

When Arion saw the horse, he stamped the ground in outrage.

Finn gripped her gun with hands that shook so miraculously, the metal of it was clattering.

"Yep," she tried calming the tremor in her voice, "here's the trap."

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BAILEY YAPS...

Finn's ass probably wishing she never lore dropped for the sole reason that her friends are being too nice and caring now

You give me a comfort character I raise you with a character who can't handle receiving comfort because she believes she doesn't deserve it and isn't used to it

Writing this chapter felt like "you're not gonna die🥺" "no YOU'RE not gonna die🥺" "no YOU'RE not gonna die🥺" "no, YOU'RE not gon

Sorry freaky four I didn't mean that

I'm gonna miss the freaky four when next act comes but I'm also so excited for next act but I'm also not ready for next act but I miss Sylvie but