𝐒 𝐓 𝐀 𝐑   𝐖 𝐀 𝐑 𝐒   !

⎯ 𝘌 𝘓 𝘌 𝘝 𝘌 𝘕 ⎯

( 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔫𝔲𝔱𝔧𝔬𝔟 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔯 ! )

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

          𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄. The purse was the final insult.

While he'd been in the back room healing from his memory sickness, Aurora had been happily chatting with both Fleecy and Iris. Who knew she was such a fan of the rainbow goddess? Aurora was glowing as she asked questions in rapid-fire, her hands moving frantically about to enunciate her points. It was kind of funny watching, especially since Percy's hand was still locked with hers.

"What made you wanna start this whole business?" Aurora asked while running her thumb along the backside of his hand. Percy wasn't sure if she knew she was doing it, but he didn't mind. It was honestly making his memory sickness go away faster. "It's a really cool concept. And the way you protected your shop from those monsters . . . I wish I could do that!"

Iris chuckled, practically radiating happiness. "It's so nice to meet someone who's so excited about this kind of stuff! And the whole rainbow thing . . . you have photokinesis, correct?" Aurora nodded. "Oh, my dear! There's so much you have yet to do with that ability!"

Aurora's eyes had gone wide in wonder. "Like what?" 

Percy had drowned out the conversation, just watching the girl talk with the goddess. Childlike happiness flooded her eyes, making them shine brighter. Her cheeks were round with joy and she was sucking in every word that left the goddess's mouth. He was sure that she would've stayed there for hours—days, even—if not for their quest. 

Now, Percy hadn't had a problem with the goddess, and he still didn't. The thing he had a problem with was the purse she'd shoved into his hands.

They'd left R.O.F.L. in a hurry, so maybe Iris hadn't meant the bag as a criticism. She'd quickly stuffed it with vitamin-enriched pastries, dried fruit leather, macrobiotic jerky, and a few crystals for good luck. Then she'd shoved it at Percy: Here, you'll need this. Oh, that looks good.

The purse—sorry, masculine accessory bag—was rainbow tie-dyed with a peace symbol stitched in wooden beads and the slogan Hug the Whole World. Percy wished it said Hug the Commode. He felt the bag was a comment on his massive, incredible uselessness. As they sailed north, he put the man satchel as far away from him as he could, but the boat was small.

He couldn't believe how he'd broken down when his friends had needed him. First, he'd been dumb enough to leave them alone when he had to run back to the boat, and Hazel had gotten kidnapped. And he'd wanted to stay on that beach with Aurora. The memory of the way her face shone in the moonlight and how her laugh had filled the air left him begging to be back on that beach with her.

Then he'd watched that army marching south and had some kind of nervous breakdown. Embarrassing? Yeah. Especially since it was in front of Aurora (who had been battling her own demons, it seemed, but he hadn't been eloquent enough to note that at the time.) But he couldn't help it. When he'd seen those evil centaurs and Cyclopes, it had seemed so wrong, so backward, that he thought his head would explode. And the giant Polybotes . . . that giant had given him a feeling the opposite of what he felt when he stood in the ocean. Percy's energy had drained out of him, leaving him weak and feverish, like his insides were eroding.

Iris's medicinal tea mixed with some healing hymns sung by Aurora had helped his body feel better, but his mind still hurt. He'd heard stories about amputees who had phantom pains where their missing legs and arms used to be. That's how his mind felt—like his missing memories were aching.

Worst of all, the farther north Percy went, the more those memories faded. He had started to feel better at Camp Jupiter, remembering random names and faces. But now even that girl Annabeth's face was getting dimmer. At R.O.F.L., when he'd tried to send an Iris-message to Annabeth, Fleecy had just shaken her head sadly.

It's like you're dialing somebody, she said, but you've forgotten the number. Or someone is jamming the signal. Sorry, dear. I just can't connect you.

He was terrified that he'd lose one of his only memories completely when he got to Alaska. Maybe he'd wake up one day and not remember her name. Annabeth had to be important to his past, but it was a different type of importance than he was used to. Like she had been his best friend or something. The only other memory he had was of a young girl with dark hair and startling blue eyes fighting alongside him against something. He couldn't see her face well, or hear her voice, but she seemed so familiar yet unfamiliar that it made him dizzy thinking about her. But there seemed to be a solid barrier of silver blocking it out.

Strangely, though, that was the only memory that grew stronger the closer they got to Alaska. Confused? Yeah, he was too.

Still, he had to concentrate on the quest. The sight of that enemy army had shown him what they were up against. It was early in the morning of June 21, now. They had to get to Alaska, find Thanatos, locate the legion's standard, and make it back to Camp Jupiter by the evening of June 24. Four days. Meanwhile, the enemy had only a few hundred miles to march.

Percy guided the boat through the strong currents off the northern California coast. The wind was cold, but it felt good, clearing some of the confusion from his head. He bent his will to push the boat as hard as he could. The hull rattled as the Pax plowed its way north.

Meanwhile, Hazel and Frank traded stories about the events at Rainbow Organic Foods while Aurora took a nap, her head against his arm. Frank explained about the blind seer Phineas in Portland, and how Iris had said that he might be able to tell them where to find Thanatos. Frank wouldn't say how he had managed to kill the basilisks, but Percy got the feeling it had something to do with the broken point of his spear. Whatever had happened, Frank sounded more scared of the spear than the basilisks.

When he was done, Hazel told Frank about their time with Fleecy.

"So this Iris-message worked?" Frank asked.

Hazel gave Percy a sympathetic look. She didn't mention his failure to contact Annabeth.

"I got in touch with Reyna," she said. "You're supposed to throw a coin into a rainbow and say this incantation, like O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, accept my offering. Except Fleecy kind of changed it. She gave us her—what did she call it—her direct number? So I had to say, O Fleecy, do me a solid. Show Reyna at Camp Jupiter. I felt kind of stupid, but it worked. Reyna's image appeared in the rainbow, like in a two-way video call. She was in the baths. Scared her out of her mind."

"That I would've paid to see," Frank said, and Percy perked a brow at him. "I mean—her expression. Not, you know, the baths."

"Frank!" Hazel fanned her face like she needed air. It was an old-fashioned gesture, but cute, somehow. "Anyway, we told Reyna about the army, but like Percy said, she pretty much already knew. Aurora had been keeping her informed, apparently. But it doesn't change anything. She's doing what she can to shore up the defenses. Unless we unleash Death, and get back with the eagle—"

"The camp can't stand against that army," Frank finished. "Not without help."

After that, they sailed in silence.

Percy kept thinking about Cyclopes and centaurs. He thought about Annabeth, the satyr Grover, that dark-haired girl he'd fought beside, and his dream of a giant warship under construction.

You came from somewhere, Reyna had said.

Percy wished he could remember. He could call for help. Camp Jupiter shouldn't have to fight alone against the giants. There must be allies out there.

He fingered the beads on his necklace, the lead probatio tablet, and the silver ring Reyna had given him. Maybe in Seattle he'd be able to talk to her sister Hylla. She might send help—assuming she didn't kill Percy on sight.

After a few more hours of navigating, Percy's eyes started to droop. He was afraid he'd pass out from exhaustion. Then he caught a break. A killer whale surfaced next to the boat, and Percy struck up a mental conversation with him.

It wasn't exactly like talking, but it went something like this: Could you give us a ride north, Percy asked, like as close to Portland as possible?

East seals, the whale responded. Are you seals?

No, Percy admitted. I've got a man satchel full of macrobiotic beef jerky, though.

The whale shuddered. Promise not to feed me this, and I will take you north.

Deal.

Soon Percy had made a makeshift rope harness and strapped it around the whale's upper body. They sped north under whale-power, and at Hazel and Frank's insistence, Percy settled in for a nap, placing his head on top of Aurora's, quickly falling asleep.

⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯

His dreams were as disjointed and scary as ever.

He imagined himself on Mount Tamalpais, north of San Francisco, fighting at the old Titan stronghold. That didn't make sense. He hadn't been with the Romans when they had attacked, but he saw it all clearly: a Titan in armor, Annabeth and two other girls fighting at Percy's side, and that dark-haired girl he couldn't see the face of. One of the girls died in battle. Percy knelt over her, watching as she dissolved into stars. A woman—a goddess, he believed—had then sent the dark-haired girl away in a shower of silver sparks.

Then he saw the giant warship in its dry dock. The bronze dragon figurehead glinted in the morning light. The riggings and armaments were complete, but something was wrong. A hatch in the deck was open, and smoke poured from some kind of engine. A boy with curly black hair was cursing as he pounded the engine with a wrench. Two other demigods squatted next to him, watching with concern. One was a teenage guy with short blond hair. The other was a girl with long dark hair.

"You realize it's the solstice," the girl said. "We're supposed to leave today."

"I know that!" the curly-haired mechanic whacked the engine a few more times. "Could be the fizzrockets. Could be the samophlange. Could be Gaea messing with us again. I'm not sure!"

"How long?" the blond guy asked.

"Two, three days?"

"They may not have that long," the girl warned.

Something told Percy that she meant Camp Jupiter. Then the scene shifted again.

He saw a boy and his dog roaming over the yellow hills of California. But as the image became clearer, Percy realized it wasn't a boy. It was a Cyclops in ragged jeans and a flannel shirt. The dog was a shambling mountain of black fur, easily as big as a rhino. The Cyclops carried a massive club over his shoulder, but Percy didn't feel that he was an enemy. He kept yelling Percy's name, calling him . . . brother?

"He smells farther away," the Cyclops moaned to the dog. "Why does he smell farther?"

"ROOF!" the dog barked, and Percy's dream changed again.

He saw a range of snowy mountains, so tall they broke the clouds. Gaea's sleeping face appeared in the shadows of the rocks.

Such a valuable pawn, she said soothingly. Do not fear, Percy Jackson. Come north! Your friends will die, yes. But I will preserve you and Aurora Jacarusso for now. I have great plans for you two.

In a valley between the mountains lay a massive field of ice. The edge plunged into the sea, hundreds of feet below, with sheets of frost constantly crumbling into the water. On top of the ice field stood a legion camp—ramparts, moats, towers, barracks, just like Camp Jupiter except three times as large. At the crossroads outside the principia, a figure in dark robes stood shackled to the ice. Percy's vision swept past him, into the headquarters. There, in the gloom, sat a giant even bigger than Polybotes. His skin glinted gold. Displayed behind him were the tattered, frozen banners of a Roman legion, including a large, golden eagle with its wings spread.

We await you, the giant's voice boomed. While you fumble your way north, trying to find me, my armies will destroy your precious camp—first the Romans, then the others. You cannot win, little demigod.

⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯

Percy lurched awake in cold gray daylight, rain falling on his face.

"I thought I slept heavily," Aurora said, laughing softly as she looked down at him. "Welcome to Portland, Kelp Head."

Percy sat up and blinked. The scene around him was so different from his dream, he wasn't sure which was real. The Pax floated on an iron-black river through the middle of a city. Heavy clouds hung low overhead. The cold rain was so light, it seemed suspended in the air. On Percy's left were industrial warehouses and railroad tracks. To his right was a small downtown area—an almost cozy-looking cluster of towers between the banks of the river and a line of misty forested hills.

Percy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "How did we get here?"

Frank gave him a look like, you won't believe this. "The killer whale took us as far as the Columbia River. Then he passed the harness to a couple of twelve-foot sturgeons."

Percy thought Frank had said surgeons. He had this weird image of giant doctors in scrubs and face masks, pulling their boat upstream. Then he realized Frank meant sturgeons, like the fish. He was glad he hadn't said anything. Would have been embarrassing, him being the son of the sea god and all.

"Anyway," Frank continued. "The sturgeons pulled us for a long time. Hazel and I slept when Aurora woke up. Then we hit this river—"

"The Willamette," Hazel offered.

"Right," Frank said. "After that, the boat kind of took over and navigated us here all by itself. Sleep okay?"

As the Pax glided south, Percy told them about his dream. He tried to focus on the positive: a warship might be on the way to help Camp Jupiter. A friendly Cyclops and a giant dog were looking for him. He didn't mention what Gaea had said: Your friends will die.

When Percy described the Roman fort on the ice, Aurora frowned. "So, Alcyoneus is on a glacier. That doesn't narrow it down much. Alaska has hundreds of those."

Percy nodded. "Maybe the seer dude Phineas can tell us which one."

The boat docked itself at a wharf. The four demigods stared up at the buildings of drizzly downtown Portland. Frank wiped the rain off his flat-top hair.

"So now we find a blind man in the rain," Frank said. "Yay."

⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯

It wasn't as hard as they thought. The screaming and the weed whacker helped.

They'd brought lightweight Polartec jackets with their supplies, so they bundled up against the cold rain and walked for a few blocks through the mostly deserted streets. From his place beside Aurora, it felt as though he was walking beneath a summer sun. She emitted heat like a miniature sun, warming their group instantly. 

This time Percy was smart and brought most of his supplies from the boat, not wanting a repeat of last time. He even stuffed the macrobiotic jerky in his coat pocket, in case he needed to threaten any more killer whales.

They saw some bicycle traffic and a few homeless guys huddled in doorways, but the majority of Portlanders seemed to be staying indoors.

As they made their way down Glisan Street, Percy looked longingly at the folks in the cafes enjoying coffee and pastries. He was about to suggest that they stop for breakfast when he heard a voice down the street yelling: "HA! TAKE THAT, STUPID CHICKENS!" followed by the revving of a small engine and a lot of squawking.

Percy glanced at his friends. "You think—?"

"Probably," Aurora agreed.

They ran toward the sounds.

The next block over, they found a big open parking lot with tree-lined sidewalks and rows of food trucks facing the streets on all four sides. Percy had seen food trucks before, but never so many in one place. Some were simple white metal boxes on wheels, with awnings and serving counters. Others were painted blue or purple or polka-dotted, with big banners out front and colorful menu boards and tables like do-it-yourself sidewalk cafes. One advertised Korean/Brazilian fusion tacos, which sounded like some kind of top-secret radioactive cuisine. Another offered sushi on a stick. A third was selling deep-fried ice cream sandwiches. The smell was amazing—dozens of different kitchens cooking at once.

Percy's stomach rumbled. Most of the food carts were open for business, but there was hardly anyone around. They could get anything they wanted! Deep-fried ice cream sandwiches? Oh, man, that sounded way better than wheat germ.

Unfortunately, there was more happening than just cooking. In the center of the lot, behind all the food trucks, an old man in a bathrobe was running around with a weed whacker, screaming at a flock of bird-ladies who were trying to steal food off a picnic table.

"Harpies," said Hazel. "Which means—"

"That's Phineas," Frank guessed.

"He's a lot more . . . unhinged than I thought he'd be . . ." Aurora eyed the man like he was an escaped psych patient—which he could be, in all honesty.

They ran across the street and squeezed between the Korean/Brazilian truck and a Chinese egg roll burrito vendor.

The backs of the food trucks weren't nearly as appetizing as the fronts. They were cluttered with stacks of plastic buckets, overflowing with garbage cans, and makeshift clotheslines hung with wet aprons and towels. The parking lot itself was nothing but a square of cracked asphalt, marbled with weeds. In the middle was a picnic table piled high with food from all the different trucks.

The guy in the bathrobe was old and fat. He was mostly bald, with scars across his forehead and a rim of stringy white hair. His bathrobe was splattered with ketchup, and he kept stumbling around in fuzzy pink bunny slippers, swinging his gas-powered weed whacker at the half-dozen harpies who were hovering over his picnic table.

He was clearly blind. His eyes were milky white, and usually he missed the harpies by a lot, but he was still doing a pretty good job fending them off.

"Back, dirty chickens!" he bellowed.

Percy wasn't sure why, but he had a vague sense that harpies were supposed to be plump. These looked like they were starving. Their human faces had sunken in eyes and hollow cheeks. Their bodies were covered in molting feathers, and their wings were tipped with tiny, shriveled hands. They wore ragged burlap sacks for dresses. As they dived for the food, they seemed more desperate than angry. Percy felt sorry for them.

WHIRRRR! The old man swung his weed whacker. He grazed one of the harpies' wings. The harpy yelped in pain and fluttered off, dropping yellow feathers as she flew.

Another harpy circled higher than the rest. She looked younger and smaller than the others, with bright-red feathers. She watched carefully for an opening, and when the old man's back was turned, she made a wild dive for the table. She grabbed a burrito in her clawed feet, but before she could escape, the blind man swung his weed whacker and smacked her in the back so hard, Percy winced. The harpy yelped, dropped the burrito, and flew off.

"Hey, stop it!" Aurora yelled.

The harpies took that the wrong way. They glanced over at the four demigods and immediately fled. Most of them fluttered away and perched in the trees around the square, staring dejectedly at the picnic table. The red-feathered one with the hurt back flew unsteadily down Glisan Street and out of sight.

"Ha!" the blind man yelled in triumph and killed the power on his weed whacker. He grinned vacantly in Aurora's direction. "Thank you, strangers! Your help is most appreciated."

The daughter of Apollo's eyes flared amber, her hands shaking as she clenched them into fists. "Stavo parlando con te, stupido coglione!"

Percy, Hazel, Frank, and even Phineas blinked at her in surprise. Now, he may not understand what she said, but he had a good idea that it wasn't anything nice. But it wasn't the time to ask her about her knowledge of Italian (he didn't even know if that was the language she'd used.) They had a reincarnated psycho psychic to deal with.

So to calm Aurora down, Percy took one of her hands in his own, frowning slightly when he felt the sticky sensation of blood. She'd dug her nails into her palms. Giving her hand a squeeze, he watched her shoulders slump and the blue come back to her eyes.

"Uh, whatever." Percy approached the old guy, keeping one eye on the weed whacker. "I'm Percy Jackson. This is—"

"Demigods!" the old man said. "I can always smell demigods."

Hazel frowned. "Do we smell that bad?"

The old man laughed. "Of course not, my dear. But you'd be surprised how sharp my other senses became once I was blinded. I'm Phineas. And you—wait, don't tell me—"

He reached for Percy's face and poked him in the eyes.

"Ow!" Percy complained.

"Son of Neptune!" Phineas exclaimed. "I thought I smelled the ocean on you. Percy Jackson. I'm also a son of Neptune, you know."

"Hey . . . yeah. Okay." Percy rubbed his eyes. Just his luck he was related to this grubby old dude. He hoped all sons of Neptune didn't share the same fate. First, you start carrying a man satchel. Next thing you know, you're running around in a bathrobe and pink bunny slippers, chasing chickens with a weed whacker.

Phineas turned to Hazel. "And here . . . oh my, the smell of gold and deep earth. Hazel Levesque, daughter of Pluto. And next to you—the son of Mars. But there's more to your story, Frank Zhang—"

"Ancient blood," Frank muttered. "Prince of Pylos. Blah, blah, blah."

"Periclymenus, exactly! Oh, he was a nice fellow. I love the Argonauts!"

Frank's mouth fell open. "W—wait. Perry who?"

Phineas grinned. "Don't worry. I know about your family. The story about your great-grandfather? He didn't really destroy the camp." He then turned on Aurora. "Ah, the famous Aurora Jacarusso, daughter of Apollo. Now, what an interesting group. Are you hungry?"

Jacarusso? Percy could've sworn Aurora's last name was Jake, not whatever Phineas had just said. And what had he meant by her being 'famous' or something? How well known was she among the dead?

Aurora's body stilled, her grip on his hand tightening. He watched the color drain from her skin, her eyes going wide. Percy had heard this last name twice already—both from enemies, but that didn't matter. Was there . . . was she hiding something? He knew the story behind her choice of weapon was a secret, but her last name? Why would she change it?

Frank looked like he'd been run over by a truck, but Phineas had already moved on to other matters. He waved his hand at the picnic table. In the nearby trees, the harpies shrieked miserably. As hungry as Percy was, he couldn't stand to think about eating with those poor bird ladies watching him.

"Look, I'm confused," Percy said. "We need some information. We were told—"

"—that the harpies were keeping my food away from me," Phineas finished. "And if you helped me, I'd help you."

"Something like that," Percy admitted.

Phineas laughed. "That's old news. Do I look like I'm missing any meals?"

He patted his belly, which was the size of an overinflated basketball.

"Um . . . no," Percy said.

Phineas waved his weed whacker in an expansive gesture. All four of them ducked.

"Things have changed, my friends!" he said. "When I first got the gift of prophecy, eons ago, it's true Jupiter cursed me. He sent the harpies to steal my food. You see, I had a bit of a big mouth. I gave away too many secrets that the gods wanted kept." He turned to Hazel. "For instance, you're supposed to be dead. And you—" He turned to Frank. "Your life depends on a burned stick."

Percy frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Hazel blinked like she'd been slapped. Frank looked like the truck had backed up and run over him again.

"You," Phineas said, looking at Aurora. "You still haven't forgiven yourself for what happened all those years ago! And you—" He turned to Percy, leaving behind a paler and shakier Aurora. "Well now, you don't even know who you are! I could tell you, of course, but. . . ha! What fun would that be? And Brigid O'Shaughnessy shot Miles Archer in The Maltese Falcon. And Darth Vader is actually Luke's father. And the winner of the next Super Bowl will be—"

"Got it," Frank muttered.

Hazel gripped her sword like she was tempted to pommelwhip the old man. "So you talked too much, and the gods cursed you. Why did they stop?"

"Oh, they didn't!" The old man arched his bushy eyebrows like, Can you believe it? "I had to make a deal with the Argonauts. They wanted information too, you see. I told them to kill the harpies, and I'd cooperate. Well, the drove those nasty creatures away, but Iris wouldn't let them kill the harpies. An outrage! So this time, when my patron brought me back to life—"

"Your patron?" Frank asked.

Phineas gave him a wicked grin. "Why, Gaea, of course. Who do you think opened the Doors of Death? Your girlfriend here understands. Isn't Gaea your patron, too?"

Hazel drew her sword. "I'm not this—I don't—Gaea is not my patron!"

Phineas looked amused. If he had heard the sword being drawn, he didn't seem concerned. "Fine, if you want to be noble and stick with the losing side, that's your business. But Gaea is waking. She's already rewritten the rules of life and death! I'm alive again, and in exchange for my help—a prophecy here, a prophecy there—I get my fondest wish. The tables have been turned, so to speak. Now I can eat all I want, all day long, and the harpies have to watch and starve."

He revved his weed whacker, and the harpies wailed in the trees.

"They're cursed!" the old man said. "They can eat only food from my table, and they can't leave Portland. Since the Doors of Death are open, they can't even die. It's beautiful!"

"Beautiful?" Frank protested. "They're living creatures. Why are you so mean to them?"

"They're monsters!" Phineas said. "And mean? Those feather-brained demons tormented me for years!"

"But it was their duty," Percy said, trying to control himself. "Jupiter ordered them to."

"Oh, I'm mad at Jupiter, too," Phineas agreed. "In time, Gaea will see that the gods are properly punished. Horrible job they've done, ruling the world. But for now, I'm enjoying Portland. The mortals take no notice of me. They think I'm just a crazy old man shooing away pigeons!"

Hazel advanced on the seer. "You're awful!" she told Phineas. "You belong in the Fields of Punishment!"

Phineas sneered. "One dead person to another, girlie? I wouldn't be talking. You started this whole thing! If it weren't for you, Alcyoneus wouldn't be alive!"

Hazel stumbled back.

"Hazel?" Frank's eyes got as wide as quarters. "What's he talking about?"

"Ha!" Phineas said. "You'll find out soon enough, Frank Zhang. Then we'll see if you're still sweet on your girlfriend. But that's not what you're here about, is it? You want to find Thanatos. He's being kept at Alcyoneus's lair. I can tell you where that is. Of course I can. But you'll have to do me a favor."

"Forget it," Hazel snapped. "You're working for the enemy. We should send you back to the Underworld ourselves."

"You could try." Phineas smiled. "But I doubt I'd stay dead very long. You see, Gaea has shown me the easy way back. And with Thanatos in chains, there's no one to keep me down! Besides, if you kill me, you won't get my secrets."

Percy was beyond tempted to let Hazel follow through with her threat. In fact, he wanted to strangle the old man himself. Phineas had managed to drag up each horrible fact about all his friends—one being so abrupt that it caused Aurora to clam up like she'd come down with her own case of memory sickness. The golden glow around her skin had dimmed and she just seemed . . . duller. It only made his blood boil more to think the asshole had found enjoyment in their torment.

Camp Jupiter, he told himself. Serving the camp is more important. He remembered Alcyoneus taunting him in his dream. If they wasted time searching through Alaska looking for the giant's lair, Gaea's armies would destroy the Romans . . . and Percy's other friends, wherever they were.

He gritted his teeth. "What's the favor?"

Phineas licked his lips greedily. "There's one harpy who's quicker than the rest."

"The red one," Percy guessed.

"I'm blind! I don't know colors!" the old man groused. "At any rate, she's the only one I have trouble with. She's wily, that one. Always does her own thing, never roosts with the others. She gave me these."

He pointed at the scars on his forehead.

"Capture that harpy," he said. "Bring her to me. I want her tied up where I can keep an eye on her . . . ah, so to speak. Harpies hate being tied up. It causes them extreme pain. Yes, I'll enjoy that. Maybe I'll even feed her so that she lasts longer."

Percy looked at his friends. They came to a silent agreement: they would never help this creepy old man. On the other hand, they had to get his information. They needed a Plan B.

"Oh, go talk among yourselves," Phineas said breezily. "I don't care. Just remember that without my help, your quest will fail. And everyone you love in the world will die. Now, off with you! Bring me a harpy!"

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

𝐀 𝐔 𝐓 𝐇 𝐎 𝐑 𝐒   𝐍 𝐎 𝐓 𝐄   !

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⬩❖⬩ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Okay, another Percy chapter. Percy is thinking about some mysterious girl that he can't remember the face of. He's thinking about Annabeth, but trying to see if she's a friend or more. He's worried about Aurora because of how she reacted to what Phineas said. By the way, what do you think that was about?

Next chapter involves the lovely harpy Ella and the death of that creepy old man. I'm excited to write that part.

Please comment and vote!

Love you all!

a.h.