❝ Don't Die ❞

      Annabeth and I each had a canteen of nectar and a ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies if we were seriously hurt. It was god food, Chiron reminded us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally.

Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which had been a twelfth birthday present from her mom. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve.

Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as a human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs:

Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday," both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes.

I waved goodbye to Dan and Will and the other campers took one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus.

Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stood Argus. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I could only see extra peepers on his hands, face, and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron told Percy. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

I heard footsteps behind us.

Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes.

"Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told Percy. "And I thought...um, maybe you could use these."

He handed Percy the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled kind of normal.

Luke said, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling me so much, he dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared.

"Awesome!" Grover said.

Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turned sad.

"Hey, man," he said. "Thanks."

"Listen, Percy..." Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just...kill some monsters for me, okay?"

They shook hands. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns, and he gave me a quick hug "Be wise, Aquila." he said.

And then gave a goodbye hug to Annabeth, who looked like she might pass out.

After Luke was gone, Percy told her, "You're hyperventilating."

"Am not."

"You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn't you?"

"Oh...why do I want to go anywhere with you, Percy?"

She stomped down the other side of the hill, where a white SUV waited on the shoulder of the road. Argus followed, jingling his car keys.

Percy picked up the flying shoes and looked at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

He shook his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air...that would not be wise for you."

He nodded, disappointed "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes lit up. "Me?"

Pretty soon we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy was ready for launch.

"Maia!" he shouted.

He got off the ground okay but then fell over sideways so his backpack dragged through the grass. The winged shoes kept bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron called after him. "You just need practice!"

"Aaaaa!" Grover went flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawnmower, heading toward the van.

Before we could follow, Chiron caught Percy's arm. "I should have trained you better, Percy," he said. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason—they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just wish—" he cut off himself, I furrowed. What was Percy about to say?

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cried. "I can't let you get away without this."

He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and handed it to him. It was an ordinary disposable ballpoint, black ink, removable cap. Probably cost thirty cents. Why a pen?

"Gee," he said. "Thanks."

"Percy, that's a gift from your father. I've kept it for years, not knowing where who I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You are the one."

He took off the cap, and the pen grew longer. In half a second, he held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs.

"The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron told him. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

"'Riptide,'" he translated.

"Use it only for emergencies," Chiron said, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but this sword wouldn't harm them in any case."

He looked at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"

"The sword is celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blade will pass through mortals like an illusion," I explained, Anaklusmos was glinting beautifully in the sunlight as I eyed it.

"They simply are not important enough for the blade to kill," Chiron added. "And I should warn you: as a demigod, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

"Good to know."

"Now recap the pen."

He touched the pen cap to the sword tip and instantly Riptide shrank to a ballpoint pen again.

"You can't," Chiron said.

"Can't what?" he asked.

"Lose the pen," he said. "It is enchanted. It will always reappear in your pocket. Try it."

Percy looked wary, but he threw the pen as far as he could down the hill and watched it disappear into the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron told him. "Now check your pocket."

"Okay, that's extremely cool," he admitted. "But what if a mortal sees me pulling out a sword?"

Chiron smiled. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?"

"Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whenever diviner or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go to fit things into their version of reality."

He put Riptide back in his pocket.

"Chiron..." he said. "When you say the gods are immortal...I mean, there was a time before them, right?" now, that felt weird. Before the Olympians were Titans. The golden age.

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like...before the gods?"

Horrible, bloody, brutal...and so many bad things. I grimaced, not liking where this conversation was going.

Chiron pursed his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child," he said.

Percy turned his head towards me as if expecting me to answer his question. I cocked my head and raised my eyebrows.

"What makes you think I'm older than Chiron?" I asked in fake surprise.

He shook his head "No, no, I mean you're a half Titan, you must know about it, right?"

My expression fell blank and I nodded vaguely. He asked me exactly what I tried to avoid.

"All I know is that It wasn't really a great time for mortals— or anyone except the Titans, I don't do a lot of research on that. The Western civilization is a million times better than the golden age."

"Percy? do you need more explanation?" Chiron asked. Judging by his expression, he does. Chiron must've noticed that too.

"It was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually, the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born." he said.

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So...even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?"

Chiron gave him a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, Percy. The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

I felt guilty, for something I did not do, The Titans were very cruel— Zeus had every right to suspect me. But that didn't change the fact he was a bastard.

"Our destiny...assuming we know what that is."

"Relax," Chiron told him. "Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"Relax," he said. "I'm very relaxed."

When we made our way to the bottom of the hill, I glanced at Percy who looked worried.

"It's probably not you," I said. He looked up at me.

"What do you mean?"

"The prophecy. It's probably not you, it could be someone else or the prophecy isn't going to happen this soon."

"Why would you say that Aquila?" he asked. "It's obvious." I looked back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia.

"You never know what will happen, Percy. It was obvious that Thalia would be the demigod of the prophecy, but see now, she's a pine tree." I said. "A daughter of Zeus is now a pine tree, fate is unpredictable." I tried to sound as reassuring as possible.

He looked thoughtful for a split second then it was gone. "Does that mean I could be turned into a pine tree?" he asked. I rolled my eyes.

"No, probably seaweed!" I said.

"What's the deal with me and seaweed anyway?"

"Ask Annabeth, won't you?" I scoffed.

"I don't think she'll answer me,"

"Look, I don't know if you are acting dumb or simply dumb, or maybe both—" He started laughing.

"What? I'm insulting you, you shouldn't be laughing," I frowned.

He smiled mischievously. "I could figure out that much, I just like riling you up,"

I glared at him. "Well done then, next time I'll make sure you won't even try." He only laughed again.

Chiron was now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer camp send-off by your typical centaur.

Argus drove us out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It Felt weird to be on a highway I rarely went out, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me as if we were normal carpoolers, Percy looked indifferent. After being in Astrelaia, camp, and Hogwarts the real world seemed like a fantasy. No, no, not again Aquila, I thought to myself.

"So far so good," Percy told Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gave him an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain."

"Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?"

She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"Whoa, whoa, Annabeth, saltwater spring is not stupid, if you ask me I would prefer Poseidon's gift," I said. "Did I mention I hate olives?"

Annabeth looked shocked, "Holy Hera, Aquila! I can't believe you support this stupid!" she pointed to Percy.

I scoffed "Of course not. I just prefer saltwater spring to an olive tree, no offense." I held my hands up. Before Annabeth could answer,

"They must really like olives." Percy piped in.

"Oh, forget it."

"Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand."

"I said, forget it!" In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winked at me.

Traffic slowed us down in Queens. By the time we got into Manhattan, it was sunset and starting to rain.

Argus dropped us at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side.

Argus unloaded our bags, well, their bags. I kept my belongings in my jeans pocket. Dad taught me to create a small void, well, they had a small entrance but in reality, they were big on the inside. I could just keep my stuff and sword inside my jeans pocket. We made sure we got our bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction I was looking. "You want to know why she married him, Percy?"

I stared at him. Who? What?

"Were you reading my mind or something?" Percy asked.

"Just your emotions." He shrugged. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I zoned out, whatever Percy and Grover were talking about was none of my business.

The rain kept coming down. We got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. I wasn't too bad myself nor was Percy.

The game ended when he tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared— core, stem, and all.

Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but Annabeth, Percy, and I were too busy cracking up.

Finally, the bus came. As we stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air, it smelled of a cafeteria delicacy— enchiladas.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

"I don't know," he said tensely. "Maybe it's nothing."

But I could tell it wasn't anything. I started looking over my shoulder, too. I was relieved when we finally got on board and found seats together in the back of the bus. We stowed our backpacks. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers got on, Annabeth clamped her hand onto my knee.

"Percy, Aquila."

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She wore a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face, and she carried a big paisley purse. When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered.

I scrunched down in my seat.

Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they all looked the same—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers.

They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves.

The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy said, trying to keep his voice from quivering. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth said. "You're obviously not." I furrowed my eyebrows, what are these people talking about?

"All three of them," Grover whimpered. "Di immortals!"

"It's okay," Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moaned.

"A back exit?" I suggested.

There wasn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," he said. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," I reminded him. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?"

"Probably, but not likely," I said.

She thought about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof...?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

The first fury got up and In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I," said the second sister.

"So do I," said the third sister.

They all started coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth said. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?"

"You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys—"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth said.

"Yeah she's right, monsters can't actually smell demititans," I said.

"You're a son of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you."

"Don't worry about us," Grover said. "Go!"

His hands trembled, but he took the Yankees cap and put it on. And he turned invisible.

We were almost through the Lincoln Tunnel now. I Heard hideous wailing.

The old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same—I guess those couldn't get any uglier—but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surrounded Grover and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing:

"Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, all right.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yelled. "He's gone!"

The Furies raised their whips.

Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it.

What I saw next was so impulsive and dangerous Percy should've been named ADHD poster child of the year.

The bus driver was distracted, trying to see what was going on in his rearview mirror.

Still invisible, he grabbed the wheel from him and jerked it to the left. I knew that only because such a thing could've been done by