WRITERS will have the entire day to send in any corrections to the sinopsis they gave in the sign-up.
May 11th: CLAIMING PROCESS STARTS
A google doc will be made available to participants so artists and betas can claim the fics they want to work with. This is in a first come first serve basis and writers will also have access so they can begin to contact their group members right away. Artists and Betas will claim a fic by commenting on an available number below the fic sinopsis they like (make sure it's a free spot and you're not double commenting, a tutorial will be put up on the blog)
May 13th: LAST DAY TO CLAIM FICS
May 14th: CONTACT GROUPS
Create a discord group and get in contact with all the members of your group. Take this time to set up a schedule with your beta and start to discuss which scenes will be depicted or what the concept of the art pieces is going to be.
May 16th: LET US KNOW IF GROUP MEMBER HASN’T GOTTEN IN CONTACT WITH YOU
May 17th: WRITERS: FIRST MILESTONE
Try to have reached 1k by this point if you're writing a one-shot and 2k if you're writing a chaptered fic
May 24th: 2ND MILESTONE
WRITERS: try to reach 3k if you're doing a one-shot and 5k if you're doing multi-chaptered. ARTISTS: show your group some sketches, an outline, to let them know how far you've gotten and if you need to know anything new. If you're having any trouble, please contact mods.
May 31st: 3RD MILESTONE
WRITERS: try to have 5k and 7k for one-shots and multi-chaptered fics respectively written so you can have room to edit. ARTISTS: you should have a good idea of all the scenes/info. you're planning to use, start outlining/sketching if you haven't. Let the mods know if you feel you're really behind or are having any issues.
June 7th: 4th MILESTONE AND MIDWAY CHECK IN
HALF WAY THERE WOOHOO!
WRITERS: Try to have 7k and 9k written (one-shot and multi-chaptered respectively), you should have a good idea of how you want things to end and should be talking with you betas about how to tie everything together. ARTISTS: if you're doing more than one piece try to have one of them pretty much ready so you have time to work on the other. Let your writer know if you need more info. than what they've given you thus far.
June 14th: 5th MILESTONE
WRITERS: aim for reaching the min by this point. We low-balled it with the mins so we know a lot of you are going to go higher. If not, it's okay if you haven't reached the min yet, just do your best to give yourself time to go back to any scenes you're not to sure about or add anything you feel needs adding. ARTISTS: be in constant connection with your group. If you are going to add any last minute pieces, now’s the time.
June 21st: LAST MILESTONE
WRITERS, you should be pretty much finished by this point. Use this week to edit and add the finishing touches. ARTISTS, same goes for you. Let the mods know if you feel you're REALLY behind (we'll keep it in mind so we know to assign you the latest possible posting day)
June 27th: END OF BIG BANG CONTENT CREATION
June 28th: POSTING DAYS ASSIGNED
Based on what we've heard back from y'all, we'll assign you a posting day (Mon-Sun the following week). We'll do our best to give the latest posting dates to those that, for whichever circumstance, fell behind so, if you feel you're good to go, let us know you're up for being the first to post).
June 29th: START OF POSTING WEEK
July 5th: END OF POSTING WEEK AND PJO/HOO BIG BANG 2020
TELL-TALE HEARTS by @not-for-granted (art by @kaftos-is-demidead , edits by @preciouschildrenofolympus and @wisdom-walks-alone)
synopsis: In this AU, a collection of Gothic fairy-tales all intertwine… While spending a stormy night together, a mysterious widow and a wandering soldier-of-fortune pass the time telling stories; a selkie husband stolen from his bride by a pirate, a vampire seeking revenge on her faithless lover, the doomed romance between a demon and an angel, and an alchemist’s mad attempts to save the woman he loved… but both wanderer and widow have secrets to share before the night is over.
Summary: The second time Percy’s kidnapped, it isn’t by Hera. No, this time, it’s a giant who wants revenge- and he’s smart enough to get it. Of course Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter aren’t going to take the abduction of Percy lying down. Especially with Annabeth there to kick their ass.
Hey guys come check out this great fic! This is my art submission for the pjohoobigbang2017. Here’s another link just in case! (x)
This is my fic for the @pjohoobigbang! Posting is now complete! Links to all of the chapters can be found on this content page.
I'd like to thank the @pjohoobigbang mods for running the Big Bang, because seriously, without the challenge, this probably wouldn't have been written. My betas on this project, @supernaturally-percyjackson and @preciouschildrenofolympus also deserve the loudest shout-out I can possibly give because they were A-MAZING. They cheerfully offered their help polishing up this fic and so much encouragement over a half year of writing this. Their dedication over all that time was phenomenal. This fic is really an offering to the fandom from all of us!
Right then. On to the story!
Summary: Percy and Annabeth intended to retire and spend a quiet four years at college in New Rome. However, old enemies have other ideas, and one very determined attack leaves Percy poisoned and fighting for his life and Annabeth facing the difficult decision of giving him the only cure: water from the Lethe...and dealing with the heartbreaking side-effects. There is hope, though, but will Percy, Annabeth, and their friends have the courage to brave Tartarus again to retrieve Percy's memories from the edge of Chaos?
Warnings: This story is rated R (or M, if that's your system) for adult themes. Although no explicit material is covered, there is reference to some dark stuff in later chapters. Appropriate warnings will be given before each chapter.
Also available on Ao3.
If somebody had been waiting for Percy when he first woke up, if they'd convinced Percy that his name was Bob and he was a friend of the Titans and the giants...would Percy have believed it? Would he have felt betrayed once he found out his true identity?
—The House of Hades, chpt 62
List of chapters:
I: Annabeth
II: Nico
III: Percy
IV: Percy
V: Percy
VI: Annabeth
VII: Percy
VIII: Will
IX: Will
X: Annabeth
XI: Thalia
XII: Percy
XIII: Annabeth
XIV: Nico
XV: Percy
XVI: Annabeth
XVII: Thalia
XVIII: Percy
Check out @preciouschildrenofolympus's accompanying art!
When Percy first proposed the idea of living in New Rome to Annabeth, she had vehemently opposed it. However, after a year of college there, the place had definitely grown on her.
Inside the Pomerian Line was a cosy world of demigods living tucked away from the constant danger of monster attacks and vengeful deities. The university's architectural design programme was first-rate, as was to be expected in a city that was modelled after the original Greek and Roman ones. Her friends were often around: Reyna lived nearby, having recently retired from the legion and passed on her praetorship to Hazel. The latter Annabeth saw often as well, along with Frank, since they attended senate meetings regularly. Camp Half-Blood had finally established a regular exchange programme with Camp Jupiter, spearheaded by Jason and Piper, with a cross-country transportation service courtesy of Leo and Festus. Annabeth's half-brother Malcolm had been in the first wave of exchange heroes. She even got out into San Francisco occasionally to visit her dad, and while she missed Chiron dearly, there were always Iris messages and summers back on Long Island.
With all these perks, Annabeth had thought she'd be more than grateful for the peaceful, quiet life that New Rome offered. And she was—except she found herself getting restless sometimes. Maybe it was because as a demigod, fighting was in her blood.
After she and Percy got back from a summer visit to New York, where Chiron had joked about them getting rusty in their training, they began to crave action. They got into the chariot races at the Circus Maximus, which brought back fond memories of the first time they'd ever raced a chariot at Camp Half-Blood. They joined the weekly war games with the Twelfth Legion in the Field of Mars, to the delight of the Fifth Cohort.
And then they started venturing out into the world.
It became a weekly ritual. They would jog down the cobbled paths of New Rome, over the Via Praetoria and through the barracks. Once across the Little Tiber, it was a short sprint into Berkeley, where they would make straight for the coast. Percy would dive into the bay and keep pace with Annabeth as she loped down Eastshore State Park. It was a good ten-miler to start the day, and although New Rome was peppered with top-notch cafés, Annabeth became quite fond of finishing her run at Philz Coffee on Ninth Street before strolling back hand-in-hand with Percy into New Rome for classes.
At first the Camp Jupiter sentries at the Caldecott Tunnel were aghast at their leaving the safety of the camp boundaries in such a blasé fashion, but after a few weeks of it, they got accustomed to seeing the two of them jog by in the morning and return without issue some time later.
Sure, they ran into the occasional monster—sea serpents, giant carnivorous seagulls, turtles with mouths full of sharp teeth—but after two wars and a trek through Tartarus, the odd monster that surfaced was no more than a minor irritation, easily dispatched before they continued their respective jog and swim. Annabeth grew to think of them more as disturbances that got in the way of her coffee time at Philz.
So when the crazy woman on a horse showed up, Annabeth barely batted an eyelid.
Unfortunately, she was about to pay for her hubris.
At first, Annabeth thought the steed that burst forth from the bay was a Hippocampus. As its lower half broke the surface in a ferocious leap, she glimpsed a fish tail and flippers where a horse would have legs. But then it landed on the concrete of Berkeley Pier with the definite solid thump of hooves. It stood before her, a slavering monster horse with sharp, glistening teeth and evil, glowing eyes. Its long, dark mane flowed fluidly down its coal-black coat.
On its back rode a muscular woman with hair the colour of algae. She seemed to be wearing a skin-tight outfit covered with loud prints, but then Annabeth realised that the only stitch of clothing on her were her green tights. Every inch of her bare upper body was inked with tattoos: a garish collection of multi-coloured designs with no real pattern to them. Symbols and shapes and pictures of underwater plants and creatures swirled together. Most prominent of the lot was an enormous heart splashed across her chest, with the words JB + H 4-EVA inside. Annabeth had no idea what it was supposed to mean.
The tattooed woman's hands pulled sharply on the reins of her horse, which were the same fluid material as the creature's mane and led to the bridle that went through its mouth. The demon horse's nostrils flared as its rider held it steady.
Something about the combination struck Annabeth as odd. She'd never seen anything like this horse before, and the way it had seemed to have flippers and a tail when it first burst from the water…
'At last,' said Tattoo-woman, glaring at Annabeth. 'I have found you. And now you shall die.'
She spoke as though she knew Annabeth, but Annabeth was at a loss as to when she might have encountered this horseback version of a Hell's Angel before.
'I think you might have the wrong person,' she said, but she slipped the bracelet she always wore off her wrist. It had a number of charms on it and one of them, a wishbone, disguised her personal weapon. 'I don't think we've met.'
'Oh, we have not,' agreed Tattoo-woman. 'I don't expect you to recognise me. We Nereids never do get any attention. But I am Hipponoe, and you, Annabeth Chase, killed my lover.'
It was possible. Annabeth had killed plenty of monsters, though she wouldn't have imagined a Nereid to be dating one. She knew nothing of Hipponoe, except that the ancient Greek translated loosely into 'Temper of Horses'—pretty apt, given how she was currently spurring a bad-tempered horse to attack. The heart on her chest might be a clue, but Annabeth couldn't remember killing any monster with the initials 'J.B.' either.
Not that it really mattered. Whatever her reasons, Hipponoe was clearly out for vengeance, and that meant a fight. Annabeth rubbed her finger and thumb over the central curve of her wishbone charm. It elongated into the drakon-bone sword that she had acquired from the giant Damasen in Tartarus two years ago.
Before she could charge Hipponoe and her horse, though, a jet of water came blasting out of the bay and crashed into the Nereid. It nearly unseated her, but she kept a tight hold on the reins of her horse. A flash of bronze followed, a blade that would have stabbed into Hipponoe, except her steed moved out of the way with lightning-quick speed.
Percy landed on the pier next to Annabeth, his own sword, Riptide, in his hands. Though he'd been swimming, his black hair and college t-shirt were completely dry—just one of his many magical talents as a son of the sea god.
Percy's green eyes flashed with concern for Annabeth. 'You all right?'
'I had it under control,' Annabeth huffed, pushing a few stray curls that had escaped from her ponytail out of her face. Then her eyes widened and she shoved Percy aside. 'Look out!'
Hipponoe had regained control of her horse, but instead of charging, as Annabeth would have expected, the horse opened its mouth and spewed a mouthful of fire at them.
Percy shoved a column of water at the flames. 'You've gotta be kidding me,' he said. 'How can a water creature breathe fire?'
Something tugged at Annabeth's memory. 'It's not Greek,' she said. 'I mean, Hipponoe is, but I think her horse is…'
Before she could place which myth it was, Hipponoe and her horse came back for a second round.
'Great,' Percy grumbled. 'Do all the different legends have to come after us? I mean, first there were the Romans, and then the Egyptian stuff, and then that craziness with your cousin that I still don't understand. Now what?'
He fended off another fiery blast from the horse, sending up a wall of smoke as his water jets extinguished the fire.
Hipponoe let out a frustrated cry. 'You are in my way, son of Poseidon! Leave! I have no quarrel with you. It is this accursed murderess I have come to destroy!'
'You know, I've really got no clue what you're talking about,' Annabeth said. She swung her sword and it hit razor-sharp horse teeth with a metallic clang. The horse tried to clamp its teeth over the blade, but to Annabeth's confusion, Hipponoe yanked it back sharply.
The horse looked disappointed. It was almost as though it wanted the blade to slice into its mouth.
'Do not deny it, daughter of Athena,' Hipponoe said. 'I have spent years tracing the death of Joe Bob. I divined it with certainty: it was you who stabbed him in the back!'
'The Canadian giants,' Percy said. 'Laistry-whatever-you-call-them. Back when I was at Meriwether Prep.'
A dim memory of flaming dodgeballs and explosions in a school gym crept into Annabeth's mind. 'I can't believe you still remember that,' she marvelled.
'Enough talk!' Hipponoe snarled. She yanked the reins, pulling tightly on the horse's bit, and suddenly it shifted its shape, becoming a hulking beast that seemed like a hurricane full of gnashing teeth. 'Perhaps you like my kelpie better in this form. Yes, I think this is better. I will have you ripped to shreds!'
'What is that thing?' Percy demanded.
At the word 'kelpie', Annabeth's brain finally made the connection. This creature wasn’t Greek. And while her knowledge of myths beyond the Greek and Roman pantheon wasn't extensive, she'd investigated this one when she'd been helping her cousin Magnus. The kelpie…a fire-breathing, shape-shifting water horse.
Well, that seemed about right.
'I think it's from Scotland,' Annabeth said.
'Who cares where it's from!' Percy dragged her out of the way as the kelpie tore up the pier in front of them. 'How do we kill it?'
'I—I'm not sure! But we can't let it destroy Berkeley!'
'Right.' Percy grabbed her by the waist and leapt off the pier. Annabeth yelped as they hit the cold waters of San Francisco Bay.
Hipponoe and the hurricane-kelpie turned and tried to follow them in the water, but the gnashing whirlwind of teeth couldn't do any more than churn up violent waves on the water's surface. Percy made the waves rise up to pummel Hipponoe. Unfortunately, after the shock of the first attack, the Nereid gained control and the water splashed harmlessly back down into the bay.
'Fool! I come from the sea, son of Poseidon. You cannot fight me with water.' Her grip tightened on her reins. It was hard to tell in the black hurricane, but the lines seemed to cut a groove into it near the top. The whirling dissolved and the kelpie reformed in the shape of a Hippocampus with the original black coat and mane of its upper body. The kelpie tossed its head, straining against the sinuous bridle and the bit that ran through its mouth.
'The bridle!' Annabeth's eyes widened. 'Percy, we can't kill it, but whoever holds the bridle controls it.' If they could just unseat Hipponoe… 'Give me a boost!'
Percy understood immediately. The water that was churning beneath her seemed to solidify. Annabeth kicked hard against it and Percy gave her another little push into the air. She leapt and soared through the air as Hipponoe and the kelpie bore down on them. Her feet slammed into Hipponoe from behind, knocking the Nereid sideways. Annabeth sliced downwards with her sword and cut the reins away from Hipponoe's hands.
With a howl of outrage, Hipponoe tumbled from the kelpie's back into the water. Percy immediately swam up and held Riptide to her throat.
Freed from Hipponoe's control, the kelpie went wild. Annabeth's heart leapt into her mouth as it plunged into the water with a thunderous noise, taking her with it. She remembered another snatch of the paragraph she'd read about kelpies: they drown humans by submerging with them into deep waters.
Oh no, you don't, Annabeth thought firmly. She could see the reins flowing back from the kelpie's head, not quite tangled yet. She reached for them and felt her hands close over the sinewy strands. The kelpie jerked, halted in its downward dive. It bucked beneath Annabeth, struggling against her, but she grappled for control. Finally, when her lungs were just about ready to burst, the kelpie's body slacked as though resigned.
Annabeth tugged on the reins and they rose, charging up to the surface. The kelpie burst out of the water and landed back on Berkeley Pier—what was left of it, anyway—its lower half shifting from fish back to horse.
'I'm okay!' Annabeth yelled, out of breath. 'I got the kelpie!'
Percy and Hipponoe bobbed in the bay twenty feet away. He swam her over at sword point and yanked her up onto the pier.
'Look,' he said, 'we don't want to kill you. But you can't come threatening my girlfriend, okay? We're sorry about Joe Bob, but he did try to kill me, you know.'
Hipponoe glared at him. 'No excuses, son of Poseidon.' She extracted a vial from a hidden pocket in her tights. It glowed with green light, like Greek fire. 'One way or another, the girl must die!'
She flung the vial towards Annabeth and the kelpie.
Percy intercepted it with a swipe of Riptide. 'Over my dead body,' he told Hipponoe.
The vial exploded.
Annabeth screamed, but it wasn't Greek fire. A splash of electric-green liquid washed over Percy. Hipponoe rolled out of the way.
'You fool!' she screeched.
For a moment, Percy just stood there, covered with what looked like bright green slime. Then he collapsed on the ground, flopping like a fish.
Annabeth screamed again.
'What did you do to him?'
Hipponoe's look of outrage gave way to laughter. She pushed herself to her feet and smirked at Annabeth.
'Poison,' she said smugly. 'I spent a long time preparing for our meeting, you know. I planned for every contingency. I sourced the most insidious venom, the strongest toxins, to create this. There is no earthly cure. It was meant for you, Annabeth Chase. But perhaps this is a more fitting punishment after all. You will suffer as I did, with the pain of losing the one you loved.'
Percy stopped convulsing and lay perfectly still on the concrete. A frost of fear spread icy tendrils through Annabeth's veins.
'No!' Without thinking, she spurred the kelpie forward and nudged Percy off the pier, into the water. She prayed it would work—as the son of Poseidon, water rejuvenated Percy, sometimes better than nectar and ambrosia. At any rate, it was the only thing she had on hand to try. If anything, it should at least slow or dull the effects of Hipponoe's poison, buying him time until she could get help.
And then she turned to Hipponoe. The Nereid seemed resigned to defeat now. Even as Annabeth bore down on her, she smiled in satisfaction.
'Even better, Annabeth Chase. You have hastened your boyfriend's demise. The water will only help the poison spread faster. And I—I will find my Joe Bob now.'
She crumbled into dust beneath the kelpie's hooves.
'No,' Annabeth repeated frantically, hoping that Hipponoe had been lying. At her command, the kelpie dove into the water.
She found Percy easily—there was an unearthly glow around his head that seemed to intensify with every passing second. Annabeth hauled his limp body onto the back of the kelpie and they surfaced together.
'Percy,' she whispered. 'Oh gods, why?' He'd gotten in the way of poison meant for her, and she'd gone and made it worse by shoving him into the water.
But she couldn't collapse in despair now. Percy's breathing was rapid and shallow and his pulse was faint, but he was still hanging on to life. She had to get him back to Camp Jupiter, find a medic…there had to be a way to save him. She wasn't going to let a stupid, bitter Nereid take him from her.
Annabeth wrapped her arms around Percy and tightened her grip on the kelpie's reins.
'Camp Jupiter,' she told it. 'Hurry.'
OoOoO
The guards on duty at the Caldecott Tunnel door just about had a heart attack when Annabeth charged up on a black demon horse with an evil glare.
Or, more accurately, her friend Will did. The other guard, Clovis, was snoozing on duty, and didn't notice until the kelpie snorted in his face and he awoke with a yelp, his droopy, calf-like eyes uncharacteristically wide. Then he nearly had a coronary.
Both boys were on their exchange year from Camp Half-Blood, and Annabeth was glad to see them. Percy definitely needed the gift of healing that Will, the sunny-haired son of Apollo, had inherited. And Clovis might spend most of his time sleeping, but when he did wake up, the son of Hypnos had some pretty useful powers as well.
'Where in Hades did you get that beast?' Will said. 'Uh—it's not actually from the Underworld, is it?'
'No,' said another voice. Lounging by the tunnel entrance was another demigod Annabeth hadn't noticed at first, probably because Nico di Angelo tended to blend neatly into the shadows around him. He also hadn't jumped ten feet into the air upon seeing the kelpie.
'What's wrong with Percy?' he asked.
'Poison,' Annabeth said, fighting to keep her voice steady. 'Will, can you—'
'Yeah. Um, what are you going to do about the horse—?'
In its current form, the kelpie wouldn't fit through the tunnel door, but somehow Annabeth knew what to do. She jerked twice on its reins and it morphed into a pug with the same evil eyes. The bridle turned into a collar that still extended into its mouth. Annabeth handed the dog to Nico and placed his free hand firmly on the collar.
'Take that to Hazel,' she said, figuring that Nico's sister, a daughter of the Underworld with a fondness for fierce, fast horses, would probably know best what to do with the kelpie. 'Don’t let go of the bridle—er, collar.'
While Nico took the pug-kelpie off to Hazel, Will and Clovis lifted Percy between them. Together, they made their way to the infirmary in the legion barracks.
Annabeth clenched her fists as she watched Will assess Percy. At the age of ten, Will had already been Camp Half-Blood's best healer; in the eight years since, his healing magic had grown much more powerful. So when Will's face went pale after he put his hands over Percy, feeling for the damage, Annabeth's heart sank.
'It's his head,' Will said. 'His body's actually fine, but his brain—there's too many toxins. Water hemlock and mercury to start with, and that's a fatal mixture already, but there's other stuff as well that I don't even recognise. Ambrosia and nectar won't be enough. I can't treat this, not without knowing—'
'You have to!'
'I could…' Will rubbed his forehead. 'Clovis, can you—?'
The son of Hypnos nodded and snapped his fingers, murmuring a snatch of song in an ancient tongue. Percy's breathing slowed.
'What did you do?'
'He's in an induced coma,' Will said. His expression was grim. 'It'll buy us some time, but he'll still be brain dead if we don't come up with something.'
'How long do we have?'
'Best guess? Half a day.' Will must have noticed Annabeth's stricken expression, because he added gently, 'It's better than nothing. He would have been gone in five minutes if Clovis hadn't put him to sleep. If I can just figure out what the unknown poisons are, maybe we can come up with a solution—'
'Tartarus,' said a voice from the doorway. Nico stepped into the infirmary. He looked at Annabeth. 'Can't you sense it? The aura around him. He's been poisoned by something from deep in Tartarus. No cure on earth exists for that.'
Annabeth choked back a sob, remembering what Hipponoe had said: I sourced the most insidious venom, the strongest toxins to create this. There is no earthly cure. 'No. There has to be a way.'
Will frowned. 'What about the Golden Fleece? Remember when Thalia's tree was poisoned with venom from Tartarus? The Fleece cured that.'
'We could bring it here!' But even as she said it, despair hollowed out her insides. The Golden Fleece was on the other side of the country. Even if someone set out with it at this very moment, it wasn't likely to arrive in time.
'I'm not sure it'll work,' Clovis said. He looked at Will. 'You said it's his brain, right? The mind's a lot trickier to heal than the body.'
'Unless…' Nico exchanged a significant look with Clovis, who suddenly looked more awake than Annabeth had ever seen him.
'No way,' he said. 'You don't mean…?'
Nico nodded.
'What?' Annabeth asked.
'The Lethe,' Clovis said.
'Seriously?' Will said. 'I've never heard—'
'You're a child of the upper world,' Nico said. 'Underworld magic is different. The Underworld rivers—well, they have some healing properties.'
'Like the Phlegethon,' Annabeth said with a shiver. When she and Percy had been in Tartarus, they'd drunk from the River of Fire. While it had been excruciating, it had also kept them alive.
'Yes,' Nico said. 'The Lethe…well, it's waters specifically target the mind, right? It has to—it cleanses it, wipes away everything, so…'
'You think it could wipe the poison out?' Will asked.
'Nico's right,' Clovis said. 'It's a good idea.'
Annabeth gulped. It made sense that the Lethe could be as powerful as the Phlegethon in healing. But—the Lethe. Percy would…
'Um,' Will said, 'you guys do see the obvious problem with this, don't you?'
Nico and Clovis looked at each other and then at Annabeth, as though leaving the decision to her. Her throat burned when she swallowed, as if she'd ingested a mouthful of Phlegethon water.
The Lethe was where souls went to wipe their memories before rebirth. A single drop could cause severe memory loss. Getting dipped in it…well, Percy had once done that to the Titan Iapetus and made him forget his entire identity.
But they had no other solutions. And Percy was going to die in hours if they didn't come up with anything else.
If this was the only way to save him…well, even if it meant he would forget everything, forget her, she couldn't let him die.
'We have to try,' she said. Her voice sounded hollow in her ears. 'Where are we going to get liquid Lethe, though? Clovis?'
He shook his head. 'I don't have a handy source here. Back in cabin sixteen…well, that's as far away as the Fleece.'
'I can get it,' Nico said. 'I can go to the Underworld. I—it's not as hard for me.'
'Can you get there and back in a few hours?' Annabeth asked.
'Sure,' Nico said. Will narrowed his eyes, but Nico shrugged. 'I'm going alone, it won't take that much energy.'
'Fine,' said Will. 'But be careful.'
'It's the Underworld. I know my way around.' Nico took Will's hand and squeezed it. Then he turned to Annabeth. To her surprise, he put a hand on her shoulder. 'Maybe there's a chance it won't be permanent,' he said. 'Alecto wiped Bianca and my memories in the river of forgetfulness before she too us to the Lotus Casino, but now I remember things from my life before. And—well, Percy told me about Bob.'
Annabeth's chest constricted as it always did when she remembered Bob the Titan, who had died for them in Tartarus. But this time the memory lifted her spirits a little. Bob's memories of his life as Iapetus, before Percy had wiped them, had returned to him eventually, even if he had later chosen to affirm himself as Bob in spite of them.
Nico was right. There was hope.
Annabeth nodded. 'Just save him.'
‘That’s the plan,’ Nico said. And he stepped into the shadow of the door and disappeared into it.
Check out @preciouschildrenofolympus's illustration of Hipponoe and the kelpie!
Okay, so I meant to post this yesterday but it took longer than I expected to get the content page and first chapter up and of course this HAS to be the week where I also have to pack for an upcoming trip and rehearse a presentation for said trip AND three meetings ... But I’ve got my CoL files on my USB stick now so I’ll duck in at lunch time and post another chapter then so I can get up to three today! Thanks to all of you who have checked this out! And feel free to send me an ask any time, I love hearing from readers! :)
II: NICO
Nico was used to the Underworld.
The first time he had entered it had been from the Labyrinth, while running from Camp Half-Blood after his sister Bianca had died. The dark caverns and twisting tunnels had seemed scary to him at the time, but he'd since grown accustomed to navigating his way around them. He knew what paths to take—and more importantly, which to avoid. Even as the son of Hades, there were places in the Underworld where he wasn't meant to go. He'd learned that the hard way.
Over time, he'd also learned of the various entrances from the mortal world: Charon's passage in Los Angeles, Orpheus's door in New York's Central Park, the roving Doors of Death that Thanatos used as his personal gateway. Nico didn't need any of them now, though. Shadow travel was convenient that way. He simply melted into darkness and was transported like a speeding bullet through cold, empty space until he popped out at his destination.
Just one of the perks of being a child of the Underworld.
The only problem was, hitting a precise location in the Underworld was always a tricky business. Although Nico could manage a shadow-jump into the Underworld from anywhere in the upper world, he couldn't always pinpoint where he'd end up when he arrived.
This time, he found himself on the banks of the River Styx. He could hear the deep baritone of Charon the ferryman drifting along upriver, humming that god-awful easy listening music he favoured. The barge was approaching, probably with a full load of newly-dead souls. Nico could feel their presence closing in, clamouring for attention. The recently-deceased tended to be like that: terrified and hungry for reassurance, still clinging to the identities they had held in life. If he listened hard, Nico could sense each one of them—the octogenarian who had passed away in his sleep, the car crash victim whose life support had been turned off, the teenager who had ingested a full bottle of Valium, and many others.
Percy wasn't among them—yet, Nico reminded himself. He turned away from the river and made his way up the shore of black sand, climbing the familiar winding path to the gates of Erebus. The checkpoints were running smoothly today, with the regular lanes moving along almost as quickly as the EZ Death line that went straight to Asphodel. Cerberus gave Nico a hopeful look when he passed through, but Nico shook his head at the enormous, three-headed Rottweiler.
'Not today, old friend,' he said. 'I'm in a hurry.'
He sped up through the Fields of Asphodel, which was easy since the vacuous, chittering spirits there parted before him as always. He usually took the path straight to his father's palace on the south-eastern edge, but this time he turned off towards the left, cutting a trail between the Fields of Punishment and the gated community of Elysium.
The first time he'd ever visited the River Lethe, he'd trudged all the way through the Fields of Punishment to where it was a rushing river gorge cutting through the upper rim of his father's kingdom. Fortunately, he knew enough of the Underworld geography now that he could take a more direct route to where the Lethe snaked down past the Cave of Hypnos to flow more sluggishly across the outskirts of Elysium. It would probably have been a nicer stroll through Elysium to get here, but Nico didn't have time to submit to the stringent security checks at the gates. Even the son of Hades was subject to a thorough frisking at the gates of the most secure community in the Underworld.
Near the river's source in the volcanic mountains, the Lethe was a cascade of violent black water bubbling up from Tartarus, but here on the lower marshes, its colour lightened considerably to a dull grey. Outside the eastern gate of Elysium, a group of souls formed a line along the river to get their drink before reincarnation. One by one they knelt on the river bank and plunged their heads into the lazy river. When they emerged, their ghostly faces looked perfectly serene. The cleansed spirits flickered in the dim light of the Underworld caverns and then disappeared, presumably sent to be reborn into their new mortal lives.
Nico picked a spot a short way upriver from the queueing souls. He approached the banks and then he realised the snag in his plan. He had no jug or goblet or canister with him. In his haste to get here, he had completely forgotten about how he was going to transport the stuff back to the mortal world.
He let out a groan. It seemed he would have to visit his father's palace after all. Did his father even have containers in his palace? Nico wasn't sure. For obvious reasons, he never actually ate or drank anything when he visited.
Nico was about to turn and follow the path back to the palace when a voice hailed him.
'Di Angelo!'
He spun around. A girl with short, spiky black hair and a glowing silver bow slung over her back was walking up to him. There was a delicate silver circlet on her head that clashed badly with the rest of her outfit: a leather jacket adorned with rock band buttons, frayed black jeans, heavy boots, and a black t-shirt with the outline of a deer in the centre. She looked around his age—fifteen or sixteen—but Nico knew she was in fact much older than that. Thalia, the daughter of Zeus, had been that age when he'd first met her five years ago.
In her hands, she carried a bronze stamnos—a squat, circular Greek jar with two stubby handles high up on its sides. It was about half a foot in diameter and just as tall.
'Needing one of these?' said Thalia.
'What are you doing here?'
Thalia raised an eyebrow. 'Annabeth sent an Iris-message. I came to help.'
Nico scowled. 'I don't need help,' he muttered, even though her appearance with the stamnos was fortuitous. He had nothing specifically against Thalia—he didn't even know her all that well—but she led the Hunters of Artemis. He still found it hard not to hold a grudge against the band of immortal girls who had stolen his sister from him and then gotten her killed.
Yeah, okay, so it had been five years ago. But he was a son of Hades. Bearing grudges was his birthright.
'Aren't you forbidden to help boys, anyway?'
Thalia set the stamnos on the bank. 'Percy's a special case,' she admitted. 'Even Artemis has a soft spot for him. And I can see just how much help you don’t need,' she added dryly. 'I'm sure your bare hands would have been the perfect vessel to bring back some liquid Lethe. Super plan, down to the part where you'd definitely remember where you wanted to bring it.'
Nico ignored her sarcasm. 'How did you get here anyway?'
'You think you're the only one who knows about the door in Central Park? And I've been to the Underworld before, you know. It's not even my first time at the Lethe.'
Nico had almost forgotten that Thalia had been with him and Percy on that quest. They'd fought a Titan several miles upriver from this spot and ended up wiping his memories in the Lethe.
Maybe Thalia was thinking about that, too, because she asked, quietly, 'Are you sure about this, Nico?'
'No,' he admitted. 'But it's the only answer I have.'
'Well, let's get ourselves some Lethe water, then.'
Thalia took one handle of the stamnos and motioned for Nico to take the other. Nico was a bit disgruntled at how bossy she was, but it also reminded him slightly of Bianca. Together, they picked up the stamnos and tilted it to scoop up some river water.
'Just what do the two of you think you're doing?'
Nico and Thalia almost dropped the stamnos. They staggered back from the river bank as the ghostly form of a svelte young woman rose out of the water and hovered inches above its surface.
Nico thought at first she was an Underworld soul, one of the group from Elysium heading for rebirth, but she grew more solid as she surveyed them with her arms crossed. Her skin was milky white, which made her look like a marble statue not unlike the sculptures that sprung up every ten feet along the main avenue of New Rome. Except that the contours of her body remained undefined, as if she hadn't finished forming from smoke. Her black dress rippled like waves were moving across its folds. Dark, misty images flashed across the fabric and were absorbed into the creases. Somehow, Nico knew they were all memories, millions of them submerging into the water.
'You're—'
'The goddess Lethe, of course,' she said, looking put out. 'You're taking my waters and you don't even think to ask?'
'Everyone forgets about me!' Lethe pouted. 'Just because I'm not as fiery as Phlegethon, or as whiny as Cocytus. Is that why? I'm just as powerful as them! More, even—none of them have the power to cleanse the mind of everything.'
'Um, maybe it's because you're the river of forgetfulness,' Thalia ventured. 'That might be why people—er—forget.'
Lethe nodded. 'I am, aren't I?' She trailed the hazy edge of her dress along the water's surface. When she looked up again, her brow was furrowed. 'What was I saying again?'
'You were giving us some water,' Nico said quickly.
Lethe stared at the stamnos. 'Was I?'
'Sure you were!' Thalia said. 'We're just going to get it and be on our way…'
'I don't know,' said Lethe. 'That's high irregular. In fact, I think drinks have to be consumed in-house. I don't do to-go. At least,' she pondered this for a while, 'I don't think I do?'
'Oh, but it'd be great for business,' Thalia said. 'I mean, all the best restaurants have take-away. How else would you make sure people remember you if they don't get to try your products?'
Lethe tapped her chin. 'It's true, I hardly get up to the mortal world. Acheron totally has a monopoly on those streams…and really, I am more powerful, you know. What's Acheron got? Only pain. That's so overdone. Tell me, what other rivers have the power to erase everything? To cleanse the mind and soul completely? Pain, suffering, despair—bah! I can erase all of that!'
Nico leaned forward eagerly. 'Can you heal the mind, then? I mean, if your waters can take away pain and suffering…'
'Of course! What bit of cleansing the mind don't you understand?'
Nico looked at Thalia. This seemed like confirmation that they had hit on the right solution. All they needed now was to actually get the water.
'Wait.' Lethe looked at Nico suspiciously. 'You've been here before, haven't you? You've tried the Lethe treatment?'
'Um, sort of,' Thalia said. 'We've been here. But you didn't appear to us. And we definitely didn't touch the water.'
'Well, maybe not you,' Lethe said. 'But you.' She looked directly at Nico and frowned. 'Ugh, why can't I remember?' She stamped her foot. Nico and Thalia had to jump back to avoid being splashed. 'Hmph. Well, maybe I can't remember, but I can feel it.' She sniffed at Nico. 'You have my mark. The Curse of Lethe.'
'Nico, what's she talking about?'
'It was…before,' Nico muttered. 'Before the Lotus Casino. My father had Bianca and me dunked in the Lethe after our mom died.'
Lethe interrupted. 'I knew it! Though I suppose if you only got dunked…it's not as effective if you don't actually drink, you know. Oh, the memory loss is powerful, of course, but the mind isn't cleaned out. The memories aren't actually dissolved. They can come back, given the right…well, prodding, I suppose.' Lethe scratched her head. 'Hmm. Why am I telling you this again?'
The conversation was making Nico's head spin a little. 'Never mind why. You were saying—it's different if you drink?'
'Well, yes. Souls have to drink. That's the rule—no drink, no rebirth. Can't have people bringing any part of their old lives with them, after all. Drinking cleanses everything: mind and soul. Memories aren't just in the mind, after all. The most important ones, they live in the soul. And I have the power to absorb that—dissolve the core of someone's identity.'
'Is it all in the water, then?' Thalia asked, looking into the murky depths of the river with interest. 'Is that how you get it back?'
Lethe threw her an irritated glance. 'Haven't you been listening, girl? If you drink, there's no getting them back. My waters flow all the way to Tartarus, and beyond that, into the depths of Chaos. That's where everything that is lost goes, in the end. And good luck retrieving anything from that pit.'
'But if you don't drink—say, you just…took a dip,' Nico pressed.
'Ah, like you did, I suppose? You'll still lose your memories. But like I said…hm, or did I? Anyway, you'd forget everything, but your soul would be intact. You could restore your memories, but it's extremely hard.'
'But not impossible,' Thalia said, looking relieved. 'That's great.'
'Not if he has to drink the water to be cured,' Nico reminded her.
'So…what was it you wanted again? Are you after getting your memory back? There's someone else who does that…starts with an "M"…' Lethe rolled her eyes Olympus-ward and stamped her foot again. 'Ugh, why can't I remember?'
'Mnemosyne?' Thalia supplied.
'Maybe. Why do you ask, anyway?'
This conversation was going round in circles. Nico cut in. 'Look, we just need to fill this jar so we can save a life. That okay with you?'
Lethe shrugged. 'Why didn't you say so in the first place?'
She held out her hands for the stamnos. Thalia looked like she was trying not to roll her eyes as they hefted the jar into Lethe's arms.
The murky grey water turned milky white when Lethe scooped it up. She set the filled stamnos down on the river bank. Thalia produced a lid from her pocket and capped it. Nico plucked a leaf from a random plant and carefully wiped off the stray droplets rolling down the side of the jar.
'Easy peasy,' Lethe said. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to…hm, I've forgotten.'
Nico and Thalia didn't wait for her to continue. Lifting the stamnos between them, they hurried off before Lethe could start questioning them again.
'Thanks for the jar,' Nico said when they reached the main path, which was lined with towering oaks that cast long shadows across the ground. One thing about the Underworld—there was never a shortage of shadows. 'I'm going to shadow travel back, so—'
'Can you take me along?' Thalia asked.
Nico had kind of imagined Thalia would leave the same way she'd come, probably going back to New York or wherever the Hunters were right now. He didn't really know what the rules were with them. He always avoided anything to do with the whole group as much as possible.
But Thalia was Percy's friend, too.
'Hold the jar,' he told her. 'Make sure that lid's really tight.'
He took her arm and they slipped into darkness.
OoOoO
Nico stumbled when he landed himself and Thalia back in the infirmary of Camp Jupiter. The stamnos landed on the ground with a loud thud, but fortunately Thalia's grip on the lid was firm. The liquid Lethe stayed safely inside.
'Huh—what—I'm awake, sir!' Clovis, who must have been snoozing again, leapt out of his chair and smacked his head against the elbow of a tall, broad-shouldered Chinese dude.
In the time Nico had been gone, two more demigods had joined the worried circle around Percy, making the infirmary seem a lot more crowded. Or maybe it was just that one of them was Frank Zhang, the bulky Praetor of the Twelfth Legion, who was big enough for two people.
The other was Nico's sister Hazel, who must have sorted out the shape-shifting demon horse that Annabeth had handed off to them. She and Frank were holding hands—hers was so tiny, it disappeared completely in his grasp.
Thalia went straight to Annabeth and hugged her tightly. Annabeth returned the hug in a distracted sort of way. She had been sitting by Percy's bedside with a book open in her lap, gently stroking his hair. There were tear streaks on her cheeks that she hadn't bothered to wipe off. Nico wasn't sure she was even aware of them.
Will caught Nico's eye and mouthed, Gatorade.
I'm fine, Nico mouthed back, although his legs felt a little shaky after his second shadow travel.
Will gave him a stern look and jerked his head towards a side table where he'd already laid out the sports drink.
Nico rolled his eyes, but a secret part of him sort of enjoyed Will's fussing. Not that he'd ever admit it.
At least his boyfriend wasn't being obtrusive about it. Nico drank the Gatorade and felt the energy trickle back into his limbs.
'How does this go, then?' Hazel asked. She eyed the stamnos warily, as if it were another demon horse that might change shape and start spewing its contents at them. 'He has to drink it?'
Thalia looked at Annabeth sadly. 'The healing power comes from drinking. But the memory loss is irreversible.'
'Actually,' Will gestured at the book on Annabeth's lap, 'we were doing some research while you guys were gone.'
Annabeth held up the book and nodded. 'I asked Reyna and she found me this from the Senate library. Turns out the Lethe has been used in potions before: the nepenthe.'
'The drug of forgetfulness,' Will translated. 'Helen of Troy gave it to Odysseus's son to ease his suffering. We just need to add a drop of Lethe to a cup of nectar.'
Hazel looked at them dubiously. 'How is that different? It's still the Lethe. Does diluting it even help?'
'And will it be strong enough?' Frank added. 'I mean, that's a pretty big nectar to Lethe ratio. How much Lethe does he actually have to ingest? There's probably a limit to how much nectar he can take, right?'
'I don't know,' said Annabeth. 'But the records mention that the drinkers had temporary memory loss after drinking. We thought…well, we hoped it would at least give him a chance.'
'A chance is better than nothing,' Thalia said firmly.
Will nodded. 'I think our best shot is to start with the base recipe and monitor him. I can slowly up the concentration of Lethe if it doesn't seem to be working.'
'Can he even drink? Or do you have to, like, IV-it into him?' Frank asked.
They all looked at Percy's comatose form. Will frowned and scratched his head.
'IV is probably the way to go,' he admitted. 'Do you guys have anything for that set up?'
Frank got to his feet. 'The university will have something. I'll go.'
'Hurry back,' Will warned. 'I feel…well, I don't think he has much time.' He gave Nico a significant look.
Nico knew what he meant. He'd always been able to sense when death was imminent, and he could feel that aura thickening around Percy, a cloying layer of smog that was almost tangible. Soon it would start to vibrate with the buzz that alerted the god of death that there was a soul to be collected. Nico didn't think Will had the same ability, but he was probably getting a corresponding message through his healer senses.
Hazel put her hand on Frank's arm. 'Let me go, then,' she said. 'I'll be faster.'
Nico raised an eyebrow when he realised what she was intending to do. 'Are you sure? I could—'
Will shot him a look that said don't even think about it.
'I've practised a couple of times,' Hazel said. 'Besides, it's just across the Field of Mars.'
She took a deep breath and slipped into the shadow of the infirmary door. Watching his sister disappear was disconcerting. Did Nico look like that too when he shadow-travelled—just melting into nothingness? No wonder Will always worried about him.
Annabeth made a strangled noise like a half-stifled sob and took Percy's hand in hers. Thalia patted her on the back.
'It'll be okay,' she said. 'We'll get him back and then you can kill him.'
Annabeth's sob turned into a slightly hysterical laugh. She squared her shoulders and looked at the stamnos. 'We should—we should brew the nepenthe.'
Will was already on it, pulling nectar from the cupboards and carefully measuring out a cup. He brought out a plastic dropper and hesitated. 'We'll need to add a drop of Lethe for now, but someone's going to have to add more at intervals.'
Annabeth uncovered the stamnos. Although her face was resolute, her expression carefully controlled, her hands were shaking so badly Nico thought for sure she would just end up spilling liquid Lethe all over herself.
Clovis, who had surprisingly not dozed off again, grabbed her wrist.
'I'll do it. I'm more familiar with the stuff than all of you. Plus…well, I spend most of my time in dreamland, anyway.' He shrugged. 'There's not much for me to forget.'
Clovis dipped the dropper into the stamnos and came up with it full of milky Lethe. With a steady hand, he added precisely one drop to the cup of nectar. The golden liquid barely changed shade. Nico thought it looked a little paler, but only just.
Hazel sprung out of the shadow of the stamnos right between Will and Clovis. The latter jumped and nearly knocked the whole jug over.
'Geez, just startle us into spilling mind-wiping water everywhere, why don't you?' Thalia sniped.
'Sorry!' Hazel gasped. She held out a rectangular kit to Will, who took it and began assembling the IV bag and needles inside. Hazel lurched away unsteadily. Frank caught her around the waist.
'You okay?'
'Sure. Piece of cake,' Hazel said breathlessly.
Nico held out the Gatorade. She gave him a rueful smile.
'You did fine,' Nico reassured her.
'Clovis,' Will said, 'I'm going to hook Percy up now. I'll need you to add a drop when I say so.'
'Gotcha.' Clovis squared his shoulders and held the dropper like it was a gun he was preparing to shoot.
They all held their breaths as Will inserted the needle into Percy's arm. The pale gold nepenthe ran through the tubes, travelling up his veins.
Nothing seemed to happen.
'Add a drop,' Will said.
Bit by bit, Clovis added Lethe to the potion, which turned gradually milkier. The room was so silent, Nico could practically hear the flow of nepenthe into Percy's veins. He wasn't sure what the Lethe-to-nectar ratio was at this point. Half the cup was already gone.
And then he sensed it.
There was no visible change. Percy's face remained peaceful and blank. His body was still. But Nico felt the sense of imminent death back off a bit.
'It's working,' he said.
The room seemed to let out a collective breath.
'Should we keep this dose, then?' Will asked.
Nico shook his head, though he couldn't say how he knew this. 'Keep going,' he told Clovis.
Clovis refilled the dropper and continued to add Lethe to the nepenthe.
Will put his hands out in front of him, palms towards Percy. 'That's amazing,' he murmured. 'I've never seen anything like it.'
With only a quarter cup left to go, the physical changes began to be visible. Percy's pallor faded. His face twitched. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards and then his lips parted and he drew in a deep, shaky breath like he was cleansing his lungs.
Nico grinned. This was really working.
Then it started to go wrong. The colour in Percy's cheeks, which had come back with the nepenthe treatment, began to fade again. And it wasn't just his face. His entire form seemed to be fading, as though something was leeching his essence away.
'Stop!' Will told Clovis, who withdrew the dropper so quickly, it slipped from his fingers and fell into the stamnos.
It was too late, though. Percy's body became translucent and insubstantial, just like a ghost.
Nico shuddered. A memory flitted into his mind, of another demigod whose physical body had turned to smoke. Whose body Nico had converted into smoke.
But this wasn't quite like Bryce Lawrence, the treacherous Roman demigod whom Nico had ghostified during the Giant War. Bryce had gone black and smoky and sunk straight into the earth. Percy was dissolving into air itself. It was clearly a different thing. Yet Nico felt certain he'd seen it happen before.
The controlled stoicism on Annabeth's face melted into horror. She lunged forward to grab Percy, but her fingers swiped straight through him as his body evaporated completely.
Annabeth spun round to face Nico. 'Where did he go?' she shrieked. 'What happened to him?'
Nico rubbed his forehead guiltily. He'd told Clovis to keep going. But he still felt certain it was the right call. The veil of death wouldn't have lifted otherwise. This was something else, something they hadn't foreseen…
'I don't know…' He knit his eyebrows, trying to send his senses underground, but it was just as he'd ascertained before. Death no longer hovered over Percy. He wasn't in the Underworld.
Then he thought of the souls he had seen on the banks of the Lethe, disappearing after they drank. Ghosts, dissolving into their newborn lives. He thought of Bianca, how he'd lost any ability to track her once she'd chosen that path.
Oh, Hades.
'What?' Annabeth said, seeing the realisation dawning on his face. 'You do know.'
'I think…' Nico gulped. He had to force himself to meet her desperate, stormy eyes. 'I think Percy's been reborn.'
The nepenthe is referenced in the Odyssey as a potion that is supposed to quell all sorrows with forgetfulness. But the actual recipe is my own interpretation, of course!
This is the chapter that refused to end (and is partly responsible for how long the story became). It started in my outline as a single chapter that morphed into three, and then the first of those became another three ... yeah. Hopefully the expansion was worth it!
III: PERCY
The first thing he knew was pain.
He wasn't sure which was worse: the suffocating tightness, like someone was attempting to squeeze him into a body that was way too small, or the ripping sensation, as though he was being peeled out of his own skin. He felt like a stubborn zit someone was pinching, trying to pop it while simultaneously scratching it apart.
The pain intensified with every passing second.
He was going to die; he was sure of it. He just didn't know if it would be from being crushed or torn apart.
'Just what do you think you're doing?' The shrill voice cut sharply across his fractured consciousness.
Everything halted. The pain didn't exactly recede, but it stopped increasing, and that was respite enough.
'Hey, Eileithyia,' rumbled a second voice. 'What's up? How's the delivery going?'
'The delivery,' hissed Eileithyia, 'is getting messed up because of you.'
'What do you mean? I'm just doing my job, like always.'
A quick flare of pain burst across his senses, red-hot and sudden, like a determined shove from a razor-clawed hand.
'Stop that!'
The pressure around him loosened slightly as the giant hand trying to force him into a too-tiny space relaxed its grip. His skin felt less like an exposed blister. He managed to draw one shaky, shuddering breath into lungs that stubbornly resisted expansion. The flow of air through his trachea stung like it was scraping against a raw wound. Red spots danced before his eyes. Through them, he could make out two vague figures: a pair of heads leaning over him.
He got the impression that the two were arguing over him and his life hung in the balance between them.
He had no idea who they were—heck, he didn't even have a clue who he was, though he hoped that was because his head was too clouded with pain at the moment—but he hoped the girl, Eileithyia, would win, if only because his agony abated when she told the other guy to back off.
'You're not putting this soul into my birth, Attis,' Eileithyia said crossly. 'He's not clean!'
He blinked. Was she talking about him? What did she mean, clean?
'Of course it’s clean,' Attis protested. 'Straight from Lethe—'
Eileithyia snorted. 'Don't pretend you're not having trouble with the insertion. He's resisting—oh yes, I can tell it's a he. You didn't do your work properly, Attis.'
'Hey, don't look at me! You know full well that I don't do the cleaning. I just bring 'em to you. S'not my fault if someone screwed up down there. Bet it was Lethe. You know how forgetful she is.'
'I don't care who screwed up. Take him back to the Underworld.'
The forms of the two speakers grew clearer. Eileithyia, a round, matronly-looking woman, had her hands-on her hips as she faced down Attis, a skinny dude whose face was dominated by a curly moustache. Nothing about their conversation made any sense, though. Lethe? The Underworld? Was he supposed to know what they were? He had a feeling he ought to, but the words were practically gibberish to him.
At least the paradoxical pain of being simultaneously squashed and torn in half was definitely easing up.
'Oh come on, can't you just let it be? I don't wanna mess up my schedule. I've got a long list of souls waiting, you know. Rebirth's the new "in" thing down under.'
Eileithyia sniffed. 'That's not my problem. I've got my reputation to keep as the goddess of childbirth.'
Rebirth, he thought with a stab of panic. Did that mean he was dead, then? Dead and about to be reincarnated?
Except Eileithyia was refusing to allow it, so, what—was he going to go back to being dead? And why did it have to hurt so much? Wasn't the point of death that everything was supposed to stop, pain included?
Unless this was his eternal punishment or something. Oh crap.
'…and I'm not going to be held responsible for a birth with a spirit that's still hanging on to who he is,' Eileithyia continued. 'I mean, I can see his identity, clear as Hemera. It's still written on him! Are you sure he was even dead to begin with?'
Attis sighed. 'Look, I don't know. I just take the spirits. Fine. So you won't take him. What am I gonna do, then?' He sounded defeated.
Eileithyia's tone softened. 'Okay, look, I have to finish this delivery first. Poor woman's been labouring long enough. But I'll think of something. Just hang on—and don't even think of trying to sneak this soul past me!'
She vanished. His pain dissipated like she'd taken it away with her. He no longer felt like he was being impossibly compacted or quartered. There was an odd lightness instead, like he was floating, or maybe made of mist.
Attis sat on the ground next to him and rubbed a weary hand over his face.
'"Be the god of rebirth and reincarnations,"' he muttered darkly. '"It'll be fun," they said. "Magical." Hmph. It's all fun and games until somebody screws up a soul wash.'
There were two soft pops. Eileithyia reappeared, accompanied by a lean, well-built man with curly salt-and-pepper hair.
'Sure,' the new guy said to her, 'I owe you for helping out with Melissa.'
Attis sprung to his feet. 'Lord Hermes!'
'Attis is in a bit of a bind,' Eileithyia explained. 'He's made a mistake.'
'I didn't make the mistake!'
'He tried to rebirth a soul that hasn't been cleansed of his identity,' Eileithyia continued smoothly, as though Attis hadn't spoken. 'I thought since you're an Underworld guide sometimes—'
Hermes snorted. 'You need to keep up with the times, Ellie. I haven't done it in millennia. You realise Thanatos is probably better suited to dealing with something like this? Collecting souls is his business now, after all.'
Eileithyia pouted. 'Don't be like that. You know I don't get along with old Death.'
'Plus he's so unbearably smug all the time,' Attis muttered. 'Just 'cos he got the good looks in the family…'
'True, that,' Hermes said. 'So—er, this spirit here—'
'Attis didn't wipe his slate clean. The identity's faded, sure, but I can still read who he was—who he is. Perseus Jackson.'
Perseus? Was that his name?
If it were, surely he should feel some recognition, some connection to it. He realised with a panic that he was still drawing a blank on who he was.
'How many times do I have to tell you,' Attis snapped, 'I don't do the washing—'
'Wait,' Hermes cut in. 'Did you say Perseus? As in Percy Jackson?'
'Uh huh.' Eileithyia squinted at him. He could see her eyes, wide and round and a piercing blue-grey. It occurred to him suddenly that he wasn't even sure what form he had for her to examine. His body still felt smoky and insubstantial, as ghostly as the spirit they kept calling him. But it was unmistakably him they were discussing.
Perseus. Percy. Huh.
Sure, why not? It wasn't like any other name was coming forth to claim him.
Hermes's handsome face went pale. 'He's not supposed to be dead. Or did I miss something?'
Well, that was a relief. Now if they could just get to the part where he could get back to the life he was supposed to have—preferably one where he actually knew who he was—that would be great.
'That's what I told Attis! He's not a reborn soul!'
'You did not say that. You're just as clueless about what went wrong.'
'At least I guessed that—'
'Can it, you two,' Hermes said sharply. Eileithyia and Attis fell silent as though he'd sewn their mouths shut. 'We have a serious problem.'
There was a long silence. Then Attis said timidly, 'Can't you fix it, Lord Hermes?'
'I wish I could.' Hermes's voice was pained. 'There are rules—limits to our interference. But maybe…if I hide him well enough… Yeah, I think I could sneak past Dad. First, though…'
A light, feathery touch flitted over Percy's eyes. They shut, and his world went black.
OoOoO
The darkness was heavy and sticky, like it was made of cloying black sludge. It smelt like burnt sugar and smoking rubber. Hot, oozing tendrils curled around him in a viscous embrace even though he didn't seem to have a physical form for them to encircle.
In the blackness, someone laughed, a deep rumble that seemed to shake all around him.
'Who's there?' Percy demanded. His formless fingers opened and closed compulsively, searching for a handle to grip. 'Show yourself!'
'But I am everywhere.' He felt, rather than heard, the voice reverberating in every atom of his being. 'I am all things and everything.'
'Who are you?'
'I think the real question is, who are you?'
Percy hated to admit it, but the voice was right. He didn't know who he was. Heck, he wasn't even certain about his own name.
Laughter again. The solid black around him lightened to a smoky grey. Wispy clouds of white swirled past him. He caught glimpses inside them here and there: faces, places, all moving too fast for him to get a clear look. Did they belong to him? Were they the memories that eluded him?
Percy tried to reach out and grab hold of one, but his arms were as insubstantial as the images. The darkness thickened again.
'I am where all that is lost resides. Everything begins and ends…in chaos. Come, Perseus Jackson. Come and I will swallow you, too.'
Percy stumbled back. His foot met a ledge, and then he was falling through endless darkness as taunting laughter echoed in his head.
Then he felt a tug. Like a string connected to his abdomen, it pulled him up through the small of his back. He stopped falling and floated instead, drifting through space.
He heard a girl's voice, thick and husky, cracking with emotion but filled with determination all the same: 'I didn't give up on him then and I won't now!' It wrapped around him and he imagined it as the cord holding him fast, drawing him out of the darkness.
Someone was looking for him. All he had to do was find her.
His mind remained a complete blank, so he focused on the echo of her voice, trying to soak it into his skin.
The words that came to him seemed to travel up through the nerves of his spinal cord. They weren't quite a thought, more a sensation, the last thing to touch him before unconsciousness overtook him.
But they made no sense at all.
Princess curls.
OoOoO
Bump. Bump. Bump.
Percy's head hurt.
He opened his eyes groggily. He was in the back of a truck, speeding along under an open sky. The sun glared down so intensely that he had to squint against the brightness. Stacked around him were crates of different sizes—some wooden, some metal, others made of a curvy white material that he really hoped wasn't bones. A few of them thumped threateningly at intervals, making him wonder just what was in there. The crates had labels painted on them, but the alphabets swam before his eyes so that he couldn't read what the contents were. The few he managed to make out didn't put him at ease: DANGER, THIS SIDE UP, MAY EXPLODE.
What was this, some smuggling operation?
In the cab up front, he could hear the driver talking on the phone as he drove.
'Yeah, I've got him in back—of course he's safe enough back there! Look, I can't very well disguise him as cargo if he's sitting up front with me, can I?'
A raspy, reptilian voice interrupted the driver, although Percy couldn't see anyone else in the cab: 'Your brother's on line omicron.'
The driver must have switched lines, because he growled into the phone, 'What do you want?'
There was a pause as he listened to the new caller on the other end. Then—'Great Zeus, Ares, I'm taking care of an important delivery—wow. Blackmail, really?' The driver threw a quick, furtive glance towards the back of the truck, giving Percy a glimpse of his slyly handsome face. It was Hermes, the guy from his dream. The one who'd called him Percy Jackson.
And from the sound of things, whatever Percy was doing in the back of his truck, it didn't sound legal.
'Oh, all right. You're lucky Phoenix is en route.' The truck made a sharp left and Percy swayed right, bumping painfully into the skeletal crate. Something inside whined. He quickly pushed himself away from it.
A shadow fell over him and he looked up. He blinked in amazement. Where a moment ago there had been open skies and desert terrain, there was now a landscape of haphazardly-spaced buildings. Some were low, flat structures, others towered to skyscraper height.
How had they gotten into the middle of a city so quickly?
He crawled to the side of the truck to get a better look at his surroundings. They passed a tall beige stone building, a bunch of skyscrapers with mirror-like walls that reflected the cloudless blue sky, then turned down a boulevard lined with palm trees. At the next junction, Hermes took a sudden right and braked hard to avoid slamming into an illegally parked van on the roadside. Thrown off balance, Percy tipped over the side of the truck.
He toppled out onto the asphalt, slamming his head hard against a sign post. His vision exploded into stars. By the time it cleared enough for him to get his bearings, the truck was already moving off, swerving out from behind the double-parked van.
'Hey, wait!' Percy croaked. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to call after someone who could have been kidnapping him, for all he knew. But Hermes might be the only person who could offer him an explanation as to who he was and what he was doing here.
Unfortunately, the truck zoomed off with Hermes oblivious to the fact that he'd just lost his cargo.
Percy groaned and sat up, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The building on the opposite side of the street looked like an ancient temple, with a set of stone steps leading up to a doorway framed with two round columns on either side, and a triangular roof. Inscribed in the archway over the doors were the words DUMMIES TARTS AND SEANCES.
He frowned, sure that couldn't be right. After squinting at it for a minute, he decided it probably said DOMESTIC ARTS AND SCIENCES. Some kind of school, maybe.
The sidewalks were teeming with people—probably students, judging from the books they were toting around—but none of them paid him any attention. It was like they'd completely missed the fact that a guy had just fallen out of a moving vehicle right in front of them. In fact, the eyes of the nearest passers-by skipped over him as if he wasn't there.
Disconcerted, Percy got up and headed down the street. He wasn't sure where he was going, only that moving felt better than sitting invisible on the sidewalk with no memory and no plan.
The air in the city was dry and scorching. Heat radiated off the concrete around him, giving him the sensation of being baked in an oven. He hadn't gone five minutes down the street before his throat begged for an icy can of soda.
'You lost, sugar?'
Finally, someone had noticed him. He turned around gratefully and his jaw dropped when he saw who was addressing him.
Sashaying out of a side alley, her hips swaying sensually, was a drop-dead gorgeous redhead with caramel-coloured skin. She gave him a coy smile and beckoned him closer.
Goosebumps erupted along his arms. A shiver ran down his back in spite of the heat. Percy swallowed hard. 'I, um—'
Suddenly, the woman was right in front of him, so close he could smell her thick perfume: a strange combination of vanilla and freshly mown grass. The heat must be addling his brain. He had to have spaced out momentarily—there was no way she could have moved that quickly.
'Um,' he said again. He swayed a little, suddenly dizzy. The woman's face swam before him. She caught him as he collapsed, finally overcome by the heat.
'Well, now,' she cooed, 'isn't this my lucky day? Aren't you a gift from the gods, sugar? Weak, lost, and alone!'
'There you are, Dilys!' Another female voice rang out. 'And you've found us a man…excellent!'
'Shove off, Marcy. He appeared to me. I call dibs!'
'Oh no, you called dibs on the last one—I get to kill this one!'
Panic flooded through him. Were these ladies, like, literal man-eaters? He tried to crawl away from Dilys, but his limbs felt like jelly. His vision was completely blurry. Sun spots popped before his eyes.
'No! Stop it, both of you. I sense something special about this one. What if he's the one—'
'Enough about the one,' snapped Dilys. 'You lost us our last two victims with your stupid gamble. We don't even know if that old myth is real.'
'And I'm hungry,' Marcy complained. 'We haven't had a man in weeks.'
'I said no!'
'Who made you the boss?'
There was a loud, screeching clang, like the clash of two steel blades. A metallic ripping noise followed, like a machine being torn apart. The air filled with the tang of rust and sulphur. In a few short seconds, the arguing ceased, leaving only the sound of someone panting heavily, as though they had just emerged from a rough fistfight.
A shadow loomed over him. Outlined against the bright desert sun, it looked like a monster with ferocious fangs and misshapen legs. Then he blinked and it resolved into the vague form of a slender girl.
'Hey,' she said, holding her hand out to him. 'Thank Hecate I found you.'
Percy let her pull him to his feet. She handed him a bottle of water, which he downed gratefully. A million questions flew through his mind: What just happened? Where am I? Who are you? Do you know me? But the one that actually came out of his mouth was, 'Who am I?'
A strange flurry of emotions danced through the girl's eyes, which seemed to change colour with her expressions. For a second, Percy even imagined that they glowed red, but he blinked again and it was gone.
It was probably a trick of the light. Or some leftover hallucinatory effect from all the weird dreams he'd been having. If he closed his eyes, he could still see red spots dancing behind his eyelids.
She pursed her lips at last and said, 'Let's not talk about it in the open. Come on.'
He followed the girl through dusty streets, past more towering buildings, palm trees, car parks, and through a fenced park. Sweat trickled down his forehead as the sun beat down on them. As they walked (or in his case, limped), he tried to place his surroundings. Did he know this city?
The best answer he could come up with was maybe. The feel of the dry air tugged at the corners of his brain, but he couldn't identify any of the places he was seeing.
They finally arrived at a run-down building made of red brick. They climbed five flights of steps to the top floor, where there was only one door. His new companion unlocked it and ushered him in.
'Okay,' she said, bolting the door behind her. 'You'll be safe here.'
'Er, thanks, I guess?'
He looked around. It was one of those studio apartments: a single room with only one partition for a bathroom. The walls were a drab grey. The only splash of colour in the room came from a set of velvety curtains drawn across a tiny square of a window. They were a deep red that gave the place a slightly sinister glow when backlit by the sun.
The room was probably decent-sized, but Percy couldn't help thinking of it as cramped when it had a queen bed, dresser, closet, couch, and coffee table, as well as a kitchenette with a dining table all squeezed inside. Add to that a weird collection of shiny prosthetic limbs lying scattered about and there was hardly space to swing a club.
Something about that seemed familiar.
Well, maybe not the prosthetics. He turned to the girl, wondering if she was maybe a medical student or something, and found her studying him intently.
'What?' he asked.
She waved her hand in front of her face like she was fanning herself. A wave of vertigo overtook Percy without warning. The room tilted alarmingly. The air thinned like it was being vacuumed out. He lurched forward and she caught him.
'Perseus!' she said in alarm.
She knows me, he thought hazily.
Then the room righted itself again, but he had the strangest feeling that his surroundings had been completely replaced, even though it was still the same room with the cluttered furniture and weird fake-body-part décor.
He concentrated on the girl. Did she look different? Her eyes were a warm, honeyed amber. Her thick brown hair fell about her shoulders in curly ringlets that gave her a regal appearance.
Princess curls.
A shiver ran along his spine and lodged itself in the small of his back.
'I know you, don't I?' he ventured.
A slow, hopeful smile spread across her face. She nodded encouragingly.
Her name was on the tip of his tongue now. He scrunched his eyebrows, thinking so hard it felt like an army of woodpeckers was trying to drill information into the inside of his skull. Were memories supposed to feel like this?
In contrast to the dreams he'd had, the thoughts slipping into his head were devoid of any sort of emotional attachment, like a list of plain facts he might have memorised from a school book about some boring historical figure's life: Perseus Jackson, age 20, lived in Phoenix, Arizona.
Shouldn't he feel some sort of connection to his name, his life? He wasn't entirely certain what some of the things he was now remembering even meant. He was attacked by dangerous demigods in an alleyway and rescued by—
'Beth?' The name rolled off his tongue. He knew it was quite right, though.
The girl's smile faltered. 'Bella,' she corrected him. 'I'm your girlfriend.'
Her voice did sound more familiar now, deeper and warmer than his first impression of it. Or had it been like this all along? She did sound like the voice he'd dreamed of, the one searching for him. That kind of made sense.
Besides, why would a girl who looked as hot as she did claim to be his girlfriend if it wasn't true?
'Oh,' he said. 'Sorry, I—I guess I hit my head real hard or something when I was…I was attacked, right? Some of it's coming back to me, I think, but my memory's kinda like a big black hole.'
Bella nodded. 'It was horrible! The demigods ganged up on you, the monsters.'
'Demigods.'
'Half mortal children of the gods. They're our enemies. Always have been.' She said it like the two of them were something else not quite human either.'
'And we're…'
'Well, I’m an empousa. A servant of the goddess Hecate, brought into the world with the first woman. But unlike mere women, we are blessed with unsurpassable beauty and the powers of our mother goddess. As for you—well, you're special—only one in a million mortals can know who we are and accept that we mean no harm. Most people are scared of our magic. They don't even try to understand.' She stepped closer to him. 'That's what I love about you, Perseus. You're so non-judgemental.'
Gods. Mortals. Her words sounded far-fetched, yet there was something convincing about them. Percy had a hazy memory of three beings arguing over him—wait, had that happened twice?—and there had been a ride in a truck, right? It was all so fuzzy, like half-formed sketches of someone else's life. He wasn't sure any of it was real.
A fight, though. That sounded right. His mind supplied images of fearsome men and women looming over him, wielding spears and swords. He didn't know why the demigods wanted to kill him and Bella, but he believed they did. It made sense somehow, like he'd clicked two puzzle pieces together, even though he still didn't have a clue where they fit in the context of the whole jigsaw.
If he managed to match enough pieces, maybe the full puzzle might start to come together. So far he had his name and age, a vague idea about his enemies, and a girl with princess curls who was probably Bella. That last combination felt slightly off, like two pieces whose edges had been forced together, except after you made them fit, it felt more and more like they should be a match.
'Right. Okay.' He ground his teeth. Nothing else was coming into his head, factual or otherwise. 'Man, this sucks, not being able to remember stuff.'
Bella patted his hand. 'You've got me,' she said. 'I'll help you out.' She crossed over to the kitchenette and pulled a glass from a cabinet. 'You must be thirsty after our walk. Here, I've got just the thing.'
Now that she mentioned it, his mouth did feel dry. He took the glass, filled with a clear, sweet-smelling liquid, and brought it to his lips. It was disgustingly lukewarm, but once it hit his belly, he was filled with a comforting sense of ease. It didn't seem to matter quite as much that he had gaping holes in his memory. After all, he had Bella. Right?
Bella leaned in close to him. 'I'm so glad they didn't take you away from me.'
Her face was inches from his.
Percy swallowed. He wondered if he should feel some kind of thrill. Excitement, maybe. A gorgeous girl—his girlfriend—was closing in on him, her lips tantalisingly close, and the only response he was getting from his body was confusion.
He drew away. Bella pulled back, disappointment in her eyes. 'What's wrong?'
'Sorry,' he said. 'I just—everything's kinda overwhelming right now.'
She sighed. 'Of course. Um, I guess you want to clean yourself up?'
'Yeah, sounds great.'
Bella nodded and pointed to the left. 'Bathroom's that way.'
In the bathroom, Percy splashed his face with water and stared at the reflection in the mirror. The face in it looked completely unfamiliar: glassy green eyes peering out from under a shock of messy black hair, thin cheeks sloping down from high cheekbones that framed a pointed nose. Around his neck was a leather cord with a bunch of painted beads, like some Native American fashion statement. His shirt was tattered, the letters faded so that he couldn't make out what they spelt—there was an 'N' and an 'M' in the first line and a couple of vowels in the second, but that was all he could decipher. His jeans weren't in much better condition. He reached into his pockets, thinking he might have some change, but all there was in them was a capped pen.
He ran his fingers along his arms and noticed something really strange. Tattooed on the underside of his left arm was a picture of a three-pronged fork, one vertical line, and the letters SPQR. He traced them slowly, trying to imagine what they might stand for.
After a while, he gave up. Nothing he could see provided him with any clues.
He was just going to have to hope his memory would return on its own.
@supernaturally-percyjackson totally gets the credit for TARTS. If you enjoyed that bit, kudos goes to her!
Eileithyia is the goddess of childbirth, and Attis is the closest I could find to a god of rebirth. Ain't the Greek pantheon fun?
