The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus, Book Three) (10 page)

Blackjack landed. Both horses pawed the asphalt. Neither looked pleased to have stopped so suddenly, just when they’d found their stride.

Blackjack whinnied.

“You’re right,” Percy said. “No sign of the wine dude.”

“I beg your pardon?” said a voice from the fields.

Tempest turned so quickly, Piper almost fell off.

The wheat parted, and the man from her vision stepped into view. He wore a
wide-brimmed
hat wreathed in grapevines, a purple
short-sleeved
shirt, khaki shorts, and Birkenstocks with white socks. He looked maybe thirty, with a slight potbelly, like a frat boy who hadn’t yet realized college was over.

“Did someone just call me the
wine dude
?” he asked in a lazy drawl. “It’s Bacchus, please. Or Mr. Bacchus. Or Lord Bacchus. Or, sometimes, Oh-My-Gods-Please-Don’t-Kill-Me, Lord Bacchus.”

Percy urged Blackjack forward, though the pegasus didn’t seem happy about it.

“You look different,” Percy told the god. “Skinnier. Your hair is longer. And your shirt isn’t so loud.”

The wine god squinted up at him. “What in blazes are you talking about? Who are you, and where is Ceres?”

“Uh…what series?”

“I think he means Ceres,” Jason said. “The goddess of agriculture. You’d call her Demeter.” He nodded respectfully to the god. “Lord Bacchus, do you remember me? I helped you with that missing leopard in Sonoma.”

Bacchus scratched his stubbly chin. “Ah…yes. John Green.”

“Jason Grace.”

“Whatever,” the god said. “Did Ceres send you, then?”

“No, Lord Bacchus,” Jason said. “Were you expecting to meet her here?”

The god snorted. “Well, I didn’t come to Kansas to
party
, my boy. Ceres asked me here for a council of war. What with Gaea rising, the crops are withering. Droughts are spreading. The
karpoi
are in revolt. Even my grapes aren’t safe. Ceres wanted a united front in the plant war.”

“The plant war,” Percy said. “You’re going to arm all the little grapes with tiny assault rifles?”

The god narrowed his eyes. “Have we met?”

“At Camp Half-Blood,” Percy said, “I know you as Mr. D—Dionysus.”

“Agh!” Bacchus winced and pressed his hands to his temples. For a moment, his image flickered. Piper saw a different person—fatter, dumpier, in a much louder, leopard-patterned shirt. Then Bacchus returned to being Bacchus. “Stop that!” he demanded. “Stop thinking about me in Greek!”

Percy blinked. “Uh, but—”

“Do you have any idea how
hard
it is to stay focused? Splitting headaches all the time! I never know what I’m doing or where I’m going! Constantly grumpy!”

“That sounds pretty normal for you,” Percy said.

The god’s nostrils flared. One of the grape leaves on his hat burst into flame. “If we know each other from that
other
camp, it’s a wonder I haven’t already turned you into a dolphin.”

“It was discussed,” Percy assured him. “I think you were just too lazy to do it.”

Piper had been watching with horrified fascination, the way she might watch a car wreck in progress. Now she realized Percy was
not
making things better, and Annabeth wasn’t around to rein him in. Piper figured her friend would never forgive her if she brought Percy back transformed into a sea mammal.

“Lord Bacchus!” she interrupted, slipping off Tempest’s back.

“Piper, careful,” Jason said.

She shot him a warning glance:
I’ve got this.

“Sorry to trouble you, my lord,” she told the god, “but actually we came here to get your advice. Please, we need your wisdom.”

She used her most agreeable tone, pouring respect into her charmspeak.

The god frowned, but the purple glow faded in his eyes. “You’re well-spoken, girl. Advice, eh? Very well. I would avoid karaoke. Really, theme parties in general are out. In these austere times, people are looking for a simple, low-key affair, with locally produced organic snacks and—”

“Not about parties,” Piper interrupted. “Although that’s incredibly useful advice, Lord Bacchus. We were hoping you’d help us on our quest.”

She explained about the
Argo II
and their voyage to stop the giants from awakening Gaea. She told him what Nemesis had said: that in six days, Rome would be destroyed. She described the vision reflected in her knife, where Bacchus offered her a silver goblet.

“Silver goblet?” The god didn’t sound very excited. He grabbed a Diet Pepsi from nowhere and popped the top of the can.

“You drink Diet Coke,” Percy said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bacchus snapped. “As to this vision of the goblet, young lady, I have nothing for you to drink unless you want a Pepsi. Jupiter has put me under strict orders to avoid giving wine to minors. Bothersome, but there you have it. As for the giants, I know them well. I fought in the first Giant War, you know.”

“You can fight?” Percy asked.

Piper wished he hadn’t sounded so incredulous.

Dionysus snarled. His Diet Pepsi transformed into a five-foot staff wreathed in ivy, topped with a pinecone.

“A
thyrsus
!” Piper said, hoping to distract the god before he whacked Percy on the head. She’d seen weapons like that before in the hands of crazy nymphs, and wasn’t thrilled to see one again, but she tried to sound impressed. “Oh, what a mighty weapon!”

“Indeed,” Bacchus agreed. “I’m glad
someone
in your group is smart. The pinecone is a fearsome tool of destruction! I was a demigod myself in the first Giant War, you know. The son of Jupiter!”

Jason flinched. Probably he wasn’t thrilled to be reminded that the Wine Dude was technically his big brother.

Bacchus swung his staff through the air, though his potbelly almost threw him off balance. “Of course that was long before I invented wine and became an immortal. I fought side by side with the gods and some other demigod…Harry Cleese, I think.”

“Heracles?” Piper suggested politely.

“Whatever,” Bacchus said. “Anyway, I killed the giant Ephialtes and his brother Otis. Horrible boors, those two. Pinecone in the face for both of them!”

Piper held her breath. All at once, several ideas came together in her head—the visions in the knife, the lines of the prophecy they’d been discussing the night before. She felt like she used to when she was scuba diving with her father, and he would wipe her mask for her underwater. Suddenly, everything was clearer.

“Lord Bacchus,” she said, trying to control the nervousness in her voice. “Those two giants, Ephialtes and Otis…would they happen to be twins?”

“Hmm?” The god seemed distracted by his
thyrsus
-swinging, but he nodded. “Yes, twins. That’s right.”

Piper turned to Jason. She could tell he was following her thoughts:
Twins snuff out the
angel’s
breath.

In the blade of Katoptris, she’d seen two giants in yellow robes, lifting a jar from a deep pit.

“That’s why we’re here,” Piper told the god. “You’re part of our quest!”

Bacchus frowned. “I’m sorry, my girl. I’m not a demigod anymore. I don’t
do
quests.”

“But giants can only be killed by heroes and gods working together,” she insisted. “You’re a god now, and the two giants we have to fight are Ephialtes and Otis. I think…I think they’re waiting for us in Rome. They’re going to destroy the city somehow. The silver goblet I saw in my vision—maybe it’s meant as a symbol for your help. You
have
to help us kill the giants!”

Bacchus glared at her, and Piper realized she’d chosen her words poorly.

“My girl,” he said coldly, “I don’t
have
to do anything. Besides, I only help those who give me proper tribute, which no one has managed to do in many, many centuries.”

Blackjack whinnied uneasily.

Piper couldn’t blame him. She didn’t like the sound of
tribute
. She remembered the maenads, the crazed followers of Bacchus, who would tear up nonbelievers with their bare hands. And that was when they were in a
good
mood.

Percy voiced the question that she was too scared to ask. “What kind of tribute?”

Bacchus waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing
you
could handle, insolent Greek. But I will give you some free advice, since this girl does have
some
manners. Seek out Gaea’s son, Phorcys. He always hated his mother, not that I can blame him. He didn’t have much use for his siblings the twins, either. You’ll find him in the city they named after that heroine—Atalanta.”

Piper hesitated. “You mean Atlanta?”

“That’s the one.”

“But this Phorcys,” Jason said. “Is he a giant? A Titan?”

Bacchus laughed. “Neither. Seek out the salt water.”

“Salt water…” Percy said. “In Atlanta?”

“Yes,” Bacchus said. “Are you hard of hearing? If anyone can give you insight on Gaea and the twins, it’s Phorcys. Just watch out for him.”

“What do you mean?” Jason asked.

The god glanced at the sun, which had climbed almost to high noon. “It’s unlike Ceres to be late, unless she sensed something dangerous in this area. Or…”

The god’s face suddenly went slack. “Or a trap. Well, I must be going! And if I were you, I’d do the same!”

“Lord Bacchus, wait!” Jason protested.

The god shimmered and disappeared with a sound like a soda-can top being popped.

The wind rustled through the sunflowers. The horses paced in agitation. Despite the dry, hot day, Piper shivered. A cold feeling…Annabeth and Leo had both described a cold feeling.…

“Bacchus is right,” she said. “We need to leave—”

Too late,
said a sleepy voice, humming through the fields all around them and resonating in the ground at Piper’s feet.

Percy and Jason drew their swords. Piper stood on the road between them, frozen with fear. The power of Gaea was suddenly everywhere. The sunflowers turned to look at them. The wheat bent toward them like a million scythes.

Welcome to my party,
Gaea murmured. Her voice reminded Piper of corn growing—a crackling, hissing, hot and persistent noise she used to hear at Grandpa Tom’s on those quiet nights in Oklahoma.

What did Bacchus say?
the goddess mocked.
A simple, low-key affair with organic snacks? Yes. For my snacks, I need only two: the blood of a female demigod, and the blood of a male. Piper, my dear, choose which hero will die with you.

“Gaea!” Jason yelled. “Stop hiding in the wheat. Show yourself!”

Such bravado,
Gaea hissed.
But the other one, Percy Jackson, also has appeal. Choose, Piper McLean, or I will.

Piper’s heart raced. Gaea meant to kill her. That was no surprise. But what was this about choosing one of the boys? Why would Gaea let either of them go? It had to be a trap.

“You’re insane!” she shouted. “I’m not choosing anything for you!”

Suddenly Jason gasped. He sat up straight in his saddle.

“Jason!” Piper cried. “What’s wrong—?”

He looked down at her, his expression deadly calm. His eyes were no longer blue. They glowed solid gold.

“Percy, help!” Piper stumbled back from Tempest.

But Percy galloped away from them. He stopped thirty feet down the road and wheeled his pegasus around. He raised his sword and pointed the tip toward Jason.

“One will die,”
Percy said, but the voice wasn’t his. It was deep and hollow, like someone whispering from inside the barrel of a cannon.

“I will choose,”
Jason answered, in the same hollow voice.

“No!” Piper yelled.

All around her, the fields crackled and hissed, laughing in Gaea’s voice as Percy and Jason charged at each other, their weapons ready.

If not for the horses, Piper would’ve died.

Jason and Percy charged each other, but Tempest and Blackjack balked long enough for Piper to leap out of the way.

She rolled to the edge of the road and looked back, dazed and horrified, as the boys crossed swords, gold against bronze. Sparks flew. Their blades blurred—strike and parry—and the pavement trembled. The first exchange took only a second, but Piper couldn’t believe the speed of their sword fighting. The horses pulled away from each other—Tempest thundering in protest, Blackjack flapping his wings.

“Stop it!” Piper yelled.

For a moment, Jason heeded her voice. His golden eyes turned toward her, and Percy charged, slamming his blade into Jason. Thank the gods, Percy turned his sword—maybe on purpose, maybe accidentally—so the flat of it hit Jason’s chest; but the impact was still enough to knock Jason off his mount.

Blackjack cantered away as Tempest reared in confusion. The spirit horse charged into the sunflowers and dissipated into vapor.

Percy struggled to turn his pegasus around.

“Percy!” Piper yelled. “Jason’s your friend. Drop your weapon!”

Percy’s sword arm dipped. Piper might have been able to bring him under control, but unfortunately Jason got to his feet.

Jason roared. A bolt of lightning arced out of the clear blue sky. It ricocheted off his
gladius
and blasted Percy off his horse.

Blackjack whinnied and fled into the wheat fields. Jason charged at Percy, who was now on his back, his clothes smoking from the lightning blast.

For a horrible moment, Piper couldn’t find her voice. Gaea seemed to be whispering to her:
You must choose one. Why not let Jason kill him?

“No!” she screamed. “Jason, stop!”

He froze, his sword six inches from Percy’s face.

Jason turned, the gold light in his eyes flickering uncertainly.
“I cannot stop. One must die.”

Something about that voice…it wasn’t Gaea. It wasn’t Jason. Whoever it was spoke haltingly, as if English was its second language.

“Who are you?” Piper demanded.

Jason’s mouth twisted in a gruesome smile.
“We are the eidolons. We will live again.”

“Eidolons… ?” Piper’s mind raced. She’d studied all sorts of monsters at Camp Half-Blood, but that term wasn’t familiar. “You’re—you’re some sort of ghost?”

“He must die.”
Jason turned his attention back to Percy, but Percy had recovered more than either of them realized. He swept out his leg and knocked Jason off his feet.

Jason’s head hit the asphalt with a nauseating
conk
.

Percy rose.

“Stop it!” Piper screamed again, but there was no charmspeak in her voice. She was shouting in sheer desperation.

Percy raised Riptide over Jason’s chest.

Panic closed up Piper’s throat. She wanted to attack Percy with her dagger, but she knew that wouldn’t help. Whatever was controlling him had all of Percy’s skill. There was no way she could beat him in combat.

She forced herself to focus. She poured all of her anger into her voice. “Eidolon, stop.”

Percy froze.

“Face me,” Piper ordered.

The son of the sea god turned. His eyes were gold instead of green, his face pale and cruel, not at all like Percy’s.

“You have not chosen,”
he said.
“So this one will die.”

“You’re a spirit from the Underworld,” Piper guessed. “You’re possessing Percy Jackson. Is that it?”

Percy sneered.
“I will live again in this body.
The Earth Mother has promised. I will go where I please, control whom I wish.”

A wave of cold washed over Piper. “Leo…that’s what happened to Leo. He was being controlled by an eidolon.”

The thing in Percy’s form laughed without humor.
“Too late you realize. You can trust no one.”

Jason still wasn’t moving. Piper had no help, no way to protect him.

Behind Percy, something rustled in the wheat. Piper saw the tip of a black wing, and Percy began to turn toward the sound.

“Ignore it!” she yelped. “Look at me.”

Percy obeyed.
“You cannot stop me. I will kill Jason Grace.”

Behind him, Blackjack emerged from the wheat field, moving with surprising stealth for such a large animal.

“You won’t kill him,” Piper ordered. But she wasn’t looking at Percy. She locked eyes with the pegasus, pouring all her power into her words and hoping Blackjack would understand. “You will knock him out.”

The charmspeak washed over Percy. He shifted his weight indecisively.
“I…will knock him out?”

“Oh, sorry.” Piper smiled. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Blackjack reared and brought his hoof down on Percy’s head.

Percy crumpled to the pavement next to Jason.

“Oh, gods!” Piper ran to the boys. “Blackjack, you didn’t
kill
him, did you?”

The pegasus snorted. Piper couldn’t speak Horse, but she thought he might have said:
Please. I know my own strength.

Tempest was nowhere to be seen. The lightning steed had apparently returned to wherever storm spirits live on clear days.

Piper checked on Jason. He was breathing steadily, but two knocks on the skull in two days couldn’t have been good for him. Then she examined Percy’s head. She didn’t see any blood, but a large knot was forming where the horse had kicked him. “We have to get them both back to the ship,” she told Blackjack.

The pegasus bobbed his head in agreement. He knelt to the ground, so that Piper could drape Percy and Jason over his back. After a lot of hard work (unconscious boys were heavy), she got them reasonably secured, climbed onto Blackjack’s back herself, and they took off for the ship.

The others were a little surprised when Piper came back on a pegasus with two unconscious demigods. While Frank and Hazel tended to Blackjack, Annabeth and Leo helped get Piper and the boys to the sickbay.

“At this rate, we’re going to run out of ambrosia,” Coach Hedge grumbled as he tended their wounds. “How come I never get invited on these violent trips?”

Piper sat at Jason’s side. She herself felt fine after a swig of nectar and some water, but she was still worried about the boys.

“Leo,” Piper said, “are we ready to sail?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Set course for Atlanta. I’ll explain later.”

“But…okay.” He hurried off.

Annabeth didn’t argue with Piper either. She was too busy examining the horseshoe-shaped dent on the back of Percy’s head.

“What
hit
him?” she demanded.

“Blackjack,” Piper said.

“What?”

Piper tried to explain while Coach Hedge applied some healing paste to the boys’ heads. She’d never been impressed with Hedge’s nursing abilities before, but he must have done something right. Either that, or the spirits that possessed the boys had also made them extra resilient. They both groaned and opened their eyes.

Within a few minutes, Jason and Percy were sitting up in their berths and able to talk in complete sentences. Both had fuzzy memories of what had happened. When Piper described their duel on the highway, Jason winced.

“Knocked out twice in two days,” he muttered. “Some demigod.” He glanced sheepishly at Percy. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to blast you.”

Percy’s shirt was peppered with burn holes. His hair was even more disheveled than normal. Despite that, he managed a weak laugh. “Not the first time. Your big sister got me good once at camp.”

“Yeah, but…I could have killed you.”

“Or I could have killed you,” Percy said.

Jason shrugged. “If there’d been an ocean in Kansas, maybe.”

“I don’t need an ocean—”

“Boys,” Annabeth interrupted, “I’m sure you both would’ve been wonderful at killing each other. But right now, you need some rest.”

“Food first,” Percy said. “Please? And we really need to talk. Bacchus said some things that don’t—”

“Bacchus?” Annabeth raised her hand. “Okay, fine. We need to talk. Mess hall. Ten minutes. I’ll tell the others. And please, Percy…change your clothes. You smell like you’ve been run over by an electric horse.”

Leo gave the helm to Coach Hedge again, after making the satyr promise he would not steer them to the nearest military base “for fun.”

They gathered around the dining table, and Piper explained what had happened at
TOPEKA
32
—their conversation with Bacchus, the trap sprung by Gaea, the eidolons that had possessed the boys.

“Of course!” Hazel slapped the table, which startled Frank so much, he dropped his burrito. “That’s what happened to Leo too.”

“So it wasn’t my fault.” Leo exhaled. “I didn’t start World War Three. I just got possessed by an evil spirit. That’s a relief!”

“But the Romans don’t know that,” Annabeth said. “And why would they take our word for it?”

“We could contact Reyna,” Jason suggested. “She would believe us.”

Hearing the way Jason said her name, like it was a lifeline to his past, made Piper’s heart sink.

Jason turned to her with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “You could convince her, Pipes. I know you could.”

Piper felt like all the blood in her body was draining into her feet. Annabeth looked at her sympathetically, as if to say:
Boys are so clueless.
Even Hazel winced.

“I could try,” she said halfheartedly. “But Octavian is the one we have to worry about. In my dagger blade, I saw him taking control of the Roman crowd. I’m not sure Reyna can stop him.”

Jason’s expression darkened. Piper didn’t get any pleasure from bursting his bubble, but the other Romans—Hazel and Frank—nodded in agreement.

“She’s right,” Frank said. “This afternoon when we were scouting, we saw eagles again. They were a long way off, but closing fast. Octavian is on the warpath.”

Hazel grimaced. “This is exactly the sort of opportunity Octavian has always wanted. He’ll try to seize power. If Reyna objects, he’ll say she’s soft on the Greeks. As for those eagles…It’s like they could smell us.”

“They can,” Jason said. “Roman eagles can hunt demigods by their magical scent even better than monsters can. This ship might conceal us somewhat, but not completely—not from them.”

Leo drummed his fingers. “Great. I should have installed a smoke screen that makes the ship smell like a giant chicken nugget. Remind me to invent that, next time.”

Hazel frowned. “What is a chicken nugget?”

“Oh, man…” Leo shook his head in amazement. “That’s right. You’ve missed the last like, seventy years. Well, my apprentice, a chicken nugget—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Annabeth interrupted. “The point is, we’ll have a hard time explaining the truth to the Romans. Even if they believe us—”

“You’re right.” Jason leaned forward. “We should just keep going. Once we’re over the Atlantic, we’ll be safe—at least from the legion.”

He sounded so depressed, Piper didn’t know whether to feel sorry for him or resentful. “How can you be sure?” she asked. “Why wouldn’t they follow us?”

He shook his head. “You heard Reyna talking about the ancient lands. They’re much too dangerous. Roman demigods have been forbidden to go there for generations. Even Octavian couldn’t get around that rule.”

Frank swallowed a bite of burrito like it had turned to cardboard in his mouth. “So, if
we
go there…”

“We’ll be outlaws as well as traitors,” Jason confirmed. “Any Roman demigod would have the right to kill us on sight. But I wouldn’t worry about that. If we get across the Atlantic, they’ll give up on chasing us. They’ll assume that we’ll die in the Mediterranean—the Mare Nostrum.”

Percy pointed his pizza slice at Jason. “You, sir, are a ray of sunshine.”

Jason didn’t argue. The other demigods stared at their plates, except for Percy, who continued to enjoy his pizza. Where he put all that food, Piper didn’t know. The guy could eat like a satyr.

“So let’s plan ahead,” Percy suggested, “and make sure we
don’t
die. Mr. D—Bacchus
—
Ugh, do I have to call him Mr.
B
now? Anyway, he mentioned the twins in Ella’s prophecy. Two giants. Otis and, uh, something that started with an F?”

“Ephialtes,” Jason said.

“Twin giants, like Piper saw in her blade…” Annabeth ran her finger along the rim of her cup. “I remember a story about twin giants. They tried to reach Mount Olympus by piling up a bunch of mountains.”

Frank nearly choked. “Well, that’s great. Giants who can use mountains like building blocks. And you say Bacchus killed these guys with a pinecone on a stick?”

“Something like that,” Percy said. “I don’t think we should count on his help this time. He wanted a tribute, and he made it pretty clear it would be a tribute we couldn’t handle.”

Silence fell around the table. Piper could hear Coach Hedge above deck singing “Blow the Man Down,” except he didn’t know the lyrics, so he mostly sang, “Blah-blah-hum-de-dum-dum.”

Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that Bacchus was
meant
to help them. The giant twins were in Rome. They were keeping something the demigods needed—something in that bronze jar. Whatever it was, she got the feeling it held the answer to sealing the Doors of Death—
the
key to endless death.
She also felt sure they could never defeat the giants without Bacchus’s help. And if they couldn’t do that in five days, Rome would be destroyed, and Hazel’s brother, Nico, would die.