The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus, Book Three) (33 page)

Next to him, the dust swirled and solidified into the figure of a woman. Her eyes were closed, as if she were sleepwalking. Her robes were forest green, dappled with gold and white like sunlight shifting through branches. Her hair was as black as tilled soil. Her face was beautiful, but even with a dreamy smile on her lips she seemed cold and distant. Percy got the feeling she could watch demigods die or cities burn, and that smile wouldn’t waver.

“When I reclaim the earth,” Gaea said, “I will leave this spot barren forever, to remind me of your kind and how utterly powerless they were to stop me. It doesn’t matter
when
you fall, my sweet little pawn—to Phorcys or Chrysaor or my dear twins. You
will
fall, and I will be there to devour you. Your only choice now…will you fall alone? Come to me willingly; bring the girl. Perhaps I will spare this place you love. Otherwise…”

Gaea opened her eyes. They swirled in green and black, as deep as the crust of the earth. Gaea saw everything. Her patience was infinite. She was slow to wake, but once she arose, her power was unstoppable.

Percy’s skin tingled. His hands went numb. He looked down and realized he was crumbling to dust, like all the monsters he’d ever defeated.

“Enjoy Tartarus, my little pawn,” Gaea purred.

A metallic
CLANG
-
CLANG
-
CLANG
jolted Percy out of his dream. His eyes shot open. He realized he’d just heard the landing gear being lowered.

There was a knock on his door, and Jason poked his head in. The bruises on his face had faded. His blue eyes glittered with excitement.

“Hey, man,” he said. “We’re descending over Rome. You really should see this.”

The sky was brilliant blue, as if the stormy weather had never happened. The sun rose over the distant hills, so everything below them shone and sparkled like the entire city of Rome had just come out of the car wash.

Percy had seen big cities before. He was from New York, after all. But the sheer vastness of Rome grabbed him by the throat and made it hard to breathe. The city seemed to have no regard for the limits of geography. It spread through hills and valleys, jumped over the Tiber with dozens of bridges, and just kept sprawling to the horizon. Streets and alleys zigzagged with no rhyme or reason through quilts of neighborhoods. Glass office buildings stood next to excavation sites. A cathedral stood next to a line of Roman columns, which stood next to a modern soccer stadium. In some neighborhoods, old stucco villas with red-tiled roofs crowded the cobblestone streets, so that if Percy concentrated just on those areas, he could imagine he was back in ancient times. Everywhere he looked, there were wide piazzas and traffic-clogged streets. Parks cut across the city with a crazy collection of palm trees, pines, junipers, and olive trees, as if Rome couldn’t decide what part of the world it belonged to—or maybe it just believed all the world still belonged to
Rome.

It was as if the city knew about Percy’s dream of Gaea. It knew that the earth goddess intended on razing all human civilization, and this city, which had stood for thousands of years, was saying back to her:
You wanna dissolve this city, Dirt Face? Give it a shot.

In other words, it was the Coach Hedge of mortal cities—only taller.

“We’re setting down in that park,” Leo announced, pointing to a wide green space dotted with palm trees. “Let’s hope the Mist makes us look like a large pigeon or something.”

Percy wished Jason’s sister Thalia were here. She’d always had a way of bending the Mist to make people see what she wanted. Percy had never been very good at that. He just kept thinking:
Don’t look at me,
and hoped the Romans below would fail to notice the giant bronze trireme descending on their city in the middle of morning rush hour.

It seemed to work. Percy didn’t notice any cars veering off the road or Romans pointing to the sky and screaming, “Aliens!” The
Argo II
set down in the grassy field and the oars retracted.

The noise of traffic was all around them, but the park itself was peaceful and deserted. To their left, a green lawn sloped toward a line of woods. An old villa nestled in the shade of some weird-looking pine trees with thin curvy trunks that shot up thirty or forty feet, then sprouted into puffy canopies. They reminded Percy of trees in those Dr. Seuss books his mom used to read him when he was little.

To their right, snaking along the top of a hill, was a long brick wall with notches at the top for archers—maybe a medieval defensive line, maybe Ancient Roman. Percy wasn’t sure.

To the north, about a mile away through the folds of the city, the top of the Colosseum rose above the rooftops, looking just like it did in travel photos. That’s when Percy’s legs started shaking. He was actually here. He’d thought his trip to Alaska had been pretty exotic, but now he was in the heart of the old Roman Empire, enemy territory for a Greek demigod. In a way, this place had shaped his life as much as New York.

Jason pointed to the base of the archers’ wall, where steps led down into some kind of tunnel.

“I think I know where we are,” he said. “That’s the Tomb of the Scipios.”

Percy frowned. “Scipio…Reyna’s pegasus?”

“No,” Annabeth put in. “They were a noble Roman family, and…wow, this place is amazing.”

Jason nodded. “I’ve studied maps of Rome before. I’ve always wanted to come here, but…”

Nobody bothered finishing that sentence. Looking at his friends’ faces, Percy could tell they were just as much in awe as he was. They’d made it. They’d landed in Rome—
the
Rome.

“Plans?” Hazel asked. “Nico has until sunset—at best. And this entire city is supposedly getting destroyed today.”

Percy shook himself out of his daze. “You’re right. Annabeth…did you zero in on that spot from your bronze map?”

Her gray eyes turned extra thunderstorm dark, which Percy could interpret just fine:
Remember what I said, buddy. Keep that dream to yourself.

“Yes,” she said carefully. “It’s on the Tiber River. I think I can find it, but I should—”

“Take me along,” Percy finished. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Annabeth glared daggers at him. “That’s not—”

“Safe,” he supplied. “One demigod walking through Rome alone. I’ll go with you as far as the Tiber. We can use that letter of introduction, hopefully meet the river god Tiberinus. Maybe he can give you some help or advice. Then you can go on alone from there.”

They had a silent staring contest, but Percy didn’t back down. When he and Annabeth started dating, his mother had drummed it into his head:
It’s
good manners to walk your date to the door.
If that was true, it
had
to be good manners to walk her to the start of her epic solo death quest.

“Fine,” Annabeth muttered. “Hazel, now that we’re in Rome, do you think you can pinpoint Nico’s location?”

Hazel blinked, as if coming out of a trance from watching the Percy/Annabeth Show. “Um…hopefully, if I get close enough. I’ll have to walk around the city. Frank, would you come with me?”

Frank beamed. “Absolutely.”

“And, uh…Leo,” Hazel added. “It might be a good idea if you came along too. The fish-centaurs said we’d need your help with something mechanical.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, “no problem.”

Frank’s smile turned into something more like Chrysaor’s mask.

Percy was no genius when it came to relationships, but even he could feel the tension among those three. Ever since they’d gotten knocked into the Atlantic, they hadn’t acted quite the same. It wasn’t just the two guys competing for Hazel. It was like the three of them were locked together, acting out some kind of murder mystery, but they hadn’t yet discovered which of them was the victim.

Piper drew her knife and set it on the rail. “Jason and I can watch the ship for now. I’ll see what Katoptris can show me. But, Hazel, if you guys get a fix on Nico’s location, don’t go in there by yourselves. Come back and get us. It’ll take all of us to fight the giants.”

She didn’t say the obvious: even all of them together wouldn’t be enough, unless they had a god on their side. Percy decided not to bring that up.

“Good idea,” Percy said. “How about we plan to meet back here at…what?”

“Three this afternoon?” Jason suggested. “That’s probably the latest we could rendezvous and still hope to fight the giants and save Nico. If something happens to change the plan, try to send an Iris-message.”

The others nodded in agreement, but Percy noticed several of them glancing at Annabeth. Another thing no one wanted to say: Annabeth would be on a different schedule. She might be back at three, or much later, or never. But she would be on her own, searching for the Athena Parthenos.

Coach Hedge grunted. “That’ll give me time to eat the coconuts—I mean dig the coconuts out of our hull. Percy, Annabeth…I don’t like you two going off on your own. Just remember:
behave.
If I hear about any funny business, I will ground you until the Styx freezes over.”

The idea of getting grounded when they were about to risk their lives was so ridiculous, Percy couldn’t help smiling.

“We’ll be back soon,” he promised. He looked around at his friends, trying not to feel like this was the last time they’d ever be together. “Good luck, everyone.”

Leo lowered the gangplank, and Percy and Annabeth were first off the ship.

Under different circumstances,
wandering through Rome with Annabeth would have been pretty awesome.
They held hands as they navigated the winding streets, dodging cars and crazy Vespa drivers, squeezing through mobs of tourists, and wading through oceans of pigeons.
The day warmed up quickly. Once they got away from the car exhaust on the main roads, the air smelled of baking bread and freshly cut flowers.

They aimed for the Colosseum because that was an easy landmark, but getting there proved harder than Percy anticipated. As big and confusing as the city had looked from above, it was even more so on the ground. Several times they got lost on dead-end streets. They found beautiful fountains and huge monuments by accident.

Annabeth commented on the architecture, but Percy kept his eyes open for other things. Once he spotted a glowing purple ghost—a Lar—glaring at them from the window of an apartment building. Another time he saw a white-robed woman—maybe a nymph or a goddess—holding a wicked-looking knife, slipping between ruined columns in a public park. Nothing attacked them, but Percy felt like they were being watched, and the watchers were not friendly.

Finally they reached the Colosseum, where a dozen guys in cheap gladiator costumes were scuffling with the police—plastic swords versus batons. Percy wasn’t sure what that was about, but he and Annabeth decided to keep walking. Sometimes mortals were even stranger than monsters.

They made their way west, stopping every once in a while to ask directions to the river. Percy hadn’t considered that—duh—people in Italy spoke Italian, while he did not. As it turned out, though, that wasn’t much of a problem. The few times someone approached them on the street and asked a question, Percy just looked at them in confusion, and they switched to English.

Next discovery: the Italians used euros, and Percy didn’t have any. He regretted this as soon as he found a tourist shop that sold sodas. By then it was almost noon, getting really hot, and Percy was starting to wish he had a trireme filled with Diet Coke.

Annabeth solved the problem. She dug around in her backpack, brought out Daedalus’s laptop, and typed in a few commands. A plastic card ejected from a slot in the side.

Annabeth waved it triumphantly. “International credit card. For emergencies.”

Percy stared at her in amazement. “How did you—? No. Never mind. I don’t want to know. Just keep being awesome.”

The sodas helped, but they were still hot and tired by the time they arrived at the Tiber River. The shore was edged with a stone embankment. A chaotic assortment of warehouses, apartments, stores, and cafés crowded the riverfront.

The Tiber itself was wide, lazy, and caramel-colored. A few tall cypress trees hung over the banks. The nearest bridge looked fairly new, made from iron girders, but right next to it stood a crumbling line of stone arches that stopped halfway across the river—ruins that might’ve been left over from the days of the Caesars.

“This is it.” Annabeth pointed at the old stone bridge. “I recognize that from the map. But what do we do now?”

Percy was glad she had said
we
. He didn’t want to leave her yet. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could make himself do it when the time came. Gaea’s words came back to him:
Will you fall alone?

He stared at the river, wondering how they could make contact with the god Tiberinus. He didn’t really want to jump in. The Tiber didn’t look much cleaner than the East River back home, where he’d had too many encounters with grouchy river spirits.

He gestured to a nearby café with tables overlooking the water. “It’s about lunchtime. How about we try your credit card again?”

Even though it was noon, the place was empty. They picked a table outside by the river, and a waiter hurried over. He looked a bit surprised to see them—especially when they said they wanted lunch.

“American?” he asked, with a pained smile.

“Yes,” Annabeth said.

“And I’d love a pizza,” Percy said.

The waiter looked like he was trying to swallow a euro coin. “Of course you would,
signor
. And let me guess: a Coca-Cola? With ice?”

“Awesome,” Percy said. He didn’t understand why the guy was giving him such a sour face. It wasn’t like Percy had asked for a
blue
Coke.

Annabeth ordered a panini and some fizzy water. After the waiter left, she smiled at Percy. “I think Italians eat a lot later in the day. They don’t put ice in their drinks. And they only do pizza for tourists.”

“Oh.” Percy shrugged. “The best Italian food, and they don’t even eat it?”

“I wouldn’t say that in front of the waiter.”

They held hands across the table. Percy was content just to look at Annabeth in the sunlight. It always made her hair so bright and warm. Her eyes took on the colors of the sky and the cobblestones, alternately brown or blue.

He wondered if he should tell Annabeth his dream about Gaea destroying Camp Half-Blood. He decided against it. She didn’t need anything else to worry about—not with what she was facing.

But it made him wonder…what would have happened if they hadn’t scared off Chrysaor’s pirates? Percy and Annabeth would’ve been put in chains and taken to Gaea’s minions. Their blood would have been spilled on ancient stones. Percy guessed that meant they would’ve been taken to Greece for some big horrible sacrifice. But Annabeth and he had been in plenty of bad situations together. They could’ve figured out an escape plan, saved the day…and Annabeth wouldn’t be facing this solo quest in Rome.

It doesn’t matter when you fall,
Gaea had said.

Percy knew it was a horrible wish, but he almost regretted that they hadn’t been captured at sea. At least Annabeth and he would’ve been together.

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed,” Annabeth said. “You’re thinking about Chrysaor, aren’t you? Swords can’t solve every problem. You saved us in the end.”

In spite of himself, Percy smiled. “How do you
do
that? You always know what I’m thinking.”

“I know you,” she said.

And you like me anyway?
Percy wanted to ask, but he held it back.

“Percy,” she said, “you can’t carry the weight of this whole quest. It’s impossible. That’s why there are seven of us. And you’ll have to let me search for the Athena Parthenos on my own.”

“I missed you,” he confessed. “For months. A huge chunk of our lives was taken away. If I lost you again—”

Lunch arrived. The waiter looked much calmer. Having accepted the fact that they were clueless Americans, he had apparently decided to forgive them and treat them politely.

“It is a beautiful view,” he said, nodding toward the river. “Enjoy, please.”

Once he left, they ate in silence. The pizza was a bland, doughy square with not a lot of cheese. Maybe, Percy thought, that’s why Romans didn’t eat it. Poor Romans.

“You’ll have to trust me,” Annabeth said. Percy almost thought she was talking to her sandwich, because she didn’t meet his eyes. “You’ve got to believe I’ll come back.”

He swallowed another bite. “I believe in
you
. That’s not the problem. But come back from
where
?”

The sound of a Vespa interrupted them. Percy looked along the riverfront and did a double take. The motor scooter was an old-fashioned model: big and baby blue. The driver was a guy in a silky gray suit. Behind him sat a younger woman with a headscarf, her hands around the man’s waist. They weaved between café tables and puttered to a stop next to Percy and Annabeth.

“Why, hello,” the man said. His voice was deep, almost croaky, like a movie actor’s. His hair was short and greased back from his craggy face. He was handsome in a 1950s dad-on-television way. Even his clothes seemed old-fashioned. When he stepped off his bike, the waistline of his slacks was way higher than normal, but somehow he still managed to look manly and stylish and not like a total goober. Percy had trouble guessing his age—maybe thirty-something, though the man’s fashion and manner seemed grandfatherish.

The woman slid off the bike. “We’ve had the most
lovely
morning,” she said breathlessly.

She looked about twenty-one, also dressed in an old-fashioned style. Her ankle-length marigold skirt and white blouse were pinched together with a large leather belt, giving her the narrowest waist Percy had ever seen. When she removed her scarf, her short wavy black hair bounced into perfect shape. She had dark playful eyes and a brilliant smile. Percy had seen naiads that looked less pixieish than this lady.

Annabeth’s sandwich fell out of her hands. “Oh, gods. How—how… ?”

She seemed so stunned that Percy figured he ought to know these two.

“You guys
do
look familiar,” he decided. He thought he might have seen their faces on television. It seemed like they were from an old show, but that couldn’t be right. They hadn’t aged at all. Nevertheless, he pointed at the guy and took a guess. “Are you that guy on
Mad Men
?”

“Percy!” Annabeth looked horrified.

“What?” he protested. “I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“That’s Gregory Peck!” Annabeth’s eyes were wide, and her mouth kept falling open. “And…oh
gods!
Audrey Hepburn! I
know
this movie.
Roman Holiday.
But that was from the 1950s. How—?”

“Oh, my dear!” The woman twirled like an air spirit and sat down at their table. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else! My name is Rhea Silvia. I was the mother to Romulus and Remus,
thousands
of years ago. But you’re so kind to think I look as young as the 1950s. And this is my husband…”

“Tiberinus,” said Gregory Peck, thrusting out his hand to Percy in a manly way. “God of the River Tiber.”

Percy shook his hand. The guy smelled of aftershave. Of course, if Percy were the Tiber River, he’d probably want to mask the smell with cologne too.

“Uh, hi,” Percy said. “Do you two always look like American movie stars?”

“Do we?” Tiberinus frowned and studied his clothes. “I’m not sure, actually. The migration of Western civilization goes both ways, you know. Rome affected the world, but the world also affects Rome. There
does
seem to be a lot of American influence lately. I’ve rather lost track over the centuries.”

“Okay,” Percy said. “But…you’re here to help?”

“My naiads told me you two were here.” Tiberinus cast his dark eyes toward Annabeth. “You have the map, my dear? And your letter of introduction?”

“Uh…” Annabeth handed him the letter and the disk of bronze. She was staring at the river god so intently Percy started to feel jealous.

“S-so…” she stammered, “you’ve helped other children of Athena with this quest?”

“Oh, my dear!” The pretty lady, Rhea Silvia, put her hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. “Tiberinus is
ever
so helpful. He saved my children Romulus and Remus, you know, and brought them to the wolf goddess Lupa. Later, when that old king Numen tried to kill me, Tiberinus took pity on me and made me his wife. I’ve been ruling the river kingdom at his side ever since. He’s just dreamy!”

“Thank you, my dear,” Tiberinus said with a wry smile. “And, yes, Annabeth Chase, I’ve helped many of your siblings…to at least begin their journey safely. A shame all of them died painfully later on. Well, your documents seem in order. We should get going. The Mark of Athena awaits!”

Percy gripped Annabeth’s hand—probably a little too tight. “Tiberinus, let me go with her. Just a little farther.”

Rhea Silvia laughed sweetly. “But you can’t, silly boy. You must return to your ship and gather your other friends. Confront the giants! The way will appear in your friend Piper’s knife. Annabeth has a different path. She must walk alone.”

“Indeed,” Tiberinus said. “Annabeth must face the guardian of the shrine by herself. It is the only way. And Percy Jackson, you have less time than you realized to rescue your friend in the jar. You must hurry.”

Percy’s pizza felt like a cement lump in his stomach. “But—”

“It’s all right, Percy.” Annabeth squeezed his hand. “I need to do this.”

He started to protest. Her expression stopped him. She was terrified but doing her best to hide it—for his sake. If he tried to argue, he would only make things harder for her. Or worse, he might convince her to stay. Then she would have to live with the knowledge that she’d backed down from her biggest challenge…assuming that they survived at all, with Rome about to get leveled and Gaea about to rise and destroy the world. The Athena statue held the key to defeating the giants. Percy didn’t know why or how, but Annabeth was the only one who could find it.

“You’re right,” he said, forcing out the words. “Be safe.”

Rhea Silvia giggled like it was a ridiculous comment. “Safe? Not at all! But necessary. Come, Annabeth, my dear. We will show you where your path starts. After that, you’re on your own.”

Annabeth kissed Percy. She hesitated, like she was wondering what else to say. Then she shouldered her backpack and climbed on the back of the scooter.

Percy hated it. He would’ve preferred to fight any monster in the world. He would’ve preferred a rematch with Chrysaor. But he forced himself to stay in his chair and watch as Annabeth motored off through the streets of Rome with Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn.