The Son of Neptune (15 page)

“You mean the Doors of Death,” Reyna said, ignoring Octavian. “They are mentioned in the Prophecy of Seven, which sent the first expedition to Alaska—”

Cato the ghost snorted. “We all know how that turned out! We Lares remember!”

The other ghosts grumbled in agreement.

Nico put his finger to his lips. Suddenly all the Lares went silent. Some looked alarmed, like their mouths had been glued together. Percy wished he had that power over certain living people…like Octavian, for instance.

“Thanatos is only part of the solution,” Nico explained. “The Doors of Death…well, that’s a concept even I don’t completely understand. There are many ways into the Underworld—the River Styx, the Door of Orpheus—plussmaller escape routes that open up from time to time. With Thanatos imprisoned, all those exits will be easier to use. Sometimes it might work to our advantage and let a friendly soul come back—like Gwen here. More often, it will benefit evil souls and monsters, the sneaky ones who are looking to escape. Now, the Doors of Death—those are the personal doors of Thanatos, his fast lane between Life and Death. Only Thanatos is supposed to know where they are, and the location shifts over the ages. If I understand correctly, the Doors of Death have been forced open. Gaea’s minions have seized control of them—”

“Which means Gaea controls who can come back from the dead,” Percy guessed.

Nico nodded. “She can pick and choose who to let out—the worst monsters, the most evil souls. If we rescue Thanatos, that means at least he can catch souls again and send them below. Monsters will die when we kill them, like they used to, and we’ll get a little breathing room. But unless we’re able to retake the Doors of Death, our enemies won’t stay down for long. They’ll have an easy way back to the world of the living.”

“So we can catch them and deport them,” Percy summed up, “but they’ll just keep coming back across.”

“In a depressing nutshell, yes,” Nico said.

Frank scratched his head. “But Thanatos knows where the doors are, right? If we free him, he can retake them.”

“I don’t think so,” Nico said. “Not alone. He’s no match for Gaea. That would take a massive quest…an army of the best demigods.”

“Foes bear arms to the Doors of Death,”
Reyna said. “That’s the Prophecy of Seven…” She looked at Percy, and for just a moment he could see how scared she was. She did a good job of hiding it, but Percy wondered if she’d had nightmares about Gaea too—if she’d seen visions of what would happen when the camp was invaded by monsters that couldn’t be killed. “If this begins the ancient prophecy, we don’t have resources to send an army to these Doors of Death
and
protect the camp. I can’t imagine even sparing seven demigods—”

“First things first.” Percy tried to sound confident, though he could feel the level of panic rising in the room. “I don’t know who the seven are, or what that old prophecy means, exactly. But first we have to free Thanatos. Mars told us we only needed three people for the quest to Alaska. Let’s concentrate on succeeding with that and getting back before the Feast of Fortuna. Then we can worry about the Doors of Death.”

“Yeah,” Frank said in a small voice. “That’s probably enough for one week.”

“So you
do
have a plan?” Octavian asked skeptically.

Percy looked at his teammates. “We go to Alaska as fast as possible...”

“And we improvise,” Hazel said.

“A lot,” Frank added.

Reyna studied them. She looked like she was mentally writing her own obituary.

“Very well,” she said. “Nothing remains except for us to vote what support we can give the quest—transportation, money, magic, weapons.”

“Praetor, if I may,” Octavian said.

“Oh, great,” Percy muttered. “Here it comes.”

“The camp is in grave danger,” Octavian said. “
Two
gods have warned us we will be attacked four days from now. We must not spread our resources too thin, especially by funding projects that have a slim chance of success.”

Octavian looked at the three of them with pity, as if to say,
Poor little things.
“Mars has clearly chosen the least likely candidates for this quest. Perhaps that is because he considers them the most expendable. Perhaps Mars is playing the long odds. Whatever the case, he wisely
didn’t
order a massive expedition, nor did he ask us to fund their adventure. I say we keep our resources here and defend the camp. This is where the battle will be lost or won. If these three succeed, wonderful! But they should do so by their own ingenuity.”

An uneasy murmur passed through the crowd. Frank jumped to his feet. Before he could start a fight, Percy said, “Fine! No problem. But at least give us transportation. Gaea is the earth goddess, right? Going overland, across the earth—I’m guessing we should avoid that. Plus, it’ll be too slow.”

Octavian laughed. “Would you like us to charter you an airplane?”

The idea made Percy nauseous. “No. Air travel…I have a feeling that would be bad, too. But a boat. Can you at least give us a boat?”

Hazel made a grunting sound. Percy glanced over. She shook her head and mouthed,
Fine. I’m fine.

“A boat!” Octavian turned to the senators. “The son of Neptune wants a boat. Sea travel has never been the Roman way, but he isn’t much of a Roman!”

“Octavian,” Reyna said sternly, “a boat is little enough to ask. And providing no other aid seems very—”

“Traditional!” Octavian exclaimed. “It is very traditional. Let us see if these questers have the strength to survive without help, like true Romans!”

More muttering filled the chamber. The senators’ eyes moved back and forth between Octavian and Reyna, watching the test of wills.

Reyna straightened in her chair. “Very well,” she said tightly. “We’ll put it to a vote. Senators, the motion is as follows: The quest shall go to Alaska. The senate shall provide full access to the Roman navy docked at Alameda. No other aid will be forthcoming. The three adventurers will survive or fail on their own merits. All in favor?”

Every senator’s hand went up.

“The motion is passed.” Reyna turned to Frank. “Centurion, your party is excused. The senate has other matters to discuss. And, Octavian, if I may confer with you for a moment.”

Percy was incredibly glad to see the sunlight. In that dark hall, with all those eyes on him, he’d felt like the world was riding on his shoulders—and he was fairly sure he’d had that experience before.

He filled his lungs with fresh air.

Hazel picked up a large emerald from the path and slipped it in her pocket. “So…we’re pretty much toast?”

Frank nodded miserably. “If either of you wants to back out, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Are you kidding?” Hazel said. “And pull sentry duty for the rest of the week?”

Frank managed a smile. He turned to Percy.

Percy gazed across the forum.
Stay put,
Annabeth had said in his dream. But if he stayed put, this camp would be destroyed. He looked up at the hills, and imagined Gaea’s face smiling in the shadows and ridges.
You can’t win, little demigod,
she seemed to say.
Serve me by staying, or serve me by going.

Percy made a silent vow: After the Feast of Fortuna, he would find Annabeth. But for now, he had to act. He couldn’t let Gaea win.

“I’m with you,” he told Frank. “Besides, I want to check out the Roman navy.”

They were only halfway across the forum when some called, “Jackson!” Percy turned and saw Octavian jogging toward them.

“What do you want?” Percy asked.

Octavian smiled. “Already decided I’m your enemy? That’s a rash choice, Percy. I’m a loyal Roman.”

Frank snarled. “You backstabbing, slimy—” Both Percy and Hazel had to restrain him.

“Oh, dear,” Octavian said. “Hardly the right behavior for a new centurion. Jackson, I only followed you because Reyna charged me with a message. She wants you to report to the
principia
without your—ah—two lackeys, here
.
Reyna will meet you there after the senate adjourns. She’d like a private word with you before you leave on your quest.”

“What about?” Percy said.

“I’m sure I don’t know.” Octavian smiled wickedly. “The last person she had a private talk with was Jason Grace. And that was the last time I ever saw him. Good luck and good bye, Percy Jackson.”

P
ERCY WAS GLAD
R
IPTIDE HAD RETURNED
to his pocket. Judging from Reyna’s expression, he thought he might need to defend himself.

She stormed into the
principia
with her purple cloak billowing, and her greyhounds at her feet. Percy was sitting in one of the praetor chairs that he’d pulled to the visitor’s side, which maybe wasn’t the proper thing to do. He started to get up.

“Stay seated,” Reyna growled. “You leave after lunch. We have a lot to discuss.”

She plunked down her dagger so hard, the jelly-bean bowl rattled. Aurum and Argentum took their posts on her left and right and fixed their ruby eyes on Percy.

“What’d I do wrong?” Percy asked. “If it’s about the chair—”

“It’s not you.” Reyna scowled. “I
hate
senate meetings. When Octavian gets talking…”

Percy nodded. “You’re a warrior. Octavian is a talker. Put him in front of the senate, and suddenly
he
becomes the powerful one.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Gee, thanks. I hear Octavian might get elected praetor, assuming the camp survives that long.”

“Which brings us to the subject of doomsday,” Reyna said, “and how you might help prevent it. But before I place the fate of Camp Jupiter in your hands, we need to get a few things straight.”

She sat down and put a ring on the table—a band of silver etched with a sword-and-torch design, like Reyna’s tattoo.

“Do you know what this is?”

“The sign of your mom,” Percy said. “The…uh, war goddess.” He tried to remember the name but he didn’t want to get it wrong—something like bologna. Or salami?

“Bellona, yes.” Reyna scrutinized him carefully. “You don’t remember where you saw this ring before? You really don’t remember me or my sister, Hylla?”

Percy shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It would’ve been four years ago.”

“Just before you came to camp.”

Reyna frowned. “How did you—?”

“You’ve got four stripes on your tattoo. Four years.”

Reyna looked at her forearm. “Of course. It seems so long ago. I suppose you wouldn’t recall me even if you
had
your memory. I was just a little girl—one attendant among so many at the spa. But you spoke with my sister, just before you and that other one, Annabeth, destroyed our home.”

Percy tried to remember. He really did. For some reason, Annabeth and he had visited a spa and decided to destroy it. He couldn’t imagine why. Maybe they hadn’t liked the deep-tissue massage? Maybe they’d gotten bad manicures?

“It’s a blank,” he said. “Since your dogs aren’t attacking me, I hope you’ll believe me. I’m telling the truth.”

Aurum and Argentum snarled. Percy got the feeling they were thinking,
Please lie. Please lie.

Reyna tapped the silver ring.

“I believe you’re sincere,” she said. “But not everyone at camp does. Octavian thinks you’re a spy. He thinks you were sent here by Gaea to find our weaknesses and distract us. He believes the old legends about the Greeks.”

“Old legends?”

Reyna’s hand rested halfway between her dagger and the jelly beans. Percy had a feeling that if she made a sudden move, she wouldn’t be grabbing for the candy.

“Some believe Greek demigods still exist,” she said, “heroes who follow the older forms of the gods. There are legends of battles between Roman and Greek heroes in relatively modern times—the American Civil War, for instance. I have no proof of this, and if our Lares know anything, they refuse to say. But Octavian believes the Greeks are still around, plotting our downfall, working with the forces of Gaea. He thinks you are one of them.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“I believe you came from
somewhere
,” she said. “You’re important, and dangerous. Two gods have taken a special interest in you since you arrived, so I can’t believe you’d work against Olympus…or Rome.” She shrugged. “Of course, I could be wrong. Perhaps the gods sent you here to test my judgment. But I think…I think you were sent here to make up for the loss of Jason.”

Jason ...
Percy couldn’t go very far in this camp without hearing that name.

“The way you talk about him…” Percy said. “Were you two a couple?”

Reyna’s eyes bored into him—like the eyes of a hungry wolf. Percy had seen enough hungry wolves to know.

“We might have been,” Reyna said, “given time. Praetors work closely together. It’s common for them to become romantically involved. But Jason was only praetor for a few months before he disappeared. Ever since then, Octavian has been pestering me, agitating for new elections. I’ve resisted. I need a partner in power—but I’d prefer someone like Jason. A warrior, not a schemer.”

She waited. Percy realized she was sending him a silent invitation.

His throat went dry. “Oh ... you mean ... oh.”

“I believe the gods sent you to help me,” Reyna said. “I don’t understand where you come from, any more than I understood it four years ago. But I think your arrival is some sort of repayment. You destroyed my home once. Now you’ve been sent to save my home. I don’t hold a grudge against you for the past, Percy. My sister hates you still, it’s true, but Fate brought me here to Camp Jupiter. I’ve done well. All I ask is that you work with me for the future. I intend to save this camp.”

The metal dogs glared at him, their mouths frozen in snarl mode. Percy found Reyna’s eyes a lot harder to meet.

“Look, I’ll help,” he promised. “But I’m new here. You’ve got a lot of good people who know this camp better than I do. If we succeed on this quest, Hazel and Frank will be heroes. You could ask one of them—”

“Please,” Reyna said. “No one will follow a child of Pluto. There’s something about that girl…rumors about where she came from.…No, she won’t do. As for Frank Zhang, he has a good heart, but he’s hopelessly naïve and inexperienced. Besides, if the others found out about his family history at this camp—”

“Family history?”

“The point is, Percy,
you
are the real power on this quest.
You
are a seasoned veteran. I’ve seen what you can do. A son of Neptune wouldn’t be my first choice, but if you return successfully from this mission, the legion might be saved. The praetorship will be yours for the taking. Together, you and I could expand the power of Rome. We could raise an army and find the Doors of Death, crush Gaea’s forces once and for all. You would find me a very helpful…friend.”

She said that word like it could have several meanings, and he could pick which one.

Percy’s feet started tapping on the floor, anxious to run. “Reyna…I’m honored, and all. Seriously. But I’ve got a girlfriend. And I don’t want power, or a praetorship.”

Percy was afraid he’d make her mad. Instead she just raised her eyebrows.

“A man who turns down power?” she said. “That’s not very Roman of you. Just think about it. In four days, I have to make a choice. If we are to fight off an invasion, we
must
have two strong praetors. I’d prefer you, but if you fail on your quest, or don’t come back, or refuse my offer…Well, I’ll work with Octavian. I mean to save this camp, Percy Jackson. Things are worse than you realize.”

Percy remembered what Frank said about the monster attacks getting more frequent. “How bad?”

Reyna’s nails dug into the table. “Even the senate doesn’t know the whole truth. I’ve asked Octavian not to share his auguries, or we’d have mass panic. He’s seen a great army marching south, more than we can possibly defeat. They’re led by a giant—”

“Alcyoneus?”

“I don’t think so. If he is truly invulnerable in Alaska, he’d be foolish to come here himself. It must be one of his brothers.”

“Great,” Percy said. “So we’ve got two giants to worry about.”

The praetor nodded. “Lupa and her wolves are trying to slow them down, but this force is too strong even for them. The enemy will be here soon—by the Feast of Fortuna at the very latest.”

Percy shuddered. He’d seen Lupa in action. He knew all about the wolf goddess and her pack. If this enemy was too powerful for Lupa, Camp Jupiter didn’t stand a chance.

Reyna read his expression. “Yes, it’s bad, but not hopeless.

If you succeed in bringing back our eagle, if you release Death so we can actually
kill
our enemies, then we stand a chance. And there’s one more possibility.…”

Reyna slid the silver ring across the table. “I can’t give you much help, but your journey will take you close to Seattle. I’m asking you for a favor, which may also help you. Find my sister Hylla.”

“Your sister…the one who hates me?”

“Oh, yes,” Reyna agreed. “She would love to kill you. But show her that ring as a token from me, and she may help you instead.”

“May?
”

“I can’t speak for her. In fact…” Reyna frowned. “In fact I haven’t spoken to her in weeks. She’s gone silent. With these armies passing through—”

“You want me to check on her,” Percy guessed. “Make sure she’s okay.”

“Partially, yes. I can’t imagine she’s been overcome. My sister has a powerful force. Her territory is well defended. But if you can find her, she could offer you valuable help. It could mean the difference between success and failure on your quest. And if you tell her what’s happening here—”

“She might send help?” Percy asked.

Reyna didn’t answer, but Percy could see the desperation in her eyes. She was terrified, grasping for
anything
that could save her camp. No wonder she wanted Percy’s help. She was the only praetor. The defense of the camp rested on her shoulders alone.

Percy took the ring. “I’ll find her. Where do I look? What kind force does she have?”

“Don’t worry. Just go to Seattle. They’ll find you.”

That didn’t sound encouraging, but Percy slipped the ring onto his leather necklace with his beads and his
probatio
tablet. “Wish me luck.”

“Fight well, Percy Jackson,” Reyna said. “And thank you.”

He could tell the audience was over. Reyna was having trouble holding herself together, keeping up the image of the confident commander. She needed some time by herself.

But at the door of the
principia,
Percy couldn’t resist turning. “How did we destroy your home—that spa where you lived?”

The metal greyhounds growled. Reyna snapped her fingers to silence them.

“You destroyed the power of our mistress,” she said. “You freed some prisoners who took revenge on all of us who lived on the island. My sister and I…well, we survived. It was difficult. But in the long run, I think we are better off away from that place.”

“Still, I’m sorry,” Percy said. “If I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

Reyna gazed at him for a long time, as if trying to translate his words. “An apology? Not very Roman at all, Percy Jackson. You’d make an interesting praetor. I hope you’ll think about my offer.”