The Mark of Athena

“And, nothing. The end.”

“You can’t end it that way! Why were the ghosts dancing?”

“I don’t know,” Dad said. “Your grandfather never felt the need to explain. Maybe the ghosts were happy that one family had survived. Maybe they were enjoying the afterlife. They’re ghosts. Who can say?”

Piper was very unsatisfied with that. She had so many unanswered questions. Did the family ever find another dog? Obviously not all dogs drowned, because she herself had a dog.

She couldn’t shake the story. She never looked at dogs the same way, wondering if one of them might be a skeleton dog. And she didn’t understand why the family had to sacrifice their dog to survive. Sacrificing yourself to save your family seemed like a noble thing—a very doglike thing to do.

Now, in the nymphaeum in Rome, as the dark water rose to her waist, Piper wondered why the river god Achelous had mentioned that story.

She wished she had a raft, but she feared she was more like the skeleton dog. She was already dead.

THE BASIN FILLED WITH ALARMING SPEED. Piper, Jason, and Percy pounded on the walls, looking for an exit, but they found nothing. They climbed into the alcoves to gain some height, but with water pouring out of each niche, it was like trying to balance at the edge of a waterfall. Even as Piper stood in a niche, the water was soon up to her knees. From the floor, it was probably eight feet deep and rising fast.

“I could try lightning,” Jason said. “Maybe blast a hole in the roof?”

“That could bring down the whole room and crush us,” Piper said.

“Or electrocute us,” Percy added.

“Not many choices,” Jason said.

“Let me search the bottom,” Percy said. “If this place was built as a fountain, there has to be a way to drain the thing. You guys, check the niches for secret exits. Maybe the seashells are knobs, or something.” It was a desperate idea, but Piper was glad for something to do.

Percy jumped in the water. Jason and Piper climbed from niche to niche, kicking and pounding, wiggling seashells embedded in the stone; but they had no luck.

Sooner than Piper expected, Percy broke the surface, gasping and flailing. She offered her hand, and he almost pulled her in before she could help him up.

“Couldn’t breathe,” he choked. “The water…not normal. Hardly made it back.”

The life force of the nymphs, Piper thought. It was so poisoned and malicious, even a son of the sea god couldn’t control it.

As the water rose around her, Piper felt it affecting her too. Her leg muscles trembled like she’d been running for miles. Her hands turned wrinkled and dry, despite being in the middle of a fountain.

The boys moved sluggishly. Jason’s face was pale. He seemed to be having trouble holding his sword. Percy was drenched and shivering. His hair didn’t look quite so dark, as if the color was leaching out.

“They’re taking our power,” Piper said. “Draining us.”

“Jason,” Percy coughed, “do the lightning.”

Jason raised his sword. The room rumbled, but no lightning appeared. The roof didn’t break. Instead, a miniature rainstorm formed at the top of the chamber. Rain poured down, filling the fountain even faster, but it wasn’t normal rain. The stuff was just as dark as the water in the pool. Every drop stung Piper’s skin.

“Not what I wanted,” Jason said.

The water was up to their necks now. Piper could feel her strength fading. Grandpa Tom’s story about the water cannibals was true. Bad nymphs would steal her life.

“We’ll survive,” she murmured to herself, but she couldn’t charmspeak her way out of this. Soon the poisonous water would be over their heads. They’d have to swim, and this stuff was already paralyzing them.

They would drown, just like in the visions she’d seen.

Percy started pushing the water away with the back of his hand, like he was shooing a bad dog. “Can’t—can’t control it!”

You will need to sacrifice me, the skeleton dog had said in the story. You must throw me into the water.

Piper felt like someone had grabbed the scruff of her neck and exposed the bones. She clutched her cornucopia.

“We can’t fight this,” she said. “If we hold back, that just makes us weaker.”

“What do you mean?” Jason shouted over the rain.

The water was up to their chins. Another few inches, and they’d have to swim. But the water wasn’t halfway to the ceiling yet. Piper hoped that meant that they still had time.

“The horn of plenty,” she said. “We have to overwhelm the nymphs with fresh water, give them more than they can use. If we can dilute this poisonous stuff—”

“Can your horn do that?” Percy struggled to keep his head above water, which was obviously a new experience for him. He looked scared out of his mind.

“Only with your help.” Piper was beginning to understand how the horn worked. The good stuff it produced didn’t come from nowhere. She’d only been able to bury Hercules in groceries when she had concentrated on all her positive experiences with Jason.