The Mark of Athena

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.