The Mark of Athena

harboring since Camp Jupiter. She concentrated on all the good things she’d shared with Jason Grace: soaring upward in the Grand Canyon, walking on the beach at Camp Half-Blood, holding hands at the sing-along and watching the stars, sitting by the strawberry fields together on lazy afternoons and listening to the satyrs play their pipes.

She thought about a future when the giants had been defeated, Gaea was asleep, and they would live happily together—no jealousy, no monsters left to battle. She filled her heart with those thoughts, and she felt the cornucopia grow warm.

The horn blasted forth a flood of food as powerful as Achelous’s river. A torrent of fresh fruit, baked goods, and smoked hams completely buried Hercules. Piper didn’t understand how all that stuff could fit through the entrance of the horn, but she thought the hams were especially appropriate.

When it had spewed out enough goodies to fill a house, the horn shut itself off. Piper heard Hercules shrieking and struggling somewhere underneath. Apparently even the strongest god in the world could be caught off guard when buried under fresh produce.

“Go!” she told Jason, who’d forgotten his part of the plan and was staring in amazement at the fruit pile. “Go!”

He grabbed Piper’s waist and summoned the wind. They shot away from the island so quickly, Piper almost got whiplash; but it wasn’t a second too soon.

As the island retreated from view, Hercules’s head broke above the mound of goodies. Half a coconut was stuck on his noggin like a war helmet. “Kill!” he bellowed, like he’d had a lot of practice saying it.

Jason touched down on the deck of the Argo II. Thankfully, Leo had done his part. The ship’s oars were already in aerial mode. The anchor was up. Jason summoned a gale so strong, it pushed them into the sky, while Percy sent a ten-foot-tall wave against the shore, knocking Hercules down a second time, in a cascade of seawater and pineapples.

By the time the god regained his feet and started lobbing coconuts at them from far below, the Argo II was already sailing through the clouds above the Mediterranean.

PERCY WAS NOT FEELING THE LOVE.

Bad enough he’d been run out of Atlanta by evil sea gods. Then he had failed to stop a giant shrimp attack on the Argo II. Then the ichthyocentaurs, Chiron’s brothers, hadn’t even wanted to meet him.

After all that, they had arrived at the Pillars of Hercules, and Percy had to stay aboard ship while Jason the Big Shot visited his half brother. Hercules, the most famous demigod of all time, and Percy didn’t get to meet him either.

Okay, sure, from what Piper said afterward, Hercules was a jerk, but still…Percy was getting kind of tired of staying aboard ship and pacing the deck.

The open sea was supposed to be his territory. Percy was supposed to step up, take charge, and keep everybody safe. Instead, all the way across the Atlantic, he’d done pretty much nothing except make small talk with sharks and listen to Coach Hedge sing TV theme songs.

To make matters worse, Annabeth had been distant ever since they had left Charleston. She spent most of her time in her cabin, studying the bronze map she’d retrieved from Fort Sumter, or looking up information on Daedalus’s laptop.

Whenever Percy stopped by to see her, she was so lost in thought that the conversation went something like this:

Percy: “Hey, how’s it going?”

Annabeth: “Uh, no thanks.”

Percy: “Okay…have you eaten anything today?”

Annabeth: “I think Leo is on duty. Ask him.”

Percy: “So, my hair is on fire.”

Annabeth: “Okay. In a while.”

She got like this sometimes. It was one of the challenges of dating an Athena girl. Still, Percy wondered what he had to do to get her attention. He was worried about her after her encounter with the spiders at Fort Sumter, and he didn’t know how to help her, especially if she shut him out.

After leaving the Pillars of Hercules—unscathed except for a few coconuts lodged in the hull’s bronze plating— the ship traveled by air for a few hundred miles.

Percy hoped the ancient lands wouldn’t be as bad as they’d heard. But it was almost like a commercial: You’ll notice the difference immediately!

Several times an hour, something attacked the ship. A flock of flesh-eating Stymphalian birds swooped out of the night sky, and Festus torched them. Storm spirits swirled around the mast, and Jason blasted them with lightning. While Coach Hedge was having dinner on the foredeck, a wild pegasus appeared from nowhere, stampeded over the coach’s enchiladas, and flew off again, leaving cheesy hoof prints all across the deck.

“What was that for?” the coach demanded.

The sight of the pegasus made Percy wish Blackjack were here. He hadn’t seen his friend in days. Tempest and Arion also hadn’t shown themselves. Maybe they didn’t want to venture into the Mediterranean. If so, Percy couldn’t blame them.

Finally around midnight, after the ninth or tenth aerial attack, Jason turned to him. “How about you get some sleep? I’ll keep blasting stuff out of the sky as long as I can. Then we can go by sea for a while, and you can take point.”

Percy wasn’t sure that he’d be able to sleep with the boat rocking through the clouds as it was shaken by angry wind spirits, but Jason’s idea made sense. He went belowdecks and crashed on his bunk.