The Son of Neptune

XXIX Hazel

EVEN BEFORE SHE GOT ON THE BOAT, Hazel felt queasy.

She kept thinking about Phineas with steam coming out of his eyes, his hands crumbling to dust. Percy had assured her that she wasn’t like Phineas. But she was. She’d done something even worse than torment harpies.

You started this whole thing! Phineas had said. If it weren’t for you, Alcyoneus wouldn’t be alive!

As the boat sped down the Columbia River, Hazel tried to forget. She helped Ella make a nest out of old books and magazines they’d liberated from the library’s recycling bin.

They hadn’t really planned on taking the harpy with them, but Ella acted like the matter was decided.

‘Friends,’ she muttered. ‘“Ten seasons. 1994 to 2004.” Friends melt Phineas and give Ella jerky. Ella will go with her friends.’

Now she was roosting comfortably in the stern, nibbling bits of jerky and reciting random lines from Charles Dickens and 50 Tricks to Teach Your Dog.

Percy knelt in the bow, steering them towards the ocean with his freaky mind-over-water powers. Hazel sat next to Frank on the centre bench, their shoulders touching, which made her feel as jittery as a harpy.

She remembered how Frank stood up for her in Portland, shouting, ‘She’s a good person!’ like he was ready to take on anybody who denied it.

She remembered the way he had looked on the hillside in Mendocino, alone in a clearing of poisoned grass with his spear in hand, fires burning all around him and the ashes of three basilisks at his feet.

A week ago, if someone had suggested that Frank was a child of Mars, Hazel would have laughed. Frank was much too sweet and gentle for that. She had always felt protective of him because of his clumsiness and his knack for getting into trouble.

Since they’d left camp, she saw him differently. He had more courage than she’d realized. He was the one looking out for her. She had to admit that the change was kind of nice.

The river widened into the ocean. The Pax turned north. As they sailed, Frank kept her spirits up by telling her silly jokes – Why did the Minotaur cross the road? How many fauns does it take to change a lightbulb? He pointed out buildings along the coastline that reminded him of places in Vancouver.

The sky started to darken, the sea turning the same rusty colour as Ella’s wings. 21 June was almost over. The Feast of Fortuna would happen in the evening, exactly seventy-two hours from now.

Finally Frank brought out some food from his pack – sodas and muffins he’d scavenged from Phineas’s table. He passed them around.

‘It’s okay, Hazel,’ he said quietly. ‘My mom used to say you shouldn’t try to carry a problem alone. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.’

Hazel took a shaky breath. She was afraid to talk – not just because she was embarrassed. She didn’t want to black out and slip into the past.

‘You were right,’ she said, ‘when you guessed I came back from the Underworld. I’m … I’m an escapee. I shouldn’t be alive.’

She felt like a dam had broken. The story flooded out. She explained how her mother had summoned Pluto and fallen in love with the god. She explained her mother’s wish for all the riches in the earth, and how that had turned into Hazel’s curse. She described her life in New Orleans – everything except her boyfriend Sammy. Looking at Frank, she couldn’t bring herself to talk about that.

She described the Voice, and how Gaia had slowly taken over her mother’s mind. She explained how they had moved to Alaska, how Hazel had helped to raise the giant Alcyoneus, and how she had died, sinking the island into Resurrection Bay.

She knew Percy and Ella were listening, but she spoke mostly to Frank. When she had finished, she was afraid to look at him. She waited for him to move away from her, maybe tell her she was a monster after all.

Instead, he took her hand. ‘You sacrificed yourself to stop the giant from waking. I could never be that brave.’

She felt her pulse throbbing in her neck. ‘It wasn’t bravery. I let my mother die. I cooperated with Gaia too long. I almost let her win.’

‘Hazel,’ said Percy. ‘You stood up to a goddess all by yourself. You did the right …’ His voice trailed off, as if he’d had an unpleasant thought. ‘What happened in the Underworld … I mean, after you died? You should’ve gone to Elysium. But if Nico brought you back -’

‘I didn’t go to Elysium.’ Her mouth felt dry as sand. ‘Please don’t ask …’

But it was too late. She remembered her descent into the darkness, her arrival on the banks of the River Styx, and her consciousness began to slip.

‘Hazel?’ Frank asked.

‘“Slip Sliding Away”,’ Ella muttered. ‘Number five US single. Paul Simon. Frank, go with her. Simon says, Frank, go with her.’

Hazel had no idea what Ella was talking about, but her vision darkened as she clung to Frank’s hand.

She found herself back in the Underworld, and this time Frank was at her side.

They stood in Charon’s boat, crossing the Styx. Debris swirled in the dark waters – a deflated birthday balloon, a child’s dummy, a little plastic bride and groom from the top of a cake – all the remnants of human lives cut short.

‘Wh-where are we?’ Frank stood at her side, shimmering with a ghostly purple light as if he’d become a Lar.

‘It’s my past.’ Hazel felt strangely calm. ‘It’s just an echo. Don’t worry.’

The boatman turned and grinned. One moment he was a handsome African man in an expensive silk suit. The next moment he was a skeleton in a dark robe. ‘Course you shouldn’t worry,’ he said with a British accent. He addressed Hazel, as if he couldn’t see Frank at all. ‘Told you I’d take you across, didn’t I? ’Sall right you don’t have a coin. Wouldn’t be proper, leaving Pluto’s daughter on the wrong side of the river.’

The boat slid onto a dark beach. Hazel led Frank to the black gates of Erebos. The spirits parted for them, sensing she was a child of Pluto. The giant three-headed dog Cerberus growled in the gloom, but he let them pass. Inside the gates, they walked into a large pavilion and stood before the judges’ bench. Three black-robed figures in golden masks stared down at Hazel.

Frank whimpered. ‘Who – ?’

‘They’ll decide my fate,’ she said. ‘Watch.’

Just as before, the judges asked her no questions. They simply looked into her mind, pulling thoughts from her head and examining them like a collection of old photos.

‘Thwarted Gaia,’ the first judge said. ‘Prevented Alcyoneus from waking.’

‘But she raised the giant in the first place,’ the second judge argued. ‘Guilty of cowardice, weakness.’

‘She is young,’ said the third judge. ‘Her mother’s life hung in the balance.’

‘My mother.’ Hazel found the courage to speak. ‘Where is she? What is her fate?’

The judges regarded her, their golden masks frozen in creepy smiles. ‘Your mother …’

The image of Marie Levesque shimmered above the judges. She was frozen in time, hugging Hazel as the cave collapsed, her eyes shut tight.

‘An interesting question,’ the second judge said. ‘The division of fault.’

‘Yes,’ said the first judge. ‘The child died for a noble cause. She prevented many deaths by delaying the giant’s rise. She had courage to stand against the might of Gaia.’

‘But she acted too late,’ the third judge said sadly. ‘She is guilty of aiding and abetting an enemy of the gods.’

‘The mother influenced her,’ said the first judge. ‘The child can have Elysium. Eternal Punishment for Marie