The Son of Neptune

It had been the happiest morning of Hazel’s life.

‘You could stay here.’ Her mother smiled, but her eyes were blank white. The voice was Gaia’s.

‘This is fake,’ Hazel said.

She tried to get up, but the soft bed of grass made her lazy and sleepy. The smell of baked bread and melting chocolate was intoxicating. It was the morning of Mardi Gras, and the world seemed full of possibilities. Hazel could almost believe she had a bright future.

‘What is real?’ asked Gaia, speaking through her mother’s face. ‘Is your second life real, Hazel? You’re supposed to be dead. Is it real that you’re sinking into a bog, suffocating?’

‘Let me help my friend!’ Hazel tried to force herself back to reality. She could imagine her hand clenched on the end of the bow, but even that was starting to feel fuzzy. Her grip was loosening. The smell of magnolias and roses was overpowering.

Her mother offered her a fritter.

No, Hazel thought. This isn’t my mother. This is Gaia tricking me.

‘You want your old life back,’ Gaia said. ‘I can give you that. This moment can last for years. You can grow up in New Orleans, and your mother will adore you. You’ll never have to deal with the burden of your curse. You can be with Sammy -’

‘It’s an illusion!’ Hazel said, choking on the sweet scent of flowers.

‘You are an illusion, Hazel Levesque. You were only brought back to life because the gods have a task for you. I may have used you, but Nico used you and lied about it. You should be glad I captured him.’

‘Captured?’ A feeling of panic rose in Hazel’s chest. ‘What do you mean?’

Gaia smiled, sipping her champagne. ‘The boy should have known better than to search for the Doors. But no matter – it’s not really your concern. Once you release Thanatos, you’ll be thrown back into the Underworld to rot forever. Frank and Percy won’t stop that from happening. Would real friends ask you to give up your life? Tell me who is lying, and who tells you the truth.’

Hazel started to cry. Bitterness welled up inside her. She’d lost her life once. She didn’t want to die again.

‘That’s right,’ Gaia purred. ‘You were destined to marry Sammy. Do you know what happened to him after you died in Alaska? He grew up and moved to Texas. He married and had a family. But he never forgot you. He always wondered why you disappeared. He’s dead now – a heart attack in the 1960s. The life you could’ve had together always haunted him.’

‘Stop it!’ Hazel screamed. ‘You took that from me!’

‘And you can have it again,’ Gaia said. ‘I have you in my embrace, Hazel. You’ll die anyway. If you give up, at least I can make it pleasant for you. Forget saving Percy Jackson. He belongs to me. I’ll keep him safe in the earth until I’m ready to use him. You can have an entire life in your final moments – you can grow up, marry Sammy. All you have to do is let go.’

Hazel tightened her grip on the bow. Below her, something grabbed her ankles, but she didn’t panic. She knew it was Percy, suffocating, desperately grasping for a chance at life.

Hazel glared at the goddess. ‘I’ll never cooperate with you! LET – US – GO!’

Her mother’s face dissolved. The New Orleans morning melted into darkness. Hazel was drowning in mud, one hand on the bow, Percy’s hands around her ankles, deep in the darkness. Hazel wiggled the end of the bow frantically. Frank pulled her up with such force it nearly popped her arm out of the socket.

When she opened her eyes, she was lying in the grass, covered in muck. Percy sprawled at her feet, coughing and spitting mud.

Frank hovered over them, yelling, ‘Oh, gods! Oh, gods! Oh, gods!’

He yanked some extra clothes from his bag and started towelling off Hazel’s face, but it didn’t do much good. He dragged Percy further from the muskeg.

‘You were down there so long!’ Frank cried. ‘I didn’t think – oh, gods, don’t ever do something like that again!’

He wrapped Hazel in a bear hug.

‘Can’t – breathe,’ she choked out.

‘Sorry!’ Frank went back to towelling and fussing over them. Finally he got them to the side of the road, where they sat and shivered and spat up mud clods.

Hazel couldn’t feel her hands. She wasn’t sure if she was cold or in shock, but she managed to explain about the muskeg, and the vision she’d seen while she was under. Not the part about Sammy – that was still too painful to say out loud – but she told them about Gaia’s offer of a fake life, and the goddess’s claim that she’d captured her brother, Nico. Hazel didn’t want to keep that to herself. She was afraid the despair would overwhelm her.

Percy rubbed his shoulders. His lips were blue. ‘You – you saved me, Hazel. We’ll figure out what happened to Nico, I promise.’

Hazel squinted at the sun, which was now high in the sky. The warmth felt good, but it didn’t stop her trembling. ‘Does it seem like Gaia let us go too easily?’

Percy plucked a mud clod from his hair. ‘Maybe she still wants us as pawns. Maybe she was just saying things to mess with your mind.’

‘She knew what to say,’ Hazel agreed. ‘She knew how to get to me.’

Frank put his jacket around her shoulders. ‘This is a real life. You know that, right? We’re not going to let you die again.’

He sounded so determined. Hazel didn’t want to argue, but she didn’t see how Frank could stop Death. She pressed her coat pocket, where Frank’s half-burnt firewood was still securely wrapped. She wondered what would’ve happened to him if she’d sunk in the mud forever. Maybe that would have saved him. Fire couldn’t have got to the wood down there.

She would have made any sacrifice to keep Frank safe. Perhaps she hadn’t always felt that strongly, but Frank had trusted her with his life. He believed in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to him.

She glanced at the rising sun … Time was running out. She thought about Hylla, the Amazon Queen back in Seattle. Hylla would have duelled Otrera two nights in a row by now, assuming she had survived. She was counting on Hazel to release Death.

She managed to stand. The wind coming off Resurrection Bay was just as cold as she remembered. ‘We should get going. We’re losing time.’

Percy gazed down the road. His lips were returning to their normal colour. ‘Any hotels or something where we could clean off? I mean … hotels that accept mud people?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Hazel admitted.

She looked at the town below and couldn’t believe how much it had grown since 1942. The main harbour had moved east as the town had expanded. Most of the buildings were new to her, but the grid of downtown streets seemed familiar. She thought she recognized some warehouses along the shore. ‘I might know a place we can freshen up.’

XLII Hazel

WHEN THEY GOT INTO TOWN, Hazel followed the same route she’d used seventy years ago – the last night of her life, when she’d come home from the hills and found her mother missing.

She led her friends along Third Avenue. The railroad station was still there. The big white two-storey Seward Hotel was still in business, though it had expanded to twice its old size. They thought about stopping there, but Hazel didn’t think it would be a good idea to traipse into the lobby covered in mud, nor was she sure the hotel would give a room to three minors.

Instead, they turned towards the shoreline. Hazel couldn’t believe it, but her old home was still there, leaning over the water on barnacle-encrusted piers. The roof sagged. The walls were perforated with holes like buckshot.