The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3)(128)

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.

To create enough clean fresh water to fill this room, she needed to go even deeper, tap her emotions even more. Unfortunately, she was losing her ability to focus.

“I need you both to channel everything you’ve got into the cornucopia,” she said. “Percy, think about the sea.”

“Salt water?”

“Doesn’t matter! As long as it’s clean. Jason, think about rainstorms—much more rain. Both of you hold the cornucopia.”

They huddled together as the water lifted them off their ledges. Piper tried to remember the safety lessons her dad had given her when they had started surfing. To help someone who’s drowning, you put your arm around them from behind and kick your legs in front of you, moving backward like you’re doing the backstroke. She wasn’t sure if the same strategy could work with two other people, but she put one arm around each boy and tried to keep them afloat as they held the cornucopia between them.

Nothing happened. The rain came down in sheets, still dark and acidic.

Piper’s legs felt like lead. The rising water swirled, threatening to pull her under. She could feel her strength fading.

“No good!” Jason yelled, spitting water.

“We’re getting nowhere,” Percy agreed.

“You have to work together,” Piper cried, hoping she was right. “Both of you think of clean water—a storm of water. Don’t hold anything back. Picture all your power, all your strength leaving you.”

“That’s not hard!” Percy said.

“But force it out!” she said. “Offer up everything, like—like you’re already dead, and your only goal is to help the nymphs. It’s got to be a gift…a sacrifice.”

They got quiet at that word.

“Let’s try again,” Jason said. “Together.”

This time Piper bent all her concentration toward the horn of plenty as well. The nymphs wanted her youth, her life, her voice? Fine. She gave it up willingly and imagined all of her power flooding out of her.

I’m already dead, she told herself, as calm as the skeleton dog. This is the only way.

Clear water blasted from the horn with such force, it pushed them against the wall. The rain changed to a white torrent, so clean and cold, it made Piper gasp.

“It’s working!” Jason cried.

“Too well,” Percy said. “We’re filling the room even faster!”

He was right. The water rose so quickly, the roof was now only a few feet away. Piper could’ve reached up and touched the miniature rain clouds.

“Don’t stop!” she said. “We have to dilute the poison until the nymphs are cleansed.”

“What if they can’t be cleansed?” Jason asked. “They’ve been down here turning evil for thousands of years.”

“Just don’t hold back,” Piper said. “Give everything. Even if we go under—”

Her head hit the ceiling. The rainclouds dissipated and melted into the water. The horn of plenty kept blasting out a clean torrent.

Piper pulled Jason closer and kissed him.

“I love you,” she said.

The words just poured out of her, like the water from the cornucopia. She couldn’t tell what his reaction was, because then they were underwater.

She held her breath. The current roared in her ears. Bubbles swirled around her. Light still rippled through the room, and Piper was surprised she could see it. Was the water getting clearer?

Her lungs were about to burst, but Piper poured her last energy into the cornucopia. Water continued to stream out, though there was no room for more. Would the walls crack under the pressure?