The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3)(64)

“But—Jason!” Piper said.

“Frank and Leo!” Hazel added.

“I’ll find them,” Annabeth promised. “I’ve got to figure out where the map is. And I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who can do that.”

“The fort is crawling with Romans,” Percy warned. “You’ll have to fight your way through, find our friends—assuming they’re okay—find this map, and get everybody back alive. All on your own?”

“Just an average day.” Annabeth kissed him. “Whatever you do, don’t let them take this ship!”

Chapter 20

The new civil war had begun.

Leo had somehow escaped his fall unharmed. Annabeth saw him ducking from portico to portico, blasting fire at the giant eagles swooping down on him. Roman demigods tried to chase him, tripping over piles of cannonballs and dodging tourists, who screamed and ran in circles.

Tour guides kept yelling, “It’s just a reenactment!” Though they didn’t sound sure. The Mist could only do so much to change what mortals saw.

In the middle of the courtyard, a full-grown elephant—could that be Frank?—rampaged around the flagpoles, scattering Roman warriors. Jason stood about fifty yards away, sword-fighting with a stocky centurion whose lips were stained cherry red, like blood. A wannabe vampire, or maybe a Kool-Aid freak?

As Annabeth watched, Jason yelled, “Sorry about this, Dakota!”

He vaulted straight over the centurion’s head like an acrobat and slammed the hilt of his gladius into the back of the Roman’s head. Dakota crumpled.

“Jason!” Annabeth called.

He scanned the battlefield until he saw her.

She pointed to where the Argo II was docked. “Get the others aboard! Retreat!”

“What about you?” he called.

“Don’t wait for me!”

Annabeth bolted off before he could protest.

She had a hard time maneuvering through the mobs of tourists. Why did so many people want to see Fort Sumter on a sweltering summer day? But Annabeth quickly realized the crowds had saved their lives. Without the chaos of all these panicked mortals, the Romans would have already surrounded their outnumbered crew.

Annabeth dodged into a small room that must have been part of the garrison. She tried to steady her breathing. She imagined what it would have been like to be a Union soldier on this island in 1861. Surrounded by enemies. Dwindling food and supplies, no reinforcements coming.

Some of the Union defenders had been children of Athena. They’d hidden an important map here—something they didn’t want falling into enemy hands. If Annabeth had been one of those demigods, where would she have put it?

Suddenly the walls glistened. The air became warm. Annabeth wondered if she was hallucinating. She was about to run for the exit when the door slammed shut. The mortar between the stones blistered. The bubbles popped, and thousands of tiny black spiders swelled forth.

Annabeth couldn’t move. Her heart seemed to have stopped. The spiders blanketed the walls, crawling over one another, spreading across the floor and gradually surrounding her. It was impossible. This couldn’t be real.

Terror plunged her into memories. She was seven years old again, alone in her bedroom in Richmond, Virginia. The spiders came at night. They crawled in waves from her closet and waited in the shadows. She yelled for her father, but her father was away for work. He always seemed to be away for work.

Her stepmother came instead.

I don’t mind being the bad cop, she had once told Annabeth’s father, when she didn’t think Annabeth could hear.

It’s only your imagination, her stepmother said about the spiders. You’re scaring your baby brothers.

They’re not my brothers, Annabeth argued, which made her stepmother’s expression harden. Her eyes were almost as scary as the spiders.

Go to sleep now, her stepmother insisted. No more screaming.

The spiders came back as soon as her stepmother had left the room. Annabeth tried to hide under the covers, but it was no good. Eventually she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. She woke up in the morning, freckled with bites, cobwebs covering her eyes, her mouth, and nose.

The bites faded before she even got dressed, so she had nothing to show her stepmother except cobwebs, which her stepmother thought was some sort of clever trick.

No more talk of spiders, her stepmother said firmly. You’re a big girl now.

The second night, the spiders came again. Her stepmother continued to be the bad cop. Annabeth wasn’t allowed to call her father and bother him with this nonsense. No, he would not come home early.

The third night, Annabeth ran away from home.

Later, at Camp Half-Blood, she learned that all children of Athena feared spiders. Long ago, Athena had taught the mortal weaver Arachne a hard lesson—cursing her for her pride by turning her into the first spider. Ever since, spiders had hated the children of Athena.

But that didn’t make her fear easier to deal with. Once, she’d almost killed Connor Stoll at camp for putting a tarantula in her bunk. Years later, she’d had a panic attack at a water park in Denver, when Percy and she were assaulted by mechanical spiders. And the past few weeks, Annabeth had dreamed of spiders almost every night—crawling over her, suffocating her, wrapping her in webs.

Now, standing in the barracks at Fort Sumter, she was surrounded. Her nightmares had come true.