The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3)(66)

There was an answer. The Mark of Athena could lead her there—if she survived.

“I’m going,” she told Reyna. “I’m following the Mark of Athena to Rome.”

The praetor shook her head. “You have no idea what awaits you.”

“Yes, I do,” Annabeth said. “This grudge between our camps…I can fix it.”

“Our grudge is thousands of years old. How can one person fix it?”

Annabeth wished she could give a convincing answer, show Reyna a 3-D diagram or a brilliant schematic, but she couldn’t. She just knew she had to try. She remembered that lost look on her mother’s face: I must return home.

“The quest has to succeed,” she said. “You can try to stop me, in which case we’ll have to fight to the death. Or you can let me go, and I’ll try to save both our camps. If you must march on Camp Half-Blood, at least try to delay. Slow Octavian down.”

Reyna’s eyes narrowed. “One daughter of a war goddess to another, I respect your boldness. But if you leave now, you doom your camp to destruction.”

“Don’t underestimate Camp Half-Blood,” Annabeth warned.

“You’ve never seen the legion at war,” Reyna countered.

Over by the docks, a familiar voice shrieked over the wind: “Kill them! Kill them all!”

Octavian had survived his swim in the harbor. He crouched behind his guards, screaming encouragement at the other Roman demigods as they struggled toward the ship, holding up their shields as if that would deflect the storm raging all around them.

On the deck of the Argo II, Percy and Jason stood together, their swords crossed. Annabeth got a tingle down her spine as she realized the boys were working as one, summoning the sky and the sea to do their bidding. Water and wind churned together. Waves heaved against the ramparts and lightning flashed. Giant eagles were knocked out of the sky. Wreckage of the flying chariot burned in the water, and Coach Hedge swung a mounted crossbow, taking potshots at the Roman birds as they flew overhead.

“You see?” Reyna said bitterly. “The spear is thrown. Our people are at war.”

“Not if I succeed,” Annabeth said.

Reyna’s expression looked the same as it had at Camp Jupiter when she realized Jason had found another girl. The praetor was too alone, too bitter and betrayed to believe anything could go right for her ever again. Annabeth waited for her to attack.

Instead, Reyna flicked her hand. The metal dogs backed away. “Annabeth Chase,” she said, “when we meet again, we will be enemies on the field of battle.”

The praetor turned and walked across the ramparts, her greyhounds behind her.

Annabeth feared it might be some sort of trick, but she had no time to wonder. She ran for the ship.

The winds that battered the Romans didn’t seem to affect her.

Annabeth sprinted through their lines. Octavian yelled, “Stop her!”

A spear flew past her ear. The Argo II was already pulling away from the dock. Piper was at the gangplank, her hand outstretched.

Annabeth leaped and grabbed Piper’s hand. The gangplank fell into the sea, and the two girls tumbled onto the deck.

“Go!” Annabeth screamed. “Go, go, go!”

The engines rumbled beneath her. The oars churned. Jason changed the course of the wind, and Percy called up a massive wave, which lifted the ship higher than the fort’s walls and pushed it out to sea. By the time the Argo II reached top speed, Fort Sumter was only a blot in the distance, and they were racing across the waves toward the ancient lands.

Chapter 21

After raiding a museum full of Confederate ghosts, Leo didn’t think his day could get any worse. He was wrong.

They hadn’t found anything in the Civil War sub or elsewhere in the museum; just a few elderly tourists, a dozing security guard, and—when they tried to inspect the artifacts—a whole battalion of glowing zombie dudes in gray uniforms.

The idea that Frank should be able to control the spirits? Yeah…that pretty much failed. By the time Piper sent her Iris-message warning them about the Roman attack, they were already halfway back to the ship, having been chased through downtown Charleston by a pack of angry dead Confederates.

Then—oh, boy!—Leo got to hitch a ride with Frank the Friendly Eagle so they could fight a bunch of Romans. Rumor must’ve gotten around that Leo was the one who had fired on their little city, because those Romans seemed especially anxious to kill him.

But wait! There was more! Coach Hedge shot them out of the sky; Frank dropped him (that was no accident); and they crash-landed in Fort Sumter.

Now, as the Argo II raced across the waves, Leo had to use all his skill just to keep the ship in one piece. Percy and Jason were a little too good at cooking up massive storms.

At one point, Annabeth stood next to him, yelling against the roar of the wind: “Percy says he talked to a Nereid in Charleston Harbor!”

“Good for him!” Leo yelled back.

“The Nereid said we should seek help from Chiron’s brothers.”

“What does that mean? The Party Ponies?” Leo had never met Chiron’s crazy centaur relatives, but he’d heard rumors of Nerf sword-fights, root beer–chugging contests, and Super Soakers filled with pressurized whipped cream.

“Not sure,” Annabeth said. “But I’ve got coordinates. Can you input latitude and longitude in this thing?”