The Son of Neptune (The Heroes of Olympus #2)(68)

He was terrified that he’d lose Annabeth’s face completely when he got to Alaska. Maybe he’d wake up one day and not remember her name.

Still, he had to concentrate on the quest. The sight of that enemy army had shown him what they were up against. It was early in the morning of June 21, now. They had to get to Alaska, find Thanatos, locate the legion’s standard, and make it back to Camp Jupiter by the evening of June 24. Four days. Meanwhile, the enemy had only a few hundred miles to march.

Percy guided the boat through the strong currents off the northern California coast. The wind was cold, but it felt good, clearing some of the confusion from his head. He bent his will to push the boat as hard as he could. The hull rattled as the Pax plowed its way north.

Meanwhile, Hazel and Frank traded stories about the events at Rainbow Organic Foods. Frank explained about the blind seer Phineas in Portland, and how Iris had said that he might be able to tell them where to find Thanatos. Frank wouldn’t say how he had managed to kill the basilisks, but Percy got the feeling it had something to do with the broken point of his spear. Whatever had happened, Frank sounded more scared of the spear than the basilisks.

When he was done, Hazel told Frank about their time with Fleecy.

“So this Iris-message worked?” Frank asked.

Hazel gave Percy a sympathetic look. She didn’t mention his failure to contact Annabeth.

“I got in touch with Reyna,” she said. “You’re supposed to throw a coin into a rainbow and say this incantation, like O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, accept my offering. Except Fleecy kind of changed it. She gave us her—what did she call it—her direct number? So I had to say, O Fleecy, do me a solid. Show Reyna at Camp Jupiter. I felt kind of stupid, but it worked. Reyna’s image appeared in the rainbow, like in a two-way video call. She was in the baths. Scared her out of her mind.”

“That I would’ve paid to see,” Frank said. “I mean—her expression. Not, you know, the baths.”

“Frank!” Hazel fanned her face like she needed air. It was an old-fashioned gesture, but cute, somehow. “Anyway, we told Reyna about the army, but like Percy said, she pretty much already knew. It doesn’t change anything. She’s doing what she can to shore up the defenses. Unless we unleash Death, and get back with the eagle—”

“The camp can’t stand against that army,” Frank finished. “Not without help.”

After that, they sailed in silence.

Percy kept thinking about Cyclopes and centaurs. He thought about Annabeth, the satyr Grover, and his dream of a giant warship under construction.

You came from somewhere, Reyna had said.

Percy wished he could remember. He could call for help. Camp Jupiter shouldn’t have to fight alone against the giants. There must be allies out there.

He fingered the beads on his necklace, the lead probatiotablet, and the silver ring Reyna had given him. Maybe in Seattle he’d be able to talk to her sister Hylla. She might send help—assuming she didn’t kill Percy on sight.

After a few more hours of navigating, Percy’s eyes started to droop. He was afraid he’d pass out from exhaustion. Then he caught a break. A killer whale surfaced next to the boat, and Percy struck up a mental conversation with him.

It wasn’t exactly like talking, but it went something like this: Could you give us a ride north, Percy asked, like as close to Portland as possible?

Eat seals, the whale responded. Are you seals?

No, Percy admitted. I’ve got a man satchel full of macrobiotic beef jerky, though.

The whale shuddered. Promise not to feed me this, and I will take you north.

Deal.

Soon Percy had made a makeshift rope harness and strapped it around the whale’s upper body. They sped north under whale-power, and at Hazel and Frank’s insistence, Percy settled in for a nap.

His dreams were as disjointed and scary as ever.

He imagined himself on Mount Tamalpais, north of San Francisco, fighting at the old Titan stronghold. That didn’t make sense. He hadn’t been with the Romans when they had attacked, but he saw it all clearly: a Titan in armor, Annabet hand two other girls fighting at Percy’s side. One of the girls died in the battle. Percy knelt over her, watching as she dissolved into stars.

Then he saw the giant warship in its dry dock. The bronze dragon figurehead glinted in the morning light. The riggings and armaments were complete, but something was wrong. A hatch in the deck was open, and smoke poured from some kind of engine. A boy with curly black hair was cursing as he pounded the engine with a wrench. Two other demigods squatted next to him, watching with concern. One was a teenage guy with short blond hair. The other was a girl with long dark hair.

“You realize it’s the solstice,” the girl said. “We’re supposed to leave today.”

“I know that!” The curly-haired mechanic whacked the engine a few more times. “Could be the fizzrockets. Could be the samophlange. Could be Gaea messing with us again. I’m not sure!”

“How long?” the blond guy asked.

“Two, three days?”

“They may not have that long,” the girl warned.

Something told Percy that she meant Camp Jupiter. Then the scene shifted again.

He saw a boy and his dog roaming over the yellow hills of California. But as the image became clearer, Percy realized it wasn’t a boy. It was a Cyclops in ragged jeans and a flannel shirt. The dog was a shambling mountain of black fur, easily as big as a rhino. The Cyclops carried a massive club over his shoulder, but Percy didn’t feel that he was an enemy. He kept yelling Percy’s name, calling him…brother?