XVII
Piper
PIPER COULDN’T BELIEVE how hard it was to find deadly poison.
All morning she and Frank had scoured the port of Pylos. Frank allowed only Piper to come with him, thinking her charmspeak might be useful if they ran into his shape-shifting relatives.
As it turned out, her sword was more in demand. So far, they’d slain a Laistrygonian ogre in the bakery, battled a giant warthog in the public square and defeated a flock of Stymphalian birds with some well-aimed vegetables from Piper’s cornucopia.
She was glad for the work. It kept her from dwelling on her conversation with her mother the night before – that bleak glimpse of the future Aphrodite had made her promise not to share …
Meanwhile, Piper’s biggest challenge in Pylos was the ads plastered all over town for her dad’s new movie. The posters were in Greek, but Piper knew what they said: TRISTAN MCLEAN IS JAKE STEEL: SIGNED IN BLOOD.
Gods, what a horrible title. She wished her father had never taken on the Jake Steel franchise, but it had become one of his most popular roles. There he was on the poster, his shirt ripped open to reveal perfect abs (gross, Dad!), an AK-47 in each hand, a rakish smile on his chiselled face.
Halfway across the world, in the smallest, most out-of-the-way town imaginable, there was her dad. It made Piper feel sad, disoriented, homesick and annoyed all at once. Life went on. So did Hollywood. While her dad pretended to save the world, Piper and her friends actually had to. In eight more days, unless Piper could pull off the plan Aphrodite had explained … well, there wouldn’t be any more movies, or theatres, or people.
Around one in the afternoon, Piper finally put her charmspeak to work. She spoke with an Ancient Greek ghost in a Laundromat (on a one-to-ten scale for weird conversations, definitely an eleven) and got directions to an ancient stronghold where the shape-shifting descendants of Periclymenus supposedly hung out.
After trudging across the island in the afternoon heat, they found the cave perched halfway up a beachside cliff. Frank insisted that Piper wait for him at the bottom while he checked it out.
Piper wasn’t happy about that, but she stood obediently on the beach, squinting up at the cave entrance and hoping she hadn’t guided Frank into a death trap.
Behind her, a stretch of white sand hugged the foot of the hills. Sunbathers sprawled on blankets. Little kids splashed in the waves. The blue sea glittered invitingly.
Piper wished she could surf those waters. She’d promised to teach Hazel and Annabeth someday, if they ever came out to Malibu … if Malibu still existed after 1 August.
She glanced up at the cliff’s summit. The ruins of an old castle clung to the ridge. Piper wasn’t sure if that was part of the shape-changers’ hideout or not. Nothing moved on the parapets. The entrance of the cave sat about seventy feet down the cliff face – a circle of black in the chalky yellow rock like the hole of a giant pencil sharpener.
Nestor’s Cave, the Laundromat ghost had called it. Supposedly the ancient king of Pylos had stashed his treasure there in times of crisis. The ghost also claimed that Hermes had once hidden the stolen cattle of Apollo in that cave.
Cows.
Piper shuddered. When she was little, her dad had driven her past a meat-processing plant in Chino. The smell had been enough to turn her into a vegetarian. Ever since, just the thought of cows made her ill. Her experiences with Hera the cow queen, the katoblepones of Venice and the pictures of creepy death cows in the House of Hades hadn’t helped.
Piper was just starting to think, Frank’s been gone too long – when he appeared at the cave entrance. Next to him stood a tall grey-haired man in a white linen suit and a pale yellow tie. The older man pressed a small shiny object – like a stone or a piece of glass – into Frank’s hands. He and Frank exchanged a few words. Frank nodded gravely. Then the man turned into a seagull and flew away.
Frank picked his way down the trail until he reached Piper.
‘I found them,’ he said.
‘I noticed. You okay?’
He stared at the seagull as it flew towards the horizon.
Frank’s close-cropped hair pointed forward like an arrow, making his gaze even more intense. His Roman badges – mural crown, centurion, praetor – glittered on his shirt collar. On his forearm, the SPQR tattoo with the crossed spears of Mars stood out darkly in the full sunlight.
He looked good in his new outfit. The giant warthog had slimed his old clothes pretty badly, so Piper had taken him for some emergency shopping in Pylos. Now he wore new black jeans, soft leather boots and a dark green Henley shirt that fitted him snugly. He’d been self-conscious about the shirt. He was used to hiding his bulk in baggy clothes, but Piper assured him he didn’t have to worry about that any more. Since his growth spurt in Venice, he’d grown into his bulkiness just fine.
You haven’t changed, Frank, she’d told him. You’re just more you.
It was a good thing Frank Zhang was still so sweet and soft-spoken. Otherwise he would’ve been a scary guy.
‘Frank?’ she prompted gently.
‘Yeah, sorry.’ He focused on her. ‘My, uh … cousins, I guess you’d call them … they’ve been living here for generations, all descended from Periclymenus the Argonaut. I told them my story, how the Zhang family had gone from Greece to Rome to China to Canada. I told them about the legionnaire ghost I saw in the House of Hades, urging me to come to Pylos. They … they didn’t seem surprised. They said it’s happened before, long-lost relatives coming home.’
Piper heard the wistfulness in his voice. ‘You were expecting something different.’
He shrugged. ‘A bigger welcome. Some party balloons. I’m not sure. My grandmother told me I would close the circle – bring our family honour and all that. But my cousins here … they acted kind of cold and distant, like they didn’t want me around. I don’t think they liked that I’m a son of Mars. Honestly, I don’t think they liked that I’m Chinese, either.’
Piper glared into the sky. The seagull was long gone, which was probably a good thing. She would have been tempted to shoot it out of the air with a glazed ham. ‘If your cousins feel that way, they’re idiots. They don’t know how great you are.’
Frank shuffled from foot to foot. ‘They got a little more friendly when I told them I was just passing through. They gave me a going-away present.’
He opened his hand. In his palm gleamed a metallic vial no bigger than an eyedropper.
Piper resisted the urge to step away. ‘Is that the poison?’
Frank nodded. ‘They call it Pylosian mint. Apparently the plant sprang from the blood of a nymph who died on a mountain near here, back in ancient times. I didn’t ask for details.’
The vial was so tiny … Piper worried there wouldn’t be enough. Normally she didn’t wish for more deadly poison. Nor was she sure how it would help them make the so-called physician’s cure that Nike had mentioned. But, if the cure could really cheat death, Piper wanted to brew a six-pack – one dose for each of her friends.
Frank rolled the vial around in his palm. ‘I wish Vitellius Reticulus were here.’
Piper wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. ‘Ridiculous who?’
A smile flickered across his mouth. ‘Gaius Vitellius Reticulus, although we did call him Ridiculous sometimes. He was one of the Lares of the Fifth Cohort. Kind of a goofball, but he was the son of Aesculapius, the healing god. If anybody knew about this physician’s cure … he might.’
‘A healing god would be nice,’ Piper mused. ‘Better than having a screaming, tied-up victory goddess on board.’
‘Hey, you’re lucky. My cabin is closest to the stables. I can hear her yelling all night: FIRST PLACE OR DEATH! AN A-MINUS IS A FAILING GRADE! Leo really needs to design a gag that’s better than my old sock.’
Piper shuddered. She still didn’t understand why it had been a good idea to take the goddess captive. The sooner they got rid of Nike, the better. ‘So your cousins … did they have any advice about what comes next? This chained god we’re supposed to find in Sparta?’
Frank’s expression darkened. ‘Yeah. I’m afraid they had some thoughts on that. Let’s get back to the ship and I’ll tell you about it.’
Piper’s feet were killing her. She wondered if she could convince Frank to turn into a giant eagle and carry her, but, before she could ask, she heard footsteps in the sand behind them.
‘Hello, nice tourists!’ A scraggly fisherman with a white captain’s hat and a mouth full of gold teeth beamed at them. ‘Boat ride? Very cheap!’
He gestured to the shore, where a skiff with an outboard motor waited.
Piper returned his smile. She loved it when she could communicate with the locals.
‘Yes, please,’ she said in her best charmspeak. ‘And we’d like you to take us somewhere special.’
The boat captain dropped them at the Argo II, anchored a quarter of a mile out to sea. Piper pressed a wad of euros into the captain’s hands.
She wasn’t above using charmspeak on mortals, but she’d decided to be as fair and careful as possible. Her days of stealing BMWs from car dealerships were over.
‘Thank you,’ she told him. ‘If anyone asks, you took us around the island and showed us the sights. You dropped us at the docks in Pylos. You never saw any giant warship.’
‘No warship,’ the captain agreed. ‘Thank you, nice American tourists!’
They climbed aboard the Argo II and Frank smiled at her awkwardly. ‘Well … nice killing giant warthogs with you.’
Piper laughed. ‘You too, Mr Zhang.’
She gave him a hug, which seemed to fluster him, but Piper couldn’t help liking Frank. Not only was he a kind and considerate boyfriend to Hazel, but whenever Piper saw him wearing Jason’s old praetor’s badge she felt grateful to him for stepping up and accepting that job. He had taken a huge responsibility off Jason’s shoulders and left him free (Piper hoped) to pursue a new path at Camp Half-Blood … assuming, of course, that they all lived through the next eight days.
The crew gathered for a hurried meeting on the foredeck – mostly because Percy was keeping an eye on a giant red sea serpent swimming off the port side.
‘That thing is really red,’ Percy muttered. ‘I wonder if it’s cherry-flavoured.’
‘Why don’t you swim over and find out?’ Annabeth asked.
‘How about no.’
‘Anyway,’ Frank said, ‘according to my Pylos cousins, the chained god we’re looking for in Sparta is my dad … uh, I mean Ares, not Mars. Apparently the Spartans kept a statue of him chained up in their city so the spirit of war would never leave them.’
‘Oo-kay,’ Leo said. ‘The Spartans were freaks. Of course, we’ve got Victory tied up downstairs, so I guess we can’t talk.’
Jason leaned against the forward ballista. ‘On to Sparta, then. But how does a chained god’s heartbeat help us find a cure for dying?’
From the tightness in his face, Piper could tell he was still in pain. She remembered what Aphrodite had told her: It’s not just his sword wound, my dear. It’s the ugly truth he saw in Ithaca. If the poor boy doesn’t stay strong, that truth will eat right through him.
‘Piper?’ Hazel asked.
She stirred. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘I was asking you about the visions,’ Hazel prompted. ‘You told me you’d seen some stuff in your dagger blade?’
‘Uh … right.’ Piper reluctantly unsheathed Katoptris. Ever since she’d used it to stab the snow goddess Khione, the visions in the blade had become colder and harsher, like images etched in ice. She’d seen eagles swirling over Camp Half-Blood, a wave of earth destroying New York. She’d seen scenes from the past: her father beaten and bound at the top of Mount Diablo, Jason and Percy fighting giants in the Roman Colosseum, the river god Achelous reaching out to her, pleading for the cornucopia she’d cut from his head.
‘I, um …’ She tried to clear her thoughts. ‘I don’t see anything right now. But one vision kept popping up. Annabeth and I are exploring some ruins –’
‘Ruins!’ Leo rubbed his hands. ‘Now we’re talking. How many ruins can there be in Greece?’
‘Quiet, Leo,’ Annabeth scolded. ‘Piper, do you think it was Sparta?’
‘Maybe,’ Piper said. ‘Anyway … suddenly we’re in this dark place like a cave. We’re staring at this bronze warrior statue. In the vision I touch the statue’s face and flames start swirling around us. That’s all I saw.’
‘Flames.’ Frank scowled. ‘I don’t like that vision.’
‘Me neither.’ Percy kept one eye on the red sea serpent, which was still slithering through the waves about a hundred yards to port. ‘If the statue engulfs people in fire, we should send Leo.’
‘I love you too, man.’
‘You know what I mean. You’re immune. Or, heck, give me some of those nice water grenades and I’ll go. Ares and I have tangled before.’
Annabeth stared at the coastline of Pylos, now retreating in the distance. ‘If Piper saw the two of us going after the statue, then that’s who should go. We’ll be all right. There’s always a way to survive.’
‘Not always,’ Hazel warned.
Since she was the only one in the group who had actually died and come back to life, her observation sort of killed the mood.
Frank held out the vial of Pylosian mint. ‘What about this stuff? After the House of Hades, I kind of hoped we were done drinking poison.’
‘Store it securely in the hold,’ Annabeth said. ‘For now, that’s all we can do. Once we figure out this chained god situation, we’ll head to the island of Delos.’
‘The curse of Delos,’ Hazel remembered. ‘That sounds fun.’
‘Hopefully Apollo will be there,’ Annabeth said. ‘Delos was his home island. He’s the god of medicine. He should be able to advise us.’
Aphrodite’s words came back to Piper: You must bridge the gap between Roman and Greek, my child. Neither storm nor fire can succeed without you.
Aphrodite had warned her of what was to come, told her what Piper would have to do to stop Gaia. Whether or not she would have the courage … Piper didn’t know.
Off the port bow, the cherry-flavoured sea serpent spewed steam.
‘Yeah, it’s definitely checking us out,’ Percy decided. ‘Maybe we should take to the air for a while.’
‘Airborne it is!’ Leo said. ‘Festus, do the honours!’
The bronze dragon figurehead creaked and clacked. The ship’s engine hummed. The oars lifted, expanding into aerial blades with a sound like ninety umbrellas opening at once, and the Argo II rose into the sky.
‘We should reach Sparta by morning,’ Leo announced. ‘And remember to come by the mess hall tonight, folks, ’cause Chef Leo is making his famous three-alarm tofu tacos!’