“HAZEL!” FRANK SHOOK HER ARMS, sounding panicked. “Come on, please! Wake up!”
She opened her eyes. The night sky blazed with stars. The rocking of the boat was gone. She was lying on solid ground, her bundled sword and pack beside her.
She sat up groggily, her head spinning. They were on a cliff overlooking a beach. About a hundred feet away, the ocean glinted in the moonlight. The surf washed gently against the stern of their beached boat. To her right, hugging the edge of the cliff, was a building like a small church with a search light in the steeple. A lighthouse, Hazel guessed. Behind them, fields of tall grass rustled in the wind.
“Where are we?” she asked.
Frank exhaled. “Thank the gods you’re awake! We’re in Mendocino, about a hundred and fifty miles north of the Golden Gate.”
“A hundred and fifty miles?” Hazel groaned. “I’ve been out that long?”
Percy knelt beside her, the sea wind sweeping his hair. He put his hand on her forehead as if checking for a fever. “We couldn’t wake you. Finally we decided to bring you ashore. We thought maybe the seasickness—”
“It wasn’t seasickness.” She took a deep breath. She couldn’t hide the truth from them anymore. She remembered what Nico had said: If a flashback like that happens when you’re in combat ...
“I—I haven’t been honest with you,” she said. “What happened was a blackout. I have them once in a while.”
“A blackout?” Frank took Hazel’s hand, which startled her…though pleasantly so. “Is it medical? Why haven’t I noticed before?”
“I try to hide it,” she admitted. “I’ve been lucky so far, but it’s getting worse. It’s not medical…not really. Nico says it’s a side effect from my past, from where he found me.”
Percy’s intense green eyes were hard to read. She couldn’t tell whether he was concerned or wary.
“Where exactly did Nico find you?” he asked.
Hazel’s tongue felt like cotton. She was afraid if she started talking, she’d slip back into the past, but they deserved to know. If she failed them on this quest, zonked out when they needed her most…she couldn’t bear that idea.
“I’ll explain,” she promised. She clawed through her pack. Stupidly, she’d forgotten to bring a water bottle. “Is…is there anything to drink?”
“Yeah.” Percy muttered a curse in Greek. “That was dumb.
I left my supplies down at the boat.”
Hazel felt bad asking them to take care of her, but she’d woken up parched and exhausted, as if she’d lived the last few hours in both the past and the present. She shouldered her pack and sword. “Never mind. I can walk.…”
“Don’t even think about it,” Frank said. “Not until you’ve had some food and water. I’ll get the supplies.”
“No, I’ll go.” Percy glanced at Frank’s hand on Hazel’s. Then he scanned the horizon as if he sensed trouble, but there was nothing to see—just the lighthouse and the field of grass stretching inland. “You two stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“You sure?” Hazel said feebly. “I don’t want you to—”
“It’s fine,” said Percy. “Frank, just keep your eyes open. Something about this place…I don’t know.”
“I’ll keep her safe,” Frank promised.
Percy dashed off.
Once they were alone, Frank seemed to realize he was still holding Hazel’s hand. He cleared his throat and let go.
“I, um…I think I understand your blackouts,” he said. “And where you come from.”
Her heartbeat stumbled. “You do?”
“You seem so different from other girls I’ve met.” He blinked, then rushed on. “Not like…bad different. Just the way you talk. The things that surprise you—like songs, or
TV shows, or slang people use. You talk about your life like it happened a long time ago. You were born in a different time, weren’t you? You came from the Underworld.”
Hazel wanted to cry—not because she was sad, but because it was such a relief to hear someone say the truth. Frank didn’t act revolted or scared. He didn’t look at her as if she were a ghost or some awful undead zombie.
“Frank, I—”
“We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “You’re alive now. We’re going to keep you that way.”
The grass rustled behind them. Hazel’s eyes stung in the cold wind.
“I don’t deserve a friend like you,” she said. “You don’t know what I am…what I’ve done.”
“Stop that.” Frank scowled. “You’re great! Besides, you’re not the only one with secrets.”
Hazel stared at him. “I’m not?”
Frank started to say something. Then he tensed.
“What?” Hazel asked.
“The wind’s stopped.”
She looked around and noticed he was right. The air had become perfectly still.
“So?” she asked.
Frank swallowed. “So why is the grass still moving?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Hazel saw dark shapes ripple through the field.
“Hazel!” Frank tried to grab her arms, but it was too late.