The sky started to darken, the sea turning the same rusty color as Ella’s wings. June 21 was almost over. The Feast of Fortuna would happen in the evening, exactly seventy-two hours from now.
Finally Frank brought out some food from his pack—sodas and muffins he’d scavenged from Phineas’s table. He passed them around.
“It’s okay, Hazel,” he said quietly. “My mom used to say you shouldn’t try to carry a problem alone. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”
Hazel took a shaky breath. She was afraid to talk—not just because she was embarrassed. She didn’t want to black out and slip into the past.
“You were right,” she said, “when you guessed I came back from the Underworld. I’m…I’m an escapee. I shouldn’t be alive.”
She felt like a dam had broken. The story flooded out. She explained how her mother had summoned Pluto and fallen in love with the god. She explained her mother’s wish for all the riches in the earth, and how that had turned into Hazel’s curse. She described her life in New Orleans—everything except her boyfriend Sammy. Looking at Frank, she couldn’t bring herself to talk about that.
She described the Voice, and how Gaea had slowly taken over her mother’s mind. She explained how they had moved to Alaska, how Hazel had helped to raise the giant Alcyoneus, and how she had died, sinking the island into Resurrection Bay.
She knew Percy and Ella were listening, but she spoke mostly to Frank. When she had finished, she was afraid to look at him. She waited for him to move away from her, maybe tell her she was a monster after all.
Instead, he took her hand. “You sacrificed yourself to stop the giant from waking. I could never be that brave.”
She felt her pulse throbbing in her neck. “It wasn’t bravery. I let my mother die. I cooperated with Gaea too long. I almost let her win.”
“Hazel,” said Percy. “You stood up to a goddess all by yourself. You did the right…” His voice trailed off, as if he’d had an unpleasant thought. “What happened in the Underworld…I mean, after you died? You should’ve gone to Elysium. But if Nico brought you back—”
“I didn’t go to Elysium.” Her mouth felt dry as sand. “Please don’t ask…”
But it was too late. She remembered her descent into the darkness, her arrival on the banks of the River Styx, and her consciousness began to slip.
“Hazel?” Frank asked.
“‘Slip Sliding Away,’” Ella muttered. “Number five U.S. single. Paul Simon. Frank, go with her. Simon says, Frank, go with her.”
Hazel had no idea what Ella was talking about, but her vision darkened as she clung to Frank’s hand.
She found herself back in the Underworld, and this time Frank was at her side.
They stood in Charon’s boat, crossing the Styx. Debris swirled in the dark waters—a deflated birthday balloon, a child’s pacifier, a little plastic bride and groom from the top of a cake—all the remnants of human lives cut short.
“Wh-where are we?” Frank stood at her side, shimmering with a ghostly purple light as if he’d become a Lar.
“It’s my past.” Hazel felt strangely calm. “It’s just an echo. Don’t worry.”
The boatman turned and grinned. One moment he was a handsome African man in an expensive silk suit. The next moment he was a skeleton in a dark robe. “’Course you shouldn’t worry,” he said with a British accent. He addressed Hazel, as if he couldn’t see Frank at all. “Told you I’d take you across, didn’t I? ’Sall right you don’t have a coin. Wouldn’t be proper, leaving Pluto’s daughter on the wrong side of the river.”
The boat slid onto a dark beach. Hazel led Frank to the black gates of Erebos. The spirits parted for them, sensing she was a child of Pluto. The giant three-headed dog Cerberus growled in the gloom, but he let them pass. Inside the gates, they walked into a large pavilion and stood before the judges’ bench. Three black-robed figures in golden masks stared down at Hazel.
Frank whimpered. “Who—?”
“They’ll decide my fate,” she said. “Watch.”
Just as before, the judges asked her no questions. They simply looked into her mind, pulling thoughts from her head and examining them like a collection of old photos.
“Thwarted Gaea,” the first judge said. “Prevented Alcyoneus from waking.”
“But she raised the giant in the first place,” the second judge argued. “Guilty of cowardice, weakness.”
“She is young,” said the third judge. “Her mother’s life hung in the balance.”
“My mother.” Hazel found the courage to speak. “Where is she? What is her fate?”
The judges regarded her, their golden masks frozen in creepy smiles. “Your mother…”
The image of Marie Levesque shimmered above the judges. She was frozen in time, hugging Hazel as the cave collapsed, her eyes shut tight.
“An interesting question,” the second judge said. “The division of fault.”