an enemy. But the gesture made her feel good. In life-and-death situations, Annabeth had learned, you could make friends pretty quickly.
She patted Sadie’s shoulder. ‘Stay safe.’
‘Hardly ever.’ Sadie climbed in her boat, and it pushed out to sea. Fog rose out of nowhere, thickening around the vessel. When the mist cleared, the ship and Sadie Kane were gone.
Annabeth stared at the empty ocean. She thought about the Mist and the Duat and how they were connected.
Mostly she thought about the staff of Serapis, and the howl the black dog had made when she’d stabbed it with her dagger.
‘That wasn’t my future I destroyed,’ she assured herself. ‘I make my own future.’
But somewhere out there a magician named Setne had other ideas. If Annabeth was going to stop him, she had planning to do.
She turned and set out across the beach, heading east on the long journey back to Camp Half-Blood.
The Blood of Olympus
JASON HATED BEING OLD.
His joints hurt. His legs shook. As he tried to climb the hill, his lungs rattled like a box of rocks.
He couldn’t see his face, thank goodness, but his fingers were gnarled and bony. Bulging blue veins webbed the backs of his hands.
He even had that old-man smell—mothballs and chicken soup. How was that possible? He’d gone from sixteen to seventy-five in a matter of seconds, but the old-man smell happened instantly, like
boom
. Congratulations! You stink!
“Almost there.” Piper smiled at him. “You’re doing great.”
Easy for her to say. Piper and Annabeth were disguised as lovely Greek serving maidens. Even in their with sleeveless gowns and laced sandals, they had no trouble navigating the rocky path.
Piper’s mahogany hair was pinned up in a braided spiral. Silver bracelets adorned her arms. She resembled an ancient statue of her mom, Aphrodite, which Jason found a little intimidating
Dating a beautiful girl was nerve-racking enough. Dating a girl whose mom was the goddess of love . . . well, Jason was always afraid he he’d do something unromantic, and Piper’s mom would frown down from Mount Olympus and change him into a feral hog.
Jason glanced uphill. The summit was still a hundred yards above.
“Worst idea ever.” He leaned against a cedar tree and wiped his forehead. “Hazel’s magic is too good. If I have to fight, I’ll be useless.”
“It won’t come to that,” Annabeth promised. She looked uncomfortable in her serving-maiden outfit. She kept hunching her shoulders to keep the dress from slipping. Her pinned-up blond hair had come undone in the back and dangled like long spider legs. Knowing her hatred of spiders, Jason decided not to mention that.
“We infiltrate the palace,” she said. “We get the information we need, and we get out.”
Piper set down her amphora, the tall ceramic wine jar in which her sword was hidden. “We can rest for a second. Catch your breath, Jason.”
From her waist cord hung her cornucopia—the magic horn of plenty. Tucked somewhere in the folds of her dress was her knife, Katoptris. Piper didn’t look dangerous, but if the need arose, she could dual-wield Celestial bronze blades or shoot her enemies in the face with ripe mangoes.
Annabeth slung her own amphora of her shoulders. She too had a concealed sword; but even without a weapon, she looked deadly. Her stormy gray eyes scanned the surroundings, alert for any threat. If anyone asked Annabeth for a drink, Jason figured she was more likely to kick the guy in the
bifurcum
.
He tried to steady his breathing.
Below them, Afales Bay glittered, the water so blue it might’ve be dyed with food coloring. A few hundred yards offshore, the
Argo II
rested at anchor. Its white sails looked no bigger than postage stamps, its ninety oars like toothpicks. Jason imagined his friends on deck following his progress,
She patted Sadie’s shoulder. ‘Stay safe.’
‘Hardly ever.’ Sadie climbed in her boat, and it pushed out to sea. Fog rose out of nowhere, thickening around the vessel. When the mist cleared, the ship and Sadie Kane were gone.
Annabeth stared at the empty ocean. She thought about the Mist and the Duat and how they were connected.
Mostly she thought about the staff of Serapis, and the howl the black dog had made when she’d stabbed it with her dagger.
‘That wasn’t my future I destroyed,’ she assured herself. ‘I make my own future.’
But somewhere out there a magician named Setne had other ideas. If Annabeth was going to stop him, she had planning to do.
She turned and set out across the beach, heading east on the long journey back to Camp Half-Blood.
The Blood of Olympus
JASON HATED BEING OLD.
His joints hurt. His legs shook. As he tried to climb the hill, his lungs rattled like a box of rocks.
He couldn’t see his face, thank goodness, but his fingers were gnarled and bony. Bulging blue veins webbed the backs of his hands.
He even had that old-man smell—mothballs and chicken soup. How was that possible? He’d gone from sixteen to seventy-five in a matter of seconds, but the old-man smell happened instantly, like
boom
. Congratulations! You stink!
“Almost there.” Piper smiled at him. “You’re doing great.”
Easy for her to say. Piper and Annabeth were disguised as lovely Greek serving maidens. Even in their with sleeveless gowns and laced sandals, they had no trouble navigating the rocky path.
Piper’s mahogany hair was pinned up in a braided spiral. Silver bracelets adorned her arms. She resembled an ancient statue of her mom, Aphrodite, which Jason found a little intimidating
Dating a beautiful girl was nerve-racking enough. Dating a girl whose mom was the goddess of love . . . well, Jason was always afraid he he’d do something unromantic, and Piper’s mom would frown down from Mount Olympus and change him into a feral hog.
Jason glanced uphill. The summit was still a hundred yards above.
“Worst idea ever.” He leaned against a cedar tree and wiped his forehead. “Hazel’s magic is too good. If I have to fight, I’ll be useless.”
“It won’t come to that,” Annabeth promised. She looked uncomfortable in her serving-maiden outfit. She kept hunching her shoulders to keep the dress from slipping. Her pinned-up blond hair had come undone in the back and dangled like long spider legs. Knowing her hatred of spiders, Jason decided not to mention that.
“We infiltrate the palace,” she said. “We get the information we need, and we get out.”
Piper set down her amphora, the tall ceramic wine jar in which her sword was hidden. “We can rest for a second. Catch your breath, Jason.”
From her waist cord hung her cornucopia—the magic horn of plenty. Tucked somewhere in the folds of her dress was her knife, Katoptris. Piper didn’t look dangerous, but if the need arose, she could dual-wield Celestial bronze blades or shoot her enemies in the face with ripe mangoes.
Annabeth slung her own amphora of her shoulders. She too had a concealed sword; but even without a weapon, she looked deadly. Her stormy gray eyes scanned the surroundings, alert for any threat. If anyone asked Annabeth for a drink, Jason figured she was more likely to kick the guy in the
bifurcum
.
He tried to steady his breathing.
Below them, Afales Bay glittered, the water so blue it might’ve be dyed with food coloring. A few hundred yards offshore, the
Argo II
rested at anchor. Its white sails looked no bigger than postage stamps, its ninety oars like toothpicks. Jason imagined his friends on deck following his progress,
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