xix. none the wiser

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"WHEN WE GET BACK, YOU SHOULD MEET MY MOM."

If, Thea's mind bitterly supplies. And then the rest of her brain quickly catches up to what he's saying. "Wait, what?"

"My mom," Percy repeats. "She's been wanting to meet you and Annabeth, but with, you know, everything there wasn't time. And you're in Long Island the whole year, so . . ."

"Sure," she says, not sure at all what she is agreeing to. "Are you sure she wants to, though?"

"Well, yeah, she's been wanting to ever since last summer."

Oh. It is a bit strange thinking that Percy talks about her enough that his mom wants to meet her. Rationally, she knows he talks about her, they emailed each other while he was back home in NYC, but also . . . it's strange. She isn't used to having friends.

"You don't have to," he rushes to say. "Just, uh, if you wanted to, I'm sure she'd like it, and you'd finally get to leave camp for once—"

"Sure."

Percy looks like he wants to say something else, push for something, but he doesn't. She's thankful for that. She is sure Miss Jackson is a lovely woman, but something about her being a mom just . . . instantly doesn't sit right with Thea. It's ridiculous, almost as if she has a phobia of mothers.

Considering what happened to hers, she guesses it makes sense in some weird, twisted way.

She places her hands firmly on the splintered wood of the Queen Anne's Revenge and looks out to the horizon. She can see monsters just beneath the water, large and deadly, and she wonders what it would feel like to dive into the water alongside them.

Her eyebrows pinch together at that. She doesn't want to die, does she? That's absurd, she has a lot to live for.

Like Charlie. Who is possibly dead, even if she can't admit it to herself. Or Annabeth and Percy—who would probably move on easily, since Thea technically is just a girl that was tacked onto their first quest that they're stuck with.

No. She isn't doing that again, she isn't going down that path.

But it is tempting.

*    *    *

"WHAT ARE YOU doing?"

"I found a journal, 'think it was one of the pirates that used to live on this ship," she says. "So it's mine now."

"Is that . . . Spanish?"

"Yeah." She bites her lip as she tries to remember what the word for 'cooking pan' is. "That girl on Circe's island, she spoke Spanish. It, uh, it reminded me that I haven't spoken it in a long time." She finally remembers the word and scribbles it down to finish the sentence. "Not since my mom, y'know. So I'm trying to make myself remember it, I don't wanna forget it. Maybe I'll take Nyssa up on her offer to speak it around camp, but hers is a little different."

Percy blinks. "Wait, there's different versions of Spanish?"

"Well, yeah, obviously. Different countries have different ways of speaking it. I mean, a lot's the same, but certain words mean certain things, or there's different slang that doesn't exist somewhere else." She stares at him as she shuts the journal. "Do you only speak English or something?"

His face goes a bit red. "What, is there something wrong with that?" He crosses his arms. "And I speak Ancient Greek. Slightly. Okay, I'm learning. And you only know three, so that's not that much more than me!"

"Technically I'm quadrilingual," she corrects, just to fuck with him. "I speak Ancient Greek, English, and Spanish. And I'm, like, mostly fluent in Korean because my mom was determined I'd learn it since it was what she spoke at home when she was a kid. I mostly just can't write it, I always mess it up."

"That's—that's really cool. Your mom taught you two languages?"

"I mean, technically? I learned Spanish and English at the same time when I was a kid, but Spanish was technically my first language, I guess. And then Ancient Greek and Korean later. So I guess she taught me two or three?"

"Your mom's the coolest," Percy says. "Wait, right, I came here for something. Annabeth said to get you because we're approaching the Island of the Sirens."

The easy smile on Thea's face fades. "Oh. Shit. I should probably get above deck then."

Stupid. Why did she talk about her mom? Sure, Percy had asked, but no one really wants to know. At least not about Thea's mother. They all want to know about Andraya Vasquez, not Thea Vasquez's mother.

She hates it, and she hates that it bothers her so much.

When they get above deck, Annabeth fixes a firm gaze on them. "I need you guys to do me a favor. We'll be in their range soon."

"No problem," Percy assures her. "We can just stop up our ears. There's a big tub of candle wax below deck—"

"I want to hear them."

Thea nods. "Okay, sure, b—what?"

"They say the Sirens sing the truth about what you desire. They tell you things about yourself you didn't even realize. That's what's so enchanting. If you survive . . . you become wiser. I want to hear them. How often will I get that chance?"

"Hopefully never?" Thea shakes her head. "No, no, this is crazy. Annabeth, you know people literally go crazy from this. Remember Amadeus?"

"Mozart?" Percy says, confused.

"Amadeus was a son of Dionysus," Annabeth says off-handedly. "Which is why he went insane, he was already susceptible to it!"

"Um, yeah, because he was the only person who lived long enough to have any effects!"

"I'm doing it," Annabeth says, her jaw set tight. "Thea, I have to do this."

She shakes her head and tugs at one of her braids anxiously until it makes her scalp burn. "Gods, you're such an idiot, princess. I'll go get the fuckin' rope."

Once Annabeth is tied up, Thea feels less confident about the situation. She doesn't like seeing Annabeth tied up, it just feels wrong.

"Are you sure?" Thea says as she kneads the wax into earplugs. "We won't hold it against you—actually, if you don't do it, I will give you a hug right now."

"Ew, gross," Annabeth says, even though it's obvious she's a bit tempted. "I'm sure, now put those in before we get close."

She does, and with one last look at her friend, she makes her way over to Percy at the wheel of the boat. She waits, and waits, anticipation eating away at her. She can't hear anything but the roar of her blood in her ears, she can't hear the crash of the waves. But she knows all the same when the song started.

Annabeth's body lurches, tugging against the ropes, like a caged animal. Her mouth is open wide, screaming something none of them can hear, and then she's looking at both of them, pleading, and Thea is glad that she can't read lips. Whatever Annabeth is saying with that hateful, tearful look on her face can't be good.

The agony on Annabeth's face makes Thea shut her eyes. She can't look at her or she'll cut her free with her bare hands.

She only opens her eyes once Percy starts shaking her so hard that her teeth rattle in her skull. He's yelling and she can't hear a thing, but she understands once she looks over—Annabeth is gone, she had cut the ropes.

Thea screams for her, so loud that it scrapes the back of her throat, but it falls deaf on all three of their ears. Annabeth is in the water, paddling madly toward the shore, the waves pushing her forward.

With a curse, Thea jumps overboard, plummeting into the waves like a rock. She gasps as saltwater goes into her lungs, the waves pushing her body around as if she weighs nothing.

Water pushes from behind her, what must be Percy's powers, jets of water push her forward—and that is all it took. A stream pushes the wax just slightly out of place and she heardsthe melody, pulsing through her body like an earthquake, pulling her in like a fish on a hook.

She can see, there on the shore, the most beautiful thing she could ever imagine. Her mother, several years older, smiling with her dark hair tied back, her arm wrapped around a large golden retriever. Charlie, with his siblings and mother, laughing as his younger sister shows off a stuffed animal. A faceless, dark-skinned man that has to be Thea's father, there and alive.

Thea screams and swims, pushing herself to her limit. She has to get to them, she needs to get to them, if she doesn't she will die.

"Althea!" her mother calls, her voice as smooth as honey. "Baby, it's been so long. I made your favorite; kimchi."

"Mamá!" Someone grabs Thea's ankle and she kicks wildly, making contact with something solid. "Mamá it's me, it's Thea!"

Someone pulls her underwater and she thrashes, her mother's voice fading from her ears. "Mamá!" she yells, barely breaking the surface before she's pulled down again. She yells, inhaling water until she chokes on it, struggling against the person, clawing and kicking, going as far as to bite their arm and try to rip her head away.

And then a bubble of air forms around them. It's Percy, Percy is holding her, and she can see where she had scratched him. Annabeth only sits there, gasping for air like Thea is, the two of them shaken beyond words.

Annabeth starts sobbing—an awful, broken sob, and her head falls onto Percy's shoulder. Thea tries to hold her tears back, but it's no use. She takes a breath and then she's sobbing, deep and shoulder-shaking, covering her face with her hands.

Percy wraps an arm around her and she doesn't fight against it as she allows herself to fall into his hold. It feels nice after everything that had happened. Her heart aches like someone has shot an arrow through it, and she can't think of anything but her mother being alive, but it feels nice knowing someone is there.

Thea doesn't feel any wiser.