xvi. acid

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THEA WAKES UP TO SOMEONE SHAKING HER. She startles, nearly falling out of the lifeboat. She isn't sure how she fell asleep—she swears she was still awake, she doesn't remember—and she doesn't know where they are. All she knows is that they aren't speeding with the thermos open anymore and that the boat has stopped at a bank at a marsh.

"Wha's goin' on?" she says, blinking tiredly as she gets to her feet. "What happened?"

"You, uh, you fell asleep," Percy says. "You wouldn't wake up, so I made Tyson pinch you."

She looks down at the forming bruise on her arm. "Oh. Um, thanks."

"Come on," Annabeth says. "It's just down the bank."

"What is?" Thea yawns. "You rich or something?"

"Just follow." She grabs a duffel. "And we'd better cover the boat. We don't want to draw attention."

They do, and then they follow behind Annabeth, who somehow knows exactly where they are going. Thea doesn't ask any questions, but she wants to.

After nearly six minutes, Annabeth stops. "Here."

She moves aside a woven circle of branches to reveal what looks like a hideout of sorts. It's woven with various plants and looks mostly waterproof, because everything is still intact. Provisions, an ice chest, sleeping bags, and a kerosene lamp. Even demigod things, like bronze javelin tips, arrows, and ambrosia.

"A half-blood hideout," Percy says. "You made this place?"

"Thalia and I," Annabeth said quietly. "And Luke and—"

There it is. It seemed like everytime the subject of those three comes up, everyone bites their tongue and stops themself just in time. Like there's something the entire camp is collectively hiding, including Annabeth. It has to be a person, or something.

"And who?" Percy asks, a bit oblivious.

"It—it was a friend of ours," she says, picking at her thumbnail. "One we met on the road. She's not here anymore."

None of them ask anything else about whoever Annabeth was talking about. It's clear she has sour feelings there, and the way that she purposely doesn't say dead doesn't put Thea at ease.

"So . . ." Percy clears his throat awkwardly. "You don't think Luke will look for us here?"

She shakes her head. "We made a dozen safe houses like this. I doubt Luke even remembers where they are. Or cares."

He doesn't seem like the person to do that, but Thea knows not to press, because the way Annabeth angrily sits on the blankets makes it very clear she doesn't want to talk.

"Um, Tyson?" Percy says. "Would you mind scouting outside? Like, look for a wilderness convenience store or something?"

"Convenience store?"

"Yeah, for snacks. Powdered donuts or something. Just don't go too far."

"Powdered donuts," Tyson says earnestly. "I will look for powdered donuts in the wilderness." He walks outside and cups his hands to his mouth as he walks around. "Here, donuts!"

Thea grabs her sword and goes to go with Tyson, but Percy shoots her a look that looks a bit too panicked and screams please dear gods don't leave me alone.

She doesn't.

They sit down across from Annabeth and Percy speaks first. "Hey, I'm sorry about, you know, seeing Luke."

"It's not your fault."

She unsheaths her knife and starts cleaning it with a rag a bit too diligently.

"He let us go too easily."

Annabeth, much to Thea's dread, nods. "I was thinking the same thing. What we overheard him say about the gamble, and 'they'll take the bait' . . . I think he was talking about us."

"The Fleece is the bait? Or Grover?"

Annabeth studies the tip of her blade. "I don't know, Percy. Maybe he wants the Fleece for himself. Maybe he's hoping we'll do the hard work and then he can steal it from us. I just can't believe he would poison the tree."

Percy grimaces. "What did he mean that Thalia would've been on his side?"

"He's wrong."

"You don't sound so sure."

Annabeth glares at him, and for a split second, Thea thinks she's going to stab him. "Percy, you know who you remind me of most? Thalia. You guys are so much alike it's scary. I mean, either you would've been best friends or you would've strangled each other."

"Let's go with 'best friends.'"

"Thalia got angry with her dad sometimes. So do you. Would you turn against Olympus because of that?"

"No."

"Okay, then. Neither would she. Luke's wrong."

Thea chews on her lip as she toys with one of her braids. They're overdue to be rebraided, she was supposed to get it done the next day by a girl in Aphrodite cabin, but that isn't happening. She wishes she could have gotten it done before she left, her scalp is starting to itch.

Focusing on her braids is much, much more interesting than trying to find something comforting to say to Annabeth, which she knows she will never be able to do.

"So what did Luke mean about the Cyclopes?" Percy asks. "He said you of all people—"

"I know what he said. He was . . . he was talking about the real reason Thalia died."

Thea sucks in a breath and her braid falls out from between her fingertips.

"You can never trust a Cyclops, Percy. Six years ago, on the night Grover was leading us to Half-Blood Hill—"

The hut door creaks open and Tyson crawls in, a pastry box in hand. "Powdered donuts!"

"What the shit?" Thea whispers. Tyson tells her it's a bad word. "Shi—yes, sorry, bad word. Where did you get those? We're in the middle of nowhere, there's probably no store for twenty miles—"

"Fifty feet," Tyson says. "Monster Donut Shop—just over the hill!"

Everyone hurries out of the hideout but Thea pulls them to a stop and yanks Percy so hard that he slips in the mud.

"Thea, why!"

"Why not?" she huffs. "But we can't go there, it's dangerous."

"It's a donut shop? We have those in New York, it's a chain. Monster doesn't mean actual monsters."

"Yeah? I went to one in Raleigh because they had one and they had a sign out front that said they feed the homeless. So I came in, hoping the sign was legit, and they gave me a donut. It was drugged. I woke up in a butcher's room while monsters waited outside."

Percy looks like he's going to be sick. "What?"

"They're magically linked to the life forces of monsters," she explains. "Any time there's a large number of them, or they're needed somewhere, they pop up. They usually want to kill as many demigods as they can."

Thea feels bile rise in her throat at the memory of it. The smell. The smell was awful, the blood was everywhere, it was all over her skin, there were bodies, there were people—

She vomits behind a bush.

Tyson hurries over and places one large hand on her that covers her entire back. "Thea okay?"

"I-I'm okay," she gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Sorry."

She coughs, trying to rid her throat of the burn that resides in it.

"No—sudden—moves."

Thea stills at Annabeth's tone. It's painfully calm, the kinda of calm that comes with a knife to the throat.

And then she hears it.

The sound of leaves and something scraping against them, something dragging itself across them like a snake. Something much, much larger than a snake.

Seven heads total, all whipping around, sniffing the air as they hide behind a tree in plain sight. Hydra's have several heads and dozens of eyes, but their eyesight is poor, if they can just obscure their scent long enough—

Tyson steps on a twig and as all heads snap toward him, Percy tackles him out of the way.

"Scatter!" Annabeth yells.

Thea bolts just in time to avoid the hydra that's demolishing the hideout, supplies and all. It spits acid across the wreckage and she lets out a yell of rage. Her sword is gone, it doesn't take a genius to find that out.

Percy swipes at a head and two more grow in its place. He's managing to wave his sword around enough to scare it as he dodges acid, Annabeth is doing the same, and Tyson is punching the heads. All Thea can do is dodge as fast as she can and hope she won't make the wrong move. She's too tired to cast any sort of spell, she doesn't trust that she won't pass out immediately after and get herself killed.

Two heads snap at her at once and she barely manages to dive out of the way of one of their jaws, but the other spits acid at her. Thea can only scramble backward as she screams, trying to shake off the acid that's already started to sink into her skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she screams, tears of pain flooding out of her eyes. It hurts worse than getting burned, it feels like her skin is disintegrating away.

Thea's staring death in the face and all she can do is hope that it will be quicker than what happened to her leg.

"Hit the dirt!"

At Annabeth's scream, Thea does, flattening against the ground even though she doesn't understand what is happening. Something flys through the air, a collum of smoke and gunpowder behind it, and hits the hydra in the side. It explodes into green slime that splatters down onto Thea and vaporizes as soon as it does.

Thea bites her lip to hold back a whimper of pain as she sits up to look at her thigh. The acid has burned straight through her jeans, through her skin, and down to the white layer of skin beneath it all. Maybe farther by the way the yellow drops of oil are beginning to bead.

"Fuck," she whispers, slamming her hand into the ground. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Annabeth hurries over, pulling ambrosia out of her bag already. "Oh, crap. Did the acid hit you? How deep? Can you still feel it?"

"Y-Yeah, I don't think it damaged the nerves too bad." She sucks in a breath. "Fuck, this hurts."

"I bet, you idiot. But can you stand? We gotta get on the ship."

"The—the what?"

And sure enough, when Thea lifts her head and looks, there's a ship. A large ship that seems like an abomination, several ships in one, even a submarine. That isn't the worst part, and neither is the zombies or Clarisse standing on the deck.

It's Charlie, standing there, arms crossed, looking downright murderous.