xvii. scylla

*    *    *

THERE WAS A TOUR OF THE BOAT—MORE OF A HOSTAGE SITUATION IN THEA'S OPINION—AND THEN CHARLIE DRAGS HER OFF BY HER ELBOW. The ship is . . . nice, but the company isn't. The soldiers on board are Confederate soldiers—already something that makes her uneasy—but the fact she's from Georgia seems to lessen their glares. Still, she doesn't want to be anywhere near them.

"Huh," Thea says once they get to his room. "It's nice. But the company? Yikes."

"Yep, I've noticed." He crosses his arms, his muscles pulling against his t-shirt. "What did you think you were doing? Running off like that, it's crazy, and you got attacked by a hydra! Dammit, Thea, what were you thinking?"

"It—this isn't your problem, okay?" she huffs defensively. "I didn't ask for you to come here! I could've handled the hydra."

"Gods, you're so stubborn. You could've been killed! Again!"

"I know that!" she yells. "I know that, okay? But this—it's more important than that. If we don't get the Fleece, everything's ruined. We'll all die."

"Who cares about the Fleece!" Charlie paces around the room, his fists clenched. "I don't care about any of that, not if you're dead!"

"It doesn't matter if I'm dead! But I can't let you die, or them, or—I have to do this, I can't just sit by!"

"Like hell you can't! Do you have a death wish? You always jump into danger without thinking, you never once think about how everyone else will feel—"

"Oh gods, this again? Charlie, it doesn't matter! Who cares!"

"I care!" he yells. "Nyssa cares, Jake cares, Percy and Annabeth care! What do you think they'll feel like if you're gone, huh? Thea, you're—you're my sister. I don't want to lose you again."

She sucks in a breath. "Charlie . . ."

"I thought you were dead for three years. I had no idea if you were alive, if you were in the Underworld, how you'd died—it was awful. And then you show up like none of that happened. You were different alright, but that was okay. But you don't—you refuse to admit that you're not untouchable. You can die. Whatever stopped you the first time, who knows if it'll happen again."

"It doesn't matter! If I go—if I go it won't matter. But you have your family, and Annabeth has so much left, and Percy has his mom—"

"And you have us!" He grabs her hand, the one that's missing the tips of two of the fingers. "Remember this? You were terrified, even if you wouldn't admit it. You didn't want to go under anesthesia, you didn't trust anyone. But I told you I'd always be there, that I wouldn't let you do it alone. Don't make me lie, Thea."

Tears burn at her eyes. "Why are you doing this?" she whispers. "You don't have to, I wouldn't hold it against you . . ."

"I don't give a shit if we're going to the sea of monsters," Charlie states, wrapping her in his arms. "I came for you. I needed to know you were okay."

She buries her face into his collarbone. "I—thank you."

"'Course."

*    *    *

THEA DREAMS OF her mother. She knows it's a dream, it's when her mother was young, before she had her. She isn't sure why she is having the dream—or what string of fate is allowing her to have it—but she's thankful.

Her mother is young, with fewer scars than she remembers. She's tall and carefree in an organized way, tan skin glowing with the sun, curly dark hair braided intricately down her back, and a Greek chiton that seems to sparkle. It's sinched as far as it can go so it won't fall off, barely hanging on to her small waist. It doesn't seem like it's hers.

"Darling, you look wonderful," a deep voice says. Thea turns and—oh gods. It's Apollo. Why Apollo? Why hadn't her mom mentioned that? No, she doesn't want to know, she doesn't want to know anything.

"Traditional clothing, I never thought I'd see the day that you willingly wore it."

Andraya smiles. "You can't exactly fight in chitons, can you?"

"If anyone could, it'd be you."

Thea's mom laughs, something so pure and untouched that it makes her heart swell. "Who would have thought? Olympus' little soldier and their golden boy?"

"Me, me would have thought."

Andraya rolls her eyes as she wraps her arms around his neck. "I wish it could always be like this. Just you and me. I like you like this. When you're not so fake and playing up that act, I like when you're smart and caring—"

"You know this is how it is," he sighs, his hands resting on her hips. "I wish it could just be us, too, but it's too dangerous. My family, they would—"

"They would be against it," Andraya finishes, frowning. "I know. They think that I'm too . . . much for you, that you deserve someone who isn't a fighter, someone who's a poet. They think it's beneath you."

He makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds pained. "But I don't want that, I want you."

Andraya lays her head on his chest. "You have me for now."

*    *    *

THEA WAKES UP with a pain in her chest. It's heartache. She's never been in love, but she can tell her mother is swept away in it, and the fact that her mother couldn't have it forever . . . it's devastating. Her mother deserved the world, and all she got was being buried beneath it.

She hasn't seen her mother like that before. The woman she knew was different, a mother and a hardened woman. That Andraya from the dream was young, hopeful but not naive. Something in Thea aches for both of them, for her mother and the happier person she used to be.

She blinks and rubs the sleep out of her eyes as she gets to her feet. She has her own room, even though she said she could room with Annabeth, but Clarisse insists since they have empty rooms. She almost wishes she had stayed with Annabeth, because the room is slightly scary, and the view out of the small round window doesn't help. The water is dark, and without looking she knows monstrous things are lurking beneath the waves.

Surprisingly, the rock of the ship doesn't bother her much, it actually feels comforting. She likes the ocean, but she doesn't like what lurks in it.

She slept in her shoes again. She usually does, it makes her feel safer, because she isn't guaranteed time to put on things like shoes or jackets. Charlie says she's paranoid, but she's rightly paranoid.

Charlie isn't in his room and it sends a pang of fear through her, but she reasons that he's probably somewhere on the ship. She makes it to Annabeth's room.

"Yo princess, I'm coming in, please be wearing clothes."

Annabeth blinks at her from where she's polishing her dagger on the bed. "...Seriously, Thea? You didn't even wait for a response?"

"I mean, we've told each other our deepest traumas so I feel like seeing your bra isn't that bad." She flops down on the girl's bed, nearly sending her dagger flying, which only makes the girl sigh. "Quick question. It's pink, isn't it?"

Annabeth shrieks and starts wrestling her and Thea can only laugh. It's easy to rile Annabeth up, and as much as she says she hates it, she doesn't. They both like each other, and Thea won't go as far as to say best friends, but . . . okay, maybe she would.

The two lay next to each other, breathing heavily, Thea's scalp tingling from where Annabeth had yanked a braid—dirty, dirty move—and kneed Thea in the stomach to throw her off, immediately meaning she won. But she'll get her back, eventually, she always does.

"We're supposed to be entering the sea of monsters soon," Annabeth says. "I let you sleep late. Y'know, since you never sleep good."

"I do too!"

"You always wake up when I open the door," she points out. "You were finally actually sleeping, not just a light one. So . . . I told everyone not to wake you up."

"Aw, I knew you cared about me."

"I take it back, I should've woken you up."

Thea jumps to her feet and slams a pillow into Annabeth's face. "Let's go see what Percy's doing, I bet he's trying to make friends with the ocean."

She isn't sure if that was how it works, but it's essentially what happened. Percy talks to the ocean, the ocean obeys. It seems like friends to her.

Once they find Percy, he's blankly staring out at the ocean, eyes unfocused. "What's wrong?" Annabeth asks. "Another dream?"

Percy nods but doesn't say anything. Thea wants to push for answers, but she doesn't. Because even if she feels like she's out of the loop, it feels wrong to force Percy to give her answers to her questions, even if she is worried about Grover.

Clarisse comes up the stairs with a pair of binoculars and looks at the horizon. "At last. Captain, full steam ahead!"

The ship starts to go faster than before in a way that makes Thea uneasy. She can make out splotches of land against the horizon and she doesn't have to guess what it is. She knows what they will have to face to get into the Sea of Monsters. But it doesn't mean she's eager to get there.

"Too much strain on the pistons," Tyson murmurs. "Not meant for deep water."

She doesn't ask how he knows that. She isn't sure she wants to know.

She can finally see the island. A deep, dark storm is brewing at it, turning the seas choppy.

"A hurricane?" Annabeth wonders.

"No," Clarisse says. "Charybdis."

Annabeth pales. "Are you crazy?"

"Only way into the Sea of Monsters. Straight between Charybdis and her sister Scylla."

"What do you mean the only way?" Percy says. "The sea's wide open, just sail around them!"

Clarisse only rolls her eyes. "Don't you know anything? If I tried to sail around them, they would just appear in my path again. If you want to get into the Sea of Monsters, you have to sail through them."

"What about the Clashing Rocks?" Annabeth asks. "That's another gateway."

"I can't blow apart rocks with my cannon," Clarisse says. "Monsters, on the other hand. . ."

"She's right," Thea agrees. "This is the only way. We'll probably die, again, but it's our only chance."

Of course, at that time Charlie decides to come up the stairs. "Uh, excuse me? You're not dying on my watch."

"It was a figure of speech—"

"Don't bullshit me, you definitely meant it."

"Okay, maybe." She winces at his glare. "Whatever, I guess we'll try not to die. Does that work?"

"It does."

The ship rattles as it steers forward, toward Charybdis.

"What about Scylla?" Percy asks.

"She lives in a cave, up on those cliffs. If we get too close, her snaky heads will come down and start plucking sailors off the ship."

"Choose Scylla then," he says. "Everybody goes below deck and we chug right past."

"No!" Clarisse insists. "If Scylla doesn't get her easy meat, she might pick up the whole ship. Besides, she's too high to make a good target. My cannons can't shoot straight up. Charybdis just sits there at the center of her whirlwind. We're going to steam straight toward her, train our guns on her, and blow her to Tartarus!"

As they get closer, Thea can no longer convince herself that it's simply a dangerous storm. Over the roar of the wind and water, she can hear the sound of breathing. With every terrifying inhale, the ship lurches forward, dipping down an inch or two, and with every exhale the waves crash against the ship and threaten to tip it over.

Annabeth grips the rail so hard her knuckles turn white. "You still have your thermos full of wind."

Percy nods. "But it's too dangerous to use with a whirlpool like that. More wind might just make things worse."

"What about controlling the water?" she asks. "You're Poseidon's son. You've done it before."

Percy focuses and Thea prays. She doesn't pray to Poseidon, she doesn't pray to her father—she prays to her mother. Her Mamá, the one person that she knows without a doubt would want her to live.

Please, Mamá, she thinks, her hands clasped into prayer. Please, if you're somehow listening, help us. Make sure we make it out of this alive. Please, Mamá—

The ship lurches so harshly that she falls face-first onto the deck. Her face smacks into it, pain bursting like a supernova from her nose, but it doesn't compare to the pain in her leg. The ambrosia is starting to wear off, and the sea isn't helping.

"Full reverse!" Clarisse yells. Waves crash over the desk as the ship groans with effort, the iron plating hot to the touch. "Get us within firing range! Make ready starboard cannons!"

Dead Confederates rush back and forth. She sees one get knocked over the side, then three more after that, and Thea can't feel any sympathy.

Charlie hauls Thea to her feet, one hand under her arm to hold her steady. She tries to move away, but he doesn't let go. He's trying to make sure that if Thea gets swept away he can stop her.

"Boiler overheating, ma'am!" a soldier says, his beard filled with embers. "She's going to blow!"

"Well, get down there and fix it!"

"Can't!" he yells. "We're vaporizing in the heat."

Clarisse pounds on a pole nearby. "All I need is a few more minutes! Just enough to get in range!"

"We're going in too fast. Prepare yourself for death."

"Death?" Thea shrieks. She grabs the dead Confederate by the collar. "Fix the engine you fucker!"

"I can fix it."

Thea's grip on his collar loosens. "You think you can do it, Tyson?"

"I should go," Charlie says, letting go of her arm. "Tyson doesn't know enough about mechanics, he wouldn't know—"

Thea grabs his forearm and digs what nails she has left into it. "No! Tyson's immune to fire, you aren't. You can't go, Charlie."

"Thea, I have to. 'Bigger than me' remember?"

"No, you're not—that wasn't about—"

Tyson sprints past them and down the hatch. Charlie moves to go after him but then the ship lurches and they see it.

Charybdis.

A few hundred yards away, through a mist of smoke and water, she can see a reef. Jagged black coral, oddly peaceful in the middle of the storm. The water curves in like a funnel around it, sucking in everything from whales to overturned boats. And then, just below the waterline of the reef is a giant pair of slimy lips that parts every few seconds to show large mossy teeth that are taller than Thea is.

"Lady Clarisse!" the captain shouts. "Starboard and forward guns are in range!"

"Fire!"

They fire three shots. One slices off the bottom of an incisor, another down the gullet, and a third hits a tooth and fires back toward them, snapping the flagpole in half.

"Again!"

It's no use. It would take too long to do any real damage, and by then they'll be sucked in.

Suddenly the vibrations in the deck change and—Tyson did it. He fixed it, he really fixed it.

"Wait!" Clarisse says. "We need to stay close!"

"We'll die!" Percy yells over the storm. "We have to move away!"

Thea stumbles, water soaking her to the bone as it crashes over the side. She shivers from the cold, her leg starts to ache, the saltwater seeping through the bandage and onto the wound.

As the ship fight against the suction it stops. The mouth shuts and Thea doesn't dare to say anything. Less than a second later the mouth shoots open, spewing water forward, along with everything inedible.

They're thrown back on a giant wave and Thea can only cling to Charlie and the rail, hoping against hope that they won't be thrown overboard.

A Confederate sprints so fast that he nearly knocks Clarisse off her feet. "The engine's gonna blow!"

"Where's Tyson?" Percy demands.

"Still down there," the sailor says. "Holding it together, somehow, though I don't know for how much longer."

The captain grimaces. "We have to abandon ship."

"No!" Clarisse yells.

"We have no choice, m'lady. The hull is already cracking apart! She can't—"

A thick, tapered reptilian tentacle shoots down, quick as lightning, and snatches the captain. Nothing is left but his boots.

"Scylla!" the sailor yells. Then he, too, is gone. It's no use, Scylla is too fast, and it's impossible to fight her.

"Everyone get below!" Percy yells.

"We can't!" Clarisse draws her sword, her face fierce with barely concealed fear. "Below deck is in flames."

"Lifeboats!" Annabeth says, tugging Thea's arm. "Quick!"

"They'll never get clear of the cliffs," Clarisse says. "We'll be eaten."

"We have to try. Percy, the thermos."

"I can't leave Tyson!"

"We have to get the boats ready!"

Charlie's jaw is set tight as he looks at them. "I'll go. You guys get the boats ready, get out of here."

Thea shakes her head frantically. "No! You can't, Charlie, you can't go down there—"

"I'll be fine. Go." He fixes his attention to Percy. "Don't let her follow me."

She goes to run after him, to stop him, but it's no use. Percy grabs her and somehow he can hold her back even as she kicks and screams and calls him every mean name in the book. He won't let her go, he won't let her get to Charlie.

Thea's protests are cut off into a guttural scream as Charlie is picked up by Scylla. She screams, throat raw, and knocks her head back into Percy's nose, which makes him let go of her so she can sprint away.

"Thea!" Annabeth screams. "Thea, don't, it's no use!"

She doesn't listen. She dives over the side of the ship, swimming as hard as she can. She's pulled under, water quickly filling her lungs, as she sees Charlie drop out of the sky, out of Scylla's grip. She fights harder, kicking with everything she has, pushing away debris as it smacks into her. She isn't going to let Charlie die, she can't.

That's Thea's last thought as debris knocks her unconscious. She can't let Charlie die, she can't lose him again.

A/N:
getting toward the back end
of som!!!! then it'll be on to the
second book, where i'll introduce
more characters :))