by Rick Riordan
pain eased. Together, Nico and Thalia dressed the wound and I passed out only a few
times.
I couldn't judge how much time went by, but the next thing I remember I was propped
up with my back against a rock. My shoulder was bandaged. Thalia was feeding me tiny
squares of chocolate-flavored ambrosia.
“The Keres?” I muttered.
“Gone for now,” she said. “You have me worried for a second, Percy. But I think you’ll
make it.”
Nico crouched next to us. He was holding the potted carnation. Only five petals still
clung to the flower. “The Keres will be back,” he warned. He looked at my shoulder with
concern. “That wound. The Keres are spirits of disease and pestilence as well as
violence. We could slow down the infection but eventually you’ll need serious healing. I
mean, a god’s power, otherwise…” He didn’t finish the thought.
“I’ll be fine,” I tried to sit up and immediately felt nauseous.
“Slow,” Thalia said. “You need rest before you could move.”
“There’s no time,” I looked at the carnation. “One of the daimones mentioned Iapetus.
Am I remembering right? That’s a Titan.”
Thalia nodded uneasily. “The brother of Kronos, father of Atlas. He was known as the
Titan of the West. His name means The Piercer because that’s what he likes to do to his
enemies. He was cast into Tartarus along with his brothers. He was supposed to be
down there.”
“But if the sword of Hades can unlock death?” I asked.
“Then maybe,” Nico said, “it could also summon the damned out of Tartarus. We can’t
let them try.”
“We still do not know who them is,” Thalia said.
“The half-blood working for Kronos,” I said. “Probably Ethan Nakamura. And he’s
starting to recruit some of Hades’ minions to his side like the Keres.”
“The daimones think that if Kronos wins the war, they’ll get more chaos and evil out of
the deal.”
“They are probably right,” Nico said. “My father tries to keep the balance. He reins in
the more violent spirits. If Kronos appoints one of brothers to be the Lord of the
Underworld—”
“Like this Iapetus dude,” I said.
“—then the Underworld will get a lot worse,” Nico said. “The Keres would like that so
would Melinoe.”
“You still haven’t told us who Melinoe is.”
Nico chewed his lip. “She’s the goddess of ghosts, one of my father’s servants. She
oversees the restless dead that walk the earth. Every night, she rises from the
Underworld to terrify mortals.”
“She has her own path into the Upperworld?”
Nico nodded. “I doubt it would be blocked. Normally, no one would even think about
trespassing in her cave. But if this demigod thief is brave enough to make a deal with
her…”
“He could get back to the world,” Thalia supplied, “and bring the sword to Kronos.”
“Who would use it to raise his brothers from Tartarus,” I guessed, “and we be in big
trouble.”
I struggled to my feet. A wave of nausea almost made me blacked out but Thalia
grabbed me.
“Percy,” she said, “you’re in no condition.”
“I have to be.”
I watched as another petal withered and fell off the carnation. Four left before
doomsday.
“Give me the potted plant. We have to find the cave of Melinoe.”
*****
As we walked, I tried to think about positive things — my favorite basketball players, my
last conversation with Annabeth, what my mom would make for Christmas dinner.
Anything but the pain. Still, it felt like a saber-toothed tiger was chewing on my
shoulder.
I wasn’t going to be much good on a fight and I cursed myself for letting down my
guard. I should have never gotten hurt. Now Thalia and Nico would have to haul my
useless butt through rest of the mission.
I was so busy feeling sorry for myself; I didn’t notice the sound of roaring water until
Nico said, “Uh-oh.”
About fifty feet ahead of us, a dark river churned through a gorge of volcanic rock. I’d
seen the Styx and this didn’t look like the same river. It was narrow and fast. The water
was black as ink. Even the foam churned black. The far bank was only thirty feet across
but that was too far to jump and there was no bridge.
“The River Lethe!” Nico cursed in Ancient Greek. “We’ll never make it across.”
The flower was pointing to the other side, toward a gloomy mountain and a path leading
up to a cave. Beyond the mountain, the walls of the Underworld loomed like a dark
granite sky.
I hadn’t considered that the Underworld might have an outer rim, but this appeared to
be it. “There’s got to be a way across,” I said.
Thalia knelt next to the bank.
“Careful,” Nico said, “This is the river of forgetfulness. If one drop of that water gets on
you, you’ll start to forget who you are.”
Thalia backed up. “I know this place. Luke told me about it once. Souls come here if
they choose to be reborn, so they totally forget their former lives.”
Nico nodded. “Swim in that water and your mind will be wiped clean. You’ll be like a
new born baby.”
Thalia studied the opposite bank. “I could shoot an arrow across. Maybe anchor a line to
one of those rocks.”
“You want to trust your weight to a line that isn’t tied off?” Nico asked.
Thalia frowned. “Yeah right. Works on the movies, but no. Could you summon some
dead people to help us?”
“I could but they would only appear on my side of the river. Running water acts as
barrier against the dead. They can’t cross it.”
I winced. “What kind of stupid rule was that?”
“Hey, I didn’t make it up.” He studied my face. “You look terrible, Percy. You should sit
down.”
“I can’t. You need me for this.”
“For what?” Thalia asked. “You can barely stand.”
“It’s water, isn’t it? I’ll have to control it. Maybe I can redirect the flow long enough to
get us across.”
“In your condition?” Nico said. “No way. I’d feel safer with the arrow idea.”
I staggered to the edge of the river. I didn’t know if I could do this. I was the child of
Poseidon so controlling salt water was no problem. Regular river, maybe. If the river
spirits were feeling cooperative. Magical Underworld rivers? I had no idea.
“Stand back,” I said. I concentrated on the current, the raging black water rushing past.
I imagined that it was part of my own body. I could control the flow, make it respond to
my will. I wasn’t sure but I felt the water churned and bubbled more violently as if it
could sense my presence. I knew I couldn’t stop the river altogether. The current would
back up and flood the whole valley, exploding all over us as soon as I let it go. But there
was another solution.
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered.
I raised my arms like I was lifting something over my head. My bad shoulder burned like
lava but I tried to ignore it. The river rose. It surged out of its banks, flowing up and
then down again in a great arc — a raging black rainbow of water twenty
feet high. The
riverbed in front of us turned into a drying mud — a tunnel under the river just wide
enough for two people to walk side-by-side.
Thalia and Nico stared at me in amazement. “Go,” I said. “I can’t hold this for long.”
Yellow spots danced in front of my eyes. My wounded shoulder merely screamed in
pain. Thalia and Nico scrambled into the riverbed and made their way across the sticky
mud.
Not a single drop. I can’t let a single drop of water touch them. The River Lethe fought
me. It didn’t want to be forced out of its bank. It wanted to crash down to my friends,
wipe their minds clean, and drown them. But I held the arc.
Thalia climbed the opposite bank and turned to help Nico. “Come on, Percy,” she said.
“Walk.”
My knees were shaking; my arms trembled. I took a step forward and almost fell. The
water arc quivered. “I can’t make it,” I called.
“Yes, you can,” Thalia said. “’We need you.”
Somehow I managed to climb down into the riverbed. One step, then another. The
water surged above me. My boots squished in the mud. Half-way across, I stumbled. I
heard Thalia scream, “NO!” And my concentration broke.
As the River Lethe crashed down at me, I had time for one last desperate thought: Dry.
I heard the roar and felt the crash of tons of water as the river fell back on its natural
course but…
I opened my eyes. I was surrounded in darkness. I was completely dry. A layer of air
covered me like a second skin, shielding me from the effects of the water. I struggled to
my feet. Even the small effort to stay dry, something I’d done many times in normal
water, was almost more than I could handle. I slugged forward to the black current,
blind and doubled over with pain.
I climbed out of the River Lethe, surprising Thalia and Nico who jumped back a good
five feet. I staggered forward, collapsed in front of my friends and passed out cold.
*****
The taste of nectar brought me around. My shoulder felt better but I had an
uncomfortable buzz in my ears. My eyes felt hot like I have a fever.
“We can’t risk any more nectar,” Thalia was saying. “He’ll burst into flames.”
“Percy,” Nico said, “Can you hear me?”
“Flames,” I murmured. “Got it.”
I sat up slowly. My shoulder was newly bandaged. It still hurt but I was able to stand.
“We’re close,” Nico said. “Can you walk?”
The mountain loomed above us. A dusty trail snaked up a few hundred feet to the
mouth of a cave. The path was lined with human bones for that extra cozy feel.
“Ready,” I said.
“I don’t like this,” Thalia murmured.
She cradled the carnation which was pointing toward the cave. The flower now had two
petals left like very sad bunny ears.
“A creepy cave,” I said. “The goddess of ghosts. What’s not to like?”
As if in response, a hissing sound echoed down the mountain. White mist billowed from
the cave like someone had turn on a dry ice machine. In the fog, an image appeared —
a tall woman with disheveled blonde hair. She wore pink bathrobe and had a wine glass
in her hand. Her face was stern and disapproving. I could see right through her so I
knew she was a spirit of some kind but her voice sounded real enough.
“Now you come back,” she growled. “Well, it’s too late.”
I looked at Nico and whispered, “Melinoe?”
Nico didn’t answer. He stood frozen, staring at the spirit.
Thalia lowered her bow, “Mother?” Her eyes teared up. Suddenly she looked about
seven year old.
The spirit threw down her wine glass. It shattered and dissolved into the fog.
“That’s right, girl. Doomed to walk the earth, and it’s your fault! Where were you when I
died? Why did you run away when I needed you?”
“I— I—”
“Thalia,” I said. “It’s just a shade, it can’t hurt you.”
“I’m more than that,” the spirit growled, “and Thalia knows it.”
“But you abandoned me.” Thalia said.
“You wretched girl! Ungrateful runaway!”
“Stop,” Nico stepped forward with the sword drawn but the spirit changed form and
faced him.
This ghost was harder to see. She was a woman in an old fashioned black velvet dress
with a matching hat. She wore string of pearls and white gloves and her dark hair was
tied back. Nico stopped in his tracks.
“No.”
“My son,” the ghost said, “you were taken from me so young. I died of grief, wondering
what had happened to you and your sister. ”
“Mama?”
“No, it’s my mother,” Thalia murmured as if she still saw the first image.
My friends were helpless. The fog began thickening around their feet, twining around
their legs like vines. The color seemed to fade from their clothes and faces as if they too
are becoming shades.
“Enough,” I said but my voice hardly worked. Despite the pain, I lifted my sword and
stepped toward the ghost. “You’re not anybody’s mama.”
The ghost turned toward me. The image flickered and I saw the goddess of ghosts in
her true form.
You think after a while I would stop getting freaked out by the appearance of Greek
ghoulies but Melinoe caught me by surprise. Her right half was pale chalky white like
she’d been drained of blood. Her left half was pitch black and hardened like mummy
skin. She wore a golden dress and a golden shawl. Her eyes were empty black voids and
when I looked into them, I felt as if I’m seeing my own death.
“Where are your ghosts?” she demanded in irritation.
“My— I don’t know. I don’t have any.”
She snarled. “Everyone has ghosts — deaths you regret. Guilt. Fear. Why can I not see
yours?”
Thalia and Nico were still entranced, staring at the goddess as if she were their long lost
mother. I thought of other friends I’d seen die: Bianca di Angelo, Zoë Nightshade, Lee
Fletcher to name a few.
“I've made peace with them,” I said. “They’ve passed on. They’re not ghosts. Now, let
my friends go!”
I slashed at Melinoe with my sword. She backed up quickly, growling in frustration. The
fog dissipated around my friends. They stood blinking at the goddess as if it they were
just seeing how hideous she was.
“What is that?” Thalia said. “Where—”
“It was a trick,” Nico said. “She fooled us.”
“You are too late, demigods,” Melinoe said. Another petal fell off my carnation, leaving
only one. “The deal has been struck.”
“What deal?” I demanded.
Melinoe made a hissing sound and I realized it was her way of laughing. “So many
ghosts, my young demigod. They long to be unleashed. When Kronos rules the world, I
shall be free to walk among mortals both night and day, sewing terror as they deserve.”
“Where’s the sword of Hades?” I demanded. “Where’s Ethan?”
“Close,” Melinoe promised. “I will not stop you. I would not need to. Soon, Percy
Jackson, you will have many ghosts and you will remember me.”
Thalia notched an arrow and aimed it at the goddess. “If you open a path to the world,
do you really think Kr
onos will reward you? He’ll cast you into Tartarus along with the
rest of Hades’ servants.”
Melinoe bared her teeth. “Your mother was right, Thalia. You are an angry girl. Good at
running away, not much else.”
The arrow flew but as it touched Melinoe she dissolved into fog, leaving nothing but the
hiss of her laughter. Thalia’s arrow hit the rocks and shattered harmlessly.
“Stupid ghost,” she muttered. I could tell she was really shaken up. Her eyes were
rimmed with red; her hands trembled.
Nico looked just as stunned like someone had smacked him between the eyes. “The
thief?” he managed.
“Probably in the cave. We have to stop him before—” Just then the last petal fell off the
carnation. The flower turned black and wilted. “Too late,” I said.
A man’s laughter echoed down the mountain. “You’re right about that,” a voice boomed.
At the mouth of the cave stood two people — a boy with an eye patch and ten-foot-tall
man in tattered prison jumpsuit. The boy I recognize, Ethan Nakamura, son of Nemesis.
In his hands was an unfinished sword — a double edged blade of black Stygian iron with
skeletal designs etched in silver. It had no hilt but set in the base of the blade was a
golden key, just like I’d seen in Persephone’s image.
The giant man next to him had eyes of pure silver. His face was covered with a scraggly
beard and his gray hair stuck out wildly. He looked thin and haggard in his rip prison
clothes as though he’d spent the last few thousand years at a bottom of a pit. But even
in this weakened state he looked plenty scary. He held out his hand and a giant spear
appeared.
I remembered what Thalia had said about Iapetus. His name means The Piercer
because that’s what he likes to do to his enemies. The Titan smiled cruelly.
“And now I will destroy you.”
“Master,” Ethan interrupted. He was dressed in combat fatigues with a backpack slung
over his shoulder. His eye patch was crooked, his face smeared with soot and sweat.
“We have the sword, we should—”
“Yes, yes,” the Titan said impatiently. “You’ve done well, Noaka.”
“It’s Nakamura, Master.”
“Whatever. I’m sure my brother Kronos will reward you. But now, we have killing to
attend to.”
“My lord,” Ethan persisted. “You’re not at full power. We should ascend and summon