This Cold Year ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase²

―xi. a random cyclops has beef with naomi

IT TOOK THEM TWO HOURS to reach the docks in Alameda. Compared to Naomi and Percy's journey from the Wolf House, the trip was easy. No monsters attacked. Nobody looked at them like they were a band of homeless thieves a-la discount Robin Hood.

Frank had stored his spear, bow, and quiver in a long bag made for skis. Hazel's cavalry sword was wrapped in a bedroll slung on her back. Naomi and Percy had their own backpacks, Naomi's having been packed by Delaney (who was definitely cementing herself as Naomi's favorite newly discovered relative).

Together, the four of them looked like normal high schoolers on their way to an overnight trip. They walked to Rockridge Station, bought their tickets with mortal money, and hopped on the BART train.

They got off in Oakland. They had to walk through some rough neighborhoods, but nobody bothered them. Whenever the local gang members came close enough to look in Percy's eyes, they quickly veered away. He'd managed to perfect his wolf stare over the last few months—a look that said: However bad you think you are, I'm worse.

In the late afternoon, they made it to the Alameda docks. Most of the tension in Percy's shoulders seemed to disappear as he looked out over San Francisco Bay, breathing in the salty sea air.

Dozens of boats were moored at the docks—everything from fifty-foot yachts to ten-foot fishing boats. Naomi wasn't really sure what they were looking for. Maybe a trireme, or some kind of warship?

"Um... you guys know what we're looking for?" Percy asked.

They all shook their heads.

"I didn't even know we had a navy." Hazel sounded like she wished there wasn't one. Naomi commiserated—she wasn't thrilled with the idea of leaving land. Her mom was an earth goddess as much as she was an Underworld goddess—the earth was where Naomi felt safest.

At least... it should have been. Mother Nature was kind of ruining the comfort Naomi was fairly certain she was supposed to feel standing on land.

"Oh..." Frank pointed. "You don't think...?"

At the end of the dock was a tiny boat, like a dinghy, covered in a purple tarp. Embroidered in faded gold along the canvas was SPQR.

"No way," Percy said.

He uncovered the boat, his hands working expertly at the knots like it was what they were born to do. Under the tarp was an old steel rowboat with no oars. The boat seemed to have been dark blue at some point, but the hull was so crusted with tar and salt it looked like one massive nautical bruise.

On the bow, the name Pax was just barely legible, lettered in gold. Painted eyes drooped sadly at the water level, as if the boat were about to fall asleep. On board were two benches, some steel wool, an old cooler, and a mound of frayed rope with one end tied to the mooring. At the bottom of the boat, a plastic bag and two empty Coke cans floated in several inches of scummy water.

"Behold," Frank said dejectedly. "The mighty Roman navy."

"There's got to be a mistake," Hazel said. "This is a piece of junk."

Percy jumped aboard the boat. He gathered up the garbage in the cooler and put it on the dock. He willed the scummy water over the sides and out of the boat. Then he pointed at the steel wool and it flew across the floor, scrubbing and polishing so fast, the steel began to spark a little. When it was done, the boat was spotless and smelled vaguely of smoke. Percy pointed at the rope, and it untied itself from the dock.

"This'll do," he said. "Hop in."

They got in one by one, and once everyone was settled on the seats, the boat slipped farther out to sea. Naomi watched the docks shrink slowly, hoping it wouldn't be too long before she set foot on land again. She felt better at sea next to Percy, but she didn't exactly love it.