This Cold Year ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase²

―iii. what should be

NAOMI REGRETTED BULLYING FRANK into letting her tag along on the quest to find the poison. 

All morning she, Frank, and Piper had scoured the port of Pylos, looking for the damned thing to no avail. All they'd found so far were Laistrygonian ogres in the bakery, a giant warthog in the public square, and a flock of Stymphalian birds stalking them. 

That was what Naomi got for wanting to get off the stupid boat. 

As much as she internally complained, she was glad for the distraction from her current issues—her worry over Nico, her fear for Camp Half-Blood, her inability to control the shadows she'd taken for granted. She didn't need darkness to take care of monsters; just her trusty swords and some well-timed footwork. 

It was also funny to watch Piper grimace every time they came across a new poster of her dad, Tristan McLean, advertising his newest movie. It was especially funny to listen to Piper gag and curse when Naomi mentioned that he was kind of hot. 

Around one in the afternoon, they found an ancient Greek ghost in a Laundromat, and Piper charmspoke him into giving them directions to an ancient stronghold where the shape-shifting descendants of Periclymenus supposedly hung out. 

After trudging across the island in the afternoon heat, they found the cave perched halfway up a beachside cliff. Frank insisted that Naomi and Piper wait for him at the bottom while he checked it out. 

Naomi wasn't happy about it, but she and Piper stood obediently on the beach, squinting up at the cave entrance and hoping their friend came back out in as few pieces as possible.

Behind them, a stretch of white sand hugged the foot of the hills. Sunbathers sprawled on blankets. Little kids splashed in the waves. The blue sea glittered invitingly. 

It reminded Naomi of the beach at Camp Half-blood and summer days spent sun-bathing with Drew, building sandcastles with Miranda and Asher, swimming with Percy and Annabeth. 

It made her chest tighten, thinking about how that's where she should have been right now. It was July, summer had long since taken hold of New York. If it was any other summer, she would have been listening to Drew complain about the Ares cabin or gossip about the latest unlucky subjects of her interest; she would have been helping tend to the gardens and greenhouse with her old cabinmates; she would have been sitting at the campfire with her partners, warm and happy and safe. 

She should have been drunk on the victory of the previous summer; not fighting another war. 

Piper nudged Naomi's arm lightly. "You okay?" 

Naomi blinked, pulling herself out of memory's warm, if tight, embrace. "Yeah," she said, shaking off Piper's worry. "Just thinking about if I'm gonna need aloe tomorrow." 

Piper squinted up at the sun, smiling in amusement. "At least it's not raining," she said. 

Naomi hummed her agreement, glancing up at the cliff's summit. The ruins of an old castle clung to the ridge. Naomi wasn't sure if that was part of the shape-changers' hideout or not. Nothing moved on the parapets. The entrance of the cave sat about seventy feet down the cliff face—a circle of black in the chalky yellow rock like the hole of a giant pencil sharpener. 

Nestor's Cave, the Laundromat ghost had called it. Supposedly, the ancient king of Pylos had stashed his treasure there in times of crisis. The ghost also claimed that Hermes had once hidden the stolen cattle of Apollo in that cave. 

Naomi was just starting to think, Frank's been gone too long, when he appeared at the cave entrance. Next to him stood a tall gray-haired man in a white linen suit and a pale yellow tie. The older man pressed a small shiny object—like a stone or a piece of glass—into Frank's hands.