LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE . . . pjo

XXV.

MIA DID NOT, in fact, do that right.

That was why she was haphazardly stitching a sail from the uniforms Clarisse's ghosts were wearing with her limited skills in sewing from watching old ladies do it in parlor rooms and from classes she'd taken when she was younger. That was why Annabeth had dived and saved Percy and a bunch of their other items from the ocean, but no Tyson or Clarisse or anyone else. That was why they were sailing in a direction, but they didn't know what they were doing.

Annabeth was tacking into the wind. Mia had Percy's head in her lap, absentmindedly carding her fingers through his hair as she stared down at the water. She and Annabeth had ran out of conversation topics a long time ago.

At least, until Percy woke up.

Mia didn't even realize it until his head was halfway off her lap, but then it fell back down to her thigh.

"Rest," she said, putting on a reassuring smile. "You're going to need it."

"Tyson . . . ?"

Her smile faded. "Percy, I'm really sorry."

They were silent while the waves tossed them up and down.

"He may have survived," she said halfheartedly. "I mean, fire can't kill him."

Percy nodded, but he didn't look reassured.

Waves lapped at the boat. Annabeth showed him what she'd salvaged from the wreckage. Percy still had Hermes's bottle of multivitamins and Riptide in his pockets.

They sailed for hours. Now that they were in the Sea of Monsters, the water glittered a more brilliant green, like Hydra acid. The wind smelled fresh and salty, but it carried a strange metallic scent, too — as if a thunderstorm were coming. Or something even more dangerous.

No matter which way they turned, the sun seemed to shine straight into Mia's eyes. They took turns sipping from the Dr Pepper, shading themselves with the sail as best they could. And they talked about Percy's latest dream of Grover.

By Annabeth's estimate, they had less than twenty-four hours to find Grover, assuming Percy's dream was accurate, and assuming the Cyclops Polyphemus didn't change his mind and try to marry Grover earlier.

"Yeah," Percy said bitterly. "You can never trust a Cyclops."

Annabeth stared across the water. "I'm sorry, Percy. I was wrong about Tyson, okay? I wish I could tell him that."

Mia stared down at the water, tapping her nails in a pattern on Percy's hand, which he kept outstretched for her.

"Annabeth, what's Chiron's prophecy?" he asked.

Annabeth pursed her lips. "Percy, I shouldn't—"

"I know Chiron promised the gods he wouldn't tell me. But you didn't promise, did you?"

"Knowledge isn't always good for you."

"Your mom is the wisdom goddess!"

"I know! But every time heroes learn the future, they try to change it, and it never works."

"The gods are worried about something I'll do when I get older," Percy guessed. "Something when I turn sixteen."

Annabeth twisted her Yankees cap in her hands. "Percy, I don't know the full prophecy, but it warns about a half-blood child of the Big Three — the next one who lives to the age of sixteen. That's the real reason Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades swore a pact after World War II not to have any more kids. The next child of the Big Three who reaches sixteen will be a dangerous weapon."