WINGED ₁

23

WHEN MADELEINE WOKE UP, the sun was setting behind a city skyline. She could see a beachside highway lined with palm trees, storefronts glowing with red and blue neon, a harbor filled with sailboats and cruise ships. For a moment, the scene was so vividly California that she ached, but deep down she knew this wasn't her home. There was something slightly off about it, like a faint scent in the breeze that burrowed itself deep.

The hippocampi had slowed down and were whinnying and swimming in circles, sniffing the water. They didn't look happy. One of them sneezed. Madeleine didn't need to be a daughter of Poseidon to know what was wrong.

"This is as far as they'll take us," Percy announced. "Too many humans. Too much pollution. We'll have to swim to shore on our own."

No one was very happy about that, but they thanked Rainbow and his friends for the ride. Tyson cried a little. He unfastened the makeshift saddle pack he'd made, which contained his tool kit and a couple of other things he'd salvaged from the Birmingham wreck. He hugged Rainbow around the neck, gave him a soggy mango he'd picked up on the island, and said good-bye.

Once the hippocampi's white manes disappeared into the sea, Madeleine and her friends swam for the shore. It wasn't at all like trying to swim through a shipwreck. The waves pushed them forward, and in no time they were back in the mortal world. They wandered along the cruise line docks, pushing through crowds of people arriving for vacations. Porters bustled around with carts of luggage. Taxi drivers yelled at each other in Spanish and tried to cut in line for customers. If anybody noticed the six kids dripping wet and looking like they'd just had a fight with a monster, they didn't let on.

Now that they were back among mortals, Tyson's single eye had blurred from the Mist. Grover had put on his cap and sneakers. Even the Fleece had transformed from a sheepskin to a red-and-gold high school letter jacket with a large glittery Omega on the pocket that hugged Annabeth's shoulders inconspicuously.

Annabeth ran to the nearest newspaper box and checked the date on the Miami Herald. She cursed. "June eighteenth! We've been away from camp ten days!"

"That's impossible!" Clarisse said.

Madeleine shook her head. She remembered the Lotus Casino like it was just yesterday. What had felt like a week had taken nearly a year off of her life. She wasn't recovering from that anytime soon.

"Thalia's tree must be almost dead," Grover wailed. "We have to get the Fleece back tonight."

Clarisse slumped down on the pavement. "How are we supposed to do that?" Her voice trembled. "We're hundreds of miles away. No money. No ride. This is just like the Oracle said. It's your fault, Jackson! If you hadn't interfered―"

"Percy's fault?" Annabeth demanded before Madeleine could say a word. "Clarisse, how can you say that? You are the biggest―"

Surprisingly, it was Percy who shouted, "Stop it!"

Clarisse put her head in her hands. Annabeth stomped her foot in frustration.

"Clarisse," Percy said carefully, "what did the Oracle tell you exactly?"

She looked up. For a moment Madeleine was sure Clarisse was going to yell at Percy, but instead she took a deep breath and recited her prophecy:

"You shall sail the iron ship with warriors of bone,
You shall find what you seek and make it your own,
But despair for your life entombed within stone,
And fail without friends, to fly home alone."

"Ouch," Grover mumbled.

"No," Percy said. "No... wait a minute. I've got it."