LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE . . . hoo

XXXIV.

OVER A DAY later, Mia woke up, shivering from a nightmare.

She finally felt well rested, but she saw her father's ghost in her dreams, telling her that she's useless, a murderer, a weapon that he'd tried to sharpen but he didn't care about.

It hurt, because it was him saying it. Even beyond the grave, he was still causing her pain.

That was why Mia had rushed up the stairs, a cigarette between her teeth and her lighter in her hand, exhaling the smoke. The sight of the smoke calmed her down, and she stared at it as she dropped the cigarette into the water, taking out another one from her rapidly dwindling pack and lighting it.

"Mia," Annabeth's voice called out, and she flinched, not expecting to hear another person. She turned. Leo was up here, of course he was, steering the ship. They've never talked when they're alone looking out together, and to be honest she doesn't care about starting conversation. Leaning against the forward rail were Percy and Annabeth, both turned toward her. "Come over here?"

Internally, Mia rolled her eyes. Yet her feet brought her over to them, standing a little bit away as she smoked her cigarette.

"That's a disgusting habit," Annabeth told her, grabbing the cigarette and chucking it into the sea. "Why do you do it?"

"Because disgusting habits are my favorite," she drawled, fishing in her backpack for food. She found an old pack of Oreos that she and Nico hadn't finished, and she started eating one slowly.

"Mia," Percy scolded.

Jeez, what were they, her parents? At that analogy, she shivered.

"I don't like feeling pain," she simply said, the same thing she'd told Hazel. "And it takes away the pain." She popped an Oreo in her mouth, staring out at the horizon — except, well, there wasn't much to stare at.

The weather was miserable. The fog was so thick, Mia could barely see Festus at the end of the prow, and warm drizzle hung in the air like a bead curtain. As they sailed into twenty-foot swells, the sea heaving underneath them, Mia could hear poor Hazel down in her cabin . . . also heaving. She probably should've checked on her, but she'd just wanted to get away from her dreams.

"Are we close to Italy yet?" Mia asked, just to fill in the silence. "I do love Milan. And Venice was nice, though Nico's brooding made it less exciting than it seemed." She scrunched up her nose. "Rome seems nice, though, from what I've seen, and from what Soph's told me."

She grimaced at the mention of her sister, but she didn't say anything else.

"We're not far from the Italian coast," Percy told her. "Maybe a hundred nautical miles to the mouth of the Tiber."

"Good," Annabeth said. "By daybreak, we should—"

"Stop." Percy interrupted. "We have to stop."

"Why?" Annabeth asked.

"Leo, stop!" he yelled.

Too late. The other boat appeared out of the fog and rammed them head-on. In that split second, Mia registered random details: another trireme; black sails painted with a gorgon's head; hulking warriors, not quite human, crowded at the front of the boat in Greek armor, swords and spears ready; and a bronze ram at water level, slamming against the hull of the Argo II.

Mia, Annabeth, and Percy were almost thrown overboard.

Festus blew fire, sending a dozen very surprised warriors screaming and diving into the sea, but more swarmed aboard the Argo II. Grappling lines wrapped around the rails and the mast, digging iron claws into the hull's planks.