Under the Water(Fem. Percy)

Chapter 17

The entire swim back to the Deep Palace, I can't keep my fingers away from the medallion. Ancient Greek swirls around the edges: words for breathing, water, air, depths. I'd seen a few--no more than five-- in Chiron's desk at Camp. Never needed to use one, but he was nice enough to explain them to me. Rare trinkets from back in the day, gifted to favored mortals who gods didn't want drowning at sea. He'd lend them to demigods who pissed off my father.

But he didn't have all of them.

Luke had stolen some, I knew. Others had been lost in monster attacks before Thalia's sacrifice, others lost when the demigods holding them died. Others still had never been found at all. Really, I don't know if any of that's true, or if Chiron just tells us those things. Like how he's said things about not being allowed to fight, but still fighting when it came down to it.

He's just as bad as the gods in some ways.

All too soon, the tremendous spikes and spires come into view, and returning is just as horrible as arriving. Oceanus's power creeps over my skin, feeling me like hundreds of tiny fingers. I want to draw Riptide, and I hurry to the entrance. The imposing door is dark. It seems like a jagged hole peering into the Underworld itself.

Anger buzzes across my skin, disguising another feeling that lurks under the surface. That's maybe the worst thing about being in centers of power. There's too much to feel, and sometimes it's all I can feel. Each step in makes it worse. It spreads into my head. Makes me want to tear at my ears.

Being mad, being emotional, they're bad. I'm bad, because I get people hurt when I'm like that. In and out of anger management my entire childhood, and the last one was so fed up she berated me until I cried. Maybe now it shouldn't be surprising that the water fountain outside her room always broke. But that just proves it even more. Five people slipped on the water.

Every time I get angry, every time I get upset, something terrible happens. It's like the Fates smile wickedly down, spinning misfortune into my thread, weaving it into misery and suffering where it touches others' lives. I flutter my hands. Some of the feeling dispels. But it lurks on the edges of my awareness, and I can't help but want to crawl under that blanket and curl against Cyreus.

Or Dad, even if I don't want to bother him. Is it really bothering him, though, if he said---

I freeze in the entrance to the hall of pillars: one of the last rooms I have to pass through before I can get back to the infirmary. Shadows cloak the room. The light's had been extinguished. I sigh. Right, down here, they don't really need them. They'd been put in place for my benefit. Why keep them if I'm supposed to be in the infirmary. Shaking my hand, I press my hand to the wall and follow it along the left side of the massive room.

My steps don't echo.

Something sharp scrapes slowly over stone. Grating like nails on a chalkboard.

I turn my head and bite down a scream. The room--- The room's not dark. The lights aren't extinguished. But wall after wall after wall of scales curl through the room, wrapping around pillars, layering on top of itself. What little I can see takes up my vision. The rest, hidden in shadow. What the fuck? Is this what passes as security down here? A massive guard dog?

For some reason, I don't want to find out, so I slink along the wall. Further and further. Each step makes my heart leap into my throat. Snakes hear through vibrations on land. Is it any different for sea serpents? Why would it be? A scaled side bulges out around a pillar. Obsidian black scales seem to melt into the stone and shadows and even the water itself. The small fin along the top provides just enough light for me to know how far I have before I touch it.

There's only a foot or two between it and the wall.

I take a deep breath. This'll be fine. It hasn't moved. The constant huff and puff of its breathing has kept me on edge, but it hasn't changed. Asleep. It's asleep, I tell myself, and it won't wake up until you're long gone. The door can't be more than fifty feet away. Dashing would probably get me to it faster than the serpent can move; bigger creatures are usually lumbering beasts that are slow enough to evade with enough practice. Anxiety, or maybe just pain, pulls at my stomach.