NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jackson

ninety four: the cursers.

AFTER A WHILE, Brooklyn's feet felt like Titan mush. She marched along, following Bob, listening to the monotonous slosh of liquid in his cleaning bottle.

Stay awake, she told herself, but it was hard. Her thoughts were as numb as her legs. From time to time, Percy took her hand or made an encouraging comment; but she could tell the dark landscape was getting to him as well. His eyes had a dull sheen — like his spirit was being slowly extinguished. She could honestly feel hers fading as well.

"Stop it," Annabeth snapped.

Percy frowned. "What?"

"If you're telling me to stop walking, gladly," Brooklyn commented.

"No, not you guys." Annabeth smiled, then it turned into a grimace. "Talking to myself. This place . . . it's messing with my mind. Giving me dark thoughts."

The worry lines deepened around Percy's sea-green eyes. "Hey, Bob, where exactly are we heading?"

"The lady," Bob said. "Death Mist."

There was a flash of irritation in Annabeth's eyes. "But what does that mean? Who is this lady?"

"Naming her?" Bob glanced back. "Not a good idea."

"Can you at least tell us how far?" Brooklyn whined.

"I do not know," Bob admitted. "I can only feel it. We wait for the darkness to get darker. Then we go sideways."

"Sideways," Annabeth muttered. "Naturally."

Brooklyn wanted to stop, but she didn't want to stop. Not here in this cold, dark place. The black fog seeped into her body, turning her bones into moist Styrofoam.

She desperately needed something to lift her spirits. A drink of actual water. A moment of sunlight. A warm bed. A cruise. God, she wanted to be on a cruise so badly.

Suddenly Bob stopped. He raised his hand: Wait.

"What?" Percy whispered.

"Shh," Bob warned. "Ahead. Something moves."

Brooklyn strained her ears. From somewhere in the fog came a deep thrumming noise, like the idling engine of a large construction vehicle. She could feel the vibrations through her shoes.

"We will surround it," Bob whispered. "Each of you, take a flank."

Annabeth picked up a chunk of jagged black obsidian and crept to the left, dragging Brooklyn with her as she got out her club. Percy went right, his sword ready.

Bob took the middle, his spearhead glowing in the fog.

The humming got louder, shaking the gravel at Brooklyn's feet. The noise seemed to be coming from immediately in front of them.

"Ready?" Bob murmured.

Brooklyn crouched, preparing to spring. "On three?"

"One," Percy whispered. "Two—"

A figure appeared in the fog. Bob raised his spear.

"Wait!" Annabeth shrieked.

Bob froze just in time, the point of his spear hovering an inch above the head of a tiny calico kitten.

"Rrow?" said the kitten, clearly unimpressed by their attack plan. It butted its head against Bob's foot and purred loudly.

It seemed impossible, but the deep rumbling sound was coming from the kitten. As it purred, the ground vibrated and pebbles danced. The kitten fixed its yellow, lamp-like eyes on one particular rock, right between Annabeth's feet, and pounced.