¹POCKET FULL OF POSIES. p. jackson

ix. Êta's Love (Death) Trap

chapter nine
❛ êta's love trap ❜

━━━━━  JOSEPHINE WOULD HAVE loved to have some deep philosophical idea about life and death — why the concept of death shapes life and why every action they take is a step closer to death and how they shouldn't fear death because of it ... or something like that. However, as she plummeted right to her death, she had no philosophical ideas. All that came out was; "You're going to kill me!"

              Percy didn't seem to like the truth of the matter (and it certainly wasn't a lie; not even a simple allegation); however, whatever he snapped back, it was carried away by the wind. The Mississippi River raced for them, faster than what felt like light. Despite being the reason they were now plummeting to their death (instead of burning to death), Josephine still found herself tightening her grip on the son of Poseidon. She could see his lips moving, and she knew he was letting out a string of curses that would have any nun washing out his mouth with soap. Her hair whipped around violently in the wind, standing up straight like a burning torch; the wind had long ripped the air from her lungs. Steeples, skyscrapers, and bridges tumbled in and out of her vision.

              She knew hitting any water at a great height was like hitting concrete. Josephine knew that. Why Percy ever thought they — or at the very least, her, a daughter of Apollo — could make it out alive was astonishing to her.

              Josephine squeezed her eyes shut, any possibility of one last philological thought gone from her brain. Percy's fingers dug into her side as he tightened his grip. They tensed as they headed for the water. Then —

              The impact. It was like colliding with a thousand needles all at once, the water an unforgiving barrier as the weight of the two pushed them through the surface. The shock of it sent jolts through Josephine's body; even further, the jolt stole the air right from her lungs. There was a whiteout of bubbles. Through the lingering pain of thousands of needles poking her body, Josephine sank to the bottom of the murky river, still clinging onto Percy.

              They were settled at the bottom for a few moments, then, an extra large catfish lurched away into the gloom. Seeing a catfish face-to-face, in that animal's home territory, lurched Josephine out of any sense of "peace" — the shock of still being alive and breathing underwater seemed to clog up her lungs. She balked, letting go of Percy immediately. And quickly, the water clung to her, soaking through her clothes and to her bones. Her hair started floating slightly around her. Bubbles escaped through her nose as she breathed out. Josephine squinted through the water — Percy still looked completely dry. The water around Percy's skin looked lighter, the way the water did around hydrophobic things.

              Her lungs started to burn. She was running out of air. She kicked off the ground, swimming for the shore. Once she broke the water, she took a huge gasp of air. She pulled herself onto the dirty shore, shivering from the wind blowing past. She sat on the edge, patting down her shorts to see if her daggers were still on her. Then, she took to wringing out the murky water from her hair.

              Before she knew it, two pairs of arms were grabbing Josephine under the armpits, pulling her to her feet. She looked around wildly, worried it was police or park rangers — however, it was only Annabeth and Grover, and both were staring up at the smoking hole in the Arch with shock.

              Annabeth's eyes snapped back down to Josephine, her grey eyes an odd mix of fear and anger. "What the hell happened up there?" she demanded, pulling Josephine away from the Mississippi River.