𝐂œ𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬é𝐬 [Percy Jackson]

56

The next morning Hadrian woke to a different ship's horn—a blast so loud it literally shook him out of bed.

He wondered if Leo was pulling another joke. Then the horn boomed again. It sounded like it was coming from several hundred yards away—from another vessel.

He had almost forgotten that Percy had slept in his room last night, so when he saw the boy still sleeping beside him, he nearly got a heartattack. Percy looked peaceful, he looked relaxed. A little drool had gathered on his pillow but Hadrian smiled a little nonetheless.

It wasn't a crush he told himself. Just a silly little infatuation. He hoped it would go away soon, because if he looked at Percy any longer, he might want to kiss him.

Percy likes Annabeth. He told himself. That made him feel guiltier about liking him.

Kira. He reminded himself. He was going to leave this group. It was best not to get attached.

The ship horn blasted again. This time even Percy woke up.

"What the hell was that?"

"No idea. Also stop drooling on my pillows"

"You have like a bajillion"

"Doesn't mean you can drool on them, pretty boy"

Hadrian, though a little self conscious about it, rushed out of bed. He was wearing sweatpants already so he grabbed his bow and arrow and stumbled through the door. 

By the time they got up on deck, the others had already gathered—all hastily dressed except for Coach Hedge, who had pulled the night watch.

Frank's Vancouver Winter Olympics shirt was inside out. Hazel's hair was all blown to one side, as though she'd walked through a cyclone, and Leo had accidentally set himself on fire. His T-shirt was in charred tatters. His arms were smoking.

About a hundred yards to port, a massive cruise ship glided past. Tourists waved at them from fifteen or sixteen rows of balconies. Some smiled and took pictures. None of them looked surprised to see an Ancient Greek trireme. Maybe the Mist made it look like a fishing boat, or perhaps the cruisers thought the Argo II was a tourist attraction.

The cruise ship blew its horn again, and the Argo II had a shaking fit.

Coach Hedge plugged his ears. "Do they have to be so loud?"

"They're just saying hi," Frank speculated.

"WHAT?" Hedge yelled back.

The ship edged past them, heading out to sea. The tourists kept waving. If they found it strange that the Argo II was populated by half-asleep kids in armor and pajamas and a man with goat legs, they didn't let on.

"Bye!" Leo called, raising his smoking hand.

"Can I man the ballistae?" Hedge asked.

"No," Leo said through a forced smile.

Hazel rubbed her eyes and looked across the glittering green water. "Where are—oh...Wow."

Hadrian followed her gaze and gasped. Without the cruise ship blocking their view, he saw a mountain jutting from the sea less than half a mile to the north. Hadrian had seen impressive cliffs before. He'd seen the alps when he was a kid, gone to the grand canyon and all. But neither was as amazing or even as green as this massive fist of blinding white rock thrust into the sky. On one side, the limestone cliffs were almost completely sheer, dropping into the sea over a thousand feet below, as near as Hadrian could figure. On the other side, the mountain sloped in tiers, covered in green forest, so that the whole thing reminded Hadrian of a colossal sphinx, worn down over the millennia, with a massive white head and chest, and a green cloak over its back.