²𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘. percy jackson

XXXIII.

ΉӨЦƧΣ ӨF ΉΛDΣƧ

"BACK THE FUCK UP." Percy jabbed Riptide at the nearest shriveled hag, but she only sneered.

We are the arai, said that weird voice-over, like the entire forest was speaking. You cannot destroy us.

Lucia pressed herself against his shoulder. "Don't touch them," she warned in his ear. "They're the spirits of curses."

"Bob doesn't like curses," Bob decided. The skeleton kitten Small Bob disappeared inside his coveralls.

The Titan swept his broom in a wide arc, forcing the spirits back, but they came in again like the tide.

We serve the bitter and the defeated, said the Arai. We serve the slain who prayed for vengeance with their final breath. We have many curses to share with you.

The firewater in Lucia's stomach started crawling up her throat. Her heart slammed against her ribcage.

"I appreciate the offer," Her boyfriend said. "But my mom told me not to accept curses from strangers."

The nearest demon lunged. Her claws extended like bony switchblades.

Percy cut her in two, but as soon as she vaporized, his chest flared with pain. He stumbled back, clamping his hand to his rib cage. His fingers came away wet and red.

"Percy, you're bleeding!" Lucia cried, her eyes widening with fear as she noticed the blood-soaked center of Percy's shirt. "Oh, gods, Your chest..."

"Antaeus," Percy's voice was airy. He was pulled back into his own memory. "This is how I killed him..."

The spirits bared their fangs. More Arai leaped from the black trees, flapping their leathery wings.

Yes, they agreed. Feel the pain you inflicted upon your own brother. So many curses have been leveled at you, Percy Jackson. Which will you die from? Choose, or we will rip you apart!

"Stay away from him!" Lucia cried.

Somehow he stayed on his feet. The blood stopped spreading, but Lucia could see how weak and pale he was becoming. She knew it was hurting him, that the wound was serious. She wanted to heal him. But she had no supplies—no nectar or ambrosia. His sword arm was heavy and weak. Lucia felt as if she were the one stabbed in the chest.

"I don't understand," he muttered.

Bob's voice seemed to echo from the end of a long tunnel: "If you kill one, it gives you a curse."

"But if we don't kill them..." Lucia's voice trailed off.

"They'll kill us anyway," Percy guessed.

Choose! the arai cried. Will you be crushed like Kampe? Or disintegrated like the young telkhines you slaughtered under Mount St. Helens? You have spread so much death and suffering, Percy Jackson...

And Lucia of Sparta! They shrieked. The katadesmos ensnares you. Your fate now dances to our tune. It whispers your impending doom. How about an arrow through both sides to have Geryon repay you? Or to have your flesh burned to a crisp. Under Kronos, you became a weapon of death. Choose, for you are bound to us until your last breath,  your destiny has been placed in our hands. And there is no escapeeee...

The winged hags pressed in, their breath sour, their eyes burning with hatred. They looked like Furies, but Lucia decided these things were even worse.

༄

AT THE VERY LEAST THE FURIES WERE UNDER HADES' CONTROL. These things were wild, and they just kept multiplying.

If they really embodied the dying curses of every enemy Percy and Lucia had ever destroyed...then they were in serious trouble. They had made a lot of enemies.