Nemesism

3)

I HELPED JASON FIGHT the stupid storm spirits. Each and every time I fight them, the more I want to murder who ever the hell made storm spirits. (I'm going to blame Zeus)

When Hazel, Frank and Nico came back, Jason and I went to take a nap. Then we were up doing the same routine for two days. Waking up, fighting, breakfast, fight, lunch fighting, dinner, fighting, sleep for like three hours, fighting.

It was getting so bad to a point where Jason passed out on the deck and I was left alone to fight the storm spirits. He didn't even wake up when I was fighting them. After he had a good nap, he let me sleep, but I went off to bed, Leo's bed specifically. I dragged Leo to bed with me knowing he and I both needed rest.

That same morning we woke up to someone screaming, Hazel was screaming. We all ran to her room to see if she was okay.

She was dancing around her cabin while a weasel scampers where between her feet, screeching and farting. Her bed was a mess, all the covers where on the floor.

I had to cover Leo's mouth because he was going to make a joke about the whole thing. I didn't really understand why she had a weasel, but she was alright, that's what mattered.

Jason and I were walking out of the bathrooms talking about everything, which had become a routine. I was about to tell him about my necklace but suddenly the boat lurched forward.

Jason and I tumbled falling on each other. My head hit the wall and I groaned from the pain. Jason pushed himself off of me and drew his sword out. I stood up dazed holding my head.

Through a fog of pain, I heard the ship's figurehead, Festus the bronze dragon, creaking in alarm and shooting fire.

Dimly, I wondered if we had hit an iceberg—but in the Adriatic, in the middle of summer? Maybe I hit my head too hard.

The ship rocked to port with a massive commotion, like telephone poles snapping in half.

"Gahh!" Leo yelled somewhere. "It's eating the oars!"

What is? I wondered.

Everyone else was scrambling. Jason jumped over Hazel and Frank, his sword drawn, and raced toward the stern. I moved to the empty spots around them following after Jason. Piper was already on the quarterdeck, shooting food from her cornucopia and yelling, "Hey! HEY! Eat this, ya stupid turtle!"

Turtle?

Leo frantically worked the ship's controls. "Oars won't retract. Get it away! Get it away!"

Up in the rigging, Nico's face was slack with shock.

"Styx—it's huge!" he yelled. "Port! Go port!"

Coach Hedge was the last one on deck. He compensated for that with enthusiasm. He bounded up the steps, waving his baseball bat, and without hesitation goat-galloped to the stern and leaped over the rail with a gleeful "Ha- HA!"

The boat shuddered. More oars snapped, and Leo yelled, "No, no, no! Dang slimy-shelled son of a mother!"

The creature was the size of an island. When I saw the massive dome of craggy black and brown squares, the word turtle simply did not compute. Its shell was more like a landmass—hills of bone, shiny pearl valleys, kelp and moss forests, rivers of seawater trickling down the grooves of its carapace.

On the ship's starboard side, another part of the monster rose from the water like a submarine.

What in the gods...was that its head?

Its gold eyes were the size of wading pools, with dark sideways slits for pupils. Its skin glistened like wet army camouflage—brown flecked with green and yellow. Its red, toothless mouth could've swallowed the Athena Parthenos in one bite.