𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬 (𝐩𝐭.𝟏)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟔

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘

I'd finally found something I was really good at.

The Queen Anne's Revenge responded to my every command. I knew which ropes to hoist, which sails to raise, which direction to steer. We plowed through the waves at what I figured was about ten knots. I even understood how fast that was. For a sailing ship, pretty darn fast.

It all felt perfect—the wind in my face, the waves breaking over the prow.

But now that we were out of danger, all I could think about was how much I missed Tyson, and how worried I was about Grover.

I couldn't get over how badly I'd messed up on Circe's Island. If it hadn't been for Diane, I'd still be a rodent, hiding in a hutch with a bunch of cute furry pirates. I thought about what Circe had said: See, Percy? You've unlocked your true self!

I still felt changed. Not just because I had a sudden desire to eat lettuce. I felt jumpy, like the instinct to be a scared little animal was now a part of me. Or maybe it had always been there. That's what really worried me.

We sailed through the night.

Diane tried to help me keep lookout, but sailing didn't agree with her. After a few hours rocking back and forth, her face turned the color of guacamole and she went below to lie in a hammock.

I watched the horizon. More than once I spotted monsters. A plume of water as tall as a skyscraper spewed into the moonlight. A row of green spines slithered across the waves—

something maybe a hundred feet long, reptilian. I didn't really want to know.

Once I saw Nereids, the glowing lady spirits of the sea. I tried to wave at them, but they disappeared into the depths, leaving me unsure whether they'd seen me or not.

Sometime after midnight, Diane came up on deck. We were just passing a smoking volcano island. The sea bubbled and steamed around the shore.

"One of the forges of Hephaestus," Annabeth said. "Where he makes his metal monsters."

"Like the bronze bulls?"

She nodded. "Go around. Far around."

I didn't need to be told twice. We steered clear of the island, and soon it was just a red patch of haze behind us.

I looked at Diane. "The reason you hate Cyclopes so much ... the story about how Thalia really died. What happened?"

It was hard to see her expression in the dark.

"I guess you deserve to know," she said finally. "The night Grover was escorting us to camp, he got confused, took some wrong turns. You remember he told you that once?"

I nodded.

"Well, the worst wrong turn was into a Cyclops's lair in Brooklyn."

"They've got Cyclopes in Brooklyn?" I asked.