absquatulate━━HEROES OF OLYMPUS

: ̗̀➛ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑

—UNTIL they met the exploding statue, Evan thought Duska was going to explode himself.

Not that Evan could blame him. Once the Argo II reached the Roman camp, there would be nothing in between Percy Jackson and Duska. And the two had... history, to say the least.

Evan didn't know if he could trust Duska to hold himself, not when his so-called arch nemesis would stand in front of him. Maybe Evan could sneak around and snatch Duska's swords. But he doubted that would work—Duska never separated with his blades unless it was necessary. And he was almost equally as good with his hands.

The previous months or so had returned some of his natural tan, and he looked a lot healthier than before they met the other demigods. Evan, too, felt better than before. His wings didn't lose his feathers as frequently, but he knew they would never be entirely healed.

When his mother, Arke, was thrown into Tartarus by Zeus after the first Titan War, he ripped off her wings, and Evan bore the same curse. His wings had never been torn off, but they were shredded and he couldn't even fly. If you looked closely, you could see the shimmering off a dull rainbow beneath the black material of his feathers, like scales on a fish. Or so Evan was told. He'd never been able to see it himself.

For the hundredth time that day, he shivered. He was used to blazing heat, not cold wind cutting through his clothes. Despite that, he remained on deck, looking over the railing with curiosity.

He prayed Leo's holographic scroll worked and the Romans wouldn't blast them out of the air on sight.

The Argo II definitely did not look friendly. Two hundred feet long, with a bronze-plated hull, mounted repeating crossbows fore and aft, a flaming metal dragon for a figurehead, and two rotating ballistae amidships that could fire explosive bolts powerful enough to blast through concrete... well, it wasn't the most appropriate ride for a meet-and-greet with the neighbors.

Leo had wanted to paint a giant message on the bottom of the hull—WASSUP? with a smiley face—which Evan loved, once he knew what a smiley face was, but the rest of the crew vetoed. Duska had even later said he wasn't sure if Romans had a sense of humor.

Too late to turn back now.

The clouds broke around their hull, revealing the gold-and-green carpet of the Oakland Hills below them. He only knew that it was called Oakland Hills because Annabeth had told him. To him, it just seemed like more things he had never seen before but was very cool.

His six crewmates took their places.

On the stern quarterdeck, Leo rushed around like a madman, checking his gauges and wrestling levers. Evan didn't know what half those tools he used were, having never seen them before, but he knew that even by demigod standards, Leo was seriously ADHD.

Despite their rocky start, Leo intrigued him. And that was the least Evan could call it.

Piper paced back and forth between the mainmast and the ballistae, practicing her lines.

"Lower your weapons," she murmured. "We just want to talk."

Her charmspeak was so powerful, the words flowed over Evan, filling him with the desire to drop his cutlass and have a nice long chat.

For a child of Aphrodite, Piper tried hard to play down her beauty. Today she was dressed in tattered jeans, worn-out sneakers, and a white tank top with pink cartoon designs that looked like a white cat with a bow. (Maybe as a joke, though Evan could never be sure with Piper.) Her choppy brown hair was braided down the right side with an eagle's feather.