𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [Jason Grace]

79

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭— until he got stabbed.

Jason slashed his gladius in a wide arc, vaporizing the nearest suitors, then he vaulted onto the table and jumped right over Antinous's head. In midair he willed his blade to extend into a javelin— a trick he'd never tried with this sword— but somehow he knew it would work.

He landed on his feet holding a six-foot-long pilum. As Antinous turned to face him, Jason thrust the Imperial gold point through the ghoul's chest.

Antinous looked down incredulously. "You—"

"Enjoy the Fields of Punishment." Jason yanked out his pilum and Antinous crumbled to dirt.

Jason kept fighting, spinning his javelin— slicing through ghosts, knocking ghouls off their feet.

Across the courtyard, Dante fought like a demon, too. His twin golden blades moved in a blur, too fast to follow his movements. He cut down any suitors stupid enough to face him.

Close to him was Annabeth, also fighting like a warrior with her dagger. Over by the sand fountain, Piper had drawn her sword— the jagged bronze blade she'd taken from Zethes the Boread. She stabbed and parried with her right hand, occasionally shooting tomatoes from the cornucopia in her left, while yelling at the suitors, "Save yourselves! I'm too dangerous!"

That must have been exactly what they wanted to hear, because her opponents kept running away, only to freeze in confusion a few yards downhill, then charge back into the fight.

The Greek tyrant Hippias lunged at Annabeth, his dagger raised, but Dante threw a dagger at him. It hit him point-blank in the chest. He tumbled backwards into the fountain and screamed as he disintegrated.

An arrow whistled towards Jason's face. He blew it aside with a gust of wind, then cut through a line of sword-wielding ghouls and noticed a dozen suitors regrouping by the fountain to charge Annabeth. He lifted his javelin to the sky. A bolt of lightning ricocheted off the point and blasted the ghosts to ions, leaving a smoking crater where the sand fountain had been.

Over the last few months, Jason had fought many battles, but he'd forgotten what it was like to feel good in combat. Of course he was still afraid, but a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time since waking up in Arizona with his memories erased, Jason felt whole. He knew who he was. He had chosen his family, and it had nothing to do with Beryl Grace or even Jupiter. His family included all the demigods who fought at his side, Roman and Greek, new friends and old. He wasn't going to let anyone break his family apart.

He summoned the winds and flung three ghouls off the side of the hill like rag dolls. He skewered a fourth, then willed his javelin to shrink back to a sword and hacked through another group of spirits.

Soon no more enemies faced him. The remaining ghosts began to disappear on their own. Annabeth cut down Hasdrubal the Carthaginian, and Jason made the mistake of turning his sword back into coin form.

Pain flared in his lower back— so sharp and cold he thought Khione the snow goddess had touched him.

Next to his ear, Michael Varus snarled, "Born a Roman, die a Roman."

The tip of a golden sword jutted through the front of Jason's shirt, just below his ribcage.

Jason fell to his knees. Piper's scream sounded miles away. He felt like he'd been immersed in salty water— his body weightless, his head swaying.

Dante was marching toward him, his expression guarded and his face unreadable. He broke into a run. Jason watched in detached emotion as Dante leapt at Michael Varus, wrapping his hands around his neck. They tumbled behind Jason and he heard the aftermath more than seeing it.