¹ON THIS SPRING DAY. p. jackson

010.

ON THIS SPRING DAY
━━━━━ chapter ten

━━━━━ VIOLET FELT LIKE her fingers were ready to fall off. And if it hadn't been for the never-ending supply of arrows from Larkspur's quiver, she would've been out of arrows an hour earlier. She, AJ, and the rest of Cabin Seven ( despite Will Solace ) continued what they had been doing—firing arrows, moving snoring mortals, making car blockades, and killing monsters. If any monsters got too close, AJ would dart out, slash through the monster with his Celestial bronze sword, and then duck back beside Violet as she aimed an arrow through a shattered car window.

But everyone knew this formula would only last so long; the monsters were closing in—and quickly. She was regretting not grabbing some armor now. Her arms were cut with broken glass; her knees were scrapped; her clothes had been singed; she felt one gash running along her forehead and down her right temple from flying debris. Williamsburg Bridge was ablaze with fire. Everyone's faces had become beaded with sweat; for a second ( until another arrow sailed for her unprotected head ), Violet was glad she didn't have all the heavy armor bogging her down, making her more tired.

She had seen battles before, but that doesn't mean they don't scare her every time she's in another one. Her breath gets caught in her throat, and it's like a switch flips in her brain; she didn't think—she tried not to think—about what it all meant. The war. The fire. The blood. If she thought about it, she would be consumed by the fear. Being consumed by fear means becoming distracted; distraction means death. No one wants to die; that's just natural; but Violet really doesn't want to die. Frankly, she doesn't want to have to see Hades's face any time soon ( or Persephone and Demeter's either ). She also doesn't want to think of how the three judges of death would feel about the whole stealing Elain's sword and sneaking into the Underworld thing she pulled last summer.

They were being forced into a retreat. They had no other option. The bridge was ablaze; the demigods ran out of arrows; and cars burned around them, smoke pooling into the midnight sky. They could only dodge so many flaming arrows and spears from the other side before their luck ran out ( or before the Minotaur stormed them ). They weren't the children of Poseidon; they didn't have the sheer power to kill the Minotaur—especially Violet and AJ, one a child of Eros, the other unclaimed.

Above her, she heard the giant flapping of wings. She glanced up as Michael aimed a flaming arrow through the front passenger window. Vaguely through the night sky and the smoke, Violet thought she saw two pegasus—one pure black one, and the other was white with a slight splatter print on the back legs. Blackjack and Porkpie, Violet hoped. They really needed Annabeth and Percy here, no matter what Michael thought.

She and the others continued retreating—ducking and hiding behind cars, aiming arrows through broken windows or around the edge of the car. Violet or one of Apollo's kids would fire explosive arrows, others were drop caltrops in the road—they were building fiery barricades wherever they could. When not slicing open monsters that got too close, AJ would drag away sleeping mortals and get them out of harm's way. But the enemy kept advancing—an entire phalanx of dracaenae marched in the lead, their shields locked together, spear tips bristling over the top. An occasional arrow would connect with their snaky trunks, or a neck, or a chink in their armor, and the unlucky snake woman would disintegrate; however, most of the arrows glanced harmlessly off their shield wall. Not just that, about a hundred more monsters marched behind the wall of dracanae; dancing, leaping hellhounds would dart out from the line of monsters. Arrows destroyed most, but Violet's stomach lurched as she saw a couple of Cabin Seven campers grabbed by the arm or leg and dragged away. She didn't want to know what happened to them. She didn't.