Wildfires, Heroes of Olympus ₂

017, he misses that effing cookie so bad

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PERSEUS       JACKSON

Percy already felt like the lamest demigod in the history of lame. The purse was the final insult.

They'd left R.O.F.L. in a hurry, so maybe Iris hadn't meant the bag as a criticism. She'd quickly stuffed it with vitamin-enriched pastries, dried fruit leather, macrobiotic beef jerky, and a few crystals for good luck. Then she'd shoved it at Percy:

Here, you'll need this. Oh, that looks good. The purse—sorry, masculine accessory bag—was rainbow tie-dyed with a peace symbol stitched in wooden beads and the slogan Hug the Whole World. Percy wished it said Hug the Commode. He felt like the bag was a comment on his massive, incredible uselessness. As they sailed north, he put the man satchel as far away from him as he could, but the boat was small.

He couldn't believe how he'd broken down when his friends had needed him. First, he'd been dumb enough to leave them alone when he had run back to the boat, and Finley and Hazel had gotten kidnapped. Then he'd watched that army marching south and had some kind of nervous breakdown. Finally he'd just let Finley relapse into her drunkenness and had actually agreed to keep quiet about it, despite how dangerous that could potentially be.

Embarrassing? Yeah. But he couldn't help it. At least, he couldn't help the sickness. When he'd seen those evil centaurs and Cyclopes, it had seemed so wrong, so backward, that he thought his head would explode. And the giant Polybotes... that giant had given him a feeling the opposite of what he felt when he stood in the ocean. Percy's energy had drained out of him, leaving him weak and feverish, like his insides were eroding.

Iris's medicinal tea had helped his body feel better, but his mind still hurt. He'd heard stories about amputees who had phantom pains where their missing legs and arms used to be. That's how his mind felt—like his missing memories were aching.

Worst of all, the farther north Percy went, the more those memories faded. He had started to feel better at Camp Jupiter, remembering random names and faces. But now even Sylvie's beautiful face was getting dimmer. At R.O.F.L., when he'd tried to send an Iris-message to Sylvie, Fleecy had just shaken her head sadly.

It's like you're dialing somebody, she said, but you've forgotten the number. Or someone is jamming the signal. Sorry, dear. I just can't connect you.

He was terrified that he'd lose Sylvie's face completely when he got to Alaska. Maybe he'd wake up one day and not remember her name. There was something that instinctively told Percy he couldn't forget her. Not her.

Sylvie couldn't be forgotten. Somehow, he knew that.

Still, he had to concentrate on the quest. The sight of that enemy army had shown him what they were up against. It was early in the morning of June 21, now. They had to get to Alaska, find Thanatos, locate the legion's standard, and make it back to Camp Jupiter by the evening of June 24. Four days. Meanwhile, the enemy had only a few hundred miles to march.

Percy guided the boat through the strong currents off the northern California coast. The wind was cold, but it felt good, clearing some of the confusion from his head. He bent his will to push the boat as hard as he could. The hull rattled as the Pax plowed its way north.