𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 - 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐨𝐜

¸„.-•~°ˆ˜¨ 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 ¨˜ˆ°~•-.„¸

Percy and Phoenix stood in the cold, dark cell.

Percy felt his sword reappear in his pocket.

"Great timing," he scoffed pulling the pen out. "What am I gonna do? Attack the walls?"

Phoenix gave him a sideways smile before she slumped against one of the walls and sat on the stone ground.

The cell had no bars, no windows, not even a door.

The skeletal guards shoved them straight through a wall, and it became solid behind them.

"You think the room is airtight?" Phoenix asked. She held out her hand and lit the room with a dim golden glow.

It was faint, as if she couldn't get a strong connection in the Underworld.

"Probably," Percy nodded, sitting next to her. "Hades's dungeon is meant for dead people, and they don't breathe."

"Great," Phoenix scoffed. "Forget fifty or sixty years. We'll be dead in fifty or sixty minutes."

"Meanwhile—if Hades isn't lying—some big trap was going to be sprung in New York by the end of the day, and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it."

Percy sighed and the two went quiet. He really wanted to talk to Phoenix. He knew they needed to.

He cleared his throat. "Hey, I'm sorry for dragging you into this. You could still be at camp right now."

"It's okay," she shrugged.

"No, it's not," he told her. "You-"

"Percy, I'm happier here with you knowing that you are here in this cell and not thinking that you are checking your soul into the Underworld, okay?"

Percy nodded.

A cast of silence fell across them again.

Eventually Percy fell asleep.

He dreamed he was on the porch of Rachel's beach house in St. Thomas.

The sun was rising over the Caribbean. Dozens of wooded islands dotted the sea, and white sails cut across the water.

The smell of salt air made Percy wonder if he would ever see the ocean again.

Rachel's parents sat at the patio table while a personal chef fixed them omelets.

Mr. Dare was dressed in a white linen suit. He was reading The Wall Street Journal.

The lady across the table was probably Mrs. Dare, though all Percy could see of her were hot pink fingernails and the cover of Condé Nast Traveler.

Why she'd be reading about vacations while she was on vacation, Percy wasn't sure.

Rachel stood at the porch railing and sighed.

She wore Bermuda shorts and her van Gogh T-shirt.

Rachel was trying to teach Percy about art, but don't get too impressed. He only remembered the dude's name because he cut his ear off.

Percy wondered if she was thinking about him, and how much it sucked that he wasn't with them on vacation.

He knew that's what he was thinking.

Then the scene changed.

Percy was in St. Louis, standing downtown under the Arch.

He'd been there before. In fact, He'd almost fallen to his death there before.

Over the city, a thunderstorm boiled—a wall of absolute black with lightning streaking across the sky. A few blocks away, swarms of emergency vehicles gathered with their lights flashing.