Forgotten memories

Orion: Absolutely Miserable

Leo looked absolutely miserable. I mean, the guy already had a talent for looking like a kicked puppy, but right now? He was next-level pathetic. And it didn't exactly help that Annabeth was glaring daggers at him, her eyes sharp enough to cut steel.

"One more time," she said, her voice like ice. "Exactly what happened?"

Leo slumped back against the mast like all the fight had drained out of him. Around us, the Argo II looked like it had just gone ten rounds with a hurricane. The aft crossbows were nothing but splintered wood. The foresail flapped in shreds, useless against the wind. The so-called "fancy" satellite array—Leo's pride and joy, the thing that powered the TV and Internet—was reduced to blackened scraps of metal, which had really sent Coach Hedge into a fit. And Festus, the bronze dragon figurehead, wasn't doing much better; he was hacking and puffing smoke like he had the mother of all hairballs lodged in his throat. Every time the ship groaned, I could hear the aerial oars scraping out of alignment, making the whole vessel shudder and tilt. It flew like an asthmatic steam train with a limp.

Leo choked, and for a second I thought he might actually break down crying. "I don't know," he rasped. "It's... fuzzy."

The entire crew was watching him. Me, Christine at my side, Annabeth crouched close, Coach Hedge gripping his bat like he was about to call gym class into order, and Frank—the new kid who still looked like he hadn't figured out what universe he'd landed in. Leo clearly hated being the center of attention, but after Annabeth had explained to all of us that, yes, it really was Leo who fired on New Rome...well, let's just say the spotlight was unavoidable.

Annabeth folded her arms tightly. "You mean to tell me you don't remember?"

"I..." Leo's throat worked like he was trying to swallow glass. "I remember. But it's like... I was watching myself do things. I couldn't stop it. Couldn't control it."

Coach Hedge scowled, tapping his bat against the deck. In his gym shorts and cap pulled low to cover his horns, he looked like he was about to assign wind sprints instead of deal with a war crime. "Look, kid," he said gruffly, "you blew up some stuff. You attacked some Romans. Honestly? Awesome! Excellent! Ten out of ten destruction! But did you have to knock out the satellite channels? I was right in the middle of a cage match!"

"Coach," Christine cut in, her tone sharper than usual, "why don't you...uh...make sure all the fires are out?"

"But I already did that," Hedge grumbled, bristling.

"Do it again," Annabeth snapped. No room for argument.

The satyr muttered under his breath but stomped off, because even he wasn't dumb enough to challenge Annabeth when she got that tone in her voice.

She knelt down in front of Leo, her gray eyes pinning him in place. "Leo," she said slowly, carefully, "did Octavian trick you somehow? Frame you? Or—"

"No." Leo's voice cracked, but he shook his head anyway. He could've lied, blamed it all on that stringy-haired Roman creep, and honestly? None of us would've questioned it too hard. But to his credit, Leo didn't. "That guy's a jerk, yeah, but he didn't fire on the camp. I did."

Frank scowled, crossing his massive arms. "On purpose?"

"No!" Leo's whole face twisted like the question physically hurt. "I didn't want to. But at the same time...it felt like I did. Like something was pushing me. There was this...cold feeling inside me—"

That got Annabeth's attention. Her whole demeanor shifted. Her shoulders stiffened, and her tone came out softer, but edged with fear. "A cold feeling?"

"Yeah," Leo said quickly. "Why?"

Before Annabeth could answer, Percy's voice called from belowdecks. "Annabeth! We need you!"