Anthízo, Percy Jackson

XXVI. death was only getting closer

EVEN WHEN THEY'D gotten into town, karina was still a shivering and chattering mess. her hair was now matted with dried mud, and her skin felt tight, like someone had applied a mud mask to her whole body, and let it harden. but, she had somehow figured out that when she concentrated on the mud on her body, it just . . . disappeared. she had no idea how she did that, but as they continued to walk, she slowly got most of the mud off of her, and then she did the same to percy.

probably a ceres thing, she thought.

frank had tried his best to supply her with his jacket, and another old one on top of that, but it was as if the cold air blew right through it, because she felt every small chill that passed through her body.

the trio, consisting of frank, karina, and percy, had been following hazel as she winded her way through town, and along third avenue. there was a railroad station there, and a big white two-story hotel, named the seward hotel, which seemed nice enough. they thought about stopping there, but they didn't think it to be a good idea to traipse into the lobby covered in mud, nor were they sure the hotel would give a room to three minors.

instead, they turned toward the shoreline. and to the left, karina finally saw it.

hazel's old home.

it was still there, even after all those years, leaning over the water on barnacle-encrusted piers. the roof sagged. the walls were perforated with holes like buckshot. the door was boarded-up, and a hand-painted sign read: r̶o̶o̶m̶s̶ - s̶t̶o̶r̶a̶g̶e̶ - ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ.

"come on," hazel said.

"uh, you sure it's safe?" frank asked.

hazel found an open window and climbed inside. karina and the others following shortly after. the room hadn't been used in a long time, she could tell. their feet kicked up dust that swirled in the buckshot beams of sunlight. mouldering cardboard boxes were stacked along the walls. their faded labels read: greeting cards, assorted seasonal. why several hundred boxes of seasonal greeting's had wound up crumbing to dust in a warehouse in alaska, karina had no idea.

"it's warmer in here, at least," frank said. "guess no running water? maybe i can go shopping. i'm not as muddy as you guys. i could find us some clothes. hazel, you could come along too, if you'd like."

it seemed as if hazel only half heard him.

she climbed over a stack of boxes in the corner. an old sign was propped against the wall: ɢᴏʟᴅ ᴘʀᴏsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ sᴜᴘᴘʟɪᴇs. karina thought she'd find a bare wall behind it, but when hazel moved the sign, there were photos and drawings of hazel's pinned against the wall, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from her. the sign must have protected them from sunlight and the elements. they seemed not to have aged. there were crayon drawings of new orleans, and hazel's mother stared out at her from one photograph, smiling in front of her business sign: ᴍᴀʀɪᴇ's ɢʀɪs-ɢʀɪs— ᴄʜᴀʀᴍs sᴏʟᴅ, ғᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴇs ᴛᴏʟᴅ.

next to that picture, was a picture of a boy who looked strangely similar to the boy that she saw a few days ago in her dreams. he wore a crazy grin, and had curly black hair, with beautiful eyes.

frank's fingers hovered over the photo. "who . . . "
he saw that she was crying and clamped back his question. "sorry, hazel. this must be really hard. do you want some time— "

"no," she croaked. "no, it's fine."

"oh, hazel," karina sighed softly, making her way over to her, and wrapping her arms around her tightly, placing one hand on the back of her head, and the other resting around her shoulders, rubbing her back softly.