The Curse of Achilles (PJO AU)

The House of Hades (Part 4)

Hermes' shrine, Tartarus

They stopped at the top of a ridge. Below them, in a sheltered depression like a moon crater, stood a ring of broken black marble columns surrounding a dark stone altar.

"Hermes' shrine," Bob explained.

Percy frowned. "A Hermes shrine in Tartarus?"

Bob laughed in delight. "Yes. It fell from somewhere long ago. Maybe mortal world. Maybe Olympus. Anyway, monsters steer clear. Mostly."

"How did you know it was here?" Annabeth asked.

Bob's smile faded. He got a vacant look in his eyes. "Can't remember."

"That's okay," Percy said quickly.

Before Bob became Bob, he had been Iapetus the Titan. Like all his brethren, he'd been imprisoned in Tartarus for eons. Of course he knew his way around. If he remembered this shrine, he might start recalling other details of his old prison and his old life. That would not be good.

They climbed into the crater and entered the circle of columns. Annabeth collapsed on a broken slab of marble. Percy wanted to do the same, but he stayed standing on his wobbly legs. He stood over her protectively, scanning their surroundings. The inky storm front was less than a hundred feet away now, obscuring everything ahead of them. The crater's rim blocked their view of the wasteland behind. They'd be well hidden here, but if monsters did stumble across them, they would have no warning.

"You said someone was chasing us," Annabeth said. "Who?"

Bob swept his broom around the base of the altar, occasionally crouching to study the ground as if looking for something. "They are following, yes. They know you are here. Giants and Titans. The defeated ones. They know."

The defeated ones . . .

Percy tried to control his fear. How many Titans and giants had he and Annabeth fought over the years? Each one had seemed like an impossible challenge. If all of them were down here in Tartarus, and if they were actively hunting Percy and Annabeth . . .

"Why are we stopping, then?" Annabeth said. "We should keep moving."

"Soon," Bob said. "But mortals need rest."

Gods, rest sounded so good. Percy had never wanted to sleep more. His legs were shaking.

"Good place here," Bob continued. "Best place for . . . oh, long, long way. I will guard you."

Annabeth glanced at Percy, sending him the silent message: Uh, no. Then her face changed. Her eyes filled with concern, and then her face hardened.

Percy was about to volunteer for the first watch, but Annabeth beat him to it. "I'll keep the first watch with Bob. You sleep, Percy."

Bob rumbled in agreement. "Yes, good. When you wake, food should be here!"

Percy's stomach did a rollover at the mention of food. He didn't see how Bob could summon food in the midst of Tartarus. Maybe he was a caterer as well as a janitor.

But Annabeth clearly needed sleep. "No, I'll be fine," Percy said, even as his body cried for him to lay down. "You sleep first, Annabeth."

She shook her head and stood up. "Look at yourself. You're about to collapse. We've been moving non-stop since we got here. I know the—" she paused and eyed Bob. "The curse. You need rest."

Percy wanted to argue, but his body betrayed him. He slipped into a controlled fall onto the marble slab Annabeth had just vacated. His eyelids turned to lead. "Wake me for second watch, okay?"

"Promise," Annabeth said.

Percy pushed his lethal pen into Annabeth's hand. This time, she took it. She kissed him, her lips unhealthily warm. "Sleep."

He was out before she finished speaking.

Later, Percy made a resolution: Never EVER sleep in Tartarus.

Demigod dreams were always bad. Even in the safety of his bunk at Camp Half-Blood, he'd had horrible nightmares. In Tartarus, they were a thousand times more vivid.

Percy was back in Alaska walking into the muskeg. He tried to turn at the last second, knowing what was coming, but he had no control. Just like before, Percy's feet sank through the ground and the earth swallowed him whole.

Mud pressed in on him from all sides. His nose was clogged with it, his eyes caked with it, his lips slimy with it. His mouth tasted like dirt. The cold and darkness surrounded him, pushing into him, screaming at him. Percy's lungs ached, begging for air.

Percy raised his arms, searching for Hazel. She wasn't there. No one was there. He was alone. He was suffocating. He was going to die.

Percy Jackson. Gaea's voice sounded in Percy's head. You belong to me now.

He wanted to scream. Get out of my head!

But she didn't. You remember this, don't you?

Now she was just taunting him. He had a feeling she knew very well that he hadn't been able to forget about this day, no matter how hard he tried.

He felt something like fingers trailing over his skin. Shivers ran down his spine. He felt unclean like he had in Phorcys' aquarium. And he still couldn't breathe. He felt light-headed from the suffocation and the fear.

The fingers stopped on the small of Percy's back. His fear grew tenfold.

I know your secret, Gaea whispered. I know your weakness.

And then pain lanced through the small of his back, so sharp and hot that he did scream. His vision turned white. Mud poured into his open mouth, plugging his throat and making his eyes bulge from the lack of air. Gaea started laughing.

He thrashed and clawed upward, reaching for anything that could save him as the pain intensified. But there was nothing there. No one was coming to save him. His lungs filled with mud and he couldn't breathe. He felt like he was being split open. Gaea's laugh grew louder.

Percy's eyes flew open. He coughed and gasped, coming to his senses. He was still in Tartarus, at the shrine of Hermes.

"Percy!" Annabeth sounded worried. "Bad dreams?"

Percy could only nod as he gulped in as much air as he could, even if it was acidic Tartarus air. Once he'd finally gotten his breath back, he said, "Is it—is it my turn to watch?"

Annabeth studied him hesitantly, and Percy imagined how he must look: wide eyes, drooping face, red skin, dirty hair, tattered clothes. She looked the same. He could see how tired she was too.

"I'm fine," he insisted, sitting up. "It's your turn for sleep."

Finally, Annabeth nodded. She gave Riptide back and curled up beside Percy. She fell asleep instantly, one arm curled around him. Her fingers rested on the small of his back, which twinged with the memory of the pain from his dream.

Percy had no trouble staying awake while Annabeth slept. He didn't want to give Gaea the chance to taunt him again, or throw him back into the muskeg. His mind was too busy to think about sleep anyway.

Did Gaea really know about his mortal spot? If she did, Percy didn't want to find out what she had planned.