BLOODSHOT . . . piper mclean

44.

EDEN HATED AIR.

Well, she did, in fact hate air, because if she was immortal, she wouldn't have to breathe it. But also, she hated air travel, and that was what they were doing.

She'd thrown up multiple times, and ended up sulkily sitting and eating saltine crackers for her dinner, but at least Piper ran her fingers through her hair, so she was pretty content with that aspect.

But now they were going to fuck up some Roman camp. Well, not fuck up, because sadly they couldn't do that, but still they were just casually dropping in. In the massive warship.

Which was actually so fucking sick, by the way. Two hundred feet long, with a bronze-plated hull, mounted repeating crossbows fore and aft, a flaming metal dragon for a figurehead, and two rotating ballistae amidships that could fire explosive bolts powerful enough to blast through concrete . . .

It was Eden's dream vehicle. And her best friend, Leo Valdez, had made it. What a legend, he was.

Speaking of the idiot, he was speeding like a madman around the deck, almost as fast as she was, which is a massive compliment, pulling levers and pressing buttons and shit. Most helmsmen would've been satisfied with a pilot's wheel or a tiller. Leo had also installed a keyboard, monitor, aviation controls from a Learjet, a dubstep soundboard, and motion-control sensors from a Nintendo Wii. He could turn the ship by pulling on the throttle, fire weapons by sampling an album, or raise sails by shaking his Wii controllers really fast.

Eden had stolen the soundboard and the Wii. She figured that was her way of contributing to the build of this motherlode.

His absolute bestie, Perfect Jason, stood at the bow on the raised crossbow platform, where the Romans could easily spot him. His knuckles were white on the hilt of his golden sword. Otherwise he looked calm for a guy who was making himself a target, which was just fucking stupidly perfect of him, that bitch. Over his jeans and orange camp T-shirt, which was a bad statement, both politically and fashionably, he'd donned a toga and a purple cloak — symbols of his old rank as leader of the shitshows. With his stupidly bright blond hair and his dumb blue eyes, he looked ruggedly handsome and in control — just like a son of Zeus should. He'd grown up at Camp Jupiter, so hopefully his familiar face would make the Romans hesitant to blow the ship out of the sky.

Eden preferred not getting blown up. She did enjoy blowing things up though.

She looked up and saw Annie Bell frowning down at her. "Shouldn't you be doing anything useful?"

"I threw up an hour ago, and I'm on the verge of doing it now, over the boat and on the stupid camp." Eden snapped. "Besides, I literally fought a fucking corn boy sleep deprived on my own. I can fight people while I'm nauseated."

Eden's girlfriend ( she would never get tired of saying it, or of thinking it ) looked over at her worriedly from where she was pacing the deck. "I told you you should've had more nectar!"

"Sorry, baby," Eden glanced up at Piper's worried face, her tattered jeans, worn-out sneakers, one of Eden's oversized shirts, and the blue eagle feather in her hair, and, god, she was so whipped. "I'll go down and get some. Want me to get something for you?"

Kaleidoscope smiled softly at her, a smile only reserved for her. "I'm good, thanks, love."

Eden stood up and pecked her lips, going downstairs to the sick bay to take a swig of nectar, before hearing horns below her. She flinched, thinking it was like the devil under her, before realizing it was just Romans. Right.

She got back on deck and stood next to Piper where she was looking down. "Don't look down," she immediately said, as if she had a third eye and just knew that she was there already. "You'll get sick."