NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jackson

seventy one: the civil war.

THEY DIDN'T MAKE it to the ship.

Halfway across the dock, three giant eagles descended in front of them. Each deposited a Roman commando in purple and denim with glittering gold armor, sword, and shield. The eagles flew away, and the Roman in the middle, who was scrawnier than the others, raised his visor.

"Surrender to Rome!" Octavian shrieked.

Hazel drew her cavalry sword and grumbled, "Fat chance, Octavian."

Brooklyn cursed. By himself, the skinny augur wouldn't have bothered her, but the two other guys looked like seasoned warriors — a lot bigger and stronger than she wanted to deal with.

Piper raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Octavian, what happened at camp was a setup. We can explain."

"Can't hear you!" Octavian yelled. "Wax in our ears — standard procedure when battling evil sirens. Now, throw down your weapons and turn around slowly so I can bind your hands."

"Let me skewer him," Hazel muttered. "Please."

The ship was only fifty feet away, but Brooklyn saw no sign of Coach Hedge on deck. He was probably below, watching his stupid martial arts programs that she could hear through the walls when she was in her room. Jason's group wasn't due back until sunset, and Percy would be underwater, unaware of the invasion.

She was running out of time. The eagles circled overhead, crying out as if to alert their brethren: Hey, some tasty Greek demigods over here! Brooklyn couldn't control them, which was sad, considering they're her animal. She couldn't see the flying chariot anymore, but she assumed it was close by. She had to figure out something before more Romans arrived.

She needed help . . . some kind of signal to Coach Hedge, or even better — her knight in shining armor.

"Well?" Octavian demanded. His two friends brandished their swords.

Brooklyn summoned her club. Instead of dropping or swinging it, she tossed it as far as she could into the water.

Octavian made a squeaking sound. "What was that for? I didn't say toss it! That could've been evidence. Or spoils of war!"

Brooklyn rolled her eyes, sticking up her middle finger at him. He huffed in exasperation.

"You other three . . ." He pointed his blade at Annabeth, Hazel, and Piper. "Put your weapons on the dock. No funny bus—"

All around the Romans, Charleston Harbor erupted like the flames when Brooklyn would set buildings on fire. When the wall of seawater subsided, the three Romans were in the bay, spluttering and frantically trying to stay afloat in their armor. Percy stood on the dock, holding Brooklyn's club.

"You dropped this," he said, totally poker-faced.

She threw herself onto him. "Yeah . . . I did, idiot."

"Guys," Annabeth interrupted. She had a cheeky smile on her face. "We need to hurry."

Down in the water, Octavian yelled, "Get me out of here! I'll kill you!"

"Tempting," Percy called down.

"What?" Octavian shouted. He was holding on to one of his guards, who was having trouble keeping them both afloat.

"Nothing!" Percy shouted back. "Let's go, guys."

Hazel frowned. "We can't let them drown, can we?"

"They won't," Percy promised. "I've got the water circulating around their feet. As soon as we're out of range, I'll spit them ashore."