Bewitched || P. Jackson

𝔼verything and anything goes wrong

Tyson stopped by their couch and wrung his meaty hands. His big brown eye was full of concern. He tapped Nicki's shoulder as gently as he could muster. "Ella is scared," he said.

"N-n-no more boats," the harpy muttered to herself, picking furiously at her feathers. "Titanic, Lusitania, Pax... boats are not for harpies."

Leo squinted. He looked at Hazel, who was seated next to him. "Did that chicken girl just compare my ship to the Titanic?"

"Among others," Ethan noted, resting his chin in his palm.

"She's not a chicken." Hazel averted her eyes as if Leo made her nervous. "Ella's a harpy. She's just a little... high-strung."

"Ella is pretty," Tyson said. "And scared. We need to take her away, but she will not go on the ship."

"No ships," Ella repeated. She looked straight at Annabeth. "Bad luck. There she is. Wisdom's daughter walks alone—"

"Ella!" Frank stood suddenly. "Maybe it's not the best time—"

"The Mark of Athena burns through Rome," Ella continued, cupping her hands over her ears and raising her voice. "Twins snuff out the angel's breath, Who holds the key to endless death. Giants' bane stands gold and pale, Won through pain from a woven jail."

The effect was like someone dropping a flash grenade on the table. Everyone stared at the harpy.

No one spoke.

Around them, the sounds of the feast continued, but muted and distant, as if their little cluster of couches had slipped into a quieter dimension. Annabeth's hands found Ethan's arm. Her knuckles bore white as she clung to him.

Percy was the first to recover. He stood and took Tyson's arm. "I know!" he said with feigned enthusiasm. "How about you take Ella to get some fresh air? You Mrs. O'Leary—"

"Hold on." Octavian gripped one of his teddy bears, strangling it with shaking hands. His eyes fixed on Ella. "What was that she said? It sounded like—"

"Ella reads a lot," Frank blurted out. "We found her at a library."

"Yes!" Hazel said. "Probably just something she read in a book."

"Books," Ella muttered helpfully. "Ella likes books."

Now that she'd said her piece, the harpy seemed more relaxed. She sat cross-legged on Mrs O'Leary's back, preening her wings.

On the other side of the table, Annabeth looked like she was about to die. Ethan was rubbing circles on her thumb with his. He looked like he couldn't care if Ella told him the world was about to explode as long as Annabeth was in his hands.

Nicki gave Percy a curious glance. Obviously, he and Frank and Hazel were hiding something. Just as obviously, Ella had recited a prophecy—a prophecy that concerned Annabeth.

Percy's expression said, Help.

"That was a prophecy," Octavian insisted. "It sounded like a prophecy."

No one answered. Nicki wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but she understood that Percy was on the verge of big trouble. She forced a laugh. "Really, Octavian? Maybe harpies are different here, on the Roman side. Ours have just enough intelligence to clean cabins and cook lunches. Do yours usually foretell the future? Do you consult them for your auguries?"

Ethan stretched his free arm behind Annabeth's chair. "Y'know, I thought Augurs were meant to be well respected." His voice was jovial but his words were cutting. Something in Ethan's eye dared Octavian to challenge him.