pocket full of posies
❛ v. fury's rage on a greyhound ❜

━━━━━ JUST AS JOSEPHINE predicted, Lee attempted to persuade her to reconsider. She didn't need dreams to know that.

               It seemed Lee didn't need any sort of foresight to know that there was no changing Josephine's mind, either. He stood at the end of her bed, arms crossed, and a deeply-etched crease between his eyebrows. Everyone else in Cabin Seven was avoiding the two, even Michael, knowing better than to talk to a pissed Lee Fletcher. Maybe Lee was as laid-back as Apollo, but Lee also had Apollo's scorching vexation.

               Josephine stuffed her extra change of pants further into the bag, zipping it closed. "Lee, you've been trying since yesterday—I haven't changed my mind. And it's a little late to back out now, we leave in, like, an hour."

               She hadn't changed her mind, truly; she didn't want to go on the quest. But no matter how much of a fit she pitched to Chiron, he only told her that dreams sent messages. Her dreams were sending a message that she had some involvement.

               Josephine never wanted to rip her brain out more.

               Lee's fingers tensed over his tanned arm, as if he was drawing back a bow. "You're twelve, Josephine" —that's when she knew he was agitated; he never called her Josephine— "you shouldn't be going on a quest. Michael or I should be going!"

               The daughter of Apollo sighed. "Look," her eyes danced nervously around Cabin Seven, "Chiron thinks I have some role to play in this quest. I—I don't know how" —that was a small lie; the answer was nightmares— "but he says I do. Take it up with him."

               Lee looked convinced, but now scared. "You? You specifically? Josephine Easton? My Posie?"

               The black-haired girl shrugged. "That's what he says."

               "Well, that's even worse!" her brother argued. "I don't want you to have a role to play in this!"

               "I don't either," Josephine said, sliding off her bottom bunk, and slinging her back over her shoulder. "But we don't have a choice. Either I go and play whatever role I have or they—Annabeth, Percy, and Grover—die. Or worse."

               Much, much worse than them just dying, said that cruel voice. Gods, it sounded too much like her own; brittle and distant, almost comical. End of the world as we know it. Nature fighting against itself.

               Shut up, she snapped at the voice.

               Ah—talking back now?

               I just want you out of my head, Josephine admitted. I already have enough problems, I don't need to hear voices that aren't real on top of it.

               But I am not just a voice—

               Before that voice could scare her any further, Josephine shoved the voice out of her mind for the time being.

               Lee sighed, his shoulders sagging. He seemed to have finally there was no way Josephine was getting out of this ( no matter how much she wanted to ).

               "You'll be back by summer solstice?" he asked; Josephine nodded. "Finish the quest with all limbs attached?"

               "And my life," she promised.

               Hopefully, that cruel voice reminded her.

               "You back ambrosia?" asked Lee. "Nectar?"

               Josephine pushed the golden door of Cabin Seven open. "Pretty sure Chiron's giving us some," she said, her legs feeling like they turned to jelly the further she walked. She patted down her waist, making sure both of her daggers were present.

               She shouldered her backpack again, going over her mental checklist of items. As far as she was aware, everything she could need on a quest was in her bag. A change of clothes, general hygiene products ( including tampons or pads in case she or Annabeth did start without warning; stress can cause your period to come sooner; she may be horrible in the infirmary, but she did know that ), and, of course, weapons. Both of her Celestial bronze acinaces daggers were hanging from her waist, gleaming in the sunlight.

               Out of instinct, Josephine looked to the sun. She covered her eyes with her hand and frowned at it. She wondered if her father was watching her now, now that she was going on a quest, hoping to make him proud.

               ( Part of Josephine wanted to curse at the sun, another part of Josephine wanted to sit down and cry. She didn't want to make her father proud anymore, she just wanted her nightmares to go away. )

               The camp store loaned the questers one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. The drachmas were these coins that were as big as Girl Scout cookies and had images of various Greek gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told them, but the Olympians never used anything less than pure gold. The coins would be useful in non-mortal transactions ( the way the centaur worded it sent a little jolt of anxiety through Josephine's heart ).

               Then, he gave each of the half-bloods a flask of nectar and an airtight bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if they were seriously hurt. Ambrosia could heal almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. But even if half-bloods took too much, they would become extremely feverish. After an overdose of ambrosia, demigods would burn from the inside out.

               Annabeth was bringing her magical Yankees cap, which was a twelfth-birthday present from Athena. It was tucked in the back pocket of her blue jean shorts. A hardcover book on famous classical architecture was in her arms, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and her Celestial bronze knife was hidden in the shirt sleeve of her Camp shirt.

               Grover wore his fake feet and his trousers to pass as human. He wore a Greek rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and they could see just the tops of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him. Josephine thought it was a shame the satyr only knew two songs all the way through; Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's 'So Yesterday',  however, both of those sounded really bad.

               Out of all of them, Percy seemed to be traveling the lightest, since he didn't have many possessions at Camp. He had simply packed clothes, a toothbrush, and very few other small items. Josephine eyed the backpack, knowing that Percy was still without a weapon he could work with. She hoped Chiron had something to give the boy before they left for the mortal world.

               Lee grabbed the back of Josephine's shirt to pull her into a hug. She hugged him tightly, blinking back a set of tears. Michael gave Josephine one last pep talk while Austin, Kayla, and Will stood behind him.

               Kayla pushed Michael out of the way, saying loudly, "You have to come back, okay? I can't be stuck here with Austin without you! And I don't want to be the only girl, either."

               With a stiff laugh, Josephine promised to make it back so Kayla wouldn't be the only girl in Cabin Seven.

               Wyatt stopped next to Josephine, grabbing her tightly by the arm. "You never told me you were going on this quest," he whispered.

               Josephine blanked at how close the son of Dike was. She didn't like it. Well—she didn't dislike it, it was just ... different. She didn't know why her mind blanked and that cruel voice finally stopped talking. Did Wyatt always smell like lemons? Josephine didn't like lemons, but now she was starting to reconsider.

               "I'm sorry—Gods, I forgot, Wyatt," she said, nervously pulling at the hem of her Camp shirt. "It all happened so fast—"

               Wyat smiled at waved his hand. "S'aright," he said. "Just kill some monster for me."

               The girl nodded, a daze coming over her. Her ears burned hotly. Her face felt like the sun was boiling beneath her skin. "Yeah, I will," she agreed.

               Waving goodbye to the other campers, and taking one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, Josephine hiked up Half-Blood Hill with the other questers to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, Daughter of Zeus.

               Chiron was waiting for them in his wheelchair. Next to him stood Argus, head of Camp Half-Blood's security. Today, he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so Josephine could only see extra eyes on Argus's hands, face, and neck.

               "This is Argus," Chiron told Percy. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

               Josephine heard footsteps behind them.

               Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes.

               "Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you."

               Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around.

               "Just wanted to say good luck," Luke said to Percy. "And I thought ... um, maybe you could use these."

               He handed the sneakers to Percy, which just looked like an ordinary pair of shoes to Josephine.

               Luke said, "Maia!"

               White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling Percy so much, he dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared.

               "Awesome!" Grover said.

               Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days ..." His expression turned almost bleak.

               Percy looked startled at the kind gesture, so much so that the tips of his ears turned red. Josephine watched Luke closely, reading into the blond's facial expressions. She knew this quest couldn't be easy for the son of Hermes to handle. It had to throw salt into the wound of his failed quest.

               "Hey, man," said Percy. "Thanks."

               "Listen, Percy ..." Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just ... fuck up some monsters for me, okay?"

               The two boys shook hands. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns. Luke patted Josephine on the shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze. He gave Annabeth a goodbye hug, she almost looked like she could pass out.

               After Luke was gone, Percy told the daughter of Athena, "You're hyperventilating."

               The wistful look on the daughter of Athena's face faded quickly. "Am not."

               "You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn't you?" Percy then asked.

               "Shut up," Annabeth snapped. "Why in hell would I want to go anywhere with you?"

               She stomped down the other side of the hill, where a white SUV waited on the shoulder of the road. Argus followed after her, jingling the car keys loudly.

               Josephine looked at the flying shoes as Percy picked them up. She had the sudden realization that Percy wouldn't be able to use them, not as a son of Poseidon.

               Percy turned to Chiron, asking, "I won't be able to use them, will I?"

               Chiron shook his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air ... that would not be wise for you."

               Percy nodded sadly, then his head snapped up. "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

               The satyr's eyes lit up. "Me?"

               Josephine smiled. "You can be the world's first flying satyr!"

               Pretty soon, Josephine and Percy managed to lace the shoes over Grover's fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy was ready for launch.

               "Maia!" he shouted.

               He got off the ground just fine, but then fell over sideways so his backpack dragged through the grass. The winged shoes kept bucking up and down like broncos.

               "Practice!" Chiron called after him. "You just need practice!"

               Grover let out a lengthy scream. He went flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawn mower, heading towards the van.

               Josephine grimaced as she watched the satyr. "He needs some flying lessons, is what he needs ..." she muttered.

               Before she or Percy could head for the van, Chiron shot his hand out. His warm hand landed on Josephine's shoulder. "I should have trained you better, Percy," he said. "And Josephine, you just need more confidence in yourself. You have to take it into your own hands if you want to grow. If only I had more time ... Hercules, Jason—they all got more training."

               "That's okay," Percy answered for both of the half-bloods. "I just wish—" he stopped himself.

               Josephine looked off, down the hill, and to the white van. Unlike Percy, she has had time to train. She's been training since she was ten years old. Day in and day out for two years, she had trained and trained. That was more than she could say for Percy, who had been at camp for two weeks.

               "What am I thinking?" Chiron cried, snapping Josephine out of her thoughts. "I can't let you get away without this."

               He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and handed it to Percy. It was an ordinary disposable ballpoint, black ink, and a removable cap. Probably cost thirty cents.

               "Gee," said Percy, clearly unimpressed. "Thanks."

               "Percy, that's a gift from your father. I've kept it for years, now knowing you were who I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You are the one."

               Josephine's eyes widened. There were whispers at camp, whispers of the Great Prophecy and what it contained. The daughter of Apollo had never heard the prophecy herself, but could gather enough knowledge from whispers and dreams. If Chiron truly thought Percy was the one of the Great Prophecy ... A shiver ran up her spine.

               Percy took off the black cap, and the pen grew longer in his hand. In half a second, he held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, leather-bound grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs.

               "The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron said. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

               "Riptide," Percy translated. He sounded shocked with himself at his quick translation.

               "Use it only for emergencies," Chiron said, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but this sword wouldn't harm them in any case."

               The wickedly sharp blade glinted in the sun.

               "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?" Percy asked.

               "The sword is Celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blade will pass through mortals like an illusion. They simply are not important enough for the blade to kill. And I should warn you: as a demigod, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

               "What about Josephine's daggers? Are they also made out of that Celestial bronze stuff?"

               "Yeah, they're made out of pure gold," Josephine said dryly.

               Percy's eyes widened. "Are they really?"

               "No." Josephine shook her head. "The gold would mold too easily to make it a weapon."

               Chiron ignored the girl's comments. "Percy, now recap the pen."

               Percy touched the pen cap to the sword top and instantly Riptide shrank to a ballpoint pen again. He tucked it inside his shorts pocket, patting the pocket nervously.

               "You can't," said Chiron.

               "Can't what?"

               "Lose the pen," the centaur said. "It is enchanted. It will always reappear in your pockets. Try it."

               Percy looked wary, but he still threw the pen as far as he could down the hill. Josephine watched it disappear into the grass with a small smile.

               "It may take a few moments," Chiron warned Percy. "Now check your pocket."

               Percy slipped his hand in his pocket, pulling out the ballpoint pen.

               Josephine's grin widened. "That is really cool."

               "That's extremely cool," Percy admitted. "But what if a mortal sees me pulling out a sword?"

               Chiron smiled. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

               "Mist?"

               "Yes. Read The Illiad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whenever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go to fit things into their visions of reality."

               How nice it must've been, to not even be aware of how many dangerous things were out there looking for blood.

               For the first time, the quest felt truly real. Josephine was actually leaving Half-Blood Hill—leaving Camp Half-Blood. She was heading west on a quest, with no adult supervision, no backup plan, and not even a cell phone. ( Cellphones were traceable my monsters; if a half-blood used one, it would be worse than sending up a flare. Josephine thought it was extremely unfair. ) It was just three pre-teens demigods and one scaredy-cat satyr who were put in charge of stopping a civil war by reaching the Land of the Dead.

               "Chiron ..." said Percy. "When you say the gods are immortal ... I mean, there was a time before them, right?"

               "Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

               "So what was it like ... before the gods?"

               Chiron pursed his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually, the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

               "But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So ... even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" Percy asked.

               Josephine tried not to think of what would happen if they did fail.

               Chiron gave the son of Poseidon a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, Percy. The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fatesforbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

               "Our destiny ... assuming we know what that is."

               "Relax," Chiron told Percy. "Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

               "I'm very relaxed," Percy lied.

               Josephine grabbed him by the arm, wheeling him around to face the white van. "You sure sound relaxed," she said.

               "So do you," the boy snapped back. "It's not like we're trying to stop another civil war from blowing up the universe."

               "It's not gonna blow up the universe," Josephine argued, rolling her eyes. "Just the entire American continent."

               "That's making me feel so much better, Posie," Percy hissed.

               "Stop calling me that!" Josephine said, walking down the hill.

               "How about Josie?" Percy asked.

               Josephine started to scowl. There was something about talking to Percy now that he was out of his shell more. She just wished he was back in his shell. He had begun to test her happy-go-lucky attitude more than anyone else had before—including a certain daughter of Ares named Clarisse La Rue.

               "Hey," Percy spoke up as they got closer to the white van. "I saw you talking to that Wesley guy, from Cabin Eleven."

               "Wesley?" Josephine's eyebrows furrowed. "You mean Wyatt?"

               "Yeah, Wyatt," said Percy. "I didn't think you two knew each other."

               "Yeah, I know him," said Josephine, shrugging, "From the month or so I stayed in Cabin Eleven. He helped me around. He's nice."

               "Oh." Percy's face blanked. "Isn't he older than us?"

               "By, like, a year," said Josephine. "So what?"

               "You have a crush on him, don't you?" Percy said out of the blue. "You blushed when he talked to you."

               The daughter of the sun nearly tripped over her own feet. "Shut up!" she clamored. "I did not!"

               At the bottom of Half-Blood Hill, Josephine looked back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, Daughter of Zeus, Chiron was now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. A typical summer camp send-off.

               Percy opened the van door, smiling as he said, "You totally do have a crush on him."

               Josephine's face burned hotly. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

✿

Argus drove the questers out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be in the mortal world after so much time at camp. Annabeth was sitting up front and Grover was sitting behind the driver's seat, Percy was in the middle seat, and Josephine sat behind the passenger seat. It was as if they were normal carpoolers.

               After two years of her life spent at Camp Half-Blood, the real world seemed like some sort of fantasy. Josephine found herself staring at every McDonald's building, at every kid in the back seat of their parent's car, and at every billboard and shopping mall.

               "So far so good," Percy said. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

               Annabeth turned in her seat to give him an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, Seaweed Brain."

               "Like it's bad luck to walk with one shoe on," said Josephine. "Or to break a mirror."

               Or perhaps you are the bad luck? that voice offered.

               "It's bad luck to walk with one shoe on?" Grover asked, leaning around Percy took look at Josephine.

               She shrugged. "It's what my dad always said. I think it was just he didn't want me to walk around the house with shoes on."

               Percy narrowed his eyes at Annabeth. "Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"

               "I don't hate you."

               "Could've fooled me."

               The girl folded her cap of invisibility. "Look ... we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

               "Why?" Percy asked.

               The daughter of Athena sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple. which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god of the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

               "They must really like olives," the son of Poseidon responded.

               "Oh, forget it," Annabeth snapped.

               "Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand."

               "I said, forget it!"

               Josephine raised her eyebrows, meeting Annabeth's eyes in the rearview mirror. Annabeth didn't say anything more, snapping her book open and starting to read.

               Percy turned to Josephine next. "You don't hate me, do you?"

               She blinked at him. "... No."

               He frowned. "You sound like you do."

               "No, I don't!" Josephine rolled her eyes. "I don't hate you. But if you keep bothering me, I just might."

               "I don't bother people." Percy crossed his arms.

               The daughter of Apollo stared. "Could've fooled me," she mimicked Percy horribly.

               The son of Poseidon rolled his eyes and huffed. Argus dropped them off at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side. The head of security unloaded their bags, made sure they got their bus tickets, and then drove away, the eyes on the back of his hands opening to watch them as he pulled out of the parking lot.

✿

The rain kept coming down.

               The four campers got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad himself. Josephine was okay, but nothing spectacular. That sting came back; of course, she wasn't good. She wasn't good at anything besides fucking something up.

               The game ended when Percy tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega bite, their hacky sack disappeared—core, stem, and all.

               Grover blushed like crazy. He tried to apologize, but the three demigods were too busy laughing.

               Finally, the bus came. As they stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air.

               Josephine peered at the satyr. "What is it?" she asked.

               "I don't know," he said tensely. "Maybe it's nothing."

               She frowned. Grover was just as bad of a liar as she was. There was no way it was nothing. She started looking around herself, looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.

               She was almost relieved when they finally got on board and found four seats together in the back of the bus. They stowed their backpacks away. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

               "Stop that," Josephine whispered. "You're making me more nervous."

               Annabeth glared at her, but left the navy blue cap lying against her thigh.

               As the last passenger got on, Josephine noticed someone that made her blood run cold. She clamped her hand tightly onto Percy's knee. "Percy."

               An elderly lady had boarded the bus. She wore a crumped velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face. She carried a big paisley purse. When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered.

               Josephine wasn't sure what monster was standing at the front of the bus, she was just sure it was a monster. It rolled off the old lady in waves; 'I'm looking for half-bloods to munch on!'

               Percy scrunched down into his seat.

               Behind the first old lady came two more old ladies: one in a green hat and one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they looked exactly like the first old lady—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet monster grandmothers.

               They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves.

               The bus pulled out of the station, and they headed through the slick streets of Manhattan. "She didn't stay dead long," Percy said. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

               "I said if you're lucky," Annabeth said. "You're obviously not."

               Josephine shrank into her seat. She thought of Percy's former math teacher, having been told the story by Annabeth. "All three," she muttered. "All three—all three Kindly—"

               "Di immortales!" Grover's teeth were nearly chattering together.

               "It's okay," Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the window."

               "They don't open," Grover moaned.

               "A back exit?" she suggested.

               Josephine looked over her shoulder, looking to the back of the bus. "No," she whispered.

               Even if there had been one, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, they were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

               "They won't attack us with witnesses around," said Percy. "Will they?"

               "Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminded him. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

               "They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?"

               Josephine shrugged. "Possibly. They could also see the four of us murdering them. It's all hard to predict."

               With your luck, that would be the case, that voice sneered at her.

               You're not helping, she hissed back.

               "Maybe there's an emergency exit on the roof ..." Annabeth trailed off.

               They hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain beating down.

               The first old lady got up, 'Mrs. Dodds' Annabeth had called her. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the restroom."

               "So do I," said the second sister.

               "So do I," said the third sister.

               Then, all three started coming down the aisle.

               "I've got it," Annabeth said. "Percy, take my hat."

               "What?"

               Josephine was starting to catch on to the daughter of wisdom's train of thought.

               "You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

               "But you guys—"

               "There's an outside chance they might not notice us," said Annabeth. "You're a son of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

               "I can't just leave you."

               "Don't worry about us," said Grover. "Go!"

               Josephine grabbed the Yankees cap, shoving it on Percy's head. He disappeared from view. However, she could feel Percy go past her; his shoulder brushed her like a small gust of wind. And, then, he was gone.

               Feeling sweat form on the back of her neck, Josephine watched as the Furies made their way down the aisle toward them. She grabbed one of her daggers, somehow finding comfort in the weapon, but was still ready to aim for a monster's head if need be.

               Mrs. Dodds stopped, started sniffing, and looked into an empty seat about ten rows ahead of the three questers. Then, after an agonizing moment, she kept going.

               They were almost through the Lincoln Tunnel by then. But just as Josephine started to have hope, the old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same—it wasn't like they could get any uglier—but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

               The Furies surrounded Josephine, Annabeth, and Grover. They lashed their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

               The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, even past the Mist, that was horrifying enough.

               "He's not here!" Annabeth yelled. "He's gone!"

               The Furies raised the whips.

               Josephine whipped out a dagger, brandishing it in front of her to keep the Furies from coming too close. Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it.

               Josephine nearly quivered under the burning stare of one of the Fury. She raised the dagger, pulling out her second one, breathing unevenly. She didn't want to fight Furies, she wanted to be back in bed at Cabin Seven.

               Then, the bus jerked left. Everyone howled as they were thrown to the right. The three Furies smashed against the windows. Josephine clung to the side of the seat, avoiding the windows.

               "Hey!" the driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!"

               The driver was wrestling for the wheel with an invisible force. Josephine knew it was Percy's fault. The bus slammed against the side of the tunnel, grinding metal, and throwing sparks a mile behind them.

               They careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins.

               Somehow, the driver found an exit. They shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, and ended up barreling down one of those New Jersey rural roads where you can't believe there's so much nothing right across the river from New York. There were woods to their left, the Hudon River to their right, and the driver seemed to be veering towards the river.

               The bus wailed, spun a full circle on the wet tar, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open. The bus driver was the first one off the bus, with the passengers yelling as they stampeded after him.

               The Furies regained their balance. They lashed their whips at the two girls, Annabeth waved her knife, yelling curses in Ancient Greek. Grover threw tin cans. Josephine backed away slightly, throwing a dagger. It nearly nicked Annabeth's arm, but it caught Mrs. Dodds in the chest. It didn't do much besides making the monster angrier.

               The air shimmered behind them. Percy appeared at the front of the bus. "Hey!"

               The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at him. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle. Every time she flicked her whip, red flames danced along the barbed leather.

               Her two ugly sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward Percy like huge, nasty lizards.

               "Persues Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said, in an accent that was definitely from somewhere further south than Georgia or Tennessee. "You have offended the gods. You shall die."

               "I liked you better as a math teacher," Percy snapped back.

               The Fury growled.

               Annabeth, Grover, and Josephine moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening.

               Percy took the ballpoint pen out of his pocket. Riptide elongated into a shimmering double-edged sword.

               That made the monsters hesitate.

               "Submit now," Mrs. Dodds hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment."

               "Nice try," said Percy.

               Annabeth must've seen something Josephine didn't. "Percy, look out!" she yelled.

               The Fury lashed her whip around Percy's sword hand while the other Furies on either side lunged at him.

               Managing not to drop his sword, he struck the Fury on the left with its hilt, sending her toppling backward into a seat. He turned and sliced the Fury on the right. As soon as the blade made contact with her neck, she screamed and exploded into dust. Josephine tucked away her second dagger, jumping onto Mrs. Dodd's back. She didn't know what else to do since her dagger hadn't managed to kill the Fury. Josephine wrapped her arm around the Fury's neck, pulling the monster backward and grabbing her dagger from the monster's chest. Grover managed to rip the whip out of Mrs. Dodd's hands.

               "Ow!" he yelled. "Ow! Hot! Hot!"

               The Fury Percy had hilt-slammed came at him again, talons ready, but Annabeth managed to throw her knife so perfectly, that it hit the Fury between the shoulder blade. The monster exploded like a piñata.

               Mrs. Dodds screamed loudly, trying to rip Josephine off her back. The daughter of Apollo clung on for life, digging her fingernails into the shriveled skin for good measure. Grover got Mrs. Dodds's legs tied up with her own whip. Finally, they both shoved her further back onto the bus. Mrs. Dodds tried to get up but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down.

               "Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!"

               "Braccas means vescimini!" Percy yelled in Latin.

               Josephine frowned, ignoring the dull pounding inside her skull. She wasn't sure where the Latin had come from since Percy had never had a lesson in Latin back at camp. Her Latin was terrible at best, but she was pretty sure it meant, 'Eat my pants!'

               Josephine wiped off her second dagger, tucking it away, making sure her other one hadn't fallen away in the skirmish. She held the bridge of her nose, wishing the headache forming would soon go away.

               Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on Josephine's arms.

               "Get out!" Annabeth yelled. "Now!"

               The four rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles, yelling, "We're going to die!" A Hawaiian-shirted tourist with a camera snapped a picture of Riptide before Percy could recap his sword.

               "Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—"

               There was a gigantic boom behind them.

               The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told Josephine that Mrs. Dodds was very much still alive.

               "Run!" Annabeth said. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!"

               They plunged into the woods as the rain poured down from the sky, the bus in flames behind them, and nothing but darkness ahead.

✿  JUNE 19TH, 2023  /  i know i'm spamming this story and idc

anyway- i luv lee and wyatt <333

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??