The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus, Book Three) (41 page)

Piper needed a miracle,
not a bedtime story. But right then, standing in shock as black water poured in around her legs, she recalled the legend Achelous had mentioned—the story of the flood.

Not the Noah story, but the Cherokee version that her father used to tell her, with the dancing ghosts and the skeleton dog.

When she was little, she would cuddle next to her dad in his big recliner. She’d gaze out the windows at the Malibu coastline, and her dad would tell her the story he’d heard from Grandpa Tom back on the rez in Oklahoma.

“This man had a dog,” her father always began.

“You can’t start a story that way!” Piper protested. “You have to say
Once upon a time
.”

Dad laughed. “But this is a Cherokee story. They are pretty straightforward. So, anyway, this man had a dog. Every day the man took his dog to the edge of the lake to get water, and the dog would bark furiously at the lake, like he was mad at it.”

“Was he?”

“Be patient, sweetheart. Finally the man got very annoyed with his dog for barking so much, and he scolded it. ‘Bad dog! Stop barking at the water. It’s only water!’ To his surprise, the dog looked right at him and began to talk.”

“Our dog can say
Thank you
,” Piper volunteered. “And she can bark
Out
.”

“Sort of,” her dad agreed. “But this dog spoke entire sentences. The dog said, ‘One day soon, the storms will come. The waters will rise, and everyone will drown. You can save yourself and your family by building a raft, but first you will need to sacrifice me. You must throw me into the water.
’
”

“That’s terrible!” Piper said. “I would never drown my dog!”

“The man probably said the same thing. He thought the dog was lying—I mean, once he got over the shock that his dog could talk. When he protested, the dog said, ‘If you don’t believe me, look at the scruff of my neck. I am already dead.’”

“That’s sad! Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you asked me to,” her dad reminded her. And indeed, something about the story fascinated Piper. She had heard it dozens of times, but she kept thinking about it.

“Anyway,” said her dad, “the man grabbed the dog by the scruff of its neck and saw that its skin and fur were already coming apart. Underneath was nothing but bones. The dog was a skeleton dog.”

“Gross.”

“I agree. So with tears in his eyes, the man said good-bye to his annoying skeleton dog and tossed it into the water, where it promptly sank. The man built a raft, and when the flood came, he and his family survived.”

“Without the dog.”

“Yes. Without the dog. When the rains subsided, and the raft landed, the man and his family were the only ones alive. The man heard sounds from the other side of a hill—like thousands of people laughing and dancing—but when he raced to the top, alas, down below he saw nothing except bones littering the ground—thousands of skeletons of all the people who had died in the flood. He realized the ghosts of the dead had been dancing. That was the sound he heard.”

Piper waited. “And?”

“And, nothing. The end.”

“You can’t end it that way! Why were the ghosts dancing?”

“I don’t know,” Dad said. “Your grandfather never felt the need to explain. Maybe the ghosts were happy that one family had survived. Maybe they were enjoying the afterlife. They’re ghosts. Who can say?”

Piper was very unsatisfied with that. She had so many unanswered questions. Did the family ever find another dog? Obviously not all dogs drowned, because she herself had a dog.

She couldn’t shake the story. She never looked at dogs the same way, wondering if one of them might be a skeleton dog. And she didn’t understand why the family had to sacrifice their dog to survive. Sacrificing yourself to save your family seemed like a noble thing—a very doglike thing to do.

Now, in the nymphaeum in Rome, as the dark water rose to her waist, Piper wondered why the river god Achelous had mentioned that story.

She wished she had a raft, but she feared she was more like the skeleton dog. She was already dead.

The basin filled with alarming speed.
Piper, Jason, and Percy pounded on the walls, looking for an exit, but they found nothing.
They climbed into the alcoves to gain some height, but with water pouring out of each niche, it was like trying to balance at the edge of a waterfall. Even as Piper stood in a niche, the water was soon up to her knees. From the floor, it was probably eight feet deep and rising fast.

“I could try lightning,” Jason said. “Maybe blast a hole in the roof?”

“That could bring down the whole room and crush us,” Piper said.

“Or electrocute us,” Percy added.

“Not many choices,” Jason said.

“Let me search the bottom,” Percy said. “If this place was built as a fountain, there
has
to be a way to drain the thing. You guys, check the niches for secret exits. Maybe the seashells are knobs, or something.” It was a desperate idea, but Piper was glad for something to do.

Percy jumped in the water. Jason and Piper climbed from niche to niche, kicking and pounding, wiggling seashells embedded in the stone; but they had no luck.

Sooner than Piper expected, Percy broke the surface, gasping and flailing. She offered her hand, and he almost pulled her in before she could help him up.

“Couldn’t breathe,” he choked. “The water…not normal. Hardly made it back.”

The life force of the nymphs, Piper thought. It was so poisoned and malicious, even a son of the sea god couldn’t control it.

As the water rose around her, Piper felt it affecting her too. Her leg muscles trembled like she’d been running for miles. Her hands turned wrinkled and dry, despite being in the middle of a fountain.

The boys moved sluggishly. Jason’s face was pale. He seemed to be having trouble holding his sword. Percy was drenched and shivering. His hair didn’t look quite so dark, as if the color was leaching out.

“They’re taking our power,” Piper said. “Draining us.”

“Jason,” Percy coughed, “do the lightning.”

Jason raised his sword. The room rumbled, but no lightning appeared. The roof didn’t break. Instead, a miniature rainstorm formed at the top of the chamber. Rain poured down, filling the fountain even faster, but it wasn’t normal rain. The stuff was just as dark as the water in the pool. Every drop stung Piper’s skin.

“Not what I wanted,” Jason said.

The water was up to their necks now. Piper could feel her strength fading. Grandpa Tom’s story about the water cannibals was true. Bad nymphs would steal her life.

“We’ll survive,” she murmured to herself, but she couldn’t charmspeak her way out of this. Soon the poisonous water would be over their heads. They’d have to swim, and this stuff was already paralyzing them.

They would drown, just like in the visions she’d seen.

Percy started pushing the water away with the back of his hand, like he was shooing a bad dog. “Can’t—can’t control it!”

You will need to sacrifice me,
the skeleton dog had said in the story.
You must throw me into the water.

Piper felt like someone had grabbed the scruff of her neck and exposed the bones. She clutched her cornucopia.

“We can’t fight this,” she said. “If we hold back, that just makes us weaker.”

“What do you mean?” Jason shouted over the rain.

The water was up to their chins. Another few inches, and they’d have to swim. But the water wasn’t halfway to the ceiling yet. Piper hoped that meant that they still had time.

“The horn of plenty,” she said. “We have to overwhelm the nymphs with
fresh
water, give them more than they can use. If we can dilute this poisonous stuff—”

“Can your horn do that?” Percy struggled to keep his head above water, which was obviously a new experience for him. He looked scared out of his mind.

“Only with your help.” Piper was beginning to understand how the horn worked. The good stuff it produced didn’t come from nowhere. She’d only been able to bury Hercules in groceries when she had concentrated on all her positive experiences with Jason.

To create enough clean fresh water to fill this room, she needed to go even deeper, tap her emotions even more. Unfortunately, she was losing her ability to focus.

“I need you both to channel everything you’ve got into the cornucopia,” she said. “Percy, think about the sea.”

“Salt water?”

“Doesn’t matter! As long as it’s clean. Jason, think about rainstorms
—
much
more rain. Both of you hold the cornucopia.”

They huddled together as the water lifted them off their ledges. Piper tried to remember the safety lessons her dad had given her when they had started surfing. To help someone who’s drowning, you put your arm around them from behind and kick your legs in front of you, moving backward like you’re doing the backstroke. She wasn’t sure if the same strategy could work with
two
other people, but she put one arm around each boy and tried to keep them afloat as they held the cornucopia between them.

Nothing happened. The rain came down in sheets, still dark and acidic.

Piper’s legs felt like lead. The rising water swirled, threatening to pull her under. She could feel her strength fading.

“No good!” Jason yelled, spitting water.

“We’re getting nowhere,” Percy agreed.

“You have to work together,” Piper cried, hoping she was right. “Both of you think of clean water—a storm of water. Don’t hold anything back. Picture all your power, all your strength leaving you.”

“That’s not hard!” Percy said.

“But
force
it out!” she said. “Offer up everything, like—like you’re already dead, and your only goal is to help the nymphs. It’s got to be a gift…a sacrifice.”

They got quiet at that word.

“Let’s try again,” Jason said. “Together.”

This time Piper bent all her concentration toward the horn of plenty as well. The nymphs wanted her youth, her life, her voice? Fine. She gave it up willingly and imagined all of her power flooding out of her.

I’m already dead,
she told herself, as calm as the skeleton dog.
This is the only way.

Clear water blasted from the horn with such force, it pushed them against the wall. The rain changed to a white torrent, so clean and cold, it made Piper gasp.

“It’s working!” Jason cried.

“Too well,” Percy said. “We’re filling the room even faster!”

He was right. The water rose so quickly, the roof was now only a few feet away. Piper could’ve reached up and touched the miniature rain clouds.

“Don’t stop!” she said. “We have to dilute the poison until the nymphs are cleansed.”

“What if they
can’t
be cleansed?” Jason asked. “They’ve been down here turning evil for thousands of years.”

“Just don’t hold back,” Piper said. “Give everything. Even if we go under—”

Her head hit the ceiling. The rainclouds dissipated and melted into the water. The horn of plenty kept blasting out a clean torrent.

Piper pulled Jason closer and kissed him.

“I love you,” she said.

The words just poured out of her, like the water from the cornucopia. She couldn’t tell what his reaction was, because then they were underwater.

She held her breath. The current roared in her ears. Bubbles swirled around her. Light still rippled through the room, and Piper was surprised she could see it. Was the water getting clearer?

Her lungs were about to burst, but Piper poured her last energy into the cornucopia. Water continued to stream out, though there was no room for more. Would the walls crack under the pressure?

Piper’s vision went dark.

She thought the roar in her ears was her own dying heartbeat. Then she realized the room was shaking. The water swirled faster. Piper felt herself sinking.

With her last strength, she kicked upward. Her head broke the surface and she gasped for breath. The cornucopia stopped. The water was draining almost as fast as it had filled the room.

With a cry of alarm, Piper realized that Percy’s and Jason’s faces were still underwater. She hoisted them up. Instantly, Percy gulped and began to thrash, but Jason was as lifeless as a rag doll.

Piper clung to him. She yelled his name, shook him, and slapped his face. She barely noticed when all the water had drained away and left them on the damp floor.

“Jason!” She tried desperately to think. Should she turn him on his side? Slap his back?

“Piper,” Percy said, “I can help.”

He knelt next to her and touched Jason’s forehead. Water gushed from Jason’s mouth. His eyes flew open, and a clap of thunder threw Percy and Piper backward.

When Piper’s vision cleared, she saw Jason sitting up, still gasping, but the color was coming back to his face.

“Sorry,” he coughed. “Didn’t mean to—”

Piper tackled him with a hug. She would have kissed him, but she didn’t want to suffocate him.

Percy grinned. “In case you’re wondering, that was clean water in your lungs. I could make it come out with no problem.”

“Thanks, man.” Jason clasped his hand weakly. “But I think Piper’s the real hero. She saved us all.”

Yes, she did,
a voice echoed through the chamber.

The niches glowed. Nine figures appeared, but they were no longer withered creatures. They were young, beautiful nymphs in shimmering blue gowns, their glossy black curls pinned up with silver and gold brooches. Their eyes were gentle shades of blue and green.

As Piper watched, eight of the nymphs dissolved into vapor and floated upward. Only the nymph in the center remained.

“Hagno?” Piper asked.

The nymph smiled. “Yes, my dear. I didn’t think such selflessness existed in mortals…especially in demigods. No offense.”

Percy got to his feet. “How could we take offense? You just tried to drown us and suck out our lives.”

Hagno winced. “Sorry about that. I was not myself. But you have reminded me of the sun and the rain and the streams in the meadows. Percy and Jason, thanks to you, I remembered the sea and the sky. I am cleansed. But mostly, thanks to Piper. She shared something even better than clear running water.” Hagno turned to her. “You have a good nature, Piper. And I’m a nature spirit. I know what I’m talking about.”

Hagno pointed to the other side of the room. The stairs to the surface reappeared. Directly underneath, a circular opening shimmered into existence, like a sewer pipe, just big enough to crawl through. Piper suspected this was how the water had drained out.

“You may return to the surface,” Hagno said. “Or, if you insist, you may follow the waterway to the giants. But choose quickly, because both doors will fade soon after I am gone. That pipe connects to the old aqueduct line, which feeds both this nymphaeum and the hypogeum that the giants call home.”

“Ugh.” Percy pressed on his temples. “Please, no more complicated words.”

“Oh,
home
is not a complicated word.” Hagno sounded completely sincere. “I thought it was, but now you have unbound us from this place. My sisters have gone to seek new homes…a mountain stream, perhaps, or a lake in a meadow. I will follow them. I cannot wait to see the forests and grasslands again, and the clear running water.”

“Uh,” Percy said nervously, “things have changed up above in the last few thousand years.”

“Nonsense,” Hagno said. “How bad could it be? Pan would not allow nature to become tainted. I can’t wait to see him, in fact.”

Percy looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself.

“Good luck, Hagno,” Piper said. “And thank you.”

The nymph smiled one last time and vaporized.

Briefly, the nymphaeum glowed with a softer light, like a full moon. Piper smelled exotic spices and blooming roses. She heard distant music and happy voices talking and laughing. She guessed she was hearing hundreds of years of parties and celebrations that had been held at this shrine in ancient times, as if the memories had been freed along with the spirits.

“What is that?” Jason asked nervously.

Piper slipped her hand into his. “The ghosts are dancing. Come on. We’d better go meet the giants.”