Akhlys clucked. “Oh, you’re definitely not all right. ”
Percy frowned. “But we’ll pass unseen now? We can get to the Doors of Death?”
“Well, perhaps you could,” the goddess said, “if you lived that long, which you won’t. ”
Akhlys spread her gnarled fingers. More plants bloomed along the edge of the pit—hemlock, nightshade, and oleander spreading toward Percy’s feet like a deadly carpet. “The Death Mist is not simply a disguise, you see. It is a state of being. I could not bring you this gift unless death followed—true death. ”
“It’s a trap,” Annabeth said.
The goddess cackled. “Didn’t you expect me to betray you?”
“Yes,” Annabeth and Percy said together.
“Well, then, it was hardly a trap! More of an inevitability. Misery is inevitable. Pain is—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Percy growled. “Let’s get to the fighting. ”
He drew Riptide, but the blade was made of smoke. When he slashed at Akhlys, the sword just floated across her like a gentle breeze.
The goddess’s ruined mouth split into a grin. “Did I forget to mention? You are only mist now—a shadow before death. Perhaps if you had time, you could learn to control your new form. But you do not have time. Since you cannot touch me, I fear any fight with Misery will be quite one-sided. ”
Her fingernails grew into talons. Her jaw unhinged, and her yellow teeth elongated into fangs.
AKHLYS LUNGED AT PERCY, and for a split second he thought: Well, hey, I’m just smoke. She can’t touch me, right?
He imagined the Fates up in Olympus, laughing at his wishful thinking: LOL, NOOB!
The goddess’s claws raked across his chest and stung like boiling water.
Percy stumbled backward, but he wasn’t used to being smoky. His legs moved too slowly. His arms felt like tissue paper. In desperation, he threw his backpack at her, thinking maybe it would turn solid when it left his hand, but no such luck. It fell with a soft thud.
Akhlys snarled, crouching to spring. She would have bitten Percy’s face off if Annabeth hadn’t charged and screamed, “HEY!” right in the goddess’s ear.
Akhlys flinched, turning toward the sound.
She lashed out at Annabeth, but Annabeth was better at moving than Percy. Maybe she wasn’t feeling as smoky, or maybe she’d just had more combat training. She’d been at Camp
Half-Blood since she was seven. Probably she’d had classes Percy never got, like How to Fight While Partially Made of Smoke.
Annabeth dove straight between the goddess’s legs and somersaulted to her feet. Akhlys turned and attacked, but Annabeth dodged again, like a matador.
Percy was so stunned, he lost a few precious seconds. He stared at corpse Annabeth, shrouded in mist but moving as fast and confidently as ever. Then it occurred to him why she was doing this: to buy them time. Which meant Percy needed to help.
He thought furiously, trying to come up with a way to defeat Misery. How could he fight when he couldn’t touch anything?
On Akhlys’s third attack, Annabeth wasn’t so lucky. She tried to veer aside, but the goddess grabbed Annabeth’s wrist and pulled her hard, sending her sprawling.
Before the goddess could pounce, Percy advanced, yelling and waving his sword. He still felt about as solid as a Kleenex, but his anger seemed to help him move faster.
“Hey, Happy!” he yelled.
Akhlys spun, dropping Annabeth’s arm. “Happy?” she demanded.
“Yeah!” He ducked as she swiped at his head. “You’re downright cheerful!”
“Arggh!” She lunged again, but she was off balance. Percy sidestepped and backed away, leading the goddess farther from Annabeth.
“Pleasant!” he called. “Delightful!”
The goddess snarled and winced. She stumbled after Percy. Each compliment seemed to hit her like sand in the face.
“I will kill you slowly!” she growled, her eyes and nose watering, blood dripping from her cheeks. “I will cut you into pieces as a sacrifice to Night!”
Annabeth struggled to her feet. She started rifling through her pack, no doubt looking for something that might help.
Percy wanted to give her more time. She was the brains. Better for him to get attacked while she came up with a brilliant plan.
“Cuddly!” Percy yelled. “Fuzzy, warm, and huggable!”
Akhlys made a growling, choking noise, like a cat having a seizure.
“A slow death!” she screamed. “A death from a thousand poisons!”
All around her, poisonous plants grew and burst like overfilled balloons. Green-and-white sap trickled out, collecting into pools, and began flowing across the ground toward Percy. The sweet-smelling fumes made his head feel wobbly.
“Percy!” Annabeth’s voice sounded far away. “Uh, hey, Miss Wonderful! Cheerful! Grins! Over here!”
But the goddess of misery was now fixated on Percy. He tried to retreat again. Unfortunately the poison ichor was flowing all around him now, making the ground steam and the air burn. Percy found himself stuck on an island of dust not much bigger than a shield. A few yards away, his backpack smoked and dissolved into a puddle of goo. Percy had nowhere to go.
He fell to one knee. He wanted to tell Annabeth to run, but he couldn’t speak. His throat was as dry as dead leaves.
He wished there were water in Tartarus—some nice pool he could jump into to heal himself, or maybe a river he could control. He’d settle for a bottle of Evian.