Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Demigod Files by Rick Riordan Page A

go. But there was another solution.
    “Here goes nothing,” I muttered.
    I raised my arms like I was lifting something over my head. My bad shoulder burned like lava, but I tried to ignore it.
    The river rose. It surged out of its banks, flowing up and then down again in a great arc—a raging black rainbow of water twenty feet high. The riverbed in front of us turned to drying mud, a tunnel under the river just wide enough for two people to walk side by side.
    Thalia and Nico stared at me in amazement.
    “Go,” I said. “I can’t hold this for long.”
    Yellow spots danced in front of my eyes. My wounded shoulder nearly screamed in pain. Thalia and Nico scrambled into the riverbed and made their way across the sticky mud.
    Not a single drop. I can’t let a single drop of water touch them.
    The River Lethe fought me. It didn’t want to be forced out of its banks. It wanted to crash down on my friends, wipe their minds clean, and drown them. But I held the arc.
    Thalia climbed the opposite bank and turned to help Nico.
    “Come on, Percy!” she said. “Walk!”
    My knees were shaking. My arms trembled. I took a step forward and almost fell. The water arc quivered.
    “I can’t make it,” I called.
    “Yes you can!” Thalia said. “We need you!”
    Somehow I managed to climb down into the riverbed. One step, then another. The water surged above me. My boots squished in the mud.
    Halfway across, I stumbled. I heard Thalia scream, “No!” And my concentration broke.
    As the River Lethe crashed down on me, I had time for one last desperate thought: Dry.
    I heard the roar and felt the crash of tons of water as the river fell back into its natural course. But . . .
    I opened my eyes. I was surrounded in darkness, but I was completely dry. A layer of air covered me like a second skin, shielding me from the effects of the water. I struggled to my feet. Even this small effort to stay dry— something I’d done many times in normal water—was almost more than I could handle. I slogged forward through the black current, blind and doubled over with pain.
    I climbed out of the River Lethe, surprising Thalia and Nico, who jumped back a good five feet. I staggered forward, collapsed in front of my friends, and passed out cold.
    The taste of nectar brought me around. My shoulder felt better, but I had an uncomfortable buzz in my ears. My eyes felt hot, like I had a fever.
    “We can’t risk any more nectar,” Thalia was saying. “He’ll burst into flames.”
    “Percy,” Nico said. “Can you hear me?”
    “Flames,” I murmured. “Got it.”
    I sat up slowly. My shoulder was newly bandaged. It still hurt, but I was able to stand.
    “We’re close,” Nico said. “Can you walk?”
    The mountain loomed above us. A dusty trail snaked up a few hundred feet to the mouth of a cave. The path was lined with human bones for that extra cozy feel.
    “Ready,” I said.
    “I don’t like this,” Thalia murmured. She cradled the carnation, which was pointing toward the cave. The flower now had two petals left, like very sad bunny ears.
    “A creepy cave,” I said. “The goddess of ghosts. What’s not to like?”
    As if in response, a hissing sound echoed down the mountain. White mist billowed from the cave like someone had turned on a dry-ice machine.
    In the fog, an image appeared—a tall woman with disheveled blond hair. She wore a pink bathrobe and had a wineglass in her hand. Her face was stern and disapproving. I could see right through her, so I knew she was a spirit of some kind, but her voice sounded real enough.
    “Now you come back,” she growled. “Well, it’s too late!”
    I looked at Nico and whispered, “Melinoe?”
    Nico didn’t answer. He stood frozen, staring at the spirit.
    Thalia lowered her bow. “Mother?” Her eyes teared up. Suddenly she looked about seven years old.
    The spirit threw down her wineglass. It shattered and dissolved into the fog. “That’s right, girl. Doomed to walk the