Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Demigod Files

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 earth, and it’s your fault! Where were you when I died? Why did you run away when I needed you?”
    “I—I—”
    “Thalia,” I said. “It’s just a shade. It can’t hurt you.”
    “I’m more than that,” the spirit growled. “And Thalia knows it.”
    “But—you abandoned me ,” Thalia said.
    “You wretched girl! Ungrateful runaway!”
    “Stop!” Nico stepped forward with his sword drawn, but the spirit changed form and faced him.
    This ghost was harder to see. She was a woman in an old-fashioned black velvet dress with a matching hat. She wore a string of pearls and white gloves, and her dark hair was tied back.
    Nico stopped in his tracks. “No . . .”
    “My son,” the ghost said. “I died when you were so young. I haunt the world in grief, wondering about you and your sister.”
    “Mama?”
    “No, it’s my mother,” Thalia murmured, as if she still saw the first image.
    My friends were helpless. The fog began thickening around their feet, twining around their legs like vines. The colors seemed to fade from their clothes and faces, as if they too were becoming shades.
    “Enough,” I said, but my voice hardly worked. Despite the pain, I lifted my sword and stepped toward the ghost. “You’re not anybody’s mama!”
    The ghost turned toward me. The image flickered, and I saw the goddess of ghosts in her true form.
    You’d think after a while I would stop getting freaked out by the appearance of Greek ghoulies, but Melinoe caught me by surprise. Her right half was pale chalky