The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

wasn’t feeling as smoky, ormaybe 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 dived 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 further 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 towards 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.
    ‘You will feed the eternal darkness,’ Akhlys said. ‘You will die in the arms of Night!’
    He was dimly aware of Annabeth shouting, throwing random pieces of drakon jerky at the goddess. The white-green poison kept pooling, little streams trickling from the plants as the venomous lake around him got wider and wider.
    Lake, he thought. Streams. Water.
    Probably it was just his brain getting fried from poison fumes, but he croaked out a laugh. Poison was liquid. If it moved like water, it must be partially water.
    He remembered some science lecture about the human body being mostly water. He remembered extracting water from Jason’s lungs back in Rome … If he could control
that
, then why not other liquids?
    It was a crazy idea. Poseidon was the god of the sea, not of every liquid everywhere.
    Then again, Tartarus had its own rules. Fire was drinkable. The ground was the body of a dark god. The air was acid, and demigods could be turned into smoky corpses.
    So why not try? He had nothing left to lose.
    He glared at the poison flood encroaching from all sides. He concentrated so hard that something inside him cracked – as if a crystal ball had shattered in his stomach.
    Warmth flowed through him. The poison tide stopped.
    The fumes blew away from him – back towards the goddess. The lake of