“Yeah,” Percy agreed. “Maybe the maple tree died, and he wound up back here?”
Annabeth remembered how Hyperion had summoned fiery explosions, and how many satyrs and nymphs he’d destroyed before Percy and Grover stopped him.
She was about to suggest that they burst Hyperion’s bubble before he woke up. He looked ready to pop out at any moment and start charbroiling everything in his path.
Then she glanced at Bob. The silvery Titan was studying Hyperion with a frown of concentration—maybe recognition. Their faces looked so much alike. …
Annabeth bit back a curse. Of course they looked alike. Hyperion was his brother. Hyperion was the Titan lord of the east. Iapetus, Bob, was the lord of the west. Take away Bob’s broom and his janitor’s clothes, put him in armor and cut his hair, change his color scheme from silver to gold, and Iapetus would have been almost indistinguishable from Hyperion.
“Bob,” she said, “we should go. ”
“Gold, not silver,” Bob murmured. “But he looks like me. ”
“Bob,” Percy said. “Hey, buddy, over here. ”
The Titan reluctantly turned.
“Am I your friend?” Percy asked.
“Yes. ” Bob sounded dangerously uncertain. “We are friends. ”
“You know that some monsters are good,” Percy said. “And some are bad. ”
“Hmm,” Bob said. “Like…the pretty ghost ladies who serve Persephone are good. Exploding zombies are bad. ”
“Right,” Percy said. “And some mortals are good, and some are bad. Well, the same thing is true for Titans. ”
“Titans…” Bob loomed over them, glowering. Annabeth was pretty sure her boyfriend had just made a big mistake.
“That’s what you are,” Percy said calmly. “Bob the Titan. You’re good. You’re awesome, in fact. But some Titans are not. This guy here, Hyperion, is full-on bad. He tried to kill me…tried to kill a lot of people. ”
Bob blinked his silver eyes. “But he looks…his face is so—”
“He looks like you,” Percy agreed. “He’s a Titan, like you. But he’s not good like you are. ”
“Bob is good. ” His fingers tightened on his broom handle. “Yes. There is always at least one good one—monsters, Titans, giants. ”
“Uh…” Percy grimaced. “Well, I’m not sure about the giants. ”
“Oh, yes. ” Bob nodded earnestly.
Annabeth sensed they’d already been in this place too long. Their pursuers would be closing in.
“We should go,” she urged. “What do we do about…?”
“Bob,” Percy said, “it’s your call. Hyperion is your kind. We could leave him alone, but if he wakes up—”
Bob’s broom-spear swept into motion. If he’d been aiming at Annabeth or Percy, they would’ve been cut in half. Instead, Bob slashed through the monstrous blister, which burst in a geyser of hot golden mud.
Annabeth wiped the Titan sludge out of her eyes. Where Hyperion had been, there was nothing but a smoking crater.
“Hyperion is a bad Titan,” Bob announced, his expression grim. “Now he can’t hurt my friends. He will have to re-form somewhere else in Tartarus. Hopefully it will take a long time. ”
The Titan’s eyes seemed brighter than usual, as if he were about to cry quicksilver.
“Thank you, Bob,” Percy said.
How was he keeping his cool? The way he talked to Bob left Annabeth awestruck…and maybe a little uneasy, too. If Percy had been serious about leaving the choice to Bob, then she didn’t like how much he trusted the Titan. If he’d been manipulating Bob into making that choice…well, then, Annabeth was stunned that Percy could be so calculating.
He met her eyes, but she couldn’t read his expression. That bothered her too.
“We’d better keep going,” he said.
She and Percy followed Bob, the golden mud flecks from Hyperion’s burst bubble glowing on his janitor’s uniform.
AFTER A WHILE, Annabeth’s feet felt like Titan mush. She marched along, following Bob, listening to the monotonous slosh of liquid in his cleaning bottle.
Stay alert, she told herself, but it was hard. Her thoughts were as numb as her legs. From time to time, Percy took her hand or made an encouraging comment; but she could tell the dark landscape was getting to him as well. His eyes had a dull sheen—like his spirit was being slowly extinguished.
He fell into Tartarus to be with you, said a voice in her head. If he dies, it will be your fault.
“Stop it,” she said aloud.
Percy frowned. “What?”
“No, not you. ” She tried for a reassuring smile, but she couldn’t quite muster one. “Talking to myself. This place…it’s messing with my mind. Giving me dark thoughts. ”
The worry lines deepened around Percy’s sea-green eyes. “Hey, Bob, where exactly are we heading?”
“The lady,” Bob said. “Death Mist. ”
Annabeth fought down her irritation. “But what does that mean? Who is this lady?”
“Naming her?” Bob glanced back. “Not a good idea. ”
Annabeth sighed. The Titan was right. Names had power, and speaking them here in Tartarus was probably very dangerous.
“Can you at least tell us how far?” she asked.
“I do not know,” Bob admitted. “I can only feel it. We wait for the darkness to get darker. Then we go sideways. ”