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There’s a shadow lurking down the street.
She notices it the second she parks the Camaro in the driveway of their cabin. She debates leaving, throwing the car in reverse and hauling ass back to the city. She would, too, if she knew it wouldn’t have made Percy suspicious.
It’s been twelve years , she thinks. What’s three more days?
It’s a naïve thought, a selfish one, but she knows that this is it. After this weekend, after these three days, everything’s going to change. It’s been a long time coming, after all.
Her eyes are glued on the shadow, straining to see through the shroud. She wouldn’t have had a problem when she was younger, but as the years slipped by her sight began to follow.
“Mama? Are you okay?”
She doesn’t want to look away, doesn’t want to lose track of the figure, but she does anyway.
Sally turns to Percy, his green eyes trying to pry an answer out of her.
“I’m fine, baby,” she says. “I just thought I saw something.”
She doesn’t lie, but’s for her own sake rather than his.
“Oh, alright.”
— — —
She’s still on alert a few hours later when they’re settled on the beach, a fire flickering in front of them, but her fear is dulling. There’s something about this place, this stretch of beach, that makes her worries melt away.
The waves roll in, smooth and steady, alive and breathing; she remembers how it felt to have that same pattern, that same rise and fall of his chest pressed against her back.
He’s here, she knows, at least partially. He’s always here when she is. She can’t explain it, but she can feel it in the air. She can see it in the way the tide climbs up the sand—far too high for this time of day—and threatens to touch them.
And then Percy asks about him, the same way he always does when they visit. And she looks at her son, at his green eyes and black hair and the way his breathing has synched up with his father’s, and for a moment she’s thirteen years younger.
She ends up telling him the same things she always does—how he was tall and handsome and powerful, but gentle, too. She tells him how he looks just like his father, how she knows that he would be proud of his son.
The waves finally reach them as she says that, swirling around their ankles like it’s trying to pull them closer. An unnecessary confirmation, but appreciated if only by her.
“How old was I? I mean…when he left?”
Percy’s question catches her by surprise, and her mind scrambles to come up with a response.
In the end, she lies. She’s not sure why, really, but she tells him that his father was never there, that he had to leave before Percy was born.
She hates that she has to watch as Percy’s expression morphs into longing laced with loosely contained anger.
In reality, he had been there. He’d rocked Percy back to sleep in the middle of the night, insisting she stayed in bed. He’d been there to change diapers, to take care of his son while she went back to work. He stayed far longer than he should have, long enough that he could have passed as a proper parent.
What she doesn’t tell Percy is that she made his father leave. She’s not sure she could handle his reaction without having to explain everything to him.
— — —
Sleep finds her quickly that night.
In her dream, she’s on the beach, looking out onto the horizon. There’s a brief period where it feels more like a memory than a dream, especially when Poseidon’s arms slip around her waist, his chin resting on top of her head.
“Hello, Sal,” he says.
She twists around in his arms, looking up at him. She knows that a part of him is actually here, that this isn’t just a dream; they’ve had these visits before.
“Hi, Sei.”
His lips press against her forehead.
“How are you?”
It’s an innocent enough question, but she hears what he really means.
“I’m worried,” she admits. “It’s getting worse. I’m seeing them more and more.”
Poseidon lets out a dejected sigh.
“I’m sorry.” It’s a genuine apology. She can tell. “I’ve been trying to keep them away, but my brother…I think he’s suspicious.”
“The storms?”
She says it like a question, but it isn’t. They’ve been happening since Christmas.
Still, he nods.
“I’m trying to reel those in, too,” he pauses for a moment. “One of the downsides of being a god—violent consequences of my emotions.”
He puts a slight emphasis on the word one , and countless unspoken words pass between them.
They stand there, looking but not speaking.
Σε φιλώ, she hears him say, but his mouth has not moved. Se feló . He uses the ancient words, not the modern ones; a testament to who he really is. I love you .
She doesn’t say it back.
Instead, she tries to reign in the conversation; she needs answers more than she needs indulgence.
“Do you think that’s what tipped him off?”
It’s not an accusation, but rather a genuine inquiry.
She sees a flash of something go through his eyes—regret, guilt, concern—and then it’s gone. He’s peering out over her head and onto the water, looking just as steely as the statues carved in his name.
“Poseidon?”
She uses his real name, calls upon him and forces him to hear her.
“Yes?” he answers, but he doesn’t look at her.
“Poseidon,” she says again, a little more force in her voice. “Look at me.”
And he does. He tears his eyes away from the water, looks straight into her own, and his cold look disintegrates.
“No,” he says. “That’s not what tipped him off. My brother’s most valued weapon was stolen at the winter solstice.”
“Right before the storms started,” she notes.
He nods.
“But if Z—” she starts to say Zeus , but then cuts herself short. This may be a dream, but if Poseidon can be here, who’s to say another god can’t. “...if your brother’s weapon was stolen, why are you causing storms?”
Poseidon inhales deeply. “I was afraid you’d catch that.”
“Sei…”
“He thinks—knows, maybe—that I broke the oath.”
Sally’s heart picks up a bit, anxiety flooding her veins.
“So he’s angry because you broke it?”
“Partially that.” He hesitates before continuing. “But, he also thinks that I put our son up to stealing his bolt.”
He doesn’t say Percy , she notices, and it confirms her previous suspicions. Even Poseidon is worried about someone overhearing her dream.
All of the pieces fall into place then. She understands why he’s angry—he knows just as well as she does that Percy hadn’t been responsible.
“What do I do?”
“Everything’s alright for now,” he says. “Just be prepared.”
She nods, meeting his eyes.
As long as everything is calm, she thinks, she’ll let herself have this for a little while longer.
They’re silent for a few moments more, and then she sits on the sand, pulling Poseidon down with her.
He wraps an arm around her shoulder, tugging her into his side and pressing his lips to her temple.
She turns her head just as he pulls back, and her nose bumps gently against his.
“Sal,” he whispers, closing his eyes. He tilts his head just a little, just enough for his lips to brush hers. “I miss you.”
She closes her own eyes and brings a hand up to his head, messing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.
“I know,” she whispers back, and then her lips are on his and all she can think about is how much complication this love has brought her.
And yet, despite how selfish it is, she’s not sure she would change much of it.
She doesn’t know how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other for the first time in far too long. But then there’s a clap of thunder, and she jolts away from him.
Poseidon’s head snaps around, looking up at the few clouds that have formed over the beach. The steady waves turn violent in an instant, slowly gaining height and speed.
He stands, flexing his hands, saying a few words she's unfamiliar with in Greek.
There’s another crash of thunder, and lightning hits the sand far too close to them.
“Sally, you need to leave.”
His voice is faux steady, trying to mask his ire.
She doesn’t move immediately; she can’t. Her eyes are wide, stuck looking at the mass of dark clouds that weren’t there a few seconds ago.
“Sally,” he says again, turning towards her. He reaches out for her arm, pulling her up off the sand. \
He lets go quickly, but she doesn’t fail to notice how he’s shaking slightly.
She realizes that he’s restraining himself, fighting to keep as much control as he can until she’s out of the way.
“Get out of here. Quickly. The hurricane won’t only be in your dream.”
She nods, foregoing a goodbye, turning to run back to the cabin. She’s just crested a dune when she hears him shout.
“You need to take him, Sal! There’s no other choice; Anywhere else is too dangerous.”
There’s more thunder, another flash of lightning, and then she’s sitting up in bed and ripping the covers off of her.
So much for three more days.
Percy was already awake, wide-eyed and looking at her.
“Ma?”
“Hurricane.”