The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4) (14 page)

A
FTER 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.’

‘Sideways,’ Annabeth muttered. ‘Naturally.’

She was tempted to ask for a rest, but she didn’t want to stop. Not here in this cold, dark place. The black fog seeped into her body, turning her bones into moist Styrofoam.

She wondered if her message would get to Rachel Dare. If Rachel could somehow carry her proposal to Reyna without getting killed in the process …

A ridiculous hope
, said the voice in her head.
You have only put Rachel in danger. Even if she finds the Romans, why should Reyna trust you after all that has happened?

Annabeth was tempted to shout back at the voice, but she resisted. Even if she were going crazy, she didn’t want to
look
like she was going crazy.

She desperately needed something to lift her spirits. A drink of actual water. A moment of sunlight. A warm bed. A kind word from her mother.

Suddenly Bob stopped. He raised his hand:
Wait.

‘What?’ Percy whispered.

‘Shh,’ Bob warned. ‘Ahead. Something moves.’

Annabeth strained her ears. From somewhere in the fog came a deep thrumming noise, like the idling engine of a large construction vehicle. She could feel the vibrations through her shoes.

‘We will surround it,’ Bob whispered. ‘Each of you, take a flank.’

For the millionth time, Annabeth wished she had her dagger. She picked up a chunk of jagged black obsidian and crept to the left. Percy went right, his sword ready.

Bob took the middle, his spearhead glowing in the fog.

The humming got louder, shaking the gravel at Annabeth’s feet. The noise seemed to be coming from immediately in front of them.

‘Ready?’ Bob murmured.

Annabeth crouched, preparing to spring. ‘On three?’

‘One,’ Percy whispered. ‘Two –’

A figure appeared in the fog. Bob raised his spear.

‘Wait!’ Annabeth shrieked.

Bob froze just in time, the point of his spear hovering an inch above the head of a tiny calico kitten.

‘Rrow?’ said the kitten, clearly unimpressed by their attack plan. It butted its head against Bob’s foot and purred loudly.

It seemed impossible, but the deep rumbling sound was coming from the kitten. As it purred, the ground vibrated and pebbles danced. The kitten fixed its yellow, lamp-like eyes on one particular rock, right between Annabeth’s feet, and pounced.

The cat could’ve been a demon or a horrible Underworld monster in disguise. But Annabeth couldn’t help it. She
picked it up and cuddled it. The little thing was bony under its fur, but otherwise it seemed perfectly normal.

‘How did …?’ She couldn’t even form the question. ‘What is a kitten doing …?’

The cat grew impatient and squirmed out of her arms. It landed with a thump, padded over to Bob and started purring again as it rubbed against his boots.

Percy laughed. ‘Somebody likes you, Bob.’

‘It must be a good monster.’ Bob looked up nervously. ‘Isn’t it?’

Annabeth felt a lump in her throat. Seeing the huge Titan and this tiny kitten together, she suddenly felt insignificant compared to the vastness of Tartarus. This place had no respect for anything – good or bad, small or large, wise or unwise. Tartarus swallowed Titans and demigods and kittens indiscriminately.

Bob knelt down and scooped up the cat. It fitted perfectly in Bob’s palm, but it decided to explore. It climbed the Titan’s arm, made itself at home on his shoulder and closed its eyes, purring like an earthmover. Suddenly its fur shimmered. In a flash, the kitten became a ghostly skeleton, as if it had stepped behind an X-ray machine. Then it was a regular kitten again.

Annabeth blinked. ‘Did you see –?’

‘Yeah.’ Percy knitted his eyebrows. ‘Oh, man … I
know
that kitten. It’s one of the ones from the Smithsonian.’

Annabeth tried to make sense of that. She’d never been to the Smithsonian with Percy … Then she recalled several years ago, when the Titan Atlas had captured her. Percy and Thalia had led a quest to rescue her. Along the way, they’d
watched Atlas raise some skeleton warriors from dragon teeth in the Smithsonian Museum.

According to Percy, the Titan’s first attempt went wrong. He’d planted sabre-toothed tiger teeth by mistake and raised a batch of skeleton kittens from the soil.

‘
That
’s
one of them?’ Annabeth asked. ‘How did it get here?’

Percy spread his hands helplessly. ‘Atlas told his servants to take the kittens away. Maybe they destroyed the cats and they were reborn in Tartarus? I don’t know.’

‘It’s cute,’ Bob said, as the kitten sniffed his ear.

‘But is it safe?’ Annabeth asked.

The Titan scratched the kitten’s chin. Annabeth didn’t know if it was a good idea, carrying around a cat grown from a prehistoric tooth, but obviously it didn’t matter now. The Titan and the cat had bonded.

‘I will call him Small Bob,’ said Bob. ‘He is a good monster.’

End of discussion. The Titan hefted his spear and they continued marching into the gloom.

Annabeth walked in a daze, trying not to think about pizza. To keep herself distracted, she watched Small Bob the kitten pacing across Bob’s shoulders and purring, occasionally turning into a glowing kitty skeleton and then back to a calico fuzz-ball.

‘Here,’ Bob announced.

He stopped so suddenly, Annabeth almost ran into him.

Bob stared off to their left, as if deep in thought.

‘Is this the place?’ Annabeth asked. ‘Where we go
sideways
?’

‘Yes,’ Bob agreed. ‘Darker, then sideways.’

Annabeth couldn’t tell if it was actually darker, but the air did seem colder and thicker, as if they’d stepped into a different microclimate. Again she was reminded of San Francisco, where you could walk from one neighbourhood to the next and the temperature might drop ten degrees. She wondered if the Titans had built their palace on Mount Tamalpais because the Bay Area reminded them of Tartarus.

What a depressing thought. Only Titans would see such a beautiful place as a potential outpost of the abyss – a hellish home away from home.

Bob struck off to the left. They followed. The air definitely got colder. Annabeth pressed against Percy for warmth. He put his arm around her. It felt good being close to him, but she couldn’t relax.

They’d entered some sort of forest. Towering black trees soared into the gloom, perfectly round and bare of branches, like monstrous hair follicles. The ground was smooth and pale.

With our luck, Annabeth thought, we’re marching through the armpit of Tartarus.

Suddenly her senses were on high alert, as if somebody had snapped a rubber band against the base of her neck. She rested her hand on the trunk of the nearest tree.

‘What is it?’ Percy raised his sword.

Bob turned and looked back, confused. ‘We are stopping?’

Annabeth held up her hand for silence. She wasn’t sure what had set her off. Nothing looked different. Then she realized the tree trunk was quivering. She wondered momentarily if
it was the kitten’s purr, but Small Bob had fallen asleep on Large Bob’s shoulder.

A few yards away, another tree shuddered.

‘Something’s moving above us,’ Annabeth whispered. ‘Gather up.’

Bob and Percy closed ranks with her, standing back to back.

Annabeth strained her eyes, trying to see above them in the dark, but nothing moved.

She had almost decided she was being paranoid when the first monster dropped to the ground only five feet away.

Annabeth’s first thought:
The Furies.

The creature looked almost exactly like one: a wrinkled hag with bat-like wings, brass talons and glowing red eyes. She wore a tattered dress of black silk, and her face was twisted and ravenous, like a demonic grandmother in the mood to kill.

Bob grunted as another one dropped in front of him, and then another in front of Percy. Soon there were half a dozen surrounding them. More hissed in the trees above.

They couldn’t be Furies, then. There were only
three
of those, and these winged hags didn’t carry whips. That didn’t comfort Annabeth. The monsters’ talons looked plenty dangerous.

‘What are you?’ she demanded.

The
arai, hissed a voice.
The curses!

Annabeth tried to locate the speaker, but none of the demons had moved their mouths. Their eyes looked dead; their expressions were frozen, like a puppet’s. The voice
simply floated overhead like a movie narrator’s, as if a single mind controlled all the creatures.

‘What – what do you want?’ Annabeth asked, trying to maintain a tone of confidence.

The voice cackled maliciously.
To curse you, of course! To destroy you a thousand times in the name of Mother Night!

‘Only a thousand times?’ Percy murmured. ‘Oh, good … I thought we were in trouble.’

The circle of demon ladies closed in.

E
VERYTHING SMELLED LIKE POISON.
Two days after leaving Venice, Hazel still couldn’t get the noxious scent of
eau de cow monster
out of her nose.

The seasickness didn’t help. The
Argo II
sailed down the Adriatic, a beautiful glittering expanse of blue, but Hazel couldn’t appreciate it, thanks to the constant rolling of the ship. Above deck, she tried to keep her eyes fixed on the horizon – the white cliffs that always seemed just a mile or so to the east. What country was that, Croatia? She wasn’t sure. She just wished she were on solid ground again.

The thing that nauseated her most was the weasel.

Last night, Hecate’s pet Gale had appeared in her cabin. Hazel woke from a nightmare, thinking,
What is that smell?
She found a furry rodent propped on her chest, staring at her with its beady black eyes.

Nothing like waking up screaming, kicking off your covers
and dancing around your cabin while a weasel scampers between your feet, screeching and farting.

Her friends rushed to her room to see if she was okay. The weasel was difficult to explain. Hazel could tell that Leo was trying hard not to make a joke.

In the morning, once the excitement died down, Hazel decided to visit Coach Hedge, since he could talk to animals.

She’d found his cabin door ajar and heard the coach inside, talking as if he were on the phone with someone – except they had no phones on board. Maybe he was sending a magical Iris-message? Hazel had heard that the Greeks used those a lot.

‘Sure, hon,’ Hedge was saying. ‘Yeah, I know, baby. No, it’s great news, but –’ His voice broke with emotion. Hazel suddenly felt horrible for eavesdropping.

She would’ve backed away, but Gale squeaked at her heels. Hazel knocked on the coach’s door.

Hedge poked his head out, scowling as usual, but his eyes were red.

‘What?’ he growled.

‘Um … sorry,’ Hazel said. ‘Are you okay?’

The coach snorted and opened his door wide. ‘Kinda question is that?’

There was no one else in the room.

‘I –’ Hazel tried to remember why she was there. ‘I wondered if you could talk to my weasel.’

The coach’s eyes narrowed. He lowered his voice. ‘Are we speaking in code? Is there an intruder aboard?’

‘Well, sort of.’

Gale peeked out from behind Hazel’s feet and started chattering.

The coach looked offended. He chattered back at the weasel. They had what sounded like a very intense argument.

‘What did she say?’ Hazel asked.

‘A lot of rude things,’ grumbled the satyr. ‘The gist of it: she’s here to see how it goes.’

‘How
what
goes?’

Coach Hedge stomped his hoof. ‘How am I supposed to know? She’s a polecat! They
never
give a straight answer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got, uh, stuff …’

He closed the door in her face.

After breakfast, Hazel stood at the port rail, trying to settle her stomach. Next to her, Gale ran up and down the railing, passing gas, but the strong wind off the Adriatic helped whisk it away.

Hazel wondered what was wrong with Coach Hedge. He must have been using an Iris-message to talk with someone, but, if he’d got great news, why had he looked so devastated? She’d never seen him so shaken up. Unfortunately, she doubted the coach would ask for help if he needed it. He wasn’t exactly the warm and open type.

She stared at the white cliffs in the distance and thought about why Hecate had sent Gale the polecat.

She’s here to see how it goes.

Something was about to happen. Hazel would be tested.

She didn’t understand how she was supposed to learn magic with no training. Hecate expected her to defeat some super-powerful sorceress – the lady in the gold dress, whom Leo had described from his dream. But
how
?

Hazel had spent all her free time trying to figure that out. She’d stared at her
spatha
, trying to make it look like a walking stick. She’d tried to summon a cloud to hide the full moon. She’d concentrated until her eyes crossed and her ears popped, but nothing happened. She couldn’t manipulate the Mist.

The last few nights, her dreams had got worse. She found herself back in the
Fields of Asphodel
, drifting aimlessly among the ghosts. Then she was in Gaia’s cave in Alaska, where Hazel and her mother had died as the ceiling collapsed and the voice of the Earth Goddess wailed in anger. She was on the stairs of her mother’s apartment building in New Orleans, face to face with her father, Pluto. His cold fingers gripped her arm. The fabric of his black wool suit writhed with imprisoned souls. He fixed her with his dark angry eyes and said:
The dead see what they
believe
they will see. So do the living. That is the secret.

He’d never said that to her in real life. She had no idea what it meant.

The worst nightmares seemed like glimpses of the future. Hazel was stumbling through a dark tunnel while a woman’s laughter echoed around her.

Control this if you can,
child of Pluto
,
the woman taunted.

And always Hazel dreamed about the images she’d seen at Hecate’s crossroads: Leo falling through the sky; Percy and Annabeth lying unconscious, possibly dead, in front of black
metal doors; and a shrouded figure looming above them – the giant
Clytius
wrapped in darkness.

Next to her on the rail, Gale the weasel chittered impatiently. Hazel was tempted to push the stupid rodent into the sea.

I can’t even control my own dreams
, she wanted to scream.
How am I supposed to control the Mist?

She was so miserable that she didn’t notice Frank until he was standing at her side.

‘Feeling any better?’ he asked.

He took her hand, his fingers completely covering hers. She couldn’t believe how much taller he’d become. He had changed into so many animals, she wasn’t sure why one more transformation should amaze her … but suddenly he’d grown into his weight. No one could call him pudgy or cuddly any more. He looked like a football player, solid and strong, with a new centre of gravity. His shoulders had broadened. He walked with more confidence.

What Frank had done on that bridge in Venice … Hazel was still in awe. None of them had actually seen the battle, but no one doubted it. Frank’s whole bearing had changed. Even Leo had stopped making jokes at his expense.

‘I’m – I’m all right,’ Hazel managed. ‘You?’

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘I’m, uh,
taller
. Otherwise, yeah. I’m good. I haven’t really, you know, changed inside …’

His voice held a little of the old doubt and awkwardness – the voice of
her
Frank, who always worried about being a klutz and messing up.

Hazel felt relieved. She
liked
that part of him. At first, his new appearance had shocked her. She’d been worried that his personality had changed as well.

Now she was starting to relax about that. Despite all his strength, Frank was the same sweet guy. He was still vulnerable. He still trusted her with his biggest weakness – the piece of magical firewood she carried in her coat pocket, next to her heart.

‘I know, and I’m glad.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘It’s … it’s actually not
you
I’m worried about.’

Frank grunted. ‘How’s Nico doing?’

She’d been thinking about
herself
, not Nico, but she followed Frank’s gaze to the top of the foremast, where Nico was perched on the yardarm.

Nico claimed that he liked to keep watch because he had good eyes. Hazel knew that wasn’t the reason. The top of the mast was one of the few places on board where Nico could be alone. The others had offered him the use of Percy’s cabin, since Percy was … well, absent. Nico had adamantly refused. He spent most of his time up in the rigging, where he didn’t have to talk with the rest of the crew.

Since he’d been turned into a corn plant in Venice, he’d only got more reclusive and morose.

‘I don’t know,’ Hazel admitted. ‘He’s been through a lot. Getting captured in Tartarus, being held prisoner in that bronze jar, watching Percy and Annabeth fall …’

‘And promising to lead us to Epirus.’ Frank nodded. ‘I get the feeling Nico doesn’t play well with others.’

Frank stood up straight. He was wearing a beige T-shirt
with a picture of a horse and the words
PALIO DI SIENA
.
He’d only bought it a couple of days ago, but now it was too small. When he stretched, his midriff was exposed.

Hazel realized she was staring. She quickly looked away, her face flushed.

‘Nico is my only relative,’ she said. ‘He’s not easy to like, but … thanks for being kind to him.’

Frank smiled. ‘Hey, you put up with my grandmother in Vancouver. Talk about
not easy to like.
’

‘I loved your grandmother!’

Gale the polecat scampered up to them, farted and ran away.

‘Ugh.’ Frank waved away the smell. ‘Why is that thing here, anyway?’

Hazel was almost glad she wasn’t on dry land. As agitated as she felt, gold and gems would probably be popping up all around her feet.

‘Hecate sent Gale to observe,’ she said.

‘Observe what?’

Hazel tried to take comfort in Frank’s presence, his new aura of solidity and strength.

‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘Some kind of test.’

Suddenly the boat lurched forward.