The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4) (18 page)

P
ERCY WAS RELIEVED
when the demon grandmothers closed in for the kill.

Sure, he was terrified. He didn’t like the odds of three against several dozen. But at least he understood
fighting
. Wandering through the darkness, waiting to be attacked – that had been driving him crazy.

Besides, he and Annabeth had fought together many times. And now they had a Titan on their side.

‘Back off.’ Percy jabbed Riptide at the nearest shrivelled hag, but she only sneered.

We are the arai
, said that weird voice-over, like the entire forest was speaking.
You cannot destroy us.

Annabeth pressed against his shoulder. ‘Don’t touch them,’ she warned. ‘They’re the spirits of curses.’

‘Bob doesn’t like curses,’ Bob decided. The skeleton kitten Small Bob disappeared inside his coveralls. Smart cat.

The Titan swept his broom in a wide arc, forcing the
spirits back, but they came in again like the tide.

We serve the bitter and the defeated
,
said the
arai
.
We serve the slain who prayed for vengeance with their final breath. We have many curses to share with you.

The firewater in Percy’s stomach started crawling up his throat. He wished Tartarus had better beverage options, or maybe a tree that dispensed antacid fruit.

‘I appreciate the offer,’ he said. ‘But my mom told me not to accept curses from strangers.’

The nearest demon lunged. Her claws extended like bony switchblades. Percy cut her in two, but as soon as she vaporized the sides of his chest flared with pain. He stumbled back, clamping his hand to his rib cage. His fingers came away wet and red.

‘Percy, you’re bleeding!’ Annabeth cried, which was kind of obvious to him at that point. ‘Oh, gods, on
both
sides.’

It was true. The left and right hems of his tattered shirt were sticky with blood, as if a javelin had run him through.

Or an arrow …

Queasiness almost knocked him over.
Vengeance. A curse from the slain.

He flashed back to an encounter in Texas two years ago – a fight with a monstrous rancher who could only be killed if each of his three bodies was cut through simultaneously.

‘
Geryon
,’ Percy said. ‘This is how I killed him …’

The spirits bared their fangs. More
arai
leaped from the black trees, flapping their leathery wings.

Yes
, they agreed.
Feel the pain you inflicted upon Geryon. So
many curses have been levelled at you, Percy Jackson. Which will you die from? Choose, or we will rip you apart!

Somehow he stayed on his feet. The blood stopped spreading, but he still felt like he had a hot metal curtain rod sticking through his ribs. His sword arm was heavy and weak.

‘I don’t understand,’ he muttered.

Bob’s voice seemed to echo from the end of a long tunnel: ‘If you kill one, it gives you a curse.’

‘But if we
don’t
kill them …’ Annabeth said.

‘They’ll kill us anyway,’ Percy guessed.

Choose!
the
arai
cried.
Will you be crushed like
Kampê
? Or disintegrated like the young telkhines you slaughtered under Mount St Helens? You have spread so much death and suffering, Percy Jackson. Let us repay you!

The winged hags pressed in, their breath sour, their eyes burning with hatred. They looked like Furies, but Percy decided these things were even worse. At least the three Furies were under the control of Hades. These things were wild, and they just kept multiplying.

If they really embodied the dying curses of every enemy Percy had ever destroyed … then Percy was in serious trouble. He’d faced a
lot
of enemies.

One of the demons lunged at Annabeth. Instinctively, she dodged. She brought her rock down on the old lady’s head and broke her into dust.

It wasn’t like Annabeth had a choice. Percy would’ve done the same thing. But instantly Annabeth dropped her rock and cried in alarm.

‘I can’t see!’ She touched her face, looking around wildly. Her eyes were pure white.

Percy ran to her side as the
arai
cackled.

Polyphemus
cursed you when you tricked him with your invisibility in the Sea of Monsters. You called yourself Nobody. He could not see you. Now you will not see
your
attackers.

‘I’ve got you,’ Percy promised. He put his arm around Annabeth, but as the
arai
advanced he didn’t know how he could protect either of them.

A dozen demons leaped from every direction, but Bob yelled, ‘SWEEP!’

His broom whooshed over Percy’s head. The entire
arai
offensive line toppled backwards like bowling pins.

More surged forward. Bob whacked one over the head and speared another, blasting them to dust. The others backed away.

Percy held his breath, waiting for their Titan friend to be laid low with some terrible curse, but Bob seemed fine – a massive silvery bodyguard keeping death at bay with the world’s most terrifying cleaning implement.

‘Bob, you okay?’ Percy asked. ‘No curses?’

‘No curses for Bob!’ Bob agreed.

The
arai
snarled and circled, eying the broom.
The Titan is already cursed. Why should we torture him further? You, Percy Jackson, have already destroyed his memory.

Bob’s spearhead dipped.

‘Bob, don’t listen to them,’ Annabeth said. ‘They’re evil!’

Time slowed. Percy wondered if the spirit of Kronos was somewhere nearby, swirling in the darkness, enjoying this
moment so much that he wanted it to last forever. Percy felt exactly like he had at twelve years old, battling Ares on that beach in Los Angeles, when the shadow of the Titan lord had first passed over him.

Bob turned. His wild white hair looked like an exploded halo. ‘My memory … It was you?’

Curse him, Titan!
the
arai
urged, their red eyes gleaming.
Add to our numbers!

Percy’s heart pressed against his spine. ‘Bob, it’s a long story. I didn’t want you to be my enemy. I tried to make you a friend.’

By stealing your life
, the
arai
said.
Leaving you in the palace of Hades to scrub floors!

Annabeth gripped Percy’s hand. ‘Which way?’ she whispered. ‘If we have to run?’

He understood. If Bob wouldn’t protect them, their only chance was to run – but that wasn’t any chance at all.

‘Bob, listen,’ he tried again, ‘the
arai
want you to get angry. They spawn from bitter thoughts. Don’t give them what they want. We
are
your friends.’

Even as he said it, Percy felt like a liar. He’d left Bob in the Underworld and hadn’t given him a thought since. What made them friends? The fact that Percy needed him now? Percy always hated it when the gods used him for their errands. Now Percy was treating Bob the same way.

You see his face?
the
arai
growled.
The boy cannot even convince himself. Did he visit you, after he stole your memory?

‘No,’ Bob murmured. His lower lip quivered. ‘The other one did.’

Percy’s thoughts moved sluggishly. ‘The other one?’

‘Nico.’ Bob scowled at him, his eyes full of hurt. ‘Nico visited. Told me about Percy. Said Percy was good. Said he was a friend.
That
is why Bob helped.’

‘But …’ Percy’s voice disintegrated like someone had hit it with a Celestial bronze blade. He’d never felt so low and dishonourable, so unworthy of having a friend.

The
arai
attacked, and this time Bob did not stop them.

‘L
EFT!’
P
ERCY DRAGGED
A
NNABETH,
slicing through the
arai
to clear a path. He probably brought down a dozen curses on himself, but he didn’t feel them right away, so he kept running.

The pain in his chest flared with every step. He weaved between the trees, leading Annabeth at a full sprint despite her blindness.

Percy realized how much she trusted him to get her out of this. He couldn’t let her down, yet how could he save her? And if she was permanently blind … No. He suppressed a surge of panic. He would figure out how to cure her later. First they had to escape.

Leathery wings beat the air above them. Angry hissing and the scuttling of clawed feet told him the demons were at their backs.

As they ran past one of the black trees, he slashed his sword across the trunk. He heard it topple, followed by the
satisfying crunch of several dozen
arai
as they were smashed flat.

If a tree falls in the forest and crushes a demon, does the tree get cursed?

Percy slashed down another trunk, then another. It bought them a few seconds, but not enough.

Suddenly the darkness in front of them became thicker. Percy realized what it meant just in time. He grabbed Annabeth right before they both charged off the side of the cliff.

‘What?’ she cried. ‘What is it?’

‘Cliff,’ he gasped. ‘Big cliff.’

‘Which way, then?’

Percy couldn’t see how far the cliff dropped. It could be ten feet or a thousand. There was no telling what was at the bottom. They could jump and hope for the best, but he doubted ‘the best’ ever happened in Tartarus.

So, two options: right or left, following the edge.

He was about to choose randomly when a winged demon descended in front of him, hovering over the void on her bat wings, just out of sword reach.

Did you have a nice walk?
asked the collective voice, echoing all around them.

Percy turned. The
arai
poured out of the woods, making a crescent around them. One grabbed Annabeth’s arm. Annabeth wailed in rage, judo-flipping the monster and dropping on its neck, putting her whole body weight into an elbow strike that would’ve made any pro wrestler proud.

The demon dissolved, but when Annabeth got to her feet she looked stunned and afraid as well as blind.

‘Percy?’ she called, panic creeping into her voice.

‘I’m right here.’

He tried to put his hand on her shoulder, but she wasn’t standing where he thought. He tried again, only to find she was several feet further away. It was like trying to grab something in a tank of water, with the light shifting the image away.

‘Percy!’ Annabeth’s voice cracked. ‘Why did you leave me?’

‘I didn’t!’ He turned on the
arai
, his arms shaking with anger. ‘What did you do to her?’

We did nothing
,
the demons said.
Your beloved has unleashed a special curse – a bitter thought from someone you abandoned. You punished an innocent soul by leaving her in her solitude. Now her most hateful wish has come to pass: Annabeth feels her despair. She, too, will perish alone and abandoned.

‘Percy?’ Annabeth spread her arms, trying to find him. The
arai
backed up, letting her stumble blindly through their ranks.

‘Who did I abandon?’ Percy demanded. ‘I never –’

Suddenly his stomach felt like it had dropped off the cliff.

The words rang in his head:
An innocent soul. Alone and abandoned.
He remembered an island, a cave lit with soft glowing crystals, a dinner table on the beach tended by invisible air spirits.

‘She wouldn’t,’ he mumbled. ‘She’d never curse me.’

The eyes of the demons blurred together like their voices.
Percy’s sides throbbed. The pain in his chest was worse, as if someone were slowly twisting a dagger.

Annabeth wandered among the demons, desperately calling his name. Percy longed to run to her, but he knew the
arai
wouldn’t allow it. The only reason they hadn’t killed her yet was that they were enjoying her misery.

Percy clenched his jaw. He didn’t care how many curses he suffered. He had to keep these leathery old hags focused on him and protect Annabeth as long as he could.

He yelled in fury and attacked them all.

F
OR ONE EXCITING MINUTE,
Percy felt like he was winning. Riptide cut through the
arai
as though they were made of powdered sugar. One panicked and ran face-first into a tree. Another screeched and tried to fly away, but Percy sliced off her wings and sent her spiralling into the chasm.

Each time a demon disintegrated, Percy felt a heavier sense of dread as another curse settled on him. Some were harsh and painful: a stabbing in the gut, a burning sensation like he was being blasted by a blowtorch. Some were subtle: a chill in the blood, an uncontrollable tic in his right eye.

Seriously, who curses you with their dying breath and says:
I hope your eye twitches!

Percy knew that he’d killed a lot of monsters, but he’d never really thought about it from the monsters’ point of view. Now all their pain and anger and bitterness poured over him, sapping his strength.

The
arai
just kept coming. For every one he cut down, six more seemed to appear.

His sword arm grew tired. His body ached, and his vision blurred. He tried to make his way towards Annabeth, but she was just out of reach, calling his name as she wandered among the demons.

As Percy blundered towards her, a demon pounced and sank its teeth into his thigh. Percy roared. He sliced the demon to dust, but immediately fell to his knees.

His mouth burned worse than when he had swallowed the firewater of the Phlegethon. He doubled over, shuddering and retching, as a dozen fiery snakes seemed to work their way down his oesophagus.

You have chosen
,
said the voice of the
arai
,
the curse of Phineas … an excellent painful death.

Percy tried to speak. His tongue felt like it was being microwaved. He remembered the old blind king who had chased harpies through Portland with a weed whacker. Percy had challenged him to a contest, and the loser had drunk a deadly vial of gorgon’s blood. Percy didn’t remember the old blind man muttering a final curse, but as Phineas had dissolved and returned to the Underworld he probably hadn’t wished Percy a long and happy life.

After Percy’s victory then, Gaia had warned him:
Do not press your luck. When your death comes, I promise it will be much more painful than gorgon’s blood.

Now he was in Tartarus, dying from gorgon’s blood plus a dozen other agonizing curses, while he watched his girlfriend stumble around, helpless and blind and believing he’d
abandoned her. He clutched his sword. His knuckles started to steam. White smoke curled off his forearms.

I won’t die like this, he thought.

Not only because it was painful and insultingly lame, but because Annabeth needed him. Once he was dead, the demons would turn their attention to her. He couldn’t leave her alone.

The
arai
clustered around him, snickering and hissing.

His head will erupt first
,
the voice speculated.

No
,
the voice answered itself from another direction.
He will combust all at once.

They were placing bets on how he would die … what sort of scorch mark he would leave on the ground.

‘Bob,’ he croaked. ‘I need you.’

A hopeless plea. He could barely hear himself. Why should Bob answer his call twice? The Titan knew the truth now. Percy was no friend.

He raised his eyes one last time. His surroundings seemed to flicker. The sky boiled and the ground blistered.

Percy realized that what he
saw
of Tartarus was only a watered-down version of its true horror – only what his demigod brain could handle. The worst of it was veiled, the same way the Mist veiled monsters from mortal sight. Now as Percy died he began to see the truth.

The air was the breath of Tartarus. All these monsters were just blood cells circulating through his body. Everything Percy saw was a dream in the mind of the dark god of the pit.

This must have been the way
Nico
had seen Tartarus, and it had almost destroyed his sanity. Nico … one of the many
people Percy hadn’t treated well enough. He and Annabeth had only made it this far through Tartarus because Nico di Angelo had behaved like Bob’s
true
friend.

You see the horror of the pit?
the
arai
said soothingly.
Give up, Percy Jackson. Isn’t death better than enduring this place?

‘I’m sorry,’ Percy murmured.

He apologizes!
The
arai
shrieked with delight.
He regrets his failed life, his crimes against the children of Tartarus!

‘No,’ Percy said. ‘I’m sorry, Bob. I should’ve been honest with you. Please … forgive me. Protect Annabeth.’

He didn’t expect Bob to hear him or care, but it felt right to clear his conscience. He couldn’t blame anyone else for his troubles. Not the gods. Not Bob. He couldn’t even blame Calypso, the girl he’d left alone on that island. Maybe she’d turned bitter and cursed Percy’s girlfriend out of despair. Still … Percy should have followed up with Calypso, made sure the gods sprang her from her exile on
Ogygia
like they’d promised. He hadn’t treated her any better than he’d treated Bob. He hadn’t even thought much about her, though her moonlace plant still bloomed in his mom’s window box.

It took all his remaining effort, but he got to his feet. Steam rose from his whole body. His legs shook. His insides churned like a volcano.

At least Percy could go out fighting. He raised Riptide.

But, before he could strike, all the
arai
in front of him exploded into dust.