The House of Hades hoo-4

by Rick Riordan

  Frank remembered what Piper had told him about the coach’s cloud nymph girlfriend who worked for Piper’s dad. What was the girlfriend’s name… Melinda? Millicent? No, Mellie.

  “Uh, is your girlfriend Mellie all right?” Frank ventured.

  “None of your business!” the coach snapped.

  “Okay.”

  Hedge rolled his eyes. “Fine! If you must know—yes, I was talking to Mellie. But she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

  “Oh…” Frank’s heart sank. “You broke up?”

  “No, you dolt! We got married! She’s my wife!”

  Frank would’ve been less stunned if the coach had smacked him. “Coach, that’s—that’s great! When—how—?”

  “None of your business!” he yelled again.

  “Um…all right.”

  “End of May,” the coach said. “Just before the Argo II sailed. We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

  Frank felt like the ship was tilting again, but it must have been just him. The herd of wild sports equipment stayed put against the far wall.

  All this time the coach had been married? In spite of being a newlywed, he’d agreed to come on this quest. No wonder Hedge made so many calls back home. No wonder he was so cranky and belligerent.

  Still… Frank sensed there was more going on. The coach’s tone during the Iris-message made it sound like they were discussing a problem.

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Frank said. “But…is she okay?”

  “It was a private conversation!”

  “Yeah. You’re right.”

  “Fine! I’ll tell you.” Hedge plucked some fur off his thigh and let it float through the air. “She took a break from her job in L.A., went to Camp Half-Blood for the summer, because we figured—” His voice cracked. “We figured it would be safer. Now she’s stuck there, with the Romans about to attack. She’s…she’s pretty scared.”

  Frank became very aware of the centurion badge on his shirt, the SPQR tattoo on his forearm.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “But if she’s a cloud spirit, couldn’t she just…you know, float away?”

  The coach curled his fingers around the grip of his baseball bat. “Normally, yeah. But see…she’s in a delicate condition. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “A delicate…” Frank’s eyes widened. “She’s going to have a baby? You’re going to be a dad?”

  “Shout it a little louder,” Hedge grumbled. “I don’t think they heard you in Croatia.”

  Frank couldn’t help grinning. “But, Coach, that’s awesome! A little baby satyr? Or maybe a nymph? You’ll be a fantastic dad.”

  Frank wasn’t sure why he felt that way, considering the coach’s love of baseball bats and roundhouse kicks, but he was sure.

  Coach Hedge scowled even deeper. “The war’s coming, Zhang. Nowhere is safe. I should be there for Mellie. If I gotta die somewhere—”

  “Hey, nobody’s going to die,” Frank said.

  Hedge met his eyes. Frank could tell the coach didn’t believe it.

  “Always had a soft spot for children of Ares,” Hedge muttered. “Or Mars—whichever. Maybe that’s why I’m not pulverizing you for asking so many questions.”

  “But I wasn’t—”

  “Fine, I’ll tell you!” Hedge sighed again. “Back when I was on my first assignment as a seeker, I was way out in Arizona. Brought in this kid named Clarisse.”

  “Clarisse?”

  “Sibling of yours,” Hedge said. “Ares kid. Violent. Rude. Lots of potential. Anyway, while I was out, I had this dream about my mom. She—she was a cloud nymph like Mellie. I dreamed she was in trouble and needed my help right away. But I said to myself, Nah, it’s just a dream. Who would hurt a sweet old cloud nymph? Besides, I gotta get this half-blood to safety. So I finished my mission, brought Clarisse to Camp Half-Blood. Afterward, I went looking for my mom. I was too late.”

  Frank watched the tuft of goat hair settle on top of a basketball. “What happened to her?”

  Hedge shrugged. “No idea. Never saw her again. Maybe if I’d been there for her, if I’d got back sooner…”

  Frank wanted to say something comforting, but he wasn’t sure what. He had lost his mom in the war in Afghanistan, and he knew how empty the words I’m sorry could sound.

  “You were doing your job,” Frank offered. “You saved a demigod’s life.”

  Hedge grunted. “Now my wife and my unborn kid are in danger, halfway across the world, and I can’t do anything to help.”

  “You are doing something,” Frank said. “We’re over here to stop the giants from waking Gaea. That’s the best way we can keep our friends safe.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose.”

  Frank wished he could do more to lift Hedge’s spirits, but this talk was making him worry about everyone he’d left behind. He wondered who was defending Camp Jupiter now that the legion had marched east, especially with all the monsters Gaea was unleashing from the Doors of Death. He worried about his friends in the Fifth Cohort, and how they must be feeling as Octavian ordered them to march on Camp Half-Blood. Frank wanted to be back there, if only to stuff a teddy bear down the throat of that slimeball augur.

  The ship listed forward. The herd of sports equipment rolled under the coach’s berth.

  “We’re descending,” said Hedge. “We’d better get above.”

  “Yeah,” Frank said, his voice hoarse.

  “You’re a nosy Roman, Zhang.”

  “But—”

  “Come on,” Hedge said. “And not a word about this to the others, you blabbermouth.”

  As the others made fast the aerial moorings, Leo grabbed Frank and Hazel by the arms. He dragged them to the aft ballista. “Okay, here’s the plan.”

  Hazel narrowed her eyes. “I hate your plans.”

  “I need that piece of magic firewood,” Leo said. “Snappy!”

  Frank nearly choked on his own tongue. Hazel backed away, instinctively covering her coat pocket. “Leo, you can’t—”

  “I found a solution.” Leo turned to Frank. “It’s your call, big guy, but I can protect you.”

  Frank thought about how many times he’d seen Leo’s fingers burst into flame. One false move, and Leo could incinerate the piece of tinder that controlled Frank’s life.

  But for some reason, Frank wasn’t terrified. Since facing down the cow monsters in Venice, Frank had barely thought about his fragile lifeline. Yes, the smallest bit of fire might kill him. But he’d also survived some impossible things and made his dad proud. Frank had decided that whatever his fate was, he wouldn’t worry about it. He would just do the best he could to help his friends.

  Besides, Leo sounded serious. His eyes were still full of that weird melancholy, like he was in two places at once; but nothing about his expression indicated any kind of joke.

  “Go ahead, Hazel,” Frank said.

  “But…” Hazel took a deep breath. “Okay.” She took out the piece of firewood and handed it to Leo.

  In Leo’s hands, it wasn’t much bigger than a screwdriver. The tinder was still charred on one side from where Frank had used it to burn through the icy chains that had imprisoned the god Thanatos in Alaska.

  From a pocket of his tool belt, Leo produced a piece of white cloth. “Behold!”

  Frank scowled. “A handkerchief?”

  “A surrender flag?” Hazel guessed.

  “No, unbelievers!” Leo said. “This is a pouch woven from seriously cool fabric—a gift from a friend of mine.”

  Leo slipped the firewood into the pouch and pulled it closed with a tie of bronze thread.

  “The drawstring was my idea,” Leo said proudly. “It took some work, lacing that into the fabric, but the pouch won’t open unless you want it to. The fabric breathes just like regular cloth, so the firewood isn’t any more sealed up than it would be in Hazel’s coat pocket.”

  “Uh…” Hazel said. “How is that an improvement, then?”

  “Hold this so I
don’t give you a heart attack.” Leo tossed the pouch to Frank, who almost fumbled it.

  Leo summoned a white-hot ball of fire into his right hand. He held his left forearm over the flames, grinning as they licked the sleeve of his jacket.

  “See?” he said. “It doesn’t burn!”

  Frank didn’t like to argue with a guy who was holding a ball of fire, but he said, “Uh…you’re immune to flames.”

  Leo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I have to concentrate if I don’t want my clothes to burn. And I’m not concentrating, see? This is totally fireproof cloth. Which means your firewood won’t burn in that pouch.”

  Hazel looked unconvinced. “How can you be sure?”

  “Sheesh, tough audience.” Leo shut off the fire. “Guess there’s only one way to persuade you.” He held out his hand to Frank.

  “Uh, no, no.” Frank backed off. Suddenly all those brave thoughts about accepting his fate seemed far away. “That’s okay, Leo. Thanks, but I—I can’t—”

  “Man, you gotta trust me.”

  Frank’s heart raced. Did he trust Leo? Well, sure…with an engine. With a practical joke. But with his life?

  He remembered the day they had gotten stuck in the underground workshop in Rome. Gaea had promised they would die in that room. Leo had promised he would get Hazel and Frank out of the trap. And he’d done it.

  Now Leo spoke with the same kind of confidence.

  “Okay.” Frank handed Leo the pouch. “Try not to kill me.”

  Leo’s hand blazed. The pouch didn’t blacken or burn.

  Frank waited for something to go horribly wrong. He counted to twenty, but he was still alive. He felt as if a block of ice were melting just behind his sternum—a frozen chunk of fear he’d gotten so used to he didn’t even think about it until it was gone.

  Leo extinguished his fire. He wriggled his eyebrows at Frank. “Who’s your best buddy?”

  “Don’t answer that,” Hazel said. “But, Leo, that was amazing.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Leo agreed. “So who wants to take this newly ultra-safe piece of firewood?”

  “I’ll keep it,” Frank said.

  Hazel pursed her lips. She looked down, maybe so Frank wouldn’t see the hurt in her eyes. She’d protected that firewood for him through a lot of hard battles. It was a sign of trust between them, a symbol of their relationship.

  “Hazel, it’s not about you,” Frank said, as gently as he could. “I can’t explain, but I—I have a feeling I’m going to need to step up when we’re in the House of Hades. I need to carry my own burden.”

  Hazel’s golden eyes were full of concern. “I understand. I just…I worry.”

  Leo tossed Frank the pouch. Frank tied it around his belt. He felt strange carrying his fatal weakness so openly, after months of keeping it hidden.

  “And, Leo,” he said, “thanks.”

  It seemed inadequate for the gift Leo had given him, but Leo grinned. “What are genius friends for?”

  “Hey, guys!” Piper called from the bow. “Better get over here. You need to see this.”

  They’d found the source of the dark lightning.

  The Argo II hovered directly over the river. A few hundred meters away at the top of the nearest hill stood a cluster of ruins. They didn’t look like much—just some crumbling walls encircling the limestone shells of a few buildings—but from somewhere within the ruins, tendrils of black ether curled into the sky, like a smoky squid peeking from its cave. As Frank watched, a bolt of dark energy ripped through the air, rocking the ship and sending a cold shockwave across the landscape.

  “The Necromanteion,” Nico said. “The House of Hades.”

  Frank steadied himself at the rail. He supposed it was too late to suggest turning back. He was starting to feel nostalgic about the monsters he’d fought in Rome. Heck, chasing poison cows through Venice had been more appealing than this place.

  Piper hugged her arms. “I feel vulnerable floating up here like this. Couldn’t we set down in the river?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Hazel said. “That’s the River Acheron.”

  Jason squinted in the sunlight. “I thought the Acheron was in the Underworld.”

  “It is,” Hazel said. “But its headwaters are in the mortal world. That river below us? Eventually it flows underground, straight into the realm of Pluto—er, Hades. Landing a demigod ship on those waters—”

  “Yeah, let’s stay up here,” Leo decided. “I don’t want any zombie water on my hull.”

  Half a kilometer downstream, some fishing boats were puttering along. Frank guessed they didn’t know or care about the history of this river. Must be nice, being a regular mortal.

  Next to Frank, Nico di Angelo raised the scepter of Diocletian. Its orb glowed with purple light, as if in sympathy with the dark storm. Roman relic or not, the scepter troubled Frank. If it really had the power to summon a legion of the dead…well, Frank wasn’t sure that was such a great idea.

  Jason had once told him that the children of Mars had a similar ability. Supposedly, Frank could call on ghostly soldiers from the losing side of any war to serve him. He’d never had much luck with that power, probably because it freaked him out too much. He was worried he might become one of those ghosts if they lost this war—eternally doomed to pay for his failures, assuming there was anyone left to summon him.

  “So, uh, Nico…” Frank gestured at the scepter. “Have you learned to use that thing?”

  “We’ll find out.” Nico stared at the tendrils of darkness undulating from the ruins. “I don’t intend to try until I have to. The Doors of Death are already working overtime bringing in Gaea’s monsters. Any more activity raising the dead, and the Doors might shatter permanently, leaving a rip in the mortal world that can’t be closed.”

  Coach Hedge grunted. “I hate rips in the world. Let’s go bust some monster heads.”

  Frank looked at the satyr’s grim expression. Suddenly he had an idea. “Coach, you should stay on board, cover us with the ballistae.”

  Hedge frowned. “Stay behind? Me? I’m your best soldier!”

  “We might need air support,” Frank said. “Like we did in Rome. You saved our braccae.”

  He didn’t add: Plus, I’d like you to get back to your wife and baby alive.

  Hedge apparently got the message. His scowl relaxed. Relief showed in his eyes.

  “Well…” he grumbled, “I suppose somebody’s got to save your braccae.”

  Jason clapped the coach on the shoulder. Then he gave Frank an appreciative nod. “So that’s settled. Everybody else—let’s get to the ruins. Time to crash Gaea’s party.”

  DESPITE THE MIDDAY HEAT and the raging storm of death energy, a group of tourists was climbing over the ruins. Fortunately there weren’t many, and they didn’t give the demigods a second look.

  After the crowds in Rome, Frank had stopped worrying too much about getting noticed. If they could fly their warship into the Roman Colosseum with ballistae blazing and not even cause a traffic slowdown, he figured they could get away with anything.

  Nico led the way. At the top of the hill, they climbed over an old retaining wall and down into an excavated trench. Finally they arrived at a stone doorway leading straight into the side of the hill. The death storm seemed to originate right above their heads. Looking up at the swirling tentacles of darkness, Frank felt like he was trapped at the bottom of a flushing toilet bowl. That really didn’t calm his nerves.

  Nico faced the group. “From here, it gets tough.”

  “Sweet,” Leo said. “’Cause so far I’ve totally been pulling my punches.”

  Nico glared at him. “We’ll see how long you keep your sense of humor. Remember, this is where pilgrims came to commune with dead ancestors. Underground, you may see things that are hard to look at, or hear voices trying to lead you astray in the tunnels. Frank, do you have the barley cakes?”

  “What?” Frank had been thinking about his grandmother and his mom, wondering if th
ey might appear to him. For the first time in days, the voices of Ares and Mars had started to argue again in the back of Frank’s mind, debating their favorite forms of violent death.

  “I’ve got the cakes,” Hazel said. She pulled out the magical barley crackers they’d made from the grain Triptolemus had given them in Venice.

  “Eat up,” Nico advised.

  Frank chewed his cracker of death and tried not to gag. It reminded him of a cookie made with sawdust instead of sugar.

  “Yum,” Piper said. Even the daughter of Aphrodite couldn’t avoid making a face.

  “Okay.” Nico choked down the last of his barley. “That should protect us from the poison.”

  “Poison?” Leo asked. “Did I miss the poison? ’Cause I love poison.”

  “Soon enough,” Nico promised. “Just stick close together, and maybe we can avoid getting lost or going insane.”

  On that happy note, Nico led them underground.

  The tunnel spiraled gently downward, the ceiling supported by white stone arches that reminded Frank of a whale’s rib cage.

  As they walked, Hazel ran her hands along the masonry. “This wasn’t part of a temple,” she whispered. “This was…the basement for a manor house, built in later Greek times.”

  Frank found it eerie how Hazel could tell so much about an underground place just by being there. He’d never known her to be mistaken.

  “A manor house?” he asked. “Please don’t tell me we’re in the wrong place.”

  “The House of Hades is below us,” Nico assured him. “But Hazel’s right, these upper levels are much newer. When the archaeologists first excavated this site, they thought they’d found the Necromanteion. Then they realized the ruins were too recent, so they decided it was the wrong spot. They were right the first time. They just didn’t dig deep enough.”

  They turned a corner and stopped. In front of them, the tunnel ended in a huge block of stone.

  “A cave-in?” Jason asked.

  “A test,” Nico said. “Hazel, would you do the honors?”

  Hazel stepped forward. She placed her hand on the rock, and the entire boulder crumbled to dust.