The Lost Hero hoo-1

by Rick Riordan

  Hephaestus patted a machine on the table. It looked like a combination satellite dish, V-6 engine, and espresso maker. Each time Hephaestus jostled the machine, Leo’s dream flickered and changed color.

  “Used this in the Cold War,” the god said fondly. “Radio Free Hephaestus. Those were the days. I keep it around for pay-for-view, mostly, or making viral brain videos—”

  “Viral brain videos?”

  “But now it’s come in handy again. If Zeus knew I was contacting you, he’d have my hide.”

  “Why is Zeus being such a jerk?”

  “Hrumph. He excels at that, boy.” Hephaestus called him boy as if Leo were an annoying machine part—an extra washer, maybe, that had no clear purpose, but that Hephaestus didn’t want to throw away for fear he might need it someday.

  Not exactly heartwarming. Then again, Leo wasn’t sure he wanted to be called “son.” Leo wasn’t about to start calling this big awkward ugly guy “Dad.”

  Hephaestus got tired of his engine and tossed it over his shoulder. Before it could hit the floor, it sprouted helicopter wings and flew itself into a recycling bin.

  “It was the second Titan War, I suppose,” Hephaestus said. “That’s what got Zeus upset. We gods were … well, embarrassed. Don’t think there’s any other way to say it.”

  “But you won,” Leo said.

  The god grunted. “We won because the demigods of”—again he hesitated, as if he’d almost made a slip—“of Camp Half-Blood took the lead. We won because our children fought our battles for us, smarter than we did. If we’d relied on Zeus’s plan, we would’ve all gone down to Tartarus fighting the storm giant Typhon, and Kronos would’ve won. Bad enough mortals won our war for us, but then that young upstart, Percy Jackson—”

  “The guy who’s missing.”

  “Hmph. Yes. Him. He had the nerve to turn down our offer of immortality and tell us to pay better attention to our children. Er, no offense.”

  “Oh, how could I take offense? Please, go on ignoring me.”

  “Mighty understanding of you …” Hephaestus frowned, then sighed wearily. “That was sarcasm, wasn’t it? Machines don’t have sarcasm, usually. But as I was saying, the gods felt ashamed, shown up by mortals. At first, of course, we were grateful. But after a few months, those feelings turned bitter. We’re gods, after all. We need to be admired, looked up to, held in awe and admiration.”

  “Even if you’re wrong?”

  “Especially then! And to have Jackson refuse our gift, as if being mortal were somehow better than being a god... well, that stuck in Zeus’s craw. He decided it was high time we got back to traditional values. Gods were to be respected. Our children were to be seen and not visited. Olympus was closed. At least that was part of his reasoning. And, of course, we started hearing of bad things stirring under the earth.”

  “The giants, you mean. Monsters re-forming instantly. The dead rising again. Little stuff like that?”

  “Aye, boy.” Hephaestus turned a knob on his pirate broadcasting machine. Leo’s dream sharpened to full color, but the god’s face was such a riot of red welts and yellow and black bruises, Leo wished it would go back to black and white.

  “Zeus thinks he can reverse the tide,” the god said, “lull the earth back to sleep as long as we stay quiet. None of us really believes that. And I don’t mind saying, we’re in no shape to fight another war. We barely survived the Titans. If we’re repeating the old pattern, what comes next is even worse.”

  “The giants,” Leo said. “Hera said demigods and gods had to join forces to defeat them. Is that true?”

  “Mmm. I hate to agree with my mother about anything, but yes. Those giants are tough to kill, boy. They’re a different breed.”

  “Breed? You make them sound like racehorses.”

  “Ha!” the god said. “More like war dogs. Back in the beginning, y’see, everything in creation came from the same parents—Gaea and Ouranos, Earth and Sky. They had their different batches of children—your Titans, your Elder Cyclopes, and so forth. Then Kronos, the head Titan—well, you’ve probably heard how he chopped up his father Ouranos with a scythe and took over the world. Then we gods came along, children of the Titans, and defeated them. But that wasn’t the end of it. The earth bore a new batch of children, except they were sired by Tartarus, the spirit of the eternal abyss—the darkest, most evil place in the Underworld. Those children, the giants, were bred for one purpose—revenge on us for the fall of the Titans. They rose up to destroy Olympus, and they came awfully close.”

  Hephaestus’s beard began to smolder. He absently swatted out the flames. “What my blasted mother Hera is doing now—she’s a meddling fool playing a dangerous game, but she’s right about one thing: you demigods have to unite. That’s the only way to open Zeus’s eyes, convince the Olympians they must accept your help. And that’s the only way to defeat what’s coming. You’re a big part of that, Leo. ”

  The god’s gaze seemed far away. Leo wondered if really could split himself into different parts—where else was he right now? Maybe his Greek side was fixing a car or going on a date, while his Roman side was watching a ball game and ordering pizza. Leo tried to imagine what it would feel like to have multiple personalities. He hoped it wasn’t hereditary.

  “Why me?” he asked, and as soon as he said it, more questions flooded out. “Why claim me now? Why not when I was thirteen, like you’re supposed to? Or you could’ve claimed me at seven, before my mom died! Why didn’t you find me earlier? Why didn’t you warn me about this?”

  Leo’s hand burst into flames.

  Hephaestus regarded him sadly. “Hardest part, boy. Letting my children walk their own paths. Interfering doesn’t work. The Fates make sure of that. As for the claiming, you were a special case, boy. The timing had to be right. I can’t explain it much more, but—”

  Leo’s dream went fuzzy. Just for a moment, it turned into a rerun of Wheel of Fortune. Then Hephaestus came back into focus.

  “Blast,” he said. “I can’t talk much longer. Zeus is sensing an illegal dream. He is lord of the air, after all, including the airwaves. Just listen, boy: you have a role to play. Your friend Jason is right—fire is a gift, not a curse. I don’t give that blessing to just anyone. They’ll never defeat the giants without you, much less the mistress they serve. She’s worse than any god or Titan.”

  “Who?” Leo demanded.

  Hephaestus frowned, his image becoming fuzzier. “I told you. Yes, I’m pretty sure I told you. Just be warned: along the way, you’re going to lose some friends and some valuable tools.

  But that isn’t your fault, Leo. Nothing lasts forever, not even the best machines. And everything can be reused.”

  “What do you mean? I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t.” Hephaestus’s image was barely visible now, just a blob in the static. “Just watch out for—”

  Leo’s dream switched to Wheel of Fortune just as the wheel hit Bankrupt and the audience said, “Awwww!”

  Then Leo snapped awake to Jason and Piper screaming.

  XXX

  LEO

  THEY SPIRALED THROUGH THE DARK in a free fall, still on the dragon’s back, but Festus’s hide was cold. His ruby eyes were dim.

  “Not again!” Leo yelled. “You can’t fall again!”

  He could barely hold on. The wind stung his eyes, but he managed to pull open the panel on the dragon’s neck. He toggled the switches. He tugged the wires. The dragon’s wings flapped once, but Leo caught a whiff of burning bronze. The drive system was overloaded. Festus didn’t have the strength to keep flying, and Leo couldn’t get to the main control panel on the dragon’s head—not in midair. He saw the lights of a city below them—just flashes in the dark as they plummeted in circles. They had only seconds before they crashed.

  “Jason!” he screamed. “Take Piper and fly out of here!”

  “What?”

  “We need to lighten the load! I might be able to re
boot Festus, but he’s carrying too much weight!”

  “What about you?” Piper cried. “If you can’t reboot him—”

  “I’ll be fine,” Leo yelled. “Just follow me to the ground. Go!”

  Jason grabbed Piper around the waist. They both unbuckled their harnesses, and in a flash they were gone—shooting into the air.

  “Now,” Leo said. “Just you and me, Festus—and two heavy cages. You can do it, boy!”

  Leo talked to the dragon while he worked, falling at terminal velocity. He could see the city lights below him, getting closer and closer. He summoned fire in his hand so he could see what he was doing, but the wind kept extinguishing it.

  He pulled a wire that he thought connected the dragon’s nerve center to its head, hoping for a little wake-up jolt.

  Festus groaned—metal creaking inside his neck. His eyes flickered weakly to life, and he spread his wings. Their fall turned into a steep glide.

  “Good!” Leo said. “Come on, big boy. Come on!”

  They were still flying in way too hot, and the ground was too close. Leo needed a place to land—fast.

  There was a big river—no. Not good for a fire-breathing dragon. He’d never get Festus out from the bottom if he sank, especially in freezing temperatures. Then, on the riverbanks, Leo spotted a white mansion with a huge snowy lawn inside a tall brick perimeter fence—like some rich person’s private compound, all of it blazing with light. A perfect landing field. He did his best to steer the dragon toward it, and Festus seemed to come back to life. They could make this!

  Then everything went wrong. As they approached the lawn, spotlights along the fence fixed on them, blinding Leo. He heard bursts like tracer fire, the sound of metal being cut to shreds—and BOOM.

  Leo blacked out.

  When Leo came to his senses, Jason and Piper were leaning over him. He was lying in the snow, covered in mud and grease. He spit a clump of frozen grass out of his mouth.

  “Where—”

  “Lie still.” Piper had tears in her eyes. “You rolled pretty hard when—when Festus—”

  “Where is he?” Leo sat up, but his head felt like it was floating. They’d landed inside the compound. Something had happened on the way in—gunfire?

  “Seriously, Leo,” Jason said. “You could be hurt. You shouldn’t—”

  Leo pushed himself to his feet. Then he saw the wreckage. Festus must have dropped the big canary cages as he came over the fence, because they’d rolled in different directions and landed on their sides, perfectly undamaged.

  Festus hadn’t been so lucky.

  The dragon had disintegrated. His limbs were scattered across the lawn. His tail hung on the fence. The main section of his body had plowed a trench twenty feet wide and fifty feet long across the mansion’s yard before breaking apart. What remained of his hide was a charred, smoking pile of scraps. Only his neck and head were somewhat intact, resting across a row of frozen rosebushes like a pillow.

  “No,” Leo sobbed. He ran to the dragon’s head and stroked its snout. The dragon’s eyes flickered weakly. Oil leaked out of his ear.

  “You can’t go,” Leo pleaded. “You’re the best thing I ever fixed.”

  The dragon’s head whirred its gears, as if it were purring. Jason and Piper stood next to him, but Leo kept his eyes fixed on the dragon.

  He remembered what Hephaestus had said: That isn’t your fault, Leo. Nothing lasts forever, not even the best machines.

  His dad had been trying to warn him.

  “It’s not fair,” he said.

  The dragon clicked. Long creak. Two short clicks. Creak. Creak. Almost like a pattern … triggering an old memory in Leo’s mind. Leo realized Festus was trying to say something. He was using Morse code—just like Leo’s mom had taught him years ago. Leo listened more intently, translating the clicks into letters: a simple message repeating over and over.

  “Yeah,” Leo said. “I understand. I will. I promise.”

  The dragon’s eyes went dark. Festus was gone.

  Leo cried. He wasn’t even embarrassed. His friends stood on either side, patting his shoulders, saying comforting things; but the buzzing in Leo’s ears drowned out their words.

  Finally Jason said, “I’m so sorry, man. What did you promise Festus?”

  Leo sniffled. He opened the dragon’s head panel, just to be sure, but the control disk was cracked and burned beyond repair.

  “Something my dad told me,” Leo said. “Everything can be reused.”

  “Your dad talked to you?” Jason asked. “When was this?”

  Leo didn’t answer. He worked at the dragon’s neck hinges until the head was detached. It weighed about a hundred pounds, but Leo managed to hold it in his arms. He looked up at the starry sky and said, “Take him back to the bunker, Dad. Please, until I can reuse him. I’ve never asked you for anything.”

  The wind picked up, and the dragon’s head floated out of Leo’s arms like it weighed nothing. It flew into the sky and disappeared.

  Piper looked at him in amazement. “He answered you?”

  “I had a dream,” Leo managed. “Tell you later.”

  He knew he owed his friends a better explanation, but Leo could barely speak. He felt like a broken machine himself—like someone had removed one little part of him, and now he’d never be complete. He might move, he might talk, he might keep going and do his job. But he’d always be off balance, never calibrated exactly right.

  Still, he couldn’t afford to break down completely. Otherwise, Festus had died for nothing. He had to finish this quest—for his friends, for his mom, for his dragon.

  He looked around. The large white mansion glowed in the center of the grounds. Tall brick walls with lights and security cameras surrounded the perimeter, but now Leo could see—or rather sense—just how well those walls were defended.

  “Where are we?” he asked. “I mean, what city?”

  “Omaha, Nebraska,” Piper said. “I saw a billboard as we flew in. But I don’t know what this mansion is. We came in right behind you, but as you were landing, Leo, I swear it looked like—I don’t know—”

  “Lasers,” Leo said. He picked up a piece of dragon wreckage and threw it toward the top of the fence. Immediately a turret popped up from the brick wall and a beam of pure heat incinerated the bronze plating to ashes.

  Jason whistled. “Some defense system. How are we even alive?”

  “Festus,” Leo said miserably. “He took the fire. The lasers sliced him to bits as he came in so they didn’t focus on you. I led him into a death trap.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Piper said. “He saved our lives again.”

  “But what now?” Jason said. “The main gates are locked, and I’m guessing I can’t fly us out of here without getting shot down.”

  Leo looked up the walkway at the big white mansion. “Since we can’t go out, we’ll have to go in.”

  XXXI

  JASON

  JASON WOULD’VE DIED FIVE TIMES on the way to the front door if not for Leo.

  First it was the motion-activated trapdoor on the sidewalk, then the lasers on the steps, then the nerve gas dispenser on the porch railing, the pressure-sensitive poison spikes in the welcome mat, and of course the exploding doorbell.

  Leo deactivated all of them. It was like he could smell the traps, and he picked just the right tool out of his belt to disable them.

  “You’re amazing, man,” Jason said.

  Leo scowled as he examined the front door lock. “Yeah, amazing,” he said. “Can’t fix a dragon right, but I’m amazing.”

  “Hey, that wasn’t your—”

  “Front door’s already unlocked,” Leo announced.

  Piper stared at the door in disbelief. “It is? All those traps, and the door’s unlocked?”

  Leo turned the knob. The door swung open easily. He stepped inside without hesitation.

  Before Jason could follow, Piper caught his arm. “He’s going to need some time to get o
ver Festus. Don’t take it personally.”

  “Yeah,” Jason said. “Yeah, okay.”

  But still he felt terrible. Back in Medea’s store, he’d said some pretty harsh stuff to Leo—stuff a friend shouldn’t say, not to mention the fact he’d almost skewered Leo with a sword. If it hadn’t been for Piper, they’d both be dead. And Piper hadn’t gotten out of that encounter easily, either.

  “Piper,” he said, “I know I was in a daze back in Chicago, but that stuff about your dad—if he’s in trouble, I want to help. I don’t care if it’s a trap or not.”

  Her eyes were always different colors, but now they looked shattered, as if she’d seen something she just couldn’t cope with. “Jason, you don’t know what you’re saying. Please—don’t make me feel worse. Come on. We should stick together.”

  She ducked inside.

  “Together,” Jason said to himself. “Yeah, we’re doing great with that.”

  Jason’s first impression of the house: Dark.

  From the echo of his footsteps he could tell the entry hall was enormous, even bigger than Boreas’s penthouse; but the only illumination came from the yard lights outside. A faint glow peeked through the breaks in the thick velvet curtains. The windows rose about ten feet tall. Spaced between them along the walls were life-size metal statues. As Jason’s eyes adjusted, he saw sofas arranged in a U in the middle of the room, with a central coffee table and one large chair at the far end. A massive chandelier glinted overhead. Along the back wall stood a row of closed doors.

  “Where’s the light switch?” His voice echoed alarmingly through the room.

  “Don’t see one,” Leo said.

  “Fire?” Piper suggested.

  Leo held out his hand, but nothing happened. “It’s not working.”

  “Your fire is out? Why?” Piper asked.