The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus, #4)

by Rick Riordan

She could sink to the bottom and drown, let the river carry her body away. That would be easier. She could just close her eyes.… Percy gripped her hand and jolted her back to reality. She couldn’t see him in the murky water, but suddenly she didn’t want to die.

“What would you study, Percy?” “Dunno,” he admitted. “Marine science,” she suggested. “Oceanography?” “Surfing?” he asked.

“She…she would’ve killed me,” Annabeth stammered. Percy kicked the dust on the rocks, his expression grim and dissatisfied. “She died too easily, considering how much torture she put you through. She deserved worse.” Annabeth couldn’t argue with that, but the hard edge in Percy’s voice made her unsettled. She’d never seen someone get so angry or vengeful on her behalf. It almost made her glad Arachne had died quickly.

Still, moping around wasn’t going to get Percy and Annabeth back. He had to concentrate on fixing the problems he could fix.

He is the void that consumes all magic, the cold that consumes all fire, the silence that consumes all speech. Leo wanted to shout: And I’m the dude that’s all out of here!

Frank’s old centurion badge was pinned to his shirt, despite the fact that the demigods of the Argo II were now Public Enemies Numbers 1 through 7 back at Camp Jupiter.

So what if they were in Tartarus? So what if they stood a slim chance of surviving? He was so glad that they were together, he had the ridiculous urge to smile.

Wow. When he started looking back on the war with Kronos as the good old days—that was sad.

At least he had Annabeth. They would find a way out of Tartarus. They had to. He didn’t think much of fates and prophecies, but he did believe in one thing: Annabeth and he were supposed to be together. They hadn’t survived so much just to get killed now.

Annabeth had been kind to him. Even when he was so distracted he’d acted like a buffoon, Annabeth had been patient and helpful. While Ares screamed that Athena’s children couldn’t be trusted, and Mars bellowed at him to kill all the Greeks, Frank had grown to respect Annabeth.

“Come on!” he yelled. “You want to know what Frank Zhang is worth? Come on!” He realized he wasn’t just shouting at the monsters. He was venting weeks of fear, rage, and resentment.

“Uh…I don’t…Maybe I can fix it.” Hazel laughed with delight. “Why? You look amazing!” “I—I do?” “I mean, you were handsome before! But you look older, and taller, and so distinguished—”

Frank tried to hold it together. He scolded himself for feeling so weak. He could face an army of monsters, but as soon as Hazel showed him kindness, he wanted to break down and cry.

Her eyes were incredibly sad, as if she realized something had changed in Frank—something much more important than the physical growth spurt. Frank knew it too. He would never be the same. He just wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

Her only comfort was Percy. Every so often he would glance over and smile, or squeeze her hand. He had to be just as scared and miserable as she was, and she loved him for trying to make her feel better.

“Percy, wake me for second watch. Don’t be a hero.” He gave her that smirk she’d come to love. “Who, me?” He kissed her, his lips parched and feverishly warm. “Sleep.”

She thought about sitting in the dining pavilion, watching the sunset over Long Island Sound. That was the first place she and Percy had truly kissed. Her eyes smarted. Percy put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, this is good. Actual food from home, right?”

I just don’t know.” “Yeah,” Percy said. “Okay.” She could see the worry in his eyes. For years, he’d depended on her for answers. Now, when he needed her most, she couldn’t help.

“Uh…” Percy looked doubtful, but he touched the cap to the hilt of the sword. Riptide shrank back into a ballpoint pen, but now the writing point was exposed. “May I?” Annabeth plucked it from his hand. She flattened the napkin against the altar and began to write. Riptide’s ink glowed Celestial bronze.

Whenever she brought up Rachel’s name, Percy got nervous. At one point, Rachel had been interested in dating Percy. That was ancient history. Rachel and Annabeth were good friends now. But Annabeth didn’t mind making Percy a little uneasy. You had to keep your boyfriend on his toes.

How was he keeping his cool? The way he talked to Bob left Annabeth awestruck…and maybe a little uneasy, too. If Percy had been serious about leaving the choice to Bob, then she didn’t like how much he trusted the Titan. If he’d been manipulating Bob into making that choice…well, then, Annabeth was stunned that Percy could be so calculating. He met her eyes, but she couldn’t read his expression. That bothered her too.

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.

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.

Jason was still hacking away at the turtle’s face, but when he heard Leo say I have an idea, he made the only smart choice. He flew away as fast as possible.

If we can’t fly with the oars broken, how do we get the ship out?” “You wait and fix the oars!” Coach said. “Or just sail the other direction, you big galoot.” Frank looked confused. “What’s a galoot?”

Then she remembered that Poseidon had a changeable personality, like the sea. Maybe his children reflected that. Percy was a child of Poseidon’s better nature—powerful, but gentle and helpful, the kind of sea that sped ships safely to distant lands.

“When I met Thanatos,” she said, “you know…Death…he told me I wasn’t on your list of rogue spirits to capture. He said maybe that’s why you were keeping your distance. If you acknowledged me, you’d have to take me back to the Underworld.” Pluto waited. “What is your question?” “You’re here. Why don’t you take me to the Underworld? Return me to the dead?” Pluto’s form started to fade. He smiled, but Hazel couldn’t tell if he was sad or pleased. “Perhaps that is not what I want to see, Hazel. Perhaps I was never here.”

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.

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.

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.

He wove 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?

“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.

“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.

After Percy’s victory then, Gaea 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.

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.

She saw Percy, and a series of expressions flashed across her face—relief, joy, shock, horror. “What’s wrong with him?” she cried. “What happened?” She cradled his shoulders and wept into his scalp. Percy wanted to tell her it was okay, but of course it wasn’t. He couldn’t even feel his body anymore. His consciousness was like a small helium balloon, loosely tied to the top of his head. It had no weight, no strength. It just kept expanding, getting lighter and lighter. He knew that soon it would either burst or the string would break, and his life would float away. Annabeth took his face in her hands. She kissed him and tried to wipe the dust and sweat from his eyes.

In the center of the line stood Reyna, her metal dogs Aurum and Argentum at her side. Upon seeing her, Jason felt an incredible pang of guilt. He’d let her believe they had a future together. He had never been in love with her, and he hadn’t led her on, exactly…but he also hadn’t shut her down.

He felt guilty about leaving Reyna to rule without him, but still…part of him wanted to go back to Camp Half-Blood with Piper and Leo.

Still… Jason didn’t get why Nico pushed people away, why he never spent much time at either camp, why he preferred the dead to the living. He really didn’t get why Nico had promised to lead the Argo II to Epirus if he hated Percy Jackson so much.

Nico turned even paler than usual. His eyes darted around the cavernous room as if he was starting to feel trapped. “Nico?” Jason said. “What’s he talking about?” “I don’t know. Nothing.” “Nothing?” Favonius cried. “The one you care for most…plunged into Tartarus, and still you will not allow the truth?”

Later, at Camp Half-Blood, Percy took Nico by the arm, promising to keep his sister Bianca safe. Nico believed him. Nico looked into his sea-green eyes and thought, How can he possibly fail? This is a real hero. He was Nico’s favorite game, Mythomagic, brought to life.

“I left Camp Half-Blood because of love,” Nico said.

Whether Nico had really given up on Percy or not, Jason couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Nico all those years, keeping a secret that would’ve been unthinkable to share in the 1940s, denying who he was, feeling completely alone—even more isolated than other demigods. “Nico,” he said gently, “I’ve seen a lot of brave things. But what you just did? That was maybe the bravest.”

Occasionally Percy would groan in pain, and Annabeth felt like a fist was squeezing her heart.

Annabeth had wanted to throttle the goddess of love. She’d had more than her share of interesting. Now Annabeth was holding out for a happy ending. Surely that was possible, no matter what the legends said about tragic heroes. There had to be exceptions, right? If suffering led to reward, then Percy and she deserved the grand prize.

Once Annabeth caught up, she could walk right behind him and keep an eye on Percy, who was mumbling deliriously, his forehead dangerously hot. Several times he muttered Annabeth, and she fought back a sob.

“Get Percy to safety,” Annabeth said. “I’ll distract it.” She had no idea how she would do that, but it was her only choice. She couldn’t let Percy die—not if she still had the strength to stand.

He didn’t seem hostile. He radiated sorrow and bitterness, as if he were so wrapped up in his own misery that he resented Annabeth for trying to make him focus on anything else.

With each sip, Percy’s color improved. He drained the cup, and his eyes fluttered open. He looked around with a dazed expression, spotted Annabeth, and gave her a drunken grin. “Feel great.” His eyes rolled up in his head. He fell back in the bed and began to snore.

Nico was one of the least outgoing, least friendly demigods Annabeth knew. Yet he’d been kind to Bob. By convincing Bob that Percy was a friend, Nico had inadvertently saved their lives.