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

by Rick Riordan

“Stupid rock gods!” Leo yelled from the helm. “That’s the third time I’ve had to replace that mast! You think they grow on trees?” Nico frowned. “Masts are from trees.” “That’s not the point!”

“College,” she gasped. “Could we go there together?” “Y-yeah,” he agreed, a little more confidently. “What would you study, Percy?” “Dunno,” he admitted. “Marine science,” she suggested. “Oceanography?” “Surfing?” he asked.

“Leo!” Jason was shaking his shoulder. “Hey, man, why are you hugging Nike?” Leo’s eyes fluttered open. His arms were wrapped around the human-sized statue in Athena’s hand. He must have been thrashing in his sleep. He clung to the victory goddess like he used to cling to his pillow when he had nightmares as a kid. (Man, that had been so embarrassing in the foster homes.) He disentangled himself and sat up, rubbing his face. “Nothing,” he muttered. “We were just cuddling. Um, what’s going on?”

He was so absorbed with feeling sorry for himself that he didn’t notice where they were until Jason grabbed his arm. “Check it out.” Leo looked up. They’d arrived in a smaller piazza. Looming over them was a huge bronze statue of a buck-naked Neptune. “Ah, jeez.” Leo averted his eyes. He really didn’t need to see a godly groin this early in the morning.

“I guess we’ll do anything for someone we love.” Hazel squeezed his hand appreciatively. Nico stared at the cobblestones. “Yeah,” he said bitterly. “I guess we will.” Frank wasn’t sure what Nico was thinking. He had a hard time imagining Nico di Angelo acting out of love for anybody, except maybe Hazel. But Frank decided he’d gone as far as he dared with the personal questions.

Leo yelled, “No, no, no! Dang slimy-shelled son of a mother!”

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

“Though I still don’t get why you want to go to Croatia, especially a town called Split. I mean, you name your city Split, you gotta figure it’s a warning to, you know, split. Kind of like naming your city Get Out!” “Wait,” Hazel said. “Why are we going to Croatia?”

Leo whistled. “Okay, now I’m interested. Be nice to have a booty-kicking army of pagan zombies on our side when we enter the House of Hades.”

He scowled at Jason. “And please, I don’t like being touched. Don’t ever grab me again.” Jason’s shoulder blades tensed. He thought he heard the undertone of a threat, like: unless you want to get a Stygian sword up your nose.

“Ah…” Favonius nodded sympathetically. “I don’t blame you for being nervous, Nico di Angelo. Do you know how I ended up serving Cupid?” “I don’t serve anyone,” Nico muttered. “Especially not Cupid.” Favonius continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I fell in love with a mortal named Hyacinthus. He was quite extraordinary.” “He…?” Jason’s brain was still fuzzy from his wind trip, so it took him a second to process that. “Oh…” “Yes, Jason Grace.” Favonius arched an eyebrow. “I fell in love with a dude. Does that shock you?”

Favonius snorted. “You make it sound so simple. Alas, love is never simple. You see, the god Apollo also liked Hyacinthus. He claimed they were just friends. I don’t know. But one day I came across them together, playing a game of quoits—” There was that weird word again. “Quoits?” “A game with those hoops,” Nico explained, though his voice was brittle. “Like horseshoes.” “Sort of,” Favonius said. “At any rate, I was jealous. Instead of confronting them and finding out the truth, I shifted the wind and sent a heavy metal ring right at Hyacinthus’s head and…well.” The wind god sighed. “As Hyacinthus died, Apollo turned him into a flower, the hyacinth. I’m sure Apollo would’ve taken horrible vengeance on me, but Cupid offered me his protection. I’d done a terrible thing, but I’d been driven mad by love, so he spared me, on the condition that I work for him forever.”

“Stop it!” Nico yelled. “It’s me you want. Leave him alone!” Jason’s ears rang. He was dizzy from getting smacked around. His mouth tasted like limestone dust. He didn’t understand why Nico would think of himself as the main target, but Cupid seemed to agree. Poor Nico di Angelo. The god’s voice was tinged with disappointment. Do you know what you want, much less what I want? My beloved Psyche risked everything in the name of Love. It was the only way to atone for her lack of faith. And you—what have you risked in my name? “I’ve been to Tartarus and back,” Nico snarled. “You don’t scare me.” I scare you very, very much. Face me. Be honest.

“Nico,” he called, “what does this guy want from you?” Tell him, Nico di Angelo, Cupid said. Tell him you are a coward, afraid of yourself and your feelings. Tell him the real reason you ran from Camp Half-Blood, and why you are always alone. Nico let loose a guttural scream. The ground at his feet split open and skeletons crawled forth—dead Romans with missing hands and caved-in skulls, cracked ribs, and jaws unhinged. Some were dressed in the remnants of togas. Others had glinting pieces of armor hanging off their chests. Will you hide among the dead, as you always do? Cupid taunted. Waves of darkness rolled off the son of Hades. When they hit Jason, he almost lost consciousness—overwhelmed by hatred and fear and shame… Images flashed through his mind. He saw Nico and his sister on a snowy cliff in Maine, Percy Jackson protecting them from a manticore. Percy’s sword gleamed in the dark. He’d been the first demigod Nico had ever seen in action. 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. Jason saw the moment when Percy returned and told Nico that Bianca was dead. Nico had screamed and called him a liar. He’d felt betrayed, but still…when the skeleton warriors attacked, he couldn’t let them harm Percy. Nico had called on the earth to swallow them up, ...

“I left Camp Half-Blood because of love,” Nico said. “Annabeth…she—” Still hiding, Cupid said, smashing another skeleton to pieces. You do not have the strength. “Nico,” Jason managed to say, “it’s okay. I get it.” Nico glanced over, pain and misery washing across his face. “No, you don’t,” he said. “There’s no way you can understand.” And so you run away again, Cupid chided. From your friends, from yourself. “I don’t have friends!” Nico yelled. “I left Camp Half-Blood because I don’t belong! I’ll never belong!” The skeletons had Cupid pinned now, but the invisible god laughed so cruelly that Jason wanted to summon another bolt of lightning. Unfortunately, he doubted he had the strength. “Leave him alone, Cupid,” Jason croaked. “This isn’t…” His voice failed. He wanted to say it wasn’t Cupid’s business, but he realized this was exactly Cupid’s business. Something Favonius said kept buzzing in his ears: Are you shocked? The story of Psyche finally made sense to him—why a mortal girl would be so afraid. Why she would risk breaking the rules to look the god of love in the face, because she feared he might be a monster. Psyche had been right. Cupid was a monster. Love was the most savage monster of all. Nico’s voice was like broken glass. “I—I wasn’t in love with Annabeth.”

“I had a crush on Percy,” Nico spat. “That’s the truth. That’s the big secret.”