The Son of Neptune (The Heroes of Olympus, #2)

by Rick Riordan

“So glad you’re here. I’m Iris!” Hazel’s eyes widened. “Not the Iris—the rainbow goddess?” Iris made a face. “Well, that’s my official job, yes. But I don’t define myself by my corporate identity. In my spare time, I run this!” She gestured around her proudly. “The R.O.F.L. Co-op—an employee-run cooperative promoting healthy alternative lifestyles and organic foods.”

but I understand Phineas has returned to the mortal world. You’ll find him in Portland, Oregon, which is on your way north. But you must promise me one thing. If he’s still plagued by harpies, do not kill them, no matter what Phineas promises you. Win his help some other way. The harpies are not evil. They’re my sisters.”

“I know. I don’t look old enough to be the harpies’ sister, but it’s true.

“I wish there was another way,” she said. “If you had some weasels, for instance. Weasels are deadly to basilisks.” “Fresh out of weasels,” Frank admitted.

FRANK SWEPT HIS SPEAR BACK AND FORTH. “Stay back!” His voice sounded squeaky. “I’ve got…um…amazing powers—and stuff.” The basilisks hissed in three-part harmony. Maybe they were laughing.

horror as a human skeleton crawled out of the ground. It took on flesh as if someone were pouring gelatin over its bones, covering them in glowing, transparent gray skin. Then ghostly clothes enveloped it—a muscle shirt, camo pants, and army boots. Everything about the creature was gray: gray clothes on gray flesh on gray bones. It turned toward Frank. Its skull grinned beneath an expressionless gray face.

Here, you’ll need this. Oh, that looks good. The purse—sorry, masculine accessory bag—was rainbow tie-dyed with a peace symbol stitched in wooden beads and the slogan Hug the Whole World. Percy wished it said Hug the Commode.

Worst of all, the farther north Percy went, the more those memories faded. He had started to feel better at Camp Jupiter, remembering random names and faces. But now even Annabeth’s face was getting dimmer.

It’s like you’re dialing somebody, she said, but you’ve forgotten the number. Or someone is jamming the signal. Sorry, dear. I just can’t connect you. He was terrified that he’d lose Annabeth’s face completely when he got to Alaska. Maybe he’d wake up one day and not remember her name.

O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, accept my offering. Except Fleecy kind of changed it. She gave us her—what did she call it—her direct number? So I had to say, O Fleecy, do me a solid. Show Reyna at Camp Jupiter. I felt kind of stupid, but it worked. Reyna’s image appeared in the rainbow, like in a two-way video call. She was in the baths. Scared her out of her mind.”

A killer whale surfaced next to the boat, and Percy struck up a mental conversation with him. It wasn’t exactly like talking, but it went something like this: Could you give us a ride north, Percy asked, like as close to Portland as possible? Eat seals, the whale responded. Are you seals? No, Percy admitted. I’ve got a man satchel full of macrobiotic beef jerky, though. The whale shuddered. Promise not to feed me this, and I will take you north. Deal.

He hadn’t been with the Romans when they had attacked, but he saw it all clearly: a Titan in armor, Annabeth and two other girls fighting at Percy’s side. One of the girls died in the battle. Percy knelt over her, watching as she dissolved into stars.

Then he saw the giant warship in its dry dock. The bronze dragon figurehead glinted in the morning light. The riggings and armaments were complete, but something was wrong. A hatch in the deck was open, and smoke poured from some kind of engine. A boy with curly black hair was cursing as he pounded the engine with a wrench. Two other demigods squatted next to him, watching with concern. One was a teenage guy with short blond hair. The other was a girl with long dark hair.

The Cyclops carried a massive club over his shoulder, but Percy didn’t feel that he was an enemy. He kept yelling Percy’s name, calling him…brother? “He smells farther away,” the Cyclops moaned to the dog. “Why does he smell farther?” “ROOF!” the dog barked, and Percy’s dream changed again.

Percy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “How did we get here?” Frank gave him a look like, You won’t believe this. “The killer whale took us as far as the Columbia River. Then he passed the harness to a couple of twelve-foot sturgeons.” Percy thought Frank had said surgeons. He had this weird image of giant doctors in scrubs and face masks, pulling their boat upstream. Then he realized Frank meant sturgeons, like the fish. He was glad he hadn’t said anything. Would have been embarrassing, his being son of the sea god and all.

IT WASN’T AS HARD AS THEY THOUGHT. The screaming and the weed whacker helped.

“Demigods!” the old man said. “I can always smell demigods.” Hazel frowned. “Do we smell that bad?” The old man laughed. “Of course not, my dear. But you’d be surprised how sharp my other senses became once I was blinded. I’m Phineas. And you—wait, don’t tell me—

He hoped all sons of Neptune didn’t share the same fate. First, you start carrying a man satchel. Next thing you know, you’re running around in a bathrobe and pink bunny slippers, chasing chickens with a weed whacker.

You see, I had a bit of a big mouth. I gave away too many secrets that the gods wanted kept.” He turned to Hazel. “For instance, you’re supposed to be dead. And you—” He turned to Frank. “Your life depends on a burned stick.” Percy frowned. “What are you talking about?” Hazel blinked like she’d been slapped. Frank looked like the truck had backed up and run over him again.

Phineas sneered. “One dead person to another, girlie? I wouldn’t be talking. You started this whole thing! If it weren’t for you, Alcyoneus wouldn’t be alive!” Hazel stumbled back. “Hazel?” Frank’s eyes got as wide as quarters. “What’s he talking about?” “Ha!” Phineas said. “You’ll find out soon enough, Frank Zhang. Then we’ll see if you’re still sweet on your girlfriend.

Paths stretched through the park under huge maple and elm trees, past sculptures and playgrounds and shady benches. The place reminded Percy of…some other park. Maybe in his hometown? He couldn’t remember, but it made him feel homesick.

“Except it’s Chinese,” Frank said. “My grandmother has one of those.” He flinched. “I mean, hers isn’t twelve feet tall. But she imports stuff…from China. We’re Chinese.” He looked at Hazel and Percy, who were trying hard not to laugh. “Could I just die from embarrassment now?” he asked.

Percy set down the Thai noodles. He realized that Ella was different, even for a harpy. But after watching her get picked on, he was sure of one thing: whatever else happened, he was going to help her.

“Friends,” Ella said. “‘Ten seasons. 1994 to 2004.’” She glanced sideways at Percy, then looked in the air and started reciting to the clouds. “‘A half-blood of the eldest gods, shall reach sixteen against all odds.’ Sixteen. You’re sixteen. Page sixteen, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. ‘Ingredients: Bacon, Butter.’”

“She’s a genius chicken,” Frank agreed.

“I see…Well, actually, I’m blind, so I don’t see. Have you come to kill me, then? If so, good luck completing your quest.”

Percy nodded. “Apparently Reyna thinks her sister could send help for the camp.” “Amazons,” Ella muttered. “Amazon country. Hmm. Ella will find libraries instead. Doesn’t like Amazons. Fierce. Shields. Swords. Pointy. Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Percy agreed. “We’ll either need to fix it or find a new boat. I’m pretty much holding it together with my willpower at this point. Ella, do you have any idea where we can find the Amazons?”

and some men in orange jumpsuits, like prison uniforms, driving forklifts through the aisles, delivering more pallets of boxes. The men wore iron collars around their necks. “You keep slaves?” Hazel knew it might be dangerous to speak, but she was so outraged she couldn’t stop herself. “The men?” Kinzie snorted. “They’re not slaves. They just know their place. Now, move.”

Then—when the weak mortals depend on us for everything—the revolution will begin!” “What are you going to do?” Frank grumbled. “Cancel free shipping?”

“Of course, I survived and prospered. I have risen to be queen of the Amazons. So perhaps I should thank you.” “You’re welcome,” Percy said. The queen dug her knife in a little deeper. “Never mind. I think I’ll kill you.”

“Um…is that thing tame?” Frank said. The horse whinnied angrily. “I don’t think so,” Percy guessed. “He just said, ‘I will trample you to death, silly Chinese Canadian baby man.’” “You speak horse?” Hazel asked. “‘Baby man’?” Frank spluttered.

Arion whinnied again. “Ouch,” Percy said. “Frank, the horse says you’re a—you know, actually, I’m not going to translate that. Anyway, he says there’s a chariot in the warehouse, and he’s willing to pull it.”

Frank knew this hill. “I’m practically home,” he said. “My grandmother’s house is right over there.” Hazel squinted. “How far?” “Just over the river and through the woods.” Percy raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? To Grandmother’s house we go?” Frank cleared his throat. “Yeah, anyway.”

“What are these guys?” he whispered. “Canadians,” Percy said. Frank leaned away from him. “Excuse me?” “Uh, no offense,” Percy said. “That’s what Annabeth called them when I fought them before. She said they live in the north, in Canada.” “Yeah, well,” Frank grumbled, “we’re in Canada. I’m Canadian. But I’ve never seen those things before.”

Cannibals. Northern giants. Sasquatch legend. Yep, yep. They’re not birds. Not birds of North America.” “That’s what they’re called,” Percy agreed. “Laistry—uh, whatever Ella said.” Frank scowled at the dudes in the clearing. “They could be mistaken for Bigfoot. Maybe that’s where the legend came from. Ella, you’re pretty smart.”

Unfortunately, Gray lost interest after the word “ogres.” Maybe he only understood simple sentences. He charged toward the ogres’ campfire. “Wait!” Frank said, but it was too late. Gray pulled two of his own ribs from his shirt and ran around the fire, stabbing the ogres in the back with such blinding speed they didn’t even have time to yell. Six extremely surprised-looking Laistrygonians fell sideways like a circle of dominoes and crumbled into dust. Gray stomped around, kicking their ashes apart as they tried to re-form. When he seemed satisfied that they weren’t coming back, Gray stood at attention, saluted smartly in Frank’s direction, and sank into the forest floor.

The fireplace was dark and cold. Hazel hugged her chest as if to keep the piece of firewood from jumping into the hearth. “Is that—” “Yeah,” Frank said. “That’s it.” “That’s what?” Percy asked. Hazel’s expression was sympathetic, but that just made Frank feel worse. He remembered how terrified, how repulsed she had looked when he had summoned Gray. “It’s the fireplace,” he told Percy, which sounded stupidly obvious.

Mars shrugged. “Can’t blame you. Nobody welcomes war—not if they’re smart. But war finds everyone sooner or later. It’s inevitable.” “That’s stupid,” Frank said. “War isn’t inevitable. It kills people.

I think you worry her more than Percy or Jason or any of the seven.” Frank felt like the room was tilting. He wished there were another chair to sit in. “The seven…you mean in the ancient prophecy, the Doors of Death? I’m one of the seven? And Jason, and—”

Anyway, Gaea has these Laistrygonians convinced that if they eat the last member of your family—that being you—they’ll inherit your family gift. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know. But the Laistrygonians are hungry to try.”

“Life is only precious because it ends, kid. Take it from a god. You mortals don’t know how lucky you are.”

“Eat bitter, taste sweet,” Frank said. “I hate that proverb.” “But it’s true. What do they call it these days—no pain, no gain? Same concept. You do the easy thing, the appealing thing, the peaceful thing, mostly it turns out sour in the end. But if you take the hard path—ah, that’s how you reap the sweet rewards. Duty. Sacrifice. They mean something.”

But every hero has a fatal flaw. Percy Jackson? He’s too loyal to his friends. He can’t give them up, not for anything. He was told that, years ago. And someday soon, he’s going to face a sacrifice he can’t make. Without you, Frank—without your sense of duty—he’s going to fail. The whole war will go sideways, and Gaea will destroy our world.”

One ogre had fired up a portable barbecue and was dancing in an apron that said KISS THE COOK.

“I’ve sent your friends to the attic,” Grandmother said. “You can join them when we’re done.” “The attic?” Frank turned. “You told me I could never go in there.” “That’s because we keep weapons in the attic, silly boy. Do you think this is the first time monsters have attacked our family?” “Weapons,” Frank grumbled. “Right. I’ve never handled weapons before.” Grandmother’s nostrils flared. “Was that sarcasm, Fai Zhang?” “Yes, Grandmother.” “Good. There may be hope for you yet. Now, sit. You must eat.”

“Make you breakfast? By Buddha’s monkey, of course not! And it wasn’t the house staff. Too dangerous for them here. No, your girlfriend Hazel made that for you. And brought you a blanket and pillow last night. And picked out some clean clothes for you in your bedroom. By the way, you should shower. You smell like burning horse hair.”

“They want to cook you and eat you,” she said distastefully, “which is ridiculous. You’d taste terrible.” “Thank you, Grandmother.”

“To the north, beyond the gods, lies the legion’s crown. Falling from ice, the son of Neptune shall drown—” She stopped and scratched her disheveled red hair. “Hmm. Burned. The rest is burned.”

Wisdom’s daughter walks alone, the Mark of Athena burns through Rome.’”