The Demigod Diaries (The Heroes of Olympus)(6)

“You’re right to hate me,” the leucrota said in Hal’s voice, “but I can’t save you. At sunset, those bars will rise. The monsters will drag you away and kill you. There is no escape.”

Inside the monster’s enclosure, a square panel on the back wall ground open. I hadn’t even noticed the panel before, but it must have led to another room. Two more leucrotae stalked into the cage. All three fixed their glowing red eyes on me, their bony mouth-plates snapping with anticipation.

I wondered how the monsters could eat with such strange mouths. As if to answer my question, a leucrota picked up an old piece of armor in its mouth. The Celestial bronze breastplate looked thick enough to stop a spear-thrust, but the leucrota clamped down with the force of a vise grip and bit a horseshoe-shaped hole in the metal.

“As you see,” said another leucrota in Hal’s voice, “the monsters are remarkably strong.”

My legs felt like soggy spaghetti. Thalia’s fingers dug into my arm.

“Send them away,” she pleaded. “Hal, can you make them leave?”

The old man frowned. The first monster said: “If I do that, we won’t be able to talk.”

The second monster picked up in the same voice: “Besides, any escape strategy you can think of, someone else has already tried.”

The third monster said: “There is no point in private talks.”

Thalia paced, as restless as the monsters. “Do they know what we’re saying? I mean, do they just speak, or do they understand the words?”

The first leucrota made a high-pitched whine. Then it imitated Thalia’s voice: “Do they understand the words?”

My stomach churned. The monster had mimicked Thalia perfectly. If I’d heard that voice in the dark, calling for help, I would’ve run straight toward it.

The second monster spoke for Hal: “The creatures are intelligent, the way dogs are intelligent. They comprehend emotions and a few simple phrases. They can lure their prey by crying things like ‘Help!’ But I’m not sure how much human speech they really understand. It doesn’t matter. You can’t fool them.”

“Send them away,” I said. “You have a computer. Type what you want to say. If we’re going to die at sunset, I don’t want those things staring at me all day.”

Hal hesitated. Then he turned to the monsters and stared at them in silence. After a few moments, the leucrotae snarled. They stalked out of the enclosure and the back panel closed behind them.

Hal looked at me. He spread his hands as if apologizing, or asking a question.

“Luke,” Thalia said anxiously, “do you have a plan?”

“Not yet,” I admitted. “But we’d better come up with one by sunset.”

It was an odd feeling, waiting to die. Normally when Thalia and I fought monsters, we had about two seconds to figure out a plan. The threat was immediate. We lived or died instantly. Now we had all day trapped in a room with nothing to do, knowing that at sunset those cage bars would rise and we’d be trampled to death and torn apart by monsters that couldn’t be killed with any weapon. Then Halcyon Green would eat my Snickers bars.

The suspense was almost worse than an attack.

Part of me was tempted to knock out the old man with my golf club and feed him to his drapes. Then at least he couldn’t help the monsters lure any more demigods to their deaths. But I couldn’t make myself do it. Hal was so frail and pathetic. Besides, his curse wasn’t his fault. He’d been trapped in this room for decades, forced to depend on monsters for his voice and his survival, forced to watch other demigods die, all because he’d saved a girl’s life. What kind of justice was that?

I was still angry with Hal for luring us here, but I could understand why he’d lost hope after so many years. If anybody deserved a golf club across the head, it was Apollo—and all the other deadbeat parent Olympian gods, for that matter.

We took inventory of Hal’s prison apartment. The bookshelves were stuffed with everything from ancient history to thriller novels.

You’re welcome to read anything, Hal typed on his computer. Just please not my diary. It’s personal.

He put his hand protectively on a battered green leather book next to his keyboard.

“No problem,” I said. I doubted any of the books would help us, and I couldn’t imagine Hal had anything interesting to write about in his diary, being stuck in this room most of his life.

He showed us the computer’s Internet browser. Great. We could order pizza and watch the monsters eat the delivery guy. Not very helpful. I suppose we could’ve e-mailed someone for help, except we didn’t have anyone to contact, and I’d never used e-mail. Thalia and I didn’t even carry phones. We’d found out the hard way that when demigods use technology, it attracts monsters like blood attracts sharks.

We moved on to the bathroom. It was pretty clean considering how long Hal had lived here. He had two spare sets of snakeskin clothes, apparently just hand-washed, hanging from the rod above the bathtub. His medicine cabinet was stocked with scavenged supplies—toiletries, medicines, toothbrushes, first-aid gear, ambrosia, and nectar. I tried not to think about where all this had come from as I searched but didn’t see anything that could defeat the leucrotae.

Thalia slammed a drawer shut in frustration. “I don’t understand! Why did Amaltheia bring me here? Did the other demigods come here because of the goat?”