The House of Hades (The Heroes of Olympus #4)(121)

Piper hugged her arms. “I feel vulnerable floating up here like this. Couldn’t we set down in the river?”

“I wouldn’t,” Hazel said. “That’s the River Acheron.”

Jason squinted in the sunlight. “I thought the Acheron was in the Underworld.”

“It is,” Hazel said. “But its headwaters are in the mortal world. That river below us? Eventually it flows underground, straight into the realm of Pluto—er, Hades. Landing a demigod ship on those waters—”

“Yeah, let’s stay up here,” Leo decided. “I don’t want any zombie water on my hull.”

Half a kilometer downstream, some fishing boats were puttering along. Frank guessed they didn’t know or care about the history of this river. Must be nice, being a regular mortal.

Next to Frank, Nico di Angelo raised the scepter of Diocletian. Its orb glowed with purple light, as if in sympathy with the dark storm. Roman relic or not, the scepter troubled Frank. If it really had the power to summon a legion of the dead…well, Frank wasn’t sure that was such a great idea.

Jason had once told him that the children of Mars had a similar ability. Supposedly, Frank could call on ghostly soldiers from the losing side of any war to serve him. He’d never had much luck with that power, probably because it freaked him out too much. He was worried he might become one of those ghosts if they lost this war—eternally doomed to pay for his failures, assuming there was anyone left to summon him.

“So, uh, Nico…” Frank gestured at the scepter. “Have you learned to use that thing?”

“We’ll find out.” Nico stared at the tendrils of darkness undulating from the ruins. “I don’t intend to try until I have to. The Doors of Death are already working overtime bringing in Gaea’s monsters. Any more activity raising the dead, and the Doors might shatter permanently, leaving a rip in the mortal world that can’t be closed.”

Coach Hedge grunted. “I hate rips in the world. Let’s go bust some monster heads.”

Frank looked at the satyr’s grim expression. Suddenly he had an idea. “Coach, you should stay on board, cover us with the ballistae.”

Hedge frowned. “Stay behind? Me? I’m your best soldier!”

“We might need air support,” Frank said. “Like we did in Rome. You saved our braccae.”

He didn’t add: Plus, I’d like you to get back to your wife and baby alive.

Hedge apparently got the message. His scowl relaxed. Relief showed in his eyes.

“Well…” he grumbled, “I suppose somebody’s got to save your braccae.”

Jason clapped the coach on the shoulder. Then he gave Frank an appreciative nod. “So that’s settled. Everybody else—let’s get to the ruins. Time to crash Gaea’s party.”

DESPITE THE MIDDAY HEAT and the raging storm of death energy, a group of tourists was climbing over the ruins. Fortunately there weren’t many, and they didn’t give the demigods a second look.

After the crowds in Rome, Frank had stopped worrying too much about getting noticed. If they could fly their warship into the Roman Colosseum with ballistae blazing and not even cause a traffic slowdown, he figured they could get away with anything.

Nico led the way. At the top of the hill, they climbed over an old retaining wall and down into an excavated trench. Finally they arrived at a stone doorway leading straight into the side of the hill. The death storm seemed to originate right above their heads. Looking up at the swirling tentacles of darkness, Frank felt like he was trapped at the bottom of a flushing toilet bowl. That really didn’t calm his nerves.

Nico faced the group. “From here, it gets tough.”

“Sweet,” Leo said. “’Cause so far I’ve totally been pulling my punches.”

Nico glared at him. “We’ll see how long you keep your sense of humor. Remember, this is where pilgrims came to commune with dead ancestors. Underground, you may see things that are hard to look at, or hear voices trying to lead you astray in the tunnels. Frank, do you have the barley cakes?”

“What?” Frank had been thinking about his grandmother and his mom, wondering if they might appear to him. For the first time in days, the voices of Ares and Mars had started to argue again in the back of Frank’s mind, debating their favorite forms of violent death.

“I’ve got the cakes,” Hazel said. She pulled out the magical barley crackers they’d made from the grain Triptolemus had given them in Venice.

“Eat up,” Nico advised.

Frank chewed his cracker of death and tried not to gag. It reminded him of a cookie made with sawdust instead of sugar.

“Yum,” Piper said. Even the daughter of Aphrodite couldn’t avoid making a face.

“Okay.” Nico choked down the last of his barley. “That should protect us from the poison.”

“Poison?” Leo asked. “Did I miss the poison? ’Cause I love poison.”

“Soon enough,” Nico promised. “Just stick close together, and maybe we can avoid getting lost or going insane.”

On that happy note, Nico led them underground.

The tunnel spiraled gently downward, the ceiling supported by white stone arches that reminded Frank of a whale’s rib cage.

As they walked, Hazel ran her hands along the masonry. “This wasn’t part of a temple,” she whispered. “This was…the basement for a manor house, built in later Greek times.”