The House of Hades (The Heroes of Olympus #4)(39)

“To me?” He stood, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t…”

He looked down and realized what she meant. Triptolemus hadn’t gotten shorter. Frank was taller. His gut had shrunk. His chest seemed bulkier.

Frank had had growth spurts before. Once he’d woken up two centimeters taller than when he’d gone to sleep. But this was nuts. It was as if some of the dragon and lion had stayed with him when he’d turned back to human.

“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—”

Triptolemus heaved a dramatic sigh. “Yes, obviously some sort of blessing from Mars. Congratulations, blah, blah, blah. Now, if we’re done here…?”

Frank glared at him. “We’re not done. Heal Nico.”

The farm god rolled his eyes. He pointed at the corn plant, and BAM! Nico di Angelo appeared in an explosion of corn silk.

Nico looked around in a panic. “I—I had the weirdest nightmare about popcorn.” He frowned at Frank. “Why are you taller?”

“Everything’s fine,” Frank promised. “Triptolemus was about to tell us how to survive the House of Hades. Weren’t you, Trip?”

The farm god raised his eyes to the ceiling, like, Why me, Demeter?

“Fine,” Trip said. “When you arrive at Epirus, you will be offered a chalice to drink from.”

“Offered by whom?” Nico asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Trip snapped. “Just know that it is filled with deadly poison.”

Hazel shuddered. “So you’re saying that we shouldn’t drink it.”

“No!” Trip said. “You must drink it, or you’ll never be able to make it through the temple. The poison connects you to the world of the dead, lets you pass into the lower levels. The secret to surviving is”—his eyes twinkled—“barley.”

Frank stared at him. “Barley.”

“In the front room, take some of my special barley. Make it into little cakes. Eat these before you step into the House of Hades. The barley will absorb the worst of the poison, so it will affect you, but not kill you.”

“That’s it?” Nico demanded. “Hecate sent us halfway across Italy so you could tell us to eat barley?”

“Good luck!” Triptolemus sprinted across the room and hopped in his chariot. “And, Frank Zhang, I forgive you! You’ve got spunk. If you ever change your mind, my offer is open. I’d love to see you get a degree in farming!”

“Yeah,” Frank muttered. “Thanks.”

The god pulled a lever on his chariot. The snake-wheels turned. The wings flapped. At the back of the room, the garage doors rolled open.

“Oh, to be mobile again!” Trip cried. “So many ignorant lands in need of my knowledge. I will teach them the glories of tilling, irrigation, fertilizing!” The chariot lifted off and zipped out of the house, Triptolemus shouting to the sky, “Away, my serpents! Away!”

“That,” Hazel said, “was very strange.”

“The glories of fertilizing.” Nico brushed some corn silk off his shoulder. “Can we get out of here now?”

Hazel put her hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Are you okay, really? You bartered for our lives. What did Triptolemus make you do?”

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. “Those cow monsters…the katoblepones that poisoned you…I had to destroy them.”

“That was brave,” Nico said. “There must have been, what, six or seven left in that herd.”

“No.” Frank cleared his throat. “All of them. I killed all of them in the city.”

Nico and Hazel stared at him in stunned silence. Frank was afraid they might doubt him, or start to laugh. How many monsters had he killed on that bridge—two hundred? Three hundred?

But he saw in their eyes that they believed him. They were children of the Underworld. Maybe they could sense the death and carnage he’d unleashed.

Hazel kissed his cheek. She had to stand on her tiptoes to do it now. 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.

“Well,” Nico said, breaking the tension, “does anyone know what barley looks like?”

ANNABETH DECIDED THE MONSTERS wouldn’t kill her. Neither would the poisonous atmosphere, nor the treacherous landscape with its pits, cliffs, and jagged rocks.

Nope. Most likely she would die from an overload of weirdness that would make her brain explode.

First, she and Percy had had to drink fire to stay alive. Then they were attacked by a gaggle of vampires, led by a cheerleader Annabeth had killed two years ago. Finally, they were rescued by a Titan janitor named Bob who had Einstein hair, silver eyes, and wicked broom skills.

Sure. Why not?

They followed Bob through the wasteland, tracing the route of the Phlegethon as they approached the storm front of darkness. Every so often they stopped to drink firewater, which kept them alive, but Annabeth wasn’t happy about it. Her throat felt like she was constantly gargling with battery acid.