The House of Hades (The Heroes of Olympus #4)(41)

They climbed into the crater and entered the circle of columns. Annabeth collapsed on a broken slab of marble, too exhausted to take another step. Percy stood over her protectively, scanning their surroundings. The inky storm front was less than a hundred feet away now, obscuring everything ahead of them. The crater’s rim blocked their view of the wasteland behind. They’d be well hidden here, but if monsters did stumble across them, they would have no warning.

“You said someone was chasing us,” Annabeth said. “Who?”

Bob swept his broom around the base of the altar, occasionally crouching to study the ground as if looking for something. “They are following, yes. They know you are here. Giants and Titans. The defeated ones. They know.”

The defeated ones…

Annabeth tried to control her fear. How many Titans and giants had she and Percy fought over the years? Each one had seemed like an impossible challenge. If all of them were down here in Tartarus, and if they were actively hunting Percy and Annabeth…

“Why are we stopping, then?” she said. “We should keep moving.”

“Soon,” Bob said. “But mortals need rest. Good place here. Best place for…oh, long, long way. I will guard you.”

Annabeth glanced at Percy, sending him the silent message: Uh, no. Hanging out with a Titan was bad enough. Going to sleep while the Titan guarded you…she didn’t need to be a daughter of Athena to know that was one hundred percent unwise.

“You sleep,” Percy told her. “I’ll keep the first watch with Bob.”

Bob rumbled in agreement. “Yes, good. When you wake, food should be here!”

Annabeth’s stomach did a rollover at the mention of food. She didn’t see how Bob could summon food in the midst of Tartarus. Maybe he was a caterer as well as a janitor.

She didn’t want to sleep, but her body betrayed her. Her eyelids turned to lead. “Percy, wake me for second watch. Don’t be a hero.”

He gave her that smirk she’d come to love. “Who, me?”

He kissed her, his lips parched and feverishly warm. “Sleep.”

Annabeth felt like she was back in the Hypnos cabin at Camp Half-Blood, overcome with drowsiness. She curled up on the hard ground and closed her eyes.

LATER, SHE MADE A RESOLUTION: Never EVER sleep in Tartarus.

Demigod dreams were always bad. Even in the safety of her bunk at camp, she’d had horrible nightmares. In Tartarus, they were a thousand times more vivid.

First, she was a little girl again, struggling to climb Half-Blood Hill. Luke Castellan held her hand, pulling her along. Their satyr guide Grover Underwood pranced nervously at the summit, yelling, “Hurry! Hurry!”

Thalia Grace stood behind them, holding back an army of hellhounds with her terror-invoking shield, Aegis.

From the top of the hill, Annabeth could see the camp in the valley below—the warm lights of the cabins, the possibility of sanctuary. She stumbled, twisting her ankle, and Luke scooped her up to carry her. When they looked back, the monsters were only a few yards away—dozens of them surrounding Thalia.

“Go!” Thalia yelled. “I’ll hold them off.”

She brandished her spear, and forked lightning slashed through the monsters’ ranks; but as the hellhounds fell, more took their place.

“We have to run!” Grover cried.

He led the way into camp. Luke followed, with Annabeth crying, beating at his chest, and screaming that they couldn’t leave Thalia alone. But it was too late.

The scene shifted.

Annabeth was older, climbing to the summit of Half-Blood Hill. Where Thalia had made her last stand, a tall pine tree now rose. Overhead a storm was raging.

Thunder shook the valley. A blast of lightning split the tree down to its roots, opening a smoking crevice. In the darkness below stood Reyna, the praetor of New Rome. Her cloak was the color of blood fresh from a vein. Her gold armor glinted. She stared up, her face regal and distant, and spoke directly into Annabeth’s mind.

You have done well, Reyna said, but the voice was Athena’s. The rest of my journey must be on the wings of Rome.

The praetor’s dark eyes turned as gray as storm clouds.

I must stand here, Reyna told her. The Roman must bring me.

The hill shook. The ground rippled as the grass became folds of silk—the dress of a massive goddess. Gaea rose over Camp Half-Blood—her sleeping face as large as a mountain.

Hellhounds poured over the hills. Giants, six-armed Earthborn, and wild Cyclopes charged from the beach, tearing down the dining pavilion, setting fire to the cabins and the Big House.

Hurry, said the voice of Athena. The message must be sent.

The ground split at Annabeth’s feet and she fell into darkness.

Her eyes flew open. She cried out, grasping Percy’s arms. She was still in Tartarus, at the shrine of Hermes.

“It’s okay,” Percy promised. “Bad dreams?”

Her body tingled with dread. “Is it—is it my turn to watch?”

“No, no. We’re good. I let you sleep.”

“Percy!”

“Hey, it’s fine. Besides, I was too excited to sleep. Look.”

Bob the Titan sat cross-legged by the altar, happily munching a piece of pizza.

Annabeth rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was still dreaming. “Is that…pepperoni?”