The House of Hades (The Heroes of Olympus #4)(44)

She screamed and flailed, toppling sideways off the mound. Her heart did a hundred jumping jacks.

Percy helped her to her feet. “You okay?”

She didn’t trust herself to answer. If she opened her mouth, she might scream again, and that would be undignified. She was a daughter of Athena, not some shrill girlie victim in a horror movie.

But gods of Olympus… Curled in the membrane bubble in front of her was a fully formed Titan in golden armor, his skin the color of polished pennies. His eyes were closed, but he scowled so deeply he appeared to be on the verge of a bloodcurdling war cry. Even through the blister, Annabeth could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Hyperion,” Percy said. “I hate that guy.”

Annabeth’s shoulder suddenly ached from an old wound. During the Battle of Manhattan, Percy had fought this Titan at the Reservoir—water against fire. It had been the first time Percy had summoned a hurricane—which wasn’t something Annabeth would ever forget. “I thought Grover turned this guy into a maple tree.”

“Yeah,” Percy agreed. “Maybe the maple tree died, and he wound up back here?”

Annabeth remembered how Hyperion had summoned fiery explosions, and how many satyrs and nymphs he’d destroyed before Percy and Grover stopped him.

She was about to suggest that they burst Hyperion’s bubble before he woke up. He looked ready to pop out at any moment and start charbroiling everything in his path.

Then she glanced at Bob. The silvery Titan was studying Hyperion with a frown of concentration—maybe recognition. Their faces looked so much alike.…

Annabeth bit back a curse. Of course they looked alike. Hyperion was his brother. Hyperion was the Titan lord of the east. Iapetus, Bob, was the lord of the west. Take away Bob’s broom and his janitor’s clothes, put him in armor and cut his hair, change his color scheme from silver to gold, and Iapetus would have been almost indistinguishable from Hyperion.

“Bob,” she said, “we should go.”

“Gold, not silver,” Bob murmured. “But he looks like me.”

“Bob,” Percy said. “Hey, buddy, over here.”

The Titan reluctantly turned.

“Am I your friend?” Percy asked.

“Yes.” Bob sounded dangerously uncertain. “We are friends.”

“You know that some monsters are good,” Percy said. “And some are bad.”

“Hmm,” Bob said. “Like…the pretty ghost ladies who serve Persephone are good. Exploding zombies are bad.”

“Right,” Percy said. “And some mortals are good, and some are bad. Well, the same thing is true for Titans.”

“Titans…” Bob loomed over them, glowering. Annabeth was pretty sure her boyfriend had just made a big mistake.

“That’s what you are,” Percy said calmly. “Bob the Titan. You’re good. You’re awesome, in fact. But some Titans are not. This guy here, Hyperion, is full-on bad. He tried to kill me…tried to kill a lot of people.”

Bob blinked his silver eyes. “But he looks…his face is so—”

“He looks like you,” Percy agreed. “He’s a Titan, like you. But he’s not good like you are.”

“Bob is good.” His fingers tightened on his broom handle. “Yes. There is always at least one good one—monsters, Titans, giants.”

“Uh…” Percy grimaced. “Well, I’m not sure about the giants.”

“Oh, yes.” Bob nodded earnestly.

Annabeth sensed they’d already been in this place too long. Their pursuers would be closing in.

“We should go,” she urged. “What do we do about…?”

“Bob,” Percy said, “it’s your call. Hyperion is your kind. We could leave him alone, but if he wakes up—”

Bob’s broom-spear swept into motion. If he’d been aiming at Annabeth or Percy, they would’ve been cut in half. Instead, Bob slashed through the monstrous blister, which burst in a geyser of hot golden mud.

Annabeth wiped the Titan sludge out of her eyes. Where Hyperion had been, there was nothing but a smoking crater.

“Hyperion is a bad Titan,” Bob announced, his expression grim. “Now he can’t hurt my friends. He will have to re-form somewhere else in Tartarus. Hopefully it will take a long time.”

The Titan’s eyes seemed brighter than usual, as if he were about to cry quicksilver.

“Thank you, Bob,” Percy said.

How was he keeping his cool? The way he talked to Bob left Annabeth awestruck…and maybe a little uneasy, too. If Percy had been serious about leaving the choice to Bob, then she didn’t like how much he trusted the Titan. If he’d been manipulating Bob into making that choice…well, then, Annabeth was stunned that Percy could be so calculating.

He met her eyes, but she couldn’t read his expression. That bothered her too.

“We’d better keep going,” he said.

She and Percy followed Bob, the golden mud flecks from Hyperion’s burst bubble glowing on his janitor’s uniform.

AFTER A WHILE, Annabeth’s feet felt like Titan mush. She marched along, following Bob, listening to the monotonous slosh of liquid in his cleaning bottle.

Stay alert, she told herself, but it was hard. Her thoughts were as numb as her legs. From time to time, Percy took her hand or made an encouraging comment; but she could tell the dark landscape was getting to him as well. His eyes had a dull sheen—like his spirit was being slowly extinguished.