The House of Hades (The Heroes of Olympus #4)(48)

“I’m—I’m all right,” Hazel managed. “You?”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m, uh, taller. Otherwise, yeah. I’m good. I haven’t really, you know, changed inside.…”

His voice held a little of the old doubt and awkwardness—the voice of her Frank, who always worried about being a klutz and messing up.

Hazel felt relieved. She liked that part of him. At first, his new appearance had shocked her. She’d been worried that his personality had changed as well.

Now she was starting to relax about that. Despite all his strength, Frank was the same sweet guy. He was still vulnerable. He still trusted her with his biggest weakness—the piece of magical firewood she carried in her coat pocket, next to her heart.

“I know, and I’m glad.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s…it’s actually not you I’m worried about.”

Frank grunted. “How’s Nico doing?”

She’d been thinking about herself, not Nico, but she followed Frank’s gaze to the top of the foremast, where Nico was perched on the yardarm.

Nico claimed that he liked to keep watch because he had good eyes. Hazel knew that wasn’t the reason. The top of the mast was one of the few places on board where Nico could be alone. The others had offered him the use of Percy’s cabin, since Percy was…well, absent. Nico adamantly refused. He spent most of his time up in the rigging, where he didn’t have to talk with the rest of the crew.

Since he’d been turned into a corn plant in Venice, he’d only gotten more reclusive and morose.

“I don’t know,” Hazel admitted. “He’s been through a lot. Getting captured in Tartarus, being held prisoner in that bronze jar, watching Percy and Annabeth fall…”

“And promising to lead us to Epirus.” Frank nodded. “I get the feeling Nico doesn’t play well with others.”

Frank stood up straight. He was wearing a beige T-shirt with a picture of a horse and the words PALIO DI SIENA. He’d only bought it a couple of days ago, but now it was too small. When he stretched, his midriff was exposed.

Hazel realized she was staring. She quickly looked away, her face flushed.

“Nico is my only relative,” she said. “He’s not easy to like, but…thanks for being kind to him.”

Frank smiled. “Hey, you put up with my grandmother in Vancouver. Talk about not easy to like.”

“I loved your grandmother!”

Gale the polecat scampered up to them, farted, and ran away.

“Ugh.” Frank waved away the smell. “Why is that thing here, anyway?”

Hazel was almost glad she wasn’t on dry land. As agitated as she felt, gold and gems would probably be popping up all around her feet.

“Hecate sent Gale to observe,” she said.

“Observe what?”

Hazel tried to take comfort in Frank’s presence, his new aura of solidity and strength.

“I don’t know,” she said at last. “Some kind of test.”

Suddenly the boat lurched forward.

HAZEL AND FRANK TUMBLED OVER EACH OTHER. Hazel accidentally gave herself the Heimlich maneuver with the pommel of her sword and curled on the deck, moaning and coughing up the taste of katobleps poison.

Through a fog of pain, she heard the ship’s figurehead, Festus the bronze dragon, creaking in alarm and shooting fire.

Dimly, Hazel wondered if they’d hit an iceberg—but in the Adriatic, in the middle of summer?

The ship rocked to port with a massive commotion, like telephone poles snapping in half.

“Gahh!” Leo yelled somewhere behind her. “It’s eating the oars!”

What is? Hazel wondered. She tried to stand, but something large and heavy was pinning her legs. She realized it was Frank, grumbling as he tried to extract himself from a pile of loose rope.

Everyone else was scrambling. Jason jumped over them, his sword drawn, and raced toward the stern. Piper was already on the quarterdeck, shooting food from her cornucopia and yelling, “Hey! HEY! Eat this, ya stupid turtle!”

Turtle?

Frank helped Hazel to her feet. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Hazel lied, clutching her stomach. “Go!”

Frank sprinted up the steps, slinging off his backpack, which instantly transformed into a bow and quiver. By the time he reached the helm, he had already fired one arrow and was nocking the second.

Leo frantically worked the ship’s controls. “Oars won’t retract. Get it away! Get it away!”

Up in the rigging, Nico’s face was slack with shock.

“Styx—it’s huge!” he yelled. “Port! Go port!”

Coach Hedge was the last one on deck. He compensated for that with enthusiasm. He bounded up the steps, waving his baseball bat, and without hesitation goat-galloped to the stern and leaped over the rail with a gleeful “Ha-HA!”

Hazel staggered toward the quarterdeck to join her friends. The boat shuddered. More oars snapped, and Leo yelled, “No, no, no! Dang slimy-shelled son of a mother!”

Hazel reached the stern and couldn’t believe what she saw.

When she heard the word turtle, she thought of a cute little thing the size of a jewelry box, sitting on a rock in the middle of a fishpond. When she heard huge, her mind tried to adjust—okay, perhaps it was like the Galapagos tortoise she’d seen in the zoo once, with a shell big enough to ride on.