The House of Hades (The Heroes of Olympus #4)(81)

Every muscle in her body tensed. “Leo, sound the alarm.”

Piper hadn’t realized she was charmspeaking, but Leo immediately dropped his screwdriver and punched the alarm button. He frowned when nothing happened.

“Uh, it’s disconnected,” he remembered. “Festus is shut down. Gimme a minute to get the system back online.”

“We don’t have a minute! Fires—we need vials of Greek fire. Jason, call the winds. Warm, southerly winds.”

“Wait, what?” Jason stared at her in confusion. “Piper, what’s wrong?”

“It’s her!” Piper snatched up her dagger. “She’s back! We have to—”

Before she could finish, the boat listed to port. The temperature dropped so fast, the sails crackled with ice. The bronze shields along the rails popped like over-pressurized soda cans.

Jason drew his sword, but it was too late. A wave of ice particles swept over him, coating him like a glazed donut and freezing him in place. Under a layer of ice, his eyes were wide with amazement.

“Leo! Flames! Now!” Piper yelled.

Leo’s right hand blazed, but the wind swirled around him and doused the fire. Leo clutched his Archimedes sphere as a funnel cloud of sleet lifted him off his feet.

“Hey!” he yelled. “Hey! Let me go!”

Piper ran toward him, but a voice in the storm said, “Oh, yes, Leo Valdez. I will let you go permanently.”

Leo shot skyward, like he’d been launched from a catapult. He disappeared into the clouds.

“No!” Piper raised her knife, but there was nothing to attack. She looked desperately at the stairwell, hoping to see her friends charging to the rescue, but a block of ice had sealed the hatch. The whole lower deck might have been frozen solid.

She needed a better weapon to fight with—something more than her voice, a stupid fortune-telling dagger, and a cornucopia that shot ham and fresh fruit.

She wondered whether she could make it to the ballista.

Then her enemies appeared, and she realized that no weapon would be enough.

Standing amidships was a girl in a flowing dress of white silk, her mane of black hair pinned back with a circlet of diamonds. Her eyes were the color of coffee, but without the warmth.

Behind her stood her brothers—two young men with purple-feathered wings, stark white hair, and jagged swords of Celestial bronze.

“So good to see you again, ma chère,” said Khione, the goddess of snow. “It’s time we had a very cold reunion.”

PIPER DIDN’T PLAN TO SHOOT BLUEBERRY MUFFINS. The cornucopia must have sensed her distress and thought she and her visitors could use some warm baked goods.

Half a dozen steamy muffins flew from the horn of plenty like buckshot. It wasn’t the most effective opening attack.

Khione simply leaned to one side. Most of the muffins sailed past her over the rail. Her brothers, the Boreads, each caught one and began to eat.

“Muffins,” said the bigger one. Cal, Piper remembered: short for Calais. He was dressed exactly as he had been in Quebec—in cleats, sweatpants, and a red hockey jersey—and had two black eyes and several broken teeth. “Muffins are good.”

“Ah, merci,” said the scrawny brother—Zethes, she recalled—who stood on the catapult platform, his purple wings spread. His white hair was still feathered in a horrible Disco Age mullet. The collar of his silk shirt stuck out over his breastplate. His chartreuse polyester pants were grotesquely tight, and his acne had only gotten worse. Despite that, he wriggled his eyebrows and smiled like he was the demigod of pickup artists.

“I knew the pretty girl would miss me.” He spoke Québécois French, which Piper translated effortlessly. Thanks to her mom, Aphrodite, the language of love was hardwired into her, though she didn’t want to speak it with Zethes.

“What are you doing?” Piper demanded. Then, in charmspeak: “Let my friends go.”

Zethes blinked. “We should let your friends go.”

“Yes,” Cal agreed.

“No, you idiots!” Khione snapped. “She is charmspeaking. Use your wits.”

“Wits…” Cal frowned as if he wasn’t sure what wits were. “Muffins are better.”

He stuffed the whole thing in his mouth and began to chew.

Zethes picked a blueberry off the top of his and nibbled it delicately. “Ah, my beautiful Piper…so long I have waited to see you again. Sadly, my sister is right. We cannot let your friends go. In fact we must take them to Quebec, where they shall be laughed at eternally. I am so sorry, but these are our orders.”

“Orders…?”

Ever since last winter, Piper had expected Khione to show her frosty face sooner or later. When they’d defeated her at the Wolf House in Sonoma, the snow goddess had vowed revenge. But why were Zethes and Cal here? In Quebec, the Boreads had seemed almost friendly—at least compared to their subzero sister.

“Guys, listen,” Piper said. “Your sister disobeyed Boreas. She’s working with the giants, trying to raise Gaea. She’s planning to take over your father’s throne.”

Khione laughed, soft and cold. “Dear Piper McLean. You would manipulate my weak-willed brothers with your charms, like a true daughter of the love goddess. Such a skillful liar.”

“Liar?” Piper cried. “You tried to kill us! Zethes, she’s working for Gaea!”