The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus #1)(80)

He knit his eyebrows. “She seems okay.”

“She’s not okay! She shouldn’t even be alive! She was married to Jason—the other Jason—three thousand years ago. Remember what Boreas said—something about the souls no longer being confined to Hades? It’s not just monsters who can’t stay dead. She’s come back from the Underworld!”

Jason shook his head uneasily. “She’s not a ghost.”

“No, she’s worse! She’s—”

“Children.” The princess was back with Leo in tow. “If you please, we will now see what you came for. That is what you want, yes?”

Piper had to choke back a scream. She was tempted to pull out her dagger and take on this witch herself, but she didn’t like her chances—not in the middle of Her Highness’s department store while her friends were under a spell. Piper couldn’t even be sure they’d take her side in a fight. She had to figure out a better plan.

They took the escalator down to the base of the fountain. For the first time, Piper noticed two large bronze sundials—each about the size of a trampoline—inlaid on the marble tile floor to the north and south of the fountain. The gilded oversize canary cages stood to the east and west, and the farthest one held the storm spirits. They were so densely packed, spinning around like a super-concentrated tornado, that Piper couldn’t tell how many there were—dozens, at least.

“Hey,” Leo said, “Coach Hedge looks okay!”

They ran to the nearest canary cage. The old satyr seemed to have been petrified at the moment he was sucked into the sky above the Grand Canyon. He was frozen mid-shout, his club raised over his head like he was ordering the gym class to drop and give him fifty. His curly hair stuck up at odd angles. If Piper just concentrated on certain details—the bright orange polo shirt, the wispy goatee, the whistle around his neck—she could imagine Coach Hedge as his good old annoying self. But it was hard to ignore the stubby horns on his head, and the fact that he had furry goat legs and hooves instead of workout pants and Nikes.

“Yes,” the princess said. “I always keep my wares in good condition. We can certainly barter for the storm spirits and the satyr. A package deal. If we come to terms, I’ll even throw in the vial of healing potion, and you can go in peace.” She gave Piper a shrewd look. “That’s better than starting unpleasantness, isn’t it, dear?”

Don’t trust her, warned a voice in her head. If Piper was right about this lady’s identity, nobody would be leaving in peace. A fair deal wasn’t possible. It was all a trick. But her friends were looking at her, nodding urgently and mouthing, Say yes! Piper needed more to time to think.

“We can negotiate,” she said.

“Totally!” Leo agreed. “Name your price.”

“Leo!” Piper snapped.

The princess chuckled. “Name my price? Perhaps not the best haggling strategy, my boy, but at least you know a thing’s value. Freedom is very valuable indeed. You would ask me to release this satyr, who attacked my storm winds—”

“Who attacked us,” Piper interjected.

Her Highness shrugged. “As I said, my patron asks me for small favors from time to time. Sending the storm spirits to abduct you—that was one. I assure you it was nothing personal. And no harm done, as you came here, in the end, of your own free will! At any rate, you want the satyr freed, and you want my storm spirits—who are very valuable servants, by the way—so you can hand them over to that tyrant Aeolus. Doesn’t seem quite fair, does it? The price will be high.”

Piper could see that her friends were ready to offer anything, promise anything. Before they could speak, she played her last card.

“You’re Medea,” she said. “You helped the original Jason steal the Golden Fleece. You’re one of the most evil villains in Greek mythology. Jason, Leo—don’t trust her.”

Piper put all the intensity she could gather into those words. She was utterly sincere, and it seemed to have some effect. Jason stepped away from the sorceress.

Leo scratched his head and looked around like he was coming out of a dream.

“What are we doing, again?”

“Boys!” The princess spread her hands in a welcoming gesture. Her diamond jewelry glittered, and her painted fingers curled like blood-tipped claws. “It’s true, I’m Medea. But I’m so misunderstood. Oh, Piper, my dear, you don’t know what it was like for women in the old days. We had no power, no leverage. Often we couldn’t even choose our own husbands. But I was different. I chose my own destiny by becoming a sorceress. Is that so wrong? I made a pact with Jason: my help to win the fleece, in exchange for his love. A fair deal. He became a famous hero! Without me, he would’ve died unknown on the shores of Colchis.”

Jason—Piper’s Jason—scowled. “Then … you really did die three thousand years ago? You came back from the Underworld?”

“Death no longer holds me, young hero,” Medea said. “Thanks to my patron, I am flesh and blood again.”

“You … re-formed?” Leo blinked. “Like a monster?”

Medea spread her fingers, and steam hissed from her nails, like water splashed on hot iron. “You have no idea what’s happening, do you, my dears? It is so much worse than a stirring of monsters from Tartarus. My patron knows that giants and monsters are not her greatest servants. I am mortal. I learn from my mistakes. And now that I have returned to the living, I will not be cheated again. Now, here is my price for what you ask.”