The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3)(86)

“So anyway,” Hercules said, “what’s your quest?”

“Giants,” Jason said. “We’re off to Greece to stop them from awakening Gaea.”

“Giants,” Hercules muttered. “I hate those guys. Back when I was a demigod hero…ah, but never mind. So which god put you up to this—Dad? Athena? Maybe Aphrodite?” He raised an eyebrow at Piper. “As pretty as you are, I’m guessing that’s your mom.”

Piper should’ve been thinking faster, but Hercules had unsettled her. Too late, she realized the conversation had become a minefield.

“Hera sent us,” Jason said. “She brought us together to—”

“Hera.” Suddenly Hercules’s expression was like the cliffs of Gibraltar—a solid, unforgiving sheet of stone.

“We hate her too,” Piper said quickly. Gods, why hadn’t it occurred to her? Hera had been Hercules’s mortal enemy. “We didn’t want to help her. She didn’t give us much choice, but—”

“But here you are,” Hercules said, all friendliness gone. “Sorry, you two. I don’t care how worthy your quest is. I don’t do anything that Hera wants. Ever.”

Jason looked mystified. “But I thought you made up with her when you became a god.”

“Like I said,” Hercules grumbled, “don’t believe everything you hear. If you want to pass into the Mediterranean, I’m afraid I’ve got to give you an extra-hard quest.”

“But we’re like brothers,” Jason protested. “Hera’s messed with my life, too. I understand—”

“You understand nothing,” Hercules said coldly. “My first family: dead. My life wasted on ridiculous quests. My second wife dead, after being tricked into poisoning me and leaving me to a painful demise. And my compensation? I got to become a minor god. Immortal, so I can never forget my pain. Stuck here as a gatekeeper, a doorman, a…a butler for the Olympians. No, you don’t understand. The only god who understands me even a little bit is Dionysus. And at least he invented something useful. I have nothing to show except bad film adaptations of my life.”

Piper turned on the charmspeak. “That’s horribly sad, Lord Hercules. But please go easy on us. We’re not bad people.”

She thought she’d succeeded. Hercules hesitated. Then his jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “On the opposite side of this island, over those hills, you’ll find a river. In the middle of that river lives the old god Achelous.”

Hercules waited, as if this information should send them running in terror.

“And… ?” Jason asked.

“And,” Hercules said, “I want you to break off his other horn and bring it to me.”

“He has horns,” Jason said. “Wait…his other horn? What—?”

“Figure it out,” the god snapped. “Here, this should help.”

He said the word help like it meant hurt. From under his robes, Hercules took a small book and tossed it to Piper. She barely caught it.

The book’s glossy cover showed a photographic montage of Greek temples and smiling monsters. The Minotaur was giving the thumbs-up. The title read: The Hercules Guide to the Mare Nostrum.

“Bring me that horn by sundown,” Hercules said. “Just the two of you. No contacting your friends. Your ship will remain where it is. If you succeed, you may pass into the Mediterranean.”

“And if we don’t?” Piper asked, pretty sure she didn’t want the answer.

“Well, Achelous will kill you, obviously,” Hercules said. “And I will break your ship in half with my bare hands and send your friends to an early grave.”

Jason shifted his feet. “Couldn’t we just sing a funny song?”

“I’d get going,” Hercules said coldly. “Sundown. Or your friends are dead.”

Chapter 27

The Hercules Guide to the Mare Nostrum didn’t help much with snakes and mosquitoes.

“If this is a magic island,” Piper grumbled, “why couldn’t it be a nice magic island?”

They tromped up a hill and down into a heavily wooded valley, careful to avoid the black-and-red-striped snakes sunning themselves on the rocks. Mosquitoes swarmed over stagnant ponds in the lowest areas. The trees were mostly stunted olives, cypress, and pines. The chirring of the cicadas and the oppressive heat reminded Piper of the rez in Oklahoma during the summer.

So far they hadn’t found any river.

“We could fly,” Jason suggested again.

“We might miss something,” Piper said. “Besides, I’m not sure I want to drop in on an unfriendly god. What was his name? Etch-a-Sketch?”

“Achelous.” Jason was trying to read the guidebook while they walked, so he kept running into trees and stumbling over rocks. “Says here he’s a potamus.”

“He’s a hippopotamus?”

“No. Potamus. A river god. According to this, he’s the spirit of some river in Greece.”

“Since we’re not in Greece, let’s assume he’s moved,” Piper said. “Doesn’t bode well for how useful that book is going to be. Anything else?”

“Says Hercules fought him one time,” Jason offered.

“Hercules fought ninety-nine percent of everything in Ancient Greece.”