The Son of Neptune (The Heroes of Olympus #2)(20)

Queen Marie tensed. She grimaced in her trance, then spoke in her normal voice: “It’s too far. Too cold. Too dangerous. He told me not to.”

The other voice responded: “What has he ever done for you? He gave you a poisoned child! But we can use her gift for good. We can strike back at the gods. You will be under my protection in the north, far from the gods’ domain. I’ll make my son your protector. You’ll live like a queen at last.”

Queen Marie winced. “But what about Hazel…”

Then her face contorted in a sneer. Both voices spoke in unison, as if they’d found something to agree on: “A poisoned child.”

Hazel fled down the stairs, her pulse racing.

At the bottom, she ran into a man in a dark suit. He gripped her shoulders with strong, cold fingers.

“Easy, child,” the man said.

Hazel noticed the silver skull ring on his finger, then the strange fabric of his suit. In the shadows, the solid black wool seemed to shift and boil, forming images of faces in agony, as if lost souls were trying to escape from the folds of his clothes.

His tie was black with platinum stripes. His shirt was tombstone gray. His face—Hazel’s heart nearly leaped out of her throat. His skin was so white it looked almost blue, like cold milk. He had a flap of greasy black hair. His smile was kind enough, but his eyes were fiery and angry, full of mad power. Hazel had seen that look in the newsreels at the movie theater. This man looked like that awful Adolf Hitler. He had no mustache, but otherwise he could’ve been Hitler’s twin—or his father.

Hazel tried to pull away. Even when the man let go, she couldn’t seem to move. His eyes froze her in place.

“Hazel Levesque,” he said in a melancholy voice. “You’ve grown.”

Hazel started to tremble. At the base of the stairs, the cement stoop cracked under the man’s feet. A glittering stone popped up from the concrete like the earth had spit out a watermelon seed. The man looked at it, unsurprised. He bent down.

“Don’t!” Hazel cried. “It’s cursed!”

He picked up the stone—a perfectly formed emerald. “Yes, it is. But not to me. So beautiful…worth more than this building, I imagine.” He slipped the emerald in his pocket. “I’m sorry for your fate, child. I imagine you hate me.”

Hazel didn’t understand. The man sounded sad, as if he were personally responsible for her life. Then the truth hither: a spirit in silver and black, who’d fulfilled her mother’s wishes and ruined her life.

Her eyes widened. “You? You’re my…”

He cupped his hand under her chin. “I am Pluto. Life is never easy for my children, but you have a special burden. Now that you’re thirteen, we must make provisions—”

She pushed his hand away.

“You did this to me?” she demanded. “You cursed me and my mother? You left us alone?”

Her eyes stung with tears. This rich white man in a fine suit was her father? Now that she was thirteen, he showed up for the first time and said he was sorry?

“You’re evil!” she shouted. “You ruined our lives!”

Pluto’s eyes narrowed. “What has your mother told you, Hazel? Has she never explained her wish? Or told you why you were born under a curse?”

Hazel was too angry to speak, but Pluto seemed to read the answers in her face.

“No…” He sighed. “I suppose she wouldn’t. Much easier to blame me.”

“What do you mean?”

Pluto sighed. “Poor child. You were born too soon. I cannot see your future clearly, but someday you will find your place. A descendant of Neptune will wash away your curse and give you peace. I fear, though, that is not for many years.…”

Hazel didn’t follow any of that. Before she could respond, Pluto held out his hand. A sketchpad and a box of colored pencils appeared in his palm.

“I understand you enjoy art and horseback riding,” he said. “These are for your art. As for the horse…” His eyes gleamed. “That, you’ll have to manage yourself. Now I must speak with your mother. Happy birthday, Hazel.”

He turned and headed up the stairs—just like that, as if he’d checked Hazel off his “to do” list and had already forgotten her. Happy birthday. Go draw a picture. See you in another thirteen years.

She was so stunned, so angry, so upside-down confused that she just stood paralyzed at the base of the steps. She wanted to throw down the colored pencils and stomp on them. She wanted to charge after Pluto and kick him. She wanted to run away, find Sammy, steal a horse, leave town and never come back. But she didn’t do any of those things.

Above her, the apartment door opened, and Pluto stepped inside.

Hazel was still shivering from his cold touch, but she crep tup the stairs to see what he would do. What would he say to Queen Marie? Who would speak back—Hazel’s mother, or that awful voice?

When she reached the doorway, Hazel heard arguing. She peeked in. Her mother seemed back to normal—screaming and angry, throwing things around the parlor while Pluto tried to reason with her.

“Marie, it’s insanity,” he said. “You’ll be far beyond my power to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Queen Marie yelled. “When have you ever protected me?”