The Son of Neptune (The Heroes of Olympus #2)(63)

“Oh, I’m strictly nonviolent,” Iris said. “I can act in self-defense, but I won’t be drawn into any more Olympian aggression, thank you very much. I’ve been reading about Buddhism. And Taoism. I haven’t decided between them.”

“But…” Hazel looked mystified. “Aren’t you a Greek goddess?”

Iris crossed her arms. “Don’t try to put me in a box, demigod! I’m not defined by my past.”

“Um, okay,” Hazel said. “Could you at least help our friend here? I think he’s sick.”

Percy reached across the counter. For a second Frank was afraid he wanted the cupcakes. “Iris-message,” he said. “Can you send one?”

Frank wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Iris-message?”

“It’s…” Percy faltered. “Isn’t that something you do?”

Iris studied Percy more closely. “Interesting. You’re from Camp Jupiter, and yet…Oh, I see. Juno is up to her tricks.”

“What?” Hazel asked.

Iris glanced at her assistant, Fleecy. They seemed to have a silent conversation. Then the goddess pulled a vial from behind the counter and sprayed some honeysuckle-smelling oil around Percy’s face. “There, that should balance your chakra. As for Iris-messages—that’s an ancient way of communication. The Greeks used it. The Romans never took to it—always relying on their road systems and giant eagles and whatnot. But yes, I imagine…Fleecy, could you give it a try?”

“Sure, boss!”

Iris winked at Frank. “Don’t tell the other gods, but Fleecy handles most of my messages these days. She’s wonderful at it, really, and I don’t have time to answer all those requests personally. It messes up my wa.”

“Your wa?” Frank asked.

“Mmm. Fleecy, why don’t you take Percy and Hazel into the back? You can get them something to eat while you arrange their messages. And for Percy…yes, memory sickness. I imagine that old Polybotes…well, meeting him in a state of amnesia can’t be good for a child of P—that is to say, Neptune. Fleecy, give him a cup of green tea with organic honey and wheat germ and some of my medicinal powder number five. That should fix him up.”

Hazel frowned. “What about Frank?”

Iris turned to him. She tilted her head quizzically, just the way his mother used to—as if Frank were the biggest question in the room.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Iris said. “Frank and I have a lot to talk about.”

XXII Frank

FRANK WOULD’VE PREFERRED TO go with his friends, even if it meant he had to endure green tea with wheat germ. But Iris roped her arm through his and led him to a café table at a bay window. Frank set his spear on the floor. He sat across from Iris. Outside in the dark, the snake monsters restlessly patrolled the hillside, spewing fire and poisoning the grass.

“Frank, I know how you feel,” Iris said. “I imagine that half-burned stick in your pocket gets heavier every day.”

Frank couldn’t breathe. His hand went instinctively to his coat. “How do you—?”

“I told you. I know things. I was Juno’s messenger for ages. I know why she gave you a reprieve.”

“A reprieve?” Frank brought out the piece of firewood and unwrapped it from its cloth. As unwieldy as Mars’s spear was, the piece of tinder was worse. Iris was right. It weighed him down.

“Juno saved you for a reason,” the goddess said. “She wants you to serve her plan. If she hadn’t appeared that day when you were a baby and warned your mother about the firewood, you would’ve died. You were born with too many gifts. That sort of power tends to burn out a mortal life.”

“Too many gifts?” Frank felt his ears getting warm with anger. “I don’t have any gifts!”

“That’s not true, Frank.” Iris swiped her hand in front of her like she was cleaning a windshield. A miniature rainbow appeared. “Think about it.”

An image shimmered in the rainbow. Frank saw himself when he was four years old, running across Grandmother’s backyard. His mother leaned out the window of the attic, high above, waving and calling to get his attention. Frank wasn’t supposed to be in the backyard by himself. He didn’t know why his mother was up in the attic, but she told him to stay by the house, not to go too far. Frank did exactly the opposite. He squealed with delight and ran to the edge of the woods, where he came face to face with a grizzly bear.

Until Frank saw that scene in the rainbow, the memory had been so hazy, he thought he’d dreamed it. Now he could appreciate just how surreal the experience had been. The bear regarded the little boy, and it was difficult to tell who was more startled. Then Frank’s mother appeared at his side. There was no way she should have been able to get down from the attic so fast. She put herself between the bear and Frank and told him to run to the house. This time, Frank obeyed. When he turned at the back porch, he saw his mother coming out of the woods. The bear was gone. Frank asked what had happened. His mother smiled. Mama Bear just needed directions, she said.

The scene in the rainbow changed. Frank saw himself as a six-year-old, curling up in his mother’s lap even though he was much too big for that. His mother’s long black hair was pulled back. Her arms were around him. She wore her rimless glasses that Frank always liked to steal, and her fuzzy gray fleece pullover that smelled like cinnamon. She was telling him stories about heroes, pretending they were all related to Frank: one was Xu Fu, who sailed in search of the elixir of life. The rainbow image had no sound, but Frank remembered his mother’s words: He was your great-great-great-…She would poke Frank’s stomach every time she said great-, dozens of times, until he was giggling uncontrollably.