The Son of Neptune (The Heroes of Olympus #2)(82)

Hazel remembered newsreels she’d seen as a child. She’d always been impressed by the scenes of factories building planes and guns for the war effort—hundreds and hundreds of weapons coming off the line every day. But that was nothing compared to this, and almost all the work was being done by computers and robots. The only humans Hazel could see were some black-suited security women patrolling the catwalks, and some men in orange jumpsuits, like prison uniforms, driving forklifts through the aisles, delivering more pallets of boxes. The men wore iron collars around their necks.

“You keep slaves?” Hazel knew it might be dangerous to speak, but she was so outraged she couldn’t stop herself.

“The men?” Kinzie snorted. “They’re not slaves. They just know their place. Now, move.”

They walked so far, Hazel’s feet began to hurt. She thought they must surely be getting to the end of the warehouse when Kinzie opened a large set of double doors and led them into another cavern, just as big as the first.

“The Underworld isn’t this big,” Hazel complained, which probably wasn’t true, but it felt that way to her feet.

Kinzie smiled smugly. “You admire our base of operations?Yes, our distribution system is worldwide. It took many years and most of our fortune to build. Now, finally, we’re turning a profit. The mortals don’t realize they are funding the Amazon kingdom. Soon, we’ll be richer than any mortal nation. Then—when the weak mortals depend on us for everything—the revolution will begin!”

“What are you going to do?” Frank grumbled. “Cancel free shipping?”

A guard slammed the hilt of her sword into his gut. Percy tried to help him, but two more guards pushed him back at sword point.

“You’ll learn respect,” Kinzie said. “It’s males like you who have ruined the mortal world. The only harmonious society is one run by women. We are stronger, wiser—”

“More humble,” Percy said. The guards tried to hit him, but Percy ducked. “Stop it!” Hazel said. Surprisingly, the guards listened. “Hylla is going to judge us, right?” Hazel asked. “So take us to her. We’re wasting time.” Kinzie nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. We have more important problems. And time…time is definitely an issue.”“What do you mean?” Hazel asked. A guard grunted. “We could take them straight to Otrera.

Might win her favor that way.”“No!” Kinzie snarled. “I’d sooner wear an iron collar and drive a forklift. Hylla is queen.”“Until tonight,” another guard muttered. Kinzie gripped her sword. For a second Hazel thought the

Amazons might start fighting one another, but Kinzie seemed to get her anger under control. “Enough,” she said. “Let’s go.” They crossed a lane of forklift traffic, navigated a maze of conveyor belts, and ducked under a row of robotic arms that were packing up boxes.

Most of the merchandise looked pretty ordinary: books, electronics, baby diapers. But against one wall sat a war chariot with a big bar code on the side. Hanging from the yoke was a sign that read: ONLY ONE LEFT IN STOCK. ORDER SOON! (MORE ON THE WAY)

Finally they entered a smaller cavern that looked like a combination loading zone and throne room. The walls were lined with metal shelves six stories high, decorated with war banners, painted shields, and the stuffed heads of dragons, hydras, giant lions, and wild boars. Standing guard along either side were dozens of forklifts modified for war. An iron-collared male drove each machine, but an Amazon warrior stood on a platform in back, manning a giant mounted crossbow. The prongs of each forklift had been sharpened into oversized sword blades.

The shelves in this room were stacked with cages containing live animals. Hazel couldn’t believe what she was seeing—black mastiffs, giant eagles, a lion-eagle hybrid that must’ve been a gryphon, and a red ant the size of a compact car.

She watched in horror as a forklift zipped into the room, picked up a cage with a beautiful white pegasus, and sped away while the horse whinnied in protest.

“What are you doing to that poor animal?” Hazel demanded.

Kinzie frowned. “The pegasus? It’ll be fine. Someone must’ve ordered it. The shipping and handling charges are steep, but—”

“You can buy a pegasus online?” Percy asked.

Kinzie glared at him. “Obviously you can’t, male. But Amazons can. We have followers all over the world. They need supplies. This way.”

At the end of the warehouse was a dais constructed from pallets of books: stacks of vampire novels, walls of James Patterson thrillers, and a throne made from about a thousand copies of something called The Five Habits of Highly Aggressive Women.

At the base of the steps, several Amazons in camouflage were having a heated argument while a young woman—Queen Hylla, Hazel assumed—watched and listened from her throne.

Hylla was in her twenties, lithe and lean as a tiger. She wore a black leather jumpsuit and black boots. She had no crown, but around her waist was a strange belt made of interlocking gold links, like the pattern of a labyrinth. Hazel couldn’t believe how much she looked like Reyna—a little older, perhaps, but with the same long black hair, the same dark eyes, and the same hard expression, like she was trying to decide which of the Amazons before her most deserved death.

Kinzie took one look at the argument and grunted with distaste. “Otrera’s agents, spreading their lies.”