The House of Hades (The Heros of Olympus, Book 4)

HAZEL WANTED TO RUN, but her feet seemed stuck to the white-glazed ground.

On either side of the crossroads, two dark metal torch-stands erupted from the dirt like plant stalks. Hecate fixed her torches in them, then walked a slow circle around Hazel, regarding her as if they were partners in some eerie dance.

The black dog and the weasel followed in her wake.

“You are like your mother,” Hecate decided.

Hazel’s throat constricted. “You knew her?”

“Of course. Marie was a fortune-teller. She dealt in charms and curses and gris-gris. I am the goddess of magic.”

Those pure black eyes seemed to pull at Hazel, as if trying to extract her soul. During her first lifetime in New Orleans, Hazel had been tormented by the kids at St. Agnes School because of her mother. They called Marie Levesque a witch. The nuns muttered that Hazel’s mother was trading with the Devil.

If the nuns were scared of my mom, Hazel wondered, what would they make of this goddess?

“Many fear me,” Hecate said, as if reading her thoughts. “But magic is neither good nor evil. It is a tool, like a knife. Is a knife evil? Only if the wielder is evil.”

“My—my mother…” Hazel stammered. “She didn’t believe in magic. Not really. She was just faking it, for the money.”

The weasel chittered and bared its teeth. Then it made a squeaking sound from its back end. Under other circumstances, a weasel passing gas might have been funny, but Hazel didn’t laugh. The rodent’s red eyes glared at her balefully, like tiny coals.

“Peace, Gale,” said Hecate. She gave Hazel an apologetic shrug. “Gale does not like hearing about nonbelievers and con artists. She herself was once a witch, you see.”

“Your weasel was a witch?”

“She’s a polecat, actually,” Hecate said. “But, yes—Gale was once a disagreeable human witch. She had terrible personal hygiene, plus extreme—ah, digestive issues.” Hecate waved her hand in front of her nose. “It gave my other followers a bad name.”

“Okay.” Hazel tried not to look at the weasel. She really didn’t want to know about the rodent’s intestinal problems.

“At any rate,” Hecate said, “I turned her into a polecat. She’s much better as a polecat.”

Hazel swallowed. She looked at the black dog, which was affectionately nuzzling the goddess’s hand. “And your Labrador…?”

“Oh, she’s Hecuba, the former queen of Troy,” Hecate said, as if that should be obvious.

The dog grunted.

“You’re right, Hecuba,” the goddess said. “We don’t have time for long introductions. The point is, Hazel Levesque, your mother may have claimed not to believe, but she had true magic. Eventually, she realized this. When she searched for a spell to summon the god Pluto, I helped her find it.”

“You…?”

“Yes.” Hecate continued circling Hazel. “I saw potential in your mother. I see even more potential in you.”

Hazel’s head spun. She remembered her mother’s confession just before she had died: how she’d summoned Pluto, how the god had fallen in love with her, and how, because of her greedy wish, her daughter Hazel had been born with a curse. Hazel could summon riches from the earth, but anyone who used them would suffer and die.

Now this goddess was saying that she had made all that happen.

“My mother suffered because of that magic. My whole life—”

“Your life wouldn’t have happened without me,” Hecate said flatly. “I have no time for your anger. Neither do you. Without my help, you will die.”

The black dog snarled. The polecat snapped its teeth and passed gas.

Hazel felt like her lungs were filling with hot sand.

“What kind of help?” she demanded.

Hecate raised her pale arms. The three gateways she’d come from—north, east, and west—began to swirl with Mist. A flurry of black-and-white images glowed and flickered, like the old silent movies that were still playing in theaters sometimes when Hazel was small.

In the western doorway, Roman and Greek demigods in full armor fought one another on a hillside under a large pine tree. The grass was strewn with the wounded and the dying. Hazel saw herself riding Arion, charging through the melee and shouting—trying to stop the violence.

In the gateway to the east, Hazel saw the Argo II plunging through the sky above the Apennines. Its rigging was in flames. A boulder smashed into the quarterdeck. Another punched through the hull. The ship burst like a rotten pumpkin, and the engine exploded.

The images in the northern doorway were even worse. Hazel saw Leo, unconscious—or dead—falling through the clouds. She saw Frank staggering alone down a dark tunnel, clutching his arm, his shirt soaked in blood. And Hazel saw herself in a vast cavern filled with strands of light like a luminous web. She was struggling to break through while, in the distance, Percy and Annabeth lay sprawled and unmoving at the foot of two black-and-silver metal doors.

“Choices,” said Hecate. “You stand at the crossroads, Hazel Levesque. And I am the goddess of crossroads.”

The ground rumbled at Hazel’s feet. She looked down and saw the glint of silver coins…thousands of old Roman denarii breaking the surface all around her, as if the entire hilltop was coming to a boil. She’d been so agitated by the visions in the doorways that she must have summoned every bit of silver in the surrounding countryside.

“The past is close to the surface in this place,” Hecate said. “In ancient times, two great Roman roads met here. News was exchanged. Markets were held. Friends met, and enemies fought. Entire armies had to choose a direction. Crossroads are always places of decision.”

“Like…like Janus.” Hazel remembered the shrine of Janus on Temple Hill back at Camp Jupiter. Demigods would go there to make decisions. They would flip a coin, heads or tails, and hope the two-faced god would guide them well. Hazel had always hated that place. She’d never understood why her friends were so willing to let a god take away their responsibility for choosing. After all Hazel had been through, she trusted the wisdom of the gods about as much as she trusted a New Orleans slot machine.

The goddess of magic made a disgusted hiss. “Janus and his doorways. He would have you believe that all choices are black or white, yes or no, in or out. In fact, it’s not that simple. Whenever you reach the crossroads, there are always at least three ways to go…four, if you count going backward. You are at such a crossing now, Hazel.”

Hazel looked again at each swirling gateway: a demigod war, the destruction of the Argo II, disaster for herself and her friends. “All the choices are bad.”

“All choices have risks,” the goddess corrected. “But what is your goal?”

“My goal?” Hazel waved helplessly at the doorways. “None of these.”

The dog Hecuba snarled. Gale the polecat skittered around the goddess’s feet, farting and gnashing her teeth.

“You could go backward,” Hecate suggested, “retrace your steps to Rome…but Gaea’s forces are expecting that. None of you will survive.”

“So…what are you saying?”

Hecate stepped to the nearest torch. She scooped a handful of fire and sculpted the flames until she was holding a miniature relief map of Italy.

“You could go west.” Hecate let her finger drift away from her fiery map. “Go back to America with your prize, the Athena Parthenos. Your comrades back home, Greek and Roman, are on the brink of war. Leave now, and you might save many lives.”

“Might,” Hazel repeated. “But Gaea is supposed to wake in Greece. That’s where the giants are gathering.”

“True. Gaea has set the date of August first, the Feast of Spes, goddess of hope, for her rise to power. By waking on the Day of Hope, she intends to destroy all hope forever. Even if you reached Greece by then, could you stop her? I do not know.” Hecate traced her finger along the tops of the fiery Apennines. “You could go east, across the mountains, but Gaea will do anything to stop you from crossing Italy. She has raised her mountain gods against you.”

“We noticed,” Hazel said.

“Any attempt to cross the Apennines will mean the destruction of your ship. Ironically, this might be the safest option for your crew. I foresee that all of you would survive the explosion. It is possible, though unlikely, you could still reach Epirus and close the Doors of Death. You might find Gaea and prevent her rise. But by then, both demigod camps would be destroyed. You would have no home to return to.” Hecate smiled. “More likely, the destruction of your ship would strand you in the mountains. It would mean the end of your quest, but it would spare you and your friends much pain and suffering in the days to come. The war with the giants would have to be won or lost without you.”

Won or lost without us.

A small, guilty part of Hazel found that appealing. She’d been wishing for the chance to be a normal girl. She didn’t want any more pain or suffering for herself and her friends. They’d already been through so much.

She looked behind Hecate at the middle gateway. She saw Percy and Annabeth sprawled helplessly before those black-and-silver doors. A massive dark shape, vaguely humanoid, now loomed over them, its foot raised as if to crush Percy.

“What about them?” Hazel asked, her voice ragged. “Percy and Annabeth?”

Hecate shrugged. “West, east, or south…they die.”

“Not an option,” Hazel said.

“Then you have only one path, though it is the most dangerous.”

Hecate’s finger crossed her miniature Apennines, leaving a glowing white line in the red flames. “There is a secret pass here in the north, a place where I hold sway, where Hannibal once crossed when he marched against Rome.”

The goddess made a wide loop…to the top of Italy, then east to the sea, then down along the western coast of Greece. “Once through the pass, you would travel north to Bologna, and then to Venice. From there, sail the Adriatic to your goal, here: Epirus in Greece.”

Hazel didn’t know much about geography. She had no idea what the Adriatic Sea was like. She’d never heard of Bologna, and all she knew about Venice was vague stories about canals and gondolas. But one thing was obvious. “That’s so far out of the way.”

“Which is why Gaea will not expect you to take this route,” Hecate said. “I can obscure your progress somewhat, but the success of your journey will depend on you, Hazel Levesque. You must learn to use the Mist.”

“Me?” Hazel’s heart felt like it was tumbling down her rib cage. “Use the Mist how?”

Hecate extinguished her map of Italy. She flicked her hand at the black dog Hecuba. Mist collected around the Labrador until she was completely hidden in a cocoon of white. The fog cleared with an audible poof! Where the dog had stood was a disgruntled-looking black kitten with golden eyes.

“Mew,” it complained.

“I am the goddess of the Mist,” Hecate explained. “I am responsible for keeping the veil that separates the world of the gods from the world of mortals. My children learn to use the Mist to their advantage, to create illusions or influence the minds of mortals. Other demigods can do this as well. And so must you, Hazel, if you are to help your friends.”

“But…” Hazel looked at the cat. She knew it was actually Hecuba, the black Labrador, but she couldn’t convince herself. The cat seemed so real. “I can’t do that.”

“Your mother had the talent,” Hecate said. “You have even more. As a child of Pluto who has returned from the dead, you understand the veil between worlds better than most. You can control the Mist. If you do not…well, your brother Nico has already warned you. The spirits have whispered to him, told him of your future. When you reach the House of Hades, you will meet a formidable enemy. She cannot be overcome by strength or sword. You alone can defeat her, and you will require magic.”

Hazel’s legs felt wobbly. She remembered Nico’s grim expression, his fingers digging into her arm. You can’t tell the others. Not yet. Their courage is already stretched to the limit.

“Who?” Hazel croaked. “Who is this enemy?”

“I will not speak her name,” Hecate said. “That would alert her to your presence before you are ready to face her. Go north, Hazel. As you travel, practice summoning the Mist. When you arrive in Bologna, seek out the two dwarfs. They will lead you to a treasure that may help you survive in the House of Hades.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Mew,” the kitten complained.

“Yes, yes, Hecuba.” The goddess flicked her hand again, and the cat disappeared. The black Labrador was back in its place.

“You will understand, Hazel,” the goddess promised. “From time to time, I will send Gale to check on your progress.”

The polecat hissed, its beady red eyes full of malice.

“Wonderful,” Hazel muttered.

“Before you reach Epirus, you must be prepared,” Hecate said. “If you succeed, then perhaps we will meet again…for the final battle.”

A final battle, Hazel thought. Oh, joy.

Hazel wondered if she could prevent the revelations she saw in the Mist—Leo falling through the sky; Frank stumbling through the dark, alone and gravely wounded; Percy and Annabeth at the mercy of a dark giant.

She hated the gods’ riddles and their unclear advice. She was starting to despise crossroads.

“Why are you helping me?” Hazel demanded. “At Camp Jupiter, they said you sided with the Titans in the last war.”

Hecate’s dark eyes glinted. “Because I am a Titan—daughter of Perses and Asteria. Long before the Olympians came to power, I ruled the Mist. Despite this, in the First Titan War, millennia ago, I sided with Zeus against Kronos. I was not blind to Kronos’s cruelty. I hoped Zeus would prove a better king.”

She gave a small, bitter laugh. “When Demeter lost her daughter Persephone, kidnapped by your father, I guided Demeter through the darkest night with my torches, helping her search. And when the giants rose the first time, I again sided with the gods. I fought my archenemy Clytius, made by Gaea to absorb and defeat all my magic.”

“Clytius.” Hazel had never heard that name—Clai-tee-us—but saying it made her limbs feel heavy. She glanced at the images in the northern doorway—the massive dark shape looming over Percy and Annabeth. “Is he the threat in the House of Hades?”

“Oh, he waits for you there,” Hecate said. “But first you must defeat the witch. Unless you manage that…”

She snapped her fingers, and all of the gateways turned dark. The Mist dissolved, the images gone.

“We all face choices,” the goddess said. “When Kronos arose the second time, I made a mistake. I supported him. I had grown tired of being ignored by the so-called major gods. Despite my years of faithful service, they mistrusted me, refused me a seat in their hall…”

The polecat Gale chittered angrily.

“It does not matter anymore.” The goddess sighed. “I have made peace again with Olympus. Even now, when they are laid low—their Greek and Roman personas fighting each other—I will help them. Greek or Roman, I have always been only Hecate. I will assist you against the giants, if you prove yourself worthy. So now it is your choice, Hazel Levesque. Will you trust me…or will you shun me, as the Olympian gods have done too often?”

Blood roared in Hazel’s ears. Could she trust this dark goddess, who’d given her mother the magic that ruined her life? Sorry, no. She didn’t much like Hecate’s dog or her gassy polecat, either.

But she also knew she couldn’t let Percy and Annabeth die.

“I’ll go north,” she said. “We’ll take your secret pass through the mountains.”

Hecate nodded, the slightest hint of satisfaction in her face. “You have chosen well, though the path will not be easy. Many monsters will rise against you. Even some of my own servants have sided with Gaea, hoping to destroy your mortal world.”

The goddess took her double torches from their stands. “Prepare yourself, daughter of Pluto. If you succeed against the witch, we will meet again.”

“I’ll succeed,” Hazel promised. “And Hecate? I’m not choosing one of your paths. I’m making my own.”

The goddess arched her eyebrows. Her polecat writhed, and her dog snarled.

“We’re going to find a way to stop Gaea,” Hazel said. “We’re going to rescue our friends from Tartarus. We’re going keep the crew and the ship together, and we’re going to stop Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood from going to war. We’re going to do it all.”

The storm howled, the black walls of the funnel cloud swirling faster.

“Interesting,” Hecate said, as if Hazel were an unexpected result in a science experiment. “That would be magic worth seeing.”

A wave of darkness blotted out the world. When Hazel’s sight returned, the storm, the goddess, and her minions were gone. Hazel stood on the hillside in the morning sunlight, alone in the ruins except for Arion, who paced next to her, nickering impatiently.

“I agree,” Hazel told the horse. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What happened?” Leo asked as Hazel climbed aboard the Argo II.

Hazel’s hands still shook from her talk with the goddess. She glanced over the rail and saw the dust of Arion’s wake stretching across the hills of Italy. She had hoped her friend would stay, but couldn’t blame him for wanting to get away from this place as fast as possible.

The countryside sparkled as the summer sun hit the morning dew. On the hill, the old ruins stood white and silent—no sign of ancient paths, or goddesses, or farting weasels.

“Hazel?” Nico asked.

Her knees buckled. Nico and Leo grabbed her arms and helped her to the steps of the foredeck. She felt embarrassed, collapsing like some fairy-tale damsel, but her energy was gone. The memory of those glowing scenes at the crossroads filled her with dread.

“I met Hecate,” she managed.

She didn’t tell them everything. She remembered what Nico had said: Their courage is already stretched to the limit. But she told them about the secret northern pass through the mountains, and the detour Hecate described that could take them to Epirus.

When she was done, Nico took her hand. His eyes were full of concern. “Hazel, you met Hecate at a crossroads. That’s…that’s something many demigods don’t survive. And the ones who do survive are never the same. Are you sure you’re—”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

But she knew she wasn’t. She remembered how bold and angry she’d felt, telling the goddess she’d find her own path and succeed at everything. Now her boast seemed ridiculous. Her courage had abandoned her.

“What if Hecate is tricking us?” Leo asked. “This route could be a trap.”

Hazel shook her head. “If it was a trap, I think Hecate would’ve made the northern route sound tempting. Believe me, she didn’t.”

Leo pulled a calculator out of his tool belt and punched in some numbers. “That’s…something like three hundred miles out of our way to get to Venice. Then we’d have to backtrack down the Adriatic. And you said something about baloney dwarfs?”

“Dwarfs in Bologna,” Hazel said. “I guess Bologna is a city. But why we have to find dwarfs there…I have no idea. Some sort of treasure to help us with the quest.”

“Huh,” Leo said. “I mean, I’m all about treasure, but—”

“It’s our best option.” Nico helped Hazel to her feet. “We have to make up for lost time, travel as fast as we can. Percy’s and Annabeth’s lives might depend on it.”

“Fast?” Leo grinned. “I can do fast.”

He hurried to the console and started flipping switches.

Nico took Hazel’s arm and guided her out of earshot. “What else did Hecate say? Anything about—”

“I can’t.” Hazel cut him off. The images she’d seen had almost overwhelmed her: Percy and Annabeth helpless at the feet of those black metal doors, the dark giant looming over them, Hazel herself trapped in a glowing maze of light, unable to help.

You must defeat the witch, Hecate had said. You alone can defeat her. Unless you manage that…

The end, Hazel thought. All gateways closed. All hope extinguished.

Nico had warned her. He’d communed with the dead, heard them whispering hints about their future. Two children of the Underworld would enter the House of Hades. They would face an impossible foe. Only one of them would make it to the Doors of Death.

Hazel couldn’t meet her brother’s eyes.

“I’ll tell you later,” she promised, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “Right now, we should rest while we can. Tonight, we cross the Apennines.”