The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

behind them. ‘Kill the ungrateful tourists!’
    The children of Nyx had found them. Annabeth wrapped her arms around Percy’s neck. ‘Go!’
    With her eyes closed, she could only guess how he managed it. Maybe he used the force of the river somehow. Maybe he was just scared out of his mind and charged with adrenalin. Percy leaped with more strength than she would have thought possible. They sailed through the air as the river churned and wailed below them, splashing Annabeth’s bare ankles with stinging brine.
    Then –
CLUMP
. They were on solid ground again.
    ‘You can open your eyes,’ Percy said, breathing hard. ‘But you won’t like what you see.’
    Annabeth blinked. After the darkness of Nyx, even the dim red glow of Tartarus seemed blinding.
    Before them stretched a valley big enough to hold the San Francisco Bay. The booming noise came from the entire landscape, as if thunder were echoing from beneath the ground. Under poisonous clouds, the rolling terrain glistened purple with dark red and blue scar lines.
    ‘It looks like …’ Annabeth fought down her revulsion. ‘Like a giant heart.’
    ‘The heart of Tartarus,’ Percy murmured.
    The centre of the valley was covered with a fine black fuzzof peppery dots. They were so far away, it took Annabeth a moment to realize she was looking at an army – thousands, maybe tens of thousands of monsters, gathered around a central pinpoint of darkness. It was too far to see any details, but Annabeth had no doubt what the pinpoint was. Even from the edge of the valley, Annabeth could feel its power tugging at her soul.
    ‘The Doors of Death.’
    ‘Yeah.’ Percy’s voice was hoarse. He still had the pale, wasted complexion of a corpse … which meant he looked about as good as Annabeth felt.
    She realized she’d forgotten all about their pursuers. ‘What happened to Nyx …?’
    She turned. Somehow they’d landed several hundred yards from the banks of Acheron, which flowed through a channel cut into black volcanic hills. Beyond that was nothing but darkness.
    No sign of anyone coming after them. Apparently even the minions of Night didn’t like to cross the Acheron.
    She was about to ask Percy how he had jumped so far when she heard the skittering of a rockslide in the hills to their left. She drew her drakon-bone sword. Percy raised Riptide.
    A patch of glowing white hair appeared over the ridge, then a familiar grinning face with pure silver eyes.
    ‘Bob?’ Annabeth was so happy she actually jumped. ‘Oh my gods!’
    ‘Friends!’ The Titan lumbered towards them. The bristles of his broom had been burned off. His janitor’s uniform wasslashed with new claw marks, but he looked delighted. On his shoulder, Small Bob the kitten purred almost as loudly as the pulsing heart of Tartarus.
    ‘I found you!’ Bob gathered them both in a rib-crushing hug. ‘You look like smoking dead people. That is good!’
    ‘Urf,’ Percy said. ‘How did you get here? Through the Mansion of Night?’
    ‘No, no.’ Bob shook his head adamantly. ‘That place is too scary. Another way – only good for Titans and such.’
    ‘Let me guess,’ Annabeth said. ‘You went sideways.’
    Bob scratched his chin, evidently at a loss for words. ‘Hmm. No. More … 
diagonal
.’
    Annabeth laughed. Here they were at the heart of Tartarus, facing an impossible army – she would take any comfort she could get. She was ridiculously glad to have Bob the Titan with them again.
    She kissed his immortal nose, which made him blink.
    ‘We stay together now?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes,’ Annabeth agreed. ‘Time to see if this Death Mist works.’
    ‘And if it doesn’t …’ Percy stopped himself.
    There was no point in wondering about that. They were about to march into the middle of an enemy army. If they were spotted, they were dead.
    Despite that, Annabeth managed a smile. Their goal was in sight. They had a Titan with a broom and a very loud kitten on their side. That had to count for something.
    ‘Doors of Death,’ she said, ‘here we come.’

LVII
     

JASON
     
    J ASON WASN’T SURE WHAT TO HOPE FOR: storm or fire.
    As he waited for his daily audience with the lord of the South Wind, he tried to decide which of the god’s personalities, Roman or Greek, was worse. But after five days in the palace he was only certain about one thing: he and his crew were unlikely to get out of here alive.
    He leaned against the balcony rail. The air was so hot and dry it sucked