The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

noticed that he didn’t mention Annabeth. He decided not to bring that up.
    ‘All right,’ Jason said. ‘But if we can’t repair the ship –’
    ‘I promised I’d lead you to the House of Hades,’ Nico said. ‘One way or another, I will.’
    ‘You can’t shadow-travel with all of us. And it
will
take all of us to reach the Doors of Death.’
    The orb at the end of Diocletian’s sceptre glowed purple. Over the past week, it seemed to have aligned itself to Nico di Angelo’s moods. Jason wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
    ‘Then you’ve
got
to convince the king of the South Wind to help.’ Nico’s voice seethed with anger. ‘I didn’t come all this way, suffer so many humiliations …’
    Jason had to make a conscious effort not to reach for hissword. Whenever Nico got angry, all of Jason’s instincts screamed
Danger!
    ‘Look, Nico,’ he said, ‘I’m here if you want to talk about, you know, what happened in Croatia. I get how difficult –’
    ‘You don’t get anything.’
    ‘Nobody’s going to judge you.’
    Nico’s mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘Really? That would be a first. I’m the son of
Hades
, Jason. I might as well be covered in blood or sewage, the way people treat me. I don’t belong anywhere. I’m not even from this
century
. But even that’s not enough to set me apart. I’ve got to be – to be –’
    ‘Dude! It’s not like you’ve got a choice. It’s just who you are.’
    ‘Just who I am …’ The balcony trembled. Patterns shifted in the stone floor, like bones coming to the surface. ‘Easy for you to say. You’re everybody’s golden boy, the son of
Jupiter
. The only person who ever accepted
me
was Bianca, and she
died
! I didn’t choose any of this. My father, my feelings …’
    Jason tried to think of something to say. He wanted to be Nico’s friend. He knew that was the only way to help. But Nico wasn’t making it easy.
    He raised his hands in submission. ‘Yeah, okay. But, Nico, you
do
choose how to live your life. You want to trust somebody? Maybe take a risk that I’m really your friend and I’ll accept you. It’s better than hiding.’
    The floor cracked between them. The crevice hissed. The air around Nico shimmered with spectral light.
    ‘Hiding?’ Nico’s voice was deadly quiet.
    Jason’s fingers itched to draw his sword. He’d met plenty of scary demigods, but he was starting to realize that Nicodi Angelo – as pale and gaunt as he looked – might be more than he could handle.
    Nevertheless, he held Nico’s gaze. ‘Yes, hiding. You’ve run away from both camps. You’re so afraid you’ll get rejected that you won’t even try. Maybe it’s time you came out of the shadows.’
    Just when the tension became unbearable, Nico dropped his eyes. The fissure closed in the balcony floor. The ghostly light faded.
    ‘I’m going to honour my promise,’ Nico said, not much louder than a whisper. ‘I’ll take you to Epirus. I’ll help you close the Doors of Death. Then that’s it. I’m leaving – forever.’
    Behind them, the doors of the throne room blasted open with a gust of scorching air.
    A disembodied voice said:
Lord Auster will see you now.
    As much as he dreaded this meeting, Jason felt relieved. At the moment, arguing with a crazy wind god seemed safer than befriending an angry son of Hades. He turned to tell Nico goodbye, but Nico had disappeared – melting back into the darkness.

LVIII
     

JASON
     
    S O IT WAS A
STORM
DAY. Auster, the Roman version of the South Wind, was holding court.
    The two previous days, Jason had dealt with Notus . While the god’s Greek version was fiery and quick to anger, at least he was
quick
. Auster … well, not so much.
    White and red marble columns lined the throne room. The rough sandstone floor smoked under Jason’s shoes. Steam hung in the air, like the bathhouse back at Camp Jupiter, except bathhouses usually didn’t have thunderstorms crackling across the ceiling, lighting the room in disorienting flashes.
    Southern
venti
swirled through the hall in clouds of red dust and superheated air. Jason was careful to stay away from them. On his first day here, he’d accidentally brushed his hand through one. He’d got so many blisters his fingers looked like tentacles.
    At the end of the room was the strangest throne Jason hadever seen – made of equal parts fire and water. The dais was a bonfire. Flames and smoke curled up to form a seat. The back of the chair was a churning