The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

had thought that was a pretty awesome idea. Now he wasn’t so sure.
    The scenes from back home – the campfire sing-alongs, dinners at the pavilion, volleyball games outside the Big House – just seemed to make his friends sad. The further they got from Long Island, the worse it got. The time zones kept changing, making Leo
feel
the distance every time he looked at the walls. Here in Italy the sun had just come up. Back at Camp Half-Blood it was the middle of the night. Torches sputtered at the cabin doorways. Moonlight glittered on the waves of Long Island Sound. The beach was covered in footprints, as if a big crowd had just left.
    With a start, Leo realized that yesterday – last night, whatever – had been the Fourth of July. They’d missed Camp Half-Blood’s annual party at the beach with awesome fireworks prepared by Leo’s siblings in Cabin Nine.
    He decided not to mention that to the crew, but he hoped their buddies back home had had a good celebration. They needed something to keep their spirits up, too.
    He remembered the images he’d seen in his dream – the camp in ruins, littered with bodies; Octavian standing at the volleyball pit, casually talking in Gaia’s voice.
    He stared down at his eggs and bacon. He wished he could turn off the wall videos.
    ‘So,’ Jason said, ‘now that we’re here …’
    He sat at the head of the table, kind of by default. Since they’d lost Annabeth, Jason had done his best to act as the group’s leader. Having been praetor back at Camp Jupiter, he was probably used to that, but Leo could tell his friend was stressed. His eyes were more sunken than usual. His blond hair was uncharacteristically messy, like he’d forgotten to comb it.
    Leo glanced at the others around the table. Hazel was bleary-eyed, too, but of course she’d been up all night guiding the ship through the mountains. Her curly cinnamon-coloured hair was tied back in a bandanna, which gave her a commando look that Leo found kind of hot – and then immediately felt guilty about.
    Next to her sat her boyfriend Frank Zhang, dressed in black workout pants and a Roman tourist T-shirt that said CIAO
! (was that even a word?). Frank’s old centurion badge was pinned to his shirt, despite the fact that the demigods of the
Argo II
were now Public Enemies Numbers 1 through 7 back at Camp Jupiter. His grim expression just reinforced hisunfortunate resemblance to a sumo wrestler. Then there was Hazel’s half-brother, Nico di Angelo. Dang, that kid gave Leo the freaky-deakies. He sat back in his leather aviator jacket, his black T-shirt and jeans, that wicked silver skull ring on his finger and the Stygian sword at his side. His tufts of black hair stuck up in curls like baby bat wings. His eyes were sad and kind of empty, as if he’d stared into the depths of Tartarus – which he had.
    The only absent demigod was Piper, who was taking her turn at the helm with Coach Hedge, their satyr chaperone.
    Leo wished Piper were here. She had a way of calming things down with that Aphrodite charm of hers. After his dreams last night, Leo could use some calm.
    On the other hand, it was probably good she was above deck chaperoning their chaperone. Now that they were in the ancient lands, they had to be constantly on guard. Leo was nervous about letting Coach Hedge fly solo. The satyr was a little trigger-happy, and the helm had plenty of bright, dangerous buttons that could cause the picturesque Italian villages below them to go BOOM!
    Leo had zoned out so totally he didn’t realize Jason was still talking.
    ‘– the House of Hades,’ he was saying. ‘Nico?’
    Nico sat forward. ‘I communed with the dead last night.’
    He just tossed that line out there, like he was saying he got a text from a buddy.
    ‘I was able to learn more about what we’ll face,’ Nico continued. ‘In ancient times, the House of Hades was a majorsite for Greek pilgrims. They would come to speak with the dead and honour their ancestors.’
    Leo frowned. ‘Sounds like Día de los Muertos. My Aunt Rosa took that stuff seriously.’
    He remembered being dragged by her to the local cemetery in Houston, where they’d clean up their relatives’ gravesites and put out offerings of lemonade, cookies and fresh marigolds. Aunt Rosa would force Leo to stay for a picnic, as if hanging out with dead people were good for his appetite.
    Frank grunted. ‘Chinese have that, too – ancestor worship, sweeping the graves in the