The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

into the Forum. Sure, he’d been possessed at the time, but still Mars demanded vengeance. Leo made things harder by constantly teasing Frank, and Ares demanded that Frank retaliate for every insult.
    Frank kept the voices at bay, but it wasn’t easy.
    On their trip across the Atlantic, Leo had said something that still stuck in Frank’s mind. When they’d learned that Gaia the evil earth goddess had put a bounty on their heads, Leo had wanted to know for how much.
    I can understand not being as pricey as Jason or Percy
, he’d said,
but am I worth, like, two or three Franks?
    Just another one of Leo’s stupid jokes, but the comment hit a little too close to home. On the
Argo II
, Frank definitely felt like the LVP – Least Valuable Player. Sure, he could turn into animals. So what? His biggest claim to helpfulness so far had been changing into a weasel to escape from an underground workshop, and even
that
had been Leo’s idea. Frank was better known for the Giant Goldfish Fiasco in Atlanta and, just yesterday, for turning into a two-hundred-kilo gorilla only to get knocked senseless by a flash-bang grenade.
    Leo hadn’t made any gorilla jokes at his expense yet. But it was only a matter of time.
    Kill him!
    Torture him!
Then
kill him!
    The two sides of the war god seemed to be kicking andpunching each other inside Frank’s head, using his sinuses as a wrestling mat.
    Blood! Guns!
    Rome! War!
    Quiet down
, Frank ordered.
    Amazingly, the voices obeyed.
    Okay, then
,
Frank thought.
    Maybe he could finally get those annoying screaming mini-gods under control. Maybe today would be a good day.
    That hope was shattered as soon as he climbed above deck.
    ‘What
are
they?’ Hazel asked.
    The
Argo II
was docked at a busy wharf. On one side stretched a shipping channel about half a kilometre wide. On the other spread the city of Venice – red-tiled roofs, metal church domes, steepled towers and sun-bleached buildings in all the colours of Valentine candy hearts – red, white, ochre, pink and orange.
    Everywhere there were statues of lions – on top of pedestals, over doorways, on the porticoes of the largest buildings. There were so many, Frank figured the lion must be the city’s mascot.
    Where streets should have been, green canals etched their way through the neighbourhoods, each one jammed with motorboats. Along the docks, the sidewalks were mobbed with tourists shopping at the T-shirt kiosks, overflowing from stores, and lounging across acres of outdoor café tables,like pods of sea lions. Frank had thought Rome was full of tourists. This place was insane.
    Hazel and the rest of his friends weren’t paying attention to any of that, though. They had gathered at the starboard rail to stare at the dozens of weird shaggy monsters milling through the crowds.
    Each monster was about the size of a cow, with a bowed back like a broken-down horse, matted grey fur, skinny legs and black cloven hooves. The creatures’ heads seemed much too heavy for their necks. Their long anteater-like snouts drooped to the ground. Their overgrown grey manes completely covered their eyes.
    Frank watched as one of the creatures lumbered across the promenade, snuffling and licking the pavement with its long tongue. The tourists parted around it, unconcerned. A few even petted it. Frank wondered how the mortals could be so calm. Then the monster’s appearance flickered. For a moment it turned into an old, fat beagle.
    Jason grunted. ‘The mortals think they’re stray dogs.’
    ‘Or pets roaming around,’ Piper said. ‘My dad shot a film in Venice once. I remember him telling me there were dogs everywhere. Venetians love dogs.’
    Frank frowned. He kept forgetting that Piper’s dad was Tristan McLean, A-list movie star. She didn’t talk about him much. She seemed pretty down-to-earth for a kid raised in Hollywood. That was fine with Frank. The last thing they needed on this quest was paparazzi taking pictures of all Frank’s epic fails.
    ‘But what are they?’ he asked, repeating Hazel’s question.‘They look like … starving, shaggy cows with sheepdog hair.’
    He waited for someone to enlighten him. Nobody volunteered any information.
    ‘Maybe they’re harmless,’ Leo suggested. ‘They’re ignoring the mortals.’
    ‘Harmless!’ Gleeson Hedge laughed. The satyr wore his usual gym shorts, sports shirt and coach’s whistle. His expression was as gruff as ever, but he still had one pink rubber band stuck in his