The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

Hades –’
    ‘Mars!’ Frank said quickly. ‘Child of Mars!’
    Triptolemus sniffed. ‘Well … not much better. But perhaps you deserve to be something better than a corn plant. Sorghum? Sorghum is very nice.’
    ‘Wait!’ Frank pleaded. ‘We’re here on a friendly mission. We brought a gift.’ Very slowly, he reached into his backpack and brought out the leather-bound book. ‘This belongs to you?’
    ‘My almanac!’ Triptolemus grinned and seized the book. He thumbed through the pages and started bouncing on the balls of his feet. ‘Oh, this is fabulous! Where did you find it?’
    ‘Um, Bologna. There were these –’ Frank remembered that he wasn’t supposed to mention the dwarfs – ‘terrible monsters. We risked our lives, but we knew this was important to you. So could you maybe, you know, turn Nico back to normal and heal Hazel?’
    ‘Hmm?’ Trip looked up from his book. He’d been happily reciting lines to himself – something about turnip-planting schedules. Frank wished that Ella the harpy were here. She would get along great with this guy.
    ‘Oh,
heal
them?’ Triptolemus clucked disapprovingly. ‘I’m grateful for the book, of course. I can definitely let
you
go free, son of Mars. But I have a long-standing problem with Hades. After all, I owe my godly powers to Demeter!’
    Frank racked his brain, but it was hard with the voices screaming in his head and the
katobleps
poison making him dizzy.
    ‘Uh, Demeter,’ he said, ‘the plant goddess. She – she didn’t like Hades because …’ Suddenly he recalled an old story he’d heard at Camp Jupiter. ‘Her daughter, Proserpine –’
    ‘Persephone,’ Trip corrected. ‘I prefer the Greek, if you don’t mind.’
    Kill him!
Mars screamed.
    I love this guy!
Ares yelled back.
Kill him anyway!
    Frank decided not to take offence. He didn’t want toget turned into a sorghum plant. ‘Okay. Hades kidnapped Persephone.’
    ‘Exactly!’ Trip said.
    ‘So … Persephone was a friend of yours?’
    Trip snorted. ‘I was just a mortal prince back then. Persephone wouldn’t have noticed me. But when her mother, Demeter, went searching for her, scouring the whole earth, not many people would help her. Hecate lit her way at night with her torches. And I … well, when Demeter came to my part of Greece, I gave her a place to stay. I comforted her, gave her a meal, and offered my assistance. I didn’t know she was a goddess at the time, but my good deed paid off. Later, Demeter rewarded me by making me a god of farming!’
    ‘Wow,’ Frank said. ‘Farming. Congratulations.’
    ‘I know! Pretty awesome, right? Anyway, Demeter never got along with Hades. So naturally, you know, I have to side with my patron goddess. Children of Hades – forget it! In fact, one of them – this Scythian king named Lynkos? When I tried to teach his countrymen about farming, he killed my right python!’
    ‘Your … right python?’
    Trip marched over to his winged chariot and hopped in. He pulled a lever, and the wings began to flap. The spotted python on the left wheel opened his eyes. He started to writhe, coiling around the axle like a spring. The chariot whirred into motion, but the right wheel stayed in place, so Triptolemus spun in circles, the chariot beating its wings and bouncing up and down like a defective merry-go-round.
    ‘You see?’ he said as he spun. ‘No good! Ever since I lost my right python, I haven’t been able to spread the word about farming – at least not in person. Now I have to resort to giving online courses.’
    ‘What?’ As soon as he said it, Frank was sorry he’d asked.
    Trip hopped off the chariot while it was still spinning. The python slowed to a stop and went back to snoring. Trip jogged over to the line of computers. He tapped the keyboards and the screens woke up, displaying a website in maroon and gold, with a picture of a happy farmer in a toga and a farmer’s hat, standing with his bronze scythe in a field of wheat.
    ‘Triptolemus Farming University!’ he announced proudly. ‘In just six weeks, you can get your bachelor’s degree in the exciting and vibrant career of the future – farming!’
    Frank felt a bead of sweat trickle down his cheek. He didn’t care about this crazy god or his snake-powered chariot or his online degree programme. But Hazel was turning greener by the moment. Nico was a corn plant. And he was alone.
    ‘Look,’ he said. ‘We
did
bring you the almanac. And my