The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

friends are really nice. They’re not like those other children of Hades you’ve met. So if there’s any way –’
    ‘Oh!’ Trip snapped his fingers. ‘I see where you’re going!’
    ‘Uh … you do?’
    ‘Absolutely! If I cure your friend Hazel and return the other one, Nicholas –’
    ‘Nico.’
    ‘– if I return him to normal …’
    Frank hesitated. ‘Yes?’
    ‘Then, in exchange, you stay with me and take up farming! A child of Mars as my apprentice? It’s perfect! What a spokesman you’ll be. We can beat swords into ploughshares and have so much fun!’
    ‘Actually …’ Frank tried frantically to come up with a plan. Ares and Mars screamed in his head,
Swords! Guns! Massive ka-booms!
    If he declined Trip’s offer, Frank figured he would offend the guy and end up as sorghum or wheat or some other cash crop.
    If it was the only way to save Hazel, then, sure, he could agree to Trip’s demands and become a farmer. But that
couldn’t
be the only way. Frank refused to believe he’d been chosen by the Fates to go on this quest just so he could take online courses in turnip cultivation.
    Frank’s eyes wandered to the broken chariot. ‘I have a better offer,’ he blurted out. ‘I can fix that.’
    Trip’s smile melted. ‘Fix … my chariot?’
    Frank wanted to kick himself. What was he
thinking
? He wasn’t Leo. He couldn’t even figure out a stupid pair of Chinese handcuffs. He could barely change the batteries in a TV remote. He couldn’t fix a magical chariot!
    But something told him it was his only chance. That chariot was the one thing Triptolemus might really want.
    ‘I’ll go find a way to fix the chariot,’ he said. ‘In return, you fix Nico and Hazel. Let us go in peace. And – and give us whatever aid you can to defeat Gaia’s forces.’
    Triptolemus laughed. ‘What makes you think I can aid you with
that
?’
    ‘Hecate told us so,’ Frank said. ‘She sent us here. She – she decided Hazel is one of her favourites.’
    The colour drained from Trip’s face. ‘Hecate?’
    Frank hoped he wasn’t overstating things. He didn’t need Hecate mad at him too. But, if Triptolemus and Hecate were both friends of Demeter, maybe that would convince Trip to help.
    ‘The goddess guided us to your almanac in Bologna,’ Frank said. ‘She wanted us to return it to you, because … well, she must’ve known you had some knowledge that would help us get through the House of Hades in Epirus.’
    Trip nodded slowly. ‘Yes. I see. I know why Hecate sent you to me. Very well, son of Mars. Go find a way to fix my chariot. If you succeed, I will do all you ask. If not –’
    ‘I know,’ Frank grumbled. ‘My friends die.’
    ‘Yes,’ Trip said cheerfully. ‘And you’ll make a lovely patch of sorghum!’

XX
     

FRANK
     
    F RANK STUMBLED OUT OF THE B LACK H OUSE. The door shut behind him, and he collapsed against the wall, overcome with guilt. Fortunately the
katoblepones
had cleared off, or he might have just sat there and let them trample him. He deserved nothing better. He’d left Hazel inside, dying and defenceless, at the mercy of a crazy farmer god.
    Kill farmers!
Ares screamed in his head.
    Return to the legion and fight Greeks!
Mars said.
What are we doing here?
    Killing farmers!
Ares screamed back.
    ‘Shut up!’ Frank yelled aloud. ‘Both of you!’
    A couple of old ladies with shopping bags shuffled past. They gave Frank a strange look, muttered something in Italian and kept going.
    Frank stared miserably at Hazel’s cavalry sword, lying at his feet next to his backpack. He could run back to the
Argo II
and get Leo. Maybe Leo could fix the chariot.
    But Frank somehow knew this wasn’t a problem for Leo. It was Frank’s task. He had to prove himself. Besides, the chariot wasn’t exactly broken. There was no mechanical problem. It was missing a serpent.
    Frank could turn himself into a python. When he’d woken up that morning as a giant snake, perhaps it had been a sign from the gods. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life turning the wheel of a farmer’s chariot, but if it meant saving Hazel …
    No. There had to be another way.
    Serpents, Frank thought. Mars.
    Did his father have some connection to snakes? Mars’s sacred animal was the wild boar, not the serpent. Still, Frank was sure he’d heard something once …
    He could think of only one person to ask. Reluctantly, he opened his mind to the voices of the war god.
    I need a snake
,