The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

he told them.
How?
    Ha, ha!
Ares screamed.
Yes, the serpent!
    Like that vile Cadmus
, Mars said.
We punished him for killing our dragon!
    They both started yelling, until Frank thought his brain would split in half.
    ‘Okay! Stop!’
    The voices quieted.
    ‘Cadmus,’ Frank muttered. ‘Cadmus …’
    The story came back to him. The demigod Cadmus had slain a dragon that happened to be a child of Ares. How Ares had ended up with a dragon for a son, Frank didn’t want toknow, but as punishment for the dragon’s death Ares turned Cadmus into a snake.
    ‘So you can turn your enemies into snakes,’ Frank said. ‘That’s what I need. I need to find an enemy. Then I need you to turn him into a snake.’
    You think I would do that for you?
Ares roared.
You have not proven your worth!
    Only the greatest hero could ask such a boon
,
Mars said.
A hero like Romulus !
    Too Roman!
Ares shouted.
Diomedes !
    Never!
Mars shouted back.
That coward fell to Heracles !
    Horatius , then
, Ares suggested.
    Mars went silent. Frank sensed a grudging agreement.
    ‘Horatius,’ Frank said. ‘Fine. If that’s what it takes, I’ll prove I’m as good as Horatius. Uh … what did he do?’
    Images flooded into Frank’s mind. He saw a lone warrior standing on a stone bridge, facing an entire army massed on the far side of the Tiber River .
    Frank remembered the legend. Horatius, the Roman general, had single-handedly held off a horde of invaders, sacrificing himself on that bridge to keep the barbarians from crossing the Tiber. By giving his fellow Romans time to finish their defences, he’d saved the Republic.
    Venice is overrun
, Mars said,
as Rome was about to be. Cleanse it!
    Destroy them all!
Ares said.
Put them to the sword!
    Frank pushed the voices to the back of his mind. He looked at his hands and was amazed they weren’t trembling.
    For the first time in days, his thoughts were clear. He knew exactly what he needed to do. He didn’t know how he would pull it off. The odds of dying were excellent, but he had to try. Hazel’s life depended on him.
    He strapped Hazel’s sword to his belt, morphed his backpack into a quiver and bow, and raced towards the piazza where he’d fought the cow monsters.
    The plan had three phases: dangerous, really dangerous and insanely dangerous.
    Frank stopped at the old stone well. No
katoblepones
in sight. He drew Hazel’s sword and used it to prise up some cobblestones, unearthing a big tangle of spiky roots. The tendrils unfurled, exuding their stinky green fumes as they crept towards Frank’s feet.
    In the distance, a
katobleps
’s foghorn moan filled the air. Others joined in from all different directions. Frank wasn’t sure how the monsters could tell he was harvesting their favourite food – maybe they just had an excellent sense of smell.
    He had to move fast now. He sliced off a long cluster of vines and laced them through one of his belt loops, trying to ignore the burning and itching in his hands. Soon he had a glowing, stinking lasso of poisonous weeds. Hooray.
    The first few
katoblepones
lumbered into the piazza, bellowing in anger. Green eyes glowed under their manes. Their long snouts blew clouds of gas, like furry steam engines.
    Frank nocked an arrow. He had a momentary pang of guilt. These were not the worst monsters he’d met. They were basically grazing animals that happened to be poisonous.
    Hazel is dying because of them, he reminded himself.
    He let the arrow fly. The nearest
katobleps
collapsed, crumbling to dust. He nocked a second arrow, but the rest of the herd was almost on top of him. More were charging into the square from the opposite direction.
    Frank turned into a lion. He roared defiantly and leaped towards the archway, straight over the heads of the second herd. The two groups of
katoblepones
slammed into each other, but quickly recovered and ran after him.
    Frank hadn’t been sure the roots would still smell when he changed form. Usually his clothes and possessions just sort of melted into his animal shape, but apparently he still smelled like a yummy poison dinner. Each time he raced past a
katobleps
, it roared with outrage and joined the
Kill Frank!
Parade.
    He turned onto a larger street and pushed through the crowds of tourists. What the mortals saw, he had no idea – a cat being chased by a pack of dogs? People cursed Frank in about twelve different languages. Gelato cones went flying. A woman spilled a stack of carnival masks. One dude