The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

toppled into the canal.
    When Frank glanced back, he had at least two dozen monsters on his tail, but he needed more. He needed
all
the monsters in Venice, and he had to keep the ones behind him enraged.
    He found an open spot in the crowd and turned back into a human. He drew Hazel’s
spatha
– never his preferred weapon, but he was big enough and strong enough that the heavy cavalry sword didn’t bother him. In fact he was glad forthe extra reach. He slashed the golden blade, destroying the first
katobleps
and letting the others bunch up in front of him.
    He tried to avoid their eyes, but he could feel their gaze burning into him. He figured that if all these monsters breathed on him at once their combined noxious cloud would be enough to melt him into a puddle. The monsters crowded forward and slammed into one another.
    Frank yelled, ‘You want my poison roots? Come and get them!’
    He turned into a dolphin and jumped into the canal. He hoped
katoblepones
couldn’t swim. At the very least, they seemed reluctant to follow him in, and he couldn’t blame them. The canal was disgusting – smelly and salty and as warm as soup – but Frank forged through it, dodging gondolas and speedboats, pausing occasionally to chitter dolphin insults at the monsters who followed him on the sidewalks. When he reached the nearest gondola dock, Frank turned back into a human again, stabbed a few more
katoblepones
to keep them angry and took off running.
    So it went.
    After a while, Frank fell into a kind of daze. He attracted more monsters, scattered more crowds of tourists and led his now massive following of
katoblepones
through the winding streets of the old city. Whenever he needed a quick escape, he dived into a canal as a dolphin or turned into an eagle and soared overhead, but he never got too far ahead of his pursuers.
    Whenever he felt like the monsters might be losing interest, he stopped on a rooftop and drew his bow, picking off a few ofthe
katoblepones
in the centre of the herd. He shook his lasso of poison vines and insulted the monsters’ bad breath, stirring them into a fury. Then he continued the race.
    He backtracked. He lost his way. Once he turned a corner and ran into the tail end of his own monster mob. He should have been exhausted, yet somehow he found the strength to keep going – which was good. The hardest part was yet to come.
    He spotted a couple of bridges, but they didn’t look right. One was elevated and completely covered; no way could he get the monsters to funnel through it. Another was too crowded with tourists. Even if the monsters ignored the mortals, that noxious gas couldn’t be good for anyone to breathe. The bigger the monster herd got, the more mortals would get pushed aside, knocked into the water or trampled.
    Finally Frank saw something that would work. Just ahead, past a big piazza, a wooden bridge spanned one of the widest canals. The bridge itself was a latticed arc of timber, like an old-fashioned roller coaster, about fifty metres long.
    From above, in eagle form, Frank saw no monsters on the far side. Every
katobleps
in Venice seemed to have joined the herd and was pushing through the streets behind him as tourists screamed and scattered, maybe thinking they were caught in the midst of a stray dog stampede.
    The bridge was empty of foot traffic. It was perfect.
    Frank dropped like a stone and turned back to human form. He ran to the middle of the bridge – a natural choke point – and threw his bait of poisonous roots on the deck behind him.
    As the front of the
katobleps
herd reached the base of the bridge, Frank drew Hazel’s golden
spatha
.
    ‘Come on!’ he yelled. ‘You want to know what Frank Zhang is worth? Come on!’
    He realized he wasn’t just shouting at the monsters. He was venting weeks of fear, rage and resentment. The voices of Mars and Ares screamed right along with him.
    The monsters charged. Frank’s vision turned red.
    Later, he couldn’t remember the details clearly. He sliced through monsters until he was ankle-deep in yellow dust. Whenever he got overwhelmed and the clouds of gas began to choke him, he changed shape – became an elephant, a dragon, a lion – and each transformation seemed to clear his lungs, giving him a fresh burst of energy. His shape-shifting became so fluid, he could start an attack in human form with his sword and finish as a lion, raking his claws across a
katobleps’
s snout.
    The monsters kicked with their hooves.