The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

They breathed noxious gas and glared straight at Frank with their poisonous eyes. He should have died. He should have been trampled. But somehow he stayed on his feet, unharmed, and unleashed a hurricane of violence.
    He didn’t feel any sort of pleasure in this, but he didn’t hesitate, either. He stabbed one monster and beheaded another. He turned into a dragon and bit a
katobleps
in half, then changed into an elephant and trampled three at once under his feet. His vision was still tinted red, and he realized his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. He was actually glowing – surrounded by a rosy aura.
    He didn’t understand why, but he kept fighting until there was only one monster left.
    Frank faced it with his sword drawn. He was out of breath, sweaty and caked in monster dust, but he was unharmed.
    The
katobleps
snarled. It must not have been the smartest monster. Despite the fact that several hundred of its brethren had just died, it did not back down.
    ‘Mars!’ Frank yelled. ‘I’ve proven myself. Now I need a snake!’
    Frank doubted anyone had ever shouted those words before. It was kind of a weird request. He got no answer from the skies. For once, the voices in his head were silent.
    The
katobleps
lost patience. It launched itself at Frank and left him no choice. He slashed upward. As soon as his blade hit the monster, the
katobleps
disappeared in a flash of blood-red light. When Frank’s vision cleared, a mottled brown Burmese python was coiled at his feet.
    ‘Well done,’ said a familiar voice.
    Standing a few feet away was his dad, Mars, wearing a red beret and olive fatigues with the insignia of the Italian Special Forces, an assault rifle slung over his shoulder. His face was hard and angular, his eyes covered with dark sunglasses.
    ‘Father,’ Frank managed.
    He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. The terror started to catch up with him. He felt like sobbing, but he guessed that would not be a good idea in front of Mars.
    ‘It’s natural to feel fear.’ The war god’s voice was surprisingly warm, full of pride. ‘All great warriors are afraid. Only the stupid and the delusional are not. But you faced your fear, myson. You did what you had to do, like Horatius. This was your bridge, and you defended it.’
    ‘I –’ Frank wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I … I just needed a snake.’
    A tiny smile tugged at Mars’s mouth. ‘Yes. And now you have one. Your bravery has united my forms, Greek and Roman, if only for a moment. Go. Save your friends. But hear me, Frank. Your greatest test is yet to come. When you face the armies of Gaia at Epirus, your leadership –’
    Suddenly the god doubled over, clutching his head. His form flickered. His fatigues turned into a toga, then a biker’s jacket and jeans. His rifle changed into a sword and then a rocket launcher.
    ‘Agony!’ Mars bellowed. ‘Go! Hurry!’
    Frank didn’t ask questions. Despite his exhaustion, he turned into a giant eagle, snatched up the python in his massive claws and launched himself into the air.
    When he glanced back, a miniature mushroom cloud erupted from the middle of the bridge, rings of fire washing outwards, and a pair of voices – Mars and Ares – screamed, ‘Noooo!’
    Frank wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he had no time to think about it. He flew over the city – now completely empty of monsters – and headed for the house of Triptolemus.
    ‘You found one!’ the farmer god exclaimed.
    Frank ignored him. He stormed into La Casa Nera, dragging the python by its tail like a very strange Santa Claus bag, and dropped it next to the bed.
    He knelt at Hazel’s side.
    She was still alive – green and shivering, barely breathing, but alive. As for Nico, he was still a corn plant.
    ‘Heal them,’ Frank said. ‘Now.’
    Triptolemus crossed his arms. ‘How do I know the snake will work?’
    Frank gritted his teeth. Since the explosion on the bridge, the voices of the war god had gone silent in his head, but he still felt their combined anger churning inside him. He felt physically different, too. Had Triptolemus got shorter?
    ‘The snake is a gift from Mars,’ Frank growled. ‘It will work.’
    As if on cue, the Burmese python slithered over to the chariot and wrapped itself around the right wheel. The other snake woke up. The two serpents checked each other out, touching noses, then turned their wheels in unison. The chariot inched forward, its wings flapping.
    ‘You see?’