The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

eavesdropping.
    She would’ve backed away, but Gale squeaked at her heels. Hazel knocked on the coach’s door.
    Hedge poked his head out, scowling as usual, but his eyes were red.
    ‘What?’ he growled.
    ‘Um … sorry,’ Hazel said. ‘Are you okay?’
    The coach snorted and opened his door wide. ‘Kinda question is that?’
    There was no one else in the room.
    ‘I –’ Hazel tried to remember why she was there. ‘I wondered if you could talk to my weasel.’
    The coach’s eyes narrowed. He lowered his voice. ‘Are we speaking in code? Is there an intruder aboard?’
    ‘Well, sort of.’
    Gale peeked out from behind Hazel’s feet and started chattering.
    The coach looked offended. He chattered back at the weasel. They had what sounded like a very intense argument.
    ‘What did she say?’ Hazel asked.
    ‘A lot of rude things,’ grumbled the satyr. ‘The gist of it: she’s here to see how it goes.’
    ‘How
what
goes?’
    Coach Hedge stomped his hoof. ‘How am I supposed to know? She’s a polecat! They
never
give a straight answer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got, uh, stuff …’
    He closed the door in her face.
    After breakfast, Hazel stood at the port rail, trying to settle her stomach. Next to her, Gale ran up and down the railing, passing gas, but the strong wind off the Adriatic helped whisk it away.
    Hazel wondered what was wrong with Coach Hedge. He must have been using an Iris-message to talk with someone, but, if he’d got great news, why had he looked so devastated? She’d never seen him so shaken up. Unfortunately, she doubted the coach would ask for help if he needed it. He wasn’t exactly the warm and open type.
    She stared at the white cliffs in the distance and thought about why Hecate had sent Gale the polecat.
    She’s here to see how it goes.
    Something was about to happen. Hazel would be tested.
    She didn’t understand how she was supposed to learn magic with no training. Hecate expected her to defeat some super-powerful sorceress – the lady in the gold dress, whom Leo had described from his dream. But
how
?
    Hazel had spent all her free time trying to figure that out. She’d stared at her
spatha
, trying to make it look like a walking stick. She’d tried to summon a cloud to hide the full moon. She’d concentrated until her eyes crossed and her ears popped, but nothing happened. She couldn’t manipulate the Mist.
    The last few nights, her dreams had got worse. She found herself back in the Fields of Asphodel , drifting aimlessly among the ghosts. Then she was in Gaia’s cave in Alaska, where Hazel and her mother had died as the ceiling collapsed and the voice of the Earth Goddess wailed in anger. She was on the stairs of her mother’s apartment building in New Orleans, face to face with her father, Pluto. His cold fingers gripped her arm. The fabric of his black wool suit writhed with imprisoned souls. He fixed her with his dark angry eyes and said:
The dead see what they
believe
they will see. So do the living. That is the secret.
    He’d never said that to her in real life. She had no idea what it meant.
    The worst nightmares seemed like glimpses of the future. Hazel was stumbling through a dark tunnel while a woman’s laughter echoed around her.
    Control this if you can,
child of Pluto
,
the woman taunted.
    And always Hazel dreamed about the images she’d seen at Hecate’s crossroads: Leo falling through the sky; Percy and Annabeth lying unconscious, possibly dead, in front of blackmetal doors; and a shrouded figure looming above them – the giant Clytius wrapped in darkness.
    Next to her on the rail, Gale the weasel chittered impatiently. Hazel was tempted to push the stupid rodent into the sea.
    I can’t even control my own dreams
, she wanted to scream.
How am I supposed to control the Mist?
    She was so miserable that she didn’t notice Frank until he was standing at her side.
    ‘Feeling any better?’ he asked.
    He took her hand, his fingers completely covering hers. She couldn’t believe how much taller he’d become. He had changed into so many animals, she wasn’t sure why one more transformation should amaze her … but suddenly he’d grown into his weight. No one could call him pudgy or cuddly any more. He looked like a football player, solid and strong, with a new centre of gravity. His shoulders had broadened. He walked with more confidence.
    What Frank had done on that bridge in Venice … Hazel was still in awe. None of