The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

them.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ Reyna said. ‘But you will
not
launch an attack without my orders. Continue scouting the enemy camp. Secure your positions. Gather all the allies you can, and if you catch those dwarfs you have my blessing to send them back to Tartarus. But do
not
attack Camp Half-Blood until I return.’
    Octavian narrowed his eyes. ‘While you’re gone, the augur is the senior officer. I will be in charge.’
    ‘I know.’ Reyna didn’t sound happy about it. ‘But you have my orders. You all heard them.’ She scanned the faces of the centurions, daring them to question her.
    She stormed off, her purple cloak billowing and her dogs at her heels.
    Once she was gone, Octavian turned to the centurions. ‘Gather all the senior officers. I want a meeting as soon as Reyna has left on her fool’s quest. There will be a few changes in the legion’s plans.’
    One of the centurions opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason he spoke in Piper’s voice: ‘
WAKE UP!
’
    Jason’s eyes snapped open, and he saw the ocean’s surface hurtling towards him.

XXXIV
     

JASON
     
    J ASON SURVIVED – BARELY.
    Later, his friends explained that they hadn’t seen him falling from the sky until the last second. There was no time for Frank to turn into an eagle and catch him; no time to formulate a rescue plan.
    Only Piper’s quick thinking and charmspeak had saved his life. She’d yelled
WAKE UP!
with so much force that Jason felt like he’d been hit with defibrillator paddles. With a millisecond to spare, he’d summoned the winds and avoided becoming a floating patch of demigod grease on the surface of the Adriatic.
    Back on board, he had pulled Leo aside and suggested a course correction. Fortunately, Leo trusted him enough not to ask why.
    ‘Weird vacation spot.’ Leo grinned. ‘But, hey, you’re the boss!’
    Now, sitting with his friends in the mess hall, Jason felt
so
awake he doubted he would sleep for a week. His hands were jittery. He couldn’t stop tapping his feet. He guessed that this was how Leo felt all the time, except that Leo had a sense of humour.
    After what Jason had seen in his dream, he didn’t feel much like joking.
    While they ate lunch, Jason reported on his midair vision. His friends were quiet long enough for Coach Hedge to finish a peanut butter and banana sandwich, along with the ceramic plate.
    The ship creaked as it sailed through the Adriatic, its remaining oars still out of alignment from the giant turtle attack. Every once in a while Festus the figurehead creaked and squeaked through the speakers, reporting the autopilot status in that weird machine language that only Leo could understand.
    ‘A note from Annabeth.’ Piper shook her head in amazement. ‘I don’t see how that’s possible, but if it is –’
    ‘She’s alive,’ Leo said. ‘Thank the gods and pass the hot sauce.’
    Frank frowned. ‘What does that mean?’
    Leo wiped the chip crumbs off his face. ‘It means pass the hot sauce, Zhang. I’m still hungry.’
    Frank slid over a jar of salsa. ‘I can’t believe Reyna would try to find us. It’s taboo, coming to the ancient lands. She’ll be stripped of her praetorship.’
    ‘If she lives,’ Hazel said. ‘It was hard enough for us to makeit this far with seven demigods and a warship.’
    ‘And me.’ Coach Hedge belched. ‘Don’t forget, cupcake, you got the
satyr
advantage.’
    Jason had to smile. Coach Hedge could be pretty ridiculous, but Jason
was
glad he’d come along. He thought about the satyr he’d seen in his dream – Grover Underwood. He couldn’t imagine a satyr more different from Coach Hedge, but they both seemed brave in their own way.
    It made Jason wonder about the fauns back at Camp Jupiter – whether they could be like that if the Roman demigods expected more from them. Another thing to add to his list …
    His list.
He hadn’t realized that he
had
one until that moment, but ever since leaving Camp Half-Blood he’d been thinking of ways to make Camp Jupiter more … 
Greek.
    He had grown up at Camp Jupiter. He’d done well there. But he had always been a little unconventional. He chafed under the rules.
    He’d joined the Fifth Cohort because everyone told him not to. They warned him it was the worst unit. So he’d thought,
Fine, I’ll make it the best.
    Once he’d become praetor, he’d campaigned to rename the legion the First Legion rather than the Twelfth Legion, to symbolize a new start for Rome. The