The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

actual plants – clumps of reeds, scrawny leafless trees, even a few sickly-looking flowers blooming in the muck. Mossy trails wound between bubbling tar pits.Directly in front of Annabeth, sunk into the bog, were footprints the size of trashcan lids, with long, pointed toes.
    Sadly, Annabeth was pretty sure she knew what had made them. ‘ Drakon ?’
    ‘Yes.’ Bob grinned at her. ‘That is good!’
    ‘Uh … why?’
    ‘Because we are close.’
    Bob marched into the swamp.
    Annabeth wanted to scream. She hated being at the mercy of a Titan – especially one who was slowly recovering his memory and bringing them to see a ‘good’ giant. She hated forging through a swamp that was obviously the stomping ground of a drakon.
    But Bob had Percy. If she hesitated, she would lose them in the dark. She hurried after him, hopping from moss patch to moss patch and praying to Athena that she didn’t fall in a sinkhole.
    At least the terrain forced Bob to go more slowly. Once Annabeth caught up, she could walk right behind him and keep an eye on Percy, who was muttering deliriously, his forehead dangerously hot. Several times he mumbled
Annabeth
and she fought back a sob. The kitten just purred louder and snuggled up.
    Finally the yellow mist parted, revealing a muddy clearing like an island in the muck. The ground was dotted with stunted trees and wart mounds. In the centre loomed a large, domed hut made of bones and greenish leather. Smoke rose from a hole in the top. The entrance was covered with curtainsof scaly reptile skin and, flanking the entrance, two torches made from colossal femur bones burned bright yellow.
    What really caught Annabeth’s attention was the drakon skull. Fifty yards into the clearing, about halfway to the hut, a massive oak tree jutted from the ground at a forty-five-degree angle. The jaws of a drakon skull encircled the trunk, as if the oak tree were the dead monster’s tongue.
    ‘Yes,’ Bob murmured. ‘This is very good.’
    Nothing about this place felt good to Annabeth.
    Before she could protest, Small Bob arched his back and hissed. Behind them, a mighty roar echoed through the swamp – a sound Annabeth had last heard in the Battle of Manhattan.
    She turned and saw the drakon charging towards them.

XXXVIII
     

ANNABETH
     
    T HE MOST INSULTING PART?
    The drakon was easily the most beautiful thing Annabeth had seen since she had fallen into Tartarus. Its hide was dappled green and yellow, like sunlight through a forest canopy. Its reptilian eyes were Annabeth’s favourite shade of sea green (just like Percy’s). When its frills unfurled around its head, Annabeth couldn’t help but think what a regal and amazing monster it was that was about to kill her.
    It was easily as long as a subway train. Its massive talons dug into the mud as it pulled itself forward, its tail whipping from side to side. The drakon hissed, spitting jets of green poison that smoked on the mossy ground and set tar pits on fire, filling the air with the scent of fresh pine and ginger. The monster even
smelled
good. Like most drakons, it was wingless, longer and more snake-like than a dragon, and it looked hungry.
    ‘Bob,’ Annabeth said, ‘what are we facing here?’
    ‘Maeonian drakon,’ Bob said. ‘From Maeonia.’
    More helpful information. Annabeth would’ve smacked Bob upside the head with his own broom if she could lift it. ‘Any way we can kill it?’
    ‘Us?’ Bob said. ‘No.’
    The drakon roared as if to accentuate the point, filling the air with more pine-ginger poison, which would have made an excellent car-freshener scent.
‘Get Percy to safety,’ Annabeth said. ‘I’ll distract it.’
    She had no idea how she would do that, but it was her only choice. She couldn’t let Percy die – not if she still had the strength to stand.
    ‘You don’t have to,’ Bob said. ‘Any minute –’
    ‘ROOOOOAAAR!’
    Annabeth turned as the giant emerged from his hut.
    He was about twenty feet tall – typical giant height – with a humanoid upper body and scaly reptilian legs, like a bipedal dinosaur. He held no weapon. Instead of armour, he wore only a shirt stitched together from sheep hides and green-spotted leather. His skin was cherry-red; his beard and hair the colour of iron rust, braided with tufts of grass, leaves and swamp flowers.
    He shouted in challenge, but thankfully he wasn’t looking at Annabeth. Bob pulled her out of the way as the giant stormed towards the