The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

his bushy red eyebrows. Annabeth had met large scary humanoids before, but Damasen unsettled her in a different way. He didn’t seem hostile. He radiated sorrow and bitterness, as if he were so wrapped up in his own misery that he resented Annabeth for trying to make him focus on anything else.
    ‘I don’t hear words like those in Tartarus,’ the giant grumbled.
‘
Friend. Promise.
’
    Annabeth crossed her arms. ‘How about
gorgon’s blood
? Can you cure that, or did Bob overstate your talents?’
    Angering a twenty-foot-tall drakon-slayer probably wasn’t a wise strategy, but Percy was dying. She didn’t have time for diplomacy.
    Damasen scowled at her. ‘You question my talents? A half-dead mortal straggles into my swamp and questions my talents?’
    ‘Yep,’ she said.
    ‘Hmph.’ Damasen handed Bob the ladle. ‘Stir.’
    As Bob tended the stew, Damasen perused his drying racks, plucking various leaves and roots. He popped a fistful of plant material into his mouth, chewed it up then spat it into a clump of wool.
    ‘Cup of broth,’ Damasen ordered.
    Bob ladled some stew juice into a hollow gourd. He handed it to Damasen, who dunked the chewed-up gunk ball and stirred it with his finger.
    ‘Gorgon’s blood,’ he muttered. ‘Hardly a challenge for
my
talents.’
    He lumbered to the bedside and propped up Percy with one hand. Small Bob the kitten sniffed the broth and hissed. He scratched the sheets with his paws like he wanted to bury it.
    ‘You’re going to feed him
that
?’ Annabeth asked.
    The giant glared at her. ‘Who is the healer here? You?’
    Annabeth shut her mouth. She watched as the giant made Percy sip the broth. Damasen handled him with surprising gentleness, murmuring words of encouragement that she couldn’t quite catch.
    With each sip, Percy’s colour improved. He drained the cup, and his eyes fluttered open. He looked around with adazed expression, spotted Annabeth and gave her a drunken grin. ‘Feel great.’
    His eyes rolled up in his head. He fell back in the bed and began to snore.
    ‘A few hours of sleep,’ Damasen pronounced. ‘He’ll be good as new.’
    Annabeth sobbed with relief.
    ‘Thank you,’ she said.
    Damasen stared at her mournfully. ‘Oh, don’t thank me. You’re still doomed. And I require payment for my services.’
    Annabeth mouth went dry. ‘Uh … what sort of payment?’
    ‘A story.’ The giant’s eyes glittered. ‘It gets boring in Tartarus. You can tell me your story while we eat, eh?’
    Annabeth felt uneasy telling a giant about their plans.
    Still, Damasen was a good host. He’d saved Percy. His drakon-meat stew was excellent (especially compared to firewater). His hut was warm and comfortable, and for the first time since plunging into Tartarus Annabeth felt like she could relax. Which was ironic, since she was having dinner with a Titan and a giant.
    She told Damasen about her life and her adventures with Percy. She explained how Percy had met Bob, wiped his memory in the River Lethe and left him in the care of Hades.
    ‘Percy was trying to do something good,’ she promised Bob. ‘He didn’t know Hades would be such a creep.’
    Even to her, it didn’t sound convincing. Hades was
always
a creep.
    She thought about what the
arai
had said – how Nico di Angelo had been the only person to visit Bob in the palace of the Underworld. Nico was one of the least outgoing, least friendly demigods Annabeth knew. Yet he’d been kind to Bob. By convincing Bob that Percy was a friend, Nico had inadvertently saved their lives. Annabeth wondered if she would
ever
figure that guy out.
    Bob washed his bowl with his squirt bottle and rag.
    Damasen made a rolling gesture with his spoon. ‘Continue your story, Annabeth Chase.’
    She explained about their quest in the
Argo II
. When she got to the part about stopping Gaia from waking, she faltered. ‘She’s, um … she’s your mom, right?’
    Damasen scraped his bowl. His face was covered with old poison burns, gouges and scar tissue, so it looked like the surface of an asteroid.
    ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And Tartarus is my father.’ He gestured around the hut. ‘As you can see, I was a disappointment to my parents. They expected … 
more
from me.’
    Annabeth couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that she was sharing soup with a twenty-foot-tall lizard-legged man whose parents were Earth and the Pit of Darkness.
    Olympian gods were hard enough to imagine as parents, but