The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4)

defeated, wishing for something he knew was impossible.
    ‘Bob has a plan to reach the Doors of Death,’ she insisted. ‘He said we could hide in some sort of Death Mist.’
    ‘Death Mist?’ Damasen scowled at Bob. ‘You would take them to
Akhlys
?’
    ‘It is the only way,’ Bob said.
    ‘You will die,’ Damasen said. ‘Painfully. In darkness. Akhlys trusts no one and helps no one.’
    Bob looked like he wanted to argue, but he pressed his lips together and remained silent.
    ‘Is there another way?’ Annabeth asked.
    ‘No,’ Damasen said. ‘The Death Mist … that is the best plan. Unfortunately, it is a terrible plan.’
    Annabeth felt like she was hanging over the pit again, unable to pull herself up, unable to maintain her grip – left with no good options.
    ‘But isn’t it worth trying?’ she asked. ‘You could return to the mortal world. You could see the sun again.’
    Damasen’s eyes were like the sockets of the drakon’s skull – dark and hollow, devoid of hope. He flicked a broken bone into the fire and rose to his full height – a massive red warrior in sheepskin and drakon leather, with dried flowers and herbs in his hair. Annabeth could see how he was the
anti-
Ares. Ares was the worst god, blustery and violent. Damasen was the best giant, kind and helpful … and for that he’d been cursed to eternal torment.
    ‘Get some sleep,’ the giant said. ‘I will prepare supplies for your journey. I am sorry, but I cannot do more.’
    Annabeth wanted to argue, but, as soon as he said
sleep
, her body betrayed her, despite her resolution never to sleep in Tartarus again. Her belly was full. The fire made a pleasant crackling sound. The herbs in the air reminded her of the hills around Camp Half-Blood in the summer, when the satyrs and naiads gathered wild plants in the lazy afternoons.
    ‘Maybe a little sleep,’ she agreed.
    Bob scooped her up like a rag doll. She didn’t protest. He set her next to Percy on the giant’s bed, and she closed her eyes.

XL
     

ANNABETH
     
    A NNABETH WOKE STARING at the shadows dancing across the hut’s ceiling. She hadn’t had a single dream. That was so unusual, she wasn’t sure if she’d actually woken up.
    As she lay there, Percy snoring next to her and Small Bob purring on her belly, she heard Bob and Damasen deep in conversation.
    ‘You haven’t told her,’ Damasen said.
    ‘No,’ Bob admitted. ‘She is already scared.’
    The giant grumbled. ‘She
should
be. And if you cannot guide them past Night?’
    Damasen said
Night
like it was a proper name – an
evil
name.
    ‘I have to,’ Bob said.
    ‘Why?’ Damasen wondered. ‘What have the demigods given you? They have erased your old self, everything you were. Titans and giants … we are meant to be the foes of the gods and their children. Are we not?’
    ‘Then why did you heal the boy?’
    Damasen exhaled. ‘I have been wondering that myself. Perhaps because the girl goaded me, or perhaps … I find these two demigods intriguing. They are resilient to have made it so far. That is admirable. Still, how can we help them any further? It is not our fate.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ Bob said uncomfortably. ‘But … do you like our fate?’
    ‘What a question. Does anyone like his fate?’
    ‘I liked being Bob,’ Bob murmured. ‘Before I started to remember …’
    ‘Huh.’ There was a shuffling sound, as if Damasen was stuffing a leather bag.
    ‘Damasen,’ the Titan asked, ‘do you remember the sun?’
    The shuffling stopped. Annabeth heard the giant exhale through his nostrils. ‘Yes. It was yellow. When it touched the horizon, it turned the sky beautiful colours.’
    ‘I miss the sun,’ Bob said. ‘The stars, too. I would like to say hello to the stars again.’
    ‘Stars …’ Damasen said the word as if he’d forgotten its meaning. ‘Yes. They made silver patterns in the night sky.’ He threw something to the floor with a thump. ‘Bah. This is useless talk. We cannot –’
    In the distance, the Maeonian drakon roared.
    Percy sat bolt upright. ‘What? What – where – what?’
    ‘It’s okay.’ Annabeth took his arm.
    When he registered that they were together in a giant’s bed with a skeleton cat, he looked more confused than ever. ‘That noise … where are we?’
    ‘How much do you remember?’ she asked.
    Percy frowned. His eyes seemed alert. All his wounds had vanished. Except for his tattered clothes and a few layers of dirt and grime, he