The House of Hades

“ANNABETH!” PERCY PULLED HER BACK just as her foot hit the edge of a drop-off. She almost pitched forward into who-knew-what, but Percy grabbed her and wrapped her in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he promised.

She pressed her face into his shirt and kept her eyes closed tight. She was trembling, but not just from fear. Percy’s embrace was so warm and comforting she wanted to stay there forever, safe and protected…but that wasn’t reality. She couldn’t afford to relax. She couldn’t lean on Percy any more than she had to. He needed her, too.

“Thanks…” She gently disentangled herself from his arms. “Can you tell what’s in front of us?”

“Water,” he said. “I’m still not looking. I don’t think it’s safe yet.”

“Agreed.”

“I can sense a river…or maybe it’s a moat. It’s blocking our path, flowing left to right through a channel cut in the rock. The opposite side is about twenty feet away.”

Annabeth mentally scolded herself. She’d heard the flowing water, but she had never considered she might be running headlong into it.

“Is there a bridge, or—?”

“I don’t think so,” Percy said. “And there’s something wrong with the water. Listen.”

Annabeth concentrated. Within the roaring current, thousands of voices cried out—shrieking in agony, pleading for mercy.

Help! they groaned. It was an accident!

The pain! their voices wailed. Make it stop!

Annabeth didn’t need her eyes to visualize the river—a black briny current filled with tortured souls being swept deeper and deeper into Tartarus.

“The River Acheron,” she guessed. “The fifth river of the Underworld.”

“I liked the Phlegethon better than this,” Percy muttered.

“It’s the River of Pain. The ultimate punishment for the souls of the damned—murderers, especially.”

Murderers! the river wailed. Yes, like you!

Join us, another voice whispered. You are no better than we are.

Annabeth’s head was flooded with images of all the monsters she’d killed over the years.

That wasn’t murder, she protested. I was defending myself!

The river changed course through her mind—showing her Zoë Nightshade, who had been slain on Mount Tamalpais because she’d come to rescue Annabeth from the Titans.

She saw Nico’s sister, Bianca di Angelo, dying in the collapse of the metal giant Talos, because she also had tried to save Annabeth.

Michael Yew and Silena Beauregard…who had died in the Battle of Manhattan.

You could have prevented it, the river told Annabeth. You should have seen a better way.

Most painful of all: Luke Castellan. Annabeth remembered Luke’s blood on her dagger after he’d sacrificed himself to stop Kronos from destroying Olympus.

His blood is on your hands! the river wailed. There should have been another way!

Annabeth had wrestled with the same thought many times. She’d tried to convince herself Luke’s death wasn’t her fault. Luke had chosen his fate. Still…she didn’t know if his soul had found peace in the Underworld, or if he’d been reborn, or if he’d been washed into Tartarus because of his crimes. He might be one of the tortured voices flowing past right now.

You murdered him! the river cried. Jump in and share his punishment!

Percy gripped her arm. “Don’t listen.”

“But—”

“I know.” His voice sounded as brittle as ice. “They’re telling me the same stuff. I think…I think this moat must be the border of Night’s territory. If we get across, we should be okay. We’ll have to jump.”

“You said it was twenty feet!”

“Yeah. You’ll have to trust me. Put your arms around my neck and hang on.”

“How can you possibly—”

“There!” cried a voice behind them. “Kill the ungrateful tourists!”

The children of Nyx had found them. Annabeth wrapped her arms around Percy’s neck. “Go!”

With her eyes closed, she could only guess how he managed it. Maybe he used the force of the river somehow. Maybe he was just scared out of his mind and charged with adrenaline. Percy leaped with more strength than she would have thought possible. They sailed through the air as the river churned and wailed below them, splashing Annabeth’s bare ankles with stinging brine.

Then—CLUMP. They were on solid ground again.

“You can open your eyes,” Percy said, breathing hard. “But you won’t like what you see.”

Annabeth blinked. After the darkness of Nyx, even the dim red glow of Tartarus seemed blinding.

Before them stretched a valley big enough to fit the San Francisco Bay. The booming noise came from the entire landscape, as if thunder were echoing from beneath the ground. Under poisonous clouds, the rolling terrain glistened purple with dark red and blue scar lines.

“It looks like…” Annabeth fought down her revulsion. “Like a giant heart.”

“The heart of Tartarus,” Percy murmured.

The center of the valley was covered with a fine black fuzz of peppery dots. They were so far away, it took Annabeth a moment to realize she was looking at an army—thousands, maybe tens of thousands of monsters, gathered around a central pinpoint of darkness. It was too far to see any details, but Annabeth had no doubt what the pinpoint was. Even from the edge of the valley, Annabeth could feel its power tugging at her soul.

“The Doors of Death.”

“Yeah.” Percy’s voice was hoarse. He still had the pale, wasted complexion of a corpse…which meant he looked about as good as Annabeth felt.

She realized she’d forgotten all about their pursuers. “What happened to Nyx…?”

She turned. Somehow they’d landed several hundred yards from the banks of Acheron, which flowed through a channel cut into black volcanic hills. Beyond that was nothing but darkness.

No sign of anyone coming after them. Apparently even the minions of Night didn’t like to cross the Acheron.

She was about to ask Percy how he had jumped so far when she heard the skittering of a rockslide in the hills to their left. She drew her drakon-bone sword. Percy raised Riptide.

A patch of glowing white hair appeared over the ridge, then a familiar grinning face with pure silver eyes.

“Bob?” Annabeth was so happy she actually jumped. “Oh my gods!”

“Friends!” The Titan lumbered toward them. The bristles of his broom had been burned off. His janitor’s uniform was slashed with new claw marks, but he looked delighted. On his shoulder, Small Bob the kitten purred almost as loudly as the pulsing heart of Tartarus.

“I found you!” Bob gathered them both in a rib-crushing hug. “You look like smoking dead people. That is good!”

“Urf,” Percy said. “How did you get here? Through the Mansion of Night?”

“No, no.” Bob shook his head adamantly. “That place is too scary. Another way—only good for Titans and such.”

“Let me guess,” Annabeth said. “You went sideways.”

Bob scratched his chin, evidently at a loss for words. “Hmm. No. More…diagonal.”

Annabeth laughed. Here they were at the heart of Tartarus, facing an impossible army—she would take any comfort she could get. She was ridiculously glad to have Bob the Titan with them again.

She kissed his immortal nose, which made him blink.

“We stay together now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Annabeth agreed. “Time to see if this Death Mist works.”

“And if it doesn’t…” Percy stopped himself.

There was no point in wondering about that. They were about to march into the middle of an enemy army. If they were spotted, they were dead.

Despite that, Annabeth managed a smile. Their goal was in sight. They had a Titan with a broom and a very loud kitten on their side. That had to count for something.

“Doors of Death,” she said, “here we come.”