The House of Hades (Heroes of Olympus Book 4) Read Free

accident any more, and pulling gold from the ground was easy.
    She fed Arion the nugget … his favourite snack. Then she smiled up at Leo and Nico, who were watching her from the top of the ladder a hundred feet above. ‘Arion wants to take me somewhere.’
    The boys exchanged nervous looks.
    ‘Uh …’ Leo pointed north. ‘Please tell me he’s not taking you into
that
?’
    Hazel had been so focused on Arion she hadn’t noticed the disturbance. A mile away, on the crest of the next hill, a storm had gathered over some old stone ruins – maybe the remains of a Roman temple or a fortress. A funnel cloud snaked its way down towards the hill like an inky black finger.
    Hazel’s mouth tasted like blood. She looked at Arion. ‘You want to go
there
?’
    Arion whinnied, as if to say,
Uh, duh!
    Well … Hazel had asked for help. Was this her dad’s answer?
    She hoped so, but she sensed something besides Pluto at work in that storm … something dark, powerful and not necessarily friendly.
    Still, this was her chance to help her friends – to lead instead of follow.
    She tightened the straps of her Imperial gold cavalry sword and climbed onto Arion’s back.
    ‘I’ll be okay!’ she called up to Nico and Leo. ‘Stay put and wait for me.’
    ‘Wait for how long?’ Nico asked. ‘What if you don’t come back?’
    ‘Don’t worry, I will,’ she promised, hoping it was true.
    She spurred Arion, and they shot across the countryside, heading straight for the growing tornado.

III
     

HAZEL
     
    T HE STORM SWALLOWED THE HILL in a swirling cone of black vapour.
    Arion charged straight into it.
    Hazel found herself at the summit, but it felt like a different dimension. The world lost its colour. The walls of the storm encircled the hill in murky black. The sky churned grey. The crumbling ruins were bleached so white that they almost glowed. Even Arion had turned from caramel brown to a dark shade of ash.
    In the eye of the tempest, the air was still. Hazel’s skin tingled coolly, as if she’d been rubbed with alcohol. In front of her, an arched gateway led through mossy walls into some sort of enclosure.
    Hazel couldn’t see much through the gloom, but she felt a presence within, as if she were a chunk of iron close to a large magnet. Its pull was irresistible, dragging her forward.
    Yet she hesitated. She reined in Arion, and he cloppedimpatiently, the ground crackling under his hooves. Wherever he stepped, the grass, dirt and stones turned white like frost. Hazel remembered the Hubbard Glacier in Alaska – how the surface had cracked under their feet. She remembered the floor of that horrible cavern in Rome crumbling to dust, plunging Percy and Annabeth into Tartarus.
    She hoped this black-and-white hilltop wouldn’t dissolve under her, but she decided it was best to keep moving.
    ‘Let’s go, then, boy.’ Her voice sounded muffled, as if she were speaking into a pillow.
    Arion trotted through the stone archway. Ruined walls bordered a square courtyard about the size of a tennis court. Three other gateways, one in the middle of each wall, led north, east and west. In the centre of the yard, two cobblestone paths intersected, making a cross. Mist hung in the air – hazy shreds of white that coiled and undulated as if they were alive.
    Not mist, Hazel realized.
The Mist.
    All her life, she’d heard about the Mist – the supernatural veil that obscured the world of myth from the sight of mortals. It could deceive humans, even demigods, into seeing monsters as harmless animals, or gods as regular people.
    Hazel had never thought of it as actual smoke, but as she watched it curling around Arion’s legs, floating through the broken arches of the ruined courtyard, the hairs stood up on her arms. Somehow she knew: this white stuff was pure magic.
    In the distance, a dog howled. Arion wasn’t usually scared of anything, but he reared, huffing nervously.
    ‘It’s okay.’ Hazel stroked his neck. ‘We’re in