The Lost Hero (26 page)

“Even if you’re wrong?”

“Especially then! And to have Jackson refuse our gift, as if being mortal were somehow
better
than being a god... well, that stuck in Zeus’s craw. He decided it was high time we got back to traditional values. Gods were to be respected. Our children were to be seen and not visited. Olympus was closed. At least that was
part
of his reasoning. And, of course, we started hearing of bad things stirring under the earth.”

“The giants, you mean. Monsters re-forming instantly. The dead rising again. Little stuff like that?”

“Aye, boy.” Hephaestus turned a knob on his pirate broadcasting machine. Leo’s dream sharpened to full color, but the god’s face was such a riot of red welts and yellow and black bruises, Leo wished it would go back to black and white.

“Zeus thinks he can reverse the tide,” the god said, “lull the earth back to sleep as long as we stay quiet. None of us really believes that. And I don’t mind saying, we’re in no shape to fight another war. We barely survived the Titans. If we’re repeating the old pattern, what comes next is even worse.”

“The giants,” Leo said. “Hera said demigods and gods had to join forces to defeat them. Is that true?”

“Mmm. I hate to agree with my mother about anything, but yes. Those giants are tough to kill, boy. They’re a different breed.”

“Breed? You make them sound like racehorses.”

“Ha!” the god said. “More like war dogs. Back in the beginning, y’see, everything in creation came from the same parents—Gaea and Ouranos, Earth and Sky. They had their different batches of children—your Titans, your Elder Cyclopes, and so forth. Then Kronos, the head Titan—well, you’ve probably heard how he chopped up his father Ouranos with a scythe and took over the world. Then we gods came along, children of the Titans, and defeated
them
. But that wasn’t the end of it. The earth bore a new batch of children, except they were sired by Tartarus, the spirit of the eternal abyss—the darkest, most evil place in the Underworld. Those children, the giants, were bred for one purpose—revenge on
us
for the fall of the Titans. They rose up to destroy Olympus, and they came awfully close.”

Hephaestus’s beard began to smolder. He absently swatted out the flames. “What my blasted mother Hera is doing now—she’s a meddling fool playing a dangerous game, but she’s right about one thing: you demigods have to unite. That’s the only way to open Zeus’s eyes, convince the Olympians they must accept your help. And that’s the only way to defeat what’s coming. You’re a big part of that, Leo. ”

The god’s gaze seemed far away. Leo wondered if really could split himself into different parts—where else was he right now? Maybe his Greek side was fixing a car or going on a date, while his Roman side was watching a ball game and ordering pizza. Leo tried to imagine what it would feel like to have multiple personalities. He hoped it wasn’t hereditary.

“Why me?” he asked, and as soon as he said it, more questions flooded out. “Why claim me now? Why not when I was thirteen, like you’re supposed to? Or you could’ve claimed me at seven, before my mom died! Why didn’t you find me earlier? Why didn’t you warn me about
this
?”

Leo’s hand burst into flames.

Hephaestus regarded him sadly. “Hardest part, boy. Letting my children walk their own paths. Interfering doesn’t work. The Fates make sure of that. As for the claiming, you were a special case, boy. The timing had to be right. I can’t explain it much more, but—”

Leo’s dream went fuzzy. Just for a moment, it turned into a rerun of
Wheel of Fortune
. Then Hephaestus came back into focus.

“Blast,” he said. “I can’t talk much longer. Zeus is sensing an illegal dream. He is lord of the air, after all, including the airwaves. Just listen, boy: you have a role to play. Your friend Jason is right—fire is a gift, not a curse. I don’t give that blessing to just anyone. They’ll never defeat the giants without you, much less the mistress they serve. She’s worse than any god or Titan.”

“Who?” Leo demanded.

Hephaestus frowned, his image becoming fuzzier. “I told you. Yes, I’m pretty sure I told you. Just be warned: along the way, you’re going to lose some friends and some valuable tools.

But that isn’t your fault, Leo. Nothing lasts forever, not even the best machines. And everything can be reused.”

“What do you mean? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Hephaestus’s image was barely visible now, just a blob in the static. “Just watch out for—”

Leo’s dream switched to
Wheel of Fortune
just as the wheel hit Bankrupt and the audience said, “Awwww!”

Then Leo snapped awake to Jason and Piper screaming.

T
HEY SPIRALED THROUGH THE DARK
in a free fall, still on the dragon’s back, but Festus’s hide was cold. His ruby eyes were dim.

“Not again!” Leo yelled. “You can’t fall again!”

He could barely hold on. The wind stung his eyes, but he managed to pull open the panel on the dragon’s neck. He toggled the switches. He tugged the wires. The dragon’s wings flapped once, but Leo caught a whiff of burning bronze. The drive system was overloaded. Festus didn’t have the strength to keep flying, and Leo couldn’t get to the main control panel on the dragon’s head—not in midair. He saw the lights of a city below them—just flashes in the dark as they plummeted in circles. They had only seconds before they crashed.

“Jason!” he screamed. “Take Piper and fly out of here!”

“What?”

“We need to lighten the load! I might be able to reboot Festus, but he’s carrying too much weight!”

“What about you?” Piper cried. “If you can’t reboot him—”

“I’ll be fine,” Leo yelled. “Just follow me to the ground. Go!”

Jason grabbed Piper around the waist. They both unbuckled their harnesses, and in a flash they were gone—shooting into the air.

“Now,” Leo said. “Just you and me, Festus—and two heavy cages. You can do it, boy!”

Leo talked to the dragon while he worked, falling at terminal velocity. He could see the city lights below him, getting closer and closer. He summoned fire in his hand so he could see what he was doing, but the wind kept extinguishing it.

He pulled a wire that he thought connected the dragon’s nerve center to its head, hoping for a little wake-up jolt.

Festus groaned—metal creaking inside his neck. His eyes flickered weakly to life, and he spread his wings. Their fall turned into a steep glide.

“Good!” Leo said. “Come on, big boy. Come on!”

They were still flying in way too hot, and the ground was too close. Leo needed a place to land—fast.

There was a big river—no. Not good for a fire-breathing dragon. He’d never get Festus out from the bottom if he sank, especially in freezing temperatures. Then, on the riverbanks, Leo spotted a white mansion with a huge snowy lawn inside a tall brick perimeter fence—like some rich person’s private compound, all of it blazing with light. A perfect landing field. He did his best to steer the dragon toward it, and Festus seemed to come back to life. They could make this!

Then everything went wrong. As they approached the lawn, spotlights along the fence fixed on them, blinding Leo. He heard bursts like tracer fire, the sound of metal being cut to shreds—and
BOOM
.

Leo blacked out.

When Leo came to his senses, Jason and Piper were leaning over him. He was lying in the snow, covered in mud and grease. He spit a clump of frozen grass out of his mouth.

“Where—”

“Lie still.” Piper had tears in her eyes. “You rolled pretty hard when—when Festus—”

“Where is he?” Leo sat up, but his head felt like it was floating. They’d landed inside the compound. Something had happened on the way in—gunfire?

“Seriously, Leo,” Jason said. “You could be hurt. You shouldn’t—”

Leo pushed himself to his feet. Then he saw the wreckage. Festus must have dropped the big canary cages as he came over the fence, because they’d rolled in different directions and landed on their sides, perfectly undamaged.

Festus hadn’t been so lucky.

The dragon had disintegrated. His limbs were scattered across the lawn. His tail hung on the fence. The main section of his body had plowed a trench twenty feet wide and fifty feet long across the mansion’s yard before breaking apart. What remained of his hide was a charred, smoking pile of scraps. Only his neck and head were somewhat intact, resting across a row of frozen rosebushes like a pillow.

“No,” Leo sobbed. He ran to the dragon’s head and stroked its snout. The dragon’s eyes flickered weakly. Oil leaked out of his ear.

“You can’t go,” Leo pleaded. “You’re the best thing I ever fixed.”

The dragon’s head whirred its gears, as if it were purring. Jason and Piper stood next to him, but Leo kept his eyes fixed on the dragon.

He remembered what Hephaestus had said:
That isn’t your fault, Leo. Nothing lasts forever, not even the best machines.

His dad had been trying to warn him.

“It’s not fair,” he said.

The dragon clicked. Long
creak
. Two short
clicks
.
Creak
.
Creak
. Almost like a pattern … triggering an old memory in Leo’s mind. Leo realized Festus was trying to say something. He was using Morse code—just like Leo’s mom had taught him years ago. Leo listened more intently, translating the clicks into letters: a simple message repeating over and over.

“Yeah,” Leo said. “I understand. I will. I promise.”

The dragon’s eyes went dark. Festus was gone.

Leo cried. He wasn’t even embarrassed. His friends stood on either side, patting his shoulders, saying comforting things; but the buzzing in Leo’s ears drowned out their words.

Finally Jason said, “I’m so sorry, man. What did you promise Festus?”

Leo sniffled. He opened the dragon’s head panel, just to be sure, but the control disk was cracked and burned beyond repair.

“Something my dad told me,” Leo said. “Everything can be reused.”

“Your dad talked to you?” Jason asked. “When was this?”

Leo didn’t answer. He worked at the dragon’s neck hinges until the head was detached. It weighed about a hundred pounds, but Leo managed to hold it in his arms. He looked up at the starry sky and said, “Take him back to the bunker, Dad. Please, until I can reuse him. I’ve never asked you for anything.”

The wind picked up, and the dragon’s head floated out of Leo’s arms like it weighed nothing. It flew into the sky and disappeared.

Piper looked at him in amazement. “He
answered
you?”

“I had a dream,” Leo managed. “Tell you later.”

He knew he owed his friends a better explanation, but Leo could barely speak. He felt like a broken machine himself—like someone had removed one little part of him, and now he’d never be complete. He might move, he might talk, he might keep going and do his job. But he’d always be off balance, never calibrated exactly right.

Still, he couldn’t afford to break down completely. Otherwise, Festus had died for nothing. He had to finish this quest—for his friends, for his mom, for his dragon.

He looked around. The large white mansion glowed in the center of the grounds. Tall brick walls with lights and security cameras surrounded the perimeter, but now Leo could see—or rather
sense
—just how well those walls were defended.

“Where are we?” he asked. “I mean, what city?”

“Omaha, Nebraska,” Piper said. “I saw a billboard as we flew in. But I don’t know what this mansion is. We came in right behind you, but as you were landing, Leo, I swear it looked like—I don’t know—”

“Lasers,” Leo said. He picked up a piece of dragon wreckage and threw it toward the top of the fence. Immediately a turret popped up from the brick wall and a beam of pure heat incinerated the bronze plating to ashes.

Jason whistled. “Some defense system. How are we even alive?”

“Festus,” Leo said miserably. “He took the fire. The lasers sliced him to bits as he came in so they didn’t focus on you. I led him into a death trap.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Piper said. “He saved our lives again.”

“But what now?” Jason said. “The main gates are locked, and I’m guessing I can’t fly us out of here without getting shot down.”

Leo looked up the walkway at the big white mansion. “Since we can’t go out, we’ll have to go in.”

J
ASON WOULD’VE DIED FIVE TIMES
on the way to the front door if not for Leo.

First it was the motion-activated trapdoor on the sidewalk, then the lasers on the steps, then the nerve gas dispenser on the porch railing, the pressure-sensitive poison spikes in the welcome mat, and of course the exploding doorbell.

Leo deactivated all of them. It was like he could smell the traps, and he picked just the right tool out of his belt to disable them.

“You’re amazing, man,” Jason said.

Leo scowled as he examined the front door lock. “Yeah, amazing,” he said. “Can’t fix a dragon right, but I’m amazing.”

“Hey, that wasn’t your—”

“Front door’s already unlocked,” Leo announced.

Piper stared at the door in disbelief. “It is? All those traps, and the
door’s
unlocked?”

Leo turned the knob. The door swung open easily. He stepped inside without hesitation.

Before Jason could follow, Piper caught his arm. “He’s going to need some time to get over Festus. Don’t take it personally.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “Yeah, okay.”

But still he felt terrible. Back in Medea’s store, he’d said some pretty harsh stuff to Leo—stuff a friend shouldn’t say, not to mention the fact he’d almost skewered Leo with a sword. If it hadn’t been for Piper, they’d both be dead. And Piper hadn’t gotten out of that encounter easily, either.

“Piper,” he said, “I know I was in a daze back in Chicago, but that stuff about your dad—if he’s in trouble, I want to help. I don’t care if it’s a trap or not.”

Her eyes were always different colors, but now they looked shattered, as if she’d seen something she just couldn’t cope with. “Jason, you don’t know what you’re saying. Please—don’t make me feel worse. Come on. We should stick together.”

She ducked inside.

“Together,” Jason said to himself. “Yeah, we’re doing great with that.”

Jason’s first impression of the house: Dark.

From the echo of his footsteps he could tell the entry hall was enormous, even bigger than Boreas’s penthouse; but the only illumination came from the yard lights outside. A faint glow peeked through the breaks in the thick velvet curtains. The windows rose about ten feet tall. Spaced between them along the walls were life-size metal statues. As Jason’s eyes adjusted, he saw sofas arranged in a U in the middle of the room, with a central coffee table and one large chair at the far end. A massive chandelier glinted overhead. Along the back wall stood a row of closed doors.

“Where’s the light switch?” His voice echoed alarmingly through the room.

“Don’t see one,” Leo said.

“Fire?” Piper suggested.

Leo held out his hand, but nothing happened. “It’s not working.”

“Your fire is out? Why?” Piper asked.

“Well, if I knew that—”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “What do we do—explore?”

Leo shook his head. “After all those traps outside? Bad idea.”

Jason’s skin tingled. He hated being a demigod. Looking around, he didn’t see a comfortable room to hang out in. He imagined vicious storm spirits lurking in the curtains, dragons under the carpet, a chandelier made of lethal ice shards, ready to impale them.

“Leo’s right,” he said. “We’re not separating again—not like in Detroit.”

“Oh, thank you for reminding me of the Cyclopes.” Piper’s voice quavered. “I needed that.”

“It’s a few hours until dawn,” Jason guessed. “Too cold to wait outside. Let’s bring the cages in and make camp in this room. Wait for daylight; then we can decide what to do.”

Nobody offered a better idea, so they rolled in the cages with Coach Hedge and the storm spirits, then settled in. Thankfully, Leo didn’t find any poison throw pillows or electric whoopee cushions on the sofas.

Leo didn’t seem in the mood to make more tacos. Besides, they had no fire, so they settled for cold rations.

As Jason ate, he studied the metal statues along the walls. They looked like Greek gods or heroes. Maybe that was a good sign. Or maybe they were used for target practice. On the coffee table sat a tea service and a stack of glossy brochures, but Jason couldn’t make out the words. The big chair at the other end of the table looked like a throne. None of them tried to sit in it.

The canary cages didn’t make the place any less creepy. The
venti
kept churning in their prison, hissing and spinning, and Jason got the uncomfortable feeling they were watching him. He could sense their hatred for the children of Zeus—the lord of the sky who’d ordered Aeolus to imprison their kind. The
venti
would like nothing better than to tear Jason apart.

As for Coach Hedge, he was still frozen mid-shout, his cudgel raised. Leo was working on the cage, trying to open it with various tools, but the lock seemed to be giving him a hard time. Jason decided not to sit next to him in case Hedge suddenly unfroze and went into ninja goat mode.

Despite how wired he felt, once his stomach was full, Jason started to nod off. The couches were a little too comfortable —a lot better than a dragon’s back—and he’d taken the last two watches while his friends slept. He was exhausted.

Piper had already curled up on the other sofa. Jason wondered if she was really asleep or dodging a conversation about her dad. Whatever Medea had meant in Chicago, about Piper getting her dad back if she cooperated—it didn’t sound good. If Piper had risked her own dad to save them, that made Jason feel even guiltier.

And they were running out of time. If Jason had his days straight, this was early morning of December 20. Which meant tomorrow was the winter solstice.

“Get some sleep,” Leo said, still working on the locked cage. “It’s your turn.”

Jason took a deep breath. “Leo, I’m sorry about that stuff I said in Chicago. That wasn’t me. You’re not annoying and you
do
take stuff seriously—especially your work. I wish I could do half the things you can do.”

Leo lowered his screwdriver. He looked at the ceiling and shook his head like,
What am I gonna do with this guy?

“I try very hard to be annoying,” Leo said. “Don’t insult my ability to
annoy
. And how am I supposed to resent you if you go apologizing? I’m a lowly mechanic. You’re like the prince of the sky, son of the Lord of the Universe. I’m
supposed
to resent you.”

“Lord of the Universe?”

“Sure, you’re all—
bam!
Lightning man. And ‘Watch me fly. I am the eagle that soars—’”

“Shut up, Valdez.”

Leo managed a little smile. “Yeah, see. I
do
annoy you.”

“I apologize for apologizing.”

“Thank you.” He went back to work, but the tension had eased between them. Leo still looked sad and exhausted—just not quite so angry.

“Go to sleep, Jason,” he ordered. “It’s gonna take a few hours to get this goat man free. Then I still got to figure out how to make the winds a smaller holding cell, ’cause I am
not
lugging that canary cage to California.”

“You did fix Festus, you know,” Jason said. “You gave him a purpose again. I think this quest was the high point of his life.”

Jason was afraid he’d blown it and made Leo mad again, but Leo just sighed.

“I hope,” he said. “Now, sleep, man. I want some time without you organic life forms.”

Jason wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he didn’t argue. He closed his eyes and had a long, blissfully dreamless sleep.

He only woke when the yelling started.

“Ahhhggggggh!”

Jason leaped to his feet. He wasn’t sure what was more jarring—the full sunlight that now bathed the room, or the screaming satyr.

“Coach is awake,” Leo said, which was kind of unnecessary. Gleeson Hedge was capering around on his furry hindquarters, swinging his club and yelling, “Die!” as he smashed the tea set, whacked the sofas, and charged at the throne.

“Coach!” Jason yelled.

Hedge turned, breathing hard. His eyes were so wild, Jason was afraid he might attack. The satyr was still wearing his orange polo shirt and his coach’s whistle, but his horns were clearly visible above his curly hair, and his beefy hindquarters were definitely all goat. Could you call a goat
beefy
? Jason put the thought aside.

“You’re the new kid,” Hedge said, lowering his club. “Jason.” He looked at Leo, then Piper, who’d apparently also just woken up. Her hair looked like it had become a nest for a friendly hamster.

“Valdez, McLean,” the coach said. “What’s going on? We were at the Grand Canyon. The
anemoi thuellai
were attacking and—” He zeroed in on the storm spirit cage, and his eyes went back to DEFCON 1. “Die!”

“Whoa, Coach!” Leo stepped in his path, which was pretty brave, even though Hedge was six inches shorter. “It’s okay. They’re locked up. We just sprang you from the other cage.”

“Cage? Cage? What’s going on? Just because I’m a satyr doesn’t mean I can’t have you doing plank push-ups, Valdez!”

Jason cleared his throat. “Coach—Gleeson—um, whatever you want us to call you. You saved us at the Grand Canyon. You were totally brave.”

“Of course I was!”

“The extraction team came and took us to Camp Half-Blood. We thought we’d lost you. Then we got word the storm spirits had taken you back to their—um, operator, Medea.”

“That witch! Wait—that’s impossible. She’s mortal. She’s dead.”

“Yeah, well,” Leo said, “somehow she got not dead anymore.”

Hedge nodded, his eyes narrowing. “So! You were sent on a dangerous quest to rescue me. Excellent!”

“Um.” Piper got to her feet, holding out her hands so Coach Hedge wouldn’t attack her. “Actually, Glee—can I still call you Coach Hedge? Gleeson seems
wrong
. We’re on a quest for something else. We kind of found you by accident.”

“Oh.” The coach’s spirits seemed to deflate, but only for a second. Then his eyes lit up again. “But there are no accidents! Not on quests. This was
meant
to happen! So, this is the witch’s lair, eh? Why is everything gold?”

“Gold?” Jason looked around. From the way Leo and Piper caught their breath, he guessed they hadn’t noticed yet either.

The room was full of gold—the statues, the tea set Hedge had smashed, the chair that was definitely a throne. Even the curtains—which seemed to have opened by themselves at daybreak—appeared to be woven of gold fiber.

“Nice,” Leo said. “No wonder they got so much security.”

“This isn’t—” Piper stammered. “This isn’t Medea’s place, Coach. It’s some rich person’s mansion in Omaha. We got away from Medea and crash-landed here.”

“It’s destiny, cupcakes!” Hedge insisted. “I’m meant to protect you. What’s the quest?”

Before Jason could decide if he wanted to explain or just shove Coach Hedge back into his cage, a door opened at the far end of the room.

A pudgy man in a white bathrobe stepped out with a golden toothbrush in his mouth. He had a white beard and one of those long, old-fashioned sleeping caps pressed down over his white hair. He froze when he saw them, and the toothbrush fell out of his mouth.

He glanced into the room behind him and called, “Son? Lit, come out here, please. There are strange people in the throne room.”

Coach Hedge did the obvious thing. He raised his club and shouted, “Die!”