The Son of Neptune (29 page)

F
RANK TOOK THE QUICKEST POSSIBLE SHOWER
,
put on the clothes Hazel had set out—an olive-green shirt with beige cargo pants, really?—then grabbed his spare bow and quiver and bounded up the attic stairs.

The attic was full of weapons. His family had collected enough ancient armaments to supply an army. Shields, spears, and quivers of arrows hung along one wall—almost as many as in the Camp Jupiter armory. At the back window, a scorpion crossbow was mounted and loaded, ready for action. At the front window stood something that looked like a machine gun with a cluster of barrels.

“Rocket launcher?” he wondered aloud.

“Nope, nope,” said a voice from the corner. “Potatoes. Ella doesn’t like potatoes.”

The harpy had made a nest for herself between two old steamer trunks. She was sitting in a pile of Chinese scrolls, reading seven or eight at once.

“Ella,” Frank said, “where are the others?”

“Roof.” She glanced upward, then returned to her reading, alternately picking at her feathers and turning pages. “Roof. Ogre-watching. Ella doesn’t like ogres. Potatoes.”

“Potatoes?” Frank didn’t understand until he swiveled the machine gun around. Its eight barrels were loaded with spuds. At the base of the gun, a basket was filled with more edible ammunition.

He looked out the window—the same window his mom had watched him from when he had met the bear. Down in the yard, the ogres were milling around, shoving each other, occasionally yelling at the house, and throwing bronze cannonballs that exploded in midair.

“They have cannonballs,” Frank said. “And we have a potato gun.”

“Starch,” Ella said thoughtfully. “Starch is bad for ogres.”

The house shook from another explosion. Frank needed to reach the roof and see how Percy and Hazel were doing, but he felt bad leaving Ella alone.

He knelt next to her, careful not to get too close. “Ella, it’s not safe here with the ogres. We’re going to be flying to Alaska soon. Will you come with us?”

Ella twitched uncomfortably. “Alaska. Six hundred twenty-six thousand, four hundred twenty-five square miles.

State mammal: the moose.”

Suddenly she switched to Latin, which Frank could just barely follow thanks to his classes at Camp Jupiter:

“To the north, beyond the gods, lies the legion’s crown. Falling from ice, the son of Neptune shall drown
—
”
She stopped and scratched her disheveled red hair. “Hmm. Burned. The rest is burned.”

Frank could hardly breathe. “Ella, was…was that a prophecy? Where did you read that?”

“Moose,” Ella said, savoring the word. “Moose. Moose. Moose.”

The house shook again. Dust rained down from the rafters. Outside, an ogre bellowed, “Frank Zhang! Show yourself!”

“Nope,” Ella said. “Frank shouldn’t. Nope.”

“Just…stay here, okay?” Frank said. “I’ve got to go help Hazel and Percy.”

He pulled down the ladder to the roof.

“Morning,” Percy said grimly. “Beautiful day, huh?” He wore the same clothes as the day before—jeans, his purple T-shirt, and Polartec jacket—but they’d obviously been freshly washed. He held his sword in one hand and a garden hose in the other. Why there was a garden hose on the roof, Frank wasn’t sure, but every time the giants sent up a cannonball, Percy summoned a high-powered blast of water and detonated the sphere in midair. Then Frank remembered—
his
family was descended from Poseidon, too. Grandmother had said their house had been attacked before. Maybe they had put a hose up here for just that reason.

Hazel patrolled the widow’s walk between the two attic gables. She looked so good, it made Frank’s chest hurt. She wore jeans, a cream-colored jacket, and a white shirt that made her skin look as warm as cocoa. Her curly hair fell around her shoulders. When she came close, Frank could smell jasmine shampoo.

She gripped her sword. When she glanced at Frank, her eyes flashed with concern. “Are you okay?” she asked. “Why are you smiling?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” he managed. “Thanks for breakfast. And the clothes. And…not hating me.”

Hazel looked baffled. “Why would I hate you?”

Frank’s face burned. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but it was too late now.
Don’t let her get away,
his grandmother had said
. You need strong women.

“It’s just…last night,” he stammered. “When I summoned the skeleton. I thought…I thought that you thought…I was repulsive ... or something.”

Hazel raised her eyebrows. She shook her head in dismay. “Frank, maybe I was surprised. Maybe I was scared of that thing. But repulsed? The way you commanded it, so confident and everything—like,
Oh, by the way, guys, I have this all-powerful
spartus
we can use.
I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t repulsed, Frank. I was impressed.”

Frank wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “You were…impressed ... by
me
?”

Percy laughed. “Dude, it
was
pretty amazing.”

“Honest?” Frank asked.

“Honest,” Hazel promised. “But right now, we have other problems to worry about. Okay?”

She gestured at the army of ogres, who were getting increasingly bold, shuffling closer and closer to the house.

Percy readied the garden hose. “I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve. Your lawn has a sprinkler system. I can blow it up and cause some confusion down there, but that’ll destroy your water pressure. No pressure, no hose, and those cannonballs are going to plow right into the house.”

Hazel’s praise was still ringing in Frank’s ears, making it difficult to think. Dozens of ogres were camped on his lawn, waiting to tear him apart, and Frank could barely control the urge to grin.

Hazel didn’t hate him. She was impressed.

He forced himself to concentrate. He remembered what his grandmother had told him about the nature of his gift, and how he had to leave her here to die.

You’ve got a role to play,
Mars had said.

Frank couldn’t believe he was Juno’s secret weapon, or that this big Prophecy of the Seven depended on him. But Hazel and Percy were counting on him. He had to do his best.

He thought about that weird partial prophecy Ella had recited in the attic, about the son of Neptune drowning.

You don’t understand her true value,
Phineas had told them in Portland. The old blind man had thought that controlling Ella would make him a king.

All these puzzle pieces swirled around in Frank’s mind. He got the feeling that when they finally connected, they would create a picture he didn’t like.

“Guys, I’ve got an escape plan.” He told his friends about the plane waiting at the airfield, and his grandmother’s note for the pilot. “He’s a legion veteran. He’ll help us.”

“But Arion’s not back,” Hazel said. “And what about your grandmother? We can’t just leave her.”

Frank choked back a sob. “Maybe—maybe Arion will find us. As for my grandmother…she was pretty clear. She said she’d be okay.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was as much as Frank could manage.

“There’s another problem,” Percy said. “I’m not good with air travel. It’s dangerous for a son of Neptune.”

“You’ll have to risk it.…and so will I,” Frank said. “By the way, we’re related.” Percy almost stumbled off the roof. “What?”

Frank gave them the five-second version: “Periclymenus.

Ancestor on my mom’s side. Argonaut. Grandson of Poseidon.”

Hazel’s mouth fell open. “You’re a—a descendant of Neptune? Frank, that’s—”

“Crazy? Yeah. And there’s this ability my family has, supposedly. But I don’t know how to use it. If I can’t figure it out—”

Another massive cheer went up from the Laistrygonians. Frank realized they were staring up at him, pointing and waving and laughing. They had spotted their breakfast.

“Zhang!” they yelled. “Zhang!”

Hazel stepped closer to him. “They keep doing that. Why are they yelling your name?”

“Never mind,” Frank said. “Listen, we’ve got to protect Ella, take her with us.”

“Of course,” Hazel said. “The poor thing needs our help.”

“No,” Frank said. “I mean yes, but it’s not just that. She recited a prophecy downstairs. I think…I think it was about
this
quest.”

He didn’t want to tell Percy the bad news, about a son of Neptune drowning, but he repeated the lines.

Percy’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know how a son of Neptune can drown. I can breathe underwater. But the crown of the legion—”

“That’s got to be the eagle,” Hazel said.

Percy nodded. “And Ella recited something like this once before, in Portland—a line from the old Great Prophecy.”

“The what?” Frank asked.

“Tell you later.” Percy turned his garden hose and shot another cannonball out of the sky.

It exploded in an orange fireball. The ogres clapped with appreciation and yelled, “Pretty! Pretty!”

“The thing is,” Frank said, “Ella remembers everything she reads. She said something about the page being burned, like she’d read a damaged text of prophecies.”

Hazel’s eyes widened. “Burned books of prophecy? You don’t think—but that’s impossible!”

“The books Octavian wanted, back at camp?” Percy guessed.

Hazel whistled under her breath. “The lost Sibylline books that outlined the entire destiny of Rome. If Ella actually read a copy somehow, and memorized it—”

“Then she’s the most valuable harpy in the world,” Frank said. “No wonder Phineas wanted to capture her.”

“Frank Zhang!” an ogre shouted from below. He was bigger than the rest, wearing a lion’s cape like a Roman standard bearer and a plastic bib with a lobster on it. “Come down, son of Mars! We’ve been waiting for you. Come, be our honored guest!”

Hazel gripped Frank’s arm. “Why do I get the feeling that ‘honored guest’ means the same thing as ‘dinner’?”

Frank wished Mars were still there. He could use somebody to snap his fingers and make his battle jitters go away.

Hazel believes in me,
he thought.
I can do this.

He looked at Percy. “Can you drive?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Grandmother’s car is in the garage. It’s an old Cadillac. The thing is like a tank. If you can get it started—”

“We’ll still have to break through a line of ogres,” Hazel said.

“The sprinkler system,” Percy said. “Use it as a distraction?”

“Exactly,” Frank said. “I’ll buy you as much time as I can. Get Ella, and get in the car. I’ll try to meet you in the garage, but don’t wait for me.”

Percy frowned. “Frank—”

“Give us your answer, Frank Zhang!” the ogre yelled up. “Come down, and we will spare the others—your friends, your poor old granny. We only want you!”

“They’re lying,” Percy muttered.

“Yeah, I got that,” Frank agreed. “Go!”

His friends ran for the ladder.

Frank tried to control the beating of his heart. He grinned and yelled, “Hey, down there! Who’s hungry?” The ogres cheered as Frank paced along the widow’s walk and waved like a rock star.

Frank tried to summon his family power. He imagined himself as a fire-breathing dragon. He strained and clenched his fist and thought about dragons so hard, beads of sweat popped up on his forehead. He wanted to sweep down on the enemy and destroy them. That would be extremely cool. But nothing happened. He had no clue how to change himself. He had never even seen a real dragon. For a panicky moment, he wondered if Grandmother had played some sort of cruel joke on him. Maybe he’d misunderstood the gift. Maybe Frank was the only member of the family who hadn’t inherited it. That would be just his luck.

The ogres started to become restless. The cheering turned to catcalls. A few Laistrygonians hefted their cannonballs.

“Hold on!” Frank yelled. “You don’t want to char me, do you? I won’t taste very good that way.”

“Come down!” they yelled. “Hungry!”

Time for Plan B. Frank just wished he had one.

“Do you promise to spare my friends?” Frank asked. “Do you swear on the River Styx?”

The ogres laughed. One threw a cannonball that arced over Frank’s head and blew up the chimney. By some miracle, Frank wasn’t hit with shrapnel.

“I’ll take that as a
no
,” he muttered. Then he shouted down:

“Okay, fine! You win! I’ll be right down. Wait there!” The ogres cheered, but their leader in the lion’s-skin cape scowled suspiciously. Frank wouldn’t have much time. He descended the ladder into the attic. Ella was gone. He hoped that was a good sign. Maybe they’d gotten her to the Cadillac. He grabbed an extra quiver of arrows labeled assorted varieties in his mother’s neat printing. Then he ran to the machine gun.

He swiveled the barrel, took aim at the lead ogre, and pressed the trigger. Eight high-powered spuds blasted the giant in the chest, propelling him backward with such force that he crashed into a stack of bronze cannonballs, which promptly exploded, leaving a smoking crater in the yard.

Apparently starch
was
bad for ogres.

While the rest of the monsters ran around in confusion, Frank pulled his bow and rained arrows on them. Some of the missiles detonated on impact. Others splintered like buckshot and left the giants with some painful new tattoos. One hit an ogre and instantly turned him into a potted rosebush.