Legend Of Perseus: The Missing Bolt

~Chapter 23~

"You know," Clarisse mumbled, "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen."

My backpack suddenly weighed a ton and I grinned.

"Hey, hold on, I need to check something," I said as I removed Ares' backpack. I opened it and reached inside, pulling out a miniature golden bolt. As I removed it, it grew larger until it was its full size, electricity emitting from it.

"Is that?" Clarisse asked.

"The Master Bolt," Annabeth replied, holding her breath. "We had it the whole time?"

"No, Ares did. He just gave it to us. I assume he wanted to have it appear near Hades so that he would have kept us here or killed us, starting the war."

"My father really is a bastard," Clarisse muttered. I put the bolt back and closed the bag.

"Let's go. I need to ask my dad something," I said, slinging the backpack on again and heading to the door. A hot wind blew down the corridor, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside.

"I guess that means 'entrez-vous,'" Annabeth said.

The room inside looked just like in my dream, except this time the throne of Hades was occupied. He was the third God I had met, but the first who really struck me as godlike.

He was at least ten feet tall, dressed in black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. His skin was albino white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He wasn't bulked up like Ares, but he radiated power. He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and dangerous as a panther.

Hades's aura was affecting me, just as Ares's had. The Lord of the Dead resembled pictures I had seen of Adolph Hitler, or Napoleon, or the terrorist leaders who direct suicide bombers. Hades had the same intense eyes, the same kind of mesmerizing, evil charisma.

"You are brave to come here, Son," he said in an oily voice. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish."

I stepped forward. I knew what I had to say. "Lord and Father, I come with two requests."

Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out.

"Only two requests?" Hades said. "Arrogant child. As if you have not already taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead yet."

I glanced at the empty, smaller throne next to Hades. It was shaped like a black flower, gilded with gold. It was summer. Of course, Persephone would be above in the world of light with her mother, the goddess of agriculture, Demeter. Her visits, not the tilt of the planet, create the seasons.

Annabeth cleared her throat. Her finger prodded me in the back.

"Father," I said. "I have long guessed the truth of what happened. A thief has stolen your helm during the Solstice, and I know who did it and what God currently has your Helm."

"Tell me, then, who stole my helmet?"

"Luke Castellan, Son of Hermes, stole your Helm and the bolt. Ares caught him and was tricked, and he gave us the bolt, and he currently still has your Helm." Annabeth looked at me in confusion and rage at the accusation.

"Swear it," Hades ordered.

"I swear the Styx on what I said is true," I said. Thunder boomed above, and when nothing happened, Hades seemed to relax, and Annabeth crumbled. Clarisse just stood to the side chewing gum. Wait, where did she get gum?