THEY BARELY MADE it inside the Black House.
As soon as their host threw the bolts, the cow monsters bellowed and slammed into the door, making it shudder on its hinges. Ophelia looked at it with a nervous frown—she could sense the locks from where she stood, and they didn't seem all that sturdy.
"Oh, they can't get in," the man in denim promised. "You're safe now!"
"Safe?" Frank demanded. "Hazel is dying!"
Their host frowned as if he didn't appreciate Frank ruining his good mood. "Yes, yes. Bring her this way."
Frank carried Hazel as they followed the man farther into the building, refusing Nico and Ophelia's offers to help.
The house's front room was some sort of greenhouse. The walls were lined with tables of plant trays under fluorescent lights. The air smelled of fertilizer solution. Maybe Venetians did their gardening inside, since they were surrounded by water instead of soil? Ophelia wasn't sure, but she didn't really care at the moment.
The back room looked like a combination garage, college dorm, and computer lab. Against the left wall glowed a bank of servers and laptops, their screen savers flashing pictures of plowed fields and tractors. Against the right wall sat a single bed, a messy desk, and an open wardrobe filled with extra denim clothes and a stack of farm implements, like pitchforks and rakes.
The back wall was a huge garage door. Parked next to it was a red-and-gold chariot with an open carriage and a single axle, like the chariots Ophelia had raced at Camp Jupiter. Sprouting from the sides of the driver's box were giant feathery wings. Wrapped around the rim of the left wheel, a spotted python snored loudly.
"Set your friend here," the man in denim said.
Frank placed Hazel gently on the bed. He removed her sword and tried to make her comfortable, but she was as limp as a scarecrow. Her complexion definitely had a greenish tint.
"What were those cow things?" Frank demanded. "What did they do to her?"
"Katoblepones," their host answered. "Singular: katobleps. In English, it means down-looker. Called that because—"
"They're always looking down." Nico smacked his forehead. "Right. I remember reading about them."
Frank glared at him. "Now you remember?"
Nico hung his head almost as low as a katobleps. "I, uh... used to play this stupid card game when I was younger. Mythomagic. The katobleps was one of the monster cards."
Frank blinked. "I played Mythomagic. I never saw that card."
"It was in the Africanus Extreme expansion deck."
"Oh."
Ophelia raised an eyebrow.
Their host cleared his throat. "Are you two done, ah, geeking out, as they say?"
"Right, sorry," Nico muttered. "Anyway, katoblepones have poison breath and a poison gaze. I thought they only lived in Africa."
The man in denim shrugged. "That's their native land. They were accidentally imported to Venice hundreds of years ago. You've heard of Saint Mark?"
"The patron saint of notaries and Venice," Ophelia remembered. "Some Christians believe he wrote the Gospel of Mark. He was executed in Egypt for trying to turn Alexandrians away from the worship of their traditional gods."
Nico and Frank looked at her like she'd grown a second head.
"What?" Ophelia said defensively. "You two get to nerd out over trading cards and I can't nerd out over saints?"
"Are you even Catholic?" Nico asked.
"My grandpa was," she said. "Ironic, since he fell in love with the goddess of magic."
"A granddaughter of Hecate?" the man in denim said with an approving smile. "You are correct, pretty girl." Ophelia raised an eyebrow at that. "Yes, Saint Mark is the patron saint of this city, and yes, he was killed in Egypt, oh, a long time ago. When the Venetians became powerful... well, the relics of saints were a big tourist attraction back in the Middle Ages. The Venetians decided to steal Saint Mark's remains and bring them to their big church of San Marco. They smuggled out his body in a barrel of pickled pig parts."
"That's... disgusting," Frank said.
"Yes," the man agreed with a smile. "The point is, you can't do something like that and not have consequences. The Venetians unintentionally smuggled something else out of Egypt—the katoblepones. They came here aboard that ship and have been breeding like rats ever since. They love the magical poison roots that grow here—swampy, foul-smelling plants that creep up from the canals. It makes their breath even more poisonous! Usually the monsters ignore mortals, but demigods... especially demigods who get in their way—"
"Got it," Frank snapped. "Can you cure her?"
The man shrugged. "Possibly."
"Possibly?" Frank put his hand under Hazel's nose. "Nico, please tell me she's doing that death-trance thing, like you did in the bronze jar."
Nico grimaced. "I don't know if Hazel can do that. Her dad is technically Pluto, not Hades, so—"
"Hades!" their host cried, making Ophelia jump in surprise at his outburst. He backed away, staring at Nico with distaste. "So that's what I smell. Children of the Underworld? If I'd known that, I would never have let you in!"
"Whoa, Hazel's a good person," Ophelia said.
"You promised you'd help her!" Frank protested.
"I did not promise."
Nico drew his sword. "She's my sister," he growled. "I don't know who you are, but if you can cure her, you have to, or so help me by the River Styx—"
"Oh, blah, blah, blah!" The man waved his hand.
Suddenly where Nico di Angelo had been standing was a potted plant about five feet tall, with drooping green leaves, tufts of silk, and half a dozen ripe yellow ears of corn.
"There," the man huffed. "Children of Hades can't order me around! You should talk less and listen more. Now at least you have ears."
"Dude!" Ophelia exclaimed.
Frank stumbled against the bed. "What did you—why—?"
The man raised an eyebrow. Frank made a squeaky noise that wasn't very courageous, but Ophelia couldn't blame him.
"You're a god," Ophelia remembered.
"Triptolemus." The man bowed. "My friends call me Trip. You may call me that, but if your friend is another child of Hades—"
"Child of Mars!" Frank said quickly. "I'm a child of Mars."
Triptolemus sniffed. "Well... not much better. But perhaps you deserve to be something better than a corn plant. Sorghum? Sorghum is very nice."
"Wait!" Ophelia said. "Trip, we're—we're here on a friendly mission. We brought a gift! Right, Frank?"
Frank caught on. Very slowly, he reached into his backpack and brought out the leather-bound book. "This belongs to you?"
"My almanac!" Triptolemus grinned and seized the book. He thumbed through the pages and started bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Oh, this is fabulous! Where did you find it?"
"Um, Bologna. There were these"—Ophelia gave Frank a look, silently reminding him they weren't supposed to mention the dwarfs—"terrible monsters. We risked our lives, but we knew this was important to you. So could you, you know, turn Nico back to normal and heal Hazel?"
"Hmm?" Trip looked up from his book. He'd been happily reciting lines to himself—something about turnip-planting schedules. "Oh, heal them?" The god chuckled disapprovingly. "I'm grateful for the book, of course. I can definitely let you go, son of Mars. But I have a long-standing problem with Hades. After all, I owe my godly powers to Demeter!"
"Demeter," Ophelia said, "the plant goddess. She didn't like Hades because her daughter, Prosperina—"
"Persephone," Trip corrected. "I prefer Greek, if you don't mind."
Frank winced as if his head hurt. "Okay. Hades kidnapped Persephone."
"Exactly!" Trip said.
"So... Persephone was a friend of yours?" Frank asked.
Trip snorted. "I was just a mortal prince back then. Persephone wouldn't have noticed me. But when her mother, Demeter, went searching for her, scouring the whole earth, not many people would help her. Hecate lit her way with her torches. And I... well, when Demeter came to my part of Greece, I gave her a place to stay. I comforted her, gave her a meal, and offered my assistance. I didn't know she was a goddess at the time, but my good deed paid off. Later, Demeter rewarded me by making me a god of farming!"
Ophelia blinked. "Farming," she said. "That's... um, congratulations?"
"I know! Pretty awesome, right? Anyway, Demeter never got along with Hades. So naturally, you know, I have to side with my patron goddess. Children of Hades—forget it! In fact, one of them—this Scythian king named Lynkos? When I tried to teach his countrymen about farming, he killed my right python!"
"Your... right python?" Frank asked.
Trip marched over to his winged chariot and hopped in. He pulled a lever, and the wings began to flap. The spotted python on the left wheel opened his eyes. He started to writhe, coiling around the axle like a spring. The chariot whirred into motion, but the right wheel stayed in place, so Triptolemus spun in circles, the chariot beating its wings and bouncing up and down like a defective merry-go-round.
"You see?" he said as he spun. "No good! Ever since I lost my right python, I haven't been able to spread the word about farming—at least, not in person. Now I have to resort to giving online courses."
"What?" Frank asked.
Trip hopped off the chariot while it was still spinning. The python slowed to a stop and went back to snoring. Trip jogged over to the line of computers. He tapped the keyboards and the screens woke up, displaying a Web site in maroon and gold, with a picture of a happy farmer in a toga and a John Deere cap, standing with his bronze scythe in a field of wheat.
"Triptolemus Farming University!" he announced proudly. "In just six weeks, you can get your bachelor's degree in the exciting and vibrant career of the future—farming!"
"Look," Frank said. "We did bring you the almanac. And my friends are really nice."
Ophelia nodded enthusiastically. "They're not like those other children of Hades you've met, Trip," she said, trying to sound as sweet as Piper often sounded. "So, if there's any way—"
"Oh!" Trip snapped his fingers. "I see where you're going!"
That's great, because I definitely don't. "Um... you do, do you?" Ophelia asked.
"Absolutely! If I cure your friend Hazel and return the other one, Nicholas—"
"Nico," Frank corrected.
"—if I return him to normal..."
Ophelia hesitated. "Yes?"
"Then in exchange, you'll stay here and become my bride!"
Ophelia blinked. "Sorry, could you repeat that, I don't think I heard you right."
Trip grinned. "You could stay and become my bride," he repeated. Yep, heard him right the first time. "A granddaughter of magic, a god of farming—well, you know what they say about opposites attracting."
Ophelia looked over at Frank, who looked as completely bewildered as she felt.
"Trip... we just met, like, five minutes ago," Ophelia said slowly. "... You turned my friend into a plant."
"Well, I could turn him back in time for the wedding, if you'd like," Trip offered. "Though, I'd rather we not add any children of Hades to the guest list. It would just be a little awkward."
"Uh-huh," Ophelia said. "Still... like I said, we met five minutes ago. You don't even know my name."
"What can I say?" Trip said wistfully. "Cupid's arrows work so quickly... well, not that I've been struck by one, of course. If I'm being entirely honest, I'm not a fan of Eros myself—he's kind of... well, mean." He shook his head. "But I do believe in love at first sight. It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?"
Ophelia looked over at Frank, mouthing, Is this seriously happening?
He nodded confusedly.
Ophelia returned her focus back to Trip. "Look, Trip, I'm... I'm flattered, but..." She hesitated. She wasn't sure how this god would react to her already having a boyfriend, so she decided to go with a safer option. "I'm pretty busy with this quest I've got going on, plus, y'know, I'm only seventeen, I've still got stuff I wanna do before I settle down—you get it, right?"
Gods, she hope he got it.
Trip's expression fell a little, though thankfully he didn't look angry. "Well, yes, that is understandable," he said. "And I would never be so garish as to abduct my bride like Hades."
"... Appreciate it," Ophelia said. "So, about our friends, um..." She tried to come up with an alternative incentive, but she was coming up blank. She looked at Frank, hoping he had at least half a plan.
Thank gods he did.
"How about this?" he said. "We can fix that!" He pointed at the chariot.
Trip frowned. "Fix... my chariot?"
"We'll go find a way to fix the chariot," Frank said. "In return, you fix Nico and Hazel. Let us go in peace. And—and give us whatever aid you can to defeat Gaea's forces."
Triptolemus laughed. "What makes you think I can aid you with that?"
"Hecate, told us so," Ophelia said quickly. "She sent us here. She decided Hazel is one of her favorites."
Trip frowned. "She did?"
Ophelia nodded.
"The goddess guided us to your almanac in Bologna," Frank said. "She wanted us to return it to you, because... well, she must've known you had some knowledge that would help us get through the House of Hades in Epirus."
Trip nodded slowly. "Yes. I see. I know why Hecate sent you to me. Very well, son of Mars. Go find a way to fix my chariot. But only you. The pretty one will stay with me—I will give her tips on properly growing arugula." Ophelia balked a little at that. "If you succeed, I will do all you ask. If not—"
"I know," Frank grumbled. "My friends die."
"Yes!" Trip said cheerfully. "Good luck, son of Mars—I would hate for you to fail and force me to turn you into a patch of sorghum. I would hate to cause the pretty girl any further grievances."
"Yeah," Ophelia muttered. "Hate for that to happen."
❖