LEO STARED AT HAZEL IN AMAZEMENT. "How did you—?"
Just then the elevator dinged. Rather than pushing the UP button, Clytius stepped back from the controls, keeping their friends inside.
"Guys!" Hazel yelled.
They were thirty feet away—too far to reach the elevator.
At least, Leo and Hazel were.
Ophelia ran faster than she had ever run in her life. She felt vaguely like she had when she had been the wind in Croatia—she was no more than a blur.
Not even half a second passed, and her finger slammed into the UP button.
The Doors of Death opened with a hiss. Black smoke billowed out, and two bodies spilled face-first onto the floor—Percy and Annabeth, limp as corpses.
Hazel sobbed. "Oh, gods..."
Ophelia moved to help them, but the giant thrust a hand out. Like an invisible force had slammed into her, she was thrown backward, right into Leo and Hazel.
Clytius lifted his massive reptilian foot over Percy's head. The giant's smoky shroud poured over the floor, covering Percy and Annabeth in a pool of dark fog.
"Clytius, you've lost," Hazel snarled. "Let them go, or you'll end up like Pasiphae."
The giant tilted his head. His diamond eyes gleamed. At his feet, Annabeth lurched like she'd hit a power line. She rolled onto her back, black smoke coiling from her mouth.
"I am not Pasiphae." Annabeth spoke in a voice that wasn't hers—the words as deep as a bass guitar. "You've won nothing."
"Stop that!" Hazel shouted.
Clytius nudged Percy's head with his foot. Percy's face lolled to one side.
"Not quite dead." The giant's words boomed from Percy's mouth. "A terrible shock to the mortal body, I would imagine, coming back from Tartarus. They'll be out for a while."
He turned his attention back to Annabeth. More smoke poured from between her lips. "I'll tie them up and take them to Porphyrion in Athens. Just the sacrifice we need. Unfortunately, that means I have no further use for you two."
"Oh, yeah?" Leo growled. "Well, maybe you got the smoke, buddy, but I've got the fire." His hands blazed. He shot white-hot columns of flame at the giant, but Clytius's smoky aura absorbed them on impact.
Tendrils of black haze traveled back up the lines of fire, snuffing out the light and heat and covering Leo in darkness.
"Leo!" Ophelia cried.
"No!" Hazel and Ophelia ran toward him, but Gale chattered urgently on Hazel's shoulder—a clear warning.
"I would not." Clytius's voice reverberated from Leo's mouth. "You do not understand, Hazel Levesque. I devour magic. I destroy the voice and the soul. You cannot oppose me."
Black fog spread farther across the room, covering Annabeth and Percy, billowing toward Hazel and Ophelia.
"F-fire," Hazel stammered in a small voice. "You're supposed to be weak against it."
The giant chuckled, using Annabeth's vocal cords this time. "You were counting on that, eh? It is true I do not like fire. But Leo Valdez's flames are not strong enough to trouble me."
Somewhere behind Ophelia and Hazel, a soft, lyrical voice said, "What about my flames, old friend?"
Gale squeaked excitedly and jumped from Hazel's shoulder, scampering to the entrance of the cavern where a dark-haired woman stood in a black dress, the Mist swirling around her.
The giant stumbled backward, bumping into the Doors of Death.
"You," he said from Percy's mouth.
"Me," Hecate agreed. She spread her arms. Blazing torches appeared in her hands. "It has been millennia since I fought at the side of a demigod, but Hazel Levesque has proven herself worthy. What do you say, Clytius? Shall we play with fire?"
As much as Ophelia didn't really like her grandmother, the goddess sure knew how to make an entrance.
Unfortunately, Clytius didn't run away screaming like Ophelia hoped.
When he saw the goddess's torches blazing, the giant seemed to recover his wits. He stomped his foot, shaking the floor and almost stepping on Annabeth's arm. Dark smoke billowed around him until Annabeth and Percy were totally hidden. Ophelia could see nothing but the giant's gleaming eyes.
"Bold words." Clytius spoke from Leo's mouth. "You forget, goddess. When we last met, you had the help of Hercules and Dionysus—the most powerful heroes in the world, both of them destined to become gods. Now you bring... these?"
Leo's unconscious body contorted in pain.
"Stop that!" Hazel yelled.
Before Ophelia's eyes, Leo dissolved. He reappeared at Hazel's feet, along with Percy and Annabeth. The Mist whirled around her, spilling over the stones and enveloping her friends. Where the white Mist met the dark smoke of Clytius, it steamed and sizzled, like lava rolling into the sea.
Leo opened his eyes and gasped. "Wh-what...?"
Annabeth and Percy remained motionless, but Ophelia had to hope they were okay.
On Hecate's shoulder, Gale the polecat barked with admiration.
The goddess stepped forward, her dark eyes glittering in the torchlight. "You're right, Clytius. Hazel Levesque is not Hercules or Dionysus, but I think you will find her just as formidable."
Through the smoky shroud, Ophelia saw the giant open his mouth. No words came out. Clytius sneered in frustration.
Leo tried to sit up. "What's going on? What can I—?"
"Watch Percy and Annabeth." Hazel drew her spatha. "Stay behind me. Stay in the Mist."
"But—"
Hazel gave him a severe look.
Leo gulped. "Yeah, got it. White Mist good. Black smoke bad."
Hazel advanced. The giant spread his arms. The domed ceiling shook, and the giant's voice echoed through the room, magnified a hundred times.
Formidable? the giant demanded. It sounded as if he were speaking through a chorus of the dead, using all the unfortunate souls who'd been buried behind the domes' stelas as unwitting speakers. Because the girl has learned your magic tricks, Hecate? Because you allow these weaklings to hide in your Mist?
A sword appeared in the giant's hand—a Stygian iron blade five times the size of Ophelia's. I do not understand why Gaea would find any of these demigods worthy of sacrifice. I will crush them like empty nutshells.
Hazel screamed with rage. The walls of the chamber made a crackling sound like ice in warm water, and dozens of gems streaked toward the giant, punching through his armor like buckshot.
Clytius staggered backward. His disembodied voice bellowed with pain. His iron breastplate was peppered with holes. Golden ichor trickled from a wound on his right arm. His shroud of darkness thinned.
You, Clytius growled. You worthless—
"Worthless?" Hecate asked quietly. "I'd say Hazel Levesque knows a few tricks even I could not teach her."
The giant dug his fingers into the wound on his bicep. He pulled out a diamond and flicked it aside. The wound closed.
So, daughter of Pluto, Clytius rumbled, do you really believe Hecate has your interests at heart? Circe was a favorite of hers. And Medea. And Pasiphae. How did they end up, eh?
Annabeth started to stir, groaning in pain. Percy muttered something that sounded like, "Bob-bob-bob?"
Clytius stepped forward, holding his sword casually at his side. Hecate will not tell you the truth. She sends acolytes like you to do her bidding and take all the risk. If by some miracle you incapacitate me, only then will she be able to set me on fire. Then she will claim the glory of the kill. You heard how Bacchus dealt with the Alodai twins in the Colosseum. Hecate is worse. She is a Titan who betrayed the Titans. Then she betrayed the gods. Do you really think she will keep faith with you?
Hecate's face was unreadable. "I cannot answer his accusations, Hazel," the goddess said. "This is your crossroads. You must choose."
Yes, crossroads. The giant's laughter echoed. His wounds seemed to have healed completely. Hecate offers you obscurity, choices, vague promises of magic. I am the anti-Hecate. I will give you the truth. I will eliminate choices and magic. I will strip away the Mist, once and for all, and show you the world in all its true horrors.
Leo struggled to his feet, leaning on Ophelia and coughing like an asthmatic. "I'm loving this guy," he wheezed. "Seriously, we should keep him around for inspirational seminars." His hands ignited like blowtorches. "Or I could just light him up."
"Leo, no," Hazel said. "My father's temple. My call."
"Yeah, okay, but—"
"Hazel..." Annabeth wheezed. "The chains..."
Ophelia took a sharp breath. She felt her grandmother's gaze flicker toward her for only a moment, not long enough for Clytius to notice. She remembered what Hecate had told her.
Closing the Doors was her responsibility.
But if the giant believed it was Hazel's...
Ophelia's father was the god of tricksters, and her grandmother was the goddess of the Mist. Tricks were in her blood. And a trick was just what she needed—a distraction.
You can't seriously believe you have the strength, Clytius chided. What will you do, Hazel Levesque—pelt me with more rubies? Shower me with sapphires?
Hazel gave him an answer. She raised her spatha and charged.
While the giant was distracted, Ophelia drew her Stygian iron gladius and crept along the edges of the Mist. Wisps of it clung to her as she moved, and she knew her grandmother was shielding her, just enough. If Clytius looked in her direction, he would see her—but he was too focused on Hazel to turn.
She ran for the Doors, her sword raised. As Hazel stabbed her blade into Clytius's backside, Ophelia slashed at the chains on the left side of the Doors. They shattered like ice. She moved for the right side, but Clytius yelled, NO!
By some miracle, Ophelia wasn't sliced in half. The flat of the giant's blade caught her in the chest and sent her flying. She slammed into the wall and felt bones crack at the hit. Her sword fell from her hand, clattering away from her.
Hazel and Leo screamed her name.
You think a trick can win you this battle? Clytius sneered. You will pay for that, daughter of Mercury. I will enjoy setting you lose in Pasiphae's Labyrinth. You will be driven insane by the ghosts you command.
"Fuck you," Ophelia wheezed.
The giant advanced on her, his sword raised for the kill. Never mind the maze. I'll kill you now, and take command of your ghost. Even death will not set you free.
Ophelia grit her teeth, staring into the face of her death. She supposed there were worse last words than fuck you.
"Clytius!" Hazel shouted, gripping her sword in a shaky hand.
The giant turned away from Ophelia. When he saw Hazel limping forward, he laughed.
A good try, Hazel Levesque, Clytius admitted. You did better than I anticipated. But magic alone cannot defeat me. I see through your tricks. You do not have sufficient strength. Hecate has failed you, as she fails all of her followers in the end.
Ophelia thought of her mother—cursed by Hecate to be haunted by ghosts. But the curse had been a mercy compared to what Pluto would have done to her. Ophelia's mother had tried to circumvent the laws of life and death, to raise her sister from the dead. If Pluto had gotten the chance, he would have sent her to the Fields of Punishment for her arrogance.
Maybe Hecate wasn't a loving goddess, but she wasn't quite a monster, either.
Ophelia looked at the unbroken chains still tethering the Doors to the mortal world.
There was magic in Ophelia's blood—not just from Hecate, but from her father. He was the god of thieves, and because of that, his children could control locks without even touching them.
Ophelia grit her teeth, and focused on the chains on the right side of the Doors of Death—specifically, the lock that kept the chains tied to the pole in the stone floor next to it. She could sense the mechanisms. It was the most complicated lock she'd ever faced—far more complicated than the lock on Medea's canary cage or any ordinary door lock. But she didn't let it daunt her.
She'd faced murderous ghosts and not one, but two bitchy goddesses intent on killing her. One lock wouldn't stop her.
It took every bit of her strength, and more—she knew Hecate had to be helping her, lending her magic, or strength, or a combination of both. Even with the goddess's help, she was struggling, sweat coating every inch of her skin and pain flaring in her head.
But she kept her focus on the lock, even as Hazel faced the giant.
Hours might have passed, or seconds—Ophelia couldn't be sure. But the lock on the chains tethering the Doors of Death to the mortal world finally clicked open. The Doors of Death shuddered and disappeared in a flash of purple light.
Ophelia collapsed in exhaustion as Clytius roared so loudly that half a dozen stelae fell from the ceiling and shattered.
Hazel ran to her side.
You have forfeited your right to a quick death, the giant snarled. I will suffocate you both in darkness, slowly, painfully. Hecate cannot help you. NO ONE can help you!
The goddess raised her torches. "I would not be so certain, Clytius. Their friends simply needed a little time to reach them—time you have given them with your boasting and bragging."
Clytius snorted. What friends? These weaklings? They are no challenge.
In front of Hazel and Ophelia, the air rippled. The Mist thickened, creating a doorway, and five people stepped through.
If Ophelia wasn't on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, she would have wept with relief. Jason, Piper, Nico, and Frank were alive, their swords drawn.
"Sorry we're late," Jason said. "Is this the guy who needs killing?"
❖
Clytius was fucked.
The nine demigods attacked from every direction—Leo shooting fire at his legs, Frank and Piper jabbing at his chest, Jason flying into the air and kicking him in the face. Every time the giant's smoky veil started creeping around one of them, Nico was there, slashing through it, drinking in the darkness with his Stygian blade. Ophelia retrieved her own pitch-black sword, her exhaustion and injuries momentarily forgotten in the face of kicking Clytius's pathetic giant ass.
Even Percy and Annabeth were on their feet, looking weak and dazed, but their swords were drawn. When did Annabeth get a sword? And was it made of... ivory? They looked like they wanted to help, but there was no need. The giant was surrounded.
Clytius snarled, turning back and forth as if he couldn't decide which of them to kill first.
Wait!
Hold still! No! Ouch!
The darkness around him dispelled completely, leaving nothing to protect him except his battered armor. Ichor oozed from a dozen wounds. The damage healed almost as fast as it was inflicted, but Ophelia could tell the giant was getting tired.
One last time, Jason flew at him, kicking him in the chest, and the giant's breastplate shattered.
Clytius staggered backward. His sword dropped to the floor. He fell to his knees, and the demigods encircled him.
Only then did Hecate step forward, her torches raised. Mist curled around the giant, hissing and bubbling as it touched his skin.
"And so it ends," Hecate said.
It does not end. Clytius's voice echoed from somewhere above, muffled and slurred. My brethren have risen. Gaea waits only for the blood of Olympus. It took all of you together to defeat me. What will you do when the Earth Mother opens her eyes?
Hecate turned her torches upside down. She thrust them like daggers at Clytius's head. The giant's hair went up faster than dry tinder, spreading down his head and across his body until the heat of the bonfire made Ophelia wince. Clytius fell without a sound, face-first in the rubble of Hades's altar. His body crumbled to ashes.
For a moment, no one spoke. Ophelia's strength was all but gone, but Jason was there to lean on, his arm gentle around her waist. Even still, her ribs ached—she'd likely broken a few of them, which was just icing on the cake.
The goddess faced Hazel. "You should go now, Hazel Levesque. Lead your friends out of this place."
Hazel gritted her teeth. "Just like that? No 'thank you'? No 'good work'?"
The goddess tilted her head. Gale the weasel chittered—maybe a good-bye, maybe a warning—and disappeared in the folds of her mistress's skirts.
"You look in the wrong place for gratitude," Hecate said. "As for 'good work,' that remains to be seen. Speed your way to Athens. Clytius was not wrong. The giants have risen—all of them, stronger than ever. Gaea is on the very edge of waking. The Feast of Hope will be poorly named unless you arrive to stop her."
The chamber rumbled. Another stela crashed to the floor and shattered.
"The House of Hades is unstable," Hecate said. "Leave now. We shall meet again."
The goddess dissolved. The Mist evaporated.
"She's friendly," Percy grumbled.
The others turned toward him and Annabeth, as if just realizing they were there.
"Dude." Jason gave Percy a bear hug.
"Back from Tartarus!" Leo whooped. "That's my peeps!"
Piper threw her arms around Annabeth and cried. Ophelia was right behind her, grinning like mad as she hugged her friend.
"Thanks for the compass," Annabeth murmured. "We sort of lost it at the Doors, though... sorry."
Ophelia laughed, even though it hurt. "I'm just glad you're both alive." She didn't say okay—she could tell from the haunted look in Annabeth's eyes that it would be a long time before she and Percy were okay, if they ever were.
But they were alive—for now, that was more than enough.
The ceiling shuddered above them. Cracks appeared in the remaining tiles. Columns of dust spilled down.
"We've got to get out of here," Jason said, returning to Ophelia's side. "Uh, Frank...?"
Frank shook his head. "I think one favor from the dead is all I can manage today."
"Wait, what?" Hazel asked.
Piper grinned. "It was amazing! Frank called in a favor as a child of Mars. He summoned the spirits of some dead warriors, made them lead us here through... um, well, I'm not sure, actually. The passages from the dead? All I know is that it was very, very dark."
To their left, a section of the wall split. Two ruby eyes from a carved stone skeleton popped out and rolled across the floor.
"We'll have to shadow-travel," Hazel said.
Nico winced. "Hazel, I can barely manage that with only myself. With eight more people—"
"I'll help you," Hazel said.
An entire section of tiles peeled loose from the ceiling.
"Everybody, grab hands!" Nico yelled.
They made a hasty circle. The cavern collapsed, and Ophelia felt herself dissolving into shadow.
❖