The House of Hades (The Heros of Olympus, Book 4)

SO FAR, THEIR DEATH MIST camouflage plan seemed to be working. So, naturally, Percy expected a massive last-minute fail.

Fifty feet from the Doors of Death, he and Annabeth froze.

“Oh, gods,” Annabeth murmured. “They’re the same.”

Percy knew what she meant. Framed in Stygian iron, the magical portal was a set of elevator doors—two panels of silver and black etched with art deco designs. Except for the fact that the colors were inverted, they looked exactly like the elevators in the Empire State Building, the entrance to Olympus.

Seeing them, Percy felt so homesick, he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t just miss Mount Olympus. He missed everything he’d left behind: New York City, Camp Half-Blood, his mom and stepdad. His eyes stung. He didn’t trust himself to talk.

The Doors of Death seemed like a personal insult, designed to remind him of everything he couldn’t have.

As he got over his initial shock, he noticed other details: the frost spreading from the base of the Doors, the purplish glow in the air around them, and the chains that held them fast.

Cords of black iron ran down either side of the frame, like rigging lines on a suspension bridge. They were tethered to hooks embedded in the fleshy ground. The two Titans, Krios and Hyperion, stood guard at the anchor points.

As Percy watched, the entire frame shuddered. Black lightning flashed into the sky. The chains shook, and the Titans planted their feet on the hooks to keep them secure. The Doors slid open, revealing the gilded interior of an elevator car.

Percy tensed, ready to charge forward, but Bob planted a hand on his shoulder. “Wait,” he cautioned.

Hyperion yelled to the surrounding crowd: “Group A-22! Hurry up, you sluggards!”

A dozen Cyclopes rushed forward, waving little red tickets and shouting excitedly. They shouldn’t have been able to fit inside those human-sized doors, but as the Cyclopes got close, their bodies distorted and shrank, the Doors of Death sucking them inside.

The Titan Krios jabbed his thumb against the up button on the elevator’s right side. The Doors slid closed.

The frame shuddered again. Dark lightning faded.

“You must understand how it works,” Bob muttered. He addressed the kitten in his palm, maybe so the other monsters wouldn’t wonder who he was talking to. “Each time the Doors open, they try to teleport to a new location. Thanatos made them this way, so only he could find them. But now they are chained. The Doors cannot relocate.”

“Then we cut the chains,” Annabeth whispered.

Percy looked at the blazing form of Hyperion. The last time he’d fought the Titan, it had taken every ounce of his strength. Even then Percy had almost died. Now there were two Titans, with several thousand monsters for backup.

“Our camouflage,” he said. “Will it disappear if we do something aggressive, like cutting the chains?”

“I do not know,” Bob told his kitten.

“Mrow,” said Small Bob.

“Bob, you’ll have to distract them,” Annabeth said. “Percy and I will sneak around the two Titans and cut the chains from behind.”

“Yes, fine,” Bob said. “But that is only one problem. Once you are inside the Doors, someone must stay outside to push the button and defend it.”

Percy tried to swallow. “Uh…defend the button?”

Bob nodded, scratching his kitten under the chin. “Someone must keep pressing the UP button for twelve minutes, or the journey will not finish.”

Percy glanced at the Doors. Sure enough, Krios still had his thumb jammed on the UP button. Twelve minutes… Somehow, they would have to get the Titans away from those doors. Then Bob, Percy, or Annabeth would have to keep that button pushed for twelve long minutes, in the middle of an army of monsters in the heart of Tartarus, while the other two rode to the mortal world. It was impossible.

“Why twelve minutes?” Percy asked.

“I do not know,” Bob said. “Why twelve Olympians, or twelve Titans?”

“Fair enough,” Percy said, though he had a bitter taste in his mouth.

“What do you mean the journey won’t finish?” Annabeth asked. “What happens to the passengers?”

Bob didn’t answer. Judging from his pained expression, Percy decided he didn’t want to be in that elevator if the car stalled between Tartarus and the mortal world.

“If we do push the button for twelve minutes,” Percy said, “and the chains are cut—”

“The Doors should reset,” Bob said. “That is what they are supposed to do. They will disappear from Tartarus. They will appear somewhere else, where Gaea cannot use them.”

“Thanatos can reclaim them,” Annabeth said. “Death goes back to normal, and the monsters lose their shortcut to the mortal world.”

Percy exhaled. “Easy-peasy. Except for…well, everything.”

Small Bob purred.

“I will push the button,” Bob volunteered.

A mix of feelings churned in Percy’s gut—grief, sadness, gratitude, and guilt thickening into emotional cement. “Bob, we can’t ask you to do that. You want to go through the Doors too. You want to see the sky again, and the stars, and—”

“I would like that,” Bob agreed. “But someone must push the button. And once the chains are cut…my brethren will fight to stop your passage. They will not want the Doors to disappear.”

Percy gazed at the endless horde of monsters. Even if he let Bob make this sacrifice, how could one Titan defend himself against so many for twelve minutes, all while keeping his finger on a button?

The cement settled in Percy’s stomach. He had always suspected how this would end. He would have to stay behind. While Bob fended off the army, Percy would hold the elevator button and make sure Annabeth got to safety.

Somehow, he had to convince her to go without him. As long as she was safe and the Doors disappeared, he could die knowing he’d done something right.

“Percy…?” Annabeth stared at him, a suspicious edge to her voice.

She was too smart. If he met her eyes, she would see exactly what he was thinking.

“First things first,” he said. “Let’s cut those chains.”