by Rick Riordan
Hazel and the rest of his friends weren’t paying attention to any of that, though. They had gathered at the starboard rail to stare at the dozens of weird shaggy monsters milling through the crowds.
Each monster was about the size of a cow, with a bowed back like a broken-down horse, matted grey fur, skinny legs and black cloven hooves. The creatures’ heads seemed much too heavy for their necks. Their long anteater-like snouts drooped to the ground. Their overgrown grey manes completely covered their eyes.
Frank watched as one of the creatures lumbered across the promenade, snuffling and licking the pavement with its long tongue. The tourists parted around it, unconcerned. A few even petted it. Frank wondered how the mortals could be so calm. Then the monster’s appearance flickered. For a moment it turned into an old, fat beagle.
Jason grunted. ‘The mortals think they’re stray dogs.’
‘Or pets roaming around,’ Piper said. ‘My dad shot a film in Venice once. I remember him telling me there were dogs everywhere. Venetians love dogs.’
Frank frowned. He kept forgetting that Piper’s dad was Tristan McLean, A-list movie star. She didn’t talk about him much. She seemed pretty down-to-earth for a kid raised in Hollywood. That was fine with Frank. The last thing they needed on this quest was paparazzi taking pictures of all Frank’s epic fails.
‘But what are they?’ he asked, repeating Hazel’s question. ‘They look like … starving, shaggy cows with sheepdog hair.’
He waited for someone to enlighten him. Nobody volunteered any information.
‘Maybe they’re harmless,’ Leo suggested. ‘They’re ignoring the mortals.’
‘Harmless!’ Gleeson Hedge laughed. The satyr wore his usual gym shorts, sports shirt and coach’s whistle. His expression was as gruff as ever, but he still had one pink rubber band stuck in his hair from the prankster dwarfs in Bologna. Frank was kind of scared to mention it to him. ‘Valdez, how many harmless monsters have we met? We should just aim the ballistae and see what happens!’
‘Uh, no,’ Leo said.
For once, Frank agreed with Leo. There were too many monsters. It would be impossible to target one without causing collateral damage to the crowds of tourists. Besides, if those creatures panicked and stampeded …
‘We’ll have to walk through them and hope they’re peaceful,’ Frank said, hating the idea already. ‘It’s the only way we’re going to track down the owner of that book.’
Leo pulled the leather-bound manual from underneath his arm. He’d slapped a sticky note on the cover with the address the dwarfs in Bologna had given him.
‘La Casa Nera,’ he read. ‘Calle Frezzeria.’
‘The Black House,’ Nico di Angelo translated. ‘Calle Frezzeria is the street.’
Frank tried not to flinch when he realized Nico was at his shoulder. The guy was so quiet and brooding he almost seemed to dematerialize when he wasn’t speaking. Hazel might have been the one who came back from the dead, but Nico was way more ghost-like.
‘You speak Italian?’ Frank asked.
Nico shot him a warning look, like: Watch the questions. He spoke calmly, though. ‘Frank is right. We have to find that address. The only way to do it is to walk the city. Venice is a maze. We’ll have to risk the crowds and those … whatever they are.’
Thunder rumbled in the clear summer sky. They’d passed through some storms the night before. Frank had thought they were over, but now he wasn’t sure. The air felt as thick and warm as sauna steam.
Jason frowned at the horizon. ‘Maybe I should stay on board. Lots of venti in that storm last night. If they decide to attack the ship again …’
He didn’t need to finish. They’d all had experiences with angry wind spirits. Jason was the only one who had much luck fighting them.
Coach Hedge grunted. ‘Well, I’m out, too. If you softhearted cupcakes are going to stroll through Venice without even whacking those furry animals on the head, forget it. I don’t like boring expeditions.’
‘It’s okay, Coach.’ Leo grinned. ‘We still have to repair the foremast. Then I need your help in the engine room. I’ve got an idea for a new installation.’
Frank didn’t like the gleam in Leo’s eye. Since Leo had found that Archimedes sphere, he’d been trying out a lot of ‘new installations’. Usually, they exploded or sent smoke billowing upstairs into Frank’s cabin.
‘Well …’ Piper shifted her feet. ‘Whoever goes should be good with animals. I, uh … I’ll admit I’m not great with cows.’
Frank figured there was a story behind that comment, but he decided not to ask.
‘I’ll go,’ he said.
He wasn’t sure why he volunteered – maybe because he was anxious to be useful for a change. Or maybe he didn’t want anyone beating him to the punch. Animals? Frank can turn into animals! Send him!
Leo patted him on shoulder and handed him the leather-bound book. ‘Awesome. If you pass a hardware store, could you get me some two-by-fours and a gallon of tar?’
‘Leo,’ Hazel chided, ‘it’s not a shopping trip.’
‘I’ll go with Frank,’ Nico offered.
Frank’s eye started twitching. The war gods’ voices rose to a crescendo in his head: Kill him! Graecus scum!
No! I love Graecus scum!
‘Uh … you’re good with animals?’ he asked.
Nico smiled without humour. ‘Actually, most animals hate me. They can sense death. But there’s something about this city …’ His expression turned grim. ‘Lots of death. Restless spirits. If I go, I may be able to keep them at bay. Besides, as you noticed, I speak Italian.’
Leo scratched his head. ‘Lots of death, huh? Personally, I’m trying to avoid lots of death, but you guys have fun!’
Frank wasn’t sure what scared him more: shaggy-cow monsters, hordes of restless ghosts or going somewhere alone with Nico di Angelo.
‘I’ll go, too.’ Hazel slipped her arm through Frank’s. ‘Three is the best number for a demigod quest, right?’
Frank tried not to look too relieved. He didn’t want to offend Nico. But he glanced at Hazel and told her with his eyes: Thank you thank you thank you.
Nico stared at the canals, as if wondering what new and interesting forms of evil spirits might be lurking there. ‘All right, then. Let’s go find the owner of that book.’
XVIII
FRANK
Frank might have liked Venice if it hadn’t been summertime and tourist season, and if the city wasn’t overrun with large hairy creatures. Between the rows of old houses and the canals, the stone pavements were already too narrow for the crowds jostling one another and stopping to take pictures. The monsters made things worse. They shuffled around with their heads down, bumping into mortals and sniffing the ground.
One seemed to find something it liked at the edge of a canal. It nibbled and licked at a crack between the stones until it dislodged some sort of greenish root. The monster sucked it up happily and shambled along.
‘Well, they’re plant-eaters,’ Frank said. ‘That’s good news.’
Hazel slipped her hand into his. ‘Unless they supplement their diet with demigods. Let’s hope not.’
Frank was so pleased to be holding her hand that the crowds and the heat and the monsters suddenly didn’t seem so bad. He felt needed – useful.
Not that Hazel required his protection. Anybody who’d seen her charging on Arion with her sword drawn would know she could take care of herself. Still, Frank liked being next to her, imagining he was her bodyguard. If any of these monsters tried to hurt her, Frank would gladly turn into a rhinoceros and push them into the canal.
Could he do a rhino? Frank had never tried that before.
Nico stopped. ‘There.’
They’d turned onto a smaller street, leaving the canal behind. Ahead of them was a small plaza lined with five-storey buildings. The area was strangely deserted – as if the mortals could sense it wasn’t safe. In the middle of the cobblestone courtyard, a dozen shaggy co
w creatures were sniffing around the mossy base of an old stone well.
‘A lot of cows in one place,’ Frank said.
‘Yeah, but look,’ Nico said. ‘Past that archway.’
Nico’s eyes must’ve been better than his. Frank squinted. At the far end of the plaza, a stone archway carved with lions led into a narrow street. Just past the arch, one of the town houses was painted black – the only black building Frank had seen so far in Venice.
‘La Casa Nera,’ he guessed.
Hazel’s grip tightened on his fingers. ‘I don’t like that plaza. It feels … cold.’
Frank wasn’t sure what she meant. He was still sweating like crazy.
But Nico nodded. He studied the town-house windows, most of which were covered with wooden shutters. ‘You’re right, Hazel. This neighbourhood is filled with lemures.’
‘Lemurs?’ Frank asked nervously. ‘I’m guessing you don’t mean the furry little guys from Madagascar?’
‘Angry ghosts,’ Nico said. ‘Lemures go back to Roman times. They hang around a lot of Italian cities, but I’ve never felt so many in one place. My mom told me …’ He hesitated. ‘She used to tell me stories about the ghosts of Venice.’
Again Frank wondered about Nico’s past, but he was afraid to ask. He caught Hazel’s eye.
Go ahead, she seemed to be saying. Nico needs practice talking to people.
The sounds of assault rifles and atom bombs got louder in Frank’s head. Mars and Ares were trying to outsing each other with ‘Dixie’ and ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’. Frank did his best to push that aside.
‘Nico, your mom was Italian?’ he guessed. ‘She was from Venice?’
Nico nodded reluctantly. ‘She met Hades here, back in the 1930s. As World War Two got closer, she fled to the U.S. with my sister and me. I mean … Bianca, my other sister. I don’t remember much about Italy, but I can still speak the language.’
Frank tried to think of a response. Oh, that’s nice didn’t seem to cut it.
He was hanging out with not one but two demigods who’d been pulled out of time. They were both, technically, about seventy years older than he was.
‘Must’ve been hard on your mom,’ Frank said. ‘I guess we’ll do anything for someone we love.’
Hazel squeezed his hand appreciatively. Nico stared at the cobblestones. ‘Yeah,’ he said bitterly. ‘I guess we will.’
Frank wasn’t sure what Nico was thinking. He had a hard time imagining Nico di Angelo acting out of love for anybody, except maybe Hazel. But Frank decided he’d gone as far as he dared with the personal questions.
‘So, the lemures …’ He swallowed. ‘How do we avoid them?’
‘I’m already on it,’ Nico said. ‘I’m sending out the message that they should stay away and ignore us. Hopefully that’s enough. Otherwise … things could get messy.’
Hazel pursed her lips. ‘Let’s get going,’ she suggested.
Halfway across the piazza, everything went wrong, but it had nothing to do with ghosts.
They were skirting the well in the middle of the square, trying to give the cow monsters some distance, when Hazel stumbled on a loose piece of cobblestone. Frank caught her. Six or seven of the big grey beasts turned to look at them. Frank glimpsed a glowing green eye under one’s mane, and instantly he was hit with a wave of nausea, the way he felt when he ate too much cheese or ice cream.
The creatures made deep throbbing sounds in their throats like angry foghorns.
‘Nice cows,’ Frank murmured. He put himself between his friends and the monsters. ‘Guys, I’m thinking we should back out of here slowly.’
‘I’m such a klutz,’ Hazel whispered. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Nico said. ‘Look at your feet.’
Frank glanced down and caught his breath.
Under their shoes, the paving stones were moving – spiky plant tendrils were pushing up from the cracks.
Nico stepped back. The roots snaked out in his direction, trying to follow. The tendrils got thicker, exuding a steamy green vapour that smelled of boiled cabbage.
‘These roots seem to like demigods,’ Frank noted.
Hazel’s hand drifted to her sword hilt. ‘And the cow creatures like the roots.’
The entire herd was now looking their direction, making foghorn growls and stamping their hooves. Frank understood animal behaviour well enough to get the message: You are standing on our food. That makes you enemies.
Frank tried to think. There were too many monsters to fight. Something about their eyes hidden under those shaggy manes … Frank had got sick from the barest glimpse. He had a bad feeling that if those monsters made direct eye contact, he might get a lot worse than nauseous.
‘Don’t meet their eyes,’ Frank warned. ‘I’ll distract them. You two back up slowly towards that black house.’
The creatures tensed, ready to attack.
‘Never mind,’ Frank said. ‘Run!’
As it turned out, Frank could not turn into a rhino, and he lost valuable time trying.
Nico and Hazel bolted for the side street. Frank stepped in front of the monsters, hoping to keep their attention. He yelled at the top of his lungs, imagining himself as a fearsome rhinoceros, but with Ares and Mars screaming in his head he couldn’t concentrate. He remained regular-old Frank.
Two of the cow monsters peeled off from the herd to chase Nico and Hazel.
‘No!’ Frank yelled after them. ‘Me! I’m the rhino!’
The rest of the herd surrounded Frank. They growled, emerald-green gas billowing from their nostrils. Frank stepped back to avoid the stuff, but the stench nearly knocked him over.
Okay, so not a rhino. Something else. Frank knew he had only seconds before the monsters trampled or poisoned him, but he couldn’t think. He couldn’t hold the image of any animal long enough to change form.
Then he glanced up at one of the town-house balconies and saw a stone carving – the symbol of Venice.
The next instant, Frank was a full-grown lion. He roared in challenge, then sprang from the middle of the monster herd and landed eight metres away, on top of the old stone well.
The monsters growled in reply. Three of them sprang at once, but Frank was ready. His lion reflexes were built for speed in combat.
He slashed the first two monsters into dust with his claws, then sank his fangs into the third one’s throat and tossed it aside.
There were seven left, plus the two chasing his friends. Not great odds, but Frank had to keep the bulk of herd focused on him. He roared at the monsters, and they edged away.
They outnumbered him, yes. But Frank was a top-of-the-chain predator. The herd monsters knew it. They had also just watched him send three of their friends to Tartarus.
He pressed his advantage and leaped off the well, still baring his fangs. The herd backed off.
If he could just manoeuvre around them, then turn and run after his friends …
He was doing all right, until he took his first backwards step towards the arch. One of the cows, either the bravest or the stupidest, took that as a sign of weakness. It charged and blasted Frank in the face with green gas.
He slashed the monster to dust, but the damage was already done. He forced himself not to breathe. Regardless, he could feel the fur burning off his snout. His eyes stung. He staggered back, half-blind and dizzy, dimly aware of Nico screaming his name.
‘Frank! Frank!’
He tried to focus. He was back in human form, retching and stumbling. His face felt like it was peeling off. In front of him, the green cloud of gas floated between him and the herd. The remaining cow monsters eyed him warily, probably wondering if Frank had any more tricks up his sleeve.
He glanced behind him. Under the stone arch, Nico di Angelo was holding his black Stygian iron sword, gesturing at Frank to hurry. At Nico’s feet, two puddles of darkness stained the ground – no doubt the remains of the cow monsters that had chased them.
And Haze
l … she was propped against the wall behind her brother. She wasn’t moving.
Frank ran towards them, forgetting about the monster herd. He rushed past Nico and grabbed Hazel’s shoulders. Her head slumped against her chest.
‘She got a blast of green gas right in the face,’ Nico said miserably. ‘I – I wasn’t fast enough.’
Frank couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Rage and despair battled inside him. He’d always been scared of Nico. Now he wanted to drop-kick the son of Hades into the nearest canal. Maybe that wasn’t fair, but Frank didn’t care. Neither did the war gods screaming in his head.
‘We need to get her back to the ship,’ Frank said.
The cow monster herd prowled cautiously just beyond the archway. They bellowed their foghorn cries. From nearby streets, more monsters answered. Reinforcements would soon have the demigods surrounded.
‘We’ll never make it on foot,’ Nico said. ‘Frank, turn into a giant eagle. Don’t worry about me. Get her back to the Argo II!’
With his face burning and the voices screaming in his mind, Frank wasn’t sure he could change shape, but he was about to try when a voice behind them said, ‘Your friends can’t help you. They don’t know the cure.’
Frank spun round. Standing on the threshold of the Black House was a young man in jeans and a denim shirt. He had curly black hair and a friendly smile, though Frank doubted he was friendly. Probably he wasn’t even human.
At the moment, Frank didn’t care.
‘Can you cure her?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ the man said. ‘But you’d better hurry inside. I think you’ve angered every katobleps in Venice.’
XIX
FRANK
They barely made it inside.
As soon as their host threw the bolts, the cow monsters bellowed and slammed into the door, making it shudder on its hinges.
‘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.’