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“That’s a long way,” Nico said. “Plus, we don’t have ” His voice cracked. “You know oursea expert, Percy.”The name hung in the air like an impending storm.Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon probably the demigod Hazel admired most. He’d saved herlife so many times on their quest to Alaska; but when he had needed Hazel’s help in Rome, she’dfailed him. She’d watched, powerless, as he and Annabeth had plunged into that pit.Hazel took a deep breath. Percy and Annabeth were still alive. She knew that in her heart. Shecould still help them if she could get to the House of Hades, if she could survive the challenge Nicohad warned her about. “What about continuing north?” she asked. “There has to be a break in the mountains, orsomething.”Leo fiddled with the bronze Archimedes sphere that he’d installed on the console—his newestand most dangerous toy. Every time Hazel looked at the thing, her mouth went dry. She worried thatLeo would turn the wrong combination on the sphere and accidentally eject them all from the deck, orblow up the ship, or turn the Argo II into a giant toaster.Fortunately, they got lucky. The sphere grew a camera lens and projected a 3-D image of theApennine Mountains above the console.“I dunno.” Leo examined the hologram. “I don’t see any good passes to the north. But I like thatidea better than backtracking south. I’m done with Rome.”No one argued with that. Rome had not been a good experience.“Whatever we do,” Nico said, “we have to hurry. Every day that Annabeth and Percy are inTartarus ”He didn’t need to finish. They had to hope Percy and Annabeth could survive long enough to findthe Tartarus side of the Doors of Death. Then, assuming the Argo II could reach the House of Hades,they might be able to open the Doors on the mortal side, save their friends, and seal the entrance,stopping Gaea’s forces from being reincarnated in the mortal world over and over.Yes nothing could go wrong with that plan.Nico scowled at the Italian countryside below them. “Maybe we should wake the others. Thisdecision affects us all.”“No,” Hazel said. “We can find a solution.”She wasn’t sure why she felt so strongly about it, but since leaving Rome, the crew had started tolose its cohesion. They’d been learning to work as a team. Then bam their two most importantmembers fell into Tartarus. Percy had been their backbone. He’d given them confidence as they sailedacross the Atlantic and into the Mediterranean. As for Annabeth—she’d been the de facto leader ofthe quest. She’d recovered the Athena Parthenos single-handedly. She was the smartest of the seven,the one with the answers.If Hazel woke up the rest of the crew every time they had a problem, they’d just start arguingagain, feeling more and more hopeless.She had to make Percy and Annabeth proud of her. She had to take the initiative. She couldn’tbelieve her only role in this quest would be what Nico had warned her of—removing the obstaclewaiting for them in the House of Hades. She pushed the thought aside.

“We need some creative thinking,” she said. “Another way to cross those mountains, or a way tohide ourselves from the numina.”Nico sighed. “If I was on my own, I could shadow-travel. But that won’t work for an entire ship.And honestly, I’m not sure I have the strength to even transport myself anymore.”“I could maybe rig some kind of camouflage,” Leo said, “like a smoke screen to hide us in theclouds.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic.Hazel stared down at the rolling farmland, thinking about what lay beneath it—the realm of herfather, lord of the Underworld. She’d only met Pluto once, and she hadn’t even realized who he was.She certainly had never expected help from him—not when she was alive the first time, not during hertime as a spirit in the Underworld, not since Nico had brought her back to the world of the living.Her dad’s servant Thanatos, god of death, had suggested that Pluto might be doing Hazel a favorby ignoring her. After all, she wasn’t supposed to be alive. If Pluto took notice of her, he might haveto return her to the land of the dead.Which meant calling on Pluto would be a very bad idea. And yet Please, Dad, she found herself praying. I have to find a way to your temple in Greece—theHouse of Hades. If you’re down there, show me what to do.At the edge of the horizon, a flicker of movement caught her eye—something small and beigeracing across the fields at incredible speed, leaving a vapor trail like a plane’s.Hazel couldn’t believe it. She didn’t dare hope, but it had to be “Arion.”“What?” Nico asked.Leo let out a happy whoop as the dust cloud got closer. “It’s her horse, man! You missed thatwhole part. We haven’t seen him since Kansas!”Hazel laughed—the first time she’d laughed in days. It felt so good to see her old friend.About a mile to the north, the small beige dot circled a hill and stopped at the summit. He wasdifficult to make out, but when the horse reared and whinnied, the sound carried all the way to theArgo II. Hazel had no doubt—it was Arion.“We have to meet him,” she said. “He’s here to help.”“Yeah, okay.” Leo scratched his head. “But, uh, we talked about not landing the ship on theground anymore, remember? You know, with Gaea wanting to destroy us and all.”“Just get me close, and I’ll use the rope ladder.” Hazel’s heart was pounding. “I think Arionwants to tell me something.”

HAZEL HAD NEVER FELT SO HAPPY. Well, except for maybe on the night of the victory feast at CampJupiter, when she’d kissed Frank for the first time but this was a close second.As soon as she reached the ground, she ran to Arion and threw her arms around him. “I missedyou!” She pressed her face into the horse’s warm neck, which smelled of sea salt and apples. “Wherehave you been?”Arion nickered. Hazel wished she could speak Horse like Percy could, but she got the generalidea. Arion sounded impatient, as if saying, No time for sentiment, girl! Come on!“You want me to go with you?” she guessed.Arion bobbed his head, trotting in place. His dark brown eyes gleamed with urgency.Hazel still couldn’t believe he was actually here. He could run across any surface, even the sea;but she’d been afraid he wouldn’t follow them into the ancient lands. The Mediterranean was toodangerous for demigods and their allies.He wouldn’t have come unless Hazel was in dire need. And he seemed so agitated. Anythingthat could make a fearless horse skittish should have terrified Hazel.Instead, she felt elated. She was so tired of being seasick and airsick. Aboard the Argo II, shefelt about as useful as a box of ballast. She was glad to be back on solid ground, even if it was Gaea’sterritory. She was ready to ride.“Hazel!” Nico called down from the ship. “What’s going on?”“It’s fine!” She crouched down and summoned a gold nugget from the earth. She was gettingbetter at controlling her power. Precious stones hardly ever popped up around her by accidentanymore, and pulling gold from the ground was easy.She fed Arion the nugget his favorite snack. Then she smiled up at Leo and Nico, who werewatching her from the top of the ladder a hundred feet above. “Arion wants to take me somewhere.”

The boys exchanged nervous looks.“Uh ” Leo pointed north. “Please tell me he’s not taking you into that?”Hazel had been so focused on Arion, she hadn’t noticed the disturbance. A mile away, on thecrest of the next hill, a storm had gathered over some old stone ruins—maybe the remains of a Romantemple or a fortress. A funnel cloud snaked its way down toward the hill like an inky black finger.Hazel’s mouth tasted like blood. She looked at Arion. “You want to go there?”Arion whinnied, as if to say, Uh, duh!Well Hazel had asked for help. Was this her dad’s answer?She hoped so, but she sensed something besides Pluto at work in that storm something dark,powerful, and not necessarily friendly.Still, this was her chance to help her friends—to lead instead of follow.She tightened the straps of her Imperial gold cavalry sword and climbed onto Arion’s back.“I’ll be okay!” she called up to Nico and Leo. “Stay put and wait for me.”“Wait for how long?” Nico asked. “What if you don’t come back?”“Don’t worry, I will,” she promised, hoping it was true.She spurred Arion, and they shot across the countryside, heading straight for the growingtornado.

THE STORM SWALLOWED THE HILL in a swirling cone of black vapor.Arion charged straight into it.Hazel found herself at the summit, but it felt like a different dimension. The world lost its color.The walls of the storm encircled the hill in murky black. The sky churned gray. The crumbling ruinswere bleached so white, they almost glowed. Even Arion had turned from caramel brown to a darkshade of ash.In the eye of the tempest, the air was still. Hazel’s skin tingled coolly, as if she’d been rubbedwith alcohol. In front of her, an arched gateway led through mossy walls into some sort of enclosure.Hazel couldn’t see much through the gloom, but she felt a presence within, as if she were a chunkof iron close to a large magnet. Its pull was irresistible, dragging her forward.Yet she hesitated. She reined in Arion, and he clopped impatiently, the ground crackling underhis hooves. Wherever he stepped, the grass, dirt, and stones turned white like frost. Hazelremembered the Hubbard Glacier in Alaska—how the surface had cracked under their feet. Sheremembered the floor of that horrible cavern in Rome crumbling to dust, plunging Percy and Annabethinto Tartarus.She hoped this black-and-white hilltop wouldn’t dissolve under her, but she decided it was bestto keep moving.“Let’s go, then, boy.” Her voice sounded muffled, as if she were speaking into a pillow.Arion trotted through the stone archway. Ruined walls bordered a square courtyard about thesize of a tennis court. Three other gateways, one in the middle of each wall, led north, east, and west.In the center of the yard, two cobblestone paths intersected, making a cross. Mist hung in the air—hazy shreds of white that coiled and undulated as if they were alive.Not mist, Hazel realized. The Mist.

All her life, she’d heard about the Mist—the supernatural veil that obscured the world of mythfrom the sight of mortals. It could deceive humans, even demigods, into seeing monsters as harmlessanimals, or gods as regular people.Hazel had never thought of it as actual smoke, but as she watched it curling around Arion’s legs,floating through the broken arches of the ruined courtyard, the hairs stood up on her arms. Somehowshe knew: this white stuff was pure magic.In the distance, a dog howled. Arion wasn’t usually scared of anything, but he reared, huffingnervously.“It’s okay.” Hazel stroked his neck. “We’re in this together. I’m going to get down, all right?”She slid off Arion’s back. Instantly he turned and ran.“Arion, wai—”But he’d already disappeared the way he’d come.So much for being in this together.Another howl cut through the air—closer this time.Hazel stepped toward the center of the courtyard. The Mist clung to her like freezer fog.“Hello?” she called.“Hello,” a voice answered.The pale figure of a woman appeared at the northern gateway. No, wait she stood at the easternentrance. No, the western. Three smoky images of the same woman moved in unison toward the centerof the ruins. Her form was blurred, made from Mist, and she was trailed by two smaller wisps ofsmoke, darting at her heels like animals. Some sort of pets?She reached the center of the courtyard and her three forms merged into one. She solidified into ayoung woman in a dark sleeveless gown. Her golden hair was gathered into a high-set ponytail,Ancient Greek style. Her dress was so silky, it seemed to ripple, as if the cloth were ink spilling offher shoulders. She looked no more than twenty, but Hazel knew that meant nothing.“Hazel Levesque,” said the woman.She was beautiful, but deathly pale. Once, back in New Orleans, Hazel had been forced to attenda wake for a dead classmate. She remembered the lifeless body of the young girl in the open casket.Her face had been made up prettily, as if she were resting, which Hazel had found terrifying.This woman reminded Hazel of that girl—except the woman’s eyes were open and completelyblack. When she tilted her head, she seemed to break into three different people again mistyafterimages blurring together, like a photograph of someone moving too fast to capture.“Who are you?” Hazel’s fingers twitched at the hilt of her sword. “I mean which goddess?”Hazel was sure of that much. This woman radiated power. Everything around them—the swirlingMist, the monochromatic storm, the eerie glow of the ruins—was because of her presence.“Ah.” The woman nodded. “Let me give you some light.”She raised her hands. Suddenly she was holding two old-fashioned reed torches, guttering withfire. The Mist receded to the edges of the courtyard. At the woman’s sandaled feet, the two wispyanimals took on solid form. One was a black Labrador retriever. The other was a long, gray, furryrodent with a white mask around its face. A weasel, maybe?

The woman smiled serenely.“I am Hecate,” she said. “Goddess of magic. We have much to discuss if you’re to live throughtonight.”

HAZEL WANTED TO RUN, but her feet seemed stuck to the white-glazed ground.On either side of the crossroads, two dark metal torch-stands erupted from the dirt like plantstalks. Hecate fixed her torches in them, then walked a slow circle around Hazel, regarding her as ifthey were partners in some eerie dance.The black dog and the weasel followed in her wake.“You are like your mother,” Hecate decided.Hazel’s throat constricted. “You knew her?”“Of course. Marie was a fortune-teller. She dealt in charms and curses and gris-gris. I am thegoddess of magic.”Those pure black eyes seemed to pull at Hazel, as if trying to extract her soul. During her firstlifetime in New Orleans, Hazel had been tormented by the kids at St. Agnes School because of hermother. They called Marie Levesque a witch. The nuns muttered that Hazel’s mother was trading withthe Devil.If the nuns were scared of my mom, Hazel wondered, what would they make of this goddess?“Many fear me,” Hecate said, as if reading her thoughts. “But magic is neither good nor evil. It isa tool, like a knife. Is a knife evil? Only if the wielder is evil.”“My—my mother ” Hazel stammered. “She didn’t believe in magic. Not really. She was justfaking it, for the money.”The weasel chittered and bared its teeth. Then it made a squeaking sound from its back end.Under other circumstances, a weasel passing gas might have been funny, but Hazel didn’t laugh. Therodent’s red eyes glared at her balefully, like tiny coals.“Peace, Gale,” said Hecate. She gave Hazel an apologetic shrug. “Gale does not like hearing

about nonbelievers and con artists. She herself was once a witch, you see.”“Your weasel was a witch?”“She’s a polecat, actually,” Hecate said. “But, yes—Gale was once a disagreeable human witch.She had terrible personal hygiene, plus extreme—ah, digestive issues.” Hecate waved her hand infront of her nose. “It gave my other followers a bad name.”“Okay.” Hazel tried not to look at the weasel. She really didn’t want to know about the rodent’sintestinal problems.“At any rate,” Hecate said, “I turned her into a polecat. She’s much better as a polecat.”Hazel swallowed. She looked at the black dog, which was affectionately nuzzling the goddess’shand. “And your Labrador ?”“Oh, she’s Hecuba, the former queen of Troy,” Hecate said, as if that should be obvious.The dog grunted.“You’re right, Hecuba,” the goddess said. “We don’t have time for long introductions. The pointis, Hazel Levesque, your mother may have claimed not to believe, but she had true magic. Eventually,she realized this. When she searched for a spell to summon the god Pluto, I helped her find it.”“You ?”“Yes.” Hecate continued circling Hazel. “I saw potential in your mother. I see even morepotential in you.”Hazel’s head spun. She remembered her mother’s confession just before she had died: howshe’d summoned Pluto, how the god had fallen in love with her, and how, because of her greedy wish,her daughter Hazel had been born with a curse. Hazel could summon riches from the earth, but anyonewho used them would suffer and die.Now this goddess was saying that she had made all that happen.“My mother suffered because of that magic. My whole life—”“Your life wouldn’t have happened without me,” Hecate said flatly. “I have no time for youranger. Neither do you. Without my help, you will die.”The black dog snarled. The polecat snapped its teeth and passed gas.Hazel felt like her lungs were filling with hot sand.“What kind of help?” she demanded.Hecate raised her pale arms. The three gateways she’d come from—north, east, and west—began to swirl with Mist. A flurry of black-and-white images glowed and flickered, like the old silentmovies that were still playing in theaters sometimes when Hazel was small.In the western doorway, Roman and Greek demigods in full armor fought one another on ahillside under a large pine tree. The grass was strewn with the wounded and the dying. Hazel sawherself riding Arion, charging through the melee and shouting—trying to stop the violence.In the gateway to the east, Hazel saw the Argo II plunging through the sky above the Apennines.Its rigging was in flames. A boulder smashed into the quarterdeck. Another punched through the hull.The ship burst like a rotten pumpkin, and the engine exploded.The images in the northern doorway were even worse. Hazel saw Leo, unconscious—or dead—falling through the clouds. She saw Frank staggering alone down a dark tunnel, clutching his arm, his

shirt soaked in blood. And Hazel saw herself in a vast cavern filled with strands of light like aluminous web. She was struggling to break through while, in the distance, Percy and Annabeth laysprawled and unmoving at the foot of two black-and-silver metal doors.“Choices,” said Hecate. “You stand at the crossroads, Hazel Levesque. And I am the goddess ofcrossroads.”The ground rumbled at Hazel’s feet. She looked down and saw the glint of silver coins thousands of old Roman denarii breaking the surface all around her, as if the entire hilltop wascoming to a boil. She’d been so agitated by the visions in the doorways that she must have summonedevery bit of silver in the surrounding countryside.“The past is close to the surface in this place,” Hecate said. “In ancient times, two great Romanroads met here. News was exchanged. Markets were held. Friends met, and enemies fought. Entirearmies had to choose a direction. Crossroads are always places of decision.”“Like like Janus.” Hazel remembered the shrine of Janus on Temple Hill back at Camp Jupiter.Demigods would go there to make decisions. They would flip a coin, heads or tails, and hope thetwo-faced god would guide them well. Hazel had always hated that place. She’d never understoodwhy her friends were so willing to let a god take away their responsibility for choosing. After allHazel had been through, she trusted the wisdom of the gods about as much as she trusted a NewOrleans slot machine.The goddess of magic made a disgusted hiss. “Janus and his doorways. He would have youbelieve that all choices are black or white, yes or no, in or out. In fact, it’s not that simple. Wheneveryou reach the crossroads, t

BOOKS BY RICK RIORDAN Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Book One: The Lightning Thief Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Book Two: The Sea of Monsters Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Book Three: The Titan’s Curse Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Book Four: The Battle of the Labyrinth Perc