House of Hades (book 4 of Heroes of Olympus)

Chapter 1 - Percy

Warning; do not read unless you have read Mark of Athena. And as a disclaimer, all characters belong to Rick Riordan (*sob*)

So this is the fourth book of Heroes of Olympus; House of Hades. Enjoy!

Percy

Percy was not used to free – falling, and whilst gravity was doing its business of pulling him downwards (along with the aided force of Tartarus), he was definitely feeling sick.

Him being the heavier weight, he had over-taken Annabeth in the race to reach the bottom, and the distance between them was getting larger.

Before he had the horrible disappointment of losing her again, he maneuvered his flailing hand around Annabeth’s waist and used his other hand to tuck her head to his chest. He could feel her fighting to get her arms around his stomach and tugged her closer.

She smiled up at him, her hair blowing like a fashion models and her eyes reflecting the vast darkness that surrounded them. From the expression she gave him next, he could tell she was not happy at the idea of dying any time soon. Or maybe she was afraid of meeting with Arachne again.

I don’t like the idea of dying either, he thought, shifting so that his feet didn’t fly out from under him which would then make him turn upside down. Not cool.

Despite it being incredibly dark, and him being scared stiff, the thought of turning upside down made him laugh. Until it actually happened.

A yelp erupted from him, and Annabeth screamed piercingly in his ear for being such a dim-witted Seaweed Brain!

What once was below them was now above them and they now got to see where they were headed. He definitely hated the idea of this, and struggled to get them right up again. He didn’t want to know when it was going to end and having the upper-hand of being able to see if a huge chunk of rock was going to hit them could possibly save their asses… again.

“P… Percy!” Annabeth stuttered, eyes wide, staring above them. No, below them. No –

Percy groaned and followed her eye line. Spinning ferociously was Annabeth’s Mark of Athena coin, fallen out of her pocket and glowing bright red. The light it had given off bounced off the sides of the chasm, revealing faces that lined the wall, each one gruesome and decaying. As they fell further, it was clear that the faces had been there longer, becoming more skeletal than flesh.

Without thinking about it, he grabbed the coin and snuffed the light out. Annabeth’s head was tucked into his chest, eyes squeezed tight shut.

“If we can’t see them, they won’t be able to see us”, he soothed, stroking her hair gently as best he could with the arm that supported her waist.

“But they’re still there,” she sniffed, “Where did they come from?”

He pressed his lips together, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation – that was usually her job. “Souls, possibly. Maybe they ran out of room on the Fields of Punishment”.

He meant it as a joke, but she started sobbing, tears soaking through his t-shirt.

Because of the occurrence with the faces, he’d forgotten they were still upside down and in the distance he could see a pinprick of light.

“Almost there”.

She looked up, tears forgotten, and terror washed over her face. Her terror only fuelled him and anger took hold of him.

“We’re staying together,” he promised, “you’re not getting away from me. Never again”.

He’d told her that earlier, and he meant it.

Holding each other close, they fell into the unknown.