The Son of Neptune (19 page)

F
RANK HATED
D
ING
D
ONGS
.
He hated snakes. And he hated his life. Not necessarily in that order.

As he trudged up the hill, he wished that he could pass out like Hazel—just go into a trance and experience some other time, like before he got drafted for this insane quest, before he found out his dad was a godly drill sergeant with an ego problem.

His bow and spear slapped against his back. He hated the spear, too. The moment he got it, he silently swore he’d never use it.
A real man’s weapon
—Mars was a moron.

Maybe there had been a mix-up. Wasn’t there some sort of DNA test for gods’ kids? Perhaps the godly nursery had accidentally switched Frank with one of Mars’s buff little bully babies. No way would Frank’s mother have gotten involved with that blustering war god.

She was a natural warrior,
Grandmother’s voice argued.

It is no surprise a god would fall in love with her, given our family. Ancient blood. The blood of princes and heroes.

Frank shook the thought out of his head. He was no prince or hero. He was a lactose-intolerant klutz, who couldn’t even protect his friend from getting kidnapped by wheat.

His new medals felt cold against his chest: the centurion’s crescent, the Mural Crown. He should’ve been proud of them, but he felt like he’d only gotten them because his dad had bullied Reyna.

Frank didn’t know how his friends could stand to be around him. Percy had made it clear that he hated Mars, and Frank couldn’t blame him. Hazel kept watching Frank out of the corner of her eye, like she was afraid he might turn into a muscle-bound freak.

Frank looked down at his body and sighed. Correction: even
more
of a muscle-bound freak. If Alaska really was a land beyond the gods, Frank might stay there. He wasn’t sure he had anything to return to.

Don’t whine,
his grandmother would say.
Zhang men do not whine.

She was right. Frank had a job to do. He had to complete this impossible quest, which at the moment meant reaching the convenience store alive.

As they got closer, Frank worried that the store might burst into rainbow light and vaporize them, but the building stayed dark. The snakes Polybotes had dropped seemed to have vanished.

They were twenty yards from the porch when something hissed in the grass behind them.

“Go!” Frank yelled.

Percy stumbled. While Hazel helped him up, Frank turned and nocked an arrow.

He shot blindly. He thought he’d grabbed an exploding arrow, but it was only a signal flare. It skidded through the grass, bursting into orange flame and whistling:
WOO!

At least it illuminated the monster. Sitting in a patch of withered yellow grass was a lime-colored snake as short and thick as Frank’s arm. Its head was ringed with a mane of spiky white fins. The creature stared at the arrow zipping by as if wondering,
What the heck is that?

Then it fixed its large, yellow eyes on Frank. It advanced like an inchworm, hunching up in the middle. Wherever it touched, the grass withered and died.

Frank heard his friends climbing the steps of the store. He didn’t dare turn and run. He and the snake studied each other. The snake hissed, flames billowing from its mouth.

“Nice creepy reptile,” Frank said, very aware of the driftwood in his coat pocket. “Nice poisonous, fire-breathing reptile.”

“Frank!” Hazel yelled behind him. “Come on!”

The snake sprang at him. It sailed through the air so fast, there wasn’t time to nock an arrow. Frank swung his bow and smacked the monster down the hill. It spun out of sight, wailing,
“Screeeee!”

Frank felt proud of himself until he looked at his bow, which was steaming where it had touched the snake. He watched in disbelief as the wood crumbled to dust.

He heard an outraged hiss, answered by two more hisses farther downhill.

Frank dropped his disintegrating bow and ran for the porch. Percy and Hazel pulled him up the steps. When Frank turned, he saw all three monsters circling in the grass, breathing fire and turning the hillside brown with their poisonous touch. They didn’t seem able or willing to come closer to the store, but that wasn’t much comfort to Frank. He’d lost his bow.

“We’ll never get out of here,” he said miserably.

“Then we’d better go in.” Hazel pointed to the hand-painted sign over the door:
RAINBOW ORGANIC FOODS &LIFESTYLES
.

Frank had no idea what that meant, but it sounded better than flaming poisonous snakes. He followed his friends inside.

As they stepped through the door, lights came on. Flute music started up like they’d walked onto a stage. The wide aisles were lined with bins of nuts and dried fruit, baskets of apples, and clothing racks with tie-dyed shirts and gauzy Tinker

Bell–type dresses. The ceiling was covered in wind chimes. Along the walls, glass cases displayed crystal balls, geodes, macramé dream catchers, and a bunch of other strange stuff. Incense must have been burning somewhere. It smelled like a bouquet of flowers was on fire.

“Fortune-teller’s shop?” Frank wondered.

“Hope not,” Hazel muttered.

Percy leaned against her. He looked worse than ever, like he’d been hit with a sudden flu. His face glistened with sweat. “Sit down…” he muttered. “Maybe water.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Let’s find you a place to rest.”

The floorboards creaked under their feet. Frank navigated between two Neptune statue fountains.

A girl popped up from behind the granola bins. “Help you?”

Frank lurched backward, knocking over one of the fountains. A stone Neptune crashed to the floor. The sea god’s head rolled off and water spewed out of his neck, spraying a rack of tie-dyed man satchels.

“Sorry!” Frank bent down to clean up the mess. He almost goosed the girl with his spear.

“Eep!” she said. “Hold it! It’s okay!”

Frank straightened slowly, trying not to cause any more damage. Hazel looked mortified. Percy turned a sickly shade of green as he stared at the decapitated statue of his dad.

The girl clapped her hands. The fountain dissolved into mist. The water evaporated. She turned to Frank. “Really, it’s no problem. Those Neptune fountains are so grumpy-looking, they bum me out.”

She reminded Frank of the college-age hikers he some times saw in Lynn Canyon Park behind his grandmother’s house. She was short and muscular, with lace-up boots, cargo shorts, and a bright yellow T-shirt that read
R.O.F.L. Rainbow Organic Foods & Lifestyles.
She looked young, but her hair was frizzy white, sticking out on either side of her head like the white of a giant fried egg.

Frank tried to remember how to speak. The girl’s eyes were really distracting. The irises changed color from gray to black to white.

“Uh…sorry about the fountain,” he managed. “We were just—”

“Oh, I know!” the girl said. “You want to browse. It’s all right. Demigods are welcome. Take your time. You’re not like those awful monsters. They just want to use the restroom and never buy anything!”

She snorted. Her eyes flashed with lightning. Frank glanced at Hazel to see if he’d imagined it, but Hazel looked just as surprised.

From the back of the store, a woman’s voice called: “Fleecy? Don’t scare the customers, now. Bring them here, will you?”

“Your name is Fleecy?” Hazel asked.

Fleecy giggled. “Well, in the language of the
nebulae
it’s actually—” She made a series of crackling and blowing noises that reminded Frank of a thunderstorm giving way to a nice cold front. “But you can call me Fleecy.”

“Nebulae. . .”
Percy muttered in a daze. “Cloud nymphs.”

Fleecy beamed. “Oh, I like this one! Usually
no one
knows about cloud nymphs. But dear me, he doesn’t look so good. Come to the back. My boss wants to meet you. We’ll get your friend fixed up.”

Fleecy led them through the produce aisle, between rows of eggplants, kiwis, lotus fruit, and pomegranates. At the back of the store, behind a counter with an old-fashioned cash register, stood a middle-aged woman with olive skin, long black hair, rimless glasses, and a T-shirt that read:
The Goddess Is Alive!
She wore amber necklaces and turquoise rings. She smelled like rose petals.

She looked friendly enough, but something about her made Frank feel shaky, like he wanted to cry. It took him a second, then he realized what it was—the way she smiled with just one corner of her mouth, the warm brown color of her eyes, the tilt of her head, like she was considering a question. She reminded Frank of his mother.

“Hello!” She leaned over the counter, which was lined with dozens of little statues—waving Chinese cats, meditating Buddhas, Saint Francis bobble heads, and novelty dippy drinking birds with top hats. “So glad you’re here. I’m Iris!”

Hazel’s eyes widened. “Not
the
Iris—the rainbow goddess?”

Iris made a face. “Well, that’s my
official
job, yes. But I don’t define myself by my corporate identity. In my spare time, I run this!” She gestured around her proudly. “The R.O.F.L. Co-op—an employee-run cooperative promoting healthy alternative lifestyles and organic foods.”

Frank stared at her. “But you throw Ding Dongs at monsters.”

Iris looked horrified. “Oh, they’re not Ding Dongs.” She rummaged under the counter and brought out a package of chocolate-covered cakes that looked exactly like Ding Dongs. “These are gluten-free, no-sugar-added, vitamin-enriched, soy-free, goat-milk-and-seaweed-based cupcake simulations.”

“All natural!” Fleecy chimed in.

“I stand corrected.” Frank suddenly felt as queasy as Percy.

Iris smiled. “You should try one, Frank. You’re lactose intolerant, aren’t you?”

“How did you—”

“I know these things. Being the messenger goddess…well, I do learn a lot, hearing all the communications from the gods and so on.” She tossed the cakes on the counter. “Besides, those monsters should be glad to have some healthy snacks. Always eating junk food and heroes. They’re so
unenlightened.
I couldn’t have them tromping through my store, tearing up things and disturbing our
feng shui
.”

Percy leaned against the counter. He looked like he was going to throw up all over the goddess’s
feng shui
. “Monsters marching south,” he said with difficulty. “Going to destroy our camp. Couldn’t you stop them?”

“Oh, I’m strictly nonviolent,” Iris said. “I can act in self-defense, but I won’t be drawn into any more Olympian aggression, thank you very much. I’ve been reading about Buddhism. And Taoism. I haven’t decided between them.”

“But…” Hazel looked mystified. “Aren’t you a Greek goddess?”

Iris crossed her arms. “Don’t try to put me in a box, demigod! I’m not defined by my past.”

“Um, okay,” Hazel said. “Could you at least help our friend here? I think he’s sick.”

Percy reached across the counter. For a second Frank was afraid he wanted the cupcakes. “Iris-message,” he said. “Can you send one?”

Frank wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Iris-message?”

“It’s…” Percy faltered. “Isn’t that something you do?”

Iris studied Percy more closely. “Interesting. You’re from Camp Jupiter, and yet…Oh, I see. Juno is up to her tricks.”

“What?” Hazel asked.

Iris glanced at her assistant, Fleecy. They seemed to have a silent conversation. Then the goddess pulled a vial from behind the counter and sprayed some honeysuckle-smelling oil around Percy’s face. “There, that should balance your
chakra
. As for Iris-messages—that’s an ancient way of communication. The Greeks used it. The Romans never took to it—always relying on their road systems and giant eagles and whatnot. But yes, I imagine…Fleecy, could you give it a try?”

“Sure, boss!”

Iris winked at Frank. “Don’t tell the other gods, but Fleecy handles most of my messages these days. She’s wonderful at it, really, and I don’t have time to answer all those requests personally. It messes up my
wa.
”

“Your
wa
?” Frank asked.

“Mmm. Fleecy, why don’t you take Percy and Hazel into the back? You can get them something to eat while you arrange their messages. And for Percy…yes, memory sickness. I imagine that old Polybotes…well, meeting him in a state of amnesia
can’t
be good for a child of P—that is to say, Neptune. Fleecy, give him a cup of green tea with organic honey and wheat germ and some of my medicinal powder number five. That should fix him up.”

Hazel frowned. “What about Frank?”

Iris turned to him. She tilted her head quizzically, just the way his mother used to—as if Frank were the biggest question in the room.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Iris said. “Frank and I have a lot to talk about.”

F
RANK WOULD’VE PREFERRED TO
go with his friends, even if it meant he had to endure green tea with wheat germ. But Iris roped her arm through his and led him to a café table at a bay window. Frank set his spear on the floor. He sat across from Iris. Outside in the dark, the snake monsters restlessly patrolled the hillside, spewing fire and poisoning the grass.

“Frank, I know how you feel,” Iris said. “I imagine that half-burned stick in your pocket gets heavier every day.”

Frank couldn’t breathe. His hand went instinctively to his coat. “How do you—?”

“I told you. I know things. I was Juno’s messenger for ages. I know why she gave you a reprieve.”

“A reprieve?” Frank brought out the piece of firewood and unwrapped it from its cloth. As unwieldy as Mars’s spear was, the piece of tinder was worse. Iris was right. It weighed him down.

“Juno saved you for a reason,” the goddess said. “She wants you to serve her plan. If she hadn’t appeared that day when you were a baby and warned your mother about the firewood, you would’ve died. You were born with too many gifts. That sort of power tends to burn out a mortal life.”

“Too many gifts?” Frank felt his ears getting warm with anger. “I don’t have
any
gifts!”

“That’s not true, Frank.” Iris swiped her hand in front of her like she was cleaning a windshield. A miniature rainbow appeared. “Think about it.”

An image shimmered in the rainbow. Frank saw himself when he was four years old, running across Grandmother’s backyard. His mother leaned out the window of the attic, high above, waving and calling to get his attention. Frank wasn’t supposed to be in the backyard by himself. He didn’t know why his mother was up in the attic, but she told him to stay by the house, not to go too far. Frank did exactly the opposite. He squealed with delight and ran to the edge of the woods, where he came face to face with a grizzly bear.

Until Frank saw that scene in the rainbow, the memory had been so hazy, he thought he’d dreamed it. Now he could appreciate just how surreal the experience had been. The bear regarded the little boy, and it was difficult to tell who was more startled. Then Frank’s mother appeared at his side. There was no way she should have been able to get down from the attic so fast. She put herself between the bear and Frank and told him to run to the house. This time, Frank obeyed. When he turned at the back porch, he saw his mother coming out of the woods. The bear was gone. Frank asked what had happened. His mother smiled.
Mama Bear just needed directions,
she said.

The scene in the rainbow changed. Frank saw himself as a six-year-old, curling up in his mother’s lap even though he was much too big for that. His mother’s long black hair was pulled back. Her arms were around him. She wore her rimless glasses that Frank always liked to steal, and her fuzzy gray fleece pullover that smelled like cinnamon. She was telling him stories about heroes, pretending they were all related to Frank: one was Xu Fu, who sailed in search of the elixir of life. The rainbow image had no sound, but Frank remembered his mother’s words:
He was your great-great-great-…
She would poke Frank’s stomach every time she said
great-,
dozens of times, until he was giggling uncontrollably.

Then there was Sung Guo, also called Seneca Gracchus, who fought twelve Roman dragons and sixteen Chinese dragons in the western deserts of China.
He was the strongest dragon of all, you see,
his mother said.
That’s how he could beat them!
Frank didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded exciting.

Then she poked his belly with so many
greats
, Frank rolled onto the floor to escape the tickling.
And your very oldest ancestor that we know of: he was the Prince of Pylos! Hercules fought him once. It was a hard fight!

Did we win?
Frank asked.

His mother laughed, but there was sadness in her voice.
No, our ancestor lost. But it wasn’t easy for Hercules. Imagine trying to fight a swarm of bees. That’s how it was. Even Hercules had trouble!

The comment made no sense to Frank, then or now. His ancestor had been a beekeeper?

Frank hadn’t thought about these stories in years, but now they came back to him as clearly as his mother’s face. It hurt to see her again. Frank wanted to go back to that time. He wanted to be a little kid and curl up on her lap.

In the rainbow image, little Frank asked where their family was from. So many heroes! Were they from Pylos, or Rome, or China, or Canada?

His mother smiled, tilting her head as if considering how to answer.

Li-Jien,
she said at last.
Our family is from many places, but our home is Li-Jien. Always remember, Frank: you have a special gift. You can be anything.

The rainbow dissolved, leaving just Iris and Frank.

“I don’t understand.” His voice was hoarse.

“Your mother explained it,” Iris said. “You can be anything.”

It sounded like one of those stupid things parents say to boost your self-esteem—a worn-out slogan that could be printed on Iris’s T-shirts, right along with
The Goddess Is Alive!
and
My Other Car Is a Magic Carpet!
But the way Iris said it, it sounded like a challenge.

Frank pressed his hand against his pants pocket, where he kept his mother’s sacrifice medal. The silver medallion was cold as ice.

“I
can’t
be anything,” Frank insisted. “I’ve got zero skills.”

“What have you tried?” Iris asked. “You wanted to be an archer. You managed that pretty well. You’ve only scratched the surface. Your friends Hazel and Percy—they’re both stretched between worlds: Greek and Roman, the past and the present. But you are stretched more than either of them.

Your family is ancient—the blood of Pylos on your mother’s side, and your father is Mars. No wonder Juno wants you to be one of her seven heroes. She wants you to fight the giants and Gaea. But think about this: What do
you
want?”

“I don’t have any choice,” Frank said. “I’m the son of the stupid war god. I have to go on this quest and—”

“Have
to,” Iris said. “Not
want
to. I used to think like that. Then I got tired of being everyone’s servant. Fetch goblets of wine for Jupiter. Deliver letters for Juno. Send messages back and forth across the rainbow for anyone with a golden
drachma.
”

“A golden what?”

“Not important. But I learned to let go. I started R.O.F.L., and now I’m free of that baggage. You can let go, too. Maybe you can’t escape fate. Someday that piece of wood
will
burn. I foresee that you’ll be holding it when it happens, and your life will end—”

“Thanks,” Frank muttered.

“—but that just makes your life more precious! You don’t have to be what your parents and your grandmother expect.

You don’t have to follow the war god’s orders, or Juno’s. Do your own thing, Frank! Find a new path!”

Frank thought about that. The idea was thrilling: reject the gods, his destiny, his dad. He didn’t want to be a war god’s son. His mother had
died
in a war. Frank had lost everything thanks to a war. Mars clearly didn’t know the first thing about him. Frank didn’t want to be a hero.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked. “You want me to abandon the quest, let Camp Jupiter be destroyed? My friends are counting on me.”

Iris spread her hands. “I can’t tell you what to do, Frank.

But do what you
want
, not what they tell you to do. Where did conforming ever get me? I spent five millennia serving everyone else, and I never discovered my own identity. What’s my sacred animal? No one bothered to give me one. Where are my temples? They never made any. Well, fine! I’ve found peace here at the co-op. You could stay with us, if you want.

Become a ROFLcopter.”

“A what, now?”

“The point is you have options. If you continue this quest…what happens when you free Thanatos? Will it be good for your family? Your friends?”

Frank remembered what his grandmother had said: she had an appointment with Death. Grandmother infuriated him sometimes; but still, she was his only living family, the only person alive who loved him. If Thanatos stayed chained up, Frank might not lose her. And Hazel—somehow she had come back from the Underworld. If Death took her again, Frank wouldn’t be able to stand it. Not to mention Frank’s own problem: according to Iris, he should have died when he was a baby. All that stood between him and Death was a half-burned stick. Would Thanatos take him away, too?

Frank tried to imagine staying here with Iris, putting on a R.O.F.L. shirt, selling crystals and dream catchers to demigod travelers and lobbing gluten-free cupcake simulations at passing monsters. Meanwhile, an undying army would overrun Camp Jupiter.

You can be anything,
his mother had said.

No,
he thought.
I can’t be that selfish.

“I have to go,” he said. “It’s my job.”

Iris sighed. “I expected as much, but I had to try. The task ahead of you…Well, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially a nice boy like you. If you must go, at least I can offer some advice. You’ll need help finding Thanatos.”“You know where the giants are hiding him?” Frank asked.

Iris gazed thoughtfully at the wind chimes swaying on the ceiling. “No…Alaska is beyond the gods’ sphere of control. The location is shielded from my sight. But there
is
someone who would know. Seek out the seer Phineas. He’s blind, but he can see the past, present, and future. He knows many things. He can tell you where Thanatos is being held.”

“Phineas…” Frank said. “Wasn’t there a story about him?”

Iris nodded reluctantly. “In the old days, he committed horrible crimes. He used his gift of sight for evil. Jupiter sent the harpies to plague him. The Argonauts—including your ancestor, by the way—”

“The prince of Pylos?”

Iris hesitated. “Yes, Frank. Though his gift, his story…
that
you must discover on your own. Suffice it to say, the Argonauts drove away the harpies in exchange for Phineas’s help. That was eons ago, but I understand Phineas has returned to the mortal world. You’ll find him in Portland, Oregon, which is on your way north. But you must promise me one thing. If he’s still plagued by harpies, do
not
kill them, no matter what Phineas promises you. Win his help some other way. The harpies are not evil. They’re my sisters.”

“Your sisters?”

“I know. I don’t look old enough to be the harpies’ sister, but it’s true. And Frank…there’s another problem. If you’re determined to leave, you’ll have to clear those basilisks off the hill.”

“You mean the snakes?”

“Yes,” Iris said. “Basilisk means ‘little crown,’ which is a cute name for something that’s not very cute. I’d prefer not to have them killed. They’re living creatures, after all. But you won’t be able to leave until they’re gone. If your friends try to battle them…well, I foresee see bad things happening. Only
you
have the ability to kill the monsters.”

“But how?”

She glanced down at the floor. Frank realized that she was looking at his spear.

“I wish there was another way,” she said. “If you had some weasels, for instance. Weasels are deadly to basilisks.”

“Fresh out of weasels,” Frank admitted.

“Then you will have to use your father’s gift. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to live here instead? We make excellent lactose-free rice milk.”

Frank rose. “How do I use the spear?”

“You’ll have to handle that on your own. I can’t advocate violence. While you’re doing battle, I’ll check on your friends. I hope Fleecy found the right medicinal herbs. The last time, we had a mix-up.…Well, I don’t think those heroes
wanted
to be daisies.”

The goddess stood. Her glasses flashed, and Frank saw his own reflection in the lenses. He looked serious and grim, nothing like the little boy he’d seen in those rainbow images.

“One last bit of advice, Frank,” she said. “You’re destined to die holding that piece of firewood, watching it burn. But perhaps if you didn’t keep it yourself. Perhaps if you trusted someone enough to hold it for you…”

Frank’s fingers curled around the tinder. “Are you offering?”

Iris laughed gently. “Oh, dear, no. I’d lose it in this collection. It would get mixed up with my crystals, or I’d sell it as a driftwood paperweight by accident. No, I meant a demigod friend. Someone close to your heart.”

Hazel, Frank thought immediately. There was no one he trusted more. But how could he confess his secret? If he admitted how weak he was, that his whole life depended on a half-burned stick…Hazel would never see him as a hero. He’d never be her knight in armor. And how could he expect her to take that kind of burden from him?

He wrapped up the tinder and slipped it back into his coat. “Thanks ... thanks, Iris.”

She squeezed his hand. “Don’t lose hope, Frank. Rainbows always stand for hope.”

She made her way toward the back of the store, leaving Frank alone.

“Hope,” Frank grumbled. “I’d rather have a few good weasels.”

He picked up his father’s spear and marched out to face the basilisks.