“I’ve got the cakes,” Hazel said. She pulled out the magical barley crackers they’d made from the grain Triptolemus had given them in Venice.
“Eat up,” Nico advised.
Frank chewed his cracker of death and tried not to gag. It reminded him of a cookie made with sawdust instead of sugar.
“Yum,” Piper said. Even the daughter of Aphrodite couldn’t avoid making a face.
“Okay. ” Nico choked down the last of his barley. “That should protect us from the poison. ”
“Poison?” Leo asked. “Did I miss the poison? ’Cause I love poison. ”
“Soon enough,” Nico promised. “Just stick close together, and maybe we can avoid getting lost or going insane. ”
On that happy note, Nico led them underground.
The tunnel spiraled gently downward, the ceiling supported by white stone arches that reminded Frank of a whale’s rib cage.
As they walked, Hazel ran her hands along the masonry. “This wasn’t part of a temple,” she whispered. “This was…the basement for a manor house, built in later Greek times. ”
Frank found it eerie how Hazel could tell so much about an underground place just by being there. He’d never known her to be mistaken.
“A manor house?” he asked. “Please don’t tell me we’re in the wrong place. ”
“The House of Hades is below us,” Nico assured him. “But Hazel’s right, these upper levels are much newer. When the archaeologists first excavated this site, they thought they’d found the Necromanteion. Then they realized the ruins were too recent, so they decided it was the wrong spot. They were right the first time. They just didn’t dig deep enough. ”
They turned a corner and stopped. In front of them, the tunnel ended in a huge b
lock of stone.
“A cave-in?” Jason asked.
“A test,” Nico said. “Hazel, would you do the honors?”
Hazel stepped forward. She placed her hand on the rock, and the entire boulder crumbled to dust.
The tunnel shuddered. Cracks spread across the ceiling. For a terrifying moment, Frank imagined they’d all be crushed under tons of earth—a disappointing way to die, after all they’d been through. Then the rumbling stopped. The dust settled.
A set of stairs curved deeper into the earth, the barreled ceiling held up by more repeating arches, closer together and carved from polished black stone. The descending arches made Frank feel dizzy, as if he were looking into an endlessly reflecting mirror. Painted on the walls were crude pictures of black cattle marching downward.
“I really don’t like cows,” Piper muttered.
“Agreed,” Frank said.
“Those are the cattle of Hades,” Nico said. “It’s just a symbol of—”
“Look. ” Frank pointed.
On the first step of the stairwell, a golden chalice gleamed. Frank was pretty sure it hadn’t been there a moment before. The cup was full of dark-green liquid.
“Hooray,” Leo said halfheartedly. “I suppose that’s our poison. ”
Nico picked up the chalice. “We’re standing at the ancient entrance of the Necromanteion. Odysseus came here, and dozens of other heroes, seeking advice from the dead. ”
“Did the dead advise them to leave immediately?” Leo asked.
“I would be fine with that,” Piper admitted.
Nico drank from the chalice, then offered it to Jason. “You asked me about trust, and taking a risk? Well, here you go, son of Jupiter. How much do you trust me?”
Frank wasn’t sure what Nico was talking about, but Jason didn’t hesitate. He took the cup and drank.
They passed it around, each taking a sip of poison. As he waited his turn, Frank tried to keep his legs from shaking and his gut from churning. He wondered what his grandmother would say if she could see him.
Stupid, Fai Zhang! she would probably scold. If all your friends were drinking poison, would you do it too?
Frank went last. The taste of the green liquid reminded him of spoiled apple juice. He drained the chalice. It turned to smoke in his hands.
Nico nodded, apparently satisfied. “Congratulations. Assuming the poison doesn’t kill us, we should be able to find our way through the Necromanteion’s first level. ”
“Just the first level?” Piper asked.
Nico turned to Hazel and gestured at the stairs. “After you, sister. ”
In no time, Frank felt completely lost. The stairs split in three different directions. As soon as Hazel chose a path, the stairs split again. They wound their way through interconnecting tunnels and rough-hewn burial chambers that all looked the same—the walls carved with dusty niches that might once have held bodies. The arches over the doors were painted with black cows, white poplar trees, and owls.