The Son of Neptune

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-burnt 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 travellers 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 aeons 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-burnt stick … Hazel would never see him as a hero. He’d never be her knight in armour. 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 towards 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.

XXIII Frank

FRANK MISSED HIS BOW.

He wanted to stand on the porch and shoot the snakesfrom a distance. A few well-placed exploding arrows, a few craters in the hillside – problem solved.

Unfortunately, a quiver full of arrows wouldn’t do Frank much good if he couldn’t shoot them. Besides, he had no idea where the basilisks were. They’d stopped blowing fire as soon as he came outside.

He stepped off the porch and levelled his golden spear. He didn’t like fighting up close. He was too slow and bulky. He’d done okay during the war games, but this was real. There were no giant eagles ready to snatch him up and take him to the medics if he made a mistake.

You can be anything. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind.

Great, he thought. I want to be good with a spear. And immune to poison – and fire.

Something told Frank his wish had not been granted. The spear felt just as awkward in his hands.

Patches of flame still smouldered on the hillside. The acrid smoke burned in Frank’s nose. The withered grass crunched under his feet.

He thought about those stories his mother used to tell -generations of heroes who had battled Hercules, fought dragons and sailed monster-infested seas. Frank didn’t understand how he could have evolved from a line like that, or how his family had migrated from Greece through the Roman Empire all the way to China, but some unsettling