The Son of Neptune

‘Fai,’ said a familiar voice, harsh and impatient.

Frank blinked his eyes. Sunlight streamed into the room.

‘Fai, get up. As much as I would like to slap that ridiculous face of yours, I am in no condition to get out of bed.’

‘Grandmother?’

She came into focus, looking down at him from the bed. He lay sprawled on the floor. Someone had put a blanket over him during the night and a pillow under his head, but he had no idea how it had happened.

‘Yes, my silly ox.’ Grandmother still looked horribly weak and pale, but her voice was as steely as ever. ‘Now, get up. The ogres have surrounded the house. We have much to discuss if you and your friends are to escape here alive.’

XXXV Frank

ONE LOOK OUT OF THE WINDOW, and Frank knew he was in trouble.

At the edge of the lawn, the Laistrygonians were stacking bronze cannonballs. Their skin gleamed red. Their shaggy hair, tattoos and claws didn’t look any prettier in the morning light.

Some carried clubs or spears. A few confused ogres carried surfboards, like they’d shown up at the wrong party. All of them were in a festive mood – giving each other high fives, tying plastic bibs round their necks, breaking out the knives and forks. One ogre had fired up a portable barbecue and was dancing in an apron that said KISS THE COOK.

The scene would’ve been almost funny, except Frank knew he was the main course.

‘I’ve sent your friends to the attic,’ Grandmother said. ‘You can join them when we’re done.’

‘The attic?’ Frank turned. ‘You told me I could never go in there.’

‘That’s because we keep weapons in the attic, silly boy. Do you think this is the first time monsters have attacked our family?’

‘Weapons,’ Frank grumbled. ‘Right. I’ve never handled weapons before.’

Grandmother’s nostrils flared. ‘Was that sarcasm, Fai Zhang?’

‘Yes, Grandmother.’

‘Good. There may be hope for you yet. Now, sit. You must eat.’

She waved her hand at the nightstand, where someone had set a glass of orange juice and a plate of poached eggs and bacon on toast – Frank’s favourite breakfast.

Despite his troubles, Frank suddenly felt hungry. He looked at Grandmother in astonishment. ‘Did you -’

‘Make you breakfast? By Buddha’s monkey, of course not! And it wasn’t the house staff. Too dangerous for them here. No, your girlfriend Hazel made that for you. And brought you a blanket and pillow last night. And picked out some clean clothes for you in your bedroom. By the way, you should shower. You smell like burning horse hair.’

Frank opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He couldn’t make sounds come out. Hazel had done all that for him? Frank had been sure he’d destroyed any chance with her last night when he had summoned Grey.

‘She’s … um … she’s not -’

‘Not your girlfriend?’ Grandmother guessed. ‘Well, she should be, you dolt! Don’t let her get away. You need strong women in your life, if you haven’t noticed. Now, to business.’

Frank ate while Grandmother gave him a sort of military briefing. In the daylight, her skin was so translucent, her veins seemed to glow. Her breathing sounded like a crackly paper bag inflating and deflating, but she spoke with firmness and clarity.

She explained that the ogres had been surrounding the house for three days, waiting for Frank to show up.

‘They want to cook you and eat you,’ she said distastefully, ‘which is ridiculous. You’d taste terrible.’

‘Thank you, Grandmother.’

She nodded. ‘I admit, I was somewhat pleased when they said you were coming back. I am glad to see you one last time, even if your clothes are dirty and you need a haircut. Is this how you represent your family?’

‘I’ve been a little busy, Grandmother.’

‘No excuse for sloppiness. At any rate, your friends have slept and eaten. They are taking stock of the weapons in the attic. I told them you would be along shortly, but there are too many ogres to fend off for long. We must speak of your escape plan. Look in my nightstand.’

Frank opened the drawer and pulled out a sealed envelope.

‘You know the airfield at the end of the park?’ Grandmother asked. ‘Could you find it again?’

Frank nodded mutely. It was about three miles to the north, down the main road through the canyon. Grandmother had taken him there sometimes when she would charter planes to bring in special shipments from China.

‘There is a pilot standing by to leave at a moment’s notice,’ Grandmother said. ‘He is an old family friend. I have a letter for him in that envelope, asking him to take you north.’

‘But -’

‘Do not argue, boy,’ she muttered. ‘Mars has been visiting me these last few days, keeping me company. He told me of your quest. Find Death in Alaska and release him. Do your duty.’

‘But if I succeed you’ll die. I’ll never see you again.’

‘That is true,’ Grandmother agreed. ‘But I’ll die anyway. I’m old. I thought I made that clear. Now, did your praetor give you letters of introduction?’

‘Uh, yes, but -’

‘Good. Show those to the pilot as well. He’s a veteran of the legion. In case he has any doubts, or gets cold feet, those credentials will make him honour-bound to help you in any way possible. All you have to do is reach the airfield.’

The house rumbled. Outside a ball of fire exploded in midair, lighting up the entire room.

‘The ogres are getting restless,’ Grandmother said. ‘We must hurry. Now, about your powers, I hope you’ve figured them out.’

‘Uh …’

Grandmother muttered some curses in rapid-fire Mandarin. ‘Gods of your ancestors, boy! Have you learned nothing?’

‘Yes!’ He stammered out the details of his discussion with Mars the night before, but he felt much more tongue-tied in front of Grandmother. ‘The gift of Periclymenus … I think, I think he was a son of Poseidon, I mean Neptune, I mean …’ Frank spread his hands. ‘The sea god.’

Grandmother nodded grudgingly. ‘He was the grandson of Poseidon, but good enough. How did your brilliant intellect arrive at this fact?’

‘A seer in Portland … he said something about my great-grandfather, Shen Lun. The seer said he was blamed for the 1906 earthquake that destroyed San Francisco and the old location of Camp Jupiter.’

‘Go on.’

‘At camp, they said a descendant of Neptune had caused the disaster. Neptune is the god of earthquakes. But … but I don’t think great-grandfather actually did it. Causing earthquakes isn’t our gift.’

‘No,’ Grandmother agreed. ‘But, yes, he was blamed. He was unpopular as a descendant of Neptune. He was unpopular because his real gift was much stranger than causing earthquakes. And he was unpopular because he was Chinese. A Chinese boy had never before claimed Roman blood. An ugly truth – but there is no denying it. He was falsely accused, forced out in shame.’

‘So … if he didn’t do anything wrong, why did you tell me to apologize for him?’

Grandmother’s cheeks flushed. ‘Because apologizing for something you didn’t do is better than dying for it! I