Free The Son of Neptune by Rick Riordan Page A

emerald. “Yes, it is. But not to me. So beautiful…worth more than this building, I imagine.” He slipped the emerald in his pocket. “I’m sorry for your fate, child. I imagine you hate me.”
    Hazel didn’t understand. The man sounded sad, as if he were personally responsible for her life. Then the truth hither: a spirit in silver and black, who’d fulfilled her mother’s wishes and ruined her life.
    Her eyes widened. “You? You’re my…”
    He cupped his hand under her chin. “I am Pluto. Life is never easy for my children, but you have a special burden. Now that you’re thirteen, we must make provisions—”
    She pushed his hand away.
    “You did this to me?” she demanded. “You cursed me and my mother? You left us alone?”
    Her eyes stung with tears. This rich white man in a fine suit was her father ? Now that she was thirteen, he showed up for the first time and said he was sorry?
    “You’re evil!” she shouted. “You ruined our lives!”
    Pluto’s eyes narrowed. “What has your mother told you, Hazel? Has she never explained her wish? Or told you why you were born under a curse?”
    Hazel was too angry to speak, but Pluto seemed to read the answers in her face.
    “No…” He sighed. “I suppose she wouldn’t. Much easier to blame me.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Pluto sighed. “Poor child. You were born too soon. I cannot see your future clearly, but someday you will find your place. A descendant of Neptune will wash away your curse and give you peace. I fear, though, that is not for many years.…”
    Hazel didn’t follow any of that. Before she could respond, Pluto held out his hand. A sketchpad and a box of colored pencils appeared in his palm.
    “I understand you enjoy art and horseback riding,” he said. “These are for your art. As for the horse…” His eyes gleamed. “That, you’ll have to manage yourself. Now I must speak with your mother. Happy birthday, Hazel.”
    He turned and headed up the stairs—just like that, as if he’d checked Hazel off his “to do” list and had already forgotten her. Happy birthday. Go draw a picture. See you in another thirteen years.
    She was so stunned, so angry, so upside-down confused that she just stood paralyzed at the base of the steps. She wanted to throw down the colored pencils and stomp on them. She wanted to charge after Pluto and kick him. She wanted to run away, find Sammy, steal a horse, leave town and never come back. But she didn’t do any of those things.
    Above her, the apartment door opened, and Pluto stepped inside.
    Hazel was still shivering from his cold touch, but she crep tup the stairs to see what he would do. What would he say to Queen Marie? Who would speak back—Hazel’s mother, or that awful voice?
    When she reached the doorway, Hazel heard arguing. She peeked in. Her mother seemed back to normal—screaming and angry, throwing things around the parlor while Pluto tried to reason with her.
    “Marie, it’s insanity,” he said. “You’ll be far beyond my power to protect you.”
    “Protect me?” Queen Marie yelled. “When have you ever protected me?”
    Pluto’s dark suit shimmered, as if the souls trapped in the fabric were getting agitated.
    “You have no idea,” he said. “I’ve kept you alive, you and the child. My enemies are everywhere among gods and men. Now with the war on, it will only get worse. You must stay where I can—”
    “The police think I’m a murderer!” Queen Marie shouted. “My clients want to hang me as a witch! And Hazel—her curse is getting worse. Your protection is killing us.”
    Pluto spread his hands in a pleading gesture. “Marie, please—”
    “No!” Queen Marie turned to the closet, pulled out a leather valise, and threw it on the table. “We’re leaving,” she announced. “You can keep your protection. We’re going north.”
    “Marie, it’s a trap,” Pluto warned. “Whoever’s whispering in your ear, whoever’s turning you against me—”
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