Read Online The Lost Hero by Rick Riordan - Free Book Online Page A

on, huh?”
    Inside, the cabin seemed deserted. Steel bunks were folded against the walls like high-tech Murphy beds. Each had a digital control panel, blinking LED lights, glowing gems, and interlocking gears. Leo figured each camper had his own combination lock to release his bed, and there was probably an alcove behind it with storage, maybe some traps to keep out unwanted visitors. At least, that’s the way Leo would’ve designed it. A fire pole came down from the second floor, even though the cabin didn’t appear to have a second floor from the outside. A circular staircase led down into some kind of basement. The walls were lined with every kind of power tool Leo could imagine, plus a huge assortment of knives, swords, and other implements of destruction. A large workbench overflowed with scrap metal—screws, bolts, washers, nails, rivets, and a million other machine parts. Leo had a strong urge to shovel them all into his coat pockets. He loved that kind of stuff. But he’d need a hundred more coats to fit it all.
    Looking around, he could almost imagine he was back in his mom’s machine shop. Not the weapons, maybe—but the tools, the piles of scrap, the smell of grease and metal and hot engines. She would’ve loved this place.
    He pushed that thought away. He didn’t like painful memories. Keep moving— that was his motto. Don’t dwell on things. Don’t stay in one place too long. It was the only way to stay ahead of the sadness.
    He picked a long implement from the wall. “A weed whacker? What’s the god of fire want with a weed whacker?”
    A voice in the shadows said, “You’d be surprised.”
    At the back of the room, one of the bunk beds was occupied. A curtain of dark camouflage material retracted, and Leo could see the guy who’d been invisible a second before. It was hard to tell much about him because he was covered in a body cast. His head was wrapped in gauze except for his face, which was puffy and bruised. He looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy after a beat-down.
    “I’m Jake Mason,” the guy said. “I’d shake your hand, but …”
    “Yeah,” Leo said. “Don’t get up.”
    The guy cracked a smile, then winced like it hurt to move his face. Leo wondered what had happened to him, but he was afraid to ask.
    “Welcome to Cabin Nine,” Jake said. “Been almost a year since we had any new kids. I’m head counselor for now.”
    “For now?” Leo asked.
    Will Solace cleared his throat. “So where is everybody, Jake?”
    “Down at the forges,” Jake said wistfully. “They’re working on … you know, that problem.”
    “Oh.” Will changed the subject. “So, you got a spare bed for Leo?”
    Jake studied Leo, sizing him up. “You believe in curses, Leo? Or ghosts?”
    I just saw my evil babysitter Tía Callida, Leo thought. She’s got to be dead after all these years. And I can’t go a day without remembering my mom in that machine shop fire. Don’t talk to me about ghosts, doughboy.
    But aloud, he said, “Ghosts? Pfft. Nah. I’m cool. A storm spirit chucked me down the Grand Canyon this morning, but you know, all in a day’s work, right?”
    Jake nodded. “That’s good. Because I’ll give you the best bed in the cabin—Beckendorf’s.”
    “Whoa, Jake,” Will said. “You sure?”
    Jake called out: “Bunk 1-A, please.”
    The whole cabin rumbled. A circular section of the floor spiraled open like a camera lens, and a full-size bed popped up. The bronze frame had a built-in game station at the footboard, a stereo system in the headboard, a glass-door refrigerator mounted into the base, and a whole bunch of control panels running down the side.
    Leo jumped right in and lay back with arms behind his head. “I can handle this.”
    “It retracts into a private room below,” Jake said.
    “Oh, heck, yes,” Leo said. “See y’all. I’ll be down in the Leo Cave. Which button do I press?”
    “Hold on,” Will Solace protested. “You guys have private underground