Page 10 of The Court of the Dead (The Nico di Angelo Adventures #2)

N ico’s nap wasn’t terribly long, but it was deep.

He hadn’t been sure he could make it to the guest quarters without falling over, so he stayed in the Fifth Cohort while Hazel, Will, and Asterion left him in peace.

His dream was hypnotic—a repeating loop of him walking through the Caldecott Tunnel, seeing daylight just ahead, and then suddenly finding himself back at the metal doors.

Every time, laughter echoed through the tunnel, freezing Nico’s blood.

A voice called, You cannot escape your nature, son of Hades.

The dream reminded him of the way Epiales, the daimon of nightmares, had deceived him and Will when they were trying to enter the Underworld. But the voice was not that of Epiales. It was too cold, too spiteful even for a daimon. In Nico’s experience, only mortals were capable of that much malice.

When Nico woke, his hands trembled. He was alone except for the Cocoa Puffs, who were snoring softly underneath his bunk. Nico flexed his fingers, trying to shake off the remnants of his nightmare. He should’ve been used to vivid demigod dreams by now, but they never got easier.

He peered over the edge of the mattress and asked the Puffs, “Could you all stay here for me? Just so you don’t upset the Romans’ delicate sensibilities?”

Defiance rolled over and puffed up its spines, its eyes glowing.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Nico said. “Thanks.”

Nico figured it must be about lunchtime, so he shuffled over to the mess hall. Even if he didn’t find his friends there, he could at least deal with the yawning pit of hunger in his stomach.

Along the Via Principalis, Roman demigods did a double take when they saw him. Some saluted awkwardly. Others gave him a wide berth and whispered behind his back.

Maybe Hazel was right. His reputation meant something here. Or maybe the Romans just weren’t used to seeing a guy with disheveled black clothes and an extreme case of midday bedhead wandering through camp.

The savory smell of barbecue hit him before he reached the mess hall. He said a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god oversaw grilled hickory-smoked meat.

Inside, he found lunch in full swing. Each of the five cohorts sat in their own dining area, with comfortable sofas surrounding a low table.

Pitchers of iced lemonade and baskets of fresh corn bread zipped through the air, carried by invisible wind spirits— venti .

A dozen glowing purple Lares mingled with the living, offering free lectures about the Good Old Days and occasionally trying to grab goblets of lemonade before remembering that they were ghosts.

At the officers’ table, in front of a row of Roman battle standards, Will and Hazel were in the middle of an animated conversation. Hazel waved to him. Nico really wanted to load up a plate of BBQ, but he drifted over to join them.

“Sleep well?” Hazel asked. “I just finished giving Will a tour of New Rome.”

“Nico, they have a perfect replica of the Circus Maximus!” Will said. “And the lake is crystal clear, and the perfect temperature for swimming!”

“Well, we have the ocean at our camp,” Nico said as he sat down.

Hazel stuck her tongue out. “Don’t be jealous.”

“Jealous of Camp Jupiter?” He cackled. “Ours is the superior demigod camp.”

“All right, you two, play nice.” Will poured Nico some lemonade. “By the way, I contacted Mr. D and Chiron while you were asleep.”

Nico winced. “Thanks. I forgot about checking in with them.”

“Don’t worry. I explained the situation. They said they could handle the camp for as long as we needed.”

“I’m sure Mr. D was incredibly annoying about it.”

Will grinned. “He said he eagerly awaits news that a werewolf has turned us both during the full moon.”

Nico gaped at Hazel. “Is one of the monsters Asterion brought a werewolf?”

“No,” she said. “And I’m trying to call them mythics , though old habits die hard.”

“Right,” said Nico. “I guess we’ll have to rethink a lot of things.” He scanned the dining hall. “Where’s Asterion, anyway? And Frank?”

Hazel fiddled with her earlobe—one of her nervous habits. “They’re both on Temple Hill, actually. Frank needed help with some repairs on Mars’s temple, and Asterion volunteered.”

The tension in her voice was subtle, but Nico caught it. He wondered if maybe Frank and Hazel weren’t in complete agreement about the whole mythic/monster asylum issue.

“How are you holding up?” Nico asked her. “This has to be a lot for you. Youngest praetor in history, and you’ve already fought off an army, rebuilt the city, and welcomed a group of refugees from Tartarus.”

“I’m not so young, remember?” Hazel said, then squeezed his wrist. “But I’m hanging in there.

Honestly, after spending a week with Asterion, his presence already seems normal to me.

But I definitely felt like you did when I first spoke with him.

” She picked up a drumstick, which made Nico’s mouth water.

“Do you remember that I once met his mom?”

A bulb flickered on in his mind. “In the House of Hades, right?”

She nodded. “And let me tell you, Pasiphae was a piece of work. Cruel and bitter. She saw her child as nothing more than a punishment. So when Asterion told me his story, I believed him. I felt sorry for him. And as hard as it is to say it, I also related to him. My mother said some terrible things to me when she was under Gaea’s influence. ”

Her eyes went distant. “Have I made a mistake? Allowing him and his friends to stay here?”

“Of course not,” Will said. “You couldn’t have turned him away.”

She picked at her drumstick. “I’m worried that I’m biased. Or at least that’s what Frank thinks.”

There it is , Nico thought. Trouble in paradise.

“How so?” He tried to keep his voice even.

He liked Frank, but he didn’t like the idea of anyone or anything making Hazel’s life harder. Also, his growling stomach was making him irritable. What did a guy have to do to get a brisket sandwich around here?

“He’s afraid that I’m too close to this,” Hazel said. “That because I’ve been judged unfairly in my life, I see myself in Asterion and his group.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Will asked. “We demigods are used to being judged. We should be willing to empathize with others.”

Hazel turned up her hands. On the inside of her forearm was her legion tattoo: SPQR, then a row of lines indicating her number of years in the legion, then the symbol for Pluto, which always reminded Nico of a hand mirror.

Nico usually liked tattoos. Will had a nice sun design on his chest. But the legion tattoos had always made him uneasy. They seemed more like SKU or QR codes…a way of categorizing you, marking your value.

The voice from Nico’s nightmare returned to him: You cannot escape your nature. He tried to push it back down into his subconscious.

“Frank’s having a hard time,” Hazel said at last. “I think it’s partly his parentage.

He’s usually so easygoing, I sometimes forget his father is Mars.

It makes Frank a phenomenal fighter, but it also gives him a stubborn, suspicious streak.

He’s having trouble believing that Asterion and the others aren’t pulling some kind of trick on us.

I mean, I get it! We’ve spent our whole lives training to fight otherworldly creatures.

Now I’ve invited a bunch of them to live among us. ”

I , Nico noted. Not we . The decision to accept the refugees had been Hazel’s alone.

“You’re brilliant, Hazel,” Nico assured her. “I’m sure you’re doing the right thing. Will and I are going to help you.”

“Absolutely,” said Will. “I love a good challenge!”

At last, a wind spirit deposited a plate of food in front of Nico: brisket, bread, potato salad, and baked beans. Praise the great god Barbecuius.

Immediately, a horn sounded at the entrance of the mess hall. The legionnaires stood up and started clearing their plates. Lunch was over.

“Time for afternoon activities,” Hazel said. “We should head out.”

Nico stared longingly at the potato salad. He quickly put together a brisket sandwich to go before the ventus could come back and take away his plate.

“Where to?” he asked.

“To meet the other mythics.” Hazel sounded even more troubled than she had when she introduced them to Asterion. “No sense putting it off any longer.”

Nico munched on his sandwich as the three of them made their way toward the Field of Mars. According to Hazel, a makeshift barracks had been constructed for the refugees at the far end of the training grounds.

Despite the cloudless sky, there was a chilly breeze in the air.

Nico pulled his bomber jacket tight. He wondered if Will was regretting his choice of cargo shorts.

A group of demigods in purple jogging suits ran past them on the Via Praetoria while a ghostly general, floating several feet above the ground, barked orders.

Nico was glad he wasn’t training like that, especially right after lunch.

He hoped to go the rest of his life without having to run for fitness ever again.

The Field of Mars was under construction, as always.

A team of legionnaires was digging trenches and raising posts for a new fort, while Hannibal, the camp’s elephant, pushed over the walls of a half-burned older building that must have been used for yesterday’s mock battle.

Nico didn’t consider war games a fun pastime, but the Roman demigods loved them.

They would build an entire castle in one day, spend the next day attacking it and burning it to the ground, and then start all over the day after that.

Nico didn’t get it. At least Hannibal seemed to be enjoying himself.

The elephant lumbered around, pushing brick walls until they collapsed and then stomping through the rubble and trumpeting with glee. Probably very therapeutic.