Page 11 of The Court of the Dead (The Nico di Angelo Adventures #2)

Hazel led them across the north end of the field, toward a building that looked nothing like a “makeshift barracks.” Nico had to remind himself that the Romans sometimes fit the stereotype he’d heard about Texans—they liked everything big.

The structure they’d slapped together for their mythic guests was a towering wood-and-stucco edifice with a columned portico, large bay windows, and a red-tile roof like the ones spread across New Rome. Nico would’ve called it a mansion.

Out front, a young woman was applying a coat of whitewash to the columns. Nico figured she was a legionnaire—she wore a purple camp T-shirt with denim cutoffs. Then he did a double take.

Her legs were strangely mismatched. One glinted like it was sheathed in armor. The other was shaggy and bent the wrong way…like a satyr’s, except it ended in a larger, un-cloven hoof. And the sunlight shone especially bright on her long red hair.

Nico stopped short. Oh, wait. Her hair was made of fire .

“Oh my gods,” said Nico. “Is that an empousa?”

The vampire daimon must have heard him. She turned and made eye contact, her pupils glowing red.

Hazel quickly stepped between them. “Nico, Will…meet Arielle.”

Nico reminded himself that these mythics were not here to hurt anyone, but Arielle’s harsh scowl made it hard for him to relax.

Her face was breathtakingly beautiful, haughty, and otherworldly—like those of some goddesses he’d met.

White flecks of paint speckled her body from her nose to her mismatched legs—one of which was the limb of a donkey, the other a Celestial bronze prosthesis.

She examined Nico and Will with obvious distaste. “Demigods. More of the same.”

“But they’re not the same,” said Hazel. “They’re from Camp Half-Blood on the other side of the country. They’re here to—”

“Greek or Roman, it doesn’t matter.” Arielle set down her paint can and brush. “You demigods are all the same. You either want to kick us out, kill us, or gawk at us like zoo animals.”

Ouch. Nico’s cheeks burned. To be fair, he was gawking, and he did have the urge to attack….

“We’re not interested in kicking you out,” he offered. “In fact, we’re here to help you settle in at Camp Jupiter.”

Arielle sneered. “Yeah, right. I know who you are, Nico di Angelo. You met one of my sisters—goes by the human name Kelli?”

Nico suppressed a groan. He’d run into Kelli during his first journey into the Labyrinth. She’d had sharp fangs, a garish cheerleader outfit, and a serious vendetta against Percy Jackson. As Nico recalled, Annabeth had dispatched her to Tartarus with a dagger to the chest.

He held up his hands. “Look, I’m sorry about Kelli, but—”

“You’re a real empousa…” Will interrupted, his voice full of awe. “I’d heard of your beauty, but…wow.”

Arielle gave Will a second appraisal. She flashed him a wicked smile. “Well, at least you seem to have some taste.”

“Nope!” Nico stepped between the two of them. “Will, no bisexual chaos allowed today! And you”—he spun on Arielle—“stop using your charmspeak on my boyfriend.”

“She’s not,” said Will. “Come on, you have to admit she’s pretty!”

Nico sputtered. “I mean…yes, but—”

“Your boyfriend is telling the truth.” Arielle glared at the ground. “I couldn’t use charmspeak on him if I wanted to. I—I don’t have that power. It’s why the other empousai want nothing to do with me.”

The sudden rawness in her voice made Nico feel ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She shrugged glumly. “Whatever. If Hazel believes you can help us, I guess I shouldn’t bite your head off.”

Nico wasn’t sure if she meant that literally or not.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” said Will, ever the diplomat, but Arielle turned her back and returned to her painting.

Nico was about to ask Hazel if all the mythics were so friendly. Then he spotted an enormous set of eyes peering out at him from the nearest bay window.

“Dam!” He stumbled back, knocking right into Will.

“That’s just Johan,” said Hazel. “Come on out, Johan! It’s safe.”

The eyes disappeared from the window. Moments later, the front door squeaked open, and a headless man stepped out.

From the waist down, Johan looked like a postal delivery guy.

He wore blue polyester shorts, black tennis shoes, and bright white socks (possibly hand-knitted by the Minotaur).

From the waist up, things got weird. Johan was bare-chested, except that his chest was his face.

Set into his pectoral muscles was a pair of baby-blue eyes the size of tea saucers.

A massive nose protruded from his sternum.

His chiseled six-pack abs were split horizontally by a mouth that could have swallowed a pumpkin whole.

Between his muscular shoulders, where a neck and head should have been, was a thick mass of dark hair, gelled and carefully parted on the left.

Nico had only seen a blemmyae once before—at a Cheez Whiz factory he’d accidentally shadow-traveled to with Will—but he knew enough to step back. Blemmyae were incredibly strong, tough as titanium, and they really didn’t like it when people trespassed in their Cheez Whiz factory.

“Are—are you sure it’s safe?” Johan asked timidly.

“Very,” Hazel assured him. “These demigods are not here to hurt you.”

“Debatable,” snapped Arielle as she ran her paintbrush up and down the nearest column.

“Hmm, I don’t like debating.” Johan took a tentative step forward. “I would rather have a nice cup of tea. You didn’t happen to bring us any honey, did you?”

Nico stared. He’d forgotten how hypnotizing it was to watch a blemmyae talk—those giant white teeth flashing between ab-muscle lips.

How did they have such perfect dental hygiene and a perfect core?

Did they floss and do crunches at the same time?

Finally, Nico realized that Johan had been talking to him.

“H-honey?” Nico stammered.

“Yes?” Will asked.

“Yes?” Johan asked.

“No, I mean…” Nico rubbed his eyes until he saw stars. “I mean we didn’t bring any honey, sorry.”

“Oh.” Johan’s shoulders slumped, tugging down his pectoral eyebrows and giving him a sad expression. “That’s all right. I’m brewing a pot of Earl Grey if anyone would like to join me.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Will said in a small voice.

Before things could devolve into an awkward conversation about cream and sugar, Hazel interceded. “Johan, this is Nico, and this is Will. Would you bring the others outside to meet them?”

The blemmyae perked up, clearly delighted to have a job. “I’d love to! Be right back!” He turned and lumbered inside.

Hazel turned to Nico and Will. “So…what do you think so far?”

Will seemed to shake himself out of a trance. “Johan’s nice.”

Arielle snorted, painting with even more fury. Her fiery hair glowed brighter.

“I mean everyone seems nice,” Will corrected himself.

Hazel grimaced. Nico had only been at the Mythic Dojo Casa House a few minutes, and he was already beginning to understand why Hazel felt like she was in over her head.

“Before the others come out,” she said, “just so you’re prepared—”

Too late.

A short, stout, greenish creature tumbled out of the doorway.

It was the size and shape of a human toddler, with rolls of baby fat on its arms and legs and a face that would have been adorable if not for the fangs.

It wore only a purple diaper/loincloth (perhaps hand-knitted by Asterion), and leafy green wings protruded from its back.

A strange cloud of brown dust swirled around it.

Nico sneezed. Then he began to cough, trying to hack up whatever had just invaded his lungs.

The toddler creature growled. “Oh, so you’re allergic to me, is that it?”

His voice was not at all like a toddler’s. He sounded like a sixty-year-old man who’d spent his life smoking and eating gravel.

“Quinoa, be nice,” chided Hazel.

Quinoa waddled up to Nico. The creature’s hair was a densely packed field of purple-and-white flowers. His face was pockmarked with…zits? No, Nico realized. Those were seeds.

“ ‘Be nice,’ she says,” Quinoa grumbled. “Okay, fine. Hello, demigods. Are you here to reap me? Chop me into a salad?”

“You’re a karpos !” Will said delightedly. “I didn’t know quinoa even had grain spirits!”

Quinoa sneered. “Oh, now he rubs it in! I suppose you’ll tell me I’m ‘not technically a grain.’ ” He made sarcastic air quotes around the words.

“Call me a pseudo- grain, like all the other karpoi do. Why you think I ran away, huh? They told me to stay with my relatives, talk to the spinach plants. You ever tried talking to a spinach plant? Don’t bother! They got nothing to say!”

Nico blinked. At the moment, he felt very much like a spinach plant. “Um…”

“Quinoa,” Hazel interrupted, “I told you to be nice. Will and Nico are here to help you.”

“And I’m definitely not going to eat you.” Nico rubbed his runny nose on the sleeve of his jacket. “Apparently, I’m allergic.”

Quinoa narrowed his luminous green eyes. “Why should we trust you?”

“Because,” Arielle interjected, “Hazel is asking us to.” She dropped her paintbrush into her bucket, marched over to Quinoa, and picked him up, cradling him against her side like a proper baby. “Also, if they try to reap you, I will reap them first.”

She definitely meant that literally. Together, they reminded Nico of a Raphael painting he’d seen once in Florence—the Madonna and child—except with more fangs, flames, and chlorophyll.

“No one is going to reap anyone,” Nico promised. “Er, are there any more of you coming, or—”

As if on cue, Johan’s voice drifted from inside. “No one is going to laugh at you,” he was saying. “They are nice!”

Something squawked in reply…. Then Johan reemerged with a cup of tea. At his feet stood the smallest griffin in the known universe.

Nico couldn’t control the grin that broke out on his face. He loved griffins, and this one was beyond cute. It had the sleek black body of a panther cub, salt-and-pepper wings tucked against its back, and a snow-white raptor’s head with a bright yellow beak like a bald eagle’s.

“Oh, wow,” said Nico.

“Yes, yes, yes.” The griffin’s childlike voice upped his cute quotient several more notches. “I am Orcus. I know I’m small. Please do not comment on my size! It makes me gaseous.”

Will made a tiny squeal of delight. He crouched down to be on Orcus’s level. “I would never criticize you,” he said. “You are perfect .”

“Tell that to his family,” grumbled Quinoa, still in Arielle’s arms. “They didn’t want a runt in their nest.”

Unfortunately, the comment was enough to trigger Orcus’s self-esteem farts. Nico heard nothing, but the air filled with the smell of rotten eggs. Nico buried his face in the lapel of his jacket.

“Quinoa!” Orcus screeched. “I just said don’t comment on my size!”

“Yes, that’s not polite,” Johan agreed, sipping his Earl Grey. Nico got the feeling he sipped his tea a lot while watching his comrades insult one another. “Please, continue.”

Arielle sucked in air. “You are all impossible.”

“Anyway,” Hazel said with forced cheerfulness, “that’s everyone except Semele.” She looked toward the doorway. “Semele, are you in there?”

A voice at Nico’s shoulder said, “I’m right here.”

“Gah!” He lurched back, goose bumps rippling down his arms. He looked for the source of the voice but saw no one. “Are you…invisible?” Nico asked.

“I’m an eidolon,” said the voice.

Her tone was soft and calming. Older. Like someone’s grandmother telling a bedtime story. Nevertheless, panic squeezed Nico’s chest.

“An eidolon ?” he asked. “As in the spirits who can possess anyone?”

“That’s correct.” The voice sounded sad. “But fear not, son of Hades. I have no desire to possess you or anyone else anymore. In fact, that’s why I’m here. I refused to take over others against their will.”

Nico stilled. If he concentrated, he could see something there. His mind latched onto a memory: Hades with a cigar, the smoke wafting slowly upward.

Semele wasn’t totally invisible. She was a wisp of smoke .

Will came to Nico’s side. “Can you see her?”

Nico extended a finger toward the smoke.

“Hello, Will,” said Semele.

“Wow.” Will shivered. “I remember Annabeth telling me what it was like when the eidolons taunted her, but…”

The smoke dissipated.

“Is she gone?” Will frowned at Hazel. “Did I offend her?”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Hazel said. “Semele comes and goes. Most of our guests…well, they’ve been rejected for being different.”

“Life has not been easy for us,” said Arielle, bouncing Quinoa against her side. “Our families don’t want us, and there’s nothing for us in Tartarus.”

Quinoa growled. “And I refuse to be used by horrible gods again! Gaea got most of my brothers and sisters killed!”

“Yes,” Johan said, stirring his teacup. “That was very rude.”

The little griffin Orcus farted in sympathy.

Hazel gave Nico a pained smile. “So now you’ve met everyone. What do you think?”

Will and Nico exchanged a look.

“You know I’m game,” said Will. “I think they’re all amazing!”

Nico surprised himself by nodding. The mythic refugees were terrifying, strange, and rough around the edges. They definitely didn’t seem to belong anywhere. In other words, they were Nico’s people.

He remembered his dream of being stuck on a loop in the Caldecott Tunnel, being taunted by that voice. You cannot escape your nature.

Maybe that had been his subconscious. Or maybe it had been something else…that sense of impending doom he’d been feeling for the last few weeks. He was only sure of one thing: this group of mythic misfits needed a home, and the world was conspiring not to let them have one.

Nico had lived that life. He totally understood why Hazel had given the mythics sanctuary.

“We’re in,” he told her. “One hundred percent. I just have to figure out one thing.”

Hazel perked up. “What’s that?”

“Where exactly do we start ?”