Page 13 of The Court of the Dead (The Nico di Angelo Adventures #2)

“W ake up, Romans! Rise and shine!”

The voice echoed throughout the barracks.

Nico’s eyes flitted open in the darkness a second before the lights blazed on.

He got a hazy glimpse of a girl with pink hair looming over him, along with a whiff of her strawberry bubble gum.

Then he buried his face under his pillow as Will groaned in the next bunk over.

“Up, up, up!” the girl shouted. “You gotta be prepared to be prepared! A threat could arise at any time!”

“Aren’t you the threat right now?” asked Will.

“You better believe it!” said the girl. “Now get out of those bunks, unless you want to spend the next six hours tap-dancing!”

Tap-dancing? Nico must have misheard her.

He threw the pillow aside, sat up, and rubbed his eyes. On the opposite bunk, Will did the same. His hair looked like the wind spirits from the mess hall had played hopscotch in it.

Between them stood the pink-haired girl, wearing a strange combination of armor, blue jeans, and pink buckle-strap dance shoes.

Her limbs seemed too long for her body, like she’d been stretched on a rack and just stayed that way.

Her big eyes gave her a look of permanent surprise.

She didn’t seem particularly threatening, but pinned to her breastplate was the insignia of a Roman centurion.

Nico groaned inwardly. “You’re the leader of the Fifth Cohort.”

She treated them to a tap-dancing riff that sounded like the chorus to “Look What You Made Me Do.”

“Lavinia Asimov at your service,” she said. “Except you’re at my service today, pumpkin!”

She tap-skipped over to Will’s bunk. “And you, Blondie—you’re a son of Apollo, aren’t you? You should have no problem rising at dawn.”

“I’m in the wrong time zone for that,” Will muttered.

“Well, you’re on Lavinia Time now.” She popped her chewing gum. “If you’re not dressed in full gear and outside for your morning run in five minutes, you’re going to be tap-dancing to ‘I Got Rhythm’ until you’re ready to perform it for the whole legion!”

She danced herself right out of the barracks.

Will frowned. “Did I just hallucinate that?”

Nico shook his head. “I don’t think she was kidding about ‘I Got Rhythm.’ ”

“It’s okay. We can handle a morning run.” Will yawned. “A little physical activity never hurt anyone.”

Nico admired his optimism. Personally, he considered mandatory physical activity almost as intolerable as his own PTSD, but he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

During the night, a set of armor and fresh clothes had appeared at the foot of his bunk. He frowned as Will gathered up his own supplies and padded into the restroom, whistling “Look What You Made Me Do.”

Nico got dressed. He scowled at the armor, which he really didn’t want to run in, but when Lavinia said full gear , he was sure she meant full gear .

He tried to dress quietly so as not to wake the Puffs, who had somehow managed to sleep through Lavinia’s tap dancing and were still nestled in the blankets on the bunk above Nico’s.

If Nico couldn’t sleep in, at least his demons could.

As he strapped on his cuirass, he thought about the conversations he’d had yesterday.

He now understood the challenges Hazel and Frank were facing, even if he wasn’t sure how to help them.

No matter what kind of reputation Nico and Will might have had, they couldn’t just make a speech before the senate and the legion and say Be nicer to the Minotaur and his friends!

They couldn’t force the two groups to get along.

That was going to require time, patience, and hard work.

The best Nico could hope for was to set a good example, but he wasn’t sure he was the best model for getting along with others.

The mythics’ dilemma had also dredged up memories from his trip with Will into Tartarus.

In the Underworld, Will had been a lot like the mythics were here in Camp Jupiter—out of his element, uncomfortable, and scared.

He had struggled to accept the fact that Tartarus was more complicated than he’d thought it was.

But Will had listened. He’d changed , and so had Nico. Now he couldn’t imagine life without the Cocoa Puffs. He would move mountains and stars for Bob the Titan. Incredibly, he even had a few fond memories of Tartarus. Some of the best people he knew were “monsters.”

Nico’s mind latched onto the word people .

Had he ever referred to living beings who weren’t human as people before?

Maybe…But could the Roman demigods ever come to accept the idea that Asterion and his friends were more than enemies to fear?

That they were people just like them? He hoped so.

But first, Nico would have to prove he could do a morning run without falling on his face.

Suddenly, Will was standing before him in full armor, his shoes laced up. “Ready, my grumpy ball of darkness?”

“I guess,” he said. “How are you still so cheerful?”

Will flashed a bright smile and then caressed Nico’s cheek. “I’m with my favorite person! Let’s find our tap dance instructor.”

Outside, the sky was still dark—just a touch of gray light silhouetting the eastern horizon.

As far as Nico could tell, none of the other cohorts were stirring, but the Fifth had all turned out, bleary-eyed and bedheaded.

There were about forty demigods in the cohort—not a lot compared to an ancient Roman cohort, but a healthy number for modern times, especially considering the casualties the legion had suffered in its recent battles against the Titans, giants, and evil emperors.

Hazel was right: clearly, the legion had replenished its numbers rapidly in the last few months.

Nico only recognized a few faces. One of the lieutenants in front was a brown-haired kid named Thomas something-or-other.

Floating behind the ranks, in glowing purple armor, was one of the cohort’s companion ghosts, Vitellius Reticulus (nicknamed Vitellius the Ridiculous), who had yelled at Nico many times in the past. Other than that…

all new. Members of the Fifth Cohort had a habit of either getting promoted or dying.

Lavinia grinned as Nico and Will walked up. Her shoes had changed from tap flats to sneakers, but they were still bright pink. “Good, the sleepyheads decided to join us!”

The other legionnaires eyed Will and Nico suspiciously. Maybe, like Will, they were wondering whether they were hallucinating.

“All right, Fifth Cohort!” Lavinia swept her hand toward the south. “To Temple Hill and back! Move!”

The cohort broke ranks and stampeded down the Via Praetoria.

Will winked at Nico. “Race you there!” He sprinted after the legionnaires, moving remarkably well in his heavy armor.

Lavinia squinted at Nico. “You waiting for a special invitation, pumpkin? Your boyfriend has a sizable lead. You’d better get going unless you really love dancing to George and Ira Gershwin!”

Nico bit back a retort. He could’ve told Lavinia that he’d been alive when the Gershwins wrote their best, but he didn’t want to sound like Old Man di Angelo. He jogged after the crowd, huffing and puffing as Lavinia sang “I Got Rhythm” somewhere behind him in the darkness.

He’d just reached the gates of the fort when a thought occurred to him: The darkness. Oh, right. Darkness was kind of his thing.

He ducked into the alley behind the First Cohort’s barracks.

He took a deep breath, imagining the Romans’ shrine to his father, aka Pluto.

It had been a while since he’d visited it, but he could still picture the small building clearly.

He stepped into the shadows, felt a brief rush of cold, and emerged about a mile to the south, on a crushed-stone path halfway up the slopes of Temple Hill.

Before him stood Pluto’s shrine: a mausoleum partially sunk into the hillside, its roof encrusted with bones and precious jewels.

Nico had an excellent view across the valley—the glittering lights of New Rome, a few sails on the dark waters of the lake, the watch fires lining the legion’s fort—but the Fifth Cohort was nowhere to be seen. They were probably still lugging their armored butts along the unlit Via Praetoria.

Nico wobbled, briefly woozy. He sat with his back against one of the long columns that framed the shrine’s entrance and waited for Will’s arrival.

He dozed off….

He dreamed of a voice coming from the mausoleum, whispering from the depths of the Underworld. Go home, Nico di Angelo! the voice hissed, cold and angry. Keep aiding and abetting criminals, and we’ll find you guilty as well! Faster! Faster!

He jolted awake, what felt like only seconds later. The sky was turning pink. Somewhere nearby, boots crunched against gravel, and a voice was shouting, “Faster! Faster!”

The first of the Roman demigods appeared, lumbering up the hill. Will was in the lead, still grinning, his blond hair catching the first rays of the sun. The shouting was coming from Vitellius Reticulus, who floated behind the legionnaires, urging them on.

“You call this running?” the Lar bellowed. “Why, back in my day, we raced each other across the Alps barefoot without stopping for water, and we liked it!”

“Vitellius,” wheezed one of the demigods, “that never happened.”

“Don’t tell me how to Roman, soldier!” yelled the ghost. “Faster!”

Nico got to his feet, trying to shake off his dream. It took all his willpower not to turn and stare at the iron doors of the shrine, wondering who might have been speaking from inside.

The Fifth Cohort runners stumbled to a halt when they saw Nico. They looked stunned, sweaty, and extremely irritated. Will stared at him in disbelief.

“Where have you been?” Nico asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’ve been waiting forever.”

Will bent over, his hands on his knees. When he straightened again, he was laughing. “You didn’t . You little cheater!”

Vitellius drifted over, glowering at Nico. “What is this about, son of Pluto? Why does the blond one call you a cheater?”

Nico smirked. “I wouldn’t call it cheating. I’d call it using my demigod powers to gain an advantage.”

Vitellius examined him up and down. “You shadow-traveled, eh? What are you, a Carthaginian? That’s dishonorable!”

The ghost fumed for a moment, like he was debating smacking Nico upside the head with the flat of his spectral gladius.

“Hmph, I’ll allow it,” Vitellius finally decided. “But not on the way back down!”

He wheeled on the Fifth Cohort. More runners were starting to arrive, some gasping, others guzzling from their canteens.

“What are you all resting for?” Vitellius demanded. “Drinking and breathing are for the weak! About-face! Double-time march! Back to camp with you all!”

The Romans groaned and complained, but they turned and staggered back down the hill, Vitellius hounding them all the way.

Will hung back. He laid a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Please don’t tell Frank I ever said this, and I will deny it under oath, but I’m kind of hating this whole military-discipline thing.”

Nico cracked a smile. Every time Will was able to admit to hating something, it felt like a small victory.

“Well, let’s get out of here,” he suggested.

Will looked scandalized. “You don’t mean—”

Nico grabbed his hand. “Will you join me in the darkness?”

Will rolled his eyes. “You’re so cheesy.” Then he grinned. “But yes. Maybe Bombilo’s coffee shop is open. I could go for a chai latte and a blueberry muffin.”

“Now that’s the kind of military discipline I like,” Nico agreed.

He glanced back at the doors of the shrine. He tried to put his brief dream behind him, but that voice from the Underworld had sounded vaguely familiar. Guilty. Aiding and abetting. The words meshed a little too well with what Will had said about denying something under oath….

“What’s wrong?” Will asked.

“Probably nothing.” Nico concentrated on Will’s beautiful eyes, the way his hair caught the sunlight. “Next stop, Bombilo’s.”

He stepped with Will into the shadow of Pluto’s shrine.