Page 24 of The Court of the Dead (The Nico di Angelo Adventures #2)

N ews of Arielle’s disappearance spread fast through Camp Jupiter.

To Nico’s irritation, most of the legionnaires reacted with a shrug, or even worse, made jokes about it.

Nobody seemed terribly concerned. Along the Via Praetoria, Nico heard bits and pieces of conversations like: “It was bound to happen.” “Good riddance.” “Maybe we should smack the rest of them with practice swords.”

Only Lavinia’s Fifth Cohort seemed to take the disappearance seriously. With Frank’s permission, they had mobilized to search for the empousa, but even this became the subject of wisecracks: “Losers looking for losers. Lavinia and the vampire would make cute tap-dancing partners, wouldn’t they?”

It was all Nico could do to control his rage and not summon an army of skeletons to kick some Roman posteriors.

He found the Second Cohort on the Via Principalis. Savannah was lined up with the rest of the group, running pre-breakfast spear drills like on any other day. Centurion Maurice didn’t look thrilled when Nico asked to borrow her for a few minutes. Nico insisted it was important.

“Whatever,” Maurice said. “Just don’t upset her again. She’s been through enough.”

Nico led Savannah to the porch of the guest barracks. They sat together on the steps as the sun rose a baleful red over the eastern hills. The Puffs, who were both sleepy and smart, took this opportunity to scamper back inside and catch some more z’s in Nico’s bunk.

Without preamble, Savannah said, “I had nothing to do with it.”

She sounded sad rather than defensive. Her red hair was gathered back in a messy bun.

Her armor was well polished, as per regulation, but her hands and jeans were speckled with gray flecks that looked like dried clay.

From one wrist dangled a glazed blue stone pendant on a twisted rope bracelet.

Nico realized he’d seen other Roman demigods with those.

Had Frank been wearing one? Hazel? He’d been too busy to pay much attention.

He waited for Savannah to say more. He didn’t believe she had the ability to abduct an empousa from her room in the middle of the night.

On the other hand, Savannah had wounded Arielle badly.

She’d made the empousa a pariah at camp.

Her personal tragedy didn’t excuse those things, and Nico didn’t trust himself to respond.

Savannah scraped a fleck of clay off her knee. “Yes, I wanted her gone. I…I’m glad she’s gone.” She scowled at Nico, daring him to object. “Monsters should not be here.”

Nico stayed silent for a count of ten.

“ But …?” he prompted.

“But I shouldn’t have attacked her,” Savannah said. “I know she’s not the empousa who killed my parents. She didn’t deserve the way I treated her.”

That was something. Nico’s desire to yell at Savannah subsided. I’m an elder demigod , he reminded himself. It’s my job to guide others.

“Would you be willing to tell me what happened?” he asked gently. “With your parents?”

Savannah shivered. “Have you heard of the Daemones Ceramici?”

It took Nico a moment to translate the Latin. “Pottery demons? I think I heard a story at Camp Half-Blood once.” He gestured to Savannah’s gray-streaked hands. “You’re a potter, I take it.”

She nodded glumly. “Every morning. First thing.”

Nico understood how much dedication that would take. First thing at Camp Jupiter meant Savannah would have to get up every morning around three or four.

“I’m a legacy demigod,” she continued. “My grandmother was a child of Minerva, patron of ceramic arts. She was so talented.”

She gazed at nothing, clearly lost in memories. “We always kept a little statue of Minerva on the kiln in the workshop. It’s an old custom with potters. When you fire your pots, it’s supposed to protect them from the ceramic demons that want to break your pieces or destroy them in the flames.”

Nico’s stomach felt heavy. He thought he knew where this story was going. It was similar to other demigod tragedies…including his own.

“My mom and dad made all kinds of art together,” Savannah continued. “But my mom’s speciality was magic containers. Things that could entrap bad spirits.”

“Like empousai,” Nico guessed.

“Yeah…the empousai didn’t like that. I don’t know how they found us. One day they broke into the workshop while the kiln was firing a new batch of vases. My mom and dad and I were working, and…the demons broke the kiln god. They unleashed the Daemones Ceramici.”

Her green eyes shone with rage. “Do you have any idea how hot a kiln fire gets? The empousai weren’t bothered by the flames. They pushed me outside, saying, ‘Learn a lesson from this, girl.’ I couldn’t fight them. I—I wasn’t strong enough. They barricaded my parents inside, and…”

She didn’t need to finish.

“I’m sorry,” Nico said. “My mother died in a fire, too.”

He told her the story. Even after so many years, his voice broke when he talked about the wrath of Zeus; the way a single thunderbolt had left Bianca and him orphaned.

“I guess if I could whack Zeus with a practice sword,” Nico said, “I probably would.”

Savannah wiped away a tear. “That wouldn’t go well.”

“No,” Nico agreed.

They sat listening to Centurion Maurice barking out commands: “Pila tollite! Ad pila portate!”

“What can I do?” Savannah asked.

Nico studied her face. She seemed serious about wanting to help.

“You could start by telling people what you told me,” he suggested. “That you know Arielle wasn’t responsible for your parents’ death. That you were upset, understandably, but you were wrong to attack her.”

Savannah grimaced. “I guess that’s fair. I’ll send an Iris-message around.” She tapped the blue pendant on her bracelet.

“What is that, anyway?” Nico asked.

Savannah slipped off the bracelet and handed it to Nico for a closer look. “A tessera—a tile from a mosaic.”

Nico turned the pendant between his fingers. It wasn’t stone, he realized, but layers of colored glass fused into a single square that glimmered and flashed in the sunrise.

He remembered asking Hazel about those high-definition Iris-messages. She’d said something about tesserae. “How does it work?” he asked. “No water, or rainbow, or golden drachma offering?”

Savannah smiled. She seemed relieved to talk about something she actually enjoyed.

“Each piece has an underlayer of Imperial gold. I fired them in a kiln and then constructed all of them into a mosaic of the goddess Iris, right? Once the mosaic was consecrated at her temple, I broke down the pieces and handed them out to people in the legion, starting with the praetors and centurions, obviously. You just tap the tessera and speak the name of the person you want to talk to. Iris does the rest. You can even talk to multiple people at once, like a group chat.”

Nico tried to digest that information, and how much easier it would make demigod communication. “You invented this?”

Savannah shrugged. “You don’t have to sound so surprised. I’m a legacy of Minerva. I don’t have enough tesserae for everyone in the legion, but yeah…they’re pretty helpful.”

Nico thought that was an understatement. Before he could ask any follow-up questions—like Can I have one? —the horn sounded for breakfast.

“Thanks for listening,” Savannah said, taking back her bracelet. “And…not hating me.”

She jogged off to rejoin the Second Cohort, leaving Nico with a lot to think about. If nothing else, maybe he had set an example for not hating. He felt like he deserved some breakfast tacos for that.

At the officers’ table, Nico brought Will, Hazel, and Frank up to speed on all the news, including his conversation with Savannah.

Will leaned over and gave him a kiss. “You did a good job. Mr. D would be proud.”

Nico wasn’t sure about that. Listening and empathizing were hard. If he were Dionysus, he would’ve been sorely tempted to sic an army of drunken leopards on everyone who annoyed him. He appreciated the kiss, though, even if Will’s breath smelled like pico de gallo.

“Maybe she can help quash some of the rumors, at least,” Nico said. “Any news from the searches?”

Frank forked scrambled eggs into a tortilla. “Nothing. Orcus flew around the valley until his wings gave out. He says he can spot a mouse from two hundred feet in the air, but he saw no sign of Arielle. The search teams on the ground also came up empty.”

“Terminus wasn’t much help, either,” Hazel reported. “He didn’t sense any incursions last night, or any mythics leaving our borders. But he’s not infallible.”

Will took a bite of migas. “This Terminus guy—”

“He’s a statue with no arms,” Hazel explained, “who is also a minor god.”

“Okay…” Will said this in a way that indicated he had heard of weirder security systems. “And he protects you all, kind of like the Golden Fleece at Camp Half-Blood?”

“Kind of,” Frank said. “But he can’t be everywhere at once. If an army marched up to our borders, yeah, he would sense that. But one person sneaking in or out, whether it was a monster or something else…maybe, maybe not.”

Nico frowned. His bacon-and-egg tacos were excellent, but he found it hard to enjoy them. “What do we do now?”

“The best we can,” Frank said. “Keep looking. Hope for the best.”

Nico glanced around the mess hall. The atmosphere seemed calmer at the moment, at least, but Nico wasn’t sure if that was a sign of improvement. The legionnaires might just be relieved that the mythics were sequestered in their quarters.

He looked at Will. “I wonder if this is how Chiron feels—sitting helplessly at the head table, trying to look calm and collected, hoping the campers can solve their own problems without killing each other.”

“Are we becoming the adults?” Hazel wondered.

Nico shuddered. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”

Hazel gave him a rueful smile. “Yeah. It’s a horrifying thought.”

“Quests and battles are easy,” Nico said. “This”—he swept his arm toward the rest of the room—“this responsibility is exhausting. Constantly having to make decisions that are going to impact a bunch of other people, you know?”