Page 35 of The Court of the Dead (The Nico di Angelo Adventures #2)

T he demigods quickly shuffled inside. They lined up against the back wall of what looked like a normal human courtroom.

It was wide and brightly lit, with light brown wood paneling on the walls.

About a dozen spectators sat in multiple rows of cushioned folding chairs, watching the proceedings.

A lawyer was addressing the jury while a black-gowned judge observed from the bench.

A court officer glanced at the demigods as they entered, but she looked more bored than suspicious.

Nico found three empty seats in the back row. He sat, his nerves vibrating with fear and confusion. Hazel and Will slid in on either side of him.

Nico scanned the room but saw no sign of the courier they’d been following. The lawyer droned on about some sort of contract violation, which clearly had nothing to do with minor gods kidnapping mythical creatures.

“Did we take a wrong turn?” Nico whispered.

“I don’t think so.” Hazel pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Gods, my head…”

Her burgundy pantsuit flickered. For just a moment, her outfit changed into Hazel’s normal street clothes; then it reverted to Lawyer Hazel.

“You okay?” Will murmured.

“Can’t concentrate.” She winced. “You know how I said the Mist has currents? In here, it feels like whitewater rapids.”

“I have something that might help.” Will flipped open the canvas top of his backpack, which for some reason the Mist had chosen not to disguise.

He was probably looking for a Kit Kat bar, but he got more than he bargained for.

Multiple Cocoa Puffs tumbled from the pack and scurried under Nico’s chair.

Hazel clamped her hand over her mouth. “You brought the Puffs ?” she whispered through her fingers.

“No!” Will whispered back. “I didn’t know they were in there, honest!”

In the row in front of them, a woman turned and put a finger to her lips.

Nico glared down at Defiance. The cacodemon puffed up its spines, as if daring Nico to say something.

Then Anger jumped into Hazel’s lap, making her gasp. Her eyes widened. Her forehead beaded with sweat.

“What’s wrong?” Nico murmured. He reached over to take the cacodemon from Hazel, but Anger snarled at him, revealing its glowing yellow tongue and hundreds of sharp teeth.

“Leave it,” Hazel whispered. “In fact, pick up a Puff. Both of you.”

Nico locked eyes with Will, who shrugged as if to say Dude, I don’t know!

“Do it,” Hazel said softly. “Just…trust me.”

Will scooped up Guilt. Nico let Defiance jump into his lap. As soon as he ran his hand across the Puff’s spines, the whole world spun.

The courtroom went blurry and out of focus. He squeezed his eyes shut and saw stars glowing in the darkness.

“What’s happening?” Will groaned.

Nico couldn’t reply. His tongue was thick in his mouth, like he’d swallowed a gallon of molasses.

When he opened his eyes again…the courtroom had become a cave.

Torches lined the walls, bathing the rock in red light and causing shadows to dance among the stalactites on the ceiling.

Descending rows of semicircular benches filled the cavernous space, creating a sort of underground theater.

There were not dozens but hundreds of spectators…

most of whom were not human. Ogres and empousai, centaurs and blemmyae, dryads and harpies all milled together.

The court officer had transformed into a Cyclops—seven feet tall, with a nail-studded wooden club resting across her shoulder.

Everyone’s attention seemed fixed on the front of the room, where the judge’s desk had been transformed into a much grander tribunal—three thrones of red velvet behind a long bench of dark mahogany.

Occupying the thrones were three figures in identical black robes, their faces hidden behind golden comedy masks like in an ancient Greek play.

Each mask was terrifyingly grotesque in its own way—a leering satyr’s face on the left, a snake-haired gorgon on the right, and in the center…

Oh, yikes. Nico recognized that face, even though the mask was an exaggerated caricature, like the kind people wear pretending to be American presidents on Halloween. The central judge wore the grinning visage of Hades.

Nico met Hazel’s gaze. The mask had clearly unsettled her as well.

Fake Hades rose. The entire assembly did the same, forcing the three demigods to their feet while trying to keep hold of their respective Cocoa Puffs.

Nico wasn’t sure how, but the Puffs were obviously heightening their senses again, helping them see through the torrents of Mist. Nico just hoped the Puffs didn’t start howling and jumping around, like they’d done when Laverna showed up at the principia.

Fake Hades banged his gavel. The sharp sound echoed through the cave.

“The Court of the Dead is now in session.” The judge’s voice boomed, masculine and familiar. Nico had heard it in his dreams, warning him not to help the mythics. “Bring forth the next defendant!”

What did that mean? The Court of the Dead ?

From the shadows to the right of the bench, the courier emerged, still holding his large box.

His face and long brown hair were unchanged, as was his delivery uniform, but it was now obvious that he wasn’t human.

Donkey ears sprouted from either side of his head.

A donkey tail curled from his polyester shorts.

His feet had become hooves. Some kind of satyr, maybe? Nico wasn’t sure.

The courier set down his delivery in front of the judges.

He whipped out an X-ACTO knife, cut through the packing tape, and then tipped over the box.

Out spilled a sleek humanoid creature that should have been much too big to fit in such a small cube.

It was a telkhine, one of the dog-seal-human hybrid creatures who had once worked the gods’ undersea forges before they’d been replaced by Cyclopes.

The telkhine’s hands had webbed fingers with long white claws.

Its wrists were shackled to a heavy iron chain.

The feet were little more than stubby flippers, no good for running, but its ankles had been shackled too.

The creature struggled to stand, its whiskers quivering on its canine snout.

It snarled at the satyr courier, who promptly smacked it across the nose.

The crowd jeered and laughed at the prisoner, until the middle judge banged his gavel again.

“Morpho the telkhine,” the judge said, his voice echoing through the chamber, “your trial begins now.”

“Nico,” said Hazel under her breath. “This feels familiar.”

The person sitting in front of them turned again and frowned. Nico now realized she was some sort of storm spirit. Her nebulous dress flashed with lightning, and her eyes glowed tornado green. When she shushed the trio this time, a cold wind swirled around them.

They all fell silent, but Nico’s mind raced. He knew exactly what Hazel was talking about. This tribunal with its masked judges…it felt like a distorted copy of the court in the Underworld, where newly arrived ghosts were assigned to their eternal fates: Elysium, Asphodel, or Punishment.

But this couldn’t be happening with Hades’s permission. Judgment in the Underworld was a somber affair. No spectators allowed. No Cyclops-at-arms, or shackles and chains. And Hades would never have permitted the main judge to wear a mask that mocked him.

The first judge was speaking again. “. . . stand trial for your crimes. My colleague will now read from your official record.”

“I have an official record ?” Morpho shrieked, yanking on their restraints. “I did not consent to this. Let me go!”

The judge on the right, in the gorgon mask, unfurled a parchment. “Morpho,” she read with a British accent, “over the course of your career, you have been observed causing bodily harm to demigods, frightening humans, stalking your prey, committing arson, and practicing cannibalism.”

“Cannibalism?” The telkhine snarled. “Okay, I bit that annoying demigod Eric on the arm one time, but I didn’t eat him. I’m not a zombie !”

The judge paused for a moment, then dramatically lifted a quill and scribbled on the scroll. “You have also been known to interrupt figures of authority.”

“I— What ?” Morpho screamed.

“Exactly,” said the judge. Then she continued reading.

It took her nearly five minutes to recite Morpho’s official record.

The entire time, Nico’s back muscles got tighter and tighter.

He didn’t know Morpho, but as the list got into ridiculous minutiae like “offensive body odor” and “lack of grooming,” Nico felt like this had to be a joke.

How could someone be hauled into court in shackles and chains because they had bad personal hygiene?

But the vibe in the cave was raucous and bloodthirsty.

The onlookers howled and cheered with every detail the judge read aloud.

The Cyclops-at-arms let them scream. The two other judges sat back in their velvet thrones, their gold masks glinting in the firelight, their arms crossed.

They seemed to be enjoying the excitement of the crowd, soaking in its rage.

Finally, the gorgon-masked judge lowered her scroll. “Morpho, do you accept this accounting of your official record?”

“Of course not!” Morpho pulled against their chains. “What is this? What gives you the right to judge me?”

Nico turned to Hazel. Tears streamed down her face.

She had to be remembering her own moment before the court in the Underworld, when she’d been sentenced to roam the Fields of Asphodel forever.

Nico had never died (though not for lack of trying).

He could only imagine how horrifying it would be to wake up as a ghost and find yourself standing in front of three inquisitors who could see straight into your soul, who could judge everything you’d ever thought and done, decide how good or bad a person you had been, and punish you accordingly, with no possibility of appeal.