Page 37 of The Court of the Dead (The Nico di Angelo Adventures #2)

N ico thought he was going to be sick. He watched the guards fasten Asterion’s chains to an iron ring on the floor. Apparently, the judges hadn’t been worried about Morpho the telkhine attacking them, but a seven-foot-tall bull-man was another matter.

Asterion stood tall and regal, like the Minoan prince he was. If the shackles bothered him, he did not show it. The spectators whispered and gawked at his gleaming horns, his powerful musculature, or maybe just the stitchwork on his blue kilt. Clearly, the monsters saw him as a celebrity.

Hazel touched Nico’s knee. “Change of plans.”

“Agreed,” he whispered.

Will nodded. “We have to get him out of here.”

“I have an idea,” Hazel said. “Let me—”

She was interrupted by the judge’s gavel. Fake Hades loomed over Asterion. Nico could almost feel the gloating that radiated from him.

“The Minotaur!” Fake Hades said, with great satisfaction. “Your trial begins now.”

“I do not go by that title anymore,” said the bull-man. “Address me by my name—Asterion—or do not address me at all.”

The judge hesitated. Perhaps he’d been expecting more howling and thrashing, and less dignified insistence on proper titles. Fake Hades huddled with his fellow judges, and then faced the accused again.

“We will grant you this request, Asterion .” He said the name like it was one of the defendant’s offenses. “You are here before the court to stand trial for your crimes. My colleague will now read from your official record.”

Gorgon Face unfurled a second scroll, which looked much, much longer than Morpho’s had been.

She cleared her throat. “You have been—”

“And who are you?” asked Asterion.

The judge stopped. Nico expected her to pick up her quill and write interrupting figures of authority , but something about Asterion’s composed demeanor seemed to unbalance her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I would like to know who is accusing me of crimes.”

The satyr-masked judge banged his gavel. “We will not tolerate—”

“It is only fair.” Asterion raised his voice just loud enough to drown him out. “No respectable judges would hide behind masks, would they?”

The crowd murmured uneasily. In Nico’s lap, Defiance preened with approval. Asterion seemed to be taking a jab not only at this tribunal but at Hades’s Underworld court as well.

The judges glanced at one another. This had obviously not been part of their script.

They wanted a celebrity show trial, maybe with some wailing and gnashing of teeth.

They hadn’t anticipated being challenged on courtroom procedures.

The spectators watched them intently, waiting to see how they would react.

At last, the judge on the left said, “Very well.”

He rose, and Nico realized how painfully thin he was.

His robes hung off his body like it was a giant coat hanger.

He removed his golden satyr’s mask, revealing a gaunt, haggard face with sunken eyes and a twisted mouth.

He looked more like a prisoner than a judge—someone who’d been on hunger strike for a month and was really angry about it.

“I am Tantalus, king of Phrygia, son of Zeus.”

“Oh my gods,” Will whispered. “I thought so. Nico, this was before your time, but—”

“I heard about him,” Nico said.

When Nico had first arrived at Camp Half-Blood, the campers had still been complaining about their substitute camp-activities director from the summer before.

In their infinite wisdom, the gods had decided to replace Chiron with Tantalus, the most notorious criminal from the Fields of Punishment, who’d tried to serve the gods a stew made up of his own son.

For that, he’d been sentenced to be forever hungry and thirsty, unable to grasp any food or drink.

Shocker: his tenure at camp hadn’t gone very well, either.

“But why is he here?” Nico wondered.

Tantalus should have been back in the Fields of Punishment enjoying his eternal damnation, not in the San Francisco Superior Courthouse being all judgy.

The judge on the right stood next, removing her golden gorgon mask. She was a ruddy-faced red-haired woman with a shriveled mouth and sharp, malicious eyes that she trained on Asterion.

“I was once a powerful queen,” she said, “so I request that you refer to me as Your Majesty.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” says Asterion, unflustered. “But what is your name?”

“Mary,” she replied. “Mary Tudor.”

Nico’s mind couldn’t handle this. Bloody Mary , the queen of England who’d burned hundreds of Protestants at the stake? How was she allowed to sit in judgment over anyone?

He held his breath as the middle judge removed his mask. Given the other two judges’ identities, Nico expected him to be someone from the Top Ten All-Star Evil list, like Joseph Goebbels or Satan, but instead…Nico had no idea who he was.

He appeared much younger than the other two. He had a mop of dark hair, a finely trimmed beard, and fierce brown eyes. He looked like a haughty ma?tre d’ at a fancy restaurant, whose only pleasure in life was turning away improperly dressed customers.

He regarded the bull-man with disdain. “Do you not recognize me, Asterion?”

“I do not.”

“You once fought my closest friend.” A horrible smile spread across the judge’s face. “Surely you remember Theseus.”

At the mention of the name of the man who once slew him, Asterion just snorted. “Is this some sort of joke? Theseus had no friends.”

“Oh, but he did!” the judge cried. “A friend of even greater ability and fame! A friend he envied and sought to emulate! I am he. The mighty Pirithous!”

Asterion did not even flinch. “Who?”

“Who?” Will whispered to Nico.

Many of the spectators were turning to each other and asking the same question.

Red splotches mottled Pirithous’s cheeks. “Enough!” He banged his gavel. “You are wasting our time, Asterion. You have met your judges. Now you will meet your fate!”

That had probably sounded better in Pirithous’s head. Instead of inspiring shock and awe, his words were mostly ignored by the crowd, who were still busy asking each other if they’d ever heard of Pirithous.

“Queen Mary!” cried Pirithous in a shriller voice. “Please read from the defendant’s official record!”

The judges sat, putting their grotesque masks back over their faces, which Nico considered an improvement.

Her Majesty cleared her throat. “Asterion, formerly known as the Minotaur, the court takes your past achievements into account. We note that you were born an abomination.”

The crowd made ooh noises, like they all wished they’d been born abominations.

“While you dwelt within the Labyrinth,” Mary continued, “you were responsible for the murder of fifty-six young men and maidens.”

This elicited polite applause from the spectators.

While Queen Mary listed more and more highlights from Asterion’s career—sowing fear and chaos, terrorizing children, stalking, violations of privacy, indecent exposure—Nico leaned closer to Hazel.

“So what are you thinking?” he whispered.

“The Mist,” she said softly. “I think I can at least confuse everyone here by casting a new illusion over the courtroom, but I won’t be able to maintain it very long. Do you think you and Will could free Asterion if I give you cover?”

Nico nodded, then leaned toward his boyfriend and told him their impromptu plan.

Will scanned the crowd, no doubt judging how many rows of monsters they’d have to pass to reach Asterion. “We can get him free,” he said grimly. “We have to.”

Pirithous’s gavel rang out again. “Asterion, you have heard a summary of your illustrious career. You were a monster’s monster. Your vile, bloody, and despicable deeds made you a role model to many here in this court.”

A lot of heads nodded in the crowd. Nico noted that a few of the ogres were clutching paper and pen, like they were hoping to get Asterion’s autograph before he was executed.

“Nevertheless,” continued Pirithous, “you turned your back on your own nature. You rose from Tartarus unbidden , inspiring others to follow your wicked example, all so you could take up a peaceful existence of”—he frowned at his notes, as if he couldn’t bring himself to speak something so horrible—“knitting.”

A collective gasp rose from the spectators.

Pirithous leaned forward, his Hades mask leering at the accused. “What possible defense could you offer for such a betrayal of monster-kind?”

Asterion stood still, staring back at the judge.

Pirithous snarled, “Did you hear me?”

“I did.”

“Then what is your defense?”

“I refuse to give one.”

The crowd gasped. Tantalus took over the gavel-banging. “Order in the court!” he screeched. “Order!”

Nico glanced at Hazel. “Now?”

Her eyes were closed, her face tight with concentration. She muttered under her breath as if chanting a spell.

“Wait,” she said. “Almost ready…”

Nico tried to control his nerves. He had no idea how much energy and focus it took to cast an illusion on a courtroom full of mythic creatures. All he knew was that they were running out of time.

Once the onlookers quieted down, Pirithous scoffed at Asterion. “Do you believe that you are not to be held accountable for what you have done?”

The bull-man shook his head. “I accept responsibility for my past actions. And I have done my best to change.”

“Then you admit you have tried to change! You think you can erase centuries of admirable atrocities and become a peaceful creature? You think it is within your rights to knit ?”

Queen Mary cleared her throat. “Though it must be admitted, your stitchwork is very fine. My own ladies-in-waiting could not rival—”

“Mary!” cried Pirithous. “Not helping!”

Asterion crossed his arms. “You have no right to judge me. This entire proceeding is a farce.”

“Blasphemy!” cried a ghostly figure in the front row, waving his tricorn hat.

“Exsssssecute him!” called a nearby dracaena.