Page 7 of The Court of the Dead (The Nico di Angelo Adventures #2)

Hazel laughed. “Wow, I’ve missed you, Will. I always feel so much more interesting in your presence.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I want to know everything.”

She squeezed his arm. “You might regret saying that. Because what I’m about to show you is a lot.” She nodded at the guards at the Decumanian Gate, and led them into the camp.

Nico’s heart began to race—partly because it had been so long since he’d been here, and partly because Hazel was being so cryptic. It wasn’t like her to withhold information.

Demigods in purple shirts crowded the Via Principalis.

Some were off-duty, heading to baths or standing in line for coffee at the kiosk of Bombilo, the two-headed barista.

A couple of legionnaires were scrubbing graffiti off a barracks wall, a sight that Nico found very strange.

Graffiti was a major breach of army discipline.

Stranger still, the white paint read NON INIMICOS LICET—L atin for No enemies allowed.

Why would someone write that in the middle of camp?

Will didn’t seem fazed by anything until he saw his first Lar .

Floating toward them was a ghostly purple apparition—an older man in a toga and sandals. When he saw Will, his face turned livid. “Graecus!” he shouted. “Kill the graecus!”

“Theo,” Hazel chided the ghost, “we’ve talked about this. The Greek campers are not our enemies anymore. Will is our guest.”

“Hmph.” Theo sneered. “Back in my day…”

He turned and floated away, grumbling in Latin.

“Sorry about that,” Hazel told Will. “Ancestral spirits. Most of the Lares are nicer than Theo.”

“Fascinating,” Will said. “And I thought it was weird that we have a dragon .”

“Oh, there’s much more to come,” Hazel warned.

She led them south, away from the headquarters and shops. Nico smelled the stables before they reached them. Then he got a whiff of the latrines. Gross , he thought. Most of Tartarus hadn’t smelled that bad.

There, in the back corner of camp, stood the last barracks. It looked like all the others—a sturdy wooden structure, freshly painted and well-maintained, but the smells from the neighborhood definitely made it the least desirable location to bunk.

Hazel walked up to the door and put her hand on it.

“The Fifth Cohort,” she said. “My old home.”

Nico nodded. “Didn’t Percy stay here, too?”

“Yeah. And Jason. And Frank.”

“All the best people,” Will observed.

Hazel winced. “Most legionnaires would disagree. Historically, the Fifth Cohort has been for the demigods who didn’t fit in. It has a terrible reputation.”

“So…this is where we’ll be staying, then?” Will guessed.

Hazel seemed lost in thought. It took her a moment to answer. “No. I’ll show you your accommodations later. I brought you here because the Fifth is on patrol in the hills this morning. I figured it was the best place for him to wait.”

Nico’s insides started to form a knot. “Who is him ?”

“I need you both to trust me,” Hazel said.

“Of course,” Will said.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Nico added. “Also…who is him ?”

The ground rumbled beneath Nico’s feet, and tiny cracks appeared in the dirt. Skeletal fingertips began wriggling upward like earthworms escaping a flood. Without meaning to do it, he had started to raise the dead.

Will put a calming hand on his shoulder, and Nico relaxed. The dirt stopped trembling. The cracks closed.

Hazel kept her eyes fixed on the door of the barracks. “Just…promise me you won’t freak out.”

Nico nodded, though he was totally freaking out.

“Okay.” Hazel took a deep breath. She looked terrified . “Come on in.”

She pushed through the doorway and Nico followed. It took his eyes a moment to adjust from the brightness of the morning. Rows of tidy bunk beds lined the walls. In the shadows at the far end of the room, sitting on a footlocker, was a figure that Nico’s mind couldn’t quite process.

Humanoid…sort of, but this guy was way too big to be human.

He looked like a bodybuilder who had swallowed three other bodybuilders.

And from the shoulders up…Nico’s first thought was that the guy was wearing a massive, exaggerated papier-maché head, like the cabezudos he’d once seen at a Puerto Rican festival.

Will pushed in behind him. “What is it? Who— Oh…” His voice died as the creature rose to its feet. Its head nearly scraped the ceiling. It filled the space so impossibly that Nico forgot his promise to stay calm. His hand drifted to the pommel of his Stygian iron sword.

“Nico, stop!” Hazel gripped his wrist. “I can explain!”

He watched in horror as the creature stepped forward.

It wore nothing but a blue cloth wrapped around its torso—a bath towel?

A kilt? Thick fur covered its upper body, which was so bulked-up the creature could probably have bench-pressed the Statue of Liberty.

Nico’s gaze traveled up to its bovine snout, the golden ring piercing its nostrils, the massive brown eyes, and the curved white horns that tapered to deadly points.

Nico was vaguely aware of the Cocoa Puffs dancing in a panic around his feet, yipping Nope! Yikes! Nope! At his side, Will sputtered, his mouth seemingly unable to form words.

“Hazel,” Nico said at last, “is that the Minotaur?”