Page 9 of The Court of the Dead (The Nico di Angelo Adventures #2)

“Those are knitting needles,” he said.

“Indeed!” Asterion said. “I even knit my own underwear!”

With no warning, he stood and ripped off his kilt.

Hazel yelped. The Cocoa Puffs scattered.

Nico tried to shield his eyes. Surely, if the true forms of gods could make mortals spontaneously combust, monster groins could do the same. But beneath the kilt, Asterion wore a pair of hand-knit tighty-whities even brighter than the freshly painted barracks walls.

“Asterion!” Hazel cried. “Please have some modesty!”

“Hmph.” The bull-man planted his fists at his sides à la Superman. “I have no need for what you humans refer to as ‘modesty.’ Look at this stitchwork. Look at this continental purling! Besides, do you not also wear underwear?”

“Yes,” Hazel said, “but we usually wear it…under?”

Asterion grumbled and put his kilt back on while Nico looked over at Will. His boyfriend’s eyes seemed to be frozen open from the trauma of TMU—too much underwear.

“Nico,” he said softly, “do you remember Carl and Bartholomew?”

Nico nodded, picturing the two boneheaded aeternae they had encountered in Tartarus.

“This is worse.” Will shook himself like a dog trying to dry off. “So, Asterion…I mean, first of all, that’s some lovely knitting—”

“Thank you!” Asterion sat down again next to Hazel. “You know, this is the same pair I wore when I first fought Percy Jackson, but he said nothing about my stitchwork. Nothing .” He paused. “In his defense, it was quite dark that night.”

“But how did you get here?” Will asked.

Asterion glanced over at Hazel, who patted his knee encouragingly.

“I heard what you did for the Titan,” he finally said.

Nico smiled. “Bob?”

“That is his name now, is it not?” Asterion sat up straighter and pushed out his chest. “ Bob. A noble name. Simple yet elegant, like a garter stitch.”

“But what does that have to do with you?” Nico asked.

“You are not aware of the impact you have had, son of Hades! You willingly came to Tartarus to help a Titan! You defied those great forces who would require us to serve as mindless weapons forever. You showed us another way.”

“And when you say us , you mean…” Nico was hesitant to use the usual term, but he didn’t know what else to call them. “Monsters?”

Asterion heaved a deep sigh. “We prefer mythics. The term monsters , you must agree, is rather…what do you call it? Loaded. Ever since we were first called that, we were given no choice but to be monsters. There were the occasional rebels, but they were rare exceptions. The rest of us? We were used. Manipulated. Enslaved to the whims of those who wished only for violence and chaos.”

Nico thought of Nyx in Tartarus. He remembered Bob challenging her, accusing her of not knowing it was possible to change. The goddess had felt no need to be different. I am perfect as I am.

Nico felt his rage building, hot and ferocious. He knew exactly what Asterion was describing. Then he looked down and found Anger chewing on his sock. The Puff looked up at him and opened its mouth—which took up most of its body—revealing hundreds of teeth.

“The sight of your demons comforts me,” said Asterion. “Your peaceful coexistence with them confirms my belief that you and Will Solace are best suited for helping me achieve my goal.”

Hazel nodded. “I agree.”

“And what exactly is your goal?” asked Nico.

The cacodemon Longing waddled over to the bull-man. Asterion patted its head, apparently unaffected by the Puff’s power.

“After I heard the story of your trip to Tartarus,” Asterion said, “I decided to return to the mortal world on my own. It was a difficult journey. I clawed and scraped my way to the surface, thinking that I would seek you out, Nico di Angelo, at Camp Half-Blood. But for whatever reason, my instincts brought me here instead. I emerged in the hills just above Camp Jupiter.”

Hazel smiled. “I like to think it’s because you have good taste.”

The bull-man’s laugh sounded like a revving truck engine.

“Perhaps, Praetor. I watched the camp for many days before approaching. I admired their regimen of discipline. Their camaraderie. The legion exists to protect this valley and all who live in it. I wanted to be part of such a community. I felt that I could settle here safely.”

“Settle?” Nico stared at Hazel. “Asterion is going to live here?”

Hazel and Asterion exchanged a knowing look.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Hazel said. “I do want him to stay. I think Camp Jupiter would benefit greatly from his presence.”

“And I believe I would benefit from being around demigods every day,” said Asterion. “I could offer knitting lessons!”

Hazel fixed her gaze on Anger, who was still trying to chew off Nico’s sock. “Unfortunately, there’s been pushback from some in the legion.”

Nico remembered how on edge the sentries Yazan and Savannah had acted. He recalled the graffiti scrawled on a wall where everyone could see it: NON INIMICOS LICET. No enemies allowed.

“We’ve had over forty new demigods join us since you were here last,” Hazel added. “That’s a lot of new people to assimilate at once. A lot of instability, even before we asked our legionnaires to adjust to…” She gestured at Asterion.

“There has been friction,” the bull-man admitted. “Some demigods of Camp Jupiter are…” He tilted his head as he tried to summon the right words. “They are not as open-minded as Hazel or yourselves. They avoid us. Call us names. Pick fights. And I must admit that some of us are also quick to anger.”

“Hold on,” Will broke in. “Us?”

Hazel wore the same strained expression she’d had on yesterday’s Iris-message. “We’re not just talking about Asterion. Others followed him here.”

Nico scrunched his eyebrows together. “Others as in mon—mythics?”

“You will meet them later today,” said Asterion. “All we want is a chance to live in peace. To find a new purpose that we have chosen ourselves.”

Nico tried to process all this. It was a lot. There weren’t enough Kit Kat bars in the world to tame his headache. “So what do you need me and Will for?”

“Support,” said Hazel. “Your word means something here, Nico. You’re still the ambassador from Pluto, an honorary member of the New Roman senate. You and Will survived Tartarus. That’s…well, legendary.”

“You two changed the Underworld,” agreed Asterion. “Your defeat of Nyx and your rescue of Bob gave the rest of us hope. Many of us did not want the job of being monsters. We’ve had nowhere to go—until now.”

Asterion rose to one knee, bowing his head to Nico.

“Please help us,” he said. “I beseech you with humility. We understand why the mortals are suspicious and afraid. We too are nervous. We do not yet know how to live side by side. But you two inspire by example! A son of Apollo and a son of Hades. Two survivors of Tartarus. A bridge between worlds, if ever there was one. Hazel and I believe that no one could help transform minds better than the two of you.”

Hazel brushed away a tear, though Nico wasn’t sure if it was from love or sadness or worry. “It’s true,” she said. “I respect you both so much. And if there’s anything I’ve learned through our experiences together, it’s that sometimes you just need to ask for help!”

Nico’s vision started to blur from exhaustion. He looked at Will, but he knew what Will would be thinking. Will’s personality was composed of equal parts warmth, compassion, and optimism, with a sprinkling of humor and tasty baked goods. Of course he would want to help.

Nico wasn’t sure how he felt about being an example, much less a bridge between worlds.

He was still getting used to handling the projector for the orientation film at Camp Half-Blood.

But as he gazed at the bull-man kneeling next to his half sister, affection filled his heart.

He knew he had to help. At least, he had to try.

“I’d be glad to,” he said. “But first, can I take a nap?”