The Blood of Olympus

  Nico didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t want to know.

  ‘My son.’ Hades’s tone was almost gentle. ‘Whatever happens, you have earned my respect. You brought honour to our house when we stood together against Kronos in Manhattan. You risked my wrath to help the Jackson boy – guiding him to the River Styx, freeing him from my prison, pleading with me to raise the armies of Erebos to assist him. Never before have I been so harassed by one of my sons. Percy this and Percy that. I nearly blasted you to cinders.’

  Nico took a shallow breath. The walls of the room began to tremble, dust trickling from the cracks between the bones. ‘I didn’t do all that just for him. I did it because the whole world was in danger.’

  Hades allowed himself the faintest smile, but there was nothing cruel in his eyes. ‘I can entertain the possibility that you acted for multiple reasons. My point is this: you and I rose to the aid of Olympus because you convinced me to let go of my anger. I would encourage you to do likewise. My children are so rarely happy. I … I would like to see you be an exception.’

  Nico stared at his father. He didn’t know what to do with that statement. He could accept many unreal things – hordes of ghosts, magical labyrinths, travel through shadows, chapels made of bones. But tender words from the Lord of the Underworld? No. That made no sense.

  Over at the altar, the fiery ghost rose. He approached, burning and screaming silently, his eyes conveying some urgent message.

  ‘Ah,’ Hades said. ‘This is Brother Paloan. He’s one of hundreds who were burned alive in the square near the old Roman temple. The Inquisition had its headquarters there, you know. At any rate, he suggests you leave now. You have very little time before the wolves arrive.’

  ‘Wolves? You mean Orion’s pack?’

  Hades flicked his hand. The ghost of Brother Paloan disappeared. ‘My son, what you are attempting – shadow-travel across the world, carrying the statue of Athena – it may well destroy you.’

  ‘Thanks for the encouragement.’

  Hades placed his hands briefly on Nico’s shoulders.

  Nico didn’t like to be touched, but somehow this brief contact with his father felt reassuring – the same way the Chapel of Bones was reassuring. Like death, his father’s presence was cold and often callous, but it was real – brutally honest, inescapably dependable. Nico found a sort of freedom in knowing that eventually, no matter what happened, he would end up at the foot of his father’s throne.

  ‘I will see you again,’ Hades promised. ‘I will prepare a room for you at the palace in case you do not survive. Perhaps your chambers would look good decorated with the skulls of monks.’

  ‘Now I can’t tell if you’re joking.’

  Hades’s eyes glittered as his form began to fade. ‘Then perhaps we are alike in some important ways.’

  The god vanished.

  Suddenly the chapel felt oppressive – thousands of hollow eye sockets staring at Nico. We, the bones that are here, await yours.

  He hurried out of the church, hoping he remembered the way back to his friends.

  XV

  Nico

  ‘WOLVES?’ REYNA ASKED.

  They were eating dinner from the nearby pavement café.

  Despite Hades’s warning to hurry back, Nico had found nothing much changed at the camp. Reyna had just awoken. The Athena Parthenos still lay sideways across the top of the temple. Coach Hedge was entertaining a few locals with tap dancing and martial arts, occasionally singing into his megaphone, though nobody seemed to understand what he was saying.

  Nico wished the coach hadn’t brought the megaphone. Not only was it loud and obnoxious but also, for no reason Nico understood, it occasionally blurted out random Darth Vader lines from Star Wars or yelled, ‘THE COW GOES MOO!’

  As the three of them sat on the lawn to eat, Reyna seemed alert and rested. She and Coach Hedge listened as Nico described his dreams, then his meeting with Hades at the Chapel of Bones. Nico held back a few personal details from his talk with his father, though he sensed that Reyna knew plenty about wrestling with one’s feelings.

  When he mentioned Orion and the wolves that were supposedly on their way, Reyna frowned.

  ‘Most wolves are friendly to Romans,’ she said. ‘I’ve never heard stories about Orion hunting with a pack.’

  Nico finished his ham sandwich. He eyed the plate of pastries and was surprised to find he still had an appetite. ‘It could have been a figure of speech: very little time before the wolves arrive. Perhaps Hades didn’t literally mean wolves. At any rate, we should leave as soon as it’s dark enough for shadows.’

  Coach Hedge stuffed an issue of Guns & Ammo into his bag. ‘Only problem: the Athena Parthenos is still thirty feet in the air. Gonna be fun hauling you guys and your gear to the top of that temple.’

  Nico tried a pastry. The lady at the café had called them farturas. They looked like spiral doughnuts and tasted great – just the right combination of crispy, sugary and buttery – but when Nico first heard fartura he knew Percy would have made a joke out of the name.

  America has dough-nuts, Percy would have said. Portugal has fart-nuts.

  The older Nico got, the more juvenile Percy seemed to him, though Percy was three years older. Nico found his sense of humour equal parts endearing and annoying. He decided to concentrate on the annoying.

  Then there were the times Percy was deadly serious: looking up at Nico from that chasm in Rome – The other side, Nico! Lead them there. Promise me!

  And Nico had promised. It didn’t seem to matter how much he resented Percy Jackson; Nico would do anything for him. He hated himself for that.

  ‘So …’ Reyna’s voice jarred him from his thoughts. ‘Will Camp Half-Blood wait for August first, or will they attack?’

  ‘We have to hope they wait,’ Nico said. ‘We can’t … I can’t get the statue back any faster.’

  Even at this rate, my dad thinks I might die. Nico kept that thought private.

  He wished Hazel was with him. Together they had shadow-travelled the entire crew of the Argo II out of the House of Hades. When they shared their power, Nico felt like anything was possible. The trip to Camp Half-Blood could’ve been done in half the time.

  Besides, Hades’s words about one of the crew dying had sent a chill through him. He couldn’t lose Hazel. Not another sister. Not again.

  Coach Hedge looked up from counting the change in his baseball cap. ‘And you’re sure Clarisse said Mellie was okay?’

  ‘Yes, Coach. Clarisse is taking good care of her.’

  ‘That’s a relief. I don’t like what Grover said about Gaia whispering to the nymphs and dryads. If the nature spirits turn evil … that’s not going to be pretty.’

  Nico had never heard of such a thing happening. Then again, Gaia hadn’t been awake since the dawn of humanity.

  Reyna took a bite of her pastry. Her chain mail glittered in the afternoon sun. ‘I wonder about these wolves … Is it possible we’ve misunderstood the message? The goddess Lupa has been very quiet. Perhaps she is sending us aid. The wolves could be from her – to defend us from Orion and his pack.’

  The hopefulness in her voice was as thin as gauze. Nico decided not to rip through it.

  ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But wouldn’t Lupa be busy with the war between the camps? I thought she’d be sending wolves to help your legion.’

  Reyna shook her head. ‘Wolves are not front-line fighters. I don’t think she would help Octavian. Her wolves might be patrolling Camp Jupiter, defending it in the legion’s absence, but I just don’t know …’

  She crossed her legs at the ankles, and the iron tips of her combat boots glinted. Nico made a mental note not to get into any kicking contests with Roman legionnaires.

  ‘There’s something else,’ she said. ‘I haven’t had any luck contacting my sister, Hylla. It makes me uneasy that both the wolves and the Amazons have gone silent. If something has happened on the West Coast … I fear the only hope for either
camp lies with us. We must return the statue soon. That means the greatest burden is on you, son of Hades.’

  Nico tried to swallow his bile. He wasn’t mad at Reyna. He kind of liked Reyna. But so often he’d been called on to do the impossible. Normally, as soon as he accomplished it, he was forgotten.

  He remembered how nice the kids at Camp Half-Blood had been to him after the war with Kronos. Great job, Nico! Thanks for bringing the armies of the Underworld to save us!

  Everybody smiled. They all invited him to sit at their table.

  After about a week, his welcome wore thin. Campers would jump when he walked up behind them. He would emerge from the shadows at the campfire, startle somebody and see the discomfort in their eyes: Are you still here? Why are you here?

  It didn’t help that immediately after the war with Kronos, Annabeth and Percy had started dating …

  Nico set down his fartura. Suddenly it didn’t taste so good.

  He recalled his talk with Annabeth at Epirus, just before he’d left with the Athena Parthenos.

  She’d pulled him aside and said, ‘Hey, I have to talk to you.’

  Panic had seized him. She knows.

  ‘I want to thank you,’ she continued. ‘Bob … the Titan … he only helped us in Tartarus because you were kind to him. You told him we were worth saving. That’s the only reason we’re alive.’

  She said we so easily, as if she and Percy were interchangeable, inseparable.

  Nico had once read a story from Plato, who claimed that in the ancient times all humans had been a combination of male and female. Each person had two heads, four arms, four legs. Supposedly, these combo-humans had been so powerful they made the gods uneasy, so Zeus split them in half – man and woman. Ever since, humans had felt incomplete. They spent their lives searching for their other halves.

  And where does that leave me? Nico wondered.

  It wasn’t his favourite story.

  He wanted to hate Annabeth, but he just couldn’t. She’d gone out of her way to thank him at Epirus. She was genuine and sincere. She never overlooked him or avoided him like most people did. Why couldn’t she be a horrible person? That would’ve made it easier.

  The wind god Favonius had warned him in Croatia: If you let your anger rule you … your fate will be even sadder than mine.

  But how could his fate be anything but sad? Even if he lived through this quest, he would have to leave both camps forever. That was the only way he would find peace. He wished there was another option – a choice that didn’t hurt like the waters of the Phlegethon – but he couldn’t see one.

  Reyna was studying him, probably trying to read his thoughts. She glanced down at his hands, and Nico realized he was twisting his silver skull ring – the last gift Bianca had given him.

  ‘Nico, how can we help you?’ Reyna asked.

  Another question he wasn’t used to hearing.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he admitted. ‘You’ve already let me rest as much as possible. That’s important. Perhaps you can lend me your strength again. This next jump will be the longest. I’ll have to muster enough energy to get us across the Atlantic.’

  ‘You’ll succeed,’ Reyna promised. ‘Once we’re back in the U.S., we should encounter fewer monsters. I might even be able to get help from retired legionnaires along the eastern seaboard. They are obliged to aid any Roman demigod who calls on them.’

  Hedge grunted. ‘If Octavian hasn’t already won them over. In which case, you might find yourself arrested for treason.’

  ‘Coach,’ Reyna scolded, ‘not helping.’

  ‘Hey, just sayin’. Personally, I wish we could stay in Évora longer. Good food, good money and so far no sign of these figurative wolves –’

  Reyna’s dogs sprang to their feet.

  In the distance, howls pierced the air. Before Nico could stand, wolves appeared from every direction – huge black beasts leaping from the roofs, surrounding their encampment.

  The largest of them padded forward. The alpha wolf stood on his haunches and began to change. His forelegs grew into arms. His snout shrank into a pointy nose. His grey fur morphed into a cloak of woven animal pelts. He became a tall, wiry man with a haggard face and glowing red eyes. A crown of finger bones circled his greasy black hair.

  ‘Ah, little satyr …’ The man grinned, revealing pointed fangs. ‘Your wish is granted! You will stay in Évora forever, because, sadly for you, my figurative wolves are literally wolves.’

  XVI

  Nico

  ‘YOU’RE NOT ORION,’ Nico blurted.

  A stupid comment, but it was the first thing that came to his mind.

  The man before him clearly was not a hunter giant. He wasn’t tall enough. He didn’t have dragon legs. He didn’t carry a bow or quiver, and he didn’t have the headlamp eyes Reyna had described from her dream.

  The grey man laughed. ‘Indeed not. Orion has merely employed me to assist him in his hunt. I am –’

  ‘Lycaon,’ Reyna interrupted. ‘The first werewolf.’

  The man gave her a mock bow. ‘Reyna Ramírez-Arellano, praetor of Rome. One of Lupa’s whelps! I’m pleased you recognize me. No doubt, I am the stuff of your nightmares.’

  ‘The stuff of my indigestion, perhaps.’ From her belt pouch, Reyna produced a foldable camping knife. She flicked it open and the wolves snarled, backing away. ‘I never travel without a silver weapon.’

  Lycaon bared his teeth. ‘Would you keep a dozen wolves and their king at bay with a pocketknife? I heard you were brave, filia Romana. I did not realize you were foolhardy.’

  Reyna’s dogs crouched, ready to spring. The coach gripped his baseball bat, though for once he didn’t look anxious to swing.

  Nico reached for the hilt of his sword.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ muttered Coach Hedge. ‘These guys are only hurt by silver or fire. I remember them from Pikes Peak. They’re annoying.’

  ‘And I remember you, Gleeson Hedge.’ The werewolf’s eyes glowed lava red. ‘My pack will be delighted to have goat meat for dinner.’

  Hedge snorted. ‘Bring it on, mangy boy. The Hunters of Artemis are on their way right now, just like last time! That’s a temple of Diana over there, you idiot. You’re on their home turf!’

  Again the wolves snarled and widened their circle. Some glanced nervously towards the rooftops.

  Lycaon only glared at the coach. ‘A nice try, but I’m afraid that temple has been misnamed. I passed through here during Roman times. It was actually dedicated to the Emperor Augustus. Typical demigod vanity. Regardless, I’ve been much more careful since our last encounter. If the Hunters were anywhere close by, I would know.’

  Nico tried to think of an escape plan. They were surrounded and outnumbered. Their only effective weapon was a pocketknife. The sceptre of Diocletian was gone. The Athena Parthenos was thirty feet above them at the top of the temple, and even if they could reach it they couldn’t shadow-travel until they actually had shadows. The sun wouldn’t set for hours.

  He hardly felt brave, but he stepped forward. ‘So you’ve got us. What are you waiting for?’

  Lycaon studied him like a new type of meat in a butcher’s display case. ‘Nico di Angelo … son of Hades. I’ve heard of you. I’m sorry I can’t kill you promptly, but I promised my employer Orion that I would detain you until he arrives. No worries. He should be here in a few moments. Once he’s done with you, I shall spill your blood and mark this place as my territory for ages to come!’

  Nico gritted his teeth. ‘Demigod blood. The blood of Olympus.’

  ‘Of course!’ Lycaon said. ‘Spilled upon the ground, especially sacred ground, demigod blood has many uses. With the proper incantations, it can awaken monsters or even gods. It can cause new life to spring up or make a place barren for generations. Alas, your blood will not wake Gaia herself. That honour is reserved for your friends aboard the Argo II. But fear not. Your death will be almost as painful as theirs.’

  The grass started dying around
Nico’s feet. The marigold beds withered. Barren ground, he thought. Sacred ground.

  He remembered the thousands of skeletons in the Chapel of Bones. He recalled what Hades had said about this public square, where the Inquisition had burned hundreds of people alive.

  This was an ancient city. How many dead lay in the ground beneath his feet?

  ‘Coach,’ he said, ‘you can climb?’

  Hedge scoffed. ‘I’m half goat. Of course I can climb!’

  ‘Get up to the statue and secure the rigging. Make a rope ladder and drop it down for us.’

  ‘Uh, but the pack of wolves –’

  ‘Reyna,’ Nico said, ‘you and your dogs will have to cover our retreat.’

  The praetor nodded grimly. ‘Understood.’

  Lycaon howled with laughter. ‘Retreat to where, son of Hades? There is no escape. You cannot kill us!’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Nico said. ‘But I can slow you down.’

  He spread his hands and the ground erupted.

  Nico hadn’t expected it to work so well. He had pulled bone fragments from the earth before. He’d animated rat skeletons and unearthed the odd human skull. Nothing prepared him for the wall of bones that burst skyward – hundreds of femurs, ribs and fibulas entangling the wolves, forming a spiky briar patch of human remains.

  Most of the wolves were hopelessly trapped. Some writhed and gnashed their teeth, trying to free themselves from their haphazard cages. Lycaon himself was immobilized in a cocoon of rib bones, but that didn’t stop him from screaming curses.

  ‘You worthless child!’ he roared. ‘I will rip the flesh from your limbs!’

  ‘Coach, go!’ Nico said.

  The satyr sprinted towards the temple. He made the top of the podium in a single leap and scrambled up the left pillar.

  Two wolves broke free from the thicket of bones. Reyna threw her knife and impaled one in the neck. Her dogs pounced on the other. Aurum’s fangs and claws slipped harmlessly off the wolf’s hide, but Argentum brought the beast down.

  Argentum’s head was still bent sideways from the fight in Pompeii. His left ruby eye was still missing, but he managed to sink his fangs into the wolf’s scruff. The wolf dissolved into a puddle of shadow.

  Thank goodness for silver dogs, Nico thought.

  Reyna drew her sword. She scooped a handful of silver coins from Hedge’s baseball cap, grabbed duct tape from the coach’s supply bag and began taping coins around her blade. The girl was nothing if not inventive.

  ‘Go!’ she told Nico. ‘I’ll cover you!’

  The wolves struggled, causing the bone thicket to crack and crumble. Lycaon freed his right arm and began smashing through his prison of ribcages.

  ‘I will flay you alive!’ he promised. ‘I will add your pelt to my cloak!’

  Nico ran, pausing just long enough to grab Reyna’s silver pocketknife from the ground.

  He wasn’t a mountain goat, but he found a set of stairs at the back of the temple and raced to the top. He reached the base of the columns and squinted up at Coach Hedge, who was precariously perched at the feet of the Athena Parthenos, unravelling ropes and knotting a ladder.

  ‘Hurry!’ Nico yelled.

  ‘Oh, really?’ the coach called down. ‘I thought we had tons of time!’

  The last thing Nico needed was satyr sarcasm. Down in the square, more wolves broke free of their bone restraints. Reyna swatted them aside with her modified duct-tape-coin-sword, but a handful of change wasn’t going to hold back a pack of werewolves for long. Aurum snarled and snapped in frustration, unable to hurt the enemy. Argentum did his best, sinking his claws into the throat of another wolf, but the silver dog was already damaged. Soon he’d be hopelessly outnumbered.

  Lycaon freed both his arms. He started pulling his legs from their ribcage