The Blood of Olympus Read online

  In Asphodel, millions of them wander around aimlessly, trying to remember who they were. You know why they end up like that? Because in life they never took a stand one way or another. They never spoke out, so they were never heard. Your voice is your identity. If you don’t use it,’ he said with a shrug, ‘you’re halfway to Asphodel already.’

  Reyna scowled. ‘Is that your idea of a pep talk?’

  Coach Hedge cleared his throat. ‘This is getting too psychological for me. I’m going to write some letters.’

  He took his notepad and headed into the woods. The last day or so, he’d been writing a lot – apparently not just to Mellie. The coach wouldn’t share details, but he hinted that he was calling in some favours to help with the quest. For all Nico knew, he was writing to Jackie Chan.

  Nico opened his shopping bag. He pulled out a box of Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies and offered one to Reyna.

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘Those look like they went stale in dinosaur times.’

  ‘Maybe. But I’ve got a big appetite these days. Any kind of food tastes good … except maybe pomegranate seeds. I’m done with those.’

  Reyna picked out a creme pie and took a bite. ‘The ghosts in San Juan … they were my ancestors.’

  Nico waited. The breeze ruffled the camouflage netting over the Athena Parthenos.

  ‘The Ramírez-Arellano family goes back a long way,’ Reyna continued. ‘I don’t know the whole story. My ancestors lived in Spain when it was a Roman province. My great-great-something-something-grandfather was a conquistador. He came over to Puerto Rico with Ponce de León.’

  ‘One of the ghosts on the balcony was wearing conquistador armour,’ Nico recalled.

  ‘That’s him.’

  ‘So … is your whole family descended from Bellona? I thought you and Hylla were her daughters, not legacies.’

  Too late, Nico realized he shouldn’t have brought up Hylla. A look of despair passed over Reyna’s face, though she managed to hide it quickly.

  ‘We are her daughters,’ Reyna said. ‘We’re the first actual children of Bellona in the Ramírez-Arellano family. And Bellona has always favoured our clan. Millennia ago, she decreed that we would play pivotal roles in many battles.’

  ‘Like you’re doing now,’ Nico said.

  Reyna brushed crumbs from her chin. ‘Perhaps. Some of my ancestors have been heroes. Some have been villains. You saw the ghost with the gunshot wounds in the chest?’

  Nico nodded. ‘A pirate?’

  ‘The most famous in Puerto Rican history. He was known as the Pirate Cofresí, but his family name was Ramírez de Arellano. Our house, the family villa, was built with money from treasure that he buried.’

  For a moment, Nico felt like a little kid again. He was tempted to blurt out, That’s so cool! Even before he got into Mythomagic, he’d been obsessed with pirates. Probably that was one reason he’d been so smitten with Percy, a son of the sea god.

  ‘And the other ghosts?’ he asked.

  Reyna took another bite of creme pie. ‘The guy in the U.S. Navy uniform … he’s my great-great-uncle from World War Two, the first Latino submarine commander. You get the idea. A lot of warriors. Bellona was our patron goddess for generations.’

  ‘But she never had demigod children in your family – until you.’

  ‘The goddess … she fell in love with my father, Julian. He was a soldier in Iraq. He was –’ Reyna’s voice broke. She tossed aside the plastic bouquet of flowers. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t talk about him.’

  A cloud passed overhead, blanketing the woods in shadows.

  Nico didn’t want to push Reyna. What right did he have?

  He set down his oatmeal creme pie … and noticed that his fingertips were turning to smoke. The sunlight returned. His hands became solid again, but Nico’s nerves jangled. He felt as if he’d been pulled back from the edge of a high balcony.

  Your voice is your identity, he’d told Reyna. If you don’t use it, you’re halfway to Asphodel already.

  He hated when his own advice applied to himself.

  ‘My dad gave me a present once,’ Nico said. ‘It was a zombie.’

  Reyna stared at him. ‘What?’

  ‘His name is Jules-Albert. He’s French.’

  ‘A … French zombie?’

  ‘Hades isn’t the greatest dad, but occasionally he has these want to know my son moments. I guess he thought the zombie was a peace offering. He said Jules-Albert could be my chauffeur.’

  The corner of Reyna’s mouth twitched. ‘A French zombie chauffeur.’

  Nico realized how ridiculous it sounded. He’d never told anyone about Jules-Albert – not even Hazel. But he kept talking.

  ‘Hades had this idea that I should, you know, try to act like a modern teenager. Make friends. Get to know the twenty-first century. He vaguely understood that mortal parents drive their kids around a lot. He couldn’t do that. So his solution was a zombie.’

  ‘To take you to the mall,’ Reyna said. ‘Or the drive-through at In-N-Out Burger.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Nico’s nerves began to settle. ‘Because nothing helps you make friends faster than a rotting corpse with a French accent.’

  Reyna laughed. ‘I’m sorry … I shouldn’t make fun.’

  ‘It’s okay. Point is … I don’t like talking about my dad either. But sometimes,’ he said, looking her in the eyes, ‘you have to.’

  Reyna’s expression turned serious. ‘I never knew my father in his better days. Hylla said he used to be gentler when she was very small, before I was born. He was a good soldier – fearless, disciplined, cool under fire. He was handsome. He could be very charming. Bellona blessed him, as she had with so many of my ancestors, but that wasn’t enough for my dad. He wanted her for his wife.’

  Over in the woods, Coach Hedge muttered to himself as he wrote. Three paper aeroplanes were already spiralling upward in the breeze, heading to gods knew where.

  ‘My father dedicated himself completely to Bellona,’ Reyna continued. ‘It’s one thing to respect the power of war. It’s another thing to fall in love with it. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to win Bellona’s heart. My sister was born just before he went to Iraq for his last tour of duty. He was honourably discharged, came home a hero. If … if he’d been able to adjust to civilian life, everything might have been all right.’

  ‘But he couldn’t,’ Nico guessed.

  Reyna shook her head. ‘Shortly after he got back, he had one last encounter with the goddess … that’s the, um, reason I was born. Bellona gave him a glimpse of the future. She explained why our family was so important to her. She said the legacy of Rome would never fail as long as one of our bloodline remained, fighting to defend our homeland. Those words … I think she meant them to be reassuring, but my father became fixated on them.’

  ‘War can be hard to get over,’ Nico said, remembering Pietro, one of his neighbours from his childhood in Italy. Pietro had come back from Mussolini’s African campaign in one piece, but, after shelling Ethiopian civilians with mustard gas, his mind was never the same.

  Despite the heat, Reyna drew her cloak around her. ‘Part of the problem was post-traumatic stress. He couldn’t stop thinking about the war. And then there was the constant pain – a roadside bomb had left shrapnel in his shoulder and chest. But it was more than that. Over the years, as I was growing up, he … he changed.’

  Nico didn’t respond. He’d never had anyone talk to him this openly before, except maybe for Hazel. He felt like he was watching a flock of birds settle on a field. One loud sound might startle them away.

  ‘He became paranoid,’ Reyna said. ‘He thought Bellona’s words were a warning that our bloodline would be exterminated and the legacy of Rome would fail. He saw enemies everywhere. He collected weapons. He turned our house into a fortress. At night, he would lock Hylla and me in our rooms. If we sneaked out, he would yell at us and throw furniture and … well, he terrified us. At times, he even though
t we were the enemies. He became convinced we were spying on him, trying to undermine him. Then the ghosts started appearing. I guess they’d always been there, but they picked up on my father’s agitation and began to manifest. They whispered to him, feeding his suspicions. Finally one day … I can’t tell you for sure when, I realized he had ceased to be my father. He had become one of the ghosts.’

  A cold tide rose in Nico’s chest. ‘A mania,’ he speculated. ‘I’ve seen it before. A human withers away until he’s not human any more. Only his worst qualities remain. His insanity …’

  It was clear from Reyna’s expression that his explanation wasn’t helping.

  ‘Whatever he was,’ Reyna said, ‘he became impossible to live with. Hylla and I escaped the house as often as we could, but eventually we’d come … back … and face his rage. We didn’t know what else to do. He was our only family. The last time we returned, he – he was so angry he was literally glowing. He couldn’t physically touch things any more, but he could move them … like a poltergeist, I guess. He tore up the floor tiles. He ripped open the sofa. Finally he tossed a chair and it hit Hylla. She collapsed. She was only knocked unconscious, but I thought she was dead. She’d spent so many years protecting me … I just lost it. I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find – a family heirloom, the Pirate Confresí’s sabre. I – I didn’t know it was Imperial gold. I ran at my father’s spirit and …’

  ‘You vaporized him,’ Nico guessed.

  Reyna’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I killed my own father.’

  ‘No. Reyna, no. That wasn’t him. That was a ghost. Even worse: a mania. You were protecting your sister.’

  She twisted the silver ring on her finger. ‘You don’t understand. Patricide is the worst crime a Roman can commit. It’s unforgivable.’

  ‘You didn’t kill your father. The man was already dead,’ Nico insisted. ‘You dispelled a ghost.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter!’ Reyna sobbed. ‘If word of this got out at Camp Jupiter –’

  ‘You’d be executed,’ said a new voice.

  At the edge of the woods stood a Roman legionnaire in full armour, holding a pilum. A mop of brown hair hung in his eyes. His nose had obviously been broken at least once, which made his smile look even more sinister. ‘Thank you for your confession, former praetor. You’ve made my job much easier.’

  XXX

  Nico

  COACH HEDGE CHOSE THAT MOMENT to burst into the clearing, waving a paper aeroplane and yelling, ‘Good news, everyone!’

  He froze when he saw the Roman. ‘Oh … never mind.’

  He quickly crumpled the aeroplane and ate it.

  Reyna and Nico got to their feet. Aurum and Argentum scampered to Reyna’s side and growled at the intruder.

  How this guy had got so close with none of them noticing, Nico didn’t understand.

  ‘Bryce Lawrence,’ Reyna said. ‘Octavian’s newest attack dog.’

  The Roman inclined his head. His eyes were green, but not sea green like Percy’s … more like pond-scum green.

  ‘The augur has many attack dogs,’ Bryce said. ‘I’m just the lucky one who found you. Your Graecus friend here –’ he pointed his chin at Nico – ‘he was easy to track. He stinks of the Underworld.’

  Nico unsheathed his sword. ‘You know the Underworld? Would you like me to arrange a visit?’

  Bryce laughed. His front teeth were two different shades of yellow. ‘Do you think you can frighten me? I’m a descendant of Orcus, the god of broken vows and eternal punishment. I’ve heard the screams in the Fields of Punishment firsthand. They’re music to my ears. Soon, I’ll be adding one more damned soul to the chorus.’

  He grinned at Reyna. ‘Patricide, eh? Octavian will love this news. You are under arrest for multiple violations of Roman law.’

  ‘You being here is against Roman law,’ Reyna said. ‘Romans don’t quest alone. A mission has to be led by someone of centurion rank or higher. You’re in probatio, and even giving you that rank was a mistake. You have no right to arrest me.’

  Bryce shrugged. ‘In times of war, some rules have to be flexible. But don’t worry. Once I bring you in for trial, I’ll be rewarded with full membership in the legion. I imagine I’ll be promoted to centurion, too. Doubtless there will be vacancies after the coming battle. Some officers won’t survive, especially if their loyalties aren’t in the right place.’

  Coach Hedge hefted his bat. ‘I don’t know the proper Roman etiquette, but can I bash this kid now?’

  ‘A faun,’ Bryce said. ‘Interesting. I heard the Greeks actually trusted their goat men.’

  Hedge bleated. ‘I’m a satyr. And you can trust I’m going to put this bat upside your head, you little punk.’

  The coach advanced, but, as soon as his foot touched the cairn, the stones rumbled like they were coming to the boil. Out of the grave site, skeletal warriors erupted – spartoi in the tattered remains of British redcoat uniforms.

  Hedge scrambled away, but the first two skeletons grabbed his arms and lifted him off the ground. The coach dropped his bat and kicked his hooves.

  ‘Lemme go, ya stupid boneheads!’ he bellowed.

  Nico watched, paralysed, as the grave spewed forth more dead British soldiers – five, ten, twenty, multiplying so quickly that Reyna and her metal dogs were surrounded before Nico even thought to raise his sword.

  How could he not have sensed so many dead, so close at hand?

  ‘I forgot to mention,’ Bryce said, ‘I’m actually not alone on this quest. As you can see, I have backup. These redcoats promised quarter to the colonials. Then they butchered them. Personally, I like a good massacre, but, because they broke their oaths, their spirits were damned and they are perpetually under the power of Orcus. Which means they are also under my control.’ He pointed to Reyna. ‘Seize the girl.’

  The spartoi surged forward. Aurum and Argentum took down the first few, but they were quickly wrestled to the ground, skeletal hands clamped over their muzzles. The redcoats grabbed Reyna’s arms. For undead creatures, they were surprisingly quick.

  Finally, Nico came to his senses. He slashed at the spartoi, but his sword passed harmlessly through them. He exerted his will, ordering the skeletons to dissolve. They acted as if he didn’t exist.

  ‘What’s wrong, son of Hades?’ Bryce’s voice was filled with fake sympathy. ‘Losing your grip?’

  Nico tried to push his way through the skeletons. There were too many. Bryce, Reyna and Coach Hedge might as well have been behind a metal wall.

  ‘Nico, get out of here!’ Reyna said. ‘Get to the statue and leave.’

  ‘Yes, off you go!’ Bryce agreed. ‘Of course, you realize that your next shadow-jump will be your last. You know you don’t have the strength to survive another. But, by all means, take the Athena Parthenos.’

  Nico glanced down. He still held his Stygian sword, but his hands were dark and transparent like smoky glass. Even in the direct sunlight, he was dissolving.

  ‘Stop this!’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I’m not doing a thing,’ Bryce said. ‘But I am curious to see what will happen. If you take the statue, you’ll disappear with it forever, right into oblivion. If you don’t take it … well, I have orders to bring Reyna in alive to stand trial for treason. I have no orders to bring you in alive, or the faun.’

  ‘Satyr!’ the coach yelled. He kicked a skeleton in its bony crotch, which seemed to hurt Hedge more than the redcoat. ‘Ow! Stupid British dead guys!’

  Bryce lowered his javelin and poked the coach in the belly. ‘I wonder what this one’s pain tolerance would be. I’ve experimented on all kinds of animals. I even killed my own centurion once. I’ve never tried a faun … excuse me, a satyr. You reincarnate, don’t you? How much pain can you take before you turn into a patch of daisies?’

  Nico’s anger turned as cold and dark as his blade. He’d been morphed into a few plants himself, and he didn’t appreciate it. He hated people like Bryce Lawrence, who inflicted pain jus
t for fun.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ Nico warned.

  Bryce raised an eyebrow. ‘Or what? By all means, try something Underworldy, Nico. I’d love to see it. I have a feeling anything major will make you fade out permanently. Go ahead.’

  Reyna struggled. ‘Bryce, forget about them. If you want me as your prisoner, fine. I’ll go willingly and face Octavian’s stupid trial.’

  ‘A fine offer.’ Bryce turned his javelin, letting the tip hover a few inches from Reyna’s eyes. ‘You really don’t know what Octavian has planned, do you? He’s been busy pulling in favours, spending the legion’s money.’

  Reyna clenched her fists. ‘Octavian has no right –’

  ‘He has the right of power,’ Bryce said. ‘You forfeited your authority when you ran off to the ancient lands. On August first, your Greek friends at Camp Half-Blood will find out what a powerful enemy Octavian is. I’ve seen the designs for his machines … Even I’m impressed.’

  Nico’s bones felt like they were changing into helium, the way they’d felt when the god Favonius turned him into a breeze.

  Then he locked eyes with Reyna. Her strength surged through him – a wave of courage and resilience that made him feel substantial again, anchored to the mortal world. Even surrounded by the dead and facing execution, Reyna Ramírez-Arellano had a huge reservoir of bravery to share.

  ‘Nico,’ she said, ‘do what you need to do. I’ve got your back.’

  Bryce chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. ‘Oh, Reyna. You’ve got his back? It’s going to be so fun dragging you before a tribunal, forcing you to confess that you killed your father. I hope they’ll execute you in the ancient way – sewn into a sack with a rabid dog, then thrown into a river. I’ve always wanted to see that. I can’t wait until your little secret comes out.’

  Until your little secret comes out.

  Bryce flicked the point of his pilum across Reyna’s face, leaving a line of blood.

  And Nico’s rage exploded.

  XXXI

  Nico

  LATER, THEY TOLD HIM WHAT HAPPENED. All he remembered was the screaming.

  According to Reyna, the air around him dropped to freezing. The ground blackened. In one horrible cry, he unleashed a flood of pain and anger on everyone in the clearing. Reyna and the coach experienced his journey through Tartarus, his capture by the giants, his days wasting away inside that bronze jar. They felt Nico’s anguish from his days on the Argo II and his encounter with Cupid in the ruins of Salona.

  They heard his unspoken challenge to Bryce Lawrence, loud and clear: You want secrets? Here.

  The spartoi disintegrated into ashes. The rocks of the cairn turned white with frost. Bryce Lawrence stumbled, clutching his head, both nostrils bleeding.

  Nico marched towards him. He grabbed Bryce’s probatio tablet and ripped it off his neck.

  ‘You aren’t worthy of this,’ Nico growled.

  The earth split under Bryce’s feet. He sank up to his waist. ‘Stop!’ Bryce clawed at the ground and the plastic bouquets, but his body kept sinking.

  ‘You took an oath to the legion.’ Nico’s breath steamed in the cold. ‘You broke its rules. You inflicted pain. You killed your own centurion.’

  ‘I – I didn’t! I –’

  ‘You should’ve died for your crimes,’ Nico continued. ‘That was the punishment. Instead you got exile. You should have stayed away. Your father Orcus may not approve of broken oaths. But my father Hades really doesn’t approve of those who escape punishment.’

  ‘Please!’

  That word didn’t make sense to Nico. The Underworld had no mercy. It only had justice.

  ‘You’re already dead,’ Nico said. ‘You’re a ghost with no tongue, no memory. You won’t be sharing any secrets.’

  ‘No!’ Bryce’s body turned dark and smoky. He slipped into the earth, up to his chest. ‘No, I am Bryce Lawrence! I’m alive!’

  ‘Who are you?’ Nico asked.

  The next sound from Bryce’s mouth was a chattering whisper. His face became indistinct. He could have been anyone – just another nameless spirit among millions.