Nico
Nico shivered in the chill stale air of the Underworld. He had always felt cold, lately. It might have partially been because the icy casing over his chest that had made its home inside him since a year ago, when Bianca had . . . he didn't want to think about her. It was still too painful. Memories were too fresh. He rubbed his arms and closed his eyes.
Focus, he told himself. He imagined the dead crawling up through the ground, coming to his aid. Instead, an aura started to collect in front of him. Nico inhaled sharply. The mist formed a very tall figure, dressed in black. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was the son of Hades, he should be able to- the teenage boy saluted and stuck his hands in his pockets. His unkempt black hair was swept to the side by a non existent breeze, and the long woolen trench coat collar was flipped up, as if warding of the cold. A black scarf was wrapped around his neck, flowing the direction of his hair. Nico looked up into his face and nearly cried out. There he was. Or, at least, Nico mused, a vision of him in the future.
"Wh-wh-who- or what- are you?" he demanded. The apparition only looked him in the eye. "I command you to answer me! I am the son of Hades, lord of the Dead!" The teen smirked.
"So am I, little brother. But alas, I have fallen to our father's realm. I am dead," the ghost said sadly. Nico tried to collect himself.
"What do you want?" he asked, "Who are you?" Something about him gave Nico the chills. I shouldn't be afraid of him, he lectured himself scornfully, he's just a ghost. He's dead.
"I am-" he stopped. "-was, Nykolas Rubidoux. The son of Hades Pluton. Deceased. May he rest in pieces." Nykolas smirked again. "Why am I here? Because I wanted to see my brother. I didn't know I had another living brother until I died. Ironic, isn't it?" Nico tried to speak, but ended up gaping like a fish. Nykolas laughed. "Close your mouth, or you'll swallow a Fury, if you're not careful." The younger shook his head.
"When did you die?" Nykolas' face darkened considerably.
"Only about a week ago. In a Greek fire accident."
"Why didn't our father tell us? How come we haven't met?"
"I don't know," replied Nykolas. His brow furrowed and he scowled. "Hades has many secrets." Nico balled his fists. His father treated him like some naïve, foolish child, unable to be trusted with the simplest things. He was never told anything. He shivered again. Nykolas glanced at him, then his watch. "Cold, huh?" Nico nodded, his teeth chattering.
"I d-don't h-h-have an-n-ny warm cl-l-lothes," he muttered, hugging himself.
"Doesn't help I'm sapping your strength," his brother reminded him. "Do you know where the museum is?" Nykolas looked a little desperate.
"I think so."
"Have you seen the exhibit statues of the children of Hades? Find the one of me. Press the black diamond on the right side of the name plate. A hidden compartment should open up. You'll find a small black envelope with a wax skull seal on it. Open it. Read the instructions."
The son of Hades' ghost put his hands on Nico's shoulders. "And remember," he said, staring deep into his eyes, "I'm watching out for you, Nico. A child of death still has some power, even once home for good." The image started to flicker. Nykolas backed up and started walking away. "Remember me, brother. Remember who you-" Nykolas disappeared completely. Nico's legs shook, and he slumped to the ground, his long lost brother's words replaying in his mind.
I wanted to see my brother. I'm watching out for you. Remember me. A child of death has power . . . Remember who you . . . Son of Hades Pluton . . . Rest in pieces . . . Sapping your strength . . . He held his head between his knees. Nico felt dizzy. Wanted to sleep. Rest. Get away from the pain. You'll find a small black envelope with a wax skull seal on it. Open it. Read the instructions. Nico lifted his head. The desire to find that envelope grew stronger. He was compelled to believe it was important. It must be.
With a new surge of energy, he got to his feet and headed towards the palace staircase. The three flights of stairs heading downward seemed to fly by. He slid to a stop at the museum entrance and walked inside. The air felt stale and ageless. The room was lit by candles and torches burning from fixtures on the stone walls. At the end of the long room were the statues of deceased children of Hades, carved from polished black marble, that, once you looked long enough at it, it showed the person as they looked in real life. A golden name plate on each told the date of birth and death, and cause thereof, along with a memento from Hades and an altar. They were decorated with jewels and etchings in Greek, Latin and English.
Macaria, the first daughter of Hades. She was made the goddess of blessed death. Then followed Acheros, the son who went mad from his time in the Underworld. Adrian died early when he angered Athena and was attacked by owls. Next was Yudhisthira, some dude from a place called Hastinapura. The third statue was of Tiberius Claudius Hipparchus, a Greek in Roman times. King William the first of England, was a prosperous and just king in the Medieval era. Mansa Musa stood to William's right, holding a stone. Nico guessed it to be a gold nugget, by the look on Musa I's face. Rico Lamberto, an Italian, ended up being hanged for murder when a misunderstanding came between him and his wife. His whole family was dead by the time it got sorted out. The three patrons of World War II stood next to each other regally. Adolf Hitler. Victor Emmanuel III. Hirohito Showa.
The much more modern statues were saddening. Three small children, the oldest maybe six stood in a row. A boy with a round face and cheeky grin stood over the name plate that read, Nyxon T. Rubidoux. To his right a little girl held his hand, smiling shyly. Edith L. Rubidoux. On the marble in front of them sat a toddler holding a spoon, his face covered with pudding from a bowl in his lap. Benedict R. Rubidoux. The cause of death gave Nico a heartache. 'Killed in accident with a Maenad.' But it was the next statue that put him into tears.
His sister Bianca stood with her Hunter's bow drawn, aimed at the sky. Her hair was braided on her shoulder, and her dark eyes sparkled. Nico's heart was in his throat. "Bianca M. di Angelo. Hunter of Artemis. Died age 14 defending comrades and fellow Hunters." A whimper escaped Nico and tears rolled down his face. He desperately tried to stop crying, but to no avail. Sobs wracked his body and he knelt at his dead sister's altar. He felt a hand on his shoulder and a soothing presence. Looking up, he saw nobody. But he felt Nykolas' spirit. Come, he urged, find the letter. He sensed his brother leaving, but the comfort was still there.
"I'm watching out for you," Nykolas has said. Nico got to his feet and inhaled deeply. Shakily, he advanced to Nykolas' statue.
It showed his brother with one hand in the pocket of his trench coat and the other raised to his forehead in a two fingered salute. A large black sword hung at his side. 'Nykolas E. Rubidoux. Born 1893. Died age 15 saving mortals from Greek fire.' Nico did a double take. 1893? What in Hades? That would make him over a hundred years old! He filed the thought away.
A bottle of root beer was on his altar. Nico read the inscription from Hades. "My son, in this life you have made me proud. You have proved your worth a thousand times. I am sorry I couldn't be a better father. Forgive me." Nico wiped the tears from his eyes and pushed the black diamond on the right side of the plaque. For a moment nothing happened. Suddenly, a skeleton emerged from the opening in the floor and faced Nico with a sword.
"Leave!" he cried, and immediately it hopped back into the opening that shut after him, leaving behind only a black envelope. Just like Nykolas had said. Gingerly, he pried open the wax skull seal and took out the letter.
"Dear recipient,
"If you have received this note, I take it you have disposed of my handy skeleton warrior. If you destroyed him, you will shortly see Hermes to take you to the proper entrance to the Underworld. Yes. I am saying you will be dead. You see, by destroying my little friend, you would have alerted Lord Hades of an intruder in the museum, and will soon be attacked by a horde of undead. The only way you will live, is if you simply told my friend to go away. It this is the case, I congratulate you. You must be on of my siblings to do this. Or a smart child of Ares or Mars. Oh, wait. There are no smart War god spawn. Anyway, congratulations. You have been chosen by my ghost to inherit the story of my short life, and a few of my personal belongings. I have obviously deemed you worthy, or you wouldn't be reading this. Alright, alright, I'll stop stating the obvious.
"I am dead. Once you have finished reading this, a black diamond ring will appear in the envelope. It will guide you to my bedroom. When you near my door, whisper this password into the keyhole:
Φοίνιξ
"Yes. Phoenix. This is the word that will open my door. Inside the room you will find my belongings. On the desk is a alarm clock. Press the snooze button three times, and a key to my lock drawer will pop out. A loud buzz will sound if you try to take anything I didn't want disturbed, and everything I want to remain is magically bound to that room. I'll send you on your way now. Don't forget to leave a chocolate bar on my altar!
"Nykolas Rubidoux"
Just like Nykolas' letter predicted, the envelope in Nico's hand grew heavier. He looked inside and took out the ring. It was crafted of bone, except for the diamond. It was glowing very faintly. The son of Hades stared at the ring intently and jumped when it made a small exploding sound and morphed into a mini, glowing skeletal squirrel. The black diamond was part of his spine, making it look like he carried a pack. The squirrel chattered and scampered out of the museum and up the stairs. Nico had to sprint to keep up with it as the skeleton raced up the spiral of stone steps leading to the upper floors of the palace. The tiny squirrel stopped at the beginning of a corridor and scolded Nico for not going faster.
"I'm coming," he muttered, and the creature darted down the hall. Nico slid to a stop and stared in disbelief as the bones ran straight through the wall. Cautiously, he stepped forward and touched the wall. The Mist evaporated and revealed an extension to the long hall. The miniature glowing skeletal squirrel was waiting impatiently for him at the third door to the right. Breathing heavily, Nico trotted over. In place of a door was a deep purple curtain, which Nico pushed to the side. Fortunately, children of Hades have incredible nocturnal eyesight. Nico advanced slowly into the dark room, being careful not to walk into the black stone table in the middle of the room. Seven chairs were pushed into the table neatly. Four of the chairs were covered in thick layers of dust, that looked at least a hundred years old. The other three looked more freshly used than the others, probably only a month or two sitting. On the right side of the table was a doorway. The squirrel, which Nico decided to call Tiny the Nutjob rushed in, his what would be pluming tail moving fluidly. Nico followed.
Great, he thought, another hallway. But this one was shorter. Three closed doors were to the left, and two to the right. Tiny took him to the first on the left. He squeaked triumphantly and shuddered, falling apart. What was left of Tiny the Nutjob was a small pile of bones and a black diamond. Nico put the remains in his pocket. He tried opening the door with the handle, but-
"Y-Y-YOW!" A bolt of electricity sent his hair standing on end. Quickly jerking his hand away from the doorknob and repeatedly shaking his head. He cursed himself for being overhasty. Nico knelt next to the door and spoke the password, 'phoenix.' The door opened with a click. Stale air hit him as he walked into the room. He looked around. The walls were painted a dark grey, and many pieces of paper were tacked onto them. The foot of the bed was facing the doorway, pushed of to the right. A wooden dresser stood at the foot along with a nightstand. Like Nykolas said there would be, a alarm clock sat on his oak desk on the not-so-far end. Nico pushed it three times and a pen popped up out of it, making a sound like a toaster. He shrugged. Was this the key? Wouldn't hurt to try. On the other hand, considering Nykolas' precautions . . . He put the pen into the keyhole of the lock drawer in Nykolas' desk. The drawer flew open, revealing a leather bound book and a note.
"Congrats, again! You didn't die!
"Look around, and see what you like. No taking papers of my wall. Those are solely for observation. Go ahead and open up my drawers and closet. Isn't a ton of clothing there, but you might find something you like, considering our dad. The aviator jacket in the closet must be returned to it's rightful owner. You will know who it is when you meet them. I request you search for that person. As a final warning: if you tell any of those secrets I purposefully told you not to tell, I will haunt you. I swear on the River Styx. On my dead body.(Isn't it funny I can do that?)
"Happy hunting."
Nico picked up the leather bound book and searched the drawer. Most of it was just pens and pencils, and a few erasers. A small silver object caught his eye. He carefully picked the ring up. It was wrought of a single piece of metal, the decorated skull merging with the simple band of silver at the sides. Nico tried it on, and found it fit perfectly. Almost like it was meant for him. He closed the drawer and looked inside the rest of them, finding everything from writing assignments, to articles of clothing, to a bottle of Aspirin. He took the pain killer.
A rack on the wall held up a Stygian Iron hand and a half greatsword. It was cleanly forged without any blemishes on the blade, or the leather wrapped handle. Nico doubted he could even hold up the almost five foot blade, much less wield it. It wasn't traditional Greek at all. Very Medieval. Still, Nico though, this was an awesome sword. He ran his fingers lightly across the flat of it, feeling its icy surface.
He moved on to the dresser. All the pants shorts and jeans were much too long, testifying to how tall Nykolas was. At almost six and a half feet, he towered over almost everybody Nico had ever seen. The tee shirts he found were baggy, but not ridiculously so. He took a few. A black backpack hung on a nail in the wall. He shook it. Deciding it was empty, he stored his loot inside the bag and gave one last look around. Nico's eyes met the closet door. The hinges squeaked as he attempted to pry it open. With a final heave, it screamed and slid on the track, revealing a neat row of jackets and coats, belts, and an assortment of scarves. The only item that was not black or gray was the dark brown aviator coat Nykolas had asked him to return to its rightful owner. Nico took it off the hanger and tried it on, even though it looked big. It compressed to his size in a moment. The wool inside warmed him to the core, and the leather insulated remarkably well.
Another ghostly figure appeared, this time King Minos of Crete, his mentor. The spirit grinned maliciously at Nico.
"It is time. Back to work, my lord. There is much to be done if we are to raise your sister from the dead."