The Hephaestus cabins had made some improvements since Nico had last seen their chariot. Their chariot had been polished to a shining bronze, wheels replaced, the horrible creaking noise completely eliminated, and the automaton horses had been given an obvious tune-up.
The other cabins had chariots, too. The Ares chariot was blood red and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons. Nico frowned at the sight. One of Chiron's books had mentioned summoning the bones of the dead as a power attributed to descendants of Hades. He couldn't help the pang of envy that the Ares cabin of all people were apparently able to master powers that should have been natural for him. The Ares charioteers were loading a gradually growing pile of weapons into the basket: javelins, caltrops, a mace, and some others that Nico couldn't name from a distance.
Apollo's chariot was trim and graceful and entirely made of gold. It was pulled by the two beautiful palominos Apollo had summoned to camp. Their fighter was armed with a bow, though he had been warned that shooting regular pointed arrows at the opposing drivers would result in the loss of his dessert privileges.
Hermes' chariot looked ready to fall apart. It was ancient, with peeling green paint and a high-risk of splinters. Mary stood at the reins, one of her half-brothers holding a lance as he stood behind her. They looked like a simple pair compared to the other chariots but Nico knew that the Hermes campers would have more than a few tricks up their sleeves.
Nico stood at the centre of the green with Chiron, where they could watch the race from all angles. Chiron would, as usual, act as medic and the non-competing Apollo campers were on hand for extra assistance. Nico was there purely to observe; Chiron insisted that learning basic battlefield first-aid was essential for all demigods and it seemed like this was an opportunity Chiron felt he might get to learn hands-on.
A satyr standing to Chiron's other side raised the conch shell to his lips and blew.
"Charioteers!" Chiron called. "To your mark!"
He waved his hand and the starting signal dropped. Hooves thundered against the dirt. The crowd cheered.
The Aphrodite chariot took the lead. Their charioteer, Carol Jones, grinned over her shoulder at the contestants behind her. Two of the chariots had collided, sending the four competitors sprawling in the dirt. Their panicked horses dragged the chariot diagonally across the track. Chiron took off at a loping canter, medical bag at his side.
Nico bit his lip and tore his eyes away from the wounded group to the two leading chariots. Ares' team was neck and neck with Aphrodite's. Behind them, the Hermes team, Kenneth and Mary, were quickly gaining. Nico stood near the second turn of the track as the Hermes team whipped into the curve.
That was when it happened. A resounding crack. A shout of surprise. The chariot skidded sideways. The horses screamed, dragging harnesses and a broken axl. A body was thrown free.
The girl rolled, limp limbs flailing and flapping against the ground. Her helmet bounced off the dirt, wrenching her head and neck to unnatural angles. The body stopped rolling in a blooming cloud of dust at Nico's feet.
Nico's mouth dried out and his breath hitched in his chest. The dust surged. It crashed over his head, temporarily blinding him. As it retreated like a wave down the beach, it dragged the clamour from the crowd. The dust and a hush settled like a shroud. Kenneth lay in the wreckage. Dead? Unconscious?
Dirt clung to Nico's hair and tongue. It greyed the blood leaking from Mary's mouth and nose, created a milky sheen over her staring, unseeing eyes.
In the ringing silence, Nico's heart throbbed in his ears.
The winning chariot rolled through the finish line, charioteers grinning with victory. They pulled their horses around to look back at the crowd. Their smiles faltered.
Nico took a step backward, his heart pounding. Emotion choked in his throat. Chiron galloped up, bending his forelegs into a bow to check the pulse in her neck. The crowd waited with bated breath.
"Dead."
That was when Nico realized. They hadn't seen, nobody else had seen the chariot fail, all they saw was a girl, lifeless and broken, at his feet.
There was uproar.
The crowd advanced on Nico, their hands in fists, some tightly gripping weapons.
"You killed her!" someone yelled.
"No!" Nico protested.
"How could you!"
"I didn't!"
"ENOUGH!"
The crowd around fell quiet again but Nico could practically feel their anger. Chiron withdrew a single gold coin from his saddle bag. He carefully, delicately, lifted Mary's chin and let her mouth fall slightly open. The coin was slipped in just passed her lips and under her tongue.
"Nico," said Chiron, his voice carefully controlled. "The prayer, if you will."
For a brief moment he wondered why Chiron was asking him; it wasn't like he'd ever been able to do it before.
But then he felt it. Something deep inside him tugged as he looked down at Mary. He knew what to do.
He took a deep, steadying breath and knelt beside Mary's fallen form. He put one hand to the earth and gently placed the other on her forehead. "kathodígisi aftís tis chaménis psychís." (1) He felt a shudder run through him, his whole body chilled–
"Oof!" A hard knock to his chest and his back hit the ground hard.
"Freak." Peter stood over him, his eyes red and brimming with unshed tears, his hands balled tightly into fists. "Don't touch her again. This is your fault." He pulled back to land another blow, this one to Nico's nose, but a set of hands pulled him back. Nico didn't know the other boys, but he recognized them as Peter's friends. "You killed her!" Peter cried, fighting against the boys' grip.
"Peter," said Chiron, his voice low and reasonable. "This is a tragedy but not Nico's fault."
Peter ignored him. He fought free of his friends' grip and launched at Nico. A solid hit to the mouth, another to his throat. Nico gasped for air. A knee driven into his stomach.
"Peter!"
Nico scrambled backwards as Peter was hauled off of him. He tripped to his feet.
"I–" His eyes darted around the faces staring him down. "I'm sorry."
Nico took off at a run. He tripped and stumbled his way over the grass, still slick with morning dew. He could hear Chiron calling after him as he fled but he didn't stop, ducking into the shadow of the woods and weaving in and out of trees. He ran blindly, not a thought in his mind except away. He had hardly been in the woods since arriving at Camp Half-Blood; the trees and paths were alien to him. He ran and collapsed into the shadow of a towering pine tree.
Please, he begged, just get me out of here.
When he woke again he saw only darkness. For a moment, he was confused. Had someone stolen the sun? Then he realized that he hadn't opened his eyes.
He lay on black grass, crunching under his body's every shift. Above him a cavern ceiling yawned, dotted with stalactites. He groaned. Every inch of him ached. He could hear the sloshing of water running.
A booming bark shook the cavern around him. He sat bolt upright but immediately regretted it as his surroundings swung wildly around him. He swayed, bracing an arm against the brittle grass. A massive black dog bounded toward him. It was half transparent. Only its eyes and teeth looked solid, it was easily seven metres tall, and had three heads.
"Merda!"
Nico staggered to his feet and fell back a handful of steps. His stomach did a somersault, his head spun.
The Rottweiler let out another bark, sticking his three massive heads down to Nico's level and shaking his oversized bum in the air. His short, stubby tail wagged enthusiastically. Nico had a feeling that such close proximity to a clearly deadly monster should be terrifying but with those big brown eyes, all six of them, and lolling pink tongues, he couldn't help it. He laughed.
"Aw, hello there."
He reached out a hand and placed it on the middle head's wet nose. The dog jumped around, barking happily. Nico laughed again, then swayed, hand to his forehead. Almost as if concerned, the dog halted its play and cocked its heads in comical unison. He gave an uncertain rumble and sniffed Nico's slouched form curiously.
"I'm al– oh!"
Nico's jacket was snagged between two massive teeth. The dog hoisted Nico high in the air. He flailed, crying out in surprise.
"Hey!"
The dog ignored him, shaking the head carrying Nico and bounding off through the fields. The cavern was crowded with near transparent, drifting shapes, which scattered as the dog barrelled through the throng.
A palace of shining obsidian loomed on the horizon, parapets climbing into the air above. Instinctively, Nico knew that it was his father's palace. His father would help him. If Camp Half-Blood didn't want him, Hades would give him a place to stay, Nico was sure of it.
The dog set him down before the towering bronze gates and nudged him forward with his left snout. Nico stumbled and cast an accusatory look over his shoulder at the dog.
Nico shivered as he put a hand out to the gate, the bronze was cold as ice. Skeletal fingers seized his wrist. He yelped and jumped back. A skeletal guard stood just on the other side of the gate, so close to Nico they were almost nose to nose. The skeleton wore a familiar military uniform and the shadows pooled in the empty eye sockets sent chills down Nico's spine.
Nico had seen many soldiers in the dress of the Royal Italian Army on patrol near his school. They would guard the ports, inspecting cargo and questioning sailors. On one of the school's weekly outings, Nico and Pietro had snuck away to watch the goings on at the port. The soldiers' activities had seemed fascinating to them – after all of their practice at Balilla,becoming soldiers was their shared dream.
They had been crouched behind a stack of crates, playing at spying when a soldier had seized them each by an ear, yanking them to their feet, and steering them forcefully back to their teacher. Nico remembered the lurching of nerves in his stomach. He felt the same just then, staring into the soulless eye sockets, that he had made a terrible mistake coming here, and that the consequences would be anything but pleasant.
The skeleton held his wrist fast, not releasing an ounce, as it reached inside a breast pocket of its uniform. Nico's heart pounded in his chest. Was it going for a weapon? He couldn't seem to bring himself to move.
But there was no weapon. Instead, it withdrew a large key and inserted it into the gate's lock. It released Nico as the gates swung open. Nico cast the skeleton a nervous look as he stepped inside. The skeleton made no more move to halt him.
Inside the courtyard was the strangest garden Nico had ever seen. Multicoloured mushrooms, poisonous shrubs, and odd, luminous plants flourishing without sunlight. There wasn't a true flower in sight but the number of precious jewels made up for the lack. Heaps of rubies as large as Nico's fist, clumps of raw diamonds.
Stone statues were dotted in and amongst the plants, all grinning grotesquely. An orchard of what looked to be pomegranate trees stood in the centre of the garden. The fruit smelled amazing and Nico was suddenly painfully aware of how hungry he was. His mouth watered and he drifted over to one of the low hanging branches almost without thinking.
Before he could pluck a sweet, juicy fruit from the branch his arm was knocked away. The same skeleton guard stood behind him. It pointed on through the garden, clattering its teeth urgently. Nico was disappointed but obeyed the garbled order.
He walked up the steps of the palace, between black columns, through a black marble portico, and into the palace. The entry hall had a polished bronze floor gleaming in the torchlight. There was no ceiling, just a cavern roof, far above.
Every side doorway was guarded by a skeleton in military gear. Some wore Greek armour similar to what was used at camp, some camouflage with tattered American flags on the shoulders. They carried spears or muskets or Berettas. None of them bothered him, but their hollow eye sockets followed him as he walked down the hall, toward the big set of doors at the opposite end.
Two American army skeletons guarded the doors. Their lipless mouths grinned down at Nico, rocket-propelled grenade launchers held across their chests. The guards stepped aside, opening the doors wide for him.
Nico recognized the room within immediately. It was the same throne room he had visited with Bianca only two weeks ago. A dais rose at the far end of the room, bearing a throne of human bones and a second silver one.
Hades sat stiffly upright on the throne of bones. He was at least ten feet tall again, as Nico had last seen him on Olympus, and wore black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. Nico's sense of trepidation only grew. His father did not look pleased to see him.
"Two weeks."
Nico gulped. He had barely set foot in the throne room and was frozen in his tracks. The heavy double doors slammed shut just behind him.
"Two weeks at that godsforsaken camp and you run." Hades' voice was cool, collected. Nico would have preferred it if he had shouted. "I don't suppose you understand what you have done, you foolish boy."
"I–" Nico's throat was was dry, his heart pounded. "I didn't kill her."
Hades waved a hand in dismissal. "I do not care what happened to the girl. By fleeing from that camp you have broken a, thankfully informal, agreement with the Olympian Council. Are you aware of what the Olympians do to half-bloods who disobey them?"
Nico swallowed thickly but decided that Hades wasn't looking for a response. He wiped at the drying blood from his cut lip with his sleeve.
"You are lucky they haven't killed you already." Hades surveyed Nico down his sharp nose. He sniffed and adopted unconcerned air. "I admit, I was not pleased with the council's decision to send you to Camp Half-Blood. I do not approve of their frankly lax training program, or their blind obedience to edicts from Olympus. Here is yet more proof of their incompetence. Unable to keep a single half-blood within their grounds." Nico thought Hades seemed to rather like ranting. "Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"I couldn't stay there," Nico said sullenly, "they hate me. And they don't like you."
Hades scoffed. "Of course they do not 'like' me, and I suppose they have taught you the same. What has Chiron told you? That I am corrupt, inherently evil, the monster hiding under your bed?"
"Um…" Nico didn't quite know what to say to that but thought that lying would be a bad idea. "He said that… the other campers don't like me because they're scared of you."
Hades snorted derisively. "Those demigods could do with a dose of fear. My name as a curse, bah. Chiron used to teach them some respect for the gods, and now? A nightly sacrifice, with no real devotion behind it."
"I'm sorry?" said Nico.
Hades huffed. "Do you know how many half-bloods march their way to my gates after crossing the Styx? The gall. As if I don't have enough to deal with! There are constant complaints to Charon about their living conditions, that the Underworld apparently hasn't made the mortal advancements they seem to think are so necessary and they won't settle for anything less than my personal attention. They seem to think Elysium grants them some kind of special access. Indoor plumbing, telephones… I haven't had the funds for updates to Elysium since the Great War. How can I, when Asphodel needs expansion every other year?
"And you."
Nico gulped and Hades cut his eyes at him.
"You sent a soul to me."
"Yes…?" Nico hedged.
"Chiron taught you?"
"I asked."
"Hmm… is that so?" Hades gave him a thoughtful look. "Regardless, I have quite enough to deal with. You will return to Camp–"
"I can't go back there! They think I killed someone."
"I believe I told you not to interrupt me."
Nico bit his tongue hard enough to make his eyes water. Hades could be truly frightening and the ice in his voice chilled Nico to the bone. Nico ducked his head and nodded his apology.
The silence hung in the air until Nico couldn't stand it any longer.
"Uh… sir?" he asked.
"Yes, Nico?" Hades said tightly. "What is it now?"
"Pietro, my friend from St. Dismas', can I write to him? Chiron said he couldn't get mail across the Atlantic…" he trailed off.
Hades paused. "The boy who helped you escape?"
"Yes," Nico said eagerly, he hadn't expected Hades to actually remember.
Another long pause.
"There was an attack by the Allies." Nico felt a stone drop in his stomach. No. No. No no no no no. "I am afraid the boy was killed." Nico stumbled, the weight hollowing out his stomach as if he had been punched.
"He–" Nico choked out. "He's dead?"
Hades said nothing and Nico fought the tears springing to life behind his eyes. The world spun around him, blurred and confused in a whirlwind. This couldn't be happening. He felt sick. He didn't know if he was going to pass out or be physically ill. The room around him was fuzzy.
"I want to see him," he croaked.
"Not possible," Hades said dismissively.
"Please I– I have to see him."
"No." His voice turned dangerous. Nico felt as though his stomach had been plunged into a vat of ice cold water.
"Where is he?" Nico pleaded. "I won't… I won't look for him. I swear."
Hades considered him for a long moment. "Asphodel, I would expect."
"Asphodel?"
"That's what I said," Hades said in a clipped tone, narrowing his eyes in distaste at having to repeat himself.
"Please," said Nico. "He saved me and Bianca from Professor Lecce. He– he deserves better."
"He deserves nothing," Hades snapped. "He has been given no less than what he has earned. Your debt to him was paid when I advanced his case, now he is given the treatment his life merits. And that is the very last I will hear on the subject."
Nico could feel his insides burning with anger. It wasn't fair. 'The very last he would hear on the subject'? Pietro had saved Nico's life and all he got in return was to wander aimlessly, silent and confused, for all eternity? How was that just?
He glared up at Hades, tears drying and sticky on his cheeks. "That isn't fair."
"It is more than fair, boy," Hades said. "You are asking for mercy, something which the Underworld does not provide."
"But he helped us!" Nico shouted, his voice raw. "He earned it!"
"Enough!"
Nico shrank back. He had crossed a line. Hades' eyes were dark, his jaw clenched, and one of his hands fingered the staff ominously.
"I will not be contradicted by a child. I am Lord here, and you would do well to remember that. You are not to go searching for this boy, is that clear?"
Nico looked down at his shoes, fidgeting and swiping at the dried blood on his lip.
"Is. That. Clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now get out of my palace."
Hades waved a hand and Nico disappeared into the crushing darkness.
He was deposited at the edge of the woods. It was early evening, the sun almost set and the sky purple and dotted with stars. There was no campfire burning and the grounds were silent. The campers must have already turned in to bed.
Nico trudged past the ropes course and lava wall to the Big House. The holiday lights had been removed days ago, replaced with mosquito repelling candles burning on the little card tables. Warm light shone out the living room windows illuminating the porch.
Nico pushed open the screen door, letting it bang shut behind him. At the noise, Chiron emerged from the kitchen in his wooden wheelchair.
"Nico," he sighed in relief. "My boy, where have you been?"
"I went to see someone."
"Who– oh." His face fell. "Nico please tell me that you haven't…"
Nico shoved his hands into his pants' pockets and scuffed the toe of his shoes on the hardwood floor. "I didn't mean to. I just–" he looked up, meeting Chiron's concerned eyes. "I asked for someone to take me away, and… and it worked."
"We have much to talk about." Chiron gestured to the kitchen. "Come, there's hot chocolate."
Nico recounted the afternoon's events, his journey to the underworld, speaking with his father, their argument. Chiron blanched when Nico explained how he had contradicted the Lord of the Dead and even shouted at him in his own palace. Apparently, Nico was lucky to be alive.
Somehow Nico doubted his father would kill him. Not after Hades had gone through so much to ensure his survival, but that wasn't to say he couldn't make life very difficult.
In his guest room, Nico shivered and burrowed further under his blanket. It had been a long day.
After being separated from his father for years, Nico hadn't been him for more than an hour before being summarily dismissed. It hurt. Everything hurt. The absence of Bianca, losing Pietro, his father's coldness… It felt like every time he thought he was getting a rug under his feet, someone yanked it out, leaving him alone and bruised on the floor.
Suddenly his mother's absence burned anew. She would know what to say, she would talk sense into his father, she would never have let Bianca leave him.
One thing was now abundantly clear to him: his father was nothing like his mother.
The Allies. It was their fault. The Allies, the Olympians, one in the same really. If Zeus and Poseidon hadn't teamed up against Hades in the war Nico would still be in Italy. Bianca wouldn't be so far away. Pietro would still be alive. Mamawould still be alive.
He didn't leave the Big House at all the following day. Chiron tried to coax him out of doors for breakfast and again for training. Both times he refused. Nico ate in the house's cramped, country style kitchen, and skipped training to read in his room.
He was lucky in that the guest bedroom was on the second floor and out of Chiron's reach. The most the old centaur could do was call up the stairs and that was easily ignored by closing the door and burrowing under his comforter. His teacher would always give up after a few minutes and only return after another hour or so had passed. It felt safer for Nico to hide away in his room. Safe from the resentful eyes of the other campers, the jeers, and Peter's inevitable fists.
It didn't click until the following afternoon.
After Mary's accident, he had finally felt the power of the prayer. He had finally come into his abilities. He was a son of Hades with all the power and abilities that came with his divine heritage. If he couldn't go to Pietro, he could summon Pietro to him. And with Chiron's training, Hades would be none the wiser.