-Will-

When I'd first heard raised voices echoing down the hallway of my apartment building, I'd ignored them. After a double-shift at the hospital (during which Annabeth had called me five times, before I'd uncharacteristically snapped at her not to call me again unless she was positive that she was having contractions), I was too worn out to care about my neighbors' personal drama. Then I realized that I recognized the voices.

Oh, gods. What now?

I paused in my open doorway to take in the scene. My husband and the Augur were glaring at each other so fiercely that it made me thankful for the city's no weapons policy. The latter seemed to be in the middle of a self-righteous tirade. Bewildered, I knocked on the open door, and the two of them flinched. Their expressions shifted - Celia's to relief and Nico's to panic. I gave my husband a questioning look, and he winced and avoided my eyes. That wasn't a good sign.

Some of the tension left my sister's posture as she smiled at me. "Will. It's good to see you," she said, but her face was saying something more like, Thank the gods you're here. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.

I tried to maintain a light tone. "'Evening, Celia. What's going on?"

The Augur's smile faded. "Oh. You don't know." She quirked a reproachful eyebrow at Nico, who looked like he wanted to retreat into the shadows. As he struggled to find the words, the Augur announced bluntly, "Your husband abducted a child."

Before I could even begin to process that, Nico stammered furiously, "I didn't - he wanted to come with me!"

"Exactly what a kidnapper would say," Celia muttered.

Before my husband could snarl at her, I raised my hands in a silencing gesture. "Woah, hold on! More information, please?"

When Nico hesitated again, Celia explained, "There was an incident on the Oakland Hills border today. A pack of Hellhounds chased a young demigod toward camp. The southern watchtower spotted them and provided support, but certain veterans found it necessary to join in."

"Because he would've died if we didn't," Nico grumbled. "Percy already took out four of them by the time they-"

"Regardless," Celia talked over him, "those veterans then found it suitable to whisk the boy away instead of allowing the legionnaires to take him to camp for a proper augury." She shot a scowl at Nico, like she was reinforcing the fact that his decisions directly affected her.

Nico seemed to think it was best for him not to look at the Augur anymore. When he turned to me, his frustration morphed into a plea for understanding. "The Hellhounds almost got him, Will. You should've seen him. He had cuts all over, and he couldn't stop shaking."

I didn't have to be a mind-reader to see his point, but a question tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it: "Why not just take him to the infirmary at camp? The healers there would've taken care of him."

"What a reasonable suggestion!"

Nico's face twitched like he was trying not to acknowledge the Augur - or maybe he was just trying to find the right words. "I...I don't know. He seemed so freaked out when he saw the scouts coming to get us. I thought he'd had enough chaos for one day."

"So, in an effort not to 'freak him out', you decided to keep him separate from his peers and shadow-travel him to your apartment," Celia summed up dryly. "You do understand how that sounds, don't you?"

"I told you, he came with me willingly," Nico insisted. "I know it sounds crazy, but he acts more comfortable around me, like...like he's drawn to me."

That caught me by surprise. It isn't often that anyone gravitates toward Nico, let alone a young kid. And the list of people who are comfortable around him is considerably smaller than that same list for me, or Percy, or Annabeth. (Of course, I think the people who don't make that list deserve a good thump to the back of the head. Yes, my husband can do things that are straight out of a scary movie; that doesn't mean he's a serial killer - or a kidnapper.)

Celia's reaction was almost as startling as Nico's explanation. Instead of scoffing or arguing, she seemed intrigued. "What are you saying, Di Angelo?"

Some of the fight trickled out of Nico. "I think," he admitted quietly, "he might be my brother, or something."

"Or something?" Celia repeated wearily.

"I don't know," Nico said again. "Something about him just feels different. It was the same way I felt when I met Hazel."

The Augur pinched the bridge of her nose like she was running out of energy for this. "If you're right, that's all the more reason to have him go through the legion's standard procedure. He's likely more dangerous than the average child."

"He's not dangerous to anyone," Nico snapped. "He's seven years old."

"And he's here," the Augur argued, "which means that now is the time for us to consult with the gods and determine why."

"So, what's stopping us?"

The other two blinked at me like they'd forgotten I was there. "I'm sorry?" Celia asked blankly.

"The augury is the root of the issue, isn't it?" I went on, acting calm despite my racing pulse. "Every new demigod has one performed to determine their future at camp. Why not just do it right now and let the gods figure all of this out?" As the Augur furrowed her brows, I pointed out, "You have your bag, and we have knives in the kitchen. I know the altar is just for show. The only thing we really need is you, Celia."

My sister considered me like I was an obscure prophecy that she was trying to make sense of. When she sighed, I knew I'd swayed her. I held back a smirk as she put on a haughty expression. Children of Apollo are suckers for flattery.

"Fine. I suppose it couldn't hurt. And since you both seem so keen on breaking tradition..." With a disproportionately soft thud, she dropped her hot pink duffel bag on the coffee table. Then she unzipped it, revealing twenty or so stuffed animals of all different kinds. "Pick one," she ordered Nico.

My husband seemed taken aback by this development. "Seriously? We're doing this right now?"

"Why not?" The Augur reasoned. Then she added, "Will, be a dear and get me the sharpest knife you have."

As I ducked into the kitchen, Nico frowned at furry assortment. "Wouldn't Dante have to pick one, since this is supposed to be about him?"

"Do you not have the boy's best interests at heart? Would you have done what you did today for any child who showed the slightest affinity for you? Or do you truly believe that the two of you are connected? Because if it's the latter, and you're right, then your futures are connected as well. So your choice would be as good as his. And if you're wrong...well, that will be obvious soon enough."

Nico hesitated, scanning the contents of the bag like he was choosing a weapon for a duel to the death. Then he reached for a tuft of black buried between a tiger and a beagle, and he pulled out a fuzzy bird with a hooked beak. When he handed the raven to the Augur, she smiled.

"Something funny?"

"You're predictable, son of Hades."

As Nico pouted, I handed the Augur a knife, and she wasted no time in slitting a line down the raven's stomach. Celia could be a bit much, but I had to appreciate her surgical precision. She poked and prodded stuffed animals with more care and delicacy than most of the healers at the hospital used with actual patients. As she intently examined the stuffing, I wondered what she was looking for in all that fluff. Patterns? Texture? Coloration? It all looked the same to me. Obviously, prophecy isn't my strong suit.

When I noticed Nico's unease, I stepped closer to him so I could hold his hand. The look he gave me seemed to loosen a bowstring in my chest. Those beautiful dark eyes were so solemn and sincere. Thanks for not freaking out, they said.

My answering smile held a hint of exasperation. Don't thank me too soon.

"Hm." We returned our attention to Celia as she lowered the stuffed raven and directed her intent gaze at Nico. Her demeanor felt cold and aloof all of a sudden. Evidently, the stuffing had told her some heavy stuff. (No pun intended.) "Someone must be watching over you, son of Hades," she murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"The boy stays with you," she answered simply as she zipped up her bag.

I felt my husband's hand stiffen. "For how long?"

Celia raised an eyebrow at him and then glanced at me. "I'll let you two figure that out."

"Did it say anything about him joining the legion?" I asked, feeling lightheaded.

Celia sighed and shook her head. "No. That matter was...open-ended."

"What else did you see?" Nico demanded.

"A great power, and a great danger," the Augur said without taking her eyes off him. "The last augury that reeked so strongly of death was the one I performed for a young daughter of Venus with no visible illness. She died a week later in her sleep." As my stomach turned and I mentally vowed to give the kid a check-up as soon as possible, Celia added, "Granted, I've never read the future of a child of the Underworld - or two of them."

"'Two of them'?" Nico echoed.

"Yes. I believe you and this boy are linked, as you suspected. I can't be sure of the exact reason - or the extent of the connection. But it's a matter of upmost importance that you keep an eye on him. Many lives are at stake. Do you understand me?"

Nico looked like he was trying to swallow something unpleasant, but Celia's tone left no room for argument. He nodded once.

Without another word, the Augur threw her bag over her shoulder. As she headed for the door, I blurted, "Is that it?"

"The Praetors will probably want to have a council to discuss his living arrangements," my sister admitted, sounding drained. She paused in the doorway to give us a calculating look. "Until then, I suggest that you get acquainted with him. Learn whatever you can about his parentage and his past. And for all of our sakes, try not to screw anything up."

Then the door snapped shut, and an uneasy silence fell over us.