-Nico-

Around half past three, I woke to a buzzing in my ears and a feeling that something was horribly wrong.

Trying to balance speed with stealth, I went straight for Dante's room. My heart thumped even harder when I noticed that his door was ajar. I reached into the shadows for my sword - because if something this deadly could get past city lines, the no weapons policy deserved to be disregarded. I didn't hear any signs of a struggle, so I pressed my back against the door and peered inside.

Dante was curled up under the covers, just like I'd left him. I watched him long enough to make sure he was breathing - and then I let out a silent breath of my own. But that death radar in my head was still going wild. Braced for a fight, I eased the door open about halfway until I found the source of the disturbance. I froze as the shock of his presence crashed over me.

In retrospect, I should've realized that there were few beings who could radiate death so strongly.

"Hello, son."

I hadn't seen my father in years, and it definitely wasn't comforting to see him standing at the foot of Dante's bed like a mourner at a viewing. He looked as regal and intimidating as usual in his black robes that swirled with the faces of tortured souls. His oily hair fell past his shoulders, but his beard was short and meticulously trimmed. When his eyes locked on me, I remembered Hazel saying they were "as black as night". But I realized that wasn't entirely accurate, because the night sky still had some light in it. I couldn't tell where his pupils ended and his irises began.

Before I could figure out what to say, my attention drifted to something on an end table that we'd temporarily repurposed as a nightstand. It was a curved dagger made of Stygian Iron, resting inches from Dante's face. I had an eerie feeling that the blade belonged to him. His reaction when he'd jerked awake earlier made more sense to me now.

"Terminus will be rolling in his sleep tonight," Hades murmured, noticing where my eyes had gone. Then he frowned at my sword, which I was still holding at the ready. "Relax, Nico. I'm only here to talk." Relenting, I returned my sword to the shadow realm. My father handed me the knife and beckoned for me to do the same. Once both weapons were vanished, he led me out of Dante's bedroom, and I closed the door behind us.

Hades didn't seem to be in a hurry. I watched uneasily as he paced around my living room like a prospective tenant taking a tour. I knew I should wait for him to speak first, because that's the respectful thing to do, but it was hard to hold back the flood of questions in my head. Before I could get annoyed enough to ask him why he was stalling, he gave me a once over and commented, "Your hair's longer."

I matched his casual tone. "So is yours."

"I suppose we haven't seen each other in a while."

"Not since the wedding," I agreed, recalling the fleeting glimpse I'd gotten of him from the altar. Ordinarily, my father's presence inspired anxiety, but that time it alleviated it. Getting a genuine grin from the God of the Dead is like striking gold in a sandbox - extremely unlikely and deserving a celebration.

The flicker of pride in his eyes told me he was remembering the same thing. His expression twisted as he admitted, "Time has gotten away from me. How is everything going? Are you happy?"

I knew he was just trying to check in on me, but in this context it seemed forced. I didn't think either of us were in the right frame of mind to have a heart-to-heart. So I steered us back to the topic that he seemed to be avoiding: "You mean with the kid we just adopted?"

Hades frowned again and continued pacing around the living room. He paused to examine a picture frame on the mantle, but his eyes were too distant to see it. "I expected you'd take to him. He's a lot like you."

Something about that comparison confirmed my growing suspicion. "But he's not yours."

My father fixed me with a somber look. "No."

"Then whose kid is he?"

"I'm surprised you haven't sensed it by now. You know his grandmother better than most."

Goosebumps sprung up on my arms as an image appeared to me: a shadowy face with a cruel smile and eyes that gleamed like stars. The primordial goddess - the originator of the phrase "as black as Night" - was the only female deity I knew well. She'd sought me out and tormented me on multiple occasions. Her descendants were true nightmare fuel: a mix of monsters, demons, and deities with abilities ranging from unsettling to horrifying.

Of Nyx's many offspring, only two were known to produce demigod children: Hypnos and Nemesis. But neither of those seemed to fit. Dante's quiet, watchful disposition was a lot different than the leisurely atmosphere that the children of the sleep god tended to give off. And he didn't seem to possess the cold and calculating nature that the revenge goddess's children were known for. That left me with three theories. Either Dante wasn't the average Hypnos/Nemesis kid, he was something more than a demigod, or his godly parent didn't commonly mix with mortals.

Hades studied my face like he was waiting for me to give him the right answer. "She has more children than most," I pointed out, wishing he'd be direct for once.

"But only one whose mastery of souls rivals mine," Hades retorted softly. "He is infamous among mortals - the true embodiment of Death."

His description made me feel like I'd swallowed an ice cube. At last, all the pieces fell into place. A child of Nyx who was supposed to be childless. The death-filled augury. Golden eyes and dark feathery hair. A young boy drawn to the shadows.

"Thanatos," I whispered. All the confirmation I needed was in my father's eyes...but I had about thirty more questions now. Before I could sort them by priority, I blurted, "I thought he was a virgin god."

Hades's disappointed scowl didn't seem to be directed at me. "He is meant to be. His role is to guide mortals to the Underworld without bias or emotion. He does not have the liberty to love his charges, because Love should have no sway over Death. But exceptions tend to arise once or twice a millennia."

It took me a second to process all that. "So, Dante isn't the first?"

Hades resumed his casual inspection of my apartment. "Technically, he is the seventh."

"'Technically'?"

"The other children of Thanatos were conceived long before your lifetime. None survived long enough to be born."

Cold unease trickled down my spine. I really didn't like how much my father knew about this...or the weary note that had crept into his voice...or the way he'd stopped meeting my eyes.

A combination of dread and protectiveness sent my mind into overdrive, and I analyzed everything I knew about Thanatos. Mortals think of him as the Grim Reaper or the Angel of Death, with his iridescent black wings, his Stygian Iron scythe, and his ability to vanquish (or resurrect) entire armies without lifting a finger. His powers of flight, invisibility, and shadow travel make him almost impossible to pin down. He serves as a lieutenant to Hades, collecting souls and bringing them to the Underworld to be judged. He also controls the Doors of Death - the ever-moving physical connection between the Underworld and the land of the living - to make sure no one cheats the system.

As I wondered how dangerous a child of Thanatos could be, I remembered my last experience with the god - or rather, without him. Monsters had turned to dust and instantly reformed. Giants had wreaked havoc with no need for caution. A centurion had sustained a mortal wound and then sat up moments later, alive and well. I'd entered the Underworld and resurrected my sister as easily as someone might pop into a convenience store for a snack.

If Dante could cause that much chaos...

My mental image of Hazel abruptly morphed into Chloe. Another chill traveled down my spine.

"How did the other six die?"

My father paused to dissect my guarded expression. "You think I killed them?"

"Did you?"

The floor started to hum under my feet. "I don't see why that matters," he said harshly.

You 'don't see why it matters' if you murdered a bunch of innocent women and unborn children? No wonder Zeus attacked our family! You're just as bad as he is! Why should any of you get to decide which demigods deserve to exist?

I almost shouted all that at him, and I really wanted to. But when I noticed the purple flames flickering around his pupils, I considered how Will and Dante would react if I died, and I bit my tongue. I don't think it made a difference, though. My father must have seen the defiance in my eyes, because those flames burned brighter, and his voice turned as cold as ice.

"You're letting your affection for the boy cloud your judgement. You of all people should understand the importance of maintaining balance - and how foolish it is to meddle with fate."

I knew he was referring to my past offenses, but I was too angry to care, because I'd just made another connection. "You sent those Hellhounds yesterday!" I accused him, fuming. "Why else would they attack another descendant of Nyx? You were trying to kill Dante too!"

When the temperature in the room took a nosedive, I thought I'd gone too far. The floor quaked as unnatural fear coursed through me in waves. I directed all of my stubbornness into standing my ground, but my heart was thumping like I was at the edge of a cliff.

Just when I thought my dear old dad was going to vaporize me, he seemed to notice my unease. With visible effort, he tried to calm down, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. When he opened his eyes again, the purple flames had sputtered out, and the room had stopped shaking. "You're speaking of things you know nothing about," he told me steadily.

"Explain, then," I shot back through gritted teeth, failing miserably at acting calm.

When that violence flashed across the god's face again, I was reminded of something my step-mother had said about the two of us being alike. That inspired me to take another leaf out of his book, before I ended up as a stain on my living room floor. On a count of five, I swallowed my pride and forced a more even tone.

"Please, father. I want to understand."

Hades glared at me for a long moment, like I was a disobedient Hellhound that wouldn't stop growling. Then, with a resigned air, he reached into a pocket in his robes and pulled out a large golden envelope. Bewildered, I accepted it from him. Inside were two official documents with a newspaper clipping on top. I squinted at the tiny words as they turned into alphabet soup. It probably would've taken me five minutes to read the entire two-paragraph article, with my awful dyslexia. Fortunately, the title was large enough that even I couldn't screw it up:

"Local Mother and Child Drowned at Winthrop Beach."

Unsettled, I searched the text for the key points. The woman's name was Lucia Morelli. She was a Boston native and a first-generation Italian-American. According to multiple witnesses, a large wave had suddenly risen up over the mother and her four-year-old child, trapping them in a riptide and pulling them out to sea. By the time the coastguard had reached them, it had been too late to save them.

When I paged through the two documents behind the article, my fingers felt like they were slipping into the shadows. They were death certificates. One was for Lucia Rosa Morelli. The other was for her son, Dante Matteo Morelli.

Dear gods...

My shock and disbelief started to evaporate when I recalled how Dante had reacted to Percy and the Little Tiber. Oh, Styx. No wonder he hates water. I tried to imagine how terrifying that experience would be for a four-year-old...and then I decided I'd rather not. I drew a shallow breath and looked up at my father, who was wearing a grim expression.

"These are real?" I checked, waving the documents. "They both died?"

"Yes."

"So Thanatos went rogue?"

"No."

I blinked at him, at a loss. "Then...how is he alive?"

"Dante Morelli is alive because he wants to be. He cannot be killed."

That statement blindsided me even more than the newspaper article. That's impossible, I wanted to say. But it clearly wasn't. This information was coming from the most reputable source I could imagine, and the proof was sleeping in the other room. After a solid five seconds, I managed to ask again, "How...?"

Hades scowled and started pacing again. Then he changed gears, launching into a tangent:

"Thanatos has a pattern. Of the few mortal women he has been drawn to, all were very near the end of their lives - and as a result, all were incapable of carrying a child to term. Lucia Morelli should not have been an exception. She was diagnosed with multiple forms of cancer and slipped in and out of several comas during her extended stay in the hospital. But against all odds, she survived and returned to her normal life - with the child she'd evidently been healthy enough to bear."

"I only learned of all this at the time of this incident." He gestured to the newspaper clipping in my hands. "Perhaps it was an attack from a storm spirit or sea serpent, or perhaps my dear brother was in a sour mood that day. Regardless, Thanatos came to me and begged me to let him take them back. Initially, I refused. But he reminded me that he did not reclaim Hazel's soul after your abuse of his imprisonment - a deliberate oversight that I, nor Pluto, had repaid him for."

"So we reached a compromise. I agreed to release his son, and only his son, in exchange for the second chance that he gave to my daughter. Of course, this was on the condition that Thanatos would allow fate to run its course the next time the boy died. He agreed not to interfere, providing he could guide the child to safety upon bringing him back to the land of the living. That was acceptable to me; it hardly made sense to drop him off in the ocean. So Thanatos revived the boy, explained his identity, and gifted him with a weapon - the same dagger you saw at his bedside. Then he brought him to the Wolf House. After three years of training, Lupa sent him here."

I grimaced as I imagined Dante trekking across the country with nothing but a dagger. The journey from the Wolf House to Camp Jupiter was difficult for any demigod, let alone a seven-year-old. "Even as young as he was, he attracted many monsters," Hades said, like he'd sensed my thoughts. "I monitored his progress, because I was curious to see if he would survive. Like most demigods, he didn't exhibit any magic at this age - until he encountered a drakon in the deserts of Arizona."

My stomach lurched. I couldn't fathom how a seven-year-old could defeat a drakon alone, especially on such open terrain. "The creature wounded him gravely," my father informed me. "He hid in a crevice between two stones until it got bored and left. That night, he succumbed to blood loss. Minutes later, he woke up, and his wounds disappeared. He'd died and come back to life."

Hearing all this made me feel like a soul in the Fields of Asphodel, empty and drifting. But I kept listening like my life depended on it.

"I sought out Thanatos at once," Hades continued. "I intended to punish him for breaking his vow. But he insisted that he had performed his duty and guided the boy's soul to the Underworld, and he seemed shocked that he was alive again. By his account, his own child had managed to slip back into the world of the living right under his nose."

"Thanatos very rarely fails me, so I found his account impossible to believe. I accused him of lying and locked him in my palace. Then I sent a dozen Hellhounds to kill the boy. He defeated half of them before they succeeded in their mission. Then he came back and defeated the rest. Only then did I realize that I never should've released his soul the first time - because at some point between the ages of four and seven, he'd figured out how to use the Doors."

I forgot how to breathe as those flames returned to his eyes. "I decided that the only way to contain him was to imprison him myself - and I very nearly did. When I arrived, I found him asleep, exhausted from fending off my dogs. It would've been incredibly easy to take him, especially given his lack of other abilities. And yet...I hesitated." My father's fiery gaze turned pensive as it settled on me. "I suppose I had a change of heart."

Something like butterflies erupted in my gut as he admitted, "You were correct about one thing: I sent the Hellhounds that had chased him through the hills. But my goal this time was not to kill him. I was trying to get your attention, Nico."

"Well, it worked," I told him, remembering how troubled I'd been by the size of the horde.

My father frowned at me, but his expression wasn't hostile or angry this time. It was sad and worn, almost pitying.

"You still wish to adopt him."

The phrase should've been a question, but he said it like a statement - like he already knew what my answer would be.

"Yeah, I do."

"He will not be an easy child."

"No kidding. Is any demigod?"

My father's eyebrows twitched like he was about to smirk. "I suppose not." He sobered up as he explained, "You understand that he may become quite powerful; he could even surpass you in deadliness. And he may try to use his control over the Doors for selfish reasons - to seek out lost loved ones, for instance." I swallowed as my father narrowed his eyes at me. "You much teach him restraint. I will not be as lenient with him as I was with you."

I heard his message loud and clear, but it brought up another question: "If he's only using the Doors like a reset button for himself, he isn't causing any real harm, right?"

Hades's frown went wry, and his gaze wandered again. After a long pause, he said slowly, "I'm tempted to agree. He is still mortal. His body will grow old and fail eventually, and by then he will likely feel more comfortable with the idea of dying. On the other hand," he added grimly, "if he were to run wild with that ability - and use it on others - he could become very problematic. Thanatos is contracted to serve me; his son is not. But that can be arranged, if he proves troublesome. Perhaps I would offer him a role as his father's assistant. Perhaps that would teach him some discipline."

"And if that doesn't work...?"

"Then I would keep him as a prisoner until he loses all desire to resurrect himself."

The idea made the hair on my neck stand on end. "That won't be necessary," I said firmly.

"Won't it?" Hades asked, considering me. "Are you prepared to accept responsibility of raising him?"

My stomach squirmed like I'd swallowed an anthill, but if the alternative was abandoning Dante and letting him suffer and struggle through life, there was no way I was going to say no. "As prepared as I'll ever be," I said with as much confidence as I could muster.

My father's concern morphed into something like pride. Then he gripped my arms in a bracing gesture. His hands were frigid, but the touch was oddly reassuring. "You will teach him well," he told me. I couldn't decide whether he meant it as a command, a warning, or a vote of confidence. For some reason, I was getting choked up, so I just nodded.

When he let go of me, his brisk tone told me it was time for him to leave. "For now, keep his parentage hidden," he advised me. "The citizens of New Rome will see him as another child of mine, which is not far from the truth. But his real identity would attract too much negative attention."

I shook my head at the irony. "Is that really any different?"

"My children may be seen as ruthless death-bringers and bad omens," Hades acknowledged, with as much sugarcoating as usual, "but they are also structured and disciplined. A child of Death, however...not even the gods know what he may be capable of as he grows. I would rather set a precedent for others to judge him by."

"What if he joins the legion?" I asked, recalling the icons that were branded on legionnaires' arms according to their godly parentage. I doubted the Praetors would take kindly to a case of stolen identity.

"I suppose they'll have to come up with a new symbol," Hades decided, following my train of thought. "Until then, this information is to stay between the two of you."

"Three of us," I corrected flatly. "I'm telling Will."

My father huffed a quiet breath that might have been a laugh. "Yes, I think that's for the best," he conceded. "Some light would be good for the boy. He is too young to be dwelling in the darkness."

When his eyes lingered on me, I wondered if he was picturing me as lost and alone as Dante had been in the desert. "Thank you," I said quietly, before I lost the nerve. "I'm glad you changed your mind."

The hint of a smile that crept onto his face almost made him look like a normal person. "Goodbye, my son. May the Fates treat you kindly."

Then he vanished into the darkness, leaving me with nothing but that golden envelope and a growing fear that I was in over my head.