Nico’s head began to ache. “I’ll find out who those demigods were—make sure they’re punished.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” said Johan, “but you don’t need to do that on my account.”
“Listen to yourself,” said Quinoa bitterly. “This is never going to work. We should do what Arielle said and leave this place.”
Nico froze. “When did Arielle say that?”
“When do you think?” said the karpos. “After she tried to play nice in the sparring exercise and that other girl popped off like a corn kernel! Arielle’s been home ever since. She’s probably still sobbing. Your help ain’t helping, di Angelo.”
Nico didn’t think Quinoa was angry at him.Grumpy and scowlingseemed to be the karpos’s default setting. Still, his words stung.
Nico couldn’t imagine Arielle crying about what had happened. Then again, if she’d suggested leaving camp despite the dangers involved, she must’ve been really upset.
He knew he should ask Johan about what Semele had said—to find out if he had more information about what the mythics feared beyond the boundaries of Camp Jupiter—but his heart was too heavy. He wasn’t sure it could handle any more weight tonight.
The two mythics walked on, leaving Nico by himself. Anger and disappointment swirled within him—anger at seeing the same thing he’d gone through himself repeating itself here, and disappointment that he hadn’t done more to stop it.
Nico sat on the edge of his bunk in the guest barracks while his Puffs piled next to him on the comforter.
“I’ll be outside,” said Will, his face radiating calm and love. He planted a soft kiss on Nico’s forehead. “Just tell him what you told me.”
Then he was gone.
Nico reached into the pocket of his bomber jacket. He pulled out a crystal pendant he carried for Iris-messages and tied it to the frame of the upper bunk, where it dangled and spun, catching light from the overhead fixture. Rainbows danced across the walls. He fished a golden drachma from his other pocket.
It would be late at Camp Half-Blood, on the opposite side of the country. Fortunately, as far as Nico knew, Olympian gods didn’t keep any sort of regular sleep schedule.
He tossed his coin into the rainbow light, making his plea as the offering disappeared.
“Show me Camp Half-Blood,” he said. “Dionysus.”
The air shimmered. The camp director’s face appeared bathed in a blue glow like he was watching TV in a dark room. His attention was clearly fixed on something other than the Iris-message.
“Come on!” Mr. D yelled. “That’swho you’re voting for? What about the alliance?”
“Hey, Mr. D,” Nico said. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Mr. D glanced over, apparently unsurprised by the call. The god’s face looked puffy and haggard, his expression disgruntled, but that was pretty much how he always looked. “Let me give you some advice, Nico di Angelo. Don’t ever get intoSurvivor. It represents theworstof humanity.”
“I…don’t really watch television. So I should be good there.”
“You’re blessed by the gods, then. Because it’s currently ruining my life.”
Mr. D waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. There was a muffledBANG!Pieces of glass and plastic sprayed across the god’s room as the blue light was extinguished. Apparently, Mr. D didn’t just turn off a TV when the programming annoyed him. He made it explode.
“What’s on your mind, Nico?” he asked.
The god’s expression was still very irritated. Nico hoped he could be more interesting thanSurvivor. He didn’t feel like being exploded tonight. Nevertheless, he forged ahead. His hands were trembling. “I think I need help.”
“Of course you do,” Mr. D said. “You are a demigod. A teenager. Part human. You will always need help.”
“Wow, thanks for telling me. Totally new information.”
Thatmade Mr. D smile. “I do love your sarcasm, Nico. So what’s up?”
He took a deep breath. “Well—”
“Hold on.” Mr. D cut him off. “Do I need some popcorn? Is this that kind of talk?”
