Bloodlines: Ichor || [2]

CXXII. May You Never be at Peace

HEDGE WASN'T EXACTLY RIGHT. There were no tourists milling around the villas, wandering the cobblestone paths, or gawking at the colorful frescoes and mosaics. It only seemed to be reporters. Their backs were towards Vesuvius in the distance, either talking rapidly into microphones or having their cameramen set things up.

Elizabeth worried how the journalists would react to a forty-foot-tall statue of Athena in the middle of the courtyard, but the Mist must have been working overtime to obscure the mortals' vision.

"At least she hasn't shouted at 'unbelievers' yet," Reyna said, halfheartedly throwing a blade of grass at Athena that was swept up by the wind.

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "Experience?"

She sighed. "Experience."

She recalled what Annabeth had told her about the Athena Parthenos: its magical aura both attracted monsters and kept them at bay. Sure enough, every so often, out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth would spot glowing white spirits in Roman clothes flitting among the ruins, frowning at the statue in consternation.

"Those lemures are everywhere," Gleeson muttered. "Keeping their distance for now – but come nightfall we'd better be ready to move. Ghosts are always worse at night."

Elizabeth didn't need to be reminded of that. Despite the warm morning, she shivered from her dreams. She wanted to talk about them, but she decided to wait until Nico woke up. She didn't want to describe them twice.

Nico kept snoring. In Tartarus, Elizabeth had discovered that once he fell asleep it took a lot to wake him up. The coach could do a goat-hoof tap dance around Nico's head and the son of Hades wouldn't even budge.

"Here." Hedge offered them both plates of flame-grilled waffles with fresh sliced kiwi and pineapple. It all looked surprisingly good.

"Where are you getting these supplies?" Reyna marveled.

"Hey, I'm a satyr. We're very efficient packers." He took a bite of waffle. "We also know how to live off the land!"

As they ate, Coach Hedge took out a notepad and started to write. When he was finished, he folded the paper into an airplane and tossed it into the air. A breeze carried it away.

"A letter to your wife?" Elizabeth guessed.

Under the rim of his baseball cap, Hedge's eyes were bloodshot. "Mellie's a cloud nymph. Air spirits send stuff by paper airplane all the time. Hopefully her cousins will keep the letter going across the ocean until it finds her. It's not as fast as an Iris-message, but, well, I want our kid to have some record of me, in case, you know ..."

"We'll get you home," Elizabeth promised. "You will see your kid."

Hedge clenched his jaw and said nothing.

Elizabeth was pretty good at getting people to talk, and not just with charmspeak. More than once, she'd comforted terrified kids back home. But she'd had a tough time convincing Hedge to open up about his wife, Mellie, who was close to giving birth. Elizabeth had trouble imagining the coach as a father, but she understood what it was like to grow up without parents. She wasn't going to let that happen to Coach Hedge's child.

"Yeah, well..." The satyr bit off another piece of waffle, including the stick he'd toasted it on. "I just wish we could move faster." He chin-pointed to Nico. "I don't see how this kid is going to last one more jump. How many more will it take us to get home?"

Elizabeth shared his concern. In only eleven days, the giants planned to awaken Gaia. Octavian planned to attack Camp Half-Blood on the same day. That couldn't be a coincidence. Perhaps Gaia was whispering in Octavian's ear, influencing his decisions subconsciously. Or worse: Octavian was actively in league with the earth goddess. Elizabeth didn't want to believe that (she figured Ariana knew how to pick better friends), but after what she'd seen in her dreams she couldn't be sure.