scared? | a nico di angelo fanfic

chapter 17: bloodlust

Hoa was forced besides Annabeth, their arms tied to her ankles and thrown into the corner. A gag was shoved into everyone's mouth as everyone waited helplessly for Geryon to come back.

Nico laid beside her, staring at the ceiling. She caught his gaze, raising her eyebrow. You good?

Yep, he signaled with a nod.

She sighed, focusing. She tried tugging the bonds but they pulled at her wrist, leaving bruises.

Maybe they're enchanted? she thought.

The rope dug into her risk as she pressed her mouth against the gag, trying to get herself out. She sighed around the gag as she slumped back down.

Do I have powers? she wondered. Can't Deimos summon some terror-inducing things?

Okay, she had an idea. Summon something to get her the hell out of here.

Hoa eyed Eurytion. What's he scared of...?

Heights? That's not helping me at all...

Being alone? No wait, that's going to apply to all of us, doesn't Deimos's powers apply to multiple people?

Then it clicked. Fire. Summon fire and burn the ropes.

She tried tugging at the bonds, thinking of the warmth of the bonfire back at camp.

Hoa grunted as the bonds pressed against her. Fuck!

This isn't working, half of her brain said.

Get me the fuck out of here! her other half said.

Her anger and frustration grew, beginning to over power, and then...

A spark.

The others snapped their eyes towards her, but Eurytion just raised an eyebrow. "Ain't gonna work. Sorry, ma'am."

She gritted her teeth, her anger causing another flame to rise at his feet, Eurytion stamping it out quickly.

Geryon came back, setting up a barbeque stand. "Eurytion, go decorate the house."

Eurytion sighed, but he relented. Streamers and balloons decorated the railing as Geryon flipped burgers on his barbeque stand made of an oil barrel. Once done, Eurytion sat there, picking his nails with a knife at a picnic table.

Percy rushed towards the house, a look of fury on his face. "Let them go!" he yelled. "I cleaned the stables!"

Geryon turned, revealing his three aprons that read KISS—THE—CHEF, one word on one apron. "Did you, now? How'd you manage it?"

Percy looked impatient, but he explained about the seashells.

Geryon nodded appreciatively. "Very ingenious. It would've been better if you'd poisoned that pesky naiad, but no matter."

"Let my friends go," the son of Poseidon said. "We had a deal."

"Ah, I've been thinking about that. The problem is, if I let them go, I don't get paid."

"You promised!"

Geryon made a tsk-tsk noise. "But did you make me swear on the River Styx? No, you didn't. So it's not binding. When you're conducting business, sonny, you should always get a binding oath."

You're fucking with me. Hoa looked up at the sky. Gods, may I ask, why?

Percy drew his sword. Orthus growled. One head leaned down next to Grover's head and bared their fangs.