𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [Jason Grace]

77

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞'𝐬 ghostly gateway. He realized just in time that a section of mosaic floor in front of him was an illusion covering a ten-foot-deep excavation pit. He sidestepped it and continued into the courtyard.

The two levels of reality reminded him of the Titan stronghold on Mount Othrys— a disorienting maze of black marble walls that randomly melted into shadow and solidified again. At least during that fight Jason had had two hundred legionnaires at his side. Now all he had was an old man's body, a stick and three friends in slinky dresses.

Forty feet ahead of him, Piper and Dante moved through the crowd, smiling and filling wineglasses for the ghostly revelers. If Dante was afraid, he didn't show it. So far the ghosts weren't paying him any special attention. His control over the mist must have been working.

Now he was using it to hide them, but Jason had seen what else he could do with the Mist. Down in Tartarus, seeing Dante trying to choke a goddess in her own Death Mist was probably the most terrified Jason had ever been.

He'd seen the concentrated fury in Dante's eyes, the pure rage. And he'd also seen Dante's skin start to smoke, not just from the Death mist. He was pushing himself too hard, too far. If Jason hadn't stepped in, there was a huge chance Dante would have burnt himself up like Icarus trying to kill the goddess.

Jason tried not to think about Tartarus.

Over on the right, Annabeth collected empty plates and goblets. She wasn't smiling.

Jason couldn't help but draw comparisons between her and Dante. What would have happened if it was her that got injured under Rome, if it was her that got dragged into Tartarus. Those were dark thoughts he struggled with, wishing he could have kept Dante safe from it all, wishing it was just him down there, as long as it meant Dante wasn't hurting.

He reached the edge of the crowd.

A raspy voice cried, "IROS!"

Antinous, the ghoul with the arrow in his throat, was staring right at him. "Is that you, you old beggar?"

Dante's magic did its work. Cold air rippled across Jason's face as the Mist subtly altered his appearance, showing the suitors what they expected to see.

"That's me!" Jason said. "Iros!"

A dozen more ghosts turned towards him. Some scowled and gripped the hilts of their glowing purple swords. Too late, Jason wondered if Iros was an enemy of theirs, but he'd already committed to the part.

He hobbled forward, putting on his best cranky old man expression. "Guess I'm late to the party. I hope you saved me some food?"

One of the ghosts sneered in disgust. "Ungrateful old panhandler. Should I kill him, Antinous?"

Jason's neck muscles tightened.

Antinous regarded him for three counts, then chuckled. "I'm in a good mood today. Come, Iros, join me at my table."

Jason didn't have much choice. He sat across from Antinous while more ghosts crowded around, leering as if they expected to see a particularly vicious arm-wrestling contest.

Up close, Antinous's eyes were solid yellow. His lips stretched paper-thin over wolfish teeth. At first, Jason thought the ghoul's curly dark hair was disintegrating. Then he realized a steady stream of dirt was trickling from Antinous's scalp, spilling over his shoulders. Clods of mud filled the old sword gashes in the ghoul's gray skin. More dirt spilled from the base of the arrow wound in his throat.