The Angel of Death

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Three

"Little shit couldn't have worse timing," I muttered, pushing my chair back and heading for the front door, Will hot on my heels. "If Percy were still here–"

"What does Percy have to do with this?" Jason asked, distaste still clear in his voice.

"Octavian's scared of Percy," Will explained. "He hates him because he showed up out of nowhere and was so incredibly powerful he shot his way through the ranks faster than pretty much anyone. You think he'd be more scared of you, though," Will said, poking my shoulder. "I mean, you did sort of kill him."

"What?!" Dick asked.

I rolled my eyes. Octavian's death used to bother me a lot more, but it doesn't really now. I like to think it's been enough time that I came to terms with what happened, and worked through it. "I didn't kill him, I just...didn't save him. It was like an indirect kill. He's a little shit though. You'll see."

Octavian was standing just inside the door, arms crossed, glaring around the large interior. He looked the same as he did when he was alive. What was it with all these dead people showing back up?

He looked up at our footsteps and grinned when he saw me. "Nico, long time no see–" I cut him off by grabbing the front of his stupid purple shirt, ripping the door open, and throwing him bodily down the stairs so he tumbled onto the drive, spitting gravel out as I stalked down the steps, flicking my wrist to summon my sword.

Before he could recover, I placed my foot on his collarbone, stepping hard, holding him down and levelling the point of Deathbringer at the hollow of his throat. He looked up at me, eyes wide and jaw clenched in fear. "You have five fucking seconds to tell me exactly what you're doing here and how you came back before I cut your godsdamned head off."

He held a placating hand up, smiling shakily. "I would calm down if I were you," he said, his voice all slithery and gross, just like how I remembered the little shit. "They can get easily agitated, you know."

I tilted my head. "What the Hades are you talking about?"

He only grinned bigger. "Can't you feel them? I would have thought, all this time later, you would have improved at least a little, but I guess some people just peak early, huh?"

My head snapped up, in the direction of the trees across from the manor's front drive. Because I could feel them now. Dozens, waiting just out of sight. My angry eyes slid back down to Octavian. I leaned all my weight on him, a satisfying feeling sparking in my chest when he cried out as his collarbone snapped under my foot. He still wailed like a little bitch.

"I'm not going to send you back to the Underworld," I whispered. "I don't know how you got out, but a weasel like you deserves worse anyways." He whimpered under me. "Did you know that Deathbringer can trap souls? Imagine, eternity stuck in tormenting agony, unable to move or escape. I want you to think really hard about it before I ever see you again, because if I do, I can promise you the same fate that befell poor Minos. Because you're just a ghost, Octavian. And that makes me your King."

I eased off him and kicked his side. "You can tell your master the same thing I just told you. I don't know if this blade can hold divine souls, but I'm more than willing to try."

Octavian crawled away from me, spitting with anger and seething with pain as he cradled his arm to his body. "What about the wraiths? As soon as I'm gone they'll tear you all apart."

I rolled my eyes, sheathing my sword. "What part of 'I'm the fucking Ghost King' do you not understand?" Wraiths were tricky; spirits made of strong emotion, usually negative like anger or sadness. They couldn't move on from their last life, so they lived as spectres, occasionally able to come to the mortal world, usually being interpreted as some form of ghost or poltergeist by the mortals who encountered the particularly strong ones. They could be hard to deal with, especially in the Underworld, but they were weakened up here. With my father's blessing, I hoped it would be enough to send them back, or at least scare them off.