The Boy of Shadows and Sin

Chapter 10

The door to the cell opened with a creak. Nico was on his feet in an instant. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, only to fish that it wasn't there. He swore harshly.

A woman's voice tsked from in the doorway. "Such crude language is really unbecoming, you know. Especially for a sixty year old boy."

Nico swore again and raised his hands, prepared to fight.

The woman laughed. Her voice was familiar. "Oh, you don't think I'm actually going to fight you now, do you?" Nico didn't say anything. "Even if you did, you wouldn't be able to hurt me. I guarantee it."

He found his voice, weak from fear and lack of use. He didn't know how long he had been there for. It could have been days, it could have been hours. "You wanna bet?"

The voice laughed, and Nico frowned. The voice was so familiar! The laugh, light but menacing. He knew it. "Of course I would, but I don't gamble with demigods. Too untrustworthy. Besides, it's impossible to hurt me if you can't touch me—which you can't. Why would I want to fight you? You're the most powerful demigod I have! With a few...modifications...I'm quite confident that you'll be even more powerful than that Jackson upstart!"

Percy. There he was again. Always there. It was impossible to escape from that name. Percy. Jackson was like the Heracles of the 21st century. Couldn't take a shit without coming across his name, nope. But there was that word, modifications. He didn't like the sound of that.

"What do you mean, modifications?" Nico demanded. He adjusted himself, still in a defensive position.

The woman waved a silhouetted hand and lights flicked on. Nico blinked, temporarily blinded by the Greek fire blazing from sconces on the wall. "To make you a better warrior, of course."

He looked at the woman's face and stumbled back. No. It couldn't be her—not after all they had done for her, after she had caused so many demigods so much grief.

"Well?" Hera asked. "Aren't you going to grovel?"

All Nico could do was bark out a short, delirious laugh.

Damian was getting irritated. That kid Will never seemed to stop talking. But he was about to get some rest. He certainly needed it. He had been in trance all day for the past two days and nights, working on crafting an enchanted scabbard, commissioned by a rich Roman demigod who got paid to take out "threats to the community", more specifically monsters. He had wanted a scabbard for his sword that wouldn't be seen by mortals, and that would protect its bearer from too serious of injury. It was a very well-paying job, and Damian wasn't a person to turn down much-needed drachmas. It hadn't been an easy project. Being in trance for so long was always exhausting, especially because he couldn't eat or drink anything except for a small amount of blessed water. Thankfully he had finished the project just a few minutes before he heard the boy's shout, otherwise the entire project might've been ruined and he would have to start from scratch.

"Why are you out here?" Will asked, likely for the third or fourth time.

Damian sighed. "I live here in France. My parents moved here from Portland, but I grew up speaking French so I fit right in. I'm...on a break, I guess. Normally I stay at this place down south. It's sort of like a temple. We have people who come from all over to live and train with us." He hoped Will wouldn't notice how tired he sounded.

Will looked slightly awed. "You mean, there are camps for demigods out here too?"

You Americans, Damian thought. "You mean you thought we all moves to the states to survive?" His words were laced with irritation.