Chapter Text
Jason and Leo came back exhausted.
Those gnomes had run them around in circles, but eventually Leo got his things back. They’d picked up some basic supplies from an Italian corner store, as well. Jason had had plenty of time to think, wandering through the store. He wasn’t quite sure how getting Annabeth to think about the bigger picture was wrong, but he knew she was upset. When someone was upset, you were supposed to try and make amends.
The entire fly back to the ship, he’d been trying to plan out what he’d say to her in his head. He’d go find her in her quarters, he’d apologize, and then they could go back to figuring out the quest together as a team.
The first wrench was thrown in his plan when he and Leo landed on the main deck, and Annabeth was there.
She was leaning against the mast, her hands in her pockets, staring out over the landscape. Her eyes flitted back and forth, like she was analyzing the layout of the buildings. Like she was picturing how she’d have built them better. Her hair was done up, now, the twists pulled back into a low ponytail.
Nico and Hazel were both a few feet behind her, talking about something or other. Nico was waving his hands wildly, talking loudly in Italian. Hazel was giving him gentle nods, her hands clasped—though Jason was pretty sure she couldn’t understand what he was ranting about. Piper was by the railing, her braid blowing in the wind. Frank must’ve been guarding the back of the boat with Hedge.
“Hey, Annabeth!” Jason called out as he touched down on the deck. He still had his arm wrapped around Leo’s ribs.
She glanced over at him. Her eyes were steely cold.
Under Jason’s arm, Leo stiffened. He quickly wriggled away, clutching his tool belt to his chest, disappearing down into the belly of the ship like it was second nature.
“Can we talk?” Jason asked.
Behind her, Hazel squeaked. Nico stopped his frustrated rambling and quickly disappeared into the nearest shadow. Jason wasn't sure why he was in such a rush to leave.
Annabeth stared at him for a moment more.
Then, without a word, she walked away.
Jason’s shoulders sank.
He went to follow after her, but Hazel grabbed him by the elbow. She gave him a stern look. She was wearing what looked like one of Piper’s shirts—a baggy green long sleeve—covered by overalls.
“Where are you going?” She scolded. “You’re all dinged up!”
“I—what?” He glanced down the deck. Annabeth had already vanished into her room. “Hazel, I need to talk to her.”
Hazel clicked her tongue, “No, you need to get some bandages.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Hazel tugged him towards the sickbay. “Fix yourself up.”
Jason touched one of the bruises on his cheek gingerly. The gnomes had kicked him around a little, but it was nothing he couldn’t power through. He’d sat through worse injuries and survived.
“Hazel, this is more important.”
Hazel raised her eyebrows.
Jason’s constitution wavered. He needed the time to rethink his plan anyway. Annabeth had snubbed him in seconds. He’d have to figure out a way to talk to her where she wouldn’t run off.
He headed to the sickbay.
The next time Jason tried, they were at lunch.
Annabeth had seated herself between Hazel and Piper, picking idly at a plate of bread and some sort of white spread. She’d pressed her shoulder against Hazel’s, hiding the majority of what looked like a brutal laceration scar. Hazel had cuddled up against her arm, resting her head, her eyes half-lidded.
“Hedge and I were scouting yesterday,” Piper started. She had a bowl of rice pudding, which Jason wanted to point out wasn’t a good meal, but his plate was mostly just steak—so he figured he didn’t have the right to criticize. “There doesn’t seem to be anything too dangerous around us heading outward, but it looks like there’s something following us from behind. It’s underwater for now, and it doesn’t look that big.”
“We shouldn’t focus on that, then,” Nico said quietly. He laced his fingers together. His plate was empty. His glass was full of what looked like black coffee. “Until it attacks us, paying attention to it would be a waste of time and energy.”
Piper nodded. “Then we’re in the clear.”
The for now went unsaid.
“Jason and I got those little freaks to attack the Romans,” Leo said. He was fiddling with a piece of metal, bending it into little loops. He didn’t meet anyones eyes as he spoke. “Not like, kill them attack, but more like…annoy them. Slow them down. I was hoping that would keep them occupied until we can figure out a way to get her majesty, Lady Big-Statue, over to camp.”
“That’s smart,” Annabeth said. Her voice was stronger than it had been for a while, she spoke with the level of confidence she’d once had.
Each of the crew turned to look at her.
“If you can keep them distracted and bar them from attacking, their ranks are going to get frustrated.” Annabeth ran her finger around the rim of her cup. “Frustrated troops are sloppy. Sloppy troops are less effective.” She gave Leo an almost evil smile. “I like the way you think, Valdez.”
Leo’s ears went beet red. Praise like that from Annabeth was uncommon, especially for something as mundane as an organized dwarf prank war.
“Thanks,” he said sheepishly. He went back to his piece of mental, worrying it with his thumb. “It’s no biggie.”
“It’s actually somewhat of a big biggie,” Annabeth continued. She reached out across the table, laying her hand on Leo’s wrist. He froze completely. “Slowing our enemy down is a pretty great tactic. From what I’ve heard, those gnomes are about as good at pranking as a Hermes kid. If not better.”
Leo laughed, “I sure hope so.”
“I’ll bet they’ve already got those armies fighting amongst themselves.” Annabeth smiled properly this time, teeth, crinkled eyes, and all. “Hopefully that gives us an extra day or two—best case scenario.”
“I hope they pop Octavian one right in the face,” Hazel said, miming boxer punches.
“That bastard won’t know what hit him!” Leo grinned. He seemed to have shaken off his stupor. “I got an address from them, by the way. A place in Venice.”
Annabeth perked up.
From his tool belt, Leo dug out the leather-bound manual he’d gotten from the gnomes. There was a sticky note plastered to the front of it, the address crudely scrawled out in some of the worst handwriting Jason had ever seen.
“Perfect!” Annabeth smiled. “Any lead is a good lead!”
“I’ve already set course.” Leo slipped the book away again. “It’s not too far off our original path, so it shouldn’t waste us any time. We’ll be in Venice no later than tomorrow.”
Nico was starting to look antsy again, Jason noticed. He was picking at his thumbnail so hard it was bleeding, his leg was jackhammering under the table. There was that familiar haunted look in his eyes that Jason had come to associate with him.
“Nico?” He prompted. “Do you have anything to share?”
“No,” he said. Blood trickled over his knuckle.
Jason furrowed his brow. He watched as Nico took a small sip of coffee. His hands were shaking terribly. There was a smear of blood on the handle when he put it down.
“Hey, um…” Jason glanced over at Annabeth. “Annabeth?”
She looked up at him. Once again, her gaze went cold.
“Can we talk?”
She blinked once, then turned back to Leo, falling right back into conversation about strategies to delay the Roman’s further. Something deep inside Jason stung, like his lungs had were being bitten by a swarm of bugs. From across the table, Piper shrugged.
And it clicked with Jason, how far away from everyone he was.
He was sat at the head of the table, in the position of quest leader—he’d taken it from Annabeth. There was an empty seat on either side of him. One was Frank’s, he was still on watch duty with Hedge. The other’s was Percy’s.
All of Jason’s friends were at the other end of the table. Piper was hidden behind Hazel and Annabeth. Leo was sitting at the opposite end of the table, but he wasn’t meeting Jason’s eye. He was still locked in conversation with Annabeth.
The stretch of table seemed to yawn out in front of Jason like a great chasm. They all knew how to sit and just be—but Jason was wound up permanently. Maybe that’s why Annabeth was avoiding him, not letting him talk to her. Maybe she knew he wouldn’t know what to say, and she was trying to save him from shoving his foot in his mouth.
He got up.
Only Nico watched him as he left.
Jason was changing his bandages in the sickbay, staring at his own reflection in the mirror. There was an ugly bruise on his forehead, and a surprisingly deep gash running across his cheek. He dabbed his face with a cotton ball soaked in nectar.
What was he doing wrong?
Everyone else seemed to fall into conversation with each other so naturally. They laughed and joked together with such ease it was like second nature. Yet, whenever Jason tried to join along, it sounded almost stilted. It sounded as if he were a parrot mimicking human speech—not really talking, just regurgitating what it had heard before.
He knew they felt it too. He saw those stares, he noticed the way people bristled when he walked in the room. There was always a collective unease when he was around—like people weren’t quite sure why he was talking to him. Like they were only waiting for him to be done so they could go back to whatever they had been doing.
He dragged the cotton ball across the cut more aggressively. His face stung, but that was fine. It reminded him he was human—he wasn’t just a husk of a man pretending to be something he wasn’t. He really was human, no matter how much it felt like he didn’t belong.
He still bled.
The sickbay door creaked open. In the mirror, Jason watched Nico slip inside. He was shaking harder than he was before. His hair was damp with sweat, sticking against his forehead and neck. There was a glassy look in his eyes.
He stumbled slightly, dropping to his knees, digging through one of the ground cabinets. His nails were torn raw.
“Nico?” Jason said softly.
Nico jumped, knocking his head against the top of the cabinet. He hissed under his breath, cupping his hands to the back of his head. Jason’s skull twinged in sympathy. He’d been knocked around one too many times, he understood the pain all too well.
“Sorry—” Jason put his own supplies aside, making his way over slowly. “Are you okay?”
Nico turned slightly, giving Jason a wide eyed, fearful look. Now that Jason was closer, he could see how dark the bags under Nico’s eyes had gotten. The waxy sheen to his skin seemed less like he was malnourished, and more like his blood had been completely sucked dry.
“I’m fine,” he managed after a moment. His voice was weak and worn out.
“I’m going to veto that,” Jason said. He knelt beside Nico, trying to keep a respectable distance. He knew the kid hated being touched. “What’s wrong?”
And there it was again, that uncomfortable shift everyone had when they spoke to him. Nico inched away from him ever so slightly—but Jason noticed. He always noticed.
“Nothing.”
Jason frowned. He scanned Nico over.
There weren’t any notable injuries, just his torn up hands. Jason slipped a bottle of nectar out of his pocket. He gestured for Nico to give him his hands.
Much to Jason’s surprise, Nico complied. It was reluctant, and his eyes shone with fear, like a cornered animal, but he let Jason gently pour nectar over his fingers.
“You look terrible,” Jason said.
He meant it to come across as playful teasing—that was something Leo always did, wasn’t it?—but Nico frowned. He didn’t respond. Jason chewed the inside of his cheek. Making Nico of all people mad wasn’t Jason’s smartest move. Of all of them, Nico was the least reliable. He disappeared on a whim, he was wicked good with a sword, and he could summon skeletons with a snap of his fingers.
But this time, Nico didn’t get mad. Instead, a melancholy look washed over him.
“Have you been sleeping?” Jason tried a different approach.
It took Nico a three count to say: “Can’t.”
Jason frowned. As gently as he could, he turned Nico’s hand over. His fingers were dangerously thin, boney and weak. Blood had stained his palms. Jason didn’t have anything to wipe it down with—he hoped Nico would have the sense to wash it off.
“Why not?” Jason asked. He winced as the nectar splashed against a scrape on his own hand.
“Why do you care?” Nico spat back. Jason assumed it was meant to sound angry and defensive, but to him, it just came across as desperate.
“We’re teammates,” Jason said. He turned Nico’s battered hands back over. The cuts were slowly starting to mend themselves. “We all need to look out for each other.”
“I’m not one of your teammates,” Nico repeated, wrinkling his nose. “I’m not one of the Seven.”
“But you’re still on the ship. I think Hazel would beg to differ.”
“That’s different, she’s my sister.”
“It’s really not that different.”
Nico squeezed his eyes shut, frowning. Despite sitting on the ground, he swayed slightly, like he was seconds from keeling over. His eyes fluttered.
“Why do you care?” Nico said again, “Why, of all people, do you suddenly care now?”
Jason froze.
What could he say? That he was used to people liking him? That he wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong on this ship, why everyone seemed to pull away from him? That the world is falling apart in front of him, and if he doesn’t sacrifice his life, or his friends, everything he knows will be destroyed? That he feels completely helpless?
“Exactly.” Nico wrenched his hands away, shakily getting to his feet. His knees half buckled, but he defiantly held himself up, white-knuckle gripping the cabinet.
“Nico, you don’t look well,” Jason said. There was blood on his hands now. “You need to—to lay down, or something!”
“I just came here to get some ambrosia.” Nico went back to digging through the cabinets. His breathing sounded ragged and worn down. “Not to be dotted on.”
“Sorry for giving a shit, I guess!” Jason stood, throwing his hands up in mock-surrender. “Not all of us want you dead!”
Nico gave him such a frigid glare that the room seemed to drop a couple degrees. “You certainly did.”
He could’ve punched Jason in the gut. Maybe that would’ve been less painful.
“We don’t know who’s side he’s on, right?” Nico said, his breaths coming in short, shaky gasps. “It could be a trap. Does that sound familiar?”
The blood drained from Jason’s face. A pit hollowing in his stomach. It had been easy back then, when Nico was just a faceless name to him—just another piece in Gaea’s puzzle. It had been easy to pick the logical answer, before he saw how young Nico was. He wasn’t sure what he would do, now that he knew him.
“Hazel told me everything.”
“It was a high stress, high-stakes situation.” Jason backed up a few steps. “I was trying to keep the team in mind! I didn’t know if we were walking directly into a trap, which we were by the way!”
Nico’s eye twitched, his fingers moving towards the empty scabbard on his hip.
“Make up your mind, Grace! Am I part of the crew, or not?” His voice frayed, “Do you want me alive or not!?”
“I didn’t know you!”
The shadows on the floor were starting to curl towards Nico’s sneakers. “You don’t know me now, either!”
“I’m trying to, Nico!” Jason grabbed his things off the counter, stuffing the small bottle of nectar back in his pocket.
Nico finally fished the ambrosia out of the cabinet. He stole a small square, slipped it in his jacket’s breast pocket, and disappeared into the shadows.
Jason’s heart was pounding in his head, his vision swimming.
“Fuck!” He slammed his hand on the counter.
Today wasn’t his day.
Jason was stuck between a rock, a hard place, with walls closing in from either side.
If he didn’t make up with Annabeth, the team was going to suffer. If he didn’t make up with Nico, that tension would pull them both apart to threads. But worst of all, if he didn’t figure out why Leo was frustrated with him, he was going to wear a hole in his chest that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stitch back up.
Nico was still volatile. Jason would have to avoid him for a while, to let the dust settle.
Annabeth wouldn’t speak to him. Jason couldn’t get her alone, and he couldn’t get her to stay in one room with him for more than a few moments.
So his next best option—
“Leo?” Jason knocked on the door to the stables. “Are you in there?”
“Yeah, man!” Leo called. “You need somethin’!?”
Jason let himself inside.
The entire room smelled of motor oil and smoke. Jason breathed it in slowly, letting his eyes drift shut. It was so familiar to him at this point. The sounds of clanking and buzzing echoed through the room. Sparks shot up over the side of the Parthenos.
Jason hopped over, perching on one of the massive marble folds in Athena’s dress.
“What’s up?” Leo asked. He had a welder’s mask on, though Jason wasn’t sure why. He was using his fingers to blowtorch together two thin sheets of celestial bronze. “Don’t look, by the way! UV light!”
That answered his question.
Jason stared up at the stable ceiling, leaning back on his palms. He traced the ceiling boards with his eyes. The details were fuzzy—he couldn’t tell where one board ended and another began—but he tried. That was how he’d gotten himself to fall asleep in the barracks back in New Rome.
“Are you mad at me?” Jason asked.
“What?” There was a soft clanking sound as Leo put his project down.
“Are you mad at me?” Jason repeated.
With a sigh, Leo messed around with some of his tools. Jason listened as he crawled up the side of the Parthenos. The marble sizzled under his still-blazing fingers.
“Why do you ask?” Leo sat next to him, pulling his knees to his chest.
Jason frowned.
“You yelled at me earlier,” Jason said. “Sort of. About Annabeth, and everything. I just wanted to know if I upset you.”
“I mean…duh.”
Jason turned to look at him. Leo laced his fingers together, propping his chin on his knees. Ash dusted his cheeks. Part of his hair was smoking, an ember nestled in one of his curls. Jason reached over, gently brushing it away. Leo flinched, but he didn’t pull back.
“I dunno, I guess it’s not like, really my place to be mad,” Leo explained, “I guess I was just upset on her behalf. You really got to her, man.”
“I was just trying to get her to understand.” Jason folded his hands in his lap. “She can’t back out of the quest now, not when he’s counting on her.”
Leo chewed his lip. “This is your issue, dude. You need to justify everything you do and say and—and sometimes you’re just…you’re just fucking wrong. A-and that’s fine!” He pulled at a loose thread in the hem of his jeans. “What’s not fine, is going that low just to win an argument.”
Jason’s stomach turned over itself. He stared back up at the ceiling.
“A pointless argument, might I add.”
“Might you not add,” Jason said, “I see that now.”
There was a long pause. Leo was tapping something on the marble. There were burn holes peppering his Camp Half Blood shirt. Little scars littered his arms and neck.
Jason wondered where those came from. He wondered if Leo had told Piper all these details about his life. He wondered if he’d told Hazel, in the few days they’d known each other. He wondered if maybe he’d know the answer, too, if he’d just bothered to ask.
“How do I fix it?” Jason asked quietly.
Leo shrugged. “Dunno, dude. Sometimes you fuck up, and you fuck up for good. That’s just how things go.”
“Can things go differently?”
Leo stopped tapping for a second. He looked over at Jason, an almost indescribable expression on his face. “Probably not.”
Jason’s resolve had wavered.
He’d gone to bed uncomfortable and anxious. Nico hadn’t been at dinner. Neither had Hazel. Leo sat beside him, but everyone else was pressed all the way at the other side of the table. Annabeth still refused to take her position at the head of the table.
When he’d woken up the next morning, the boat was scarily calm. There was no violent rocking, no cannon fire, no shouting from above deck. The only motion was the boat gentle listing back and forth, waves lapping against the sides.
Jason pulled himself out of bed, shaking his shoulders out.
He dragged his fingers through his hair, his gaze out of focus. That familiar exhaustion had settled across him—the one he’d felt every day back in New Rome. Leading a team was hard. Leading a team that didn’t like him, was impossible.
He made his way upstairs.
Almost everyone was gathered on deck—that was a new one. Nico was sitting in the crow’s nest again. Annabeth and Piper were leaning against each other by the mast, talking quietly. Leo was half asleep by one of the ballistae, while Coach Hedge was shouting his ear off about one thing or another.
The Argo II was docked on a bustling pier. They must’ve finally arrived in Venice. Houses stretched out for ages, dotting the edges of the twisting canals. Smaller boats skirted around the Argo. Motorboats zipped through the rivers. Tourists choked the streets, taking photos of everything they could point their cameras at. If Rome had been filled with tourists, this place must’ve been tourist central.
Hazel was leaning over the side of the boat, her hair buffeting in the wind.
“What are those things!?” She asked.
In his exhaustion, Jason muttered, “Americans…?”
“Wh—?” Hazel looked over her shoulder, “Oh, mornin’ Jason!”
She had a singular braid hanging down next to her face, adorned with silver and gold jewelry. Her eyes were bright, the sun turning them from a warm brown to a stunningly bright amber.
“Morning.” He leaned over the side as well. What he saw knocked him awake in seconds.
Hoards of shaggy, cow-like monsters swarmed the bridges and thin roads, almost worse than the tourists. Their fur was the color of dirty snow and horrible matted. Their ant-eater heads scraped against the ground, gray manes flopping in their eyes, dragging in the dirt.
“I think the mortals see them as stray dogs,” Hazel said, looking back down at them. “Funny, right?”
“Or like, just dogs in general!” Piper jogged over, slinging her arm around Jason’s shoulders. “My dad shot a movie in Venice once. He said there were like, dogs everywhere. Apparently Venetians love dogs.”
Hazel snorted, then yelled, “NICO!”
Jason and Piper both looked up at the mast. Nico’s head appeared over the side of the crow’s nest.
“Yeah?!”
“How do you feel about dogs!?”
Jason couldn’t make out Nico as more than just a little black and grey smudge, but he could practically hear him rolling his eyes, disappearing into the crow’s nest again.
“He loves me,” Hazel waved her hand dismissively.
“Nico’s from Venice?” Piper asked. She traced her fingers up and down Jason’s ribs.
“Yeah?” Hazel leaned backwards against the railing. “Has he never told y’all? I feel like he mentions it whenever he talks to me.”
Piper tugged on one of her braids, chuckling nervously. “We…don’t talk to him all that much.”
Jason’s insides curdled. He tried to shake Nico’s frustrated shouting out of his head.
“Y’all should,” Hazel turned back towards Venice. “He’s nicer than he seems, y’just gotta give him a chance.”
I tried. Jason thought.
Frank joined them on deck a few moments later. His hair, despite being mostly buzzed, was a mess. His expression was unreadable. He quickly took his spot beside Hazel, wedging himself between her and Jason.
“G’mornin’!” Hazel grinned, jumping up on her toes to kiss his cheek.
“Hi,” Frank responded. He patted her on the shoulder, before dropping his head on his arms.
“Long night?” Jason asked.
Frank glanced up at him. “Huh?”
“You look tired.” Jason nudged him slightly. “Do you want to rest below deck? We don’t seem to be in any danger at the moment.”
Frank’s eyes lit up. He opened his mouth to respond, but Hedge cut him off.
“No danger!?” He yelled, “There’s always danger, boy! Look at them things down there!”
“What things?” Frank looked over the side. He paled, quickly pulling himself back over the railing. “Oh.”
“Yeah, those things.” Leo finally abandoned his spot at the ballista. He pulled out that leather book again, knocking his knuckles against the cover. “We’re just gonna have to cross our fingers and hope they’re peaceful, if we’re gonna find this address.”
He pulled the sticky note off the front.
“La Casa Nera,” Leo read, “Calle Frezzeria.”
He pronounced Calle like it was a Spanish word, Jason noted, and not an Italian one. That was one of the habits he’d noticed Leo hadn’t been able to shake. He always stumbled over words with two L’s in them.
The air around them chilled for a second, the sun seeming to dim.
“The Black House,” Nico translated. “Calle Frezzeria is the street.”
Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. Nico’s shadow travel always left him the best at sneaking up on people. Frank clutched the front of his shirt, like he was trying to catch his heart before it leapt out of his chest.
Nico bristled. He hunched his shoulders.
“Sorry, you startled me.” Frank let out a breath. “I’m not totally awake just yet.”
Jason expected Nico to stay prickly and silent. To shrug Frank off and continue with whatever he was saying. Except, he didn’t. He softened slightly, the tension melting off his shoulders.
“S’fine,” he said with a shrug.
“But uh, you speak Italian?” Frank asked.
Nico shot him a confused look. “…Duh? Anyway, Leo’s right. Monsters or not, we need to find that address. The only way to do it, is by walking through the city.”
“Seems easy enough!” Leo hopped up on the railing, swinging his legs.
“Not exactly. If you don’t know the place, Venice is a total maze. We’ll have to risk the crowds, and those…shaggy things down there. Whatever you call them.”
Thunder split through the clear sky. Jason frowned at the horizon. The air was thick and hot around them. That could’ve been regular Venice weather, or it could’ve been venti stirring up.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” he said. “I should stay on board—if we’ve got some angry wind spirits around, I’d rather be here to deal with them, then have to run back to the ship if its attacked.”
“Good idea.” Leo tapped Jason’s arm with his boot. “You’re pretty good against those things.”
“I’m out too,” Hedge propped his bat on his shoulder. “If you’re not gonna even consider attacking those things…”
He walked off, grumbling various Greek curses under his breath.
“I’ll stay as well,” Annabeth said. “I’ve been hearing some clanking in the engine room that I’m not a huge fan of. Leo, could we take a look at that later?”
“I knew I wasn’t crazy!” He grinned at her. “It’s making like a weird…whir-pop sound every few minutes, right?!”
Annabeth nodded. Her hair was pulled back in a blue bandana, and she was wearing a large black hoodie with some sort of illegible band name scrawled out on the front. Percy’s clothes.
“I’ll go,” Frank said.
Everyone glanced over at him. Leo grinned even wider, passing over the book. He patted Frank on the chest, maybe a little harder than necessary. Frank swatted him away, nearly knocking him off the side of the ship.
“If you pass a hardware store, pick me up some two-by-fours and a few gallons of tar, would you? I’ll foot the bill.”
“Do you even have any money?” Frank asked, but he took the book, tucking it under his arm.
Hazel rolled her eyes affectionately. “It’s not a shopping trip, Leo. This is a serious mission.”
“Yeah!” He said, “I seriously need some tar. Ship repair stuff.”
Hazel punched his arm, laughing.
“I’ll go with Frank,” Nico offered.
Jason didn’t miss the way Frank’s eye twitched. It confused him a bit. They’d been getting along better than Jason had seen Nico get on with…anyone other than his sister. Frank massaged his temple like he was chasing away a migraine.
“You sure?” He asked.
“Like I said,” Nico moved to the edge of the ship, looking out over. “You need to know this city to get around. I’m from here. And I speak Italian.”
“Oh, true…” Frank nodded. “I don’t speak Italian.”
“Besides.” Nico gave the group an eerie, humorless smile. “Can’t you all feel it? There’s a strong Underworld aura hanging around this place. Lot’s of death.”
His expression turned grim. He glanced back over the edge of the railing. Jason wondered what he was thinking.
“Why don’t I go, too?” Hazel touched Nico’s arm. A wordless exchange passed between them. He frowned slightly, and she tugged him close to her chest, like she was protecting him from something. “Three’s the best number for a quest, isn’t it?”
A look of relief washed over Frank.
“Three is your best bet,” Annabeth agreed. “But no more than that. Things tend to go sour.”
The minute the words left her mouth, she seemed to regret them. She looked over at Nico, who had shrunk in on himself. That familiar, guarded look was on his face again.
Annabeth mouthed the word Sorry, but Nico ignored her.
“Alright, it’s a team,” he said. “Let’s go find the owner of that book.”