Page 17 of The Court of the Dead
“Those are knitting needles,” he said.
“Indeed!” Asterion said. “I even knit my own underwear!”
With no warning, he stood and ripped off his kilt.
Hazel yelped. The Cocoa Puffs scattered.
Nico tried to shield his eyes. Surely, if the true forms of gods could make mortals spontaneously combust, monster groins could do the same. But beneath the kilt, Asterion wore a pair of hand-knit tighty-whities even brighter than the freshly painted barracks walls.
“Asterion!” Hazel cried. “Please have some modesty!”
“Hmph.” The bull-man planted his fists at his sides à la Superman. “I have no need for what you humans refer to as ‘modesty.’ Look at this stitchwork. Look at this continental purling! Besides, do you not also wear underwear?”
“Yes,” Hazel said, “but we usually wear it…under?”
Asterion grumbled and put his kilt back on while Nico looked over at Will. His boyfriend’s eyes seemed to be frozen open from the trauma of TMU—too much underwear.
“Nico,” he said softly, “do you remember Carl and Bartholomew?”
Nico nodded, picturing the two boneheaded aeternae they had encountered in Tartarus.
“This is worse.” Will shook himself like a dog trying to dry off. “So, Asterion…I mean, first of all, that’s some lovely knitting—”
“Thank you!” Asterion sat down again next to Hazel. “You know, this is the same pair I wore when I first fought Percy Jackson, but he saidnothingabout my stitchwork.Nothing.” He paused. “In his defense, it was quite dark that night.”
“But how did you get here?” Will asked.
Asterion glanced over at Hazel, who patted his knee encouragingly.
“I heard what you did for the Titan,” he finally said.
Nico smiled. “Bob?”
“That is his name now, is it not?” Asterion sat up straighter and pushed out his chest. “Bob.A noble name. Simple yet elegant, like a garter stitch.”
“But what does that have to do with you?” Nico asked.
“You are not aware of the impact you have had, son of Hades! You willingly came to Tartarus to help a Titan! You defied those great forces who would require us to serve as mindless weapons forever. You showed us another way.”
“And when you sayus, you mean…” Nico was hesitant to use the usual term, but he didn’t know what else to call them. “Monsters?”
Asterion heaved a deep sigh. “We prefermythics.The termmonsters, you must agree, is rather…what do you call it? Loaded. Ever since we were first called that, we were given no choice but tobemonsters. There were the occasional rebels, but they were rare exceptions. The rest of us? We were used. Manipulated. Enslaved to the whims of those who wished only for violence and chaos.”
Nico thought of Nyx in Tartarus. He remembered Bob challenging her, accusing her of not knowing it was possible to change. The goddess had felt no need to be different.I am perfect as I am.
Nico felt his rage building, hot and ferocious. He knew exactly what Asterion was describing. Then he looked down and found Anger chewing on his sock. The Puff looked up at him and opened its mouth—which took up most of its body—revealing hundreds of teeth.
“The sight of your demons comforts me,” said Asterion. “Your peaceful coexistence with them confirms my belief that you and Will Solace are best suited for helping me achieve my goal.”
Hazel nodded. “I agree.”
“And what exactly is your goal?” asked Nico.
The cacodemon Longing waddled over to the bull-man. Asterion patted its head, apparently unaffected by the Puff’s power.
“After I heard the story of your trip to Tartarus,” Asterion said, “I decided to return to the mortal world on my own. It was a difficult journey. I clawed and scraped my way to the surface, thinking that I would seek you out, Nico di Angelo, at Camp Half-Blood. But for whatever reason, my instincts brought me here instead. I emerged in the hills just above Camp Jupiter.”
Hazel smiled. “I like to think it’s because you have good taste.”
