Page 31 of The Court of the Dead
“Oh my gods,” he said.
“Right?” Will said. “This place is…wow.”
The mansion’s great room was an open-floor-plan loft. Up in the exposed beams of the ceiling, Orcus had built a nest woven of straw and gold necklaces, no doubt because griffins loved shiny things. In the far-right corner was a hydroponic garden—a wide bed of planter boxes laced with irrigation tubing under panels of purple LED lights. The karpos Quinoa sprawled between two rows of seedlings with a dark visor over his eyes like he was having a tanning session.
In the opposite corner, the blemmyae Johan had set up a sort of tearoom salon. The sideboard overflowed with tiered pastry stands and teapots on lace doilies. Two plush velvet armchairs flanked a coffee table piled high with books. Johan himself was tinkering with some sort of contraption Nico didn’t understand—it was like a clothes rack with a giant magnifying glass attached to one end and a music stand attached to the other. Johan’s lair gave off a strong Sherlock Holmes vibe, if Sherlock Holmes had no head and a face in the middle of his chest.
Nico didn’t see any areas marked off for Asterion, Arielle, or Semele, but several doorways led to other rooms. Maybe they each had their own private space. As usual, Nico wasn’t even sure Semele was present. He looked for telltale signs of smoke but saw nothing.
The most eye-catching part of the great room was the conversation pit. A sunken square of dark green sofas framed a twenty-by-twenty-foot section of pink shag carpeting, except…
Nico’s stomach twisted. That wasn’t shag carpeting. The pink surface was stippled with tufts of black hair, large white pustules, and streaks of red bumps that could only be described as a rash.
The carpet was a very particular kind of skin. And unfortunately, Nico recognized it.
Will must’ve had the same realization. He exhaled like he’d been punched in the gut. “That’s what the ground looks like in Tartarus.”
Asterion smiled, obviously pleased. “Indeed, Will Solace. We cut it out ourselves, rolled it up, and brought it with us. I was not sure it would survive the journey.”
Orcus flew down from his nest and landed at Hazel’s side. “We’restillnot sure it will survive. But we had to try.”
Nico fought down a sense of panic. He tried to keep his tone neutral. “You brought it…why?”
“Ha!” Quinoa barked from his hydroponic tanning bed. “My friends here ain’t plant-based life, kid. We can’t just stick ’em in the soil and water ’em if they get injured. What happens if one of your demigods gets worked up and wounds one of them? Or, gods forbid, kills one?”
Will’s eyes widened. “That’s…ingenious, actually. You’re trying to grow a regeneration bed so you don’t have to return to Tartarus if the worst happens.”
Nico looked at Hazel. “You knew about this?”
She nodded, her expression grim. “We’re not advertising this to the legion, though.”
Nico could see why. The idea of growing a mini Tartarus in the middle of Camp Jupiter terrified him. If the legionnaires knew, they’d have a lot more to worry about than just graffiti and occasional scuffles.
Arielle stepped into the pit. She lounged across one of the sofas like she was posing for a photo shoot. “You wouldn’t begrudge us a memento from our homeland, would you?”
Will clutched his stomach. “I feel queasy.”
“RAWK!”Orcus ruffled his feathers. “I will never understand the weakness of human stomachs. I could eat all day without feeling the need to regurgitate!”
“Not helping,” Will muttered.
“Perhaps we should begin,” said Asterion. “Hazel Levesque, I understand you have arranged for a group of demigods to meet us on the Field of Mars?”
Hazel dragged her gaze from the shag Tartarus carpet. “I…Yes. The Second Cohort has agreed to train with you.”
“Excellent!” Asterion beamed at his comrades, who didn’t look nearly as enthusiastic. “But before we go, we have been discussing ways we might contribute to Camp Jupiter during our time here.”
“Oh?” Hazel asked.
Johan stepped forward, twiddling his thumbs. “I’m very good at lots of things! In particular, I love reading and history, libraries, and archives. Although I do require corrective lenses.” He gestured back at the contraption in his tea salon.
It dawned on Nico that blemmyae must have terrible depth perception, given that their huge eyes were set into their chests. That magnifying glass on the rack was a clever long-distance reading device.
Johan’s challenges certainly hadn’t dampened his enthusiasm. He looked at Hazel eagerly. “Are we going to have a document-filing competition on the Field of Mars? If so, I will win!”
“Hmm,” said Hazel. “Probably not. But the legion archives in the principiaarea mess. We have centuries of records and boxes of artifacts—”
“Excellent!” Johan said. “I would love to organize your archives if you will allow me. I don’t think you could find a better fit for the job.”
