The Blood of Olympus - Dying Marigolds

Lycaon studied him like a new type of meat in a butcher’s display case. “Nico di Angelo...son of Hades. I’ve heard of you. I’m sorry I can’t kill you promptly, but I promised my employer Orion that I would detain you until he arrives. No worries. He should be here in a few moments. Once he’s done with you, I shall spill your blood and mark this place as my territory for ages to come!”

Nico grit his teeth. “Demigod blood. The blood of Olympus.”

“Of course!” Lycaon said. “Spilled upon the ground, especially sacred ground, demigod blood has many uses. With the proper incantations, it can awaken monsters or even gods. It can cause new life to spring up or make a place barren for generations. Alas, your blood will not wake Gaea herself. That honor is reserved for your friends aboard the Argo II. But fear not. Your death will be almost as painful as theirs.”

The grass started dying around Nico’s feet. The marigold beds withered. Barren ground, he thought. Sacred ground.

He remembered the thousands of skeletons in the Chapel of Bones. He recalled what Hades had said about this public square, where the Inquisition had burned hundreds of people alive.

This was an ancient city. How many dead lay in the ground beneath his feet?

“Coach,” he said, “you can climb?”

Hedge scoffed. “I’m half goat. Of course I can climb!”

“Get up to the statue and secure the rigging. Make a rope ladder and drop it down for us.”

“Uh, but the pack of wolves—”

“Reyna,” Nico said, “you and your dogs will have to cover our retreat.”

The praetor nodded grimly. “Understood.”


- The Blood of Olympus, Chapter 15