The Blood of Olympus - Silver Knife

The gray man laughed. “Indeed not. Orion has merely employed me to assist him in his hunt. I am—”

“Lycaon,” Reyna interrupted. “The first werewolf.”

The man gave her a mock bow. “Reyna Ramírez-Arellano, Praetor of Rome. One of Lupa’s whelps! I’m pleased you recognize me. No doubt, I am the stuff of your nightmares.”

“The stuff of my indigestion, perhaps.” From her belt pouch, Reyna produced a foldable camping knife. She flicked it open and the wolves snarled, backing away. “I never travel without a silver weapon.”

Lycaon bared his teeth. “Would you keep a dozen wolves and their king at bay with a pocketknife? I heard you were brave, filia Romana. I did not realize you were foolhardy.”

Reyna’s dogs crouched, ready to spring. The coach gripped his baseball bat, though for once he didn’t look anxious to swing.

[...]

“I will flay you alive!” he promised. “I will add your pelt to my cloak!”

Nico ran, pausing just long enough to grab Reyna’s silver pocketknife from the ground.

He wasn’t a mountain goat, but he found a set of stairs at the back of the temple and raced to the top. He reached the base of the columns and squinted up at Coach Hedge, who was precariously perched at the feet of the Athena Parthenos, unraveling ropes and knotting a ladder.

“Hurry!” Nico yelled.

“Oh, really?” the coach called down. “I thought we had tons of time!”

The last thing Nico needed was satyr sarcasm. Down in the square, more wolves broke free of their bone restraints. Reyna swatted them aside with her modified duct-tape-coin-sword, but a handful of change wasn’t going to hold back a pack of werewolves for long. Aurum snarled and snapped in frustration, unable to hurt the enemy. Argentum did his best, sinking his claws into the throat of another wolf, but the silver dog was already damaged. Soon he’d be hopelessly outnumbered.

Lycaon freed both his arms. He started pulling his legs from their rib cage restraints. There were only a few seconds until he would be loose.

Nico was out of tricks. Summoning that wall of bones had drained him. It would take all his remaining energy to shadow-travel—assuming he could even find a shadow to travel into.

A shadow.

He looked at the silver pocketknife in his hand. An idea came to him—possibly the stupidest, craziest idea he’d had since he thought: Hey, I’ll get Percy to swim in the River Styx! He’ll love me for that!

[...]

Lycaon broke free of his bone cage with a triumphant howl. “You will suffer, son of Hades!”

What else is new? Nico thought.

He palmed the pocketknife. “Come get me, you mutt! Or do you have to stay like a good dog until your master shows up?”

Lycaon sprang through the air, his claws extended, his fangs bared. Nico wrapped his free hand around the rope and concentrated, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck.

As the wolf king fell on him, Nico thrust the silver knife into Lycaon’s chest. All around the temple, wolves howled as one.

The wolf king sank his claws into Nico’s arms. His fangs stopped less than an inch from Nico’s face. Nico ignored his own pain and jabbed the pocketknife to the hilt between Lycaon’s ribs.

“Be useful, dog,” he snarled. “Back to the shadows.”

Lycaon’s eyes rolled up in his head. He dissolved into a pool of inky darkness.

Then several things happened at once. The outraged pack of wolves surged forward. From a nearby rooftop, a booming voice yelled, “STOP THEM!”



[Later...]

NO TIME FOR ENJOYING HER VICTORY OVER ORION.

Blackjack’s muzzle was foaming. His legs spasmed. Blood trickled from the arrow wound in his flank.

Reyna ripped through the supply bag that Phoebe had given her. She swabbed the wound with healing potion. She poured unicorn draught over the blade of her silver pocketknife.

“Please, please,” she murmured to herself.

In truth, she had no idea what she was doing, but she cleaned the wound as best she could and gripped the shaft of the arrow. If it had a barbed tip, pulling it out might cause more damage. But if it was poisoned, she couldn’t leave it in. Nor could she push it through, since it was embedded in the middle of his body. She would have to choose the lesser evil.


- The Blood of Olympus, Chapters 16 and 40