The Battle of the Labyrinth - Minos

“O, Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow,” I whispered. “Show me . . . Uh, whatever you need to show me.”

The mist shimmered. I saw the dark shore of a river. Wisps of fog drifted across black water. The beach was strewn with jagged volcanic rock. A young boy squatted at the riverbank, tending a campfire. The flames burned an unnatural blue color. Then I saw the boy’s face. It was Nico di Angelo. He was throwing pieces of paper into the fire— Mythomagic trading cards, part of the game he’d been obsessed with last winter.

Nico was only ten, or maybe eleven by now, but he looked older. His hair had grown longer. It was shaggy and almost touched his shoulders. His eyes were dark. His olive skin had turned paler. He wore ripped black jeans and a battered aviator’s jacket that was several sizes too big, unzipped over a black shirt. His face was grimy, his eyes a little wild. He looked like a kid who’d been living on the streets.

I waited for him to look at me. No doubt he’d get crazy angry, start accusing me of letting his sister die. But he didn’t seem to notice me.

I stayed quiet, not daring to move. If he hadn’t sent this Iris-message, who had?

Nico tossed another trading card into the blue flames. “Useless,” he muttered. “I can’t believe I ever liked this stuff.”

“A childish game, master,” another voice agreed. It seemed to come from near the fire, but I couldn’t see who was talking.

[...]

Nico stared at the flames. “Why can’t I at least summon her? I want to talk to her. She would . . . she would help me.”

“I will help you,” the ghost promised. “Have I not saved you many times? Did I not lead you through the maze and teach you to use your powers? Do you want revenge for your sister or not?”

I didn’t like the ghost’s tone of voice. He reminded me of a kid at my old school, a bully who used to convince other kids to do stupid things like steal lab equipment and vandalize the teachers’ cars. The bully never got in trouble himself, but he got tons of other kids suspended.

Nico turned from the fire so the ghost couldn’t see him, but I could. A tear traced its way down his face. “Very well. You have a plan?”

“Oh, yes,” the ghost said, sounding quite pleased. “We have many dark roads to travel. We must start—”

The image shimmered. Nico vanished. The woman’s voice from the mist said, Please deposit one drachma for another five minutes.


- The Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 2