Nico's nap wasn't terribly long, but it was deep.

He hadn't been sure he could make it to the guest quarters without falling over, so he stayed in the Fifth Cohort while Hazel, Will, and Asterion left him in peace.

His dream was hypnotic—a repeating loop of him walking through the Caldecott Tunnel, seeing daylight just ahead, and then suddenly finding himself back at the metal doors. Every time, laughter echoed through the tunnel, freezing Nico's blood. A voice called, You cannot escape your nature, son of Hades.

The dream reminded him of the way Epiales, the daimon of nightmares, had deceived him and Will when they were trying to enter the Underworld. But the voice was not that of Epiales. It was too cold, too spiteful even for a daimon. In Nico's experience, only mortals were capable of that much malice.

When Nico woke, his hands trembled. He was alone except for the Cocoa Puffs, who were snoring softly underneath his bunk. Nico flexed his fingers, trying to shake off the remnants of his nightmare. He should've been used to vivid demigod dreams by now, but they never got easier.

He peered over the edge of the mattress and asked the Puffs, "Could you all stay here for me? Just so you don't upset the Romans' delicate sensibilities?"

Defiance rolled over and puffed up its spines, its eyes glowing.

"I'll take that as a yes," Nico said. "Thanks."

Nico figured it must be about lunchtime, so he shuffled over to the mess hall. Even if he didn't find his friends there, he could at least deal with the yawning pit of hunger in his stomach.

Along the Via Principalis, Roman demigods did a double take when they saw him. Some saluted awkwardly. Others gave him a wide berth and whispered behind his back.

Maybe Hazel was right. His reputation meant something here. Or maybe the Romans just weren't used to seeing a guy with disheveled black clothes and an extreme case of midday bedhead wandering through camp.

The savory smell of barbecue hit him before he reached the mess hall. He said a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god oversaw grilled hickorysmoked meat.

Inside, he found lunch in full swing. Each of the five cohorts sat in their own dining area, with comfortable sofas surrounding a low table. Pitchers of iced lemonade and baskets of fresh corn bread zipped through the air, carried by invisible wind spirits—venti. A dozen glowing purple Lares mingled with the living, offering free lectures about the Good Old Days and occasionally trying to grab goblets of lemonade before remembering that they were ghosts.

At the officers' table, in front of a row of Roman battle standards, Will and Hazel were in the middle of an animated conversation. Hazel waved to him. Nico really wanted to load up a plate of BBQ, but he drifted over to join them.

"Sleep well?" Hazel asked. "I just finished giving Will a tour of New Rome."

"Nico, they have a perfect replica of the Circus Maximus!" Will said. "And the lake is crystal clear, and the perfect temperature for swimming!"

"Well, we have the ocean at our camp," Nico said as he sat down.

Hazel stuck her tongue out. "Don't be jealous."

"Jealous of Camp Jupiter?" He cackled. "Ours is the superior demigod camp."

"All right, you two, play nice." Will poured Nico some lemonade. "By the way, I contacted Mr. D and Chiron while you were asleep."

Nico winced. "Thanks. I forgot about checking in with them."

"Don't worry. I explained the situation. They said they could handle the camp for as long as we needed."

"I'm sure Mr. D was incredibly annoying about it."

Will grinned. "He said he eagerly awaits news that a werewolf has turned us both during the full moon."

Nico gaped at Hazel. "Is one of the monsters Asterion brought a werewolf?"

"No," she said. "And I'm trying to call them mythics, though old habits die hard."

"Right," said Nico. "I guess we'll have to rethink a lot of things." He scanned the dining hall. "Where's Asterion, anyway? And Frank?"

Hazel fiddled with her earlobe—one of her nervous habits. "They're both on Temple Hill, actually. Frank needed help with some repairs on Mars's temple, and Asterion volunteered."

The tension in her voice was subtle, but Nico caught it. He wondered if maybe Frank and Hazel weren't in complete agreement about the whole mythic/monster asylum issue.

"How are you holding up?" Nico asked her. "This has to be a lot for you. Youngest praetor in history, and you've already fought off an army, rebuilt the city, and welcomed a group of refugees from Tartarus."

"I'm not so young, remember?" Hazel said, then squeezed his wrist. "But I'm hanging in there. Honestly, after spending a week with Asterion, his presence already seems normal to me. But I definitely felt like you did when I first spoke with him." She picked up a drumstick, which made Nico's mouth water. "Do you remember that I once met his mom?"

A bulb flickered on in his mind. "In the House of Hades, right?"

She nodded. "And let me tell you, Pasiphaë was a piece of work. Cruel and bitter. She saw her child as nothing more than a punishment. So when Asterion told me his story, I believed him. I felt sorry for him. And as hard as it is to say it, I also related to him. My mother said some terrible things to me when she was under Gaea's influence."

Her eyes went distant. "Have I made a mistake? Allowing him and his friends to stay here?"

"Of course not," Will said. "You couldn't have turned him away."

She picked at her drumstick. "I'm worried that I'm biased. Or at least that's what Frank thinks."

There it is, Nico thought. Trouble in paradise.

"How so?" He tried to keep his voice even.

He liked Frank, but he didn't like the idea of anyone or anything making Hazel's life harder. Also, his growling stomach was making him irritable. What did a guy have to do to get a brisket sandwich around here?

"He's afraid that I'm too close to this," Hazel said. "That because I've been judged unfairly in my life, I see myself in Asterion and his group."

"What's wrong with that?" Will asked. "We demigods are used to being judged. We should be willing to empathize with others."

Hazel turned up her hands. On the inside of her forearm was her legion tattoo: SPQR, then a row of lines indicating her number of years in the legion, then the symbol for Pluto, which always reminded Nico of a hand mirror.

Nico usually liked tattoos. Will had a nice sun design on his chest. But the legion tattoos had always made him uneasy. They seemed more like SKU or QR codes...a way of categorizing you, marking your value.

The voice from Nico's nightmare returned to him: You cannot escape your nature. He tried to push it back down into his subconscious.

"Frank's having a hard time," Hazel said at last. "I think it's partly his parentage. He's usually so easygoing, I sometimes forget his father is Mars. It makes Frank a phenomenal fighter, but it also gives him a stubborn, suspicious streak. He's having trouble believing that Asterion and the others aren't pulling some kind of trick on us. I mean, I get it! We've spent our whole lives training to fight otherworldly creatures. Now I've invited a bunch of them to live among us."

I, Nico noted. Not we. The decision to accept the refugees had been Hazel's alone.

"You're brilliant, Hazel," Nico assured her. "I'm sure you're doing the right thing. Will and I are going to help you."

"Absolutely," said Will. "I love a good challenge!"

At last, a wind spirit deposited a plate of food in front of Nico: brisket, bread, potato salad, and baked beans. Praise the great god Barbecuius.

Immediately, a horn sounded at the entrance of the mess hall. The legionnaires stood up and started clearing their plates. Lunch was over.

"Time for afternoon activities," Hazel said. "We should head out."

Nico stared longingly at the potato salad. He quickly put together a brisket sandwich to go before the ventus could come back and take away his plate.

"Where to?" he asked.

"To meet the other mythics." Hazel sounded even more troubled than she had when she introduced them to Asterion. "No sense putting it off any longer."

Nico munched on his sandwich as the three of them made their way toward the Field of Mars. According to Hazel, a makeshift barracks had been constructed for the refugees at the far end of the training grounds.

Despite the cloudless sky, there was a chilly breeze in the air. Nico pulled his bomber jacket tight. He wondered if Will was regretting his choice of cargo shorts. A group of demigods in purple jogging suits ran past them on the Via Praetoria while a ghostly general, floating several feet above the ground, barked orders. Nico was glad he wasn't training like that, especially right after lunch. He hoped to go the rest of his life without having to run for fitness ever again.

The Field of Mars was under construction, as always. A team of legionnaires was digging trenches and raising posts for a new fort, while Hannibal, the camp's elephant, pushed over the walls of a half-burned older building that must have been used for yesterday's mock battle. Nico didn't consider war games a fun pastime, but the Roman demigods loved them. They would build an entire castle in one day, spend the next day attacking it and burning it to the ground, and then start all over the day after that. Nico didn't get it. At least Hannibal seemed to be enjoying himself. The elephant lumbered around, pushing brick walls until they collapsed and then stomping through the rubble and trumpeting with glee. Probably very therapeutic.

Hazel led them across the north end of the field, toward a building that looked nothing like a "makeshift barracks." Nico had to remind himself that the Romans sometimes fit the stereotype he'd heard about Texans—they liked everything big. The structure they'd slapped together for their mythic guests was a towering wood-and-stucco edifice with a columned portico, large bay windows, and a red-tile roof like the ones spread across New Rome. Nico would've called it a mansion.

Out front, a young woman was applying a coat of whitewash to the columns. Nico figured she was a legionnaire—she wore a purple camp Tshirt with denim cutoffs. Then he did a double take.

Her legs were strangely mismatched. One glinted like it was sheathed in armor. The other was shaggy and bent the wrong way...like a satyr's, except it ended in a larger, un-cloven hoof. And the sunlight shone especially bright on her long red hair.

Nico stopped short. Oh, wait. Her hair was made of fire.

"Oh my gods," said Nico. "Is that an empousa?"

The vampire daimon must have heard him. She turned and made eye contact, her pupils glowing red.

Hazel quickly stepped between them. "Nico, Will...meet Arielle."

Nico reminded himself that these mythics were not here to hurt anyone, but Arielle's harsh scowl made it hard for him to relax. Her face was breathtakingly beautiful, haughty, and otherworldly—like those of some goddesses he'd met. White flecks of paint speckled her body from her nose to her mismatched legs—one of which was the limb of a donkey, the other a Celestial bronze prosthesis.

She examined Nico and Will with obvious distaste. "Demigods. More of the same."

"But they're not the same," said Hazel. "They're from Camp HalfBlood on the other side of the country. They're here to—"

"Greek or Roman, it doesn't matter." Arielle set down her paint can and brush. "You demigods are all the same. You either want to kick us out, kill us, or gawk at us like zoo animals."

Ouch. Nico's cheeks burned. To be fair, he was gawking, and he did have the urge to attack....

"We're not interested in kicking you out," he offered. "In fact, we're here to help you settle in at Camp Jupiter."

Arielle sneered. "Yeah, right. I know who you are, Nico di Angelo. You met one of my sisters—goes by the human name Kelli?"

Nico suppressed a groan. He'd run into Kelli during his first journey into the Labyrinth. She'd had sharp fangs, a garish cheerleader outfit, and a serious vendetta against Percy Jackson. As Nico recalled, Annabeth had dispatched her to Tartarus with a dagger to the chest.

He held up his hands. "Look, I'm sorry about Kelli, but—"

"You're a real empousa..." Will interrupted, his voice full of awe. "I'd heard of your beauty, but...wow."

Arielle gave Will a second appraisal. She flashed him a wicked smile. "Well, at least you seem to have some taste."

"Nope!" Nico stepped between the two of them. "Will, no bisexual chaos allowed today! And you"—he spun on Arielle—"stop using your charmspeak on my boyfriend."

"She's not," said Will. "Come on, you have to admit she's pretty!"

Nico sputtered. "I mean...yes, but—"

"Your boyfriend is telling the truth." Arielle glared at the ground. "I couldn't use charmspeak on him if I wanted to. I—I don't have that power. It's why the other empousai want nothing to do with me."

The sudden rawness in her voice made Nico feel ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know. I shouldn't have said that."

She shrugged glumly. "Whatever. If Hazel believes you can help us, I guess I shouldn't bite your head off."

Nico wasn't sure if she meant that literally or not.

"Well, it's nice to meet you," said Will, ever the diplomat, but Arielle turned her back and returned to her painting.

Nico was about to ask Hazel if all the mythics were so friendly. Then he spotted an enormous set of eyes peering out at him from the nearest bay window.

"Dam!" He stumbled back, knocking right into Will.

"That's just Johan," said Hazel. "Come on out, Johan! It's safe."

The eyes disappeared from the window. Moments later, the front door squeaked open, and a headless man stepped out.

From the waist down, Johan looked like a postal delivery guy. He wore blue polyester shorts, black tennis shoes, and bright white socks (possibly hand-knitted by the Minotaur). From the waist up, things got weird. Johan was bare-chested, except that his chest was his face. Set into his pectoral muscles was a pair of baby-blue eyes the size of tea saucers. A massive nose protruded from his sternum. His chiseled six-pack abs were split horizontally by a mouth that could have swallowed a pumpkin whole. Between his muscular shoulders, where a neck and head should have been, was a thick mass of dark hair, gelled and carefully parted on the left.

Nico had only seen a blemmyae once before—at a Cheez Whiz factory he'd accidentally shadow-traveled to with Will—but he knew enough to step back. Blemmyae were incredibly strong, tough as titanium, and they really didn't like it when people trespassed in their Cheez Whiz factory.

"Are—are you sure it's safe?" Johan asked timidly.

"Very," Hazel assured him. "These demigods are not here to hurt you."

"Debatable," snapped Arielle as she ran her paintbrush up and down the nearest column.

"Hmm, I don't like debating." Johan took a tentative step forward. "I would rather have a nice cup of tea. You didn't happen to bring us any honey, did you?"

Nico stared. He'd forgotten how hypnotizing it was to watch a blemmyae talk—those giant white teeth flashing between ab-muscle lips. How did they have such perfect dental hygiene and a perfect core? Did they floss and do crunches at the same time? Finally, Nico realized that Johan had been talking to him.

"H-honey?" Nico stammered.

"Yes?" Will asked.

"Yes?" Johan asked.

"No, I mean..." Nico rubbed his eyes until he saw stars. "I mean we didn't bring any honey, sorry."

"Oh." Johan's shoulders slumped, tugging down his pectoral eyebrows and giving him a sad expression. "That's all right. I'm brewing a pot of Earl Grey if anyone would like to join me."

"That's very nice of you," Will said in a small voice.

Before things could devolve into an awkward conversation about cream and sugar, Hazel interceded. "Johan, this is Nico, and this is Will. Would you bring the others outside to meet them?"

The blemmyae perked up, clearly delighted to have a job. "I'd love to! Be right back!" He turned and lumbered inside.

Hazel turned to Nico and Will. "So...what do you think so far?"

Will seemed to shake himself out of a trance. "Johan's nice."

Arielle snorted, painting with even more fury. Her fiery hair glowed brighter.

"I mean everyone seems nice," Will corrected himself.

Hazel grimaced. Nico had only been at the Mythic Dojo Casa House a few minutes, and he was already beginning to understand why Hazel felt like she was in over her head.

"Before the others come out," she said, "just so you're prepared—"

Too late.

A short, stout, greenish creature tumbled out of the doorway. It was the size and shape of a human toddler, with rolls of baby fat on its arms and legs and a face that would have been adorable if not for the fangs. It wore only a purple diaper/loincloth (perhaps hand-knitted by Asterion), and leafy green wings protruded from its back. A strange cloud of brown dust swirled around it.

Nico sneezed. Then he began to cough, trying to hack up whatever had just invaded his lungs.

The toddler creature growled. "Oh, so you're allergic to me, is that it?"

His voice was not at all like a toddler's. He sounded like a sixty-yearold man who'd spent his life smoking and eating gravel.

"Quinoa, be nice," chided Hazel. Quinoa waddled up to Nico. The creature's hair was a densely packed field of purple-and-white flowers. His face was pockmarked with...zits? No, Nico realized. Those were seeds.

" 'Be nice,' she says," Quinoa grumbled. "Okay, fine. Hello, demigods. Are you here to reap me? Chop me into a salad?"

"You're a karpos!" Will said delightedly. "I didn't know quinoa even had grain spirits!"

Quinoa sneered. "Oh, now he rubs it in! I suppose you'll tell me I'm 'not technically a grain.' " He made sarcastic air quotes around the words. "Call me a pseudo-grain, like all the other karpoi do. Why you think I ran away, huh? They told me to stay with my relatives, talk to the spinach plants. You ever tried talking to a spinach plant? Don't bother! They got nothing to say!"

Nico blinked. At the moment, he felt very much like a spinach plant. "Um..."

"Quinoa," Hazel interrupted, "I told you to be nice. Will and Nico are here to help you."

"And I'm definitely not going to eat you." Nico rubbed his runny nose on the sleeve of his jacket. "Apparently, I'm allergic."

Quinoa narrowed his luminous green eyes. "Why should we trust you?"

"Because," Arielle interjected, "Hazel is asking us to." She dropped her paintbrush into her bucket, marched over to Quinoa, and picked him up, cradling him against her side like a proper baby. "Also, if they try to reap you, I will reap them first."

She definitely meant that literally. Together, they reminded Nico of a Raphael painting he'd seen once in Florence—the Madonna and child— except with more fangs, flames, and chlorophyll.

"No one is going to reap anyone," Nico promised. "Er, are there any more of you coming, or—"

As if on cue, Johan's voice drifted from inside. "No one is going to laugh at you," he was saying. "They are nice!"

Something squawked in reply.... Then Johan reemerged with a cup of tea. At his feet stood the smallest griffin in the known universe.

Nico couldn't control the grin that broke out on his face. He loved griffins, and this one was beyond cute. It had the sleek black body of a panther cub, salt-and-pepper wings tucked against its back, and a snowwhite raptor's head with a bright yellow beak like a bald eagle's.

"Oh, wow," said Nico.

"Yes, yes, yes." The griffin's childlike voice upped his cute quotient several more notches. "I am Orcus. I know I'm small. Please do not comment on my size! It makes me gaseous."

Will made a tiny squeal of delight. He crouched down to be on Orcus's level. "I would never criticize you," he said. "You are perfect."

"Tell that to his family," grumbled Quinoa, still in Arielle's arms. "They didn't want a runt in their nest."

Unfortunately, the comment was enough to trigger Orcus's self-esteem farts. Nico heard nothing, but the air filled with the smell of rotten eggs. Nico buried his face in the lapel of his jacket.

"Quinoa!" Orcus screeched. "I just said don't comment on my size!"

"Yes, that's not polite," Johan agreed, sipping his Earl Grey. Nico got the feeling he sipped his tea a lot while watching his comrades insult one another. "Please, continue."

Arielle sucked in air. "You are all impossible."

"Anyway," Hazel said with forced cheerfulness, "that's everyone except Semele." She looked toward the doorway. "Semele, are you in there?"

A voice at Nico's shoulder said, "I'm right here."

"Gah!" He lurched back, goose bumps rippling down his arms. He looked for the source of the voice but saw no one. "Are you...invisible?" Nico asked.

"I'm an eidolon," said the voice.

Her tone was soft and calming. Older. Like someone's grandmother telling a bedtime story. Nevertheless, panic squeezed Nico's chest.

"An eidolon?" he asked. "As in the spirits who can possess anyone?"

"That's correct." The voice sounded sad. "But fear not, son of Hades. I have no desire to possess you or anyone else anymore. In fact, that's why I'm here. I refused to take over others against their will."

Nico stilled. If he concentrated, he could see something there. His mind latched onto a memory: Hades with a cigar, the smoke wafting slowly upward.

Semele wasn't totally invisible. She was a wisp of smoke.

Will came to Nico's side. "Can you see her?"

Nico extended a finger toward the smoke.

"Hello, Will," said Semele.

"Wow." Will shivered. "I remember Annabeth telling me what it was like when the eidolons taunted her, but..."

The smoke dissipated.

"Is she gone?" Will frowned at Hazel. "Did I offend her?"

"I wouldn't worry," Hazel said. "Semele comes and goes. Most of our guests...well, they've been rejected for being different."

"Life has not been easy for us," said Arielle, bouncing Quinoa against her side. "Our families don't want us, and there's nothing for us in Tartarus."

Quinoa growled. "And I refuse to be used by horrible gods again! Gaea got most of my brothers and sisters killed!"

"Yes," Johan said, stirring his teacup. "That was very rude."

The little griffin Orcus farted in sympathy.

Hazel gave Nico a pained smile. "So now you've met everyone. What do you think?"

Will and Nico exchanged a look.

"You know I'm game," said Will. "I think they're all amazing!"

Nico surprised himself by nodding. The mythic refugees were terrifying, strange, and rough around the edges. They definitely didn't seem to belong anywhere. In other words, they were Nico's people.

He remembered his dream of being stuck on a loop in the Caldecott Tunnel, being taunted by that voice. You cannot escape your nature.

Maybe that had been his subconscious. Or maybe it had been something else...that sense of impending doom he'd been feeling for the last few weeks. He was only sure of one thing: this group of mythic misfits needed a home, and the world was conspiring not to let them have one.

Nico had lived that life. He totally understood why Hazel had given the mythics sanctuary.

"We're in," he told her. "One hundred percent. I just have to figure out one thing."

Hazel perked up. "What's that?"

"Where exactly do we start?"