The Blood of Olympus (The Heroes of Olympus, #5)(71)

Nico and Hedge had no trouble finding their way back to camp. The Athena Parthenos was the tallest landmark for miles around. In its new camouflage netting, it glittered silver like an extremely flashy forty-foot-tall ghost.

Apparently, the Athena Parthenos had wanted them to visit a place with educational value, because she’d landed right next to a historical marker that read MASSACRE OF BUFORD, on a gravel layby at the intersection of Nowhere and Nothing.

Reyna’s tent sat in a grove of trees about thirty yards back from the road. Nearby lay a rectangular cairn – hundreds of stones piled in the shape of an oversized grave with a granite obelisk for a headstone. Scattered around it were faded wreathes and crushed bouquets of plastic flowers, which made the place seem even sadder.

Aurum and Argentum were playing keep-away in the woods with one of the coach’s handballs. Ever since getting repaired by the Amazons, the metal dogs had been frisky and full of energy – unlike their owner.

Reyna sat cross-legged at the entrance of the tent, staring at the memorial obelisk. She hadn’t said much since they fled San Juan two days ago. They’d also not encountered any monsters, which made Nico uneasy. They’d had no further word from the Hunters or the Amazons. They didn’t know what had happened to Hylla, or Thalia, or the giant Orion.

Nico didn’t like the Hunters of Artemis. Tragedy followed them as surely as their dogs and birds of prey. His sister Bianca had died after joining the Hunters. Then Thalia Grace became their leader and started recruiting even more young women to their cause, which grated on Nico – as if Bianca’s death could be forgotten. As if she could be replaced.

When Nico had woken up at Barrachina and found the Hunters’ note about kidnapping Reyna, he’d torn apart the courtyard in rage. He didn’t want the Hunters stealing another important person from him.

Fortunately, he’d got Reyna back, but he didn’t like how brooding she had become. Every time he tried to ask her about the incident on the Calle San Jose – those ghosts on the balcony, all staring at her, whispering accusations – Reyna shut him down.

Nico knew something about ghosts. Letting them get inside your head was dangerous. He wanted to help Reyna, but since his own strategy was to deal with his problems alone, spurning anyone who tried to get close, he couldn’t exactly criticize Reyna for doing the same thing.

She glanced up as they approached. ‘I figured it out.’

‘What historical site this is?’ Hedge asked. ‘Good, ’cause it’s been driving me crazy.’

‘The Battle of Waxhaws,’ she said.

‘Ah, right …’ Hedge nodded sagely. ‘That was a vicious little smackdown.’

Nico tried to sense any restless spirits in the area, but he felt nothing. Unusual for a battleground. ‘Are you sure?’

‘In 1780,’ Reyna said. ‘The American Revolution. Most of the Colonial leaders were Greek demigods. The British generals were Roman demigods.’

‘Because England was like Rome back then,’ Nico guessed. ‘A rising empire.’

Reyna picked up a crushed bouquet. ‘I think I know why we landed here. It’s my fault.’

‘Ah, come on,’ Hedge scoffed. ‘The Buford Zippy Mart isn’t anybody’s fault. Those things just happen.’

Reyna picked at the faded plastic flowers. ‘During the Revolution, four hundred Americans got overtaken here by British cavalry. The Colonial troops tried to surrender, but the British were out for blood. They massacred the Americans even after they threw down their weapons. Only a few survived.’

Nico supposed he should have been shocked. But after travelling through the Underworld, hearing so many stories of evil and death, a wartime massacre hardly seemed newsworthy. ‘Reyna, how is that your fault?’

‘The British commander was Banastre Tarleton.’

Hedge snorted. ‘I’ve heard of him. Crazy dude. They called him Benny the Butcher.’

‘Yes …’ Reyna took a shaky breath. ‘He was a son of Bellona.’

‘Oh.’ Nico stared at the oversized grave. It still bothered him that he couldn’t sense any spirits. Hundreds of soldiers massacred at this spot … that should’ve sent out some kind of death vibe.

He sat next to Reyna and decided to take a risk. ‘So you think we were drawn here because you have some sort of connection to the ghosts. Like what happened in San Juan?’

For a count of ten she said nothing, turning the plastic bouquet in her hand. ‘I don’t want to talk about San Juan.’

‘You should.’ Nico felt like a stranger in his own body. Why was he encouraging Reyna to share? It wasn’t his style or his business. Nevertheless, he kept talking. ‘The main thing about ghosts – most of them have lost their voices. In Asphodel, millions of them wander around aimlessly, trying to remember who they were. You know why they end up like that? Because in life they never took a stand one way or another. They never spoke out, so they were never heard. Your voice is your identity. If you don’t use it,’ he said with a shrug, ‘you’re halfway to Asphodel already.’

Reyna scowled. ‘Is that your idea of a pep talk?’

Coach Hedge cleared his throat. ‘This is getting too psychological for me. I’m going to write some letters.’

He took his notepad and headed into the woods. The last day or so, he’d been writing a lot – apparently not just to Mellie. The coach wouldn’t share details, but he hinted that he was calling in some favours to help with the quest. For all Nico knew, he was writing to Jackie Chan.