the_blood_of_olympus_-_rick_riordan

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.
Nico opened his shopping bag. He pulled out a box of Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies and
offered one to Reyna.
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Those look like they went stale in dinosaur times.’
‘Maybe. But I’ve got a big appetite these days. Any kind of food tastes good … except maybe
pomegranate seeds. I’m done with those.’
Reyna picked out a creme pie and took a bite. ‘The ghosts in San Juan … they were my ancestors.’
Nico waited. The breeze ruffled the camouflage netting over the Athena Parthenos.
‘The Ramírez-Arellano family goes back a long way,’ Reyna continued. ‘I don’t know the whole
story. My ancestors lived in Spain when it was a Roman province. My great-great-somethingsomething-grandfather
was a conquistador. He came over to Puerto Rico with Ponce de León.’
‘One of the ghosts on the balcony was wearing conquistador armour,’ Nico recalled.