the_blood_of_olympus_-_rick_riordan

‘That’s him.’
‘So … is your whole family descended from Bellona? I thought you and Hylla were her daughters,
not legacies.’
Too late, Nico realized he shouldn’t have brought up Hylla. A look of despair passed over Reyna’s
face, though she managed to hide it quickly.
‘We are her daughters,’ Reyna said. ‘We’re the first actual children of Bellona in the Ramírez-
Arellano family. And Bellona has always favoured our clan. Millennia ago, she decreed that we
would play pivotal roles in many battles.’
‘Like you’re doing now,’ Nico said.
Reyna brushed crumbs from her chin. ‘Perhaps. Some of my ancestors have been heroes. Some
have been villains. You saw the ghost with the gunshot wounds in the chest?’
Nico nodded. ‘A pirate?’
‘The most famous in Puerto Rican history. He was known as the Pirate Cofresí, but his family name
was Ramírez de Arellano. Our house, the family villa, was built with money from treasure that he
buried.’
For a moment, Nico felt like a little kid again. He was tempted to blurt out, That’s so cool! Even
before he got into Mythomagic, he’d been obsessed with pirates. Probably that was one reason he’d
been so smitten with Percy, a son of the sea god.
‘And the other ghosts?’ he asked.
Reyna took another bite of creme pie. ‘The guy in the U.S. Navy uniform … he’s my great-greatuncle
from World War Two, the first Latino submarine commander. You get the idea. A lot of
warriors. Bellona was our patron goddess for generations.’
‘But she never had demigod children in your family – until you.’
‘The goddess … she fell in love with my father, Julian. He was a soldier in Iraq. He was –’
Reyna’s voice broke. She tossed aside the plastic bouquet of flowers. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t talk
about him.’
A cloud passed overhead, blanketing the woods in shadows.
Nico didn’t want to push Reyna. What right did he have?
He set down his oatmeal creme pie … and noticed that his fingertips were turning to smoke. The
sunlight returned. His hands became solid again, but Nico’s nerves jangled. He felt as if he’d been
pulled back from the edge of a high balcony.
Your voice is your identity, he’d told Reyna. If you don’t use it, you’re halfway to Asphodel
already.
He hated when his own advice applied to himself.
‘My dad gave me a present once,’ Nico said. ‘It was a zombie.’
Reyna stared at him. ‘What?’
‘His name is Jules-Albert. He’s French.’
‘A … French zombie?’
‘Hades isn’t the greatest dad, but occasionally he has these want to know my son moments. I guess
he thought the zombie was a peace offering. He said Jules-Albert could be my chauffeur.’