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tallest landmark for miles around. In its new camouflage netting, it glittered silver like an extremely<br />
flashy forty-foot-tall ghost.<br />
Apparently, <strong>the</strong> A<strong>the</strong>na Par<strong>the</strong>nos had wanted <strong>the</strong>m to visit a place with educational value, because<br />
she’d landed right next to a historical marker that read MASSACRE OF BUFORD, on a gravel layby at <strong>the</strong><br />
intersection <strong>of</strong> Nowhere and Nothing.<br />
Reyna’s tent sat in a grove <strong>of</strong> trees about thirty yards back from <strong>the</strong> road. Nearby lay a rectangular<br />
cairn – hundreds <strong>of</strong> stones piled in <strong>the</strong> shape <strong>of</strong> an oversized grave with a granite obelisk for a<br />
headstone. Scattered around it were faded wrea<strong>the</strong>s and crushed bouquets <strong>of</strong> plastic flowers, which<br />
made <strong>the</strong> place seem even sadder.<br />
Aurum and Argentum were playing keep-away in <strong>the</strong> woods with one <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> coach’s handballs.<br />
Ever since getting repaired by <strong>the</strong> Amazons, <strong>the</strong> metal dogs had been frisky and full <strong>of</strong> energy – unlike<br />
<strong>the</strong>ir owner.<br />
Reyna sat cross-legged at <strong>the</strong> entrance <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> tent, staring at <strong>the</strong> memorial obelisk. She hadn’t said<br />
much since <strong>the</strong>y fled San Juan two days ago. They’d also not encountered any monsters, which made<br />
Nico uneasy. They’d had no fur<strong>the</strong>r word from <strong>the</strong> Hunters or <strong>the</strong> Amazons. They didn’t know what<br />
had happened to Hylla, or Thalia, or <strong>the</strong> giant Orion.<br />
Nico didn’t like <strong>the</strong> Hunters <strong>of</strong> Artemis. Tragedy followed <strong>the</strong>m as surely as <strong>the</strong>ir dogs and birds <strong>of</strong><br />
prey. His sister Bianca had died after joining <strong>the</strong> Hunters. Then Thalia Grace became <strong>the</strong>ir leader and<br />
started recruiting even more young women to <strong>the</strong>ir cause, which grated on Nico – as if Bianca’s death<br />
could be forgotten. As if she could be replaced.<br />
When Nico had woken up at Barrachina and found <strong>the</strong> Hunters’ note about kidnapping Reyna, he’d<br />
torn apart <strong>the</strong> courtyard in rage. He didn’t want <strong>the</strong> Hunters stealing ano<strong>the</strong>r important person from<br />
him.<br />
Fortunately, he’d got Reyna back, but he didn’t like how brooding she had become. Every time he<br />
tried to ask her about <strong>the</strong> incident on <strong>the</strong> Calle San Jose – those ghosts on <strong>the</strong> balcony, all staring at<br />
her, whispering accusations – Reyna shut him down.<br />
Nico knew something about ghosts. Letting <strong>the</strong>m get inside your head was dangerous. He wanted to<br />
help Reyna, but since his own strategy was to deal with his problems alone, spurning anyone who<br />
tried to get close, he couldn’t exactly criticize Reyna for doing <strong>the</strong> same thing.<br />
She glanced up as <strong>the</strong>y approached. ‘I figured it out.’<br />
‘What historical site this is?’ Hedge asked. ‘Good, ’cause it’s been driving me crazy.’<br />
‘The Battle <strong>of</strong> Waxhaws,’ she said.<br />
‘Ah, right …’ Hedge nodded sagely. ‘That was a vicious little smackdown.’<br />
Nico tried to sense any restless spirits in <strong>the</strong> area, but he felt nothing. Unusual for a battleground.<br />
‘Are you sure?’<br />
‘In 1780,’ Reyna said. ‘The American Revolution. Most <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Colonial leaders were Greek<br />
demigods. The British generals were Roman demigods.’<br />
‘Because England was like Rome back <strong>the</strong>n,’ Nico guessed. ‘A rising empire.’<br />
Reyna picked up a crushed bouquet. ‘I think I know why we landed here. It’s my fault.’<br />
‘Ah, come on,’ Hedge sc<strong>of</strong>fed. ‘The Buford Zippy Mart isn’t anybody’s fault. Those things just