The Angel of Death

Chapter Twelve

I shrugged, leaning on the door frame. "Couldn't sleep. Why is it any of your business?"

"Because I don't trust you. How did you know I died? How did you recognise me?" He leaned in and lowered his voice a little.

Another shrug. His eyebrows twitched in annoyance at my refusal to answer. "What are you not telling us!" He seethed.

"What if I told you that what I'm not telling you is something you wouldn't believe if I could tell you what it was, which I can't, so even if I was able to tell you, I wouldn't?"

"What the fuck is your deal?" He snapped, leaning close again. "You think you can keep your secret, but it's only a matter of time until we find out."

I tipped my head to the side a little. "But I'm not the only one keeping secrets in this house, am I? And maybe some secrets are better left alone." I shut the door in his face. When I was sure he was gone, I slumped down with my back against the wall.

Shit. Shit shit SHIT. If Jason was onto me, how long would it be before the others were, too? As soon as they started trying to find me or my family in any kind of government database, they would know something was up.

The only salvation came from the fact that my secret would be so bizarre to them that they likely wouldn't even consider it as a possibility. I just had to do a better job at keeping camp Half-blood a secret. Even if they did find my birth certificate or some other age-old thing, I could just tell them I was named after a great-grandpa or something.

Yeah. It would be okay. As long as I didn't fuck up then it would be okay.

...↞⇹↠...

I fucked up. Two days, I had been here for two days and had already screwed myself over. Not in a world-ending way, but the way that definitely didn't make me any less suspicious.

Tim had dragged me off to his room, wanting to show me something he called 'coding', that his brothers called 'hacking', that I had no idea what either of those meant, and turned out to be some kind of computer thing.

When he offered to let me try, I had maybe freaked out and refused to touch the thing, which led Tim to becoming vaguely concerned, which led to an awkward sort of suspicion, which led to a weirdly quiet dinner.

I still couldn't eat any of the food they served, which was a real tragedy since it all looked and smelled absolutely delicious. I was surviving off of nightly fast-food runs in the middle of the night and burning offerings in alleyways.

I could tell that Bruce and Alfred were both concerned with my lack of food consumption, but I couldn't very well tell them that I might get cursed and/or smote if I don't burn part of my meal as an offering. Staying with the Gods' favour is very important.

All together, I was likely painting a very bizarre picture of myself to these people. It was a wonder they hadn't already begun to question me. Jason hadn't spoken much to me since our midnight altercation, and I got the impression Damian wasn't one for words as much as he preferred glares and silent judgement, but Tim and Dick were nice.

This was the third meal we had all eaten together where I hadn't touched a bite, and when I deemed it acceptable to leave, I stood.

"Nico, are you sure you're alright? I haven't seen you eat anything since you arrived here," Bruce voiced, drawing most of the eyes at the table to me.

"Um. Yeah, I just, it's...kind of a...religious thing?" I stumbled over my words for a moment, before settling on the closest to the truth I could get.

"You have...religious dietary restrictions?" Damian asked doubtfully.

"Well, yes and no..? It's not a dietary thing, more like an...offering thing?" I was fucking up again, wasn't I? "I can't eat until I've burned a portion of the food as an offering."

"I didn't peg you for the religious sort of person," Jason says across from me. I raise an eyebrow. "I think there's a lot you don't know about me." He grit his teeth and looked away. Oblivious, Bruce continued.

"Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Because I didn't want you to think I was trying to commit arson and burn your house down. That has happened before." This, of course, raised a few eyebrows, but I kept speaking. "And it's no big deal, I've been getting my own food anyways."

"Where have you been getting your own food from?" Tim asked. I offered a shrug. "Downtown, fast food places, diners, wherever, really."

"When have you–"

"Usually when it's dark out. There's less people around." A blink of silence follows, and I look up from where I was separating the individual pieces of carrot from the salad on my plate to see everyone looking at me. "What? I don't like people."

"You go out, into Gotham, at night, by yourself?" Dick asked. I nodded. "And you haven't been killed yet?" I shake my head slowly. "Was I supposed to be?"

"Nico, you can't go into Gotham by yourself in the light of day, forget about when it's dark out! What were you thinking?"

"...That I was hungry? And that I'm not the only person in this house who sneaks out at night." The reaction is immediate. Everyone at the table stiffens almost imperceptibly. I had originally thought it was only Jason who went out at night, but last night when I came back from a McDonald's run, there were significantly less souls in the house than there should have been. I couldn't tell who exactly wasn't present, but it wasn't just Jason.

I wasn't overly concerned about it, and I'm still not, but the way they keep worrying about me going out alone when they clearly do is starting to get on my nerves. 

Just out of curiosity, how do you pronounce Nico's name? Nick-oh or Neek-oh? I've always said Neek-oh, because his name is Italian and Italian uses the 'i' as an 'ee' sound, like French.