THE ONLY ANGEL that was in Eden's life was Kaleidoscope.
That changed when she asked to get ice cream.
The Argo II had anchored in the bay along with six or seven cruise ships. As usual, the mortals didn't pay the trireme any attention; but just to be safe, Eden, Perfect Jason, and Nico hopped on a skiff from one of the tourist boats so they would look like part of the crowd when they came ashore.
At first glance, Split seemed like a cool place. Curving around the harbor was a long esplanade lined with palm trees. At the sidewalk cafés, European teenagers were hanging out, speaking a dozen different languages and enjoying the sunny afternoon. The air smelled of grilled meat and fresh-cut flowers.
Beyond the main boulevard, the city was a hodgepodge of medieval castle towers, Roman walls, limestone town houses with red-tiled roofs, and modern office buildings all crammed together. In the distance, gray-green hills marched toward a mountain ridge, which made Eden a little nervous. She kept glancing at that rocky escarpment, expecting the face of Gaea to appear in its shadows.
They were wandering along the esplanade when Perfect Jason elbowed Eden.
"What?" Eden looked at where he was looking, frowning. "Do you want ice cream? I could go for some now. Even if it's, like, nine in the morning. Don't tell Pipes."
"He's looking at the angel, Lover Girl," Nico rolled his eyes.
Now that he'd said it, Eden noticed the angel buying an ice cream bar from a street cart. The vendor lady looked bored as she counted the guy's change. Tourists navigated around the angel's huge wings without a second glance.
"So, ice cream?" Eden prompted.
"Yeah," Nico agreed. "Maybe we should buy some ice cream."
As they made their way toward the street cart, Eden worried that this winged dude might be a son of Boreas the North Wind. At his side, the angel carried the same kind of jagged bronze sword the Boreads had, and her last encounter with them hadn't gone so well.
But this guy seemed more chill than chilly. He wore a red tank top, Bermuda shorts, and huarache sandals. His wings were a combination of russet colors, like a bantam rooster or a lazy sunset. He had a deep tan and black hair almost as curly as Leo's.
He also reminded Eden of her dad. Just a tad bit. She hated that connection.
"He's not a returned spirit," Nico murmured. "Or a creature of the Underworld."
"No," Perfect Jason agreed. "I doubt they would eat chocolate-covered ice cream bars."
"So what is he then?" Eden wondered.
They got within thirty feet, and the winged dude looked directly at them. He smiled, gestured over his shoulder with his ice cream bar, and dissolved into the air.
Eden went up to the vendor lady and bought an ice cream bar, biting into the chocolate shell. "God, that's good," she looked over at them, raising an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothing." Perfect Jason pointed at a tall place. "I'm betting that's the palace," he said. "Come on."
Even after a few years, Diocletian's Palace was still impressive. The outer wall was only a pink granite shell, with crumbling columns and arched windows open to the sky, but it was mostly intact, a quarter mile long and seventy or eighty feet tall, dwarfing the modern shops and houses that huddled beneath it. Eden imagined what the palace must have looked like when it was newly built, with Imperial guards walking the ramparts and the golden eagles glinting on the parapets.
The wind dude — or whatever he was — whisked in and out of the pink granite windows, then disappeared on the other side. Eden scanned the palace's facade for an entrance. The only one she saw was several blocks away, with tourists lined up to buy tickets. No time for that.
"We've got to catch him," Perfect Jason said. "Hold on."
"But—"
Perfect Jason grabbed Eden and Nico and lifted them into the air.
They soared over the walls and into a courtyard where more tourists were milling around, taking pictures.
A little kid did a double take when they landed. Eden debated putting her middle finger up at him. Then his eyes glazed over and he shook his head, like he was dismissing a juice-box-induced hallucination. No one else paid them any attention.
On the left side of the courtyard stood a line of columns holding up weathered gray arches. On the right side was a white marble building with rows of tall windows.
"The peristyle," Nico said. "This was the entrance to Diocletian's private residence." He scowled at Perfect Jason. "And please, I don't like being touched. Don't ever grab me again."
Perfect Jason tensed. He so deserved it, though. "Uh, okay. Sorry. How do you know what this place is called?"
Nico scanned the atrium. He focused on some steps in the far corner, leading down.
"I've been here before." His eyes were as dark as his blade. "With my mother and Bianca. A weekend trip from Venice. I was maybe . . . six?"
"That was when . . . the 1930s?"
"'Thirty-eight or so," Nico said absently. "Why do you care? Do you see that winged guy anywhere?"
"No . . ." Perfect Jason frowned at Eden, who shrugged. What the hell did she know about Nico. "I just . . . I can't imagine how weird that must be, coming from another time."
"No, you can't." Nico stared at the stone floor. He took a deep breath.
"Look . . . I don't like talking about it. Honestly, I think Hazel has it worse. She remembers more about when she was young. She had to come back from the dead and adjust to the modern world. Me . . . me and Bianca, we were stuck at the Lotus Hotel. Time passed so quickly. In a weird way, that made the transition easier."
"Percy told me about that place," Perfect Jason said. "Seventy years, but it only felt like a month?"
Nico clenched his fist until his fingers turned white. "Yeah. I'm sure Percy told you all about me."
Eden whistled, finishing her ice cream. "Listen. We don't talk about that place," she remembered it there all too well, and she didn't like the memories that came with the hotel and the quest. She frowned at the shit above her. "God, what is up with this place?"
Nico's eyes swept the windows above them. "Roman dead are everywhere here . . . Lares. Lemures. They're watching. They're angry."
"At us?" Perfect Jason's hand went to his sword.
"At everything." Nico pointed to a small stone building on the west end of the courtyard. "That used to be a temple to Jupiter. The Christians changed it to a baptistery. The Roman ghosts don't like that."
Eden snorted. "I get that."
"And over there . . ." Nico pointed east to a hexagonal building ringed with freestanding columns. "That was the mausoleum of the emperor."
"But his tomb isn't there anymore," Perfect Jason guessed.
"Not for centuries," Nico said. "When the empire collapsed, the building was turned into a Christian cathedral."
Eden pursed her lips. "So if Diocletian's ghost is still around here—"
"He's probably not happy."
The wind rustled, pushing leaves and food wrappers across the peristyle. In the corner of her eye, Eden caught a glimpse of movement — a blur of red and gold.
When she turned, a single rust-colored feather was settling on the steps that led down.
"That way." Perfect Jason pointed. "The winged guy. Where do you think those stairs lead?"
Nico drew his sword. "Underground," he said. "My favorite place."
Underground was not Eden's favorite place. Then again, any place with Piper would be her favorite place if she liked it enough.
But since her trip beneath Rome with Piper, Perfect Jason, and Percy, fighting those twin giants in the hypogeum under the Colosseum, she'd been suspiciously dreaming of basements, life sized cows, and large hamster wheels. Which wasn't fun.
Having Nico along was not reassuring. His Stygian iron blade seemed to make the shadows even gloomier, as if the infernal metal was drawing the light and heat out of the air. Eden hated it, but she'd learnt to deal with it a while ago.
They crept through a vast cellar with thick support columns holding up a vaulted ceiling. The limestone blocks were so old, they had fused together from centuries of moisture, making the place look almost like a naturally formed cave.
None of the tourists had ventured down here. Obviously, they were smarter than demigods.
They made their way under the low archways, their steps echoing on the stone floor. Barred windows lined the top of one wall, facing the street level, but that just made the cellar feel more claustrophobic. The shafts of sunlight looked like slanted prison bars, swirling with ancient dust.
Eden pressed closer to Nico, her eyes darting around. There so was another presence here. Perfect Jason had stopped behind them, but she trusted him to take care of himself. Despite the fact that he was the weakest person out of the three of them there.
"Hello!"
Perfect Jason sliced off a statue's head. The bust toppled and shattered against the floor.
"That wasn't very nice," said the voice behind them.
Eden turned. The winged man from the ice cream stand was leaning against a nearby column, casually tossing a small bronze hoop in the air. At his feet sat a wicker picnic basket full of fruit.
"I mean," the man said, "what did Diocletian ever do to you?"
The air swirled around Perfect Jason's feet. The shards of marble gathered into a miniature tornado, spiraled back to the pedestal, and reassembled into a complete bust, a note tucked underneath.
"Uh—" Perfect Jason lowered his sword. "It was an accident. You startled me."
The winged dude chuckled. "Jason Grace, the West Wind has been called many things . . . warm, gentle, life-giving, and devilishly handsome. But I have never been called startling. I leave that crass behavior to my gusty brethren in the north."
Handsome? As if. Eden wanted to gag.
Nico inched backward. "The West Wind? You mean you're—"
"Favonius," Perfect Jason said as if he was smart. "God of the West Wind."
The wind dude smiled and bowed, obviously pleased to be recognized. "You can call me by my Roman name, certainly, or Zephyros, if you're Greek. I'm not hung up about it."
Nico looked pretty hung up about it. "Why aren't your Greek and Roman sides in conflict, like the other gods?"
"Oh, I have the occasional headache." The wind dude shrugged. "Some mornings I'll wake up in a Greek chiton when I'm sure I went to sleep in my SPQR pajamas. But mostly the war doesn't bother me. I'm a minor god, you know — never really been much in the limelight. The to-and-fro battles among you demigods don't affect me as greatly."
"So . . ." Perfect Jason kept his hand on his sword. "What are you doing here?"
"Several things!" The wind dude said. "Hanging out with my basket of fruit. I always carry a basket of fruit. Would you like a pear?"
"Already had ice cream." Eden threw the popsicle stick in the air, catching it.
"Let's see . . . earlier I was eating ice cream. Right now I'm tossing this quoit ring." The wind dude spun the bronze hoop on his index finger.
"I mean why did you appear to us? Why did you lead us to this cellar?" Perfect Jason asked.
"Oh!" The wind dude nodded. "The sarcophagus of Diocletian. Yes. This was its final resting place. The Christians moved it out of the mausoleum. Then some barbarians destroyed the coffin. I just wanted to show you" — he spread his hands sadly— "that what you're looking for isn't here. My master has taken it."
"Your master?" Perfect Jason asked annoyingly. Eden had a flashback to a floating palace above Pikes Peak in Colorado, where she'd visited ( and barely survived ) the studio of a crazy weatherman who claimed he was the god of all the winds.
"Please tell me your master isn't Aeolus." He said.
"God, I hated that dude," Eden picked at her locket. Nico looked sideways at it.
"That airhead?" The wind dude snorted. "No, of course not."
"He means Eros." Nico's voice turned edgy. "Cupid, in Latin."
The wind dude smiled. "Very good, Nico di Angelo. I'm glad to see you again, by the way. It's been a long time."
Nico knit his eyebrows. "I've never met you."
"You've never seen me," the god corrected. "But I've been watching you. When you came here as a small boy, and several times since. I knew eventually you would return to look upon my master's face."
Nico turned even paler than usual. His eyes darted around the cavernous room as if he was starting to feel trapped.
"Nico?" Perfect Jason said. "What's he talking about?"
"I don't know. Nothing."
"Nothing?" The wind dude cried. "The one you care for most . . . plunged into Tartarus, and still you will not allow the truth?"
"We've only come for Diocletian's scepter," Nico said, clearly anxious to change the subject, which Eden could totally understand. "Where is it?"
"Ah . . ." The wind dude nodded sadly. "You thought it would be as easy as facing Diocletian's ghost? I'm afraid not, Nico. Your trials will be much more difficult. You know, long before this was Diocletian's Palace, it was the gateway to my master's court. I've dwelt here for eons, bringing those who sought love into the presence of Cupid."
Perfect Jason frowned. "Like Psyche, Cupid's wife. You carried her to his palace."
The wind dude's eyes twinkled. "Very good, Jason Grace. From this exact spot, I carried Psyche on the winds and brought her to the chambers of my master. In fact, that is why Diocletian built his palace here. This place has always been graced by the gentle West Wind." He spread his arms. "It is a spot of tranquility and love in a turbulent world. When Diocletian's Palace was ransacked—"
"You took the scepter," Eden guessed.
"For safekeeping," The wind dude agreed. "It is one of Cupid's many treasures, a reminder of better times. If you want it . . ." he turned to Nico. "You must face the god of love."
Nico stared at the sunlight coming through the windows, as if wishing he could escape through those narrow openings.
"Nico, you can do this," Perfect Jason said. "It might be embarrassing, but it's for the scepter."
Nico didn't look convinced. In fact he looked like he was going to be sick. But he squared his shoulders and nodded. "You're right. I — I'm not afraid of a love god."
The wind dude beamed. "Excellent! Would you like a snack before you go?" He plucked a green apple from his basket and frowned at it. "Oh, bluster. I keep forgetting my symbol is a basket of unripe fruit. Why doesn't the spring wind get more credit? Summer has all the fun."
"That's okay," Nico said quickly. "Just take us to Cupid."
The wind dude spun the hoop on his finger, and Eden's body dissolved into air.
i have another project for english kill me and i forgot to read the scythe chapters and i already have a whole bunch of bullshit to do i hate it here
but anyway i want eden done and she ain't gonna be done till february so i might do an occasional two updates a day idk
<3 maybel