Normally, animals didn’t get along with Hazel. Cats hissed and dogs growled at her when she came close. The class hamster from her old school would have rather jumped off a cliff than eat the carrot Hazel offered. Barring horses, they all seemed to be either angry or terrified of her.

  Though, it seemed one pet didn’t get the memo.

  “Sit!” Hazel said.

  The ensuing thump echoed across the Underworld.

  Hazel grinned. “Good boy.”

  Most did not describe the Hound of Hades as a ‘good boy’, since it was hard to call the mammoth-sized beast of a dog anything other than a monster. His fur was darker than any nightmare and the glare of his blood-red eyes would turn even the bravest hero into a whimpering mess.

  Those same terrifying eyes now innocently gleamed with excitement. A large glittering ruby appeared in Hazel’s hand, and she waved it toward Cerebus. Immediately, all three heads followed the movement. Cerberus loved shiny things.

  “Fetch!” Hazel threw the jewel.

  It arced through the gloomy air of the Underworld while Cerberus eagerly took off after the shiny trinket. Loud booms echoed throughout the fields as the huge beast stormed away, shaking the ground.

  Hazel winced as a few unlucky spirits were crushed flat by the overexcited hound. They made hissing noises as they slowly got back up, like balloons getting inflated. When Cerberus stomped back to Hazel, he dropped a slimy ruby at her feet.

  He panted excitedly as Hazel picked up the jewel, ignoring all the monster spit. “Good job!”

  Annabeth had really made a big impression on the monster. The daughter of Athena had probably been the first person to play with Cerberus in centuries, and Hazel had since decided to continue what she started. It was much more fun than wandering Hades’ palace, and it gave Hazel something productive to do.

  Besides, it was getting really sad hearing Cerberus whine longingly every day, waiting for his new friend.

  Cerberus dipped his three heads down, and Hazel obligingly petted him. “I’ll bring you a ball next time, okay? You’d like that, right?”

  Each head barked happily, and Hazel received three slimy licks of appreciation. She’d probably find Da Vinci or something to craft a rubber ball. It wasn’t like the guy had anything else to do.

  “You want to play again?” Hazel asked, and Cerberus barked in agreement. “Okay, fetch!”

  Another throw of the ruby. Another earthquake from Cerberus thundering off to retrieve it. Another dozen spirits caught in the crossfire.

  Cerberus brought back the jewel and gave it to Hazel, who hugged the middle head playfully. “Who’s a good boy? You are, yes you are!”

  The right head whimpered. “You’re a good boy too, of course!”

  The left head whined. “Yes, you too. You’re all good boys.”

  Hazel had never had a pet before. Arion was always coming and going, and she wasn’t even going to consider Hecate’s farting polecat as a pet. But while this was a new experience, Hazel was quickly growing fond of Cerberus. He looked like a huge scary monster, but the dog was a big softie, really.

  “Hazel,” A deep voice made her pause and turn around.

  Pluto was standing behind her, watching her with an unreadable expression–stone cold, as always. Hazel became very aware of the position she was in; cuddling a three-headed dog twenty times her size.

  “Aroof?” Cerberus nervously growled.

  Pluto was the dog’s master. And Cerberus had just been caught slacking off his duty –guarding the gates.

  All three heads slunk back guiltily. Hazel frowned, putting herself in between Cerberus and Pluto as if she could hide the dog the size of a building.

  “What is it, father?”

  The stony eyes of the god flickered to his dog, then to his daughter. Still, his expression was unnervingly impassive. “I have noticed that you have not been very…active, lately. My servants tell me you spend most of your time wandering the halls of the palace.”

  “Or playing with your dog,” Hazel agreed.

  Pluto’s eye twitched, no doubt remembering the insults of a certain son of Poseidon. “You can put that time to better use. I want you to serve as a judge.”

  Hazel cocked her head to the side, wondering if she heard that right. “You mean, a judge of the dead?”

  “You’ve been very outspoken,” Pluto said. “Of your values and ideals. You need only to apply it to a new scale.”

  She let the words sink in. Pluto was a busy god and seldom had time to talk with Hazel. Yet all of a sudden, he wanted her in such an important position.

  The god’s face remained stern, but his voice softened ever so slightly.. “Hazel, you have seen and experienced so much…more than most might in many lives. I believe the position will serve you well.”

  She hummed in thought, petting Cerberus absentmindedly. “You want me to judge whether souls are sent to Elysium or Punishment for eternity.”

  “It is a heavy task,” Pluto admitted. “You have no obligation to accept. But I just thought you might want to get a chance…to make sure no one receives the blame when they are not at fault.”

  Hazel couldn’t help but jolt, staring at her father dumbfoundedly. “You remembered.”

  That was why he asked her so suddenly about this? Because of what she said last year? It seemed Hazel’s words had affected him more than she expected–or rather, more than what she thought possible.

  Though, it also seemed to have taken a whole year to sink in. Better late than never, Hazel supposed.

  The god of the dead breathed a heavy sigh. “What happened to you and Marie was not fair. Neither of us can fix the past, but perhaps you can find new meaning in what I am offering you.”

  Hazel chewed her lip nervously. Having the responsibility of a soul’s eternal afterlife was scary to think about. She would have to deal with the guilt of damning someone to unending punishment. That would weigh on her, she knew. Hazel could just say no to Pluto; It would be easy just to distance herself and stay comfy until her friends brought her back to life.

  She wasn’t a god. What right did she have to judge these souls?

  Then again, the real judges and gods didn’t always do a perfect job.

  Hazel had gone through judgment before. Despite everything she had done, it hadn’t ended well for her. And Hazel couldn’t stand by if future souls were to go through the same thing she did like Pluto said.

  It wasn’t right.

  The idea of picking and choosing a soul’s fate like an executioner gnawed at her doubt. But the prospect of doing nothing chafed at Hazel even more. She remembered bargaining for her mother’s eternal judgment. What if Hazel had just stood by then, let it play out? The image of Marie Levesque wailing for an eternity in the Fields of Punishment caused Hazel to make up her mind.

  What was one more burden to carry? Once, Hazel had to choose one of three paths offered by Hecate. Now, Hazel would have to choose one of three paths again, not for herself, but for other souls.

  For the sake of justice, for the sake of souls getting what they deserved. Even if it meant sacrificing a little of her own peace. Hazel stopped petting Cerebus and stood, though the hound whined quietly in protest.

  She took a deep breath, stilling the trembling of her shoulders. “I’ll do it. When do I start?”

  “The praetors wish to see Centurion Grace.”

  All action in the arena stopped at the messenger’s words, and Jason sighed as he felt all eyes turning to him. He tossed his practice sword to the side.

  “Okay,” He nodded at the runner. “I’ll be right over.”

  She nodded and soon ran off. Ivy was one of the youngest members in the legion, only around nine years old. Those who were that young usually only served as runners and messengers until they were older, and Jason had been the same.

  He made sure Gwen had control of the cohort and hurriedly left for the Principia. When he got there, Reyna was waiting for him.

  “Reyna?” Jason blinked, a little confused. “Did the praetors ask for you too?”

  She just nodded curtly, effectively cutting him off since Jason had no way to follow up.

  Despite him and Reyna now being (probably) friends, he still often found himself walking on eggshells while talking to her. It just always felt like they had to dance around so much: her past, Jason’s secret knowledge, the Greeks, or…Hylla.

  Hylla had been gone for two months now. A nervous commotion in camp had risen when she left. They had a war blooming on their doorstep, and now promising legionnaires were disappearing? It wasn’t a good look.

  However, since Hylla had been a probatio, the issue thankfully had not been pressed for long. New recruits dropping out—though unlikely due to Lupa’s training weeding out the weak—was not unheard of. Most simply went into the city to find a new life instead of vanishing completely.

  To refocus the people on the bigger picture, the praetors gave a rousing speech about loyalty, diligence, and the bravery they’d need for the war. It worked, and the legion eventually moved on. No one knew Hylla well anyway, besides Reyna.

  Speaking of Reyna, she got the short end of the stick. After Hylla disappeared, Reyna found herself getting wary and unfriendly gazes wherever she went. People whispered about her heritage and honor, and many wondered if she was related to her sister’s disappearance.

  The day Hylla left, the praetors had called Reyna in for questioning. Other than making the rumors worse, nothing seemed to come of it. After a few weeks, the drama that the people wanted had fallen flat, but some stubborn members of the legion still watched Reyna with suspicion.

  Reyna continued to work hard and train harder, impressing the officers with her talents and shutting up the doubters. She seemed to do everything with a stone-cold calmness.

  “How are you doing?” Keeping his tone casual, Jason finally spoke.

  She shrugged, her face neutral. “I’m doing fine. Let’s not keep the praetors waiting.”

  “R-right.”

  They entered the building and walked toward the praetor’s office. The doors were already wide open, and as soon as Jason saw the two praetors waiting for them at the desk, his breath abruptly caught and his legs stuttered. He barely stopped himself from tripping embarrassingly in front of his superior officers.

  Jason finally remembered what this was for.

  Charleston.

  The Civil War Museum.

  The Battery—the park by the harbor.

  Venus.

  Suddenly, Jason wanted to turn right around and leave the building.

  But he kept his face professionally still, and the only thing betraying his emotions was a slightly sharper breath. Jason quickened his pace ever so slightly to keep up with Reyna, and they stopped in front of the praetor’s desk.

  The two praetors seemed to be expecting them, both sitting patiently on their chairs. After exchanging the proper honorifics and greetings, Anthony got down to business without any more preamble.

  “You already know that war is coming,” He began. “Lady Lupa informed us of this last year, and we will need to begin battle preparations. Several matters are of great importance to the future of Camp Jupiter.”

  Julia pointed to Jason. “Your quest was one of these matters. We were able to defend against the Titan’s preemptive strike; now, we move to our plans for offense.”

  “What’s our task, praetor?” Reyna asked.

  “You and Centurion Grace will travel to Charleston in South Carolina,” Anthony said. “Fort Sumter was held by Roman demigods during the Civil War. There’s a cache of imperial gold to be recovered. If there’s as much material as we think there is, those weapons could make a huge difference during the war.”

  Jason nodded stiffly. “Understood. We’ll move out immediately.”

  This was a very basic mission, he reminded himself. Venus was the only wild factor in that quest last time, so Jason would be prepared for it. He glanced at Reyna’s face inconspicuously.

  He could still remember the stricken expression she had after hearing the mysterious words from Venus. Once again, the question of what she had heard nagged at Jason’s mind.

  “Excellent. The quest has already been approved by the Senate yesterday, so prepare to leave and make a list of supplies you will need. Though we are going on the war front, we’ll spare what we can,” Julia glanced at both of them. “Any questions?”

  Jason shook his head. Reyna chewed on her lip for a moment, before tentatively speaking up. “If I may, praetors, why me? There are many more legionnaires more experienced than I am. I am not even a full member of the legion yet.”

  “We aren’t blind, Reyna,” Julia smiled appraisingly. “We’ve seen your efforts and skills lately, and your centurion has vouched for you. You’ve proven capable in a very quick fashion, and rest assured, we believe you to be a good choice.”

  Reyna’s guarded expression relaxed slightly, a little less restrained and a little more hopeful. Jason still had his habitual Roman mask on, but seeing that made a small smile break through. Even Reyna needed encouragement sometimes. She deserved it, honestly.

  Though, not everyone was as excited. Anthony grunted, “Don’t get it twisted. This is still a test.”

  “A test?”

  “When war comes, we will need talented officers. Not only in veterans but in the younger generation as well,” Anthony explained. “Jason is one. We think you could be one too. Your potential is as clear as day, Reyna, and we’re putting our faith in it. However, your performance during this quest will show us whether that faith is misplaced or not.”

  Julia slapped her colleague’s arm. “That’s enough. You’re scaring her.”

  “It’s alright. I understand clearly,” Reyna assured. Her features tightened. “I won’t fail.”

  “ Acta, non verba ,” Julia simply reminded her. “Remember to inform your centurion of your soon departure. And Jason, go address your cohort. As the leader of this quest, the third quest member will be your decision. Choose wisely. Dismissed.”

  They left the Principia and split up toward their cohorts. Jason didn’t need to think twice about his third team member, of course. Charleston still had plenty of Confederate souls lurking around, and a son of Mars to keep them in line would be helpful, to say the least.

  A memory of him, Leo, and Frank running away screaming from an army of angry ghosts came to Jason’s mind. He quickly waved it away.

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  Acta, non verba. Actions, not words. That was the Roman value, their proof of loyalty and competence. However, Jason had long since realized that words could be just as if not more potent than actions.

  And whatever Venus had said to Reyna in his last life was proof of it.

  When Jason had asked him to go on the quest to Charleston, Frank had prepared himself for a few weeks of rough living and traveling. That just seemed like the norm for their demigod journeys, for the few Frank had been on. He still remembered sailing north to Seattle on a cramped little rowboat with Percy and Hazel. Good old times, really.

  Besides, the rest of the Seven had similar experiences. Transportation usually wasn’t much better than cheap buses, old boats, or just plain old hiking. Aside from the occasional divine intervention, you usually didn’t get state-of-the-art flying warships to ferry you around during quests.

  Or at least that’s what Frank had thought until the praetors handed them three round-trip plane tickets to Charleston, South Carolina.

  Not first-class, though. That might have been too much to ask for.

  So here they were, three young teenagers. Flying alone across the country.

  What could go wrong?

  Frank loaded his bag into the compartments of the plane. He resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. This wasn’t the Mediterranean, but even assuming they were safe felt dangerous to him. Never tempt fate.

  But Frank couldn’t help but mutter, “Can’t believe our biggest problem was TSA of all things.”

  Jason gave an aggravated sigh as he slid into his seat. “For the last time, what was I supposed to do?”

  Frank’s normal problems consisted of getting ambushed by monsters or preparing for the end of the world. Thankfully, they hadn’t run into too much trouble before boarding, aside from a cyclops disguised as a barista they found while Frank was trying to get lactose-free coffee from Starbucks.

  Maybe that was supposed to be more worrying. But TSA was hard to beat.

  Technically, it was their fault. The trio had been separated somewhere in the long tangled lines of the airport, so Frank and Reyna had met up at the gate and waited for Jason to show up. The two of them had waited and waited…to the point where people had begun boarding by the time they realized Jason was stuck.

  Jason, who was infamously raised by wolves as a baby, had no form of identification (Frank had his Canadian passport and Reyna had an ID that he was 99% sure was fake), and as such had no way to get past customs.

  His SPQR tattoo didn’t work, unfortunately.

  Thankfully, Reyna had come in clutch. The daughter of Bellona had picked up some Mist abilities from her time with Circe. With a snap of her fingers, the eyes of the guards glazed over, and Jason finally walked through with no issues. They barely made it to their flight, just squeaking by.

  “You’re welcome, by the way,” Reyna dryly said.

  Frank sat in the middle between Jason and Reyna. Jason ended up with the window seat. Maybe he wanted to feel more connected to his father by staring outside as they flew, but Frank personally didn’t see the appeal.

  After a few minutes, it would always be the same thing.

  Clouds.

  The plane took off, and immediately Frank felt the discomfort creeping in. He didn’t like flying; most of the time, his ears refused to pop and gave him a splitting headache until the aircraft leveled out.

  “We thank you for flying with Delta Airlines. Our landing in Charleston, South Carolina, will be in approximately eight hours.” A bored voice drawled over the radio.

  “The cache of Imperial Gold is in the Warren Lasch Conservation Center, yes?” Reyna was reading a pamphlet that Frank thought was the flight safety card for a moment. Turns out it was just the debriefing they got from the praetors.

  Figures. No one actually read those safety cards.

  “Yeah. The imperial gold torpedoes are our main target,” Jason said. “But there’s a lot of ancient artifacts used by the legion during the Civil War that are kept there. Whatever we can bring back, we should.”

  Frank couldn’t help but frown as he recalled his last visit to Charleston. Jason had brought him along to the Confederate Museum they were heading to now, in hopes the son of Mars could keep the Confederate ghosts in line. Yeah…that pretty much failed miserably.

  As if his friend had read his mind, Jason said, “We have to be careful, though. There are plenty of Confederate ghosts in that museum. They’ll be lingering there, probably hostile to anyone trying to…well, do what we’re trying to do.”

  “Maybe we don’t have to fight them,” Frank suggested. Of course, he actually meant ‘maybe they didn’t have to fight them this time ’.

  Reyna scowled darkly at that for some reason, and Frank resisted the urge to scoot away from her. “I doubt it. You can’t learn anything from ghosts.”

  Frank glanced at Jason questioningly, but his friend looked as confused as he felt. The centurion cleared his throat. “Uh, well, the souls of the defeated are bound to serve Mars. Hopefully, Frank can keep them in line.”

  Reyna nodded stiffly, glancing at Frank. “Can you do it?”

  There was no judgment or accusation in Reyna’s gaze, her question simply being just that: a question. One without any tone of commandment or authority.

  In this time, Frank and Reyna were equals. And that was something he really couldn’t get used to. Having arrived earlier, Frank arguably had more rank and standing in the legion no matter how weird that felt.

  It was hard to wrap his mind around, and old habits died hard. As if she had given him an order, Frank found himself sitting up straighter. “Of course, Pr–Reyna.”

  Jason raised an eyebrow as if asking, you sure, dude?

  Frank understood his track record wasn’t the best. But he had controlled the dead before in the House of Hades. It hadn’t been easy, and Frank hadn’t had a chance to try again after that…but he felt fairly confident this time.

  He could still remember the feeling clearly. A slight tug in his gut, his fading adrenaline reaching out to the buried spirits of warriors. He recalled sensing their anger, fear, and hunger as they yearned for an end to their bondage, an end that Frank could give them.

  It had been creepy, but also felt just. Their defeated souls were bound to Mars, and it was their duty to serve his power. So maybe, Frank’s duty would be to give them peace at last.

  Then again, he remembered what had happened at the museum last time.

  Frank had no idea what to do, stuttering helplessly as the Confederate soul studied his panicked expression. Eventually, it extended a shaking finger at him, then roared, “Weak! You cannot release us, YOU CANNOT COMMAND US!”

  Maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Frank said anyway. “This is just a mission to retrieve equipment. Nothing like last year’s quest.”

  Or the quests before that.

  Jason shifted uneasily at that. “Right. Simple mission.”

  Frank decided to relax and try to get some sleep for the mission ahead. They had a long flight ahead. Night eventually fell, turning the passenger’s cabin pitch-dark, barely illuminated by dim blue lights.

  Reyna’s eyes were closed, and while Frank was fairly sure she had fallen asleep it was really hard to tell. She sat rigid in her chair without a single inch of slouch, arms crossed. But after a few more minutes, Frank was able to confirm her rhythmic breaths were in fact, tiny snores.

  On the flip side, Jason was completely lights out. The son of Jupiter had unashamedly slumped to one side, his head leaning against the window.

  Which left Frank in the middle, having nowhere to lean on. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, trying to slip into sleep. It felt like forever before Frank finally started to feel his thoughts fade into unconsciousness—

  BOOM.

  The clap of thunder made him jolt, and the following heave as the airplane hit a patch of turbulence put him on full alert in an instant. Beside him, Reyna’s eyes snapped open, instinctively scanning around for threats.

  The captain’s voice came over the speaker, apologizing for the rough turbulence and assuring the passengers it was just a passing occurrence and all was well. Frank had to withhold a groan. He had been so close.

  At least he wasn’t alone. Reyna was rubbing at her eyes unhappily, and many annoyed murmurs told Frank there were several people interrupted from their beauty sleep.

  He glanced at to his right, expecting Jason to be up as well. Jason was a light sleeper, more easily awakened than most due to his extensive time and training with Lupa.

  To his surprise, the centurion was sleeping deeper than Frank had ever seen him. His chest rose and fell slowly as Jason let out soft snores.

  Frank blinked. Jason never snored. “How…?”

  Reyna followed his gaze and sighed. “It’s probably because of the storm,” she gestured to the window, where distant flashes of lightning blinked in and out of existence. “Thunder and wind aren’t going to bother a son of Jupiter, I guess.”

  “Lucky you,” Though he knew Jason couldn’t hear him Frank couldn’t help but murmur in a bemused sort of way. “Looks like you found your cure for insomnia.”

  “Jason has insomnia?”

  He paused, surprised Reyna had heard him. “Yeah. He’s not the only one. Some of us have it…worse than others. Especially the older ones; the longer you live, the more scary stuff you see, which means more nightmare fuel.”

  The bitterness in his words was decidedly personal, and Reyna seemed to notice that (Reyna noticed everything). She pursed her lips carefully as if wondering if she should speak. “That makes sense. I’ve…been having some pretty bad dreams lately.”

  “Bad enough to wake up in a cold sweat?”

  She nodded. “How do you deal with it?”

  Frank paused, catching the automatic answer 'I don’t' before it could escape. The Seven didn’t really deal with nightmares; they just got over it, for lack of better words. Pressed it down with sheer will until it just became a normal part of their lives.

  Though, that didn’t mean they didn’t try other ways. Frank always slept better as a bulldog. His heart rate was also a lot more relaxed whenever Hazel was nearby, and he suspected something similar was true for Percy and Jason. He knew for a fact Leo hung a picture of Calypso in the engine room, right above his mattress.

  But it didn’t feel appropriate to tell Reyna all that.

  A memory of an old conversation popped into his mind, one he was surprised he remembered.

  “It might help if you try to anchor it to one place. Somewhere where you feel safe and at peace,” Frank said.

  From her expression, Frank could tell Reyna had immediately come up with a spot (the Garden of Bacchus, he knew).

  “Go on.”

  “The scariest part of the nightmares is that they feel real,” Frank recounted as if reading a script. “You tried–I mean, I try to contain and disassociate them, viewing them as a harmless vision…like a reflection in a mirror.”

  She breathed out slowly. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. How’d you come up with that?”

  You told me about it , Frank wanted to say. Instead, he just shrugged and smiled mildly.

  “I’ll definitely try it,” Reyna said with a small, hopeful smile on her face. “Thanks, Frank.”

  “No problem.”

  Reyna probably would have figured this out eventually, but Frank hoped he had saved her from many sleepless nights. The trick hadn’t worked for him personally, but he knew it worked for Reyna in his past life.

  They fell silent, and Frank saw Reyna start to twitch restlessly. Ah, ADHD. Something Frank could not relate to.

  “I’m going to the restroom,” Reyna murmured, unbuckling her seat belt and heading down the aisle.

  He ignored the muffled booms of thunder outside and closed his eyes again, deciding to try sleeping one more time. Frank tuned the engine’s roar out into the background, gradually relaxing…

  But once again, he was interrupted. A faint sound pricked at Frank’s ears. A hiss.

  He wasn’t as calibrated as someone like Jason or Reyna, but Lupa had drilled Frank just like every legionnaire. Living with passively hostile wolves quickly trained you to be able to sense when something didn’t belong. And a snaky hiss, no matter how quiet, did not belong in a metal machine thousands of feet up in the air.

  Frank tensed, listening carefully and trying to remember if U.S. airlines allowed reptiles on flights. Canada definitely didn’t.

  From behind him, where the aisle led to the bathroom, he managed to pick out a muffled voice talking in…was that Portuguese? Frank wasn’t familiar with the language, but whoever was speaking it did not sound happy.

  Then, a Latin curse.

  Frank immediately unstrapped himself and hurried down the aisle. He found Reyna grappling with a blond girl around their age outside the lavatory. The girl glanced at him, her shiny blue eyes flashing.

  She pushed Reyna away and ran to him, grabbing his arm. “Thank the gods, I need your help! This girl’s crazy jealous!”

  Frank blinked a few times, glancing back and forth between Reyna and the new girl. She smiled dazzlingly at him, which made it distracting to think.

  “Frank,” Reyna said, reaching out to him.

  The girl was close–she smelled like roses and clean animal fur. A weird smell, but it was intoxicating somehow.

  Frank managed to say something really intelligent like, “Uhhhh….”

  “Get away from him,” Reyna demanded.

  The girl looked at Frank exasperatedly. “See? She’s completely nuts, trying to pick a fight with me for no reason.”

  Frank was usually good at reading the room and situation, but for some reason, he was finding it very difficult to process everything right now.

  This–admittedly very pretty–stranger accused Reyna of picking a fight with her, calling her ‘crazy jealous’. Foggily, Frank tried to imagine Reyna being ‘crazy jealous’. He came up blank.

  “Frank, snap out of it,” Reyna warned. Her dagger was in her hand.

  Realizing he had completely spaced out, Frank used all of his willpower to focus. The girl was sneering at Reyna, revealing pointed teeth. Fangs, more precisely.

  Frank’s eyes widened. He tried to pull his arm away, but the girl’s grip was like iron. Her sneer was directed at him now. “What’s wrong?”

  Her fingers clenched, digging into his skin sharply as if they were claws. Frank winced, but the pain helped clear his mind. Gave him focus.

  “Get off me.”

  As she opened her mouth to respond, Frank punched her in the face and she slammed into the lavatory door. A few people turned at the noise but quickly lost interest, putting their eye masks back on or returning their attention to their movies.

  Reyna stabbed at her with her knife, but the girl recovered quickly and dodged. Her eyes fixated harshly on the imperial gold blade.

  She hissed. “Romani. ”

  With those words, the girl changed. The color drained out of her skin, turning her deathly pale. Her eyes darkened into a blood-red, and her fangs sharpened and elongated.

  Reyna huffed. “Empousa. Knock-off vampires.”

  The monster took a lot of offense to that. “They were based on us, fools!”

  “I’m a little relieved,” Frank felt the thrall disappear. “It was starting to get confusing.”

  “What, you more comfortable fighting a monster than talking to a pretty girl?” Reyna smirked.

  Silence spoke louder than any words could.

  “Thought so.”

  The empousa sprang like a tiger, her slashing claws missing Frank by a hair’s width. He kicked the vampire back toward the lavatory, away from the mortals, who fortunately seemed to think this kind of scuffle was a normal occurrence for Delta Airlines.

  Reyna elbowed the empousa in the face and drove her dagger down, but the monster caught her wrist deftly, her claws drawing blood. Reyna dropped her knife with a pained grunt, but managed to drive her knee into the vampire’s gut, separating them.

  The empousa didn’t seem fazed, hissing in laughter and licking the blood off her claws. Frank shuddered. Gods above, that was creepy.

  Frank didn’t have room to use his bow, so he dropped his shoulder and football tackled the empousa, sending both of them onto the floor. Unfortunately, she immediately kicked him in the stomach with both legs, and he tumbled off with the wind knocked out of him.

  Frank hunched over in agony, barely able to breathe. It felt like he was kicked by a metal donkey. From the ground, he looked at the empousa and noticed her legs.

  Oh.

  “Didn’t anyone tell you that it’s rude to stare?” The empousa snarled.

  She lunged and would have torn Frank apart, but Reyna intercepted her with her dagger in hand once more. She barely had enough space to avoid the deadly claws, but Reyna weaved in and out like a boxer, jabbing at the empousa with short, precise strikes.

  Frank couldn’t help but think she fought like Annabeth a little.

  Reyna blocked the empousa’s next attack with her knife, then grabbed her wrist and pulled the monster right into a nasty elbow strike to the head. The vampire stumbled, and Frank got the chance to deliver a solid kick to her side. He and Reyna stood at the right and left of the empousa respectively, cutting off any escape.

  The empousa’s head swiveled back and forth between the two, her red eyes shining with anxious hatred. “Foolish demigods! You have no idea what awaits you.”

  Frank hesitated to attack. He had no weapon, and the empousa’s claws were still deadly. He had to be careful, wait for an opening in her guard.

  “The Dark Lady sends her regards!” The empousa attacked with renewed ferocity.

  Her first attack was so quick Frank could barely react. Her claws raked across his arm, and Frank barely withheld a scream. Her fangs were just inches away from his nose. Gritting his teeth, Frank slammed his forehead against hers. He kicked her donkey leg, and as she dropped to a knee right as Reyna sprang forward and cut her left arm off.

  The empousa yowled and slashed at her with her other arm, but Reyna deftly ducked and stabbed her in the gut. The vampire collapsed.

  “For…her…mistress…” The empousa dissolved into a golden pile of dust.

  Out of habit, Frank kicked the dust away from each other, dispersing the mound. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  Reyna sheathed her dagger. “We survived.”

  “Praise the gods,” Frank dryly said. “Thanks for the save.”

  “You had it under control.”

  Frank just rolled his eyes, then grimaced as he saw his arm. The empousa’s claws had cut deep.

  Reyna looked worried. “You need unicorn draught. I have some in my bag.”

  He nodded. Frank glanced at the rapidly vanishing golden dust, a sense of unease in him. Empousa were dangerous, especially to men. Frank had felt her thrall, and it could have ended really poorly for him if Reyna wasn’t there. The myths of male heroes falling under the spells of empousa and subsequently being devoured were many, because that’s just how bright and cheery Roman legends were.

  But that wasn’t what worried Frank. He didn’t like what that monster had said. The Dark Lady…who did she mean—

  “Sir, ma’am?”

  Frank jumped. Behind them was a flight attendant, and he cursed inwardly. If she saw all that, they could be in a lot of trouble, and this could get complicated very quickly.

  “Please don’t idle in the aisle. Return to your seats as soon as possible.”

  Reyna’s shoulders drooped in relief. “Of course.”

  “We’ll be right along,” Frank assured. After the attendant walked away, he shook his head. “Whew.”

  Reyna patted his uninjured arm. “You’re a good fighter. No wonder Jason picked you. Let’s get you patched up.”

  A dark pavilion in the Underworld. An endless line of the dead. Three robed figures sitting at a judges’ bench, wearing golden masks to hide their identities.

  One of them, significantly shorter than the other two.

  “Next soul!” The first judge announced.

  Hazel withheld a sigh as another soul was called in. Being a judge was certainly a busy responsibility. The line never ended despite most souls choosing to skip judgment and head for Asphodel. Souls who had lived evil lives and garnered the attention of the Dirae were forced to face judgment, but there were by no means the majority of spirits Hazel had seen. There were so many waiting for a trial that it would be months after their death in the real world by the time they received their verdict.

  Not that they had anything to do, of course.

  Many spirits tried to test their fate, believing they had a chance for a happy afterlife. Some were confident. Others were hesitantly hopeful.

  Most did not get what they wanted.

  She didn’t understand it, honestly. Most people simply lived average lives. They did good things, bad things, happy things, and sad things. Yet, so many seemed to believe that the few good things they did over their lives somehow outweighed the bad.

  They were always so shocked when they didn’t make it.

  But I’m a good person, they would say. I’ve never killed anyone! But good wasn’t simply just the absence of evil.

  I helped people when I could! Even though usually, it was to make themselves look or feel better.

  But isn’t it normal to do this? Normal didn’t necessarily mean right.

  I was nice and kind to people. And yet when they were alone, when others weren’t watching, they were a completely different person.

  Not enough evil. But not enough genuine good. They simply lived a normal life, despite how unique they believed themselves to be.

  Like the other judges, Hazel had now had the ability to see the minds of souls, pulling thoughts from their heads and examining each and their life’s every action, event, and spoken word like a collection of old photos.

  Lying was pointless. Though some still tried.

  While Hazel did not enjoy nitpicking and judging their thoughts, she found it very interesting to watch the lives of souls. Seeing people’s stories, their growth and change. It wasn’t notable on the good-bad spectrum, but it was by no means boring. Mortals went to school, made friends, worked jobs, had fun, spent time with family…many things Hazel never had the chance to do. In their failures and successes, they laughed, cried, raged, and loved without fearing for their lives.

  “Jewel,” The judge next to her snipped.

  Hazel realized she had lost attention. They called her ‘Jewel’, instead of her name. Having fake titles made it easier to disassociate themselves from the mortals they would be judging, who had names and lives just like the judges once did.

  For this panel rotation, it was Hazel, a judge titled Founder who she suspected was Thomas Jefferson, and one more who called himself King (which frankly, was a little pretentious).

  King was a pessimist, who coldly dissected each soul’s wrongdoings no matter how nuanced and gave out harsh sentences. Hazel, of course, liked to look on the bright side and be lenient in her judgments. Founder was much more neutral and often gave the deciding vote.

  Hazel gazed at the soul standing before the judges, finding him familiar for some reason. She wasn’t sure where she had seen him before, but it unsettled her. His pale green eyes, though dulled by death, glinted unnervingly.

  The judges didn’t say anything; they didn’t have to. They simply began reading his mind and forming their judgments.

  She pried into his thoughts and took a sharp breath in, hardly believing it.

  What were the chances?

  Bryce Lawrence.