¹Royal Cries, p. jackson

004.

ROYAL CRIES
━━ chapter four

━━ ELISA HOPED SHE would have a peaceful sleep—it'd be the nice thing to do considering she was about to go on a quest to save some godly butt.

But whoever said the gods were nice?

That night, she dreamed of Nico. He was no longer in the Underworld. He was standing in a graveyard under a starry sky. Giant willow trees loomed all around him.

He was watching some gravediggers at work. Elisa heard shovels and saw dirt flying out of a hole. Nico was dressed in a black cloak. The night was foggy. It was warm and humid, and frogs were croaking loudly nearby. A large Wal-Mart bag sat next to Nico's feet.

"Is it deep enough yet?" he asked. He sounded irritated.

"Nearly, my lord." It was the same ghost Elisa had seen Nico with before, the faint shimmering image of a man. "But, my lord, I tell you, this is unnecessary. You already have me for advice."

"I want a second opinion!" Nico snapped his fingers, and the digging stopped. Two figures climbed out of the hole. They weren't people, they were skeletons in ragged clothes.

"You are dismissed," he said. "Thank you."

The skeletons collapsed into piles of bones.

"You might as well thanks the shovels," the ghost complained. "They have as much sense."

Nico ignored him. He reached into his Wal-Mart bag and pulled out a twelve-pack of Coke. He popped open a can. Instead of drinking it, he poured it into the grave.

"Let the dead taste again," he murmured. "Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember."

He dropped the rest of the Cokes into the grave and pulled out a white paper bag decorated with cartoons. Elisa had seen one in years, but she still recognized it—a McDonald's Happy Meal. Nico turned it upside down and shook the fries and hamburger into the grave.

"In my day, we used animal blood," the ghost mumbled. "It's perfectly good enough. They can't taste the difference."

"I will treat them with respect," said Nico.

"At least let me keep the toy," the ghost said.

"Be quiet!" Nico ordered. He emptied another twelve-pack of soda and three more Happy Meals into the grave, then began chanting in Ancient Greek. Elisa was only able to catch some of the words—a lot of stuff about the dead, memories, and returning from the grave. She was really happy her lessons on Ancient Greek with some of the Athena kids were going that well now.

The grave started to bubble. Frothy brown liquid rose to the top like a boiling pot. The fog thickened; the frogs stopped croaking and the grasshoppers stopped singing. Dozens of figures began to appear among the gravestones; bluish, vaguely human shapes. Nico had summoned dead with Coke and cheeseburgers.

"There are too many," the ghost said nervously. "You don't know your own powers."

"I've got it under control," Nico said, though his voice sounded frail. He drew a sword—a short blade made of solid black metal. Elisa had never seen anything like it. She didn't know what the sword was made of, but she knew it certainly wasn't Celestial bronze. The crowd of darkness retreated at the sight of it.