Chapter Text
No amount of pleading or cajoling or hurled insults made any difference. Apollo refused to give Nico any details about Will’s location, despite having admitted that Will was working on his ranch. They’d left the opera house and moved their argument to the sidewalk outside where Nico could vent the full extent of his disappointment with Apollo, who, up until just this moment, had seemed like he might be cool.
“You can forget about Epcot,” Nico snarled,. “I take back my promise.”
“You wound me!” Apollo gasped, clutching his heart. “I’m saving you a lot of trouble by refusing to tell you. You’d just rush in and try to go get him. It won’t accomplish what you want.”
Nico paced up and down the sidewalk wondering what he could do to change Apollo’s mind, but it was like arguing with a brick wall. He’d tried everything short of threats and sexual favors, and those were still on the table.
“I’m just doing what I’d want somebody else to do for me,” Apollo said, his voice irritatingly soothing and mellifluous. “I know what you’re going through. When a human you care about is in danger it’s tempting to fly off the handle and go apeshit. Been there, done that. But mortals die fast – you know that better than anyone. And love dies even faster. Just let him go.”
Apollo sounded genuine in his attempt to help, but it wasn’t actually helping. Nico couldn’t live with the guilt of letting Will down a second time. The poor guy had just wanted some closure, and Nico had dragged him into peril once again.
The guilt was the bit Apollo wasn’t able to understand. It wasn’t that Greek gods couldn’t feel it, but it meant something different when you’d been raised Catholic. Guilt was more than mere discomfort– it ate at his self-esteem like acid and hissed into his ear that he didn’t deserve to be happy. He was going to have to save Will. In doing so, he’d save himself.
“I can’t let it go,” Nico said firmly. “I need to help him.”
“Zeus and Hera are trying to provoke you now that they think you’re unprotected. Don’t take the bait. Forget the boy and move on,” Apollo said. “If you show them that this tactic works on you, they’ll keep using it against you forever. But I can see I’m not getting through to you. I’m not gonna waste my precious breath if you’re not going to listen.”
Apollo shrugged his shoulders, glancing at the red sun-chariot convertible he’d left parked on the sidewalk. Nico couldn’t blame him for wanting to get out of there. They were both disappointed that their fun, flirty vibes had been ruined. But he couldn’t let Apollo leave without getting answers. He didn’t know where his ranch was, and he might have more than one. He’d struggle to find Will without Apollo’s cooperation.
“What if I make it worth your while?” Nico asked, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two golden torque bracelets that he’d stowed there for safekeeping.
“Cute, but not interested,” Apollo said, looking bored. “I have enough gold bracelets already.”
Nico allowed the bracelet in his left hand to transform into the Rod of Asclepius, a thick wooden staff that ill-fit his hand and buzzed with a power that left Nico feeling slightly sick.
Apollo gasped, reaching for it immediately, but Nico withheld it.
“Let’s make a deal. The Rod in exchange for Will,” Nico said. “Take it or leave it.”
Apollo shook his head helplessly.
“I can’t give him back,” he said. “I don’t really have him at all. He’s on my ranch, working, but… It’s complicated.”
Nico held out the other bracelet.
“You can probably guess what this one is,” he said.
“Herme’s Caduceus? He’ll want that back very badly,” Apollo said, leaning in as though he were tempted to grab it. “You’d really trade all that leverage for one mortal?”
“Absolutely,” Nico said. “I don’t want this stuff. It can only attract trouble, and I’ve got enough of that on my own. Do we have a deal?”
“We would, but I can’t do what you’re asking,” Apollo said, staring at the magical devices greedily, his blue eyes wide with covetousness. “I don’t dare try and go in that pen. It’s sure to be rigged with traps, and there’s cameras.”
“What pen?” Nico asked, seeing that he was getting closer to the info he needed.
Apollo’s eyes flicked to the Rod of Asclepius, and the Rod twitched in his direction in turn. Nico was eager to be rid of the thing. A death god had no business with a tool of healing, and he and the Rod both knew it.
“Tell me where he is, and you can have this,” Nico said, holding it out to Apollo. “Give Will back, and you get the Caduceus, too.”
“I can’t give him back, but I’ll take the first offer,” Apollo said, grabbing for the Rod, which Nico withheld once again. “I can’t just tell you, though, I’ll have to show you. Hop in. I’ll take you to Thrinakia.”
He opened the passenger side door of his convertible, and Nico sat down in the sporty, comfortable leather seat. The last time he’d been in Apollo’s car he’d sat in the backseat, and Apollo had treated him like something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. For a moment he wondered if Apollo even remembered that day, but after hitting the gas and launching the car into the sky, Apollo shot him a glance of acknowledgement, a glint of amusement in his eye.
Nico avoided looking at the ground growing further and further away beneath them. He gripped the handle on the inside of the door and shut his eyes.
“Still not a fan of heights?” Apollo asked, turning the wheel and veering away from Rome. They began moving south at a breakneck speed, jets of flame shooting from the exhaust pipe. “I’d have thought you’d be used to it now that you can fly.”
“Not even a little,” Nico said. “I like the ground. In fact, if it were up to me I’d have the ground under my feet and over my head at the same time. I find the wings very awkward to use,” he admitted with some embarrassment.
“Oh. So when you wear them you’re just aura farming?”
“Pretty much,” Nico said.
“It’s a good look for you,” Apollo said. “The angel of death– you wear the role well.”
Nico mustered the courage to look out the window. They were flying low now, over the sea, and the tires were skimming the surface of the waves, sending up a spray of white foam that caught the sun and shimmered with rainbows. Where the water hit the flaming exhaust, it turned to a cloud of steam. Nico watched as a pod of hippocampi breached the surface, leaping in the air, the sunlight sparkling on their slick dolphin-like bodies.
He glanced back at Apollo, watching as the god’s spun-gold hair was tousled by the wind, his eyes fixed on their path. Appreciating the moment for what it was, Nico couldn’t help but think that Apollo wore his role pretty well, too.
“That’s Thrinakia up ahead,” Apollo announced as a veil of cloudbank parted before them.
He pulled the car in like it was a garage, the clouds closing shut behind them, and just ahead Nico saw a large grassy island with a herd of cattle grazing on grassy, sun-baked hills. They were stunningly perfect cows, each one bright and glossy and well-fed. Nico imagined for a moment what it would feel like to have one of those sacrificed to him. There weren’t enough sensory fruit videos in the world to bring him down from that high, he feared.
Apollo parked right in the middle of the herd, patting the cows on their perfect pink noses while Nico observed them in awe. Their long, lowing moos had a melodic quality, like each cow had perfect pitch.
“The ranch isn’t far. Want to come in for a beer?” Apollo asked. Nico frowned slightly, and Apollo scoffed, opening the passenger side door for him and gesturing for him to follow.
“You’re no fun,” Apollo said teasingly. “Fine. I’ll show you the pen.”
“I thought we were already inside of the pen?” Nico said, looking around at the cows peacefully grazing.
Apollo shook his head, his expression grave.
“I’m afraid Will has been made the new peacock boy.”
Nico’s blood went cold.
Apollo walked across the pasture until they approached a low, squat building nestled in a deep valley. It was surrounded by a tall security fence covered with barbed wire and broken glass. There were signs on every fence panel reading ‘Trespassers Will Be Beaked’ and symbols indicating that the fence was electrified. Inside the fencing were five peacocks, all slightly larger than normal with stunning sapphire blue feathers. They were impressively lovely, but they still read as relatively normal birds at a glance.
“Hera’s sacred peacocks,” Nico said quietly. “You keep them here.”
“Yeah, she rents the space on the island,” Apollo said. “But I don’t manage what goes on inside the fence. Look, when she offered me Tex– I mean Will– I didn’t know anything about the guy, and we had an opening in the pen, so I just assigned him. She knew it would happen, but it is technically my fault, which is why I’ve been so helpful and generous with my time in showing you this–”
“Just take it,” Nico sighed, handing him the Rod of Asclepius.
Apollo grinned delightedly, tossing his son’s symbol of power in the air like a baton.
“Where is he?”
“Inside somewhere. Don’t even think about going in,” Apollo added, seeing Nico heading for the gate, which was locked with a sophisticated-looking security panel. “Argus guards the pen. You remember the guy with all the eyes from Camp Half Blood? He does a second shift here. He’s a giant. Even you can’t tangle with him that easily.”
Despite the security measures, Nico had confidence that his sneaky skills would be sufficient to extract Will from Argus’ clutches. Then he realized that Hera already knew his capabilities quite well. She knew gates and fences weren’t an obstacle for him, but she’d have put measures in place to ensure Will didn’t escape unscathed. The last thing Nico wanted was to be left watching Will suffer again with no way to help him, and Hera knew it.
Just as he was beginning to struggle with his lack of a proper plan, the door opened. At a nudge from Apollo, Nico turned invisible. He watched as an enormous peacock the size of a grown man strutted out the door. Dotting his tail feathers were hundreds of eyeballs, large, small, human and inhuman, some black as rats’ and others bright yellow like cats’ eyes. One had a weird rectangular iris like a goat, and every single eye was circling and scanning indifferent directions. The creepy goat eye fixed on Nico, and he hid behind Apollo in an excess of caution.
“Hail, Lord Apollo,” Argus said, his beak moving eerily like a human mouth, as though it were fleshier than it was supposed to be. Nico shuddered, wondering what could have driven Hera to create such a monstrous thing. “What brings you here?”
“Just out for a stroll,” Apollo lied easily. “How’s the new kid working out?”
Nico saw a familiar face peek out of the barn and glance outside. Argus didn’t need to turn to see him.
“You’re supposed to be scrubbing!” Argus squawked fiercely. Will scurried back inside, and Nico’s heart wrenched.
To make matters worse, one of the normal peacocks suddenly scratched at the ground, tossing a huge clod of dirt up behind its foot. Nico looked more closely and saw that its talons were far longer and sharper than they had any right to be, and appeared to be made of metal. As he was peering through the fence, another peacock nearby belched out a small jet of flame like it had a blowtorch for a beak. He stood, backing away from the fence.
Will wouldn’t last long in there. He needed a solution, and he needed it fast.
Argus went back inside, and Nico revealed himself again.
“You going in?” Apollo asked, looking at him with genuine worry. Nico’s defensive posture softened slightly. He had been hard on Apollo, but he realized that he was trying to help him as a friend, at least in the only way he knew how.
“No,” Nico said. “I’ll figure something else out. But thanks.”
“Thanks? You made it worth my while already,” Apollo said, gesturing with the Rod of Asclepius. “We’re good.”
“Glad to hear it,” Nico said. “And, um… I’ll go to Epcot with you. If you still want to.”
Apollo smirked at him, his bright eyes glinting as bright as the peacock feathers behind him – not a pleasant comparison at the moment.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You’re trouble,” he said teasingly. “How about we go when you get my sister’s approval? If I go against her advice and it doesn’t work out, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Nico said, hoping it wasn’t the only good plan he’d encounter that day. He needed to brainstorm.
“I’ll see you around, Nico,” Apollo said. “And I hope that next time you give me your rod, it’s under better circumstances.”
Nico went back to Vatican City. Did he want to? Of course not. He was tired of Rome and of Catholicism, and he was ready to forget he’d ever even heard of a carpenter from Nazareth with some crazy ideas about being nice to people. He needed a nap badly and was growing tired and grumpy. Perhaps even gods couldn’t go six sleepless months without suffering consequences.
In spite of his feelings on the matter, he had no choice but to keep pushing forward. He felt in his gut that he was almost at the end of a long, difficult journey. Once he got Will back, he could finally rest. And the only plan he’d managed to come up with required a tiny little errand in the Vatican.
The enormous patina-covered bronze doors of the Vatican’s supernatural wing opened for him with an ominous groan, swinging wide to reveal an atrium with floors he’d scrubbed for countless hours in an attempt to learn some humility. Fruitless labor, he thought to himself, stepping around a few novice saints who were performing their own spiritual scrubbing duties. He felt a lurking sense of shame that he’d so recently been one of them, humiliating himself in toil for no tangible reward. Simultaneously he felt ashamed that he’d reverted back to his old demonic ways, drinking and dancing and flirting with hot men. It wasn’t lost on him that the moment he’d let his guard down and had a little fun, an innocent mortal had been kidnapped and put into mortal peril for his sins. His public lapse in Catholic morality had been the signal for Zeus to pull the trigger on his revenge plot– it was a simple matter of cause and effect, and there was no need to imagine God’s hand manipulating the situation. Still, Nico couldn’t help but feel as though he was being punished by an entity larger than just Zeus and Hera.
He stopped short in the hallway, coming upon a portrait of Christ hanging on the wall. It was an oil painting done in Renaissance style, but the colors looked as fresh as though it had been painted yesterday. He didn’t recognize the painting from what little art history knowledge he’d picked up over the years, but the context implied it had been painted by a master. Jesus’ eyes were so bright and alive that it looked like he was staring right back at Nico.
Nico stood in stunned awe for a long couple of moments before coming to his senses. He scoffed, frustrated with himself. He’d quit this job and severed his ties with the church. Why was it so hard to let go?
“Why can’t I quit you?” He said to Jesus.
“What was that?” Philip asked, appearing behind him.
“Uh, nothing,” Nico said, embarrassed. “I came to see you,” he said, recovering his composure. “I need a favor.”
Philip led him into his office and gestured for him to have a seat. His office was simply furnished, and wasn’t particularly cold or damp, which was a relief after spending so much time in Brigid’s clammy quarters.
“I think we have a lot to discuss,” Philip said. “Your mortal band, their ongoing tour, and the incident with Saint Brigid. I think you are owed an apology for our failure to safeguard your journey of faith. Brigid made an error in judgment in communicating with that demon who claims to be your mother.”
“I’ll get over it,” Nico said. “Mom and I worked it out. I think it’s for the best. I just wasn’t meant to be a saint.” Eros’ voice echoed in his ears, telling him that he did, in fact, have what it took. His family had meddled so much in his first attempt to convert that he’d been playing on hard mode the entire time.
He almost was convinced he could do it if he tried again, but being capable didn’t mean it was a good idea. He hadn’t been authentic to himself when he’d been in the Pagan Demon Rehabilitation program, and he’d missed his family. He wasn’t sure what the right path forward was, but he knew it didn’t involve turning his brain off and blindly following orders. Never again.
He caught sight of an odd, lumpy object on Philip’s desk, and he idly picked it up and turned it over in his hand.
“What is this?” He asked.
“Bread,” Philip said calmly. “Do be careful with it.”
“It’s hard as a rock,” Nico said. “Wait, you can’t eat. So why do you have bread?” He read something scribbled in black charcoal, written in a language he vaguely recognized.
“Is that Aramaic?” He asked. “Is this what I think it is?”
“A loaf from the wedding at Cana?” Philip asked, his smile only a little bit smug. “Indeed. Just a little memento from the old days.”
“You had it autographed?!” Nico asked. He couldn’t compute the fact that he was actually seeing Jesus’ signature on a petrified loaf of bread. He was aware that Jesus had been a human being once, long ago, but the distant figure of worship didn’t feel quite so distant when you were staring at something he’d scrawled his name on.
“Good for you,” Nico said, suddenly feeling a wave of depression wash over him. He put the bread back down on the desk carefully. He controlled his expression, deciding that it was best to get this over with.
“So, the favor: There’s a mortal who’s been kidnapped and held hostage. His life is in grave danger because Zeus thinks I’m unprotected by you guys and he’s taking revenge for my conversion. I need you to give me some kind of confirmation I’m still a contractor that I can wave in his face. I think it might scare him off.”
“Contractor?” Philip said, glancing at a file on his desk and scanning the page. “You don’t have contractor status.”
“I thought I got demoted to contractor when I left the Rehabilitation program,” Nico said. “Maybe someone forgot to do the paperwork?”
“We never forget to do our paperwork,” Philip said, his dark eyes flashing with wry amusement. “We offered you a promotion, if you recall. You never accepted.”
“I can’t take a promotion,” Nico snapped, his voice tight and panicked. It was dangerous to hear their offer. In a way it was better if he never knew what it was. Either he’d be tempted into staying, or he’d always wonder what would have happened if he had been tempted. It was a lose-lose. “I’m getting out, remember? I’m just going to pick up your souls and drop them off. I don’t need to interact with any of you in the process, I just want to be an independent contractor. No other responsibilities,” he said firmly.
“We know,” Philip said. “Your duties won’t change. We just thought, after what happened, an honorary title would help to make things right. Something to acknowledge the great commitment and responsibility you’ve taken on in safeguarding the souls of the faithful, while asking so little in return.”
“Asking nothing in return, actually,” Nico muttered. He took souls due to an innate compulsion he couldn’t resist, and perhaps foolishly, he’d offered to transport all Catholic souls to the afterlife for free. An honorary title would certainly scare Zeus off and potentially result in the outcome he wanted, which was Will’s freedom. It could work, but it was dangerous. An honorary title was still a tie, a formal one that mattered. It would define him as property of the Catholic church in a way that a contractor gig wouldn’t. He was probably going to have to say no.
“Alright, I’ll hear you out,” he said tiredly. “What’s the offer?”
“How would you like to be an angel?”
Nico blinked his eyes a couple of times, then sighed, rubbing his nose.
“Every time I think I’m out…”
An hour later Nico di Angelo, finally living up to his name, was in heaven. Well, to be specific, he was one level up from Purgatory in a specific office next to heaven. Michael had brought him directly, a sour look on his face the whole time, and Nico actually had no idea how they’d gotten there.
When he’d been badged into the office he had been informed in no uncertain terms that his card didn’t grant access to heaven proper. He knew that was probably for the best. But he’d caught a glimpse of the pearly gates and Saint Peter’s grand reception area in the distance– very, very far in the distance– while he was being escorted to the new office, so that had been exciting.
The Office of Angels was, frankly, disappointing. It wasn’t that it wasn’t beautiful, but it wasn’t beautiful in a way that did much for him. It had the same ultra-bright cloud aesthetic that Olympus had, and it hurt his eyes to look at everything. As Michael gave him a reluctant tour, his hand on his sword hilt the entire time, Nico was preparing to give him the news that he never wanted to come back here again, even if he was technically entitled to with his new title and badge. He expected the revelation to be well received.
“This is the copier,” Michael said, pointing out a large rectangular machine that was whirring and beeping. “It jams sometimes, so you might need to pray over it a bit. Here’s the shredder, and that’s the hole punch,” he added.
“When would I ever need to use a hole punch?”
Michael gave him a caustic glare, then continued the tour, turning down a hallway lit with searingly bright fluorescent lights that somehow still failed to outshine the sunlight beaming through the windows. At least it seemed like sunlight, only he wasn’t sure it was originating from the sun. Nico thought he might be getting a migraine, because he kept seeing radiant auras coming off every light source, which included Michael. He was also hearing a faint ringing in his ears that reminded him of something he couldn’t quite recall.
“Where are all the other angels?” Nico asked, curious to see them.
“Working.”
“What do they do?”
“It depends on the type of angel. It’s an umbrella term encompassing multiple types of being, all with different duties. Some do battle with infernal demons, others watch over humanity, and some praise God.” As he said this, a wicked smile crossed his face. “You’ll see.”
“What kind of angel would I be considered?” Nico asked, too busy squinting to pay much attention to Michael, whose bad attitude was nothing new. In pop culture Michael was considered the Catholic psychopomp, and it had never sat well with him that Nico, an outsider, had taken over his job.
“You’ve probably heard that some angels once rebelled against God and fell from grace, becoming demons,” Michael said.
“So I’m like, the reverse of that?”
“No. I was going to say you’re like them, but worse, because you’ve never been properly faithful at all. The fallen angels logged a decent number of years of service before things went bad. And that was all part of God’s plan, anyway.”
“And I’m not?”
Michael grimaced.
“That’s not for me to determine,” he said. “Just know that I’m under no illusion you help collect Catholic souls because you love God and wish to serve Him. You do it because it is in your nature and you cannot help yourself. I think you would betray us easily if it served your ends.”
This was so completely on point that Nico stared in stunned silence.
“Not easily,” he muttered weakly.
Michael gave Nico an ‘I-see-right-through-you’ look from below raised brows.
“That reminds me,” Nico said. “Can I have my old sword back?”
Michael’s eyes widened with alarm. He drew his sword partway out of its sheath. Nico felt the heat of flame rising in the room.
“That was poorly timed,” Nico said, raising his hands defensively. “I’m not planning to destroy anyone’s soul. I just figured I could find a better place to keep it.”
“Our vault is the most secure location on the planet,” Michael said. “It is in safe hands.”
Nico remembered Hermes breaking into the vault just a few months ago and felt certain that wasn’t true. His gut told him that it was better off with him. He trusted the church to an extent, but not blindly anymore, not with something so dangerous and personal.
“You can’t use it anyway,” he said. “Please? It belongs to me. I used it to destroy Nero. You guys loved that. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get a shot at the Antichrist next.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Michael said. “I will submit a request, but that’s all I can do. Now, the tour is over. Time for your onboarding training,” he said lightly, walking briskly down the hallway. “Go inside the door on your left, please.”
Nico turned the knob of a nondescript white door, noticing only after the door was already beginning to swing open that the light on the other side was far brighter than any he’d encountered so far. Also, strangely, the knob was hot.
The door opened. Blinded, he fell to his knees.
He’d never heard anything so enormously loud. Pressing his eyes shut against the glare, he pressed his hands to his ears, feeling his eardrums threatening to burst. It was just sound, a wall of it coming at him relentlessly, and whatever sound it might have been was impossible to distinguish because there was just so much of it. As the seconds ticked on, each feeling ten times as long as it ought to, the blaring drone of noise diminished slightly. It sounded like a freight train was bearing down on him, and the freight train was singing dubstep.
He wrenched open an eye and saw Michael stepping around him, the white legs of his suit brushing his shoulder as he passed through the doorway. He’d popped in a pair of earplugs, and handed Nico some too, along with a pair of sunglasses.
Nico put both on quickly, but when he glanced up with his new sensory protection another revelation knocked him flat.
Before him, hidden behind a haze of pure light, was a creature unlike anything he’d ever seen before. It looked as though dozens of wheels were spinning and whirling around a central point, and each of the wheels was covered in eyes, and they were all aflame. In the center was an amorphous shape that took on the images of faces, human, animal, and neither, things Nico didn’t recognize.
Without realizing, Nico had scrambled backwards into the hallway. Michael followed him out shutting the door.
“I quit,” Nico said immediately.
“Don’t be afraid,” Michael said amusedly.
“You saying that actually makes me more afraid,” Nico said.
“Is this any way to greet your coworker?” Michael asked. “Max is an angel just like you, albeit a different variety. And it sings in praise of God at all hours of the day and night, has always done so and always will. Is its worship not beautiful to witness?”
“It might be a little bit more beautiful if it had some singing lessons,” Nico suggested. “And if you put a lampshade over it.”
Michael clucked his tongue.
“Your onboarding training must be completed on the computer console in there,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll need to get acquainted. Perhaps its passionate faith will spark an answering echo in you. Rest assured that it isn’t harmful, it just takes getting used to.”
Shuddering at the thought of enduring that terrible noise again, Nico got to his feet.
“Max? That’s actually its name?”
“Nickname,” Michael admitted. “Short for Max Volume.”
At least angels had a sense of humor, Nico thought. He turned the knob and entered the room again, this time equipped with earplugs and sunglasses and mentally prepared for Max’s terrifying, unearthly appearance.
“REEEEEEE” sang Max, somehow, impossibly, getting louder as Nico approached. If Nico didn’t have divine DNA, his eardrums would have exploded.
“Max really loves God!” Nico said, watching as the wheels spun and the flames roared, Max’s hundred eyes whirling and staring and singing.
“It sure does!” Michael shouted back. “Just complete the training program as soon as you can. Also, that computer runs the portal program we used to transfer souls before you came to work for us. If you have any time off planned, you need to schedule the portals to cover your absence. We’ve decided we’d rather use them than rely on your friend Thanatos to pick up souls in your stead.”
“Is Thanatos actually causing problems, or do you just not want to deal with him?” Nico asked.
“I think you know the answer to that,” Michael said. “Just schedule the portals– don’t abuse it, though. Just for emergencies.”
“Got it,” Nico said.
With that, Michael departed in a rush, obviously eager to get away from Max. Nico watched Max for a moment, unsure whether it was conscious of his presence or if all it did was spin and sing. There was nothing else to do but to get to work, so Nico found the computer in the corner of the office and sat down at the little desk provided. It was an old console running Windows 98, and it took a long time to boot up, giving him ample opportunity to observe Max and start to get used to the singing. It did, eventually, quiet down to a noticeably more tolerable level, and Nico wondered if Max had cranked up the volume due to the excitement of a new person entering its space.
The computer screen flashed an ‘update required’ warning, and a progress bar appeared. As Nico watched the progress crawled from one percent progress to two percent, then back down to one percent.
Nico sighed, resting his chin on his elbow. He was going to be stuck at this computer all day. It wasn’t the end of the world, though. Onboarding training was a small price to pay to become an angel forever. Once he could throw that title around, he’d be able to get Will free in that space of a couple of phone calls, he was certain. He was lucky the concept of ‘angel’ was so vague and yet so significant at the same time– it meant that anyone could make of the title whatever they wished.
As he watched the progress bar tick upwards, Max got even quieter, and Nico noticed some of its spinning start to slow, although it never stopped.
“Hi, Max,” Nico said, feeling awkward just staring. He didn’t know if Max cared, or could comprehend normal speech, but he felt like he was being rude. “Nice to meet you.”
“WHAT ARE YOU?” Max asked, the words appearing in Nico’s mind while Max continued to sing uninterrupted. Nico was stunned for a second, then recovered.
“I’m Nico di Angelo,” he said, smiling at the new irony in his last name. Maybe this outcome for him had always been fated. “I’m an angel. It’s my first day.”
“WHAT MANNER OF BEING ARE YOU?” Max asked.
“I’m a pagan demon,” Nico said. “Biologically speaking. But I’m cool. I just need to get this training done and I’ll probably never come back here again.”
“WHY DO YOU NOT SING? ARE YOU NOT AFLAME WITH THE LOVE OF THE LORD?” Max asked.
“That’s kind of a loaded question,” Nico said, shifting uncomfortably. “I used to be aflame. I was at least a little bit flammable. But I think I mixed up what I believed to be true with what I wanted to be true, and now I don’t know anything anymore.”
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU,” Max said.
“Neither do I,” Nico said.
The computer update finally completed, and the console displayed a link to a Powerpoint Presentation. Nico clicked it and was treated to another long loading screen.
“What do you do besides sing, Max?” Nico asked. “Do you ever leave here?”
“I INSPIRE FEAR AND LOVE,” Max said, spinning faster with excitement. “I USED TO APPEAR TO HUMANS, BUT HAVE BEEN RESTRICTED.”
“Were you too scary?”
“SO I WAS TOLD!” Max screamed.
“Why not go sing in heaven? Why hang around here?”
“IN HOPES I MIGHT SOMEDAY BE PERMITTED EARTHLY VISITATION AGAIN,” Max said. “I WAIT BESIDE THE PORTAL CONSOLE!”
Nico felt pity for the poor, overzealous creature. Max probably was, in fairness, brain-breakingly terrifying to humans. Nico had seen plenty of weird stuff in his lifetime. Just that morning he’d seen a giant peacock with more eyes than even Max had. Despite this, Max had deeply unsettled him.
“I wish I could help,” Nico said, thinking that it would be easy for him to create a portal and send Max wherever it wanted to go using the console. “Unfortunately, I’m worried you might give someone a heart attack if you try to visit them. Besides, nowadays people that claim to meet angels get locked in psych wards and medicated. I don’t think it’s an effective method of evangelism.”
“NONSENSE,” Max said. “THERE ARE SO MANY WHO DON’T KNOW GOD’S GLORY! WHO MUST BE TOLD! IN SONG!”
“Please tone it down just a little, Max,” Nico said, clutching his head. “Ugh. I’m sorry, I wish I knew someone you could sing to without hurting them, but I–” He cut himself off mid-thought.
He did know someone who could use a little scare. He knew he really shouldn’t, but the thought lingered.
“Max, are you capable of defending yourself if someone were to, I don’t know,” Nico said, clicking around in the portal console and entering a set of coordinates, just to see if it were possible. “Hit you with a bolt of lightning?”
The coordinates for Mount Olympus worked. The ‘Generate Portal’ button beckoned like a siren on the screen.
“I AM INCORPOREAL,” Max said. “MY FORM IS SOUND AND LIGHT TRANSMITTED ACROSS PLANES OF SPACE AND TIME.”
“So they can’t hurt you physically,” Nico asked. “Great. What if they’re really mean to you? Would that hurt your feelings?”
“I WILL SING LOUDER!”
“I like your style, Max,” Nico grinned, feeling a rush of excitement flood him. “Good news. I know a bunch of pagans who are strangers to God’s glory. I think a visit from you might be educational. Are you interested?”
Max let out a screeching wail of delight, a single high-pitched note that rattled the walls. Nico hit the Enter key, and a shimmering, translucent portal appeared before Max.
Max dove through immediately.
Nico approached the portal and stuck his head through just long enough to confirm the location. He saw Zeus’ throne, the spot on the floor where he’d been forced to kneel and held down while his godhood had been stripped from him. He remembered the crackle of the lightning as Zeus had aimed his master bolt right at Nico’s face.
He hoped that Max sang very, very loudly, for a very, very long time.
He went back to the computer and hit the button to shut the portal, feeling satisfied with his decision. Michael might not be thrilled with him, but the pure silence left behind in the Office of Angels was a blessed relief that even Michael would surely want to savor for a while.
Nico watched as the glowing portal in the air slowly zipped closed. Just before the sides of the arc met in the middle, a lithe figure shot through the small opening that remained, coming to land sprawling on the floor.
“That was close,” Hermes muttered, standing and rubbing his back. He looked around, but there was nothing much to look at in the room aside from Nico and the computer.
“You!” He said, pointing at Nico. “What did you do? What is that freaky thing that came through that portal?”
“Shit, shit, shit!” Nico said, typing frantically on the computer in order to bring up another portal to send Hermes home through. The computer flashed a warning – Update Required. Another loading bar popped up.
Nico smacked the side of the computer in frustration, and the screen went black. He smacked it a couple more times, but nothing happened.
“This stupid old thing,” he said, giving up. “Hermes, you really can’t be here!”
“The hell I can’t! You opened a portal in my living room!” Hermes said, adjusting his tiny track shorts and looking around. “Where are we?”
“The Office of Angels,” Nico said frantically. “If you get caught –”
Hermes’ eyes went wide.
“I can’t be here!” He said.
“Yeah, I know!” Nico said, sweating bullets. He heard footsteps in the hallway outside. “That might be Michael,” he said. “We’re done for if he catches you here.”
“The guy with the flaming sword?” Hermes squeaked. At a frantic gesture from Nico he dove and hid beneath the computer desk.
Whoever was outside continued walking past the door. Nico and Hermes both relaxed.
“I don’t want to get caught here and imprisoned,” Hermes said. “I’ve sworn an oath on the Styx not to fight you people– that oath was your fault, by the way,” he added. “I thought you quit?”
“Me too,” Nico said. “Then Zeus and Hera kidnapped my mortal friend and put him in danger. Without the church there’s nothing stopping them from tormenting me and the people I care about.”
“You need to make up with Hades again,” Hermes said. “My dad is more cautious about messing with him. He just doesn’t see you as a threat.”
“He will now,” Nico said, smiling bitterly. “I can’t make up with my dad. I don’t even know where he is.”
“What was that thing you sent through the portal? I barely got a glimpse. It was hard to see anything with all the noise and light.”
“Just a reminder that I’m not as weak as Zeus thinks I am,” Nico said.
“Nico!” A voice in the hall called out, some angel’s voice Nico didn’t recognize. Nico and Hermes both ducked behind the desk again. “Nico, come to the break room! There’s a surprise for you!”
“Probably a ‘welcome back’ cake or something,” Nico muttered. “I hate this. I didn’t want to come back here, and now I’m getting dragged in again. It’s like quicksand.”
“You think you feel trapped? I’m liable to get locked away in Hell for the rest of eternity,” Hermes said. “I don’t even know where I am. If you don’t show me the way out soon, I’m making a run for it.”
“Don’t do that,” Nico said, picturing Hermes casually flying past Heaven’s gate, waving to Saint Peter as he passed. Nico would be the one locked up in Hell if he allowed that to happen. “I think I’ve accomplished what I needed to do here. If there’s an event in the break room, everyone will be in there for a while. It’s a good time to leave.”
With the computer broken, they had no choice but to go on foot. He waved Hermes into the corridor after checking both ways to see if it was clear. At the end of the hall, the door to the break room stood partially open, and he heard laughter and chatter going on inside.
Nico glanced sidelong at his cousin Hermes, whom he’d had an antagonistic, mostly unpleasant history with over the years. There was a part of him who longed to go to the break room and leave Hermes to his fate, a part of Nico who just wanted to give himself over to the Catholics once and for all and forget he even had a meddling, obnoxious supernatural family. But he’d already learned the hard way that, even if he gave the church everything he had, there would always be another part of him that belonged to the Greek gods and could never forget them. If Hermes was captured, Nico would inevitably try to save him, no matter how much he might dislike him personally.
“Can’t you shadow travel us out of here?” Hermes hissed.
“This close to heaven, security’s tighter,” Nico said. “Besides, the exit door is right around this corner.
Nico had been brought up to the office instantaneously, but he’d seen the exit on the way in. He ushered Hermes through it, then went out behind him, closing the door on the Office of Angels once and for all.
He hadn’t known what to expect, and so it hit him with a jolt that he was now standing in the hallway outside Brigid’s office. He looked back at the door and recognized the supply closet he’d always wondered about, the one with the light behind the door, beckoning and warning all at once.
“It was right here the whole time,” Nico said, realizing that the door effectively led to heaven’s doorstep. What did that mean? There was so much he didn’t understand, even after all this time.
“Can I go now?” Hermes asked.
Now that they were in the Vatican, Nico was concerned that Hermes may have already set off security alarms. At least there wasn’t a camera in the hallway they stood in, but perhaps that was an empty comfort.
Before Nico could respond to Hermes’ question, Brigid stepped out of her office, the bulk of her stature casting a shadow long enough to nearly reach them. Nico and Hermes both froze in place, grabbing each other’s arms.
Nico stared at Brigid, and disappointment rose in him. He was totally going to be fired again for letting Hermes into the Vatican. He’d probably just set a record for the fastest anyone had ever gained a promotion and lost it.
“Do not worry,” Brigid said calmly, her placid white face unreadable. “I won’t tell anyone about this encounter. Can we talk? Demon to demon?”
There was a touch of dark humor in the way she spoke, self-deprecating and unsettling. This wasn’t the Brigid Nico had gotten to know over his months of working with her. She had changed.
Hermes looked unsure, but Nico knew she was telling them the truth, and felt there was little risk in seeing what she wanted to discuss. He entered her office, and Hermes followed, sticking close to his side.
Saint Dymphna, who usually hovered behind Brigid’s desk, was nowhere to be found. The stone-walled office was as dark and cold as Nico remembered, but the fire in the hearth was far larger than he remembered ever seeing it, and it gave off a warmth and light that seemed to do battle with the chill damp of the room, creating a small area just in front of it that was surprisingly comfortable.
Brigid was still dressed in her severe-looking nun’s habit, but her posture was less upright. She wasn’t any shorter than she’d been before, but she seemed to take up less space. Perhaps Nico was merely less afraid of her than he’d once been.
“I’ve been subject to disciplinary action following your dismissal,” she said, filling up a kettle with water and hanging it from a hook above the fire. Nico and Hermes sat on two creaky wooden chairs that had once sat in front of her desk. Now they sat in front of the fireplace, and she knelt on the rug, watching the flames. The moment felt surreal.
“Oh,” Nico said, not sure if he was meant to respond.
When he’d been in Brigid’s program, ‘discipline’ had meant pain, and lots of it. A twisted little part of him hoped that she’d been made to suffer the same sort of agony that she’d visited upon him. Yet, alongside that feeling, Nico knew that she didn’t deserve it, and that he hadn’t either. They’d both tried to follow the rules, and they’d both fallen prey to weaknesses born of their natures, parts of themselves they couldn’t change.
It stunned him to realize he was capable of forgiving her if he chose to. But did he want to? Anger was protective, and revenge taught people that hurting you was a very bad idea. Forgiveness – what did that do for him? Some people would always take it as permission to do you wrong all over again. Yet he still felt it was worth considering.
“As you’ve probably heard by now, I was unable to tolerate the cancellation of spring,” Brigid said, holding a hand up to the flames. They jumped and flickered, gaining power and heat from her proximity. “I cooperated with Persephone to pressure you into quitting,” she continued.
“So you do know her name,” Nico said, narrowing his eyes.
Brigid said nothing.
A long silence stretched. Hermes was jiggling his foot, and Nico kicked him in the leg, but it only made him jiggle faster.
“What do you want, Brigid?” Nico snapped.
“I want to ask you that question,” she said.
“I want to get out of here,” Nico said. “I want to take some time off from pantheons and religions and family and just… I don’t know. I want to get my head in order. I only came back today to wrap up a loose end. Why do you care what I want? What’s it to you?”
He stopped short, frowning. He had compassion for her, but he’d also been hurt by her words too much in the past. She was good at making him doubt himself. Suddenly he felt that coming here had been a mistake. He wanted his mind to be his own, and with her around, that was in jeopardy.
“You know, I don’t need you to answer that, actually,” Nico said. “I’ve heard enough of your opinions.”
“I’m a little curious,” Hermes chimed in.
“Hermes, no,” Nico said. “I think it’s time we ought to get going.”
Brigid unhooked the kettle from the hook above the fire and poured hot water into two earthenware mugs with teabags in them. She handed one to Nico and one to Hermes.
“See? Now we need to stay for tea,” Hermes said, crossing his legs and wrapping his hands around the steaming mugs. “Go on, Brigid. You obviously have something to say to Nico, so go ahead and say it already. What kind of advice does the powerful fire goddess turned nun have for young Nico here?”
Brigid poured milk into each of their mugs and gestured for them to drink. Nico looked down at the hot liquid suspiciously, but Hermes took a big gulp of his and nothing terrible appeared to happen, so Nico drank as well. It was bitter and creamy, herbal and sweet all at once– a contradictory beverage for a contradictory goddess.
“My advice for Nico is simple,” Brigid said, looking directly at him. The fire behind her gaze felt liable to cook him alive.
“What is it?” He asked.
“Run.”
Nico stared down for a moment at the swirl of white milk clouding the dark tea he was holding.
“That’s it?” He asked, knowing it wasn’t.
“Accept no more titles. Leave this place behind and never return,” she said. “It wasn’t made for our kind. It will break you. Leave. Forget.” Her cheeks were going red, and she looked down at her hands.
She wasn’t having any tea. She was still wearing her habit. She was still sitting in an office thousands of miles away from her homeland. Brigid wasn’t leaving the church anytime soon. This brief moment of honesty was an act of rebellion, and she was ashamed of it.
Nico wondered if she would face consequences for sharing this opinion. She’d already tried to force him out once before. Maybe Persephone’s intervention hadn’t been her only reason for doing so.
“No,” he said.
She looked up at him, confused.
“This is my homeland,” he said. “I was baptised as an infant in my mother’s arms. I went to mass sitting on my grandmother’s lap. This religion is part of my family, my history, my culture. Sure, there’s things I hate about it, but there’s also things that I love. I’m not throwing away a part of myself just because the person I grew up to be doesn’t fit the mold of what a good Catholic ought to look like. Forgetting Catholicism, pretending it doesn’t matter to me? That would be just as much of a self-betrayal as denying that I’m a god.”
“You cannot be both,” she said.
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” he said. “And neither does the church. I’ll stay or go on my own terms. I refuse to accept that it’s all or nothing. That’s the easy way out. I’m not taking it.”
Brigid shook her head, her brow furrowed.
“You’re full of shit,” Hermes snorted. “You just want to keep your new title since it matches your last name.”
Nico took a sip of his tea.
“Maybe,” he admitted. He did really like being an angel. But responding to Brigid had made something clear to him, something he hadn’t been able to articulate clearly before.
He was never going to be able to escape the Catholic church fully, short of drinking from the Lethe. If he was stuck with them forever, he’d rather the church was stuck with him forever, too– even if only as a thorn in their side, eternally calling out their hypocrisy and challenging their stupid rules.
His words were worthless air from the outside– if he didn’t maintain the relationship, he was no more than a pagan demon to them. But it wasn’t so easy to ignore an angel, even an angel merely by technicality.
“I cannot accept that what you propose is possible,” Brigid said, appearing deeply troubled. “But, to be honest, I can’t for the life of me understand how you have even made it this far. Your pagan connections have been offered a measure of tolerance that mine would have never received.”
“Tolerance?” Hermes scoffed. “You people have treated us pagans like crap for millennia! Not that we didn’t give as good as we got,” he added, smirking. “But still.”
“We’re from here, Brigid,” Nico said, finishing his tea and setting the mug aside. “My family and I have a connection to this place and these people. We can’t escape each other. We’ve got no choice but to find a way to coexist. You’re the one that should leave. Don’t you have a family to go back to?”
Brigid remained stoic, her face as cold and white as alabaster. She didn’t cry, but blotches of red rose on her cheeks, and her lips became a thin line.
She slowly shook her head no.
“They’re gone,” she said quietly.
“You should go back anyway,” Nico said. “Be free.”
She shook her head no again, turning her face away. Nico signaled to Hermes that he wanted to leave, and the two of them stood. Brigid remained rigid as stone, and he got the distinct impression that the conversation was over.
Nico and Hermes departed through Brigid’s open window. Nico felt a sense of finality in this departure. He hadn’t severed ties with the church the way he’d intended to, but he was glad that he hadn’t crossed that line. He trusted himself, and he knew he was strong enough to keep himself safe. If he ever needed to cut them off, he would– just like he had with his family when that situation had become untenable.
He and Hermes stood on the street outside Vatican City, hidden among the crowd of mortals who filled the sidewalks on pilgrimages to see the wonders hidden behind the walls of the secretive micro-nation. Nico had a few messages on his phone to go through.
“Will’s back in New York,” Nico smiled, reading the message from Apollo. “He got pecked a few times, but he’s fine. My plan worked.”
“I neither know nor care who that is,” Hermes said, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. “Are you going to send that big, loud light creature home?”
“Max will leave on his own when he thinks he’s converted you guys,” Nico said. “You’ll probably have to sing a couple of hymns with him to let him feel like he’s accomplished something.”
“Ugh, gross, hymns?” Hermes said, making a face. “Can’t you just come get him?”
“I will if you really can’t get rid of him. I’ve gotten what I wanted out of this. But I’ll let you guys try on your own for a bit,” Nico smiled.
“Did I get busted for sneaking into Heaven accidentally?” Hermes asked. “Am I on the naughty demon list?”
“Like you weren’t already!” Nico asked, laughing. “I think we’re good. Michael texted to say… Good job?” He frowned. “Huh. He must be enjoying the peace and quiet. He is mad that I broke the computer, though. I think I can live with that.”
Another text came through from Michael.
“Oh no,” Nico said, reading it and feeling the floor nearly go out from beneath his feet.
“What’s wrong?” Hermes asked, looking at Nico’s phone screen. “Oh. Is that–”
“Jesus was in the break room,” Nico said, his voice hollow.
“Yikes. I’m sorry,” Hermes said, wincing awkwardly. “That one’s gotta sting a little, huh?”
“It’s fine,” Nico said, although it wasn’t.
To his surprise, Hermes gave him a hug.
“There’ll be another opportunity,” he said kindly. “You’ll live forever. You’ve got time.”
“I guess,” Nico said, still feeling shaken. “Thank you, Hermes.”
Hermes drew back and winked at him.
“No prob, cousin. By the way, I changed the settings on your Godstagram account. You can post and comment now. You’re officially a real God.”
“It’s about time Gossip Goddess came through!” Nico said, his mood lifting. “Thanks! That reminds me, I have something I need to give back to you.”
Hermes laughed as Nico checked his pocket for the bracelet that held Hermes’ caduceus in disguise. Nico checked his other pocket, then the first one again.
“Did I drop it somewhere?” He said. “Hang on, I– Wait a second!”
“Gotta run!” Hermes called out, taking flight on his winged sandals. Nico saw the bracelet gleaming on his wrist as he shot up into the clouds, flying too fast to follow. God of thieves, indeed.
Nico leaned against the wall and checked in on a few people. The band Bad Saint was still on their tour. Most of their shows had sold out and their social media following had shot up astronomically. The hair on the back of his arms stood up as Nico thought about the effects of all those people screaming his name night after night. They’d be touring all summer, too– the next few months were going to be interesting.
Will had his number, but he’d been blocked for years now. Nico thought about going to New York to meet up with him, or at least giving him a call, but it didn’t feel right. Instead he shot him a text message.
“It’s me,” he wrote. “Don’t try to find me again. If you want to talk, we can do it after you graduate med school.”
After he sent the message, he blocked him again. Whatever deep lingering feelings Will held for him, they could wait.
Nico took a huge, shuddering deep breath. He was okay. Considering everything he’d been through, he was doing really okay. He kept telling himself that, trying to believe it.
The Olympians were occupied with Max, and his mortal friends were all safe and moving on with their lives. Thanatos was covering for him at work. His mom was waiting for him at home. Cerberus would be there, ready to tackle him and give him the long-awaited slobbery kisses of reunion.
Why wasn’t he excited to finally go home?
He knew the reason why.
The last thing left to do was confront his dad. He’d been through so much, and enough time had passed that their falling out wasn’t so fresh any longer. If they talked, maybe they could work something out. Maybe they couldn’t. There was only one way to find out for sure.
He checked in with himself and decided that he wasn’t quite ready yet. After all, hadn’t he been through a lot over the last few days, weeks, and months? Getting yanked back and forth between pantheons had been draining, and he hadn’t slept in half a year. He deserved a vacation, time to reconnect with himself and reaffirm how he wanted to live the rest of his endless life.
The cool breeze ruffled his hair, the air damp, still carrying a light chill. It was the last week of February. In Venice they’d be preparing for Carnevale to begin soon, and he hadn’t seen it since he was a little kid in the 1940’s. He felt some trepidation about returning, having heard horror stories about his hometown sinking into the mud of the lagoon, flooded and overburdened with tourists. But putting the visit off longer meant it would only get worse. If he wanted to visit his old house and relive childhood memories, he might be running out of time. Now seemed as good a time as any.
It was time to go to Venice.