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Nico sat forward. “I communed with the dead last night.” He just tossed that line out there, like he was saying he got a text from a buddy.
Keep climbing, he told himself. Cheeseburgers, his stomach replied. Shut up, he thought. With fries, his stomach complained.
“Triptolemus.” The man bowed. “My friends call me Trip, so don’t call me that.
How Ares had ended up with a dragon for a son, Frank didn’t want to know;
This was your bridge, and you defended it.” “I—” Frank wasn’t sure what to say. “I…I just needed a snake.” A tiny smile tugged at Mars’s mouth. “Yes. And now you have one.
“Everything’s fine,” Frank promised. “Triptolemus was about to tell us how to survive the House of Hades. Weren’t you, Trip?” The farm god raised his eyes to the ceiling, like, Why me, Demeter?
