As if on cue, I heard Sherman screaming from somewhere far in the distance, “I’ll get you, di Angelo!” “You guys go,” Will told me. “The chariot is only designed for three, and after that shadow-travel, Nico is going to pass out any second.” “No, I’m not,” Nico complained, then passed out. Will caught him in a fireman’s carry and took him away. “Good luck! I’m going to get the Lord of Darkness here some Gatorade!”
