Jason's fingers itched to draw his sword. He'd met plenty of scary demigods, but he was starting to realize that Nico di Angelo--as pale and gaunt as he looked--might be more than he could handle.

Really? That would be a first. I'm the son of Hades, Jason. I might as well be covered in blood or sewage, the way people treat me. I don't belong anywhere. I'm not even from this century. But that's not enough to set me apart.

Think long and hard about how you proceed, Nico di Angelo. You cannot lie to Cupid. If you let your anger rule you... well, your fate will be even sadder then mine.

He scowled at Jason. "And please, I don't like being touched. Don't ever grab me again.

Oh, he's not like that," said Favonius.

Jason flinched. "You can read my mind?"

"I don't need to." Favonius tossed his bronze hoop in the air. "Everyone has the wrong impression of Cupid... until they meet him.

Please tell me your master isn't Aeolus."

"That airhead?" Favonius snorted. "No, of course not."

"He means Eros." Nico's voice turned edgy. "Cupid, in Latin."

Favonius smiled. "Very good, Nico di Angelo. I'm glad to see you again, by the way. It's been a long time.