Nico Di Angelo was not one to be frightened easily by nightmares.
As the son of Hades, he could easily handle horror flicks and endure sleeping in a rather creepy cabin. However, no matter how homely the scent of the Underworld was, which wreaked through the stone walls of the cabin itself, it didn't keep him from jerking awake mid-sob to the image of his sister being ripped apart by a manticore.
On instinct, he sat forward and brought his black satin sheets up to his chin, eyes darting around wildly. A large wooden chest lay at the foot of the bed, and a full-length mirror atop a dresser sat against the left wall. Nothing had moved. Nothi