Chapter Text
Nico sat his bag down at the front door of the new house he bought. Turning the key, he unlocked the door and opened it wide. The house sat on a hill away from most other neighborhoods, but he was also in a suburban, bordering rural area. He could sense spirits as he walked in; he wasn’t alone. That’s why he bought it.
He needed company.
Nico picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, walking in, though he didn’t have to bother with the door as it creaked shut on its own.
The furniture would need to be replaced eventually, but it was fine for now. He could deal with the rips and holes, maybe if he got lucky, one of the ghosts knew how to sew.
He walked through the hallway; the house was large and old. Like the mansion The Adams Family lived in. As Nico walked the length of the house, he ran his hand against the wall, the wallpaper old and peeling, some of the floral pattern flaking against his fingertips and getting caught under his nails. He took his hand off and dusted it off on his jacket. Checking his surroundings as he stepped into the living room. The space was well-sized, larger than anything Nico needed.
It was a nice house; it was a shame it was falling apart.
He could tell why it had been sold for so cheap, Nico could practically feel the spirits in the room with him.
Though that didn’t say much when he was a son of Hades.
—
He walked out to the backyard. Extensive, but the grass was dead, and the one tree that stood high and mighty had shed its leaves for the winter. It was frigid outside, Nico could see his breath every time he exhaled. He almost said, ‘Forget about it,’ and walked back inside so he could shield himself from the relentless wind.
Regardless, the house wouldn’t have been much better since the heater was broken.
He was really relying on these ghosts, wasn’t he?
Nico dug out a small hole with his hands in the dry and cold soil, dirt clumping under his nails and making his fingers numb. Once satisfied, he began the ritual, not being able to afford McDonald’s at the time but hoping the last few granola bars he had would suffice.
Thankfully, the ghost didn’t seem to mind what kind of food was offered as long as it was food. On another note, Nico, freezing cold and starving himself of food for a few days to be able to complete this summoning, collapsed onto the frigid ground.
—
When Nico returned to consciousness, he could barely feel his body, everything freezing, but without the wind beating him breathless, he was given the slight illusion of warmth. His eyes felt glued shut, when motion returned to his limbs, he rubbed at his eyes and slowly sat up from the surprisingly plush surface he had been lying on. As he moved, he heard murmurs and hushed whispers around him.
With aching limbs protesting for him to lay back down, Nico sat himself up and opened his eyes. There, he saw around him a collection of ghosts. Men, women, and sadly, children. All dressed from different eras.
A woman spoke up; she was dressed like your typical middle-aged stay-at-home mother. “Hello dear…” she said, almost hesitant.
Nico gave a small wave, still too cold to want to uncover himself from the worn-down blanket.
“Can you see us?” Asked a man dressed more modern and formal.
“Well, of course, he can see us, he just waved!” Said a girl, maybe in her mid-twenties, when she passed. She was dressed like she was from the eighties.
“ How can you see us?” Asked a young boy about the same age as Nico.
“I’m a son of Hades,” Nico murmured as his answer.
“Like… the Greek god?”
Nico nodded.
A few of the ghosts seemed confused about who the god was, while others were surprised to learn they were real.
“That explains the whole ‘talking to the dead’ thing.” Said a hippie ghost who seemed like the kind of person who believed in chakras.
“He’s a witch.” exclaimed an old man dressed like he was from the 1800s
“Demigod.” Nico corrected, which the ghost didn’t seem to appreciate.
—
After explaining everything, he still couldn’t erase all the confusion from the older ghosts, most of them could understand what Nico was trying to say.
“So… your dad’s a god, so you’re half a god?”
Nico nodded. “Yup, basically.”
The ghosts nodded back, appreciating the simplification.
“That’s how you can see us.” Concluded a younger girl, maybe two years younger than Nico.
“Exactly. I basically talk, see, and control the dead.”
“Necromancy.” Said the same hippie ghost from before, Hazel was her name. Ironic how life is, isn’t it?
“More or less, yeah…” Nico said, glancing around the room now that he wasn’t completely freezing. The first ghost, the stay-at-home mother, brought him another blanket. “Thank you.” Nico happily snuggled into the warm blanket.
The woman brushed Nico’s hair out of his face, for such cold hands, her touch held such warmth. “You rest, dear. We’ll fix up the place. I didn’t know we were having guests, or I would've cleaned beforehand.” She smiled, tucking in Nico.
Nico couldn’t help but close his eyes and doze off.
—
When he woke up, the living room looked… well, alive. The lights worked and were on ; the curtains were replaced from tabby rags to nice, heavy velvety curtains. When Nico sat up, he noticed that he wasn’t freezing anymore. In fact, he could hear a heater running. The ratty old blankets he had been curled up in were replaced by a thick quilt, when he looked around for the bag he walked in with, he found it next to the mattress he was on.
Nico got up and opened up the bag, trying to find a scrap of food, but he didn't find any. He wrapped an arm around his stomach; he was starving. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the motherly ghost entered the living room.
“Oh, you must be hungry.” She said, sounding concerned. “We don't keep any food in the house…” She turned around, trying to think up a solution.
Without another word, she walked away, Nico couldn’t tell if she was supposed to follow her or not.
He got up and went after her anyway.
When he caught up, she was in a separate bedroom with an old purse. She took out a wallet that looked like it came from three decades ago – which it likely did. She handed him about thirty-five dollars in cash before she put her bag away again. “There's a corner store down by the town. Go buy yourself some food, and I'll make you lunch, okay?”
Nico nodded, looking down at the cash in his hands. “Thank you, miss…?”
She smiled warmly. “Alice, my name is Alice, dear. Now off you go.”
—
Nico followed Alice’s instructions and ran off to the town to find the corner store. When he found the quaint shop, he opened the door, sounding off the overhead bell. As soon as he walked in, the store owner – an elderly white man with thin hair in a baseball cap, light-colored flannel, and overalls – looked over at him and didn’t keep his eyes off Nico. He was aware of the image he made. A pale young boy with jet black hair and tattered clothes to match, fidgety with sunken eyes, a teen goth up to no good.
Nico went through the aisles of the little corner store, every time he stopped to look at something, he’d look at the price tag and ask himself if he really needed it.
Most of the time, the answer was no.
He walked down the back of the store where the fridges were, picking out a half gallon of milk and eyeing the orange juice.
Price tag? $4.48
Did he need it? No.
Nico decided to come back to it if he had money left over. He walked over back to the front of the store to get a hand-held basket, then went back to shopping. Eggs, Ham, Cheese, sandwich bread.
Soon, that thirty-five became thirteen, then thirteen became three.
Once he finished shopping, he had enough food for the next few days. He paid the man at the front, who still didn’t seem to trust him.
Nico carried the bags of groceries back to his home on the hill. The flimsy plastic gave out halfway up, and Nico had to dive down to catch the eggs.
Covered in dirt grass stains and carefully carrying the groceries in his arms is how Alice found him when he finally managed to kick the door open.
“Oh dear…” She muttered, picking up the groceries and setting them on the kitchen counter.
—
Later, Nico had the best home-cooked meal he’s ever eaten. Scrambled eggs with toast, a basic yet delicious meal. He profusely thanked Alice, to which she replied just as modest as ever.
“Thank you again.”
“It’s the least I can do, dear.”
Nico couldn’t help but smile. “Oh,” He muttered, rummaging through his pockets.
“Hm?” Alice hummed as she turned to face him just as Nico held out the change the old man had given him. “What’s this?”
“Change, it’s what was left over.”
“Oh, honey, you can keep that.”
Nico couldn’t help the surprise that showed on his face. “Really?”
“Of course. What good will it do for me now?” She said with a motherly smile.
Nico pocketed the change again. “Thank you.”