AlsobyRickRiordanPERCYJACKSONANDTHEOLYMPIANS
BookOne:TheLightningThiefBookTwo:TheSeaofMonstersBookThree:TheTitan’sCurse
BookFour:TheBattleoftheLabyrinthBookFive:TheLastOlympian
TheDemigodFiles
TheLightningThief:TheGraphicNovelTheSeaofMonsters:TheGraphicNovelTheTitan’sCurse:TheGraphicNovel
TheBattleoftheLabyrinth:TheGraphicNovelTheLastOlympian:TheGraphicNovel
PercyJackson’sGreekGodsPercyJackson’sGreekHeroes
FromPercyJackson:CampHalf-BloodConfidential
THEKANECHRONICLESBookOne:TheRedPyramidBookTwo:TheThroneofFire
BookThree:TheSerpent’sShadow
TheRedPyramid:TheGraphicNovelTheThroneofFire:TheGraphicNovelTheSerpent’sShadow:TheGraphicNovel
FromtheKaneChronicles:BrooklynHouseMagician’sManual
THEHEROESOFOLYMPUSBookOne:TheLostHero
BookTwo:TheSonofNeptuneBookThree:TheMarkofAthenaBookFour:TheHouseofHadesBookFive:TheBloodofOlympus
TheDemigodDiaries
TheLostHero:TheGraphicNovelTheSonofNeptune:TheGraphicNovel
Demigods&Magicians
MAGNUSCHASEANDTHEGODSOFASGARDBookOne:TheSwordofSummerBookTwo:TheHammerofThorBookThree:TheShipoftheDead
ForMagnusChase:HotelValhallaGuidetotheNorseWorlds
9fromtheNineWorlds
THETRIALSOFAPOLLOBookOne:TheHiddenOracleBookTwo:TheDarkProphecyBookThree:TheBurningMaze
Copyright©2019byRickRiordanCoverart©2019byJohnRocco
DesignedbyJoannHillCoverdesignbyJoannHill
Allrightsreserved.PublishedbyDisney•Hyperion,animprintofDisneyBookGroup.Nopartofthisbookmaybereproducedortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeans,electronicormechanical,includingphotocopying,recording,orbyanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,withoutwrittenpermissionfromthepublisher.ForinformationaddressDisney•Hyperion,125WestEndAvenue,NewYork,New
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InmemoryofDianeMartinez,whochangedmanylivesforthebetter
CONTENTS
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Chapter40
Chapter41
Chapter42
Chapter43
GuidetoApolloSpeak
AbouttheAuthor
TheDarkProphecy
Thewordsthatmemorywroughtaresettofire,Erenewmoonriseso’ertheDevil’sMount.
Thechangelinglordshallfaceachallengedire,TillbodiesfilltheTiberbeyondcount.
Yetsouthwardmustthesunnowtraceitscourse,ThroughmazesdarktolandsofscorchingdeathTofindthemasteroftheswiftwhitehorse
Andwrestfromhimthecrosswordspeaker’sbreath.
TowestwardpalacemusttheLestergo;Demeter’sdaughterfindsherancientroots.Theclovenguidealonethewaydoesknow,Towalkthepathinthineownenemy’sboots.
WhenthreeareknownandTiberreachedalive,’TisonlythenApollostartstojive.
ThereisnofoodhereMegatealltheSwedishFishPleasegetoffmyhearse
IBELIEVEINRETURNINGdeadbodies.Itseemslikeasimplecourtesy,doesn’tit?Awarriordies,youshoulddo
whatyoucantogettheirbodybacktotheirpeopleforfuneraryrites.MaybeI’mold-fashioned.(Iamoverfourthousandyearsold.)ButIfinditrudenottoproperlydisposeofcorpses.
AchillesduringtheTrojanWar,forinstance.Totalpig.Hechariot-draggedthebodyoftheTrojanchampionHectoraroundthewallsofthecityfordays.FinallyIconvincedZeustopressurethebigbullyintoreturningHector’sbodytohisparentssohecouldhaveadecentburial.Imean,comeon.Havealittlerespectforthepeopleyouslaughter.
ThentherewasOliverCromwell’scorpse.Iwasn’tafanoftheman,butplease.First,theEnglishburyhimwithhonors.Thentheydecidetheyhatehim,sotheydighimupand“execute”hisbody.Thenhisheadfallsoffthepikewhereit’sbeenimpaledfordecadesandgetspassedaroundfromcollectortocollectorforalmostthreecenturieslikeadisgustingsouvenirsnowglobe.Finally,in1960,Iwhisperedintheearsofsomeinfluentialpeople,Enough,already.IamthegodApollo,andIorderyoutoburythatthing.You’regrossingmeout.
WhenitcametoJasonGrace,myfallenfriendandhalfbrother,Iwasn’tgoingtoleaveanythingtochance.IwouldpersonallyescorthiscoffintoCampJupiterandseehimoffwithfullhonors.
Thatturnedouttobeagoodcall.Whatwiththeghoulsattackingusand
everything.
SunsetturnedSanFranciscoBayintoacauldronofmoltencopperasourprivateplanelandedatOaklandAirport.Isayourprivateplane;thecharteredtripwasactuallyapartinggiftfromourfriendPiperMcLeanandhermoviestarfather.(Everyoneshouldhaveatleastonefriendwithamoviestarparent.)
WaitingforusbesidetherunwaywasanothersurprisetheMcLeansmusthavearranged:agleamingblackhearse.
MegMcCaffreyandIstretchedourlegsonthetarmacwhilethegroundcrewsomberlyremovedJason’scoffinfromtheCessna’sstoragebay.Thepolishedmahoganyboxseemedtoglowintheeveninglight.Itsbrassfixturesglintedred.Ihatedhowbeautifulitwas.Deathshouldn’tbebeautiful.
Thecrewloadeditintothehearse,thentransferredourluggagetothebackseat.Wedidn’thavemuch:Meg’sbackpackandmine,mybowandquiverandukulele,andacoupleofsketchbooksandaposter-boarddioramawe’dinheritedfromJason.
Isignedsomepaperwork,acceptedtheflightcrew’scondolences,thenshookhandswithaniceundertakerwhohandedmethekeystothehearseandwalkedaway.
Istaredatthekeys,thenatMegMcCaffrey,whowaschewingtheheadoffaSwedishFish.Theplanehadbeenstockedwithhalfadozentinsofthesquishyredcandy.Notanymore.Meghadsingle-handedlybroughttheSwedishFishecosystemtothebrinkofcollapse.
“I’msupposedtodrive?”Iwondered.“Isthisarentalhearse?I’mprettysuremyNewYorkjuniordriver’slicensedoesn’tcoverthis.”
Megshrugged.Duringourflight,she’dinsistedonsprawlingontheCessna’ssofa,soherdarkpageboyhaircutwasflattenedagainstthesideofherhead.Onerhinestone-studdedpointofhercat-eyeglassespokedthroughherhairlikeadiscosharkfin.
Therestofheroutfitwasequallydisreputable:floppyredhigh-tops,threadbareyellowleggings,andthewell-lovedknee-lengthgreenfrockshe’dgottenfromPercyJackson’smother.Bywell-loved,Imeanthefrockhadbeenthroughsomanybattles,beenwashedandmendedsomanytimes,itlookedlesslikeapieceofclothingandmorelikeadeflatedhot-airballoon.AroundMeg’swaistwasthepiècederésistance:hermulti-pocketedgardeningbelt,becausechildrenofDemeterneverleavehomewithoutone.
“Idon’thaveadriver’slicense,”shesaid,asifIneededareminderthatmylifewaspresentlybeingcontrolledbyatwelve-year-old.“Icallshotgun.”
“Callingshotgun”didn’tseemappropriateforahearse.Nevertheless,Megskippedtothepassenger’ssideandclimbedin.Igotbehindthewheel.SoonwewereoutoftheairportandcruisingnorthonI-880inourrentedblackgrief-mobile.
Ah,theBayArea…I’dspentsomehappytimeshere.Thevastmisshapengeographicbowlwasjam-packedwithinterestingpeopleandplaces.Ilovedthegreen-and-goldenhills,thefog-sweptcoastline,theglowinglaceworkofbridges,andthecrazyzigzagofneighborhoodsshoulderedupagainstoneanotherlikesubwaypassengersatrushhour.
Backinthe1950s,IplayedwithDizzyGillespieatBopCityintheFillmore.DuringtheSummerofLove,IhostedanimpromptujamsessioninGoldenGateParkwiththeGratefulDead.(Lovelybunchofguys,butdidtheyreallyneedthosefifteen-minute-longsolos?)Inthe1980s,IhungoutinOaklandwithStanBurrell—otherwiseknownasMCHammer—ashepioneeredpoprap.Ican’tclaimcreditforStan’smusic,butIdidadvisehimonhisfashionchoices.Thosegoldlaméparachutepants?Myidea.You’rewelcome,fashionistas.
MostoftheBayAreabroughtbackgoodmemories.ButasIdrove,Icouldn’thelpglancingtothenorthwest—towardMarinCountyandthedarkpeakofMountTamalpais.WegodsknewtheplaceasMountOthrys,seatoftheTitans.Eventhoughourancientenemieshadbeencastdown,theirpalacedestroyed,Icouldstillfeeltheevilpulloftheplace—likeamagnettryingtoextracttheironfrommynow-mortalblood.
Ididmybesttoshakethefeeling.Wehadotherproblemstodealwith.Besides,weweregoingtoCampJupiter—friendlyterritoryonthissideofthebay.IhadMegforbackup.Iwasdrivingahearse.Whatcouldpossiblygowrong?
TheNimitzFreewaysnakedthroughtheEastBayflatlands,pastwarehousesanddocklands,stripmallsandrowsofdilapidatedbungalows.ToourrightrosedowntownOakland,itssmallclusterofhigh-risesfacingoffagainstitscoolerneighborSanFranciscoacrossthebayasiftoproclaim,WeareOakland!Weexist,too!
Megreclinedinherseat,proppedherredhigh-topsuponthedashboard,andcrackedopenherwindow.
“Ilikethisplace,”shedecided.“Wejustgothere,”Isaid.“Whatisityoulike?Theabandonedwarehouses?
ThatsignforBo’sChicken’N’Waffles?”“Nature.”“Concretecountsasnature?”
“There’strees,too.Plantsflowering.Moistureintheair.Theeucalyptussmellsgood.It’snotlike…”
Shedidn’tneedtofinishhersentence.OurtimeinSouthernCaliforniahadbeenmarkedbyscorchingtemperatures,extremedrought,andragingwildfires—allthankstothemagicalBurningMazecontrolledbyCaligulaandhishate-crazedsorceressbestie,Medea.TheBayAreawasn’texperiencinganyofthoseproblems.Notatthemoment,anyway.
We’dkilledMedea.We’dextinguishedtheBurningMaze.We’dfreedtheErythraeanSibylandbroughtrelieftothemortalsandwitheringnaturespiritsofSouthernCalifornia.
ButCaligulawasstillverymuchalive.Heandhisco-emperorsintheTriumviratewerestillintentoncontrollingallmeansofprophecy,takingovertheworld,andwritingthefutureintheirownsadisticimage.Rightnow,Caligula’sfleetofevilluxuryyachtswasmakingitswaytowardSanFranciscotoattackCampJupiter.IcouldonlyimaginewhatsortofhellishdestructiontheemperorwouldraindownonOaklandandBo’sChicken’N’Waffles.
EvenifwesomehowmanagedtodefeattheTriumvirate,therewasstillthatgreatestOracle,Delphi,underthecontrolofmyoldnemesisPython.HowIcoulddefeathiminmypresentformasasixteen-year-oldweakling,Ihadnoidea.
But,hey.Exceptforthat,everythingwasfine.Theeucalyptussmellednice.TrafficslowedattheI-580interchange.Apparently,Californiadriversdidn’t
followthatcustomofyieldingtohearsesoutofrespect.Perhapstheyfiguredatleastoneofourpassengerswasalreadydead,soweweren’tinahurry.
Megtoyedwithherwindowcontrol,raisingandloweringtheglass.Reeee.Reeee.Reeee.
“YouknowhowtogettoCampJupiter?”sheasked.“Ofcourse.”“’CauseyousaidthataboutCampHalf-Blood.”“Wegotthere!Eventually.”“Frozenandhalf-dead.”“Look,theentrancetocampisrightoverthere.”Iwavedvaguelyatthe
OaklandHills.“There’sasecretpassageintheCaldecottTunnelorsomething.”“Orsomething?”“Well,Ihaven’tactuallyeverdriventoCampJupiter,”Iadmitted.“UsuallyI
descendfromtheheavensinmyglorioussunchariot.ButIknowtheCaldecottTunnelisthemainentrance.There’sprobablyasign.Perhapsademigodsonlylane.”
Megpeeredatmeoverthetopofherglasses.“You’rethedumbestgodever.”SheraisedherwindowwithafinalreeeeSHLOOMP!—asoundthatremindedmeuncomfortablyofaguillotineblade.
WeturnednortheastontoHighway24.Thecongestioneasedasthehillsloomedcloser.Theelevatedlanessoaredpastneighborhoodsofwindingstreetsandtallconifers,whitestuccohousesclingingtothesidesofgrassyravines.
AroadsignpromisedCALDECOTTTUNNELENTRANCE,2MI.Thatshouldhavecomfortedme.Soon,we’dpassthroughthebordersofCampJupiterintoaheavilyguarded,magicallycamouflagedvalleywhereanentireRomanlegioncouldshieldmefrommyworries,atleastforawhile.
Why,then,werethehairsonthebackofmyneckquiveringlikeseaworms?Somethingwaswrong.ItdawnedonmethattheuneasinessI’dfeltsincewe
landedmightnotbethedistantthreatofCaligula,ortheoldTitanbaseonMountTamalpais,butsomethingmoreimmediate…somethingmalevolent,andgettingcloser.
Iglancedintherearviewmirror.Throughthebackwindow’sgauzycurtains,Isawnothingbuttraffic.Butthen,inthepolishedsurfaceofJason’scoffinlid,Icaughtthereflectionofmovementfromadarkshapeoutside—asifahuman-sizeobjecthadjustflownpastthehearse.
“Oh,Meg?”Itriedtokeepmyvoiceeven.“Doyouseeanythingunusualbehindus?”
“Unusuallikewhat?”THUMP.Thehearselurchedasifwe’dbeenhitchedtoatrailerfullofscrapmetal.
Abovemyhead,twofoot-shapedimpressionsappearedintheupholsteredceiling.
“Somethingjustlandedontheroof,”Megdeduced.“Thankyou,SherlockMcCaffrey!Canyougetitoff?”“Me?How?”Thatwasanannoyinglyfairquestion.Megcouldturntheringsonher
middlefingersintowickedgoldswords,butifshesummonedtheminclosequarters,liketheinteriorofthehearse,shea)wouldn’thaveroomtowieldthem,andb)mightendupimpalingmeand/orherself.
CREAK.CREAK.Thefootprintimpressionsdeepenedasthethingadjusteditsweightlikeasurferonaboard.Itmusthavebeenimmenselyheavytosinkintothemetalroof.
Awhimperbubbledinmythroat.Myhandstrembledonthesteeringwheel.Iyearnedformybowandquiverinthebackseat,butIcouldn’thaveusedthem.DWSPW,drivingwhileshootingprojectileweapons,isabigno-no,kids.
“Maybeyoucanopenthewindow,”IsaidtoMeg.“Leanoutandtellittogoaway.”
“Um,no.”(Gods,shewasstubborn.)“Whatifyoutrytoshakeitoff?”BeforeIcouldexplainthatthiswasaterribleideawhiletravelingfiftymiles
anhouronahighway,Iheardasoundlikeapop-topaluminumcanopening—thecrisp,pneumatichissofairthroughmetal.Aclawpuncturedtheceiling—agrimywhitetalonthesizeofadrillbit.Thenanother.Andanother.Andanother,untiltheupholsterywasstuddedwithtenpointywhitespikes—justtherightnumberfortwoverylargehands.
“Meg?”Iyelped.“Couldyou—?”Idon’tknowhowImighthavefinishedthatsentence.Protectme?Killthat
thing?CheckinthebacktoseeifIhaveanyspareundies?Iwasrudelyinterruptedbythecreaturerippingopenourrooflikewewerea
birthdaypresent.Staringdownatmethroughtheraggedholewasawithered,ghoulish
humanoid,itsblue-blackhideglisteningliketheskinofahousefly,itseyesfilmywhiteorbs,itsbaredteethdrippingsaliva.Arounditstorsoflutteredaloinclothofgreasyblackfeathers.Thesmellcomingoffitwasmoreputridthananydumpster—andbelieveme,I’dfallenintoafew.
“FOOD!”ithowled.“Killit!”IyelledatMeg.“Swerve!”shecountered.Oneofthemanyannoyingthingsaboutbeingincarceratedinmypuny
mortalbody:IwasMegMcCaffrey’sservant.Iwasboundtoobeyherdirectcommands.Sowhensheyelled“Swerve,”Iyankedthesteeringwheelhardtotheright.Thehearsehandledbeautifully.Itcareenedacrossthreelanesoftraffic,barreledstraightthroughtheguardrail,andplummetedintothecanyonbelow.
Dude,thisisn’tcoolDudejusttriedtoeatmydudeThat’smydeaddude,dude
ILIKEFLYINGCARS.Ipreferitwhenthecarisactuallycapableofflight,however.
Asthehearseachievedzerogravity,Ihadafewmicrosecondstoappreciatethescenerybelow—alovelylittlelakeedgedwitheucalyptustreesandwalkingtrails,andasmallbeachonthefarshore,whereaclusterofeveningpicnickersrelaxedonblankets.
Oh,good,somesmallpartofmybrainthought.Maybewe’llatleastlandinthewater.
Thenwedropped—nottowardthelake,buttowardthetrees.AsoundlikeLucianoPavarotti’shighCinDonGiovanniissuedfrommy
throat.Myhandsgluedthemselvestothewheel.Asweplungedintotheeucalypti,theghouldisappearedfromourroof—
almostasifthetreebrancheshadpurposefullyswatteditaway.Otherbranchesseemedtobendaroundthehearse,slowingourfall,droppingusfromoneleafycough-drop-scentedboughtoanotheruntilwehitthegroundonallfourwheelswithajarringthud.Toolatetodoanygood,theairbagsdeployed,shovingmyheadagainstthebackrest.
Yellowamoebasdancedinmyeyes.Thetasteofbloodstungmythroat.Iclawedforthedoorhandle,squeezedmywayoutbetweentheairbagandtheseat,andtumbledontoabedofcoolsoftgrass.
“Blergh,”Isaid.IheardMegretchingsomewherenearby.Atleastthatmeantshewasstill
alive.Abouttenfeettomyleft,waterlappedattheshoreofthelake.Directlyaboveme,nearthetopofthelargesteucalyptustree,ourghoulishblue-blackfriendwassnarlingandwrithing,trappedinacageofbranches.
Istruggledtositup.Mynosethrobbed.Mysinusesfeltliketheywerepackedwithmentholrub.“Meg?”
Shestaggeredintoviewaroundthefrontofthehearse.Ring-shapedbruiseswereformingaroundhereyes—nodoubtcourtesyofthepassenger-sideairbag.Herglasseswereintactbutaskew.“Yousuckatswerving.”
“Oh,mygods!”Iprotested.“Youorderedmeto—”Mybrainfaltered.“Wait.Howarewealive?Wasthatyouwhobentthetreebranches?”
“Duh.”Sheflickedherhands,andhertwingoldensicabladesflashedintoexistence.Megusedthemlikeskipolestosteadyherself.“Theywon’tholdthatmonstermuchlonger.Getready.”
“What?”Iyelped.“Wait.No.Notready!”Ipulledmyselftomyfeetwiththedriver’s-sidedoor.Acrossthelake,thepicnickershadrisenfromtheirblankets.Isupposea
hearsefallingfromtheskyhadgottentheirattention.Myvisionwasblurry,butsomethingseemedoddaboutthegroup….Wasoneofthemwearingarmor?Didanotherhavegoatlegs?
Eveniftheywerefriendly,theyweremuchtoofarawaytohelp.Ilimpedtothehearseandyankedopenthebackseatdoor.Jason’scoffin
appearedsafeandsecureintherearbay.Igrabbedmybowandquiver.Myukulelehadvanishedsomewhereunderthebackseat.Iwouldhavetodowithoutit.
Above,thecreaturehowled,thrashinginitsbranchcage.Megstumbled.Herforeheadwasbeadedwithsweat.Thentheghoulbroke
freeandhurtleddownward,landingonlyafewyardsaway.Ihopedthecreature’slegsmightbreakonimpact,butnosuchluck.Ittookafewsteps,itsfeetpunchingwetcratersinthegrass,beforeitstraightenedandsnarled,itspointywhiteteethliketinymirror-imagepicketfences.
“KILLANDEAT!”itscreamed.Whatalovelysingingvoice.Theghoulcould’vefrontedanynumberof
Norwegiandeathmetalgroups.“Wait!”Myvoicewasshrill.“I—Iknowyou.”Iwaggedmyfinger,asifthat
mightcrank-startmymemory.Clutchedinmyotherhand,mybowshook.Thearrowsrattledinmyquiver.“H-holdon,it’llcometome!”
Theghoulhesitated.I’vealwaysbelievedthatmostsentientcreaturesliketoberecognized.Whetherwearegods,people,orslaveringghoulsinvulture-featherloincloths,weenjoyothersknowingwhoweare,speakingournames,
appreciatingthatweexist.Ofcourse,Iwasjusttryingtobuytime.IhopedMegwouldcatchherbreath,
chargethecreature,andsliceitintoputrid-ghoulpappardelle.Atthemoment,though,itdidn’tseemthatshewascapableofusingherswordsforanythingbutcrutches.Isupposedcontrollinggigantictreescouldbetiring,buthonestly,couldn’tshehavewaitedtorunoutofsteamuntilaftershekilledVultureDiaper?
Wait.VultureDiaper…Itookanotherlookattheghoul:itsstrangemottledblue-and-blackhide,itsmilkyeyes,itsoversizemouthandtinynostrilslits.Itsmelledofrancidmeat.Itworethefeathersofacarrioneater….
“Idoknowyou,”Irealized.“You’reaeurynomos.”IdareyoutotrysayingYou’reaeurynomoswhenyourtongueisleaden,
yourbodyisshakingfromterror,andyou’vejustbeenpunchedinthefacebyahearse’sairbag.
Theghoul’slipscurled.Silverystrandsofsalivadrippedfromitschin.“YES!FOODSAIDMYNAME!”
“B-butyou’reacorpse-eater!”Iprotested.“You’resupposedtobeintheUnderworld,workingforHades!”
TheghoultilteditsheadasiftryingtorememberthewordsUnderworldandHades.Itdidn’tseemtolikethemasmuchaskillandeat.
“HADESGAVEMEOLDDEAD!”itshouted.“THEMASTERGIVESMEFRESH!”
“Themaster?”“THEMASTER!”IreallywishedVultureDiaperwouldn’tscream.Itdidn’thaveanyvisible
ears,soperhapsithadpoorvolumecontrol.Ormaybeitjustwantedtospraythatgrosssalivaoveraslargearadiusaspossible.
“IfyoumeanCaligula,”Iventured,“I’msurehe’smadeyouallsortsofpromises,butIcantellyou,Caligulaisnot—”
“HA!STUPIDFOOD!CALIGULAISNOTTHEMASTER!”“Notthemaster?”“NOTTHEMASTER!”“MEG!”Ishouted.Ugh.NowIwasdoingit.“Yeah?”Megwheezed.Shelookedfierceandwarlikeasshegranny-walked
towardmewithhersword-crutches.“Gimme.Minute.”Itwasclearshewouldnotbetakingtheleadinthisparticularfight.IfIlet
VultureDiaperanywherenearher,itwouldkillher,andIfoundthatidea95percentunacceptable.
“Well,eurynomos,”Isaid,“whoeveryourmasteris,you’renotkillingandeatinganyonetoday!”
Iwhippedanarrowfrommyquiver.Inockeditinmybowandtookaim,asIhaddoneliterallymillionsoftimesbefore—butitwasn’tquiteasimpressivewithmyhandsshakingandmykneeswobbling.
Whydomortalstremblewhenthey’rescared,anyway?Itseemssocounterproductive.IfIhadcreatedhumans,Iwouldhavegiventhemsteelydeterminationandsuperhumanstrengthduringmomentsofterror.
Theghoulhissed,sprayingmorespit.“SOONTHEMASTER’SARMIESWILLRISEAGAIN!”itbellowed.
“WEWILLFINISHTHEJOB!IWILLSHREDFOODTOTHEBONE,ANDFOODWILLJOINUS!”
Foodwilljoinus?Mystomachexperiencedasuddenlossofcabinpressure.IrememberedwhyHadeslovedtheseeurynomoisomuch.Theslightestcutfromtheirclawscausedawastingdiseaseinmortals.Andwhenthosemortalsdied,theyroseagainaswhattheGreekscalledvrykolakai—or,inTVparlance,zombies.
Thatwasn’ttheworstofit.Ifaeurynomosmanagedtodevourthefleshfromacorpse,rightdowntothebones,thatskeletonwouldreanimateasthefiercest,toughestkindofundeadwarrior.ManyofthemservedasHades’selitepalaceguards,whichwasajobIdidnotwanttoapplyfor.
“Meg?”Ikeptmyarrowtrainedontheghoul’schest.“Backaway.Donotletthisthingscratchyou.”
“But—”“Please,”Ibegged.“Foronce,trustme.”VultureDiapergrowled.“FOODTALKSTOOMUCH!HUNGRY!”Itchargedme.Ishot.Thearrowfounditsmark—themiddleoftheghoul’schest—butitbounced
offlikearubbermalletagainstmetal.TheCelestialbronzepointmusthavehurt,atleast.Theghoulyelpedandstoppedinitstracks,asteaming,puckeredwoundonitssternum.Butthemonsterwasstillverymuchalive.PerhapsifImanagedtwentyorthirtyshotsatthatexactsamespot,Icoulddosomerealdamage.
Withtremblinghands,Inockedanotherarrow.“Th-thatwasjustawarning!”Ibluffed.“Thenextonewillkill!”
VultureDiapermadeagurglingnoisedeepinitsthroat.Ihopeditwasadelayeddeathrattle.ThenIrealizeditwasonlylaughing.“WANTMETOEATDIFFERENTFOODFIRST?SAVEYOUFORDESSERT?”
Ituncurleditsclaws,gesturingtowardthehearse.Ididn’tunderstand.Irefusedtounderstand.Diditwanttoeattheairbags?
Theupholstery?MeggotitbeforeIdid.Shescreamedinrage.Thecreaturewasaneaterofthedead.Weweredrivingahearse.“NO!”Megshouted.“Leavehimalone!”Shelumberedforward,raisingherswords,butshewasinnoshapetoface
theghoul.Ishoulderedheraside,puttingmyselfbetweenherandtheeurynomos,andfiredmyarrowsagainandagain.
Theysparkedoffthemonster’sblue-blackhide,leavingsteaming,annoyinglynonlethalwounds.VultureDiaperstaggeredtowardme,snarlinginpain,itsbodytwitchingfromtheimpactofeachhit.
Itwasfivefeetaway.Twofeetaway,itsclawssplayedtoshredmyface.Somewherebehindme,afemalevoiceshouted,“HEY!”ThesounddistractedVultureDiaperjustlongenoughformetofall
courageouslyonmybutt.Iscrambledawayfromtheghoul’sclaws.VultureDiaperblinked,confusedbyitsnewaudience.Abouttenfeetaway,a
ragtagassortmentoffaunsanddryads,perhapsadozentotal,wereallattemptingtohidebehindoneganglypink-hairedyoungwomaninRomanlegionnairearmor.
Thegirlfumbledwithsomesortofprojectileweapon.Oh,dear.Amanubalista.ARomanheavycrossbow.Thosethingswereawful.Slow.Powerful.Notoriouslyunreliable.Theboltwasset.Shecrankedthehandle,herhandsshakingasbadlyasmine.
Meanwhile,tomyleft,Meggroanedinthegrass,tryingtogetbackonherfeet.“Youpushedme,”shecomplained,bywhichI’msureshemeantThankyou,Apollo,forsavingmylife.
Thepink-hairedgirlraisedhermanubalista.Withherlong,wobblylegs,sheremindedmeofababygiraffe.“G-getawayfromthem,”sheorderedtheghoul.
VultureDiapertreatedhertoitstrademarkhissingandspitting.“MOREFOOD!YOUWILLALLJOINTHEKING’SDEAD!”
“Dude.”OneofthefaunsnervouslyscratchedhisbellyunderhisPEOPLE’SREPUBLICOFBERKELEYT-shirt.“That’snotcool.”
“Notcool,”severalofhisfriendsechoed.“YOUCANNOTOPPOSEME,ROMAN!”theghoulsnarled.“IHAVE
ALREADYTASTEDTHEFLESHOFYOURCOMRADES!ATTHEBLOODMOON,YOUWILLJOINTHEM—”
THWUNK.AnImperialgoldcrossbowboltmaterializedinthecenterofVulture
Diaper’schest.Theghoul’smilkyeyeswidenedinsurprise.TheRomanlegionnairelookedjustasstunned.
“Dude,youhitit,”saidoneofthefauns,asifthisoffendedhissensibilities.Theghoulcrumbledintodustandvulturefeathers.Theboltclunkedtothe
ground.Meglimpedtomyside.“See?That’showyou’resupposedtokillit.”“Oh,shutup,”Igrumbled.Wefacedourunlikelysavior.Thepink-hairedgirlfrownedatthepileofdust,herchinquiveringasifshe
mightcry.Shemuttered,“Ihatethosethings.”“Y-you’vefoughtthembefore?”Iasked.Shelookedatmelikethiswasaninsultinglystupidquestion.Oneofthefaunsnudgedher.“Lavinia,dude,askwhotheseguysare.”“Um,right.”Laviniaclearedherthroat.“Whoareyou?”Istruggledtomyfeet,tryingtoregainsomecomposure.“IamApollo.This
isMeg.Thankyouforsavingus.”Laviniastared.“Apollo,asin—”“It’salongstory.We’retransportingthebodyofourfriend,JasonGrace,to
CampJupiterforburial.Canyouhelpus?”Lavinia’smouthhungopen.“JasonGrace…isdead?”BeforeIcouldanswer,fromsomewhereacrossHighway24cameawailof
rageandanguish.“Um,hey,”saidoneofthefauns,“don’tthoseghoulthingsusuallyhuntin
pairs?”Laviniagulped.“Yeah.Let’sgetyouguystocamp.Thenwecantalk
about”—shegestureduneasilyatthehearse—“whoisdead,andwhy.”
IcannotchewgumAndrunwithacoffinatThesametime.Sueme.
HOWMANYNATURESPIRITSdoesittaketocarryacoffin?Theanswerisunknowable,sinceallthedryadsandfaunsexceptone
scatteredintothetreesassoonastheyrealizedworkwasinvolved.Thelastfaunwouldhavedesertedus,too,butLaviniagrabbedhiswrist.
“Oh,no,youdon’t,Don.”Behindhisroundrainbow-tintedglasses,Donthefaun’seyeslooked
panicked.Hisgoateetwitched—afacialticthatmademenostalgicforGroverthesatyr.
(Incaseyou’rewondering,faunsandsatyrsarevirtuallythesame.FaunsaresimplytheRomanversion,andthey’renotquiteasgoodat…well,anything,really.)
“Hey,I’dlovetohelp,”Donsaid.“It’sjustIrememberedthisappointment—”
“Faunsdon’tmakeappointments,”Laviniasaid.“Idouble-parkedmycar—”“Youdon’thaveacar.”“Ineedtofeedmydog—”“Don!”Laviniasnapped.“Youoweme.”“Okay,okay.”Dontuggedhiswristfreeandrubbedit,hisexpression
aggrieved.“Look,justbecauseIsaidPoisonOakmightbeatthepicnicdoesn’tmean,youknow,Ipromisedshewouldbe.”
Lavinia’sfaceturnedterra-cottared.“That’snotwhatImeant!I’vecovered
foryou,like,athousandtimes.Nowyouneedtohelpmewiththis.”Shegesturedvaguelyatme,thehearse,theworldingeneral.Iwonderedif
LaviniawasnewtoCampJupiter.Sheseemeduncomfortableinherlegionnairearmor.Shekeptshrugginghershoulders,bendingherknees,tuggingatthesilverStarofDavidpendantthathungfromherlong,slenderneck.Hersoftbrowneyesandtuftofpinkhaironlyaccentuatedmyfirstimpressionofher—ababygiraffethathadwobbledawayfromhermotherforthefirsttimeandwasnowexaminingthesavannahasifthinking,WhyamIhere?
Megstumbledupnexttome.Shegrabbedmyquiverforbalance,garrotingmewithitsstrapintheprocess.“Who’sPoisonOak?”
“Meg,”Ichided,“that’snoneofourbusiness.ButifIhadtoguess,I’dsayPoisonOakisadryadwhomLaviniahereisinterestedin,justlikeyouwereinterestedinJoshuabackatPalmSprings.”
Megbarked,“Iwasnotinterested—”Laviniachorused,“Iamnotinterested—”Bothgirlsfellsilent,scowlingateachother.“Besides,”Megsaid,“isn’tPoisonOak…like,poisonous?”Laviniasplayedherfingerstotheskyasifthinking,Notthatquestionagain.
“PoisonOakisgorgeous!WhichisnottosayI’ddefinitelygooutwithher—”Donsnorted.“Whatever,dude.”Laviniaglaredcrossbowboltsatthefaun.“ButI’dthinkaboutit—ifthere
waschemistryorwhatever.WhichiswhyIwaswillingtosneakawayfrommypatrolforthispicnic,whereDonassuredme—”
“Whoa,hey!”Donlaughednervously.“Aren’twesupposedtobegettingtheseguystocamp?Howaboutthathearse?Doesitstillrun?”
ItakebackwhatIsaidaboutfaunsnotbeinggoodatanything.Donwasquiteadeptatchangingthesubject.
Uponcloserinspection,Isawhowbadlydamagedthehearsewas.Asidefromnumerouseucalyptus-scenteddentsandscratches,thefrontendhadcrumpledgoingthroughtheguardrail.ItnowresembledFlacoJiménez’saccordionafterItookabaseballbattoit.(Sorry,Flaco,butyouplayedsowellIgotjealous,andtheaccordionhadtodie.)
“Wecancarrythecoffin,”Laviniasuggested.“Thefourofus.”Anotherangryscreechcutthroughtheeveningair.Itsoundedcloserthis
time—somewherejustnorthofthehighway.“We’llnevermakeit,”Isaid,“notclimbingallthewaybackuptothe
CaldecottTunnel.”“There’sanotherway,”Laviniasaid.“Secretentrancetocamp.Alotcloser.”
“Ilikeclose,”Megsaid.“Thingis,”saidLavinia,“I’msupposedtobeonguarddutyrightnow.My
shiftisabouttoend.I’mnotsurehowlongmypartnercancoverforme.Sowhenwegettothecamp,letmedothetalkingaboutwhereandhowwemet.”
Donshuddered.“IfanyonefindsoutLaviniaskippedsentrydutyagain—”“Again?”Iasked.“Shutup,Don,”Laviniasaid.Ononehand,Lavinia’stroublesseemedtrivialcomparedto,say,dyingand
gettingeatenbyaghoul.Ontheotherhand,IknewthatRoman-legionpunishmentscouldbeharsh.Theyofteninvolvedwhips,chains,andrabidliveanimals,muchlikeanOzzyOsbourneconcertcirca1980.
“YoumustreallylikethisPoisonOak,”Idecided.Laviniagrunted.Shescoopeduphermanubalistaboltandshookitatme
threateningly.“Ihelpyou,youhelpme.That’sthedeal.”Megspokeforme:“Deal.Howfastcanwerunwithacoffin?”
Notveryfast,asitturnedout.Aftergrabbingtherestofourthingsfromthehearse,MegandItookthe
backendofJason’scoffin.LaviniaandDontookthefront.Wedidaclumsypallbearerjogalongtheshoreline,meglancingnervouslyatthetreetops,hopingnomoreghoulswouldrainfromthesky.
Laviniapromisedusthatthesecretentrancewasjustacrossthelake.Theproblemwas,itwasacrossthelake,whichmeantthat,notbeingabletopall-bearonwater,wehadtolugJason’scasketroughlyaquartermilearoundtheshore.
“Oh,comeon,”LaviniasaidwhenIcomplained.“Weranoverherefromthebeachtohelpyouguys.Theleastyoucandoisrunbackwithus.”
“Yes,”Isaid,“butthiscoffinisheavy.”“I’mwithhim,”Donagreed.Laviniasnorted.“Youguysshouldtrymarchingtwentymilesinfull
legionnairegear.”“No,thanks,”Imuttered.Megsaidnothing.Despiteherdrainedcomplexionandlaboredbreathing,
sheshoulderedhersideofthecoffinwithoutcomplaint—probablyjusttomakemefeelbad.
Finallywereachedthepicnicbeach.Asignatthetrailheadread:
LAKETEMESCALSWIMATYOUROWNRISK
Typicalofmortals:theywarnyouaboutdrowning,butnotaboutflesh-devouringghouls.
Laviniamarchedustoasmallstonebuildingthatofferedrestroomsandachangingarea.Ontheexteriorbackwall,half-hiddenbehindblackberrybushes,stoodanondescriptmetaldoor,whichLaviniakickedopen.Inside,aconcreteshaftslopeddownintothedarkness.
“Isupposethemortalsdon’tknowaboutthis,”Iguessed.Dongiggled.“Nah,dude,theythinkit’sageneratorroomorsomething.
Evenmostofthelegionnairesdon’tknowaboutit.OnlythecooloneslikeLavinia.”
“You’renotgettingoutofhelping,Don,”saidLavinia.“Let’ssetdownthecoffinforasecond.”
Isaidasilentprayerofthanks.Myshouldersached.Mybackwasslickwithsweat.IwasremindedofthetimeHeramademelugasolid-goldthronearoundherOlympianlivingroomuntilshefoundexactlytherightspotforit.Ugh,thatgoddess.
Laviniapulledapackofbubblegumfromthepocketofherjeans.Shestuffedthreepiecesinhermouth,thenofferedsometomeandMeg.
“No,thanks,”Isaid.“Sure,”saidMeg.“Sure!”saidDon.Laviniajerkedthebubblegumpackoutofhisreach.“Don,youknowbubble
gumdoesn’tagreewithyou.Lasttime,youwerehuggingthetoiletfordays.”Donpouted.“Butittastesgood.”Laviniapeeredintothetunnel,herjawworkingfuriouslyatthegum.“It’s
toonarrowtocarrythecoffinwithfourpeople.I’llleadtheway.Don,youandApollo”—shefrownedasifshestillcouldn’tbelievethatwasmyname—“eachtakeoneend.”
“Justthetwoofus?”Iprotested.“Whathesaid!”Donagreed.“Justcarryitlikeasofa,”saidLavinia,asifthatwassupposedtomean
somethingtome.“Andyou—what’syourname?Peg?”“Meg,”saidMeg.“Isthereanythingyoudon’tneedtobring?”askedLavinia.“Like…that
poster-boardthingunderyourarm—isthataschoolproject?”Megmusthavebeenincrediblytired,becauseshedidn’tscowlorhitLavinia
orcausegeraniumstogrowoutofherears.Shejustturnedsideways,shieldingJason’sdioramawithherbody.“No.Thisisimportant.”
“Okay.”Laviniascratchedhereyebrow,which,likeherhair,wasfrosted
pink.“Juststayinback,Iguess.Guardourretreat.Thisdoorcan’tbelocked,whichmeans—”
Asifoncue,fromthefarsideofthelakecametheloudesthowlyet,filledwithrage,asiftheghoulhaddiscoveredthedustandvulturediaperofitsfallencomrade.
“Let’sgo!”Laviniasaid.Ibegantorevisemyimpressionofourpink-hairedfriend.Foraskittishbaby
giraffe,shecouldbeverybossy.Wedescendedsingle-fileintothepassage,mecarryingthebackofthecoffin,
Donthefront.Lavinia’sgumscentedthestaleair,sothetunnelsmelledlikemoldycotton
candy.EverytimeLaviniaorMegpoppedabubble,Iflinched.Myfingersquicklybegantoachefromtheweightofthecasket.
“Howmuchfarther?”Iasked.“We’rebarelyinsidethetunnel,”Laviniasaid.“So…notfar,then?”“Maybeaquartermile.”Itriedforagruntofmanlyendurance.Itcameoutasmoreofasnivel.“Guys,”Megsaidbehindme,“weneedtomovefaster.”“Youseesomething?”Donasked.“Notyet,”Megsaid.“Justafeeling.”Feelings.Ihatedthose.Ourweaponsprovidedtheonlylight.Thegoldfittingsofthemanubalista
slungacrossLavinia’sbackcastaghostlyhaloaroundherpinkhair.TheglowofMeg’sswordsthrewourelongatedshadowsacrosseitherwall,soweseemedtobewalkinginthemidstofaspectralcrowd.WheneverDonlookedoverhisshoulder,hisrainbow-tintedlensesseemedtofloatinthedarklikepatchesofoilonwater.
Myhandsandforearmsburnedfromstrain,butDondidn’tseemtobehavinganytrouble.Iwasdeterminednottoweepformercybeforethefaundid.
Thepathwidenedandleveledout.Ichosetotakethatasagoodsign,thoughneitherMegnorLaviniaofferedtohelpcarrythecasket.
Finally,myhandscouldn’ttakeanymore.“Stop.”DonandImanagedtosetdownJason’scoffinamomentbeforeIwould’ve
droppedit.Deepredgougesmarredmyfingers.Blisterswerebeginningtoformonmypalms.IfeltlikeI’djustplayedanine-hoursetofduelingjazzguitarwithPatMetheny,usingasix-hundred-poundironFenderStratocaster.
“Ow,”Imuttered,becauseIwasoncethegodofpoetryandhavegreatdescriptivepowers.
“Wecan’trestlong,”Laviniawarned.“Mysentryshiftmusthaveendedbynow.Mypartner’sprobablywonderingwhereIam.”
Ialmostwantedtolaugh.I’dforgottenweweresupposedtobeworriedaboutLaviniaplayinghookyalongwithallourotherproblems.“Willyourpartnerreportyou?”
Laviniastaredintothedark.“Notunlessshehasto.She’smycenturion,butshe’scool.”
“Yourcenturiongaveyoupermissiontosneakoff?”Iasked.“Notexactly.”LaviniatuggedatherStarofDavidpendant.“Shejustkinda
turnedablindeye,youknow?Shegetsit.”Donchuckled.“Youmeanhavingacrushonsomeone?”“No!”Laviniasaid.“Like,juststandingonguarddutyforfivehours
straight.Ugh.Ican’tdoit!Especiallyafterallthat’shappenedrecently.”IconsideredthewayLaviniafiddledwithhernecklace,viciouslychewedher
bubblegum,wobbledconstantlyaboutonherganglylegs.Mostdemigodshavesomeformofattentiondeficit/hyperactivitydisorder.Theyarehardwiredtobeinconstantmovement,jumpingfrombattletobattle.ButLaviniadefinitelyputtheHinADHD.
“Whenyousay‘allthat’shappenedrecently…’”Iprompted,butbeforeIcouldfinishthequestion,Don’sposturestiffened.Hisnoseandgoateequivered.I’dspentenoughtimeintheLabyrinthwithGroverUnderwoodtoknowwhatthatmeant.
“Whatdoyousmell?”Idemanded.“Notsure…”Hesniffed.“It’sclose.Andfunky.”“Oh.”Iblushed.“Ididshowerthismorning,butwhenIexertmyself,this
mortalbodysweats—”“It’snotthat.Listen!”Megfacedthedirectionwe’dcome.Sheraisedherswordsandwaited.
Laviniaunslunghermanubalistaandpeeredintotheshadowsaheadofus.Finally,overthepoundingofmyownheartbeat,Iheardtheclinkofmetal
andtheechooffootstepsonstone.Someonewasrunningtowardus.“They’recoming,”Megsaid.“No,wait,”saidLavinia.“It’sher!”IgotthefeelingMegandLaviniaweretalkingabouttwodifferentthings,
andIwasn’tsureIlikedeitherone.“Herwho?”Idemanded.“Themwhere?”Donsqueaked.Laviniaraisedherhandandshouted,“I’mhere!”“Shhhh!”Megsaid,stillfacingthewaywe’dcome.“Lavinia,whatareyou
doing?”Then,fromthedirectionofCampJupiter,ayoungwomanjoggedintoour
circleoflight.ShewasaboutLavinia’sage,maybefourteenorfifteen,withdarkskinand
ambereyes.Curlybrownhairfellaroundhershoulders.HerlegionnairegreavesandbreastplateglintedoverjeansandapurpleT-shirt.Affixedtoherbreastplatewastheinsigniaofacenturion,andstrappedtohersidewasaspatha—acavalrysword.Ah,yes…IrecognizedherfromthecrewoftheArgoII.
“HazelLevesque,”Isaid.“Thankthegods.”Hazelstoppedinhertracks,nodoubtwonderingwhoIwas,howIknewher,
andwhyIwasgrinninglikeafool.SheglancedatDon,thenMeg,thenthecoffin.“Lavinia,what’sgoingon?”
“Guys,”Meginterrupted.“Wehavecompany.”ShedidnotmeanHazel.Behindus,attheedgeofthelightfromMeg’s
swords,adarkformprowled,itsblue-blackskinglistening,itsteethdrippingsaliva.Thenanother,identicalghoulemergedfromthegloombehindit.
Justourluck.Theeurynomoiwerehavingakillone,gettwofreespecial.
Ukulelesong?NoneedtoremovemygutsAsimple“no”works
“OH,”DONSAIDINasmallvoice.“That’swhatsmells.”“Ithoughtyousaidtheytravelinpairs,”Icomplained.“Orthrees,”thefaunwhimpered.“Sometimesinthrees.”Theeurynomoisnarled,crouchingjustoutofreachofMeg’sblades.Behind
me,Laviniahand-crankedhermanubalista—click,click,click—buttheweaponwassoslowtoprime,shewouldn’tbereadytofireuntilsometimenextThursday.Hazel’sspatharaspedassheslidthebladefromitsscabbard.That,too,wasn’tagreatweaponforfightinginclosequarters.
Megseemedunsurewhethersheshouldcharge,standherground,ordropfromexhaustion.Blessherstubbornlittleheart,shestillhadJason’sdioramawedgedunderherarm,whichwouldnothelpherinbattle.
Ifumbledforaweaponandcameupwithmyukulele.Whynot?Itwasonlyslightlymoreridiculousthanaspathaoramanubalista.
Mynosemighthavebeenbustedfromthehearse’sairbag,butmysenseofsmellwassadlyunaffected.Thecombinationofghoulstenchwiththescentofbubblegummademynostrilsburnandmyeyeswater.
“FOOD,”saidthefirstghoul.“FOOD!”agreedthesecond.Theysoundeddelighted,asifwewerefavoritemealstheyhadn’tbeen
servedinages.Hazelspoke,calmandsteady.“Guys,wefoughtthesethingsinthebattle.
Don’tletthemscratchyou.”
Thewayshesaidthebattlemadeitsoundliketherecouldonlybeonehorribleeventtowhichshemightbereferring.IflashedbacktowhatLeoValdezhadtoldusinLosAngeles—thatCampJupiterhadsufferedmajordamage,lostgoodpeopleintheirlastfight.Iwasbeginningtoappreciatehowbaditmusthavebeen.
“Noscratches,”Iagreed.“Meg,holdthematbay.I’mgoingtotryasong.”Myideawassimple:strumasleepytune,lullthecreaturesintoastupor,then
killtheminaleisurely,civilizedfashion.Iunderestimatedtheeurynomoi’shatredofukuleles.AssoonasIannounced
myintentions,theyhowledandcharged.Ishuffledbackward,sittingdownhardonJason’scoffin.Donshriekedand
cowered.Laviniakeptcrankinghermanubalista.Hazelyelled,“Makeahole!”Whichinthemomentmadenosensetome.
Megburstintoaction,slicinganarmoffoneghoul,swipingatthelegsoftheother,buthermovementsweresluggish,andwiththedioramaunderonearm,shecouldonlyuseasingleswordeffectively.Iftheghoulshadbeeninterestedinkillingher,shewould’vebeenoverwhelmed.Instead,theyshovedpasther,intentonstoppingmebeforeIcouldstrumachord.
Everyoneisamusiccritic.“FOOD!”screamedtheone-armedghoul,lungingatmewithitsfive
remainingclaws.Itriedtosuckinmygut.Ireallydid.But,oh,cursedflab!IfIhadbeeninmygodlyform,theghoul’sclawsnever
wouldhaveconnected.Myhammered-bronzeabswouldhavescoffedatthemonster’sattempttoreachthem.Alas,Lester’sbodyfailedmeyetagain.
Theeurynomosrakeditshandacrossmymidsection,justbelowmyukulele.Thetipofitsmiddlefinger—barely,justbarely—foundflesh.Itsclawslicedthroughmyshirtandacrossmybellylikeadullrazor.
ItumbledsidewaysoffJason’scoffin,warmbloodtricklingintothewaistlineofmypants.
HazelLevesqueyelledindefiance.Shevaultedoverthecoffinanddroveherspathastraightthroughtheeurynomos’sclavicle,creatingtheworld’sfirstghoul-on-a-stick.
Theeurynomosscreamedandlurchedbackward,rippingthespathafromHazel’sgrip.ThewoundsmokedwheretheImperialgoldbladehadentered.Then—thereisnodelicatewaytoputit—theghoulburstintosteaming,crumblingchunksofash.Thespathaclangedtothestonefloor.
ThesecondghoulhadstoppedtofaceMeg,asonedoeswhenonehasbeenslashedacrossthethighsbyanannoyingtwelve-year-old,butwhenitscomrade
criedout,itspuntofaceus.ThisgaveMeganopening,butinsteadofstriking,shepushedpastthemonsterandranstraighttomyside,herbladesretractingbackintoherrings.
“Youokay?”shedemanded.“Oh,NO.You’rebleeding.Yousaiddon’tgetscratched.Yougotscratched!”
Iwasn’tsurewhethertobetouchedbyherconcernorannoyedbyhertone.“Ididn’tplanit,Meg.”
“Guys!”yelledLavinia.Theghoulsteppedforward,positioningitselfbetweenHazelandherfallen
spatha.Doncontinuedtocowerlikeachamp.Lavinia’smanubalistaremainedonlyhalf-primed.MegandIwerenowwedgedsidebysidenexttoJason’scoffin.
ThatleftHazel,empty-handed,astheonlyobstaclebetweentheeurynomosandafive-coursemeal.
Thecreaturehissed,“Youcannotwin.”Itsvoicechanged.Itstonebecamedeeper,itsvolumemodulated.“Youwill
joinyourcomradesinmytomb.”Betweenmythrobbingheadandmyachinggut,Ihadtroublefollowingthe
words,butHazelseemedtounderstand.“Whoareyou?”shedemanded.“Howaboutyoustophidingbehindyour
creaturesandshowyourself!”Theeurynomosblinked.Itseyesturnedfrommilkywhitetoaglowing
purple,likeiodineflames.“HazelLevesque.Youofallpeopleshouldunderstandthefragileboundarybetweenlifeanddeath.Butdon’tbeafraid.Iwillsaveaspecialplaceforyouatmyside,alongwithyourbelovedFrank.Youwillmakegloriousskeletons.”
Hazelclenchedherfists.Whensheglancedbackatus,herexpressionwasalmostasintimidatingastheghoul’s.“Backup,”shewarnedus.“Asfarasyoucan.”
Meghalfdraggedmetothefrontendofthecoffin.Mygutfeltlikeithadbeenstitchedwithamolten-hotzipper.LaviniagrabbedDonbyhisT-shirtcollarandpulledhimtoasafercoweringspot.
Theghoulchuckled.“Howwillyoudefeatme,Hazel?Withthis?”Itkickedthespathafartherawaybehindhim.“Ihavesummonedmoreundead.Theywillbeheresoon.”
Despitemypain,Istruggledtogetup.Icouldn’tleaveHazelbyherself.ButLaviniaputahandonmyshoulder.
“Wait,”shemurmured.“Hazel’sgotthis.”Thatseemedridiculouslyoptimistic,buttomyshame,Istayedput.More
warmbloodsoakedintomyunderwear.AtleastIhopeditwasblood.Theeurynomoswipeddroolfromitsmouthwithoneclawedfinger.“Unless
youintendtorunandabandonthatlovelycoffin,youmightaswellsurrender.Wearestrongunderground,daughterofPluto.Toostrongforyou.”
“Oh?”Hazel’svoiceremainedsteady,almostconversational.“Strongunderground.That’sgoodtoknow.”
Thetunnelshook.Cracksappearedinthewalls,jaggedfissuresbranchingupthestone.Beneaththeghoul’sfeet,acolumnofwhitequartzerupted,skeweringthemonsteragainsttheceilingandreducingittoacloudofvulture-featherconfetti.
Hazelfacedusasifnothingremarkablehadhappened.“Don,Lavinia,getthis…”Shelookeduneasilyatthecoffin.“Getthisoutofhere.You”—shepointedatMeg—“helpyourfriend,please.Wehavehealersatcampwhocandealwiththatghoulscratch.”
“Wait!”Isaid.“Wh-whatjusthappened?Itsvoice—”“I’veseenthathappenbeforewithaghoul,”Hazelsaidgrimly.“I’llexplain
later.Rightnow,getgoing.I’llfollowinasec.”Istartedtoprotest,butHazelstoppedmewithashakeofherhead.“I’mjust
goingtopickupmyswordandmakesurenomoreofthosethingscanfollowus.Go!”
Rubbletrickledfromnewcracksintheceiling.Perhapsleavingwasn’tsuchabadidea.
LeaningonMeg,Imanagedtostaggerfartherdownthetunnel.LaviniaandDonluggedJason’scoffin.IwasinsomuchpainIdidn’tevenhavetheenergytoyellatLaviniatocarryitlikeacouch.
We’dgoneperhapsfiftyfeetwhenthetunnelbehindusrumbledevenmorestronglythanbefore.Ilookedbackjustintimetogethitinthefacewithabillowingcloudofdebris.
“Hazel?”Laviniacalledintotheswirlingdust.Aheartbeatlater,HazelLevesqueemerged,coatedfromheadtotoein
glitteringpowderedquartz.Herswordglowedinherhand.“I’mfine,”sheannounced.“Butnobody’sgoingtobesneakingoutthatway
anymore.Now”—shepointedatthecoffin—“somebodywanttotellmewho’sinthere?”
Ireallydidn’t.NotafterI’dseenhowHazelskeweredherenemies.Still…IowedittoJason.Hazelhadbeenhisfriend.
Isteeledmynerves,openedmymouthtospeak,andwasbeatentothepunchbyHazelherself.
“It’sJason,”shesaid,asiftheinformationhadbeenwhisperedinherear.“Oh,gods.”
Sherantothecoffin.Shefelltoherkneesandthrewherarmsacrossthelid.Sheletoutasingledevastatedsob.Thensheloweredherheadandshiveredinsilence.Strandsofherhairsketchedthroughthequartzdustonthepolishedwoodsurface,leavingsquigglylineslikethereadingsofaseismograph.
Withoutlookingup,shemurmured,“Ihadnightmares.Aboat.Amanonahorse.A…aspear.Howdidithappen?”
Ididmybesttoexplain.Itoldheraboutmyfallintothemortalworld,myadventureswithMeg,ourfightaboardCaligula’syacht,andhowJasonhaddiedsavingus.Recountingthestorybroughtbackallthepainandterror.IrememberedthesharpozonesmellofthewindspiritsswirlingaroundMegandJason,thebiteofzip-tiehandcuffsaroundmywrists,Caligula’spitiless,delightedboast:Youdon’twalkawayfrommealive!
Itwasallsoawful,Imomentarilyforgotabouttheagonizingcutacrossmybelly.
Laviniastaredatthefloor.Megdidherbesttostanchmybleedingwithoneoftheextradressesfromherbackpack.Donwatchedtheceiling,whereanewcrackwaszigzaggingoverourheads.
“Hatetointerrupt,”saidthefaun,“butmaybeweshouldcontinuethisoutside?”
Hazelpressedherfingersagainstthecoffinlid.“I’msoangryatyou.DoingthistoPiper.Tous.Notlettingusbethereforyou.Whatwereyouthinking?”
Ittookmeamomenttorealizeshewasn’ttalkingtous.ShewasspeakingtoJason.
Slowly,shestood.Hermouthtrembled.Shestraightened,asifsummoninginternalcolumnsofquartztobraceherskeletalsystem.
“Letmecarryoneside,”shesaid.“Let’sbringhimhome.”Wetrudgedalonginsilence,thesorriestpallbearersever.Allofuswere
coveredindustandmonsterash.Atthefrontofthecoffin,Laviniasquirmedinherarmor,occasionallyglancingoveratHazel,whowalkedwithhereyesstraightahead.Shedidn’tevenseemtonoticetherandomvulturefeatherflutteringfromhershirtsleeve.
MegandDoncarriedthebackofthecasket.Meg’seyeswerebruisingupnicelyfromthecarcrash,makingherlooklikealarge,badlydressedraccoon.Donkepttwitching,tiltinghisheadtotheleftasifhewantedtohearwhathisshoulderwassaying.
Istumbledafterthem,Meg’ssparedresspressedagainstmygut.Thebleedingseemedtohavestopped,butthecutstillburnedandneedled.IhopedHazelwasrightaboutherhealersbeingabletofixme.IdidnotrelishtheideaofbecominganextraforTheWalkingDead.
Hazel’scalmnessmademeuneasy.Ialmostwould’vepreferreditifshescreamedandthrewthingsatme.Hermiserywaslikethecoldgravityofamountain.Youcouldstandnexttothatmountainandcloseyoureyes,andevenifyoucouldn’tseeitorhearit,youknewitwasthere—unspeakablyheavyandpowerful,ageologicalforcesoancientitmadeevenimmortalgodsfeellikegnats.IfearedwhatwouldhappenifHazel’semotionsturnedvolcanicallyactive.
Atlastweemergedintotheopenair.Westoodonarockpromontoryabouthalfwayupahillside,withthevalleyofNewRomespreadoutbelow.Inthetwilight,thehillshadturnedviolet.Thecoolbreezesmelledofwoodsmokeandlilacs.
“Wow,”saidMeg,takingintheview.JustasIremembered,theLittleTiberwendedacrossthevalleyfloor,making
aglitteringcurlicuethatemptiedintoabluelakewherethecamp’sbellybuttonmighthavebeen.OnthenorthshoreofthatlakeroseNewRomeitself,asmallerversionoftheoriginalimperialcity.
FromwhatLeohadsaidabouttherecentbattle,I’dexpectedtoseetheplaceleveled.Atthisdistance,though,inthewaninglight,everythinglookednormal—thegleamingwhitebuildingswithred-tiledroofs,thedomedSenateHouse,theCircusMaximus,andtheColosseum.
Thelake’ssouthshorewasthesiteofTempleHill,withitschaoticassortmentofshrinesandmonuments.Onthesummit,overshadowingeverythingelse,wasmyfather’simpressivelyego-tasticTempleofJupiterOptimusMaximus.Ifpossible,hisRomanincarnation,Jupiter,wasevenmoreinsufferablethanhisoriginalGreekpersonalityofZeus.(And,yes,wegodshavemultiplepersonalities,becauseyoumortalskeepchangingyourmindsaboutwhatwe’relike.It’sexasperating.)
Inthepast,I’dalwayshatedlookingatTempleHill,becausemyshrinewasn’tthelargest.Obviously,itshouldhavebeenthelargest.NowIhatedlookingattheplaceforadifferentreason.AllIcouldthinkofwasthedioramaMegwascarrying,andthesketchbooksinherbackpack—thedesignsforTempleHillasJasonGracehadreimaginedit.ComparedtoJason’sfoam-coredisplay,withitshandwrittennotesandglued-onMonopolytokens,therealTempleHillseemedanunworthytributetothegods.Itcouldnevermeanas
muchasJason’sgoodness,hisferventdesiretohonoreverygodandleavenooneout.
Iforcedmyselftolookaway.Directlybelow,abouthalfamilefromourledge,stoodCampJupiteritself.
Withitspicketedwalls,watchtowers,andtrenches,itsneatrowsofbarracksliningtwoprincipalstreets,itcouldhavebeenanyRomanlegioncamp,anywhereintheoldempire,atanytimeduringRome’smanycenturiesofrule.Romansweresoconsistentabouthowtheybuilttheirforts—whethertheymeanttostaythereforanightoradecade—thatifyouknewonecamp,youknewthemall.Youcouldwakeupinthedeadofnight,stumblearoundintotaldarkness,andknowexactlywhereeverythingwas.Ofcourse,whenIvisitedRomancamps,Iusuallyspentallmytimeinthecommander’stent,loungingandeatinggrapeslikeIusedtodowithCommodus….Oh,gods,whywasItorturingmyselfwithsuchthoughts?
“Okay.”Hazel’svoiceshookmeoutofmyreverie.“Whenwegettocamp,here’sthestory:Lavinia,youwenttoTemescalonmyorders,becauseyousawthehearsegoovertherailing.Istayedondutyuntilthenextshiftarrived,thenIrusheddowntohelpyou,becauseIthoughtyoumightbeindanger.Wefoughttheghouls,savedtheseguys,etcetera.Gotit?”
“So,aboutthat…”Doninterrupted,“I’msureyouguyscanmanagefromhere,right?Seeingasyoumightgetintroubleorwhatever.I’lljustbeslippingoff—”
Laviniagavehimahardstare.“OrIcanstickaround,”hesaidhastily.“Youknow,happytohelp.”Hazelshiftedhergriponthecoffin’shandle.“Remember,we’reanhonor
guard.Nomatterhowbedraggledwelook,wehaveaduty.We’rebringinghomeafallencomrade.Understood?”
“Yes,Centurion,”Laviniasaidsheepishly.“And,Hazel?Thanks.”Hazelwinced,asifregrettinghersoftheart.“Oncewegettothe
principia”—hereyessettledonme—“ourvisitinggodcanexplaintotheleadershipwhathappenedtoJasonGrace.”
Hi,everybody,Here’salittletuneIcall“AlltheWaysISuck”
THELEGIONSENTRIESSPOTTEDusfromalongwayoff,aslegionsentriesaresupposedtodo.
Bythetimeoursmallbandarrivedatthefort’smaingates,acrowdhadgathered.DemigodslinedeithersideofthestreetandwatchedincurioussilenceaswecarriedJason’scoffinthroughthecamp.Noonequestionedus.Noonetriedtostopus.Theweightofallthoseeyeswasoppressive.
HazelledusstraightdowntheViaPraetoria.Somelegionnairesstoodontheporchesoftheirbarracks—theirhalf-
polishedarmortemporarilyforgotten,guitarssetaside,cardgamesunfinished.GlowingpurpleLares,thehousegodsofthelegion,milledabout,driftingthroughwallsorpeoplewithlittleregardforpersonalspace.Gianteagleswhirledoverhead,eyeinguslikepotentiallytastyrodents.
Ibegantorealizehowsparsethecrowdwas.Thecampseemed…notdeserted,exactly,butonlyhalffull.Afewyoungheroeswalkedoncrutches.Othershadarmsincasts.Perhapssomeofthemwerejustintheirbarracks,orinthesickbay,oronanextendedmarch,butIdidn’tlikethehaunted,grief-strickenexpressionsofthelegionnaireswhowatchedus.
IrememberedthegloatingwordsoftheeurynomosatLakeTemescal:IHAVEALREADYTASTEDTHEFLESHOFYOURCOMRADES!ATTHEBLOODMOON,YOUWILLJOINTHEM.
Iwasn’tsurewhatabloodmoonwas.Lunarthingsweremoremysister’sdepartment.ButIdidn’tlikethesoundofit.I’dhadquiteenoughofblood.From
thelooksofthelegionnaires,sohadthey.ThenIthoughtaboutsomethingelsetheghoulhadsaid:YOUWILLALL
JOINTHEKING’SDEAD.Ithoughtaboutthewordsoftheprophecywe’dreceivedintheBurningMaze,andatroublingrealizationstartedtoforminmyhead.Ididmybesttosuppressit.I’dalreadyhadmyfullday’squotaofterror.
Wepassedthestorefrontsofmerchantswhowereallowedtooperateinsidethefort’swalls—onlythemostessentialservices,likeachariotdealership,anarmory,agladiatorsupplystore,andacoffeebar.Infrontofthecoffeeplacestoodatwo-headedbarista,gloweringatuswithbothfaces,hisgreenapronstainedwithlattefoam.
Finallywereachedthemainintersection,wheretworoadscametoaTinfrontoftheprincipia.Onthestepsofthegleamingwhiteheadquartersbuilding,thelegion’spraetorswaitedforus.
Ialmostdidn’trecognizeFrankZhang.ThefirsttimeI’dseenhim,backwhenIwasagodandhewasalegionnewbie,Frankhadbeenababy-faced,heavysetboywithdarkflattophairandanadorablefixationonarchery.He’dhadthisideathatImightbehisfather.Heprayedtomeallthetime.Honestly,hewassocuteIwould’vebeenhappytoadopthim,butalas,hewasoneofMars’s.
ThesecondtimeIsawFrank,duringhisvoyageontheArgoII,he’dhadagrowthspurtoramagicaltestosteroneinjectionorsomething.He’dgrowntaller,stronger,moreimposing—thoughstillinanadorable,cuddly,grizzly-bearsortofway.
Now,asI’doftennoticedhappeningwithyoungmenstillcomingintotheirown,Frank’sweighthadbeguntocatchuptohisgrowthspurt.Hewasonceagainabig,girthyguywithbabycheeksyoujustwantedtopinch,onlynowhewaslargerandmoremuscular.He’dapparentlyfallenoutofbedandscrambledtomeetus,despiteitbeingjustearlyevening.Hishairstuckupontoplikeabreakingwave.Oneofhisjeancuffswastuckedintohissock.Histopwasayellowsilknightshirtdecoratedwitheaglesandbears—afashionstatementhewasdoinghisbesttocoverwithhispurplepraetor’scloak.
Onethingthathadn’tchangedwashisbearing—thatslightlyawkwardstance,thatfaintperplexedfrown,asifhewereconstantlythinking,AmIreallysupposedtobehere?
Thatfeelingwasunderstandable.Frankhadclimbedtheranksfromprobatiotocenturiontopraetorinrecordtime.NotsinceJuliusCaesarhadaRomanofficerrisensorapidlyandbrightly.Thatwasn’tacomparisonIwouldhavesharedwithFrank,though,givenwhathappenedtomymanJulius.
MygazedriftedtotheyoungwomanatFrank’sside:PraetorReynaAvila
Ramírez-Arellano…andIremembered.Abowlingballofpanicformedinmyheartandrolledintomylower
intestines.ItwasagoodthingIwasn’tcarryingJason’scoffinorIwouldhavedroppedit.
HowcanIexplainthistoyou?Haveyoueverhadanexperiencesopainfulorembarrassingyouliterally
forgotithappened?Yourminddisassociates,scuttlesawayfromtheincidentyellingNope,nope,nope,andrefusestoacknowledgethememoryeveragain?
ThatwasmewithReynaAvilaRamírez-Arellano.Oh,yes,Iknewwhoshewas.Iwasfamiliarwithhernameandreputation.I
wasfullyawareweweredestinedtorunintoheratCampJupiter.Theprophecywe’ddecipheredintheBurningMazehadtoldmeasmuch.
Butmyfuzzymortalbrainhadcompletelyrefusedtomakethemostimportantconnection:thatthisReynawasthatReyna,theonewhosefaceIhadbeenshownlongagobyacertainannoyinggoddessoflove.
That’sher!mybrainscreamedatme,asIstoodbeforeherinmyflabbyandacne-spottedglory,clutchingabloodydresstomygut.Oh,wow,she’sbeautiful!
Nowyourecognizeher?Imentallyscreamedback.Nowyouwanttotalkabouther?Can’tyoupleaseforgetagain?
But,like,rememberwhatVenussaid?mybraininsisted.You’resupposedtostayawayfromReynaor—
Yes,Iremember!Shutup!Youhaveconversationslikethiswithyourbrain,don’tyou?It’scompletely
normal,right?Reynawasindeedbeautifulandimposing.HerImperialgoldarmorwas
cloakedinamantleofpurple.Militarymedalstwinkledonherchest.Herdarkponytailsweptoverhershoulderlikeahorsewhip,andherobsidianeyeswereeverybitaspiercingasthoseoftheeaglesthatcircledaboveus.
Imanagedtowrestmyeyesfromher.Myfaceburnedwithhumiliation.IcouldstillheartheothergodslaughingafterVenusmadeherproclamationtome,herdirewarningsifIshouldeverdare—
PING!Lavinia’smanubalistachosethatmomenttocrankitselfanotherhalfnotch,mercifullydivertingeveryone’sattentiontoher.
“Uh,s-so,”shestammered,“wewereondutywhenIsawthishearsegoflyingovertheguardrail—”
Reynaraisedherhandforsilence.“CenturionLevesque.”Reyna’stonewasguardedandweary,asifwe
weren’tthefirstbatteredprocessiontototeacoffinintocamp.“Yourreport,
please.”Hazelglancedattheotherpallbearers.Together,theygentlyloweredthe
casket.“Praetors,”Hazelsaid,“werescuedthesetravelersatthebordersofcamp.
ThisisMeg.”“Hi,”saidMeg.“Isthereabathroom?Ineedtopee.”Hazellookedflustered.“Er,inasec,Meg.Andthis…”Shehesitated,asif
shecouldn’tbelievewhatshewasabouttosay.“ThisisApollo.”Thecrowdmurmureduneasily.Icaughtsnatchesoftheirconversations:“Didshesay—?”“Notactually—”“Dude,obviouslynot—”“Namedafter—?”“Inhisdreams—”“Settledown,”FrankZhangordered,pullinghispurplemantletighteraround
hisjammietop.Hestudiedme,perhapslookingforanysignthatIwasinfactApollo,thegodhe’dalwaysadmired.Heblinkedasiftheconcepthadshort-circuitedhisbrain.
“Hazel,canyou…explainthat?”hepleaded.“And,erm,thecoffin?”Hazellockedhergoldeneyesonme,givingmeasilentcommand:Tellthem.Ididn’tknowhowtostart.IwasnotagreatoratorlikeJuliusorCicero.Iwasn’taweaveroftalltales
likeHermes.(Boy,thatguycantellsomewhoppers.)HowcouldIexplainthemanymonthsofhorrifyingexperiencesthathadledtoMegandmestandinghere,withthebodyofourheroicfriend?
Ilookeddownatmyukulele.IthoughtofPiperMcLeanaboardCaligula’syachts—howshe’dburstinto
singing“LifeofIllusion”inthemidstofagangofhardenedmercenaries.Shehadrenderedthemhelpless,entrancedbyherserenadeaboutmelancholyandregret.
Iwasn’tacharmspeakerlikePiper.ButIwasamusician,andsurelyJasondeservedatribute.
Afterwhathadhappenedwiththeeurynomoi,Ifeltskittishofmyukulele,soIbegantosingacappella.
Forthefirstfewbars,myvoicequavered.IhadnoideawhatIwasdoing.ThewordssimplybillowedupfromdeepinsidemelikethecloudsofdebrisfromHazel’scollapsedtunnel.
IsangofmyfallfromOlympus—howIhadlandedinNewYorkand
becomeboundtoMegMcCaffrey.IsangofourtimeatCampHalf-Blood,wherewe’ddiscoveredtheTriumvirate’splottocontrolthegreatOraclesandthusthefutureoftheworld.IsangofMeg’schildhood,herterribleyearsofmentalabuseinthehouseholdofNero,andhowwe’dfinallydriventhatemperorfromtheGroveofDodona.IsangofourbattleagainstCommodusattheWaystationinIndianapolis,ofourharrowingjourneyintoCaligula’sBurningMazetofreetheSibylofErythraea.
Aftereachverse,IsangarefrainaboutJason:hisfinalstandonCaligula’syacht,courageouslyfacingdeathsothatwecouldsurviveandcontinueourquest.EverythingwehadbeenthroughledtoJason’ssacrifice.Everythingthatmightcomenext,ifwewereluckyenoughtodefeattheTriumvirateandPythonatDelphi,wouldbepossiblebecauseofhim.
Thesongreallywasn’taboutmeatall.(Iknow.Icouldhardlybelieveit,either.)Itwas“TheFallofJasonGrace.”Inthelastverses,IsangofJason’sdreamforTempleHill,hisplantoaddshrinesuntileverygodandgoddess,nomatterhowobscure,wasproperlyhonored.
ItookthedioramafromMeg,liftedittoshowtheassembleddemigods,thensetitonJason’scoffinlikeasoldier’sflag.
I’mnotsurehowlongIsang.WhenIfinishedthelastline,theskywasfullydark.Mythroatfeltashotanddryasaspentbulletcartridge.
Thegianteagleshadgatheredonthenearbyrooftops.Theystaredatmewithsomethinglikerespect.
Thelegionnaires’faceswerestreakedwithtears.Somesniffledandwipedtheirnoses.Othersembracedandweptsilently.
Irealizedtheyweren’tjustgrievingforJason.Thesonghadunleashedtheircollectivesorrowabouttherecentbattle,theirlosses,which—giventhesparsenessofthecrowd—musthavebeenextreme.Jason’ssongbecametheirsong.Byhonoringhim,wehonoredallthefallen.
Onthestepsoftheprincipia,thepraetorsstirredfromtheirprivateanguish.Reynatookalong,shakybreath.SheexchangedalookwithFrank,whowashavingdifficultycontrollingthetrembleofhislowerlip.Thetwoleadersseemedtocometosilentagreement.
“Wewillhaveastatefuneral,”Reynaannounced.“Andwe’llrealizeJason’sdream,”Frankadded.“Thosetemplesand—
everythingJa—”HisvoicecaughtonJason’sname.Heneededacountoffivetocomposehimself.“Everythingheenvisioned.We’llbuilditallinoneweekend.”
Icouldfeelthemoodofthecrowdchange,aspalpablyasaweatherfront,theirgriefhardeningintosteelydetermination.
Somenoddedandmurmuredassent.AfewshoutedAve!Hail!Therestofthe
crowdpickedupthechant.Javelinspoundedagainstshields.NoonebalkedattheideaofrebuildingTempleHillinaweekend.Atasklike
thatwould’vebeenimpossibleevenforthemostskilledengineeringcorps.ButthiswasaRomanlegion.
“ApolloandMegwillbeguestsofCampJupiter,”Reynasaid.“Wewillfindthemaplacetostay—”
“Andabathroom?”Megpleaded,dancingwithherkneescrossed.Reynamanagedafaintsmile.“Ofcourse.Together,we’llmournandhonor
ourdead.Afterward,wewilldiscussourplanofwar.”Thelegionnairescheeredandbangedtheirshields.Iopenedmymouthtosaysomethingeloquent,tothankReynaandFrankfor
theirhospitality.Butallmyremainingenergyhadbeenexpendedonmysong.Mygutwound
burned.Myheadtwirledonmynecklikeacarousel.Ifellface-firstandbitthedirt.
SailingnorthtowarWithmyShirleyTempleandThreecherries.Fearme.
OH,THEDREAMS.Dearreader,ifyouaretiredofhearingaboutmyawfulpropheticnightmares,
Idon’tblameyou.JustthinkhowIfeltexperiencingthemfirsthand.ItwaslikehavingthePythiaofDelphibutt-callmeallnightlong,mumblinglinesofprophecyIhadn’taskedforanddidn’twanttohear.
IsawalineofluxuryyachtscuttingthroughmoonlitwavesofftheCaliforniacoast—fiftyboatsinatightchevronformation,stringsoflightsgleamingalongtheirbows,purplepennantssnappinginthewindonilluminatedcomtowers.Thedeckswerecrawlingwithallmannerofmonsters—Cyclopes,wildcentaurs,big-earedpandai,andchest-headedblemmyae.Ontheaftdeckofeachyacht,amobofthecreaturesseemedtobeconstructingsomethinglikeashedor…orsomesortofsiegeweapon.
Mydreamzoomedinonthebridgeoftheleadship.Thecrewhustledabout,checkingmonitorsandadjustinginstruments.Loungingbehindthem,inmatchinggold-upholsteredLa-Z-Boyrecliners,weretwoofmyleastfavoritepeopleintheworld.
OntheleftsattheemperorCommodus.Hispastel-bluebeachshortsshowedoffhisperfecttannedcalvesandpedicuredbarefeet.HisgrayIndianapolisColtshoodiewasunzippedoverhisbarechestandperfectlysculptedabs.HehadalotofnervewearingColtsgear,sincewe’dhumiliatedhimintheteam’shomestadiumonlyafewweeksbefore.(Ofcoursewe’dhumiliatedourselves,too,butIwantedtoforgetthatpart.)
HisfacewasalmostasIremembered:annoyinglyhandsome,withahaughtychiseledprofileandringletsofgoldenhairframinghisbrow.Theskinaroundhiseyes,however,lookedasifithadbeensandblasted.Hispupilswerecloudy.Thelasttimewe’dmet,Ihadblindedhimwithaburstofgodlyradiance,anditwasobvioushestillhadn’thealed.Thatwastheonlythingthatpleasedmeaboutseeinghimagain.
IntheotherreclinersatGaiusJuliusCaesarAugustusGermanicus,otherwiseknownasCaligula.
Ragetintedmydreamblood-pink.Howcouldheloungetheresorelaxedinhisridiculouscaptain’soutfit—thosewhiteslacksandboatshoes,thatnavyjacketoverastripedcollarlessshirt,thatofficer’shattiltedatarakishangleonhiswalnutcurls—whenonlyafewdaysbefore,hehadkilledJasonGrace?Howdarehesiparefreshingicedbeveragegarnishedwiththreemaraschinocherries(Three!Monstrous!)andsmilewithsuchself-satisfaction?
Caligulalookedhumanenough,butIknewbetterthantocredithimwithanysortofcompassion.Iwantedtostranglehim.Alas,Icoulddonothingexceptwatchandfume.
“Pilot,”Caligulacalledoutlazily.“What’sourspeed?”“Fiveknots,sir,”saidoneoftheuniformedmortals.“ShouldIincrease?”“No,no.”Caligulapluckedoutoneofthemaraschinocherriesandpoppedit
inhismouth.Hechewedandgrinned,showingbrightredteeth.“Infact,let’sslowtofourknots.Thejourneyishalfthefun!”
“Yessir!”Commodusscowled.Heswirledtheiceinhisowndrink,whichwasclear
andbubblywithredsyruppooledatthebottom.Heonlyhadtwomaraschinocherries,nodoubtbecauseCaligulawouldneverallowCommodustoequalhiminanything.
“Idon’tunderstandwhywe’removingsoslowly,”Commodusgrumbled.“Attopspeed,wecouldhavebeentherebynow.”
Caligulachuckled.“Myfriend,it’sallabouttiming.Wehavetoallowourdeceasedallyhisbestwindowofattack.”
Commodusshuddered.“Ihateourdeceasedally.Areyousurehecanbecontrolled—”
“We’vediscussedthis.”Caligula’ssingsongtonewaslightandairyandpleasantlyhomicidal,asiftosay:Thenexttimeyouquestionme,Iwillcontrolyouwithsomecyanideinyourbeverage.“Youshouldtrustme,Commodus.Rememberwhoaidedyouinyourhourofneed.”
“I’vethankedyouadozentimesalready,”Commodussaid.“Besides,it
wasn’tmyfault.HowwasIsupposedtoknowApollostillhadsomelightleftinhim?”Heblinkedpainfully.“Hegotthebetterofyou—andyourhorse,too.”
AcloudpassedoverCaligula’sface.“Yes,well,soon,we’llmakethingsright.Betweenyourtroopsandmine,wehavemorethanenoughpowertooverwhelmthebatteredTwelfthLegion.Andiftheyprovetoostubborntosurrender,wealwayshavePlanB.”Hecalledoverhisshoulder,“Oh,Boost?”
Apandoshurriedinfromtheaftdeck,hisenormousshaggyearsfloppingaroundhimlikethrowrugs.Inhishandswasalargesheetofpaper,foldedintosectionslikeamaporsetofinstructions.“Y-yes,Princeps?”
“Progressreport.”“Ah.”Boost’sdarkfurryfacetwitched.“Good!Good,master!Another
week?”“Aweek,”Caligulasaid.“Well,sir,theseinstructions…”Boostturnedthepaperupsidedownand
frownedatit.“Wearestilllocatingallthe‘slotA’s’on‘assemblypiecesevens.’Andtheydidnotsendusenoughlugnuts.Andthebatteriesrequiredarenotstandardsize,so—”
“Aweek,”Caligularepeated,histonestillpleasant.“Yetthebloodmoonwillrisein…”
Thepandoswinced.“Fivedays?”“Soyoucanhaveyourworkdoneinfivedays?Excellent!Carryon.”Boostgulped,thenscuttledawayasfastashisfurryfeetcouldcarryhim.Caligulasmiledathisfellowemperor.“Yousee,Commodus?SoonCamp
Jupiterwillbeours.Withluck,theSibyllineBookswillbeinourhandsaswell.Thenwe’llhavesomeproperbargainingpower.Whenit’stimetofacePythonandcarveupourportionsoftheworld,you’llrememberwhohelpedyou…andwhodidnot.”
“Oh,I’llremember.StupidNero.”Commoduspokedtheicecubesinhisdrink.“Whichoneisthisagain,theShirleyTemple?”
“No,that’stheRoyRogers,”Caligulasaid.“MineistheShirleyTemple.”“Andyou’resurethisiswhatmodernwarriorsdrinkwhentheygointo
battle?”“Absolutely,”Caligulasaid.“Nowenjoytheride,myfriend.Youhavefive
wholedaystoworkonyourtanandgetyourvisionback.Thenwe’llhavesomelovelycarnageintheBayArea!”
Thescenevanished,andIfellintocolddarkness.Ifoundmyselfinadimlylitstonechamberfilledwithshuffling,stinking,
groaningundead.SomewereaswitheredasEgyptianmummies.Otherslookedalmostaliveexceptfortheghastlywoundsthathadkilledthem.Atthefarendof
theroom,betweentworough-hewncolumns,sat…apresence,wreathedinamagentahaze.Itraiseditsskeletalvisage,fixingmewithitsburningpurpleeyes—thesameeyesthathadstaredoutatmefromthepossessedghoulinthetunnel—andbegantolaugh.
Mygutwoundignitedlikealineofgunpowder.Iwoke,screaminginagony.Ifoundmyselfshakingandsweatingina
strangeroom.“Youtoo?”Megasked.Shestoodnexttomycot,leaningoutanopenwindowanddiggingina
flowerbox.Hergardeningbelt’spocketssaggedwithbulbs,seedpackets,andtools.Inonemuddyhand,sheheldatrowel.ChildrenofDemeter.Youcan’ttakethemanywherewithoutthemplayinginthedirt.
“Wh-what’sgoingon?”Itriedtositup,whichwasamistake.Mygutwoundreallywasafierylineofagony.Ilookeddownandfoundmy
baremidsectionwrappedinbandagesthatsmelledofhealingherbsandointments.Ifthecamp’shealershadalreadytreatedme,whywasIstillinsomuchpain?
“Wherearewe?”Icroaked.“Coffeeshop.”EvenbyMeg’sstandards,thatstatementseemedridiculous.Ourroomhadnocoffeebar,noespressomachine,nobarista,noyummy
pastries.Itwasasimplewhitewashedcubewithacotagainsteitherwall,anopenwindowbetweenthem,andatrapdoorinthefarcorner,whichledmetobelievewewereonanupperstory.Wemighthavebeeninaprisoncell,excepttherewerenobarsonthewindow,andaprisoncotwouldhavebeenmorecomfortable.(Yes,Iamsure.IdidsomeresearchonFolsomPrisonwithJohnnyCash.Longstory.)
“Thecoffeeshopisdownstairs,”Megclarified.“ThisisBombilo’sspareroom.”
Irememberedthetwo-headed,green-apronedbaristawhohadscowledatusontheViaPraetoria.Iwonderedwhyhewould’vebeenkindenoughtogiveuslodging,andwhy,ofallplaces,thelegionhaddecidedtoputushere.“Why,exactly—?”
“Lemurianspice,”Megsaid.“Bombilohadthenearestsupply.Thehealersneededitforyourwound.”
Sheshrugged,like,Healers,whatcanyoudo?Thenshewentbacktoplantingirisbulbs.
Isniffedatmybandages.OneofthescentsIdetectedwasindeedLemurianspice.Effectivestuffagainsttheundead,thoughtheLemurianFestivalwasn’t
untilJune,anditwasbarelyApril….Ah,nowonderwe’dendedupinthecoffeeshop.Everyyear,retailersseemedtostartLemurianseasonearlierandearlier—Lemurian-spicelattes,Lemurian-spicemuffins—asifwecouldn’twaittocelebratetheseasonofexorcisingevilspiritswithpastriesthattastedfaintlyoflimabeansandgravedust.Yum.
WhatelsedidIsmellinthathealingbalm…crocus,myrrh,unicorn-hornshavings?Oh,theseRomanhealersweregood.Thenwhydidn’tIfeelbetter?
“Theydidn’twanttomoveyoutoomanytimes,”Megsaid.“Sowejustkindofstayedhere.It’sokay.Bathroomdownstairs.Andfreecoffee.”
“Youdon’tdrinkcoffee.”“Idonow.”Ishuddered.“AcaffeinatedMeg.JustwhatIneed.HowlonghaveIbeen
out?”“Dayandahalf.”“What?!”“Youneededsleep.Also,you’relessannoyingunconscious.”Ididn’thavetheenergyforaproperretort.Irubbedthegunkoutofmyeyes,
thenIforcedmyselftositup,fightingdownthepainandnausea.Megstudiedmewithconcern,whichmusthavemeantIlookedevenworse
thanIfelt.“Howbad?”sheasked.“I’mokay,”Ilied.“Whatdidyoumeanearlier,whenyousaid,‘Youtoo’?”Herexpressioncloseduplikeahurricaneshutter.“Nightmares.Iwokeup
screamingacoupleoftimes.Yousleptthroughit,but…”Shepickedaclodofdirtoffhertrowel.“Thisplaceremindsmeof…youknow.”
IregrettedIhadn’tthoughtaboutthatsooner.AfterMeg’sexperiencegrowingupinNero’sImperialHousehold,surroundedbyLatin-speakingservantsandguardsinRomanarmor,purplebanners,alltheregaliaoftheoldempire—ofcourseCampJupitermusthavetriggeredunwelcomememories.
“I’msorry,”Isaid.“Didyoudream…anythingIshouldknowabout?”“Theusual.”Hertonemadeitclearshedidn’twanttoelaborate.“What
aboutyou?”Ithoughtaboutmydreamofthetwoemperorssailingleisurelyinour
direction,drinkingcherry-garnishedmocktailswhiletheirtroopsrushedtoassemblesecretweaponsthey’dorderedfromIKEA.
Ourdeceasedally.PlanB.Fivedays.Isawthoseburningpurpleeyesinachamberfilledwiththeundead.The
king’sdead.“Theusual,”Iagreed.“Helpmeup?”
Ithurttostand,butifI’dbeenlyinginthatcotforadayandahalf,Iwantedtomovebeforemymusclesturnedtotapioca.Also,IwasbeginningtorealizeIwashungryandthirstyand,intheimmortalwordsofMegMcCaffrey,Ineededtopee.Humanbodiesareannoyingthatway.
Ibracedmyselfagainstthewindowsillandpeeredoutside.Below,demigodsbustledalongtheViaPraetoria—carryingsupplies,reportingfordutyassignments,hurryingbetweenthebarracksandthemesshall.Thepallofshockandgriefseemedtohavefaded.Noweveryonelookedbusyanddetermined.Craningmyheadandlookingsouth,IcouldseeTempleHillabuzzwithactivity.Siegeengineshadbeenconvertedtocranesandearthmovers.Scaffoldshadbeenerectedinadozenlocations.Thesoundsofhammeringandstone-cuttingechoedacrossthevalley.Frommyvantagepoint,Icouldidentifyatleasttennewsmallshrinesandtwolargetemplesthathadn’tbeentherewhenwearrived,withmoreintheworks.
“Wow,”Imurmured.“ThoseRomansdon’tmessaround.”“Tonight’sthefuneralforJason,”Meginformedme.“They’retryingto
finishupworkbeforethen.”Judgingfromtheangleofthesun,Iguesseditwasabouttwointhe
afternoon.Giventheirpacesofar,IfiguredthatwouldgivethelegionampletimetofinishTempleHillandmaybeconstructasportsstadiumortwobeforedinner.
Jasonwouldhavebeenproud.Iwishedhecouldbeheretoseewhathehadinspired.
Myvisionflutteredanddarkened.IthoughtImightbepassingoutagain.ThenIrealizedsomethinglargeanddarkhadinfactflutteredrightbymyface,straightfromtheopenwindow.
Iturnedandfoundaravensittingonmycot.Itruffleditsoilyfeathers,regardingmewithabeadyblackeye.SQUAWK!
“Meg,”Isaid,“areyouseeingthis?”“Yeah.”Shedidn’tevenlookupfromheririsbulbs.“Hey,Frank.What’s
up?”Thebirdshape-shifted,itsformswellingintothatofabulkyhuman,its
feathersmeltingintoclothes,untilFrankZhangsatbeforeus,hishairnowproperlywashedandcombed,hissilknightshirtchangedforapurpleCampJupitertee.
“Hey,Meg,”hesaid,asifitwerecompletelynormaltochangespeciesduringaconversation.“Everything’sonschedule.IwasjustcheckingtoseeifApollowasawake,which…obviously,heis.”Hegavemeanawkwardwave.“Imean,youare.Since,er,I’msittingonyourcot.Ishouldgetup.”
Herose,tuggedathisshirt,thendidn’tseemtoknowwhattodowithhishands.Atonetime,IwouldhavebeenusedtosuchnervousbehaviorfrommortalsIencountered,butnow,ittookmeamomenttorealizeFrankwasstillinaweofme.Perhaps,beingashape-shifter,Frankwasmorewillingthanmosttobelievethat,despitemyunimpressivemortalappearance,Iwasstillthesameoldgodofarcheryinside.
Yousee?ItoldyouFrankwasadorable.“Anyway,”hecontinued,“MegandIhavebeentalking,thelastdayorso,
whileyouwerepassedout—Imean,recovering—sleeping,youknow.It’sfine.Youneededsleep.Hopeyoufeelbetter.”
DespitehowterribleIfelt,Icouldn’thelpbutsmile.“You’vebeenverykindtous,PraetorZhang.Thankyou.”
“Erm,sure.It’s,youknow,anhonor,seeingasyou’re…oryouwere—”“Ugh,Frank.”Megturnedfromherflowerbox.“It’sjustLester.Don’ttreat
himlikeabigdeal.”“Now,Meg,”Isaid,“ifFrankwantstotreatmelikeabigdeal—”“Frank,justtellhim.”Thepraetorglancedbackandforthbetweenus,asifmakingsuretheMeg
andApolloShowwasoverfornow.“So,MegexplainedtheprophecyyougotintheBurningMaze.ApollofacesdeathinTarquin’stombunlessthedoorwaytothesoundlessgodisopenedbyBellona’sdaughter,right?”
Ishivered.Ididn’twanttoberemindedofthosewords,especiallygivenmydreams,andtheimplicationthatIwouldsoonfacedeath.Beenthere.Donethat.Gotthebellywound.
“Yes,”Isaidwarily.“Idon’tsupposeyou’vefiguredoutwhatthoselinesmeanandhavealreadyundertakenthenecessaryquests?”
“Um,notexactly,”Franksaid.“Buttheprophecydidanswerafewquestionsabout…well,aboutwhat’sbeenhappeningaroundhere.ItgaveEllaandTysonenoughinformationtoworkwith.Theythinktheymighthavealead.”
“EllaandTyson…”Isaid,siftingthroughmyfoggymortalbrain.“TheharpyandtheCyclopswhohavebeenworkingtoreconstructtheSibyllineBooks.”
“Thosearetheones,”Frankagreed.“Ifyou’refeelinguptoit,IthoughtwecouldtakeawalkintoNewRome.”
NicestrollintotownHappybirthdaytoLesterHere’ssomegift-wrappedpain
IDIDNOTFEELuptoit.Myguthurtterribly.Mylegscouldbarelysupportmyweight.Evenafter
usingtherestroom,washing,dressing,andgrabbingaLemurian-spicelatteandamuffinfromourgrumpyhost,Bombilo,Ididn’tseehowIcouldwalkthemileorsotoNewRome.
IhadnodesiretofindoutmoreabouttheprophecyfromtheBurningMaze.Ididn’twanttofacemoreimpossiblechallenges,especiallyaftermydreamofthatthinginthetomb.Ididn’tevenwanttobehuman.But,alas,Ihadnochoice.
Whatdomortalssay—suckitup?Isuckeditway,wayup.Megstayedatcamp.Shehadanappointmentinanhourtofeedtheunicorns
withLavinia,andMegwasafraidifshewentanywhere,shemightmissit.GivenLavinia’sreputationforgoingAWOL,IsupposedMeg’sconcernwasvalid.
Frankledmethroughthemaingates.Thesentriessnappedtoattention.Theyhadtoholdthatposeforquiteawhile,sinceIwasmovingatthespeedofcoldsyrup.Icaughtthemstudyingmeapprehensively—perhapsbecausetheywereworriedImightlaunchintoanotherheartbreakingsong,orperhapsbecausetheystillcouldn’tbelievethisshamblingheapofadolescencehadoncebeenthegodApollo.
TheafternoonwasCaliforniaperfect:turquoisesky,goldengrassripplingonthehillsides,eucalyptusandcedarrustlinginthewarmbreeze.Thisshouldhavedispelledanythoughtsofdarktunnelsandghouls,yetIcouldn’tseemtogetthe
smellofgravedustoutofmynostrils.DrinkingaLemurian-spicelattedidnothelp.
Frankwalkedatmyspeed,stayingcloseenoughthatIcouldleanonhimifIfeltshaky,butnotinsistingonhelping.
“So,”hesaidatlast,“what’swithyouandReyna?”Istumbled,sendingfreshjabsofpainthroughmyabdomen.“What?
Nothing.What?”Frankbrushedaravenfeatheroffhiscloak.Iwonderedhowthatworked,
exactly—beingleftwithbitsandpiecesaftershape-shifting.Didheeverdiscardasparefeatherandrealizelater,Whoops,thatwasmypinkyfinger?I’dheardrumorsthatFrankcouldeventurnintoaswarmofbees.EvenI,aformergodwhousedtotransformhimselfallthetime,hadnoideahowhemanagedthat.
“It’sjustthat…whenyousawReyna,”hesaid,“youfroze,like…Idunno,yourealizedyouowedhermoneyorsomething.”
Ihadtorestrainabitterlaugh.IfonlymyproblemregardingReynawereassimpleasthat.
Theincidenthadcomebacktomewithglass-shardclarity:Venusscoldingme,warningme,upbraidingmeasonlyshecould.Youwillnotstickyourugly,unworthygodlyfaceanywherenearher,orIswearontheStyx…
Andofcourseshe’ddonethisinthethroneroom,inthepresenceofalltheotherOlympians,astheyhowledwithcruelamusementandshoutedOoh!Evenmyfatherhadjoinedin.Oh,yes.Helovedeveryminuteofit.
Ishuddered.“ThereisnothingwithReynaandme,”Isaidquitehonestly.“Idon’tthink
we’veeverexchangedmorethanafewwords.”Frankstudiedmyexpression.Obviously,herealizedIwasholding
somethingback,buthedidn’tpush.“Okay.Well,you’llseehertonightatthefuneral.She’stryingtogetsomesleeprightnow.”
IalmostaskedwhyReynawouldbeasleepinthemiddleoftheafternoon.ThenIrememberedthatFrankhadbeenwearingapajamashirtwhenwe’dencounteredhimatdinnertime….Hadthatreallybeenthedaybeforeyesterday?
“You’retakingshifts,”Irealized.“Sooneofyouisalwaysonduty?”“It’stheonlyway,”heagreed.“We’restillonhighalert.Everyoneisedgy.
There’ssomuchtodosincethebattle….”HesaidthewordbattlethesamewayHazelhad,asifitwasasingular,
terribleturningpointinhistory.LikeallthedivinationsMegandIhadretrievedduringouradventures,the
DarkProphecy’snightmarishpredictionaboutCampJupiterremainedburned
intomymind:
Thewordsthatmemorywroughtaresettofire,Erenewmoonriseso’ertheDevil’sMount.Thechangelinglordshallfaceachallengedire,TillbodiesfilltheTiberbeyondcount.
Afterhearingthat,LeoValdezhadracedacrosscountryonhisbronzedragon,hopingtowarnthecamp.AccordingtoLeo,hehadarrivedjustintime,butthetollhadstillbeenhorrendous.
Frankmusthavereadmypainedexpression.“Itwould’vebeenworseifithadn’tbeenforyou,”hesaid,whichonlymade
mefeelguiltier.“Ifyouhadn’tsentLeoheretowarnus.Oneday,outofnowhere,hejustflewrightin.”
“Thatmusthavebeenquiteashock,”Isaid.“SinceyouthoughtLeowasdead.”
Frank’sdarkeyesglitteredliketheystillbelongedtoaraven.“Yeah.Weweresomadathimformakingusworry,welinedupandtookturnshittinghim.”
“WedidthatatCampHalf-Blood,too,”Isaid.“Greekmindsthinkalike.”“Mmm.”Frank’sgazedriftedtowardthehorizon.“Wehadabouttwenty-
fourhourstoprepare.Ithelped.Butitwasn’tenough.Theycamefromoverthere.”
HepointednorthtotheBerkeleyHills.“Theyswarmed.Onlywaytodescribeit.I’dfoughtundeadbefore,butthis…”Heshookhishead.“Hazelcalledthemzombies.Mygrandmotherwouldhavecalledthemjiangshi.TheRomanshavealotofwordsforthem:immortuos,lamia,nuntius.”
“Messenger,”Isaid,translatingthelastword.Ithadalwaysseemedanoddtermtome.Amessengerfromwhom?NotHades.Hehateditwhencorpseswanderedaroundthemortalworld.Itmadehimlooklikeasloppywarden.
“TheGreekscallthemvrykolakai,”Isaid.“Usually,it’sraretoseeevenone.”
“Therewerehundreds,”Franksaid.“Alongwithdozensofthoseotherghoulthings,theeurynomoi,actingasherders.Wecutthemdown.Theyjustkeptcoming.You’dthinkhavingafire-breathingdragonwould’vebeenagame-changer,butFestuscouldonlydosomuch.Theundeadaren’tasflammableasyoumightthink.”
Hadeshadexplainedthattomeonce,inoneofhisfamouslyawkward“toomuchinformation”attemptsatsmalltalk.Flamesdidn’tdetertheundead.They
justwanderedrightthrough,nomatterhowextracrispytheybecame.That’swhyhedidn’tusethePhlegethon,theRiverofFire,astheboundaryofhiskingdom.Runningwater,however,especiallythedarkmagicalwatersoftheRiverStyx,wasadifferentstory….
IstudiedtheglitteringcurrentoftheLittleTiber.SuddenlyalineoftheDarkProphecymadesensetome.“BodiesfilltheTiberbeyondcount.Youstoppedthemattheriver.”
Franknodded.“Theydon’tlikefreshwater.That’swhereweturnedthebattle.Butthatlineabout‘bodiesbeyondcount’?Itdoesn’tmeanwhatyouthink.”
“Thenwhat—?”“HALT!”yelledavoicerightinfrontofme.I’dbeensolostinFrank’sstory,Ihadn’trealizedhowcloseweweregetting
tothecity.Ihadn’tevennoticedthestatueonthesideoftheroaduntilitscreamedatme.
Terminus,thegodofboundaries,lookedjustasIrememberedhim.Fromthewaistup,hewasafinelysculptedmanwithalargenose,curlyhair,andadisgruntledexpression(whichmayhavebeenbecausenoonehadevercarvedhimapairofarms).Fromthewaistdown,hewasablockofwhitemarble.Iusedtoteasehimthatheshouldtryskinnyjeans,asthey’dbeveryslimming.Fromthewayhegloweredatmenow,Iguessedherememberedthoseinsults.
“Well,well,”hesaid.“Whodowehavehere?”Isighed.“Terminus,canwenot?”“No!”hebarked.“No,wecannotnot.Ineedtoseeidentification.”Frankclearedhisthroat.“Uh,Terminus…”Hetappedthepraetor’slaurels
onhisbreastplate.“Yes,PraetorFrankZhang.Youaregoodtogo.Butyourfriendhere—”“Terminus,”Iprotested,“youknowverywellwhoIam.”“Identification!”AcoldslimyfeelingspreadoutwardfrommyLemurianspice–bandagedgut.
“Oh,youcan’tmean—”“ID.”Iwantedtoprotestthisunnecessarycruelty.Alas,thereisnoarguingwith
bureaucrats,trafficcops,orboundarygods.Strugglingwouldjustmakethepainlastlonger.
Slumpedindefeat,Ipulledoutmywallet.Iproducedthejuniordriver’slicenseZeushadprovidedmewhenIfelltoearth.Name:LesterPapadopoulos.Age:Sixteen.State:NewYork.Photo:100percenteyeacid.
“Handitover,”Terminusdemanded.
“Youdon’t—”IcaughtmyselfbeforeIcouldsayhavehands.Terminuswasstubbornlydelusionalabouthisphantomappendages.Iheldupthedriver’slicenseforhimtosee.Frankleanedin,curious,thencaughtmeglaringandbackedaway.
“Verywell,Lester,”Terminuscrowed.“It’sunusualtohaveamortalvisitorinourcity—anextremelymortalvisitor—butIsupposewecanallowit.Heretoshopforanewtoga?Orperhapssomeskinnyjeans?”
Iswallowedbackmybitterness.Isthereanyonemorevindictivethanaminorgodwhofinallygetstolorditoveramajorgod?
“Maywepass?”Iasked.“Anyweaponstodeclare?”Inbettertimes,Iwouldhaveanswered,Onlymykillerpersonality.Alas,I
wasbeyondevenfindingthatironic.Thequestiondidmakemewonderwhathadhappenedtomyukulele,bow,andquiver,however.Perhapstheyweretuckedundermycot?IftheRomanshadsomehowlostmyquiver,alongwiththetalkingpropheticArrowofDodona,Iwouldhavetobuythemathank-yougift.
“Noweapons,”Imuttered.“Verywell,”Terminusdecided.“Youmaypass.Andhappyimpending
birthday,Lester.”“I…what?”“Movealong!Next!”Therewasnoonebehindus,butTerminusshooedusintothecity,yellingat
thenonexistentcrowdofvisitorstostoppushingandformasingleline.“Isyourbirthdaycomingup?”Frankaskedaswecontinued.
“Congratulations!”“Itshouldn’tbe.”Istaredatmylicense.“Aprileighth,itsayshere.That
can’tberight.Iwasbornontheseventhdayoftheseventhmonth.Ofcourse,themonthsweredifferentbackthen.Let’ssee,themonthofGamelion?Butthatwasinthewintertime—”
“Howdogodscelebrate,anyway?”Frankmused.“Areyouseventeennow?Orfourthousandandseventeen?Doyoueatcake?”
Hesoundedhopefulaboutthatlastpart,asifimaginingamonstrousgold-frostedconfectionwithseventeenRomancandlesonthetop.
Itriedtocalculatemycorrectdayofbirth.Theeffortmademyheadpound.EvenwhenI’dhadagodlymemory,Ihatedkeepingtrackofdates:theoldlunarcalendar,theJuliancalendar,theGregoriancalendar,leapyear,daylightsavingstime.Ugh.Couldn’twejustcalleverydayApollodayandbedonewithit?
YetZeushaddefinitelyassignedmeanewbirthdate:April8.Why?Sevenwasmysacrednumber.Thedate4/8hadnosevens.Thesumwasn’tevendivisiblebyseven.WhywouldZeusmarkmybirthdayasfourdaysfromnow?
Istoppedinmytracks,asifmyownlegshadturnedintoamarblepedestal.Inmydream,Caligulahadinsistedthathispandaifinishtheirworkbythetimethebloodmoonroseinfivedays.IfwhatIobservedhadhappenedlastnight…thatmeanttherewereonlyfourdaysleftfromtoday,whichwouldmakedoomsdayApril8,Lester’sbirthday.
“Whatisit?”Frankasked.“Whyisyourfacegray?”“I—Ithinkmyfatherleftmeawarning,”Isaid.“Orperhapsathreat?And
Terminusjustpointeditouttome.”“Howcanyourbirthdaybeathreat?”“I’mmortalnow.Birthdaysarealwaysathreat.”Ifoughtdownawaveof
anxiety.Iwantedtoturnandrun,buttherewasnowheretogo—onlyforwardintoNewRome,togathermoreunwelcomeinformationaboutmyimpendingdoom.
“Leadon,FrankZhang,”Isaidhalfheartedly,slippingmylicensebackinmywallet.“PerhapsTysonandEllawillhavesomeanswers.”
NewRome…thelikeliestcityonearthtofindOlympiangodslurkingindisguise.(FollowedcloselybyNewYork,thenCozumelduringspringbreak.Don’tjudgeus.)
WhenIwasagod,Iwouldoftenhoverinvisiblyoverthered-tiledrooftops,orwalkthestreetsinmortalform,enjoyingthesights,sounds,andsmellsofourimperialheyday.
ItwasnotthesameasancientRome,ofcourse.They’dmadequiteafewimprovements.Noslavery,foronething.Betterpersonalhygiene,foranother.GonewastheSubura—thejam-packedslumquarterwithitsfiretrapapartments.
NorwasNewRomeasadtheme-parkimitation,likeamockEiffelTowerinthemiddleofLasVegas.Itwasalivingcitywheremodernandancientmixedfreely.WalkingthroughtheForum,Iheardconversationsinadozenlanguages,Latinamongthem.Abandofmusiciansheldajamsessionwithlyres,guitars,andawashboard.Childrenplayedinthefountainswhileadultssatnearbyundertrellisesshadedwithgrapevines.Laresdriftedhereandthere,becomingmorevisibleinthelongafternoonshadows.Allmannerofpeoplemingledandchatted—one-headed,two-headed,evendog-headedcynocephaliwhogrinnedandpantedandbarkedtomaketheirpoints.
Thiswasasmaller,kinder,much-improvedRome—theRomewealways
thoughtmortalswerecapableofbutneverachieved.And,yes,ofcoursewegodscameherefornostalgia,torelivethosewonderfulcenturieswhenmortalsworshippedusfreelyacrosstheempire,perfumingtheairwithburntsacrifices.
Thatmaysoundpathetictoyou—likeanoldiesconcertcruise,panderingtoover-the-hillfansofwashed-upbands.ButwhatcanIsay?Nostalgiaisoneailmentimmortalitycan’tcure.
AsweapproachedtheSenateHouse,Ibegantoseevestigesoftherecentbattle.Cracksinthedomeglistenedwithsilveradhesive.Thewallsofsomebuildingshadbeenhastilyreplastered.Aswiththecamp,thecitystreetsseemedlesscrowdedthanIremembered,andeverysooften—whenacynocephalusbarked,orablacksmith’shammerclangedagainstapieceofarmor—thepeoplenearbyflinchedatthenoise,asifwonderingwhethertheyshouldseekshelter.
Thiswasatraumatizedcity,tryingveryhardtogetbacktonormal.AndbasedonwhatI’dseeninmydreams,NewRomewasabouttobere-traumatizedinjustafewdays.
“Howmanypeopledidyoulose?”IaskedFrank.Iwasafraidtohearnumbers,butIfeltcompelledtoask.Frankglancedaroundus,checkingifanyoneelsewasinearshot.Wewere
headinguponeofNewRome’smanywindingcobblestonestreetsintotheresidentialneighborhoods.
“Hardtosay,”hetoldme.“Fromthelegionitself,atleasttwenty-five.That’showmanyaremissingfromtheroster.Ourmaximumstrengthis…wastwohundredandfifty.Notthatweactuallyhavethatmanyincampatanygiventime,butstill.Thebattleliterallydecimatedus.”
IfeltasifaLarhadpassedthroughme.Decimation,theancientpunishmentforbadlegions,wasagrimbusiness:everytenthsoldierwaskilledwhethertheywereguiltyorinnocent.
“I’msosorry,Frank.Ishouldhave…”Ididn’tknowhowtofinishthatsentence.Ishouldhavewhat?Iwasno
longeragod.Icouldnolongersnapmyfingersandcausezombiestoexplodefromathousandmilesaway.Ihadneveradequatelyappreciatedsuchsimplepleasures.
Frankpulledhiscloaktighteraroundhisshoulders.“Itwashardestonthecivilians.AlotofretiredlegionnairesfromNewRomecameouttohelp.They’vealwaysactedasourreserves.Anyway,thatlineofprophecyyoumentioned:BodiesfilltheTiberbeyondcount?Thatdidn’tmeanthereweremanybodiesafterthebattle.Itmeantwecouldn’tcountourdead,becausetheydisappeared.”
Mygutwoundbegantoseethe.“Disappearedhow?”
“Someweredraggedawaywhentheundeadretreated.Wetriedtogetthemall,but…”Heturneduphispalms.“Afewgotswallowedbytheground.EvenHazelcouldn’texplainit.MostwentunderwaterduringthefightintheLittleTiber.Thenaiadstriedtosearchandrecoverforus.Noluck.”
Hedidn’tvocalizethetrulyhorriblethingaboutthisnews,butIimaginedhewasthinkingit.Theirdeadhadnotsimplydisappeared.Theywouldbeback—asenemies.
Frankkepthisgazeonthecobblestones.“Itrynottodwellonit.I’msupposedtolead,stayconfident,youknow?Butliketoday,whenwesawTerminus…There’susuallyalittlegirl,Julia,whohelpshimout.She’saboutseven.Adorablekid.”
“Shewasn’ttheretoday.”“No,”Frankagreed.“She’swithafosterfamily.Herfatherandmotherboth
diedinthefight.”Itwastoomuch.Iputmyhandagainstthenearestwall.Anotherinnocent
littlegirlmadetosuffer,likeMegMcCaffrey,whenNerokilledherfather…LikeGeorgina,whenshewastakenfromhermothersinIndianapolis.ThesethreemonstrousRomanemperorshadshatteredsomanylives.Ihadtoputastoptoit.
Franktookmyarmgently.“Onefootinfrontoftheother.That’stheonlywaytodoit.”
IhadcomeheretosupporttheRomans.InsteadthisRomanwassupportingme.
Wemadeourwaypastcafésandstorefronts.Itriedtofocusonanythingpositive.Thegrapevineswerebudding.Thefountainsstillhadrunningwater.Thebuildingsinthisneighborhoodwereallintact.
“Atleast—atleastthecitydidn’tburn,”Iventured.Frankfrownedlikehedidn’tseethecauseforoptimism.“Whatdoyou
mean?”“Thatotherlineofprophecy:Thewordsthatmemorywroughtaresettofire.
ThatreferstoEllaandTyson’sworkontheSibyllineBooks,doesn’tit?TheBooksmustbesafe,sinceyoupreventedthecityfromburning.”
“Oh.”Frankmadeasoundsomewherebetweenacoughandalaugh.“Yeah,funnythingaboutthat…”
Hestoppedinfrontofaquaint-lookingbookstore.PaintedonthegreenawningwasthesimplewordLIBRI.Racksofusedhardcoversweresetoutonthesidewalkforbrowsing.Insidethewindow,alargeorangecatsunneditselfatopastackofdictionaries.
“Prophecylinesdon’talwaysmeanwhatyouthinktheydo.”Frankrappedonthedoor:threesharptaps,twoslowones,thentwofastones.
Immediately,thedoorflewinward.Standingintheentrancewasabare-chested,grinningCyclops.
“Comein!”saidTyson.“Iamgettingatattoo!”
Tattoos!Getyoursnow!Free,whereverbooksaresoldAlso,alargecat
MYADVICE:NEVERENTERaplacewhereaCyclopsgetshistattoos.Theodorismemorable,likeaboilingvatofinkandleatherpurses.Cyclopsskinismuchtougherthanhumanskin,requiringsuperheatedneedlestoinjecttheink,hencetheodiousburningsmell.
HowdidIknowthis?Ihadalong,badhistorywithCyclopes.Millenniaago,I’dkilledfourofmyfather’sfavoritesbecausetheyhadmade
thelightningboltthatkilledmysonAsclepius.(AndbecauseIcouldn’tkilltheactualmurdererwhowas,ahem,Zeus.)That’showIgotbanishedtoearthasamortalthefirsttime.ThestenchofburningCyclopsbroughtbackthememoryofthatwonderfulrampage.
ThentherewerethecountlessothertimesI’drunintoCyclopesovertheyears:fightingalongsidethemduringtheFirstTitanWar(alwayswithaclothespinovermynose),tryingtoteachthemhowtocraftaproperbowwhentheyhadnodepthperception,surprisingoneonthetoiletintheLabyrinthduringmytravelswithMegandGrover.Iwillnevergetthatimageoutofmyhead.
Mindyou,IhadnoproblemwithTysonhimself.PercyJacksonhaddeclaredhimabrother.AfterthelastwaragainstKronos,ZeushadrewardedTysonwiththetitleofgeneralandaverynicestick.
AsfarasCyclopeswent,Tysonwastolerable.Hetookupnomorespacethanalargehuman.He’dneverforgedalightningboltthathadkilledanyoneIliked.HisgentlebigbrowneyeandhisbroadsmilemadehimlookalmostascuddlyasFrank.Bestofall,hehaddevotedhimselftohelpingEllatheharpy
reconstructthelostSibyllineBooks.Reconstructinglostprophecybooksisalwaysagoodwaytowinaprophecy
god’sheart.Nevertheless,whenTysonturnedtoleadusintothebookstore,Ihadto
suppressayelpofhorror.ItlookedlikehewashavingthecompleteworksofCharlesDickensengravedonhisback.Fromhisnecktohalfwaydownhisbackscrolledlineafterlineofminiaturebruisedpurplescript,interruptedonlybystreaksofoldwhitescartissue.
Nexttome,Frankwhispered,“Don’t.”IrealizedIwasonthevergeoftears.Iwashavingsympathypainsfromthe
ideaofsomuchtattooing,andfromwhateverabusethepoorCyclopshadsufferedtogetsuchscars.Iwantedtosob,Youpoorthing!orevengivethebare-chestedCyclopsahug(whichwouldhavebeenafirstforme).FrankwaswarningmenottomakeabigdealoutofTyson’sback.
Iwipedmyeyesandtriedtocomposemyself.Inthemiddleofthestore,Tysonstoppedandfacedus.Hegrinned,spreading
hisarmswithpride.“See?Books!”Hewasnotlying.Fromthecashier’sstation/informationdeskatthecenterof
theroom,freestandingshelvesradiatedinalldirections,crammedwithtomesofeverysizeandshape.Twoladdersledtoarailedbalcony,alsowall-to-wallbooks.Overstuffedreadingchairsfilledeveryavailablecorner.Hugewindowsofferedviewsofthecityaqueductandthehillsbeyond.Thesunlightstreamedinlikewarmhoney,makingtheshopfeelcomfortableanddrowsy.
Itwould’vebeentheperfectplacetoplopdownandleafthrougharelaxingnovel,exceptforthatpeskysmellofboilingoilandleather.Therewasnovisibletattoo-parlorequipment,butagainstthebackwall,underasignthatreadSPECIALCOLLECTIONS,asetofthickvelvetcurtainsseemedtoprovideaccesstoabackroom.
“Verynice,”Isaid,tryingnottomakeitsoundlikeaquestion.“Books!”Tysonrepeated.“Becauseit’sabookstore!”“Ofcourse.”Inoddedagreeably.“Isthis,um,yourstore?”Tysonpouted.“No.Sortof.Theownerdied.Inthebattle.Itwassad.”“Ah.”Iwasn’tsurewhattosaytothat.“Atanyrate,it’sgoodtoseeyou
again,Tyson.Youprobablydon’trecognizemeinthisform,but—”“YouareApollo!”Helaughed.“Youlookfunnynow.”Frankcoveredhismouthandcoughed,nodoubttohideasmile.“Tyson,is
Ellaaround?IwantedApollotohearwhatyouguysdiscovered.”“Ellaisinthebackroom.Shewasgivingmeatattoo!”Heleanedtowardme
andloweredhisvoice.“Ellaispretty.Butshh.Shedoesn’tlikemesayingthat
allthetime.Shegetsembarrassed.ThenIgetembarrassed.”“Iwon’ttell,”Ipromised.“Leadon,GeneralTyson.”“General.”Tysonlaughedsomemore.“Yes.That’sme.Ibashedsomeheads
inthewar!”Hegallopedawaylikehewasridingahobbyhorse,straightthroughthe
velvetcurtains.Partofmewantedtoturn,leave,andtakeFrankforanothercupofcoffee.I
dreadedwhatwemightfindontheothersideofthosecurtains.Thensomethingatmyfeetsaid,Mrow.Thecathadfoundme.Theenormousorangetabby,whichmusthaveeaten
alltheotherbookstorecatstoachieveitscurrentsize,pusheditsheadagainstmyleg.
“It’stouchingme,”Icomplained.“That’sAristophanes.”Franksmiled.“He’sharmless.Besides,youknow
howRomansfeelaboutcats.”“Yes,yes,don’tremindme.”Ihadneverbeenafanoffelines.Theywere
self-centered,smug,andthoughttheyownedtheworld.Inotherwords…Allright,I’llsayit.Ididn’tlikethecompetition.
ForRomans,however,catswereasymboloffreedomandindependence.Theywereallowedtowanderanywheretheywished,eveninsidetemples.Severaltimesoverthecenturies,I’dfoundmyaltarsmellinglikeatomcat’snewmarkingpost.
Mrow,Aristophanessaidagain.Hissleepyeyes,palegreenaslimepulp,seemedtosay,You’reminenow,andImaypeeonyoulater.
“Ihavetogo,”Itoldthecat.“FrankZhang,let’sfindourharpy.”
AsIsuspected,thespecial-collectionsroomhadbeensetupasatattooparlor.Rollingbookshelveshadbeenpushedaside,heapedwithleather-bound
volumes,woodenscrollcases,andclaycuneiformtablets.Dominatingthecenteroftheroom,ablackleatherrecliningchairwithfoldablearmsgleamedunderanLEDmagnifyinglamp.Atitssidestoodaworkstationwithfourhummingelectricsteel-needlegunsconnectedtoinkhoses.
Imyselfhadnevergottenatattoo.WhenIwasagod,ifIwantedsomeinkonmyskin,Icouldsimplywillitintobeing.ButthissetupremindedmeofsomethingHephaestusmighttry—alunaticexperimentingodlydentistry,perhaps.
Inthebackcorner,aladderledtoasecond-levelbalconysimilartotheoneinthemainroom.Twosleepingareashadbeencreatedupthere:oneaharpy’s
nestofstraw,cloth,andshreddedpaper;theotherasortofcardboardfortmadeofoldapplianceboxes.Idecidednottoinquire.
PacingbehindthetattoochairwasEllaherself,mumblingasifhavinganinternalargument.
Aristophanes,whohadfollowedusinside,beganshadowingtheharpy,tryingtobutthisheadagainstElla’sleatherybirdlegs.Everysooften,oneofherrust-coloredfeathersflutteredawayandAristophanespouncedonit.Ellaignoredthecatcompletely.TheyseemedlikeamatchmadeinElysium.
“Fire…”Ellamuttered.“Firewith…something,something…somethingbridge.Twicesomething,something…Hmm.”
Sheseemedagitated,thoughIgatheredthatwashernaturalstate.FromwhatlittleIknew,Percy,Hazel,andFrankhaddiscoveredEllalivinginPortland,Oregon’smainlibrary,subsistingonfoodscrapsandnestingindiscardednovels.Somehow,atsomepoint,theharpyhadchancedacrosscopiesoftheSibyllineBooks,threevolumesthathadbeenthoughtlostforeverinafiretowardtheendoftheRomanEmpire.(Discoveringacopywould’vebeenlikefindinganunknownBessieSmithrecording,orapristineBatmanNo.1from1940,exceptmore…er,prophecy-ish.)
Withherphotographicbutdisjointedmemory,Ellawasnowthesolesourceofthoseoldprophecies.Percy,Hazel,andFrankhadbroughthertoCampJupiter,whereshecouldliveinsafetyandhopefullyre-createthelostbookswiththehelpofTyson,herdotingboyfriend.(Cyclops-friend?Interspeciessignificantother?)
Pastthat,Ellawasanenigmawrappedinredfeatherswrappedinalinenshift.
“No,no,no.”Sheranonehandthroughherluxuriousswirlsofredhair,rufflingitsovigorouslyIwasafraidshemightgiveherscalplacerations.“Notenoughwords.‘Words,words,words.’Hamlet,acttwo,scenetwo.”
Shelookedingoodhealthforaformerstreetharpy.Herhumanlikefacewasangularbutnotemaciated.Herarmfeatherswerecarefullypreened.Herweightseemedaboutrightforanavian,soshemusthavebeengettingplentyofbirdseedortacosorwhateverharpiespreferredtoeat.Hertalonedfeethadshreddedawell-definedpathwhereshepacedacrossthecarpet.
“Ella,look!”Tysonannounced.“Friends!”Ellafrowned,hereyesslidingoffFrankandmeasifwewereminor
annoyances—pictureshungaskewonawall.“No,”shedecided.Herlongfingernailsclackedtogether.“Tysonneedsmore
tattoos.”“Okay!”Tysongrinnedasifthiswerefantasticnews.Heboundedoverto
therecliningchair.“Wait,”Ipleaded.Itwasbadenoughtosmellthetattoos.IfIsawthembeing
made,IwassureIwouldpukealloverAristophanes.“Ella,beforeyoustart,couldyoupleaseexplainwhat’sgoingon?”
“‘What’sGoingOn,’”Ellasaid.“MarvinGaye,1971.”“Yes,Iknow,”Isaid.“Ihelpedwritethatsong.”“No.”Ellashookherhead.“WrittenbyRenaldoBenson,AlCleveland,and
MarvinGaye;inspiredbyanincidentofpolicebrutality.”Franksmirkedatme.“Youcan’targuewiththeharpy.”“No,”Ellaagreed.“Youcan’t.”Shescuttledoverandstudiedmemorecarefully,sniffingatmybandaged
belly,pokingmychest.Herfeathersglistenedlikerustintherain.“Apollo,”shesaid.“You’reallwrong,though.Wrongbody.InvasionoftheBodySnatchers,directedbyDonSiegel,1956.”
Ididnotlikebeingcomparedtoablack-and-whitehorrorfilm,butI’djustbeentoldnottoarguewiththeharpy.
Meanwhile,Tysonadjustedthetattoochairintoaflatbed.Helayonhisstomach,therecentlyinkedpurplelinesofscriptripplingacrosshisscarred,muscularback.
“Ready!”heannounced.Theobviousfinallydawnedonme.“Thewordsthatmemorywroughtaresettofire,”Irecalled.“You’re
rewritingtheSibyllineBooksonTysonwithhotneedles.That’swhattheprophecymeant.”
“Yep.”Ellapokedmylovehandlesasifassessingthemforawritingsurface.“Hmm.Nope.Tooflabby.”
“Thanks,”Igrumbled.Frankshiftedhisweight,suddenlylookingself-consciousabouthisown
writingsurfaces.“Ellasaysit’stheonlywayshecanrecordthewordsintherightorder,”heexplained.“Onlivingskin.”
Ishouldn’thavebeensurprised.Inthelastfewmonths,I’dsortedoutpropheciesbylisteningtotheinsanevoicesoftrees,hallucinatinginadarkcave,andracingacrossafierycrosswordpuzzle.Bycomparison,assemblingamanuscriptonaCyclops’sbacksoundeddownrightcivilized.
“But…howfarhaveyougotten?”Iasked.“Thefirstlumbar,”Ellasaid.Sheshowednosignthatshewasjoking.Facedownonhistorturebed,Tysonpaddledhisfeetexcitedly.“READY!
Oh,boy!Tattoostickle!”
“Ella,”Itriedagain,“whatImeanis:Haveyoufoundanythingusefulforusconcerning—oh,Idon’tknow—threatsinthenextfourdays?Franksaidyouhadalead?”
“Yep,foundthetomb.”Shepokedmylovehandlesagain.“Death,death,death.Lotsofdeath.”
Dearlybeloved,WearegatheredherebecauseHerastinks.Amen.
IFTHEREISANYTHINGworsethanhearingDeath,death,death,it’shearingthosewordswhilehavingyourflabpoked.
“Canyoubemorespecific?”Iactuallywantedtoask:Canyoumakeallofthisgoaway,andcanyoualso
stoppokingme?ButIdoubtedIwouldgeteitherwish.“Crossreferences,”Ellasaid.“Sorry?”“Tarquin’stomb,”shesaid.“TheBurningMazewords.Franktoldme:
ApollofacesdeathinTarquin’stombunlessthedoorwaytothesoundlessgodisopenedbyBellona’sdaughter.”
“Iknowtheprophecy,”Isaid.“Isortofwishpeoplewouldstoprepeatingit.Whatexactly—?”
“Cross-referencedTarquinandBellonaandsoundlessgodwithTyson’sindex.”
IturnedtoFrank,whoseemedtobetheonlyothercomprehensiblepersonintheroom.“Tysonhasanindex?”
Frankshrugged.“Hewouldn’tbemuchofareferencebookwithoutanindex.”
“Onthebackofmythigh!”Tysoncalled,stillhappilykickinghisfeet,waitingtobeengravedwithred-hotneedles.“Wanttosee?”
“No!Gods,no.Soyoucross-referenced—”“Yep,yep,”saidElla.“NoresultsforBellonaorthesoundlessgod.Hmm.”
Shetappedthesidesofherhead.“Needmorewordsforthose.ButTarquin’stomb.Yep.Foundaline.”
Shescuttledtothetattoochair,Aristophanestrottingclosebehind,swattingatherwings.EllatappedTyson’sshoulderblade.“Here.”
Tysongiggled.“Awildcatnearthespinninglights,”Ellareadaloud.“ThetombofTarquin
withhorsesbright.Toopenhisdoor,two-fifty-four.”Mrow,saidAristophanes.“No,Aristophanes,”Ellasaid,hertonesoftening,“youarenotawildcat.”Thebeastpurredlikeachainsaw.Iwaitedformoreprophecy.MostoftheSibyllineBooksreadlikeTheJoyof
Cooking,withsacrificialrecipestoplacatethegodsintheeventofcertaincatastrophes.Plagueoflocustsruiningyourcrops?TrytheCeressouffléwithloavesofhoneybreadroastedoverheraltarforthreedays.Earthquakedestroyingthecity?WhenNeptunecomeshometonight,surprisehimwiththreeblackbullsbastedinholyoilandburnedinafirepitwithsprigsofrosemary!
ButEllaseemedtobedonereading.“Frank,”Isaid,“didthatmakeanysensetoyou?”Hefrowned.“Ithoughtyouwouldunderstandit.”WhenwouldpeoplerealizethatjustbecauseIwasthegodofprophecy
didn’tmeanIunderstoodprophecies?Iwasalsothegodofpoetry.DidIunderstandthemetaphorsinT.S.Eliot’sTheWasteLand?No.
“Ella,”Isaid,“couldthoselinesdescribealocation?”“Yep,yep.Closeby,probably.Butonlytogoin.Lookaround.Findoutthe
rightthingsandleave.NottokillTarquiniusSuperbus.Nope.He’smuchtoodeadtokill.Forthat,hmm…Needmorewords.”
FrankZhangpickedatthemural-crownbadgeonhischest.“TarquiniusSuperbus.ThelastkingofRome.HewasconsideredamythevenbackinImperialRomantimes.Histombwasneverdiscovered.Whywouldhebe…?”Hegesturedaroundus.
“Inourneckofthewoods?”Ifinished.“ProbablythesamereasonMountOlympusishoveringaboveNewYork,orCampJupiterisintheBayArea.”
“Okay,that’sfair,”Frankadmitted.“Still,ifthetombofaRomankingwasnearCampJupiter,whywouldwejustbelearningaboutitnow?Whytheattackoftheundead?”
Ididn’thaveareadyanswer.I’dbeensofixatedonCaligulaandCommodus,Ihadn’tgivenmuchthoughttoTarquiniusSuperbus.Asevilashemighthavebeen,Tarquinhadbeenaminor-leagueplayercomparedtotheemperors.Nor
didIunderstandwhyasemilegendary,barbaric,apparentlyundeadRomankingwouldhavejoinedforceswiththeTriumvirate.
Somedistantmemorytickledatthebaseofmyskull….Itcouldn’tbeacoincidencethatTarquinwouldmakehimselfknownjustasEllaandTysonwerereconstructingtheSibyllineBooks.
Irememberedmydreamofthepurple-eyedentity,thedeepvoicethathadpossessedtheeurynomosinthetunnel:Youofallpeopleshouldunderstandthefragileboundarybetweenlifeanddeath.
Thecutacrossmystomachthrobbed.Justonce,forvariety,IwishedIcouldencounteratombwheretheoccupantswereactuallydead.
“So,Ella,”Isaid,“yousuggestwefindthistomb.”“Yep.Gointhetomb.TombRaiderforPC,Playstation,andSegaSaturn,
1996.TombsofAtuan,UrsulaLeGuin,AtheneumPress,1971.”Ibarelynoticedtheextraneousinformationthistime.IfIstayedheremuch
longer,I’dprobablystartspeakinginElla-ese,too,spoutingrandomWikipediareferencesaftereverysentence.Ireallyneededtoleavebeforethathappened.
“Butweonlygointolookaround,”Isaid.“Tofindout—”“Therightthings.Yep,yep.”“Andthen?”“Comebackalive.‘Stayin’Alive,’theBeeGees,secondsingle,Saturday
NightFevermotionpicturesoundtrack,1977.”“Right.And…you’resurethere’snomoreinformationintheCyclopsindex
thatmightactuallybe,oh,helpful?”“Hmm.”EllastaredatFrank,thentrottedoverandsniffedhisface.
“Firewood.Something.No.That’sforlater.”Frankcouldn’thavelookedmorelikeacorneredanimalifhe’dactually
turnedintoone.“Um,Ella?Wedon’ttalkaboutthefirewood.”ThatremindedmeofanotherreasonIlikedFrankZhang.He,too,wasa
memberoftheIHateHeraclub.InFrank’scase,Herahadinexplicablytiedhislifeforcetoasmallpieceofwood,whichI’dheardFranknowcarriedaroundwithhimatalltimes.Ifthewoodburnedup,sodidFrank.SuchatypicalcontrollingHerathingtodo:Iloveyouandyou’remyspecialhero,andalsohere’sastick—whenitburnsyoudieHA-HA-HA-HA-HA.Idislikedthatwoman.
Ellaruffledherfeathers,providingAristophaneswithlotsofnewtargetstoplaywith.“Firewith…something,somethingbridge.Twicesomething,something…Hmm,nope.That’slater.Needmorewords.Tysonneedsatattoo.”
“Yay!”saidTyson.“CanyoualsodoapictureofRainbow?He’smyfriend!He’safishpony!”
“Arainbowiswhitelight,”Ellasaid.“Refractedthroughwaterdroplets.”“Alsoafishpony!”Tysonsaid.“Hmph,”saidElla.IgotthefeelingIhadjustwitnessedtheclosesttheharpyandCyclopsever
cametohavinganargument.“Youtwocango.”Ellabrushedusaway.“Comebacktomorrow.Maybe
threedays.‘EightDaysaWeek,’Beatles.FirstUKrelease,1964.Notsureyet.”IwasabouttoprotestthatwehadonlyfourdaysbeforeCaligula’syachts
arrivedandCampJupitersufferedanotheronslaughtofdestruction,butFrankstoppedmewithatouchonthearm.“Weshouldgo.Letherwork.It’salmosttimeforeveningmusteranyway.”
Afterthementionoffirewood,Igotthefeelinghewouldhaveusedanyfaun-levelexcusetogetoutofthatbookstore.
Mylastglimpseofthespecial-collectionsroomwasEllaholdinghertattoogun,etchingsteamingwordsonTyson’sbackwhiletheCyclopsgiggled,“ITTICKLES!”andAristophanesusedtheharpy’sroughleatherlegsasscratchingposts.
Someimages,likeCyclopstattoos,arepermanentonceburnedontoyourbrain.
Frankhustledusbacktocampasfastasmywoundedgutwouldtolerate.IwantedtoaskhimaboutElla’scomments,butFrankwasn’tinatalkative
mood.Everysooftenhishandstrayedtothesideofhisbelt,whereaclothpouchhungtuckedbehindhisscabbard.Ihadn’tnoticeditbefore,butIassumedthiswaswherehestoredhisHera-CursedLife-EndingSouvenir™.
OrperhapsFrankwassomberbecauseheknewwhatawaitedusateveningmuster.
Thelegionhadassembledforthefuneralprocession.AttheheadofthecolumnstoodHannibal,thelegion’selephant,deckedin
Kevlarandblackflowers.HarnessedbehindhimwasawagonwithJason’scoffin,drapedinpurpleandgold.Fourofthecohortshadfallenintolinebehindthecoffin,withpurpleLaresshiftinginandoutoftheirranks.TheFifthCohort,Jason’soriginalunit,servedashonorguardsandtorchbearersoneithersideofthewagon.Standingwiththem,betweenHazelandLavinia,wasMegMcCaffrey.Shefrownedwhenshesawmeandmouthed,You’relate.
FrankjoggedovertojoinReyna,whowaswaitingatHannibal’sshoulder.Theseniorpraetorlookeddrainedandweary,asifshe’dspentthelastfew
hoursweepinginprivateandthenpulledherselfbacktogetherasbestshecould.
Nexttoherstoodthelegion’sstandardbearer,holdingalofttheeagleoftheTwelfth.
Beingclosetotheeaglemademyhairsstandonend.ThegoldeniconreekedofJupiter’spower.Theairarounditcrackledwithenergy.
“Apollo.”Reyna’stonewasformal,hereyeslikeemptywells.“Areyouprepared?”
“For…?”Thequestiondiedinmythroat.Everyonewasstaringatmeexpectantly.Didtheywantanothersong?No.Ofcourse.Thelegionhadnohighpriest,nopontifexmaximus.Their
formeraugur,mydescendantOctavian,haddiedinthebattleagainstGaia.(WhichIhadahardtimefeelingsadabout,butthat’sanotherstory.)Jasonwould’vebeenthelogicalnextchoicetoofficiate,buthewasourguestofhonor.ThatmeantthatI,asaformergod,wastherankingspiritualauthority.Iwouldbeexpectedtoleadthefuneralrites.
Romanswereallaboutproperetiquette.Icouldn’texcusemyselfwithoutthatbeingtakenasabadomen.Besides,IowedJasonmybest,evenifthatwasasadLesterPapadopoulosversionofmybest.
ItriedtorememberthecorrectRomaninvocation.Dearlybeloved…?No.Whyisthisnightdifferent…?No.Aha.“Come,myfriends,”Isaid.“Letusescortourbrothertohisfinalfeast.”IsupposeIdidallright.Noonelookedscandalized.Iturnedandledtheway
outofthefort,theentirelegionfollowingineeriesilence.AlongtheroadtoTempleHill,Ihadafewmomentsofpanic.WhatifIled
theprocessioninthewrongdirection?WhatifweendedupintheparkinglotofanOaklandSafeway?
ThegoldeneagleoftheTwelfthloomedovermyshoulder,chargingtheairwithozone.IimaginedJupiterspeakingthroughitscrackleandhum,likeavoiceovershortwaveradio:YOURFAULT.YOURPUNISHMENT.
BackinJanuary,whenI’dfallentoearth,thosewordshadseemedhorriblyunfair.Now,asIledJasonGracetohisfinalrestingplace,Ibelievedthem.Somuchofwhathadhappenedwasmyfault.Somuchofitcouldneverbemaderight.
Jasonhadexactedapromisefromme:Whenyou’reagodagain,remember.Rememberwhatit’sliketobehuman.
Imeanttokeepthatpromise,ifIsurvivedlongenough.Butinthemeantime,thereweremorepressingwaysIneededtohonorJason:byprotectingCamp
Jupiter,defeatingtheTriumvirate,and,accordingtoElla,descendingintothetombofanundeadking.
Ella’swordsrattledaroundinmyhead:Awildcatnearthespinninglights.ThetombofTarquinwithhorsesbright.Toopenhisdoor,two-fifty-four.
Evenforaprophecy,thelinesseemedlikegibberish.TheSibylofCumaehadalwaysbeenvagueandverbose.Sherefusedtotake
editorialdirection.She’dwrittennineentirevolumesofSibyllineBooks—honestly,whoneedsninebookstofinishaseries?I’dsecretlyfeltvindicatedwhenshe’dbeenunabletosellthemtotheRomansuntilshewhittledthemdowntoatrilogy.Theothersixvolumeshadgonestraightintothefirewhen…
Ifroze.Behindme,theprocessioncreakedandshuffledtoahalt.“Apollo?”Reynawhispered.Ishouldn’tstop.IwasofficiatingJason’sfuneral.Icouldn’tfalldown,roll
intoaball,andcry.Thatwouldbeadefiniteno-no.But,Jupiter’sgymshorts,whydidmybraininsistonrememberingimportantfactsatsuchinconvenienttimes?
OfcourseTarquinwasconnectedtotheSibyllineBooks.Ofcoursehewouldchoosenowtoshowhimself,andsendanarmyofundeadagainstCampJupiter.AndtheSibylofCumaeherself…Wasitpossible—?
“Apollo,”Reynasaidagain,moreinsistently.“I’mfine,”Ilied.Oneproblematatime.JasonGracedeservedmyfullattention.Iforced
downmyturbulentthoughtsandkeptwalking.WhenIreachedTempleHill,itwasobviouswheretogo.Atthebaseof
Jupiter’stemplestoodanelaboratewoodenpyre.Ateachcorner,anhonorguardwaitedwithablazingtorch.Jason’scoffinwouldburnintheshadowofourfather’stemple.Thatseemedbitterlyappropriate.
Thelegion’scohortsfannedoutinasemicirclearoundthepyre,theLaresintheirranksglowinglikebirthdaycandles.TheFifthCohortunloadedJason’scoffinandboreittotheplatform.Hannibalandhisfuneralcartwereledaway.
Behindthelegion,attheperipheryofthetorchlight,aurawindspiritsswirledabout,settingupfoldingtablesandblacktablecloths.Othersflewinwithdrinkpitchers,stacksofplates,andbasketsoffood.NoRomanfuneralwouldbecompletewithoutafinalmealforthedeparted.OnlyafterthefoodwassharedbythemournerswouldtheRomansconsiderJason’sspiritsafelyonitswaytotheUnderworld—immunefromindignitieslikebecomingarestlessghostorazombie.
Whilethelegionnairesgotsettled,ReynaandFrankjoinedmeatthepyre.“Youhadmeworried,”Reynasaid.“Isyourwoundstillbotheringyou?”“It’sgettingbetter,”Isaid,thoughImighthavebeentryingtoassuremyself
morethanher.Also,whydidshehavetolooksobeautifulinthefirelight?“We’llhavethehealerslookatitagain,”Frankpromised.“Whydidyoustop
intheroad?”“Just…rememberedsomething.Tellyoulater.Idon’tsupposeyouguyshad
anylucknotifyingJason’sfamily?Thalia?”Theyexchangedfrustratedlooks.“Wetried,ofcourse,”Reynasaid.“Thalia’stheonlyearthlyfamilyhehad.
Butwiththecommunicationsproblems…”Inodded,unsurprised.OneofthemoreannoyingthingstheTriumviratehad
donewastoshutdownallformsofmagicalcommunicationusedbydemigods.Iris-messagesfailed.Letterssentbywindspiritsneverarrived.Evenmortaltechnology—whichdemigodstriedtoavoidanywaybecauseitattractedmonsters—nowwouldn’tworkforthematall.Howtheemperorshadmanagedthis,Ihadnoidea.
“IwishwecouldwaitforThalia,”Isaid,watchingasthelastoftheFifthCohortpallbearersclimbeddownfromthepyre.
“Metoo,”Reynaagreed.“But—”“Iknow,”Isaid.Romanfuneralritesweremeanttobeperformedassoonaspossible.
CremationwasnecessarytosendJason’sspiritalong.Itwouldallowthecommunitytogrieveandheal…oratleastturnourattentiontothenextthreat.
“Let’sbegin,”Isaid.ReynaandFrankrejoinedthefrontline.Ibegantospeak,theLatinritualversespouringoutofme.Ichantedfrom
instinct,barelyawareofthewords’meanings.IhadalreadypraisedJasonwithmysong.Thathadbeendeeplypersonal.Thiswasjustanecessaryformality.
Insomecornerofmymind,Iwonderedifthiswashowmortalsfeltwhentheyusedtopraytome.Perhapstheirdevotionshadbeennothingbutmusclememory,recitingbyrotewhiletheirmindsdriftedelsewhere,uninterestedinmyglory.Ifoundtheideastrangely…understandable.NowthatIwasamortal,whyshouldInotpracticenonviolentresistanceagainstthegods,too?
Ifinishedmybenediction.Igesturedfortheauraetodistributethefeast,toplacethefirstservingon
Jason’scoffinsohecouldsymbolicallysharealastmealwithhisbrethreninthemortalworld.Oncethathappened,andthepyrewaslit,Jason’ssoulwouldcrosstheStyx—soRomantraditionsaid.
Beforethetorchescouldbesettothewood,aplaintivehowlechoedinthedistance.Thenanother,muchcloser.Anuneasyripplepassedthroughtheassembleddemigods.Theirexpressionsweren’talarmed,exactly,butdefinitelysurprised,asiftheyhadn’tplannedonextraguests.Hannibalgruntedandstamped.
Attheedgesofourgathering,graywolvesemergedfromthegloom—dozensofhugebeasts,keeningforthedeathofJason,amemberoftheirpack.
Directlybehindthepyre,ontheraisedstepsofJupiter’stemple,thelargestwolfappeared,hersilveryhideglowinginthetorchlight.
Ifeltthelegionholdingitscollectivebreath.Nooneknelt.WhenfacingLupa,thewolfgoddess,guardianspiritofRome,youdon’tkneelorshowanysignofweakness.Insteadwestoodrespectfully,holdingourground,asthepackbayedaroundus.
Atlast,Lupafixedmewithherlamp-yelloweyes.Withacurlofherlip,shegavemeasimpleorder:Come.
Thensheturnedandpacedintothedarknessofthetemple.Reynaapproachedme.“Lookslikethewolfgoddesswantstohaveaprivateword.”Shefrowned
withconcern.“We’llgetthefeaststarted.Yougoahead.HopefullyLupaisn’tangry.Orhungry.”
Singitwithme:Who’sAfraidoftheBigGoodWolf?Me.Thatwouldbeme.
LUPAWASBOTHANGRYandhungry.Ididn’tclaimtobefluentinWolf,butI’dspentenoughtimearoundmy
sister’spacktounderstandthebasics.Feelingsweretheeasiesttoread.Lupa,likeallherkind,spokeinacombinationofglances,snarls,eartwitches,postures,andpheromones.Itwasquiteanelegantlanguage,thoughnotwell-suitedtorhymingcouplets.Believeme,I’dtried.Nothingrhymeswithgrr-rrr-row-rrr.
LupawastremblingwithfuryoverJason’sdeath.Theketonesonherbreathindicatedshehadnoteatenindays.Theangermadeherhungry.Thehungermadeherangry.AndhertwitchingnostrilstoldherthatIwasthenearest,mostconvenientsackofmortalmeat.
Nevertheless,IfollowedherintoJupiter’smassivetemple.Ihadlittlechoice.Ringingtheopen-airpavilion,columnsthesizeofredwoodssupporteda
domed,gildedceiling.ThefloorwasacolorfulmosaicofLatininscriptions:prophecies,memorials,direwarningstopraiseJupiterorfacehislightning.Inthecenter,behindamarblealtar,roseamassivegoldenstatueofDadhimself:JupiterOptimusMaximus,drapedinapurplesilktogabigenoughtobeaship’ssail.Helookedstern,wise,andpaternal,thoughhewasonlyoneofthoseinreallife.
Seeinghimtoweraboveme,lightningboltraised,Ihadtofighttheurgetocowerandplead.Iknewitwasonlyastatue,butifyou’veeverbeentraumatizedbysomeone,you’llunderstand.Itdoesn’ttakemuchtotriggerthoseoldfears:a
look,asound,afamiliarsituation.Orafifty-foot-tallgoldenstatueofyourabuser—thatdoesthetrick.
Lupastoodbeforethealtar.Mistshroudedherfurasifshewereoff-gassingquicksilver.
Itisyourtime,shetoldme.Orsomethinglikethat.Hergesturesconveyedexpectationandurgency.She
wantedmetodosomething.Herscenttoldmeshewasn’tsureIwascapableofit.
Iswalloweddryly,whichinitselfwasWolfforI’mscared.NodoubtLupaalreadysmelledmyfear.Itwasn’tpossibletolieinLupa’slanguage.Threaten,bully,cajole…yes.Butnotoutrightlie.
“Mytime,”Isaid.“Forwhat,exactly?”Shenippedtheairinannoyance.TobeApollo.Thepackneedsyou.IwantedtoscreamI’vebeentryingtobeApollo!It’snotthateasy!ButIrestrainedmybodylanguagefrombroadcastingthatmessage.Talkingface-to-facewithanygodisdangerousbusiness.Iwasoutof
practice.True,I’dseenBritomartisbackinIndianapolis,butshedidn’tcount.Shelikedtorturingmetoomuchtowanttokillme.WithLupa,though…Ihadtobecareful.
EvenwhenI’dbeenagodmyself,I’dneverbeenabletogetagoodreadontheWolfMother.Shedidn’thangoutwiththeOlympians.ShenevercametothefamilySaturnaliadinners.Notoncehadsheattendedourmonthlybookgroup,evenwhenwediscussedDanceswithWolves.
“Fine,”Irelented.“Iknowwhatyoumean.ThelastlinesfromtheDarkProphecy.I’vereachedtheTiberalive,etcetera,etcetera.NowIamsupposedto‘jive.’Iassumethatentailsmorethandancingandsnappingmyfingers?”
Lupa’sstomachgrowled.ThemoreItalked,thetastierIsmelled.Thepackisweak,shesignaledwithaglancetowardthefuneralpyre.Too
manyhavedied.Whentheenemysurroundsthisplace,youmustshowstrength.Youmustsummonhelp.
Itriedtosuppressanotherwolfishdisplayofirritation.Lupawasagoddess.Thiswashercity,hercamp.Shehadapackofsupernaturalwolvesathercommand.Whycouldn’tshehelp?
But,ofcourse,Iknewtheanswer.Wolvesarenotfrontlinefighters.Theyarehunterswhoattackonlywhentheyhaveoverwhelmingnumbers.LupaexpectedherRomanstosolvetheirownproblems.Tobeself-sufficientordie.Shewouldadvise.Shewouldteachandguideandwarn.Butshewouldnotfighttheirbattles.Ourbattles.
Whichmademewonderwhyshewastellingmetosummonhelp.Andwhathelp?
Myexpressionandbodylanguagemusthaveconveyedthequestion.Sheflickedherears.North.Scoutthetomb.Findanswers.Thatisthefirst
step.Outside,atthebaseofthetemple,thefuneralpyrecrackledandroared.
Smokedriftedthroughtheopenrotunda,buffetingthestatueofJupiter.Ihoped,somewhereuponMountOlympus,Dad’sdivinesinusesweresuffering.
“TarquiniusSuperbus,”Isaid.“He’stheonewhosenttheundead.He’llattackagainatthebloodmoon.”
Lupa’snostrilstwitchedinconfirmation.Hisstenchisonyou.Becarefulinhistomb.Theemperorswerefoolishtocallhimforth.
EmperorwasadifficultconcepttoexpressinWolf.Thetermforitcouldmeanalphawolf,packleader,orsubmittomenowbeforeIripoutyourjugular.IwasfairlysureIinterpretedLupa’smeaningcorrectly.Herpheromonesreaddanger,disgust,apprehension,outrage,moredanger.
Iputahandovermybandagedabdomen.Iwasgettingbetter…wasn’tI?I’dbeenslatheredwithenoughLemurianspiceandunicorn-hornshavingstokillazombiemastodon.ButIdidn’tlikeLupa’sworriedlook,ortheideaofanyone’sstenchbeingonme,especiallynotanundeadking’s.
“OnceIexplorethistomb,”Isaid,“andgetoutalive…whatthen?”Thewaywillbeclearer.Todefeatthegreatsilence.Thensummonhelp.
Withoutthis,thepackwilldie.IwaslesssureIcomprehendedthoselines.“Defeatthesilence.Youmean
thesoundlessgod?ThedoorwaythatReynaissupposedtoopen?”Herresponsewasfrustratinglyambivalent.ItcouldhavemeantYesandno,
orSortof,orWhyareyousodense?IstaredupatLargeGoldenDad.Zeushadthrownmeintothemiddleofallthistrouble.He’dstrippedmeof
mypower,thenkickedmetotheearthtofreetheOracles,defeattheemperors,and—Oh,wait!Igotabonusundeadkingandasilentgod,too!IhopedthesootfromthefuneralpyrewasreallyannoyingJupiter.Iwantedtoclimbuphislegsandfinger-writeacrosshischestWASHME!
Iclosedmyeyes.Thisprobablywasn’tthewisestthingtodowhenfacingagiantwolf,butIhadtoomanyhalf-formedideasswirlingaroundinmyhead.IthoughtabouttheSibyllineBooks,thevariousprescriptionstheycontainedforwardingoffdisasters.IconsideredwhatLupamightmeanbythegreatsilence.Andsummoninghelp.
Myeyessnappedopen.“Help.Asingodlyhelp.YoumeanifIsurvivethetomband—anddefeatthesoundlesswhatever-it-is,Imightbeabletosummongodlyhelp?”
Lupamadearumblingsounddeepinherchest.Finally,heunderstands.Thiswillbethebeginning.Thefirststeptorejoiningyourownpack.
Myheartka-thumpedlikeitwasfallingdownaflightofstairs.Lupa’smessageseemedtoogoodtobetrue.IcouldcontactmyfellowOlympians,despiteZeus’sstandingordersthattheyshunmewhileIwashuman.ImightevenbeabletoinvoketheiraidtosaveCampJupiter.Suddenly,Ireallydidfeelbetter.Mygutdidn’thurt.MynervestingledwithasensationIhadn’tfeltforsolongIalmostdidn’trecognizeit:hope.
Beware.Lupabroughtmebacktorealitywithalowsnarl.Thewayishard.Youwillfacemoresacrifices.Death.Blood.
“No.”Imethereyes—adangeroussignofchallengethatsurprisedmeasmuchasitdidher.“No,Iwillsucceed.Iwon’tallowanymorelosses.Therehastobeaway.”
Imanagedmaybethreesecondsofeyecontactbeforelookingaway.Lupasniffed—adismissivenoiselikeOfcourseIwon,butIthoughtI
detectedahintofgrudgingapproval,too.ItdawnedonmethatLupaappreciatedmyblusteranddetermination,evenifshedidn’tbelieveIwascapableofdoingwhatIsaid.Maybeespeciallybecauseshedidn’tbelieveit.
Rejointhefeast,sheordered.Tellthemyouhavemyblessing.Continuetoactstrong.Itishowwestart.
Istudiedtheoldpropheciessetinthefloormosaic.IhadlostfriendstotheTriumvirate.Ihadsuffered.ButIrealizedthatLupahadsuffered,too.HerRomanchildrenhadbeendecimated.Shecarriedthepainofalltheirdeaths.Yetshehadtoactstrong,evenasherpackfacedpossibleextinction.
Youcouldn’tlieinWolf.Butyoucouldbluff.Sometimesyouhadtoblufftokeepagrievingpacktogether.Whatdomortalssay?Fakeittillyoumakeit?Thatisaverywolfishphilosophy.
“Thankyou.”Ilookedup,butLupawasgone.Nothingremainedexceptsilvermist,blendingwiththesmokefromJason’spyre.
IgaveReynaandFrankthesimplestversion:Ihadreceivedthewolfgoddess’sblessing.Ipromisedtotellthemmorethenextday,onceI’dhadtimetomakesenseofit.Meanwhile,ItrustedthatwordwouldspreadamongthelegionaboutLupagivingmeguidance.Thatwouldbeenoughfornow.Thesedemigodsneededallthereassurancetheycouldget.
Asthepyreburned,FrankandHazelstoodhandinhand,keepingvigilasJasonmadehisfinalvoyage.IsatonafuneralpicnicblanketwithMeg,whoateeverythinginsightandwentonandonaboutherexcellentafternoontendingunicornswithLavinia.MegboastedthatLaviniahadevenlethercleanoutthestables.
“ShepulledaTomSawyeronyou,”Iobserved.Megfrowned,hermouthfilledwithhamburger.“Whad’yamean?”“Nothing.Youweresaying,aboutunicornpoop?”Itriedtoeatmydinner,butdespitehowhungryIwas,thefoodtastedlike
dust.Whenthepyre’slastembersdiedandthewindspiritsclearedawaythe
remnantsofthefeast,wefollowedthelegionnairesbacktocamp.UpinBombilo’sspareroom,Ilayonmycotandstudiedthecracksinthe
ceiling.IimaginedtheywerelinesoftattooedscriptacrossaCyclops’sback.IfIstaredatthemlongenough,maybetheywouldstarttomakesense,oratleastIcouldfindtheindex.
Megthrewashoeatme.“Yougottarest.Tomorrow’sthesenatemeeting.”Ibrushedherredhigh-topoffmychest.“You’renotasleep,either.”“Yeah,butyou’llhavetospeak.They’llwannahearyourplan.”“Myplan?”“Youknow,likeanoration.Inspirethemandstuff.Convincethemwhatto
do.They’llvoteonitandeverything.”“Oneafternoonintheunicornstables,andyou’reanexpertonRoman
senatorialproceedings.”“Laviniatoldme.”Megsoundedpositivelysmugaboutit.Shelayonhercot,
tossingherotherhigh-topintheairandcatchingitagain.Howshemanagedthiswithoutherglasseson,Ihadnoidea.
Minustherhinestonecat-eyeframes,herfacelookedolder,hereyesdarkerandmoreserious.Iwouldhaveevencalledhermature,hadshenotcomebackfromherdayatthestableswearingaglitterygreenT-shirtthatreadVNICORNESIMPERANT!
“WhatifIdon’thaveaplan?”Iasked.IexpectedMegtothrowherothershoeatme.Insteadshesaid,“Youdo.”“Ido?”“Yep.Youmightnothaveitallputtogetheryet,butyouwillbytomorrow.”Icouldn’ttellifshewasgivingmeanorder,orexpressingfaithinme,orjust
vastlyunderestimatingthedangerswefaced.Continuetoactstrong,Lupahadtoldme.Itishowwestart.“Okay,”Isaidtentatively.“Well,forstarters,Iwasthinkingthatwecould—”
“Notnow!Tomorrow.Idon’twantspoilers.”Ah.TherewastheMegIknewandtolerated.“Whatisitwithyouandspoilers?”Iasked.“Ihatethem.”“I’mtryingtostrategizewithy—”“Nope.”“Talkingthroughmyideas—”“Nope.”Shetossedasidehershoe,putapillowoverherhead,and
commandedinamuffledvoice:“Gotosleep!”Againstadirectorder,Ihadnochance.Wearinesswashedoverme,andmy
eyelidscrashedshut.
DirtandbubblegumLaviniabroughtenoughForthewholesenate
HOWDOYOUTELLadreamfromanightmare?Ifitinvolvesabookburning,it’sprobablyanightmare.IfoundmyselfintheRomansenateroom—notthegrand,famouschamber
oftherepublicortheempire,buttheoldsenateroomoftheRomankingdom.Themudbrickwallswerepaintedslapdashwhiteandred.Strawcoveredthefilthyfloor.Firesfromironbraziersbillowedsootandsmoke,darkeningtheplasterceiling.
Nofinemarblehere.Noexoticsilkorimperialpurplegrandeur.ThiswasRomeinitsoldest,rawestform:allhungerandviciousness.Theroyalguardsworecuredleatherarmoroversweatytunics.Theirblackironspearswerecrudelyhammered,theirhelmetsstitchedofwolfhide.Enslavedwomenkneltatthefootofthethrone,whichwasarough-hewnslabofrockcoveredwithfurs.Liningeithersideoftheroomwerecrudewoodenbenches—thebleachersforthesenators,whosatmorelikeprisonersorspectatorsthanpowerfulpoliticians.Inthisera,senatorshadonlyonetruepower:tovoteforanewkingwhentheoldonedied.Otherwise,theywereexpectedtoapplaudorshutupasrequired.
OnthethronesatLuciusTarquiniusSuperbus—seventhkingofRome,murderer,schemer,slave-driver,andall-aroundswellguy.Hisfacewaslikewetporcelaincutwithasteakknife—awideglisteningmouthpulledintoalopsidedscowl;cheekbonestoopronounced;anosebrokenandhealedinanuglyzigzag;heavy-lidded,suspiciouseyes;andlong,stringyhairthatlookedlikedrizzledclay.
Justafewyearsbefore,whenheascendedthethrone,Tarquinhadbeenpraisedforhismanlygoodlooksandhisphysicalstrength.He’ddazzledthesenatorswithflatteryandgifts,thenploppedhimselfontohisfather-in-law’sthroneandpersuadedthesenatetoconfirmhimasthenewking.
Whentheoldkingrushedintoprotestthathewas,youknow,stillverymuchalive,Tarquinpickedhimuplikeasackofturnips,carriedhimoutside,andthrewhimintothestreet,wheretheoldking’sdaughter,Tarquin’swife,ranoverherunfortunatedadwithherchariot,splatteringthewheelswithhisblood.
Alovelystarttoalovelyreign.NowTarquinworehisyearsheavily.He’dgrownhunchedandthick,asifall
thebuildingprojectshe’dforcedonhispeoplehadactuallybeenheapedonhisownshoulders.Heworethehideofawolfforacloak.Hisrobesweresuchadarkmottledpink,itwasimpossibletotellifthey’doncebeenredandthenspatteredwithbleach,orhadoncebeenwhiteandspatteredwithblood.
Asidefromtheguards,theonlypersonstandingintheroomwasanoldwomanfacingthethrone.Herrose-coloredhoodedcloak,herhulkingframe,andherstoopedbackmadeherlooklikeamockingreflectionofthekinghimself:theSaturdayNightLiveversionofTarquin.Inthecrookofonearmsheheldastackofsixleather-boundvolumes,eachthesizeofafoldedshirtandjustasfloppy.
Thekingscowledather.“You’reback.Why?”“Toofferyouthesamedealasbefore.”Thewoman’svoicewashusky,asifshe’dbeenshouting.Whenshepulled
downherhood,herstringygrayhairandhaggardfacemadeherlookevenmorelikeTarquin’stwinsister.Butshewasnot.ShewastheCumaeanSibyl.
Seeingheragain,myhearttwisted.Shehadoncebeenalovelyyoungwoman—bright,strong-willed,passionateaboutherpropheticwork.Shehadwantedtochangetheworld.Thenthingsbetweenussoured…andIhadchangedherinstead.
HerappearancewasonlythebeginningofthecurseIhadsetonher.Itwouldgetmuch,muchworseasthecenturiesprogressed.HowhadIputthisoutofmind?HowcouldIhavebeensocruel?TheguiltforwhatI’ddoneburnedworsethananyghoulscratch.
Tarquinshiftedonhisthrone.Hetriedforalaugh,butthesoundcameoutmorelikeabarkofalarm.“Youmustbeinsane,woman.Youroriginalpricewouldhavebankruptedmykingdom,andthatwaswhenyouhadninebooks.Youburnedthreeofthem,andnowyoucomebacktooffermeonlysix,forthesameexorbitantsum?”
Thewomanheldoutthebooks,onehandontopasifpreparingtosayan
oath.“Knowledgeisexpensive,KingofRome.Thelessthereis,themoreitisworth.BegladIamnotchargingyoudouble.”
“Oh,Isee!Ishouldbegrateful,then.”Thekinglookedathiscaptiveaudienceofsenatorsforsupport.Thatwastheircuetolaughandjeeratthewoman.Nonedid.TheylookedmoreafraidoftheSibylthanoftheking.
“Iexpectnogratitudefromthelikesofyou,”theSibylrasped.“Butyoushouldactinyourownself-interest,andintheinterestofyourkingdom.Iofferknowledgeofthefuture…howtoavertdisaster,howtosummonthehelpofthegods,howtomakeRomeagreatempire.Allthatknowledgeishere.Atleast…sixvolumesofitremain.”
“Ridiculous!”snappedtheking.“Ishouldhaveyouexecutedforyourdisrespect!”
“Ifonlythatwerepossible.”TheSibyl’svoicewasasbitterandcalmasanarcticmorning.“Doyourefusemyoffer,then?”
“Iamhighpriestaswellasking!”criedTarquin.“OnlyIdecidehowtoappeasethegods!Idon’tneed—”
TheSibyltookthetopthreebooksoffthestackandcasuallythrewthemintothenearestbrazier.Thevolumesblazedimmediately,asifthey’dbeenwritteninkeroseneonsheetsofricepaper.Inasinglegreatroar,theyweregone.
Theguardsgrippedtheirspears.Thesenatorsmutteredandshiftedontheirseats.PerhapstheycouldfeelwhatIcouldfeel—acosmicsighofanguish,theexhaleofdestinyassomanyvolumesofpropheticknowledgevanishedfromtheworld,castingashadowacrossthefuture,plunginggenerationsintodarkness.
HowcouldtheSibyldoit?Why?Perhapsitwasherwayoftakingrevengeonme.I’dcriticizedherforwriting
somanyvolumes,fornotlettingmeoverseeherwork.ButbythetimeshewrotetheSibyllineBooks,Ihadbeenangryatherfordifferentreasons.Mycursehadalreadybeenset.Ourrelationshipwasbeyondrepair.Byburningherownbooks,shewasspittingonmycriticism,onthepropheticgiftIhadgivenher,andonthetoo-highpriceshehadpaidtobemySibyl.
Orperhapsshewasmotivatedbysomethingotherthanbitterness.PerhapsshehadareasonforchallengingTarquinasshedidandexactingsuchahighpenaltyforhisstubbornness.
“Lastchance,”shetoldtheking.“Iofferyouthreebooksofprophecyforthesamepriceasbefore.”
“Forthesame—”Thekingchokedonhisrage.Icouldseehowmuchhewantedtorefuse.Hewantedtoscreamobscenities
attheSibylandorderhisguardstoimpaleheronthespot.Buthissenatorswereshiftingandwhisperinguneasily.Hisguards’faces
werepalewithfear.Hisenslavedwomenweredoingtheirbesttohidebehindthedais.
Romanswereasuperstitiouspeople.Tarquinknewthis.Ashighpriest,hewasresponsibleforprotectinghissubjectsbyinterceding
withthegods.Undernocircumstanceswashesupposedtomakethegodsangry.Thisoldwomanwasofferinghimpropheticknowledgetohelphiskingdom.Thecrowdinthethroneroomcouldsenseherpower,herclosenesstothedivine.
IfTarquinallowedhertoburnthoselastbooks,ifhethrewawayheroffer…itmightnotbetheSibylwhomhisguardsdecidedtoimpale.
“Well?”theSibylprompted,holdingherthreeremainingvolumesclosetotheflames.
Tarquinswallowedbackhisanger.Throughclenchedteeth,heforcedoutthewords:“Iagreetoyourterms.”
“Good,”saidtheSibyl,novisiblereliefordisappointmentonherface.“LetpaymentbebroughttothePomerianLine.OnceIhaveit,youwillhavetheBooks.”
TheSibyldisappearedinaflashofbluelight.Mydreamdissolvedwithher.
“Putonyoursheet.”Megthrewatogainmyface,whichwasnotthenicestwaytobewokenup.
Iblinked,stillgroggy,thesmellofsmoke,moldystraw,andsweatyRomanslingeringinmynostrils.“Atoga?ButI’mnotasenator.”
“You’rehonorary,becauseyouusedtobeagodorwhatever.”Megpouted.“Idon’tgettowearasheet.”
IhadahorriblementalimageofMeginatraffic-light-coloredtoga,gardeningseedsspillingfromthefoldsofthecloth.ShewouldjusthavetomakedowithherglitteryunicornT-shirt.
BombilogavemehisusualGoodmorningglarewhenIcamedownstairstoappropriatethecafébathroom.Iwashedup,thenchangedmybandageswithakitthehealershadthoughtfullyleftinourroom.Theghoulscratchlookednoworse,butitwasstillpuckeredandangryred.Itstillburned.Thatwasnormal,right?Itriedtoconvincemyselfitwas.Astheysay,doctorgodsmaketheworstpatientgods.
Igotdressed,tryingtorememberhowtofoldatoga,andmulledoverthethingsI’dlearnedfrommydream.Numberone:Iwasaterriblepersonwhoruinedlives.Numbertwo:TherewasnotasinglebadthingI’ddoneinthelastfourthousandyearsthatwasnotgoingtocomebackandbitemeintheclunis,
andIwasbeginningtothinkIdeservedit.TheCumaeanSibyl.Oh,Apollo,whathadyoubeenthinking?Alas,IknewwhatI’dbeenthinking—thatshewasaprettyyoungwomanI
wantedtogetwith,despitethefactthatshewasmySibyl.Thenshe’doutsmartedme,andbeingthebadloserthatIwas,Ihadcursedher.
NowonderIwasnowpayingtheprice:trackingdowntheevilRomankingtowhomshe’doncesoldherSibyllineBooks.IfTarquinwasstillclingingtosomehorribleundeadexistence,couldtheCumaeanSibylbealiveaswell?Ishudderedtothinkwhatshemightbelikeafterallthesecenturies,andhowmuchherhatredformewouldhavegrown.
Firstthingsfirst:Ihadtotellthesenatemymarvelousplantomakethingsrightandsaveusall.DidIhaveamarvelousplan?Shockingly,maybe.Oratleastthebeginningsofamarvelousplan.Themarvelousindexofone.
Onourwayout,MegandIgrabbedLemurian-spicelattesandacoupleofblueberrymuffins—becauseMegclearlyneededmoresugarandcaffeine—thenwejoinedthelooseprocessionofdemigodsheadingforthecity.
BythetimewegottotheSenateHouse,everyonewastakingtheirseats.Flankingtherostrum,PraetorsReynaandFrankwerearrayedintheirfinestgoldandpurple.Thefirstrowofbencheswasoccupiedbythecamp’stensenators—eachinawhitetogatrimmedinpurple—alongwiththesenior-mostveterans,thosewithaccessibilityneeds,andEllaandTyson.Ellafidgeted,doingherbesttoavoidbrushingshoulderswiththesenatoronherleft.TysongrinnedattheLaronhisright,wrigglinghisfingersinsidetheghost’svaporousribcage.
Behindthem,thesemicircleoftieredseatswaspackedtooverflowingwithlegionnaires,Lares,retiredveterans,andothercitizensofNewRome.Ihadn’tseenalecturehallthiscrowdedsinceCharlesDickens’s1867SecondAmericanTour.(Greatshow.IstillhavetheautographedT-shirtframedinmybedroominthePalaceoftheSun.)
IthoughtIshouldsitinfront,beinganhonorarywearerofbedlinens,buttherewassimplynoroom.ThenIspottedLavinia(thankyou,pinkhair)wavingatusfromthebackrow.Shepattedthebenchnexttoher,indicatingthatshe’dsavedusseats.Athoughtfulgesture.Ormaybeshewantedsomething.
OnceMegandIhadsettledoneithersideofher,LaviniagaveMegthesupersecretUnicornSisterhoodfistbump,thenturnedandribbedmewithhersharpelbow.“So,you’rereallyApollo,afterall!Youmustknowmymom.”
“I—what?”Hereyebrowswereextradistractingtoday.Thedarkrootshadstartedto
growoutunderthepinkdye,whichmadethemseemtohoverslightlyoffcenter,asiftheywereabouttofloatoffherface.
“Mymom?”sherepeated,poppingherbubblegum.“Terpsichore?”“The—theMuseofDance.Areyouaskingmeifshe’syourmother,orifI
knowher?”“Ofcourseshe’smymother.”“OfcourseIknowher.”“Well,then!”Laviniadrummedariffonherknees,asiftoproveshehada
dancer’srhythmdespitebeingsogangly.“Iwannahearthedirt!”“Thedirt?”“I’venevermether.”“Oh.Um…”Overthecenturies,I’dhadmanyconversationswithdemigods
whowantedtoknowmoreabouttheirabsenteegodlyparents.Thosetalksrarelywentwell.ItriedtoconjureapictureofTerpsichore,butmymemoriesofOlympusweregettingfuzzierbytheday.IvaguelyrecalledtheMusefrolickingaroundoneoftheparksonMountOlympus,castingrosepetalsinherwakeasshetwirledandpirouetted.Truthbetold,TerpsichorehadneverbeenmyfavoriteoftheNineMuses.Shetendedtotakethespotlightoffme,whereitrightlybelonged.
“Shehadyourcolorhair,”Iventured.“Pink?”“No,Imean…dark.Lotsofnervousenergy,Isuppose,likeyou.Shewas
neverhappyunlessshewasmoving,but…”Myvoicedied.WhatcouldIsaythatwouldn’tsoundmean?Terpsichorewas
gracefulandpoisedanddidn’tlooklikeawobblygiraffe?WasLaviniasuretherehadn’tbeensomemistakeaboutherparentage?BecauseIcouldn’tbelievetheywererelated.
“Butwhat?”shepressed.“Nothing.Hardtoremember.”Downattherostrum,Reynawascallingthemeetingtoorder.“Everyone,if
you’llpleasetakeyourseats!Weneedtogetstarted.Dakota,canyouscootinalittletomakeroomfor—Thanks.”
Laviniaregardedmeskeptically.“That’sthelamestdirtever.Ifyoucan’ttellmeaboutmymom,atleasttellmewhat’sgoingonwithyouandMs.Praetordownthere.”
Isquirmed.Thebenchsuddenlyfeltagreatdealharderundermyclunis.“There’snothingtotell.”
“Oh,please.Thewayyou’vebeensneakingglancesatReynasinceyougothere?Inoticedit.Megnoticed.”
“Inoticed,”Megconfirmed.“EvenFrankZhangnoticed.”Laviniaturnedupherpalmsasifshe’djust
providedtheultimateproofofcompleteobviousness.Reynabegantoaddressthecrowd:“Senators,guests,wehavecalledthis
emergencymeetingtodiscuss—”“Honestly,”IwhisperedtoLavinia,“it’sawkward.Youwouldn’t
understand.”Shesnorted.“AwkwardistellingyourrabbithatDaniellaBernsteinisgoing
tobeyourdateforyourbatmitzvahparty.Ortellingyourdadthattheonlydancingyouwanttodoistap,soyou’renotgoingtocarryontheAsimovfamilytradition.Iknowallaboutawkward.”
Reynacontinued,“InlightofJasonGrace’sultimatesacrifice,andourownrecentbattleagainsttheundead,wehavetotakeveryseriouslythethreat—”
“Wait,”IwhisperedtoLavinia,herwordssinkingin.“YourdadisSergeiAsimov?Thedancer?The—”IstoppedmyselfbeforeIcouldsayThesmoking-hotRussianballetstar,butjudgingfromLavinia’seyeroll,sheknewwhatIwasthinking.
“Yeah,yeah,”shesaid.“Stoptryingtochangethesubject.Areyougoingtodishon—?”
“LaviniaAsimov!”Reynacalledfromtherostrum.“Didyouhavesomethingtosay?”
Alleyesturnedtowardus.Afewlegionnairessmirked,asifthiswasnotthefirsttimeLaviniahadbeencalledoutduringasenatemeeting.
Laviniaglancedfromsidetoside,thenpointedtoherselfasifunsurewhichofthemanyLaviniaAsimovsReynamightbeaddressing.“No,ma’am.I’mgood.”
Reynadidnotlookamusedbybeingcalledma’am.“Inoticeyou’rechewinggumaswell.Didyoubringenoughforthewholesenate?”
“Er,Imean…”Laviniapulledmultiplepacksofgumfromherpockets.Shescannedthecrowd,doingaquickguesstimate.“Maybe?”
Reynaglancedheavenward,asifaskingthegods,WhydoIhavetobetheonlyadultintheroom?
“I’llassume,”thepraetorsaid,“thatyouwerejusttryingtodrawattentiontotheguestseatednexttoyou,whohasimportantinformationtoshare.LesterPapadopoulos,riseandaddressthesenate!”
InowhaveaplanTomakeaplanconcerningTheplanformyplan
NORMALLY,WHENI’MABOUTtoperform,Iwaitbackstage.OnceI’mannouncedandthecrowdisfrenziedwithanticipation,Iburstthroughthecurtains,thespotlightshitme,andTA-DA!IamAGOD!
Reyna’sintroductiondidnotinspirewildapplause.LesterPapadopoulos,riseandaddressthesenatewasaboutasexcitingasWewillnowhaveaPowerPointaboutadverbs.
AssoonasIstartedmakingmywaytotheaisle,Laviniatrippedme.Iglaredbackather.Shegavemeaninnocentface,likeherfootjusthappenedtobethere.Giventhesizeofherlegs,maybeithadbeen.
EveryonewatchedasIfumbledmywaythroughthecrowd,tryingnottotriponmytoga.
“Excuseme.Sorry.Excuseme.”BythetimeImadeittotherostrum,theaudiencewaswhippedintoafrenzy
ofboredomandimpatience.Nodoubttheywould’veallbeencheckingtheirphones—exceptdemigodscouldn’tusesmartphoneswithoutriskingmonsterattack,sotheyhadnoalternativebuttostareatme.IhadwowedthemtwodaysagowithafantasticmusicaltributetoJasonGrace,butwhathadIdoneforthemlately?OnlytheLareslookedcontenttowait.Theycouldenduresittingonhardbenchesforever.
Fromthebackrow,Megwavedatme.Herexpressionwaslesslike,Hi,you’lldogreat,andmorelike,Getonwithit.IturnedmygazetoTyson,whowasgrinningatmefromthefrontrow.Whenyoufindyourselffocusingonthe
Cyclopsinthecrowdformoralsupport,youknowyou’regoingtobomb.“So…hi.”Greatstart.Ihopedanotherburstofinspirationmightleadtoafollow-up
song.Nothinghappened.I’dleftmyukuleleinmyroom,surethatifI’dtriedtobringitintothecity,Terminuswouldhaveconfiscateditasaweapon.
“Ihavesomebadnews,”Isaid.“Andsomebadnews.Whichdoyouwanttohearfirst?”
Thecrowdexchangedapprehensivelooks.Laviniayelled,“Startwiththebadnews.That’salwaysbest.”“Hey,”Frankchastisedher.“Like,decorum,youknow?”Havingrestoredsolemnitytothesenatemeeting,Frankgesturedformeto
proceed.“TheemperorsCommodusandCaligulahavecombinedforces,”Isaid.I
describedwhatI’dseeninmydream.“They’resailingtowardusrightnowwithafleetoffiftyyachts,allequippedwithsomekindofterriblenewweapon.They’llbeherebythebloodmoon.WhichasIunderstandit,isinthreedays,Aprileighth,whichalsohappenstobeLesterPapadopoulos’sbirthday.”
“Happybirthday!”Tysonsaid.“Thanks.Also,I’mnotsurewhatabloodmoonis.”Ahandshotupinthesecondrow.“Goahead,Ida,”Reynasaid,thenaddedformybenefit,“Centurionofthe
SecondCohort,legacyofLuna.”“Seriously?”Ididn’tmeantosoundincredulous,butLuna,aTitan,hadbeen
inchargeofthemoonbeforemysisterArtemistookoverthejob.AsfarasIknew,Lunahadfadedawaymillenniaago.Thenagain,I’dthoughttherewasnothingleftofHeliosthesunTitanuntilIfoundoutthatMedeawascollectingshredsofhisconsciousnesstoheattheBurningMaze.ThoseTitanswerelikemyacne.Theyjustkeptpoppingup.
Thecenturionstood,scowling.“Yes,seriously.Abloodmoonisafullmoonthatlooksredbecausethere’safulllunareclipse.It’sabadtimetofighttheundead.They’reespeciallypowerfulonthosenights.”
“Actually…”Ellastood,pickingatherfingertalons.“Actually,thecoloriscausedbythedispersalofreflectedlightfromthesunriseandsunsetofearth.Atruebloodmoonreferstofourlunareclipsesinarow.ThenextoneisonAprileighth,yep.Farmer’sAlmanac.MoonPhaseCalendarsupplemental.”
Sheploppeddownagain,leavingtheaudienceinstunnedsilence.Nothingisquitesodisconcertingashavingscienceexplainedtoyoubyasupernaturalcreature.
“Thankyou,IdaandElla,”Reynasaid.“Lester,didyouhavemoretoadd?”
HertonesuggestedthatitwouldbetotallyokayifIdidn’t,sinceI’dalreadysharedenoughinformationtocauseacamp-widepanic.
“I’mafraidso,”Isaid.“TheemperorshavealliedthemselveswithTarquintheProud.”
TheLaresintheroomgutteredandflickered.“Impossible!”criedone.“Horrible!”criedanother.“We’llalldie!”screamedathird,apparentlyforgettingthathewasalready
dead.“Guys,chill,”Franksaid.“LetApollotalk.”HisleadershipstylewaslessformalthanReyna’s,butheseemedto
commandjustasmuchrespect.Theaudiencesettled,waitingformetocontinue.“Tarquinisnowsomesortofundeadcreature,”Isaid.“Histombisnearby.
Hewasresponsiblefortheattackyourepulsedonthenewmoon—”“Whichisalsoareallycruddytimetofighttheundead,”Idavolunteered.“Andhe’llattackagainonthebloodmoon,inconcertwiththeemperors’
assault.”IdidmybesttoexplainwhatI’dseeninmydreams,andwhatFrankandI
haddiscussedwithElla.IdidnotmentionthereferencetoFrank’sunholypieceoffirewood—partlybecauseIdidn’tunderstandit,partlybecauseFrankwasgivingmethepleadingteddy-beareyes.
“SinceTarquinwastheonewhooriginallypurchasedtheSibyllineBooks,”Isummedup,“itmakesatwistedkindofsensethathewouldreappearnow,whenCampJupiteristryingtoreconstructthoseprophecies.Tarquinwouldbe…invokedbywhatEllaisdoing.”
“Enraged,”Ellasuggested.“Infuriated.Homicidal.”Lookingattheharpy,IthoughtoftheCumaeanSibyl,andtheterriblecurse
I’dlaiduponher.IwonderedhowEllamightsuffer,justbecausewe’dcoercedherintoenteringtheprophecybusiness.Lupahadwarnedme:Youwillfacemoresacrifices.Death.Blood.
Iforcedthatideaaside.“Anyway,Tarquinwasmonstrousenoughwhenhewasalive.TheRomansdespisedhimsomuchtheydidawaywiththemonarchyforever.Evencenturieslater,theemperorsneverdaredtocallthemselveskings.Tarquindiedinexile.Histombwasneverlocated.”
“Andnowit’shere,”Reynasaid.Itwasn’taquestion.SheacceptedthatanancientRomantombcouldpopup
inNorthernCalifornia,whereithadnobusinessbeing.Thegodsmoved.Thedemigodcampsmoved.Itwasjustourluckthatanevilundeadlairwouldmoveinnextdoor.Wereallyneededstrictermythologicalzoninglaws.
Inthefirstrow,nexttoHazel,asenatorrosetospeak.Hehaddarkcurlyhair,off-centerblueeyes,andacherry-redmustachestainonhisupperlip.“So,tosumup:inthreedays,we’refacinganinvasionfromtwoevilemperors,theirarmies,andfiftyshipswithweaponswedon’tunderstand,alongwithanotherwaveofundeadliketheonethatnearlydestroyeduslasttime,whenwewerealotstronger.Ifthat’sthebadnews,what’sthebadnews?”
“Iassumewe’regettingtothat,Dakota.”Reynaturnedtome.“Right,Lester?”
“Theotherbadnews,”Isaid,“isthatIhaveaplan,butit’sgoingtobehard,maybeimpossible,andpartsoftheplanaren’texactly…plan-worthy,yet.”
Dakotarubbedhishands.“Well,I’mexcited.Let’shearit!”Hesatbackdown,pulledaflaskfromhistoga,andtookaswig.Iguessed
thathewasachildofBacchus,and,judgingfromthesmellthatwaftedacrossthesenatefloor,hischosenbeveragewasfruitpunchKool-Aid.
Itookadeepbreath.“So.TheSibyllineBooksarebasicallylikeemergencyrecipes,right?Sacrifices.Ritualprayers.Somearedesignedtoappeaseangrygods.Somearedesignedtocallfordivineaidagainstyourenemies.Ibelieve…I’mprettysure…ifwe’reabletofindthecorrectrecipeforourpredicament,anddowhatitsays,ImaybeabletosummonhelpfromMountOlympus.”
Noonelaughedorcalledmecrazy.Godsdidn’tinterveneindemigodaffairsoften,butitdidhappenonrareoccasions.Theideawasn’tcompletelyunbelievable.Ontheotherhand,noonelookedterriblyassuredthatIcouldpullitoff.
Adifferentsenatorraisedhishand.“Uh,SenatorLarryhere,ThirdCohort,sonofMercury.So,whenyousayhelp,doyoumeanlike…battalionsofgodschargingdownhereintheirchariots,ormorelikethegodsjustgivingustheirblessing,like,Hey,goodluckwiththat,legion!?”
Myolddefensivenesskickedin.Iwantedtoarguethatwegodswouldneverleaveourdesperatefollowershanginglikethat.But,ofcourse,wedid.Allthetime.
“That’sagoodquestion,SenatorLarry,”Iadmitted.“Itwouldprobablybesomewherebetweenthoseextremes.ButI’mconfidentitwouldberealhelp,capableofturningthetide.ItmaybetheonlywaytosaveNewRome.AndIhavetobelieveZeus—ImeanJupiter—setmysupposedbirthdayasAprileighthforareason.It’smeanttobeaturningpoint,thedayIfinally…”
Myvoicecracked.Ididn’tsharetheothersideofthatthought:thatApril8mighteitherbethedayIbegantoprovemyselfworthyofrejoiningthegods,ormylastbirthdayever,thedayIwentupinflamesonceandforall.
Moremurmuringfromthecrowd.Lotsofgraveexpressions.ButIdetected
nopanic.EventheLaresdidn’tscream,We’reallgoingtodie!TheassembleddemigodswereRomans,afterall.Theywereusedtofacingdirepredicaments,longodds,andstrongenemies.
“Okay.”HazelLevesquespokeforthefirsttime.“Sohowdowefindthiscorrectrecipe?Wheredowestart?”
Iappreciatedherconfidenttone.Shemighthavebeenaskingifshecouldhelpwithsomethingcompletelydoable—likecarryinggroceries,orimpalingghoulswithquartzspikes.
“Thefirststep,”Isaid,“istofindandexploreTarquin’stomb—”“Andkillhim!”yelledoneoftheLares.“No,MarcusApulius!”scoldedoneofhispeers.“Tarquinisasdeadaswe
are!”“Well,what,then?”grumbledMarcusApulius.“Askhimnicelytoleaveus
alone?ThisisTarquintheProudwe’retalkingabout!He’samaniac!”“Thefirststep,”Isaid,“isonlytoexplorethetomband,ah,findouttheright
things,asEllasaid.”“Yep,”theharpyagreed.“Ellasaidthat.”“Ihavetoassume,”Icontinued,“thatifwesucceedinthis,andcomeout
alive,wewillknowmoreabouthowtoproceed.Rightnow,allIcansaywithcertaintyisthatthenextstepwillinvolvefindingasoundlessgod,whateverthatmeans.”
Franksatforwardinhispraetor’schair.“Butdon’tyouknowallthegods,Apollo?Imean,youareone.Orwereone.Isthereagodofsilence?”
Isighed.“Frank,Icanbarelykeepmyownfamilyofgodsstraight.Therearehundredsofminorgods.Idon’trememberanysilentgods.Ofcourse,ifthereisone,Idoubtwewould’vehungout,mebeingthegodofmusic.”
Franklookedcrestfallen,whichmademefeelbad.Ihadn’tmeanttotakeoutmyfrustrationsononeofthefewpeoplewhostillcalledmeApollounironically.
“Let’stackleonethingatatime,”Reynasuggested.“First,thetombofTarquin.Wehavealeadonitslocation,right,Ella?”
“Yep,yep.”Theharpyclosedhereyesandrecited,“Awildcatnearthespinninglights.ThetombofTarquinwithhorsesbright.Toopenhisdoor,two-fifty-four.”
“Thatisaprophecy!”Tysonsaid.“Ihaveitonmyback!”TheCyclopsstoodandrippedoffhisshirtsofasthemusthavebeenwaitingforanyexcuse.“See?”
Thespectatorsallleanedforward,thoughitwould’vebeenimpossibletoreadthetattoosfromanydistance.
“Ialsohaveafishponybymykidney,”heannouncedproudly.“Isn’tit
cute?”Hazelavertedhereyesasifshemightpassoutfromembarrassment.“Tyson,
couldyou…?I’msureit’salovelyfishpony,but…shirtbackon,please?Idon’tsupposeanyoneknowswhatthoselinesmean?”
TheRomansobservedamomentofsilenceforthedeathofclaritythatallpropheciessymbolized.
Laviniasnorted.“Seriously?Nobodygetsit?”“Lavinia,”Reynasaid,hervoicestrained,“areyousuggestingyou—”“Knowwherethetombis?”Laviniaspreadherhands.“Well,Imean,A
wildcatnearthespinninglights.ThetombofTarquinwithhorsesbright.There’saWildcatDriveinTildenPark,rightoverthehills.”Shepointednorth.“Andhorsesbright,spinninglights?ThatwouldbetheTildenParkcarousel,wouldn’tit?”
“Ohhhh.”SeveralLaresnoddedinrecognition,asiftheyspentalltheirfreetimeridingthelocalmerry-go-rounds.
Frankshiftedinhischair.“YouthinkthetombofanevilRomankingisunderacarousel?”
“Hey,Ididn’twritetheprophecy,”Laviniasaid.“Besides,itmakesasmuchsenseasanythingelsewe’vefaced.”
Nobodydisputedthat.Demigodseatweirdnessforbreakfast,lunch,anddinner.
“Allright,then,”Reynasaid.“Wehaveagoal.Weneedaquest.Ashortquest,sincetimeisverylimited.Wemustdesignateateamofheroesandhavethemapprovedbythesenate.”
“Us.”Megstood.“GottabeLesterandme.”Igulped.“She’sright,”Isaid,whichcountedasmyheroicactfortheday.
“Thisispartofmygreaterquesttoregainmyplaceamongthegods.I’vebroughtthistroubletoyourdoorstep.Ineedtomakeitright.Please,don’tanyonetrytotalkmeoutofit.”
Iwaiteddesperately,invain,forsomeonetotrytotalkmeoutofit.HazelLevesquerose.“I’llgo,too.Acenturionisrequiredtoleadaquest.If
thisplaceisunderground,well,that’skindofmyspecialty.”HertonealsosaidIhaveascoretosettle.Whichwasfine,exceptIrememberedhowHazelhadcollapsedthattunnel
we’dtakenintocamp.Ihadasuddenterrifyingvisionofbeingcrushedunderamerry-go-round.
“That’sthreequesters,then,”Reynasaid.“Thecorrectnumberforaquest.Now—”
“Twoandahalf,”Meginterrupted.Reynafrowned.“Sorry?”“Lester’smyservant.We’rekindofateam.Heshouldn’tcountasafull
quester.”“Oh,comeon!”Iprotested.“Sowecantakeonemore,”Megoffered.Franksatup.“I’dbehappyto—”“Ifyoudidn’thavepraetordutiestoattendto,”Reynafinished,givinghima
looklike,Youarenotleavingmealone,dude.“Whilethequestersareout,therestofushavetopreparethevalley’sdefenses.There’salottodo.”
“Right.”Frankslumped.“So,isthereanyoneelse—?”POP!Thesoundwassoloud,halftheLaresdisintegratedinalarm.Several
senatorsduckedundertheirseats.Inthebackrow,Laviniahadaflattenedpinkgumbubblesmearedacrossher
face.Shequicklypeeleditawayandstuckitbackinhermouth.“Lavinia,”Reynasaid.“Perfect.Thanksforvolunteering.”“I—But—”“Icallforasenatevote!”Reynasaid.“DowesendHazel,Lester,Meg,and
LaviniaonaquesttofindthetombofTarquin?”Themeasurepassedunanimously.Weweregivenfullsenateapprovaltofindatombunderacarouseland
confronttheworstkinginRomanhistory,whoalsohappenedtobeanundeadzombielord.
Mydayjustkeptgettingbetter.
RomancedisasterI’mpoisonforguysandgalsYouwannahangout?
“LIKECHEWINGGUMISacrime.”Laviniatossedapieceofhersandwichofftheroof,whereitwasimmediatelysnatchedupbyaseagull.
Forourpicniclunch,shehadbroughtme,Hazel,andMegtoherfavoritethinkingplace:therooftopofNewRomeUniversity’sbelltower,whichLaviniahaddiscoveredaccesstoonherown.Peoplewerenotexactlyencouragedtobeuphere,butitwasnotstrictlyforbidden,either,whichseemedtobethespaceLaviniamostlikedinhabiting.
SheexplainedthatsheenjoyedsittingherebecauseitwasdirectlyabovetheGardenofFaunus,Reyna’sfavoritethinkingspot.Reynawasnotinthegardenatpresent,butwhenevershewas,Laviniacouldlookdownatthepraetor,ahundredfeetbelow,andgloatHa-ha,mythinkingspotishigherthanyourthinkingspot.
Now,asIsatontheprecariouslyslantedredclaytiles,ahalf-eatenfocacciainmylap,Icouldseetheentirecityandvalleyspreadoutbelowus—everythingwestoodtoloseinthecominginvasion.BeyondstretchedtheflatlandsofOakland,andtheSanFranciscoBay,whichinjustafewdayswouldbedottedwithCaligula’sluxurybattleyachts.
“Honestly.”Laviniathrewanotherpieceofhergrilledcheesetotheseagulls.“Ifthelegionnaireswentforastupidhikeonceinawhile,they’dknowaboutWildcatDrive.”
Inodded,thoughIsuspectedthatmostlegionnaires,whospentagooddealoftheirtimemarchinginheavyarmor,probablywouldn’tconsiderhikingmuch
fun.Lavinia,however,seemedtoknoweverybackroad,trail,andsecrettunnelwithintwentymilesofCampJupiter—Isupposebecauseyouneverknewwhenyou’dneedtosneakoutforadatewithsomeprettyHemlockorDeadlyNightshade.
Onmyotherside,Hazelignoredherveggiewrapandgrumbledtoherself,“Can’tbelieveFrank…Tryingtovolunteer…Badenoughafterhiscrazystuntsinthebattle…”
Nearby,havingalreadyplowedthroughherlunch,Megaidedherdigestionbydoingcartwheels.Everytimeshelanded,catchingherbalanceontheloosetiles,myheartfree-climbedalittlefartherupmythroat.
“Meg,couldyoupleasenotdothat?”Iasked.“It’sfun.”Shefixedhereyesonthehorizonandannounced,“Iwanta
unicorn.”Thenshecartwheeledagain.Laviniamutteredtonooneinparticular,“Youpoppedabubble—you’llbe
perfectforthisquest!”“WhydoIhavetolikeaguywithadeathwish?”Hazelmused.“Meg,”Ipleaded,“you’regoingtofall.”“Evenasmallunicorn,”Megsaid.“NotfairtheyhavesomanyhereandI
don’thaveany.”Wecontinuedthisfour-partdisharmonyuntilagianteagleswoopedoutof
thesky,snatchedtherestofthegrilledcheesefromLavinia’shand,andsoaredaway,leavingbehindaflockofirritatedseagulls.
“Typical.”Laviniawipedherfingersonherpants.“Can’tevenhaveasandwich.”
Ishovedtherestofthefocacciainmymouth,justincasetheeaglecamebackforseconds.
“Well,”Hazelsighed,“atleastwegottheafternoonofftomakeplans.”ShegavehalfofherveggiewraptoLavinia.
Laviniablinked,apparentlyunsurehowtorespondtothekindgesture.“I—uh,thanks.ButImean,whatistheretoplan?Wegotothecarousel,findthetomb,trynottodie.”
Iswallowedthelastofmyfood,hopingitmightpushmyheartbackdowntoitsproperlocation.“Perhapswecouldconcentrateonthenot-dyingpart.Forinstance,whywaituntiltonight?Wouldn’titbesafertogowhenit’sdaylight?”
“It’salwaysdarkunderground,”Hazelsaid.“Besides,duringthedaytime,lotsofkidswillbeatthecarousel.Idon’twantanyofthemgettinghurt.Atnight,theplacewillbedeserted.”
Megploppeddownnexttous.Herhairnowlookedlikeadistressedelderberryshrub.“So,Hazel,canyoudoothercoolundergroundstuff?Some
peopleweresayingyoucansummondiamondsandrubies.”Hazelfrowned.“Somepeople?”“LikeLavinia,”Megsaid.“Oh,mygods!”Laviniasaid.“Thanksalot,Meg!”Hazelpeeredintothesky,asifwishingagianteaglewouldcomeandsnatch
heraway.“Icansummonpreciousmetals,yes.Richesoftheearth.That’saPlutothing.Butyoucan’tspendthestuffIsummon,Meg.”
Ileanedbackagainsttherooftiles.“Becauseit’scursed?Iseemtorecallsomethingaboutacurse—andnotbecauseLaviniatoldmeanything,”Iaddedhastily.
Hazelpickedatherveggiewrap.“It’snotsomuchacurseanymore.Intheolddays,Icouldn’tcontrolit.Diamonds,goldcoins,stufflikethatwouldjustpopupfromthegroundwheneverIgotnervous.”
“Cool,”Megsaid.“No,itreallywasn’t,”Hazelassuredher.“Ifsomebodypickedupthe
treasuresandtriedtospendthem…horriblethingswouldhappen.”“Oh,”Megsaid.“Whataboutnow?”“SinceImetFrank…”Hazelhesitated.“Alongtimeago,Plutotoldmethat
adescendantofPoseidonwouldwashawaymycurse.It’scomplicated,butFrankisadescendantofPoseidononhismom’sside.Oncewestarteddating…He’sjustagoodperson,youknow?I’mnotsayingIneededafellatosolvemyproblems—”
“Afella?”Megasked.Hazel’srighteyetwitched.“Sorry.Igrewupinthe1930s.Sometimesmy
vocabslips.I’mnotsayingIneededaguytosolvemyproblems.It’sjustthatFrankhadhisowncursetodealwith,soheunderstoodme.Wehelpedeachotherthroughsomedarktimes—talkingtogether,learningtobehappyagain.Hemakesmefeel—”
“Loved?”Isuggested.Laviniametmyeyesandmouthed,Adorable.Hazeltuckedherfeetunderneathher.“Idon’tknowwhyI’mtellingyouall
this.Butyes.NowIcancontrolmypowersalotbetter.Jewelsdon’tpopuprandomlywhenIgetupset.Still,they’renotmeanttobespent.Ithink…IhavethisgutfeelingthatPlutowouldn’tlikethat.Idon’twanttofindoutwhatwouldhappenifsomebodytried.”
Megpouted.“Soyoucan’tgivemeevenasmalldiamond?Like,justtokeepforfun?”
“Meg,”Ichided.
“Oraruby?”“Meg.”“Whatever.”Megfrownedatherunicornshirt,nodoubtthinkinghowcoolit
wouldlookdecoratedwithseveralmilliondollars’worthofpreciousstones.“Ijustwannafightstuff.”
“You’llprobablygetyourwish,”Hazelsaid.“Butremember,tonight,theideaistoexploreandgatherintel.We’llneedtobestealthy.”
“Yes,Meg,”Isaid.“Because,ifyou’llrecall,ApollofacesdeathinTarquin’stomb.IfImustfacedeath,Iwouldratherdosowhilehidingintheshadows,andthensneakawayfromitwithoutiteverknowingIwasthere.”
Meglookedexasperated,asifI’dsuggestedanunfairruleinfreezetag.“Okay.IguessIcanstealth.”
“Good,”Hazelsaid.“And,Lavinia,nochewinggum.”“Givemesomecredit.Ihaveverysneakymoves.”Shewriggledherfeet.
“DaughterofTerpsichoreandallthat.”“Hmm,”Hazelsaid.“Okay,then.Everybodygatheryoursuppliesandget
somerest.We’llmeetontheFieldofMarsatsundown.”
Restingshouldhavebeenaneasyassignment.Megwentofftoexplorethecamp(read:seetheunicornsagain),whichleft
mebymyselfinthecafé’supstairsroom.Ilayinmycot,enjoyingthequiet,staringatMeg’snewlyplantedirises,whichwerenowinfullbloominthewindowbox.Still,Icouldn’tsleep.
Mystomachwoundthrobbed.Myheadbuzzed.IthoughtofHazelLevesqueandhowshe’dcreditedFrankwithwashing
awayhercurse.Everyonedeservedsomeonewhocouldwashawaytheircursesbymakingthemfeelloved.Butthatwasnotmyfate.Evenmygreatestromanceshadcausedmorecursesthantheylifted.
Daphne.Hyacinthus.Andlater,yes,theCumaeanSibyl.Irememberedthedaywehadsattogetheronabeach,theMediterranean
stretchingoutbeforeuslikeasheetofblueglass.Behindus,onthehillsidewheretheSibylhadhercave,olivetreesbakedandcicadasdronedinthesummerheatofSouthernItaly.Inthedistance,MountVesuviusrose,hazyandpurple.
ConjuringanimageoftheSibylherselfwasmoredifficult—notthehunchedandgrizzledoldwomanfromTarquin’sthroneroom,butthebeautifulyoungwomanshe’dbeenonthatbeach,centuriesbefore,whenCumaewasstilla
Greekcolony.Ihadlovedeverythingabouther—thewayherhaircaughtthesunlight,the
mischievousgleaminhereyes,theeasywayshesmiled.Shedidn’tseemtocarethatIwasagod,despitehavinggivenupeverythingtobemyOracle:herfamily,herfuture,evenhername.Oncepledgedtome,shewasknownsimplyastheSibyl,thevoiceofApollo.
Butthatwasn’tenoughforme.Iwassmitten.Iconvincedmyselfitwaslove—theonetrueromancethatwouldwashawayallmypastmissteps.IwantedtheSibyltobemypartnerthroughouteternity.Astheafternoonwenton,Icoaxedandpleaded.
“Youcouldbesomuchmorethanmypriestess,”Iurgedher.“Marryme!”Shelaughed.“Youcan’tbeserious.”“Iam!Askforanythinginreturn,andit’syours.”Shetwistedastrandofherauburnlocks.“AllI’veeverwantedistobethe
Sibyl,toguidethepeopleofthislandtoabetterfuture.You’vealreadygivenmethat.So,ha-ha.Thejoke’sonyou.”
“But—butyou’veonlygotonelifetime!”Isaid.“Ifyouwereimmortal,youcouldguidehumanstoabetterfutureforever,atmyside!”
Shelookedatmeaskance.“Apollo,please.You’dbetiredofmebytheendoftheweek.”
“Never!”“So,you’resaying”—shescoopeduptwoheapinghandfulsofsand—“ifI
wishedforasmanyyearsoflifeastherearegrainsofthissand,youwouldgrantmethat.”
“Itisdone!”Ipronounced.Instantly,Ifeltaportionofmyownpowerflowingintoherlifeforce.“Andnow,mylove—”
“Whoa,whoa!”Shescatteredthesand,clamberingtoherfeetandbackingawayasifIweresuddenlyradioactive.“Thatwasahypothetical,loverboy!Ididn’tagree—”
“What’sdoneisdone!”Irose.“Awishcannotbetakenback.Nowyoumusthonoryoursideofthebargain.”
Hereyesdancedwithpanic.“I—Ican’t.Iwon’t!”Ilaughed,thinkingshewasmerelynervous.Ispreadmyarms.“Don’tbe
afraid.”“OfcourseI’mafraid!”Shebackedawayfarther.“Nothinggoodever
happenstoyourlovers!IjustwantedtobeyourSibyl,andnowyou’vemadethingsweird!”
Mysmilecrumbled.Ifeltmyardorcooling,turningstormy.“Don’tangerme,Sibyl.Iamofferingyoutheuniverse.I’vegivenyounear-immortallife.You
cannotrefusepayment.”“Payment?”Sheballedherhandsintofists.“Youdarethinkofmeasa
transaction?”Ifrowned.Thisafternoonreallywasn’tgoingthewayI’dplanned.“Ididn’t
mean—Obviously,Iwasn’t—”“Well,LordApollo,”shegrowled,“ifthisisatransaction,thenIdefer
paymentuntilyoursideofthebargainiscomplete.Yousaidityourself:near-immortallife.I’llliveuntilthegrainsofsandrunout,yes?Comebacktomeattheendofthattime.Then,ifyoustillwantme,I’myours.”
Idroppedmyarms.Suddenly,allthethingsI’dlovedabouttheSibylbecamethingsIhated:herheadstrongattitude,herlackofawe,herinfuriating,unattainablebeauty.Especiallyherbeauty.
“Verywell.”Myvoiceturnedcolderthananysungod’sshouldbe.“Youwanttoargueoverthefineprintofourcontract?Ipromisedyoulife,notyouth.Youcanhaveyourcenturiesofexistence.YouwillremainmySibyl.Icannottakethosethingsaway,oncegiven.Butyouwillgrowold.Youwillwither.Youwillnotbeabletodie.”
“Iwouldpreferthat!”Herwordsweredefiant,buthervoicetrembledwithfear.
“Fine!”Isnapped.“Fine!”sheyelledback.Ivanishedinacolumnofflame,havingsucceededinmakingthingsvery
weirdindeed.Overthecenturies,theSibylhadwithered,justasI’dthreatened.Her
physicalformlastedlongerthananyordinarymortal’s,butthepainIhadcausedher,thelingeringagony…EvenifI’dhadregretsaboutmyhastycurse,Icouldn’thavetakenitbackanymorethanshecouldtakebackherwish.Finally,aroundtheendoftheRomanEmpire,I’dheardrumorsthattheSibyl’sbodyhadcrumbledawayentirely,yetstillshecouldnotdie.Herattendantskeptherlifeforce,thefaintestwhisperofhervoice,inaglassjar.
Iassumedthatthejarhadbeenlostsometimeafterthat.ThattheSibyl’sgrainsofsandhadfinallyrunout.ButwhatifIwaswrong?Ifshewerestillalive,Idoubtedshewasusingherfaintwhisperofavoicetobeapro-Apollosocialmediainfluencer.
Ideservedherhatred.Isawthatnow.Oh,JasonGrace…IpromisedyouIwouldrememberwhatitwastobe
human.Butwhydidhumanshamehavetohurtsomuch?Whywasn’tthereanoffbutton?
AndthinkingoftheSibyl,Icouldn’thelpconsideringthatotheryoungwomanwithacurse:ReynaAvilaRamírez-Arellano.
I’dbeencompletelyblindsidedthedayIstrolledintotheOlympianthroneroom,fashionablylateforourmeetingasusual,andfoundVenusstudyingtheluminousimageofayoungladyfloatingaboveherpalm.Thegoddess’sexpressionhadbeenwearyandtroubled…somethingIdidn’toftensee.
“Who’sthat?”Iasked,foolishly.“She’sbeautiful.”That’sallthetriggerVenusneededtounleashherfury.ShetoldmeReyna’s
fate:nodemigodwouldeverbeabletohealherheart.ButthatdidNOTmeanIwastheanswertoReyna’sproblem.Quitethecontrary.Infrontoftheentireassemblyofgods,VenusannouncedthatIwasunworthy.Iwasadisaster.IhadruinedeveryrelationshipIwasin,andIshouldkeepmygodlyfaceawayfromReyna,orVenuswouldcursemewithevenworseromanticluckthanIalreadyhad.
Themockinglaughteroftheothergodsstillranginmyears.Ifnotforthatencounter,ImightneverhaveknownReynaexisted.Icertainly
hadnodesignsonher.Butwealwayswantwhatwecannothave.OnceVenusdeclaredReynaoff-limits,Ibecamefascinatedwithher.
WhyhadVenusbeensoemphatic?WhatdidReyna’sfatemean?NowIthoughtIunderstood.AsLesterPapadopoulos,Inolongerhada
godlyface.Iwasneithermortal,norgod,nordemigod.HadVenussomehowknownthiswouldhappensomeday?HadsheshownmeReynaandwarnedmeoffknowingfullwellthatitwouldmakemeobsessed?
Venuswasawilygoddess.Sheplayedgameswithingames.IfitwasmyfatetobeReyna’struelove,towashawayhercurseasFrankhaddoneforHazel,wouldVenusallowit?
Butatthesametime,Iwasaromanticdisaster.Ihadruinedeveryoneofmyrelationships,broughtnothingbutdestructionandmiserytotheyoungmenandwomenI’dloved.HowcouldIbelieveIwouldbeanygoodforthepraetor?
Ilayinmycot,thesethoughtstossingaroundinmymind,untillateafternoon.Finally,Igaveupontheideaofrest.Igatheredmysupplies—myquiverandbow,myukuleleandmybackpack—andIheadedout.Ineededguidance,andIcouldthinkofonlyonewaytogetit.
ReluctantarrowGrantmethisboon:permissionToskedaddleth
IHADTHEFIELDofMarsalltomyself.Sincenowargameswerescheduledthatevening,Icouldfrolicthroughthe
wastelandtomyheart’scontent,admiringthewreckageofchariots,brokenbattlements,smolderingpits,andtrenchesfilledwithsharpenedspikes.AnotherromanticsunsetstrollwastedbecauseIhadnoonetoshareitwith.
Iclimbedanoldsiegetowerandsatfacingthenorthernhills.Withadeepbreath,IreachedintomyquiverandpulledouttheArrowofDodona.I’dgoneseveraldayswithouttalkingtomyannoyingfar-sightedprojectileweapon,whichIconsideredavictory,butnow,godshelpme,Icouldthinkofnooneelsetoturnto.
“Ineedhelp,”Itoldit.Thearrowremainedsilent,perhapsstunnedbymyadmission.OrperhapsI’d
pulledoutthewrongarrowandIwastalkingtoaninanimateobject.Finally,theshaftrattledinmyhand.Itsvoiceresonatedinmymindlikea
thespiantuningfork:THYWORDSARETRUE.BUTINWHATSENSEMEANESTTHOU?
Itstonesoundedlessderisivethanusual.Thatscaredme.“I…Iamsupposedtoshowstrength,”Isaid.“AccordingtoLupa,I’m
supposedtosavethedaysomehow,orthepack—NewRome—willdie.ButhowdoIdothat?”
Itoldthearrowallthathadhappenedinthelastfewdays:myencounterwiththeeurynomoi,mydreamsabouttheemperorsandTarquin,myconversation
withLupa,ourquestfromtheRomansenate.Tomysurprise,itfeltgoodtopouroutmytroubles.Consideringthearrowdidn’thaveears,itwasagoodlistener.Itneverlookedbored,shocked,ordisgusted,becauseithadnoface.
“IcrossedtheTiberalive,”Isummedup,“justliketheprophecysaid.Now,howdoI‘starttojive’?Doesthismortalbodyhavearesetswitch?”
Thearrowbuzzed:ISHALLTHINKUPONTHIS.“That’sit?Noadvice?Nosnarkycomments?”GIVEMETIMETOCONSIDER,OIMPATIENTLESTER.“ButIdon’thavetime!We’releavingforTarquin’stomb,like”—Iglanced
tothewest,wherethesunwasbeginningtosinkbehindthehills—“basicallynow!”
THEJOURNEYINTOTHETOMBWILLNOTBETHYFINALCHALLENGE.UNLESSTHOUSUCKESTMOSTWOEFULLY.
“Isthatsupposedtomakemefeelbetter?”FIGHTNOTTHEKING,saidthearrow.HEARESTTHOUWHATTHOU
NEEDEST,ANDSKEDADDLETH.“Didyoujustusethetermskedaddleth?”ITRYTOSPEAKPLAINLYTOTHEE,TOGRANTTHEEABOON,AND
STILLTHOUCOMPLAINEST.“Iappreciateagoodboonasmuchasthenextperson.ButifI’mgoingto
contributetothisquestandnotjustcowerinthecorner,Ineedtoknowhow”—myvoicecracked—“howtobemeagain.”
Thevibrationofthearrowfeltalmostlikeacatpurring,tryingtosootheanillhuman.ARTTHOUSURETHATISTHYWISH?
“Whatdoyoumean?”Idemanded.“That’sthewholepoint!EverythingI’mdoingisso—”
“Areyoutalkingtothatarrow?”saidavoicebelowme.AtthebaseofthesiegetowerstoodFrankZhang.NexttohimwasHannibal
theElephant,impatientlypawingthemud.I’dbeensodistracted,I’dletanelephantgetthedroponme.“Hi,”Isqueaked,myvoicestillraggedwithemotion.“Iwasjust…This
arrowgivespropheticadvice.Ittalks.Inmyhead.”Blesshim,Frankmanagedtomaintainapokerface.“Okay.Icanleaveif—”“No,no.”Islippedthearrowbackinmyquiver.“Itneedstimetoprocess.
Whatbringsyououthere?”“Walkingtheelephant.”FrankpointedtoHannibal,incaseImightbe
wonderingwhichelephant.“Hegetsstir-crazywhenwedon’thavewargames.Bobbyusedtobeourelephanthandler,but…”
Frankshruggedhelplessly.Igothismeaning:Bobbyhadbeenanothercasualtyofthebattle.Killed…ormaybeworse.
Hannibalgrunteddeepinhischest.Hewrappedhistrunkaroundabrokenbatteringram,pickeditup,andstartedpoundingitintothegroundlikeapestle.
IrememberedmyelephantfriendLiviabackattheWaystationinIndianapolis.She,too,hadbeengrief-stricken,havinglosthermatetoCommodus’sbrutalgames.Ifwesurvivedthisupcomingbattle,perhapsIshouldtrytointroduceLiviaandHannibal.They’dmakeacutecouple.
Imentallyslappedmyself.WhatwasIthinking?Ihadenoughtoworryaboutwithoutplayingmatchmakertopachyderms.
Iclimbeddownfrommyperch,carefultoprotectmybandagedgut.Frankstudiedme,perhapsworriedbyhowstifflyIwasmoving.“Youreadyforyourquest?”heasked.“Istheanswertothatquestioneveryes?”“Goodpoint.”“Andwhatwillyoudowhilewe’regone?”Frankranahandacrosshisbuzzcut.“Everythingwecan.Shoreupthe
valley’sdefenses.KeepEllaandTysonworkingontheSibyllineBooks.Sendeaglestoscoutthecoast.Keepthelegiondrillingsotheydon’thavetimetoworryaboutwhat’scoming.Mostly,though?It’saboutbeingwiththetroops,assuringthemthateverythingisgoingtobeokay.”
Lyingtothem,inotherwords,Ithought,thoughthatwasbitteranduncharitable.
Hannibalstuckhisbatteringramuprightinasinkhole.Hepattedtheoldtreetrunkasiftosay,Thereyougo,littlefella.Nowyoucanstartgrowingagain.
Eventheelephantwashopelesslyoptimistic.“Idon’tknowhowyoudoit,”Iadmitted.“Stayingpositiveafterallthat’s
happened.”Frankkickedapieceofstone.“What’sthealternative?”“Anervousbreakdown?”Isuggested.“Runningaway?ButI’mnewtothis
beingmortalbusiness.”“Yeah,well.Ican’tsaythoseideashaven’tcrossedmymind,butyoucan’t
reallydothatwhenyou’reapraetor.”Hefrowned.“ThoughI’mworriedaboutReyna.She’sbeencarryingtheburdenalotlongerthanIhave.Yearslonger.Thestrainofthat…Idunno.IjustwishIcouldhelphermore.”
IrecalledVenus’swarning:Youwillnotstickyourugly,unworthygodlyfaceanywherenearher.Iwasn’tsurewhichideawasmoreterrifying:thatImightmakeReyna’slifeworse,orthatImightberesponsibleformakingherlife
better.Frankapparentlymisinterpretedmylookofconcern.“Hey,you’llbefine.
Hazelwillkeepyousafe.She’sonepowerfuldemigod.”Inodded,tryingtoswallowthebittertasteinmymouth.Iwastiredofothers
keepingmesafe.ThewholepointofconsultingthearrowhadbeentofigureouthowIcouldgetbacktothebusinessofkeepingotherssafe.Thatusedtobesoeasywithmygodlikepowers.
Wasit,though?anotherpartofmybrainasked.DidyoukeeptheSibylsafe?OrHyacinthusorDaphne?OryourownsonAsclepius?ShouldIgoon?
Shutup,me,Ithoughtback.“Hazelseemsmoreworriedaboutyou,”Iventured.“Shementionedsome
crazystuntsinthelastbattle?”Franksquirmedasiftryingtoshakeanicecubeoutofhisshirt.“Itwasn’t
likethat.IjustdidwhatIhadto.”“Andyourpieceoftinder?”Ipointedtothepouchhangingfromhisbelt.
“You’renotworriedaboutwhatEllasaid…?Somethingaboutfiresandbridges?”
Frankgavemeadrylittlesmile.“What,meworry?”Hereachedintothepouchandcasuallypulledouthislifestick:achunkof
charredwoodthesizeofaTVremotecontrol.Heflippeditandcaughtit,whichalmostgavemeapanicattack.Hemightaswellhavepulledouthisbeatingheartandstartedjugglingit.
EvenHanniballookeduncomfortable.Theelephantshiftedfromfoottofoot,shakinghismassivehead.
“Shouldn’tthatstickbelockedintheprincipia’svault?”Iasked.“Orcoatedinmagicalflameretardantatleast?”
“Thepouchisflameproof,”Franksaid.“ComplimentsofLeo.Hazelcarrieditformeforawhile.Wetalkedaboutotherwaystokeepitsafe.Buthonestly,I’vekindoflearnedtoacceptthedanger.Ipreferhavingthefirewoodwithme.Youknowhowitiswithprophecies.Theharderyoutrytoavoidthem,theharderyoufail.”
Icouldn’targuewiththat.Still,therewasafinelinebetweenacceptingone’sfateandtemptingit.“I’mguessingHazelthinksyou’retooreckless.”
“That’sanongoingconversation.”Heslippedthefirewoodbackinitspouch.“Ipromiseyou,Idon’thaveadeathwish.It’sjust…Ican’tletfearholdmeback.EverytimeIleadthelegionintobattle,Ihavetoputeverythingontheline,committothebattleonehundredpercent.Wealldo.It’stheonlywaytowin.”
“That’saveryMarsthingtosay,”Inoted.“Despitemymanydisagreements
withMars,Imeanthatasacompliment.”Franknodded.“Youknow,IwasstandingrightaboutherewhenMars
appearedonthebattlefieldlastyear,toldmeIwashisson.Seemslikesolongago.”Hegavemeaquickscan.“Ican’tbelieveIusedtothink—”
“ThatIwasyourfather?Butwelooksomuchalike.”Helaughed.“Justtakecareofyourself,okay?Idon’tthinkIcouldhandlea
worldwithnoApolloinit.”Histonewassogenuineitmademetearup.I’dstartedtoacceptthatnoone
wantedApolloback—notmyfellowgods,notthedemigods,perhapsnotevenmytalkingarrow.YetFrankZhangstillbelievedinme.
BeforeIcoulddoanythingembarrassing—likehughim,orcry,orstartbelievingIwasaworthwhileindividual—Ispottedmythreequestpartnerstrudgingtowardus.
LaviniaworeapurplecampT-shirtandrattyjeansoverasilverleotard.Hersneakerssportedglitterypinklacesthatmatchedherhairandnodoubthelpedherwithherstealthymoves.Hermanubalistaclunkedagainsthershoulder.
Hazellookedslightlymoreninja-esqueinherblackjeansandblackzip-frontcardigan,heroversizecavalryswordstrappedtoherbelt.IrecalledthatshefavoredthespathabecauseshesometimesfoughtonhorsebackwhileridingtheimmortalsteedArion.Alas,IdoubtedHazelwouldsummonArionforourquesttoday.Amagicalhorsewouldn’tbemuchuseforsneakingaroundanundergroundtomb.
AsforMeg,shelookedlikeMeg.Herredhigh-topsandyellowleggingsclashedepicallywithhernewunicornT-shirt,whichsheseemeddeterminedtowearuntilitfelltopieces.Shehadappliedadhesivebandagesacrosshercheekbones,likewarriorsorfootballersmightdo.Perhapsshethoughttheymadeherlook“commando,”despitethefactthatthebandagesweredecoratedwithpicturesofDoratheExplorer.
“Whatarethosefor?”Idemanded.“Theykeepthelightoutofmyeyes.”“It’llbenighttimesoon.We’regoingunderground.”“Theymakemelookscary.”“Notevenremotely.”“Shutup,”sheordered,soofcourse,Ihadto.HazeltouchedFrank’selbow.“CanItalkwithyouforasec?”Itwasn’treallyaquestion.Sheledhimoutofearshot,followedbyHannibal,
whoapparentlydecidedtheirprivateconversationrequiredanelephant.“Oy.”LaviniaturnedtoMegandme.“Wemaybehereawhile.Whenthose
twostartmother-henning…Iswear,iftheycouldencaseeachotherinStyrofoam
peanuts,theywould.”Shesoundedpartjudgmental,partwistful,asifshewishedshehadan
overprotectivegirlfriendwhowouldencaseherinStyrofoampeanuts.Icouldverymuchrelate.
HazelandFrankhadananxiousexchange.Icouldn’theartheirwords,butIimaginedtheconversationwentsomethinglike:
I’mworriedaboutyou.No,I’mworriedaboutyou.ButI’mmoreworried.No,I’mmoreworried.Meanwhile,Hannibalstompedandgruntedlikehewasenjoyinghimself.Finally,HazelrestedherfingersonFrank’sarm,asifshewereafraidhe
mightdissolveintosmoke.Thenshemarchedbacktous.“Allright,”sheannounced,herexpressiondour.“Let’sgofindthistomb
beforeIchangemymind.”
NightmarecarouselTotallyletyourkidsrideI’msurethey’llbefine
“NICENIGHTFORAhike,”Laviniasaid.Thesadthingwas,Ithinkshemeantit.Bythatpoint,we’dbeentrekkingthroughtheBerkeleyHillsforoveran
hour.Despitethecoolweather,Iwasdrippingsweatandgaspingforbreath.Whydidhilltopshavetobeuphill?Laviniawasn’tsatisfiedwithstickingtothevalleys,either.Oh,no.Shewantedtoconquereverysummitfornoapparentreason.Likefools,wefollowedher.
WehadcrossedthebordersofCampJupiterwithoutaproblem.Terminushadn’tevenpoppeduptocheckourpassports.Sofarwehadnotbeenaccostedbyghoulsorpanhandlingfauns.
Thescenerywaspleasantenough.Thetrailwoundthroughsweet-smellingsageandbaylaurel.Toourleft,silverluminescentfogblanketedtheSanFranciscoBay.Beforeus,thehillsformedanarchipelagoofdarknessintheoceanofcitylights.Regionalparksandnaturereserveskepttheareamostlywild,Laviniaexplained.
“Justbeonthelookoutformountainlions,”shesaid.“They’realloverthesehills.”
“We’regoingtofacetheundead,”Isaid,“andyou’rewarningusaboutmountainlions?”
Laviniashotmealooklike,Dude.Shewasright,ofcourse.Withmyluck,Iwouldprobablycomeallthisway,
fightingmonstersandevilemperors,onlytogetkilledbyanovergrownhouse
cat.“Howmuchfarther?”Iasked.“Notthisagain,”Laviniasaid.“Youaren’tevencarryingacoffinthistime.
We’reabouthalfwaythere.”“Halfway.Andwecouldn’thavetakenacar,oragianteagle,oran
elephant?”Hazelpattedmeontheshoulder.“Relax,Apollo.Sneakinguponfootdraws
lessattention.Besides,thisisaneasyquest.MostofminehavebeenlikeGotoAlaskaandfightliterallyeverythingalongtheway,orSailhalfwayacrosstheworldandbeseasickformonths.ThisisjustGooverthathillandcheckonamerry-go-round.”
“Azombie-infestedmerry-go-round,”Icorrected.“Andwe’vebeenoverseveralhills.”
HazelglancedatMeg.“Doeshealwayscomplainthismuch?”“Heusedtobealotwhinier.”Hazelwhistledsoftly.“Iknow,”Megagreed.“Bigbaby.”“Ibegyourpardon!”Isaid.“Shh,”Laviniasaid,beforeblowingandpoppingagiantpinkbubble.
“Stealth,remember?”Wecontinuedalongthetrailforanotherhourorso.Aswepassedasilver
lakenestledbetweenthehills,Icouldn’thelpthinkingitwasjustthesortofplacemysisterwouldlove.Oh,howIwishedshewouldappearwithherHunters!
Despiteourdifferences,Artemisunderstoodme.Well,okay,shetoleratedme.Mostofthetime.Allright,someofthetime.Ilongedtoseeherbeautiful,annoyingfaceagain.That’showlonelyandpatheticIhadbecome.
Megwalkedafewyardsaheadofme,flankingLaviniasotheycouldsharebubblegumandtalkunicorns.Hazelhikedatmyside,thoughIgotthefeelingshewasmostlytryingtomakesureIdidn’tcollapse.
“Youdon’tlooksogood,”shenoted.“Whatgaveitaway?Thecoldsweat?Therapidbreathing?”Inthedarkness,Hazel’sgoldeyesremindedmeofanowl’s:supremelyalert,
readytoflyorpounceasneeded.“How’sthegutwound?”“Better,”Isaid,thoughIwashavingmoreandmoretroubleconvincing
myself.Hazelredidherponytail,butitwasalosingbattle.Herhairwassolong,
curly,andluxuriousitkeptescapingitsscrunchie.“Justnomorecuts,allright?
IsthereanythingelseyoucantellmeaboutTarquin?Weaknesses?Blindspots?Petpeeves?”
“Don’ttheyteachyouRomanhistoryaspartoflegiontraining?”“Well,yes.ButImayhavetunedoutduringthelectures.IwenttoCatholic
schoolbackinNewOrleansinthe1930s.Ihavealotofexperienceintuningoutteachers.”
“Mmm.Icanrelate.Socrates.Verysmart.Buthisdiscussiongroups…notexactlyrivetingentertainment.”
“So,Tarquin.”“Right.Hewaspower-mad.Arrogant.Violent.Wouldkillanyonewhogotin
hisway.”“Liketheemperors.”“Butwithoutanyoftheirrefinement.Tarquinwasalsoobsessedwith
buildingprojects.HestartedtheTempleofJupiter.Also,Rome’smainsewer.”“Claimtofame.”“Hissubjectsfinallygotsowearyoftaxesandforcedlaborthatthey
rebelled.”“Theydidn’tlikediggingasewer?Ican’timaginewhy.”ItoccurredtomethatHazelwasn’tsomuchinterestedininformationasshe
wasindistractingmefrommyworries.Iappreciatedthat,butIhadtroublereturninghersmile.IkeptthinkingaboutTarquin’svoicespeakingthroughtheghoulinthetunnel.HehadknownHazel’sname.Hehadpromisedheraspecialplaceamonghisundeadhorde.
“Tarquinissly,”Isaid.“Likeanytruepsychopath,hehasalwaysbeengoodatmanipulatingpeople.Asforweaknesses,Idon’tknow.Hisrelentlessness,maybe.EvenafterhegotkickedoutofRome,heneverstoppedtryingtowinbackthecrown.Hekeptgatheringnewallies,attackingthecityoverandoveragain,evenwhenitwasclearhedidn’thavethestrengthtowin.”
“Apparentlyhestillhasn’tgivenup.”Hazelpushedaeucalyptusbranchoutofourway.“Well,we’llsticktotheplan:getinquietly,investigate,leave.AtleastFrankissafebackatcamp.”
“Becauseyouvaluehislifemorethanours?”“No.Well…”“Youcanleaveitatno.”Hazelshrugged.“It’sjustthatFrankseemstobelookingfordangerthese
days.Idon’tsupposehetoldyouwhathedidattheBattleoftheNewMoon?”“HesaidthebattleturnedattheLittleTiber.Zombiesdon’tlikerunning
water.”“Frankturnedthetideofbattle,almostsingle-handedly.Demigodswere
fallingallaroundhim.Hejustkeptfighting—shape-shiftingintoagiantsnake,thenadragon,thenahippopotamus.”Sheshuddered.“Hemakesaterrifyinghippo.BythetimeReynaandImanagedtobringupreinforcements,theenemywasalreadyinretreat.Frankhadnofear.Ijust…”Hervoicetightened.“Idon’twanttolosehim.EspeciallyafterwhathappenedtoJason.”
ItriedtoreconcileHazel’sstoryofFrankZhang,fearless-hippokillingmachine,withtheeasygoing,bigcuddlypraetorwhosleptinayellowsilkjammieshirtdecoratedwitheaglesandbears.Irememberedthecasualwayhe’dflippedhisstickoffirewood.He’dassuredmehedidn’thaveadeathwish.Thenagain,neitherhadJasonGrace.
“Idon’tintendtoloseanyoneelse,”ItoldHazel.Istoppedshortofmakingapromise.ThegoddessoftheRiverStyxhadexcoriatedmeformybrokenoaths.She’d
warnedthateveryonearoundmewouldpayformycrimes.Lupa,too,hadforeseenmorebloodandsacrifice.HowcouldIpromiseHazelthatanyofuswouldbesafe?
LaviniaandMeghaltedsoabruptlyIalmostranintothem.“See?”Laviniapointedthroughabreakinthetrees.“We’realmostthere.”Inthevalleybelow,anemptyparkinglotandpicnicareaoccupiedaclearing
intheredwoods.Atthefarendofthemeadow,silentandstill,stoodacarousel,allitslightsblazing.
“Whyisitlitup?”Iwondered.“Maybesomebody’shome,”saidHazel.“Ilikemerry-go-rounds,”saidMeg,andshestarteddownthepath.
Thecarouselwastoppedbyatandomelikeagiantpithhelmet.Behindabarricadeoftealandyellowmetalrailings,therideblazedwithhundredsoflights.Thepaintedanimalsthrewlongdistortedshadowsacrossthegrass.Thehorseslookedfrozeninpanic,theireyeswild,theirforelegskicking.Azebra’sheadwasraisedasifinagony.Agiantroosterflareditsredcombandstretcheditstalons.TherewasevenahippocampuslikeTyson’sfriendRainbow,butthisfishponyhadasnarlingface.Whatsortofparentswouldlettheirchildrenridesuchnightmarishcreatures?MaybeZeus,Ithought.
Weapproachedcautiously,butnothingchallengedus,neitherlivingnordead.Theplaceseemedempty,justinexplicablylitup.
Meg’sglowingswordsmadethegrassshimmeratherfeet.Laviniaheldhermanubalista,primedandready.Withherpinkhairandganglylimbs,shestoodthebestchanceofsneakinguponthecarouselanimalsandblendinginwith
them,butIdecidednottosharethatobservation,asitwouldnodoubtgetmeshot.Hazelleftherswordinitssheath.Evenempty-handed,sheradiatedamoreintimidatingdemeanorthananyofus.
IwonderedifIshouldpulloutmybow.ThenIlookeddownandrealizedIhadinstinctivelyreadiedmycombatukulele.Okay.Icouldprovideajollytuneifwefoundourselvesinbattle.Didthatcountasheroism?
“Something’snotright,”Laviniamurmured.“Youthink?”Megcrouched.Sheputdownoneofherswordsandtouched
thegrasswithherfingertips.Herhandsentarippleacrossthelawnlikeastonethrowninwater.
“Something’swrongwiththesoilhere,”sheannounced.“Therootsdon’twanttogrowtoodeep.”
Hazelarchedhereyebrows.“Youcantalktoplants.”“It’snotreallytalking,”Megsaid.“Butyeah.Eventhetreesdon’tlikethis
place.They’retryingtogrowawayfromthatcarouselasfastastheycan.”“Which,sincethey’retrees,”Isaid,“isnotveryfast.”Hazelstudiedoursurroundings.“Let’sseewhatIcanfindout.”Shekneltattheedgeofthecarousel’sbaseandpressedherpalmagainstthe
concrete.Therewerenovisibleripples,norumblingorshaking,butafteracountofthree,Hazelsnatchedherhandaway.Shestaggeredbackward,almostfallingoverLavinia.
“Gods.”Hazel’swholebodytrembled.“There’s…there’samassivecomplexoftunnelsunderhere.”
Mymouthwentdry.“PartoftheLabyrinth?”“No.Idon’tthinkso.Itfeelsself-contained.Thestructureisancient,but—
butitalsohasn’tbeenhereverylong.Iknowthatdoesn’tmakesense.”“Itdoes,”Isaid,“ifthetombrelocated.”“Orregrew,”Megoffered.“Likeatreeclipping.Orafungalspore.”“Gross,”saidLavinia.Hazelhuggedherelbows.“Theplaceisfullofdeath.Imean,I’machildof
Pluto.I’vebeentotheUnderworld.Butthisisworsesomehow.”“Idon’tlovethat,”Laviniamuttered.Ilookeddownatmyukulele,wishingI’dbroughtabiggerinstrumenttohide
behind.Astand-upbass,perhaps.“Howdowegetin?”IhopedtheanswerwouldbeGoshdarnit,wecan’t.“There.”Hazelpointedtoasectionofconcretethatlookednodifferentfrom
therest.Wefollowedherover.Sheranherfingersacrossthedarksurface,leaving
glowingsilvergroovesthatoutlinedarectangularslabthesizeofacoffin.Oh,
whydidIhavetomakethatparticularanalogy?Herhandhoveredoverthemiddleoftherectangle.“IthinkI’msupposedto
writesomethinghere.Acombination,maybe?”“Toopenhisdoor,”Laviniarecalled,“two-fifty-four.”“Wait!”Ifoughtdownawaveofpanic.“Therearelotsofwaystowrite
‘two-fifty-four.’”Hazelnodded.“Romannumerals,then?”“Yes.Buttwo-five-fourwouldbewrittendifferentlyinRomannumeralsthan
twohundredandfifty-four,whichisdifferentfromtwoandfifty-four.”“Whichisit,then?”Megasked.Itriedtothink.“Tarquinwouldhaveareasontochoosethatnumber.He’d
makeitabouthimself.”Laviniapoppedasmall,stealthypinkbubble.“Likeusingyourbirthdayfor
yourpassword?”“Exactly,”Isaid.“Buthewouldn’tusehisbirthday.Notforhistomb.
Perhapshisdateofdeath?Exceptthatcan’tberight.Noone’ssurewhenhedied,sincehewasinexileandburiedinsecret,butithadtohavebeenaround495BCE,not254.”
“Wrongdatesystem,”Megsaid.Weallstaredather.“What?”shedemanded.“Igotraisedinanevilemperor’spalace.Wedated
everythingfromthefoundingofRome.AUC.Aburbecondita,right?”“Mygods,”Isaid.“Goodcatch,Meg.254AUCwouldbe…let’ssee…500
BCE.That’sprettycloseto495.”Hazel’sfingersstillhesitatedovertheconcrete.“Closeenoughtoriskit?”“Yes,”Isaid,tryingtochannelmyinnerFrankZhangconfidence.“Writeit
asadate:Twohundredandfifty-four.C-C-L-I-V.”Hazeldid.Thenumbersglowedsilver.Theentirestoneslabdissipatedinto
smoke,revealingstepsleadingdownintodarkness.“Okay,then,”Hazelsaid.“Ihaveafeelingthenextpartisgoingtobeharder.
Followme.SteponlywhereIstep.Anddon’tmakeanynoise.”
MeetthenewTarquinSameastheoldTarquin,butWithalotlessflesh
SO…NOJOLLYTUNESontheukulele,then.Fine.IsilentlyfollowedHazeldownthestepsintothemerry-go-tomb.Aswedescended,IwonderedwhyTarquinhadchosentoresideundera
carousel.Hehadwatchedhiswiferunoverherownfatherinachariot.Perhapshelikedtheideaofanendlessringofhorsesandmonsterscirclingabovehisrestingplace,keepingguardwiththeirfiercefaces,eveniftheywereriddenmostlybymortaltoddlers.(Who,Isuppose,werefierceintheirownway.)Tarquinhadabrutalsenseofhumor.Heenjoyedtearingfamiliesapart,turningtheirjoyintoanguish.Hewasnotaboveusingchildrenashumanshields.Nodoubthefounditamusingtoplacehistombunderabrightlycoloredkiddieride.
Myankleswobbledinterror.IremindedmyselftherewasareasonIwasclimbingintothismurderer’slair.Icouldn’trememberwhatthatreasonwasatthemoment,buttherehadtobeone.
Thestepsendedinalongcorridor,itslimestonewallsdecoratedwithrowsofplasterdeathmasks.Atfirst,thisdidnotstrikemeasodd.MostwealthyRomanskeptacollectionofdeathmaskstohonortheirancestors.ThenInoticedthemasks’expressions.Likethecarouselanimalsabove,theplasterfaceswerefrozeninpanic,agony,rage,terror.Thesewerenottributes.Theyweretrophies.
IglancedbackatMegandLavinia.Megstoodatthebaseofthestairs,blockinganypossibleretreat.TheglitteryunicornonherT-shirtgrinnedatmehideously.
Laviniametmyeyesasiftosay,Yes,thosemasksaremessedup.Now,keepmoving.
WefollowedHazeldownthecorridor,everyclinkandrustleofourweaponsechoingagainstthebarreledceiling.IwassuretheBerkeleySeismologyLab,severalmilesaway,wouldpickupmyheartbeatontheirseismographsandsendoutearthquakeearlywarnings.
Thetunnelsplitseveraltimes,butHazelalwaysseemedtoknowwhichdirectiontotake.Occasionallyshe’dstop,lookbackatus,andpointurgentlytosomepartofthefloor,remindingusnottostrayfromherpath.Ididn’tknowwhatwouldhappenifItookawrongstep,butIhadnodesiretohavemydeathmaskaddedtoTarquin’scollection.
Afterwhatseemedlikehours,Ibegantohearwaterdrippingsomewhereinfrontofus.Thetunnelopenedintoacircularroomlikealargecistern,thefloornothingbutanarrowstonepathacrossadeepdarkpool.Hookedonthefarwallwerehalfadozenwickerboxeslikelobstertraps,eachwithacircularopeningatthebottomjusttherightsizefor…Oh,gods.Eachboxwastherightsizetobefittedoveraperson’shead.
Atinywhimperescapedmymouth.Hazelglancedbackandmouthed,What?Ahalf-rememberedstoryfloatedupfromthesludgeofmybrain:how
Tarquinhadexecutedoneofhisenemiesbydrowninghiminasacredpool—bindingtheman’shands,placingawickercageoverhishead,thenslowlyaddingrockstothecageuntilthemancouldnolongerkeephisheadabovewater.
Apparently,Tarquinstillenjoyedthatparticularformofentertainment.Ishookmyhead.Youdon’twanttoknow.Hazel,beingwise,tookmywordforit.Sheledusonward.Justbeforethenextchamber,Hazelheldupahandinwarning.Wehalted.
Followinghergaze,Icouldmakeouttwoskeletonguardsatthefarsideoftheroom,flankinganelaboratelycarvedstonearchway.Theguardsfacedeachother,wearingfullwarhelmets,whichwasprobablywhytheyhadn’tspottedusyet.Ifwemadetheslightestsound,iftheyglancedthiswayforanyreason,wewouldbeseen.
Aboutseventyfeetseparatedusfromtheirposition.Theflooroftheirchamberwaslitteredwitholdhumanbones.Nowaycouldwesneakuponthem.Thesewereskeletonwarriors,thespecialforcesoftheundeadworld.Ihadzerodesiretofightthem.Ishivered,wonderingwhotheyhadbeenbeforetheeurynomoistrippedthemtothebones.
ImetHazel’seyes,thenpointedbackthewaywe’dcome.Retreat?Sheshookherhead.Wait.Hazelshuthereyesinconcentration.Abeadofsweattrickleddowntheside
ofherface.Thetwoguardssnappedtoattention.Theyturnedawayfromus,facingthe
archway,thenmarchedthrough,sidebyside,intothedarkness.Lavinia’sgumalmostfelloutofhermouth.“How?”shewhispered.Hazelputherfingertoherlips,thenmotionedforustofollow.Thechamberwasnowemptyexceptforthebonesscatteredacrossthefloor.
Perhapstheskeletonwarriorscameheretopickupspareparts.Alongtheoppositewall,abovethearchway,ranabalconyaccessedbyastaircaseoneitherside.Itsrailingwasalatticeworkofcontortedhumanskeletons,whichdidnotfreakmeoutatall.Twodoorwaysledofffromthebalcony.Exceptforthemainarchwaythroughwhichourskeletonfriendshadmarched,thoseseemedtobetheonlyexitsfromthechamber.
Hazelledusuptheleft-handstaircase.Then,forreasonsknownonlytoherself,shecrossedthebalconyandtookthedoorwayontheright.Wefollowedherthrough.
Attheendofashortcorridor,abouttwentyfeetahead,firelightilluminatedanotherbalconywithaskeletalrailing,themirrorimageoftheonewe’djustleft.Icouldn’tseemuchofthechamberbeyondit,butthespacewasclearlyoccupied.Adeepvoiceechoedfromwithin—avoiceIrecognized.
Megflickedherwrists,retractingherswordsintorings—notbecausewewereoutofdanger,butbecausesheunderstoodthatevenalittleextraglowmightgiveawayourposition.Laviniatuggedanoilclothfromherbackpocketanddrapeditoverhermanubalista.Hazelgavemealookofwarningthatwascompletelyunnecessary.
Iknewwhatlayjustahead.TarquintheProudwasholdingcourt.
Icrouchedbehindthebalcony’sskeletallatticeworkandpeeredintothethroneroombelow,desperatelyhopingnoneoftheundeadwouldlookupandseeus.Orsmellus.Oh,humanbodyodor,whydidyouhavetobesopungentafterseveralhoursofhiking?
Againstthefarwall,betweentwomassivestonepillars,satasarcophaguschiseledwithbasreliefimagesofmonstersandwildanimals,muchlikethecreaturesontheTildenParkcarousel.LoungingacrossthesarcophaguslidwasthethingthathadoncebeenTarquiniusSuperbus.Hisrobeshadnotbeenlaunderedinseveralthousandyears.Theyhungoffhiminmolderingshreds.His
bodyhadwitheredtoablackenedskeleton.Patchesofmossclungtohisjawboneandcranium,givinghimagrotesquebeardandhairdo.Tendrilsofglowingpurplegasslitheredthroughhisribcageandcircledhisjoints,coilinguphisneckandintohisskull,lightinghiseyesocketsfieryviolet.
Whateverthatpurplelightwas,itseemedtobeholdingTarquintogether.Itprobablywasn’thissoul.IdoubtedTarquineverhadoneofthose.Morelikelyitwashissheerambitionandhatred,astubbornrefusaltogiveupnomatterhowlonghe’dbeendead.
ThekingseemedtobeinthemidstofscoldingthetwoskeletonguardsHazelhadmanipulated.
“DidIcallyou?”demandedtheking.“No,Ididnot.Sowhyareyouhere?”Theskeletonslookedateachotherasifwonderingthesamething.“Getbacktoyourposts!”Tarquinshouted.Theguardsmarchedbackthewaytheyhadcome.Thisleftthreeeurynomoiandhalfadozenzombiesmillingaroundinthe
room,thoughIgotthefeelingtheremightbemoredirectlybeneathourbalcony.Evenworse,thezombies—vrykolakai,whateveryouwantedtocallthem—wereformerRomanlegionnaires.Mostwerestilldressedforbattleindentedarmorandtornclothing,theirskinpuffy,theirlipsblue,gapingwoundsintheirchestsandlimbs.
Thepaininmygutbecamealmostintolerable.ThewordsfromtheBurningMazeprophecywerestuckonreplayinmymind:Apollofacesdeath.Apollofacesdeath.
Nexttome,Laviniatrembled,hereyestearingup.Hergazewasfixedononeofthedeadlegionnaires:ayoungmanwithlongbrownhair,theleftsideofhisfacebadlyburned.Aformerfriend,Iguessed.HazelgrippedLavinia’sshoulder—perhapstocomforther,perhapstoremindhertobesilent.Megkneltatmyotherside,hereyeglassesglinting.IdesperatelywishedIhadapermanentmarkertoblackoutherrhinestones.
Sheseemedtobecountingenemies,calculatinghowfastshecouldtakethemalldown.IhadgreatfaithinMeg’sswordskills,atleastwhenshewasn’texhaustedfrombendingeucalyptustrees,butIalsoknewtheseenemiesweretoomany,toopowerful.
Itouchedherkneeforattention.Ishookmyheadandtappedmyear,remindingherthatwewereheretospy,nottofight.
Shestuckouthertongue.Weweresimpaticolikethat.Below,Tarquingrumbledsomethingaboutnotbeingabletofindgoodhelp.
“AnyoneseenCaelius?Whereishe?CAELIUS!”
Amomentlater,aeurynomosshuffledinfromasidetunnel.Hekneltbeforethekingandscreamed,“EATFLESH!SOOOON!”
Tarquinhissed.“Caelius,we’vediscussedthis.Keepyourwits!”Caeliusslappedhimselfintheface.“Yes,myking.”Hisvoicenowhada
measuredBritishaccent.“Terriblysorry.Thefleetisonschedule.Itshouldarriveinthreedays,justintimeforthebloodmoon’srising.”
“Verywell.Andourowntroops?”“EATFLESH!”Caeliusslappedhimselfagain.“Apologies,sire.Yes,
everythingisready.TheRomanssuspectnothing.Astheyturnoutwardtofacetheemperors,wewillstrike!”
“Good.Itisimperativewetakethecityfirst.Whentheemperorsarrive,Iwanttobealreadyincontrol!TheycanburntherestoftheBayAreaiftheywish,butthecityismine.”
Megclenchedherfistsuntiltheyturnedthecolorofthebonelatticework.Afterourexperienceswiththeheat-distresseddryadsofSouthernCalifornia,shehadgottenalittletouchywheneverevilmegalomaniacsthreatenedtotorchtheenvironment.
IgavehermymostseriousStaycoolglare,butshewouldn’tlookatme.Downbelow,Tarquinwassaying,“Andthesilentone?”“Heiswell-guarded,sire,”Caeliuspromised.“Hmm,”Tarquinmused.“Doubletheflock,nevertheless.Wemustbesure.”“But,myking,surelytheRomanscannotknowaboutSutro—”“Silence!”Tarquinordered.Caeliuswhimpered.“Yes,myking.FLESH!Sorry,myking.EATFLESH!”Tarquinraisedhisglowingpurpleskulltowardourbalcony.Iprayedthathe
hadn’tnoticedus.Laviniastoppedchewinghergum.Hazellookeddeepinconcentration,perhapswillingtheundeadkingtolookaway.
Afteracountoften,Tarquinchuckled.“Well,Caelius,itlookslikeyou’llgettoeatfleshsoonerthanIthought.”
“Master?”“Wehaveinterlopers.”Tarquinraisedhisvoice:“Comedown,youfour!And
meetyournewking!”
Meg,don’tyoudare—MEG!OryoucouldjustgetuskilledYeah,sure,thatworks,too
IHOPEDTHEREWEREfourotherinterlopershiddensomewhereonthisbalcony.Surely,Tarquinwastalkingtothemandnotus.
Hazeljabbedherthumbtowardtheexit,theuniversalsignforLET’SVAMOOSE!Laviniabegancrawlingthatwayonherhandsandknees.IwasabouttofollowwhenMegruinedeverything.
Shestooduptall(well,astallasMegcanbe),summonedherswords,andleapedovertherailing.
“MEEEEEEEEEGAH!”Ishouted,halfwarcry,halfWhatinHadesareyoudoing?
Withoutanyconsciousdecision,Iwasonmyfeet,mybowinhand,anarrownockedandloosed,thenanotherandanother.Hazelmutteredacursenoproperladyfromthe1930sshould’veknown,drewhercavalrysword,andjumpedintothefraysoMegwouldnothavetostandalone.Laviniarose,strugglingtouncoverhermanubalista,buttheoilclothseemedtobestuckonthecrossbeam.
MoreundeadswarmedMegfromunderthebalcony.Hertwinswordswhirledandflashed,cuttingofflimbsandheads,reducingzombiestodust.HazeldecapitatedCaelius,thenturnedtofaceanothertwoeurynomoi.
ThedeceasedformerlegionnairewiththeburnedfacewouldhavestabbedHazelintheback,butLavinialoosedhercrossbowjustintime.TheImperialgoldbolthitthezombiebetweentheshoulderblades,causinghimtoimplodeinapileofarmorandclothes.
“Sorry,Bobby!”Laviniasaidwithasob.
ImadeamentalnotenevertotellHannibalhowhisformertrainerhadmethisend.
IkeptfiringuntilonlytheArrowofDodonaremainedinmyquiver.Inretrospect,IrealizedI’dfiredadozenarrowsinaboutthirtyseconds,eachakillshot.Myfingersliterallysteamed.Ihadn’tunleashedavolleylikethatsinceIwasagod.
Thisshouldhavedelightedme,butanyfeelingofsatisfactionwascutshortbyTarquin’slaughter.AsHazelandMegcutdownthelastofhisminions,herosefromhissarcophaguscouchandgaveusaroundofapplause.Nothingsoundsmoresinisterthantheironicslow-clapoftwoskeletalhands.
“Lovely!”hesaid.“Oh,thatwasverynice!You’llallmakevaluablemembersofmyteam!”
Megcharged.Thekingdidn’ttouchher,butwithaflickofhishand,someinvisibleforce
sentMegflyingbackwardintothefarwall.Herswordsclatteredtothefloor.Agutturalsoundescapedmythroat.Ileapedovertherailing,landingonone
ofmyownspentarrowshafts(whichareeverybitastreacherousasbananapeels).Islippedandfellhardonmyhip.Notmymostheroicentrance.Meanwhile,HazelranatTarquin.Shewashurledasidewithanotherblastofunseenforce.
Tarquin’sheartychucklefilledthechamber.Fromthecorridorsoneithersideofhissarcophagus,thesoundsofshufflingfeetandclankingarmorechoed,gettingcloserandcloser.Uponthebalcony,Laviniafuriouslycrankedhermanubalista.IfIcouldbuyheranothertwentyminutesorso,shemightbeabletotakeasecondshot.
“Well,Apollo,”saidTarquin,purplecoilsofmistslitheringfromhiseyesocketsandintohismouth.Yuck.“Neitherofushaveagedwell,havewe?”
Myheartpounded.Igropedaroundforusablearrowsbutfoundonlymorebrokenshafts.Iwashalf-temptedtoshoottheArrowofDodona,butIcouldn’triskgivingTarquinaweaponwithpropheticknowledge.Cantalkingarrowsbetortured?Ididn’twanttofindout.
Megstruggledtoherfeet.Shelookedunhurtbutgrumpy,asshetendedtowhenevershegotthrownintowalls.IimaginedshewasthinkingthesamethingIwas:thissituationwastoofamiliar,toomuchlikeCaligula’syachtwhenMegandJasonhadbeenimprisonedbyventi.Icouldn’tletanotherscenariolikethatplayout.Iwastiredofevilmonarchstossingusaroundlikeragdolls.
Hazelstood,coveredheadtotoeinzombiedust.Thatcouldn’thavebeengoodforherrespiratorysystem.Inthebackofmymind,IwonderedifwecouldgetJusticiatheRomanlawgoddesstofileaclass-actionsuitonourbehalf
againstTarquinforhazardoustombconditions.“Everyone,”Hazelsaid,“backup.”Itwasthesamethingshe’dtoldusinthetunneltocamp,rightbeforeturning
theeurynomosintoceilingart.Tarquinjustlaughed.“Ah,HazelLevesque,yourclevertrickswithrocks
won’tworkhere.Thisismyseatofpower!Myreinforcementswillarriveanymoment.Itwillbeeasierifyoudon’tresistyourdeaths.I’mtoldit’slesspainfulthatway.”
Aboveme,Laviniacontinuedtocrankherhand-cannon.Megpickedupherswords.“Fightorrun,guys?”ThewaysheglaredatTarquin,IwasprettysureIknewherpreference.“Oh,child,”Tarquinsaid.“Youcantrytorun,butsoonenough,you’llbe
fightingatmysidewiththosewonderfulbladesofyours.AsforApollo…he’snotgoinganywhere.”
Hecurledhisfingers.Hewasnowhereclosetome,butmygutwoundconvulsed,sendinghotskewersintomyribcageandgroin.Iscreamed.Myeyeswelledwithtears.
“Stopit!”Laviniashrieked.Shedroppedfromthebalconyandlandedatmyside.“Whatareyoudoingtohim?”
Megchargedagainattheundeadking,perhapshopingtocatchhimoffguard.Withoutevenlookingather,Tarquintossedherasidewithanotherblastofforce.Hazelstoodasstiffasalimestonecolumn,hereyesfixedonthewallbehindtheking.Tinycrackshadbeguntospiderwebacrossthestone.
“Why,Lavinia,”thekingsaid,“I’mcallingApollohome!”Hegrinned,whichwastheonlyfacialexpressionhewascapableof,having
noface.“PoorLesterwould’vebeencompelledtoseekmeouteventually,oncethepoisontookholdofhisbrain.Butgettinghimheresosoon—thisisaspecialtreat!”
Heclenchedhisbonyfisttighter.Mypaintripled.Igroanedandblubbered.MyvisionswaminredVaseline.Howwasitpossibletofeelsomuchpainandnotdie?
“Leavehimalone!”yelledMeg.FromthetunnelsoneithersideofTarquin’ssarcophagus,morezombies
begantospillintotheroom.“Run.”Igasped.“Getoutofhere.”InowunderstoodthelinesfromtheBurningMaze:Iwouldfacedeathin
Tarquin’stomb,orafateworsethandeath.ButIwouldnotallowmyfriendstoperish,too.
Stubbornly,annoyingly,theyrefusedtoleave.
“Apolloismyservantnow,MegMcCaffrey,”Tarquinsaid.“Youreallyshouldn’tmournhim.He’sterribletothepeopleheloves.YoucanasktheSibyl.”
ThekingregardedmeasIwrithedlikeabugpinnedtoacorkboard.“IhopetheSibyllastslongenoughtoseeyouhumbled.Thatmaybewhatfinallybreaksher.Andwhenthosebumblingemperorsarrive,theywillseethetrueterrorofaRomanking!”
Hazelhowled.Thebackwallcollapsed,bringingdownhalftheceiling.Tarquinandhistroopsdisappearedunderanavalancheofrocksthesizeofassaultvehicles.
Mypainsubsidedtomereagonylevels.LaviniaandMeghauledmetomyfeet.Angrypurplelinesofinfectionnowtwistedupmyarms.Thatprobablywasn’tgood.
Hazelhobbledover.Hercorneashadturnedanunhealthyshadeofgray.“Weneedtomove.”
Laviniaglancedatthepileofrubble.“Butisn’the—?”“Notdead,”Hazelsaidwithbitterdisappointment.“Icanfeelhimsquirming
underthere,tryingto…”Sheshivered.“Itdoesn’tmatter.Moreundeadwillbecoming.Let’sgo!”
Easiersaidthandone.Hazellimpedalong,breathingheavilyassheledusbackthroughadifferent
setoftunnels.Megguardedourretreat,slicingdowntheoccasionalzombiewhostumbledacrossourpath.Laviniahadtosupportmostofmyweight,butshewasdeceptivelystrong,justasshewasdeceptivelynimble.Sheseemedtohavenotroublehaulingmysorrycarcassthroughthetomb.
Iwasonlysemiconsciousofmysurroundings.Mybowclangedagainstmyukulele,makingajarringopenchordinperfectsyncwithmyrattledbrain.
Whathadjusthappened?Afterthatbeautifulmomentofgodlikeprowesswithmybow,I’dsufferedan
ugly,perhapsterminalsetbackwithmygutwound.InowhadtoadmitIwasnotgettingbetter.Tarquinhadspokenofapoisonslowlymakingitswaytomybrain.Despitethebesteffortsofthecamp’shealers,Iwasturning,becomingoneoftheking’screatures.Byfacinghim,Ihadapparentlyacceleratedtheprocess.
Thisshouldhaveterrifiedme.ThefactthatIcouldthinkaboutitwithsuchdetachmentwasitselfconcerning.ThemedicalpartofmyminddecidedImustbegoingintoshock.Orpossiblyjust,youknow,dying.
Hazelstoppedattheintersectionoftwocorridors.“I—I’mnotsure.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Megasked.Hazel’scorneaswerestillthecolorofwetclay.“Ican’tgetaread.There
shouldbeanexithere.We’reclosetothesurface,but…I’msorry,guys.”Megretractedherblades.“That’sokay.Keepwatch.”“Whatareyoudoing?”Laviniaasked.Megtouchedthenearestwall.Theceilingshiftedandcracked.Ihada
fleetingimageofusgettingburiedlikeTarquinunderseveraltonsofrock—which,inmypresentstateofmind,seemedlikeanamusingwaytodie.Instead,dozensofthickeningtreerootswriggledtheirwaythroughthecracks,pushingapartthestones.Evenasaformergodaccustomedtomagic,Ifounditmesmerizing.Therootsspiraledandwovethemselvestogether,shovingasidetheearth,lettinginthedimglowofmoonlight,untilwefoundourselvesatthebaseofagentlyslopingchute(Arootchute?)withhandholdsandfootholdsforclimbing.
Megsniffedtheairabove.“Smellssafe.Let’sgo.”WhileHazelstoodguard,MegandLaviniajoinedforcestogetmeupthe
chute.Megpulled.Laviniapushed.Itwasallveryundignified,butthethoughtofLavinia’shalf-primedmanubalistajostlingaroundsomewherebelowmydelicateposteriorgavemeanincentivetokeepmoving.
Weemergedatthebaseofaredwoodinthemiddleoftheforest.Thecarouselwasnowhereinsight.MeggaveHazelahandup,thentouchedthetrunkofthetree.Therootchutespiraledshut,submergingunderthegrass.
Hazelswayedonherfeet.“Wherearewe?”“Thisway,”Laviniaannounced.Sheshoulderedmyweightagain,despitemyprotestationsthatIwasfine.
Really,Iwasonlydyingalittlebit.Westaggereddownatrailamongtheloomingredwoods.Icouldn’tseethestarsordiscernanylandmarks.Ihadnoideawhichdirectionwewereheading,butLaviniaseemedundeterred.
“Howdoyouknowwhereweare?”Iasked.“Toldyou,”shesaid.“Iliketoexplore.”ShemustreallylikePoisonOak,Ithoughtfortheumpteenthtime.ThenI
wonderedifLaviniasimplyfeltmoreathomeinthewildthanshedidatcamp.Sheandmysisterwouldgetalongfine.
“Areanyofyouhurt?”Iasked.“Didtheghoulsscratchyou?”Thegirlsallshooktheirheads.“Whataboutyou?”Megscowledandpointedatmygut.“Ithoughtyouwere
gettingbetter.”“IguessIwastoooptimistic.”Iwantedtoscoldherforjumpingintocombat
andnearlygettingusallkilled,butIdidn’thavetheenergy.Also,thewayshe
waslookingatme,IgotthefeelingthathergrumpyfacademightcollapseintotearsfasterthanTarquin’sceilingshadcrumbled.
Hazeleyedmewarily.“Youshouldhavehealed.Idon’tunderstand.”“Lavinia,canIhavesomegum?”Iasked.“Seriously?”Sheduginherpocketandhandedmeapiece.“You’reacorruptinginfluence.”Withleadenfingers,Imanagedtounwrap
thegumandstickitinmymouth.Theflavorwassicklysweet.Ittastedpink.Still,itwasbetterthanthesourghoulpoisonwellingupinmythroat.Ichewed,gladforsomethingtofocusonbesidethememoryofTarquin’sskeletalfingerscurlingandsendingscythesoffirethroughmyintestines.AndwhathehadsaidabouttheSibyl…?No.Icouldn’tprocessthatrightnow.
Afterafewhundredyardsoftorturoushiking,wereachedasmallstream.“We’reclose,”Laviniasaid.Hazelglancedbehindus.“I’msensingmaybeadozenbehindus,closing
fast.”Isawandheardnothing,butItookHazel’swordforit.“Go.You’llmove
fasterwithoutme.”“Nothappening,”Megsaid.“Here,takeApollo.”LaviniaofferedmetoMeglikeIwasasackof
groceries.“Youguyscrossthisstream,goupthathill.You’llseeCampJupiter.”Megstraightenedhergrimyglasses.“Whataboutyou?”“I’lldrawthemaway.”Laviniapattedhermanubalista.“That’saterribleidea,”Isaid.“It’swhatIdo,”Laviniasaid.Iwasn’tsureifshemeantdrawingawayenemiesorexecutingterribleideas.“She’sright,”Hazeldecided.“Becareful,legionnaire.We’llseeyouat
camp.”Lavinianoddedanddartedintothewoods.“Areyousurethatwaswise?”IaskedHazel.“No,”sheadmitted.“ButwhateverLaviniadoes,shealwaysseemstocome
backunscathed.Nowlet’sgetyouhome.”
CookingwithPranjalChickweedandunicornhornSlow-bastedzombie
HOME.SUCHAWONDERFULword.Ihadnoideawhatitmeant,butitsoundednice.Somewherealongthetrailbacktocamp,mymindmusthavedetachedfrom
mybody.Idon’trememberpassingout.Idon’trememberreachingthevalley.Butatsomepoint,myconsciousnessdriftedawaylikeanescapedheliumballoon.
Idreamedofhomes.HadIeverreallyhadone?Deloswasmybirthplace,butonlybecausemypregnantmother,Leto,took
refugetheretoescapeHera’swrath.Theislandservedasanemergencysanctuaryformysisterandme,too,butitneverfeltlikehomeanymorethanthebackseatofataxiwouldfeellikehometoachildbornonthewaytoahospital.
MountOlympus?Ihadapalacethere.Ivisitedfortheholidays.Butitalwaysfeltmoreliketheplacemydadlivedwithmystepmom.
ThePalaceoftheSun?ThatwasHelios’soldcrib.I’djustredecorated.EvenDelphi,homeofmygreatestOracle,hadoriginallybeenthelairof
Python.Tryasyoumight,youcannevergetthesmellofoldsnakeskinoutofavolcaniccavern.
Sadtosay,inmyfour-thousand-plusyears,thetimesI’dfeltmostathomehadallhappenedduringthepastfewmonths:atCampHalf-Blood,sharingacabinwithmydemigodchildren;attheWaystationwithEmma,Jo,Georgina,Leo,andCalypso,allofussittingaroundthedinnertablechoppingvegetablesfromthegardenfordinner;attheCisterninPalmSpringswithMeg,Grover,
Mellie,CoachHedge,andapricklyassortmentofcactusdryads;andnowatCampJupiter,wheretheanxious,grief-strickenRomans,despitetheirmanyproblems,despitethefactthatIbroughtmiseryanddisasterwhereverIwent,hadwelcomedmewithrespect,aroomabovetheircoffeeshop,andsomelovelybedlinenstowear.
Theseplaceswerehomes.WhetherIdeservedtobepartofthemornot—thatwasadifferentquestion.
Iwantedtolingerinthosegoodmemories.IsuspectedImightbedying—perhapsinacomaontheforestfloorasghoulpoisonspreadthroughmyveins.Iwantedmylastthoughtstobehappyones.Mybrainhaddifferentideas.
IfoundmyselfinthecavernofDelphi.Nearby,dragginghimselfthroughthedarkness,wreathedinorangeand
yellowsmoke,wastheall-too-familiarshapeofPython,liketheworld’slargestandmostrancidKomododragon.Hissmellwasoppressivelysour—aphysicalpressurethatconstrictedmylungsandmademysinusesscream.Hiseyescutthroughthesulfuricvaporlikeheadlamps.
“Youthinkitmatters.”Python’sboomingvoicerattledmyteeth.“Theselittlevictories.Youthinktheyleadtosomething?”
Icouldn’tspeak.Mymouthstilltastedlikebubblegum.Iwasgratefulforthesicklysweetness—areminderthataworldexistedoutsideofthiscaveofhorrors.
Pythonlumberedcloser.Iwantedtograbmybow,butmyarmswereparalyzed.
“Itwasfornothing,”hesaid.“Thedeathsyoucaused—thedeathsyouwillcause—theydon’tmatter.Ifyouwineverybattle,youwillstilllosethewar.Asusual,youdon’tunderstandthetruestakes.Faceme,andyouwilldie.”
Heopenedhisvastmaw,slaveringreptilianlipspulledoverglisteningteeth.“GAH!”Myeyesflewopen.Mylimbsflailed.“Oh,good,”saidavoice.“You’reawake.”Iwaslyingonthegroundinsidesomesortofwoodenstructure,like…ah,a
stable.Thesmellsofhayandhorsemanurefilledmynostrils.Aburlapblanketprickledagainstmyback.Peeringdownatmeweretwounfamiliarfaces.Onebelongedtoahandsomeyoungmanwithsilkyblackhaircrestingoverhiswidesepiaforehead.
Theotherfacebelongedtoaunicorn.Itsmuzzleglistenedwithmucus.Itsstartledblueeyes,wideandunblinking,fixedonmeasifImightbeatastybagofoats.Stuckonthetipofitshornwasacrank-handledrotarycheesegrater.
“GAH!”Isaidagain.“Calmdown,dummy,”Megsaid,somewheretomyleft.“You’rewith
friends.”Icouldn’tseeher.Myperipheralvisionwasstillblurryandpink.Ipointedweaklyattheunicorn.“Cheesegrater.”“Yes,”saidthelovelyyoungman.“It’stheeasiestwaytogetadoseofhorn
shavingsdirectlyintothewound.Busterdoesn’tmind.Doyou,Buster?”Bustertheunicorncontinuedtostareatme.Iwonderedifhewasevenalive,
orjustapropunicorntheyhadwheeledin.“Myname’sPranjal,”saidtheyoungman.“Headhealerforthelegion.I
workedonyouwhenyoufirstgothere,butwedidn’treallymeetthen,since,well,youwereunconscious.I’masonofAsclepius.Iguessthatmakesyoumygrandpa.”
Imoaned.“Pleasedon’tcallmeGrandpa.Ifeelterribleenoughalready.Are—aretheothersallright?Lavinia?Hazel?”
Meghoveredintoview.Herglasseswereclean,herhairwaswashed,andherclotheswerechanged,soImusthavebeenoutforquiteawhile.“We’reallfine.Laviniagotbackrightafterwedid.Butyoualmostdied.”Shesoundedannoyed,asifmydeathwouldhaveinconveniencedhergreatly.“Youshould’vetoldmehowbadthatcutwas.”
“Ithought…Iassumeditwouldheal.”Pranjalknithiseyebrows.“Yes,well,itshouldhave.Yougotexcellentcare,
ifIdosaysomyself.Weknowaboutghoulinfections.They’reusuallycurable,ifwecatchthemwithintwenty-fourhours.”
“Butyou,”Megsaid,scowlingatme.“Youaren’trespondingtotreatment.”“That’snotmyfault!”“Itcouldbeyourgodlyside,”Pranjalmused.“I’veneverhadapatientwho
wasaformerimmortal.Thatmightmakeyouresistanttodemigodhealing,ormoresusceptibletoundeadscratches.Ijustdon’tknow.”
Isatuponmyelbows.Iwasbare-chested.Mywoundhadbeenre-bandaged,soIcouldn’ttellhowbaditlookedunderneath,butthepainhadsubsidedtoadullache.Tendrilsofpurpleinfectionstillsnakedfrommybelly,upmychest,anddownmyarms,buttheircolorhadfadedtoafaintlavender.
“Whateveryoudidobviouslyhelped,”Isaid.“We’llsee.”Pranjal’sfrownwasnotencouraging.“Itriedaspecial
concoction,akindofmagicalequivalenttobroad-spectrumantibiotics.ItrequiredaspecialstrainofStellariamedia—magicalchickweed—thatdoesn’tgrowinNorthernCalifornia.”
“Itgrowsherenow,”Megannounced.“Yes,”Pranjalagreedwithasmile.“ImayhavetokeepMegaround.She’s
prettyhandyforgrowingmedicinalplants.”Megblushed.Busterstillhadn’tmovedorblinked.IhopedPranjaloccasionallyputa
spoonundertheunicorn’snostrilstomakesurehewasstillbreathing.“Atanyrate,”Pranjalcontinued,“thesalveIusedwasn’tacure.Itwillonly
slowdownyour…yourcondition.”Mycondition.Whatawonderfuleuphemismforturningintoawalking
corpse.“AndifIdowantacure?”Iasked.“Which,bytheway,Ido.”“That’sgoingtotakemorepowerfulhealingthanI’mcapableof,”he
confessed.“God-levelhealing.”Ifeltlikecrying.IdecidedPranjalneededtoworkonhisbedsidemanner,
perhapsbyhavingabettercollectionofmiraculousover-the-countercuresthatdidnotrequiredivineintervention.
“Wecouldtrymorehornshavings,”Megsuggested.“That’sfun.Imean,thatmightwork.”
BetweenMeg’sanxiousnesstousethecheesegraterandBuster’shungrystare,Iwasstartingtofeellikeaplateofpasta.“Idon’tsupposeyouhaveanyleadsonavailablehealinggods?”
“Actually,”Pranjalsaid,“ifyou’refeelinguptoit,youshouldgetdressedandhaveMegwalkyoutotheprincipia.ReynaandFrankareanxioustotalktoyou.”
Megtookpityonme.Beforemeetingthepraetors,shetookmebacktoBombilo’ssoIcouldwash
upandchangeclothes.Afterward,westoppedbythelegionmesshallforfood.Judgingfromtheangleofthesunandthenear-emptydiningroom,Iguesseditwaslateafternoon,betweenlunchanddinner,whichmeantI’dbeenunconsciousforalmostafullday.
Thedayaftertomorrow,then,wouldbeApril8—thebloodmoon,Lester’sbirthday,thedaytwoevilemperorsandanundeadkingattackedCampJupiter.Onthebrightside,themesshallwasservingfishsticks.
WhenIwasdonewithmymeal(here’saculinarysecretIdiscovered:ketchupreallyenhancesfriesandfishsticks),MegescortedmedowntheViaPraetoriatolegionheadquarters.
MostoftheRomansseemedtobeoffdoingwhateverRomansdidinthelateafternoon:marching,diggingtrenches,playingFortiusnitius…Iwasn’treallysure.Thefewlegionnaireswepassedstaredatmeaswewalkedby,their
conversationssputteringtoastop.IguessedwordhadspreadaboutouradventureinTarquin’stomb.Perhapsthey’dheardthatIhadaslightturning-into-a-zombieproblemandtheywerewaitingformetoscreamforbrains.
Thethoughtmademeshudder.Mygutwoundfeltsomuchbetteratthemoment.Icouldwalkwithoutcringing.Thesunwasshining.I’deatenagoodmeal.HowcouldIstillbepoisoned?
Denialisapowerfulthing.Unfortunately,IsuspectedPranjalwasright.Hehadonlysloweddownthe
infection.Myconditionwasbeyondanythingthatcamphealers,GreekorRoman,couldsolve.Ineededgodlyhelp—whichwassomethingZeushadexpresslyforbiddentheothergodstogiveme.
Theguardsatthepraetoriumletusthroughimmediately.Inside,ReynaandFranksatbehindalongtableladenwithmaps,books,daggers,andalargejarofjellybeans.Againstthebackwall,infrontofapurplecurtain,stoodthelegion’sgoldeneagle,hummingwithenergy.Beingsoneartoitmadethehairsonmyarmsstandup.Ididn’tknowhowthepraetorscouldtolerateworkingherewiththatthingrightbehindthem.Hadn’ttheyreadthemedicaljournalarticlesabouttheeffectsoflong-termexposuretoelectromagneticRomanstandards?
Frankappearedreadyforbattleinhisfullarmor.Reynalookedlikeshewastheonewho’djustwokenup.Sheworeherpurplecloakhastilypulledoveratoo-largePUERTORICOFUERTET-shirt,whichIwonderedifshe’dsleptin—butthatwasnoneofmybusiness.Theleftsideofherhairwasanadorablefuzzyblackmessofcowlicksthatmademewonderifshesleptonthatside—and,again,thatwasnoneofmybusiness.
CurledonthecarpetatherfeetweretwoautomatonsIhadn’tseenbefore—apairofgreyhounds,onegoldandonesilver.Theybothraisedtheirheadswhentheysawme,thensniffedtheairandgrowledasiftosay,Hey,Mom,thisguysmellslikezombie.Canwekillhim?
Reynahushedthem.Shedugsomejellybeansoutofthejarandtossedthemtothedogs.Iwasn’tsurewhymetallicgreyhoundswouldlikecandy,buttheysnappedupthemorsels,thensettledtheirheadsbackonthecarpet.
“Er,nicedogs,”Isaid.“Whyhaven’tIseenthembefore?”“AurumandArgentumhavebeenoutsearching,”Reynasaid,inatonethat
discouragedfollow-upquestions.“Howisyourwound?”“Mywoundisthriving,”Isaid.“Me,notsomuch.”“He’sbetterthanbefore,”Meginsisted.“Igratedsomeunicorn-horn
shavingsonhiscut.Itwasfun.”“Pranjalhelped,too,”Isaid.
Frankgesturedatthetwovisitors’seats.“Youguysmakeyourselvescomfortable.”
Comfortablewasarelativeterm.Thethree-leggedfoldablestoolsdidnotlookascushyasthepraetors’chairs.TheyalsoremindedmeoftheOracle’stripodseatinDelphi,whichremindedmeofRachelElizabethDarebackatCampHalf-Blood,whowasnot-so-patientlywaitingformetorestoreherpowersofprophecy.ThinkingaboutherremindedmeoftheDelphiccave,whichremindedmeofPython,whichremindedmeofmynightmareandhowscaredIwasofdying.Ihatestreamofconsciousness.
Oncewewereseated,Reynaspreadaparchmentscrollacrossthetable.“So,we’vebeenworkingwithEllaandTysonsinceyesterday,tryingtodeciphersomemorelinesofprophecy.”
“We’vemadeprogress,”Frankadded.“Wethinkwe’vefoundtherecipeyouweretalkingaboutatthesenatemeeting—theritualthatcouldsummondivineaidtosavethecamp.”
“That’sgreat,right?”MegreachedforthejarofjellybeansbutretractedherhandwhenAurumandArgentumbegangrowling.
“Maybe.”ReynaexchangedaworriedlookwithFrank.“Thethingis,ifwe’rereadingthelinescorrectly…theritualrequiresadeathsacrifice.”
Thefishsticksbegansword-fightingwiththefrenchfriesinmystomach.“Thatcan’tberight,”Isaid.“Wegodswouldneveraskyoumortalsto
sacrificeoneofyourown.Wegavethatupcenturiesago!Ormillenniaago,Ican’tremember.ButI’msurewegaveitup!”
Frankgrippedhisarmrests.“Yeah,that’sthething.It’snotamortalwho’ssupposedtodie.”
“No.”Reynalockedeyeswithme.“Itseemsthisritualrequiresthedeathofagod.”
Obook,what’smyfate?Whatisthesecretoflife?SeeappendixF
WHYWASEVERYBODYLOOKINGatme?Icouldn’thelpitifIwastheonly(ex-)godintheroom.Reynaleanedoverthescroll,tracingherfingeracrosstheparchment.“Frank
copiedtheselinesfromTyson’sback.Asyoucanprobablyguess,theyreadmorelikeaninstructionmanualthanaprophecy….”
Iwasabouttocrawloutofmyskin.IwantedtoripthescrollawayfromReynaandreadthebadnewsmyself.Wasmynamementioned?Sacrificingmecouldn’tpossiblypleasethegods,couldit?IfweOlympiansstartedsacrificingoneanother,thatwouldsetaterribleprecedent.
Megeyedthejarofjellybeans,whilethegreyhoundseyedher.“Whichgoddies?”
“Well,thatparticularline…”Reynasquinted,thenpushedtheparchmentovertoFrank.“Whatisthatword?”
Franklookedsheepish.“Shattered.Sorry,Iwaswritingfast.”“No,no.It’sfine.Yourhandwritingisbetterthanmine.”“Canyoupleasejusttellmewhatitsays?”Ibegged.“Right,sorry,”Reynasaid.“Well,it’snotexactlypoetry,likethesonnetyou
gotinIndianapolis—”“Reyna!”“Okay,okay.Itsays:Alltobedoneonthedayofgreatestneed:gatherthe
ingredientsforatype-sixburntoffering(seeappendixB)—”“We’redoomed,”Iwailed.“We’llneverbeabletocollectthose…whatever
theyare.”“Thatpart’seasy,”Frankassuredme.“Ellahasthelistofingredients.She
saysit’sallordinarystuff.”HegesturedforReynatocontinue.“Addthelastbreathofthegodwhospeaksnot,oncehissouliscutfree,”
Reynareadaloud,“togetherwiththeshatteredglass.Thenthesingle-deitysummoningprayer(seeappendixC)mustbeutteredthroughtherainbow.”Shetookabreath.“Wedon’thavetheactualtextofthatprayeryet,butEllaisconfidentshecantranscribeitbeforethebattlestarts,nowthatsheknowswhattolookforinappendixC.”
Frankglancedatmeforareaction.“Doestherestofitmakeanysensetoyou?”
IwassorelievedIalmostslumpedoffmythree-leggedstool.“Yougotmeallworkedup.Ithought…Well,I’vebeencalledalotofthings,butneverthegodwhospeaksnot.Itsoundslikewemustfindthesoundlessgod,whomwe’vediscussedbefore,and,er—”
“Killhim?”Reynaasked.“Howwouldkillingagodpleasethegods?”Ididn’thaveananswertothat.Thenagain,manypropheciesseemed
illogicaluntiltheyplayedout.Onlyinretrospectdidtheyappearobvious.“PerhapsifIknewwhichgodwe’retalkingabout…”Ipoundedmyfiston
myknee.“IfeellikeIshouldknow,butit’sburieddeep.Anobscurememory.Idon’tsupposeyou’vecheckedyourlibrariesorrunaGooglesearchorsomething?”
“Ofcoursewelooked,”Franksaid.“There’snolistingforaRomanorGreekgodofsilence.”
RomanorGreek.IfeltsureIwasmissingsomething—likepartofmybrain,forinstance.Lastbreath.Hissouliscutfree.Itdefinitelysoundedlikeinstructionsforasacrifice.
“Ihavetothinkonit,”Idecided.“Asfortherestoftheinstructions:shatteredglassseemslikeanoddrequest,butIsupposewecanfindsomeeasilyenough.”
“Wecouldbreakthejellybeanjar,”Megsuggested.ReynaandFrankpolitelyignoredher.“Andthesingle-deitysummoningthing?”Frankasked.“Iguessthatmeans
wewon’tbegettingahostofgodschargingdownintheirchariots?”“Probablynot,”Iagreed.Butmypulsequickened.Thepossibilityofbeingabletospeaktoevenone
fellowOlympianafterallthistime—tosummonactualgradeAA–quality,jumbo,cage-free,locallysourceddivinehelp…Ifoundtheideabothexhilarating
andterrifying.WouldIgettochoosewhichgodIcalled,orwasitpredeterminedbytheprayer?“Nevertheless,evenonegodcanmakeallthedifference.”
Megshrugged.“Dependsonthegod.”“Thathurt,”Isaid.“Whataboutthelastline?”Reynaasked.“Theprayermustbeuttered
throughtherainbow.”“AnIris-message,”Isaid,happyIcouldansweronequestionatleast.“It’sa
Greekthing,awayofbeseechingIris,goddessoftherainbow,tocarryamessage—inthiscase,aprayertoMountOlympus.Theformulaisquitesimple.”
“But…”Frankfrowned.“PercytoldmeaboutIris-messages.Theydon’tworkanymore,dothey?Notsinceallourcommunicationswentsilent.”
Communications,Ithought.Silent.Thesoundlessgod.IfeltasifI’dfallenintothedeependofaverycoldpool.“Oh.Iamso
stupid.”Meggiggled,butsheresistedthemanysarcasticcommentsthatnodoubt
werefillinghermind.I,inturn,resistedtheurgetopushheroffherstool.“Thissoundlessgod,
whoeverheis…Whatifhe’sthereasonourcommunicationsdon’twork?WhatiftheTriumviratehassomehowbeenharnessinghispowertopreventusallfromtalkingtooneanother,andtokeepusfrombeseechingthegodsforhelp?”
Reynacrossedherarms,blockingoutthewordFUERTEonherT-shirt.“You’resayingwhat,thissoundlessgodisincahootswiththeTriumvirate?Wehavetokillhimtoopenourmeansofcommunication?ThenwecouldsendanIris-message,dotheritual,andgetdivinehelp?I’mstillstuckonthewholekillingagodthing.”
IconsideredtheErythraeanSibyl,whomwe’drescuedfromherprisonintheBurningMaze.“Perhapsthisgodisn’tawillingparticipant.Hemighthavebeentrapped,or…Idon’tknow,coercedsomehow.”
“Sowefreehimbykillinghim?”Frankasked.“GottaagreewithReyna.Thatsoundsharsh.”
“Onewaytofindout,”Megsaid.“WegotothisSutroplace.CanIfeedyourdogs?”
Withoutwaitingforpermission,shegrabbedthejellybeanjarandpoppeditopen.
AurumandArgentum,havingheardthemagicwordsfeedanddogs,didnotgrowlortearMegapart.Theygotup,movedtoherside,andsatwatchingher,theirjeweledeyessendingthemessagePlease,please,please.
Megdoledoutajellybeanforeachdog,thenatetwoherself.Twoforthedogs,twoforherself.Meghadachievedamajordiplomaticbreakthrough.
“Meg’sright.SutroistheplaceTarquin’sminionmentioned,”Irecalled.“Presumablywe’llfindthesoundlessgodthere.”
“MountSutro?”Reynaasked.“OrSutroTower?Didhesaywhich?”Frankraisedaneyebrow.“Isn’titthesameplace?Ialwaysjustcallthatarea
SutroHill.”“Actually,thebiggesthillisMountSutro,”saidReyna.“Thegiantantennais
onadifferenthillrightnexttoit.That’sSutroTower.IonlyknowthisbecauseAurumandArgentumliketogohikingoverthere.”
Thegreyhoundsturnedtheirheadsatthewordhiking,thenwentbacktostudyingMeg’shandinthejellybeanjar.ItriedtoimagineReynahikingwithherdogsjustforfun.IwonderedifLaviniaknewthatwasherpastime.MaybeLaviniawassuchadedicatedhikerbecauseshewastryingtooutdothepraetor,thesamewayshehadherthinkingspothighaboveReyna’s.
ThenIdecidedthattryingtopsychoanalyzemypink-haired,tap-dancing,manubalista-wieldingfriendwasprobablyalosingproposition.
“IsthisSutroplaceclose?”Megwasslowlydepletingallthegreenjellybeans,whichwasgivingheradifferentsortofgreenthumbthanusual.
“It’sacrossthebayinSanFrancisco,”Reynasaid.“Thetowerismassive.YoucanseeitfromallovertheBayArea.”
“Weirdplacetokeepsomeone,”Franksaid.“ButIguessnoweirderthanunderacarousel.”
ItriedtorememberifI’deverbeentoSutroTower,oranyoftheothervariousSutro-labeledplacesinthatvicinity.Nothingcametomind,buttheinstructionsfromtheSibyllineBookshadleftmedeeplyunsettled.ThelastbreathofagodwasnotaningredientmostancientRomantempleskeptintheirpantries.Andcuttingagod’ssoulfreereallywasnotsomethingRomansweresupposedtotrywithoutadultsupervision.
IfthesoundlessgodwaspartoftheTriumvirate’sschemeforcontrol,whywouldTarquinhaveaccesstohim?WhathadTarquinmeantby“doublingtheflock”toguardthegod’slocation?Andwhathe’dsaidabouttheSibyl—IhopetheSibyllastslongenoughtoseeyouhumbled.Thatmaybewhatfinallybreaksher.Hadhejustbeenmessingwithmymind?IftheSibylofCumaewastrulystillalive,acaptiveofTarquin,Iwasobligatedtohelpher.
Helpher,thecynicalpartofmymindresponded.Likeyouhelpedherbefore?
“Whereverthesoundlessgodis,”Isaid,“he’llbeheavilyprotected,
especiallynow.Tarquinmustknowwe’lltrytolocatethehidingplace.”“AndwehavetodosoonAprileighth,”saidReyna.“Thedayofgreatest
need.”Frankgrunted.“Goodthingwedon’thaveanythingelsescheduledthatday.
Likegettinginvadedontwofronts,forinstance.”“Mygods,Meg,”Reynasaid,“you’regoingtomakeyourselfsick.I’llnever
getallthesugaroutofAurumandArgentum’sgearworks.”“Fine.”Megputthejellybeanjarbackonthetable,butnotbeforegrabbing
onelastfistfulforherselfandhercanineaccomplices.“Sowehavetowaituntilthedayaftertomorrow?What’llwedountilthen?”
“Oh,we’vegotplentytodo,”Frankpromised.“Planning.Constructingdefenses.Wargamesalldaytomorrow.Wehavetorunthelegionthrougheverypossiblescenario.Besides…”
Hisvoicefaltered,asifhe’drealizedhewasabouttosaysomethingaloudthatwasbestleftinhishead.Hishanddriftedtowardthepouchwhereheheldhisfirewood.
Iwonderedifhe’dtakenanyadditionalnotesfromEllaandTyson—perhapsmoreharpyramblingsaboutbridges,fires,andsomething,something,something.Ifso,Frankapparentlydidn’twanttoshare.
“Besides,”hestartedover,“youguysshouldrestupforthequest.You’llhavetoleaveforSutroearlyonLester’sbirthday.”
“Canwepleasenotcallitthat?”Ipleaded.“Also,whois‘youguys’?”Reynaasked.“Wemayneedanothersenatevote
todecidewhogoesonthequest.”“Nah,”Franksaid.“Imean,wecancheckwiththesenators,butthisis
clearlyanextensionoftheoriginalmission,right?Besides,whenwe’reatwar,youandIhavefullexecutivepower.”
Reynaregardedhercolleague.“Why,FrankZhang.You’vebeenstudyingthepraetors’handbook.”
“Maybealittle.”Frankclearedhisthroat.“Anyway,weknowwhoneedstogo:Apollo,Meg,andyou.ThedoorwaytothesoundlessgodhastobeopenedbyBellona’sdaughter,right?”
“But…”Reynalookedbackandforthbetweenus.“Ican’tjustleaveonthedayofamajorbattle.Bellona’spowerisallaboutstrengthinnumbers.Ineedtoleadthetroops.”
“Andyouwill,”Frankpromised.“AssoonasyougetbackfromSanFrancisco.Inthemeantime,I’llholddownthefort.I’vegotthis.”
Reynahesitated,butIthoughtIdetectedagleaminhereye.“Areyousure,Frank?Imean,yeah,ofcourseyoucandoit.Iknowyoucan,but—”
“I’llbefine.”Franksmiledlikehemeantit.“ApolloandMegneedyouonthisquest.Go.”
WhydidReynalooksoexcited?Howcrushingherworkmusthavebeen,if,aftercarryingtheburdenofleadershipforsolong,shewaslookingforwardtogoingonanadventureacrossthebaytokillagod.
“Isuppose,”shesaidwithobviouslyfeignedreluctance.“It’ssettled,then.”FrankturnedtoMegandme.“Youguysrestup.Bigday
tomorrow.We’llneedyourhelpwiththewargames.I’vegotaspecialjobinmindforeachofyou.”
HamsterballofdeathSparemeyourfierydoomI’mnotfeelingit
OH,BOY,ASPECIALjob!Theanticipationwaskillingme.Ormaybethatwasthepoisoninmyveins.AssoonasIreturnedtothecoffeeshop’sattic,Icrashedonmycot.Meghuffed,“It’sstilllightoutside.Yousleptallday.”“Notturningintoazombieishardwork.”“Iknow!”shesnapped.“I’msorry!”Ilookedup,surprisedbyhertone.Megkickedanoldpaperlattecupacross
theroom.Sheploppedontohercotandglaredatthefloor.“Meg?”Inherflowerbox,irisesgrewwithsuchspeedthattheirflowerscrackled
openlikecornkernels.Justafewminutesago,Meghadbeenhappilyinsultingmeandgorgingonjellybeans.Now…Wasshecrying?
“Meg.”Isatup,tryingnottowince.“Meg,you’renotresponsibleformegettinghurt.”
Shetwistedtheringonherrighthand,thentheoneonherleft,asifthey’dbecometoosmallforherfingers.“Ijustthought…ifIcouldkillhim…”Shewipedhernose.“Likeinsomestories.Youkillthemaster,andyoucanfreethepeoplehe’sturned.”
Ittookamomentforherwordstosinkin.Iwasprettysurethedynamicshewasdescribingappliedtovampires,notzombies,butIunderstoodwhatshemeant.
“You’retalkingaboutTarquin,”Isaid.“Youjumpedintothethroneroom
because…youwantedtosaveme?”“Duh,”shemuttered,withoutanyheat.Iputmyhandovermybandagedabdomen.I’dbeensoangrywithMegfor
herrecklessnessinthetomb.I’dassumedshewasjustbeingimpulsive,reactingtoTarquin’splanstolettheBayAreaburn.Butshe’dleapedintobattleforme—withthehopethatshecouldkillTarquinanderasemycurse.ThatwasevenbeforeI’drealizedhowbadmyconditionwas.Megmusthavebeenmoreworried,ormoreintuitive,thanshe’dleton.
Whichcertainlytookallthefunoutofcriticizingher.“Oh,Meg.”Ishookmyhead.“Thatwasacrazy,senselessstunt,andIlove
youforit.Butdon’tbeatyourselfup.Pranjal’smedicineboughtmesomeextratime.Andyoudid,too,ofcourse,withyourcheese-gratingskillsandyourmagicalchickweed.You’vedoneeverythingyoucould.Whenwesummongodlyhelp,Icanaskforcompletehealing.I’msureI’llbeasgoodasnew.Oratleast,asgoodasaLestercanbe.”
Megtiltedherhead,makinghercrookedglassesjustabouthorizontal.“Howcanyouknow?Isthisgodgoingtogiveusthreewishesorsomething?”
Iconsideredthat.Whenmyfollowerscalled,hadIevershownupandgrantedthemthreewishes?LOL,nope.Maybeonewish,ifthatwishwassomethingIwantedtohappenanyway.Andifthisritualonlyallowedmetocallonegod,whowoulditbe—assumingIcouldevenchoose?PerhapsmysonAsclepiuswouldbeabletohealme,buthecouldn’tverywellfighttheRomanemperors’forcesandthehordesofundead.Marsmightgrantussuccessonthebattlefield,buthe’dlookatmywoundandsaysomethinglikeYeah,roughbreak.Diebravely!
HereIwaswithpurplelinesofinfectionsnakingdownmyarms,tellingMegnottoworry.
“Idon’tknow,Meg,”Iconfessed.“You’reright.Ican’tbesureeverythingwillbeokay.ButIcanpromiseyouI’mnotgivingup.We’vecomethisfar.I’mnotgoingtoletabellyscratchstopusfromdefeatingtheTriumvirate.”
Shehadsomuchmucusdrippingfromhernostrils,shewould’vemadeBustertheunicornproud.Shesniffled,wipingherupperlipwithherknuckle.“Idon’twanttolosesomebodyelse.”
Mymentalgearsweren’tturningatfullspeed.Ihadtroublewrappingmymindaroundthefactthatby“somebodyelse,”Megmeantme.
Irecalledoneofherearlymemories,whichI’dwitnessedinmydreams:she’dbeenforcedtogazeuponherfather’slifelessbodyonthestepsofGrandCentralStationwhileNero,hismurderer,huggedherandpromisedtotakecare
ofher.Irememberedhowshe’dbetrayedmetoNerointheGroveofDodonaoutof
fearoftheBeast,Nero’sdarkside,andhowhorribleshe’dfeltafterward,whenwereunitedinIndianapolis.Thenshe’dtakenallherdisplacedangerandguiltandfrustrationandprojecteditontoCaligula(which,tobehonest,wasaprettygoodplacetoputit).Meg,beingunabletolashoutatNero,hadwantedsobadlytokillCaligula.WhenJasondiedinstead,shewasdevastated.
Now,asidefromallthebadmemoriestheRomantrappingsofCampJupitermighthavetriggeredforher,shewasfacedwiththeprospectoflosingme.Inamomentofshock,likeaunicornstaringmerightintheface,IrealizedthatdespiteallthegriefMeggaveme,andthewaysheorderedmearound,shecaredforme.Forthepastthreemonths,Ihadbeenheroneconstantfriend,justasshehadbeenmine.
TheonlyotherpersonwhomighthavecomeclosewasPeaches,Meg’sfruit-treespiritminion,andwehadn’tseenhimsinceIndianapolis.Atfirst,I’dassumedPeacheswasjustbeingtemperamentalaboutwhenhedecidedtoappear,likemostsupernaturalcreatures.ButifhehadtriedtofollowustoPalmSprings,whereeventhecactistruggledtosurvive…Ididn’trelishapeachtree’soddsofsurvivalthere,muchlessintheBurningMaze.
Meghadn’tmentionedPeachestomeoncesincewewereintheLabyrinth.NowIrealizedhisabsencemusthavebeenweighingonher,alongwithallherotherworries.
WhatahorriblyinsufficientfriendIhadbeen.“Comehere.”Iheldoutmyarms.“Please?”Meghesitated.Stillsniffling,sherosefromhercotandtrudgedtowardme.
ShefellintomyhuglikeIwasacomfymattress.Igrunted,surprisedbyhowsolidandheavyshewas.Shesmelledofapplepeelsandmud,butIdidn’tmind.Ididn’tevenmindthemucusandtearssoakingmyshoulder.
I’dalwayswonderedwhatitwouldbeliketohaveayoungersibling.SometimesI’dtreatedArtemisasmybabysister,sinceI’dbeenbornafewminutesearlier,butthathadbeenmostlytoannoyher.WithMeg,Ifeltasifitwereactuallytrue.Ihadsomeonewhodependedonme,whoneededmearoundnomatterhowmuchweirritatedeachother.IthoughtaboutHazelandFrankandthewashingawayofcurses.Isupposedthatkindoflovecouldcomefrommanydifferenttypesofrelationships.
“Okay.”Megpushedherselfaway,wipinghercheeksfuriously.“Enoughofthat.Yousleep.I’m—I’mgoingtogetdinnerorwhatever.”
Foralongtimeaftersheleft,Ilayinmycotstaringattheceiling.Musicfloatedupfromthecafé:thesoothingsoundsofHoraceSilver’s
piano,punctuatedbythehissoftheespressomachine,accompanyingBombilosingingintwo-headedharmony.Afterspendingafewdayswiththesenoises,Ifoundthemsoothing,evenhomey.Idriftedofftosleep,hopingtohavewarm,fuzzydreamsaboutMegandmeskippingthroughsunlitfieldswithourelephant,unicorn,andmetalgreyhoundfriends.
Instead,Ifoundmyselfbackwiththeemperors.
OnmylistofplacesIleastwantedtobe,Caligula’syachtrankedrightuptherewithTarquin’stomb,theeternalabyssofChaos,andtheLimburgercheesefactoryinLiège,Belgium,wherestinkinggymsockswenttofeelbetteraboutthemselves.
Commodusloungedinadeckchair,analuminumtanningbibaroundhisneckreflectingtheafternoonsundirectlyontohisface.Sunglassescoveredhisscarredeyes.HeworeonlypinkswimtrunksandpinkCrocs.Itookabsolutelynonoticeofthewaythetanningoilglistenedonhismuscularbronzedbody.
Caligulastoodnearbyinhiscaptain’suniform:whitecoat,darkslacks,andstripedshirt,allcrisplypressed.Hiscruelfacelookedalmostangelicashemarveledatthecontraptionthatnowtookuptheentireaftdeck.Theartillerymortarwasthesizeofanabovegroundswimmingpool,withatwo-foot-thickrimofdarkironandadiameterwideenoughtodriveacarthrough.Nestledinthebarrel,amassivegreensphereglowedlikeagiantradioactivehamsterball.
Pandairushedaroundthedeck,blanketearsflopping,theirfurryhandsmovingatpreternaturalspeedsastheypluggedincablesandoiledgearsatthebaseoftheweapon.Someofthepandaiwereyoungenoughtohavepurewhitefur,whichmademyhearthurt,remindingmeofmybrieffriendshipwithCrest,theyouthfulaspiringmusicianwho’dlosthislifeintheBurningMaze.
“It’swonderful!”Caligulabeamed,circlingthemortar.“Isitreadyfortest-firing?”
“Yes,lord!”saidthepandosBoost.“Ofcourse,everysphereofGreekfireisvery,veryexpensive,so—”
“DOIT!”Caligulayelled.Boostyelpedandscrambledtothecontrolpanel.Greekfire.Ihatedthestuff,andIwasasungodwhorodeafierychariot.
Viscous,green,andimpossibletoextinguish,Greekfirewasjustplainnasty.Acupfulcouldburndownanentirebuilding,andthatsingleglowingsphereheldmorethanI’deverseeninoneplace.
“Oh,Commodus?”Caligulacalled.“Youmightwanttopayattentiontothis.”
“Iamfullyattentive,”Commodussaid,turninghisfacetobettercatchthesun.
Caligulasighed.“Boost,youmayproceed.”Boostcalledoutinstructionsinhisownlanguage.Hisfellowpandaiturned
cranksandspundials,slowlyswivelingthemortaruntilitpointedouttosea.Boostdouble-checkedhisreadingsonthecontrolpanel,thenshouted,“U¯nus,duo,tre¯s!”
Withamightyboom,themortarfired.Theentireboatshudderedfromtherecoil.Thegianthamsterballrocketedupwarduntilitwasagreenmarbleinthesky,thenplummetedtowardthewesternhorizon.Theskyblazedemerald.Amomentlater,hotwindsbuffetedtheshipwiththesmellofburningsaltandcookedfish.Inthedistance,ageyserofgreenfirechurnedontheboilingsea.
“Ooh,pretty.”CaligulagrinnedatBoost.“Andyouhaveonemissileforeachship?”
“Yes,lord.Asinstructed.”“Therange?”“OnceweclearTreasureIsland,we’llbeabletobringallweaponstobearon
CampJupiter,mylord.Nomagicaldefensescanstopsuchamassivevolley.Totalannihilation!”
“Good,”Caligulasaid.“That’smyfavoritekind.”“Butremember,”Commoduscalledfromhisdeckchair,havingnoteven
turnedtowatchtheexplosion,“firstwetryagroundassault.Maybethey’llbewiseandsurrender!WewantNewRomeintactandtheharpyandCyclopstakenalive,ifpossible.”
“Yes,yes,”Caligulasaid.“Ifpossible.”Heseemedtosavorthosewordslikeabeautifullie.Hiseyesglitteredinthe
greenartificialsunset.“Eitherway,thiswillbefun.”
Iwokeupalone,thesunbakingmyface.ForasecondIthoughtImightbeinadeckchairnexttoCommodus,atanningbibaroundmyneck.Butno.ThedayswhenCommodusandIhungouttogetherwerelonggone.
Isatup,groggy,disoriented,anddehydrated.Whywasitstilllightoutside?ThenIrealized,judgingfromtheangleofthesuncomingintheroom,it
musthavebeenaboutnoon.Onceagain,I’dsleptthroughthenightandhalfaday.Istillfeltexhausted.
Ipressedgentlyonmybandagedgut.Iwashorrifiedtofindthewoundtenderagain.Thepurplelinesofinfectionhaddarkened.Thiscouldonlymeanonething:itwastimeforalong-sleevedshirt.Nomatterwhathappenedoverthe
nexttwenty-fourhours,IwouldnotaddtoMeg’sworries.IwouldtoughitoutuntilthemomentIkeeledover.
Wow.WhoevenwasI?BythetimeIchangedclothesandhobbledoutofBombilo’scoffeeshop,
mostofthelegionhadgatheredatthemesshallforlunch.Asusual,thediningroombustledwithactivity.Demigods,groupedbycohort,reclinedoncouchesaroundlowtableswhileauraewhiskedoverheadwithplattersoffoodandpitchersofdrink.Hangingfromthecedarrafters,war-gamepennantsandcohortstandardsrippledintheconstantbreeze.Whenthey’dfinishedeating,dinersrosecautiouslyandwalkedawayhunchedover,lesttheygetdecapitatedbyaflyingplateofcoldcuts.ExceptfortheLares,ofcourse.Theydidn’tcarewhatsortofdelicaciesflewthroughtheirectoplasmicnoggins.
IspottedFrankattheofficers’table,deepinconversationwithHazelandtherestofthecenturions.Reynawasnowhereinsight—perhapsshewascatchinganaporpreparingfortheafternoon’swardrills.Givenwhatwewerefacingtomorrow,Franklookedremarkablyrelaxed.Ashechattedwithhisofficers,heevencrackedasmile,whichseemedtoputtheothersatease.
Howsimpleitwouldbetodestroytheirfragileconfidence,Ithought,justbydescribingtheflotillaofartilleryyachtsI’dseeninmydream.Notyet,Idecided.Nosensespoilingtheirmeal.
“Hey,Lester!”Laviniayelledfromacrosstheroom,wavingmeoverasifIwereherwaiter.
IjoinedherandMegattheFifthCohorttable.Anauradepositedagobletofwaterinmyhand,thenleftawholepitcheronthetable.Apparently,mydehydrationwasthatobvious.
Lavinialeanedforward,hereyebrowsarchedlikepink-and-chestnutrainbows.“So,isittrue?”
IfrownedatMeg,wonderingwhichofthemanyembarrassingstoriesaboutmeshemighthaveshared.Shewastoobusyplowingthrougharowofhotdogstopaymeanymind.
“Iswhattrue?”Iasked.“Theshoes.”“Shoes?”Laviniathrewherhandsintheair.“ThedancingshoesofTerpsichore!Meg
wastellinguswhathappenedonCaligula’syachts.ShesaidyouandthatPipergirlsawapairofTerpsichore’sshoes!”
“Oh.”Ihadcompletelyforgottenaboutthose,orthefactthatI’dtoldMegaboutthem.Strange,buttheothereventsaboardCaligula’sships—gettingcaptured,seeingJasonkilledbeforeoureyes,barelyescapingwithourlives—
hadeclipsedmymemoriesoftheemperor’sfootwearcollection.“Meg,”Isaid,“ofallthethingsyoucouldhavechosentotellthem,youtold
themaboutthat?”“Wasn’tmyidea.”Megsomehowmanagedtoenunciatewithhalfahotdog
inhermouth.“Lavinialikesshoes.”“Well,whatdidyouthinkIwasgoingtoaskabout?”Laviniademanded.
“Youtellmetheemperorhasanentireboatloadofshoes,ofcourseI’mgoingtowonderifyousawanydancingones!Soit’strue,then,Lester?”
“Imean…yes.Wesawapairof—”“Wow.”Laviniasatback,crossedherarms,andglaredatme.“Justwow.
Youwaituntilnowtotellmethis?Doyouknowhowrarethoseshoesare?Howimportant…”Sheseemedtochokeonherownindignation.“Wow.”
Aroundthetable,Lavinia’scomradesshowedamixtureofreactions.Somerolledtheireyes,somesmirked,somekepteatingasifnothingLaviniadidcouldsurprisethemanymore.
Anolderboywithshaggybrownhairdaredtostickupforme.“Lavinia,Apollohashadafewotherthingsgoingon.”
“Oh,mygods,Thomas!”Laviniashotback.“Naturally,youwouldn’tunderstand!Younevertakeoffthoseboots!”
Thomasfrownedathisstandard-issuecombatstompers.“What?They’vegotgoodarchsupport.”
“Yeesh.”LaviniaturnedtoMeg.“Wehavetofigureoutawaytogetaboardthatshipandrescuethoseshoes.”
“Nah.”Megsuckedaglobofrelishoffherthumb.“Waytoodangerous.”“But—”“Lavinia,”Iinterrupted,“youcan’t.”Shemusthaveheardthefearandurgencyinmyvoice.Overthepastfew
days,IhaddevelopedastrangefondnessforLavinia.Ididn’twanttoseeherchargeintoaslaughter,especiallyaftermydreamaboutthosemortarsprimedwithGreekfire.
SheranherStarofDavidpendantbackandforthonitschain.“You’vegotnewinformation?Dish.”
BeforeIcouldreply,aplateoffoodflewintomyhands.TheauraehaddecidedIneededchickenfingersandfries.Lotsofthem.Eitherthatorthey’dheardtheworddishandtakenitasanorder.
Amomentlater,HazelandtheotherFifthCohortcenturionjoinedus—adark-hairedyoungmanwithstrangeredstainsaroundhismouth.Ah,yes.Dakota,childofBacchus.
“What’sgoingon?”Dakotaasked.“Lesterhasnews.”Laviniastaredatmeexpectantly,asifImightbe
withholdingthelocationofTerpsichore’smagicaltutu(which,fortherecord,Ihadn’tseenincenturies).
Itookadeepbreath.Iwasn’tsureifthiswastherightforumforsharingmydream.Ishouldprobablyreportittothepraetorsfirst.ButHazelnoddedatmeasiftosay,Goon.Idecidedthatwasgoodenough.
IdescribedwhatI’dseen—atop-of-the-lineIKEAheavymortar,fullyassembled,shootingagianthamsterballofgreenflamingdeaththatblewupthePacificOcean.Iexplainedthat,apparently,theemperorshadfiftysuchmortars,oneoneachship,whichwouldbereadytoobliterateCampJupiterassoonastheytookuppositionsinthebay.
Dakota’sfaceturnedasredashismouth.“IneedmoreKool-Aid.”Thefactthatnogobletsflewintohishandtoldmetheauraedisagreed.Lavinialookedlikeshe’dbeenslappedwithoneofhermother’sballet
slippers.Megkepteatinghotdogsasiftheymightbethelastonesshewouldeverget.
Hazelchewedherbottomlipinconcentration,perhapstryingtoextractanygoodnewsfromwhatI’dsaid.Sheseemedtofindthisharderthanpullingdiamondsfromtheground.
“Okay,look,guys,weknewtheemperorswereassemblingsecretweapons.Atleastnowweknowwhatthoseweaponsare.I’llconveythisinformationtothepraetors,butitdoesn’tchangeanything.Youalldidagreatjobinthemorningdrills”—shehesitated,thengenerouslydecidednottoaddexceptforApollo,whosleptthroughitall—“andthisafternoon,oneofourwargameswillbeaboutboardingenemyships.Wecangetprepared.”
Fromtheexpressionsaroundthetable,IgatheredtheFifthCohortwasnotreassured.TheRomanshadneverbeenknownfortheirnavalprowess.LastI’dchecked,theCampJupiter“navy”consistedofsomeoldtriremestheyonlyusedformocknavalbattlesintheColosseum,andonerowboattheykeptdockedinAlameda.Drillingtoboardenemyshipswouldbelessaboutpracticingaworkablebattleplanandmoreaboutkeepingthelegionnairesbusysotheywouldn’tthinkabouttheirimpendingdoom.
Thomasrubbedhisforehead.“Ihatemylife.”“Keepittogether,legionnaire,”Hazelsaid.“Thisiswhatwesignedupfor.
DefendingthelegacyofRome.”“Fromitsownemperors,”Thomassaidmiserably.“I’msorrytotellyou,”Iputin,“butthebiggestthreattotheempirewas
oftenitsownemperors.”Nobodyargued.Attheofficers’table,FrankZhangstood.Allaroundtheroom,flying
pitchersandplattersfrozeinmidair,waitingrespectfully.“Legionnaires!”Frankannounced,managingaconfidentsmile.“Relay
activitieswillrecommenceontheFieldofMarsintwentyminutes.Drilllikeyourlivesdependonit,becausetheydo!”
Seethisrighthere,kids?Thisishowyoudon’tdoit.Questions?Classdismissed.
“HOW’STHEWOUND?”HAZELasked.Iknewshemeantwell,butIwasgettingverytiredofthatquestion,andeven
moretiredofthewound.Wewalkedsidebysideoutthemaingates,headingfortheFieldofMars.
Justaheadofus,Megcartwheeleddowntheroad,thoughhowshedidthiswithoutregurgitatingthefourhotdogsshe’deaten,Ihadnoidea.
“Oh,youknow,”Isaid,inaterribleattempttosoundupbeat,“allthingsconsidered,I’mokay.”
Myoldimmortalselfwouldhavelaughedatthat.Okay?Areyoujoking?Overthelastfewmonths,Ihaddrasticallyscaledbackmyexpectations.At
thispoint,okaymeantstillabletowalkandbreathe.“Ishouldhaverealizedearlier,”Hazelsaid.“Yourdeathauraisgetting
strongerbythehour—”“Canwenottalkaboutmydeathaura?”“Sorry,it’sjust…IwishNicowerehere.Hemightknowhowtofixyou.”Iwouldn’thavemindedseeingHazel’shalfbrother.NicodiAngelo,sonof
Hades,hadbeenquitevaluablewhenwefoughtNeroatCampHalf-Blood.Andofcoursehisboyfriend,mysonWillSolace,wasanexcellenthealer.YetIsuspectedtheywouldn’tbeabletohelpmeanymorethanPranjalhad.IfWillandNicowerehere,theywouldjustbetwomorepeopleformetoworryabout—twomorelovedoneswatchingmewithconcern,wonderinghowlonguntilIwentfull-onzombie.
“Iappreciatethesentiment,”Isaid,“but…WhatisLaviniadoing?”Aboutahundredyardsaway,LaviniaandDonthefaunstoodonabridge
acrosstheLittleTiber—whichwasverymuchnotonthewaytotheFieldofMars—havingwhatlookedlikeaseriousargument.PerhapsIshouldn’thavebroughtthistoHazel’sattention.Thenagain,ifLaviniawantedtogounnoticed,sheshouldhavechosenadifferenthaircolor—likecamouflage,forinstance—andnotwavedherarmsaroundsomuch.
“Idon’tknow.”Hazel’sexpressionremindedmeofatiredmotherwhohadfoundhertoddlertryingtoclimbintothemonkeyexhibitforthedozenthtime.“Lavinia!”
Lavinialookedover.Shepattedtheairasiftosay,Justgivemeaminute,thenwentbacktoarguingwithDon.
“AmItooyoungtogetulcers?”Hazelwonderedaloud.Ihadlittleoccasionforhumor,givenallthatwashappening,butthat
commentmademelaugh.AswegotclosertotheFieldofMars,Isawlegionnairesbreakinginto
cohorts,movingtodifferentactivitiesspreadacrossthewasteland.Onegroupwasdiggingdefensivetrenches.Anotherhadgatheredontheshoreofanartificiallakethathadn’tbeenthereyesterday,waitingtoboardtwomakeshiftboatsthatlookednothinglikeCaligula’syachts.Athirdgroupsleddeddownadirthillontheirshields.
Hazelsighed.“Thatwouldbemygroupofdelinquents.Ifyou’llexcuseme,I’mofftoteachthemhowtoslayghouls.”
Shejoggedaway,leavingmealonewithmycartwheelingsidekick.“Sowheredowego?”IaskedMeg.“Franksaidwehad,er,specialjobs?”“Yep.”Megpointedtothefarendofthefield,wheretheFifthCohortwas
waitingatatargetrange.“You’reteachingarchery.”Istaredather.“I’mdoingwhatnow?”“Franktaughtthemorningclass,sinceyousleptforever.Nowit’syourturn.”“But—Ican’tteachasLester,especiallyinmycondition!Besides,Romans
neverrelyonarcheryincombat.Theythinkprojectileweaponsarebeneaththem!”
“Gottathinkinnewwaysifyouwanttobeattheemperors,”Megsaid.“Likeme.I’mweaponizingtheunicorns.”
“You’re—Wait,what?”“Later.”Megskippedacrossthefieldtowardalargeridingring,wherethe
FirstCohortandaherdofunicornswerestaringsuspiciouslyatoneanother.Icouldn’timaginehowMegplannedtoweaponizethenonviolentcreatures,or
whohadgivenherpermissiontotry,butIhadasuddenhorribleimageofRomansandunicornsassaultingoneanotherwithlargecheesegraters.Idecidedtomindmyownbusiness.
Withasigh,Iturnedtowardthefiringrangeandwenttomeetmynewpupils.
TheonlythingscarierthanbeingbadatarcherywasdiscoveringthatIwassuddenlygoodatitagain.Thatmaynotsoundlikeaproblem,butsincebecomingmortal,I’dexperiencedafewrandomburstsofgodlyskill.Eachtime,mypowershadquicklyevaporatedagain,leavingmemorebitteranddisillusionedthanever.
Sure,ImayhavefiredaquiverfulofamazingshotsinTarquin’stomb.Thatdidn’tmeanIcoulddoitagain.IfItriedtodemonstratepropershootingtechniquesinfrontofawholecohortandendeduphittingoneofMeg’sunicornsinthebutt,Iwoulddieofembarrassmentlongbeforethezombiepoisongotme.
“Okay,everyone,”Isaid.“Isupposewecanstart.”Dakotawasrummagingthroughhiswater-stainedquiver,tryingtofindan
arrowthatwasn’twarped.Apparently,hethoughtitwasagreatideatostorehisarcherysuppliesinthesauna.Thomasandanotherlegionnaire(Marcus?)weresword-fightingwiththeirbows.Thelegion’sstandard-bearer,Jacob,wasdrawinghisbowwiththebuttofthearrowdirectlyateyelevel,whichexplainedwhyhislefteyewascoveredinapatchfromthemorning’slessons.Henowseemedeagertoblindhimselfcompletely.
“C’mon,guys!”saidLavinia.Shehadsneakedinlatewithoutbeingnoticed(oneofhersuperpowers)andtookituponherselftohelpmecallthetroopstoorder.“Apollomightknowstuff!”
ThiswashowIknewIhadhitrockbottom:thehighestpraiseIcouldreceivefromamortalwasthatI“mightknowstuff.”
Iclearedmythroat.I’dfacedmuchbiggeraudiences.WhywasIsonervous?Oh,right.BecauseIwasahorriblyincompetentsixteen-year-old.
“So…let’stalkabouthowtoaim.”Myvoicecracked,naturally.“Widestance.Fulldraw.Thenfindyourtargetwithyourdominanteye.Or,inJacob’scase,withyouroneworkingeye.Aimalongyoursightpin,ifyouhaveone.”
“Idon’thaveasightpin,”saidMarcus.“It’sthelittlecirclethingierightthere.”Laviniashowedhim.“Ihaveasightpin,”Marcuscorrectedhimself.“Thenyouletfly,”Isaid.“Likethis.”Ishotatthenearesttarget—thenatthetargetnextfarthestout,thenatthe
next—firingagainandagaininakindoftrance.OnlyaftermytwentiethshotdidIrealizeI’dlandedallbull’s-eyes,twoin
eachtarget,thefarthestabouttwohundredyardsaway.Child’splayforApollo.ForLester,quiteimpossible.
Thelegionnairesstaredatme,theirmouthshangingopen.“We’resupposedtodothat?”Dakotademanded.Laviniapunchedmyforearm.“See,youguys?ItoldyouApollodoesn’t
suckthatmuch!”Ihadtoagreewithher.Ifeltoddlynotsuckish.Thedisplayofmarksmanshiphadn’tdrainedmyenergy.Nordiditfeellike
thetemporaryburstsofgodlypowerI’dexperiencedbefore.IwastemptedtoaskforanotherquivertoseeifIcouldkeepshootingatthesameskilllevel,butIwasafraidtopressmyluck.
“So…”Ifaltered.“I,uh,don’texpectyoutobethatgoodrightaway.Iwasonlydemonstratingwhat’spossiblewithalotofpractice.Let’sgiveitatry,shallwe?”
Iwasrelievedtotakethefocusoffmyself.Iorganizedthecohortintoafiringlineandmademywaydowntheranks,offeringadvice.Despitehiswarpedarrows,Dakotawasnotterrible.Heactuallyhitthetargetafewtimes.Jacobmanagednottoblindhimselfintheothereye.ThomasandMarcussentmostoftheirarrowsskitteringacrossthedirt,ricochetingoffrocksandintothetrenches,whichelicitedshoutsof“Hey,watchit!”fromtheditch-diggingFourthCohort.
Afteranhouroffrustrationwitharegularbow,Laviniagaveupandpulledouthermanubalista.Herfirstboltknockeddownthefifty-yardtarget.
“Whydoyouinsistonusingthatslow-loadingmonstrosity?”Iasked.“Ifyou’resoADHD,wouldn’taregularbowgiveyoumoreinstantsatisfaction?”
Laviniashrugged.“Maybe,butthemanubalistamakesastatement.Speakingofwhich”—sheleanedtowardme,herexpressionturningserious—“Ineedtotalktoyou.”
“Thatdoesn’tsoundgood.”“No,it’snot.I—”Inthedistance,ahornblew.“Okay,guys!”Dakotacalled.“Timetorotateactivities!Goodteameffort!”Laviniapunchedmeinthearmagain.“Later,Lester.”TheFifthCohortdroppedtheirweaponsandrantowardthenextactivity,
leavingmetoretrievealltheirarrows.Cretins.Therestoftheafternoon,Istayedatthefiringrange,workingwitheach
cohortinturn.Asthehoursworeon,boththeshootingandtheteachingbecame
lessintimidatingforme.BythetimeIwaswrappingupworkwithmylastgroup,theFirstCohort,Iwasconvincedthatmyimprovedarcheryskillswereheretostay.
Ididn’tknowwhy.Istillcouldn’tshootatmyoldgodlylevel,butIwasdefinitelybetternowthantheaveragedemigodarcherorOlympicgoldmedalist.Ihadstartedto“jive.”IconsideredpullingouttheArrowofDodonatobragSeewhatIcando?ButIdidn’twanttojinxmyself.Besides,knowingthatIwasdyingofzombiepoisonontheeveofamajorbattletooksomeofthethrilloutofbeingabletoshootbull’s-eyesagain.
TheRomansweredulyimpressed.Someofthemevenlearnedalittle,likehowtofireanarrowwithoutblindingyourselforkillingtheguynexttoyou.Still,Icouldtelltheyweremoreexcitedabouttheotheractivitiesthey’ddone.IoverheardalotofwhisperingaboutunicornsandHazel’ssupersecretghoul-fightingtechniques.LarryfromtheThirdCohorthadenjoyedboardingshipssomuchhedeclaredthathewantedtobeapiratewhenhegrewup.Isuspectedmostofthelegionnaireshadevenenjoyedditch-diggingmorethanmyclass.
Itwaslateeveningwhenthefinalhornblewandthecohortstrompedbacktocamp.Iwashungryandexhausted.Iwonderedifthiswashowmortalteachersfeltafterafulldayofclasses.Ifso,Ididn’tseehowtheymanaged.Ihopedtheywererichlycompensatedwithgold,diamonds,andrarespices.
Atleastthecohortsseemedtobeinanupbeatmood.Ifthepraetors’goalhadbeentotakethetroops’mindsofftheirfearsandraisemoraleontheeveofbattle,thenourafternoonhadbeenasuccess.Ifthegoalhadbeentotrainthelegiontosuccessfullyrepelourenemies…thenIwaslessthanhopeful.Also,alldaylong,everyonehadcarefullyavoidedaddressingtheworstthingabouttomorrow’sattack.TheRomanswouldhavetofacetheirformercomrades,returnedaszombiesunderTarquin’scontrol.IrememberedhowhardithadbeenforLaviniatoshootdownBobbywithhercrossbowinthetomb.Iwonderedhowthelegion’smoralewouldholduponcetheyfacedthesameethicaldilemmatimesfiftyorsixty.
IwasturningontotheViaPrincipalis,onmywaytothemesshall,whenavoicesaid,“Pssst.”
LurkinginthealleybetweenBombilo’scaféandthechariotrepairshopwereLaviniaandDon.Thefaunwaswearinganhonest-to-godstrenchcoatoverhistie-dyedT-shirt,asifthatmadehimlookinconspicuous.Laviniaworeablackcapoverherpinkhair.
“C’mere!”shehissed.“Butdinner—”“Weneedyou.”
“Isthisamugging?”Shemarchedover,grabbedmyarm,andpulledmeintotheshadows.“Don’tworry,dude,”Dontoldme.“It’snotamugging!But,like,ifyoudo
haveanysparechange—”“Shutup,Don,”saidLavinia.“I’llshutup,”Donagreed.“Lester,”Laviniasaid,“youneedtocomewithus.”“Lavinia,I’mtired.I’mhungry.AndIhavenosparechange.Can’titplease
wait—?”“No.Becausetomorrowwemightalldie,andthisisimportant.We’re
sneakingout.”“Sneakingout?”“Yeah,”Donsaid.“It’swhenyou’resneaking.Andyougoout.”“Why?”Idemanded.“You’llsee.”Lavinia’stonewasominous,asifshecouldn’texplainwhatmy
coffinlookedlike.Ihadtoadmireitwithmyowneyes.“Whatifwegetcaught?”“Oh!”Donperkedup.“Iknowthisone!Forafirstoffense,it’slatrineduty
foramonth.But,see,ifwealldietomorrow,itwon’tmatter!”Withthathappynews,LaviniaandDongrabbedmyhandsanddraggedme
fartherintothedarkness.
IsingofdeadplantsAndheroicshrubberiesInspiringstuff
SNEAKINGOUTOFARomanmilitarycampshouldnothavebeensoeasy.Onceweweresafelythroughaholeinthefence,downatrench,througha
tunnel,pastthepickets,andoutofsightofthecamp’ssentrytowers,Donwashappytoexplainhowhe’darrangeditall.“Dude,theplaceisdesignedtokeepoutarmies.It’snotmeanttokeepinindividuallegionnaires,orkeepout,youknow,theoccasionalwell-meaningfaunwho’sjustlookingforahotmeal.Ifyouknowthepatrolscheduleandarewillingtokeepchangingupyourentrypoints,it’seasy.”
“Thatseemsremarkablyindustriousforafaun,”Inoted.Dongrinned.“Hey,man.Slackingishardwork.”“We’vegotalongwalk,”Laviniasaid.“Bestkeepmoving.”Itriednottogroan.AnothernighttimehikewithLaviniahadnotbeenonmy
evening’sagenda.ButIhadtoadmitIwascurious.WhathadsheandDonbeenarguingaboutbefore?Whyhadshewantedtotalktomeearlier?Andwherewerewegoing?Withherstormyeyesandtheblackcapoverherhair,Lavinialookedtroubledanddetermined,lesslikeagawkygiraffe,morelikeatensegazelle.I’dseenherfather,SergeiAsimov,performoncewiththeMoscowBallet.He’dhadthatexactexpressiononhisfacebeforelaunchingintoagrandjeté.
IwantedtoaskLaviniawhatwasgoingon,butherposturemadeitclearshewasnotinthemoodforconversation.Notyet,anyway.WehikedinsilenceoutofthevalleyanddownintothestreetsofBerkeley.
ItmusthavebeenaboutmidnightbythetimewegottoPeople’sPark.Ihadnotbeentheresince1969,whenI’dstoppedbytoexperiencesome
groovyhippiemusicandflowerpowerandinsteadfoundmyselfinthemiddleofariot.Thepoliceofficers’teargas,shotguns,andbatonshaddefinitelynotbeengroovy.Ithadtakenallmygodlyrestraintnottorevealmydivineformandblasteveryonewithinasix-mileradiustocinders.
Now,decadeslater,thescruffyparklookedlikeitwasstillsufferingfromtheaftermath.Thewornbrownlawnwasstrewnwithpilesofdiscardedclothingandcardboardsignsbearinghand-paintedsloganslikeGREENSPACENOTDORMSPACEandSAVEOURPARK.Severaltreestumpsheldpottedplantsandbeadednecklaces,likeshrinestothefallen.Trashcansoverflowed.Homelesspeoplesleptonbenchesorfussedovershoppingcartsfulloftheirworldlybelongings.
Atthefarendofthesquare,occupyingaraisedplywoodstage,wasthelargestsit-inofdryadsandfaunsI’deverseen.ItmadetotalsensetomethatfaunswouldinhabitPeople’sPark.Theycouldlazearound,panhandle,eatleftoverfoodoutofthegarbagebins,andnoonewouldbataneye.Thedryadsweremoreofasurprise.Atleasttwodozenofthemwerepresent.Some,Iguessed,werethespiritsoflocaleucalyptusandredwoodtrees,butmost,giventheirsicklyappearances,musthavebeendryadsofthepark’slong-sufferingshrubs,grasses,andweeds.(NotthatIamjudgingweeddryads.I’veknownsomeveryfinecrabgrasses.)
Thefaunsanddryadssatinawidecircleasifpreparingforasing-alongaroundaninvisiblecampfire.Igotthefeelingtheywerewaitingforus—forme—tostartthemusic.
Iwasalreadynervousenough.ThenIspottedafamiliarfaceandnearlyjumpedoutofmyzombie-infectedskin.“Peaches?”
Meg’sdemon-babykarposbaredhisfangsandresponded,“Peaches!”Histree-branchwingshadlostafewleaves.Hiscurlygreenhairwasdead
brownatthetips,andhislamplikeeyesdidn’tshineasbrightlyasIremembered.Hemust’veundergonequiteanordealtrackingustoNorthernCalifornia,buthisgrowlwasstillintimidatingenoughtomakemefearformybladdercontrol.
“Wherehaveyoubeen?”Idemanded.“Peaches!”Ifeltfoolishforasking.Ofcoursehehadbeenpeaches,probablybecause
peaches,peaches,andpeaches.“DoesMegknowyou’rehere?Howdidyou—?”
Laviniagrippedmyshoulder.“Hey,Apollo.Timeisshort.PeachesfilledusinonwhathesawinSouthernCalifornia,buthearrivedtheretoolatetohelp.
Hebustedhiswingstogetuphereasfastashecould.HewantsyoutotellthegroupfirsthandwhathappenedinSoCal.”
Iscannedthefacesinthecrowd.Thenaturespiritslookedscared,apprehensive,andangry—butmostlytiredofbeingangry.I’dseenthatlookalotamongdryadsintheselatterdaysofhumancivilization.Therewasonlysomuchpollutionyouraverageplantcanbreathe,drink,andgettangledinherbranchesbeforestartingtoloseallhope.
NowLaviniawantedmetobreaktheirspiritscompletelybyrelatingwhathadhappenedtotheirbrethreninLosAngeles,andwhatfierydestructionwascomingtheirwaytomorrow.Inotherwords,shewantedtogetmekilledbyamobofangryshrubs.
Igulped.“Um…”“Here.Thismighthelp.”Laviniaslungherbackpackoffhershoulder.I
hadn’tpaidmuchattentiontohowbulkyitlooked,sinceshewasalwaystrompingaroundwithlotsofgear.Whensheopenedit,thelastthingIexpectedhertopulloutwasmyukulele—newlypolishedandrestrung.
“How…?”Iasked,assheplaceditinmyhands.“Istoleitfromyourroom,”shesaid,asifthiswasobviouslywhatfriends
didforeachother.“Youwereasleepforever.Itookittoabuddyofminewhorepairsinstruments—Marilyn,daughterofEuterpe.Youknow,theMuseofMusic.”
“I—IknowEuterpe.Ofcourse.Herspecialtyisflutes,notukuleles.Buttheactiononthisfretboardisperfectnow.Marilynmustbe…I’mso…”IrealizedIwasrambling.“Thankyou.”
Laviniafixedmewithherstare,silentlycommandingmetomakehereffortworthwhile.Shesteppedbackandjoinedthecircleofnaturespirits.
Istrummed.Laviniawasright.Theinstrumenthelped.Nottohidebehind—asI’ddiscovered,onecannothidebehindaukulele.Butitlentconfidencetomyvoice.Afterafewmournfulminorchords,Ibegantosing“TheFallofJasonGrace,”asIhadwhenwefirstarrivedatCampJupiter.Thesongquicklymorphed,however.Likeallgoodperformers,Iadaptedthematerialtomyaudience.
IsangofthewildfiresanddroughtsthathadscorchedSouthernCalifornia.IsangofthebravecactiandsatyrsfromtheCisterninPalmSprings,whohadstruggledvaliantlytofindthesourceofthedestruction.IsangofthedryadsAgaveandMoneyMaker,bothgravelyinjuredintheBurningMaze,andhowMoneyMakerhaddiedinthearmsofAloeVera.IaddedsomehopefulstanzasaboutMegandtherebirthofthewarriordryadMeliai—howwe’ddestroyedtheBurningMazeandgivenSoCal’senvironmentatleastafightingchancetoheal.
ButIcouldn’thidethedangersthatfacedus.IdescribedwhatIhadseeninmydreams:theyachtsapproachingwiththeirfierymortars,thehellishdevastationtheywouldrainupontheentireBayArea.
Afterstrummingmyfinalchord,Ilookedup.Greentearsglistenedinthedryads’eyes.Faunsweptopenly.
Peachesturnedtothecrowdandgrowled,“Peaches!”Thistime,IwasfairlysureIunderstoodhismeaning:See?Itoldyouso!Donsniffled,wipinghiseyeswithwhatlookedlikeausedburritowrapper.
“It’strue,then.It’shappening.Faunusprotectus…”Laviniadabbedawayherowntears.“Thanks,Apollo.”AsifI’ddoneherafavor.Why,then,didIfeellikeI’djustkickedeachand
everyoneofthesenaturespiritsrightinthetaproots?I’dspentalotoftimeworryingaboutthefateofNewRomeandCampJupiter,theOracles,myfriends,andmyself.Butthesehackberriesandcrabgrassesdeservedtolivejustasmuch.They,too,werefacingdeath.Theywereterrified.Iftheemperorslaunchedtheirweapons,theystoodnochance.ThehomelessmortalswiththeirshoppingcartsinPeople’sParkwouldalsoburn,rightalongwiththelegionnaires.Theirliveswereworthnoless.
Themortalsmightnotunderstandthedisaster.They’dattributeittorunawaywildfiresorwhateverothercausestheirbrainscouldcomprehend.ButIwouldknowthetruth.Ifthisvast,weird,beautifulexpanseoftheCaliforniacoastburned,itwouldbebecauseIhadfailedtostopmyenemies.
“Okay,guys,”Laviniacontinued,aftertakingamomenttocomposeherself.“Youheardhim.Theemperorswillbeherebytomorrowevening.”
“Butthatgivesusnotime,”saidaredwooddryad.“IftheydototheBayAreawhattheydidtoLA…”
Icouldfeelthefearripplethroughthecrowdlikeacoldwind.“Thelegionwillfightthem,though,right?”afaunaskednervously.“Imean,
theymightwin.”“C’mon,Reginald,”adryadchided.“Youwanttodependonmortalsto
protectus?Whenhasthateverworkedout?”Theothersmutteredassent.“Tobefair,”Laviniacutin,“FrankandReynaaretrying.They’resendinga
smallteamofcommandosouttointercepttheships.MichaelKahale,andfewotherhand-pickeddemigods.ButI’mnotoptimistic.”
“Ihadn’theardanythingaboutthat,”Isaid.“Howdidyoufindout?”Sheraisedherpinkeyebrowslike,Please.“AndofcourseLesterherewill
trytosummongodlyhelpwithsomesupersecretritual,but…”Shedidn’tneedtosaytherest.Shewasn’toptimisticaboutthat,either.
“Sowhatwillyoudo?”Iasked.“Whatcanyoudo?”Ididn’tmeantosoundcritical.Ijustcouldn’timagineanyoptions.Thefauns’panickyexpressionsseemedtohintattheirgameplan:getbus
ticketstoPortland,Oregon,immediately.Butthatwouldn’thelpthedryads.Theywereliterallyrootedtotheirnativesoil.Perhapstheycouldgointodeephibernation,thewaythedryadsinthesouthhad.Butwouldthatbeenoughtoenablethemtoweatherafirestorm?I’dheardstoriesaboutcertainspeciesofplantsthatgerminatedandthrivedafterdevastatingfiressweptacrossthelandscape,butIdoubtedmosthadthatability.
Honestly,Ididn’tknowmuchaboutdryadlifecycles,orhowtheyprotectedthemselvesfromclimatedisasters.PerhapsifI’dspentmoretimeoverthecenturiestalkingtothemandlesstimechasingthem…
Wow.Ireallydidn’tevenknowmyselfanymore.“Wehavealottodiscuss,”saidoneofthedryads.“Peaches,”agreedPeaches.Helookedatmewithaclearmessage:Goaway
now.Ihadsomanyquestionsforhim:Whyhadhebeenabsentsolong?Whywas
hehereandnotwithMeg?IsuspectedIwouldn’tgetanyanswerstonight.Atleastnothingbeyond
snarls,bites,andthewordpeaches.Ithoughtaboutwhatthedryadhadsaidaboutnottrustingmortalstosolvenature-spiritproblems.Apparently,thatincludedme.Ihaddeliveredmymessage.NowIwasdismissed.
Myheartwasalreadyheavy,andMeg’sstateofmindwassofragile….Ididn’tknowhowIcouldbreakthenewstoherthatherdiaperedlittlepeachdemonhadbecomearoguefruit.
“Let’sgetyoubacktocamp,”Laviniasaidtome.“You’vegotabigdaytomorrow.”
WeleftDonbehindwiththeothernaturespirits,alldeepincrisis-modeconversation,andretracedourstepsdownTelegraphAvenue.
Afterafewblocks,Igotupthecouragetoask,“Whatwilltheydo?”Laviniastirredasifshe’dforgottenIwasthere.“Youmeanwhatwillwedo.
’CauseI’mwiththem.”Alumpformedinmythroat.“Lavinia,you’rescaringme.Whatareyou
planning?”“Itriedtoleaveitalone,”shemuttered.Intheglowofthestreetlamps,the
wispsofpinkhairthathadescapedhercapseemedtofloataroundherheadlikecottoncandy.“Afterwhatwesawinthetomb—Bobbyandtheothers,afteryoudescribedwhatwe’refacingtomorrow—”
“Lavinia,please—”“Ican’tfallintolinelikeagoodsoldier.Melockingshieldsandmarchingoff
todiewitheverybodyelse?That’snotgoingtohelpanybody.”“But—”“It’sbestyoudon’task.”HergrowlwasalmostasintimidatingasPeaches’s.
“Andit’sdefinitelybestthatyounotsayanythingtoanybodyabouttonight.Now,c’mon.”
Therestofthewayback,sheignoredmyquestions.Sheseemedtohaveadarkbubble-gum-scentedcloudhangingoverherhead.Shegotmesafelypastthesentries,underthewall,andbacktothecoffeeshopbeforesheslippedawayintothedarkwithoutevenagood-bye.
PerhapsIshouldhavestoppedher.Raisedthealarm.Gottenherarrested.Butwhatgoodwouldthathavedone?ItseemedtomeLaviniahadneverbeencomfortableinthelegion.Afterall,shespentmuchofhertimelookingforsecretexitsandhiddentrailsoutofthevalley.Nowshe’dfinallysnapped.
IhadasinkingfeelingthatIwouldneverseeheragain.She’dbeonthenextbustoPortlandwithafewdozenfauns,andasmuchasIwantedtobeangryaboutthat,Icouldonlyfeelsad.Inherplace,wouldIhavedoneanydifferently?
WhenIgotbacktoourguestroom,Megwaspassedout,snoring,herglassesdanglingfromherfingers,bedsheetswaddedaroundherfeet.ItuckedherinasbestIcould.Ifshewashavinganybaddreamsaboutherpeachspiritfriendplottingwiththelocaldryadsonlyafewmilesaway,Icouldn’ttell.TomorrowI’dhavetodecidewhattosaytoher.Tonight,I’dlethersleep.
Icrawledintomyowncot,surethatI’dbetossingandturninguntilmorning.Instead,Ipassedoutimmediately.
WhenIwoke,theearlymorningsunlightwasinmyface.Meg’scotwasempty.IrealizedI’dsleptlikethedead—nodreams,novisions.Thatdidnotcomfortme.Whenthenightmaresgosilent,thatusuallymeanssomethingelseiscoming—somethingevenworse.
Idressedandgatheredmysupplies,tryingnottothinkabouthowtiredIwas,orhowmuchmyguthurt.ThenIgrabbedamuffinandacoffeefromBombiloandwentouttofindmyfriends.Today,onewayoranother,thefateofNewRomewouldbedecided.
InmypickuptruckWithmydogsandmyweaponsAndthisfool,Lester
REYNAANDMEGWEREwaitingformeatthecamp’sfrontgates,thoughIbarelyrecognizedtheformer.Inplaceofherpraetor’sregalia,sheworebluerunningshoesandskinnyjeans,along-sleevedcoppertee,andamaroonsweaterwrap.Withherhairpulledbackinabraidedwhipandherfacelightlybrushedwithmakeup,shecould’vepassedforoneofthemanythousandsofBayAreacollegestudentsthatnobodywouldthinktwiceabout.Isupposedthatwasthepoint.
“What?”sheaskedme.IrealizedI’dbeenstaring.“Nothing.”Megsnorted.Shewasdressedinherusualgreendress,yellowleggings,and
redhigh-tops,soshecouldblendinwiththemanythousandsofBayAreafirstgraders—exceptforhertwelve-year-old’sheight,hergardeningbelt,andthepinkbuttonpinnedtohercollarthatdisplayedastylizedunicorn’sheadwithcrossedbonesunderneath.Iwonderedifshe’dboughtitinaNewRomegiftshoporsomehowgottenitspeciallymade.Eitherpossibilitywasunsettling.
Reynaspreadherhands.“Idohavecivilianclothes,Apollo.EvenwiththeMisthelpingtoobscurethings,walkingthroughSanFranciscoinfulllegionnairearmorcanattractsomefunnylooks.”
“No.Yeah.Youlookgreat.Imeangood.”Whyweremypalmssweating?“Imean,canwegonow?”
Reynaputtwofingersinhermouthandletlooseataxi-cabwhistlesoshrillitclearedoutmyeustachiantubes.Frominsidethefort,hertwometal
greyhoundscamerunning,barkinglikesmall-weaponsfire.“Oh,good,”Isaid,tryingtosuppressmypanic-and-runinstinct.“Yourdogs
arecoming.”Reynasmirked.“Well,they’dgetupsetifIdrovetoSanFranciscowithout
them.”“Drove?”IwasabouttosayInwhat?whenIheardahonkfromthedirection
ofthecity.AbatteredbrightredChevyfour-by-fourrumbleddownaroadusuallyreservedformarchinglegionnairesandelephants.
AtthewheelwasHazelLevesque,withFrankZhangridingshotgun.Theypulledupnexttous.Thevehiclehadbarelystoppedmovingwhen
AurumandArgentumleapedintothebedofthetruck,theirmetaltongueslollingandtailswagging.
Hazelclimbedoutofthecab.“Allgassedup,Praetor.”“Thankyou,Centurion.”Reynasmiled.“Howarethedrivinglessons
comingalong?”“Good!Ididn’tevenrunintoTerminusthistime.”“Progress,”Reynaagreed.Frankcamearoundfromthepassenger’sside.“Yep,Hazelwillbereadyfor
publicroadsinnotime.”Ihadmanythingstoask:Wheredidtheykeepthistruck?Wasthereagas
stationinNewRome?WhyhadIbeenhikingsomuchifitwaspossibletodrive?
Megbeatmetotherealquestion:“DoIgettorideinbackwiththedogs?”“No,ma’am,”saidReyna.“You’llsitinthecabwithyourseatbelton.”“Aw.”Megranofftopetthedogs.FrankgaveReynaabearhug(withoutturningintoabear).“Becarefulout
there,allright?”Reynadidn’tseemtoknowwhattodowiththisshowofaffection.Herarms
wentstiff.Thensheawkwardlypattedherfellowpraetorontheback.“Youtoo,”shesaid.“Anywordonthestrikeforce?”“Theyleftbeforedawn,”Franksaid.“Kahalefeltgoodaboutit,but…”He
shrugged,asiftosaytheiranti-yachtcommandomissionwasnowinthehandsofthegods.Which,asaformergod,Icantellyouwasnotreassuring.
ReynaturnedtoHazel.“Andthezombiepickets?”“Ready,”Hazelsaid.“IfTarquin’shordescomefromthesamedirectionas
before,they’reinforsomenastysurprises.Ialsosettrapsalongtheotherapproachestothecity.Hopefullywecanstopthembeforethey’reinhand-to-handrangeso…”
Shehesitated,apparentlyunwillingtofinishhersentence.IthoughtI
understood.Sowedon’thavetoseetheirfaces.Ifthelegionhadtoconfrontawaveofundeadcomrades,itwouldbemuchbettertodestroythematadistance,withouttheanguishofhavingtorecognizeformerfriends.
“Ijustwish…”Hazelshookherhead.“Well,IstillworryTarquinhassomethingelseplanned.Ishouldbeabletofigureitout,but…”Shetappedherforeheadasifshewantedtoresetherbrain.Icouldsympathize.
“You’vedoneplenty,”Frankassuredher.“Iftheythrowsurprisesatus,we’lladapt.”
Reynanodded.“Okay,then,we’reoff.Don’tforgettostockthecatapults.”“Ofcourse,”Franksaid.“Anddouble-checkwiththequartermasteraboutthoseflamingbarricades.”“Ofcourse.”“And—”Reynastoppedherself.“Youknowwhatyou’redoing.Sorry.”Frankgrinned.“Justbringuswhateverweneedtosummonthatgodlyhelp.
We’llkeepthecampinonepieceuntilyougetback.”HazelstudiedReyna’soutfitwithconcern.“Yoursword’sinthetruck.Don’t
youwanttotakeashieldorsomething?”“Nah.I’vegotmycloak.It’llturnasidemostweapons.”Reynabrushedthe
collarofhersweaterwrap.Instantlyitunfurledintoherusualpurplecape.Frank’ssmilefaded.“Doesmycloakdothat?”“Seeyou,guys!”Reynaclimbedbehindthewheel.“Wait,doesmycloakdeflectweapons?”Frankcalledafterus.“Doesmine
turnintoasweaterwrap?”Aswepulledaway,IcouldseeFrankZhangintherearviewmirror,intently
studyingthestitchingofhiscape.
Ourfirstchallengeofthemorning:mergingontotheBayBridge.GettingoutofCampJupiterhadbeennoproblem.Awell-hiddendirtroad
ledfromthevalleyupintothehills,eventuallydepositingusontheresidentialstreetsofEastOakland.FromtherewetookHighway24untilitmergedwithInterstate580.Thentherealfunbegan.
Themorningcommutershadapparentlynotgottenwordthatwewereonavitalmissiontosavethegreatermetropolitanarea.Theystubbornlyrefusedtogetoutofourway.Perhapsweshouldhavetakenpublictransportation,butIdoubtedtheyletkillerdogautomatonsridetheBARTtrains.
Reynatappedherfingersonthewheel,mumblingalongtoTegoCalderónlyricsonthetruck’sancientCDplayer.IenjoyedreggaetonasmuchasthenextGreekgod,butitwasperhapsnotthemusicIwould’vechosentosoothemy
nervesonthemorningofaquest.Ifounditabittoopeppyformypre-combatjitters.
Sittingbetweenus,Megrummagedthroughtheseedsinhergardener’sbelt.Duringourbattleinthetomb,she’dtoldus,lotsofpackageshadopenedandgottenmixedup.Nowshewastryingtofigureoutwhichseedswerewhich.Thismeantshewouldoccasionallyholdupaseedandstareatituntilitburstintoitsmatureform—dandelion,tomato,eggplant,sunflower.SoonthecabsmelledlikethegardeningsectionatHomeDepot.
IhadnottoldMegaboutseeingPeaches.Iwasn’tevensurehowtostarttheconversation.Hey,didyouknowyourkarposisholdingclandestinemeetingswiththefaunsandcrabgrassesinPeople’sPark?
ThelongerIwaitedtosaysomething,theharderitbecame.Itoldmyselfitwasn’tagoodideatodistractMegduringanimportantquest.IwantedtohonorLavinia’swishesthatInotblab.True,Ihadn’tseenLaviniathatmorningbeforeweleft,butmaybeherplansweren’tasnefariousasIthought.Maybeshewasn’tactuallyhalfwaytoOregonbynow.
Inreality,Ididn’tspeakbecauseIwasacoward.IwasafraidtoenragethetwodangerousyoungwomenIrodewith,oneofwhomcouldhavemerippedapartbyapairofmetalgreyhounds,whiletheothercouldcausecabbagestogrowoutofmynose.
Weinchedourwayacrossthebridge,Reynafinger-tappingtothebeatof“ElQueSabe,Sabe.”Hewhoknows,knows.Iwas75percentsuretherewasnohiddenmessageinReyna’schoiceofsongs.
“Whenwegetthere,”shesaid,“we’llhavetoparkatthebaseofthehillandhikeup.TheareaaroundSutroTowerisrestricted.”
“You’vedecidedthetoweritselfisourtarget,”Isaid,“notMountSutrobehindit?”
“Can’tbesure,obviously.ButIdouble-checkedThalia’slistoftroublespots.Thetowerwasonthere.”
Iwaitedforhertoelaborate.“Thalia’swhat?”Reynablinked.“Didn’tItellyouaboutthat?So,ThaliaandtheHuntersof
Artemis,youknow,theykeeparunninglistofplaceswherethey’veseenunusualmonstrousactivity,stufftheycan’tquiteexplain.SutroTowerisoneofthem.ThaliasentmeherlistoflocationsfortheBayAreasoCampJupitercankeepaneyeonthem.”
“Howmanytroublespots?”Megasked.“Canwevisitallofthem?”Reynanudgedherplayfully.“Ilikeyourspirit,Killer,buttherearedozensin
SanFranciscoalone.We—Imeanthelegion—wetrytokeepaneyeonthemall,
butit’salot.Especiallyrecently…”Withthebattles,Ithought.Andthedeaths.IwonderedaboutthesmallhesitationinReyna’svoicewhenshesaidweand
thenclarifiedthatshemeantthelegion.Iwonderedwhatotherwe’sReynaAvilaRamírez-Arellanofeltpartof.CertainlyIhadneverimaginedherincivilianclothes,drivingabatteredpickuptruck,takinghermetalgreyhoundsforahike.Andshe’dbeenintouchwithThaliaGrace,mysister’slieutenant,leaderoftheHuntersofArtemis.
Ihatedthewaythatmademefeeljealous.“HowdoyouknowThalia?”Itriedtosoundnonchalant.Judgingfrom
Meg’scross-eyedlook,Ifailedmiserably.Reynadidn’tseemtonotice.Shechangedlanes,tryingtomakeheadway
throughthetraffic.Intheback,AurumandArgentumbarkedwithjoy,thrillingintheadventure.
“ThaliaandIfoughtOriontogetherinPuertoRico,”shesaid.“TheAmazonsandHuntersbothlostalotofgoodwomen.Thatsortofthing…sharedexperience…Anyway,yeah,we’vekeptintouch.”
“How?Thecommunicationlinesarealldown.”“Letters,”shesaid.“Letters…”Iseemedtorememberthose,backfromaroundthedaysof
vellumandwaxseals.“Youmeanwhenyouwritesomethingbyhandonpaper,putitinanenvelope,stickastamponit—”
“Andmailit.Right.Imean,itcanbeweeksormonthsbetweenletters,butThalia’sagoodpenpal.”
Itriedtofathomthat.ManydescriptionscametomindwhenIthoughtaboutThaliaGrace.Penpalwasnotoneofthem.
“Wheredoyouevenmailthelettersto?”Iasked.“TheHuntersareconstantlyonthemove.”
“TheyhaveaPOboxinWyomingand—Whyarewetalkingaboutthis?”Megpinchedaseedbetweenherfingers.Ageraniumexplodedintobloom.
“Isthatwhereyourdogswent?SearchingforThalia?”Ididn’tseehowshe’dmadethatconnection,butReynanodded.“Justafteryouarrived,”Reynasaid,“IwroteThaliaabout…youknow,
Jason.Iknewitwasalongshotthatshe’dgetthemessageintime,soIsentAurumandArgentumoutlookingforher,too,incasetheHunterswereinthearea.Noluck.”
IimaginedwhatcouldhappenifThaliareceivedReyna’sletter.WouldshecomechargingintoCampJupiterattheheadoftheHunters,readytohelpus
fighttheemperorsandTarquin’sundeadhordes?Orwouldsheturnherwrathonme?Thaliahadalreadybailedmeoutoftroubleonce,inIndianapolis.Bywayofthanks,I’dgottenherbrotherkilledinSantaBarbara.IdoubtedanyonewouldobjectifastrayHunter’sarrowfoundmeasitstargetduringthefighting.Ishivered,thankfulfortheslownessoftheUSPostalService.
WemadeourwaypastTreasureIsland,theanchoroftheBayBridgemidwaybetweenOaklandandSanFrancisco.IthoughtaboutCaligula’sfleet,whichwouldbepassingthisislandlatertonight,readytounloaditstroops,andifnecessary,itsarsenalofGreekfirebombsontheunsuspectingEastBay.IcursedtheslownessoftheUSPostalService.
“So,”Isaid,makingasecondattemptatnonchalance,“areyouandThalia,er…?”
Reynaraisedaneyebrow.“Involvedromantically?”“Well,Ijust…Imean…Um…”Oh,verysmooth,Apollo.HaveImentionedIwasoncethegodofpoetry?Reynarolledhereyes.“IfIhadadenariusforeverytimeIgotthat
question…AsidefromthefactthatThaliaisintheHunters,andthussworntocelibacy…Whydoesastrongfriendshipalwayshavetoprogresstoromance?Thalia’sanexcellentfriend.WhywouldIriskmessingthatup?”
“Uh—”“Thatwasarhetoricalquestion,”Reynaadded.“Idonotneedaresponse.”“Iknowwhatrhetoricalmeans.”Imadeamentalnotetodouble-checkthe
word’sdefinitionwithSocratesthenexttimeIwasinGreece.ThenIrememberedSocrateswasdead.“Ionlythought—”
“Ilovethissong,”Meginterrupted.“Turnitup!”IdoubtedMeghadtheslightestinterestinTegoCalderón,buther
interventionmayhavesavedmylife.Reynacrankedupthevolume,thusendingmyattemptatdeathbycasualconversation.
Westayedsilenttherestofthewayintothecity,listeningtoTegoCalderónsinging“PuntoyAparte”andReyna’sgreyhoundsjubilantlybarkinglikesemiautoclipsdischargedonNewYear’sEve.
StickmygodlyfaceWhereitdoesn’tbelongand—Venus,Ihateyou
FORSUCHAPOPULATEDarea,SanFranciscohadasurprisingnumberofwildernesspockets.Weparkedonadead-endroadatthebaseofthetower’shill.Toourright,afieldofrocksandweedsofferedamultimillion-dollarviewofthecity.Toourleft,theinclinewassoheavilyforestedyoucouldalmostusetheeucalyptustrunksasclimbingrungs.
Fromthehill’ssummit,perhapsaquartermileaboveus,SutroTowersoaredintothefog,itsred-and-whitepylonsandcrossbeamsformingagianttripodthatremindedmeuncomfortablyoftheDelphicOracle’sseat.Orthescaffoldingforafuneralpyre.
“There’sarelaystationatthebase.”Reynapointedtowardthehilltop.“Wemayhavetodealwithmortalguards,fences,barbedwire,thatkindofthing.PluswhateverTarquinmighthavewaitingforus.”
“Neat,”Megsaid.“Let’sgo!”Thegreyhoundsneedednoencouragement.Theychargeduphill,plowing
throughtheunderbrush.Megfollowed,clearlydeterminedtoripherclothesonasmanybramblesandthornbushesaspossible.
ReynamusthavenoticedmypainedexpressionasIcontemplatedtheclimb.“Don’tworry,”shesaid.“Wecantakeitslow.AurumandArgentumknowto
waitformeatthetop.”“ButdoesMeg?”Iimaginedmyyoungfriendchargingaloneintoarelay
stationfilledwithguards,zombies,andother“neat”surprises.“Goodpoint,”Reynasaid.“Let’stakeitmedium,then.”
Ididmybest,whichentailedlotsofwheezing,sweating,andleaningagainsttreestorest.Myarcheryskillsmayhaveimproved.Mymusicwasgettingbetter.Butmystaminawasstill100percentLester.
AtleastReynadidn’taskmehowmywoundfelt.TheanswerwasSomewheresouthofhorrible.
WhenI’dgottendressedthatmorning,Ihadavoidedlookingatmygut,butIcouldn’tignorethethrobbingpain,orthedeeppurpletendrilsofinfectionnowlickingatthebasesofmywristsandmyneck,whichnotevenmylong-sleevehoodiecouldhide.Occasionally,myvisionblurred,turningtheworldasicklyshadeofeggplant.Iwouldhearadistantwhisperinmyhead…thevoiceofTarquin,beckoningmetoreturntohistomb.Sofar,thevoicewasjustanannoyance,butIhadthefeelingitwouldgetstrongeruntilIcouldnolongerignoreit…orfailtoobeyit.
ItoldmyselfIjustneededtohanginthereuntiltonight.ThenIcouldsummongodlyhelpandgetmyselfcured.OrI’ddieinbattle.Atthispoint,eitheroptionwaspreferabletoapainful,lingeringslideintoundeath.
Reynahikedalongsideme,usinghersheathedswordtopokethegroundasifsheexpectedtofindlandmines.Aheadofus,throughthedensefoliage,IsawnosignofMegorthegreyhounds,butIcouldhearthemrustlingthroughleavesandsteppingontwigs.Ifanysentrieswaitedforusatthesummit,wewouldnotbetakingthembysurprise.
“So,”Reynasaid,apparentlysatisfiedthatMegwasoutofearshot,“areyougoingtotellme?”
Mypulseacceleratedtoatemposuitableforaparademarch.“Tellyouwhat?”
Sheraisedhereyebrowslike,Really?“Eversinceyoushowedupatcamp,you’vebeenactingjumpy.YoustareatmelikeI’mtheonewhogotinfected.Thenyouwon’tmakeeyecontact.Youstammer.Youfidget.Idonoticethesethings.”
“Ah.”Iclimbedafewmoresteps.PerhapsifIconcentratedonthehike,Reyna
wouldletthematterdrop.“Look,”shesaid,“I’mnotgoingtobiteyou.Whateverisgoingon,I’drather
nothaveithangingoveryourhead,ormine,whenwegointobattle.”Iswallowed,wishingIhadsomeofLavinia’sbubblegumtocutthetasteof
poisonandfear.Reynamadeagoodpoint.WhetherIdiedtoday,orturnedintoazombie,or
somehowmanagedtolive,Iwouldratherfacemyfatewithmyconscienceclearandnosecrets.Foronething,IshouldtellMegaboutmyencounterwith
Peaches.IshouldalsotellherIdidn’thateher.Infact,Ilikedherprettywell.Allright,Ilovedher.ShewasthebrattylittlesisterI’dneverhad.
AsforReyna—Ididn’tknowwhetherIwasorwasn’ttheanswertoherdestiny.Venusmightcursemeforlevelingwiththepraetor,butIhadtotellReynawhatwasbotheringme.Iwasunlikelytogetanotherchance.
“It’saboutVenus,”Isaid.Reyna’sexpressionhardened.Itwasherturntostareatthehillsideandhope
theconversationwentaway.“Isee.”“Shetoldme—”“Herlittleprediction.”Reynaspatoutthewordslikeinedibleseeds.“No
mortalordemigodwilleverhealmyheart.”“Ididn’tmeantopry,”Ipromised.“It’sjust—”“Oh,Ibelieveyou.Venusloveshergossip.Idoubtthere’sanyoneatCamp
Jupiterwhodoesn’tknowwhatshetoldinmeCharleston.”“I—Really?”Reynabrokeadrybranchoffashrubandflickeditintotheunderbrush.“I
wentonthatquestwithJason,what,twoyearsago?Venustookonelookatmeanddecided…Idon’tknow.Iwasbroken.Ineededromantichealing.Whatever.Iwasn’tbackatcampafulldaybeforethewhisperingstarted.Nobodywouldadmitthattheyknew,buttheyknew.ThelooksIgot:Oh,poorReyna.TheinnocentsuggestionsaboutwhoIshoulddate.”
Shedidn’tsoundangry.Itwasmorelikeweigheddownandweary.IrememberedFrankZhang’sconcernabouthowlongReynahadshoulderedtheburdensofleadership,howhewishedhecoulddomoretorelieveher.Apparently,alotoflegionnaireswantedtohelpReyna.Notallofthathelphadbeenwelcomeoruseful.
“Thethingis,”shecontinued,“I’mnotbroken.”“Ofcoursenot.”“Sowhyhaveyoubeenactingnervous?WhatdoesVenushavetodowithit?
Pleasedon’ttellmeit’spity.”“N-no.Nothinglikethat.”Upahead,IheardMegrompingthroughthebrush.Occasionallyshewould
say,“Hey,how’sitgoing?”inaconversationaltone,asifpassinganacquaintanceonthestreet.Isupposedshewastalkingtothelocaldryads.Eitherthatorthetheoreticalguardswewerelookingoutforwereverybadattheirjobs.
“Yousee…”Ifumbledforwords.“BackwhenIwasagod,Venusgavemeawarning.Aboutyou.”
AurumandArgentumburstthroughthebushestocheckonMom,theirtoothysmilesgleaminglikefreshlypolishedbeartraps.Oh,good.Ihadan
audience.ReynapattedAurumabsentlyonthehead.“Goon,Lester.”“Um…”Themarchingbandinmybloodstreamwasnowdoingdouble-time
maneuvers.“Well,Iwalkedintothethroneroomoneday,andVenuswasstudyingthishologramofyou,andIasked—justcompletelycasually,mindyou—‘Who’sthat?’Andshetoldmeyour…yourfate,Iguess.Thethingabouthealingyourheart.Thenshejust…toreintome.Sheforbademetoapproachyou.ShesaidifIevertriedtowooyou,shewouldcursemeforever.Itwastotallyunnecessary.Andalsoembarrassing.”
Reyna’sexpressionremainedassmoothandhardasmarble.“Woo?Isthatevenathinganymore?Dopeoplestillwoo?”
“I—Idon’tknow.ButIstayedawayfromyou.You’llnoticeIstayedaway.NotthatIwould’vedoneotherwisewithoutthewarning.Ididn’tevenknowwhoyouwere.”
Shesteppedoverafallenlogandofferedmeahand,whichIdeclined.Ididn’tlikethewayhergreyhoundsweregrinningatme.
“So,inotherwords,”shesaid,“what?You’reworriedVenuswillstrikeyoudeadbecauseyou’reinvadingmypersonalspace?Ireallywouldn’tworryaboutthat,Lester.You’renotagodanymore.You’reobviouslynottryingtowoome.We’recomradesonaquest.”
Shehadtohitmewhereithurt—rightinthetruth.“Yes,”Isaid.“ButIwasthinking….”Whywasthissohard?Ihadspokenoflovetowomenbefore.Andmen.And
gods.Andnymphs.AndtheoccasionalattractivestatuebeforeIrealizeditwasastatue.Why,then,weretheveinsinmyneckthreateningtoexplode?
“Ithoughtif—ifitwouldhelp,”Icontinued,“perhapsitwasdestinythat…Well,yousee,I’mnotagodanymore,asyousaid.AndVenuswasquitespecificthatIshouldn’tstickmygodlyfaceanywherenearyou.ButVenus…Imean,herplansarealwaystwistingandturning.Shemayhavebeenpracticingreversepsychology,sotospeak.Ifweweremeantto…Um,Icouldhelpyou.”
Reynastopped.Herdogstiltedtheirmetalheadstowardher,perhapstryingtogaugetheirmaster’smood.Thentheyregardedme,theirjeweledeyescoldandaccusatory.
“Lester.”Reynasighed.“WhatinTartarusareyousaying?I’mnotinthemoodforriddles.”
“ThatmaybeI’mtheanswer,”Iblurted.“Tohealingyourheart.Icould…youknow,beyourboyfriend.AsLester.Ifyouwanted.Youandme.Youknow,like…yeah.”
IwasabsolutelycertainthatuponMountOlympus,theotherOlympiansall
hadtheirphonesoutandwerefilmingmetopostonEuterpe-Tube.Reynastaredatmelongenoughforthemarchingbandinmycirculatory
systemtoplayacompletestanzaof“You’reaGrandOldFlag.”Hereyesweredarkanddangerous.Herexpressionwasunreadable,liketheoutersurfaceofanexplosivedevice.
Shewasgoingtomurderme.No.Shewouldorderherdogstomurderme.BythetimeMegrushedtomy
aid,itwouldbetoolate.Orworse—MegwouldhelpReynaburymyremains,andnoonewouldbethewiser.
Whentheyreturnedtocamp,theRomanswouldaskWhathappenedtoApollo?
Who?Reynawouldsay.Oh,thatguy?Dunno,welosthim.Oh,well!theRomanswouldreply,andthatwouldbethat.Reyna’smouthtightenedintoagrimace.Shebentover,grippingherknees.
Herbodybegantoshake.Oh,gods,whathadIdone?PerhapsIshouldcomforther,holdherinmyarms.PerhapsIshouldrunfor
mylife.WhywasIsobadatromance?Reynamadeasqueakingsound,thenasortofsustainedwhimper.Ireally
hadhurther!Thenshestraightened,tearsstreamingdownherface,andburstintolaughter.
Thesoundremindedmeofwaterrushingoveracreekbedthathadbeendryforages.Onceshestarted,shecouldn’tseemtostop.Shedoubledover,stooduprightagain,leanedagainstatree,andlookedatherdogsasiftosharethejoke.
“Oh…my…gods,”shewheezed.Shemanagedtorestrainhermirthlongenoughtoblinkatmethroughthetears,asiftomakesureIwasreallythereandshe’dheardmecorrectly.“You.Me?HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA.”
AurumandArgentumseemedjustasconfusedasIwas.Theyglancedateachother,thenatme,asiftosay,Whathaveyoudonetoourmom?Ifyoubrokeher,wewillkillyou.
Reyna’slaughterrolledacrossthehillside.OnceIgotovermyinitialshock,myearsbegantoburn.Overthelastfew
months,Ihadexperiencedquiteafewhumiliations.Butbeinglaughedat…tomyface…whenIwasn’ttryingtobefunny…thatwasanewlow.
“Idon’tseewhy—”“HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!”“Iwasn’tsayingthat—”“HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!Stop,please.You’rekillingme.”
“Shedoesn’tmeanthatliterally!”Iyelpedforthedogs’benefit.“Andyouthought…”Reynadidn’tseemtoknowwheretopoint—atme,
herself,thesky.“Seriously?Wait.Mydogswouldhaveattackedifyouwerelying.Oh.Wow.HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!”
“Sothat’sano,then,”Ihuffed.“Fine.Igetit.Youcanstop—”Herlaughterturnedtoasthmaticsqueakingasshewipedhereyes.“Apollo.
Whenyouwereagod…”Shestruggledforbreath.“Like,withyourpowersandgoodlooksandwhatever—”
“Saynomore.Naturally,youwouldhave—”“Thatwouldhavebeenasolid,absolute,hard-passNO.”Igaped.“Iamastonished!”“AndasLester…Imean,you’resweetandkindofadorkableattimes.”“Adorkable?Attimes?”“Butwow.Stillabig-timeNO.Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”Alessermortalwouldhavecrumbledtodustonthespot,theirself-esteem
imploding.Inthatmoment,assherejectedmeutterly,Reynahadneverseemedmore
beautifulanddesirable.Funnyhowthatworks.Megemergedfromthehackberrybushes.“Guys,there’snobodyupthere,
but—”Shefroze,takinginthescene,thenglancedatthegreyhoundsforexplanation.
Don’taskus,theirmetalfacesseemedtosay.Momisneverlikethis.“What’ssofunny?”Megasked.Asmiletuggedathermouth,asifshe
wantedtojoininthejoke.Whichwas,ofcourse,me.“Nothing.”Reynaheldherbreathforamoment,thenlostitagaininafitof
giggles.ReynaAvilaRamírez-Arellano,daughterofBellona,fearedpraetoroftheTwelfthLegion,giggling.
Atlastsheseemedtoregainsomeofherself-control.Hereyesdancedwithhumor.Hercheeksglowedbeet-red.Hersmilemadeherseemlikeadifferentperson—ahappydifferentperson.
“Thanks,Lester,”shesaid.“Ineededthat.Nowlet’sgofindthesoundlessgod,shallwe?”
Sheledthewayupthehill,holdingherribsasifhercheststillhurtfromtoomuchhilarity.
Thenandthere,IdecidedthatifIeverbecameagodagain,Iwouldrearrangetheorderofmyvengeancelist.Venushadjustmoveduptothetopspot.
FrozeninterrorLikeagodintheheadlightsWhyUspeedingup?
MORTALSECURITYWASNOTaproblem.Therewasn’tany.Acrossaflatexpanseofrocksandweeds,therelaystationsatnestledatthe
baseofSutroTower.Theblockybrownbuildinghadclustersofwhitesatellitedishesdottingitsroofliketoadstoolsafterarainshower.Thedoorstoodwideopen.Thewindowsweredark.Theparkingareaoutfrontwasempty.
“Thisisn’tright,”Reynamurmured.“Didn’tTarquinsaytheyweredoublingsecurity?”
“Doublingtheflock,”Megcorrected.“ButIdon’tseeanysheeporanything.”
Thatideamademeshudder.Overthemillennia,I’dseenquiteafewflocksofguardiansheep.Theytendedtobepoisonousand/orcarnivorous,andtheysmelledlikemildewedsweaters.
“Apollo,anythoughts?”Reynaasked.Atleastshecouldlookatmenowwithoutburstingintolaughter,butIdidn’t
trustmyselftospeak.Ijustshookmyheadhelplessly.Iwasgoodatthat.“Maybewe’reinthewrongplace?”Megasked.Reynabitherlowerlip.“Something’sdefinitelyoffhere.Letmecheck
insidethestation.AurumandArgentumcanmakeaquicksearch.Ifweencounteranymortals,I’lljustsayIwashikingandgotlost.Youguyswaithere.Guardmyexit.Ifyouhearbarking,thatmeanstrouble.”
Shejoggedacrossthefield,AurumandArgentumatherheels,and
disappearedinsidethebuilding.Megpeeredatmeoverthetopofhercat-eyeglasses.“Howcomeyoumade
herlaugh?”“Thatwasn’tmyintention.Besides,itisn’tillegaltomakesomeonelaugh.”“Youaskedhertobeyourgirlfriend,didn’tyou?”“I—What?No.Sortof.Yes.”“Thatwasstupid.”Ifoundithumiliatingtohavemylovelifecriticizedbyalittlegirlwearinga
unicorn-and-crossbonesbutton.“Youwouldn’tunderstand.”Megsnorted.Iseemedtobeeveryone’ssourceofamusementtoday.Istudiedthetowerthatloomedaboveus.Upthesideofthenearestsupport
column,asteel-ribbedchuteenclosedarowofrungs,formingatunnelthatonecouldclimbthrough—ifonewerecrazyenough—toreachthefirstsetofcrossbeams,whichbristledwithmoresatellitedishesandcellular-antennafungi.Fromthere,therungscontinuedupwardintoalow-lyingblanketoffogthatswallowedthetower’stophalf.Inthewhitemist,ahazyblackVfloatedinandoutofsight—abirdofsomesort.
Ishivered,thinkingofthestrixesthathadattackedusintheBurningMaze,butstrixesonlyhuntedatnighttime.Thatdarkshapehadtobesomethingelse,maybeahawklookingformice.ThelawofaveragesdictatedthatonceinawhileI’dhavetocomeacrossacreaturethatdidn’twanttokillme,right?
Nevertheless,thefleetingshapefilledmewithdread.Itremindedmeofthemanynear-deathexperiencesI’dsharedwithMegMcCaffrey,andofthepromiseI’dmadetomyselftobehonestwithher,backinthegoodolddaysoftenminutesago,beforeReynahadnukedmyself-esteem.
“Meg,”Isaid.“Lastnight—”“YousawPeaches.Iknow.”Shemighthavebeentalkingabouttheweather.Hergazestayedfixedonthe
doorwayoftherelaystation.“Youknow,”Irepeated.“He’sbeenaroundforacoupleofdays.”“You’veseenhim?”“Justsensedhim.He’sgothisreasonsforstayingaway.Doesn’tlikethe
Romans.He’sworkingonaplantohelpthelocalnaturespirits.”“And…ifthatplanistohelpthemrunaway?”Inthediffusedgraylightofthefogbank,Meg’sglasseslookedlikeherown
tinysatellitedishes.“Youthinkthat’swhathewants?Orwhatthenaturespiritswant?”
Irememberedthefauns’fearfulexpressionsatPeople’sPark,thedryads’wearyanger.“Idon’tknow.ButLavinia—”
“Yeah.She’swiththem.”Megshruggedoneshoulder.“Thecenturionsnoticedhermissingatmorningrollcall.They’retryingtodownplayit.Badformorale.”
Istaredatmyyoungcompanion,whohadapparentlybeentakinglessonsfromLaviniainAdvancedCampGossip.“DoesReynaknow?”
“ThatLaviniaisgone?Sure.WhereLaviniawent?Nah.Idon’teither,really.WhateversheandPeachesandtherestareplanning,there’snotmuchwecandoaboutitnow.We’vegototherstufftoworryabout.”
Icrossedmyarms.“Well,I’mgladwehadthistalk,soIcouldunburdenmyselfofallthethingsyoualreadyknew.Iwasalsogoingtosaythatyou’reimportanttomeandImightevenloveyoulikeasister,but—”
“Ialreadyknowthat,too.”Shegavemeacrookedgrin,offeringproofthatNeroreallyshouldhavetakenhertotheorthodontistwhenshewasyounger.“’S’okay.You’vegottenlessannoying,too.”
“Hmph.”“Look,herecomesReyna.”Andsoendedourwarmfamilymoment,asthepraetorreemergedfromthe
station,herexpressionunsettled,hergreyhoundshappilycirclingherlegsasifwaitingforjellybeans.
“Theplaceisempty,”Reynaannounced.“Lookslikeeverybodyleftinahurry.I’dsaysomethingclearedthemout—likeabombthreat,maybe.”
Ifrowned.“Inthatcase,wouldn’ttherebeemergencyvehicleshere?”“TheMist,”Megguessed.“Could’vemadethemortalsseeanythingtoget
themoutofhere.Clearingthescenebefore…”IwasabouttoaskBeforewhat?ButIdidn’twanttheanswer.Megwasright,ofcourse.TheMistwasastrangeforce.Sometimesit
manipulatedmortalmindsafterasupernaturalevent,likedamagecontrol.Othertimes,itoperatedinadvanceofacatastrophe,pushingawaymortalswhomightotherwisewindupascollateraldamage—likeripplesinalocalpondwarningofadragon’sfirstfootstep.
“Well,”Reynasaid,“ifthat’strue,itmeanswe’reintherightplace.AndIcanonlythinkofoneotherdirectiontoexplore.”HereyesfollowedthepylonsofSutroToweruntiltheydisappearedintothefog.“Whowantstoclimbfirst?”
Wanthadnothingtodowithit.Iwasdrafted.TheostensiblereasonwassoReynacouldsteadymeifIstartedfeeling
shakyontheladder.TherealreasonwasprobablysoIcouldn’tbackoutifIgotscared.Megwentlast,IsupposebecausethatwouldgivehertimetoselectthepropergardeningseedstothrowatourenemieswhiletheyweremaulingmyfaceandReynawaspushingmeforward.
AurumandArgentum,notbeingabletoclimb,stayedonthegroundtoguardourexitliketheopposable-thumb-lackingslackerstheywere.Ifweendedupplummetingtoourdeaths,thedogswouldberighttheretobarkexcitedlyatourcorpses.Thatgavemegreatcomfort.
Therungswereslipperyandcold.Thechute’smetalribsmademefeellikeIwascrawlingthroughagiantSlinky.Iimaginedtheyweremeantassomekindofsafetyfeature,buttheydidnothingtoreassureme.IfIslipped,theywouldjustbemorepainfulthingsformetohitonmywaydown.
Afterafewminutes,mylimbswereshaking.Myfingerstrembled.Thefirstsetofcrossbeamsseemedtobegettingnocloser.Ilookeddownandsawwehadbarelyclearedtheradardishesonthestation’srooftop.
Thecoldwindbuffetedmearoundthecage,rippingthroughmyhoodie,rattlingthearrowsinmyquiver.WhateverTarquin’sguardswere,iftheycaughtmeonthisladder,mybowandmyukulelewoulddomenogood.Atleastaflockofkillersheepcouldn’tclimbladders.
Meanwhile,inthefoghighaboveus,moredarkshapesswirled—definitelybirdsofsomekind.Iremindedmyselfthattheycouldn’tbestrixes.Still,aqueasysenseofdangergnawedatmystomach.
Whatif—?Stopit,Apollo,Ichidedmyself.There’snothingyoucandonowbutkeep
climbing.Iconcentratedononeperilousslipperyrungatatime.Thesolesofmyshoes
squeakedagainstthemetal.Belowme,Megasked,“Doyouguyssmellroses?”Iwonderedifshewastryingtomakemelaugh.“Roses?Whyinthenameof
thetwelvegodswouldIsmellrosesuphere?”Reynasaid,“AllIsmellisLester’sshoes.Ithinkhesteppedinsomething.”“Alargepuddleofshame,”Imuttered.“Ismellroses,”Meginsisted.“Whatever.Keepmoving.”Idid,sinceIhadnochoice.Atlast,wereachedthefirstsetofcrossbeams.Acatwalkranthelengthof
thegirders,allowingustostandandrestforafewminutes.Wewereonlyaboutsixtyfeetabovetherelaystation,butitfeltmuchhigher.Belowusspreadanendlessgridofcityblocks,rumplingandtwistingacrossthehillswhenevernecessary,thestreetsmakingdesignsthatremindedmeoftheThaialphabet.
(ThegoddessNangKwakhadtriedtoteachmetheirlanguageonce,overalovelydinnerofspicynoodles,butIwashopelessatit.)
Downintheparkinglot,AurumandArgentumlookedupatusandwaggedtheirtails.Theyseemedtobewaitingforustodosomething.Themean-spiritedpartofmewantedtoshootanarrowtothetopofthenexthillandyell,FETCH!butIdoubtedReynawouldappreciatethat.
“It’sfunuphere,”Megdecided.Shedidacartwheel,becausesheenjoyedgivingmeheartpalpitations.
Iscannedthetriangleofcatwalks,hopingtoseesomethingbesidescables,circuitboxes,andsatelliteequipment—preferablysomethinglabeled:PUSHTHISBUTTONTOCOMPLETEQUESTANDCOLLECTREWARD.
Ofcoursenot,Igrumbledtomyself.Tarquinwouldn’tbesokindastoputwhateverweneededonthelowestlevel.
“Definitelynosilentgodshere,”Reynasaid.“Thanksalot.”Shesmiled,clearlystillinagoodmoodfrommyearliermisstepintothe
puddleofshame.“Ialsodon’tseeanydoors.Didn’ttheprophecysayI’msupposedtoopenadoor?”
“Couldbeametaphoricalone,”Ispeculated.“Butyou’reright,there’snothinghereforus.”
Megpointedtothenextlevelofcrossbeams—anothersixtyfeetup,barelyvisibleinthebellyofthefogbank.“Thesmellofrosesisstrongerfromupthere,”shesaid.“Weshouldkeepclimbing.”
Isniffedtheair.Ismelledonlythefaintscentofeucalyptusfromthewoodsbelowus,myownsweatcoolingagainstmyskin,andthesourwhiffofantisepticandinfectionrisingfrommybandagedabdomen.
“Hooray,”Isaid.“Moreclimbing.”Thistime,Reynatookthelead.Therewasnoclimbingcagegoingtothe
secondlevel—justbaremetalrungsagainstthesideofthegirder,asifthebuildershaddecidedWelp,ifyoumadeitthisfar,youmustbecrazy,sonomoresafetyfeatures!Nowthatthemetal-ribbedchutewasgone,Irealizedithadgivenmesomepsychologicalcomfort.AtleastIcouldpretendIwasinsideasafestructure,notfree-climbingagianttowerlikealunatic.
ItmadenosensetomewhyTarquinwouldputsomethingasimportantashissilentgodatthetopofaradiotower,orwhyhehadalliedhimselfwiththeemperorsinthefirstplace,orwhythesmellofrosesmightsignalthatweweregettingclosertoourgoal,orwhythosedarkbirdskeptcirclingaboveusinthefog.Weren’ttheycold?Didn’ttheyhavejobs?
Still,Ihadnodoubtweweremeanttoclimbthismonstroustripod.Itfeltright,bywhichImeanitfeltterrifyingandwrong.Ihadapremonitionthateverythingwouldmakesensetomesoonenough,andwhenitdid,Iwouldn’tlikeit.
ItwasasifIwerestandinginthedark,staringatsmalldisconnectedlightsinthedistance,wonderingwhattheymightbe.BythetimeIrealizedOh,hey,thosearetheheadlightsofalargetruckbarrelingtowardme!itwouldbetoolate.
Wewerehalfwaytothesecondsetofcrossbeamswhenanangryshadowdoveoutofthefog,plummetingpastmyshoulder.Thegustfromitswingsnearlyknockedmeofftheladder.
“Whoa!”Meggrabbedmyleftankle,thoughthatdidnothingtosteadyme.“Whatwasthat?”
Icaughtaglimpseofthebirdasitdisappearedbackintothefog:oilyblackwings,blackbeak,blackeyes.
Asobbuiltinmythroat,asoneoftheproverbialtruck’sheadlightsbecameverycleartome.“Araven.”
“Araven?”Reynafrowneddownatme.“Thatthingwashuge!”True,thecreaturethatbuzzedmemust’vehadawingspanofatleasttwenty
feet,butthenseveralangrycroakssoundedfromsomewhereinthemist,leavingmeinnodoubt.
“Ravens,plural,”Icorrected.“Giantravens.”Halfadozenspiraledintoview,theirhungryblackeyesdancingoveruslike
targetinglasers,assessingoursoft-and-tastyweakspots.“Aflockofravens.”Megsoundedhalf-incredulous,half-fascinated.“Those
aretheguards?They’repretty.”Igroaned,wishingIcouldbeanywhereelse—likeinbed,underathicklayer
ofwarmKevlarquilts.Iwastemptedtoprotestthatagroupofravenswasactuallycalledanunkindnessoraconspiracy.IwantedtoshoutthatTarquin’sguardsshouldbedisqualifiedonthattechnicality.ButIdoubtedTarquincaredaboutsuchniceties.Iknewtheravensdidn’t.Theywouldkilluseitherway,nomatterhowprettyMegthoughttheywere.Besides,callingravensunkindandconspiratorialhadalwaysseemedredundanttome.
“They’reherebecauseofKoronis,”Isaidmiserably.“Thisismyfault.”“Who’sKoronis?”Reynademanded.“Longstory.”Iyelledatthebirds,“Guys,I’veapologizedamilliontimes!”Theravenscroakedbackangrily.Adozenmoredroppedoutofthefogand
begantocircleus.
“They’lltearusapart,”Isaid.“Wehavetoretreat—backtothefirstplatform.”
“Thesecondplatformiscloser,”Reynasaid.“Keepclimbing!”“Maybethey’rejustcheckingusout,”Megsaid.“Maybetheywon’tattack.”Sheshouldn’thavesaidthat.Ravensarecontrarycreatures.Ishouldknow—Ishapedthemintowhatthey
are.AssoonasMegexpressedthehopethattheywouldn’tattack,theydid.
I’dliketosingaClassicforyounow.Thankyou.Pleasestopstabbingme.
INRETROSPECT,ISHOULDhavegivenravensspongesforbeaks—nice,soft,squishyspongesthatweren’tcapableofstabbing.WhileIwasatit,Ishould’vethrowninsomeNerfclaws.
Butnooo.Iletthemhavebeakslikeserratedknivesandclawslikemeathooks.WhathadIbeenthinking?
Megyelledasoneofthebirdsdovebyher,rakingherarm.AnotherflewatReyna’slegs.Thepraetorleveledakickatit,butherheel
missedthebirdandconnectedwithmynose.“OWEEEEE!”Iyelled,mywholefacethrobbing.“Mybad!”Reynatriedtoclimb,butthebirdsswirledaroundus,stabbing
andclawingandtearingawaybitsofourclothes.ThefrenzyremindedmeofmyfarewellconcertinThessalonikabackin235BCE.(Ilikedtodoafarewelltoureverytenyearsorso,justtokeepthefansguessing.)Dionysushadshownupwithhisentirehordeofsouvenir-huntingmaenads.Notagoodmemory.
“Lester,whoisKoronis?”Reynashouted,drawinghersword.“Whywereyouapologizingtothebirds?”
“Icreatedthem!”MybustednosemademesoundlikeIwasgarglingsyrup.Theravenscawedinoutrage.Oneswooped,itsclawsnarrowlymissingmy
lefteye.Reynaswungherswordwildly,tryingtokeeptheflockatbay.“Well,canyouun-createthem?”Megasked.Theravensdidn’tlikethatidea.OnedoveatMeg.Shetosseditaseed—
which,beingaraven,itinstinctivelysnappedoutoftheair.Apumpkinexploded
tofullgrowthinitsbeak.Theraven,suddenlytop-heavywithamouthfullofHalloween,plummetedtowardtheground.
“Okay,Ididn’texactlycreatethem,”Iconfessed.“Ijustchangedthemintowhattheyarenow.And,no,Ican’tundoit.”
Moreangrycriesfromthebirds,thoughforthemomenttheystayedaway,waryofthegirlwiththeswordandtheotheronewiththetastyexplodingseeds.
Tarquinhadchosentheperfectguardstokeepmefromhissilentgod.Ravenshatedme.Theyprobablyworkedforfree,withoutevenahealthplan,justhopingtohavethechancetobringmedown.
Isuspectedtheonlyreasonwewerestillalivewasthatthebirdsweretryingtodecidewhogotthehonorofthekill.
Eachangrycroakwasaclaimtomytastybits:Igethisliver!No,Igethisliver!Well,Igethiskidneys,then!Ravensareasgreedyastheyarecontrary.Alas,wecouldn’tcountonthem
arguingwithoneanotherforlong.We’dbedeadassoonastheyfiguredouttheirproperpeckingorder.(Oh,maybethat’swhytheycallitapeckingorder!)
Reynatookaswipeatonethatwasgettingtooclose.Sheglancedatthecatwalkonthecrossbeamaboveus,perhapscalculatingwhethershe’dhavetimetoreachitifshesheathedhersword.Judgingfromherfrustratedexpression,herconclusionwasno.
“Lester,Ineedintel,”shesaid.“Tellmehowwedefeatthesethings.”“Idon’tknow!”Iwailed.“Look,backintheolddays,ravensusedtobe
gentleandwhite,likedoves,okay?Buttheywereterriblegossips.OnetimeIwasdatingthisgirl,Koronis.Theravensfoundoutshewascheatingonme,andtheytoldmeaboutit.Iwassoangry,IgotArtemistokillKoronisforme.ThenIpunishedtheravensforbeingtattletalesbyturningthemblack.”
Reynastaredatmelikeshewascontemplatinganotherkicktomynose.“Thatstoryismesseduponsomanylevels.”
“Justwrong,”Megagreed.“Youhadyoursisterkillagirlwhowascheatingonyou?”
“Well,I—”“Thenyoupunishedthebirdsthattoldyouaboutit,”Reynaadded,“by
turningthemblack,asifblackwasbadandwhitewasgood?”“Whenyouputitthatway,itdoesn’tsoundright,”Iprotested.“It’sjustwhat
happenedwhenmycursescorchedthem.Italsomadethemnasty-temperedflesh-eaters.”
“Oh,that’smuchbetter,”Reynasnarled.
“Ifweletthebirdseatyou,”Megasked,“willtheyleaveReynaandmealone?”
“I—What?”IworriedthatMegmightnotbekidding.Herfacialexpressiondidnotsaykidding.Itsaidseriousaboutthebirdseatingyou.“Listen,Iwasangry!Yes,Itookitoutonthebirds,butafterafewcenturiesIcooleddown.Iapologized.Bythen,theykindoflikedbeingnasty-temperedflesh-eaters.AsforKoronis—Imean,atleastIsavedthechildshewaspregnantwithwhenArtemiskilledher.HebecameAsclepius,godofmedicine!”
“Yourgirlfriendwaspregnantwhenyouhadherkilled?”Reynalaunchedanotherkickatmyface.Imanagedtododgeit,sinceI’dhadalotofpracticecowering,butithurttoknowthatthistimeshehadn’tbeenaimingatanincomingraven.Oh,no.Shewantedtoknockmyteethin.
“Yousuck,”Megagreed.“Canwetalkaboutthislater?”Ipleaded.“Orperhapsnever?Iwasagod
then!Ididn’tknowwhatIwasdoing!”Afewmonthsago,astatementlikethatwouldhavemadenosensetome.
Now,itseemedtrue.IfeltasifMeghadgivenmeherthick-lensedrhinestone-studdedglasses,andtomyhorror,theycorrectedmyeyesight.Ididn’tlikehowsmallandtawdryandpettyeverythinglooked,renderedinperfectuglyclaritythroughthemagicofMeg-o-Vision.Mostofall,Ididn’tlikethewayIlooked—notjustpresent-dayLester,butthegodformerlyknownasApollo.
ReynaexchangedglanceswithMeg.Theyseemedtoreachasilentagreementthatthemostpracticalcourseofactionwouldbetosurvivetheravensnowsotheycouldkillmethemselveslater.
“We’redeadifwestayhere.”Reynaswungherswordatanotherenthusiasticflesh-eater.“Wecan’tfendthemoffandclimbatthesametime.Ideas?”
Theravenshadone.Itwascalledall-outattack.Theyswarmed—pecking,scratching,croakingwithrage.“I’msorry!”Iscreamed,futilelyswattingatthebirds.“I’msorry!”Theravensdidnotacceptmyapology.Clawsrippedmypantlegs.Abeak
clampedontomyquiverandalmostpulledmeofftheladder,leavingmyfeetdanglingforaterrifyingmoment.
Reynacontinuedtoslashaway.Megcursedandthrewseedslikepartyfavorsfromtheworstparadefloatever.Agiantravenspiraledoutofcontrol,coveredindaffodils.Anotherfelllikeastone,itsstomachbulgingintheshapeofabutternutsquash.
Mygripweakenedontherungs.Blooddrippedfrommynose,butIcouldn’tspareamomenttowipeitaway.
Reynawasright.Ifwedidn’tmove,weweredead.Andwecouldn’tmove.Iscannedthecrossbeamaboveus.Ifwecouldjustreachit,we’dbeableto
standanduseourarms.We’dhaveafightingchanceto…well,fight.Atthefarendofthecatwalk,abuttingthenextsupportpylon,stoodalarge
rectangularboxlikeashippingcontainer.IwassurprisedIhadn’tnoticeditsooner,butcomparedtothescaleofthetower,thecontainerseemedsmallandinsignificant,justanotherwedgeofredmetal.Ihadnoideawhatsuchaboxwasdoinguphere(Amaintenancedepot?Astorageshed?)butifwecouldfindawayinside,itmightofferusshelter.
“Overthere!”Iyelled.Reynafollowedmygaze.“Ifwecanreachit…Weneedtobuytime.Apollo,
whatrepelsravens?Isn’ttheresomethingtheyhate?”“Worsethanme?”“Theydon’tlikedaffodilsmuch,”Megobserved,asanotherflower-
festoonedbirdwentintoatailspin.“Weneedsomethingtodrivethemallaway,”Reynasaid,swingingher
swordagain.“Somethingthey’llhateworsethanApollo.”Hereyeslitup.“Apollo,singforthem!”
Shemightaswellhavekickedmeinthefaceagain.“Myvoiceisn’tthatbad!”
“Butyou’rethe—Youusedtobethegodofmusic,right?Ifyoucancharmacrowd,youshouldbeabletorepulseone.Pickasongthesebirdswillhate!”
Great.NotonlyhadReynalaughedinmyfaceandbustedmynose,nowIwashergo-toguyforrepulsiveness.
Still…IwasstruckbythewayshesaidIusedtobeagod.Shedidn’tseemtomeanitasaninsult.Shesaiditalmostlikeaconcession—likesheknewwhatahorribledeityIhadbeen,butheldouthopethatImightbecapableofbeingsomeonebetter,morehelpful,maybeevenworthyofforgiveness.
“Okay,”Isaid.“Okay,letmethink.”Theravenshadnointentionoflettingmedothat.Theycawedandswarmed
inaflurryofblackfeathersandpointytalons.ReynaandMegtriedtheirbesttodrivethemback,buttheycouldn’tcovermecompletely.Abeakstabbedmeintheneck,narrowlymissingmycarotidartery.Clawsrakedthesideofmyface,nodoubtgivingmesomebloodynewracingstripes.
Icouldn’tthinkaboutthepain.IwantedtosingforReyna,toprovethatIhadindeedchanged.Iwasno
longerthegodwho’dhadKoroniskilledandcreatedravens,orcursedtheCumaeanSibyl,ordoneanyoftheotherselfishthingsthathadoncegivenme
nomorepausethanchoosingwhatdesserttoppingsIwantedonmyambrosia.Itwastimetobehelpful.Ineededtoberepulsiveformyfriends!Irifledthroughmillenniaofperformancememories,tryingtorecallanyof
mymusicalnumbersthathadtotallybombed.Nope.Icouldn’tthinkofany.Andthebirdskeptattacking….
Birdsattacking.Anideasparkedatthebaseofmyskull.IrememberedastorymychildrenAustinandKaylahadtoldme,backwhen
IwasatCampHalf-Blood.Weweresittingatthecampfire,andthey’dbeenjokingaboutChiron’sbadtasteinmusic.Theysaidthatseveralyearsearlier,PercyJacksonhadmanagedtodriveoffaflockofkillerStymphalianbirdssimplybyplayingwhatChironhadonhisboombox.
Whathadheplayed?WhatwasChiron’sfavorite—?“‘VOLARE’!”Iscreamed.Meglookedupatme,arandomgeraniumstuckinherhair.“Who?”“It’sasongDeanMartincovered,”Isaid.“It—itmightbeunacceptableto
birds.I’mnotsure.”“Well,besure!”Reynayelled.Ravensfuriouslyscratchedandpeckedather
cloak,unabletotearthemagicalfabric,butherfrontsidewasunprotected.Everytimesheswunghersword,abirdswoopedin,stabbingatherexposedchestandarms.Herlong-sleeveteewasquicklyturningintoashort-sleevetee.
IchanneledmyworstKingofCool.IimaginedIwasonaLasVegasstage,alineofemptymartiniglassesonthepianobehindme.Iwaswearingavelvettuxedo.Ihadjustsmokedapackofcigarettes.Infrontofmesatacrowdfullofadoring,tone-deaffans.
“VOOO-LAR-RAAAAY!”Icried,modulatingmyvoicetoaddabouttwentysyllablestotheword.“WHOA!OH!”
Theresponsefromtheravenswasimmediate.Theyrecoiledasifwe’dsuddenlybecomevegetarianentrées.Somethrewthemselvesbodilyagainstthemetalgirders,makingthewholetowershudder.
“Keepgoing!”Megyelled.Phrasedasanorder,herwordsforcedmetocomply.Withapologiesto
DomenicoModugno,whowrotethesong,Igave“Volare”thefullDeanMartintreatment.
Ithadoncebeensuchalovely,obscurelittletune.Originally,Modugnocalledit“Nelblu,dipintodiblu,”which,granted,wasabadtitle.Idon’tknowwhyartistsinsistondoingthat.LiketheWallflowers’“OneHeadlight”obviouslyshouldhavebeentitled“MeandCinderella.”AndEdSheerhan’s“The
A-Team”shouldclearlyhavebeencalled“TooColdforAngelstoFly.”Imean,comeon,guys,you’reburyingthelede.
Atanyrate,“Nelblu,dipintodiblu”mighthavefadedintoobscurityhadDeanMartinnotgottenaholdofit,repackageditas“Volare,”addedseventhousandviolinsandbackupsingers,andturneditintoasleazylounge-singerclassic.
Ididn’thavebackupsingers.AllIhadwasmyvoice,butIdidmybesttobeterrible.EvenwhenIwasagodandcouldspeakanylanguageIwanted,I’dneversungwellinItalian.IkeptmixingitupwithLatin,soIcameoffsoundinglikeJuliusCaesarwithaheadcold.Mynewlybustednosejustaddedtotheawfulness.
Ibellowedandwarbled,screwingmyeyesshutandclingingtotheladderasravensflappedaroundme,croakinginhorroratmytravestyofasong.Farbelow,Reyna’sgreyhoundsbayedasifthey’dlosttheirmothers.
Ibecamesoengrossedinmurdering“Volare,”Ididn’tnoticethattheravenshadgonesilentuntilMegshouted,“APOLLO,ENOUGH!”
Ifalteredhalfwaythroughachorus.WhenIopenedmyeyes,theravenswerenowhereinsight.Fromsomewhereinthefog,theirindignantcawsgrewfainterandfainterastheflockmovedoffinsearchofquieter,lessrevoltingprey.
“Myears,”Reynacomplained.“Oh,gods,myearswillneverheal.”“Theravenswillbeback,”Iwarned.Mythroatfeltlikethechuteofa
cementmixer.“Assoonastheymanagetopurchaseenoughraven-sizenoise-cancelingheadphones,they’llbeback.Nowclimb!Idon’thaveanotherDeanMartinsonginme.”
Let’splayguessthegod.StartswithH.Wantstokillme.(Besidesmystepmom.)
ASSOONASIreachedthecatwalk,Igrippedtherail.Iwasn’tsureifmylegswerewobblyoriftheentiretowerwasswaying.IfeltlikeIwasbackonPoseidon’spleasuretrireme—theonepulledbybluewhales.Oh,it’sasmoothride,he’dpromised.You’llloveit.
Below,SanFranciscostretchedoutinarumpledquiltofgreenandgray,theedgesfrayedwithfog.Ifeltatwingeofnostalgiaformydaysonthesunchariot.Oh,SanFrancisco!WheneverIsawthatbeautifulcitybelow,Iknewmyday’sjourneywasalmostdone.IcouldfinallyparkmychariotatthePalaceoftheSun,relaxforthenight,andletwhateverotherforcesthatcontrollednightanddaytakeoverforme.(Sorry,Hawaii.Iloveyou,butIwasn’tabouttoworkovertimetogiveyouasunrise.)
Theravenswerenowhereinsight.Thatdidn’tmeananything.Ablanketoffogstillobscuredthetopofthetower.Thekillersmightswoopoutofitatanyminute.Itwasn’tfairthatbirdswithtwenty-footwingspanscouldsneakuponussoeasily.
Atthefarendofthecatwalksattheshippingcontainer.ThescentofroseswassostrongnowevenIcouldsmellit,anditseemedtobecomingfromthebox.Itookasteptowarditandimmediatelystumbled.
“Careful.”Reynagrabbedmyarm.Ajoltofenergywentthroughme,steadyingmylegs.PerhapsIimaginedit.
OrmaybeIwasjustshockedthatshehadmadephysicalcontactwithmeanditdidnotinvolveplacingherbootinmyface.
“I’mokay,”Isaid.Onegodlyskillhadnotabandonedme:lying.“Youneedmedicalattention,”Reynasaid.“Yourfaceisahorrorshow.”“Thanks.”“I’vegotsupplies,”Megannounced.Sherummagedthroughthepouchesofhergardeningbelt.Iwasterrifiedshe
mighttrytopatchmyfacewithfloweringbougainvillea,butinsteadshepulledouttape,gauze,andalcoholwipes.IsupposedhertimewithPranjalhadtaughthermorethanjusthowtouseacheesegrater.
Shefussedovermyface,thencheckedmeandReynaforanyespeciallydeepcutsandpunctures.Wehadplenty.SoonallthreeofuslookedlikerefugeesfromGeorgeWashington’scampatValleyForge.Wecouldhavespentthewholeafternoonbandagingeachother,butwedidn’thavethatmuchtime.
Megturnedtoregardtheshippingcontainer.Shestillhadastubborngeraniumstuckinherhair.Hertattereddressrippledaroundherlikeshredsofseaweed.
“Whatisthatthing?”shewondered.“What’sitdoinguphere,andwhydoesitsmelllikeroses?”
Goodquestions.Judgingscaleanddistanceonthetowerwasdifficult.Tuckedagainstthe
girders,theshippingcontainerlookedcloseandsmall,butitwasprobablyafullcityblockawayfromus,andlargerthanMarlonBrando’spersonaltraileronthesetofTheGodfather.(Wow,wheredidthatmemorycomefrom?Crazytimes.)InstallingthathugeredboxonSutroTowerwouldhavebeenamassiveundertaking.Thenagain,theTriumviratehadenoughcashtopurchasefiftyluxuryyachts,sotheycouldprobablyaffordafewcargohelicopters.
Thebiggerquestionwaswhy?Fromthesidesofthecontainer,glimmeringbronzeandgoldcablessnaked
outward,weavingaroundthepylonandcrossbeamslikegroundingwires,connectingtosatellitedishes,cellulararrays,andpowerboxes.Wastheresomesortofmonitoringstationinside?Theworld’smostexpensivehothouseforroses?Orperhapsthemostelaborateschemeevertostealpremiumcable-TVchannels.
Theclosestendoftheboxwasfittedwithcargodoors,theverticallockingrodslacedwithrowsofheavychains.Whateverwasinsidewasmeanttostaythere.
“Anyideas?”Reynaasked.“Trytogetinsidethatcontainer,”Isaid.“It’saterribleidea.Butit’stheonly
oneIhave.”“Yeah.”Reynascannedthefogoverourheads.“Let’smovebeforethe
ravenscomebackforanencore.”Megsummonedherswords.Sheledthewayacrossthecatwalk,butafter
twentyfeetorso,shestoppedabruptly,asifshe’drunintoaninvisiblewall.Sheturnedtofaceus.“Guys,is…meor…feelweird?”Ithoughtthekicktomyfacemighthaveshort-circuitedmybrain.“What,
Meg?”“Isaid…wrong,like…coldand…”IglancedatReyna.“Didyouhearthat?”“Onlyhalfofherwordsarecomingthrough.Whyaren’tourvoices
affected?”IstudiedtheshortexpanseofcatwalkseparatingusfromMeg.An
unpleasantsuspicionwriggledinmyhead.“Meg,takeastepbacktowardme,please.”
“Why…want…?”“Justhumorme.”Shedid.“Soareyouguysfeelingweird,too?Like,kindacold?”She
frowned.“Wait…it’sbetternow.”“Youweredroppingwords,”Reynasaid.“Iwas?”Thegirlslookedatmeforanexplanation.Sadly,IthoughtImighthaveone
—oratleastthebeginningsofone.Themetaphoricaltruckwiththemetaphoricalheadlightswasgettingclosertometaphoricallyrunningmeover.
“Youtwowaithereforasecond,”Isaid.“Iwanttotrysomething.”Itookafewstepstowardtheshippingcontainer.WhenIreachedthespot
whereMeghadbeenstanding,Ifeltthedifference—asifI’dsteppedacrossthethresholdofawalk-infreezer.
AnothertenfeetandIcouldn’thearthewindanymore,orthepingingofmetalcablesagainstthesidesofthetower,orthebloodrushinginmyears.Isnappedmyfingers.Nosound.
Panicroseinmychest.Completesilence—amusicgod’sworstnightmare.IfacedReynaandMeg.Itriedtoshout,“Canyouhearmenow?”Nothing.Myvocalcordsvibrated,butthesoundwavesseemedtodiebefore
theyleftmymouth.MegsaidsomethingIcouldn’thear.Reynaspreadherarms.Igesturedforthemtowait.ThenItookadeepbreathandforcedmyselfto
keepgoingtowardthebox.Istoppedwithinanarm’slengthofthecargodoors.Therose-bouquetsmellwasdefinitelycomingfrominside.Thechains
acrossthelockingrodswereheavyImperialgold—enoughraremagicalmetaltobuyadecent-sizepalaceonMountOlympus.Eveninmymortalform,Icould
feelthepowerradiatingfromthecontainer—notjusttheheavysilence,butthecold,needlingauraofwardsandcursesplacedonthemetaldoorsandwalls.Tokeepusout.Tokeepsomethingin.
Ontheleft-handdoor,stenciledinwhitepaint,wasasinglewordinArabic:
MyArabicwasevenrustierthanmyDeanMartinItalian,butIwasfairlysureitwasthenameofacity.ALEXANDRIA.AsinAlexandria,Egypt.
Mykneesalmostbuckled.Myvisionswam.Imighthavesobbed,thoughIcouldn’thearit.
Slowly,grippingtherailforsupport,Istaggeredbacktomyfriends.IonlyknewI’dleftthezoneofsilencewhenIcouldhearmyselfmuttering,“No,no,no,no.”
MegcaughtmebeforeIcouldfallover.“What’swrong?Whathappened?”“IthinkIunderstand,”Isaid.“Thesoundlessgod.”“Whoisit?”Reynaasked.“Idon’tknow.”Reynablinked.“Butyoujustsaid—”“IthinkIunderstand.Rememberingwhoitisexactly—that’sharder.I’m
prettysurewe’redealingwithaPtolemaicgod,frombackinthedayswhentheGreeksruledEgypt.”
Meglookedpastmeatthecontainer.“Sothere’sagodinthebox.”Ishuddered,rememberingtheshort-livedfastfoodfranchiseHermeshad
oncetriedtoopenonMountOlympus.Thankfully,God-in-the-Boxnevertookoff.“Yes,Meg.AveryminorEgyptian-Greekhybridgod,Ithink,whichismostlikelywhyhecouldn’tbefoundintheCampJupiterarchives.”
“Ifhe’ssominor,”Reynasaid,“whydoyoulooksoscared?”AbitofmyoldOlympianhaughtinesssurgedthroughme.Mortals.They
couldneverunderstand.“Ptolemaicgodsareawful,”Isaid.“They’reunpredictable,temperamental,
dangerous,insecure—”“Likeanormalgod,then,”Megsaid.“Ihateyou,”Isaid.“Ithoughtyoulovedme.”“I’mmultitasking.Roseswerethisgod’ssymbol.I—Idon’trememberwhy.
AconnectiontoVenus?Hewasinchargeofsecrets.Intheolddays,ifleadershungarosefromtheceilingofaconferenceroom,itmeanteverybodyinthatconversationwassworntosecrecy.Theycalleditsubrosa,undertherose.”
“Soyouknowallthat,”Reynasaid,“butyoudon’tknowthegod’sname?”“I—He’s—”Afrustratedgrowlrosefrommythroat.“Ialmosthaveit.I
shouldhaveit.ButIhaven’tthoughtaboutthisgodinmillennia.He’sveryobscure.It’slikeaskingmetorememberthenameofaparticularbackupsingerIworkedwithduringtheRenaissance.Perhapsifyouhadn’tkickedmeinthehead—”
“AfterthatstoryaboutKoronis?”Reynasaid.“Youdeservedit.”“Youdid,”Megagreed.Isighed.“Youtwoarehorribleinfluencesoneachother.”Withouttakingtheireyesoffme,ReynaandMeggaveeachotherasilent
highfive.“Fine,”Igrumbled.“MaybetheArrowofDodonacanhelpjogmymemory.
AtleastheinsultsmeinfloweryShakespeareanlanguage.”Idrewthearrowfrommyquiver.“Opropheticmissile,Ineedyour
guidance!”Therewasnoanswer.Iwonderedifthearrowhadbeenlulledtosleepbythemagicsurrounding
thestoragecontainer.ThenIrealizedtherewasasimplerexplanation.Ireturnedthearrowtomyquiverandpulledoutadifferentone.
“Youchosethewrongarrow,didn’tyou?”Megguessed.“No!”Isnapped.“Youjustdon’tunderstandmyprocess.I’mgoingbackinto
thesphereofsilencenow.”“But—”ImarchedawaybeforeMegcouldfinish.OnlywhenIwasIsurroundedbycoldsilenceagaindiditoccurtomethatit
mightbehardtocarryonaconversationwiththearrowifIcouldn’ttalk.Nomatter.Iwastooproudtoretreat.IfthearrowandIcouldn’t
communicatetelepathically,IwouldjustpretendtohaveanintelligentconversationwhileReynaandMeglookedon.
“Opropheticmissile!”Itriedagain.Myvocalcordsvibrated,thoughnosoundcameout—adisturbingsensationIcanonlycomparetodrowning.“Ineedyourguidance!”
CONGRATULATIONS,saidthearrow.Itsvoiceresonatedinmyhead—moretactilethanaudible—rattlingmyeyeballs.
“Thanks,”Isaid.“Wait.Congratulationsforwhat?”THOUHASTFOUNDTHYGROOVE.ATLEASTTHEBEGINNINGSOF
THYGROOVE.ISUSPECTEDTHISWOULDBESO,GIVENTIME.CONGRATULATIONSAREMERITED.
“Oh.”Istaredatthearrow’spoint,waitingforabut.Nonecame.Iwassosurprised,Icouldonlystutter,“Th-thanks.”
THOUARTMOSTWELCOME.“Didwejusthaveapoliteexchange?”AYE,thearrowmused.MOSTTROUBLING.BYTHEBY,WHAT
“PROCESS”WERTTHOUSPEAKINGOFTOYONMAIDENS?THOUHASTNOPROCESSSAVEFUMBLING.
“Herewego,”Imuttered.“Please,mymemoryneedsajumpstart.Thissoundlessgod…he’sthatguyfromEgypt,isn’the?”
WELL-REASONED,SIRRAH,thearrowsaid.THOUHASTNARROWEDITDOWNTOALLTHEGUYSINEGYPT.
“YouknowwhatImean.Therewasthat—thatonePtolemaicgod.Thestrangedude.Hewasagodofsilenceandsecrets.Buthewasn’t,exactly.Ifyoucanjustgivemehisname,Ithinktherestofmymemorieswillshakeloose.”
ISMYWISDOMSOCHEAPLYBOUGHT?DOSTTHOUEXPECTTOWINHISNAMEWITHNOEFFORT?
“WhatdoyoucallclimbingSutroTower?”Idemanded.“Gettingslashedtopiecesbyravens,kickedintheface,andforcedtosinglikeDeanMartin?”
AMUSING.Imayhaveyelledafewchoicewords,butthesphereofsilencecensored
them,soyouwillhavetouseyourimagination.“Fine,”Isaid.“Canyouatleastgivemeahint?”VERILY,THENAMEDOTHBEGINWITHANH.“Hephaestus…Hermes…Hera…Alotofgods’namesbeginwithH!”HERA?ARTTHOUSERIOUS?“I’mjustbrainstorming.H,yousay….”THINKOFTHYFAVORITEPHYSICIAN.“Me.Wait.MysonAsclepius.”Thearrow’ssighrattledmyentireskeleton.YOURFAVORITEMORTAL
PHYSICIAN.“DoctorKildare.DoctorDoom.DoctorHouse.Doctor—Oh!Youmean
Hippocrates.Buthe’snotaPtolemaicgod.”THOUARTKILLINGME,thearrowcomplained.“HIPPOCRATES”IS
THYHINT.THENAMETHOUSEEKESTISMOSTLIKEIT.THOUNEEDESTBUTCHANGETWOLETTERS.
“Whichtwo?”Ifeltpetulant,butI’dneverenjoyedwordpuzzles,evenbeforemyhorrificexperienceintheBurningMaze.
ISHALLGIVETHEEONELASTHINT,saidthearrow.THINKOFTHY
FAVORITEMARXBROTHER.“TheMarxBrothers?Howdoyouevenknowaboutthem?Theywerefrom
the1930s!Imean,yes,ofcourse,Ilovedthem.Theybrightenedadrearydecade,but…Wait.Theonewhoplayedtheharp.Harpo.Ialwaysfoundhismusicsweetandsadand…”
Thesilenceturnedcolderandheavieraroundme.Harpo,Ithought.Hippocrates.Putthenamestogetherandyougot…“Harpocrates,”Isaid.“Arrow,pleasetellmethat’snottheanswer.Pleasetell
mehe’snotwaitinginthatbox.”Thearrowdidnotreply,whichItookasconfirmationofmyworstfears.IreturnedmyShakespeareanfriendtohisquiverandtrudgedbacktoReyna
andMeg.Megfrowned.“Idon’tlikethatlookonyourface.”“Meneither,”Reynasaid.“Whatdidyoulearn?”Igazedoutatthefog,wishingwecoulddealwithsomethingaseasyaskiller
giantravens.AsIsuspected,thenameofthegodhadshakenloosemymemories—bad,unwelcomememories.
“Iknowwhichgodweface,”Isaid.“Thegoodnewsishe’snotverypowerful,asgodsgo.Aboutasobscureasyoucanimagine.ArealD-lister.”
Reynafoldedherarms.“What’sthecatch?”“Ah…well.”Iclearedmythroat.“HarpocratesandIdidn’texactlygetalong.
Hemighthave…er,swornthatsomedayhe’dseemevaporized.”
WeallneedahandOnourshouldersometimessoWecanchewthroughsteel
“VAPORIZED,”SAIDREYNA.“Yes.”“Whatdidyoudotohim?”Megasked.Itriedtolookoffended.“Nothing!Imayhaveteasedhimabit,buthewasa
veryminorgod.Rathersilly-looking.ImayhavemadesomejokesathisexpenseinfrontoftheotherOlympians.”
Reynaknithereyebrows.“Soyoubulliedhim.”“No!Imean…Ididwritezapmeinglowinglettersonthebackofhistoga.
AndIsupposeImighthavebeenabitharshwhenItiedhimupandlockedhiminthestallswithmyfieryhorsesovernight—”
“OH,MYGODS!”Megsaid.“You’reawful!”Ifoughtdowntheurgetodefendmyself.Iwantedtoshout,Well,atleastI
didn’tkillhimlikeIdidmypregnantgirlfriendKoronis!Butthatwasn’tmuchofagotcha.
LookingbackonmyencounterswithHarpocrates,IrealizedIhadbeenawful.Ifsomebodyhadtreatedme,Lester,thewayIhadtreatedthatpunyPtolemaicgod,Iwouldwanttocrawlinaholeanddie.AndifIwerehonest,evenbackwhenIwasagod,Ihadbeenbullied—onlythebullyhadbeenmyfather.Ishouldhaveknownbetterthantosharethepain.
Ihadn’tthoughtaboutHarpocratesineons.Teasinghimhadseemedlikenobigdeal.Isupposethat’swhatmadeitevenworse.Ihadshruggedoffourencounters.Idoubtedhehad.
Koronis’sravens…Harpocrates…ItwasnocoincidencetheywerebothhauntingmetodayliketheGhostsof
SaturnaliasPast.Tarquinhadorchestratedallthiswithmeinmind.Hewasforcingmetoconfrontsomeofmygreatesthitsofdreadfulness.EvenifIsurvivedthechallenges,myfriendswouldseeexactlywhatkindofdirtbagIwas.Theshamewouldweighmedownandmakemeineffective—thesamewayTarquinusedtoaddrockstoacagearoundhisenemy’shead,untileventually,theburdenwastoomuch.Theprisonerwouldcollapseanddrowninashallowpool,andTarquincouldclaim,Ididn’tkillhim.Hejustwasn’tstrongenough.
Itookadeepbreath.“Allright,Iwasabully.Iseethatnow.Iwillmarchrightintothatboxandapologize.AndthenhopeHarpocratesdoesn’tvaporizeme.”
Reynadidnotlookthrilled.Shepusheduphersleeve,revealingasimpleblackwatchonherwrist.Shecheckedthetime,perhapswonderinghowlongitwouldtaketogetmevaporizedandthengetbacktocamp.
“Assumingwecangetthroughthosedoors,”shesaid,“whatareweupagainst?TellmeaboutHarpocrates.”
Itriedtosummonamentalimageofthegod.“Heusuallylookslikeachild.Perhapstenyearsold?”
“Youbulliedaten-year-old,”Meggrumbled.“Helooksten.Ididn’tsayhewasten.Hehasashavedheadexceptfora
ponytailononeside.”“IsthatanEgyptianthing?”Reynaasked.“Yes,forchildren.Harpocrateswasoriginallyanincarnationofthegod
Horus—Harpa-Khruti,HorustheChild.Anyway,whenAlexandertheGreatinvadedEgypt,theGreeksfoundallthesestatuesofthegodanddidn’tknowwhattomakeofhim.Hewasusuallydepictedwithhisfingertohislips.”Idemonstrated.
“Likebequiet,”Megsaid.“That’sexactlywhattheGreeksthought.Thegesturehadnothingtodowith
shh.Itsymbolizedthehieroglyphforchild.Nevertheless,theGreeksdecidedhemustbethegodofsilenceandsecrets.TheychangedhisnametoHarpocrates.Theybuiltsomeshrines,startedworshippinghim,andboom,he’saGreek-Egyptianhybridgod.”
Megsnorted.“Itcan’tbethateasytomakeanewgod.”“Neverunderestimatethepowerofthousandsofhumanmindsallbelieving
thesamething.Theycanremakereality.Sometimesforthebetter,sometimesnot.”
Reynapeeredatthedoors.“AndnowHarpocratesisinthere.Youthinkhe’spowerfulenoughtocauseallourcommunicationsfailures?”
“Heshouldn’tbe.Idon’tunderstandhow—”“Thosecables.”Megpointed.“They’reconnectingtheboxtothetower.
Couldtheybeboostinghissignalsomehow?Maybethat’swhyhe’suphere.”Reynanoddedappreciatively.“Meg,nexttimeIneedtosetupagaming
console,I’mcallingyou.Maybewecouldjustcutthecablesandnotopenthebox.”
Ilovedthatidea,whichwasaprettygoodindicationitwouldn’twork.“Itwon’tbeenough,”Idecided.“ThedaughterofBellonahastoopenthe
doortothesoundlessgod,right?Andforourritualsummoningtowork,weneedthelastbreathofthegodafterhis…um,souliscutfree.”
TalkingabouttheSibyllinerecipeinthesafetyofthepraetors’officehadbeenonething.TalkingaboutitonSutroTower,facingthegod’sbigredshippingcontainer,wasquiteanother.
Ifeltadeepsenseofuneasethathadnothingtodowiththecold,ortheproximityofthesphereofsilence,oreventhezombiepoisoncirculatinginmyblood.Afewmomentsago,IhadadmittedtobullyingHarpocrates.Ihaddecidedtoapologize.Thenwhat?Iwouldkillhimforthesakeofaprophecy?Anotherrockploppedintotheinvisiblecagearoundmyhead.
Megmusthavefeltsimilarly.ShemadeherbestI-don’t-wannascowlandstartedfidgetingwiththetattersofherdress.“Wedon’treallyhaveto…youknow,dowe?ImeanevenifthisHarpoguyisworkingfortheemperors…”
“Idon’tthinkheis.”Reynanoddedtowardthechainsonthelockingrods.“Itlookslikehe’sbeingkeptin.He’saprisoner.”
“That’sevenworse,”Megsaid.FromwhereIstood,IcouldjustmakeoutthewhitestenciledArabicfor
Alexandriaonthedoorofthecontainer.IimaginedtheTriumviratediggingupHarpocratesfromsomeburiedtempleintheEgyptiandesert,wrestlinghimintothatbox,thenshippinghimofftoAmericalikethird-classfreight.Theemperorswould’veconsideredHarpocratesjustanotherdangerous,amusingplaything,liketheirtrainedmonstersandhumanoidlackeys.
AndwhynotletKingTarquinbehiscustodian?Theemperorscouldallythemselveswiththeundeadtyrant,atleasttemporarily,tomaketheirinvasionofCampJupiteralittleeasier.TheycouldletTarquinarrangehiscruelesttrapforme.WhetherIkilledHarpocratesorhekilledme,whatdiditmattertotheTriumvirateintheend?Eitherway,theywouldfinditentertaining—onemoregladiatormatchtobreakthemonotonyoftheirimmortallives.
Painflaredfromthestabwoundinmyneck.IrealizedI’dbeenclenching
myjawinanger.“Therehastobeanotherway,”Isaid.“Theprophecycan’tmeanforusto
killHarpocrates.Let’stalktohim.Figuresomethingout.”“Howcanwe,”Reynaasked,“ifheradiatessilence?”“That…that’sagoodquestion,”Iadmitted.“Firstthingsfirst.Wehavetoget
thosedoorsopen.Canyoutwocutthechains?”Meglookedscandalized.“Withmyswords?”“Well,Ithoughttheywouldworkbetterthanyourteeth,butyoutellme.”“Guys,”saidReyna.“ImperialgoldbladeshackingawayatImperialgold
chains?Maybewecouldcutthrough,butwe’dbehereuntilnightfall.Wedon’thavethatkindoftime.I’vegotanotheridea.Godlystrength.”
Shelookedatme.“ButIdon’thaveany!”Iprotested.“Yougotyourarcheryskillsback,”shesaid.“Yougotyourmusicalskills
back.”“ThatValeriesongdidn’tcount,”Megsaid.“‘Volare,’”Icorrected.“Thepointis,”Reynacontinued,“Imaybeabletoboostyourstrength.I
thinkthatmightbewhyI’mhere.”IthoughtaboutthejoltofenergyI’dfeltwhenReynatouchedmyarm.It
hadn’tbeenphysicalattraction,orawarningbuzzfromVenus.IrecalledsomethingshehadtoldFrankbeforeweleftcamp.“Bellona’spower,”Isaid.“Ithassomethingtodowithstrengthinnumbers?”
Reynanodded.“Icanamplifyotherpeople’sabilities.Thebiggerthegroup,thebetteritworks,butevenwiththreepeople…itmightbesufficienttoenhanceyourpowerenoughtoripopenthosedoors.”
“Wouldthatcount?”Megasked.“Imean,ifReynadoesn’topenthedoorherself,isn’tthatcheatingtheprophecy?”
Reynashrugged.“Propheciesnevermeanwhatyouthink,right?IfApolloisabletoopenthedoorthankstomyhelp,I’mstillresponsible,wouldn’tyousay?”
“Besides…”Ipointedtothehorizon.Hoursofdaylightremained,butthefullmoonwasrising,enormousandwhite,overthehillsofMarinCounty.Soonenough,itwouldturnbloodred—andso,Ifeared,wouldawholelotofourfriends.“We’rerunningoutoftime.Ifwecancheat,let’scheat.”
Irealizedthosewouldmaketerriblefinalwords.Nevertheless,ReynaandMegfollowedmeintothecoldsilence.
Whenwereachedthedoors,ReynatookMeg’shand.Sheturnedtome:
Ready?Thensheplantedherotherhandonmyshoulder.Strengthsurgedthroughme.Ilaughedwithsoundlessjoy.IfeltaspotentasI
hadinthewoodsatCampHalf-Blood,whenI’dtossedoneofNero’sbarbarianbodyguardsintolowearthorbit.Reyna’spowerwasawesome!IfIcouldjustgethertofollowmearoundthewholetimeIwasmortal,herhandonmyshoulder,achainoftwentyorthirtyotherdemigodsbehindher,IbettherewasnothingIcouldn’taccomplish!
Igrabbedtheuppermostchainsandtorethemlikecrepepaper.Thenthenextset,andthenext.TheImperialgoldbrokeandcrumplednoiselesslyinmyfists.ThesteellockingrodsfeltassoftasbreadsticksasIpulledthemoutoftheirfittings.
Thatleftonlythedoorhandles.Thepowermayhavegonetomyhead.IglancedbackatReynaandMeg
withaself-satisfiedsmirk,readytoaccepttheirsilentadulation.Instead,theylookedasifI’dbenttheminhalf,too.Megswayed,hercomplexionlima-beangreen.TheskinaroundReyna’s
eyeswastightwithpain.Theveinsonhertemplesstoodoutlikelightningbolts.Myenergysurgewasfryingthem.
Finishit,Reynamouthed.Hereyesaddedasilentplea:Beforewepassout.Humbledandashamed,Igrabbedthedoorhandles.Myfriendshadgotten
methisfar.IfHarpocrateswasindeedwaitinginsidethisshippingbox,Iwouldmakesurethefullforceofhisangerfellonme,notReynaorMeg.
Iyankedopenthedoorsandsteppedinside.
Everheardthephrase“Thesilenceisdeafening”?Yeah,that’sarealthing
IMMEDIATELY,ICRUMPLEDTOmyhandsandkneesundertheweightoftheothergod’spower.
Silenceenfoldedmelikeliquidtitanium.Thecloyingsmellofroseswasoverwhelming.
I’dforgottenhowHarpocratescommunicated—withblastsofmentalimages,oppressiveanddevoidofsound.BackwhenIwasagod,I’dfoundthisannoying.Now,asahuman,Irealizeditcouldpulpmybrain.Atthemoment,hewassendingmeonecontinuousmessage:YOU?HATE!
Behindme,Reynawasonherknees,cuppingherearsandscreamingmutely.Megwascurledonherside,kickingherlegsasiftryingtothrowofftheheaviestofblankets.
Amomentbefore,I’dbeentearingthroughmetallikeitwaspaper.Now,IcouldbarelyliftmyheadtomeetHarpocrates’sgaze.
Thegodfloatedcross-leggedatthefarendoftheroom.Hewasstillthesizeofaten-year-oldchild,stillwearinghisridiculoustoga
andpharaonicbowling-pincrowncombo,likesomanyconfusedPtolemaicgodswhocouldn’tdecideiftheywereEgyptianorGreco-Roman.Hisbraidedponytailsnakeddownonesideofhisshavedhead.And,ofcourse,hestillheldonefingertohismouthlikethemostfrustrated,burned-outlibrarianintheworld:SSSHHH!
Hecouldnotdootherwise.IrecalledthatHarpocratesrequiredallhiswillpowertolowerhisfingerfromhismouth.Assoonashestopped
concentrating,hishandwouldpoprightbackintoposition.Intheolddays,Ihadfoundthathilarious.Now,notsomuch.
Thecenturieshadnotbeenkindtohim.Hisskinwaswrinkledandsaggy.Hisonce-bronzecomplexionwasanunhealthyporcelaincolor.Hissunkeneyessmolderedwithangerandself-pity.
ImperialgoldfetterswereclampedaroundHarpocrates’swristsandankles,connectinghimtoawebofchains,cords,andcables—somehookeduptoelaboratecontrolpanels,otherschanneledthroughholesinthewallsofthecontainer,leadingouttothetower’ssuperstructure.ThesetupseemeddesignedtosiphonHarpocrates’spowerandthenamplifyit—tobroadcasthismagicalsilenceacrosstheworld.Thiswasthesourceofallourcommunicationstroubles—onesad,angry,forgottenlittlegod.
Ittookmeamomenttounderstandwhyheremainedimprisoned.Evendrainedofhispower,aminordeityshouldhavebeenabletobreakafewchains.Harpocratesseemedtobealoneandunguarded.
ThenInoticedthem.Floatingoneithersideofthegod,soentangledinchainsthattheywerehardtodistinguishfromthegeneralchaosofmachineryandwires,weretwoobjectsIhadn’tseenincenturies:identicalceremonialaxes,eachaboutfourfeettall,withacrescentbladeandathickbundleofwoodenrodsfastenedaroundtheshaft.
Fasces.TheultimatesymbolofRomanmight.Lookingatthemmademyribstwistintobows.Intheolddays,powerful
Romanofficialsneverlefthomewithoutaprocessionoflictorbodyguards,eachcarryingoneofthosebundledaxestoletthecommonersknowsomebodyimportantwascomingthrough.Themorefasces,themoreimportanttheofficial.
Inthetwentiethcentury,BenitoMussolinirevivedthesymbolwhenhebecameItaly’sdictator.Hisrulingphilosophywasnamedafterthosebundledaxes:Fascism.
Butthefascesinfrontofmewerenoordinarystandards.ThesebladeswereImperialgold.Wrappedaroundthebundlesofrodsweresilkenbannersembroideredwiththenamesoftheirowners.EnoughoftheletterswerevisiblethatIcouldguesswhattheysaid.Ontheleft:CAESARMARCUSAURELIUSCOMMODUSANTONINUSAUGUSTUS.Ontheright:GAIUSJULIUSCAESARAUGUSTUSGERMANICUS,otherwiseknownasCaligula.
Thesewerethepersonalfascesofthetwoemperors,beingusedtodrainHarpocrates’spowerandkeephimenslaved.
Thegodglaredatme.Heforcedpainfulimagesintomymind:mestuffinghisheadintoatoiletonMountOlympus;mehowlingwithamusementasItiedhiswristsandanklesandshuthiminthestableswithmyfire-breathinghorses.
DozensofotherencountersI’dcompletelyforgottenabout,andinallofthemIwasasgolden,handsome,andpowerfulasanyTriumvirateemperor—andjustascruel.
MyskullthrobbedfromthepressureofHarpocrates’sassault.Ifeltcapillariesburstinginmybustednose,myforehead,myears.Behindme,ReynaandMegwrithedinagony.Reynalockedeyeswithme,bloodtricklingfromhernostrils.Sheseemedtoask,Well,genius?Whatnow?
IcrawledclosertoHarpocrates.Tentatively,usingaseriesofmentalpictures,Itriedtoconveyaquestion:
Howdidyougethere?IimaginedCaligulaandCommodusoverpoweringhim,bindinghim,forcing
himtodotheirbidding.IimaginedHarpocratesfloatingaloneinthisdarkboxformonths,years,unabletobreakfreefromthepowerofthefasces,growingweakerandweakerastheemperorsusedhissilencetokeepthedemigodcampsinthedark,cutofffromoneanother,whiletheTriumviratedividedandconquered.
Harpocrateswastheirprisoner,nottheirally.WasIright?Harpocratesrepliedwithawitheringgustofresentment.ItookthattomeanbothYesandYousuck,Apollo.Heforcedmorevisionsintomymind.IsawCommodusandCaligula
standingwhereInowwas,smilingcruelly,tauntinghim.Youshouldbeonourside,Caligulatoldhimtelepathically.Youshouldwant
tohelpus!Harpocrateshadrefused.Perhapshecouldn’toverpowerhisbullies,buthe
intendedtofightthemwitheverylastbitofhissoul.That’swhyhenowlookedsowithered.
Isentoutapulseofsympathyandregret.Harpocratesblasteditawaywithscorn.
JustbecausewebothhatedtheTriumviratedidnotmakeusfriends.Harpocrateshadneverforgottenmycruelty.Ifhehadn’tbeenconstrainedbythefasces,hewouldhavealreadyblastedmeandmyfriendsintoafinemistofatoms.
Heshowedmethatimageinvividcolor.Icouldtellherelishedthinkingaboutit.
Megtriedtojoinourtelepathicargument.Atfirst,allshecouldsendwasagarbledsenseofpainandconfusion.Thenshemanagedtofocus.Isawherfathersmilingdownather,handingherarose.Forher,therosewasasymbolof
love,notsecrets.ThenIsawherfatherdeadonthestepsofGrandCentralStation,murderedbyNero.ShesentHarpocratesherlifestory,capturedinafewpainfulsnapshots.Sheknewaboutmonsters.ShehadbeenraisedbytheBeast.NomatterhowmuchHarpocrateshatedme—andMegagreedthatIcouldbeprettystupidsometimes—wehadtoworktogethertostoptheTriumvirate.
Harpocratesshreddedherthoughtswithrage.Howdareshepresumetounderstandhismisery?
Reynatriedadifferentapproach.ShesharedhermemoriesofTarquin’slastattackonCampJupiter:somanywoundedandkilled,theirbodiesdraggedoffbyghoulstobereanimatedasvrykolakai.SheshowedHarpocrateshergreatestfear:thatafteralltheirbattles,aftercenturiesofupholdingthebesttraditionsofRome,theTwelfthLegionmightfacetheirendtonight.
Harpocrateswasunmoved.Hebenthiswilltowardme,buryingmeinhatred.
Allright!Ipleaded.Killmeifyoumust.ButIamsorry!Ihavechanged!Isenthimaflurryofthemosthorrible,embarrassingfailuresI’dsuffered
sincebecomingmortal:grievingoverthebodyofHeloisethegriffinattheWaystation,holdingthedyingpandosCrestinmyarmsintheBurningMaze,and,ofcourse,watchinghelplesslyasCaligulamurderedJasonGrace.
Justforamoment,Harpocrates’swrathwavered.Attheveryleast,Ihadmanagedtosurprisehim.Hehadnotbeenexpecting
regretorshamefromme.Thoseweren’tmytrademarkemotions.Ifyouletusdestroythefasces,Ithought,thatwillfreeyou.Itwillalsohurt
theemperors,yes?IshowedhimavisionofReynaandMegcuttingthroughthefasceswith
theirswords,theceremonialaxesexploding.Yes,Harpocratesthoughtback,addingabrilliantredtinttothevision.Ihadofferedhimsomethinghewanted.Reynachimedin.ShepicturedCommodusandCaligulaontheirknees,
groaninginpain.Thefasceswereconnectedtothem.They’dtakenagreatriskleavingtheiraxeshere.Ifthefascesweredestroyed,theemperorsmightbeweakenedandvulnerablebeforethebattle.
Yes,Harpocratesreplied.Thepressureofthesilenceeased.Icouldalmostbreatheagainwithoutagony.Reynastaggeredtoherfeet.ShehelpedMegandmetostand.
Unfortunately,wewerenotoutofdanger.IimaginedanynumberofterriblethingsHarpocratescoulddotousifwefreedhim.AndsinceI’dbeentalkingwithmymind,Icouldn’thelpbutbroadcastthosefears.
Harpocrates’sglaredidnothingtoreassureme.Theemperorsmusthaveanticipatedthis.Theyweresmart,cynical,horribly
logical.TheyknewthatifIdidreleaseHarpocrates,thegod’sfirstactwouldprobablybetokillme.Fortheemperors,thepotentiallossoftheirfascesapparentlydidn’toutweighthepotentialbenefitofhavingmedestroyed…ortheentertainmentvalueofknowingI’ddoneittomyself.
Reynatouchedmyshoulder,makingmeflinchinvoluntarily.SheandMeghaddrawntheirweapons.Theywerewaitingformetodecide.DidIreallywanttoriskthis?
Istudiedthesoundlessgod.Dowhatyouwantwithme,Ithoughttohim.Justsparemyfriends.Please.Hiseyesburnedwithmalice,butalsoahintofglee.Heseemedtobewaiting
formetorealizesomething,asifhe’dwrittenZAPMEonmybackpackwhenIwasn’tlooking.
ThenIsawwhathewasholdinginhislap.Ihadn’tnoticeditwhileIwasdownonmyhandsandknees,butnowthatIwasstanding,itwashardtomiss:aglassjar,apparentlyempty,sealedwithametallid.
IfeltasifTarquinhadjustdroppedthefinalrockintothedrowningcagearoundmyhead.IimaginedtheemperorshowlingwithdelightonthedeckofCaligula’syacht.
Rumorsfromcenturiesbeforeswirledinmyhead:TheSibyl’sbodyhadcrumbledaway….Shecouldnotdie….Herattendantskeptherlifeforce…hervoice…inaglassjar.
HarpocratescradledallthatremainedoftheSibylofCumae—anotherpersonwhohadeveryreasontohateme;apersontheemperorsandTarquinknewIwouldfeelobligatedtohelp.
Theyhadleftmethestarkestofchoices:runaway,lettheTriumviratewin,andwatchmymortalfriendsbedestroyed,orfreetwobitterenemiesandfacethesamefateasJasonGrace.
Itwasaneasydecision.IturnedtoReynaandMegandthoughtasclearlyasIcould:Destroythe
fasces.Cuthimfree.
Avoiceandashh.Ihaveseenstrangercouples.Wait.No,Ihaven’t.
TURNSOUTTHATWASabadidea.ReynaandMegmovedcautiously—asonedoeswhenapproachinga
corneredwildanimaloranangryimmortal.TheytookuppositionsoneithersideofHarpocrates,raisedtheirbladesabovethefasces,andmouthedinunison:One,two,three!
Itwasalmostlikethefasceshadbeenwaitingtoexplode.DespiteReyna’searlierprotestationsthatImperialgoldbladesmighttakeforevertohackthroughImperialgoldchains,herswordandMeg’scutthroughthecordsandcablesasiftheywerenothingbutillusionsthemselves.
Theirbladeshitthefascesandshatteredthem—sendingbundlesofrodsblastingintosplinters,shaftsbreaking,goldencrescentstopplingtothefloor.
Thegirlssteppedback,clearlysurprisedbytheirownsuccess.Harpocratesgavemeathin,cruelsmile.Withoutasound,thefettersonhishandsandfeetcrackedandfellawaylike
springice.Theremainingcablesandchainsshriveledandblackened,curlingagainstthewalls.Harpocratesstretchedouthisfreehand—theonethatwasnotgesturing,Shh,I’mabouttokillyou—andthetwogoldenaxbladesfromthebrokenfascesflewintohisgrip.Hisfingersturnedwhitehot.Thebladesmelted,golddribblingthroughhisfingersandpoolingbeneathhim.
Asmall,terrifiedvoiceinmyheadsaid,Well,thisisgoinggreat.Thegodpluckedtheglassjarfromhislap.Heraiseditonhisfingertipslike
acrystalball.Foramoment,Iwasafraidhewouldgiveitthegold-axtreatment,
meltingwhateverremainedoftheSibyljusttospiteme.Instead,heassaultedmymindwithnewimages.IsawaeurynomoslopeintoHarpocrates’sprison,theglassjartuckedunder
onearm.Theghoul’smouthslavered.Itseyesglowedpurple.Harpocratesthrashedinhischains.Itseemedhehadnotbeenintheboxvery
longatthatpoint.Hewantedtocrushtheeurynomoswithsilence,buttheghoulseemedunaffected.Hisbodywasbeingdrivenbyanothermind,farawayinthetyrant’stomb.
Eventhroughtelepathy,itwasclearthevoicewasTarquin’s—heavyandbrutalaschariotwheelsoverflesh.
Ibroughtyouafriend,hesaid.Trynottobreakher.HetossedthejartoHarpocrates,whocaughtitoutofsurprise.Tarquin’s
possessedghoullimpedaway,chucklingevilly,andchainedthedoorsbehindhim.
Aloneinthedark,Harpocrates’sfirstthoughtwastosmashthejar.AnythingfromTarquinhadtobeatrap,orpoison,orsomethingworse.Buthewascurious.Afriend?Harpocrateshadneverhadoneofthose.Hewasn’tsureheunderstoodtheconcept.
Hecouldsensealivingforceinsidethejar:weak,sad,fading,butalive,andpossiblymoreancientthanhewas.Heopenedthelid.Thefaintestvoicebegantospeaktohim,cuttingstraightthroughhissilenceasifitdidn’texist.
Aftersomanymillennia,Harpocrates,thesilentgodwhowasneversupposedtoexist,hadalmostforgottensound.Heweptwithjoy.ThegodandtheSibylbegantoconverse.
Theybothknewtheywerepawns,prisoners.Theywereonlyherebecausetheyservedsomepurposefortheemperorsandtheirnewally,Tarquin.LikeHarpocrates,theSibylhadrefusedtocooperatewithhercaptors.Shewouldtellthemnothingofthefuture.Whyshouldshe?Shewasbeyondpainandsuffering.Shehadliterallynothinglefttoloseandlongedonlytodie.
Harpocratessharedthefeeling.Hewastiredofspendingmillenniaslowlywastingaway,waitinguntilhewasobscureenough,forgottenbyallhumankind,sohecouldceasetoexistaltogether.Hislifehadalwaysbeenbitter—anever-endingparadeofdisappointments,bullying,andridicule.Nowhewantedsleep.Theeternalsleepofextinctgods.
Theysharedstories.Theybondedovertheirhatredofme.TheyrealizedthatTarquinwantedthistohappen.Hehadthrownthemtogether,hopingthey’dbecomefriends,sohecouldusethemasleverageagainsteachother.Buttheycouldn’thelptheirfeelings.
Wait.IinterruptedHarpocrates’sstory.Areyoutwo…together?Ishouldn’thaveasked.Ididn’tmeantosendsuchanincredulousthought,
likehowdoesashhgodfallinlovewithavoiceinaglassjar?Harpocrates’sragepresseddownonme,makingmykneesbuckle.Theair
pressureincreased,asifI’dplummetedathousandfeet.Ialmostblackedout,butIguessedHarpocrateswouldn’tletthathappen.Hewantedmeconscious,abletosuffer.
Hefloodedmewithbitternessandhate.Myjointsbegantounknit,myvocalcordsdissolving.Harpocratesmighthavebeenreadytodie,butthatdidn’tmeanhewouldn’tkillmefirst.Thatwouldbringhimgreatsatisfaction.
Ibowedmyhead,grittingmyteethagainsttheinevitable.Fine,Ithought.Ideserveit.Justsparemyfriends.Please.Thepressureeased.Iglancedupthroughahazeofpain.Infrontofme,ReynaandMegstoodshouldertoshoulder,facingdownthe
god.Theysenthimtheirownflurryofimages.Reynapicturedmesinging“The
FallofJasonGrace”tothelegion,officiatingatJason’sfuneralpyrewithtearsinmyeyes,thenlookinggoofyandawkwardandcluelessasIofferedtobeherboyfriend,givingherthebest,mostcleansinglaughshe’dhadinyears.(Thanks,Reyna.)
MegpicturedthewayI’dsavedherinthemyrmekes’lairatCampHalf-Blood,singingaboutmyromanticfailureswithsuchhonestyitrenderedgiantantscatatonicwithdepression.SheenvisionedmykindnesstoLiviatheelephant,toCrest,andespeciallytoher,whenI’dgivenherahuginourroomatthecaféandtoldherIwouldnevergiveuptrying.
Inalltheirmemories,Ilookedsohuman…butinthebestpossibleways.Withoutwords,myfriendsaskedHarpocratesifIwasstillthepersonhehatedsomuch.
Thegodscowled,consideringthetwoyoungwomen.Thenasmallvoicespoke—actuallyspoke—frominsidethesealedglassjar.
“Enough.”Asfaintandmuffledashervoicewas,Ishouldnothavebeenabletohearit.
Onlytheuttersilenceoftheshippingcontainermadeheraudible,thoughhowshecutthroughHarpocrates’sdampeningfield,Ihadnoidea.ItwasdefinitelytheSibyl.Irecognizedherdefianttone,thesamewayshe’dsoundedcenturiesbefore,whenshevowednevertolovemeuntileverygrainofsandranout:Comebacktomeattheendofthattime.Then,ifyoustillwantme,I’myours.
Now,herewewere,atthewrongendofforever,neitherofusintherightformtochoosetheother.
Harpocratesregardedthejar,hisexpressionturningsadandplaintive.Heseemedtoask,Areyousure?
“ThisiswhatIhaveforeseen,”whisperedtheSibyl.“Atlast,wewillrest.”Anewimageappearedinmymind—versesfromtheSibyllineBooks,purple
lettersagainstwhiteskin,sobrightitmademesquint.Thewordssmokedasiffreshfromaharpytattoo-artist’sneedle:Addthelastbreathofthegodwhospeaksnot,oncehissouliscutfree,togetherwiththeshatteredglass.
Harpocratesmusthaveseenthewords,too,judgingfromthewayhewinced.Iwaitedforhimtoprocesstheirmeaning,togetangryagain,todecidethatifanyone’ssoulshouldbecutfree,itshouldbemine.
WhenIwasagod,Irarelythoughtaboutthepassageoftime.Afewcenturieshereorthere,whatdiditmatter?NowIconsideredjusthowlongagotheSibylhadwrittenthoselines.TheyhadbeenscribbledintotheoriginalSibyllineBooksbackwhenRomewasstillapunykingdom.HadtheSibylknowneventhenwhattheymeant?Hadsherealizedshewouldendupasnothingbutavoiceinajar,stuckinthisdarkmetalboxwithherboyfriendwhosmelledlikerosesandlookedlikeawitheredten-year-oldinatogaandabowling-pincrown?Ifso,howcouldshenotwanttokillmeevenmorethanHarpocratesdid?
Thegodpeeredintothecontainer,maybehavingaprivatetelepathicconversationwithhisbelovedSibyl.
ReynaandMegshifted,doingtheirbesttoblockmefromthegod’slineofsight.Perhapstheythoughtifhecouldn’tseeme,hemightforgetIwasthere.Ifeltawkwardpeekingaroundtheirlegs,butIwassodrainedandlight-headedIdoubtedIcouldstand.
NomatterwhatimagesHarpocrateshadshownme,orhowwearyhewasoflife,Icouldn’timaginehewouldjustrolloverandsurrender.Oh,youneedtokillmeforyourprophecythingie?Okay,sure!Stabmerighthere!
Idefinitelycouldn’timaginehimlettingustaketheSibyl’sjarandshatteringitforoursummoningritual.Theyhadfoundlove.Whywouldtheywanttodie?
Finally,Harpocratesnodded,asifthey’dcometoanagreement.Hisfacetighteningwithconcentration,hepulledhisindexfingerfromhismouth,liftedthejartohislips,andgaveitagentlekiss.Normally,Iwouldnothavebeenmovedbyamancaressingajar,butthegesturewassosadandheartfelt,alumpformedinmythroat.
Hetwistedoffthelid.
“Good-bye,Apollo,”saidtheSibyl’svoice,clearernow.“Iforgiveyou.Notbecauseyoudeserveit.Notforyoursakeatall.ButbecauseIwillnotgointooblivioncarryinghatewhenIcancarrylove.”
EvenifIcould’vespoken,Iwouldn’thaveknownwhattosay.Iwasinshock.Hertoneaskedfornoreply,noapology.Shedidn’tneedorwantanythingfromme.ItwasalmostasifIweretheonebeingerased.
Harpocratesmetmygaze.Resentmentstillsmolderedinhiseyes,butIcouldtellhewastryingtoletitgo.Theeffortseemedevenharderforhimthankeepinghishandfromhismouth.
Withoutmeaningto,Iasked,Whyareyoudoingthis?Howcanyoujustagreetodie?
Itwasinmyinterestthathedidso,sure.Butitmadenosense.Hehadfoundanothersoultolivefor.Besides,toomanyotherpeoplehadalreadysacrificedthemselvesformyquests.
Iunderstoodnow,betterthanIeverhad,whydyingwassometimesnecessary.Asamortal,Ihadmadethatchoicejustafewminutesagoinordertosavemyfriends.Butagodagreeingtoceasehisexistence,especiallywhenhewasfreeandinlove?No.Icouldn’tcomprehendthat.
Harpocratesgavemeadrysmirk.Myconfusion,mysenseofnearpanicmusthavegivenhimwhatheneededtofinallystopbeingangryatme.Ofthetwoofus,hewasthewisergod.HeunderstoodsomethingIdidnot.Hecertainlywasn’tgoingtogivemeanyanswers.
Thesoundlessgodsentmeonelastimage:meatanaltar,makingasacrificetotheheavens.Iinterpretedthatasanorder:Makethisworthit.Don’tfail.
Thenheexhaleddeeply.Wewatched,stunned,ashebegantocrumble,hisfacecracking,hiscrowncollapsinglikeasand-castleturret.Hislastbreath,asilverglimmeroffadinglifeforce,swirledintotheglassjartobewiththeSibyl.Hehadjustenoughtimetotwistthelidclosedbeforehisarmsandchestturnedtochunksofdust,andthenHarpocrateswasgone.
Reynalungedforward,catchingthejarbeforeitcouldhitthefloor.“Thatwasclose,”shesaid,whichwashowIrealizedthegod’ssilencehad
beenbroken.Everythingseemedtooloud:myownbreathing,thesizzleofsevered
electricalwires,thecreakingofthecontainer’swallsinthewind.Megstillhadtheskintoneofalegume.ShestaredatthejarinReyna’shand
asifworrieditmightexplode.“Arethey…?”“Ithink—”Ichokedonmywords.Idabbedmyfaceandfoundmycheeks
werewet.“Ithinkthey’regone.Permanently.Harpocrates’slastbreathisallthat
remainsinthejarnow.”Reynapeeredthroughtheglass.“ButtheSibyl…?”Sheturnedtofaceme
andalmostdroppedthejar.“Mygods,Apollo.Youlookterrible.”“Ahorrorshow.Yes,Iremember.”“No.Imeanit’sworsenow.Theinfection.Whendidthathappen?”Megsquintedatmyface.“Oh,yuck.Wegottagetyouhealed,quick.”IwasgladIdidn’thaveamirrororaphonecameratoseehowIlooked.I
couldonlyassumethelinesofpurpleinfectionhadmadetheirwayupmyneckandwerenowdrawingfunnewpatternsonmycheeks.Ididn’tfeelanymorezombie-ish.Mystomachwounddidn’tthrobanyworsethanbefore.Butthatcould’vesimplymeantmynervoussystemwasshuttingdown.
“Helpmeup,please,”Isaid.Ittookbothofthemtodoso.Intheprocess,Iputonehandonthefloorto
bracemyself,amidtheshatteredfascesrods,andgotasplinterinmypalm.OfcourseIdid.
Iwobbledonspongylegs,leaningonReyna,thenonMeg,tryingtorememberhowtostand.Ididn’twanttolookattheglassjar,butIcouldn’thelpit.TherewasnosignofHarpocrates’ssilverylifeforceinside.Ihadtohavefaiththathislastbreathwasstillthere.Eitherthat,orwhenwetriedtodooursummoning,Iwoulddiscoverthathehadplayedaterriblefinaljokeonme.
AsfortheSibyl,Icouldn’tsenseherpresence.Iwassureherfinalgrainofsandhadslippedaway.ShehadchosentoexittheuniversewithHarpocrates—onelastsharedexperiencebetweentwounlikelylovers.
Ontheoutsideofthejar,theglueyremainsofapaperlabelclungtotheglass.IcouldjustmakeoutthefadedwordsSMUCKER’SGRAPE.Tarquinandtheemperorshadmuchtoanswerfor.
“Howcouldthey…?”Reynashivered.“Canagoddothat?Just…choosetostopexisting?”
IwantedtosayGodscandoanything,butthetruthwas,Ididn’tknow.Thebiggerquestionwas,whywouldagodevenwanttotry?
WhenHarpocrateshadgivenmethatlastdrysmile,hadhebeenhintingthatsomedayImightunderstand?Someday,wouldeventheOlympiansbeforgottenrelics,yearningfornonexistence?
Iusedmynailstopullthesplinterfrommypalm.Bloodpooled—regularredhumanblood.Itrandownthegrooveofmylifeline,whichwasnotagreatomen.GoodthingIdidn’tbelieveinsuchthings….
“Weneedtogetback,”Reynasaid.“Canyoumove—?”“Shh,”Meginterrupted,puttingafingertoherlips.IfearedshewasdoingthemostinappropriateHarpocratesimpersonation
ever.ThenIrealizedshewasquiteserious.Mynewlysensitiveearspickeduponwhatshewashearing—thefaint,distantcriesofangrybirds.Theravenswerereturning.
O,bloodmoonrisingTakearaincheckondoomsdayI’mstuckintraffic
WEEMERGEDFROMTHEshippingcontainerjustintimetogetdive-bombed.
AravenswoopedpastReynaandbitachunkoutofherhair.“OW!”sheyelled.“Allright,that’sit.Holdthis.”Sheshovedtheglassjarintomyhands,thenreadiedhersword.Asecondravencamewithinrangeandsheslasheditoutofthesky.Meg’s
twinbladeswhirled,Vitamixinganotherbirdintoablackcloud.Thatleftonlythirtyorfortymorebloodthirstyhangglidersofdoomswarmingthetower.
Angerswelledinme.IdecidedIwasdonewiththeravens’bitterness.Plentyoffolkshadvalidreasonstohateme:Harpocrates,theSibyl,Koronis,Daphne…maybeafewdozenothers.Okay,maybeafewhundredothers.Buttheravens?Theywerethriving!They’dgrowngigantic!Theylovedtheirnewjobsasflesh-eatingkillers.Enoughwiththeblame.
Isecuredtheglassjarinmybackpack.ThenIunslungthebowfrommyshoulder.
“Scramordie!”Iyelledatthebirds.“Yougetonewarning!”Theravenscawedandcroakedwithderision.Onedoveatmeandgotan
arrowbetweentheeyes.Itspiraleddownward,sheddingafunnelcloudoffeathers.
Ipickedanothertargetandshotitdown.Thenathird.Andafourth.Theravens’cawsbecamecriesofalarm.Theywidenedtheircircle,probably
thinkingtheycouldgetoutofrange.Iprovedthemwrong.Ikeptshootinguntil
tenweredead.Thenadozen.“Ibroughtextraarrowstoday!”Ishouted.“Whowantsthenextone?”Atlast,thebirdsgotthemessage.Withafewpartingscreeches—probably
unprintablecommentsaboutmyparentage—theybrokeofftheirassaultandflewnorthtowardMarinCounty.
“Nicework,”Megtoldme,retractingherblades.ThebestIcouldmanagewasanodandsomewheezing.Beadsofsweat
frozeonmyforehead.Mylegsfeltlikesoggyfrenchfries.Ididn’tseehowIcouldclimbbackdowntheladder,muchlessraceoffforafun-filledeveningofgod-summoning,combattothedeath,andpossiblyturningintoazombie.
“Oh,gods.”Reynastaredinthedirectiontheflockhadgone,herfingersabsentlyexploringherscalpwheretheravenhadsnappedoffahunkofherhair.
“It’llgrowback,”Isaid.“What?No,notmyhair.Look!”ShepointedtotheGoldenGateBridge.WemusthavebeeninsidetheshippingcontainermuchlongerthanI’d
realized.Thesunsatlowinthewesternsky.ThedaytimefullmoonhadrisenaboveMountTamalpais.Theafternoonheathadburnedawayallthefog,givingusaperfectviewofthewhitefleet—fiftybeautifulyachtsinVformation—glidingleisurelypastPointBonitaLighthouseattheedgeoftheMarinHeadlands,makingtheirwaytowardthebridge.Oncepastit,theywouldhavesmoothsailingintotheSanFranciscoBay.
Mymouthtastedlikegoddust.“Howlongdowehave?”Reynacheckedherwatch.“Thevappaearetakingtheirtime,butevenatthe
ratethey’resailing,they’llbeinpositiontofireonthecampbysunset.Maybetwohours?”
Underdifferentcircumstances,Imighthaveenjoyedheruseofthetermvappae.IthadbeenalongtimesinceI’dheardsomeonecalltheirenemiesspoiledwines.Inmodernparlance,theclosestmeaningwould’vebeenscumbags.
“Howlongwillittakeforustoreachcamp?”Iasked.“InFridayafternoontraffic?”Reynacalculated.“Alittlemorethantwo
hours.”Fromoneofhergardening-beltpouches,Megpulledafistfulofseeds.“I
guesswe’dbetterhurry,then.”
IwasnotfamiliarwithJackandtheBeanstalk.Itdidn’tsoundlikeaproperGreekmyth.
WhenMegsaidwe’dhavetouseaJack-and-the-Beanstalkexit,Ididn’thaveacluewhatshemeant,evenasshescatteredhandfulsofseedsdownthenearestpylon,causingthemtoexplodeintobloomuntilshe’dformedalatticeworkofplantmatterallthewaytotheground.
“Overyougo,”sheordered.“But—”“You’reinnoshapetoclimbtheladder,”shesaid.“This’llbefaster.Like
falling.Onlywithplants.”Ihatedthatdescription.Reynajustshrugged.“Whattheheck.”Shekickedonelegovertherailingandjumped.Theplantsgrabbedher,
passingherdowntheleafylatticeworkafewfeetatatimelikeabucketbrigade.Atfirstsheyelpedandflailedherarms,butabouthalfwaytotheground,sheshouteduptous,“NOT—THAT—BAD!”
Iwentnext.Itwasbad.Iscreamed.Igotflippedupsidedown.Iflounderedforsomethingtoholdonto,butIwascompletelyatthemercyofcreepersandferns.Itwaslikefree-fallingthroughaskyscraper-sizebagofleaves,ifthoseleaveswerestillaliveandverytouchy-feely.
Atthebottom,theplantssetmedowngentlyonthegrassnexttoReyna,wholookedlikeshe’dbeentarredandflowered.Meglandedbesideusandimmediatelycrumpledintomyarms.
“Lottaplants,”shemuttered.Hereyesrolledupinherhead.Shebegantosnore.Iguessedshewouldnot
beJackinganymorebeanstalkstoday.AurumandArgentumboundedover,waggingtheirtailsandyapping.The
hundredsofblackfeathersstrewnaroundtheparkinglottoldmethegreyhoundshadbeenhavingfunwiththebirdsI’dshotoutofthesky.
Iwasinnoconditiontowalk,muchlesscarryMeg,butsomehow,draggingherbetweenus,ReynaandImanagedtostumblebackdownthehillsidetothetruck.IsuspectedReynawasusingherBellona-mazingskillstolendmesomeofherstrength,thoughIdoubtedshehadmuchlefttospare.
WhenwereachedtheChevy,Reynawhistled.Herdogsjumpedintotheback.Wewrestledourunconsciousbeanstalkmasterintothemiddleofthebenchseat.Icollapsednexttoher.Reynacrankedtheignition,andwetoreoffdownthehill.
Ourprogresswasgreatforaboutninetyseconds.ThenwehittheCastroDistrictandgotstuckinFridaytrafficfunnelingtowardthehighway.ItwasalmostenoughtomakemewishforanotherbucketbrigadeofplantsthatcouldtossusbacktoOakland.
AfterourtimewithHarpocrates,everythingseemedobscenelyloud:theChevy’sengine,thechatterofpassingpedestrians,thethrumofsubwoofersfromothercars.Icradledmybackpack,tryingtotakecomfortinthefactthattheglassjarwasintact.Wehadgottenwhatwecamefor,thoughIcouldhardlybelievetheSibylandHarpocratesweregone.
Iwouldhavetoprocessmyshockandgrieflater,assumingIlived.Ineededtofigureoutawaytoproperlyhonortheirpassing.Howdidonecommemoratethedeathofagodofsilence?Amomentofsilenceseemedsuperfluous.Perhapsamomentofscreaming?
Firstthingsfirst:survivetonight’sbattle.ThenIwouldfigureoutthescreaming.
Reynamusthavenoticedmyworriedexpression.“Youdidgoodbackthere,”shesaid.“Yousteppedup.”Reynasoundedsincere.Butherpraisejustmademefeelmoreashamed.“I’mholdingthelastbreathofagodIbullied,”Isaidmiserably,“inthejar
ofaSibylIcursed,whowasprotectedbybirdsIturnedintokillingmachinesaftertheytattledaboutmycheatinggirlfriend,whoIsubsequentlyhadassassinated.”
“Alltrue,”Reynasaid.“Butthethingis,yourecognizeitnow.”“Itfeelshorrible.”Shegavemeathinsmile.“That’skindofthepoint.Youdosomethingevil,
youfeelbadaboutit,youdobetter.That’sasignyoumightbedevelopingaconscience.”
Itriedtorememberwhichofthegodshadcreatedthehumanconscience.Hadwecreatedit,orhadhumansjustdevelopeditontheirown?Givingmortalsasenseofdecencydidn’tseemlikethesortofthingagodwouldbragaboutontheirprofilepage.
“I—Iappreciatewhatyou’resaying,”Imanaged.“ButmypastmistakesalmostgotyouandMegkilled.IfHarpocrateshaddestroyedyouwhenyouweretryingtoprotectme…”
Theideawastooawfultocontemplate.Myshinynewconsciencewouldhaveblownupinsidemelikeagrenade.
Reynagavemeabriefpatontheshoulder.“AllwedidwasshowHarpocrateshowmuchyou’vechanged.Herecognizedit.Haveyoucompletelymadeupforallthebadthingsyou’vedone?No.Butyoukeepaddingtothe‘goodthings’column.That’sallanyofuscando.”
Addingtothe“goodthings”column.ReynaspokeofthissuperpowerasifitwereoneIcouldactuallypossess.
“Thankyou,”Isaid.
Shestudiedmyfacewithconcern,probablynotinghowfarthepurplevinesofinfectionhadwriggledtheirwayacrossmycheeks.“Youcanthankmebystayingalive,okay?Weneedyouforthatsummoningritual.”
AsweclimbedtheentranceramptoInterstate80,Icaughtglimpsesofthebaybeyondthedowntownskyline.TheyachtshadnowslippedundertheGoldenGateBridge.Apparently,thecuttingofHarpocrates’scordsandthedestructionofthefasceshadn’tdeterredtheemperorsatall.
StretchingoutinfrontofthebigvesselsweresilverwakelinesfromdozensofsmallerboatsmakingtheirwaytowardtheEastBayshoreline.Landingparties,Iguessed.Andthoseboatsweremovingawholelotfasterthanwewere.
OverMountTam,thefullmoonrose,slowlyturningthecolorofDakota’sKool-Aid.
Meanwhile,AurumandArgentumbarkedcheerfullyinthetruckbed.Reynadrummedherfingersonthesteeringwheelandmurmured,“Vamonos.Vamonos.”Megleanedagainstme,snoringanddroolingonmyshirt.Becauseshelovedmesomuch.
WewereinchingourwayontotheBayBridgewhenReynafinallysaid,“Ican’tstandthis.Theshipsshouldn’thavemadeitpasttheGoldenGate.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Iasked.“Opentheglovecompartment,please.Shouldbeascrollinside.”Ihesitated.Whoknewwhatsortofdangersmightlurkintheglove
compartmentofapraetor’spickuptruck?Cautiously,Irummagedpastherinsurancedocuments,afewpackagesoftissues,somebaggiesofdogtreats….
“This?”Iheldupafloppycylinderofvellum.“Yeah.Unrollitandseeifitworks.”“Youmeanit’sacommunicationscroll?”Shenodded.“I’ddoitmyself,butit’sdangeroustodriveandscroll.”“Um,okay.”Ispreadthevellumacrossmylap.Itssurfaceappearedblank.Nothinghappened.IwonderedifIwassupposedtosaysomemagicwordsorgiveitacredit
cardnumberorsomething.Then,abovethescroll,afaintballoflightflickered,slowlyresolvingintoaminiatureholographicFrankZhang.
“Whoa!”TinyFranknearlyjumpedoutofhistinyarmor.“Apollo?”“Hi,”Isaid.ThentoReyna,“Itworks.”“Iseethat,”shesaid.“Frank,canyouhearme?”Franksquinted.Wemusthavelookedtinyandfuzzytohim,too.“Isthat…?
Canbarely…Reyna?”“Yes!”shesaid.“We’reonourwayback.Theshipsareincoming!”“Iknow….Scout’sreport…”Frank’svoicecrackled.Heseemedtobein
somesortoflargecave,legionnaireshustlingbehindhim,diggingholesandcarryinglargeurnsofsomekind.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Reynaasked.“Whereareyou?”“Caldecott…”Franksaid.“Just…defensivestuff.”Iwasn’tsureifhisvoicefuzzedoutthattimebecauseofstatic,orifhewas
beingevasive.Judgingfromhisexpression,we’dcaughthimatanawkwardmoment.
“Anyword…Michael?”heasked.(Definitelychangingthesubject.)“Should’ve…bynow.”
“What?”Reynaasked,loudenoughtomakeMegsnortinhersleep.“No,Iwasgoingtoaskifyou’dheardanything.TheyweresupposedtostoptheyachtsattheGoldenGate.Sincetheshipsgotthrough…”Hervoicefaltered.
TherecouldhavebeenadozenreasonswhyMichaelKahaleandhiscommandoteamhadfailedtostoptheemperors’yachts.Noneofthemweregood,andnoneofthemcouldchangewhatwouldhappennext.TheonlythingsnowstandingbetweenCampJupiterandfieryannihilationweretheemperors’pride,whichmadetheminsistonmakingagroundassaultfirst,andanemptySmucker’sjellyjarthatmightormightnotallowustosummongodlyhelp.
“Justhangon!”Reynasaid.“TellEllatogetthingsreadyfortheritual!”“Can’t…What?”Frank’sfacemeltedtoasmudgeofcoloredlight.Hisvoice
soundedlikegravelshakinginanaluminumcan.“I…Hazel…Needto—”Thescrollburstintoflames,whichwasnotwhatmycrotchneededatthat
particularmoment.IswattedthecindersoffmypantsasMegwoke,yawningandblinking.“What’dyoudo?”shedemanded.“Nothing!Ididn’tknowthemessagewouldself-destruct!”“Badconnection,”Reynaguessed.“Thesilencemustbebreakingupslowly
—like,workingitswayoutwardfromtheepicenteratSutroTower.Weoverheatedthescroll.”
“That’spossible.”Istompedoutthelastbitsofsmolderingvellum.“Hopefullywe’llbeabletosendanIris-messageoncewereachcamp.”
“Ifwereachcamp,”Reynagrumbled.“Thistraffic…Oh.”Shepointedtoablinkingroadsignaheadofus:HWY24ECLOSEDAT
CALDECOTTTUNLFOREMERGMAINTENANCE.SEEKALTROUTES.“Emergencymaintenance?”saidMeg.“Youthinkit’stheMistagain,
clearingpeopleout?”“Maybe.”Reynafrownedatthelinesofcarsinfrontofus.“Nowonder
everything’sbackedup.WhatwasFrankdoinginthetunnel?Wedidn’tdiscussany…”Sheknithereyebrows,asifanunpleasantthoughthadoccurredtoher.
“Wehavetogetback.Fast.”“Theemperorswillneedtimetoorganizetheirgroundassault,”Isaid.“They
won’tlaunchtheirballistaeuntilafterthey’vetriedtotakethecampintact.Maybe…maybethetrafficwillslowthemdown,too.They’llhavetoseekalternateroutes.”
“They’reonboats,dummy,”saidMeg.Shewasright.Andoncetheassaultforceslanded,they’dbemarchingon
foot,notdriving.Still,IlikedtheimageoftheemperorsandtheirarmyapproachingtheCaldecottTunnel,seeingabunchofflashingsignsandorangecones,anddeciding,Well,darn.We’llhavetocomebacktomorrow.
“Wecouldditchthetruck,”Reynamused.Thensheglancedatusandclearlydismissedtheidea.Noneofuswasinanyshapetorunahalf-marathonfromthemiddleoftheBayBridgetoCampJupiter.
Shemutteredacurse.“Weneed…Ah!”Justahead,amaintenancetruckwastrundlingalong,aworkeronthetailgate
pickingupconesthathadbeenblockingtheleftlaneforsomeunknownreason.Typical.Fridayatrushhour,withtheCaldecottTunnelshutdown,obviouslywhatyouwantedtodowascloseonelaneoftrafficonthearea’sbusiestbridge.Thismeant,however,thataheadofthemaintenancetruck,therewasanempty,extremelyillegal-to-drive-inlanethatstretchedasfarastheLestercouldsee.
“Holdon,”Reynawarned.Andassoonasweedgedpastthemaintenancetruck,sheswervedinfrontofit,plowingdownahalfdozencones,andgunnedtheengine.
Themaintenancetruckblareditshornandflasheditsheadlights.Reyna’sgreyhoundsbarkedandwaggedtheirtailsinreplylike,Seeya!
IimaginedwewouldhaveafewCaliforniaHighwayPatrolvehiclesreadytochaseusatthebottomofthebridge,butforthetimebeing,weblastedpasttrafficatspeedsthatwouldhavebeencreditableevenformysunchariot.
WereachedtheOaklandside.Stillnosignofpursuit.Reynaveeredonto580,smashingthroughalineoforangedelineatorpostsandrocketingupthemergerampforHighway24.ShepolitelyignoredtheguysinhardhatswhowavedtheirorangeDANGERsignsandscreamedthingsatus.
Wehadfoundouralternateroute.Itwastheregularrouteweweren’tsupposedtotake.
Iglancedbehindus.Nocopsyet.Outinthewater,theemperors’yachtshadpassedTreasureIslandandwereleisurelytakinguppositions,forminganecklaceofbillion-dollarluxurydeathmachinesacrossthebay.Isawnotraceofthesmallerlandingcraft,whichmeanttheymusthavereachedtheshore.Thatwasn’tgood.
Onthebrightside,weweremakinggreattime.Wesoaredalongtheoverpassallbyourselves,ourdestinationonlyafewmilesaway.
“We’regoingtomakeit,”Isaid,likeafool.Onceagain,IhadbrokentheFirstLawofPercyJackson:Neversay
somethingisgoingtoworkout,becauseassoonasyoudo,itwon’t.KALUMP!Aboveourheads,foot-shapedindentationsappearedinthetruck’sceiling.
Thevehiclelurchedundertheextraweight.Itwasdéjàghoulalloveragain.AurumandArgentumbarkedwildly.“Eurynomos!”Megyelled.“Wheredotheycomefrom?”Icomplained.“Dotheyjusthangaroundon
highwaysignsallday,waitingtodrop?”Clawspuncturedthemetalandupholstery.Iknewwhatwouldhappennext:
skylightinstallation.Reynashouted,“Apollo,takethewheel!Meg,gaspedal!”Foraheartbeat,Ithoughtshemeantthatassomekindofprayer.Inmoments
ofpersonalcrisis,myfollowersoftenusedtoimploreme:Apollo,takethewheel,hopingIwouldguidethemthroughtheirproblems.Mostofthetime,though,theydidn’tmeanitliterally,norwasIphysicallysittinginthepassenger’sseat,nordidtheyaddanythingaboutMegandgaspedals.
Reynadidn’twaitformetofigureitout.Shereleasedhergripandreachedbehindherseat,gropingforaweapon.Ilungedacrossandgrabbedthewheel.Megputherfootontheaccelerator.
QuartersweremuchtoocloseforReynatousehersword,butthatdidn’tbotherher.Reynahaddaggers.Sheunsheathedone,glaredattheroofbendingandbreakingaboveus,andmuttered,“Nobodymesseswithmytruck.”
Alothappenedinthenexttwoseconds.Theroofrippedopen,revealingthefamiliar,disgustingsightofafly-colored
eurynomos,itswhiteeyesbulging,itsfangsdrippingwithsaliva,itsvulture-featherloinclothflutteringinthewind.
Thesmellofrancidmeatwaftedintothecab,makingmystomachturn.Allthezombiepoisoninmysystemseemedtoigniteatonce.
Theeurynomosscreamed,“FOOOOOOO—”Itsbattlecrywascutshort,however,whenReynalaunchedherselfupward
andimpaledherdaggerstraightupitsvulturediaper.Shehadapparentlybeenstudyingtheweakspotsoftheghouls.Shehad
foundone.Theeurynomostoppledoffthetruck,whichwouldhavebeenwonderful,exceptthatI,too,feltlikeIhadbeenstabbedinthediaper.
Isaid,“Glurg.”Myhandslippedoffthewheel.Meghittheacceleratorinalarm.WithReyna
stillhalfoutofthecab,hergreyhoundshowlingfuriously,ourChevyveeredacrosstherampandcrashedstraightthroughtheguardrail.Luckyme.Onceagain,IwentflyingoffanEastBayhighwayinacarthatcouldn’tfly.
WehaveaspecialTodayonslightlyusedtrucksThanks,Targetshoppers
MYSONASCLEPIUSONCEexplainedthepurposeofphysicalshocktome.Hesaidit’sasafetymechanismforcopingwithtrauma.Whenthehuman
brainexperiencessomethingtooviolentandfrighteningtoprocess,itjuststopsrecording.Minutes,hours,evendayscanbeacompleteblankinthevictim’smemory.
PerhapsthisexplainedwhyIhadnorecollectionoftheChevycrashing.Afterhurtlingthroughtheguardrail,thenextthingIrememberedwasstumblingaroundtheparkinglotofaTargetstore,pushingathree-wheeledshoppingcartfilledwithMeg.Iwasmutteringthelyricsto“(Sittin’on)TheDockoftheBay.”Meg,semiconscious,waslistlesslywavingonehand,tryingtoconduct.
Mycartbumpedintoasteamingcrumpledheapofmetal—aredChevySilveradowithitstirespopped,itswindshieldbroken,anditsairbagsdeployed.Someinconsideratedriverhadplummetedfromtheheavensandlandedrightontopofthecartreturn,smashingadozenshoppingcartsbeneaththeweightofthepickup.
Whowoulddosuchathing?Wait…Iheardgrowling.Afewcar-lengthsaway,twometalgreyhoundsstood
protectivelyovertheirwoundedmaster,keepingasmallcrowdofspectatorsatbay.Ayoungwomaninmaroonandgold(Right,Irememberedher!Shelikedtolaughatme!)wasproppedonherelbows,grimacingmightily,herleftlegbentatanunnaturalangle.Herfacewasthesamecolorastheasphalt.
“Reyna!”IwedgedMeg’sshoppingcartagainstthetruckandrantohelpthepraetor.AurumandArgentumletmethrough.
“Oh.Oh.Oh.”Icouldn’tseemtosayanythingelse.Ishould’veknownwhattodo.Iwasahealer.Butthatbreakintheleg—yikes.
“I’malive,”Reynasaidthroughgrittedteeth.“Meg?”“She’sconducting,”Isaid.OneoftheTargetshoppersinchedforward,bravingthefuryofthedogs.“I
callednine-one-one.IsthereanythingelseIcando?”“She’llbefine!”Iyelped.“Thankyou!I—I’madoctor?”Themortalwomanblinked.“Areyouaskingme?”“No.I’madoctor!”“Hey,”saidasecondshopper.“Yourotherfriendisrollingaway.”“ACK!”IranafterMeg,whowasmuttering“Whee”asshepickedupsteam
inherredplasticcart.IgrabbedthehandlesandnavigatedherbacktoReyna’sside.
Thepraetortriedtomovebutchokedonthepain.“Imight…blackout.”“No,no,no.”Think,Apollo,think.ShouldIwaitforthemortalparamedics,
whoknewnothingofambrosiaandnectar?ShouldIcheckformorefirst-aidsuppliesinMeg’sgardeningbelt?
Afamiliarvoicefromacrosstheparkinglotyelled,“Thankyou,everybody!We’lltakeitfromhere!”
LaviniaAsimovjoggedtowardus,adozennaiadsandfaunsinherwake,manyofwhomIrecognizedfromPeople’sPark.Mostweredressedincamouflage,coveredwithvinesandbranchesliketheyhadjustarrivedviabeanstalk.Laviniaworepinkcamopantsandagreentanktop,hermanubalistaclankingagainsthershoulder.Withherspikypinkhairandpinkeyebrows,herjawworkingfuriouslyonawadofbubblegum,shejustradiatedauthorityfigure.
“Thisisnowanactiveinvestigationscene!”sheannouncedtothemortals.“Thankyou,Targetshoppers.Pleasemovealong!”
Eitherthetoneofhervoiceorthebarkingofthegreyhoundsfinallyconvincedtheonlookerstodisperse.Nevertheless,sirenswereblaringinthedistance.Soonwe’dbesurroundedbyparamedics,orthehighwaypatrol,orboth.Mortalsweren’tnearlyasusedtovehicleshurtlingoffhighwayoverpassesasIwas.
Istaredatourpink-hairedfriend.“Lavinia,whatareyoudoinghere?”“Secretmission,”sheannounced.“That’scacaseca,”Reynagrumbled.“Youleftyourpost.You’reinsomuch
trouble.”
Lavinia’snature-spiritfriendslookedjumpy,liketheywereonthevergeofscattering,buttheirpink-frostedleadercalmedthemwithaglance.Reyna’sgreyhoundsdidn’tsnarlorattack,whichIguessedmeantthey’ddetectednoliesfromLavinia.
“Allduerespect,Praetor,”shesaid,“butitlookslikeyou’reinmoretroublethanIamatthemoment.Harold,Felipe—stabilizeherlegandlet’sgetheroutofthisparkinglotbeforemoremortalsarrive.Reginald,pushMeg’scart.Lotoya,retrievewhateversuppliestheyhaveinthetruck,please.I’llhelpApollo.Wemakeforthosewoods.Now!”
Lavinia’sdefinitionofwoodswasgenerous.Iwould’vecalleditagulleywhereshoppingcartswenttodie.Still,herPeople’sParkplatoonworkedwithsurprisingefficiency.Inamatterofminutes,theyhadusallsafelyhiddenintheditchamongthebrokencartsandtrash-festoonedtrees,justasemergencyvehiclescamewailingintotheparkinglot.
HaroldandFelipesplintedReyna’sleg—whichonlycausedhertoscreamandthrowupalittle.TwootherfaunsconstructedastretcherforheroutofbranchesandoldclothingwhileAurumandArgentumtriedtohelpbybringingthemsticks…orperhapstheyjustwantedtoplayfetch.ReginaldextricatedMegfromhershoppingcartandrevivedherwithhand-fedbitsofambrosia.
Acoupleofdryadscheckedmeforinjuries—meaningevenmoreinjuriesthanI’dhadbefore—buttherewasn’tmuchtheycoulddo.Theydidn’tlikethelookofmyzombie-infectedface,orthewaytheundeadinfectionmademesmell.Unfortunately,myconditionwasbeyondanynature-spirithealing.
Astheymovedoff,onemutteredtoherfriend,“Onceitgetsfullydark…”“Iknow,”saidherfriend.“Withabloodmoontonight?Poorguy…”Idecidedtoignorethem.Itseemedthebestwaytoavoidburstingintotears.Lotoya—whomusthavebeenaredwooddryad,judgingfromherburgundy
complexionandimpressivesize—crouchednexttomeanddepositedallthesuppliesshe’dretrievedfromthetruck.Igrabbedfrantically—notformybowandquiver,orevenformyukulele,butformybackpack.IalmostfaintedwithreliefwhenIfoundtheSmucker’sjarinside,stillintact.
“Thankyou,”Itoldher.Shenoddedsomberly.“Agoodjellyjarishardtofind.”Reynastruggledtositupamongthefaunsfussingoverher.“We’rewasting
time.Wehavetogetbacktocamp!”Laviniaarchedherpinkeyebrows.“You’renotgoinganywherewiththatleg,
Praetor.Evenifyoucould,youwouldn’tbemuchhelp.Wecanhealyoufasterif
youjustrelax—”“Relax?Thelegionneedsme!Itneedsyoutoo,Lavinia!Howcouldyou
desert?”“Okay,first,Ididn’tdesert.Youdon’tknowallthefacts.”“Youleftcampwithoutleave.You—”Reynaleanedforwardtoofastand
gaspedinagony.Thefaunstookhershoulders.Theyhelpedhertositback,easingherontothenewstretcherwithitslovelypaddingofmoss,trash,andoldtie-dyedT-shirts.
“Youleftyourcomrades,”Reynacroaked.“Yourfriends.”“I’mrighthere,”Laviniasaid.“I’mgoingtoaskFelipetolullyoutosleep
nowsoyoucanrestandheal.”“No!You…youcan’trunaway.”Laviniasnorted.“Whosaidanythingaboutrunningaway?Remember,
Reyna,thiswasyourbackupplan.PlanLforLavinia!Whenweallgetbacktocamp,you’regoingtothankme.You’lltelleverybodythiswasyouridea.”
“What?Iwouldnever…Ididn’tgiveyouanysuch…Thisismutiny!”Iglancedatthegreyhounds,waitingforthemtorisetotheirmaster’sdefense
andtearLaviniaapart.Strangely,theyjustkeptcirclingReyna,occasionallylickingherfaceorsniffingherbrokenleg.Theyseemedconcernedabouthercondition,butnotatallaboutLavinia’srebelliouslies.
“Lavinia,”Reynapleaded,“I’llhavetobringyouupondesertioncharges.Don’tdothis.Don’tmakeme—”
“Now,Felipe,”Laviniaordered.Thefaunraisedhispanpipesandplayedalullaby,softandlow,rightnextto
Reyna’shead.“Can’t!”Reynastruggledtokeephereyesopen.“Won’t.Ahhggghh.”Shewentlimpandbegantosnore.“That’sbetter.”Laviniaturnedtome.“Don’tworry,I’llleavehersomeplace
safewithacoupleoffauns,andofcourseAurumandArgentum.She’llbetakencareofwhilesheheals.YouandMeg,dowhatyouneedtodo.”
Herconfidentstanceandhertake-chargetonemadeheralmostunrecognizableasthegawky,nervouslegionnairewe’dmetatLakeTemescal.SheremindedmemoreofReynanow,andofMeg.Mostly,though,sheseemedlikeastrongerversionofherself—aLaviniawhohaddecidedwhatsheneededtodoandwouldnotrestuntilshedidit.
“Whereareyougoing?”Iasked,stillutterlyconfused.“Whywon’tyoucomebacktocampwithus?”
Megstumbledover,ambrosiacrumblesstuckaroundhermouth.“Don’tpesterher,”shetoldme.ThentoLavinia:“IsPeaches…?”
Laviniashookherhead.“HeandDonarewiththeadvancegroup,makingcontactwiththeNereids.”
Megpouted.“Yeah.Okay.Theemperors’groundforces?”Lavinia’sexpressionturnedsomber.“Theyalreadypassedby.Wehidand
watched.Yeah…It’snotgood.I’msurethey’llbeincombatwiththelegionbythetimeyougetthere.YourememberthepathItoldyouabout?”
“Yeah,”Megagreed.“Okay,goodluck.”“Whoa,whoa,whoa.”Itriedtomakeatime-outsign,thoughmy
uncoordinatedhandsmadeitlookmorelikeatent.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?Whatpath?Whywouldyoucomeoutherejusttohideastheenemyarmypassesby?WhyarePeachesandDontalkingto…Wait.Nereids?”
Nereidsarespiritsofthesea.Thenearestoneswouldbe…Oh.Icouldn’tseemuchfromourtrash-filledgulley.Idefinitelycouldn’tseethe
SanFranciscoBay,orthestringofyachtstakinguppositiontofireonthecamp.ButIknewwewereclose.
IlookedatLaviniawithnewfoundrespect.Ordisrespect.Whichisitwhenyourealizethatsomeoneyouknewwascrazyisactuallyevencrazierthanyoususpected?
“Lavinia,youarenotplanning—”“Stoprightthere,”shewarned,“orI’llhaveFelipeputyoudownforanap,
too.”“ButMichaelKahale—”“Yeah,weknow.Hefailed.Theemperors’troopswerebraggingaboutitas
theymarchedpast.It’sonemorethingtheyhavetopayfor.”Bravewords,buthereyesbetrayedaflickerofworry,tellingmeshewas
moreterrifiedthansheleton.Shewashavingtroublekeepingupherowncourageandpreventinghermakeshifttroopsfromlosingtheirnerve.Shedidnotneedmeremindingherhowinsaneherplanwas.
“We’veallgotalottodo,”shesaid.“Goodluck.”SheruffledMeg’shair,whichdidnotneedanymoreruffling.“Dryadsandfauns,let’smove!”
HaroldandFelipepickedupReyna’smakeshiftstretcherandjoggedoffdownthegully,AurumandArgentumboundingaroundthemlike,Oh,boy,anotherhike!Laviniaandtheothersfollowed.Soontheywerelostintheunderbrush,vanishingintotheterrainasonlynaturespiritsandgirlswithbrightpinkhaircando.
Megstudiedmyface.“Youwhole?”Ialmostwantedtolaugh.Wherehadshepickedupthatexpression?Ihad
zombiepoisoncoursingthroughmybodyandupintomyface.Thedryads
thoughtIwouldturnintoashamblingundeadminionofTarquinassoonasitgotfullydark.Iwasshakingfromexhaustionandfear.Weapparentlyhadanenemyarmybetweenusandcamp,andLaviniawasleadingasuicideattackontheimperialfleetwithinexperiencednaturespirits,whenanactualelitecommandoforcehadalreadyfailed.
WhenhadIlastfelt“whole”?IwantedtobelieveitwasbackwhenIwasagod,butthatwasn’ttrue.Ihadn’tbeencompletelymyselfforcenturies.Maybemillennia.
Atthemoment,Ifeltmorelikeahole—avoidinthecosmosthroughwhichHarpocrates,theSibyl,andalotofpeopleIcaredabouthadvanished.
“I’llmanage,”Isaid.“Good,becauselook.”MegpointedtowardtheOaklandHills.IthoughtI
wasseeingfog,butfogdidn’triseverticallyfromhillsides.ClosetotheperimeterofCampJupiter,fireswereburning.
“Weneedwheels,”saidMeg.
WelcometothewarWehopeyouenjoyyourdeathPleasecomeagainsoon!
OKAY,BUTWHYDIDithavetobebicycles?Iunderstoodthatcarswereadeal-breaker.Wehadcrashedenoughvehicles
foroneweek.Iunderstoodthatjoggingtocampwasoutofthequestion,giventhefactthatwecouldbarelystand.
Butwhydidn’tdemigodshavesomesortofride-shareappforsummoninggianteagles?IdecidedIwouldcreateoneassoonasIbecameagodagain.RightafterIfiguredoutawaytoletdemigodsusesmartphonessafely.
AcrossthestreetfromTargetstoodarackofcanary-yellowGo-Globikes.Meginsertedacreditcardintothekiosk(whereshegotthecard,Ihadnoidea),freedtwocyclesfromtherack,andofferedonetome.
Joyandhappiness.Nowwecouldpedalintobattleliketheneon-yellowwarriorsofold.
Wetookthesidestreetsandsidewalks,usingthecolumnsofsmokeinthehillstoguideourway.WithHighway24closed,trafficwassnarledeverywhere,angrydrivershonkingandyellingandthreateningviolence.Iwastemptedtotellthemthatiftheyreallywantedafight,theycouldjustfollowus.Wecoulduseafewthousandangrycommutersonourside.
AswepassedtheRockridgeBARTstation,wespottedthefirstenemytroops.Pandaipatrolledtheelevatedplatform,withfurryblackearsfoldedaroundthemselveslikefirefighterturnoutcoats,andflat-headaxesintheirhands.FiretruckswereparkedalongCollegeAvenue,theirlightsstrobingintheunderpass.Morefaux-firefighterpandaiguardedthestationdoors,turningaway
mortals.Ihopedtherealfirefighterswereokay,becausefirefightersareimportantandalsobecausetheyarehot,andno,thatwasn’trelevantrightthen.
“Thisway!”Megveeredupthesteepesthillshecouldfind,justtoannoyme.IwasforcedtostandasIpedaled,pushingwithallmyweighttomakeprogressagainsttheincline.
Atthesummit,morebadnews.Infrontofus,arrayedacrossthehigherhills,troopsmarcheddoggedly
towardCampJupiter.Thereweresquadsofblemmyae,pandai,andevensomesix-armedEarthbornwhohadservedGaeaintheRecentUnpleasantness,allfightingtheirwaythroughflamingtrenches,stakedbarricades,andRomanskirmisherstryingtoputmyarcherylessonstogooduse.Intheearlyeveninggloom,Icouldonlyseebitsandpiecesofthebattle.Judgingfromthemassofglitteringarmorandtheforestofbattlepennants,themainpartoftheemperors’armywasconcentratedonHighway24,forcingitswaytowardtheCaldecottTunnel.Enemycatapultshurledprojectilestowardthelegion’spositions,butmostdisappearedinburstsofpurplelightassoonastheygotclose.IassumedthatwastheworkofTerminus,doinghisparttodefendthecamp’sborders.
Meanwhile,atthebaseofthetunnel,flashesoflightningpinpointedthelocationofthelegion’sstandard.Tendrilsofelectricityzigzaggeddownthehillsides,arcingthroughenemylinesandfryingthemtodust.CampJupiter’sballistaelaunchedgiantflamingspearsattheinvaders,rakingthroughtheirlinesandstartingmoreforestfires.Theemperors’troopskeptcoming.
Theonesmakingthebestprogresswerehuddledbehindlargearmoredvehiclesthatcrawledoneightlegsand…Oh,gods.Mygutsfeltlikethey’dgottentangledinmybikechain.Thoseweren’tvehicles.
“Myrmekes,”Isaid.“Meg,thosearemyr—”“Iseethem.”Shedidn’tevenslowdown.“Itdoesn’tchangeanything.Come
on!”Howcoulditnotchangeanything?We’dfacedanestofthosegiantantsat
CampHalf-Bloodandbarelysurvived.MeghadnearlybeenpulpedintoGerber’slarvaepurée.
Nowwewereconfrontingmyrmekestrainedforwar,snappingtreesinhalfwiththeirpincersandsprayingacidtomeltthroughthecamp’sdefensivepickets.
Thiswasabrand-newflavorofhorrible.“We’llnevergetthroughtheirlines!”Iprotested.“Lavinia’ssecrettunnel.”“Itcollapsed!”“Notthattunnel.Adifferentsecrettunnel.”
“Howmanydoesshehave?”“Dunno.Alot?C’mon.”Withthatrousingoratorycomplete,Megpedaledonward.Ifollowed,having
nothingbettertodo.Sheledmeupadead-endstreettoageneratorstationatthebaseofan
electricaltower.Theareawasringedinbarbed-wirefencing,butthegatestoodwideopen.IfMeghadtoldmetoclimbthetower,Iwouldhavegivenupandmademypeacewithzombieeternity.Instead,shepointedtothesideofthegenerator,wheremetaldoorsweresetintotheconcreteliketheentrancetoastormcellarorabombshelter.
“Holdmybike,”shesaid.Shejumpedoffandsummonedoneofherswords.Withasinglestrike,she
slashedthroughthepadlockedchains,thenpulledopenthedoors,revealingadarkshaftslantingdownwardataprecariousangle.
“Perfect,”shesaid.“It’sbigenoughtoridethrough.”“What?”ShehoppedbackonherGo-Gloandplungedintothetunnel,theclick,click,
clickofherbikechainechoingofftheconcretewalls.“Youhaveaverybroaddefinitionofperfect,”Imuttered.ThenIcoastedin
afterher.Muchtomysurprise,inthetotaldarknessofthetunnel,theGo-Globike
actually,well,glowed.IsupposeIshouldhaveexpectedthat.Aheadofme,Icouldseethefaint,fuzzyapparitionofMeg’sneonwarmachine.WhenIlookeddown,theyellowauraofmyownbikewasalmostblinding.Itdidlittletohelpmenavigatedownthesteepshaft,butitwouldmakemeamucheasiertargetforenemiestopickoutinthegloom.Hooray!
Againstallodds,Ididnotwipeoutandbreakmyneck.Thetunnelleveled,thenbegantoclimbagain.Iwonderedwhohadexcavatedthispassagewayandwhytheyhadn’tinstalledaconvenientliftsystemsoIdidn’thavetoexpendsomuchenergypedaling.
Somewhereoverhead,anexplosionshookthetunnel,whichwasexcellentmotivationtokeepmoving.Afterabitmoresweatingandgasping,IrealizedIcoulddiscernadimsquareoflightaheadofus—anexitcoveredinbranches.
Megburststraightthroughit.Iwobbledafterher,emerginginalandscapelitbyfireandlightningandringingwiththesoundsofchaos.
Wehadarrivedinthemiddleofthewarzone.
Iwillgiveyoufreeadvice.
Ifyouplantopopintoabattle,theplaceyoudonotwanttobeisinthemiddleofit.Irecommendtheveryback,wherethegeneraloftenhasacomfortabletentwithhorsd’oeuvresandbeverages.
Butthemiddle?No.Alwaysbad,especiallyifyouarriveoncanary-yellowglow-in-the-darkbikes.
AssoonasMegandIemerged,wewerespottedbyadozenlargehumanoidscoveredinshaggyblondhair.Theypointedatusandbegantoscream.
Khromandae.Wow.Ihadn’tseenanyoftheirkindsinceDionysus’sdrunkeninvasionofIndiabackintheBCE.Theirspecieshasgorgeousgrayeyes,butthat’sabouttheonlyflatteringthingIcansayaboutthem.Theirdirty,shaggyblondpeltsmakethemlooklikeMuppetswhohavebeenusedasdustrags.Theirdogliketeethclearlynevergetaproperflossing.Theyarestrong,aggressive,andcanonlycommunicateinearsplittingshrieks.IonceaskedAresandAphroditeiftheKhromandaeweretheirsecretlovechildrenfromtheirlongstandingaffair,becausetheyweresuchaperfectmixofthetwoOlympians.AresandAphroditedidnotfindthatfunny.
Meg,likeanyreasonablechildwhenconfrontedwithadozenhairygiants,hoppedoffherbike,summonedherswords,andcharged.Iyelpedinalarmanddrewmybow.Iwaslowonarrowsafterplayingcatchwiththeravens,butImanagedtoslaysixoftheKhromandaebeforeMegreachedthem.Despitehowexhaustedshemust’vebeen,shehandilydispatchedtheremainingsixwithablurofhergoldenblades.
Ilaughed—actuallylaughed—withsatisfaction.Itfeltsogoodtobeadecentarcheragain,andtowatchMegatherswordplay.Whatateamwemade!
That’soneofthedangersofbeinginabattle.(Alongwithgettingkilled.)Whenthingsaregoingwell,youtendtogettunnelvision.Youzeroinonyourlittleareaandforgetthebigpicture.AsMeggavethelastKhromandaahaircutstraightthroughthechest,Iallowedmyselftothinkthatwewerewinning!
ThenIscannedoursurroundings,andIrealizedweweresurroundedbyawholelotofnotwinning.Gargantuanantstrampledtheirwaytowardus,spewingacidtoclearthehillsideofskirmishers.SeveralsteamingbodiesinRomanarmorsprawledintheunderbrush,andIdidnotwanttothinkaboutwhotheymighthavebeenorhowtheyhaddied.
PandaiinblackKevlarandhelmets,almostinvisibleinthedusk,glidedaroundontheirhugeparasailears,droppingontoanyunsuspectingdemigodtheycouldfind.Higherup,gianteaglesfoughtwithgiantravens,theirwingtipsglintinginthebloodredmoonlight.Justahundredyardstomyleft,wolf-headedcynocephalihowledastheyboundedintobattle,crashingintotheshieldsofthe
nearestcohort(theThird?),whichlookedsmallandaloneandcriticallyundermannedinaseaofbadguys.
Thatwasonlyonourhill.Icouldseefiresburningacrossthewholewesternfrontalongthevalley’sborders—maybehalfamileofpatchworkbattles.Ballistaelaunchedglowingspearsfromthesummits.Catapultshurledbouldersthatshatteredonimpact,sprayingshardsofImperialgoldintotheenemylines.Flaminglogs—alwaysafunRomanpartygame—rolleddownthehillsides,smashingthroughpacksofEarthborn.
Forallthelegion’sefforts,theenemykeptadvancing.OntheemptyeastboundlanesofHighway24,theemperors’maincolumnsmarchedtowardtheCaldecottTunnel,theirgold-and-purplebannersraisedhigh.Romancolors.RomanemperorsbentondestroyingthelasttrueRomanlegion.Thiswashowitended,Ithoughtbitterly.Notfightingthreatsfromtheoutside,butfightingagainsttheugliestsideofourownhistory.
“TESTUDO!”Acenturion’sshoutbroughtmyattentionbacktotheThirdCohort.Theywerestrugglingtoformaprotectiveturtleformationwiththeirshieldsasthecynocephaliswarmedovertheminasnarlingwaveoffurandclaws.
“Meg!”Iyelled,pointingtotheimperiledcohort.Sherantowardthem,meatherheels.Asweclosedin,Iscoopedupan
abandonedquiverfromtheground,tryingnottothinkaboutwhyithadbeendroppedthere,andsentafreshvolleyofarrowsintothepack.Sixfelldead.Seven.Eight.Buttherewerestilltoomany.Megscreamedinfuryandlaunchedherselfatthenearestwolf-headedmen.Shewasquicklysurrounded,butouradvancehaddistractedthepack,givingtheThirdCohortafewprecioussecondstoregroup.
“OFFENSEROMULUS!”shoutedthecenturion.Ifyouhaveeverseenapillbuguncurl,revealingitshundredsoflegs,you
canimaginewhattheThirdCohortlookedlikeasitbroketestudoandformedabristlingforestofspears,skeweringthecynocephali.
IwassoimpressedIalmostgotmyfacechewedoffbyastraychargingwolf-man.Justbeforeitreachedme,CenturionLarryhurledhisjavelin.Themonsterfellatmyfeet,impaledinthemiddleofhisincrediblyun-manscapedback.
“Youmadeit!”Larrygrinnedatus.“Where’sReyna?”“She’sokay,”Isaid.“Er,she’salive.”“Cool!Frankwantstoseeyou,ASAP!”Megstumbledtomyside,breathinghard,herswordsglisteningwith
monstergoo.“Hey,Larry.How’sitgoing?”
“Terrible!”Larrysoundeddelighted.“Carl,Reza—escortthesetwotoPraetorZhangimmediately.”
“YESSIR!”OurescortshustledusofftowardtheCaldecottTunnel,whilebehindus,Larrycalledhistroopsbacktoaction:“Comeon,legionnaires!We’vedrilledforthis.We’vegotthis!”
Afterafewmoreterribleminutesofdodgingpandai,jumpingfierycraters,andskirtingmobsofmonsters,CarlandRezabroughtussafelytoFrankZhang’scommandpostatthemouthoftheCaldecottTunnel.Muchtomydisappointment,therewerenohorsd’oeuvresorbeverages.Therewasn’tevenatent—justabunchofstressed-outRomansinfullbattlegear,rushingaroundcarryingordersandshoringupdefenses.Aboveus,ontheconcreteterracethatstretchedoverthetunnel’smouth,Jacobthestandard-bearerstoodwiththelegion’seagleandacoupleofspotters,keepingwatchonalltheapproaches.Wheneveranenemygottooclose,JacobwouldzapthemliketheOprahWinfreyversionofJupiter:AndYOUgetalightningbolt!AndYOUgetalightningbolt!Unfortunately,he’dbeenusingtheeaglesomuchthatitwasbeginningtosmoke.Evensuperpowerfulmagicitemshavetheirlimits.Thelegion’sstandardwasclosetototaloverload.
WhenFrankZhangsawus,awholegofweightseemedtoliftfromhisshoulders.“Thankthegods!Apollo,yourfacelooksterrible.Where’sReyna?”
“Longstory.”IwasabouttolaunchintotheshortversionofthatlongstorywhenHazelLevesquematerializedonahorserightnexttome,whichwasanexcellentwayoftestingwhethermyheartstillworkedproperly.
“What’sgoingon?”Hazelasked.“Apollo,yourface—”“Iknow.”Isighed.Herimmortalsteed,thelightning-fastArion,gavemetheside-eyeand
nickeredasiftosay,Thisfoolain’tnoApollo.“Goodtoseeyoutoo,cuz,”Igrumbled.Itoldthemallinbriefwhathadhappened,withMegoccasionallyadding
helpfulcommentslike“Hewasstupid,”and“Hewasmorestupid,”and“Hedidgood;thenhegotstupidagain.”
WhenHazelheardaboutourencounterintheTargetparkinglot,shegrittedherteeth.“Lavinia.Thatgirl,Iswear.IfanythinghappenstoReyna—”
“Let’sfocusonwhatwecancontrol,”Franksaid,thoughhelookedshakenthatReynawouldn’tbecomingbacktohelp.“Apollo,we’llbuyyouasmuchtimeaspossibleforyoursummoning.Terminusisdoingwhathecantoslowtheemperorsdown.Rightnow,I’vegotballistaeandcatapultstargetingthemyrmekes.Ifwecan’tbringthemdown,we’llneverstoptheadvance.”
Hazelgrimaced.“TheFirstthroughFourthCohortsarespreadprettythin
acrossthesehills.ArionandIhavebeenzippingbackandforthbetweenthemasneeded,but…”Shestoppedherselffromstatingtheobvious:We’relosingground.“Frank,ifyoucansparemeforaminute,I’llgetApolloandMegtoTempleHill.EllaandTysonarewaiting.”
“Go.”“Wait,”Isaid—notthatIwasn’tsuperanxioustosummonagodwithajelly
jar,butsomethingHazelsaidhadmademeuneasy.“IftheFirstthroughFourthCohortsarehere,where’stheFifth?”
“GuardingNewRome,”saidHazel.“Dakota’swiththem.Atthemoment,thankthegods,thecityissecure.NosignofTarquin.”
POP.RightnexttomeappearedamarblebustofTerminus,dressedinaWorldWarIBritishArmycapandkhakigreatcoatthatcoveredhimtothefootofhispedestal.Withhisloosesleeves,hemighthavebeenadoubleamputeefromthetrenchesoftheSomme.Unfortunately,I’dmetmorethanafewofthoseintheGreatWar.
“Thecityisnotsecure!”heannounced.“Tarquinisattacking!”“What?”Hazellookedpersonallyoffended.“Fromwhere?”“Underneath!”“Thesewers.”Hazelcursed.“Buthow—?”“TarquinbuilttheoriginalcloacamaximaofRome,”Iremindedher.“He
knowssewers.”“Irememberedthat!Isealedtheexitsmyself!”“Well,somehowheunsealedthem!”Terminussaid.“TheFifthCohortneeds
help.Immediately!”Hazelwavered,clearlyrattledbyTarquinoutfoxingher.“Go,”Franktoldher.“I’llsendtheFourthCohorttoreinforceyou.”Hazellaughednervously.“Andleaveyouherewithonlythree?No.”“It’sfine,”Franksaid.“Terminus,canyouopenourdefensivebarriershere
atthemaingate?”“WhywouldIdothat?”“We’lltrytheWakandathing.”“Thewhat?”“Youknow,”Franksaid.“We’llfunneltheenemyintoonelocation.”Terminusglowered.“Idonotrecallany‘Wakandathing’intheRoman
militarymanuals.Butverywell.”Hazelfrowned.“Frank,you’renotgoingtodoanythingstupid—”“We’llconcentrateourpeoplehereandholdthetunnel.Icandothis.”He
musteredanotherconfidentsmile.“Goodluck,guys.Seeyouontheotherside!”
Ornot,Ithought.Frankdidn’twaitformoreprotests.Hemarchedoff,shoutingorderstoform
upthetroopsandsendtheFourthCohortintoNewRome.IrememberedthehazyimagesI’dseenfromtheholographicscroll—FrankorderinghisworkersaroundintheCaldecottTunnel,diggingandtotingurns.IrecalledElla’scrypticwordsaboutbridgesandfires….Ididn’tlikewherethosethoughtsledme.
“Saddleup,kids,”Hazelsaid,offeringmeahand.Arionwhinniedindignantly.“Yes,Iknow,”Hazelsaid.“Youdon’tlikecarryingthree.We’lljustdropoff
thesetwoatTempleHillandthenheadstraightforthecity.There’llbeplentyofundeadforyoutotrample,Ipromise.”
Thatseemedtomollifythehorse.IclimbedonbehindHazel.Megtooktherumbleseatonthehorse’srear.IbarelyhadtimetohugHazel’swaistbeforeArionzoomedoff,leavingmy
stomachontheOaklandsideofthehills.
OinsertnameherePleasehearusandfillinblankWhatisthis,MadLibs?
TYSONANDELLAWEREnotgoodatwaiting.WefoundthematthestepsofJupiter’stemple,Ellapacingandwringingher
hands,Tysonbouncingupanddowninexcitementlikeaboxerreadyforroundone.
TheheavyburlapbagshangingfromabeltaroundElla’swaistswungandclunkedtogether,remindingmeofHephaestus’sofficedesktoy—theonewiththeballbearingsthatbouncedagainsteachother.(IhatedvisitingHephaestus’soffice.HisdesktoysweresomesmerizingIfoundmyselfstaringatthemforhours,sometimesdecades.Imissedtheentire1480sthatway.)
Tyson’sbarechestwasnowcompletelycoveredwithtattooedlinesofprophecy.Whenhesawus,hebrokeintoagrin.
“Yay!”heexclaimed.“ZoomPony!”IwasnotsurprisedTysonhaddubbedArion“ZoomPony,”orthathe
seemedhappiertoseethehorsethanme.IwassurprisedthatArion,despitesomeresentfulsnorting,allowedtheCyclopstopethissnout.Arionhadneverstruckmeasthecuddlytype.Then,again,TysonandArionwerebothrelatedthroughPoseidon,whichmadethembrothersofasort,and…Youknowwhat?I’mgoingtostopthinkingaboutthisbeforemybrainmelts.
Ellascuttledover.“Late.Verylate.Comeon,Apollo.You’relate.”Ibitbacktheurgetotellherthatwe’dhadafewthingsgoingon.Iclimbed
offArion’sbackandwaitedforMeg,butshestayedonwithHazel.“Youdon’tneedmeforthesummoningthing,”Megsaid.“I’mgonnahelp
Hazelandunleashtheunicorns.”“But—”“Gods’speed,”Hazeltoldme.Arionvanished,leavingatrailofsmokedownthehillsideandTysonpatting
emptyair.“Aww.”TheCyclopspouted.“ZoomPonyleft.”“Yes,hedoesthat.”ItriedtoconvincemyselfMegwouldbefine.I’dseeher
soon.ThelastwordsIeverheardfromherwouldnotbeunleashtheunicorns.“Now,ifwe’reready—?”
“Late.Laterthanready,”Ellacomplained.“Pickatemple.Yes.Needtopick.”
“Ineedto—”“Single-godsummoning!”Tysondidhisbesttorolluphispantslegwhile
hoppingovertomeononefoot.“Here,Iwillshowyouagain.Itisonmythigh.”“That’sokay!”Itoldhim.“Iremember.It’sjust…”Iscannedthehill.Somanytemplesandshrines—evenmorenowthatthe
legionhadcompleteditsJason-inspiredbuildingspree.Somanystatuesofgodsstaringatme.
Asamemberofapantheon,Ihadanaversiontopickingonlyonegod.Thatwaslikepickingyourfavoritechildoryourfavoritemusician.Ifyouwerecapableofpickingonlyone,youweredoingsomethingwrong.
Also,pickingonegodmeantalltheothergodswouldbemadatme.Itdidn’tmatteriftheywouldn’thavewantedtohelpmeorwould’velaughedinmyfaceifI’dasked.TheywouldstillbeoffendedthatIhadn’tputthematthetopofmylist.Iknewhowtheythought.Iusedtobeoneofthem.
Sure,thereweresomeobviousnos.IwouldnotbesummoningJuno.IwouldnotbotherwithVenus,especiallysinceFridaynightwasherspanightwiththeThreeGraces.Somnuswasanonstarter.He’danswermycall,promisetoberightover,andthenfallasleepagain.
IgazedatthegiantstatueofJupiterOptimusMaximus,hispurpletogaripplinglikeamatador’scape.
C’mon,heseemedtobetellingme.Youknowyouwantto.ThemostpowerfuloftheOlympians.Itwaswellwithinhispowertosmite
theemperors’armies,healmyzombiewound,andseteverythingrightatCampJupiter(which,afterall,wasnamedinhishonor).HemightevennoticealltheheroicthingsI’ddone,decideI’dsufferedenough,andfreemefromthepunishmentofmymortalform.
Thenagain…hemightnot.Couldbehewasexpectingmetocallonhimfor
help.OnceIdid,hemightmaketheheavensrumblewithhislaughterandadeep,divineNope!
Tomysurprise,IrealizedIdidnotwantmygodhoodbackthatbadly.Ididn’tevenwanttolivethatbadly.IfJupiterexpectedmetocrawltohimforhelp,beggingformercy,hecouldstickhislightningboltrightuphiscloacamaxima.
Therehadonlyeverbeenonechoice.Deepdown,I’dalwaysknownwhichgodIhadtocall.
“Followme,”ItoldEllaandTyson.IranforthetempleofDiana.Now,I’lladmitI’veneverbeenahugefanofArtemis’sRomanpersona.As
I’vesaidbefore,IneverfeltlikeIpersonallychangedthatmuchduringRomantimes.IjuststayedApollo.Artemis,though…
Youknowhowitiswhenyoursistergoesthroughhermoodyteenageyears?ShechangeshernametoDiana,cutsherhair,hangsoutwithadifferent,morehostilesetofmaidenhunters,startsassociatingwithHecateandthemoon,andbasicallyactsweird?WhenwefirstrelocatedtoRome,thetwoofuswereworshippedtogetherlikeintheolddays—twingodswithourowntemple—butsoonDianawentoffanddidherownthing.Wejustdidn’ttalklikeweusedtowhenwewereyoungandGreek,youknow?
IwasapprehensiveaboutsummoningherRomanincarnation,butIneededhelp,andArtemis—sorry,Diana—wasthemostlikelytorespond,evenifshewouldneverletmeheartheendofitafterward.Besides,Imissedherterribly.Yes,Isaidit.IfIwasgoingtodietonight,whichseemedincreasinglylikely,firstIwantedtoseemysisteronelasttime.
Hertemplewasanoutdoorgarden,asonemightexpectfromagoddessofthewild.Insidearingofmatureoaktreesgleamedasilverpoolwithasingleperpetualgeyserburblinginthecenter.IimaginedtheplacewasmeanttoevokeDiana’soldoak-grovesanctuaryatLakeNemi,oneofthefirstplaceswheretheRomanshadworshippedher.Attheedgeofthepoolstoodafirepitstackedwithwood,readyforlighting.Iwonderedifthelegionkepteveryshrineandtempleinsuchgoodmaintenance,justincasesomeonegotacravingforalast-minutemiddle-of-the-nightburntoffering.
“Apolloshouldlightthefire,”Ellasaid.“Iwillmixingredients.”“Iwilldance!”Tysonannounced.Ididn’tknowwhetherthatwaspartoftheritualorifhejustfeltlikeit,but
whenatattooedCyclopsdecidestolaunchintoaninterpretivedanceroutine,it’sbestnottoaskquestions.
Ellarummagedinhersupplypouches,pullingoutherbs,spices,andvialsofoils,whichmademerealizehowlongithadbeensinceI’deaten.Whywasn’tmystomachgrowling?Iglancedatthebloodmoonrisingoverthehilltops.Ihopedmynextmealwouldnotbebraaaaaains.
Ilookedaroundforatorchoraboxofmatches.Nothing.ThenIthought:Ofcoursenot.Icouldhavethewoodpre-stackedforme,butDiana,alwaysthewildernessexpert,wouldexpectmetocreatemyownfire.
Iunslungmybowandpulledoutanarrow.Igatheredthelightest,driestkindlingintoasmallpile.IthadbeenalongtimesinceI’dmadeafiretheoldmortalway—spinninganarrowinabowstringtocreatefriction—butIgaveitago.Ifumbledhalfadozentimes,nearlyputtingmyeyeout.MyarcherystudentJacobwould’vebeenproud.
Itriedtoignorethesoundofexplosionsinthedistance.Ispunthearrowuntilmygutwoundfeltlikeitwasopeningup.Myhandsbecameslickwithpoppedblisters.Thegodofthesunstrugglingtomakefire…Theironieswouldnevercease.
Finally,Isucceededincreatingthetiniestofflames.Aftersomedesperatecupping,puffing,andpraying,thefirewaslit.
Istood,tremblingfromexhaustion.Tysonkeptdancingtohisowninternalmusic,flingingouthisarmsandspinninglikeathree-hundred-pound,heavilytattooedJulieAndrewsintheSoundofMusicremakeQuentinTarantinoalwayswantedtodo.(Iconvincedhimitwasabadidea.Youcanthankmelater.)
Ellabegansprinklingherproprietaryblendofoils,spices,andherbsintothepit.ThesmokesmelledlikeaMediterraneansummerfeast.Itfilledmewithasenseofpeace—remindingmeofhappiertimeswhenwegodswereadoredbymillionsofworshippers.Youneverappreciateasimplepleasurelikethatuntilitistakenaway.
Thevalleyturnedquiet,asifI’dsteppedbackintoHarpocrates’ssphereofsilence.Perhapsitwasjustalullinthefighting,butIfeltasifallofCampJupiterwereholdingitsbreath,waitingformetocompletetheritual.Withtremblinghands,IpulledtheSibyl’sglassjarfrommybackpack.
“Whatnow?”IaskedElla.“Tyson,”Ellasaid,wavinghimover,“thatwasgooddancing.Nowshow
Apolloyourarmpit.”Tysonlumberedover,grinningandsweaty.Heliftedhisleftarmmuchcloser
tomyfacethanIwouldhaveliked.“See?”“Oh,gods.”Irecoiled.“Ella,whywouldyouwritethesummoningritualin
hisarmpit?”
“That’swhereitgoes,”shesaid.“Itreallytickled!”Tysonlaughed.“I—Iwillbegin.”Itriedtofocusonthewordsandnotthehairyarmpitthat
theyencircled.Itriednottobreatheanymorethannecessary.Iwillsaythis,however:Tysonhadexcellentpersonalhygiene.WheneverIwasforcedtoinhale,Ididnotpassoutfromhisbodyodor,despitehisexuberantsweatydancing.TheonlysmellIdetectedwasahintofpeanutbutter.Why?Ididnotwanttoknow.
“OprotectorofRome!”Ireadaloud.“Oinsertnamehere!”“Uh,”Ellasaid,“that’swhereyou—”“Iwillstartagain.OprotectorofRome!ODiana,goddessofthehunt!Hear
ourpleaandacceptouroffering!”Idonotrememberallthelines.IfIdid,Iwouldnotrecordthemhereforjust
anyonetouse.SummoningDianawithburntofferingsistheverydefinitionofDoNotTryThisatHome,Kids.Severaltimes,Ichokedup.Iwastemptedtoaddpersonalbits,toletDianaknowitwasn’tjustanyonemakingarequest.Thiswasme!Iwasspecial!ButIstucktothearmpitscript.Attheappropriatemoment(insertsacrificehere),IdroppedtheSibyl’sjellyjarintothefire.Iwasafraiditmightjustsitthereheatingup,buttheglassshatteredimmediately,releasingasighofsilverfumes.IhopedIhadn’tsquanderedthesoundlessgod’sfinalbreath.
Ifinishedtheincantation.Tysonmercifullyloweredhisarm.Ellastaredatthefire,thenatthesky,hernosetwitchinganxiously.“Apollohesitated,”shesaid.“Hedidn’treadthethirdlineright.Heprobablymessedup.Ihopehedidn’tmessitup.”
“Yourconfidenceisheartwarming,”Isaid.ButIsharedherconcern.Isawnosignsofdivinehelpinthenightsky.The
redfullmooncontinuedtoleeratme,bathingthelandscapeinbloodylight.Nohuntinghornstrumpetedinthedistance—justafreshroundofexplosionsfromtheOaklandHills,andcriesofbattlefromNewRome.
“Youmessedup,”Elladecided.“Giveittime!”Isaid.“Godsdon’talwaysshowupimmediately.Onceit
tookmetenyearstoanswersomeprayersfromthecityofPompeii,andbythetimeIgotthere…Maybethat’snotagoodexample.”
Ellawrungherhands.“TysonandEllawillwaithereincasethegoddessshowsup.Apolloshouldgofightstuff.”
“Aww.”Tysonpouted.“ButIwannafightstuff!”“TysonwillwaitherewithElla,”Ellainsisted.“Apollo,gofight.”
Iscannedthevalley.SeveralrooftopsinNewRomewerenowonfire.Megwouldbefightinginthestreets,doinggods-knew-whatwithherweaponizedunicorns.Hazelwouldbedesperatelyshoringupthedefensesaszombiesandghoulsboiledupfromthesewers,attackingcivilians.Theyneededhelp,anditwouldtakemelesstimetoreachNewRomethantogettotheCaldecottTunnel.
Butjustthinkingaboutjoiningthebattlemademystomachflarewithpain.IrememberedhowI’dcollapsedinthetyrant’stomb.IwouldbeoflittleuseagainstTarquin.BeingnearhimwouldjustacceleratemypromotiontoZombieoftheMonth.
IgazedattheOaklandHills,theirsilhouetteslitbyflickeringexplosions.TheemperorsmustbebattlingFrank’sdefendersattheCaldecottTunnelbynow.WithoutArionoraGo-Globike,Iwasn’tsureIcouldmakeitthereintimetodoanygood,butitseemedlikemyleasthorribleoption.
“Charge,”Isaidmiserably.Ijoggedoffacrossthevalley.
SuchadealforyouTwo-for-onesinglecombatKillusbothforfree!
THEMOSTEMBARRASSINGTHING?AsIwheezedandhuffedupthehill,Ifoundmyselfhumming“RideoftheValkyries.”Curseyou,RichardWagner.Curseyou,ApocalypseNow.
BythetimeIreachedthesummit,Iwasdizzyanddrenchedinsweat.Itookinthescenebelowanddecidedmypresencewouldmeannothing.Iwastoolate.
Thehillswereascarredwastelandoftrenches,shatteredarmor,andbrokenwarmachines.AhundredyardsdownHighway24,theemperors’troopshadformedupincolumns.Insteadofthousands,therewerenowafewhundred:acombinationofGermanusbodyguards,Khromandae,pandai,andotherhumanoidtribes.Onesmallmercy:nomyrmekesremained.Frank’sstrategyoftargetingthegiantantshadapparentlyworked.
AttheentrancetotheCaldecottTunnel,directlybeneathme,waitedtheremnantsoftheTwelfthLegion.Adozenraggeddemigodsformedashieldwallacrosstheinboundlanes.AyoungwomanIdidn’trecognizeheldthelegionstandard,whichcouldonlymeanthatJacobhadeitherbeenkilledorgravelywounded.TheoverheatedgoldeaglesmokedsobadlyIcouldn’tmakeoutitsform.Itwouldn’tbezappinganymoreenemiestoday.
HannibaltheelephantstoodwiththetroopsinhisKevlararmor,histrunkandlegsbleedingfromdozensofcuts.Infrontofthelinetoweredaneight-foot-tallKodiakbear—FrankZhang,Iassumed.Threearrowsbristledinhisshoulder,buthisclawswereoutandreadyformorebattle.
Myhearttwisted.Perhaps,asalargebear,Frankcouldsurvivewithafew
arrowsstuckinhim.Butwhatwouldhappenwhenhetriedtoturnhumanagain?Asfortheothersurvivors…Isimplycouldn’tbelievetheywereallthat
remainedofthreecohorts.Maybethemissingoneswerewoundedratherthandead.PerhapsIshould’vetakencomfortinthepossibilitythat,foreverylegionnairewhohadfallen,hundredsofenemieshadbeendestroyed.Buttheylookedsotragic,sohopelesslyoutnumberedguardingtheentrancetoCampJupiter….
Iliftedmygazebeyondthehighway,outtothebay,andlostallhope.Theemperors’fleetwasstillinposition—astringoffloatingwhitepalacesreadytoraindestructionuponus,thenhostamassivevictorycelebration.
EvenifwesomehowmanagedtodestroyalltheenemiesremainingonHighway24,thoseyachtswerebeyondourreach.WhateverLaviniahadbeenplanning,shehadapparentlyfailed.Withasingleorder,theemperorscouldlaywastetotheentirecamp.
Theclopofhoovesandrattleofwheelsdrewmyattentionbacktotheenemylines.Theircolumnsparted.Theemperorsthemselvescameouttoparley,standingside-by-sideinagoldenchariot.
CommodusandCaligulalookedlikethey’dhadacompetitiontopickthegaudiestarmor,andbothofthemhadlost.TheywerecladheadtotoeinImperialgold:greaves,kilts,breastplates,gloves,helmets,allwithelaborategorgonandFurydesigns,encrustedwithpreciousgems.Theirfaceplateswerefashionedlikegrimacingdemons.IcouldonlytellthetwoemperorsapartbecauseCommoduswastallerandbroaderintheshoulders.
Pullingthechariotweretwowhitehorses…No.Nothorses.Theirbackscarriedlong,uglyscarsoneithersideoftheirspines.Theirwitherswerescoredwithlashmarks.Theirhandlers/torturerswalkedbesidethem,grippingtheirreinsandkeepingcattleprodsreadyincasethebeastsgotanyideas.
Oh,gods…Ifelltomykneesandretched.OfallthehorrorsIhadseen,thisstruckmeas
theworstofall.Thoseonce-beautifulsteedswerepegasi.Whatkindofmonsterwouldcutoffthewingsofapegasus?
Theemperorsobviouslywantedtosendamessage:theyintendedtodominatetheworldatanycost.Theywouldstopatnothing.Theywouldmutilateandmaim.Theywouldwasteanddestroy.Nothingwassacredexcepttheirownpower.
Iroseunsteadily.Myhopelessnessturnedintoboilinganger.Ihowled,“NO!”Mycryechoedthroughtheravine.Theemperors’retinueclatteredtoastop.
Hundredsoffacesturnedupward,tryingtopinpointthesourceofthenoise.I
clambereddownthehill,lostmyfooting,somersaulted,bangedintoatree,staggeredtomyfeet,andkeptgoing.
Noonetriedtoshootme.Nooneyelled,Hooray,we’resaved!Frank’sdefendersandtheemperors’troopssimplywatched,dumbstruck,asImademywaydownhill—asinglebeat-upteenagerintatteredclothesandmud-cakedshoes,withaukuleleandabowonmyback.Itwas,Isuspected,theleastimpressivearrivalofreinforcementsinhistory.
AtlastIreachedthelegionnairesonthehighway.Caligulastudiedmefromacrossfiftyfeetofasphalt.Heburstoutlaughing.Hesitantly,histroopsfollowedhisexample—exceptfortheGermani,who
rarelylaughed.Commodusshiftedinhisgoldenarmor.“Excuseme,couldsomeonecaption
thissceneforme?What’sgoingon?”OnlythendidIrealizeCommodus’seyesighthadnotrecoveredaswellas
he’dhoped.Probably,Ithoughtwithbittersatisfaction,myblindingflashofdivineradianceattheWaystationhadlefthimabletoseealittlebitinfulldaylight,butnotatallatnight.Asmallblessing,ifIcouldfigureouthowtouseit.
“IwishIcoulddescribeit,”Caligulasaiddryly.“ThemightygodApollohascometotherescue,andhe’sneverlookedbetter.”
“Thatwassarcasm?”Commodusasked.“Doeshelookhorrible?”“Yes,”Caligulasaid.“HA!”Commodusforcedalaugh.“Ha!Apollo,youlookhorrible!”Myhandstrembling,InockedanarrowandfireditatCaligula’sface.My
aimwastrue,butCaligulaswattedasidetheprojectilelikeitwasasleepyhorsefly.
“Don’tembarrassyourself,Lester,”hesaid.“Lettheleaderstalk.”HeturnedhisgrimacingfacemasktowardtheKodiakbear.“Well,Frank
Zhang?Youhaveachancetosurrenderwithhonor.Bowtoyouremperor!”“Emperors,”Commoduscorrected.“Yes,ofcourse,”Caligulasaidsmoothly.“PraetorZhang,youareduty-
boundtorecognizeRomanauthority,andweareit!Together,wecanrebuildthiscampandraiseyourlegiontoglory!Nomorehiding.NomorecoweringbehindTerminus’sweakboundaries.ItistimetobetrueRomansandconquertheworld.Joinus.LearnfromJasonGrace’smistake.”
Ihowledagain.Thistime,IlaunchedanarrowatCommodus.Yes,itwaspetty.IthoughtIcouldhitablindemperormoreeasily,buthe,too,swattedthearrowaway.
“Cheapshot,Apollo!”heyelled.“There’snothingwrongwithmyhearingor
myreflexes.”TheKodiakbearbellowed.Withoneclaw,hebrokethearrowshaftsinhis
shoulder.Heshrank,changingintoFrankZhang.Thearrowstubspiercedhisbreastplateattheshoulder.He’dlosthishelmet.Thesideofhisbodywassoakedinblood,buthisexpressionwaspuredetermination.
Nexttohim,Hannibaltrumpetedandpawedthepavement,readytocharge.“No,buddy.”Frankglancedathislastdozencomrades,wearyandwounded
butstillreadytofollowhimtothedeath.“Enoughbloodhasbeenshed.”Caligulainclinedhisheadinagreement.“So,youyield,then?”“Oh,no.”Frankstraightened,thoughtheeffortmadehimwince.“Ihavean
alternativesolution.Spoliaopima.”Nervousmurmursrippledthroughtheemperors’columns.Someofthe
Germaniraisedtheirbushyeyebrows.AfewofFrank’slegionnaireslookedliketheywantedtosaysomething—Areyoucrazy?,forinstance—buttheyheldtheirtongues.
Commoduslaughed.Hepulledoffhishelmet,revealinghisshaggycurlsandbeard,hiscruel,handsomeface.Hisgazewasmilkyandunfocused,theskinaroundhiseyesstillpittedasifhe’dbeensplashedwithacid.
“Singlecombat?”Hegrinned.“Ilovethisidea!”“I’lltakeyouboth,”Frankoffered.“YouandCaligulaagainstme.Youwin
andmakeitthroughthetunnel,thecampisyours.”Commodusrubbedhishands.“Glorious!”“Wait,”Caligulasnapped.Heremovedhisownhelmet.Hedidnotlook
delighted.Hiseyesglittered,hismindnodoubtracingashethoughtoveralltheangles.“Thisistoogoodtobetrue.Whatareyouplayingat,Zhang?”
“EitherIkillyou,orIdie,”Franksaid.“That’sall.Getthroughme,andyoucanmarchrightintocamp.I’llordermyremainingtroopstostanddown.YoucanhaveyourtriumphalparadethroughNewRomelikeyou’vealwayswanted.”Frankturnedtooneofhiscomrades.“Youhearthat,Colum?Thosearemyorders.IfIdie,youwillmakesuretheyarehonored.”
Columopenedhismouthbutapparentlydidn’ttrusthimselftospeak.Hejustnoddeddourly.
Caligulafrowned.“Spoliaopima.It’ssoprimitive.Ithasn’tbeendonesince…”
Hestoppedhimself,perhapsrememberingthekindoftroopshehadathisback:“primitive”Germani,whoviewedsinglecombatasthemosthonorablewayforaleadertowinabattle.Inearliertimes,Romanshadfeltthesameway.Thefirstking,Romulus,hadpersonallydefeatedanenemyking,Acron,strippinghimofhisarmorandweapons.Forcenturiesafter,Romangenerals
triedtoemulateRomulus,goingoutoftheirwaytofindenemyleadersonthebattlefieldforsinglecombat,sotheycouldclaimspoliaopima.ItwastheultimatedisplayofcourageforanytrueRoman.
Frank’sploywasclever.Theemperorscouldn’trefusehischallengewithoutlosingfaceinfrontoftheirtroops.Ontheotherhand,Frankwasbadlywounded.Hecouldn’tpossiblywinwithouthelp.
“Twoagainsttwo!”Iyelped,surprisingevenmyself.“I’llfight!”Thatgotanotherroundoflaughterfromtheemperors’troops.Commodus
said,“Evenbetter!”Franklookedhorror-stricken,whichwasn’tthesortofthank-youI’dbeen
hopingfor.“Apollo,no,”hesaid.“Icanhandlethis.Clearoff!”Afewmonthsago,IwouldhavebeenhappytoletFranktakethishopeless
fightonhisownwhileIsatback,atechilledgrapes,andcheckedmymessages.Notnow,notafterJasonGrace.Iglancedatthepoormaimedpegasichainedtotheemperors’chariot,andIdecidedIcouldn’tliveinaworldwherecrueltylikethatwentunchallenged.
“Sorry,Frank,”Isaid.“Youwon’tfacethisalone.”IlookedatCaligula.“Well,BabyBooties?Yourcolleagueemperorhasalreadyagreed.Areyouin,ordoweterrifyyoutoomuch?”
Caligula’snostrilsflared.“Wehavelivedforthousandsofyears,”hesaid,asifexplainingasimplefacttoaslowstudent.“Wearegods.”
“AndI’mthesonofMars,”Frankcountered,“praetoroftheTwelfthLegionFulminata.I’mnotafraidtodie.Areyou?”
Theemperorsstayedsilentforacountoffive.Finally,Caligulacalledoverhisshoulder,“Gregorix!”OneoftheGermanijoggedforward.Withhismassiveheightandweight,his
shaggyhairandbeard,andhisthickhidearmor,helookedlikeFrankinKodiakbearform,onlywithanuglierface.
“Lord?”hegrunted.“Thetroopsaretostaywheretheyare,”Caligulaordered.“Nointerference
whileCommodusandIkillPraetorZhangandhispetgod.Understood?”Gregorixstudiedme.Icouldimaginehimsilentlywrestlingwithhisideasof
honor.Singlecombatwasgood.Singlecombatagainstawoundedwarriorandazombie-infectedweakling,however,wasnotmuchofavictory.Thesmartthingwouldbetoslaughterallofusandmarchonintothecamp.Butachallengehadbeenissued.Challengeshadtobeaccepted.Buthisjobwastoprotecttheemperors,andifthiswassomesortoftrap…
IbetGregorixwaswishinghe’dpursuedthatbusinessdegreehismom
alwayswantedhimtoget.Beingabarbarianbodyguardwasmentallyexhausting.
“Verywell,mylord,”hesaid.Frankfacedhisremainingtroops.“Getoutofhere.FindHazel.Defendthe
cityfromTarquin.”Hannibaltrumpetedinprotest.“Youtoo,buddy,”Franksaid.“Noelephantsaregoingtodietoday.”Hannibalhuffed.Thedemigodsobviouslydidn’tlikeiteither,buttheywere
Romanlegionnaires,toowelltrainedtodisobeyadirectorder.Theyretreatedintothetunnelwiththeelephantandthelegion’sstandard,leavingonlyFrankZhangandmeonTeamCampJupiter.
Whiletheemperorsclimbeddownfromtheirchariot,Frankturnedtomeandwrappedmeinasweaty,bloodyembrace.I’dalwaysfiguredhimforahugger,sothisdidn’tsurpriseme,untilhewhisperedinmyear,“You’reinterferingwithmyplan.WhenIsay‘Time’sup,’Idon’tcarewhereyouareorhowthefightisgoing,Iwantyoutorunawayfrommeasfastasyoucan.That’sanorder.”
Heclappedmeonmybackandletmego.Iwantedtoprotest,You’renotthebossofme!Ihadn’tcomeheretorun
awayoncommand.Icoulddothatquitewellonmyown.Icertainlywasn’tgoingtoallowanotherfriendtosacrificehimselfformysake.
Ontheotherhand,Ididn’tknowFrank’splan.I’dhavetowaitandseewhathehadinmind.ThenIcoulddecidewhattodo.Besides,ifwestoodanychanceofwinningadeathmatchagainstCommodusandCaligula,itwouldn’tbeonaccountofoursuperiorstrengthandcharmingpersonalities.Weneededsomeserious,industrial-strengthcheating.
Theemperorsstrodetowardusacrossthescorchedandbuckledasphalt.Upclose,theirarmorwasevenmorehideous.Caligula’sbreastplatelooked
likeithadbeencoatedwithglue,thenrolledthroughthedisplaycasesatTiffany&Co.
“Well.”Hegaveusasmileasbrightandcoldashisjewelcollection.“Shallwe?”
Commodustookoffhisgauntlets.Hishandswerehugeandrough,callusedasifhe’dbeenpunchingbrickwallsinhissparetime.ItwashardtobelieveIhadeverheldthosehandswithaffection.
“Caligula,youtakeZhang,”hesaid.“I’lltakeApollo.Idon’tneedmyeyesighttofindhim.I’lljustfollowmyears.He’llbetheonewhimpering.”
Ihatedthatheknewmesowell.Frankdrewhissword.Bloodstilloozedfromhisshoulderwounds.Iwasn’t
surehowheplannedtoremainstanding,muchlessdobattle.Hisotherhand
brushedtheclothpouchthatheldhispieceoffirewood.“Sowe’reclearontherules,”hesaid.“Therearen’tany.Wekillyou,you
die.”Thenhegesturedattheemperors:Comeandgetit.
Notagain.Myheart.Howmanysyllablesis“Totalhopelessness”?
EVENINMYWEAKENEDcondition,you’dthinkIwouldbeabletostayoutofreachofablindopponent.
You’dbewrong.CommoduswasonlytenyardsawaywhenIshotmynextarrowathim.
Somehowhedodgedit,rushedin,andyankedthebowoutofmyhands.Hebroketheweaponoverhisknee.
“RUDE!”Iyelled.Inretrospect,thatwasnotthewayIshouldhavespentthatmillisecond.
Commoduspunchedmesquareinthechest.Istaggeredbackwardandcollapsedonmybutt,mylungsonfire,mysternumthrobbing.Ahitlikethatshouldhavekilledme.Iwonderedifmygodlystrengthhaddecidedtomakeacameoappearance.Ifso,Isquanderedtheopportunitytostrikeback.Iwastoobusycrawlingaway,cryinginpain.
Commoduslaughed,turningtohistroops.“Yousee?He’salwaystheonewhimpering!”
Hisfollowerscheered.Commoduswastedvaluabletimebaskingintheiradulation.Hecouldn’thelpbeingashowman.Healsomust’veknownIwasn’tgoinganywhere.
IglancedatFrank.HeandCaligulacircledeachother,occasionallytradingblows,testingeachother’sdefenses.Withthearrowheadsinhisshoulder,Frankhadnochoicebuttofavorhisleftside.Hemovedstiffly,leavingatrailofbloodyfootprintsontheasphaltthatremindedme—quiteinappropriately—ofa
ballroom-dancingdiagramFredAstairehadoncegivenme.Caligulaprowledaroundhim,supremelyconfident.Heworethesameself-
satisfiedsmilehe’dhadwhenheimpaledJasonGraceintheback.ForweeksI’dhadnightmaresaboutthatsmile.
Ishookmyselfoutofmystupor.Iwassupposedtobedoingsomething.Notdying.Yes.Thatwasatthetopofmyto-dolist.
Imanagedtogetup.Ifumbledformysword,thenrememberedIdidn’thaveone.Myonlyweaponnowwasmyukulele.Playingasongforanenemywhowashuntingmebysounddidnotseemlikethewisestmove,butIgrabbedtheukebythefretboard.
Commodusmusthaveheardthestringstwang.Heturnedanddrewhissword.
Forabigmaninblinged-outarmor,hemovedmuchtoofast.BeforeIcouldevendecidewhichDeanMartinnumbertoplayforhim,hejabbedatme,nearlyopeningupmybelly.Thepointofhisbladesparkedagainstthebronzebodyoftheukulele.
Withbothhands,heraisedhisswordoverheadtocleavemeintwo.Ilungedforwardandpokedhiminthegutwithmyinstrument.“Ha-ha!”Thereweretwoproblemswiththis:1)hisgutwascoveredinarmor,and2)
theukulelehadaroundedbottom.ImadeamentalnotethatifIsurvivedthisbattle,Iwoulddesignaversionwithspikesatthebase,andperhapsaflamethrower—theGeneSimmonsukulele.
Commodus’scounterstrikewould’vekilledmeifhehadn’tbeenlaughingsohard.Ileapedasideashisswordhurtleddown,sinkingintothespotwhereI’dbeenstanding.Onegoodthingaboutbattlingonahighway—allthoseexplosionsandlightningstrikeshadmadetheasphaltsoft.WhileCommodustriedtotughisswordfree,Ichargedandslammedintohim.
Tomysurprise,Iactuallymanagedtoshovehimoff-balance.Hestumbledandlandedonhisarmor-platedrear,leavinghisswordquiveringinthepavement.
Nobodyintheemperors’armycheeredforme.Toughcrowd.Itookastepback,tryingtocatchmybreath.Someonepressedagainstmy
back.Iyelped,terrifiedthatCaligulawasabouttospearme,butitwasonlyFrank.Caligulastoodabouttwentyfeetawayfromhim,cursingashewipedbitsofgravelfromhiseyes.
“RememberwhatIsaid,”Franktoldme.“Whyareyoudoingthis?”Iwheezed.“It’stheonlyway.Ifwe’relucky,we’rebuyingtime.”“Buyingtime?”
“Forgodlyhelptoarrive.That’sstillhappening,right?”Igulped.“Maybe?”“Apollo,pleasetellmeyoudidthesummoningritual.”“Idid!”“Thenwe’rebuyingtime,”Frankinsisted.“Andifhelpdoesn’tarrive?”“Thenyou’llhavetotrustme.DowhatItoldyou.Onmycue,getoutofthe
tunnel.”Iwasn’tsurewhathemeant.Weweren’tinthetunnel,butourchattimehad
ended.CommodusandCaligulaclosedinonussimultaneously.“Gravelintheeyes,Zhang?”Caligulasnarled.“Really?”TheirbladescrossedasCaligulapushedFranktowardthemouthofthe
CaldecottTunnel…orwasFranklettinghimselfbepushed?Theclangofmetalagainstmetalechoedthroughtheemptypassageway.
Commodustuggedhisownswordfreeoftheasphalt.“Allright,Apollo.Thishasbeenfun.Butyouneedtodienow.”
Hehowledandcharged,hisvoiceboomingbackathimfromthedepthsofthetunnel.
Echoes,Ithought.IranfortheCaldecott.Echoescanbeconfusingforpeoplewhodependontheirhearing.Insidethe
shaft,ImighthavemoreluckavoidingCommodus.Yes…thatwasmystrategy.Iwasn’tsimplypanickingandrunningformylife.Enteringthetunnelwasaperfectlylevelheaded,well-reasonedplanthatjusthappenedtoinvolvemescreamingandfleeing.
IturnedbeforeCommodusovertookme.Iswungmyukulele,intendingtoimprintitssoundboardonhisface,butCommodusanticipatedmymove.Heyankedtheinstrumentoutofmyhands.
Istumbledawayfromhim,andCommoduscommittedthemostheinousofcrimes:withonehugefist,hecrumpledmyukulelelikeanaluminumcanandtosseditaside.
“Heresy!”Iroared.Areckless,terribleangerpossessedme.Ichallengeyoutofeeldifferently
whenyou’vejustwatchedsomeonedestroyyourukulele.Itwouldrenderanypersoninsensiblewithrage.
Myfirstpunchleftafist-sizecraterintheemperor’sgoldbreastplate.Oh,Ithoughtinsomedistantcornerofmymind.Hello,godlystrength!
Off-balance,Commodusslashedwildly.Iblockedhisarmandpunchedhim
inthenose,causingabrittlesquishthatIfounddelightfullydisgusting.Heyowled,bloodstreamingthroughhismustache.“Uduhhstikebee?Ikilb
u!”“Youwon’tkilbme!”Ishoutedback.“Ihavemystrengthback!”“HA!”Commoduscried.“Inebbehlostmine!AnI’mstihbigguh!”Ihateitwhenmegalomaniacvillainsmakevalidpoints.Hebarreledtowardme.Iduckedunderneathhisarmandkickedhiminthe
back,propellinghimintoaguardrailonthesideofthetunnel.Hisforeheadhitthemetalwithadaintysoundlikeatriangle:DING!
Thatshouldhavemademefeelquitesatisfied,exceptmyruined-ukulele-inspiredragewasebbing,andwithitmyburstofdivinestrength.Icouldfeelthezombiepoisoncreepingthroughmycapillaries,wrigglingandburningitswayintoeverypartofmybody.Mygutwoundseemedtobeunraveling,abouttospillmystuffingeverywherelikearaggedyOlympianPoohBear.
Also,Iwassuddenlyawareofthemanylarge,unmarkedcratesstackedalongonesideofthetunnel,takinguptheentirelengthoftheraisedpedestrianwalkway.Alongtheothersideofthetunnel,theshoulderoftheroadwastornupandlinedwithorangetrafficbarrels….Notunusualinthemselves,butitstruckmethattheywerejustabouttherightsizetocontaintheurnsI’dseenFrank’sworkerscarryingduringourholographicscrollcall.
Inaddition,everyfivefeetorso,athingroovehadbeencutacrossthewidthoftheasphalt.Again,notunusualinitself—thehighwaydepartmentcould’vejustbeendoingsomerepavingwork.Buteachgrooveglistenedwithsomekindofliquid….Oil?
Takentogether,thesethingsmademedeeplyuncomfortable,andFrankkeptretreatingfartherintothetunnel,luringCaligulatofollow.
Apparently,Caligula’slieutenant,Gregorix,wasalsogettingworried.TheGermanusshoutedfromthefrontlines,“Myemperor!You’regettingtoofar—”
“Shutup,GREG!”Caligulayelled.“Ifyouwanttokeepyourtongue,don’ttellmehowtofight!”
Commoduswasstillstrugglingtogetup.CaligulastabbedatFrank’schest,butthepraetorwasn’tthere.Instead,a
smallbird—acommonswift,judgingfromitsboomerang-shapedtail—shotstraighttowardtheemperor’sface.
Frankknewhisbirds.Swiftsaren’tlargeorimpressive.Theyaren’tobviousthreatslikefalconsoreagles,buttheyareincrediblyfastandmaneuverable.
HedrovehisbeakintoCaligula’slefteyeandzoomedaway,leavingtheemperorshriekingandswattingattheair.
Frankmaterializedinhumanformrightnextme.Hiseyeslookedsunkenand
glazed.Hisbadarmhunglimpathisside.“Ifyoureallywanttohelp,”hesaidinalowvoice,“hobbleCommodus.I
don’tthinkIcanholdthemboth.”“What—?”Hetransformedbackintoaswiftandwasgone—dartingatCaligula,who
cursedandslashedatthetinybird.Commoduschargedmeoncemore.Thistimehewassmartenoughnotto
announcehimselfbyhowling.BythetimeInoticedhimbearingdownonme—bloodbubblingfromhisnostrils,adeepguardrail-shapedgrooveinhisforehead—itwastoolate.
Heslammedhisfistintomygut,theexactspotIdidn’twanttobehit.Icollapsedinamoaning,bonelessheap.
Outside,theenemytroopseruptedinafreshroundofcheering.Commodusagainturnedtoaccepttheiradulation.I’mashamedtoadmitthatinsteadoffeelingrelievedtohaveafewextrasecondsoflife,Iwasannoyedthathewasn’texecutingmefaster.
Everycellinmymiserablemortalbodyscreamed,Justfinishit!GettingkilledcouldnothurtanyworsethanthewayIalreadyfelt.IfIdied,maybeI’datleastcomebackasazombieandgettobiteoffCommodus’snose.
IwasnowcertainDianawasn’tcomingtotherescue.MaybeIhadmesseduptheritual,asEllafeared.Maybemysisterhadn’treceivedthecall.OrmaybeJupiterhadforbiddenherfromhelpingonpainofsharingmymortalpunishment.
Whateverthecase,Frank,too,musthaveknownoursituationwashopeless.Wewerewellpastthe“buyingtime”phase.Wewerenowintothe“dyingasafutilegesturesureispainful”phase.
Mylineofvisionwasreducedtoablurryredcone,butIfocusedonCommodus’scalvesashepacedinfrontofme,thankinghisadoringfans.
Strappedtotheinsideofhiscalfwasasheatheddagger.Hehadalwayscarriedoneofthosebackintheolddays.Whenyou’rean
emperor,theparanoianeverstops.Youcouldbeassassinatedbyyourhousekeeper,yourwaiter,yourlaunderer,yourbestfriend.Andthen,despiteallyourprecautions,yourgodlyex-loverdisguisedasyourwrestlingtrainerendsupdrowningyouinyourbathtub.Surprise!
HobbleCommodus,Frankhadtoldme.Ihadnoenergyleft,butIowedFrankalastrequest.MybodyscreamedinprotestasIstretchedoutmyhandandgrabbedthe
dagger.Itslippedeasilyfromitssheath—keptwell-oiledforaquickdraw.
Commodusdidn’tevennotice.Istabbedhiminthebackoftheleftknee,thentherightbeforehehadevenregisteredthepain.Hescreamedandtoppledforward,spewingLatinobscenitiesIhadn’theardsincethereignofVespasian.
Hobblingaccomplished.Idroppedtheknife,allmywillpowergone.Iwaitedtoseewhatwouldkillme.Theemperors?Thezombiepoison?Thesuspense?
Icranedmynecktoseehowmyfriendthecommonswiftwasdoing.Notwell,itturnedout.Caligulascoredaluckyhitwiththeflatofhisblade,smackingFrankintothewall.Thelittlebirdtumbledlimply,andFrankshiftedbackintohumanformjustintimeforhisfacetohitthepavement.
Caligulagrinnedatme,hiswoundedeyeclosedtight,hisvoicefilledwithhideousglee.“Areyouwatching,Apollo?Yourememberwhathappensnext?”
HeraisedhisswordoverFrank’sback.“NO!”Iscreamed.Icouldnotwitnessanotherfriend’sdeath.Somehow,Igottomyfeet,butI
wasmuchtooslow.Caligulabroughtdownhisblade…whichbentinhalflikeapipecleaneragainstFrank’scloak.Thankthegodsofmilitaryfashionstatements!Frank’spraetor’scapecouldturnbackweapons,evenasitsabilitytotransformintoasweaterwrapremainedunknown.
Caligulasnarledinfrustration.Hedrewhisdagger,butFrankhadrecoveredenoughstrengthtostand.HeslammedCaligulaagainstthewallandwrappedhisgoodhandaroundtheemperor’sthroat.
“Time’sup!”heroared.Time’sup.Wait…thatwasmycue.Iwassupposedtorun.ButIcouldn’t.I
stared,frozeninhorror,asCaligulaburiedhisdaggerinFrank’sbelly.“Yes,itis,”Caligulacroaked.“Foryou.”Franksqueezedharder,crushingtheemperor’sthroat,makingCaligula’s
faceturnabloatedpurple.Usinghiswoundedarm,whichmusthavebeenexcruciating,Frankpulledthepieceoffirewoodfromhispouch.
“Frank!”Isobbed.Heglancedover,silentlyorderingme:GO.Icouldnotbearit.Notagain.NotlikeJason.Iwasdimlyawareof
Commodusstrugglingtocrawltowardme,tograbmyankles.FrankraisedhispieceoffirewoodtoCaligula’sface.Theemperorfought
andthrashed,butFrankwasstronger—drawing,Isuspected,oneverythingthatremainedofhismortallife.
“IfI’mgoingtoburn,”hesaid,“Imightaswellburnbright.ThisisforJason.”
Thefirewoodspontaneouslycombusted,asifithadbeenwaitingyearsforthischance.Caligula’seyeswidenedwithpanic,perhapsjustnowbeginningto
understand.FlamesroaredaroundFrank’sbody,sparkingtheoilinoneofthegroovesontheasphalt—aliquidfuse,racinginbothdirectionstothecratesandtrafficbarrelsthatpackedthetunnel.Theemperorsweren’ttheonlyoneswhokeptasupplyofGreekfire.
Iamnotproudofwhathappenednext.AsFrankbecameacolumnofflame,andtheemperorCaliguladisintegratedintowhite-hotembers,IfollowedFrank’slastorder.IleapedoverCommodusandranforopenair.Atmyback,theCaldecottTunneleruptedlikeavolcano.
Ididn’tdoit.Explosion?Idon’tknowher.ProbablyGreg’sfault.
ATHIRD-DEGREEBURNwastheleastpainfulthingIcarriedfromthattunnel.
Istaggeredintotheopen,mybacksizzling,myhandssteaming,everymuscleinmybodyfeelinglikeithadbeenscoredwithrazorblades.Beforemespreadtheremainingforcesoftheemperors:hundredsofbattle-readywarriors.Inthedistance,stretchedacrossthebay,fiftyyachtswaited,primedtofiretheirdoomsdayartillery.
NoneofthathurtasmuchasknowingIhadleftFrankZhangintheflames.Caligulawasgone.Icouldfeelit—liketheearthheavedasighofreliefas
hisconsciousnessdisintegratedinablastofsuperheatedplasma.But,oh,thecost.Frank.Beautiful,awkward,lumbering,brave,strong,sweet,nobleFrank.
Iwouldhavesobbed,butmytearductswereasdryasMojavegulches.TheenemyforceslookedasstunnedasIwas.EventheGermaniwereslack-
jawed.Ittakesalottoshockanimperialbodyguard.Watchingyourbossesgetblownupinamassivefierybelchfromthesideofamountain—thatwilldoit.
Behindme,abarelyhumanvoicegurgled,“URGSSHHH.”Iturned.Iwastoodeadinsidetofeelfearordisgust.OfcourseCommoduswasstill
alive.Hecrawledoutofthesmoke-filledcavernonhiselbows,hisarmorhalf-melted,hisskincoatedwithash.Hisonce-beautifulfacelookedlikeaburntloafoftomatobread.
Ihadn’thobbledhimwellenough.Somehow,I’dmissedhisligaments.I’d
messedupeverything,evenFrank’slastrequest.Noneofthetroopsrushedtotheemperor’said.Theyremainedfrozenin
disbelief.Perhapstheydidn’trecognizethiswreckedcreatureasCommodus.Perhapstheythoughthewasdoinganotheroneofhisspectaclesandtheywerewaitingfortherightmomenttoapplaud.
Incredibly,Commodusstruggledtohisfeet.Hewobbledlikea1975Elvis.“SHIPS!”hecroaked.Heslurredthewordsobadly,foramomentIthought
he’dyelledsomethingelse.Isupposehistroopsthoughtthesamething,sincetheydidnothing.
“FIRE!”Commodusgroaned,whichagaincouldhavesimplymeantHEY,LOOK,I’MONFIRE.
Ionlyunderstoodhisorderaheartbeatlater,whenGregorixyelled,“SIGNALTHEYACHTS!”
Ichokedonmytongue.Commodusgavemeaghastlysmile.Hiseyesglitteredwithhatred.Idon’tknowwhereIfoundthestrength,butIchargedandtackledhim.We
hittheasphalt,mylegsstraddlinghischest,myhandswrappedaroundhisthroatastheyhadbeenthousandsofyearsbefore,thefirsttimeIkilledhim.Thistime,Ifeltnobittersweetregret,nolingeringsenseoflove.Commodusfought,buthisfistswerelikepaper.Iletlooseagutturalroar—asongwithonlyonenote:purerage,andonlyonevolume:maximum.
Undertheonslaughtofsound,Commoduscrumbledtoash.Myvoicefaltered.Istaredatmyemptypalms.Istoodandbackedaway,
horrified.Thecharredoutlineoftheemperor’sbodyremainedontheasphalt.Icouldstillfeelthepulseofhiscarotidarteriesundermyfingers.WhathadIdone?Inmythousandsofyearsoflife,I’dneverdestroyedsomeonewithmyvoice.WhenIsang,peoplewouldoftensayI“killedit,”buttheynevermeantthatliterally.
Theemperors’troopsstaredatmeinastonishment.Givenanothermoment,theysurelywouldhaveattacked,buttheirattentionwasdivertedbyaflaregungoingoffnearby.Atennis-ball-sizeglobeoforangefirearcedintothesky,trailingTang-coloredsmoke.
Thetroopsturnedtowardthebay,waitingforthefireworksshowthatwoulddestroyCampJupiter.I’lladmit—astiredandhelplessandemotionallyshatteredasIwas,allIcoulddowaswatch,too.
Onfiftyaftdecks,greendotsflickeredastheGreekfirechargeswereuncoveredintheirmortars.Iimaginedpandostechniciansscramblingabout,inputtingtheirfinalcoordinates.
PLEASE,ARTEMIS,Iprayed.NOWWOULDBEAGREATTIMETOSHOWUP.
Theweaponsfired.Fiftygreenfireballsroseintothesky,likeemeraldsonafloatingnecklace,illuminatingtheentirebay.Theyrosestraightupward,strugglingtogainaltitude.
Myfearturnedtoconfusion.Iknewafewthingsaboutflying.Youcouldn’ttakeoffataninety-degreeangle.IfItriedthatinthesunchariot…well,firstofall,Iwould’vefallenoffandlookedreallystupid.Butalso,thehorsescouldneverhavemadesuchasteepclimb.TheywouldhavetoppledintoeachotherandcrashedbackintothegatesoftheSunPalace.You’dhaveaneasternsunrise,followedimmediatelybyaneasternsunsetandlotsofangrywhinnying.
Whywouldthemortarsbeaimedlikethat?Thegreenfireballsclimbedanotherfiftyfeet.Ahundredfeet.Slowed.On
Highway24,theentireenemyarmymimickedtheirmovements,standingupstraighterandstraighterastheprojectilesrose,untilalltheGermani,Khromandae,andotherassortedbaddieswereontheirtippy-toes,poisedasiflevitating.Thefireballsstoppedandhoveredinmidair.
Thentheemeraldsfellstraightdown,rightontotheyachtsfromwhichtheyhadcome.
Thedisplayofmayhemwasworthyoftheemperorsthemselves.Fiftyyachtsexplodedingreenmushroomclouds,sendingconfettiofshatteredwood,metal,andtinylittleflamingmonsterbodiesintotheair.Caligula’smulti-billion-dollarfleetwasreducedtoastringofburningoilslicksonthesurfaceofthebay.
Imayhavelaughed.Iknowthatwasquiteinsensitive,consideringtheenvironmentalimpactofthedisaster.Alsoterriblyinappropriate,givenhowheartbrokenIfeltaboutFrank.ButIcouldn’thelpit.
Theenemytroopsturnedasonetostareatme.Oh,right,Iremindedmyself.Iamstillfacinghundredsofhostiles.Buttheydidn’tlookveryhostile.Theirexpressionswerestunnedandunsure.IhaddestroyedCommoduswithashout.IhadhelpedburnCaligulato
cinders.Despitemyhumbleappearance,thetroopshadprobablyheardrumorsthatIwasonceagod.Wasitpossible,they’dbewondering,thatIhadsomehowcausedthefleet’sdestruction?
Inpointoffact,Ihadnoideawhathadgonewrongwiththefleet’sweapons.IdoubteditwasArtemis.Itjustdidn’tfeellikesomethingshewoulddo.AsforLavinia…Ididn’tseehowshecould’vepulledoffatricklikethatwithjustsomefauns,afewdryads,andsomechewinggum.
Iknewitwasn’tme.
Butthearmydidn’tknowthat.Icobbledtogetherthelastshredsofmycourage.Ichanneledmyoldsenseof
arrogance,frombackinthedayswhenIlovedtotakecreditforthingsIdidn’tdo(aslongastheyweregoodandimpressive).IgaveGregorixandhisarmyacruel,emperor-likesmile.
“BOO!”Ishouted.Thetroopsbrokeandran.Theyscattereddownthehighwayinapanic,some
leapingstraightovertheguardrailsandintothevoidjusttogetawayfrommefaster.Onlythepoortorturedpegasistayedput,sincetheyhadnochoice.Theywerestillfastenedintheirharnesses,thechariotwheelsstakedtotheasphalttokeeptheanimalsfrombolting.Inanycase,Idoubtedtheywouldhavewantedtofollowtheirtormentors.
Ifelltomyknees.Mygutwoundthrobbed.Mycharredbackhadgonenumb.Myheartseemedtobepumpingcold,liquidlead.Iwouldbedeadsoon.Orundead.Ithardlymattered.Thetwoemperorsweregone.Theirfleetwasdestroyed.Frankwasnomore.
Onthebay,theburningoilpoolsbelchedcolumnsofsmokethatturnedorangeinthelightofthebloodmoon.ItwaswithoutadoubttheloveliesttrashfireI’deverbeheld.
Afteramomentofshockedsilence,theBayAreaemergencyservicesseemtoregisterthenewproblem.TheEastBayhadalreadybeendeemedadisasterarea.Withthetunnelclosureandthemysteriousstringofwildfiresandexplosionsinthehills,sirenshadbeenwailingacrosstheflatlands.Emergencylightsflickeredeverywhereonthejammedstreets.
NowCoastGuardvesselsjoinedtheparty,cuttingacrossthewatertoreachtheburningoilspills.Policeandnewshelicoptersveeredtowardthescenefromadozendifferentdirectionsasifbeingpulledbyamagnet.TheMistwouldbeworkingovertimetonight.
Iwastemptedtojustliedownontheroadandgotosleep.IknewifIdidthat,Iwoulddie,butatleasttherewouldbenomorepain.Oh,Frank.
Andwhyhadn’tArtemiscometohelpme?Iwasn’tmadather.Iunderstoodalltoowellhowgodscouldbe,allthedifferentreasonstheymightnotshowupwhenyoucalled.Still,ithurt,beingignoredbymyownsister.
Anindignanthuffjarredmefrommythoughts.Thepegasiwereglaringatme.Theoneonthelefthadablindeye,poorthing,butheshookhisbridleandmadearaspberrykindofsoundasiftosay,GETOVERYOURSELF,DUDE.
Thepegasuswascorrect.Otherpeoplewerehurting.Someofthemneededmyhelp.Tarquinwasstillalive—Icouldfeelitinmyzombie-infectedblood.HazelandMegmightwellbefightingundeadinthestreetsofNewRome.
Iwouldn’tbemuchgoodtothem,butIhadtotry.EitherIcoulddiewithmyfriends,ortheycouldcutoffmyheadafterIturnedintoabrain-eater,whichwaswhatfriendswerefor.
Iroseandstaggeredtowardthepegasi.“I’msosorrythishappenedtoyou,”Itoldthem.“Youarebeautifulanimals
andyoudeservebetter.”OneEyegruntedasiftosay,YATHINK?“I’llfreeyounow,ifyou’llletme.”Ifumbledwiththeirtackandharness.Ifoundanabandoneddaggeronthe
asphaltandcutawaythebarbedwireandspikedcuffsthathadbeendiggingintotheanimals’flesh.IcarefullyavoidedtheirhoovesincasetheydecidedIwasworthakickinthehead.
ThenIstartedhummingDeanMartin’s“Ain’tThataKickintheHead,”becausethat’sjustthekindofawfulweekIwashaving.
“There,”Isaidwhenthepegasiwerefree.“Ihavenorighttoaskanythingofyou,butifyoucouldseeyourwaytogivingmearideoverthehills,myfriendsareindanger.”
Thepegasusontheright,whostillhadbotheyesbutwhoseearshadbeencruellysnipped,whinniedanemphaticNO!HetrottedtowardtheCollegeAvenueexit,thenstoppedhalfwayandlookedbackathisfriend.
OneEyegruntedandtossedhismane.IimaginedhissilentexchangewithShortEarswentsomethinglikethis.
OneEye:I’mgonnagivethispatheticloseraride.Yougoahead.I’llcatchup.
ShortEars:You’recrazy,man.Ifhegivesyouanytrouble,kickhiminthehead.
OneEye:YouknowIwill.ShortEarstrottedoffintothenight.Icouldn’tblamehimforleaving.I
hopedhewouldfindasafeplacetorestandheal.OneEyenickeredatme.Well?ItookonelastlookattheCaldecottTunnel,theinteriorstillamaelstromof
greenflames.Evenwithoutfuel,Greekfirewouldjustkeepburningandburning,andthatconflagrationhadbeenstartedwithFrank’slifeforce—afinal,thermalburstofheroismthathadvaporizedCaligula.Ididn’tpretendtounderstandwhatFrankhaddone,orwhyhehadmadethatchoice,butIunderstoodhe’dfeltitwastheonlyway.He’dburnedbrightly,allright.ThelastwordCaligulahadheardashegotblastedintotinyparticlesofsootwasJason.
Isteppedclosertothetunnel.Icouldbarelygetwithinfiftyfeetwithoutthe
breathbeingsuckedoutofmylungs.“FRANK!”Iyelled.“FRANK?”Itwashopeless,Iknew.TherewasnowayFrankcouldhavesurvivedthat.
Caligula’simmortalbodyhaddisintegratedinstantly.Frankcouldn’thavelastedmorethanafewsecondslonger,heldtogetherbysheercourageandforceofwill,justtobesurehetookCaliguladownwithhim.
IwishedIcouldcry.Ivaguelyrecalledhavingtearducts,onceuponatime.NowallIhadwasdespair,andtheknowledgethataslongasIwasn’tdead,I
hadtotrytohelpmyremainingfriends,nomatterhowmuchIhurt.“I’msosorry,”Isaidtotheflames.Theflamesdidn’tanswer.Theydidn’tcarewhoorwhattheydestroyed.Ifixedmygazeonthecrestofthehill.Hazel,Meg,andthelastofthe
TwelfthLegionwereontheotherside,fightingofftheundead.That’swhereIneededtobe.
“Okay,”ItoldOneEye.“I’mready.”
Gottwowordsforyou:SwissArmyunicorns,man!Okay,that’sfourwords.
IFYOUEVERGETthechancetoseeweaponizedunicornsinaction,don’t.It’ssomethingyoucan’tun-see.
Aswegotclosertothecity,Idetectedsignsofcontinuingbattle:columnsofsmoke,flameslickingthetopsofbuildings,screams,shouts,explosions.Youknow,theusual.
OneEyedroppedmeatthePomerianLine.Hesnortedinatonethatsaid,Yeah,goodluckwiththat,thengallopedaway.Pegasiareintelligentcreatures.
IglancedatTempleHill,hopingtoseestormcloudsgathering,oradivineauraofsilverlightbathingthehillside,oranarmyofmysister’sHunterschargingtotherescue.Isawnothing.IwonderedifEllaandTysonwerestillpacingaroundtheshrineofDiana,checkingthefirepiteverythirtysecondstoseeiftheSibyl’sjelly-jarshardswerecookedyet.
Onceagain,Ihadtobeacavalryofone.Sorry,NewRome.IjoggedtowardtheForum,whichwaswhereIcaughtmyfirstglimpseoftheunicorns.Definitelynottheusual.
Megherselfledthecharge.Shewasnotridingaunicorn.Noonewhovaluestheirlife(ortheircrotch)wouldeverdarerideone.Butshedidrunalongsidethem,exhortingthemtogreatnessastheygallopedintobattle.ThebeastswereoutfittedinKevlarwiththeirnamesprintedinwhiteblocklettersalongtheirribs:MUFFIN,BUSTER,WHANGDOODLE,SHIRLEY,andHORATIO,theFiveUnicornsoftheApocalypse.Theirleatherhelmetsremindedmeofthosewornbyfootballplayersinthe1920s.Thesteeds’hornswerefittedwithspeciallydesigned…
Whatwouldyoucallthem?Attachments?Imagine,ifyouwill,massiveconicalSwissArmyknives,withvariousslotsfromwhichsprangaconvenientvarietyofdestructiveimplements.
Megandherfriendsslammedintoahordeofvrykolakai—formerlegionnaireskilledinTarquin’spreviousassault,judgingfromtheirgrungybitsofarmor.AmemberofCampJupitermighthavehadtroubleattackingoldcomrades,butMeghadnosuchqualms.Herswordswhirled,slicinganddicingandmakingmoundsandmoundsofjuliennedzombies.
Withaflickoftheirsnouts,herequinefriendsactivatedtheirfavoriteaccessories:aswordblade,agiantrazor,acorkscrew,afork,andanailfile.(Busterchosethenailfile,whichdidnotsurpriseme.)Theyplowedthroughtheundead,forkingthem,corkscrewingthem,stabbingthem,andnail-filingthemintooblivion.
YoumaywonderwhyIdidnotfindithorrifyingthatMegwoulduseunicornsforwarwhileIhadfoundithorrifyingthattheemperorshadusedpegasifortheirchariot.Settingasidetheobviousdifference—thattheunicornsweren’ttorturedormaimed—itwascleartheone-hornedsteedswereenjoyingthemselvesimmensely.Aftercenturiesofbeingtreatedasdelightful,fancifulcreatureswhofrolickedinmeadowsanddancedthroughrainbows,theseunicornsfinallyfeltseenandappreciated.Meghadrecognizedtheirnaturaltalentforkickingundeadposterior.
“Hey!”Meggrinnedwhenshesawme,likeI’djustcomebackfromthebathroominsteadofthebrinkofdoomsday.“It’sworkinggreat.Unicornsareimmunetoundeadscratchesandbites!”
Shirleyhuffed,clearlypleasedwithherself.Sheshowedmehercorkscrewattachmentasiftosay,Yeah,that’sright.Iain’tyourRainbowPony.
“Theemperors?”Megaskedme.“Dead.But…”Myvoicecracked.Megstudiedmyface.Sheknewmewellenough.Shehadbeenatmysidein
momentsoftragedy.Herexpressiondarkened.“Okay.Grievelater.Rightnow,weshouldfind
Hazel.She’s”—Megwavedvaguelytowardthemiddleofthetown—“somewhere.SoisTarquin.”
Justhearinghisnamemademygutcontort.Why,oh,whycouldn’tIbeaunicorn?
WeranwithourSwissArmyherdupthenarrow,windingstreets.Thebattlewasmostlypocketsofhouse-to-housecombat.Familieshadbarricadedtheirhomes.Shopswereboardedup.Archerslurkedinupper-storywindowsonthelookoutforzombies.Rovingbandsofeurynomoiattackedanylivingthingthey
couldfind.Ashorribleasthescenewas,somethingaboutitseemedoddlysubdued.Yes,
Tarquinhadfloodedthecitywithundead.Everysewergrateandmanholecoverwasopen.Buthewasn’tattackinginforce,sweepingsystematicallythroughthecitytotakecontrol.Instead,smallgroupsofundeadwerepoppingupeverywhereatonce,forcingtheRomanstoscrambleanddefendthecitizenry.Itfeltlesslikeaninvasionandmorelikeadiversion,asifTarquinhimselfwereaftersomethingspecificanddidn’twanttobebothered.
Somethingspecific…likeasetofSibyllineBookshe’dpaidgoodmoneyforbackin530BCE.
Myheartpumpedmorecoldlead.“Thebookstore.Meg,thebookstore!”Shefrowned,perhapswonderingwhyIwantedtoshopforbooksatatime
likethis.Thenrealizationdawnedinhereyes.“Oh.”Shepickedupspeed,runningsofasttheunicornshadtobreakintoatrot.
HowImanagedtokeepup,Idon’tknow.Isuppose,atthatpoint,mybodywassofarbeyondhelpitjustsaid,Runtodeath?Yeah,okay.Whatever.
Thefightingintensifiedasweclimbedthehill.WepassedpartoftheFourthCohortbattlingadozenslaveringghoulsoutsideasidewalkcafé.Fromthewindowsabove,smallchildrenandtheirparentsweretossingthingsattheeurynomoi—rocks,pots,pans,bottles—whilethelegionnairesjabbedtheirspearsoverthetopsoftheirlockedshields.
Afewblocksfartheron,wefoundTerminus,hisWorldWarIgreatcoatpepperedwithshrapnelholes,hisnosebrokencleanoffhismarbleface.Crouchingbehindhispedestalwasalittlegirl—hishelper,Julia,Ipresumed—clutchingasteakknife.
TerminusturnedonuswithsuchfuryIfearedhewouldzapusintostacksofcustomsdeclarationforms.
“Oh,it’syou,”hegrumbled.“Mybordershavefailed.Ihopeyou’vebroughthelp.”
Ilookedattheterrifiedgirlbehindhim,feralandfierceandreadytospring.Iwonderedwhowasprotectingwhom.“Ah…maybe?”
Theoldgod’sfacehardenedabitmore,whichshouldn’thavebeenpossibleforstone.“Isee.Well.I’veconcentratedthelastbitsofmypowerhere,aroundJulia.TheymaydestroyNewRome,buttheywillnotharmthisgirl!”
“Orthisstatue!”saidJulia.MyheartturnedtoSmucker’sjelly.“We’llwintoday,Ipromise.”Somehow
ImadeitsoundlikeIactuallybelievedthatstatement.“Where’sHazel?”“Overthere!”Terminuspointedwithhisnonexistentarms.Basedonhis
glance(Icouldn’tgobyhisnoseanymore),Iassumedhemeanttotheleft.We
raninthatdirectionuntilwefoundanotherclusteroflegionnaires.“Where’sHazel?”Megyelled.“Thatway!”shoutedLeila.“Twoblocksmaybe!”“Thanks!”Megsprintedonwithherunicornhonorguard,theirnailfileand
corkscrewattachmentsattheready.WefoundHazeljustwhereLeilahadpredicted—twoblocksdown,where
thestreetwidenedintoaneighborhoodpiazza.SheandArionweresurroundedbyzombiesinthemiddleofthesquare,outnumberedabouttwentytoone.Ariondidn’tlookparticularlyalarmed,buthegruntedandwhinniedinfrustration,unabletousehisspeedinsuchclosequarters.HazelslashedawaywithherspathawhileArionkickedatthemobtokeepthemback.
NodoubtHazelcould’vehandledthesituationwithouthelp,butourunicornscouldn’tresisttheopportunityformorezombie-posterior-kicking.Theycrashedintothefray,slicingandbottle-openingandtweezingtheundeadinanawesomedisplayofmultifunctioncarnage.
Megleapedintobattle,hertwinbladesspinning.Iscannedthestreetforabandonedprojectileweapons.Sadly,theywereeasytofind.Iscoopedupabowandquiverandwenttowork,givingthezombiessomeveryfashionableskull-piercings.
WhenHazelrealizeditwasus,shelaughedwithrelief,thenscannedtheareabehindme,probablylookingforFrank.Imethereyes.I’mafraidmyexpressiontoldhereverythingshedidn’twanttohear.
Emotionsrippledacrossherface:utterdisbelief,desolation,thenanger.Sheyelledinrage,spurringArion,andplowedthroughthelastofthezombiemob.Theyneverhadachance.
Oncethepiazzawassecure,Hazelcantereduptome.“Whathappened?”“I…Frank…Theemperors…”That’sallIcouldmanage.Itwasn’tmuchofanarrative,butsheseemedto
getthegist.ShedoubledoveruntilherforeheadtouchedArion’smane.Sherockedand
murmured,clutchingherwristlikeaballplayerwhohadjustbrokenherhandandwastryingtofightdownthepain.Atlastshestraightened.Shetookashakybreath.Shedismounted,wrappedherarmsaroundArion’sneck,andwhisperedsomethinginhisear.
Thehorsenodded.Hazelsteppedbackandheracedaway—astreakofwhiteheadingwesttowardtheCaldecottTunnel.IwantedtowarnHazeltherewasnothingtofindthere,butIdidn’t.Iunderstoodheartachealittlebetternow.Eachperson’sgriefhasitsownlifespan;itneedstofollowitsownpath.
“WherecanwefindTarquin?”shedemanded.Whatshemeantwas:Whocan
Ikilltomakemyselffeelbetter?IknewtheanswerwasNoone.Butagain,Ididn’targuewithher.Likea
fool,Iledthewaytothebookstoretoconfronttheundeadking.
Twoeurynomoistoodguardattheentrance,whichIassumedmeantTarquinwasalreadyinside.IprayedTysonandEllawerestillonTempleHill.
Withaflickofherhand,Hazelsummonedtwopreciousstonesfromtheground:Rubies?Fireopals?Theyshotpastmesofast,Icouldn’tbesure.Theyhittheghoulsrightbetweentheeyes,reducingeachguardtoapileofdust.Theunicornslookeddisappointed—bothbecausetheycouldn’tusetheircombatutensils,andbecausetheyrealizedweweregoingthroughadoorwaytoosmallforthemtofollow.
“Gofindotherenemies,”Megtoldthem.“Enjoy!”TheFiveUnicornsoftheApocalypsehappilybucked,thengallopedofftodo
Meg’sbidding.Ibargedintothebookstore,HazelandMegatmyheels,andwadedstraight
intoacrowdofundead.Vrykolakaishuffledthroughthenew-releaseaisle,perhapslookingforthelatestinzombiefiction.Othersbonkedagainsttheshelvesofthehistorysection,asiftheyknewtheybelongedinthepast.Oneghoulsquattedonacomfyreadingchair,droolingasheperusedTheIllustratedBookofVultures.Anothercrouchedonthebalconyabove,happilychewingaleather-boundeditionofGreatExpectations.
Tarquinhimselfwastoobusytonoticeourentrance.Hestoodwithhisbacktous,attheinformationdesk,yellingatthebookstorecat.
“Answerme,beast!”thekingscreamed.“WherearetheBooks?”Aristophanessatonthedesk,onelegstraightupintheair,calmlylickinghis
netherregions—which,lastIchecked,wasconsideredimpoliteinthepresenceofroyalty.
“Iwilldestroyyou!”Tarquinsaid.Thecatlookedupbriefly,hissed,thenreturnedtohispersonalgrooming.“Tarquin,leavehimalone!”Ishouted,thoughthecatseemedtoneednohelp
fromme.Thekingturned,andIimmediatelyrememberedwhyIshouldn’tbenear
him.Atidalwaveofnauseacrashedoverme,pushingmetomyknees.Myveinsburnedwithpoison.Myfleshseemedtobeturninginsideout.Noneofthezombiesattacked.TheyjuststaredatmewiththeirflatdeadeyesasifwaitingformetoputonmyHELLO,MYNAMEUSEDTOBEnametagandstartmingling.
Tarquinhadaccessorizedforhisbignightout.Heworeamoldyredcloak
overhiscorrodedarmor.Goldringsadornedhisskeletalfingers.Hisgoldencircletcrownlookednewlypolished,makingitclashnicelywithhisrottedcranium.Tendrilsofoilypurpleneonslitheredaroundhislimbs,writhinginandoutofhisribcageandcirclinghisneckbones.Sincehisfacewasaskull,Icouldn’ttellifhewassmiling,butwhenhespoke,hesoundedpleasedtoseeme.
“Well,good!Killedtheemperors,didyou,myfaithfulservant?Speak!”Ihadnodesiretotellhimanything,butagiantinvisiblehandsqueezedmy
diaphragm,forcingoutthewords.“Dead.They’redead.”Ihadtobitemytonguetokeepfromaddinglord.
“Excellent!”Tarquinsaid.“Somanylovelydeathstonight.Andthepraetor,Frank—?”
“Don’t.”Hazelshoulderedpastme.“Tarquin,don’tyoudaresayhisname.”“Ha!Dead,then.Excellent.”Tarquinsniffedtheair,purplegasscrolling
throughhisskeletalnoseslits.“Thecityisripewithfear.Agony.Loss.Wonderful!Apollo,you’reminenow,ofcourse.Icanfeelyourheartpumpingitslastfewbeats.AndHazelLevesque…I’mafraidyou’llhavetodieforcollapsingmythroneroomontopofme.Verynaughtytrick.ButthisMcCaffreychild…I’minsuchagoodmood,Imightletherfleeforherlifeandspreadwordofmygreatvictory!Thatis,ofcourse,ifyoucooperateandexplain”—hepointedatthecat—“themeaningofthis.”
“It’sacat,”Isaid.SomuchforTarquin’sgoodmood.Hesnarled,andanotherwaveofpain
turnedmyspinetoputty.Meggrabbedmyarmbeforemyfacecouldhitthecarpet.
“Leavehimalone!”sheyelledattheking.“There’snowayI’mfleeinganywhere.”
“WherearetheSibyllineBooks?”Tarquindemanded.“Theyarenoneofthese!”Hegestureddismissivelyattheshelves,thenglaredatAristophanes.“Andthiscreaturewillnotspeak!TheharpyandtheCyclopswhowererewritingtheprophecies—Icansmellthattheywerehere,buttheyaregone.Wherearethey?”
Isaidasilentprayerofthanksforstubbornharpies.EllaandTysonmust’vestillbeenwaitingatTempleHillfordivinehelpthatwasn’tcoming.
Megsnorted.“You’restupidforaking.TheBooksaren’there.They’renotevenbooks.”
Tarquinregardedmysmallmaster,thenturnedtohiszombies.“Whatlanguageisshespeaking?Didthatmakesensetoanyone?”
Thezombiesstaredathimunhelpfully.Theghoulsweretoobusyreading
aboutvulturesandeatingGreatExpectations.Tarquinfacedmeagain.“Whatdoesthegirlmean?WherearetheBooks,
andhowaretheynotbooks?”Again,mychestconstricted.Thewordsburstoutofme:“Tyson.Cyclops.
Propheciestattooedonhisskin.He’sonTempleHillwith—”“Quiet!”Megordered.Mymouthclampedshut,butitwastoolate.The
wordswereoutofthebarn.Wasthattherightexpression?Tarquintiltedhisskull.“Thechairinthebackroom…Yes.Yes,Iseenow.
Ingenious!Iwillhavetokeepthisharpyaliveandwatchherpracticeherart.Propheciesonflesh?Oh,Icanworkwiththat!”
“You’llneverleavethisplace,”Hazelgrowled.“Mytroopsarecleaningupthelastofyourinvaders.It’sjustusnow.Andyou’reabouttorestinpieces.”
Tarquinhissedalaugh.“Oh,mydear.Didyouthinkthatwastheinvasion?Thosetroopswerejustmyskirmishers,taskedwithkeepingyoualldividedandconfusedwhileIcameheretosecuretheBooks.NowIknowwheretheyare,whichmeansthecitycanbeproperlypillaged!Therestofmyarmyshouldbecomingthroughyoursewersrightabout”—hesnappedhisbonefingers—“now.”
CaptainUnderpantsDoesnotappearinthisbookCopyrightissues
IWAITEDFORTHEsoundsofrenewedcombatoutside.ThebookstorewassoquietIcouldalmosthearthezombiesbreathing.
Thecityremainedsilent.“Rightaboutnow,”Tarquinrepeated,snappinghisfingerbonesagain.“Havingcommunicationsissues?”Hazelasked.Tarquinhissed.“Whathaveyoudone?”“Me?Nothingyet.”Hazeldrewherspatha.“That’sabouttochange.”Aristophanesstruckfirst.Ofcoursethecatwouldmakethefightallabout
him.Withanoutragedmewlandnoapparentprovocation,thegiantorangetuboffurlaunchedhimselfatTarquin’sface,fasteninghisforeclawsontheskull’seyesocketsandkickinghisbackfeetagainstTarquin’srottenteeth.Thekingstaggeredunderthissurpriseassault,screaminginLatin,hiswordsgarbledbecauseofthecatpawsinhismouth.AndsotheBattleoftheBookstorebegan.
HazellaunchedherselfatTarquin.MegseemedtoacceptthatHazelhadfirstdibsonthebigbaddie,consideringwhathadhappenedtoFrank,sosheconcentratedonthezombiesinstead,usingherdoublebladestostabandhackandpushthemtowardthenonfictionsection.
Idrewanarrow,intendingtoshoottheghoulonthebalcony,butmyhandstrembledtoobadly.Icouldn’tgettomyfeet.Myeyesightwasdimandred.Ontopofallthat,IrealizedI’ddrawntheonlyarrowremaininginmyoriginalquiver:theArrowofDodona.
HOLDESTTHOUON,APOLLO!thearrowsaidinmymind.YIELDETH
THYSELFNOTTOTHEUNDEADKING!Throughmyfogofpain,IwonderedifIwasgoingcrazy.“Areyougivingmeapeptalk?”Theideamademegiggle.“Whew,I’m
tired.”Icollapsedonmybutt.Megsteppedovermeandslashedazombiewhohadbeenabouttoeatmy
face.“Thankyou,”Imuttered,butshe’dalreadymovedon.Theghoulshad
reluctantlyputdowntheirbooksandwerenowclosinginonher.HazelstabbedatTarquin,whohadjustflungAristophanesoffhisface.The
catyowledasheflewacrosstheroom.Hemanagedtocatchtheedgeofabookshelfandscrambletothetop.Heglareddownatmewithhisgreeneyes,hisexpressionimplyingImeanttodothat.
TheArrowofDodonakepttalkinginmyhead:THOUHASTDONEWELL,APOLLO!THOUHASTONLYONEJOBNOW:LIVE!
“That’sareallyhardjob,”Imuttered.“Ihatemyjob.”THOUHASTONLYTOWAIT!HOLDON!“Waitforwhat?”Imurmured.“Holdontowhat?Oh…IguessI’mholding
ontoyou.”YES!thearrowsaid.YES,DOESTTHOUTHAT!STAYESTTHOUWITH
ME,APOLLO.DARESTTHOUNOTDIEUPONME,MAN!“Isn’tthatfromamovie?”Iasked.“Like…everymovie?Wait,youactually
careifIdie?”“Apollo!”yelledMeg,slashingatGreatExpectations.“Ifyou’renotgoingto
help,couldyouatleastcrawlsomeplacesafer?”Iwantedtooblige.Ireallydid.Butmylegswouldn’twork.“Oh,look,”Imutteredtonooneinparticular.“Myanklesareturninggray.
Oh,wow.Myhandsare,too.”NO!saidthearrow.HOLDON!“Forwhat?”CONCENTRATEUPONMYVOICE.LETUSSINGASONG!THOU
LIKESTSONGS,DOSTTHOUNOT?“SweetCaroline!”Iwarbled.PERHAPSADIFFERENTSONG?“BAHM!BAHM!BAHM!”Icontinued.Thearrowrelentedandbegansingingalongwithme,thoughhelagged
behind,sincehehadtotranslateallthelyricsintoShakespeareanlanguage.ThiswashowIwoulddie:sittingonthefloorofabookstore,turningintoa
zombiewhileholdingatalkingarrowandsingingNeilDiamond’sgreatesthit.EventheFatescannotforeseeallthewonderstheuniversehasinstoreforus.
Atlastmyvoicedriedup.Myvisiontunneled.Thesoundsofcombatseemedtoreachmyearsfromtheendsoflongmetaltubes.
MegslashedthroughthelastofTarquin’sminions.Thatwasagoodthing,Ithoughtdistantly.Ididn’twanthertodie,too.HazelstabbedTarquininthechest.TheRomankingfell,howlinginpain,rippingtheswordhiltfromHazel’sgrip.Hecollapsedagainsttheinformationdesk,clutchingthebladewithhisskeletalhands.
Hazelsteppedback,waitingforthezombiekingtodissolve.Instead,Tarquinstruggledtohisfeet,purplegasflickeringweaklyinhiseyesockets.
“Ihavelivedformillennia,”hesnarled.“Youcouldnotkillmewithathousandtonsofstone,HazelLevesque.Youwillnotkillmewithasword.”
IthoughtHazelmightflyathimandriphisskulloffwithherbarehands.HerragewassopalpableIcouldsmellitlikeanapproachingstorm.Wait…Ididsmellanapproachingstorm,alongwithotherforestscents:pineneedles,morningdewonwildflowers,thebreathofhuntingdogs.
Alargesilverwolflickedmyface.Lupa?Ahallucination?No…awholepackofthebeastshadtrottedintothestoreandwerenowsniffingthebookshelvesandthepilesofzombiedust.
Behindthem,inthedoorway,stoodagirlwholookedabouttwelve,hereyessilver-yellow,herauburnhairpulledbackinaponytail.Shewasdressedforthehuntinashimmeringgrayfrockandleggings,awhitebowinherhand.Herfacewasbeautiful,serene,andascoldasthewintermoon.
ShenockedasilverarrowandmetHazel’seyes,askingpermissiontofinishherkill.Hazelnoddedandsteppedaside.TheyounggirlaimedatTarquin.
“Foulundeadthing,”shesaid,hervoicehardandbrightwithpower.“Whenagoodwomanputsyoudown,youhadbeststaydown.”
HerarrowlodgedinthecenterofTarquin’sforehead,splittinghisfrontalbone.Thekingstiffened.Thetendrilsofpurplegassputteredanddissipated.Fromthearrow’spointofentry,arippleoffirethecolorofChristmastinselspreadacrossTarquin’sskullanddownhisbody,disintegratinghimutterly.Hisgoldcrown,thesilverarrow,andHazel’sswordalldroppedtothefloor.
Igrinnedatthenewcomer.“Hey,Sis.”ThenIkeeledoversideways.Theworldturnedfluffy,bleachedofallcolor.Nothinghurtanymore.IwasdimlyawareofDiana’sfacehoveringoverme,MegandHazelpeering
overthegoddess’sshoulders.“He’salmostgone,”Dianasaid.
ThenIwasgone.Mymindslippedintoapoolofcold,slimydarkness.
“Oh,no,youdon’t.”Mysister’svoicewokemerudely.I’dbeensocomfortable,sononexistent.Lifesurgedbackintome—cold,sharp,andunfairlypainful.Diana’sface
cameintofocus.Shelookedannoyed,whichseemedon-brandforher.Asforme,Ifeltsurprisinglygood.Thepaininmygutwasgone.My
musclesdidn’tburn.Icouldbreathewithoutdifficulty.Imusthavesleptfordecades.
“H-howlongwasIout?”Icroaked.“Roughlythreeseconds,”shesaid.“Now,getup,dramaqueen.”Shehelpedmetomyfeet.Ifeltabitunsteady,butIwasdelightedtofind
thatmylegshadanystrengthatall.Myskinwasnolongergray.Thelinesofinfectionweregone.TheArrowofDodonawasstillinmyhand,thoughhehadgonesilent,perhapsinaweofthegoddess’spresence.Orperhapshewasstilltryingtogetthetasteof“SweetCaroline”outofhisimaginarymouth.
MegandHazelstoodnearby,bedraggledbutunharmed.Friendlygraywolvesmilledaroundthem,bumpingagainsttheirlegsandsniffingtheirshoes,whichhadobviouslybeentomanyinterestingplacesoverthecourseoftheday.Aristophanesregardedusallfromhisperchatopthebookshelf,decidedhedidn’tcare,thenwentbacktocleaninghimself.
Ibeamedatmysister.ItwassogoodtoseeherdisapprovingI-can’t-believe-you’re-my-brotherfrownagain.“Iloveyou,”Isaid,myvoicehoarsewithemotion.
Sheblinked,clearlyunsurewhattodowiththisinformation.“Youreallyhavechanged.”
“Imissedyou!”“Y-yes,well.I’mherenow.EvenDadcouldn’targuewithaSibylline
invocationfromTempleHill.”“Itworked,then!”IgrinnedatHazelandMeg.“Itworked!”“Yeah,”Megsaidwearily.“Hi,Artemis.”“Diana,”mysistercorrected.“Buthello,Meg.”Forher,mysisterhada
smile.“You’vedonewell,youngwarrior.”Megblushed.Shekickedatthescatteredzombiedustonthefloorand
shrugged.“Eh.”Icheckedmystomach,whichwaseasy,sincemyshirtwasintatters.The
bandageshadvanished,alongwiththefesteringwound.Onlyathinwhitescarremained.“So…I’mhealed?”Myflabtoldmeshehadn’trestoredmetomy
godlyself.Nah,thatwouldhavebeentoomuchtoexpect.Dianaraisedaneyebrow.“Well,I’mnotthegoddessofhealing,butI’mstill
agoddess.IthinkIcantakecareofmylittlebrother’sboo-boos.”“Littlebrother?”Shesmirked,thenturnedtoHazel.“Andyou,Centurion.Howhaveyou
been?”Hazelwasnodoubtsoreandstiff,butshekneltandbowedherheadlikea
goodRoman.“I’m…”Shehesitated.Herworldhadjustbeenshattered.She’dlostFrank.Sheapparentlydecidednottolietothegoddess.“I’mheartbrokenandexhausted,mylady.Butthankyouforcomingtoouraid.”
Diana’sexpressionsoftened.“Yes.Iknowithasbeenadifficultnight.Come,let’sgooutside.It’sratherstuffyinhere,anditsmellslikeburntCyclops.”
Thesurvivorswereslowlygatheringonthestreet.Perhapssomeinstincthaddrawnthemthere,totheplaceofTarquin’sdefeat.Orperhapsthey’dsimplycometogawkattheglowingsilverchariotwithitsteamoffourgoldenreindeernowparallel-parkedinfrontofthebookshop.
Gianteaglesandhuntingfalconssharedtherooftops.WolveshobnobbedwithHannibaltheelephantandtheweaponizedunicorns.LegionnairesandcitizensofNewRomemilledaboutinshock.
Attheendofthestreet,huddledwithagroupofsurvivors,wasThaliaGrace,herhandontheshoulderofthelegion’snewstandard-bearer,comfortingtheyoungwomanasshecried.Thaliawasdressedinherusualblackdenim,variouspunk-bandbuttonsgleamingonthelapelofherleatherjacket.Asilvercirclet,thesymbolofArtemis’slieutenant,glintedinherspikydarkhair.HersunkeneyesandslumpedshouldersmademesuspectthatshealreadyknewaboutJason’sdeath—perhapshadknownforawhileandhadgonethroughafirsthardwaveofgrieving.
Iwincedwithguilt.IshouldhavebeentheonetodeliverthenewsaboutJason.ThecowardlypartofmefeltrelievedthatIdidn’thavetobeartheinitialbruntofThalia’sanger.TherestofmefelthorriblethatIfeltrelieved.
Ineededtogotalktoher.ThensomethingcaughtmyeyeinthecrowdcheckingoutDiana’schariot.PeoplewerepackedintoitscarriagetighterthanNewYear’sEverevelersinastretchlimo’ssunroof.Amongthemwasalankyyoungwomanwithpinkhair.
Frommymouthescapedanothercompletelyinappropriate,delightedlaugh.“Lavinia?”
Shelookedoverandgrinned.“Thisrideissocool!Ineverwanttogetout.”Dianasmiled.“Well,LaviniaAsimov,ifyouwanttostayonboard,you’d
havetobecomeaHunter.”“Nope!”Laviniahoppedoffasifthechariot’sfloorboardshadbecomelava.
“Nooffense,mylady,butIlikegirlstoomuchtotakethatvow.Like…likethem.Notjustlikethem.Like—”
“Iunderstand.”Dianasighed.“Romanticlove.It’saplague.”“Lavinia,h-howdidyou…”Istammered.“Wheredidyou—?”“Thisyoungwoman,”saidDiana,“wasresponsibleforthedestructionofthe
Triumvirate’sfleet.”“Well,Ihadalotofhelp,”Laviniasaid.“PEACHES!”saidamuffledvoicefromsomewhereinthechariot.Hewassoshort,Ihadn’tnoticedhimbefore,hiddenashewasbehindthe
carriage’ssideboardandthecrowdofbigfolk,butnowPeachessquirmedandclimbedhiswaytothetopoftherailing.Hegrinnedhiswickedgrin.Hisdiapersagged.Hisleafywingsrustled.Hebeathischestwithhisminusculefistsandlookedverypleasedwithhimself.
“Peaches!”Megcried.“PEACHES!”Peachesagreed,andheflewintoMeg’sarms.Neverhadthere
beensuchabittersweetreunionbetweenagirlandherdeciduousfruitspirit.Thereweretearsandlaughter,hugsandscratches,andcriesof“Peaches!”ineverytonefromscoldingtoapologetictojubilant.
“Idon’tunderstand,”Isaid,turningtoLavinia.“Youmadeallthosemortarsmalfunction?”
Lavinialookedoffended.“Well,yeah.Somebodyhadtostopthefleet.Ididpayattentionduringsiege-weaponclassandship-boardingclass.Itwasn’tthathard.Allittookwasalittlefancyfootwork.”
Hazelfinallymanagedtopickherjawoffthepavement.“Wasn’tthathard?”“Weweremotivated!Thefaunsanddryadsdidgreat.”Shepaused,her
expressionmomentarilyclouding,asifsherememberedsomethingunpleasant.“Um…besides,theNereidshelpedalot.Therewasonlyaskeletoncrewaboardeachyacht.Not,like,actualskeletons,but—youknowwhatImean.Also,look!”
Shepointedproudlyatherfeet,whichwerenowadornedwiththeshoesofTerpsichorefromCaligula’sprivatecollection.
“Youmountedanamphibiousassaultonanenemyfleet,”Isaid,“forapairofshoes.”
Laviniahuffed.“Notjustfortheshoes,obviously.”Shetap-dancedaroutinethatwould’vemadeSavionGloverproud.“Alsotosavethecamp,andthe
naturespirits,andMichaelKahale’scommandos.”Hazelheldupherhandstostoptheoverflowofinformation.“Wait.Notto
beakilljoy—Imean,youdidanamazingthing!—butyoustilldesertedyourpost,Lavinia.Icertainlydidn’tgiveyoupermission—”
“Iwasactingonpraetor’sorders,”Laviniasaidhaughtily.“Infact,Reynahelped.Shewasknockedoutforawhile,healing,butshewokeupintimetoinstilluswiththepowerofBellona,rightbeforeweboardedthoseships.Madeusallstrongandstealthyandstuff.”
“Reyna?”Iyelped.“Whereisshe?”“Righthere,”calledthepraetor.Ididn’tknowhowI’dmissedseeingher.She’dbeenhidinginplainsight
amongthegroupofsurvivorstalkingwithThalia.IsupposeI’dbeentoofocusedonThalia,wonderingwhetherornotshewasgoingtokillmeandwhetherornotIdeservedit.
Reynalimpedoveroncrutches,herbrokenlegnowinafullcastcoveredwithsignatureslikeFelipe,Lotoya,andSneezewart.Consideringallshe’dbeenthrough,Reynalookedgreat,thoughshestillhadahunkofhairmissingfromtheravenattack,andhermaroonsweaterwrapwasgoingtoneedafewdaysatthemagicaldrycleaner.
Thaliasmiled,watchingherfriendcometowardus.ThenThaliametmyeyes,andhersmilewavered.Herexpressionturnedbleak.Shegavemeacurtnod—nothostile,justsad,acknowledgingthatwehadthingstotalkaboutlater.
Hazelexhaled.“Thankthegods.”ShegaveReynaadelicatehug,carefulnottounbalanceher.“IsittrueaboutLaviniaactingonyourorders?”
Reynaglancedatourpink-hairedfriend.Thepraetor’spainedexpressionsaidsomethinglike,Irespectyoualot,butIalsohateyouforbeingright.
“Yes,”Reynamanagedtosay.“PlanLwasmyidea.Laviniaandherfriendsactedonmyorders.Theyperformedheroically.”
Laviniabeamed.“See?Itoldyou.”Theassembledcrowdmurmuredinamazement,asif,afteradayfullof
wonders,theyhadfinallywitnessedsomethingthatcouldnotbeexplained.“Thereweremanyheroestoday,”Dianasaid.“Andmanylosses.I’monly
sorrythatThaliaandIcouldn’tgetheresooner.WewereonlyabletorendezvouswithLaviniaandReyna’sforcesaftertheirraid,thendestroythesecondwaveofundead,whowerewaitinginthesewers.”Shewaveddismissively,asifannihilatingTarquin’smainforceofghoulsandzombieshadbeenanafterthought.
Gods,Imissedbeingagod.“Youalsosavedme,”Isaid.“You’rehere.You’reactuallyhere.”
Shetookmyhandandsqueezedit.Herfleshfeltwarmandhuman.Icouldn’trememberthelasttimemysisterhadshownmesuchopenaffection.
“Let’snotcelebratequiteyet,”shewarned.“Youhavemanywoundedtoattendto.Thecamp’smedicshavesetuptentsoutsidethecity.Theywillneedeveryhealer,includingyou,brother.”
Laviniagrimaced.“Andwe’llhavetohavemorefunerals.Gods.Iwish—”“Look!”Hazelshrieked,hervoiceanoctavehigherthanusual.Arioncametrottingupthehill,ahulkinghumanformdrapedoverhisback.“Oh,no.”Myheartwilted.IhadflashbacksofTempest,theventushorse,
depositingJason’sbodyonthebeachinSantaMonica.No,Icouldn’twatch.YetIcouldn’tlookaway.
ThebodyonArion’sbackwasunmovingandsteaming.Arionstoppedandtheformslippedoffoneside.Butitdidnotfall.
FrankZhanglandedonhisfeet.Heturnedtowardus.Hishairwassingedtoafineblackstubble.Hiseyebrowsweregone.Hisclotheshadcompletelyburnedawayexceptforhisbriefsandhispraetor’scape,givinghimadisturbingresemblancetoCaptainUnderpants.
Helookedaround,hiseyesglazedandunfocused.“Hey,everybody,”hecroaked.Thenhefellonhisface.
StopmakingmecryOrbuymesomenewtearductsMyoldonesbrokedown
PRIORITIESCHANGEWHENYOU’RErushingafriendtoemergencymedicalcare.
Itnolongerseemedimportantthatwehadwonamajorbattle,orthatIcouldfinallytakeBECOMEAZOMBIEoffmyalertcalendar.Lavinia’sheroismandhernewdancingshoesweremomentarilyforgotten.MyguiltaboutThalia’spresencewasalsopushedaside.SheandIdidn’texchangesomuchasawordassherushedintohelpalongwithalltherestofus.
Ievenfailedtoregisterthatmysister,who’dbeenatmysideonlyamomentbefore,hadquietlyvanished.Ifoundmyselfbarkingordersatlegionnaires,directingthemtogratesomeunicornhorn,getmesomenectar,stat,andrush,rush,rushFrankZhangtothemedicaltent.
HazelandIstayedatFrank’sbedsideuntilwellpastdawn,longaftertheothermedicsassuredushewasoutofdanger.Noneofthemcouldexplainhowhehadsurvived,buthispulsewasstrong,hisskinwasremarkablyunburned,andhislungswereclear.Thearrowpuncturesinhisshoulderandthedaggerwoundinhisguthadgivenussometrouble,buttheywerenowstitchedup,bandaged,andhealingwell.Franksleptfitfully,mutteringandflexinghishandsasifhewerestillreachingforanimperialthroattostrangle.
“Where’shisfirewood?”Hazelfretted.“Shouldwelookforit?Ifit’slostinthe—”
“Idon’tthinkso,”Isaid.“I—Isawitburnup.That’swhatkilledCaligula.Frank’ssacrifice.”
“Thenhow…?”Hazelputherfisttohermouthtoblockasob.Shehardlydaredtoaskthequestion.“Willhebeokay?”
Ihadnoanswerforher.Yearsago,JunohaddecreedthatFrank’slifespanwastiedtothatstick.Iwasn’ttheretohearherexactwords—ItrynottobearoundJunoanymorethanIhaveto.Butshe’dsaidsomethingaboutFrankbeingpowerfulandbringinghonortohisfamily,etcetera,thoughhislifewouldbeshortandbright.TheFateshaddecreedthatwhenthatpieceoftinderburnedup,hewasdestinedtodie.Yetnowthefirewoodwasgone,andFrankstilllived.Aftersomanyyearskeepingthatpieceofwoodsafe,hehadintentionallyburneditto…
“Maybethat’sit,”Imuttered.“What?”Hazelasked.“Hetookcontrolofhisdestiny,”Isaid.“TheonlyotherpersonI’veever
knowntohavethis,er,firewoodproblem,backintheolddays,wasthisprincenamedMeleager.Hismomgotthesamekindofprophecywhenhewasababy.ButshenevereventoldMeleageraboutthefirewood.Shejusthiditandlethimlivehislife.Hegrewuptobekindofaprivileged,arrogantbrat.”
HazelheldFrank’shandwithbothofhers.“Frankcouldneverbelikethat.”“Iknow,”Isaid.“Anyway,Meleagerendedupkillingabunchofhis
relatives.Hismomwashorrified.Shewentandfoundthepieceoffirewoodandthrewitinthefire.Boom.Endofstory.”
Hazelshuddered.“That’shorrible.”“Thepointis,Frank’sfamilywashonestwithhim.Hisgrandmothertoldhim
thestoryofJuno’svisit.Shelethimcarryhisownlifeline.Shedidn’ttrytoprotecthimfromthehardtruth.Thatshapedwhoheis.”
Hazelnoddedslowly.“Heknewwhathisfatewouldbe.Whathisfatewassupposedtobe,anyway.Istilldon’tunderstandhow—”
“It’sjustaguess,”Iadmitted.“Frankwentintothattunnelknowinghemightdie.Hewillinglysacrificedhimselfforanoblecause.Indoingso,hebrokefreeofhisfate.Byburninghisowntinder,hekindof…Idon’tknow,startedanewfirewithit.He’sinchargeofhisowndestinynow.Well,asmuchasanyofusare.TheonlyotherexplanationIcanthinkofisthatJunosomehowreleasedhimfromtheFates’decree.”
Hazelfrowned.“Juno,doingsomeoneafavor?”“Doesn’tsoundlikeher,Iagree.ShedoeshaveasoftspotforFrank,
though.”“ShehadasoftspotforJason,too.”Hazel’svoiceturnedbrittle.“Notthat
I’mcomplainingthatFrankisalive,ofcourse.Itjustseems…”Shedidn’tneedtofinish.Frank’ssurvivalwaswonderful.Amiracle.But
somehowitmadelosingJasonfeelallthemoreunfairandpainful.Asaformergod,Iknewalltheusualresponsestomortalcomplaintsabouttheunfairnessofdying.Deathispartoflife.Youhavetoacceptit.Lifewouldbemeaninglesswithoutdeath.Thedeceasedwillalwaysbealiveaslongaswerememberthem.Butasamortal,asJason’sfriend,Ididn’tfindmuchcomfortinthosethoughts.
“Umph.”Frank’seyesflutteredopen.“Oh!”Hazelwrappedherarmsaroundhisneck,smotheringhiminahug.
Thiswasn’tthebestmedicalpracticeforsomeonejustreturningtoconsciousness,butIletitpass.FrankmanagedtopatHazelfeeblyontheback.
“Breathe,”hecroaked.“Oh,sorry!”Hazelpulledaway.Shebrushedatearfromhercheek.“You’re
thirsty,Ibet.”Sherummagedforthecanteenathisbedsideandtippedittowardhismouth.Hetookafewpainfulsipsofnectar.
“Ah.”Henoddedhisthanks.“So…arewe…good?”Hazelhiccuppedasob.“Yes.Yes,we’regood.Thecampissaved.Tarquinis
dead.Andyou…youkilledCaligula.”“Eh.”Franksmiledweakly.“Thatwasmypleasure.”Heturnedtome.“DidI
missthecake?”Istaredathim.“What?”“Yourbirthday.Yesterday.”“Oh.I…IhavetoadmitIcompletelyforgotaboutthat.Andthecake.”“Sotheremightstillbecakeinourfuture.Good.Doyoufeelayearolder,at
least?”“That’sadefiniteyes.”“Youscaredme,FrankZhang,”Hazelsaid.“YoubrokemyheartwhenI
thought…”Frank’sexpressionturnedsheepish(withouthimactually,youknow,turning
intoasheep).“I’msorry,Hazel.Itwasjust…”Hecurledhisfingers,likehewastryingtocatchanelusivebutterfly.“Itwastheonlyway.Ellatoldmesomeprophecylines,justforme….Onlyfirecouldstoptheemperors,kindledbythemostpreciousfirewood,onthebridgetocamp.IguessedthatshemeanttheCaldecottTunnel.ShesaidNewRomeneededanewHoratius.”
“HoratiusCocles,”Irecalled.“Niceguy.HedefendedRomebyholdingoffanentirearmysingle-handedlyontheSublicianBridge.”
Franknodded.“I…IaskedEllanottotellanyoneelse.Ijust…Ikindofhadtoprocessit,carryitaroundbymyselfforawhile.”Hishandwentinstinctivelytohisbeltline,wheretheclothpouchnolongerwas.
“Youcould’vedied,”Hazelsaid.“Yeah.‘Lifeisonlypreciousbecauseitends,kid.’”
“Isthataquote?”Iasked.“Mydad,”Franksaid.“Hewasright.Ijusthadtobewillingtotakethe
risk.”Weremainedquietforamoment,consideringtheenormityofFrank’srisk,
orperhapsjustmarvelingthatMarshadactuallysaidsomethingwise.“Howdidyousurvivethefire?”Hazeldemanded.“Idon’tknow.IrememberCaligulaburningup.Ipassedout,thoughtIwas
dead.ThenIwokeuponArion’sback.AndnowI’mhere.”“I’mglad.”Hazelkissedhisforeheadtenderly.“ButI’mstillgoingtokill
youlaterforscaringmelikethat.”Hesmiled.“That’sfair.CouldIhaveanother…?”Maybehewasgoingtosaykiss,orsipofnectar,ormomentalonewithmy
bestfriend,Apollo.Butbeforehecouldfinishthethought,hiseyesrolledupinhisheadandhestartedsnoring.
Notallmybedsidevisitsweresohappy.Asthemorningstretchedon,ItriedtovisitasmanyofthewoundedasI
could.SometimesIcoulddonothingbutwatchasthebodieswerepreparedforan
anti-zombiewashingandfinalrites.Tarquinwasgone,andhisghoulsseemedtohavedissolvedwithhim,butnoonewantedtotakeanychances.
Dakota,longtimecenturionoftheFifthLegion,haddiedovernightfromwoundshereceivedfightinginthecity.WedecidedbyconsensusthathisfuneralpyrewouldbeKool-Aidscented.
Jacob,thelegion’sformerstandard-bearerandmyformerarcherystudent,haddiedattheCaldecottTunnelwhenhetookadirecthitfromamyrmeke’sacidicspray.Themagicgoldeneaglehadsurvived,asmagicitemstendtodo,butnotJacob.Terrel,theyoungwomanwhohadsnatchedupthestandardbeforeitcouldhittheground,hadstayedatJacob’ssideuntilhepassed.
Somanymorehadperished.Irecognizedtheirfaces,evenifIdidn’tknowtheirnames.Ifeltresponsibleforeverysingleone.IfI’djustdonemore,justactedmorequickly,justbeengodlier…
MyhardestvisitwastoDonthefaun.He’dbeenbroughtinbyasquadofNereidswhorecoveredhimfromthewreckageoftheimperialyachts.Despitethedanger,Donhadstayedbehindtomakesurethesabotagewasdoneright.UnlikewhathappenedtoFrank,theGreekfireexplosionshadravagedpoorDon.Mostofthegoatfurhadburnedawayfromhislegs.Hisskinwascharred.Despitethebesthealingmusichisfellowfaunscouldoffer,andbeingcovered
withglisteninghealinggoo,hemusthavebeeninterriblepain.Onlyhiseyeswerethesame:brightandblueandjumpingfromspottospot.
Laviniakneltnexttohim,holdinghislefthand,whichforsomereasonwastheonlypartofhimleftunscathed.Agroupofdryadsandfaunsstoodnearby,atarespectfuldistance,withPranjalthehealer,whohadalreadydoneeverythinghecould.
WhenDonsawme,hegrimaced,histeethspeckledwithbitsofash.“H-hey,Apollo.Gotany…sparechange?”
Iblinkedbacktears.“Oh,Don.Oh,mysweet,stupidfaun.”Ikneltathisbedside,oppositeLavinia.IscannedthehorrorsofDon’s
condition,desperatelyhopingIcouldseesomethingtofix,somethingtheothermedicshadmissed,butofcoursetherewasnothing.ThefactDonhadsurvivedthislongwasamiracle.
“It’snotsobad,”Donrasped.“Docgavemesomestuffforthepain.”“Jarritoscherrysoda,”saidPranjal.Inodded.Thatwaspowerfulpainmedicineindeedforsatyrsandfauns,only
tobeusedinthemostseriousofcases,lestthepatientsbecomeaddicted.“Ijust…Iwanted…”Dongroaned,hiseyesbecomingbrighter.“Saveyourstrength,”Ipleaded.“Forwhat?”Hecroakedagrotesqueversionofalaugh.“Iwantedtoask:
Doesithurt?Reincarnation?”Myeyesweretooblurrytoseeproperly.“I—I’veneverreincarnated,Don.
WhenIbecamehuman,thatwasdifferent,Ithink.ButIhearreincarnationispeaceful.Beautiful.”
Thedryadsandfaunsnoddedandmurmuredinagreement,thoughtheirexpressionsbetrayedamixtureoffear,sorrow,anddesperation,makingthemnotthebestsalesteamfortheGreatUnknown.
Laviniacuppedherhandsaroundthefaun’sfingers.“You’reahero,Don.You’reagreatfriend.”
“Hey…cool.”HeseemedtohavetroublelocatingLavinia’sface.“I’mscared,Lavinia.”
“Iknow,babe.”“Ihope…maybeIcomebackasahemlock?Thatwouldbelike…anaction-
heroplant,right?”Lavinianodded,herlipsquivering.“Yeah.Yeah,absolutely.”“Cool….Hey,Apollo,you—youknowthedifferencebetweenafaunanda
satyr…?”Hesmiledalittlewider,asifreadytodeliverthepunchline.Hisfacefroze
thatway.Hischeststoppedmoving.Dryadsandfaunsbegantocry.Lavinia
kissedthefaun’shand,thenpulledapieceofbubblegumfromherbagandreverentlyslippeditintoDon’sshirtpocket.
Amomentlater,hisbodycollapsedwithanoiselikearelievedsigh,crumblingintofreshloam.Inthespotwherehishearthadbeen,atinysaplingemergedfromthesoil.Iimmediatelyrecognizedtheshapeofthoseminiatureleaves.Notahemlock.Alaurel—thetreeIhadcreatedfrompoorDaphne,andwhoseleavesIhaddecidedtomakeintowreaths.Thelaurel,thetreeofvictory.
Oneofthedryadsglancedatme.“Didyoudothat…?”Ishookmyhead.Iswallowedthebittertastefrommymouth.“Theonlydifferencebetweenasatyrandafaun,”Isaid,“iswhatweseein
them.Andwhattheyseeinthemselves.Plantthistreesomewherespecial.”Ilookedupatthedryads.“Tenditandmakeitgrowhealthyandtall.ThiswasDonthefaun,ahero.”
Ifyouhateme,fineJustdon’thitmeinthegutOr,well,anywhere
THENEXTFEWDAYSwerealmostashardasbattleitself.Warleavesahugemessthatcannotsimplybeaddressedwithamopandabucket.
Weclearedtherubbleandshoredupthemostprecariousdamagedbuildings.Weputoutfires,bothliteralandfigurative.Terminushadmadeitthroughthebattle,thoughhewasweakandshaken.HisfirstannouncementwasthathewasformallyadoptinglittleJulia.Thegirlseemeddelighted,thoughIwasn’tsurehowRomanlawwouldworkoutadoption-by-statue.TysonandEllaweresafelyaccountedfor.OnceEllalearnedthatIhadn’tmessedupthesummoningafterall,sheannouncedthatsheandTysonweregoingbacktothebookstoretocleanupthemess,finishtheSibyllineBooks,andfeedthecat,notnecessarilyinthatorder.Oh,andshewasalsogratifiedFrankwasalive.Asforme…Igotthefeelingshewasstillmakinguphermind.
Peachesleftusoncemoretogohelpthelocaldryadsandfauns,buthepromisedus,“Peaches,”whichItooktomeanthatwewouldseehimagainsoon.
WithThalia’shelp,ReynasomehowmanagedtofindOneEyeandShortEars,theabusedpegasifromtheemperors’chariot.Shetalkedtotheminsoothingtones,promisedthemhealing,andconvincedthemtocomebackwithhertocamp,whereshespentmostofhertimedressingtheirwoundsandprovidingthemwithgoodfoodandplentyofopenair.TheanimalsseemedtorecognizethatReynawasafriendoftheirimmortalforefather,thegreatPegasushimself.Afterwhatthey’dbeenthrough,Idoubtedtheywouldhavetrusted
anyoneelsetocareforthem.Wedidn’tcountthedead.Theyweren’tnumbers.Theywerepeoplewehad
known,friendswehadfoughtwith.Welitthefuneralpyresallononenight,atthebaseofJupiter’stemple,and
sharedthetraditionalfeastforthedeadtosendourfallencomradesofftotheUnderworld.TheLaresturnedoutinfullforceuntilthehillsidewasaglowingfieldofpurple,ghostsoutnumberingtheliving.
InoticedthatReynastoodbackandletFrankofficiate.PraetorZhanghadquicklyregainedhisstrength.Dressedinfullarmorandhismarooncloak,hegavehiseulogywhilethelegionnaireslistenedwithawedreverence,asonedoeswhenthespeakerhasrecentlysacrificedhimselfinafieryexplosionandthen,somehow,madeitoutalivewithhisunderwearandcapeintact.
Hazelhelped,too,goingthroughtheranksandcomfortingthosewhowerecryingorlookingshell-shocked.Reynastayedattheedgeofthecrowd,leaningonhercrutches,gazingwistfullyatthelegionnairesasiftheywerelovedonesshehadn’tseeninadecadeandnowbarelyrecognized.
AsFrankfinishedhisspeech,avoicenexttomesaid,“Hey.”ThaliaGraceworeherusualblackandsilver.Inthelightofthefuneral
pyres,herelectric-blueeyesturnedpiercingviolet.Overthepastfewdays,wehadspokenafewtimes,butithadallbeensurfacetalk:wheretobringsupplies,howtohelpthewounded.Wehadavoidedthesubject.
“Hey,”Isaid,myvoicehoarse.Shefoldedherarmsandstaredatthefire.“Idon’tblameyou,Apollo.My
brother…”Shehesitated,steadyingherbreath.“Jasonmadehisownchoices.Heroeshavetodothat.”
Somehow,havinghernotblamemeonlymademefeelguiltierandmoreunworthy.Ugh,humanemotionswerelikebarbedwire.Therewasjustnosafewaytograbholdofthemorgetthroughthem.
“I’msosorry,”Isaidatlast.“Yeah.Iknow.”Sheclosedhereyesasiflisteningforadistantsound—a
wolfcryintheforest,perhaps.“IgotReyna’sletter,afewhoursbeforeDianareceivedyoursummons.Anaura—oneofthebreezenymphs—shepluckeditoutofthemailandflewittomepersonally.Sodangerousforher,butshediditanyway.”Thaliapickedatoneofthebuttonsonherlapel:IggyandtheStooges,abandolderthanshewasbyseveralgenerations.“Wecameasfastaswecould,butstill…Ihadsometimetocryandscreamandthrowthings.”
Iremainedverystill.IhadvividmemoriesofIggyPopthrowingpeanutbutter,icecubes,watermelons,andotherdangerousobjectsathisfansduringhisconcerts.IfoundThaliamoreintimidatingthanhimbyfar.
“Itseemssocruel,”shecontinued.“Welosesomeoneandfinallygetthemback,onlytolosethemagain.”
Iwonderedwhysheusedthewordwe.SheseemedtobesayingthatsheandIsharedthisexperience—thelossofanonlysibling.Butshehadsufferedsomuchworse.Mysistercouldn’tdie.Icouldn’tloseherpermanently.
Then,afteramomentofdisorientation,likeI’dbeenflippedupsidedown,Irealizedshewasn’ttalkingaboutmelosingsomeone.ShewastalkingaboutArtemis—Diana.
Wasshesuggestingthatmysistermissedme,evengrievedformeasThaliagrievedforJason?
Thaliamusthavereadmyexpression.“Thegoddesshasbeenbesideherself,”shesaid.“Imeanthatliterally.Sometimesshegetssoworriedshesplitsintotwoforms,RomanandGreek,rightinfrontofme.She’llprobablygetmadatmefortellingyouthis,butshelovesyoumorethananyoneelseintheworld.”
Amarbleseemedtohavelodgedinmythroat.Icouldn’tspeak,soIjustnodded.
“Dianadidn’twanttoleavecampsosuddenlylikethat,”Thaliacontinued.“Butyouknowhowitis.Godscan’tstickaround.OncethedangertoNewRomehadpassed,shecouldn’triskoverstayinghersummons.Jupiter…Dadwouldn’tapprove.”
Ishivered.Howeasyitwastoforgetthatthisyoungwomanwasalsomysister.AndJasonwasmybrother.Atonetime,Iwouldhavediscountedthatconnection.They’rejustdemigods,Iwouldhavesaid.Notreallyfamily.
NowIfoundtheideahardtoacceptforadifferentreason.Ididn’tfeelworthyofthatfamily.OrThalia’sforgiveness.
Gradually,thefuneralpicnicbegantobreakup.Romansdriftedoffintwosandthrees,headingforNewRome,whereaspecialnighttimemeetingwasbeingheldattheSenateHouse.Sadly,thevalley’spopulationwassoreducedthattheentirelegionandthecitizenryofNewRomecouldnowfitinsidethatonebuilding.
Reynahobbledovertous.Thaliagaveherasmile.“So,PraetorRamírez-Arellano,youready?”“Yes.”Reynaansweredwithouthesitation,thoughIwasn’tsurewhatshe
wasreadyfor.“Doyoumindif…”Shenoddedatme.Thaliagrippedherfriend’sshoulder.“Ofcourse.SeeyouattheSenate
House.”Shestrodeawayintothedarkness.“Comeon,Lester.”Reynawinked.“Limpwithme.”
Thelimpingwaseasy.EventhoughIwashealed,Itiredeasily.ItwasnoproblemtowalkatReyna’space.Herdogs,AurumandArgentum,weren’twithher,Inoticed,perhapsbecauseTerminusdidn’tapproveofdeadlyweaponsinsidethecitylimits.
WemadeourwayslowlydowntheroadfromTempleHilltowardNewRome.Otherlegionnairesgaveusawideberth,apparentlysensingwehadprivatebusinesstodiscuss.
ReynakeptmeinsuspenseuntilwereachedthebridgespanningtheLittleTiber.
“Iwantedtothankyou,”shesaid.Hersmilewasaghostoftheoneshe’dhadonthehillsideofSutroTower,
whenI’dofferedtobeherboyfriend.Thatleftmeinnodoubtastowhatshemeant—notThankyouforhelpingtosavethecamp,butThankyouforgivingmeagoodlaugh.
“Noproblem,”Igrumbled.“Idon’tmeanitinanegativeway.”Seeingmydubiouslook,shesighedand
staredoutatthedarkriver,itsripplescurlingsilverinthemoonlight.“Idon’tknowifIcanexplainthis.Mywholelife,I’vebeenlivingwithotherpeople’sexpectationsofwhatI’msupposedtobe.Bethis.Bethat.Youknow?”
“You’retalkingtoaformergod.Dealingwithpeople’sexpectationsisourjobdescription.”
Reynaconcededthiswithanod.“Foryears,IwassupposedtobeagoodlittlesistertoHyllainatoughfamilysituation.Then,onCalypso’sisland,Iwassupposedtobeanobedientservant.ThenIwasapirateforawhile.Thenalegionnaire.Thenapraetor.”
“Youdohaveanimpressiverésumé,”Iadmitted.“ButthewholetimeI’vebeenaleaderhere,”sheforgedon,“Iwaslooking
forapartner.Praetorsoftenpartnerup.Inpower.Butalsoromantically,Imean.IthoughtJason.Thenforahotminute,PercyJackson.Godshelpme,IevenconsideredOctavian.”Sheshuddered.“Everybodywasalwaystryingtoshipmewithsomebody.Thalia.Jason.Gwen.EvenFrank.Oh,you’dbeperfecttogether!That’swhoyouneed!ButIwasneverreallysureifIwantedthat,orifIjustfeltlikeIwassupposedtowantit.People,well-meaning,wouldbelike,Oh,youpoorthing.Youdeservesomebodyinyourlife.Datehim.Dateher.Datewhoever.Findyoursoulmate.”
ShelookedatmetoseeifIwasfollowing.Herwordscameouthotandfast,asifshe’dbeenholdingtheminforalongtime.“AndthatmeetingwithVenus.Thatreallymessedmeup.Nodemigodwillhealyourheart.Whatwasthat
supposedtomean?Thenfinally,youcamealong.”“Dowehavetoreviewthatpartagain?Iamquiteembarrassedenough.”“Butyoushowedme.Whenyouproposeddating…”Shetookadeepbreath,
herbodyshakingwithsilentgiggles.“Oh,gods.IsawhowridiculousI’dbeen.Howridiculousthewholesituationwas.That’swhathealedmyheart—beingabletolaughatmyselfagain,atmystupidideasaboutdestiny.Thatallowedmetobreakfree—justlikeFrankbrokefreeofhisfirewood.Idon’tneedanotherpersontohealmyheart.Idon’tneedapartner…atleast,notuntilandunlessI’mreadyonmyownterms.Idon’tneedtobeforce-shippedwithanyoneorwearanybodyelse’slabel.Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,Ifeellikeaweighthasbeenliftedfrommyshoulders.Sothankyou.”
“You’rewelcome?”Shelaughed.“Don’tyousee,though?Venusputyouuptothejob.She
trickedyouintoit,becausesheknewyouaretheonlyoneinthecosmoswithanegobigenoughtohandletherejection.Icouldlaughinyourface,andyouwouldheal.”
“Hmph.”IsuspectedshewasrightaboutVenusmanipulatingme.Iwasn’tsosurethegoddesscaredwhetherornotIwouldheal,though.“Sowhatdoesthismeanforyou,exactly?What’snextforPraetorReyna?”
EvenasIaskedthequestion,IrealizedIknewtheanswer.“ComealongtotheSenateHouse,”shesaid.“We’vegotafewsurprisesin
store.”
LifeisuncertainAcceptpresents,andalwaysEatyourbirthdaycake
MYFIRSTSURPRISE:Afront-rowseat.MegandIweregivenplacesofhonornexttotheseniorsenators,andthe
mostimportantcitizensofNewRome,andthosedemigodswithaccessibilityneeds.WhenMegsawme,shepattedthebenchnexttoher,asiftherewereanyotherplacetosit.Thechamberwasabsolutelypacked.Somehow,itwasreassuringtoseeeveryonetogether,evenifthepopulacewasmuchreducedandtheseaofwhitebandagescouldhavecausedsnowblindness.
Reynalimpedintothechamberrightbehindme.Theentireassemblycametoitsfeet.Theywaitedinrespectfulsilenceasshemadeherwaytoherpraetor’sseatnexttoFrank,whonoddedathiscolleague.
Onceshewasseated,everyoneelsefollowedsuit.ReynagesturedatFranklike,Letthefunbegin.“So,”Frankaddressedtheaudience,“Icalltoorderthisextraordinary
meetingofthepeopleofNewRomeandtheTwelfthLegion.Firstitemontheagenda:aformalthank-youtoall.Wesurvivedbyateameffort.We’vedealtahugeblowtoourenemies.Tarquinisdead—reallydeadatlast.TwooutofthreeemperorsoftheTriumviratehavebeendestroyed,alongwiththeirfleetandtheirtroops.Thiswasdoneatgreatcost.ButyouallactedliketrueRomans.Welivetoseeanotherday!”
Therewasapplause,somenods,andafewcheersof“Yes!”and“Anotherday!”Oneguyintheback,whomustnothavebeenpayingattentionforthelastweeksaid,“Tarquin?”
“Second,”Franksaid,“IwanttoreassureyouthatI’maliveandwell.”Hepattedhischestasiftoproveit.“Myfateisnolongertiedtoapieceofwood,whichisnice.Andifyouwouldallpleaseforgetthatyousawmeinmyunderwear,I’dappreciateit.”
Thatgotsomelaughs.WhoknewFrankcouldbefunnyonpurpose?“Now…”Hisexpressionturnedserious.“It’sourdutytoinformyouofsome
personnelchanges.Reyna?”Hewatchedherquizzically,asifwonderingwhethershewouldreallygo
throughwithit.“Thankyou,Frank.”Shepulledherselftoherfeet.Again,everyoneinthe
assemblywhocouldstanddid.“Guys.Please.”Shegesturedforustobeseated.“Thisishardenough.”Whenwewereallsettled,shescannedthefacesinthecrowd:alotof
anxious,sadexpressions.Isuspectedmanypeopleknewwhatwascoming.“I’vebeenpraetoralongtime,”Reynasaid.“It’sbeenanhonortoservethe
legion.We’vebeenthroughsomeroughtimestogether.Some…interestingyears.”
Abitofnervouslaughter.Interestingwastheperfectcurseword.“Butit’stimeformetostepdown,”shecontinued.“SoIamresigningmy
postaspraetor.”Amoanofdisbelieffilledthechamber,asifhomeworkhadjustbeen
assignedonaFridayafternoon.“It’sforpersonalreasons,”Reynasaid.“Like,mysanity,forinstance.Ineed
timejusttobeReynaAvilaRamírez-Arellano,tofindoutwhoIamoutsidethelegion.Itmaytakeafewyears,ordecades,orcenturies.Andso…”Sheremovedherpraetor’scloakandbadgeandhandedthemtoFrank.
“Thalia?”shecalled.ThaliaGracemadeherwaydownthecentralaisle.Shewinkedatmeasshe
passed.ShestoodbeforeReynaandsaid,“Repeatafterme:Ipledgemyselftothe
goddessDiana.Iturnmybackonthecompanyofmen,accepteternalmaidenhood,andjointhehunt.”
Reynarepeatedthewords.NothingmagicalhappenedthatIcouldsee:nothunderorlightning,nosilverglitterfallingfromtheceiling.ButReynalookedasifshe’dbeengivenanewleaseonlife,whichshehad—infinityyears,withzerointerestandnomoneydown.
Thaliaclaspedhershoulder.“Welcometothehunt,sister!”Reynagrinned.“Thanks.”Shefacedthecrowd.“Andthankyou,all.Long
liveRome!”ThecrowdroseagainandgaveReynaastandingovation.Theycheeredand
stompedwithsuchjubilationIwasafraidtheduct-tapeddomemightcollapseonus.
Finally,whenReynawasseatedinthefrontrowwithhernewleader,Thalia(havingtakentheseatsoftwosenatorswhoweremorethanhappytomove),everyoneturnedtheirattentionbacktoFrank.
“Well,guys”—hespreadhisarms—“IcouldthankReynaalldaylong.Shehasgivensomuchtothelegion.She’sbeenthebestmentorandfriend.Shecanneverbereplaced.Ontheotherhand,I’muphereallalonenow,andwehaveanemptypraetor’schair.SoI’dliketotakenominationsfor—”
Laviniastartedthechant:“HA-ZEL!HA-ZEL!”Thecrowdquicklyjoinedin.Hazel’seyeswidened.Shetriedtoresistwhen
thosesittingaroundherpulledhertoherfeet,butherFifthCohortfanclubhadevidentlybeenpreparingforthispossibility.Oneofthemproducedashield,whichtheyhoistedHazelontolikeasaddle.Theyraisedheroverheadandmarchedhertothemiddleofthesenatefloor,turningheraroundandchanting,“HAZEL!HAZEL!”Reynaclappedandyelledrightalongwiththem.OnlyFranktriedtoremainneutral,thoughhehadtohidehissmilebehindhisfist.
“Okay,settledown!”hecalledatlast.“Wehaveonenomination.Arethereanyother—?”
“HAZEL!HAZEL!”“Anyobjections?”“HAZEL!HAZEL!”“ThenIrecognizethewilloftheTwelfthLegion.HazelLevesque,youare
herebypromotedtopraetor!”Morewildcheering.HazellookeddazedasshewasdressedinReyna’sold
cloakandbadgeofoffice,thenledtoherchair.SeeingFrankandHazelsidebyside,Ihadtosmile.Theylookedsoright
together—wiseandstrongandbrave.Theperfectpraetors.Rome’sfuturewasingoodhands.
“Thankyou,”Hazelmanagedatlast.“I—I’lldoeverythingIcantobeworthyofyourtrust.Here’sthething,though.ThisleavestheFifthCohortwithoutacenturion,so—”
TheentireFifthCohortstartedchantinginunison:“LAVINIA!LAVINIA!”“What?”Lavinia’sfaceturnedpinkerthanherhair.“Oh,no.Idon’tdo
leadership!”“LAVINIA!LAVINIA!”“Isthisajoke?Guys,I—”
“LaviniaAsimov!”Hazelsaidwithasmile.“TheFifthCohortreadmymind.Asmyfirstactaspraetor,foryourunparalleledheroismintheBattleofSanFranciscoBay,Iherebypromoteyoutocenturion—unlessmyfellowpraetorhasanyobjections?”
“None,”Franksaid.“Thencomeforward,Lavinia!”Tomoreapplauseandwhistling,Laviniaapproachedtherostrumandgother
newbadgeofoffice.ShehuggedFrankandHazel,whichwasn’ttheusualmilitaryprotocol,butnooneseemedtocare.NobodyclappedlouderorwhistledmoreshrillythanMeg.Iknowbecausesheleftmedeafinoneear.
“Thanks,guys,”Laviniaannounced.“So,FifthCohort,firstwe’regoingtolearntotap-dance.Then—”
“Thankyou,Centurion,”Hazelsaid.“Youmaybeseated.”“What?I’mnotkidding—”“Ontoournextorderofbusiness!”Franksaid,asLaviniaskippedgrumpily
(ifthat’sevenpossible)backtoherseat.“Werealizethelegionwillneedtimetoheal.There’slotstobedone.Thissummerwewillrebuild.We’llspeaktoLupaaboutgettingmorerecruitsasquicklyaspossible,sowecancomebackfromthisbattlestrongerthanever.Butfornow,ourfightiswon,andwehavetohonortwopeoplewhomadethatpossible:Apollo,otherwiseknownasLesterPapadopoulos,andhiscomrade,MegMcCaffrey!”
Thecrowdapplaudedsomuch,IdoubtmanypeopleheardMegsay,“Master,notcomrade,”whichwasfinewithme.
Aswestoodtoacceptthelegion’sthanks,Ifeltstrangelyuncomfortable.NowthatIfinallyhadafriendlycrowdcheeringforme,Ijustwantedtositdownandcovermyheadwithatoga.IhaddonesolittlecomparedtoHazelorReynaorFrank,nottomentionallthosewhohaddied:Jason,Dakota,Don,Jacob,theSibyl,Harpocrates…dozensmore.
Frankraisedhishandforquiet.“Now,Iknowyoutwohaveanotherlong,hardquestaheadofyou.There’sstilloneemperorwhoneedshispodexkicked.”
Asthecrowdchuckled,IwishedournexttaskwouldbeaseasyasFrankmadeitsound.Nero’spodex,yes…buttherewasalsothesmallmatterofPython,myoldimmortalenemy,presentlysquattinginmyoldholyplaceofDelphi.
“AndIunderstand,”Frankcontinued,“thatyoutwohavedecidedtoleaveinthemorning.”
“Wehave?”Myvoicecracked.I’dbeenimaginingaweekortworelaxinginNewRome,enjoyingthethermalbaths,maybeseeingachariotrace.
“Shh,”Megtoldme.“Yes,we’vedecided.”
Thatdidn’tmakemefeelanybetter.“Also,”Hazelchimedin,“IknowyoutwoareplanningtovisitEllaand
Tysonatdawntoreceiveprophetichelpforthenextstageofyourquest.”“Weare?”Iyelped.AllIcouldthinkofwasAristophaneslickinghisnether
regions.“Buttonight,”Franksaid,“wewanttohonorwhatyoutwohavedonefor
thiscamp.Withoutyourhelp,CampJupitermightnotstillbehere.Sowewouldliketopresentyouwiththesegifts.”
Fromthebackoftheroom,SenatorLarrycamedowntheaislecarryingabigequipmentbag.IwonderedifthelegionhadboughtusaskivacationatLakeTahoe.Larryreachedtherostrumandsetdowntheduffel.Herummagedoutthefirstgiftandhandedittomewithagrin.“It’sanewbow!”
Larryhadmissedhiscallingasagame-showannouncer.Myfirstthought:Oh,cool.Ineedanewbow.ThenIlookedmorecarefullyattheweaponinmyhands,andIsquealedin
disbelief.“Thisismine!”Megsnorted.“Ofcourseitis.Theyjustgaveittoyou.”“No,Imeanit’sminemine!Originallymine,fromwhenIwasagod!”Iheldupthebowforalltooohandahhat:amasterpieceofgoldenoak,
carvedwithgildedvinesthatflashedinthelightasifonfire.Itstautcurvehummedwithpower.IfIrememberedcorrectly,thebowstringwaswovenfromCelestialbronzeandthreadsfromtheloomsoftheFates(which…gosh,wheredidthosecomefrom?Icertainlydidn’tstealthem).Thebowweighedalmostnothing.
“Thathasbeenintheprincipiatreasureroomforcenturies,”Franksaid.“Noonecanwieldit.It’stooheavytodraw.Believeme,IwouldhaveifIcouldhave.Sinceitwasoriginallyagiftfromyoutothelegion,itseemedonlyrightwegiveitback.Withyourgodlystrengthreturning,wefiguredyoucouldputittogooduse.”
Ididn’tknowwhattosay.UsuallyIwasagainstre-gifting,butinthiscase,Iwasoverwhelmedwithgratitude.Icouldn’trememberwhenorwhyI’dgiventhelegionthisbow—forcenturies,I’dpassedthemoutlikepartyfavors—butIwascertainlygladtohaveitback.Idrewthestringwithnotroubleatall.EithermystrengthwasgodlierthanIrealized,orthebowrecognizedmeasitsrightfulowner.Oh,yes.Icoulddosomedamagewiththisbeauty.
“Thankyou,”Isaid.Franksmiled.“I’mjustsorrywedidn’thaveanyreplacementcombat
ukulelesinstorage.”Fromthebleachers,Laviniagrumbled,“AfterIwentandfixeditforhim,
too.”“But,”Hazelsaid,carefullyignoringhernewcenturion,“wedohaveagift
forMeg.”LarryrummagedthroughhisSantabagagain.Hepulledoutablacksilk
pouchaboutthesizeofadeckofplayingcards.Iresistedtheurgetoshout,HA!Mygiftisbigger!
Megpeekedinthepouchandgasped.“Seeds!”Thatwouldnothavebeenmyreaction,butsheseemedgenuinelydelighted.Leila,daughterofCeres,calledoutfromthestands,“Meg,thosearevery
ancient.Weallgottogether,thecamp’sgardeners,andcollectedthemforyoufromourgreenhousestoragebins.Honestly,I’mnotevensurewhatthey’llallgrowinto,butyoushouldhavefunfindingout!Ihopeyoucanusethemagainstthelastemperor.”
Meglookedatalossforwords.Herlipquivered.Shenoddedandblinkedherthanks.
“Okay,then!”Franksaid.“Iknowweateatthefuneral,butweneedtocelebrateHazel’sandLavinia’spromotions,wishReynathebestonhernewadventures,andwishApolloandMeggood-bye.And,ofcourse,we’vegotabelatedbirthdaycakeforLester!Partyinthemesshall!”
Ourgreatopening!WinafreeInfernotrip!Andtakeacupcake!
IDON’TKNOWWHICHgood-byewashardest.Atfirstlight,HazelandFrankmetusatthecoffeeshopforonefinalthank-
you.Thentheywereofftorousethelegion.Theyintendedtogetrighttoworkonrepairstothecamptotakeeveryone’smindsoffthemanylossesbeforeshockcouldsetin.WatchingthemwalkawaytogetherdowntheViaPraetoria,Ifeltawarmcertaintythatthelegionwasabouttoseeanewgoldenage.LikeFrank,theTwelfthLegionFulminatawouldrisefromtheashes,thoughhopefullywearingmorethanjusttheirundergarments.
Minuteslater,ThaliaandReynacamebywiththeirpackofgraywolves,theirmetalgreyhounds,andtheirpairofrescuepegasi.Theirdeparturesaddenedmeasmuchasmysister’s,butIunderstoodtheirways,thoseHunters.Alwaysonthemove.
Reynagavemeonelasthug.“I’mlookingforwardtoalongvacation.”Thalialaughed.“Vacation?RARA,Ihatetotellyou,butwe’vegothard
workahead!We’vebeentrackingtheTeumessianFoxacrosstheMidwestformonthsnow,andithasn’tbeengoingwell.”
“Exactly,”Reynasaid.“Avacation.”ShekissedMegonthetopofherhead.“YoukeepLesterinline,okay?Don’tlethimgetabigheadjustbecausehe’sgotanicenewbow.”
“Youcancountonme,”Megsaid.Sadly,Ihadnoreasontodoubther.WhenMegandIleftthecaféforthelasttime,Bombiloactuallycried.
Behindhisgruffexterior,thetwo-headedbaristaturnedouttobearealsentimentalist.Hegaveusadozenscones,abagofcoffeebeans,andtoldustogetoutofhissightbeforehestartedbawlingagain.Itookchargeofthescones.Meg,godshelpme,tookthecoffee.
Atthegatesofcamp,Laviniawaited,chewingherbubblegumwhileshepolishedhernewcenturionbadge.“ThisistheearliestI’vebeenupinyears,”shecomplained.“I’mgoingtohatebeinganofficer.”
Thesparkleinhereyestoldadifferentstory.“You’lldogreat,”Megsaid.AsLaviniabenttohugher,InoticedastippledrashrunningdownMs.
Asimov’sleftcheekandneck,unsuccessfullycoveredbysomefoundation.Iclearedmythroat.“DidyouperhapssneakoutlastnighttoseePoison
Oak?”Laviniablushedadorably.“Well?I’mtoldthatmycenturionshipmakesme
veryattractive.”Meglookedconcerned.“You’regoingtohavetoinvestinsomecalamine
lotionifyoukeepseeingher.”“Hey,norelationshipisperfect,”Laviniasaid.“Atleastwithher,Iknowthe
problemsrightupfront!We’llfigureitout.”Ihadnodoubtshewould.Shehuggedmeandruffledmyhair.“You’dbetter
comebackandseeme.Anddon’tdie.Iwillkickyourbuttwithmynewdancingshoesifyoudie.”
“Understood,”Isaid.Shedidonelastsoft-shoeroutine,gesturedtouslike,Overtoyou,then
racedofftomustertheFifthCohortforalongdayoftap-dancing.Watchinghergo,Imarveledathowmuchhadhappenedtoallofussince
LaviniaAsimovfirstescortedusintocamp,justafewdaysbefore.Wehaddefeatedtwoemperorsandaking,whichwouldhavebeenastronghandineventhemostcutthroatpokergame.WehadputtorestthesoulsofagodandaSibyl.Wehadsavedacamp,acity,andalovelypairofshoes.Mostofall,Ihadseenmysister,andshehadrestoredmetogoodhealth—orwhatpassedforgoodhealthforLesterPapadopoulos.AsReynamightsay,wehadaddedquiteabittoour“goodthings”column.NowMegandIwereembarkingonwhatmightbeourlastquestwithgoodexpectationsandhopefulspirits…oratleastagoodnight’ssleepandadozenscones.
WetookonefinaltripintoNewRome,whereTysonandEllawereexpectingus.Overtheentranceofthebookstore,anewlypaintedsignproclaimedCYCLOPSBOOKS.
“Yay!”Tysoncriedaswecamethroughthedoorway.“Comein!Weare
havingourgreatopeningtoday!”“Grandopening,”Ellacorrected,fussingoveraplatterofcupcakesanda
bunchofballoonsattheinformationdesk.“WelcometoCyclopsBooksandPropheciesandAlsoanOrangeCat.”
“Thatwouldn’tallfitonthesign,”Tysonconfided.“Itshouldhavefitonthesign,”Ellasaid.“Weneedabiggersign.”Ontopoftheold-fashionedcashregister,Aristophanesyawnedasifitwas
allthesametohim.Hewaswearingatinypartyhatandanexpressionthatsaid,Iamonlywearingthisbecausedemigodsdon’thavephonecamerasorInstagram.
“Customerscangetpropheciesfortheirquests!”Tysonexplained,pointingathischest,whichwascoveredevenmoredenselywithSibyllineverse.“Theycanpickupthelatestbooks,too!”
“Irecommendthe1924Farmer’sAlmanac,”Ellatoldus.“Wouldyoulikeacopy?”
“Ah…maybenexttime,”Isaid.“Weweretoldyouhadaprophecyforus?”“Yep,yep.”EllaranherfingerdownTyson’sribs,scanningforthecorrect
lines.TheCyclopssquirmedandgiggled.“Here,”Ellasaid.“Overhisspleen.”Wonderful,Ithought.TheProphecyofTyson’sSpleen.Ellareadaloud:“OsonofZeusthefinalchallengefaceThetow’rofNerotwoaloneascendDislodgethebeastthathastusurpedthyplace.”Iwaited.Ellanodded.“Yep,yep,yep.That’sit.”Shewentbacktohercupcakesand
balloons.“Thatcan’tbeit,”Icomplained.“Thatmakesnopoeticsense.It’snota
haiku.It’snotasonnet.It’snot…Oh.”Megsquintedatme.“Oh,what?”“Oh,asinOh,no.”IrememberedadouryoungmanI’dmetinmedieval
Florence.Ithadbeenalongtimeago,butIneverforgotsomeonewhoinventedanewtypeofpoetry.“It’sterzarima.”
“Who?”Megasked.“It’sastyleDanteinvented.InTheInferno.Threelines.Thefirstandthe
thirdlinerhyme.Themiddlelinerhymeswithfirstlineofthenextstanza.”“Idon’tgetit,”Megsaid.
“Iwantacupcake,”Tysonannounced.“Faceandplacerhyme,”ItoldMeg.“Themiddlelineendswithascend.
Thattellsusthatwhenwefindthenextstanza,we’llknowit’scorrectifthefirstlineandthirdlinesrhymewithascend.Terzarimaislikeanendlesspaperchainofstanzas,alllinkedtogether.”
Megfrowned.“Butthereisn’tanextstanza.”“Nothere,”Iagreed.“Whichmeansitmustbesomewhereoutthere….”I
wavedvaguelytotheeast.“We’reonascavengerhuntformorestanzas.Thisisjustthestartingpoint.”
“Hmph.”Asalways,Meghadsummarizedourpredicamentperfectly.Itwasvery
muchhmph.Ialsodidnotlikethefactthatournewprophecy’srhymeschemehadbeeninventedtodescribeadescentintohell.
“‘ThetowerofNero,’”Ellasaid,repositioningherballoondisplay.“NewYork,Ibet.Yep.”
Isuppressedawhimper.Theharpywasright.Wewouldneedtoreturntowheremyproblemsbegan
—Manhattan,wherethegleamingTriumvirateheadquartersrosefromdowntown.Afterthat,Iwouldhavetofacethebeastwhohadusurpedmyplace.Isuspectedthatlinedidn’tmeanNero’salterego,theBeast,buttheactualbeastPython,myancientenemy.HowIcouldreachhiminhislairatDelphi,muchlessdefeathim,Ihadnoidea.
“NewYork.”Megclenchedherjaw.Iknewthiswouldbetheworstofhomecomingsforher,backtoher
stepfather’shouseofhorrors,whereshe’dbeenemotionallyabusedforyears.IwishedIcouldspareherthepain,butIsuspectedshe’dalwaysknownthisdaywouldcome,andlikemostofthepainshehadgonethrough,therewasnochoicebutto…well,gothroughit.
“Okay,”shesaid,hervoiceresolute.“Howdowegetthere?”“Oh!Oh!”Tysonraisedhishand.Hismouthwascoatedincupcakefrosting.
“Iwouldtakearocketship!”Istaredathim.“Doyouhavearocketship?”Hisexpressiondeflated.“No.”Ilookedoutthebookstore’spicturewindows.Inthedistance,thesunrose
overMountDiablo.Ourjourneyofthousandsofmilescouldnotbeginwitharocketship,sowe’dhavetofindanotherway.Horses?Eagles?Aself-drivingcarthatwasprogrammednottoflyoffhighwayoverpasses?We’dhavetotrustinthegodsforsomegoodluck.(InsertHA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA
here.)Andmaybe,ifwewereveryfortunate,wecouldatleastcallonouroldfriendsatCampHalf-BloodoncewereturnedtoNewYork.Thatthoughtgavemecourage.
“Comeon,Meg,”Isaid.“We’vegotalotofmilestocover.Weneedtofindanewride.”
aburbeconditaLatinforfromthefoundingofthecity.Foratime,RomansusedtheacronymAUCtomarktheyearssincethefoundingofRome.
AchillesaGreekherooftheTrojanWar;anearlyinvulnerablewarriorwhoslayedtheTrojanheroHectoroutsidethewallsofTroyandthendraggedhiscorpsebehindhischariot
AphroditetheGreekgoddessofloveandbeauty.Romanform:VenusArestheGreekgodofwar;thesonofZeusandHera,andhalfbrothertoAthena.Romanform:Mars
ArgentumLatinforsilver;thenameofoneofReyna’stwoautomatongreyhoundsthatcandetectlying
ArgoIIaflyingtriremebuiltbytheHephaestuscabinatCampHalf-BloodtotakethedemigodsoftheProphecyofSeventoGreece
ArtemistheGreekgoddessofthehuntandthemoon;thedaughterofZeusandLeto,andthetwinofApollo.Romanform:Diana
Asclepiusthegodofmedicine;sonofApollo;histemplewasthehealingcenterofancientGreece
AthenatheGreekgoddessofwisdom.Romanform:Minervaaura(aurae,pl.)windspiritAurumLatinforgold;thenameofoneofReyna’stwoautomatongreyhoundsthatcandetectlying
aveLatinforhail,aRomangreetingBacchustheRomangodofwineandrevelry;sonofJupiter.Greekform:
Dionysusballista(ballistae,pl.)aRomanmissilesiegeweaponthatlaunchesalargeprojectileatadistanttarget
BellonaaRomangoddessofwar;daughterofJupiterandJunoBenitoMussolinianItalianpoliticianwhobecametheleaderoftheNationalFascistParty,aparamilitaryorganization.HeruledItalyfrom1922to1943,firstasaprimeministerandthenasadictator.
blemmyaeatribeofheadlesspeoplewithfacesintheirchestsBritomartistheGreekgoddessofhuntingandfishingnets;hersacredanimalisthegriffin
BurningMazeamagical,puzzle-filledundergroundlabyrinthinSouthernCaliforniacontrolledbytheRomanemperorCaligulaandMedea,aGreeksorceress
cacasecadriedpoopCaldecottTunnelafour-lanehighwaythatcutsthroughtheBerkeleyHillsandconnectsOaklandandOrinda,California.Itcontainsasecretmiddletunnel,guardedbyRomansoldiers,thatleadstoCampJupiter.
CaligulathenicknameofthethirdofRome’semperors,GaiusJuliusCaesarAugustusGermanicus,infamousforhiscrueltyandcarnageduringthefouryearsheruled,from37to41CE;hewasassassinatedbyhisownguard
CampHalf-BloodthetraininggroundforGreekdemigods,locatedinLongIsland,NewYork
CampJupiterthetraininggroundforRomandemigods,locatedinCalifornia,betweentheOaklandHillsandtheBerkeleyHills
CelestialbronzeapowerfulmagicalmetalusedtocreateweaponswieldedbyGreekgodsandtheirdemigodchildren
centurionanofficerintheRomanarmycharmspeakararetypeofhypnotismpowerthatchosenchildrenofAphroditepossess
CiceroaRomanstatesmanwhowasrenownedforhispublicspeechesCircusMaximusastadiumdesignedforhorseandchariotracingcloacamaximaLatinforgreatestsewerclunisLatinforbuttockscohortgroupsoflegionnaires
Colosseumanellipticalamphitheaterbuiltforgladiatorfights,monstersimulations,andmocknavalbattles
CommodusLuciusAureliusCommoduswasthesonofRomanEmperorMarcusAurelius;hebecameco-emperorwhenhewassixteenandemperorateighteen,whenhisfatherdied;heruledfrom177to192CEandwasmegalomaniacalandcorrupt;heconsideredhimselftheNewHerculesandenjoyedkillinganimalsandfightinggladiatorsattheColosseum
CumaeanSibylanOracleofApollofromCumaewhocollectedherpropheticinstructionsforavertingdisasterinninevolumesbutdestroyedsixofthemwhentryingtosellthemtoTarquiniusSuperbusofRome
Cyclops(Cyclopes,pl.)amemberofaprimordialraceofgiants,eachwithasingleeyeinthemiddleofhisorherforehead
cynocephalus(cynocephali,pl.)abeingwithahumanbodyandadog’sheadDanteanItalianpoetofthelateMiddleAgeswhoinventedterzarima;authorofTheDivineComedy,amongotherworks
DaphneabeautifulnaiadwhoattractedApollo’sattention;shetransformedintoalaureltreeinordertoescapehim
decimationtheancientRomanpunishmentforbadlegionsinwhicheverytenthsoldierwaskilledwhethertheywereguiltyorinnocent
DelosaGreekislandintheAegeanSeanearMykonos;birthplaceofApolloDemetertheGreekgoddessofagriculture;adaughteroftheTitansRheaandKronos.Romanform:Ceres
denarius(denarii,pl.)aunitofRomancurrencyDianatheRomangoddessofthehuntandthemoon;thedaughterofJupiterandLeto,andthetwinofApollo.Greekform:Artemis
DionysusGreekgodofwineandrevelry;thesonofZeus.Romanform:Bacchus
dryadaspirit(usuallyfemale)associatedwithacertaintreeEagleoftheTwelfththestandardofCampJupiter,agoldiconofaneagleontopofapole,symbolizingthegodJupiter
Earthbornaraceofsix-armedgiants,alsocalledGegenesElysiumtheparadisetowhichGreekheroesaresentwhenthegodsgrantthemimmortality
ErythraeanSibylaprophetesswhopresidedoverApollo’sOracleatErythraeinIonia
eurynomos(eurynomoi,pl.)acorpse-eatingghoulthatlivesintheUnderworldandiscontrolledbyHades;theslightestcutfromtheirclawscausesawastingdiseaseinmortals,andwhentheirvictimsdie,theyriseagainasvrykolakai,orzombies.Ifaeurynomosmanagestodevourthefleshofacorpsedowntothebones,theskeletonwillbecomeafierceundeadwarrior,manyofwhomserveasHades’selitepalaceguards.
EuterpetheGreekgoddessoflyricpoetry;oneoftheNineMuses;daughterofZeusandMnemosyne
fascesaceremonialaxwrappedinabundleofthickwoodenrodswithitscrescent-shapedbladeprojectingoutward;theultimatesymbolofauthorityinancientRome;originofthewordfascism
Fatesthreefemalepersonificationsofdestiny.Theycontrolthethreadoflifeforeverylivingthingfrombirthtodeath.
faunaRomanforestgod,partgoatandpartmanFaunustheRomangodoftheWild.Greekform:PanFieldofMarspartbattlefield,partpartyzone,theplacewheredrillsandwargamesareheldatCampJupiter
FirstTitanWaralsoknownastheTitanomachy,theeleven-yearconflictbetweentheTitansfromMountOthrysandtheyoungergods,whosefuturehomewouldbeMountOlympus
ForumthecenteroflifeinNewRome;aplazawithstatuesandfountainsthatislinedwithshopsandnighttimeentertainmentvenues
fuerteSpanishforstrongfulminataarmedwithlightning;aRomanlegionunderJuliusCaesarwhoseemblemwasalightningbolt(fulmen)
GaeatheGreekearthgoddess;wifeofOuranos;motheroftheTitans,giants,Cyclopes,andothermonsters
GameliontheseventhmonthoftheAtticorAtheniancalendarthatwasusedinAttica,Greece,atonetime;roughlyequivalenttoJanuary/FebruaryontheGregoriancalendar
GermanibodyguardsfortheRomanEmpirefromtheGaulishandGermanictribes
Greekfireamagical,highlyexplosive,viscousgreenliquidusedasaweapon;oneofthemostdangeroussubstancesonearth
GroveofDodonathesiteoftheoldestGreekOracle,secondonlytoDelphiin
importance;therustlingoftreesinthegroveprovidedanswerstopriestsandpriestesseswhojourneyedtothesite.ThegroveislocatedinCampHalf-BloodForestandaccessibleonlythroughthemyrmekes’lair.
HadestheGreekgodofdeathandriches;ruleroftheUnderworld.Romanform:Pluto
HarpocratesthePtolemaicgodofsilenceandsecrets,aGreekadaptationofHarpa-Khruti,HorustheChild,whowasoftendepictedinartandstatuarywithhisfingerhelduptohislips,agesturesymbolizingchildhood
harpyawingedfemalecreaturethatsnatchesthingsHecatethegoddessofmagicandcrossroadsHectoraTrojanchampionwhowasultimatelyslainbytheGreekwarriorAchillesandthendraggedbytheheelsbehindAchilles’schariot
HeliostheTitangodofthesun;sonoftheTitanHyperionandtheTitanessTheiaHephaestustheGreekgodoffire,includingvolcanic,andofcraftsandblacksmithing;thesonofZeusandHera,andmarriedtoAphrodite.Romanform:Vulcan
HeratheGreekgoddessofmarriage;Zeus’swifeandsister;Apollo’sstepmother.Romanform:Juno
HermestheGreekgodoftravelers;guidetospiritsofthedead;godofcommunication.Romanform:Mercury.
hippocampusaseacreaturewithahorse’sheadandafish’sbodyHoratiusCoclesaRomanofficerwho,accordingtolegend,single-handedlydefendedtheSublicianBridgeovertheTiberRiverfromtheinvadingEtruscanarmy
HyacinthusaGreekheroandApollo’slover,whodiedwhiletryingtoimpressApollowithhisdiscusskills
immortuosLatinforundeadImperialgoldararemetaldeadlytomonsters,consecratedatthePantheon;itsexistencewasacloselyguardedsecretoftheemperors
IrisGreekgoddessoftherainbowjiangshiChineseforzombieJuliusCaesaraRomanpoliticianandgeneralwhosemilitaryaccomplishmentsextendedRome’sterritoryandultimatelyledtoacivilwarthatenabledhimtoassumecontrolofthegovernmentin49BCE.Hewasdeclared“dictatorforlife”andwentontoinstitutesocialreformsthatangeredsomepowerful
Romans.AgroupofsenatorsconspiredagainsthimandassassinatedhimonMarch15,44BCE.
JunotheRomangoddessofmarriage;Jupiter’swifeandsister;Apollo’sstepmother.Greekform:Hera
JupitertheRomangodoftheskyandkingofthegods.Greekform:ZeusJupiterOptimusMaximusLatinforJupiter,thebestandgreatestgodKhromanda(Khromandae,pl.)ahumanoidmonsterwithgrayeyes,ashaggyblondpelt,anddogliketeeth;itcanonlycommunicateinloudshrieks
Koronisdaughterofaking;oneofApollo’sgirlfriends,whofellinlovewithanotherman.AwhiteravenApollohadlefttoguardherinformedhimoftheaffair.Apollowassoangryattheravenforfailingtopeckouttheman’seyesthathecursedthebird,scorchingitsfeathers.Apollosenthissister,Artemis,tokillKoronis,becausehecouldn’tbringhimselftodoit.
KronostheTitanlordoftime,evil,andtheharvest.HeistheyoungestbutboldestandmostdeviousofGaea’schildren;heconvincedseveralofhisbrotherstoaidhiminthemurderoftheirfather,Ouranos.HewasalsoPercyJackson’sprimaryopponent.Romanform:Saturn
LabyrinthanundergroundmazeoriginallybuiltontheislandofCretebythecraftsmanDaedalustoholdtheMinotaur
lamiaRomantermforzombieLar(Lares,pl.)RomanhousegodslegionnaireamemberoftheRomanarmyLemurianfromtheancientcontinentofLemuria,nowlost,butoncethoughttobelocatedintheIndianOcean
LetomotherofArtemisandApollowithZeus;goddessofmotherhoodlibriLatinforbookslictoranofficerwhocarriedafascesandactedasabodyguardforRomanofficials
LittleTibernamedaftertheTiberRiverofRome,thesmallerriverthatformsthebarrierofCampJupiter
LunathemoonTitan.Greekform:SeleneLupathewolfgoddess,guardianspiritofRomemaenadafemalefollowerofDionysus/Bacchus,oftenassociatedwithfrenzymanubalistaaRomanheavycrossbow
MarstheRomangodofwar.Greekform:AresMedeaaGreekenchantress,daughterofKingAeëtesofColchisandgranddaughteroftheTitansungod,Helios;wifeoftheheroJason,whomshehelpedobtaintheGoldenFleece
MeleageraprincewhotheFatespredictedwoulddiewhenapieceoffirewoodwasconsumed.WhenhismotherdiscoveredthatMeleagerhadkilledhertwobrothers,shethrewthewoodintothefire,bringingabouthisdeath.
MeliaiGreeknymphsoftheashtree,bornofGaea;theynurturedandraisedZeusinCrete
MercurytheRomangodoftravelers;guidetospiritsofthedead;godofcommunication.Greekform:Hermes
MinervatheRomangoddessofwisdom.Greekform:AthenaMistamagicalforcethatpreventsmortalsfromseeinggods,mythicalcreatures,andsupernaturaloccurrencesbyreplacingthemwiththingsthehumanmindcancomprehend
MountOlympushomeoftheTwelveOlympiansMountOthrysamountainincentralGreece;theTitans’baseduringtheten-yearwarbetweentheTitansandtheOlympians;theseatoftheTitansinMarinCounty,California;knownbymortalsasMountTamalpais
MountVesuviusavolcanoneartheBayofNaplesinItalythateruptedintheyear79CE,buryingtheRomancityofPompeiiunderash
musteraformalassemblyoftroopsmyrmekeagiantantlikecreaturethesizeofafull-grownGermanshepherd.Myrmekesliveinenormousanthills,wheretheystoreshinyloot,likegold.Theyspitpoisonandhavenearlyinvinciblebodyarmorandviciousmandibles.
naiadafemalewaterspiritNereidaspiritoftheseaNeroruledasRomanEmperorfrom54to58CE;hehadhismotherandhisfirstwifeputtodeath;manybelievehewasresponsibleforsettingafirethatguttedRome,butheblamedtheChristians,whomheburnedoncrosses;hebuiltanextravagantnewpalaceontheclearedlandandlostsupportwhenconstructionexpensesforcedhimtoraisetaxes;hecommittedsuicide
NewRomeboththevalleyinwhichCampJupiterislocatedandacity—asmaller,modernversionoftheimperialcity—whereRomandemigodscango
toliveinpeace,study,andretireNineMusesgoddesseswhograntinspirationforandprotectartisticcreationandexpression;daughtersofZeusandMnemosyne;aschildren,theyweretaughtbyApollo.Theirnamesare:Clio,Euterpe,Thalia,Melpomene,Terpsichore,Erato,Polymnia,Ourania,andCalliope.
nuntiusLatinformessengernymphafemaledeitywhoanimatesnatureOliverCromwelladevoutPuritanandinfluentialpoliticalfigurewholedtheparliamentaryarmyduringtheEnglishCivilWar
OracleofDelphiaspeakerofthepropheciesofApolloOuranostheGreekpersonificationofthesky;husbandofGaea;fatheroftheTitans
PantheGreekgodoftheWild;thesonofHermes.Romanform:Faunuspandos(pandai,pl.)amanwithgiganticears,eightfingersandtoes,andabodycoveredwithhairthatstartsoutwhiteandturnsblackwithage
People’sParkapropertylocatedoffTelegraphAvenueinBerkeley,California,thatwasthesiteofamajorconfrontationbetweenstudentprotestorsandpoliceinMay1969
PhlegethontheRiverofFireintheUnderworldPlutotheRomangodofdeathandruleroftheUnderworld.Greekform:HadesPomerianLinetheborderofRomePompeiiaRomancitythatwasdestroyedin79CEwhenthevolcanoMountVesuviuseruptedandburieditunderash
PoseidontheGreekgodofthesea;sonoftheTitansKronosandRhea,andthebrotherofZeusandHades.Romanform:Neptune
praetoranelectedRomanmagistrateandcommanderofthearmypraetoriumthelivingquartersforthepraetorsatCampJupiterprincepsLatinforfirstcitizenorfirstinline;theearlyRomanemperorsadoptedthistitleforthemselves,anditcametomeanprinceofRome
principiathemilitaryheadquartersforthepraetorsatCampJupiterprobatiotherankassignedtonewmembersofthelegionatCampJupiterPtolemaicrelatingtotheGreco-EgyptiankingswhoruledEgyptfrom323to30
BCE
PythonamonstrousdragonthatGaeaappointedtoguardtheOracleatDelphi
RiverStyxtheriverthatformstheboundarybetweenEarthandtheUnderworldRomulusademigodsonofMars,twinbrotherofRemus;firstkingofRome,whofoundedthecityin753BCE
SaturnaliaanancientRomanfestivalheldinDecemberinhonorofthegodSaturn,theRomanequivalentofKronos
satyraGreekforestgod,partgoatandpartmanSelenethemoonTitan.Romanform:LunaSenateacounciloftenrepresentativeselectedfromthelegionatCampJupiterSenateHousethebuildingatCampJupiterwherethesenatorsmeettodiscusssuchissuesaswhetheraquestshouldbegrantedorwhetherwarshouldbedeclared
SibylaprophetessSibyllineBookstheCumaeanSibyl’sprophecies—prescriptionsforwardingoffdisasters—datingbacktoancientRomantimes,collectedinninevolumes,sixofwhichweredestroyedbytheSibylherself.ThethreeremainingbooksweresoldtothelastRomanking,Tarquin,andthenlostovertime.EllatheharpyreadacopyofthethreeBooksandistryingtoreconstructalltheprophecieswithherphotographicmemoryandthehelpofTysontheCyclops.
sica(siccae,pl.)ashort,curvedswordSommeabattleofWorldWarIfoughtbytheBritishandFrenchagainsttheGermansbytheRiverSommeinFrance
SomnustheRomangodofsleepspathaaRomancavalryswordspoliaopimaone-on-onecombatbetweentwoopposingleadersinawar,theultimatedisplayofcourageforaRoman;literally,spoilsofwar
strix(strixes,pl.)alargeblood-drinkingowl-likebirdofillomenStymphalianbirdsmonstrousman-eatingbirdswithsharpCelestialbronzebeaksthatcantearthroughflesh.Theycanalsoshoottheirfeathersatpreylikearrows.
Styxapowerfulwaternymph;theeldestdaughteroftheseaTitan,Oceanus;goddessoftheUnderworld’smostimportantriver;goddessofhatred;theRiverStyxisnamedafterher
subrosaLatinforundertherose,meaningsworntosecrecySuburaacrowdedlower-classareaofancientRome
SummerofLoveagatheringofmorethan100,000hippiesor“flowerchildren”intheSanFrancisconeighborhoodofHaight-Ashburyduringthesummerof1967toenjoyart,music,andspiritualpracticeswhilealsoprotestingthegovernmentandmaterialisticvalues
TarquinLuciusTarquiniusSuperbuswastheseventhandfinalkingofRome,reigningfrom534to509BCE,when,afterapopularuprising,theRomanRepublicwasestablished
TempleHillthesitejustoutsidethecitylimitsofNewRomewherethetemplestoallthegodsarelocated
TerminustheRomangodofboundariesTerpsichoretheGreekgoddessofdance;oneoftheNineMusesterzarimaaformofverseconsistingofthree-linestanzasinwhichthefirstandthirdlinesrhymeandthemiddlelinerhymeswiththefirstandthirdlinesoffollowingstanza
testudoatortoisebattleformationinwhichlegionnairesputtheirshieldstogethertoformabarrier
TeumessianFoxagiganticfoxsentbytheOlympianstopreyuponthechildrenofThebes;itisdestinednevertobecaught
ThreeGracesthethreecharities:Beauty,Mirth,andElegance;daughtersofZeus
TiberRiverthethird-longestriverinItaly;Romewasfoundedonitsbanks;inancientRome,criminalswerethrownintotheriver
TitansaraceofpowerfulGreekdeities,descendantsofGaeaandOuranos,whoruledduringtheGoldenAgeandwereoverthrownbyaraceofyoungergods,theOlympians
triremeaGreekwarship,havingthreetiersofoarsoneachsidetriumvirateapoliticalallianceformedbythreepartiesTrojanWarAccordingtolegend,theTrojanWarwaswagedagainstthecityofTroybytheAchaeans(Greeks)afterParisofTroytookHelenfromherhusband,Menelaus,kingofSparta
Troyapre-Romancitysituatedinmodern-dayTurkey;siteoftheTrojanWarUnderworldthekingdomofthedead,wheresoulsgoforeternity;ruledbyHades
vappaeLatinforspoiledwinesventus(venti,pl.)stormspirits
VenustheRomangoddessofloveandbeauty.Greekform:AphroditeViaPraetoriathemainroadintoCampJupiterthatrunsfromthebarrackstotheheadquarters
VnicornesImperantLatinforUnicornsRulevrykolakas(vrykolakai,pl.)GreekwordforzombieVulcantheRomangodoffire,includingvolcanic,andofcraftsandblacksmithing.Greekform:Hephaestus
Waystationaplaceofrefugefordemigods,peacefulmonsters,andHuntersofArtemislocatedaboveUnionStationinIndianapolis,Indiana
ZeustheGreekgodoftheskyandthekingofthegods.Romanform:Jupiter
RICKRIORDAN,dubbed“storytellerofthegods”byPublishersWeekly,istheauthoroffiveNewYorkTimes#1best-sellingseries.HeisbestknownforhisPercyJacksonandtheOlympiansbooks,whichbringGreekmythologytolifeforcontemporaryreaders.Heexpandedonthatserieswithtwomore:theHeroesofOlympusandtheTrialsofApollo,whichcleverlycombineGreekandRomangodsandheroeswithhisbelovedmoderncharacters.RicktackledtheancientEgyptiangodsinthemagic-filledKaneChroniclestrilogy,andNorsemythologyinMagnusChaseandtheGodsofAsgard.Millionsoffansacrosstheglobehaveenjoyedhisfast-pacedandfunnyquestadventuresaswellashistwo#1best-sellingmythcollections,PercyJackson’sGreekGodsandPercyJackson’sGreekHeroes.RickisalsothepublisherofanimprintatDisneyHyperion,RickRiordanPresents,dedicatedtofindingotherauthorsofhighlyentertainingfictionbasedonworldculturesandmythologies.HelivesinBoston,Massachusetts,withhiswifeandtwosons.Formoreinformation,gotoRickRiordan.com,orfollowhimonTwitter@camphalfblood.