also by rick riordan · 2020. 1. 3. · percy jackson’s greek gods percy jackson’s greek heroes...

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

York10023.

ISBN978-1-368-00144-1Visitwww.DisneyBooks.com

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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.