The Dark Prophecy
Leo’s ears began to smoke. He stepped toward the goddess.
Josephine grabbed his arm. “Let it go, bud. Between Emmie and me, we can take care of your girl.”
Leo wagged a finger at Britomartis. “You’re lucky these ladies are such bosses. Jo here, she told me that with enough time and training she could probably help Calypso get her magic back all the way.”
Josephine shifted, her wrenches clinking in the pockets of her coveralls. “Leo—”
“Did you know she was a gangster?” He grinned at me. “Jo knew Al Capone! She had this secret identity and—”
“Leo!”
He flinched. “Which…isn’t my place to talk about. Oh, look, food.”
He took a seat and began cutting the cheese.
Britomartis pressed her hands against the table. “But enough about the sorceress. Apollo, I must admit you did moderately well retrieving my griffins.”
“Moderately well?” I bit back a few nasty comments. I wondered if demigods ever felt the need to restrain themselves when facing ungrateful gods like this. No. Surely not. I was special and different. And I deserved better treatment.
“So glad you approve,” I muttered.
Britomartis’s smile was thin and cruel. I imagined nets wrapping around my feet, constricting the flow of blood in my ankles. “As promised, I will now reward you. I’ll give you information that will lead you directly to the palace of the emperor, where you’ll either make us proud…or be executed in some horrible but creative fashion.”
My dear Commodus,
Commode is named after you
Hail, Toilet Caesar
WHY DID PEOPLE keep ruining my meals?
First they served me food. Then they explained how I was likely to die in the near future. I longed to be back on Mount Olympus, where I could worry about more interesting things, like hot trends in techno-pop, bumper-car poetry slams, and laying waste to naughty communities with my arrows of vengeance. One thing I’d learned from being mortal: contemplating death is much more fun when you’re contemplating someone else’s.
Before Britomartis would give us our “reward,” she insisted on a briefing from Josephine and Emmie, who had spent all day, with Leo’s help, preparing the Waystation for a siege.
“This guy’s good.” Josephine punched Leo’s arm affectionately. “The things he knows about Archimedes spheres…really impressive.”
“Spheres?” Meg asked.
“Yeah,” Leo said. “They’re these round things.”
“Shut up.” Meg went back to inhaling carbohydrates.
“We reset all the crossbow turrets,” Jo continued. “Primed the catapults. Closed all exits and put Waystation on twenty-four-hour-surveillance mode. If anyone tries to get in, we’ll know.”
“They will try,” Britomartis promised. “It’s only a matter of time.”
I raised my hand. “And, uh, Festus?”
I hoped the wistfulness in my voice was not too obvious. I didn’t want the others to think I was ready to fly off on our bronze dragon and leave the Waystation to sort out its own problems. (Though I was ready to do exactly that.)
Emmie shook her head. “I scouted the statehouse grounds late last night, and again this morning. Nothing. The blemmyae must have taken your bronze suitcase to the palace.”
Leo clicked his tongue. “I bet Lityerses has it. When I get my hands on that crust-sucking Cornhusker—”
“Which brings us to the point,” I said. “How does Leo—I mean, how do we find the palace?”
Britomartis slid her feet off the table. She sat forward. “The main gates to the emperor’s palace are under the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument.”
Josephine grunted. “Should’ve known.”
“Why?” I asked. “What is that?”
Josephine rolled her eyes. “A huge decorated column thing in the middle of a plaza, a few blocks north of here. Just the kind of ostentatious, over-the-top edifice you’d expect the emperor to have for his entrance.”
“It’s the biggest monument in the city,” Emmie added.
I tried to contain my bitterness. Soldiers and sailors were all very well, but if your city’s biggest monument is not to Apollo, I’m sorry, you’re doing something wrong. “I suppose the palace is heavily guarded?”
Britomartis laughed. “Even by my standards, the monument is a death trap. Machine gun turrets. Lasers. Monsters. Attempting the front door without an invitation would have dire consequences.”
Meg swallowed a chunk of bread, somehow managing not to choke. “The emperor would let us in.”
“Well, true,” Britomartis agreed. “He’d love for you and Apollo to knock on his front door and give yourselves up. But I only mention the main entrance because you should avoid it at all costs. If you want to get inside the palace without being apprehended and tortured to death, there’s another possibility.”
Leo bit a cheese slice into the shape of a smile. He held it up to his mouth. “Leo is happy when he’s not being tortured to death.”
Meg snorted. A gob of bread shot out of her right nostril, but she didn’t have the decency to look embarrassed. I could tell Leo and Meg were not going to be healthy influences on each other.
“Then, to get inside,” said the goddess, “you must use the waterworks.”
“The plumbing system,” I guessed. “In my vision of the emperor’s throne room, I saw open trenches of flowing water. You know how to access them?”
Britomartis winked at me. “You’re not still afraid of water, I hope?”
“I have never been afraid of water!” My voice came out shriller than I intended.
“Hmm,” Britomartis mused. “Then why did the Greeks always pray to you for a safe landing whenever they were in dangerous waters?”
“B-because my mother was stuck in a boat when she was trying to give birth to me and Artemis! I can appreciate wanting to be on solid ground!”
“And those rumors you can’t swim? I remember at Triton’s pool party—”
“I can totally swim! Just because I didn’t want to play Marco Polo with you in the deep end with contact mines—”
“Hey, goddy people,” Meg interrupted. “The waterworks?”
“Right!” For once I was relieved at Meg’s lack of patience. “Britomartis, how do we access the throne room?”
Britomartis narrowed her eyes at Meg. “Goddy people?” She seemed to be pondering how McCaffrey would look wrapped in a lead-weighted hook net and dropped into the Mariana Trench. “Well, Miss McCaffrey, to access the emperor’s water system, you’ll need to search the city’s Canal Walk.”
“What’s that?” Meg asked.
Emmie patted her hand. “I can show you. It’s an old canal that runs through downtown. They refurbished the area, built a bunch of new apartments and restaurants and whatnot.”
Leo popped his cheese smile into his mouth. “I love whatnot.”
Britomartis smiled. “That’s fortunate, Leo Valdez. Because your skills will be required to find the entrance, disarm the traps, and whatnot.”