The Dark Prophecy
“Hold up. Find the entrance? I thought you’d tell us where it was.”
“I just did,” said the goddess. “Somewhere along the canal. Look for a grate. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Uh-huh. And it’ll be booby-trapped.”
“Of course! But not nearly as much as the fortress’s main entrance. And Apollo will have to overcome his fear of water.”
“I don’t have a fear—”
“Shut up,” Meg told me, causing my vocal cords to solidify like cold cement. She pointed a carrot at Leo. “If we find the grate, can you get us in?”
Leo’s expression made him look as serious and dangerous as it was possible for a small elfin demigod to look in a little girl’s coveralls (a clean pair, mind you, which he’d intentionally found and put on). “I’m a son of Hephaestus, chica. I can problem-solve. This guy Lityerses tried to kill me and my friends once before. Now he’s threatened Calypso? Yeah, I’ll get us inside that palace. Then I’m going to find Lit and…”
“Light him up?” I suggested, surprised but pleased to find I could speak again so soon after being told to shut up. “So he’s literally lit?”
Leo frowned. “I wasn’t going to say that. Seemed too corny.”
“When I say it,” I assured him, “it’s poetry.”
“Well.” Britomartis rose, fishhooks and weights clinking in her dress. “When Apollo starts talking poetry, that’s my cue to leave.”
“I wish I’d known that sooner,” I said.
She blew me an air-kiss. “Your friend Calypso should remain here. Josephine, see if you can help her regain control over her magic. She’ll need it for the coming battle.”
Josephine drummed her fingers on the table. “Been a long time since I’ve trained anyone in the ways of Hecate, but I’ll do my best.”
“Emmie,” the goddess continued, “you watch after my griffins. Heloise could lay her egg at any moment.”
Emmie’s scalp turned crimson along her silver hairline. “What about Georgina? You’ve given us a way into the emperor’s palace. Now you expect us to stay here rather than go free our girl?”
Britomartis raised a hand in caution, as if to say, You’re very close to the Burmese tiger pit, my dear. “Trust Meg, Leo, and Apollo. This is their task: to find and free the captives, to retrieve the Throne of Mnemosyne—”
“And get Festus,” Leo added.
“And especially Georgina,” Jo added.
“We can pick up some groceries, too,” Leo offered. “I noticed you’re low on hot sauce.”
Britomartis chose not to destroy him, though from her expression I could tell she came close. “Tomorrow at first light, search for the entrance.”
“Why not earlier?” Meg asked.
The goddess smirked. “You’re fearless. I respect that. But you must be rested and prepared to meet the emperor’s forces. You need that leg wound tended to. I also suspect it’s been many nights since you’ve had a proper sleep. Besides, the incident at the zoo has the emperor’s security on high alert. Best to let the dust settle. If he catches you, Meg McCaffrey—”
“I know.” She did not sound afraid. Her tone was that of a child who’d been reminded for the fifth time to clean her room. The only sign of Meg’s anxiety: in her hand, her last piece of bread had begun to sprout green tendrils of wheat.
“In the meantime,” Britomartis said, “I will try to locate the Hunters of Artemis. They were in the area on a quest not long ago. Perhaps they are still close enough to come help defend this place.”
A hysterical giggle escaped my mouth. The idea of twenty or thirty other competent archers at my side, even if they were sworn maidens with no sense of humor, made me feel much safer. “That would be good.”
“But if not,” said the goddess, “you must be prepared to fight on your own.”
“That would be typical.” I sighed.
“And remember, the emperor’s naming ceremony is the day after tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much,” I said. “I needed the reminder.”
“Oh, don’t look so glum, Apollo!” Britomartis gave me one last flirtatious, irritatingly cute smile. “If you come out alive, we’ll catch a movie together. I promise.”
Her gauzy black dress swirled around her in a tornado of netting. Then she was gone.
Meg turned to me. “Naming ceremony?”
“Yes.” I stared at her furry green piece of bread, wondering if it was still edible. “The emperor is quite the megalomaniac. As he did in ancient times, he plans to rename this capital city after himself. Probably he’ll rename the state, the inhabitants, and the months of the year too.”
Meg snorted. “Commode City?”
Leo gave her a tentative smile. “What now?”
“His name is—”
“Don’t, Meg,” Josephine warned.
“—Commodus,” Meg continued, then frowned. “Why am I not supposed to say his name?”
“He pays attention to such things,” I explained. “There’s no point in letting him know we are talking about—”
Meg took a deep breath and yelled, “COMMODUS, COMMODUS, COMMODUS! COMMODE CITY, COMMODIANA. COMMODE DAY, MONTH OF COMMODES! COMMODE MAN!”
The great hall shook as if the Waystation itself had taken offense. Emmie blanched. Up in their roost, the griffins clucked nervously.
Josephine grumbled, “You shouldn’t have done that, hon.”
Leo just shrugged. “Well, if Commode Man wasn’t watching this channel before, I think he is now.”
“That’s dumb,” Meg said. “Don’t treat him like he’s so powerful. My stepfather—” Her voice caught. “He—he said Commodus is the weakest of the three. We can take him.”
Her words struck me in the gut like one of Artemis’s blunted arrows. (And I can assure you, those hurt.)
We can take him.
The name of my old friend, shouted over and over.
I staggered to my feet, gagging, my tongue trying to dislodge itself from my throat.
“Whoa, Apollo.” Leo rushed to my side. “You okay?”
“I—” Another dry retch. I staggered toward the nearest bathroom as a vision engulfed me…bringing me back to the day I committed murder.
Call me Narcissus
Today I’ll be your trainer
I’ll also kill you
I KNOW WHAT YOU are thinking. But, Apollo! You are divine! You cannot commit murder. Any death you cause is the will of the gods and entirely beyond reproach. It would be an honor if you killed me!
I like the way you think, good reader. It’s true I had laid waste to whole cities with my fiery arrows. I had inflicted countless plagues upon humanity. Once Artemis and I slew a family of twelve because their mama said something bad about our mama. The nerve!
None of that did I consider murder.
But as I stumbled to the bathroom, ready to vomit into a toilet I had cleaned just yesterday, dreadful memories consumed me. I found myself in ancient Rome on a cold winter day when I truly did commit a terrible act.