The Burning Maze (The Trials of Apollo #3)(26)

My nerves were shot. I considered throttling my young master and yelling, TELL ME NOW!, but I decided that might not be sensitive to her feelings.

‘Would you like to talk about it?’ I asked gently.

‘No.’

Not a huge surprise. Even under the best of circumstances, Meg and conversation were awkward acquaintances.

‘If Aeithales is the place mentioned in the prophecy,’ I said, ‘your ancient roots, then it might be important to know about it so … we can stay alive?’

Meg looked over. She didn’t order me to leap into the strawberry pit, or even to shut up. Instead, she said, ‘Here,’ and grabbed my wrist.

I had become used to waking visions – being yanked backwards down memory lane whenever godly experiences overloaded my mortal neurons. This was different. Rather than my own past, I found myself plunged into Meg McCaffrey’s, seeing her memories from her point of view.

I stood in one of the greenhouses before the plants grew wild. Well-ordered rows of new cactus pups lined the metal shelves, each clay pot fitted with a digital thermometer and moisture gauge. Misting hoses and grow lights hovered overhead. The air was warm, but pleasantly so, and smelled of freshly turned earth.

Wet gravel crunched under my feet as I followed my father on his rounds – Meg’s father, I mean.

From my vantage point as a tiny girl, I saw him smiling down at me. As Apollo I’d met him before in other visions – a middle-aged man with dark curly hair and a broad, freckled nose. I’d witnessed him in New York, giving Meg a red rose from her mother, Demeter. I’d also seen his dead body splayed on the steps of Grand Central Station, his chest a ruin of kni