The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo #5)(67)

“That’s better,” Nico said. “Now stand down.”

The skeleton obeyed, lowering its sword and stepping away from me.

The technicians whimpered in terror. They were mortals, so I wasn’t sure what they thought they’d just seen, but it was nothing good.

Nico looked at them. “Run away.”

They fell all over each other to comply. They couldn’t run very well with arrows in their feet, but they were out the door faster than you could say, Holy Hades, that dude just turned Leader Guy into a skeleton.

Nico frowned down at me. “You look awful.”

I laughed weakly, bubbling snot. “I know, right?”

My sense of humor didn’t seem to reassure him.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Nico said. “This whole building is a combat zone, and our job isn’t done.”





AS NICO HELPED ME TO MY FEET, LEADER Guy collapsed into a pile of bones.

I guess controlling an animated skeleton while hauling my sorry butt off the floor was too much effort even for Nico.

He was surprisingly strong. I had to lean against him with most of my weight since the room was still spinning, my face was throbbing, and I was still suffering from a bout of near-death giggles.

“Where—where’s Will?” I asked.

“Not sure.” Nico pulled my arm tighter around his shoulders. “He suddenly said, ‘I am needed,’ and darted off in another direction. We’ll find him.” Nico sounded worried nonetheless. “What about you? How exactly did you…uh, do all this?”

I suppose he was talking about the piles of ash and rice, the broken chairs and control panels, and the blood of my enemies decorating the walls and the carpet. I tried not to laugh like a lunatic. “Just lucky?”

“Nobody’s that lucky. I think your godly powers are starting to come back more. Like, a lot more.”

“Yay!” My knees buckled. “Where’s Rachel?”

Nico grunted, trying to keep me on my feet. “She was fine last I saw her. She’s the one who sent me here to get you—she’s been having visions like crazy for the last day now. She’s with the trogs.”

“We have trogs! Whee!” I leaned my head against Nico’s and sighed contentedly. His hair smelled like rain against stone…a pleasant scent.

“Are you smelling my head?” he asked.

“Um—”

“Could you not? You’re getting nose blood all over me.”

“Sorry.” Then I laughed again.

Wow, I thought distantly. That kick to the face must have rattled my brain loose.

Nico half dragged me down the corridor as he briefed me on their adventures since the trog encampment. I couldn’t concentrate, and I kept giggling at inappropriate moments, but I gleaned that, yes, the trogs had helped them disable the Greek-fire vats; Rachel had managed to summon help from Camp Half-Blood; and Nero’s tower was now the world’s largest urban-warfare play structure.

In return, I told him that Lu now had silverware for hands.…

“Huh?”

She had gone to get Nero’s fasces from a leontocephaline.…

“A what-now?”

And I had to get to the southeast corner of the residence wing to find Meg.

That, at least, Nico understood. “You’re three floors too low.”

“I knew something was wrong!”

“It’ll be tough getting you through all the fighting. Every level is, well…”

We’d reached the end of the hallway. He kicked open a door and we stepped into the Conference Room of Calamity.

A half dozen troglodytes bounced around the room fighting an equal number of mortal security guards. Along with their fine clothing and hats, the trogs all wore thick dark goggles to protect their eyes from the light, so they looked like miniature aviators at a costume party. Some guards were trying to shoot them, but the trogs were small and fast. Even when a bullet hit one of them, it simply glanced off their rock-like skin, making them hiss with annoyance. Other guards had resorted to riot batons, which weren’t any more effective. The trogs leaped around the mortals, whacking them with clubs, stealing their helmets, and basically having a grand old time.

My old friend Grr-Fred, Mighty of Hats, Corporate Security Chief, leaped from a light fixture, brained a guard, then landed on the conference table and grinned at me. He’d topped his police hat with a new baseball cap that read TRIUMVIRATE HOLDINGS.

“GOOD COMBAT, Lester-Apollo!” He beat his tiny fists against his chest, then ripped a speakerphone from the table and threw it in the face of an oncoming guard.

Nico guided me through the chaos. We ducked through another doorway and ran straight into a Germanus, whom Nico impaled with his Stygian iron blade without even breaking stride.

“The Camp Half-Blood landing zone is just ahead,” he told me as if nothing had happened.

“Landing zone?”

“Yeah. Pretty much everybody came to help.”

“Even Dionysus?” I would’ve paid real drachma to watch him turn our enemies into grapes and stomp on them. That was always good for a laugh.

“Well, no, not Mr. D,” Nico said. “You know how it is. Gods don’t fight demigod battles. Present company excepted.”