The Tyrant's Tomb (The Trials of Apollo, #4)(33)

Her tone also said I have a score to settle.

Which was fine, except I remembered how Hazel had collapsed that tunnel we’d taken into camp. I had a sudden terrifying vision of being crushed under a merry-go-round.

“That’s three questers, then,” Reyna said. “The correct number for a quest. Now—”

“Two and a half,” Meg interrupted.

Reyna frowned. “Sorry?”

“Lester’s my servant. We’re kind of a team. He shouldn’t count as a full quester.”

“Oh, come on!” I protested.

“So we can take one more,” Meg offered.

Frank sat up. “I’d be happy to—”

“If you didn’t have praetor duties to attend to,” Reyna finished, giving him a look like, You are not leaving me alone, dude. “While the questers are out, the rest of us have to prepare the valley’s defenses. There’s a lot to do.”

“Right.” Frank slumped. “So, is there anyone else—?”

POP!

The sound was so loud, half the Lares disintegrated in alarm. Several senators ducked under their seats.

In the back row, Lavinia had a flattened pink gum bubble smeared across her face. She quickly peeled it away and stuck it back in her mouth.

“Lavinia,” Reyna said. “Perfect. Thanks for volunteering.”

“I—But—”

“I call for a senate vote!” Reyna said. “Do we send Hazel, Lester, Meg, and Lavinia on a quest to find the tomb of Tarquin?”

The measure passed unanimously.

We were given full senate approval to find a tomb under a carousel and confront the worst king in Roman history, who also happened to be an undead zombie lord.

My day just kept getting better.





Romance disaster

I’m poison for guys and gals

You wanna hang out?

“LIKE CHEWING GUM IS a crime.” Lavinia tossed a piece of her sandwich off the roof, where it was immediately snatched up by a seagull.

For our picnic lunch, she had brought me, Hazel, and Meg to her favorite thinking place: the rooftop of New Rome University’s bell tower, which Lavinia had discovered access to on her own. People were not exactly encouraged to be up here, but it was not strictly forbidden, either, which seemed to be the space Lavinia most liked inhabiting.

She explained that she enjoyed sitting here because it was directly above the Garden of Faunus, Reyna’s favorite thinking spot. Reyna was not in the garden at present, but whenever she was, Lavinia could look down at the praetor, a hundred feet below, and gloat Ha-ha, my thinking spot is higher than your thinking spot.

Now, as I sat on the precariously slanted red clay tiles, a half-eaten focaccia in my lap, I could see the entire city and valley spread out below us—everything we stood to lose in the coming invasion. Beyond stretched the flatlands of Oakland, and the San Francisco Bay, which in just a few days would be dotted with Caligula’s luxury battle yachts.

“Honestly.” Lavinia threw another piece of her grilled cheese to the seagulls. “If the legionnaires went for a stupid hike once in a while, they’d know about Wildcat Drive.”

I nodded, though I suspected that most legionnaires, who spent a good deal of their time marching in heavy armor, probably wouldn’t consider hiking much fun. Lavinia, however, seemed to know every back road, trail, and secret tunnel within twenty miles of Camp Jupiter—I suppose because you never knew when you’d need to sneak out for a date with some pretty Hemlock or Deadly Nightshade.

On my other side, Hazel ignored her veggie wrap and grumbled to herself, “Can’t believe Frank…Trying to volunteer…Bad enough after his crazy stunts in the battle…”

Nearby, having already plowed through her lunch, Meg aided her digestion by doing cartwheels. Every time she landed, catching her balance on the loose tiles, my heart free-climbed a little farther up my throat.

“Meg, could you please not do that?” I asked.

“It’s fun.” She fixed her eyes on the horizon and announced, “I want a unicorn.” Then she cartwheeled again.

Lavinia muttered to no one in particular, “You popped a bubble—you’ll be perfect for this quest!”

“Why do I have to like a guy with a death wish?” Hazel mused.

“Meg,” I pleaded, “you’re going to fall.”

“Even a small unicorn,” Meg said. “Not fair they have so many here and I don’t have any.”

We continued this four-part disharmony until a giant eagle swooped out of the sky, snatched the rest of the grilled cheese from Lavinia’s hand, and soared away, leaving behind a flock of irritated seagulls.

“Typical.” Lavinia wiped her fingers on her pants. “Can’t even have a sandwich.”

I shoved the rest of the focaccia in my mouth, just in case the eagle came back for seconds.

“Well,” Hazel sighed, “at least we got the afternoon off to make plans.” She gave half of her veggie wrap to Lavinia.

Lavinia blinked, apparently unsure how to respond to the kind gesture. “I—uh, thanks. But I mean, what is there to plan? We go to the carousel, find the tomb, try not to die.”

I swallowed the last of my food, hoping it might push my heart back down to its proper location. “Perhaps we could concentrate on the not-dying part. For instance, why wait until tonight? Wouldn’t it be safer to go when it’s daylight?”