The Burning Maze (The Trials of Apollo #3)(106)

The idea of being free from Meg would have delighted me just a few weeks ago, but now I found the idea insupportable. Yes, I wanted her to be happy. But I knew she had many things yet to do – first among them was facing Nero once again, closing that horrible chapter of her life by confronting and conquering the Beast.

Oh, and also I needed Meg’s help. Call me selfish, but I couldn’t imagine going on without her.

Meg squeezed Aloe’s hand. ‘Maybe someday. I hope so. But right now … we got places to be.’

Grover had generously left us the Mercedes he’d borrowed from … wherever.

After saying our goodbyes to Herophile and the dryads, who were discussing plans to create a giant Scrabble-board floor in one of the back bedrooms at Aeithales, we drove to Santa Monica to find the address Piper had given me. I kept looking in the rear-view mirror, wondering if the highway patrol would pull us over for car theft. That would’ve been the perfect end to my week.

It took us a while to find the right address: a small private airfield near the Santa Monica waterfront.

A security guard let us through the gates with no questions, as if he’d been expecting two teenagers in a possibly stolen red Mercedes. We drove straight onto the tarmac.

A gleaming white Cessna was parked near the terminal, right next to Coach Hedge’s yellow Pinto. I shuddered, wondering if we were trapped in an episode of The Oracle Is Right! First prize: the Cessna. Second prize … No, I couldn’t face the idea.

Coach Hedge was changing Baby Chuck’s diaper on the hood of the Pinto, keeping Chuck distracted by letting him gnaw on a grenade. (Which was probably just an empty casing. Probably.) Mellie stood next to him, supervising.

When she saw us, she waved and gave us a sad smile, but she pointed towards the plane, where Piper stood at the base of the steps, talking to the pilot.

In her hands, Piper held something large and flat – a display board. She had a couple of books under her arm, too. To her right, near the tail of the aircraft, the luggage compartment stood open. Ground-crew members were carefully strapping down a large wooden box with brass fixtures. A coffin.

As Meg and I walked up, the captain shook Piper’s hand. His face was tight with sympathy. ‘Everything is in order, Ms McLean. I’ll be on board doing preflight checks until our passengers are ready.’

He gave us a quick nod, then climbed into the Cessna.

Piper was dressed in faded denim jeans and a green camo tank top. She’d cut her hair in a shorter, choppier style – probably because so much had been singed off anyway – which gave her an eerie resemblance to Thalia Grace. Her multicoloured eyes picked up the grey of the tarmac, so she might have been mistaken for a child of Athena.

The display board she held was, of course, Jason’s diorama of Temple Hill at Camp Jupiter. Tucked under her arm were Jason’s two sketchbooks.

A ball bearing lodged itself in my throat. ‘Ah.’

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘The school let me clear out his stuff.’

I took the map as one might take the folded flag of a fallen soldier. Meg slid the sketchbooks into her knapsack.

‘You’re off to Oklahoma?’ I asked, pointing my chin towards the plane.

Piper laughed. ‘Well, yes. But we’re driving. My dad rented an SUV. He’s waiting for the Hedges and me at DK’s Donuts.’ She smiled sadly. ‘First place he ever took me to breakfast when we moved out here.’

‘Driving?’ Meg asked. ‘But –’

‘The plane is for you two,’ Piper said. ‘And … Jason. Like I said, my dad had enough flight time and fuel credit for one last trip. I talked to him about sending Jason home; I mean … the home he had the longest, in the Bay Area, and how you guys could escort him up there … Dad agreed this was a much better use of the plane. We’re happy to drive.’

I looked at the diorama of Temple Hill – all the little Monopoly tokens carefully labelled in Jason’s hand. I read the label: APOLLO. I could hear Jason’s voice in my mind, saying my name, asking me for one favour: Whatever happens, when you get back to Olympus, when you’re a god again, remember. Remember what it’s like to be human.

This, I thought, was being human. Standing on the tarmac, watching mortals load the body of a friend and hero into the cargo hold, knowing that he would never be coming back. Saying goodbye to a grieving young woman who had done everything to help us, and knowing you could never repay her, never compensate her for all that she’d lost.

‘Piper, I …’ My voice seized up like the Sibyl’s.

‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘Just get to Camp Jupiter safely. Let them give Jason the Roman burial he deserves. Stop Caligula.’

Her words weren’t bitter, as I might have expected. They were simply arid, like Palm Springs air – no judgement, just natural heat.

Meg glanced at the coffin in the cargo hold. She looked uneasy about flying with a dead companion. I couldn’t blame her. I’d never invited Hades to go sun cruising with me for good reason. Mixing the Underworld and the Overworld was bad luck.

Regardless, Meg muttered, ‘Thank you.’

Piper pulled the younger girl into a hug and kissed her forehead. ‘Don’t mention it. And, if you’re ever in Tahlequah, come and visit me, okay?’

I thought about the millions of young people who prayed to me every year, hoping to leave their small hometowns across the world and come here to Los Angeles, to make their huge dreams come true. Now Piper McLean was going the other way – leaving the glamour and the movie glitz of her father’s former life, going back to small-town Tahlequah, Oklahoma. And she sounded at peace with it, as if she knew her own Aeithales would be waiting there.