The Burning Maze (The Trials of Apollo #3)(38)

Our rusty metal box rattled and creaked. Whatever was below would definitely hear us coming, especially if they had ears the size of beach towels.

After perhaps fifty feet, the elevator shuddered to a stop. Before us stretched a cement corridor, perfectly square and boring, lit by weak blue fluorescents.

‘Doesn’t seem so scary,’ said Meg.

‘Just wait,’ Piper said. ‘The fun stuff is up ahead.’

Grover fluttered his hands half-heartedly. ‘Yay.’

The square corridor opened into a larger round tunnel, its ceiling lined with ducts and pipes. The walls were so heavily tagged they might have been an undiscovered Jackson Pollock masterpiece. Empty cans, dirty clothes and mildewed sleeping bags littered the floor, filling the air with the unmistakable odour of a homeless camp: sweat, urine and utter despair.

None of us spoke. I tried to breathe as little as possible until we emerged into an even larger tunnel, this one lined with rusty train tracks. Along the walls, pitted metal signs read HIGH VOLTAGE, NO ENTRY and THIS WAY OUT.

Gravel crunched under our feet. Rats scurried along the tracks, chittering at Grover as they passed.

‘Rats,’ he whispered, ‘are so rude.’

After a hundred yards, Piper led us into a side hallway, this one tiled in linoleum. Half-burned-out banks of fluorescents flickered overhead. In the distance, barely visible in the dim light, two figures were slumped together on the floor. I assumed they were homeless people until Meg froze. ‘Are those dryads?’

Grover yelped in alarm. ‘Agave? Money Maker?’ He sprinted forward, the rest of us following at his heels.

Agave was an enormous nature spirit, worthy of her plant. Standing, she would have been at least seven feet tall, with blue-grey skin, long limbs and serrated hair that must’ve been literally murder to shampoo. Around her neck, her wrists and her ankles, she wore spiked bands, just in case anyone tried to intrude on her personal space. Kneeling next to her friend, Agave didn’t look too bad until she turned, revealing her burns. The left side of her face was a mass of charred tissue and glistening sap. Her left arm was nothing but a desiccated brown curl.

‘Grover!’ she rasped. ‘Help Money Maker. Please!’

He knelt next to the stricken dryad.

I’d never heard of a money-maker plant before, but I could see how she got her name. Her hair was a thick cluster of plaited discs like green quarters. Her dress was made of the same stuff, so she appeared to be clad in a shower of chlorophyll coinage. Her face might have once been beautiful, but now it was shrivelled like a week-old party balloon. From the knees down, her legs were gone – burned away. She tried to focus on us, but her eyes were opaque green. When she moved, jade coins dropped from her hair and dress.

‘Grover’s here?’ She sounded like she was breathing a mixture of cyanide gas and metal filings. ‘Grover … we got so close.’

The satyr’s lower lip trembled. His eyes rimmed with tears. ‘What happened? How –?’

‘Down there,’ said Agave. ‘Flames. She just came out of nowhere. Magic –’ She began coughing up sap.

Piper peered warily down the corridor. ‘I’m going to scout ahead. Be right back. I do not want to be caught by surprise.’

She dashed off down the hall.

Agave tried to speak again but fell over sideways. Somehow, Meg caught her and propped her up without getting impaled. She touched the dryad’s shoulder, muttering under her breath, Grow, grow, grow. Cracks began to mend in Agave’s charred face. Her breathing eased. Then Meg turned to Money Maker. She placed her hand on the dryad’s chest, then recoiled as more jade petals shook loose.

‘I can’t do much for her down here,’ Meg said. ‘They both need water and sunlight. Right now.’

‘I’ll get them to the surface,’ Grover said.

‘I’ll help,’ Meg said.

‘No.’

‘Grover –’

‘No!’ His voice cracked. ‘Once I’m outside, I can heal them as well as you can. This is my search party, here on my orders. It’s my responsibility to help them. Besides, your quest is down here with Apollo. You really want him going on without you?’

I thought this was an excellent point. I would need Meg’s help.

Then I noticed the way they were both looking at me, as if they doubted my abilities, my courage, my capacity to finish this quest without a twelve-year-old girl holding my hand.

They were right, of course, but that made it no less embarrassing.

I cleared my throat. ‘Well, I’m sure if I had to …’

Meg and Grover had already lost interest in me, as if my feelings were not their primary concern. (I know. I couldn’t believe it either.) Together they helped Agave to her feet.

‘I’m fine,’ Agave insisted, tottering dangerously. ‘I can walk. Just get Money Maker.’

Gently, Grover picked her up.

‘Careful,’ Meg warned. ‘Don’t shake her or she’ll lose all her petals.’

‘Don’t shake Money Maker,’ Grover said. ‘Got it. Good luck!’

Grover hurried into the darkness with the two dryads just as Piper returned.

‘Where are they going?’ she asked.

Meg explained.

Piper’s frown deepened. ‘I hope they get out okay. If that guard wakes up …’ She let the thought expire. ‘Anyway, we’d better keep going. Stay alert. Heads on a swivel.’