The Burning Maze (The Trials of Apollo #3)(50)

Instead, it was modern Delphi – devoid of priests and worshippers, filled instead with the hideous stench of Python, my old enemy, who had reclaimed his ancient lair. His rotten-egg/rancid-meat smell was impossible to forget.

I stood deep in the caverns, where no mortal ever trod. In the distance, two voices conversed, their bodies lost in the swirling volcanic vapours.

‘It’s under control,’ said the first, in the high nasal tones of Emperor Nero.

The second speaker growled, a sound like a chain pulling an ancient roller coaster uphill.

‘Very little has been under control since Apollo fell to earth,’ said Python.

His cold voice sent ripples of revulsion through my body. I couldn’t see him, but I could imagine his baleful amber eyes flecked with gold, his enormous dragon form, his wicked claws.

‘You have a great opportunity,’ Python continued. ‘Apollo is weak. He is mortal. He is accompanied by your own stepdaughter. How is it that he is not yet dead?’

Nero’s voice tightened. ‘We had a difference of opinion, my colleagues and I. Commodus –’

‘Is a fool,’ Python hissed, ‘who only cares about spectacle. We both know that. And your great-uncle, Caligula?’

Nero hesitated. ‘He insisted … He has need of Apollo’s power. He wants the former god to meet his fate in a very, ah, particular way.’

Python’s massive bulk shifted in the darkness – I heard his scales rubbing against the stone. ‘I know Caligula’s plan. I wonder who is controlling whom? You have assured me –’

‘Yes,’ Nero snapped. ‘Meg McCaffrey will come back to me. She will serve me yet. Apollo will die, as I promised.’

‘If Caligula succeeds,’ Python mused, ‘then the balance of power will change. I would prefer to back you, of course, but if a new sun god rises in the west –’

‘You and I have a deal,’ Nero snarled. ‘You support me once the Triumvirate controls –’

‘– all means of prophecy,’ Python agreed. ‘But it does not as yet. You lost Dodona to the Greek demigods. The Cave of Trophonius has been destroyed. I understand the Romans have been alerted to Caligula’s plans for Camp Jupiter. I have no wish to rule the world alone. But if you fail me, if I have to kill Apollo myself –’

‘I will hold up my side of the bargain,’ Nero said. ‘You hold up yours.’

Python rasped in an evil approximation of a laugh. ‘We will see. The next few days should be very instructive.’

I woke with a gasp.

I found myself alone and shivering in the Cistern. Piper’s and Meg’s sleeping bags were empty. Above, the sky shone a brilliant blue. I wanted to believe this meant the wildfires had been brought under control. More likely it meant the winds had simply shifted.

My skin had healed overnight, though I still felt like I’d been dipped in liquid aluminum. With a minimum of grimacing and yelping, I managed to get dressed, get my bow, quiver and ukulele, and climb the ramp to the hillside.

I spotted Piper at the base of the hill, talking with Grover at the Bedrossian-mobile. I scanned the ruins and saw Meg crouching by the first collapsed greenhouse.

Thinking of my dream, I burned with anger. Had I still been a god, I would have roared my displeasure and cracked a new Grand Canyon across the desert. As it was, I could only clench my fists until my nails cut my palms.

It was bad enough that a trio of evil emperors wanted my Oracles, my life, my very essence. It was bad enough that my ancient enemy Python had retaken Delphi and was waiting for my death. But the idea of Nero using Meg as a pawn in this game … No. I told myself I would never let Nero get Meg into his clutches again. My young friend was strong. She was striving to break free of her stepfather’s vile influence. She and I had been through too much together for her to go back.

Still, Nero’s words unsettled me: Meg McCaffrey will come back to me. She will serve me yet.

I wondered … if my own father, Zeus, appeared to me just then and offered me a way back to Olympus, what price would I be willing to pay? Would I leave Meg to her fate? Would I abandon the demigods and satyrs and dryads who had become my comrades? Would I forget about all the terrible things Zeus had done to me over the centuries and swallow my pride, just so I could regain my place in Olympus, knowing full well I would still be under Zeus’s thumb?

I tamped down those questions. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answers.

I joined Meg at the collapsed greenhouse. ‘Good morning.’

She did not look up. She’d been digging through the wreckage. Half-melted polycarbonate walls had been turned over and tossed aside. Her hands were dirty from clawing at the soil. Near her sat a grimy glass peanut-butter jar, the rusty lid removed and lying next to it. Cupped in her palm were some greenish pebbles.

I sucked in my breath.

No, they weren’t pebbles. In Meg’s hand lay seven coin-size hexagons – green seeds exactly like the ones in the memories she’d shared.

‘How?’ I asked.

She glanced up. She wore teal camouflage today, which made her look like an entirely different dangerous and scary little girl. Someone had cleaned her glasses (Meg never did), so I could see her eyes. They glinted as hard and clear as the rhinestones in her frames.

‘The seeds were buried,’ she said. ‘I … had a dream about them. The saguaro Hercules did it – put them in that jar right before he died. He was saving the seeds … for me, for when it was time.’