The Burning Maze (The Trials of Apollo #3)(58)

‘Yeah,’ Jason agreed. ‘When I scouted, he wasn’t there. I guess the Sibyl meant I’d find him at Stearns Wharf when I was supposed to find him. Which, I guess, is today.’ He shifted in his seat, leaning as far away as possible from Piper. ‘Speaking of the Sibyl … there’s another detail I didn’t share with you about the prophecy.’

He told Piper the truth about the three-letter word that began with D and was not dog.

She took the news surprisingly well. She did not hit him. She didn’t raise her voice. She merely listened, then remained silent for another mile or so.

At last, she shook her head. ‘That’s quite a detail.’

‘I should’ve told you,’ Jason said.

‘Um, yeah.’ She twisted the steering wheel exactly the way one would break the neck of a chicken. ‘Still … if I’m being honest? In your position, I might’ve done the same thing. I wouldn’t want you to die either.’

Jason blinked. ‘Does that mean you’re not mad?’

‘I’m furious.’

‘Oh.’

‘Furious, but also empathetic.’

‘Right.’

It struck me how easily they talked together, even about difficult things, and how well they seemed to understand each other. I remembered Piper saying how frantic she’d been when she got separated from Jason in the Burning Maze – how she couldn’t bear to lose another friend.

I wondered again what was behind their break-up.

People change, Piper had said.

Full points for vagueness, girl, but I wanted the dirt.

‘So,’ she said. ‘Any other surprises? Any more tiny details you forgot?’

Jason shook his head. ‘I think that’s it.’

‘Okay,’ Piper said. ‘Then we go to the wharf. We find this boat. We find Caligula’s magic booties, and we kill him if we get the chance. But we don’t let each other die.’

‘Or let me die,’ Meg added. ‘Or even Apollo.’

‘Thank you, Meg,’ I said. ‘My heart is as warm as a partially thawed burrito.’

‘No problem.’ She picked her nose, just in case she died and never got another chance. ‘How do we know which is the right boat?’

‘I have a feeling we’ll know,’ I said. ‘Caligula was never subtle.’

‘Assuming the boat is there this time,’ Jason said.

‘It’d better be,’ said Piper. ‘Otherwise I stole this van and got you out of your afternoon physics lecture for nothing.’

‘Darn,’ Jason said.

They shared a guarded smile, a sort of Yes, things are still weird between us, but I don’t intend on letting you die today look.

I hoped our expedition would go as smoothly as Piper had described. I suspected our odds were better of winning the Mount Olympus Mega-God Lottery. (The most I ever got was five drachmas on a scratch card once.)

We drove in silence along the seaside highway.

To our left, the Pacific glittered. Surfers plied the waves. Palm trees bent in the breeze. To our left, the hills were dry and brown, littered with the red flowers of heat-distressed azaleas. Try as I might, I could not help thinking of those crimson swathes as the spilled blood of dryads, fallen in battle. I remembered our cactus friends back at the Cistern, bravely and stubbornly clinging to life. I remembered Money Maker, broken and burned in the maze under Los Angeles. For their sake, I had to stop Caligula. Otherwise … No. There could be no otherwise.

Finally, we reached Santa Barbara, and I saw why Caligula might like the place.

If I squinted, I could imagine I was back in the Roman resort town of Baiae. The curve of the coastline was almost the same – as well as the golden beaches, the hills dotted with upscale stucco and red-tiled homes, the pleasure craft moored in the harbour. The locals even had the same sunbaked, pleasantly dazed expressions, as if they were biding their time between morning surf sessions and afternoon golf.

The biggest difference: Mount Vesuvius did not rise in the distance. But I had a feeling another presence loomed over this lovely little town – just as dangerous and volcanic.

‘He’ll be here,’ I said, as we parked the van on Cabrillo Boulevard.

Piper arched her eyebrows. ‘Are you sensing a disturbance in the Force?’

‘Please,’ I muttered. ‘I’m sensing my usual bad luck. In a place this harmless-looking, there’s no way we will not find trouble.’

We spent the afternoon canvassing the Santa Barbara waterfront, from the East Beach to the breakwater jetties. We disrupted a flock of pelicans in the saltwater marsh. We woke some napping sea lions on the fishing dock. We jostled through roving hordes of tourists on Stearns Wharf. In the harbour, we found a virtual forest of single-mast boats, along with some luxury yachts, but none seemed large or gaudy enough for a Roman emperor.

Jason even flew over the water for aerial reconnaissance. When he came back, he reported no suspicious vessels on the horizon.

‘Were you on your horse, Tempest, just then?’ Meg asked. ‘I couldn’t tell.’

Jason smiled. ‘Nah, I don’t call Tempest unless it’s an emergency. I was just flying around on my own, manipulating the wind.’

Meg pouted, considering the pockets of her gardening belt. ‘I can summon yams.’