Jacob’s shoulders slumped in relief. ‘Yes, Augur. I mean Centurion! I mean Pontifex! I mean –’
‘Go.’
‘I’ll go.’
Once Jacob had hobbled off, Octavian’s face clouded. ‘Mike, I told you not to speak of my, ah, problem. But to answer your question: no, there still seems to be some interference with Apollo’s usual gift to me.’ He glanced resentfully at a pile of mutilated stuffed animals heaped in the corner of the porch. ‘I can’t see the future. Perhaps that false Oracle at Camp Half-Blood is working some sort of witchcraft. But as I’ve told you before, in strictest confidence, Apollo spoke to me clearly last year at Camp Jupiter! He personally blessed my endeavours. He promised I would be remembered as the saviour of the Romans.’
Octavian spread his arms, revealing his harp tattoo, the symbol of his godly forefather. Seven slash marks indicated his years of service – more than any presiding officer, including Reyna.
‘Never fear, Mike. We will crush the Greeks. We will stop Gaia and her minions. Then we’ll take that harpy the Greeks have been harbouring – the one who memorized our Sibylline Books – and we’ll force her to give us the knowledge of our ancestors. Once that happens, I’m sure Apollo will restore my gift of prophecy. Camp Jupiter will be more powerful than ever. We will rule the future.’
Mike’s scowl didn’t lessen, but he raised his fist in salute. ‘You’re the boss.’
‘Yes, I am.’ Octavian pulled his dagger from the table. ‘Now, go check on those two dwarfs you captured. I want them properly terrified before I interrogate them again and dispatch them to Tartarus.’
The dream faded.
‘Hey, wake up.’ Reyna’s eyes fluttered open. Gleeson Hedge was leaning over her, shaking her shoulder. ‘We got trouble.’
His grave tone got her blood moving.
‘What is it?’ She struggled to sit up. ‘Ghosts? Monsters?’
Hedge scowled. ‘Worse. Tourists.’
VII
Reyna
THE HORDES HAD ARRIVED.
In groups of twenty or thirty, tourists swarmed through the ruins, milling around the villas, wandering the cobblestone paths, gawking at the colourful frescoes and mosaics.
Reyna worried how the tourists would react to a forty-foot-tall statue of Athena in the middle of the courtyard, but the Mist must have been working overtime to obscure the mortals’ vision.
Each time a group approached, they’d stop at the edge of the courtyard and stare in disappointment at the statue. One British tour guide announced, ‘Ah, scaffolding. It appears this area is undergoing restoration. Pity. Let’s move along.’
And off they went.
At least the statue didn’t rumble, ‘DIE, UNBELIEVERS!’ and zap the mortals to dust. Reyna had once dealt with a statue of the goddess Diana like that. It hadn’t been her most relaxing day.
She recalled what Annabeth had told her about the Athena Parthenos: its magical aura both attracted monsters and kept them at bay. Sure enough, every so often, out of the corner of her eye, Reyna would spot glowing white spirits in Roman clothes flitting among the ruins, frowning at the statue in consternation.
‘Those lemures are everywhere,’ Gleeson muttered. ‘Keeping their distance for now – but come nightfall we’d better be ready to move. Ghosts are always worse at night.’
Reyna didn’t need to be reminded of that.
She watched as an elderly couple in matching pastel shirts and Bermuda shorts tottered through a nearby garden. She was glad they didn’t come any closer. Around the camp, Coach Hedge had rigged all sorts of trip wires, snares and oversized mousetraps that wouldn’t stop any self-respecting monster, but they might very well bring down a senior citizen.
Despite the warm morning, Reyna shivered from her dreams. She couldn’t decide which was more terrifying – the impending destruction of New Rome, or the way Octavian was poisoning the legion from the inside.
Your quest is a fool’s errand.
Camp Jupiter needed her. The Twelfth Legion needed her. Yet Reyna was halfway across the world, watching a satyr toast blueberry waffles on a stick over an open fire.
She wanted to talk about her nightmares, but she decided to wait until Nico woke up. She wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to describe them twice.
Nico kept snoring. Reyna had discovered that once he fell asleep it took a lot to wake him up. The coach could do a goat-hoof tap dance around Nico’s head and the son of Hades wouldn’t even budge.
‘Here.’ Hedge offered her a plate of flame-grilled waffles with fresh sliced kiwi and pineapple. It all looked surprisingly good.