To someone- (Chapter 15) You get me! And hangry is a great word, love it ^_^

To 8Ball3- Yes, they do. They'll be screaming in my face about a coupon that expired three months ago in a few years. THAT WOULD BE REALLY COOL, LIKE THOR FIGHTING IN RAGNAROK COOL! All I did was have Lou try and plug him in, you know? XD

Oscar stared blearily at Jason, seconds away from dozing off into his cornflakes. Jason had porridge, but he was more awake than his friend, so there was less chance of cereal up his nose. "Are you alright?"

"Mm-hm." Oscar nodded sleepily.

"Your breakfast is slowly turning into mush."

"Then he'll finally have something to match his brain." Terry smirked. Oscar pouted at him, offended, moreso when the twins high-fived around him. "What about you, Grace?"

"You look like a raccoon." Perry added, pulling at his eyes.

"A very handsome raccoon." Terry agreed, winking.

"Stop it." Jason half-laughed, shaking his head. The pair tilted their heads, mirror images of each other. "I'm fine." Jason said. "Just… behind on my work a little, is all."

"When you say 'work'-"

"-do you mean you're plotting Morris's murder?"

"We can help you hide the body." They finished together, grinning slyly.

"I'm not going to murder Morris." The brothers booed him, thumbs down. Oscar blinked and squinted around at them, rubbing at his face. He looked down at his breakfast, grimaced, and rose to get a fresh batch. Jason shook his head at the twins again. "If I murder Morris, Lou doesn't get the satisfaction."

"Your cousin?"

"Yes."

"I like your cousin." Terry nodded.

"She is cool." Perry mused. "Ingridin might not think so."

"Elbow Patch." Terry corrected, biting into his toast. Jason heaped porridge onto his spoon. Not his favourite breakfast, but filling.

"Morning." Rajah yawned, sliding into Oscar's vacated seat. He pushed aside the bowl of soggy cornflakes, studying Jason. "You look horrible." He announced. Jason slumped his shoulders, unable to respond through his mouthful. "You do." Rajah insisted. "Sorry."

"Like a raccoon." Perry supplied.

"A handsome raccoon." Terry grinned. Jason wrinkled his nose at them both.

"You're not my type."

"What?"

"Rude!"

"How dare you!"

"Blasphemy!"

"Outrageous!"

"Heeeey, you're in my seat!"

"On your feet, lose your seat."

"Jason said we're not his type!"

"You're hardly anybody's type." Oscar rolled his eyes, yawning. The twins gaped at him, spluttering and squeaking and swearing. Oscar smiled grimly, nodding at Jason. "That'll shut 'em up for five minutes."

"Thanks, man. I needed that."

"Put on your sheet." Meg threw a toga in his face, which was not the nicest way to be woken up. Apollo blinked, groggy. He could still smell smoke, the mouldy straw and sweaty Romans.

"A toga?" He picked at the sheet. "I'm not a senator."

"You're honorary, because you used to be a god or whatever." Meg pouted. "I don't get to wear a sheet. And I saw Lou go by in a green one. That's unfair."

Bombilo gave Apollo the usual good morning glare on his venture downstairs to make use of the bathroom. He washed and changed his bandages with a kit the healers had left for him. The ghoul scratch looked no worse, but it was still puckered and an angry red. It still burned. Apollo tried to convince himself that was normal, but he could not help remembering that doctor gods made the worst patient gods.

He got dressed, struggled to remember how to fold a toga and thought on the things he had learned in his dreams. Number one- he was a terrible person that ruined lives. Number two- there was not a single bad thing he had done in the last four thousand years that was not going to come back and bite him in the clunis, (he was also beginning to think he deserved it). And number three- Louisa had an innate ability to get on people's nerves, whether she was doing some heroic or she was doing it intentionally. Apollo didn't see how that was useful right now, but figured it would come back to bite him at some point. Most things often did.

Seeing Jason again, a happy and younger Jason not haunted by his experience in the Burning Maze, had brought a sense of relief through Apollo. He had seen how close the cousins were and now better understood why Louisa was so ready to take on the Fates rather than lose Jason.

Apollo rubbed at his forehead, a headache blooming. That memory, at the end of his dreams, almost seemed as if his brain was trying to soften the impact of seeing the Cumaean Sibyl again. Oh, what had he been thinking?

He knew the answer to that right away- she had been a pretty young woman he had wanted to get with, despite her being his Sibyl. Then she had outsmarted him and he, being the sore loser that he was, had cursed her.

It was no wonder he was paying the price now. Tracking down the evil Roman king she had once sold her Books to. If Tarquin was still clinging to some horrible undead existence, could the Sibyl still be alive too? Apollo shuddered to think what she might be like after all these centuries, how much her hatred for him would have grown.

First things first: he had to tell the senate his marvellous plan to make things right and save them all. Did he have a marvellous plan? Shockingly, maybe. Or at the very least, he had the marvellous beginning of one. Or a marvellous index.

On their way out, he and Meg grabbed Lemurian-spiced lattes and a couple of blueberry muffins- because Meg clearly needed the extra caffeine and sugar- and then joined the loose procession of demigods heading for the city. By the time they got to the Senate House, everyone was taking their seats. Louisa was indeed wearing green, rather than the usual white, a green almost similar in colour to her eyes. She stood between the seated demigods and the praetors, back to the wall, arms folded. She made a face at Apollo, looking a little better this morning after gorging herself at dinner last night. He managed a small wave, looking past her to the praetors.

Reyna and Frank were arrayed in their finest gold and purple. The first row of benches was occupied by the camp's ten senators- each in a white toga trimmed with purple- along with the most senior veterans, those with accessibility needs and Ella and Tyson. Ella fidgeted, doing her best to avoid brushing shoulders with the senator on her left. Tyson grinned at the Lar on his right, wriggling his fingers through the ghost's vaporous ribcage.

"Tyson, no." Louisa called, trying not to laugh. He started and sat up straight, tucking his hands between his knees.

"I'm being good." He promised. Louisa smiled, shaking her head softly.

"I know, buddy."

A semicircle of tiered seats filled the rest of the room behind them, packed to overflowing with legionnaires, Lares, retired veterans and other citizens of New Rome. Apollo thought he should sit at the front, being an honorary bed linen wearer, or at least stand like Louisa was, but there was simply no room. Thankfully, he spotted a dash of pink hair and a frantic arm waving for his attention. Lavinia patted the bench next to her, indicating she had saved them seats.

Meg and Apollo sat either side of her. She gave Meg the super-secret Unicorn Sisterhood fist bump, then turned and jabbed her sharp elbow in Apollo's ribs.

"So, you really are Apollo! You must know my mom."

"I- what?"

"My mom." She repeated, popping her bubblegum. "Terpsichore."

"The… the Muse of Dance. Are you asking me if she's your mother or if I know her?"

"Of course she's my mother."

"Of course I know her."

"Well then!" Lavinia drummed a riff on her knees, as if to prove she had a dancer's rhythm despite her gangly frame. "I wanna hear the dirt!"

"The dirt? Meg has dirt."

"No, I mean that I've never met her."

"Oh. Um…" Over the centuries, Apollo had had many conversations with demigods who wanted to meet or know more about their absentee godly parents. Those talks rarely went well. He tried to conjure up a picture of Terpsichore, but his memories of Olympus were getting fuzzier by the day. He could vaguely remember the Muse frolicking around one of the parks on Mount Olympus, casting rose petals in her wake as she twirled and pirouetted. Apollo, admittedly, had not considered her his favourite of the Nine Muses- she often took the spotlight from him, where it rightly belonged. "She had your hair colour." He found himself saying.

"Pink?"

"No. Dark. Lots of nervous energy, I suppose, like you. She was never happy unless she was moving, but…" He hesitated. How could he say the Muse was graceful and poised, whereas her daughter was giraffe-like and Bambi-limbed without sounding horrible?

"But what?" Lavinia pressed.

"Nothing." He decided. "Hard to remember. Mortal brain. Sorry."

"Everyone!" Reyna called. "If you'll please take your seats! We need to get started. Dakota, can you scoot over a little to make room for- thanks." Lavinia regarded Apollo sceptically.

"That's the lamest dirt ever. If you can't tell me about my mom, at least tell me what's going on with you and Ms Praetor down there. No, don't look. Lou's watching you." Apollo squirmed, sliding down in his seat to avoid the daughter of Neptune still making faces at him.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Oh, please. The way you've been sneaking glances at Reyna since you got here? I noticed. Meg noticed. Just pray Lou doesn't notice, she's tempted to kill you for risking Jason like that."

"I did notice." Meg confirmed belatedly.

"Frank noticed too." Lavinia turned up her palms, as if she had just provided the ultimate proof of complete obviousness.

Reyna began to address the crowd.

"Senators, guests, we have called this emergency meeting to discuss-"

"Honestly," Apollo whispered to Lavinia, "it's awkward. You wouldn't understand."

"No, awkward is telling your rabbi that Daniella Bernstein is going to be your date for your bat mitzvah party. Or telling your dad that the only dancing you want to do is tap, so you're not going to carry on the Asimov family tradition. I know all about awkward."

"In light of our recent battle," Reyna continued, "against the undead, we have to take very seriously the threat-"

"Wait." Apollo whispered to Lavinia. "Your dad is Sergei Asimov? The dancer? The-?" He stopped himself before he could say the smoking-hot Russian ballet star. From her eye roll, however, he knew she knew where his line of thinking had been going.

"Yeah, yeah. Stop trying to change the subject. Are you going to dish on-?" There was a distant click and Apollo thought the ceiling was exploding. There were startled screams all around, more people ducked than didn't. He was one of them, throwing his arms over his head.

When he wasn't crushed under rubble, he peered through his arms and up at the ceiling. It had not exploded. The ringing in his ears came from thunder, not destruction. He sat up carefully, gaze automatically locking on the thunder's master.

Louisa snickered to herself, and then snorting laughter got the better of her. Reyna looked less amused, unaffected by the thunder, and frowning at the trio.

"Lavinia Asimov." She called sternly, talking over Louisa's wicked laughter. "Did you have something to say?" All eyes faced them. A few legionnaires smirked, as if this was not the first time Lavinia had been called out during a meeting.

Lavinia glanced from side to side, double-checked the ceiling was secure, and then pointed to herself, as if unsure which of the many Lavinia Asimovs Reyna might be addressing. Reyna inclined her head a fraction, frown deepening.

"No, ma'am. I'm good." Lavinia offered an innocent smile. Reyna did not seem amused at being called ma'am.

"I notice you're chewing gum as well. Did you bring enough for the whole senate?"

"Er, I mean…" Lavinia pulled multiple packs of gum from her pockets. She scanned the crowd, making a quick guesstimate. "Maybe?" Reyna glanced heavenward for the count of five.

"I'll assume," she said tightly, "that you were just trying to draw attention to the guest seated next to you, who has important information to share. Lester Papadopoulos, rise and address the senate!"

"Ooh, who's that?"

"Someone new."

"No duh."

"If it's someone new, does that mean I don't have to do Bobbins' homework?"

"Bobbins gave us homework?"

"My god, you are hopeless." Oscar rolled his eyes. Rajah stared at him, question unanswered. Terry and Perry were shoulder-to-shoulder, peering through the blinds of the window. Jason tugged on the straps of their satchels.

"We're not talking to you." Terry reminded him stiffly, turning his nose up.

"You broke our hearts, Grace." Perry sniffed, dabbing at his eyes.

"I am very sorry, but we need to get to class."

"You can't sit with us." They chorused, sauntering off. Oscar snorted, elbowing Jason.

"First Morris, now the twins. You're doing well, bud." Jason smiled weakly.

"Do we still have to do the homework?" Rajah whispered. Oscar just laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulders and dragging him inside. Jason followed in last, giving the new teacher a once over.

Bobbins had been their history teacher since the start of the term. He had been at this school for longer than anyone, so it was no surprise that retirement had been due. The only thing that confused Jason- the retirement had not been announced. Maybe Bobbins just needed the day off.

Whatever the weather, their substitute teacher was writing the day's lesson on the blackboard. He was tall and thin, with dark, close-cropped hair and a permanent scowl. When he turned around to survey the class, he stood at ease, like a soldier in a parade.

"Settle down," he ordered, accent French, "none of zat now, sit sit." Terry and Perry made the point of scooting their desks away from Jason, thumbing their noses at him. Jason offered another apologetic smile, but they were not going to forgive him that easily. "Monsieur Bobbins is unvell today, so I am instructing your class." He pointed backwards at the board, indicating his name. "I am Doctor Thorn. I vill be your teacher until Monsieur Bobbins is better." His gaze slid over the class, examining their faces in turn.

He stopped on Jason. A cruel smile crossed his face, eyes glinting. "I hope I can provide ze education you deserve."

Jason stared right back at him, expression carefully arranged. Inside, he was cursing himself. Using the phone was a big no-no. But he had needed to. And now he had a monster teaching history.

"Oy." Oscar breathed, leaning over as Thorn turned back to the blackboard. "What was that? You making googly eyes at Teacher?"

"No." Jason shook his head. "I… feel like I know him from somewhere."

"Your dreams?" Terry snarked.

"You were in our dreams." Perry stuck his tongue out.

"Emphasis on were." Terry nodded.

"Guys, I'm sorry, but-"

"No."

"Not good enough."

"We demand a written apology."

"And dinner."

"With dessert."

"Lots of dessert."

"Stupid raccoon."

"Yeah, you stupid raccoon."

Before he was due to perform, Apollo had always been used to waiting backstage. He would only emerge when he had been announced and the crowd was frenzied and eager for his arrival. Reyna's introduction inspired no such reaction from the audience. He shuffled his way to the aisle, being tripped by Lavinia in the process, aware of hundreds of pairs of eyes upon him. Everyone watched as he fumbled his way through the crowd, trying not to trip on his toga.

"Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me." By the time he made it to the rostrum, the audience had definitely been whipped into a frenzy- one of boredom and impatience. Two days ago, he had moved them all with his musical tribute to the fallen. But what had he done for them since then? Only the Lares seemed content to wait. They could endure sitting on hard benches forever.

From the back row, Meg waved at him. Her expression was less encouraging than he had hoped, and just as bored as the demigods around them.

He turned his gaze to the front row. Tyson beamed at him. His sister was slowly quietening her giggles. "So…" Apollo flailed a half-hearted wave. "Hi." Fantastic start. He hoped another burst of inspiration might lead to a follow-up song. Nothing happened. He had left his ukulele in his room, having thought Terminus would confiscate it as a weapon. "Um…" He focused on Tyson again. "I have some bad news."

"You are bad news." Louisa snorted.

"Not now, Lou."

"And, uh, some bad news. Which did you want to hear first?"

"Can't we just get breakfast? I'm hungry."

"You had three helpings of bacon sandwiches before we got here." Reyna shushed her.

"Start with the bad news!" Lavinia shouted. "That's always best!"

"Hey." Frank chastised. "Like, decorum, you know?" Lavinia sat back in her seat. Frank gestured for Apollo to proceed. He could feel Louisa still pulling faces at the side of his head. Reyna, with her elbow on the arm of her seat, put her head in her hand and sighed.

"The emperors Commodus and Caligula have combined forces." Apollo decided to begin anyway. He described what he had seen in his dream. "They're sailing towards us right now with a fleet of fifty yachts, all equipped with some kind of terrible new weapon. They'll be here by the blood moon. Which, as I understand, is in three days. April eighth. Um… it's also Lester Papadopoulos's birthday."

"Happy birthday!" Tyson cheered, clapping.

"Ty." Louisa shook her head. "He don't deserve a happy birthday."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Thank you anyway, Tyson." Apollo nodded at the Cyclops.

"Don't you talk to him." Louisa warned, wagging a finger at Apollo. Reyna simply raised her head and Louisa stilled, watching her carefully from the corner of her eye.

"Continue, Apollo." Reyna encouraged.

"I… don't actually know what a blood moon is." He shrugged helplessly. A hand shot up in the second row.

"Go ahead, Ida." Reyna said. For Apollo's benefit, she added; "Centurion of the Second Cohort, legacy of Luna."

"Seriously?" Apollo marvelled. He hadn't meant to sound so incredulous, but Luna, a Titan, had been in charge of the moon before Artemis had taken over. As far as he knew, Luna had faded away millennia ago. In retrospect, he had also thought Helios the sun Titan had faded too, until he found out that Medea had been salvaging shreds of his consciousness to heat the Burning Maze.

Ida stood, scowling.

"Yes, seriously. A blood moon is a full moon that looks red because there's a full lunar eclipse. It's a bad time to fight the undead. They're especially powerful on those nights."

"Actually…" Ella stood, picking at her finger talons. "Actually, the colour is caused by the dispersal of reflected light from the sunrise and sunset of earth. A true blood moon refers to four lunar eclipses in a row. The next one is on April eighth, yep. Farmer's Almanac. Moon Phase Calendar supplement." She plopped down, Tyson grinning proudly at her. Louisa even stopped with the stupid faces to nod approvingly at the harpy. The audience was left in a stunned silence- it wasn't every day science was explained by a supernatural creature.

"Thank you, Ida and Ella." Reyna said, breaking the silence. "Lester, did you have more to add?" Her tone suggested that it would be completely fine for him if he kept quiet. He had already shared enough information to cause a camp-wide panic.

"I'm afraid so." He sighed. "The emperors have allied themselves with Tarquin the Proud."

The Lares in the room guttered and flickered.

"Impossible!" One cried.

"Horrible!" Another sobbed.

"We'll all die!" A third screamed.

"You're already dead, fuckface." Louisa rolled her eyes. "Sit ya ass down 'n' shut up." The third Lar scowled at her, drawing himself to his full height. An angry, darker purple crossed his face.

"I will not listen to the likes of you, seaspawn."

"I have zero problem trackin' down ya remains 'n' destroyin' 'em." Louisa smiled sweetly. The Lar took a step back, aghast. Even the others began to quieten, staring at her in a mix of horror and disgust.

"Guys." Frank interceded. "Just… everyone chill. Let Apollo talk."

His leadership style was so much less formal than Reyna's, but he seemed to command just as much respect. The audience settled, even the Lares and Louisa, waiting for Apollo to proceed.

"Tarquin is now some sort of undead creature. His tomb is nearby. He was responsible for the attack you repulsed on the new moon-"

"Which is also a really cruddy time to fight the undead." Ida volunteered.

"And he'll attack again on the blood moon, in concert with the emperors' assault." He did his best to explain his dreams, and what he and Frank had discussed with Ella. He made no mention of Frank's firewood. Partly because he didn't understand and partly because Frank was giving him the pleading teddy-bear eyes. "Since Tarquin was the one who originally purchased the Sibylline Books," he summed up, "it makes a twisted kind of sense that he would reappear now, when Camp Jupiter is trying to reconstruct those prophecies. Tarquin would be… invoked by what Ella is doing."

"Enraged." Ella suggested. "Infuriated. Homicidal."

"Homi-?" Louisa's brow furrowed. Her hand went to her wrist, fingers pinching the joint at the lack of her watch. "Oy, dickhead." She frowned at Apollo. "Is she in danger?"

"Everyone is." Apollo replied simply, taking a step back when her eyes flashed dangerously. He looked at the harpy, thinking of the Cumaean Sibyl and the terrible curse he had laid upon her. He wondered how Ella might suffer, just because they had coerced her into entering the prophecy business. Lupa had warned him: you will face more sacrifices. Death. Blood.

"Um…" Tyson raised his hand, looking at his sister questioningly.

"I won't let anythin' happen to her, Ty. Promise." The Cyclops relaxed, smiling lopsidedly.

"I know you won't." He nodded, absolute trust in his big sister. Louisa smiled too. Ella fussed with her feathers, seemingly content.

"Um…" Apollo faced the audience, pressing his hands together anxiously. "Tarquin was monstrous enough when he was alive. The Romans despised him so much, they did away with the monarchy forever. Even centuries later, the emperors never dared to call themselves kings. Tarquin died in exile. His tomb was never located."

"And now it's here." Reyna said.

It wasn't a question. The gods moved. The camps moved. Why couldn't a tomb of an undead king move too?

In the first row, next to Hazel, a senator rose to speak. He had dark curly hair and off-centre blue eyes. A cherry-red moustache stain on his upper lip caught Apollo's attention.

"So, to sum up…" He counted on his fingers. "In three days, we're facing an invasion from two evil emperors, their armies and fifty ships with weapons we don't understand. And there will be another wave of undead like the one that nearly destroyed us last time, when we were a lot stronger, but now they'll be stronger? Uh, dude… if that's the bad news, what's the bad news?"

"The other bad news," Apollo hunched his shoulders, "is that I have a plan, but it's going to be hard, maybe impossible, and parts of the plan aren't exactly… plan-worthy yet." He winced, offering a half-smile. For the count of three, there was a silence as the crowd let that sink in. And then:

"What the fuck is this bullshit?!"

"Louisa, language!"