I did post a chapter on Lou's Past yesterday, as usual, but I think something's wrong? Like, I can see it on my laptop, it shows up no worries. But on my phone? Nope.
To readingbooksforlife- oh yeah, these two chapters were super important for Apollo's development. It shows forgiveness, but not in the sense that the abuser got away with what they did. They've learned from it and learned how horrible they had really been, and now he's trying to do better because of it. He's still a self-centered little turd, but he's getting better! ^_^
To 8Ball3- ASPIRIN WON'T CUT IT, JUST CHOP MY HEAD OFF! It's a great headcanon, I love it ^_^ And no spoilers! I'm going to start reading it later, so SSHHHHHHH! And Rick knows exactly what he's doing, like when he pitched Percabeth into Tartarus or killed Jason :(
They emerged from the shipping container just in time to get dive-bombed. A raven swooped past Reyna, biting a chunk out of her hair. "OW!" She yelled, clutching her head as if to make sure it was still on. "Alright, that's it! Hold this!" She shoved the glass jar into Apollo's hand and drew her sword. A second raven came within range and she slashed it out of the sky, swearing at it profusely in Latin. Meg's twin blades whirled, dicing another bird into a black cloud. That left only another… oh, thirty or forty more bloodthirsty hang gliders of doom swarming the tower.
Anger swelled in his chest. Apollo decided he was done with the ravens' bitterness. Plenty of folks had valid reasons to hate him- Harpocrates, the Sibyl, Koronis, Daphne, maybe a few dozen others. (Translation- a few hundred others).
But the ravens? They were thriving! They had grown gigantic! They loved their new job as flesh-eating killers. Enough with the blame.
He secured the glass jar in his backpack and then unslung his bow.
"Scram or die!" He bellowed. "You get one warning!"
The ravens cawed and croaked with derision. One dived at him and received an arrow between the eyes. It spiralled downward, shedding a funnel cloud of feathers. Apollo picked another target and shot it down. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth. The ravens' caws became cries of alarm. They widened their circle, probably thinking they could get out of range. Apollo proved them wrong. He kept shooting until ten were dead. Then a dozen. "I brought extra arrows today!" He shouted. "Who wants the next one?"
At last, the birds got the message. With a few parting screeches, perhaps just as foul as Reyna's earlier tirade, they broke off their assault and flew north towards Marin County.
"Nice work." Meg nodded approvingly, retracting her blades. The best Apollo could manage was a nod and a bit of wheezing. Beads of sweat froze on his forehead, his legs felt like soggy French fries. He didn't see how he could climb back down the ladder, much less race off for a fun-filled evening of god-summoning, combat to the death and possibly turning into a zombie.
"Oh, gods." Reyna stared in the direction the flock had gone, her fingers absently exploring her scalp where the raven had ripped at her hair.
"It'll grow back." Apollo assured.
"What? No, not my hair! Look!" She pointed to the Golden Gate Bridge.
They must have been inside the shipping container much longer than they had first thought. The sun sat low in the western sky. The daytime full moon had risen above Mount Tamalpais. The afternoon heat had burned away all the fog, giving them a perfect view of the white fleet heading past Point Bonita Lighthouse at the edge of the Marin Headlands, making their way towards the bridge. Once past it, they would have smooth sailing into the San Francisco Bay.
Apollo looked at the good side. There didn't seem to be fifty luxury yachts now, maybe a dozen missing. They sailed in under a storm cloud as fierce as anything as Neptune himself could summon. The thunder shook the hills, they could see silvery sheets of water crashing down from the purple-black clouds, waves slicing through ships and swallowing in violently torn chunks.
Reyna drew a pair of binoculars from her pack, muttering to herself. "There she is." She grumbled a moment later, handing the binoculars to Apollo. "Third ship in from the right." Apollo turned his attention, going a little too far only to be drawn back by bursts of green light. He handed the binoculars to Meg. "If we get through this," Reyna said, fists clenching, "remind me to stab her with a spoon."
"Sounds fun." Apollo noted. She glowered at him sidelong. He hurriedly cleared his throat, thunder rippling through the tower. "How long do we have?" He gestured at the oncoming invasion. Reyna checked her watch.
"The vappae are taking their time and they have to deal with an idiot who is so going to die later-" She stopped herself- no-one planned a murder out loud. "We have maybe two hours?" She continued in a slightly steadier, less homicidal tone. Apollo tried not to concentrate on the murder, picking at the term vappae. It had been a long time since he had heard someone call their enemies spoiled wines. In modern dialect, the closest meaning would have been scumbags.
"How long will it take for us to reach camp?" He asked.
"In Friday afternoon traffic?" Reyna sighed, calculating. "A little more than two hours." From one of her gardening-belt pouches, Meg pulled out a fistful of seeds.
"I guess we'd better hurry then."
Apollo was not familiar with Jack and the Beanstalk. It didn't sound like a proper Greek myth.
When Meg had said they would have to use a Jack-and-the-Beanstalk exit, he had no idea what she was on about- nothing new, really, but on a different level this time. He watched in confusion as she scattered handfuls of seeds down the nearest pylon, causing them to explode into bloom until she had formed a latticework of plant matter all the way to the ground.
"Over you go." She ordered.
"But-"
"You're in no shape to climb the ladder." She said. "This'll be faster. Like falling, only with plants." Apollo didn't like that description. Reyna simply shrugged.
"Not the weirdest escape I've had." She kicked one leg over the railing and jumped. The plants grabbed her, passing her down the leafy latticework a few feet at a time. At first, she yelped and flailed her arms, thrown off balance. Then she laughed, about halfway to the ground. "NOT- THAT-BAD!" She shouted up.
Apollo went next. It was bad. He screamed, he got flipped upside down, he floundered for something to hold on to, but he was completely at the mercy of the creepers and ferns. It was like free-falling through a skyscraper-size bag of leaves that occasionally trembled with thunder and bristled at the incoming storm.
At the bottom, the leaves set him gently down next to Reyna, who looked like she had been tarred and flowered and had enjoyed herself in the process. Meg landed beside them and immediately crumpled into his arms.
"Lotta plants." She muttered. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she began to snore. Apollo figured they would not be Jacking anymore beanstalks today.
Aurum and Argentum bounded over, tails wagging and yapping excitedly. The hundreds of black feathers strewn around the parking lot indicated that the greyhounds had been having fun with the birds Apollo had shot from the sky.
They circled Reyna, sniffing her legs and hands curiously. Then they looked at the slither of storm they could still see from down on the ground, barking at another clap of thunder as if to say, Mom, our other mom's being an idiot again. Do we still get jellybeans if you're tried for murder?
Reyna simply patted their heads.
Apollo was in no condition to walk, much less carry Meg, but between them, somehow, they dragged her. They stumbled back down the hillside to the truck. Apollo suspected Reyna was using her Bellona skills to lend him some of her strength, though he did not see how she could have much left to spare.
When they reached the Chevy, Reyna whistled. Her dogs jumped into the back. They wrestled their unconscious beanstalk master into the middle of the bench seat. Apollo collapsed next to her. Reyna cranked the ignition and tore off down the hill.
Their progress was great for about ninety seconds. Then they hit the Castro District and got stuck in Friday traffic funnelling towards the highway. It was almost enough to make Apollo wish for another bucket brigade of plants that could toss them back to Oakland.
After their time with Harpocrates, everything seemed obscenely loud: the Chevy's engine, the chatter of passing pedestrians, each clap of thunder getting closer, the thrum of subwoofers from other cars. He cradled his backpack, trying to take comfort in the fact that the glass jar was intact. They had got what they came for, though he could hardly believe the Sibyl and Harpocrates were gone.
He would have to process his shock and grief later, assuming he lived. He needed to figure out a way to properly honour their passing. He didn't feel a moment of silence was fitting enough for the god of silence. How about a moment of screaming?
First things first: survive tonight's battle. Then he would figure out the screaming.
Reyna noticed his worried expression.
"You did good back there." She said. "You stepped up." She sounded sincere, but her praise only made him feel more ashamed.
"I'm holding the last breath of a god I bullied, in the jar of a Sibyl I cursed, who were protected by birds I turned into killing machines after they tattled about my cheating girlfriend, who I subsequently had assassinated."
"All true." Reyna nodded. "But the thing is… you recognise it now."
"It feels horrible." He whined. She gave a thin smile.
"That's kind of the point. You do something evil, you feel bad about it, you do better. That's a sign you might be developing a conscience." He tried to remember which of the gods had created the human conscience. Had they created it, or was it something the humans had developed on their own?
"I-I appreciate what you're saying." He managed stiffly. "But my past mistakes almost got you and Meg killed. If Harpocrates had destroyed you when you were trying to protect me…" Reyna briefly patted his shoulder.
"All we did was show Harpocrates how much you have changed. He recognised it. Have you completely made up for all the bad things you've done? No. But you keep adding to the 'good things' column, see where it'll get you." She shrugged a shoulder. "That's all any of us can do."
Adding to the 'good things' column. Reyna spoke of this superpower as if it was one he could actually possess.
"Thank you." He said. She studied his face with concern, noting how far the purple vines of infection had wriggled across his cheeks.
"You can thank me by staying alive, OK? We need you for that summoning ritual." Rain splashed on the windscreen and she flicked the wipers on with a sigh. "Besides, I'm going to make a fortune selling tickets when I kill Lou. You could provide the soundtrack."
"I am good at soundtracks. Split the profits eighty-twenty?"
"Eighty-twenty to me." She corrected. Apollo frowned, but she smiled lopsidedly and he knew he had made a friend, even if she did stomp on his face.
As they climbed the entrance ramp to Interstate 80, he caught glimpses of the bay beyond the downtown skyline. The storm seemed bigger, the thunder more frequent and louder. He could not tell if more ships were lost, but the right flank was considerably shorter.
"Why is she doing that?" He asked. Reyna sighed irritably, knuckles whitening as she squeezed the steering wheel.
"She's not supposed to."
"No, I mean… she didn't go straight for the emperors. Why?"
"Because she's trying to draw them away. If she sinks their ships- one, she's going to get herself killed-"
"By you?"
"More than likely. And two, if she pisses them off enough, they might slow down a little to deal with her. And three, if she went straight for the emperors, who's to say the other ships wouldn't just carry on in their name?"
"You think she could fight them?"
"Lou's dumb enough and crazy enough to fight anyone." Reyna shook her head, irritated, but also somehow fond.
"I noticed."
"And she's very stubborn."
"I noticed that too." He looked back at the bay. Stretching out in front of the big vessels were silver wake lines from dozens of smaller boats making their way towards the East Bay shoreline. Landing parties, he figured, moving a whole lot faster than they were.
Over Mount Tam, the full moon rose, slowly turning the colour of Dakota's fruit punch.
In the back of the truck, Aurum and Argentum barked cheerfully, enjoying each burst of thunder and the rain starting to spit down on them. Reyna drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, murmuring 'Vamonos, vamonos'. Meg leaned against Apollo, snoring and drooling on his shirt.
They were inching their way onto the Bay Bridge when Reyna finally said:
"I can't take this. The ships shouldn't have made it past the Golden Gate."
"What do you mean?"
"Open the glove box, please. Should be a scroll inside." Apollo hesitated. Reyna snapped her fingers demandingly. Cautiously, he opened the compartment, rummaging past her insurance documents, a few packages of tissues, some bags of dog treats…
"This?" He held up a floppy cylinder of vellum.
"Yeah. Unroll it and see if it works."
"You mean it's a communication scroll?"
"Yep. I'd do it myself, but it's dangerous to drive and scroll."
"Um, OK." He spread the vellum across his lap. Its surface appeared blank. Nothing happened. He wondered if he was supposed to say some magic words or give it a credit card number or something. Then, above the scroll, a faint ball of light flickered, slowly resolving into a miniature holographic of Frank Zhang.
"Whoa!" Tiny Frank nearly jumped out of his tiny armour. "Apollo?"
"Hi." He said. "It works, Reyna."
"I see that. Frank, can you hear me?"
"Is that…? Can barely… Reyna?"
"Yes!" She called. "We're on our way back! The ships are incoming and my idiot girlfriend is on them!" Frank winced. Apollo wasn't sure how much he had heard, but enough to know his using Louisa as a secret weapon had not gone down so well with his co-worker.
"Scout's report… storm… sorry…" His voice crackled. He seemed to be in some sort of large cave, legionnaires hustling behind him, digging holes and carrying large urns of some kind.
"What are you doing?" Reyna asked, glancing quickly at the scroll. "Where are you?"
"Caldecott… just… defensive stuff." Apollo wasn't sure if his voice fuzzed out that time because of static, or if he was being evasive. Judging from his expression, they had caught him at an awkward moment. "Any word… Michael?" He asked, definitely changing the subject now. "Sent with Lou… should've… by now."
"What?" Reyna asked, loud enough to make Meg snort in her sleep. "No, I was going to ask you if you had heard anything! I thought they were supposed to stop them at the Golden Gate? Why did they go with Lou?"
"Their idea… disable… and weapons… not heard… getting worried…" There could have been a dozen reasons why Michael Kahale and his commando team had failed to phone in. None of them were good, and none of them could change what would happen next. The only things standing between Camp Jupiter and fiery annihilation were the emperors' pride, which made them insist on a ground assault first, and the glass jar that might or might now allow them to summon godly help.
"Just hang on!" Reyna instructed. "Tell Ella to get things ready for the ritual!"
"Can't… what?" Frank's face melted to a smudge of coloured light. His voice sounded like gravel shaking in an aluminium can. "I… Hazel… need to-" The scroll burst into flames, which was not what Apollo needed on his crotch at that particular moment. He yelped and patted the fire frantically, swiping the cinders from his trousers as Meg woke, yawning and blinking.
"What'd you do?" She demanded, sighing and rubbing at her eyes.
"Nothing! I didn't know the message would self-destruct!"
"Bad connection." Reyna guessed. "The silence must be breaking up slowly- like, working its way outward from the epicentre at Sutro Tower. We overheated the scroll."
"That's possible." Apollo agreed, stomping out the last bits of smouldering vellum. "Hopefully, we'll be able to send an Iris-message once we reach camp."
"If we reach camp." Reyna grumbled. "This traffic… oh." She pointed to a blinking road sign ahead of them: HWY 24E CLOSED AT CALDECOTT TUNNEL FOR EMERG MAINTENANCE. SEEK ALT ROUTES.
"Emergency maintenance?" Meg frowned. "You think it's the Mist again? Clearing people out?"
"Maybe." Reyna frowned at the lines of cars in front of us. "No wonder everything's backed up. What was Frank doing in the tunnel? We didn't discuss any…" She knitted her eyebrows, as if an unpleasant thought had occurred to her. "We have to get back. Fast."
"The emperors will need time to organise their ground assault. Especially if Lou's launched a sea assault. They won't launch their ballistae until after they've tried to take the camp intact. Maybe… maybe the traffic will slow them down too. They'll have to seek alternative routes."
"They're on boats, dummy." Meg pointed out.
"Sinking boats." Apollo corrected. But she was right. And once the assault forces landed, they would be marching on foot, not driving. Still, he liked the image of the emperors and their armies approaching the Caldecott Tunnel, seeing a bunch of flashing signs and orange cones and deciding, Well, darn. We'll just have to come back tomorrow.
"We could ditch the truck." Reyna mused. Then she glanced at them, clearly dismissing the idea. They weren't in any shape to run a half marathon from the middle of the Bay Bridge to Camp Jupiter. She grumbled a swear. "We need… ah!" Just ahead, a maintenance truck was trundling along, a worker on the tailgate picking up cones that had been blocking the left lane for some unknown reason. This meant there was an open, extremely illegal-to-drive-in road in front of the maintenance truck. "Hold on." Reyna warned.
As soon as they edged past the maintenance truck, she swerved in front of it, ploughing down half-a-dozen cones, and gunned the engine.
The truck blared its horn and flashed its headlights. Reyna's greyhounds barked and wagged their tails in reply.
They blasted past traffic at speeds that would have been creditable even for Apollo's sun chariot. They reached the Oakland side with no sign of pursuit. Reyna veered onto the 580, smashing through a line of orange delineator posts and rocketing up the merge ramp for Highway 24. She politely ignored the guys in hard hats waving their orange DANGER signs and screaming at them.
They had found an alternative route. It was the regular route they weren't supposed to take.
Apollo glanced behind them. Out on the water, the thirty-five or so yachts had passed Treasure Island and were leisurely taking up positions- or as leisurely as you could with a daughter of Neptune running rampant. There was no trace of the smaller landing craft, which meant they must have reached the shore. That wasn't good.
On the bright side, they were making great time. They soared along the overpass all by themselves, their destination only a few miles away.
"We're going to make it." Apollo said, like a fool. Once again, he had broken the First Law of Percy Jackson. Never say something is going to work out, because, as soon as you do, it won't.
KALUMP!
Above their heads, foot-shaped indentations appeared in the truck's ceiling. The vehicle lurched under the extra weight. The dogs barked wildly.
"Eurynomos!" Meg yelled.
"Where do they come from?" Apollo demanded shrilly. "Do they just hang around on highway signs all day, waiting to drop like a very rotten, foul-smelling, mostly naked zombie Batman?"
"Batman doesn't hang around on highway signs, you moron!"
"Not the time to argue about Batman!" Reyna intervened. Claws punctured the metal and upholstery. Next would be the skylight installation. "Apollo, take the wheel! Meg, accelerator!"
For a heartbeat, Apollo thought she meant that as some kind of prayer. In moments of personal crisis, his followers often used to implore him: Apollo, take the wheel, hoping he would guide them through their problems. Most of the time, though, they didn't mean it literally, nor was he physically sitting in the passenger's seat, nor did they add anything about Meg and accelerators.
Reyna didn't wait for him to figure it out. She released her grip and reached behind her seat, groping for a weapon. Apollo lunged across and grabbed the wheel. Meg put her foot on the accelerator.
Quarters were much too close for Reyna to use her sword, but that didn't bother her. Reyna had daggers. She unsheathed one, glared at the roof bending and breaking above them, and muttered, "Nobody messes with my truck."
A lot happened in two seconds.
The roof ripped open, revealing the familiar disgusting sight of a fly-coloured eurynomos- definitely not Batman- its white eyes bulging, its fangs dripping with saliva, its vulture-feather loincloth fluttering in the wind. The smell of rancid meat wafted into the truck, making his stomach turn. All the zombie poison in his system seemed to ignite at once, almost blinding him with a wave of white-hot pain.
The eurynomos screamed.
"FOOOOOOOO-"
Its battle cry was cut short. Reyna launched herself upward and impaled her dagger straight up its vulture diaper. She had apparently been studying the weak spots of the ghouls and had found one. The eurynomos toppled off the truck, which would have been wonderful, except that Apollo also felt like he had been stabbed in the diaper.
"Ugh, I'm cutting this hand off." Reyna grimaced.
"Glurg." Apollo said. His hand slipped off the wheel. Meg hit the accelerator in alarm. With Reyna still half out of the cab, her greyhounds howling furiously, their Chevy veered across the ramp and crashed straight through the guardrail. Once again, Apollo went flying off an East Bay highway in a car that couldn't fly.