Untitled Part 16
' JUMP THE COW? ' MEG DEMANDED. ' THAT was your plan?'
The five of us sat in a sewer, which was something I'd grown accustomed to. Meg seemed to be bouncing back quickly from her shadow-travel sickness, thanks to Will's timely administration of nectar and Kit Kat bars. I, however, still felt like I was coming down with the flu: chills, body aches, disorientation. I was not ready to be assaulted for my choices in combat.
'I was improvising,' I said. 'I didn't want to see you die.'
Meg threw her hands up. 'And I didn't want to see you die, dummy. Did you think of that?'
'Guys,' Rachel interrupted, a cold pack pressed against her head. 'How about none of us lets any of us die? Okay?'
Will checked her bruised temple. 'Feeling any better?'
'I'll be fine,' Rachel said, then explained for my benefit: 'I managed to stumble into the wall when we teleported here.'
Nico looked sheepish. 'Sorry about that.'
'Hey, I'm not complaining,' Rachel said. 'Better than being trampled.'
'Guess so,' he said. 'Once we ...'
Nico's eyelids fluttered. His pupils rolled up in his head and he slumped against Will's shoulder. It might have been a clever ploy to fall into his boyfriend's arms – I had used the catch me, handsome fainting trick a few times myself – but since Nico immediately began to snore, I decided he was not faking.
'That's night-night for Nico.' Will pulled a travel pillow from his supply bag, which I suspected he carried just for these occasions. He eased the son of Hades into a comfortable sleeping position, then gave us a weary smile. 'He'll need about half an hour to recover. Until then, we might as well make ourselves comfortable.'
On the bright side, I'd had plenty of experience getting comfortable in sewers, and Nico had shadow-travelled us to the New York drainage system's equivalent of the presidential suite.
The vaulted ceiling was adorned with a redbrick herringbone pattern. Along either wall, terracotta pipes dripped only the finest goo into a canal running down the middle of the floor. The concrete ledge upon which we sat was comfortably upholstered with lichen and scum. In the dim golden glow of Meg's swords – our only illumination – the tunnel looked almost romantic.
Given New York rental prices, I imagined a place like this could go for quite a bit. Running water. Privacy. Lots of space. Great bones – mouse bones, chicken bones and some others I couldn't identify. And did I mention the stench? The stench was included at no extra cost.
Will tended to our various cuts and scrapes, which were surprisingly light given our morning's adventures. He insisted we partake liberally of his medicinal stockpile of Kit Kat bars.
'The best thing for recovering from shadow-travel,' he assured us.
Who was I to argue with the healing powers of chocolate and wafers?
We ate in silence for a while. Rachel held the cold pack against her head and stared glumly at the sewer water as if waiting for pieces of her family home to float by. Meg sprinkled seeds into the scum patches next to her, causing luminous mushrooms to pop into existence like tiny umbrellas. When life gives you scum, make mushrooms, I suppose.
'Those forest bulls were amazing,' Meg said after a while. 'If you could train them to carry ...'
I groaned. 'It was bad enough when you weaponized unicorns.'
'Yeah. That was great.' She looked down the tunnel in both directions. 'Does anyone know how we can get out of here?'
'Nico does.' Will's eye twitched. 'Although he's not going to take us out so much as down .'
'To the troglodytes,' Rachel guessed. 'What are they like?'
Will moved his hands as if trying to shape something out of clay or indicate the size of a fish he'd caught. 'I – I can't describe them,' he decided.
That wasn't reassuring. As my child, Will was bound to have some of my poetic ability. If the troglodytes defied description in your average sonnet or limerick, I didn't want to meet them.
'I hope they can help.' Rachel held up her palm to ward off Will, who was coming to check on her bruised head again. 'I'm okay now, thanks.'
She smiled, but her voice was strained. I knew she liked Will. I also knew she had issues with personal space. Becoming the Pythia tended to do that to you. Having the power of Delphi possess your body and soul at random intervals could make you tetchy about people getting too close without your consent. Having Python whispering inside your head probably didn't help, either.
'I get it.' Will sat back. 'You've had a rough morning. I'm sorry we brought that kind of trouble to your door.'
Rachel shrugged. 'Like I said, I think I'm supposed to be in this trouble. It's not your fault. A Dare reveals the path that was unknown. For once, I'm part of the prophecy.'
She sounded strangely proud of this fact. Perhaps, after issuing perilous quests for so many other people, Rachel found it nice to be included in our communal death-wish adventure. People like to be seen – even if it's by the cold, cruel eyes of fate.
'Is it safe for you to come along, though?' Meg asked. 'Like ... if you've got Python in your head or whatever? Won't he see what we're doing?'
Rachel pulled her ankles into a tighter crisscross. 'I don't think he's seeing through me. At least ... not yet.' She let that idea settle around us like a layer of swamp gas. 'Anyway, you're not getting rid of me. Python has made this personal.'
She glanced at me, and I couldn't escape the feeling that Python wasn't the one she really blamed. This had been personal for her ever since I'd accepted Rachel as my priestess. Ever since ... well, ever since I'd been Apollo. If my trials as a mortal had done anything, they had shown me how many times I'd abandoned, forgotten and failed my Oracles over the centuries. I could not abandon Rachel in the same way. I'd neglected the basic truth that they did not serve me; I was supposed to serve them .
'We're lucky to have you,' I said. 'I only wish we had more time to figure out a plan.'
Rachel checked her watch – a basic wind-up model, which she'd probably chosen after seeing how easily technology went haywire around demigods, monsters and the other sorts of magical people she hung out with. 'It's past lunchtime. You're supposed to surrender to Nero by nightfall. That doesn't give us much leeway.'
'Oh, lunchtime,' Meg said, staying reliably on-brand. 'Will, have you got anything besides Kit Kats? I'm starv–'
She jerked her hand away from Will's supply kit as if it had shocked her. 'Why is there a tail sticking out of your bag?'
Will furrowed his brow. 'Oh. Uh, yeah.' He pulled out what appeared to be a foot-long desiccated lizard wrapped in a handkerchief. 'Gross!'
Meg said with enthusiasm. 'Is that for medicine or something?'
'Er, no,' Will said. 'You remember how Nico and I went hunting for a gift for the trogs? Well –'
'Ick.' Rachel scooted away. 'Why would they want that ?'
Will glanced at me like Please don't make me say it.
I shuddered. 'The troglodytes ... If the legends are true ... they consider lizards a great, you know ...' I mimed putting something in my mouth. 'Delicacy.'
Rachel hugged her stomach. 'Sorry I asked.'
'Cool,' said Meg. 'So, if we find the trogs, we give them the lizard and they'll help us?'
'I doubt it will be that simple,' I said. 'Meg, has anyone ever agreed to help you simply because you gave them a dead lizard?'
She pondered the question so long it made me wonder about her past gift-giving practices. 'I guess not?'
Will slipped the desiccated animal back in his bag. 'Well, this one is apparently rare and special. You don't want to know how difficult it was to find. Hopefully –'
Nico snorted and began to stir. 'Wh-what –?'
'It's okay,' Will reassured him. 'You're with friends.'
'Friends?' Nico sat up, bleary-eyed.
'Friends.' Will gave us a warning look, as if suggesting we shouldn't startle Nico with any sudden moves.
I gathered Nico was a grumpy napper like his father, Hades. Wake up Hades prematurely and you were likely to end up as a nuclear-blast shadow on his bedroom wall.
Nico rubbed his eyes and frowned at me. I tried to look harmless.
'Apollo,' he said. 'Right. I remember.'
'Good,' Will said. 'But you're still groggy. Have a Kit Kat.'
'Yes, doctor,' Nico muttered.
We waited while Nico refreshed himself with chocolate and a swig of nectar.
'Better.' He rose, still looking wobbly. 'Okay, everybody. I'm going to lead you into the troglodyte caverns. Keep your hands away from your weapons at all times. Let me go first and do the talking. The troglodytes can be a little ... jumpy.'
'By jumpy ,' Will said, 'Nico means likely to murder us with no provocation .'
'That's what I said.' Nico popped the last of his Kit Kat in his mouth. 'Ready? Let's do this.'
Want directions to the troglodyte caverns? No problem!
First you go down. Then you go down some more. Then you take the next three downward turns. You'll see a path going slightly up. Ignore that. Keep going down until your eardrums implode. Then go down even more.
We crawled through pipes. We waded through slime pits. We navigated brick tunnels, stone tunnels and dirt tunnels that looked like they had been excavated by the earthworm chew-and-poop method. At one point, we crawled through a copper pipe so narrow I feared we'd end up popping out of Nero's personal toilet like a bunch of beauty queens emerging from a giant birthday cake.
I imagined myself singing 'Happy Birthday, Mr Emperor', then quickly tamped down the thought. The sewer gas must have been making me delirious.
After what seemed like hours of sewage-themed fun, we emerged in a circular room fashioned from panels of roughhewn rock. In the centre, a massive stalagmite erupted from the floor and pierced the ceiling like the centre pole of a merry-go-round. (After surviving Tarquin's Tilden Park– carousel tomb, this was not a comparison I was pleased to make.)
'This is it,' Nico said.
He led us to the base of the stalagmite. An opening had been chipped away in the floor just big enough for someone to crawl through. Handholds had been carved into the side of the stalagmite, extending down into the darkness.
'Is this part of the Labyrinth?' I asked.
The place had a similar feel. The air coming from below was warm and somehow alive, like the breath of a sleeping leviathan. I had the sense that something was monitoring our progress – something intelligent and not necessarily friendly.
Nico shook his head. 'Please don't mention the Labyrinth. The trogs detest Daedalus's maze. They call it shallow . From here on down is all trog-built. We're deeper than the Labyrinth has ever gone.'
'Awesome,' Meg said.
'You can go ahead of me, then,' I said.
We followed Nico down the side of the stalagmite into a massive natural cavern. I couldn't see the edges, or even the bottom, but from the echoes I could tell it was bigger than my old temple at Didyma. (Not to brag about temple size, but that place was HUGE.)
The handholds were shallow and slippery, illuminated only by faintly glowing patches of lichen on the rock. It took all my concentration not to fall. I suspected the trogs had designed the entrance to their realm this way on purpose, so anyone foolish enough to invade would be forced to come down in single file – and might not make it to the bottom at all. The sounds of our breathing and our clinking supplies reverberated through the cave. Any number of hostiles could have been watching us as we descended, taking aim with all sorts of delightful missile weapons.
Finally, we reached the floor. My legs ached. My fingers curled into arthritic claws.
Rachel squinted into the gloom. 'What do we do now?'
'You guys stay behind me,' Nico said. 'Will, can you do your thing? The barest minimum, please.'
'Wait,' I said. 'What is Will's "thing"?'
Will kept his focus on Nico. 'Do I have to?'
'We can't use our weapons for light,' Nico reminded him. 'And we'll need a little bit more, because the trogs don't need any. I'd rather be able to see them.'
Will wrinkled his nose. 'Fine.' He set down his pack and stripped off his linen overshirt, leaving just his tank top.
I still had no idea what he was doing, though the girls didn't seem to mind letting him do his thing . Did Will keep a concealed flashlight in his undershirt? Was he going to provide light by rubbing lichen on himself and smiling brilliantly?
Whatever the case, I wasn't sure I wanted to see the trogs. I vaguely recalled a British Invasion band from the 1960s called the Troggs. I couldn't shake the feeling that this subterranean race might all have mop-top hairdos and black turtlenecks and would use the word groovy a lot. I did not need that level of horror in my life.
Will took a deep breath. When he exhaled ...
I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. We'd been in near-total darkness so long, I wasn't sure why Will's outline suddenly seemed clearer. I could see the texture of his jeans, the individual tufts of his hair, the blue of his eyes. His skin was glowing with a soft, warm golden light as if he'd ingested sunshine.
'Whoa,' Meg said.
Rachel's eyebrows floated towards her hairline.
Nico smirked. 'Friends, meet my glow-in-the-dark boyfriend.'
'Could you not make a big deal about it?' Will asked.
I was speechless. How could anyone not make a big deal about this? As far as demigod powers went, glowing in the dark was perhaps not as showy as skeleton-summoning or tomato-vine mastery, but it was still impressive. And, like Will's skill at healing, it was gentle, useful and exactly what we needed in a pinch.
'I'm so proud,' I said.
Will's face turned the colour of sunlight shining through a glass of cranberry juice. 'Dad, I'm just glowing . I'm not graduating at the top of my class.'
'I'll be proud when you do that, too,' I assured him.
'Anyway.' Nico's lips quivered like he was trying not to giggle. 'I'll call the cavern-runners now. Everybody stay calm, okay?'
'Why are they called cavern-runners?' Rachel asked.
Nico held up his hand, indicating Wait or You're about to find out.
He faced the darkness and shouted, 'Troglodytes! I am Nico di Angelo, son of Hades! I have returned with four companions!'
Shuffling and clicking filled the cavern, as if Nico's voice had dislodged a million bats. One moment, we were alone. The next moment, an army of troglodytes stood before us as if they'd materialized out of hyperspace. With unsettling certainty, I realized they had run here from wherever they'd been – yards away? miles away? – with speed that rivalled that of Hermes himself.
Nico's warnings suddenly made sense to me. These creatures were so fast they could have killed us before we had time to draw a breath. If I'd had a weapon in hand, and if I'd raised it instinctively, accidentally ... I would now be the grease spot formerly known as Lester formerly known as Apollo.
The troglodytes looked even stranger than the 1960s band that had appropriated their name. They were small humanoids, the tallest barely Meg's height, with vaguely froglike features: wide thin mouths, recessed noses and giant, brown, heavily lidded orbs for eyes. Their skin came in every shade from obsidian to chalk. Bits of stone and moss decorated their dark plaited hair. They wore a riot of clothing styles from modern jeans and T-shirts to 1920s business suits to Colonial-era frilly shirts and silk waistcoats.
The real showstopper, however, was their selection of hats, some piled three or four high on their heads: tricorns, bowlers, racing caps, top hats, hard hats, ski caps and baseball caps.
The trogs looked like a group of rowdy schoolchildren who'd been set loose in a costume store, told to try on whatever they wanted, and then allowed to crawl through the mud in their new outfits.
'We see you, Nico di Angelo!' said a trog in a miniature George Washington costume. His speech was interspersed with clicks, screeches and growls, so it actually sounded like 'CLICK. We – grr – see you – SCREEE – Nico – CLICK – di Angelo – grr .'
George Washingtrog gave us a pointy-toothed grin. 'Are these the sacrifices you promised?The trogs are hungry!'
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