Untitled Part 27
THE WONDERS NEVER CEASED.
The key card worked. The elevator did not incinerate us or drop us to our deaths. Unlike the previous elevator I'd taken, however, this one did have background music. We rose smoothly and slowly, as if Nero wanted to give us plenty of time to enjoy it.
I've always thought you can judge the quality of a villain by his elevator music. Easy listening? Pedestrian villainy with no imagination. Smooth jazz? Devious villainy with an inferiority complex. Pop hits? Ageing villainy trying desperately to be hip.
Nero had chosen soft classical, as in the lobby. Oh, well played. This was self-assured villainy. Villainy that said I already own everything and have all the power. Relax. You're going to die in a minute, so you might as well enjoy this soothing string quartet.
Next to me, Austin fingered the keys of his saxophone. I could tell he, too, was worried about the soundtrack.
'Wish it was Miles Davis,' he said.
'That would be nice.'
'Hey, if we don't get out of this –'
'None of that talk,' I chided.
'Yeah, but I wanted to tell you, I'm glad we had some time together. Like ... time time.'
His words warmed me even more than Paul Blofis's lasagne.
I knew what he meant. While I'd been Lester Papadopoulos, I hadn't spent much time with Austin, or any of the people I'd stayed with, really, but it had been more than we'd ever spent together when I was a god. Austin and I had got to know each other – not just as god and mortal, or father and son, but as two people working side by side, helping each other get through our often messedup lives. That had been a precious gift.
I was tempted to promise we'd do this more often if we survived, but I'd learned that promises are precious. If you're not absolutely sure you can keep them, you should never make them, much like chocolate chip cookies.
Instead, I smiled and squeezed his shoulder, not trusting myself to speak.
Also, I couldn't help thinking about Meg. If so little time with Austin had been this meaningful, how could I possibly quantify what my adventures with Meg had meant to me? I'd shared almost my entire journey with that silly, brave, infuriating, wonderful girl. I had to find her.
The elevator doors slid open. We stepped into a hallway with a floor mosaic depicting a triumphal procession through a burning New York cityscape. Clearly, Nero had been planning for months, perhaps years, to unleash his inferno no matter what I did. I found this so appalling and so in-character for him, I couldn't even get angry.
We stopped just before the end of the hall, where it split into a T. From the corridor to the right came the sounds of many voices in conversation, glasses clinking, even some laughter. From the corridor on the left, I heard nothing.
Austin motioned for me to wait. He carefully removed a long brass rod from the body of his sax. He had all sorts of nonstandard attachments on his instrument, including a bag of exploding reeds, tone-hole cleaners that doubled as zip-ties and a stiletto knife for stabbing monsters and unappreciative music critics. The rod he chose now was fitted with a small curved mirror on one end. He edged this into the hallway like a periscope, studied the reflections, then pulled it back.
'Party room on the right,' he whispered in my ear. 'Full of guards, bunch of folks that look like guests. Library on the left, looks empty. If you need to get to the southeast corner to find Meg, you'll have to go straight through that crowd.'
I clenched my fists, ready to do whatever was necessary.
From the party room came the voice of a young woman making an announcement. I thought I recognized the polite and terrified tone of the dryad Areca.
'Thank you all for your patience!' she told the crowd. 'The emperor is just finishing up a few matters in the throne room. And the, ah, minor disruptions on the lower floors will be taken care of very soon. In the meantime, please enjoy cake and beverages while we wait for –' her voice cracked – 'the burning to start.'
The guests gave her a polite smattering of applause.
I readied my bow. I wanted to charge into that crowd, free Areca, shoot everybody else and stomp on their cake. Instead, Austin grabbed my arm and pulled me back a few steps towards the elevator.
'There's too many of them,' he said. 'Let me cause a distraction. I'll draw as many as I can into the library and lead them on a chase. Hopefully that'll clear a path for you to get to Meg.'
I shook my head. 'It's too dangerous. I can't let you –'
'Hey.' Austin smirked. For a moment, I glimpsed my own old godly self-confidence in him – that look that said, I'm a musician. Trust me. 'Dangerous is part of the job description. Let me do this. You hang back until I draw them out. Then go find our girl. I'll see you on the other side.'
Before I could protest, Austin ran to the junction of the corridor and yelled, 'Hey, idiots! You're all gonna die !' Then he put his mouthpiece to his lips and blasted out 'Pop Goes the Weasel'.
Even without the insults, that particular song, when played by a child of Apollo, will cause a stampede one hundred percent of the time. I pressed myself against the wall by the elevator as Austin dashed towards the library, pursued by fifty or sixty angry screaming party guests and Germani. I could only hope Austin found a second exit from the library, or else this would be a very short chase.
I forced myself to move. Find our girl, Austin had said.
Yes. That was the plan.
I sprinted to the right and into the party room.
Austin had cleared out the place completely. Even Areca seemed to have followed the rampaging 'Pop Goes the Weasel' mob.
Left behind were dozens of high cocktail tables covered in linen, sprinkled with glitter and rose petals, and topped with balsa-wood centrepiece sculptures of Manhattan going up in painted flames. Even for Nero, I found this over the top. The sideboard was loaded with every conceivable party appetizer, plus a multilayered red-and-yellow flame-motif cake. A banner across the back wall read HAPPY INF ERNO!
Along the other wall, plate-glass windows (no doubt heavily insulated) looked over the city, allowing for a beautiful view of the promised firestorm, which now – bless the trogs and their magnificent hats – would not be happening.
In one corner, a small stage had been set up with a single microphone and a stand of instruments: a guitar, a lyre and a violin. Oh, Nero. As a sick joke, he had intended to fiddle while New York burned. No doubt his guests would have laughed and clapped politely as the city exploded and millions perished to the tune of 'This Land Is Your Land'. And who were these guests? The emperor's billionaire golf buddies? Adult demigods who had been recruited for his postapocalyptic empire? Whoever they were, I hoped Austin stampeded them straight into a mob of angry troglodyte shareholders.
It was fortunate no one was left in the room. They would have faced my wrath. As it was, I shot an arrow into the cake, which wasn't a very satisfying experience.
I marched through the room, and then, impatient with the sheer size of the place, began to jog. At the far end, I kicked through a doorway, my bow drawn and ready, but found only another empty hallway.
I recognized this area from my dreams, though. Finally, I had reached the imperial family's living area. Where were the guards? The servants? I decided I didn't care. Just up ahead would be Meg's door. I ran.
'Meg!' I barrelled into her bedroom.
No one was there.
The bed had been perfectly made up with a new comforter. The broken chairs had been replaced. The room smelled of Pine Sol, so even Meg's scent had been erased along with any sign of her rebellion. I'd never felt so depressed and alone.
'Hello!' said a small, tinny voice to my left.
I shot an arrow at the nightstand, cracking the screen of a laptop computer showing Nero's face on a live video call.
'Oh, no,' he said dryly, his image now fractured and pixelated. 'You got me.'
His image jiggled, too large and off-centre, as if he were holding the camera phone himself and not used to using it. I wondered if the emperor had to worry about cell phones malfunctioning, the way demigods did, or if the phone would broadcast his location to monsters. Then I realized there was no monster within five hundred miles worse than Nero.
I lowered my bow. I had to unclench my jaw in order to speak. 'Where is Meg?'
'Oh, she's quite well. She's here with me in the throne room. I imagined you'd stumble in front of that monitor sooner or later, so we could chat about your situation.'
'My situation? You're under siege. We've ruined your inferno party. Your forces are being routed. I'm coming for you now, and, if you so much as touch a rhinestone on Meg's glasses, I'll kill you.'
Nero laughed gently, as if he had no concerns in the world. I didn't catch the first part of his response, because my attention was drawn to a flash of movement in the hallway. Screech-Bling, CEO of the troglodytes, materialized in Meg's bedroom doorway, grinning with delight, his colonial outfit covered with monster dust and tufts of red bull fur, his tricorn hat topped with several new headwear acquisitions.
Before Screech-Bling could say anything that would announce his presence, I gave him a subtle shake of the head, warning him to stay put, out of range of the laptop camera. I didn't want to give Nero any more information about our allies than necessary.
It was impossible to read Screech-Bling's eyes behind his dark goggles, but, being a smart trog, he seemed to understand.
Nero was saying '– quite a different situation. Have you heard of Sassanid gas, Apollo?'
I had no idea what that was, but Screech-Bling almost leaped out of his buckle shoes. His lips curled in a distasteful sneer.
'Ingenious, really,' Nero continued. 'The Persians used it against our troops in Syria. Sulphur, bitumen, a few other secret ingredients. Horribly poisonous, causes excruciating death, especially effective in enclosed spaces like tunnels ... or buildings.'
My neck hairs stood on end. 'Nero. No.'
'Oh, I think yes,' he countered, his voice still pleasant. 'You've robbed me of my chance to burn down the city, but surely you didn't think that was my only plan. The backup system is quite intact. You've done me the favour of gathering the entire Greek camp in one place! Now, with just a push of a button, everything below the throne room level –'
'Your own people are down here!' I yelled, shaking with fury.
Nero's distorted face looked pained. 'It's unfortunate, yes. But you've forced my hand. At least my darling Meg is here, and some of my other favourites. We will survive. What you don't seem to realize, Apollo, is that you can't destroy bank accounts with a bow and arrows. All my assets, all the power I've built up for centuries – it's all safe. And Python is still waiting for your corpse to be delivered to him. So let's make a deal. I will delay releasing my Sassanid surprise for ... say, fifteen minutes. That should be enough time for you to reach the throne room. I'll let in you, and only you.'
'And Meg?'
Nero looked baffled. 'As I said, Meg is fine. I would never hurt her.'
'You –' I choked on my rage. 'You do nothing but hurt her.'
He rolled his eyes. 'Come on up and we'll have a chat. I'll even ...' He paused, then laughed as if he'd had a sudden inspiration. 'I'll even let Meg decide what to do with you! Surely that's more than fair. Your other option is that I release the gas now, then come down and collect your corpse at my leisure, along with those of your friends –'
'No!' I tried to curb the desperation in my voice. 'No, I'm coming up.'
'Excellent.' Nero gave me a smug smile. 'Ta-ta.'
The screen went dark.
I faced Screech-Bling. He stared back, his expression grim.
'Sassanid gas is very – GRR – bad,' he said. 'I see why Red Priestess sent me here.'
'Red – you mean Rachel? She told you to find me?'
Screech-Bling nodded. 'She sees things, as you said. The future. The worst enemies. The best hats. She told me to come to this place.'
His voice conveyed a level of reverence that suggested Rachel Elizabeth Dare would be getting free skink soup for the rest of her life. I missed my Pythia. I wished she had sought me out herself, rather than sending Screech-Bling, but since the trog could run at supersonic speed and tear through solid rock, I guessed it made sense.
The CEO scowled at the laptop's dark cracked monitor. 'Is it possible Ne-ACK -ro is bluffing about the gas?'
'No,' I said bitterly. 'Nero doesn't bluff. He likes to boast, then follow through. He'll release that gas as soon as he has me in the throne room.'
'Fifteen minutes,' Screech-Bling mused. 'Not much time. Try to stall him. I will gather the trogs. We will disable this gas, or I will see you in Underheaven!'
'But –'
Screech-Bling vanished in a cloud of dust and bull hair.
I tried to steady my breathing. The troglodytes had come through for us once before when I didn't believe they would. Still, we weren't underground now. Nero would not have told me about his poison-gas delivery system if it was easy to find or disarm. If he could fumigate an entire skyscraper at the touch of a button, I didn't see how the trogs would have time to stop him, or even get our forces safely out of the building. And, when I faced the emperor, I had no chance of beating him ... unless Lu had succeeded in getting his fasces from the leontocephaline, and that mission also seemed impossible.
On the other hand, I didn't have much choice but to hope. I had a part to play. Stall Nero. Find Meg.
I marched out of the bedroom.
Fifteen minutes. Then I would end Nero, or he would end me.
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