The Shadow Summoner | Book Three - PJO Universe

seven

APOLLO GETS POISIONED

They silently followed Hazel down the steps into the merry-go-tomb.

As they descended, Ariana wondered why Tarquin had chosen to reside under a carousel. He had watched his wife run over her own father in a chariot.

Perhaps he liked the idea of an endless ring of horses and monsters circling above his resting place, keeping guard with their fierce faces, even if they were ridden mostly by mortal toddlers. (Who, Ariana suppose, were fierce in their own way.)

Tarquin had a brutal sense of humor. He enjoyed tearing families apart, turning their joy into anguish.

He was not above using children as human shields. No doubt he found it amusing to place his tomb under a brightly colored kiddie ride.

The steps ended in a long corridor, its limestone walls decorated with rows of plaster death masks. At first, this did not strike Ariana as odd.

Most wealthy Romans kept a collection of death masks to honor their ancestors.

Then she noticed the masks' expressions. Like the carousel animals above, the plaster faces were frozen in panic, agony, rage, terror. These were not tributes. They were trophies.

"I feel like I'm in some sort of horror movie." Ariana whispered so quietly that only Apollo could hear her.

The boy didn't respond, Ariana suspected he couldn't bring himself to use his words. Instead, he squeezed her hand.

Ariana glanced back at Meg and Lavinia. Meg stood at the base of the stairs, blocking any possible retreat.

The glittery unicorn on her T-shirt grinned at her hideously.

They followed Hazel down the corridor, every clink and rustle of their weapons echoing against the barreled ceiling.

Ariana was sure the Berkeley Seismology Lab, several miles away, would pick up her heartbeat on their seismographs and send out earthquake early warnings.

The tunnel split several times, but Hazel always seemed to know which direction to take. Occasionally she'd stop, look back at them, and point urgently to some part of the floor, reminding them not to stray from her path.

Ariana didn't know what would happen if she took a wrong step, but she had no desire to have her death mask added to Tarquin's collection.

After what seemed like hours, Ariana began to hear water dripping somewhere in front of them. The tunnel opened into a circular room like a large cistern, the floor nothing but a narrow stone path across a deep dark pool.

Hooked on the far wall were half a dozen wicker boxes like lobster traps, each with a circular opening at the bottom just the right size for...Oh, gods. Each box was the right size to be fitted over a person's head.

A tiny whimper escaped Apollo's mouth.

Hazel glanced back and mouthed, What?

A half-remembered story floated up from the sludge of her brain: how Tarquin had executed one of his enemies by drowning him in a sacred pool -binding the man's hands, placing a wicker cage over his head, then slowly adding rocks to the cage until the man could no longer keep his head above water.

Apparently, Tarquin still enjoyed that particular form of entertainment.

Ariana shook her head so Apollo wouldn't have too. You don't want to know.

Hazel, being wise, took her word for it. She led them onward.

Just before the next chamber, Hazel held up a hand in warning. They halted. Following her gaze, Ariana could make out two skeleton guards at the far side of the room, flanking an elaborately carved stone archway.