The Shadow Summoner | Book Three - PJO Universe

sixteen

BYE APOLLO

They all make their choices.

Ariana's and Apollos was to turn and run.

Apollo stumbled into Luguselwa, who managed to catch him without stabbing him to death.

Will, still glowing like an overachieving night light, had propped Nico against the wall and was now tending to his wounds.

Screech-Bling let out a high-pitched whistle, and more troglodytes poured into the room, charging the emperor's forces in a flurry of shrieks, mining picks and stylish headwear.

Apollo gasped for breath, making a grabby-hand gesture at Rachel. "Give me the fasces."

"Please?" she prompted. "And, Gee, sorry, I underestimated you, Rachel, you're actually kind of a warrior queen?"

"Yes, please, and thank you, and all of that!"

Lu scowled. "Apollo, are you sure you can destroy it? I mean, without killing yourself?"

"No and no." Ariana said for him. "He had not a zero idea of what he's doing."

Rachel stared into the air, as if reading a prophecy written in the dancing lights of the disco ball.

"I can't see the outcome," she said. "But he has to try with Ariana."

"Why am I always getting dragged into his shenanigans?" Complained Ariana.

Ariana and Apollo took the fasces, struggling not to collapse under its weight. The ceremonial weapon hummed and shuddered like an overheating race-car engine.

Its aura made Ariana's pores pop and her ears ring. Apollo's side started to bleed again, if it had ever really stopped.

Ariana wasn't thrilled about the blood trickling down his chest and into his underwear while they had an important job to do. Sorry again, underwear.

"Cover us." Apollo told the ladies.

Lu leaped into battle, stabbing, slashing and kicking any Germani who got past the troglodytes.

Rachel pulled out a blue plastic hairbrush and threw it at the nearest barbarian, beaning him in the eye and making him howl.

Ariana cast a worried glance across the room. Meg was all right. More than all right. She had convinced all her remaining foster siblings to throw down their weapons.

Now she stood in front of them like a general trying to shore up her demoralized troops. Or - a less flattering comparison - she reminded Ariana of one of Hades's dog trainers working with a pack of new hellhounds.

At the moment, the demigods were obeying her commands and staying put, but any sign of weakness from her, any change in the temperature of the battle, and they might break ranks and slaughter everyone in sight.

It didn't help that Nero was stomping up and down on his couch, screeching, "Kill Apollo! Kill Apollo!" as if he were a cockroach he'd just spotted scurrying across the floor.

For Meg's sake, they had to hurry.

Ariana gripped the fasces with both hands and tried to prise it apart. The golden bundle of rods glowed brighter and warmer, illuminating the bones and red flesh of her fingers, but it didn't budge.

"Come on," Apollo muttered, trying again, hoping for a burst of godly strength. "If you need another immortal life as a sacrifice, I'm right here!"

Maybe he should have felt foolish negotiating with a Roman ceremonial axe, but after his conversations with the Arrow of Dodona it seemed like a reasonable thing to try.