It almost worked ✸ Apollo ¹

XXVII. Home is where the horror is

"I am Tantalus," the prisoner said, smiling coldly. "On special assignment here until, well, until my Lord Dionysus decides otherwise. And you, Perseus Jackson, I do expect you to refrain from causing any more trouble."

Lydia hated her father for this decision. Out of all people he could've chosen to replace Chiron for a while, he chose Tantalus. The prisoner already thought he could be rude to Lydia because of Dionysus's actions. She wanted to scream and shout that this idiot should've never been allowed into camp.

Yet she knew nothing could be done about it. Unless she figured out what Chiron thought could help the camp. Even if this thing had been lost for centuries, she was going to get it back and fix this. Or else she'd bash her head into a wall before that.

"Trouble?" Percy demanded.

Dionysus snapped his fingers. A newspaper appeared on the table-the front page of today's New York Post, There was a yearbook picture of Percy from his new school Meriwether Prep. It was hard for Lydia or anyone to make out the headline.

"Yes, trouble," Tantalus said with satisfaction. "You caused plenty of it last summer, I understand."

Lydia turned to her father's table "Seriously? How could you even let him say that? It wasn't Percy's fault that the gods almost went into a civil war!"

Percy looked at Lydia, like she didn't need to say anything. Dionysus glared at her "We will discuss this alone, my child. We don't need any more outbursts at this table!"

Lydia rolled her eyes, and she tried to forget about it. A satyr inched forward nervously and set a plate of barbecue in front of Tantalus. The new activities director licked his lips. He looked at his empty goblet and said, "Root beer. Barq's special stock. 1967."

The glass filled itself with foamy soda. Tantalus stretched out his hand hesitantly, as if he were afraid the goblet was hot.

"Go on, then, old fellow," Dionysus said, a strange sparkle in his eyes. "Perhaps now it will-"

Tantalus grabbed for the glass, but it scooted away before he could touch it. A few drops of root beer spilled, and Tantalus tried to dab them up with his fingers, but the drops rolled away like quicksilver before he could touch them.

He growled and turned toward the plate of barbecue. He picked up a fork and tried to stab a piece of brisket, but the plate skittered down the table and flew off the end, straight into the coals of the brazier.

"Blast!" Tantalus muttered.

"Ah, well," Dionysus said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Perhaps a few more days.
Believe me, old chap, working at this camp will be torture enough. I'm sure your old curse will fade eventually."

"Eventually," muttered Tantalus, staring at Dionysus's Diet Coke. "Do you have any idea how dry one's throat gets after three thousand years?"

That's when Lydia realized, and Percy must've realized it too. They had seen Tantalus before last summer during their trip into the underworld.

"You're that spirit from the Fields of Punishment," Percy said. "The one who stands in the lake with the fruit tree hanging over you, but you can't eat or drink."

Tantalus sneered at him. "A real scholar, aren't you, boy?"

Lydia laughed "It doesn't take a scholar to know what happened. It's common knowledge."

Tantalus's eyes narrowed. Behind him, the satyrs were shaking their heads vigorously, trying to get Lydia to calm down. Although she knew the satyrs cared for her. She always defended them whenever Dionysus said something rude. They were mostly calm spirts. And they didn't deserve the wine god as their leader.