The Mark of Athena

Arachne had the body of a giant black widow, with a hairy red hourglass mark on the underside of her abdomen and a pair of oozing spinnerets. Her eight spindly legs were lined with curved barbs as big as Annabeth’s dagger. If the spider came any closer, her sweet stench alone would have been enough to make Annabeth faint. But the most horrible part was her misshapen face.

She might once have been a beautiful woman. Now black mandibles protruded from her mouth like tusks. Her other teeth had grown into thin white needles. Fine dark whiskers dotted her cheeks. Her eyes were large, lidless, and pure black, with two smaller eyes sticking out of her temples.

The creature made a violent rip-rip-rip sound that might have been laughter.

“Now I will feast on you, my sweet,” Arachne said. “But do not fear. I will make a beautiful tapestry depicting your death.”

LEO WISHED HE WASN’T SO GOOD.

Really, sometimes it was just embarrassing. If he hadn’t had such an eye for mechanical stuff, they might never have found the secret chute, gotten lost in the underground, and been attacked by metal dudes. But he just couldn’t help himself.

Part of it was Hazel’s fault. For a girl with super underground senses, she wasn’t much good in Rome. She kept leading them around and around the city, getting dizzy, and doubling back.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just…there’s so much underground here, so many layers, it’s overwhelming. Like standing in the middle of an orchestra and trying to concentrate on a single instrument. I’m going deaf.”

As a result, they got a tour of Rome. Frank seemed happy to plod along like a big sheepdog (hmm, Leo wondered if he could turn into one of those, or even better: a horse that Leo could ride). But Leo started to get impatient. His feet were sore, the day was sunny and hot, and the streets were choked with tourists.

The Forum was okay, but it was mostly ruins overgrown with bushes and trees. It took a lot of imagination to see it as the bustling center of Ancient Rome. Leo could only manage it because he’d seen New Rome in California.

They passed big churches, freestanding arches, clothing stores, and fast-food restaurants. One statue of some Ancient Roman dude seemed to be pointing to a nearby McDonald’s.

On the wider streets, the car traffic was absolutely nuts—man, Leo thought people in Houston drove crazy—but they spent most of their time weaving through small alleys, coming across fountains and little cafes where Leo was not allowed to rest.

“I never thought I’d get to see Rome,” Hazel said. “When I was alive, I mean the first time, Mussolini was in charge. We were at war.”

“Mussolini?” Leo frowned. “Wasn’t he like BFFs with Hitler?”

Hazel stared at him like he was an alien. “BFFs?”

“Never mind.”

“I’d love to see the Trevi Fountain,” she said.

“There’s a fountain on every block,” Leo grumbled.

“Or the Spanish Steps,” Hazel said.

“Why would you come to Italy to see Spanish steps?” Leo asked. “That’s like going to China for Mexican food, isn’t it?”

“You’re hopeless,” Hazel complained.

“So I’ve been told.”

She turned to Frank and grabbed his hand, as if Leo had ceased to exist. “Come on. I think we should go this way.”

Frank gave Leo a confused smile—like he couldn’t decide whether to gloat or to thank Leo for being a doofus— but he cheerfully let Hazel drag him along.

After walking forever, Hazel stopped in front of a church. At least, Leo assumed it was a church. The main section had a big domed roof. The entrance had a triangular roof, typical Roman columns, and an inscription across the top: M. AGRIPPA something or other.

“Latin for Get a grip?” Leo speculated.

“This is our best bet.” Hazel sounded more certain than she had all day. “There should be a secret passage somewhere inside.”

Tour groups milled around the steps. Guides held up colored placards with different numbers and lectured in dozens of languages like they were playing some kind of international bingo.

Leo listened to the Spanish tour guide for a few seconds, and then he reported to his friends, “This is the Pantheon. It was originally built by Marcus Agrippa as a temple to the gods. After it burned down, Emperor Hadrian rebuilt it, and it’s been standing for two thousand years. It’s one of the best-preserved Roman buildings in the world.”

Frank and Hazel stared at him.

“How did you know that?” Hazel asked.

“I’m naturally brilliant.”

“Centaur poop,” Frank said. “He eavesdropped on a tour group.”

Leo grinned. “Maybe. Come on. Let’s go find that secret passage. I hope this place has air conditioning.”

Of course, no AC.

On the bright side, there were no lines and no admission fee, so they just muscled their way past the tour groups and walked on in.