GO UP, GO UP! I willed my dream, but I couldn’t seem to find the reins.
I plummeted straight through a vat of Greek fire. That was different. I hit the tunnels below Manhattan, glancing around desperately for any sign of my friends and the troglodytes, but I was traveling too fast, spinning like a pinwheel. I broke through into the Labyrinth and hurtled sideways, swept along by a current of superheated ether.
I can do this, I told myself. It’s just like driving a chariot. Except with no horses. Or chariot. Or body.
I ordered my dream to take me to Meg—the person I most wanted to see. I imagined my hands reaching out, grasping reins. Just when I thought I had them, my dreamscape stabilized. I found myself back in the caverns of Delphi, volcanic gasses layering the air, the dark shape of Python moving heavily in the shadows.
“So, I have you again,” he gloated. “You shall perish—”
“I don’t have time for you right now.” My voice surprised me almost as much as it did the reptile.
“What?”
“Gotta go.” I lashed the reins of my dream.
“How dare you! You cannot—”
I rocketed into reverse like I was tied to a rubber band.
Why backward? I hated sitting backward in a moving vehicle, but I suppose the dream was still trying to show me who was boss. I did a roller-coaster rewind through the Labyrinth, the mortal tunnels, the stairwells of the tower. Finally, I lurched to a stop. My stomach clenched, and I retched up…well, whatever ethereal spirit-stuff one can retch in the dream world.
My head and stomach orbited each other like wobbly lava planets. I found myself on my knees in an extravagant bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Midtown all the way to the Hudson River. The cityscape was still mercifully un-torched.
Meg McCaffrey was busy trashing the bedroom. Even without her blades, she was doing an A+ demolition job with a broken chair leg, which she swung wildly into just about everything. Meanwhile, a Germanus stood blocking the only exit, his arms folded, his expression unimpressed. A woman in an old-fashioned black-and-white maid’s uniform wrung her hands and winced every time something went CRASH. She held a stack of what looked like party dresses draped over one arm.
“Miss,” said the maid, “if you could just choose an outfit for tonight. Perhaps if you didn’t…Oh. Oh, that was an antique. No, that’s fine. I’ll get another— OH! Very well, Miss, if you don’t like those bed linens I can— There’s no need to shred them, Miss!”
Meg’s tantrum raised my spirits considerably. That’s it, my friend! I thought. Give them Tartarus! Meg threw her broken chair leg into a lamp, then picked up another whole chair and raised it over her head, ready to hurl it at the window.
A faint knock on the bedroom door made her freeze. The Germanus stepped aside, opened the door, and bowed as Nero swept into the room.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” The emperor’s voice oozed sympathy. “Come. Sit with me.”
He moved smoothly to the bed and sat at the edge, patting the ripped comforter next to him.
I silently rooted for Meg to brain him with the chair. He was right there, in easy reach. But I realized that was Nero’s intention…to make himself seem to be at Meg’s mercy. To make her responsible for choosing violence. And if she did, he would be free to punish her.
She put down the chair, but she didn’t go to Nero. She turned her back and crossed her arms. Her lips trembled. I wanted so badly to go to her, to shield her. I wanted to drive my dream chariot into Nero’s face, but I could only watch.
“I know you feel terrible,” Nero said, “after what you did to your friend.”
She wheeled around. “After what I DID?!”
She picked up the chair again and threw it across the room—but not at Nero. It whanged off the window, leaving a smudge but no cracks. I caught the flicker of a smile on Nero’s face—a smile of satisfaction—before his expression fixed back into a mask of sympathy. “Yes, dear. This anger comes from guilt. You led Apollo here. You understood what that meant, what would happen. But you did it anyway. That must be so painful…knowing you brought him to his end.”
Her arms trembled. “I—no. You cut off—” She gagged, clearly unable to say the words. She stared down at her own fists, clenched as if they might fly off her wrists if left unattended.
“You can’t blame yourself,” Nero said in a tone that somehow implied, This is all your fault.
“Luguselwa made the wrong choice. You know that. You must have understood what would happen. You are too smart to be blind. We’ve talked about consequences so often.” He sighed with regret. “Perhaps Cassius was too harsh, taking her hands.” He tilted his head. “If you like, I can punish him for that.”
“What?” Meg was shaking, as if no longer sure where to direct the giant cannon of her anger. “No! It wasn’t him. It was—”
She choked on the obvious answer: YOU.
With Nero sitting right in front of her, talking in gentle tones, giving her his full attention, she faltered.
Meg! I shouted, but no sound came forth. Meg, keep smashing things!
“You have a kind heart,” Nero said with another sigh. “You care about Apollo. About Lu. I understand that. And when you unleash the Beast…” He spread his hands. “I know that is unsettling. But it isn’t over, Meg. Will you sit with me? I’m not asking for a hug, or for you to stop being angry. But I have some news that may make you feel better.”
He patted the mattress again. The maid wrung her hands. The Germanus picked his teeth.
Meg wavered. I could imagine the thoughts racing through her head: Is the
