Questions for later, I decided. “Well, it’s been exhausting and stressful for you regardless. Tell you what. That’s my hut over there. Help yourself to a nap, or wander around and use the amenities. We’ve got hot showers everywhere, and there’s plenty of ponds and rivers to soak in if you just want to take a dip or whatever. And if you get hungry, just check with Priscilla. She’ll hook you up.”
Lina broke into a huge, freckled smile that warmed the darkest, stubbornest corners of my heart. I almost thought she was going to hug me. “I really appreciate it, Mason. You guys better come back alive. It’s nice to be around people I can trust again.”
“I promise,” I said, smiling back, then flexing my arms. “See these guns? Beelzebutt doesn’t stand a chance.”
She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “If you say so. Take care, seriously. See you later, I hope.” She wandered off, taking off her baseball cap for the first time, shaking back her flaming head of hair. Lina entered my hut, gave me a sheepish wave, then shut the door.
That exchange lit a tiny fire in me, I won’t lie. Maybe it was the push I needed to get through our ridiculous journey. It had taken a blast of smiting divine light from me, then a sword swipe from Samyaza to defeat Leviathan, the Prince of Envy, at least long enough to force her back into her prime hell. I tensed my muscles, swallowing my fear, and snuffing out all thoughts of failure. We were going to win this, someway, somehow. We were going to win this, because we had to.
I had little I needed to prepare for, fortunately, but I did want to bring one very important piece of equipment along for the trip. Well, a very important individual, rather. I placed my fingers in my mouth and whistled.
The door to my hut smashed open from the inside. Exploded, in fact, splintered to smithereens and sawdust as Box came thundering out, thumping himself excitedly along the ground so hard and fast that he left gouges in the dirt. He screeched to a stop just short of my shins, his enormous tongue flicking at my fingers, bathing them in a coating of mimic saliva.
“Yes, I’m happy to see you too, boy. Did Priscilla feed you? She did? Good boy. That’s my best boy. And sorry, Lina,” I called out towards the hut. “If you’re asleep, that is.”
Priscilla came lumbering up on her fists. This time she didn’t show up wielding a magical staff in each hand. I felt bad, like maybe she thought she was resigned to her fate, until she started talking.
“Ook,” she said. “Ook ook.”
Artemis nodded. “Right. She says she knows for sure that she has to stay behind this time. We have a guest, after all.”
“Ook, ook.” Priscilla placed her palm parallel to the ground, then pushed lightly down at the air, like she was demonstrating something’s size. “Ook ook.”
“It’ll be like taking care of a smaller gorilla,” Artemis said, stifling a laugh. “A smaller gorilla, and possibly a feistier one, too.”
Priscilla thumped herself on the chest, nodding.
“We appreciate it,” I said. “You’re a huge help as always, Priscilla.”
She gave me a toothy smile, tugged on the straps of her apron, then loped off back to the kitchens. I smiled after her. “That wonderful lady is the closest thing I have to a mom right now.”
“And she knows it,” Artemis said. “But let’s not forget that tracking Beelzebub down is also about rescuing your real, actual mother.”
A rare moment of clarity and kindness from my margarita-chugging, cheesy snack-swilling friend and landlord. I nodded, hoping she could find the gratitude in my eyes.
“Ready,” Florian said, jogging up to us as he rolled his shoulders and his neck. They made a cracking noise, far closer to warping tree bark than popping joints. I cringed at the sound, but it was reassuring to know that one of my best buddies was as sturdy as a walking, talking sequoia.
“Then we are all set,” Raziel said, striding forward. “Though I am not entirely confident that my spiritual reserves are sufficient for both transporting us and fighting a battle. I have to fly one, two, three – wait. Where is Apollo?”
Birds flew shrieking out of the treetops as a golden convertible roared out from the vegetation, leaving flaming tire tracks, spitting golden smoke from its ridiculously oversized exhaust pipes. The window rolled down. Apollo poked his head out, grinning.
“Get in, losers. It’s a long way to Nicaragua.”
23
Clouds zipped past the windows, the air whistling at our passage. My fingernails dug deep into the leather seats of Apollo’s chariot. I hardly cared if I was damaging the finish, mainly because I was far more concerned about surviving the trip. My body was plastered against the seat, smashed there by the car’s tremendous speed. The short and hellish drive to Cornucopia had felt like a rollercoaster ride. This impromptu flight to Nicaragua, I imagined, was probably what fighter pilots experienced.
Trained ones, that is, because my stomach did a horrific swoop just as the chariot did a barrel roll. Did I mention we were in midair? I wasn’t sure how it’d slipped my mind. In the old legends, the chariot was supposedly used to pull the sun across the sky. Of course it could fly, Mason. Duh.
I forced my eyes open, checking if the chariot was supplied with air sickness bags. Spoiler alert: of course it wasn’t. The twins cheered and roared gleefully in the front seats, their arms thrust up in delight. Apollo’s hands were once again very much distanced from the steering wheel, leaving our lives in the care of whatever
