The Hidden Oracle (26 page)

I was fairly sure Rhea was misremembering her centuries, but I thought it would be impolite to keep pointing that out.

“You remind me of Iris,” I said. “She went organic vegan several decades ago.”

Rhea made a face—just a ripple of disapproval before regaining her karmic balance. “Iris is a good soul. I dig her. But you know, these younger goddesses, they weren’t around to fight the revolution. They don’t get what it was like when your old man was eating your children and you couldn’t get a real job and the Titan chauvinists just wanted you to stay home and cook and clean and have more Olympian babies. And speaking of Iris…”

Rhea touched her forehead. “Wait,
were
we speaking of Iris? Or did I just have a flashback?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Oh, I remember now. She’s a messenger of the gods, right? Along with Hermes and that other groovy liberated chick…Joan of Arc?”

“Er, I’m not sure about that last one.”

“Well, anyway, the communication lines are down, man. Nothing works. Rainbow messages, flying scrolls, Hermes Express…it’s all going haywire.”

“We know this. But we don’t know why.”

“It’s
them.
They’re doing it.”

“Who?”

She glanced to either side. “The Man, man. Big Brother. The suits. The imperators.”

I had been hoping she would say something else: giants, Titans, ancient killing machines, aliens. I would’ve rather tangled with Tartarus or Ouranos or Primordial Chaos itself. I had hoped Pete the geyser misunderstood what his brother told him about the imperator in the ants’ nest.

Now that I had confirmation, I wanted to steal Rhea’s safari van and drive to some commune far, far upstate.

“Triumvirate Holdings,” I said.

“Yeah,” Rhea agreed. “That’s their new military-industrial complex. It’s bumming me out in a big way.”

The lion stopped licking my face, probably because my blood had turned bitter. “How is this possible? How have they come back?”

“They never went away,” Rhea said. “They did it to themselves, you know. Wanted to make themselves gods. That never works out well. Ever since the old days they’ve been hiding out, influencing history from behind the curtains. They’re stuck in a kind of twilight life. They can’t die; they can’t really live.”

“But how could we not
know
about this?” I demanded. “We are gods!”

Rhea’s laugh reminded me of a piglet with asthma. “Apollo, Grandson, beautiful child…Has being a god ever stopped someone from being stupid?”

She had a point. Not about me personally, of course, but the stories I could tell you about the
other
Olympians…

“The emperors of Rome.” I tried to come to terms with the idea. “They can’t
all
be immortal.”

“No,” Rhea said. “Just the worst of them, the most notorious. They live in human memory, man. That’s what keeps them alive. Same as us, really. They’re tied to the course of Western civilization, even though that whole concept is imperialist Eurocentric propaganda, man. Like my guru would tell you—”

“Rhea”—I put my hands against my throbbing temples—“can we stick to one problem at a time?”

“Yeah, okay. I didn’t mean to blow your mind.”

“But how can they affect our lines of communication? How can they be so powerful?”

“They’ve had centuries, Apollo.
Centuries.
All that time, plotting and making war, building up their capitalist empire, waiting for this moment when you are mortal, when the Oracles are vulnerable for a hostile takeover. It’s just evil. They have no chill whatsoever.”

“I thought that was a more modern term.”

“Evil?”

“No.
Chill.
Never mind. The Beast…he is the leader?”

“Afraid so. He’s as twisted as the others, but he’s the smartest and the most stable—in a sociopathic homicidal way. You know who he is—who he was, right?”

Unfortunately, I did. I remembered where I had seen his smirking ugly face. I could hear his nasal voice echoing through the arena, ordering the execution of hundreds while the crowds cheered. I wanted to ask Rhea who his two compatriots were in the Triumvirate, but I decided I could not bear the information at present. None of the options were good, and knowing their names might bring me more despair than I could handle.

“It’s true, then,” I said. “The other Oracles still exist. The emperors hold them all?”

“They’re working on it. Python has Delphi—that’s the biggest problem. But you won’t have the strength to take him head-on. You’ve got to pry their fingers off the minor Oracles first, loosen their power. To do that, you need a new source of prophecy for this camp—an Oracle that is older and independent.”

“Dodona,” I said. “Your whispering grove.”

“Right on,” Rhea said. “I thought the grove was gone forever. But then—I don’t know how—the oak trees regrew themselves in the heart of these woods. You have to find the grove and protect it.”

“I’m working on that.” I touched the sticky wound on the side of my face. “But my friend Meg—”

“Yeah. You had some setbacks. But there are always setbacks, Apollo. When Lizzy Stanton and I hosted the first women’s rights convention in Woodstock—”

“I think you mean Seneca Falls?”

Rhea frowned. “Wasn’t that in the ’60s?”

“The ’40s,” I said. “The 1840s, if memory serves.”

“So…Jimi Hendrix wasn’t there?”

“Doubtful.”

Rhea fiddled with her peace symbol. “Then who set that guitar on fire? Ah, never mind. The point is, you have to persevere. Sometimes change takes centuries.”

“Except that I’m mortal now,” I said. “I don’t
have
centuries.”

“But you have willpower,” Rhea said. “You have mortal drive and urgency. Those are things the gods often lack.”

At her side, her lion roared.

“I’ve gotta split,” Rhea said. “If the imperators track me down—bad scene, man. I’ve been off the grid too long. I’m not going to get sucked into that patriarchal institutional oppression again. Just find Dodona. That’s your first trial.”

“And if the Beast finds the grove first?”

“Oh, he’s already found the gates, but he’ll never get through them without you and the girl.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“That’s cool. Just breathe. Find your center. Enlightenment has to come from
within
.”

It was very much like a line I would’ve given
my
worshippers. I was tempted to choke Rhea with her macramé belt, but I doubted I would have the strength. Also, she had two lions. “But what do I do? How do I save Meg?”

“First, get healed. Rest up. Then…well, how you save Meg is up to you. The journey is greater than the destination, you know?”

She held out her hand. Draped on her fingers was a set of wind chimes—a collection of hollow brass tubes and medallions engraved with ancient Greek and Cretan symbols. “Hang these in the largest ancient oak. That will help you focus the voices of the Oracle. If you get a prophecy, groovy. It’ll only be the beginning, but without Dodona, nothing else will be possible. The emperors will suffocate our future and divide up the world. Only when you have defeated Python can you reclaim your rightful place on Olympus. My kid, Zeus…he’s got this whole ‘tough love’ disciplinarian hang-up, you dig? Taking back Delphi is the only way you’re going to get on his good side.”

“I—I was afraid you would say that.”

“There’s one other thing,” she warned. “The Beast is planning some kind of attack on your camp. I don’t know what it is, but it’s going to be big. Like, even worse than napalm. You have to warn your friends.”

The nearest lion nudged me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and allowed him to pull me to my feet. I managed to remain standing, but only because my legs locked up in complete fright. For the first time, I understood the trials that awaited me. I knew the enemies I must face. I would need more than wind chimes and enlightenment. I’d need a miracle. And as a god, I can tell you that those are never distributed lightly.

“Good luck, Apollo.” The Titan queen placed the wind chimes in my hands. “I’ve got to check my kiln before my pots crack. Keep on trucking, and save those trees!”

The woods dissolved. I found myself standing in the central green at Camp Half-Blood, face-to-face with Chiara Benvenuti, who jumped back in alarm. “Apollo?”

I smiled. “Hey, girl.” My eyes rolled up in my head and, for the second time that week, I charmingly passed out in front of her.

I apologize

For pretty much everything

Wow, I’m a good guy

“WAKE,” SAID A VOICE.

I opened my eyes and saw a ghost—his face just as precious to me as Daphne’s. I knew his copper skin, his kind smile, the dark curls of his hair, and those eyes as purple as senatorial robes.

“Hyacinthus,” I sobbed. “I’m so sorry…”

He turned his face toward the sunlight, revealing the ugly dent above his left ear where the discus had struck him. My own wounded face throbbed in sympathy.

“Seek the caverns,” he said. “Near the springs of blue. Oh, Apollo…your sanity will be taken away, but do not…”

His image faded and began to retreat. I rose from my sickbed. I rushed after him and grabbed his shoulders. “Do not
what
? Please don’t leave me again!”

My vision cleared. I found myself by the window in Cabin Seven, holding a ceramic pot of purple and red hyacinths. Nearby, looking very concerned, Will and Nico stood as if ready to catch me.

“He’s talking to the flowers,” Nico noted. “Is that normal?”

“Apollo,” Will said, “you had a concussion. I healed you, but—”

“These hyacinths,” I demanded. “Have they always been here?”

Will frowned. “Honestly, I don’t know where they came from, but…” He took the flowerpot from my hands and set it back on the windowsill. “Let’s worry about you, okay?”

Usually that would’ve been excellent advice, but now I could only stare at the hyacinths and wonder if they were some sort of message. How cruel to see them—the flowers that I had created to honor my fallen love, with their plumes stained red like his blood or hued violet like his eyes. They bloomed so cheerfully in the window, reminding me of the joy I had lost.

Nico rested his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Apollo, we were worried. Will was especially.”

Seeing them together, supporting each other, made my heart feel even heavier. During my delirium, both of my great loves had visited me. Now, once again, I was devastatingly alone.

Still, I had a task to complete. A friend needed my help.

“Meg is in trouble,” I said. “How long was I unconscious?”

Will and Nico glanced at each other.

“It’s about noon now,” Will said. “You showed up on the green around six this morning. When Meg didn’t return with you, we wanted to search the woods for her, but Chiron wouldn’t let us.”

“Chiron was absolutely correct,” I said. “I won’t allow any others to put themselves at risk. But I must hurry. Meg has until tonight at the latest.”

“Then what happens?” Nico asked.

I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t even
think
about it without losing my nerve. I looked down. Aside from Paolo’s Brazilian-flag bandana and my ukulele-string necklace, I was wearing only my boxer shorts. My offensive flabbiness was on display for everyone to see, but I no longer cared about that. (Well, not much, anyway.) “I have to get dressed.”

I staggered back to my cot. I fumbled through my meager supplies and found Percy Jackson’s Led Zeppelin T-shirt. I tugged it on. It seemed more appropriate than ever.

Will hovered nearby. “Look, Apollo, I don’t think you’re back to a hundred percent.”

“I’ll be fine.” I pulled on my jeans. “I have to save Meg.”

“Let us help you,” Nico said. “Tell us where she is and I can shadow-travel—”

“No!” I snapped. “No, you have to stay here and protect the camp.”

Will’s expression reminded me very much of his mother, Naomi—that look of trepidation she got just before she went onstage. “Protect the camp from what?”

“I—I’m not sure. You must tell Chiron the emperors have returned. Or rather, they never went away. They’ve been plotting, building their resources for centuries.”

Nico’s eyes glinted warily. “When you say emperors—”

“I mean the Roman ones.”

Will stepped back. “You’re saying the emperors of ancient Rome are alive?
How?
The Doors of Death?”

“No.” I could barely speak through the taste of bile. “The emperors made themselves gods. They had their own temples and altars. They encouraged the people to worship them.”

“But that was just propaganda,” Nico said. “They weren’t really divine.”

I laughed mirthlessly. “Gods are sustained by worship, son of Hades. They continue to exist because of the collective memories of a culture. It’s true for the Olympians; it’s also true for the emperors. Somehow, the most powerful of them have survived. All these centuries, they have clung to half-life, hiding, waiting to reclaim their power.”

Will shook his head. “That’s impossible. How—?”

“I don’t know!” I tried to steady my breathing. “Tell Rachel the men behind Triumvirate Holdings are former emperors of Rome. They’ve been plotting against us all this time, and we gods have been blind.
Blind
.”