hollered, pushing them up the narrower gold stairs toward the palace.
To either side, the nearest torrents reached the lowest tier and splashed thunderously into the empty lake basin. All around, the other spillways did the same. Waters swirled across the bowl, slowly filling it.
But that wasn’t the only purpose of those streams.
Bailey grabbed Gray’s arm and swept his light along the edge of the nearest spillway. Kowalski squinted, noting a line of something blurring there along the banks of the new river, spinning in place, driven by the rushing flow.
“Bronze waterwheels,” Bailey said. “Hidden behind the statuary.”
Gray frowned but waved them all higher, running for the palace.
“What are they powering?” Maria asked.
The fiery answer started at the top tier. Hundreds of torches burst with golden flames, then more and more, sweeping the full breadth of the cavern—then descending, lighting the place tier by tier.
“They must be pumping Medea’s Oil throughout Tartarus,” Bailey said. “Their version of gas lines feeding streetlamps.”
But it wasn’t just the torches being supplied.
Movement drew Kowalski’s eye to the left. One of the statues stirred at the water’s edge. Plates of tarnished bronze shifted, leaking a glowing green oil from every seam, as if the statue were being pumped so full it couldn’t hold any more. As it reached some boiling point, fire burst within it, fierce enough to rattle its form. Flames lapped through cracks in its armor. The explosive force drew the statue straighter. As it turned with a grind of gears, its single eye swung in their direction, the black gem lit by an inner fire.
A Cyclops . . .
But the giant was not the only creation waking. A massive eagle lifted razor-edged wings of bronze. A wolf lifted its head and howled at the bronze sun, flames shooting from its throat. A man-sized cobra reared up with a shuffle of bronze scales, leaking flames as it moved. It shook a wide cowl with a silent hiss, revealing curved fangs dripping with glowing green oil.
All across the city, the statuary awoke, the mythic bestiary stirred.
Mac waved all of them low. “No noise from here,” he warned and pointed toward the palace walls.
They’d already scaled halfway up the gold stairs, but the palace doors now seemed an impossible distance away. Especially as Tartarus woke around them. Torches burned everywhere. Creatures waded out of the torrents, leaving streamlets of fire behind in the water. The bronze army slouched and lumbered into the city streets, searching for the trespassers who woke them.
Gray led the others up the gold stairs. Fiery guardians closed in on both sides. Still, with luck and speed, they reached the top. The palace sat perched on the city’s middle tier. Its bronze walls curved outward in a half circle, reaching nearly to the steps. Towers spiraled high to either side. The golden doors lay directly ahead, some twenty yards from the top of the golden staircase.
“Stay here,” Gray hissed.
He raced low across the open stretch and flattened close against the gold surface. He tried one door, then the other. His frustration glowed in the sheen of his sweat. He turned to them with a shake of his head.
Locked.
“Told you,” Mac warned, reminding them all of his earlier fear.
Then it looks like it’s time to cross that bridge.
Kowalski stood and raised his AA-12 combat shotgun. He waved Gray to the side—at the same time as something shambled into view on the right. Gray ducked and stayed where he was.
Kowalski stood his ground.
The dark beast was huge, some rendition of a bear, only the size of a dumpster. Its four legs dug bronze claws into the limestone. It had a flat muzzle, with a rounded head and short ears. Fire burned behind gemstones.
Kowalski stayed silent, hoping it might pass if they remained quiet. Still, as a precaution, he lifted his shotgun higher and aimed it at the beast.
The bear’s head swung toward him.
Kowalski cursed Mac.
Seemed some of these bastards could see—or at least, detect motion.
But either way, the damage had been done.
The bear roared in Kowalski’s direction, flames bursting out, revealing a maw lined by jagged sharp plates, a literal bear trap.
Kowalski roared back at the monster—and squeezed the trigger on his weapon. Auto-mode unloaded six shells in rapid succession. The armor-piercing FRAG-12 rounds exploded into the monster, ripping away plates of bronze, exposing its fiery heart. One shell flew down its gullet and blasted inside, shattering its inner gearworks. The bear stumbled and crashed to the stone.
Gray ran across and pointed to the golden