The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo #5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,44

my veins and arteries.

“We’ll figure it out,” Rachel promised. “Maybe Python was twisting my words. Maybe those lines aren’t part of the real prophecy.”

I didn’t look back, but I could hear the determination in her voice. Rachel had been dealing with Python’s slithery presence in her head, possibly for months. She’d been struggling with it alone, trying to keep her sanity by working through her visions in her artwork. Today, she had been possessed by Python’s voice and encircled by his poisonous fumes. Still, her first instinct was to reassure me that everything would be okay.

“I wish you were right,” I said. “But the longer Python controls Delphi, the more he can poison the future. Whether he twisted your words or not, they are now part of the prophecy. What you predicted will happen.”

Apollo’s flesh and blood shall soon be mine. The serpent’s voice seemed to coil inside my head. Alone he must descend into the dark.

Shut up, I told the voice. But I was not Meg, and Python was not my Lester.

“Well, then,” Rachel said behind me, “we’ll just have to make sure the prophecy happens in a way that doesn’t get you dissolved.”

She made it sound so doable…so possible.

“I don’t deserve a priestess like you,” I said.

“No, you don’t,” Rachel agreed. “You can repay me by killing Python and getting the snake fumes out of my head.”

“Deal,” I said, trying to believe I could hold up my side of the bargain.

At last we reached the crane’s central mast. Nico led us down the rungs of the ladder. My limbs shook with exhaustion. I was tempted to ask Meg if she could create another latticework of plants to carry us to the bottom like she’d done at Sutro Tower. I decided against it, because 1) I didn’t want her to pass out from the effort, and 2) I really hated being tossed around by plants.

By the time we reached the ground, I felt wobbly and nauseated.

Nico didn’t look much better. How he planned to summon enough energy to shadow-zap us to safety, I couldn’t imagine. Above us, around the rim of the pit, the tauri watched in silence, their blue eyes gleaming like a string of angry Hanukkah lights.

Meg studied them warily. “Nico, how soon can you shadow us out?”

“Catch…my…breath…first,” he said between gulps of air.

“Please,” Will agreed. “If he’s too tired, he might teleport us into a vat of Cheez Whiz in Venezuela.”

“Okay…” said Nico. “We didn’t end up in the vat.”

“Pretty close,” Will said. “Definitely in the middle of Venezuela’s biggest Cheez Whiz processing plant.”

“That was one time,” Nico grumbled.

“Uh, guys?” Rachel pointed to the rim of the pit, where the cows were becoming agitated. They jostled and pushed each other forward until one—either by choice or with pressure from the herd—toppled off the edge.

Watching it fall, kicking its legs and torquing its body, I remembered the time Ares dropped a cat from Mount Olympus to prove it would land on its feet in Manhattan. Athena had teleported the cat to safety, then beat Ares with the butt of her spear for putting the animal in danger, but the fall had been terrifying to witness, nonetheless.

The bull was not as lucky as the cat. It landed sideways in the dirt with a throaty grunt. The impact would have killed most creatures, but the bull just flailed its legs, righted itself, and shook its horns. It glared at us as if to say, Oh, you’re gonna get it now.

“Um…” Will edged backward. “It’s in the pit. So why isn’t it choking on its rage?”

“I—I think it’s because we’re here?” My voice sounded like I’d been sucking helium. “It wants to kill us more than it wants to choke to death?”

“Great,” Meg said. “Nico, shadow-travel. Now.”

Nico winced. “I can’t take all of you at once! Two plus me is pushing it. Last summer, with the Athena Parthenos…That almost killed me, and I had Reyna’s help.”

The bull charged.

“Take Will and Rachel,” I said, hardly believing the words were coming out of my mouth. “Return for Meg and me when you can.”

Nico started to protest.

“Apollo’s right!” Meg said. “Go!”

We didn’t wait for a response. I drew my bow. Meg summoned her scimitars, and together we raced into battle.

There’s an old saying: The definition of insanity is shooting an invulnerable cow in the face over and over and expecting a different result.

I went insane. I shot arrow after arrow at the bull—aiming at its mouth, its eyes, its nostrils, hoping to find