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

tied to the fact that Lu had ordered us to go to the bathroom when we entered the tunnel to New York. But given Lu’s hostile expression, and the presence of her seven heavily caffeinated and sugar-fueled Germanus friends, I didn’t feel optimistic.

I squirmed in my seat. Oh, why had I thought about the bathroom? I really needed to go now.

Outside, the illuminated billboards of New Jersey zipped by: ads for auto dealerships where you could buy an impractical race car; injury lawyers you could employ to blame the other drivers once you crashed that race car; casinos where you could gamble away the money you won from the injury lawsuits. The great circle of life.

The station-stop for Newark Airport came and went. Gods help me, I was so desperate I considered making a break for it. In Newark.

Meg stayed put, so I did, too.

The tunnel to New York would be coming up soon. Perhaps, instead of asking to use the restroom, we could spring into action against our captors.…

Lu seemed to read my thoughts. “It’s a good thing you surrendered. Nero has three other teams like mine on this train alone. Every passage—every train, bus, and flight into Manhattan—has been covered. Nero’s got the Oracle of Delphi on his side, remember. He knew you were coming tonight. You were never going to get into the city without being caught.”

Way to crush my hopes, Luguselwa. Telling me that Nero had his ally Python peering into the future for him, using my sacred Oracle against me…Harsh.

Meg, however, suddenly perked up, as if something Lu said gave her hope. “So how is it you’re the one who found us, Lu? Just luck?”

Lu’s tattoos rippled as she flexed her arms, the swirling Celtic circles making me seasick.

“I know you, Sapling,” she said. “I know how to track you. There is no luck.”

I could think of several gods of luck who would disagree with that statement, but I didn’t argue. Being a captive had dampened my desire for small talk.

Lu turned to her companions. “As soon as we get to Penn Station, we deliver our captives to the escort team. I want no mistakes. No one kills the girl or the god unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Is it necessary now?” Gunther asked.

“No,” Lu said. “The princeps has plans for them. He wants them alive.”

The princeps. My mouth tasted bitterer than the bitterest Amtrak coffee. Being marched through Nero’s front door was not how I’d planned to confront him.

One moment we were rumbling across a wasteland of New Jersey warehouses and dockyards. The next, we plunged into darkness, entering the tunnel that would take us under the Hudson River. On the intercom, a garbled announcement informed us that our next stop would be Penn Station.

“I need to pee,” Meg announced.

I stared at her, dumbfounded. Was she really going to follow Lu’s strange instructions? The Gaul had captured us and killed an innocent two-headed snake. Why would Meg trust her?

Meg pressed her heel hard on the top of my foot.

“Yes,” I squeaked. “I also need to pee.” For me, at least, this was painfully true.

“Hold it,” Gunther grumbled.

“I really need to pee.” Meg bounced up and down.

Lu heaved a sigh. Her exasperation did not sound faked. “Fine.” She turned to her squad. “I’ll take them. The rest of you stay here and prepare to disembark.”

None of the Germani objected. They’d probably heard enough of Gunther’s complaints about potty patrol. They began shoving last-minute Danishes into their mouths and gathering up their equipment as Meg and I extracted ourselves from our booth.

“Your gear,” Lu reminded me.

I blinked. Right. Who went to the bathroom without their bow and quiver? That would be stupid. I grabbed my things.

Lu herded us back into the gangway. As soon as the double doors closed behind her, she murmured, “Now.”

Meg bolted for the quiet car.

“Hey!” Lu shoved me out of the way, pausing long enough to mutter, “Block the door. Decouple the coaches,” then raced after Meg.

Do what now?

Two scimitars flashed into existence in Lu’s hands. Wait—she had Meg’s swords? No. Just before the end of the gangway, Meg turned to face her, summoning her own blades, and the two women fought like demons. They were both dimachaeri, the rarest form of gladiator? That must mean— I didn’t have time to think about what that meant.

Behind me, the Germani were shouting and scrambling. They would be through the doors any second.

I didn’t understand exactly what was happening, but it occurred to my stupid slow