The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo #5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,8
could deliver you alive to Nero, this is exactly what I’d be doing.
Lu quickened her pace. Meg scowled at me like, Be nice to my Gaul, then she hurried to catch up.
I lost track of time. The adrenaline spike from the train fight faded, leaving me weary and sore. Sure, I was still running for my life, but I’d spent most of the last six months running for my life. I couldn’t maintain a productive state of panic indefinitely. Tunnel goo soaked into my socks. My shoes felt like squishy clay pots.
For a while, I was impressed by how well Lu knew the tunnels. She forged ahead, taking us down one turn after another. Then, when she hesitated at a junction a bit too long, I realized the truth.
“You don’t know where we’re going,” I said.
She scowled. “I told you. Away from the—”
“Search grid. Cameras. Yes. But where are we going?”
“Somewhere. Anywhere safe.”
I laughed. I surprised myself by actually feeling relieved. If Lu was this clueless about our destination, then I felt safer trusting her. She had no grand plan. We were lost. What a relief!
Lu did not seem to appreciate my sense of humor.
“Excuse me if I had to improvise,” she grumbled. “You’re fortunate I found you on that train rather than one of the emperor’s other search parties. Otherwise you’d be in Nero’s holding cell right now.”
Meg gave me another scowl. “Yeah, Lester. Besides, it’s fine.”
She pointed to an old section of Greek-key-design tile along the left-hand corridor, perhaps left over from an abandoned subway line. “I recognize that. There should be an exit up ahead.”
I wanted to ask how she could possibly know this. Then I remembered Meg had spent a great deal of her childhood roaming dark alleys, derelict buildings, and other strange and unusual places in Manhattan with Nero’s blessing—the evil imperial version of free-range parenting.
I could imagine a younger Meg exploring these tunnels, doing cartwheels in the muck, and growing mushrooms in forgotten locations.
We followed her for…I don’t know, six or seven miles? That’s what it felt like, at least. Once, we stopped abruptly when a deep and distant BOOM echoed through the corridor.
“Train?” I asked nervously, though we’d left the tracks behind long ago.
Lu tilted her head. “No. That was thunder.”
I didn’t see how that could be. When we’d entered the tunnel in New Jersey, there’d been no sign of rain. I didn’t like the idea of sudden thunderstorms so close to the Empire State Building—entrance to Mount Olympus, home of Zeus, aka Big Daddy Lightning Bolt.
Undeterred, Meg forged ahead.
Finally, our tunnel dead-ended at a metal ladder. Overhead was a loose manhole cover, light and water spilling from one edge like a weeping crescent moon.
“I remember this opens to an alleyway,” Meg announced. “No cameras—at least there weren’t any last time I was here.”
Lu grunted as if to say, Good work, or maybe just, This is going to suck.
The Gaul ascended first. Moments later, the three of us stood in a storm-lashed alley between two apartment buildings. Lightning forked overhead, lacing the dark clouds with gold. Rain needled my face and poked me in the eyes.
Where had this tempest come from? Was it a welcome-home present from my father, or a warning? Or maybe it was just a regular summer storm. Sadly, my time as Lester had taught me that not every meteorological event was about me.
Thunder rattled the windows on either side of us. Judging from the yellow-brick facades of the buildings, I guessed we were on the Upper East Side somewhere, though that seemed an impossibly long underground walk from Penn Station. At the end of the alley, taxis zipped down a busy street: Park Avenue? Lexington?
I hugged my arms. My teeth chattered. My quiver was starting to fill with water, the strap getting heavier across my shoulder. I turned to Lu and Meg. “I don’t suppose either of you has a magic item that stops rain?”
From her belt of infinite weapons, Lu pulled something that I’d assumed was a police baton. She clicked a button on the side and it blossomed into an umbrella. Naturally, it was just big enough for Lu and Meg.
I sighed. “I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
“Yep,” Meg agreed.
I pulled my backpack over my head, which effectively stopped 0.003 percent of the rain from hitting my face. My clothes were plastered to my skin. My heart slowed and sped up at random, as if it couldn’t decide whether to be exhausted or terrified.