The Tyrant's Tomb (The Trials of Apollo, #4)

by Rick Riordan

I mean, come on. Have a little respect for the people you slaughter.

I hated how beautiful it was. Death shouldn’t be beautiful.

Meg had single-handedly brought the Swedish Fish ecosystem to the brink of collapse.

DWSPW, driving while shooting projectile weapons, is a big no-no, kids.

I LIKE FLYING CARS. I prefer it when the car is actually capable of flight, however.

“Ow,” I muttered, because I was once the god of poetry and have great descriptive powers.

You have conversations like this with your brain, don’t you? It’s completely normal, right?

It hurt to stand, but if I’d been lying in that cot for a day and a half, I wanted to move before my muscles turned to tapioca.

The undead aren’t as flammable as you might think.”

Ugh. Couldn’t we just call every day Apolloday and be done with it?

New Rome…the likeliest city on earth to find Olympian gods lurking in disguise. (Followed closely by New York, then Cozumel during spring break. Don’t judge us.)

I had never been a fan of felines. They were self-centered, smug, and thought they owned the world. In other words…All right, I’ll say it. I didn’t like the competition.

Dearly beloved, We are gathered here because Hera stinks. Amen.

I love you and you’re my special hero, and also here’s a stick—when it burns you die HA-HA-HA-HA-HA.

My nerves tingled with a sensation I hadn’t felt for so long I almost didn’t recognize it: hope.

What do mortals say? Fake it till you make it? That is a very wolfish philosophy.

I now have a plan To make a plan concerning The plan for my plan

Those Titans were like my acne. They just kept popping up.

She stuck out her tongue. We were simpatico like that.

Buster still hadn’t moved or blinked. I hoped Pranjal occasionally put a spoon under the unicorn’s nostrils to make sure he was still breathing.

And cutting a god’s soul free really was not something Romans were supposed to try without adult supervision.

OH, BOY, A SPECIAL job! The anticipation was killing me. Or maybe that was the poison in my veins.

My archery skills may have improved. My music was getting better. But my stamina was still 100 percent Lester.

I was absolutely certain that up on Mount Olympus, the other Olympians all had their phones out and were filming me to post on Euterpe-Tube.

“You asked her to be your girlfriend, didn’t you?” “I—What? No. Sort of. Yes.” “That was stupid.”

Reyna said, “All I smell is Lester’s shoes. I think he stepped in something.” “A large puddle of shame,” I muttered.

“It’s fun up here,” Meg decided. She did a cartwheel, because she enjoyed giving me heart palpitations.

I scanned the triangle of catwalks, hoping to see something besides cables, circuit boxes, and satellite equipment—preferably something labeled: PUSH THIS BUTTON TO COMPLETE QUEST AND COLLECT REWARD.

“Maybe they’re just checking us out,” Meg said. “Maybe they won’t attack.” She shouldn’t have said that. Ravens are contrary creatures. I should know—I shaped them into what they are. As soon as Meg expressed the hope that they wouldn’t attack, they did.

Great. Not only had Reyna laughed in my face and busted my nose, now I was her go-to guy for repulsiveness.

It was time to be helpful. I needed to be repulsive for my friends!

What had he played? What was Chiron’s favorite—? “‘VOLARE’!” I screamed.

Even when I was a god and could speak any language I wanted, I’d never sung well in Italian. I kept mixing it up with Latin, so I came off sounding like Julius Caesar with a head cold.

and larger than Marlon Brando’s personal trailer on the set of The Godfather. (Wow, where did that memory come from? Crazy times.)

Without taking their eyes off me, Reyna and Meg gave each other a silent high five.

“What did you do to him?” Meg asked. I tried to look offended. “Nothing! I may have teased him a bit, but he was a very minor god. Rather silly-looking. I may have made some jokes at his expense in front of the other Olympians.” Reyna knit her eyebrows. “So you bullied him.”

I loved that idea, which was a pretty good indication it wouldn’t work.

The god glared at me. He forced painful images into my mind: me stuffing his head into a toilet on Mount Olympus; me howling with amusement as I tied his wrists and ankles and shut him in the stables with my fire-breathing horses. Dozens of other encounters I’d completely forgotten about, and in all of them I was as golden, handsome, and powerful as any Triumvirate emperor—and just as cruel.

When Harpocrates had given me that last dry smile, had he been hinting that someday I might understand? Someday, would even the Olympians be forgotten relics, yearning for nonexistence?

O, blood moon rising Take a rain check on doomsday I’m stuck in traffic

“I’m holding the last breath of a god I bullied,” I said miserably, “in the jar of a Sibyl I cursed, who was protected by birds I turned into killing machines after they tattled about my cheating girlfriend, who I subsequently had assassinated.” “All true,” Reyna said. “But the thing is, you recognize it now.” “It feels horrible.” She gave me a thin smile. “That’s kind of the point. You do something evil, you feel bad about it, you do better. That’s a sign you might be developing a conscience.”

Meg leaned against me, snoring and drooling on my shirt. Because she loved me so much.

“Any word…Michael?” he asked. (Definitely changing the subject.)

The scroll burst into flames, which was not what my crotch needed at that particular moment.

Once again, I had broken the First Law of Percy Jackson: Never say something is going to work out, because as soon as you do, it won’t.

Lucky me. Once again, I went flying off an East Bay highway in a car that couldn’t fly.

Welcome to the war We hope you enjoy your death Please come again soon!

But why didn’t demigods have some sort of ride-share app for summoning giant eagles?

I told them all in brief what had happened, with Meg occasionally adding helpful comments like “He was stupid,” and “He was more stupid,” and “He did good; then he got stupid again.”

(I hated visiting Hephaestus’s office. His desk toys were so mesmerizing I found myself staring at them for hours, sometimes decades. I missed the entire 1480s that way.)