The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo, #5)

by Rick Riordan

“The son of Hades, cavern-runners’ friend, Must show the secret way unto the throne. On Nero’s own your lives do now depend.”

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.

Will whistled appreciatively. “I bet many Bothans died to bring us this information.” Rachel stared at him. “What?” Nico sighed. “I’m guessing that was a Star Wars reference. My boyfriend is a Star Wars geek of the worst kind.” “Okay, Signor Myth-o-magic. If you would just watch the original trilogy…” Will looked at the rest of us for support and found nothing but blank expressions. “Nobody? Oh, my gods. You people are hopeless.”

“A god is telling a demigod that something is a myth?”

IN NO CONTEXT CAN THE COWS ARE ATTACKING be considered good news.

“I am learning to believe in all sorts of things that can kill me!”

“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.

“You—cannot—take—it, Lester!” Nero said through clenched teeth, pulling with all his might. “I am Apollo,” I said, tugging the other direction. “God of the sun. And I—revoke—your—divinity!”

FARE THEE WELL, FRIEND, said the arrow. APOLLO WILL FALL, BUT APOLLO MUST RISE AGAIN.

If you love category-five rapids on a river that can drown you, dissolve your skin, and corrode your sense of self all at the same time, I highly recommend a giant serpent cruise on the Styx.

So, dear reader, we have come to the end of my trials. You have followed me through five volumes of adventures and six months of pain and suffering. By my reckoning, you have read two hundred and ten of my haiku. Like Meg, you surely deserve a reward. What would you accept? I am fresh out of unicorns. However, anytime you take aim and prepare to fire your best shot, anytime you seek to put your emotions into a song or poem, know that I am smiling on you. We are friends now. Call on me. I will be there for you.