Aloe edged away from me, as if she did not want to be in the line of fire when the other dryads shot their spines at me.

“Apollo,” Reba chided, “a healer god should know better.”

“Er, of course,” I agreed. “But, um, who exactly—?”

“Typical,” Pear muttered. “The killers are remembered as heroes. The growers are forgotten. Except by us nature spirits.”

“Plemnaeus was a Greek king,” Agave explained. “A noble man, but his children were born under a curse. If any of them cried even once during their infancy, they would die instantly.”

I wasn’t sure how that made Plemnaeus noble, but I nodded politely. “What happened?”

“He appealed to Demeter,” said Joshua. “The goddess herself raised his next son, Orthopolis, so that he would live. In gratitude, Plemnaeus built a temple to Demeter. Ever since, his offspring have dedicated themselves to Demeter’s work. They have always been great agriculturalists and botanists.”

Agave squeezed Meg’s hand. “I understand now why your father was able to build Aeithales. His work must have been special indeed. Not only did he come from a long line of Demeter’s heroes, he attracted the personal attention of the goddess, your mother. We are honored that you’ve come home.”

“Home,” agreed Prickly Pear.

“Home,” Joshua echoed.

Meg blinked back tears.

This seemed like an excellent time for a song circle. I imagined the dryads putting their spiky arms around one another and swaying as they sang “In the Garden.” I was even willing to provide ukulele music.

Coach Hedge brought us back to harsh reality.

“That’s great.” He gave Meg a respectful nod. “Kid, your dad must have been something. But unless he was growing some kind of secret weapon, I don’t know how it helps us. We’ve still got an emperor to kill and a maze to destroy.”

“Gleeson…” Mellie chided.

“Hey, am I wrong?”

No one challenged him.

Grover stared disconsolately at his hooves. “What do we do, then?”

“We stick to the plan,” I said. The certainty in my voice seemed to surprise everyone. It definitely surprised me. “We find the Sibyl of Erythraea. She’s more than just bait. She’s the key to everything. I’m sure of it.”

Piper cradled Baby Chuck as he grabbed for her harpy feather. “Apollo, we tried navigating the maze. You saw what happened.”

“Jason Grace made it through,” I said. “He found the Oracle.”

Piper’s expression darkened. “Maybe. But even if you believe Medea, Jason only found the Oracle because Medea wanted him to.”

“She mentioned there was another way to navigate the maze,” I said. “The emperor’s shoes. Apparently, they let Caligula walk through safely. We need those shoes. That’s what the prophecy meant: walk the path in thine own enemy’s boots.”

Meg wiped her nose. “So you’re saying we need to find Caligula’s place and steal his shoes. While we’re there, can’t we just kill him?”

She asked this casually, like Can we stop by Target on the way home?

Hedge wagged his finger at McCaffrey. “See, now that’s a plan. I like this girl.”

“Friends,” I said, wishing I had some of Piper’s charmspeaking skills, “Caligula’s been alive for thousands of years. He’s a minor god. We don’t know how to kill him so he stays dead. We also don’t know how to destroy the maze, and we certainly don’t want to make things worse by unleashing all that godly heat into the upper world. Our priority has to be the Sibyl.”

“Because it’s your priority?” Pear grumbled.

I resisted the urge to yell Duh!

“Either way,” I said, “to learn the emperor’s location, we need to consult Jason Grace. Medea told us the Oracle gave him information on how to find Caligula. Piper, will you take us to Jason?”

Piper frowned. Baby Chuck had her finger in his tiny fist and was moving it dangerously close to his mouth.

“Jason’s living at a boarding school in Pasadena,” she said at last. “I don’t know if he’ll listen to me. I don’t know if he’ll help. But we can try. My friend Annabeth always says information is the most powerful weapon.”

Grover nodded. “I never argue with Annabeth.”

“It’s settled, then,” I said. “Tomorrow we continue our quest by busting Jason Grace out of school.”

I slept poorly.

Are you shocked? I was shocked.

I dreamed of my most famous Oracle, Delphi, though alas, it was not during the good old days when I would have been welcomed with flowers, kisses, candy, and my usual VIP table at Chez Oracle.

Instead, it was modern Delphi—devoid of priests and worshippers, filled instead with the hideous stench of Python, my old enemy, who had reclaimed his ancient lair. His rotten-egg/rancid-meat smell was impossible to forget.

I stood deep in the caverns, where no mortal ever trod. In the distance, two voices conversed, their bodies lost in the swirling volcanic vapors.

“It’s under control,” said the first, in the high nasal tones of Emperor Nero.

The second speaker growled, a sound like a chain pulling an ancient roller coaster uphill.

“Very little has been under control since Apollo fell to earth,” said Python.

His cold voice sent ripples of revulsion through my body. I couldn’t see him, but I could imagine his baleful amber eyes flecked with gold, his enormous dragon form, his wicked claws.

“You have a great opportunity,” Python continued. “Apollo is weak. He is mortal. He is accompanied by your own stepdaughter. How is it that he is not yet dead?”

Nero’s voice tightened. “We had a difference of opinion, my colleagues and I. Commodus—”

“Is a fool,” Python hissed, “who only cares about spectacle. We both know that. And your great-uncle, Caligula?”

Nero hesitated. “He insisted…He has need of Apollo’s power. He wants the former god to meet his fate in a very, ah, particular way.”

Python’s massive bulk shifted in the darkness—I heard his scales rubbing against the stone. “I know Caligula’s plan. I wonder who is controlling whom? You have assured me—”

“Yes,” Nero snapped. “Meg McCaffrey will come back to me. She will serve me yet. Apollo will die, as I promised.”

“If Caligula succeeds,” Python mused, “then the balance of power will change. I would prefer to back you, of course, but if a new sun god rises in the west—”

“You and I have a deal,” Nero snarled. “You support me once the Triumvirate controls—”

“—all means of prophecy,” Python agreed. “But it does not as yet. You lost Dodona to the Greek demigods. The Cave of Trophonius has been destroyed. I understand the Romans have been alerted to Caligula’s plans for Camp Jupiter. I have no wish to rule the world alone. But if you fail me, if I have to kill Apollo myself—”

“I will hold up my side of the bargain,” Nero said. “You hold up yours.”