“I was the kid’s protector,” he said. “I should’ve been there.”

Grover tried to console him, but Hedge raised a hand. “Don’t. Just don’t.” He faced Mellie. “Piper’s gonna need us.”

The cloud nymph brushed away a tear. “Yes. Of course.”

Aloe Vera wrung her hands. “Should I go, too? Maybe there’s something I can do.” She looked at me suspiciously. “Did you try aloe vera on this Grace boy?”

“I fear he is truly dead,” I said, “beyond even the powers of aloe.”

She looked unconvinced, but Mellie squeezed her shoulder. “You’re needed here, Aloe. Heal Apollo and Meg. Gleeson, get the diaper bag. I’ll meet you at the car.”

With Baby Chuck in her arms, she floated up and out of the Cistern.

Hedge snapped his fingers at me. “Pinto keys.”

I tossed them. “Please don’t do anything rash. Caligula is…You can’t—”

Hedge stopped me with a cold stare. “I’ve got Piper to take care of. That’s my priority. I’ll leave the rash stuff to other people.”

I heard the bitter accusation in his voice. Coming from Coach Hedge, that seemed deeply unfair, but I didn’t have the heart to protest.

Once the Hedge family was gone, Aloe Vera fussed over Meg and me, smearing goo on our injuries. She tutted at the red plug in my chest and replaced it with a lovely green spike from her hair.

The other dryads seemed at a loss for what to do or say. They stood around the pond, waiting and thinking. I supposed, as plants, they were comfortable with long silences.

Grover Underwood sat down heavily next to Meg. He moved his fingers over the holes of his reed pipes.

“Losing a demigod…” He shook his head. “That’s the worst thing that can happen to a protector. Years ago, when I thought I’d lost Thalia Grace…” He stopped himself, then slumped under the weight of despair. “Oh, Thalia. When she hears about this…”

I didn’t think I could feel any worse, but this idea sent a few more razor blades circulating through my chest. Thalia Grace had saved my life in Indianapolis. Her fury in combat had been rivaled only by the tenderness with which she spoke of her brother. I felt that I should be the one to break the news to her. On the other hand, I did not want to be in the same state when she heard it.

I looked around at my dejected comrades. I remembered the Sibyl’s words in my dream: It won’t seem worth it to you. I’m not sure it is myself. But you must come. You must hold them together in their grief. Now I understood. I wished I didn’t. How could I hold together a whole Cistern full of prickly dryads when I couldn’t even hold myself together?

Nevertheless, I lifted the ancient pair of caligae we’d retrieved from the yachts. “At least we have these. Jason gave his life for us to have a chance at stopping Caligula’s plans. Tomorrow, I’ll wear these into the Burning Maze. I’ll find a way to free the Oracle and stop the fires of Helios.”

I thought that was a pretty good pep talk—designed to restore confidence and reassure my friends. I left out the part about not having a clue how to accomplish any of it.

Prickly Pear bristled, which she did with consummate skill. “You’re in no shape to do anything. Besides, Caligula will know what you’re planning. He’ll be waiting and ready this time.”

“She’s right,” Crest said from his niche.

The dryads frowned at him.

“Why is he even here?” Cholla demanded.

“Music lessons,” I said.

That earned me several dozen confused looks.

“Long story,” I said. “But Crest risked his life for us on the yachts. He saved Meg. We can trust him.” I looked at the young pandos and hoped my assessment was correct. “Crest, is there anything you can tell us that might help?”

Crest wrinkled his fuzzy white nose (which did not at all make him look cute or make me want to cuddle him). “You cannot use the main entrance downtown. They will be waiting.”

“We got past you,” Meg said.

Crest’s giant ears turned pink around the edges. “That was different,” he muttered. “My uncle was punishing me. It was the lunch shift. No one ever attacks during the lunch shift.”

He glared at me like I should’ve known this. “They will have more fighters now. And traps. The horse might even be there. He can move very fast. Just one phone call and he can arrive.”

I remembered how quickly Incitatus had shown up at Macro’s Military Madness, and how viciously he’d fought aboard the shoe ship. I was not anxious to face him again.

“Is there another way in?” I asked. “Something, I don’t know, less dangerous and conveniently close to the Oracle’s room?”

Crest hugged his ukulele (my ukulele) tighter. “There is one. I know it. Others don’t.”

Grover tilted his head. “I have to say, that sounds a little too convenient.”

Crest made a sour face. “I like exploring. Nobody else does. Uncle Amax—he always said I was a daydreamer. But when you explore, you find things.”

I couldn’t argue with that. When I explored, I tended to find dangerous things that wanted to kill me. I doubted tomorrow would be any different.

“Could you lead us to this secret entrance?” I asked.

Crest nodded. “Then you will have a chance. You can sneak in, get to the Oracle before the guards find you. Then you can come out and give me music lessons.”

The dryads stared at me, their expressions unhelpfully blank, as if thinking Hey, we can’t tell you how to die. That’s your choice.

“We’ll do it,” Meg decided for me. “Grover, you in?”

Grover sighed. “Of course. But first, you two need sleep.”

“And healing,” Aloe added.

“And enchiladas?” I requested. “For breakfast?”

On that point, we reached consensus.

So, having enchiladas to look forward to—and also a likely fatal trip through the Burning Maze—I curled up in my sleeping bag and passed out.

I woke covered in goo and with aloe spikes (yet again) in my nostrils.

On the bright side, my ribs no longer felt like they were filled with lava. My chest had healed, leaving only a puckered scar where I’d impaled myself. I’d never had a scar before. I wished I could see it as a badge of honor. Instead, I feared that now, whenever I looked down, I would remember the worst night of my life.

At least I had slept deeply with no dreams. That aloe vera was good stuff.

The sun blazed directly above. The Cistern was empty except for me and Crest, who snored in his niche, clutching his ukulele teddy bear. Someone, probably hours ago, had left a breakfast enchilada plate with a Big Hombre soda next to my sleeping bag. The food had cooled to lukewarm. The ice in the soda had melted. I didn’t care. I ate and drank ravenously. I was grateful for the hot salsa that cleared the smell of burning yachts out of my sinuses.

Once I de-slimed myself and washed in the pond, I dressed in a fresh set of Macro’s camouflage—arctic white, because there was such a demand for that in the Mojave Desert.

I shouldered my quiver and bow. I tied Caligula’s shoes to my belt. I considered trying to take the ukulele from Crest but decided to let him keep it for now, since I did not want to get my hands bitten off.