Piper snarled. I suspected that Herophile’s hand on her shoulder was the only thing keeping the daughter of Aphrodite from charging the enemy all by herself.

Meg’s scimitars gleamed in the afternoon sun. “Hey, ash ladies,” she said, “how fast can you get up there?”

The leader glanced over. “Fast enough, O Meg.”

“Cool,” Meg said. Then she shouted up at the horse and his troops, “Last chance to surrender!”

Incitatus sighed. “Fine.”

“Fine, you surrender?” Meg asked.

“No. Fine, we’ll kill you. Pandai—”

“Dryads, ATTACK!” Meg yelled.

“Dryads?” Incitatus asked incredulously.

It was the last thing he ever said.

The Meliai leaped out of the pit as if it were no higher than a porch step. The dozen pandai archers, fastest shots in the West, couldn’t fire a single arrow before they were cut to dust by ashen spears.

Incitatus whinnied in panic. As the Meliai surrounded him, he reared and kicked with his golden-shod hooves, but even his great strength was no match for the primordial killer tree spirits. The stallion buckled and fell, skewered from seven directions at once.

The dryads faced Meg.

“The deed is done!” announced their leader. “Would the Meg like enchiladas now?”

Next to me, Piper looked vaguely nauseous, as if vengeance had lost some of its appeal. “I thought my voice was powerful.”

Grover whimpered in agreement. “I’ve never had nightmares about trees. That might change after today.”

Even Meg looked uncomfortable, as if just realizing what sort of power she’d been given. I was relieved to see that discomfort. It was a sure sign that Meg remained a good person. Power makes good people uneasy rather than joyful or boastful. That’s why good people so rarely rise to power.

“Let’s get out of here,” she decided.

“To where shall we get out of here, O Meg?” asked the lead dryad.

“Home,” said Meg. “Palm Springs.”

There was no bitterness in her voice as she put those words together: Home. Palm Springs. She needed to return, like the dryads, to her roots.

PIPER did not accompany us.

She said she had to get back to the Malibu house so as not to worry her father or the Hedge family. They would all be leaving for Oklahoma together tomorrow evening. Also, she had some arrangements to attend to. Her dark tone led me to believe she meant final arrangements, as in for Jason.

“Meet me tomorrow afternoon.” She handed me a folded sheet of dandelion-yellow paper—an N.H. Financials eviction notice. On the back, she’d scribbled an address in Santa Monica. “We’ll get you on your way.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but without explanation she hiked toward the nearby golf-course parking lot, no doubt to borrow a Bedrossian-quality vehicle.

The rest of us returned to Palm Springs in the red Mercedes. Herophile drove. Who knew ancient Oracles could drive? Meg sat next to her. Grover and I took the back. I kept staring forlornly at my seat, where Crest had sat only a few hours before, so anxious to learn his chords and become a god of music.

I may have cried.

The seven Meliai marched alongside our Mercedes like secret-service agents, keeping up with us easily, even when we left bumper-to-bumper traffic behind.

Despite our victory, we were a somber crew. No one offered any scintillating conversation. At one point, Herophile tried to break the ice. “I spy with my little eye—”

We responded in unison: “No.”

After that, we rode in silence.

The temperature outside cooled at least fifteen degrees. A marine layer had rolled in over the Los Angeles basin like a giant wet duster, soaking up all the dry heat and smoke. When we reached San Bernardino, dark clouds swept the hilltops, dropping curtains of rain on the parched, fire-blackened hills.

When we came over the pass and saw Palm Springs stretched out below us, Grover cried with happiness. The desert was carpeted in wildflowers—marigolds and poppies, dandelions and primroses—all glistening from the rainfall that had just moved through, leaving the air cool and sweet.

Dozens of dryads waited for us on the hilltop outside the Cistern. Aloe Vera fussed over our wounds. Prickly Pear scowled and asked how we could possibly have ruined our clothes yet again. Reba was so delighted she tried to tango with me, though Caligula’s sandals really were not designed for fancy footwork. The rest of the assembled host made a wide circle around the Meliai, gawking at them in awe.

Joshua hugged Meg so hard she squeaked. “You did it!” he said. “The fires are gone!”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” she grumbled.

“And these…” He faced the Meliai. “I—I saw them emerge from their saplings earlier today. They said they heard a song they had to follow. That was you?”

“Yep.” Meg didn’t appear to like the way Joshua was staring slack-jawed at the ash dryads. “They’re my new minions.”

“We are the Meliai!” the leader agreed. She knelt in front of Meg. “We require guidance, O Meg! Where shall we be rooted?”

“Rooted?” Meg asked. “But I thought—”

“We can remain on the hillside where you planted us, Great Meg,” the leader said. “But if you wish us to root elsewhere, you must decide quickly! We will soon be too large and strong to transplant!”

I had a sudden image of us buying a pickup truck and filling the bed with dirt, then driving north to San Francisco with seven killer ash trees. I liked that idea. Unfortunately, I knew it wouldn’t work. Trees were not big on road trips.

Meg scratched her ear. “If you guys stay here…you’ll be okay? I mean, with the desert and all?”

“We will be fine,” said the leader.

“Though a little more shade and water would be best,” said a second ash.

Joshua cleared his throat. He brushed his fingers self-consciously through his shaggy hair. “We, um, would be most honored to have you! The force of nature is already strong here, but with the Meliai among us—”

“Yeah,” Prickly Pear agreed. “Nobody would bother us ever again. We could grow in peace!”

Aloe Vera studied the Meliai doubtfully. I imagined she didn’t trust life-forms that required so little healing. “How far is your range? How much territory can you protect?”

A third Melia laughed. “We marched today to Los Angeles! That was no hardship. If we are rooted here, we can protect everything within a hundred leagues!”

Reba stroked her dark hair. “Is that far enough to cover Argentina?”

“No,” Grover said. “But it would cover pretty much all of Southern California.” He turned to Meg. “What do you think?”

Meg was so tired she was swaying like a sapling. I half expected her to mutter some Megish answer like dunno and pass out. Instead, she gestured to the Meliai. “Come over here.”

We all followed her to the edge of the Cistern. Meg pointed down at the shady well with its deep blue pond in the center.

“What about around the pool?” she asked. “Shade. Water. I think…I think my dad would have liked that.”