The Tyrant's Tomb

Meg struggled to her feet. She looked unhurt but grumpy, as she tended
to whenever she got thrown into walls. I imagined she was thinking the same
thing I was: this situation was too familiar, too much like Caligula’s yacht
when Meg and Jason had been imprisoned by venti. I couldn’t let another
scenario like that play out. I was tired of evil monarchs tossing us around
like rag dolls.
Hazel stood, covered head to toe in zombie dust. That couldn’t have been
good for her respiratory system. In the back of my mind, I wondered if we
could get Justicia the Roman law goddess to file a class-action suit on our
behalf against Tarquin for hazardous tomb conditions.
“Everyone,” Hazel said, “back up.”
It was the same thing she’d told us in the tunnel to camp, right before
turning the eurynomos into ceiling art.
Tarquin just laughed. “Ah, Hazel Levesque, your clever tricks with rocks
won’t work here. This is my seat of power! My reinforcements will arrive
any moment. It will be easier if you don’t resist your deaths. I’m told it’s less
painful that way.”
Above me, Lavinia continued to crank her hand-cannon.
Meg picked up her swords. “Fight or run, guys?”
The way she glared at Tarquin, I was pretty sure I knew her preference.
“Oh, child,” Tarquin said. “You can try to run, but soon enough, you’ll
be fighting at my side with those wonderful blades of yours. As for Apollo…
he’s not going anywhere.”
He curled his fingers. He was nowhere close to me, but my gut wound
convulsed, sending hot skewers into my rib cage and groin. I screamed. My
eyes welled with tears.
“Stop it!” Lavinia shrieked. She dropped from the balcony and landed at
my side. “What are you doing to him?”
Meg charged again at the undead king, perhaps hoping to catch him off
guard. Without even looking at her, Tarquin tossed her aside with another
blast of force. Hazel stood as stiff as a limestone column, her eyes fixed on
the wall behind the king. Tiny cracks had begun to spiderweb across the
stone.
“Why, Lavinia,” the king said, “I’m calling Apollo home!”
He grinned, which was the only facial expression he was capable of,
having no face. “Poor Lester would’ve been compelled to seek me out