The Tyrant's Tomb
The ghoul hesitated. I’ve always believed that most sentient creatureslike to be recognized. Whether we are gods, people, or slavering ghouls invulture-feather loincloths, we enjoy others knowing who we are, speakingour names, appreciating that we exist.Of course, I was just trying to buy time. I hoped Meg would catch herbreath, charge the creature, and slice it into putrid-ghoul pappardelle. At themoment, though, it didn’t seem that she was capable of using her swords foranything but crutches. I supposed controlling gigantic trees could be tiring,but honestly, couldn’t she have waited to run out of steam until after shekilled Vulture Diaper?Wait. Vulture Diaper…I took another look at the ghoul: its strangemottled blue-and-black hide, its milky eyes, its oversize mouth and tinynostril slits. It smelled of rancid meat. It wore the feathers of a carrioneater….“I do know you,” I realized. “You’re a eurynomos.”I dare you to try saying You’re a eurynomos when your tongue is leaden,your body is shaking from terror, and you’ve just been punched in the faceby a hearse’s air bag.The ghoul’s lips curled. Silvery strands of saliva dripped from its chin.“YES! FOOD SAID MY NAME!”“B-but you’re a corpse-eater!” I protested. “You’re supposed to be in theUnderworld, working for Hades!”The ghoul tilted its head as if trying to remember the words Underworldand Hades. It didn’t seem to like them as much as kill and eat.“HADES GAVE ME OLD DEAD!” it shouted. “THE MASTER GIVESME FRESH!”“The master?”“THE MASTER!”I really wished Vulture Diaper wouldn’t scream. It didn’t have anyvisible ears, so perhaps it had poor volume control. Or maybe it just wantedto spray that gross saliva over as large a radius as possible.“If you mean Caligula,” I ventured, “I’m sure he’s made you all sorts ofpromises, but I can tell you, Caligula is not—”“HA! STUPID FOOD! CALIGULA IS NOT THE MASTER!”“Not the master?”“NOT THE MASTER!”“MEG!” I shouted. Ugh. Now I was doing it.
“Yeah?” Meg wheezed. She looked fierce and warlike as she grannywalkedtoward me with her sword-crutches. “Gimme. Minute.”It was clear she would not be taking the lead in this particular fight. If Ilet Vulture Diaper anywhere near her, it would kill her, and I found that idea95 percent unacceptable.“Well, eurynomos,” I said, “whoever your master is, you’re not killingand eating anyone today!”I whipped an arrow from my quiver. I nocked it in my bow and took aim,as I had done literally millions of times before—but it wasn’t quite asimpressive with my hands shaking and my knees wobbling.Why do mortals tremble when they’re scared, anyway? It seems socounterproductive. If I had created humans, I would have given them steelydetermination and superhuman strength during moments of terror.The ghoul hissed, spraying more spit.“SOON THE MASTER’S ARMIES WILL RISE AGAIN!” it bellowed.“WE WILL FINISH THE JOB! I WILL SHRED FOOD TO THE BONE,AND FOOD WILL JOIN US!”Food will join us? My stomach experienced a sudden loss of cabinpressure. I remembered why Hades loved these eurynomoi so much. Theslightest cut from their claws caused a wasting disease in mortals. And whenthose mortals died, they rose again as what the Greeks called vrykolakai—or,in TV parlance, zombies.That wasn’t the worst of it. If a eurynomos managed to devour the fleshfrom a corpse, right down to the bones, that skeleton would reanimate as thefiercest, toughest kind of undead warrior. Many of them served as Hades’selite palace guards, which was a job I did not want to apply for.“Meg?” I kept my arrow trained on the ghoul’s chest. “Back away. Donot let this thing scratch you.”“But—”“Please,” I begged. “For once, trust me.”Vulture Diaper growled. “FOOD TALKS TOO MUCH! HUNGRY!”It charged me.I shot.The arrow found its mark—the middle of the ghoul’s chest—but itbounced off like a rubber mallet against metal. The Celestial bronze pointmust have hurt, at least. The ghoul yelped and stopped in its tracks, asteaming, puckered wound on its sternum. But the monster was still very
- Page 2 and 3: Also by Rick RiordanPERCY JACKSON A
- Page 6 and 7: Copyright © 2019 by Rick RiordanCo
- Page 8 and 9: CONTENTSTitle PageCopyrightDedicati
- Page 10 and 11: The Dark ProphecyThe words that mem
- Page 12 and 13: That turned out to be a good call.
- Page 14 and 15: Meg reclined in her seat, propped h
- Page 16 and 17: The hearse lurched as if we’d bee
- Page 18 and 19: Dude, this isn’t coolDude just tr
- Page 22 and 23: much alive. Perhaps if I managed tw
- Page 24 and 25: Lavinia gulped. “Yeah. Let’s ge
- Page 26 and 27: Lavinia’s face turned terra-cotta
- Page 28 and 29: Lavinia snorted. “You guys should
- Page 30 and 31: hair. The glow of Meg’s swords th
- Page 32 and 33: Ukulele song?No need to remove my g
- Page 34 and 35: The eurynomos screamed and lurched
- Page 36 and 37: “Hazel?” Lavinia called into th
- Page 38 and 39: looked normal—the gleaming white
- Page 40 and 41: Hi, everybody,Here’s a little tun
- Page 42 and 43: really supposed to be here?That fee
- Page 44 and 45: explain the many months of horrifyi
- Page 46 and 47: Sailing north to warWith my Shirley
- Page 48 and 49: “We’ve discussed this.” Calig
- Page 50 and 51: more comfortable. (Yes, I am sure.
- Page 52 and 53: Judging from the angle of the sun,
- Page 54 and 55: Nice stroll into townHappy birthday
- Page 56 and 57: “It’s the only way,” he agree
- Page 58 and 59: “Terminus,” I protested, “you
- Page 60 and 61: break. Don’t judge us.)When I was
- Page 62 and 63: It was too much. I put my hand agai
- Page 64 and 65: I liked. His gentle big brown eye a
- Page 66 and 67: gleamed under an LED magnifying lam
- Page 68 and 69: “Thanks,” I grumbled.Frank shif
“Yeah?” Meg wheezed. She looked fierce and warlike as she grannywalked
toward me with her sword-crutches. “Gimme. Minute.”
It was clear she would not be taking the lead in this particular fight. If I
let Vulture Diaper anywhere near her, it would kill her, and I found that idea
95 percent unacceptable.
“Well, eurynomos,” I said, “whoever your master is, you’re not killing
and eating anyone today!”
I whipped an arrow from my quiver. I nocked it in my bow and took aim,
as I had done literally millions of times before—but it wasn’t quite as
impressive with my hands shaking and my knees wobbling.
Why do mortals tremble when they’re scared, anyway? It seems so
counterproductive. If I had created humans, I would have given them steely
determination and superhuman strength during moments of terror.
The ghoul hissed, spraying more spit.
“SOON THE MASTER’S ARMIES WILL RISE AGAIN!” it bellowed.
“WE WILL FINISH THE JOB! I WILL SHRED FOOD TO THE BONE,
AND FOOD WILL JOIN US!”
Food will join us? My stomach experienced a sudden loss of cabin
pressure. I remembered why Hades loved these eurynomoi so much. The
slightest cut from their claws caused a wasting disease in mortals. And when
those mortals died, they rose again as what the Greeks called vrykolakai—or,
in TV parlance, zombies.
That wasn’t the worst of it. If a eurynomos managed to devour the flesh
from a corpse, right down to the bones, that skeleton would reanimate as the
fiercest, toughest kind of undead warrior. Many of them served as Hades’s
elite palace guards, which was a job I did not want to apply for.
“Meg?” I kept my arrow trained on the ghoul’s chest. “Back away. Do
not let this thing scratch you.”
“But—”
“Please,” I begged. “For once, trust me.”
Vulture Diaper growled. “FOOD TALKS TOO MUCH! HUNGRY!”
It charged me.
I shot.
The arrow found its mark—the middle of the ghoul’s chest—but it
bounced off like a rubber mallet against metal. The Celestial bronze point
must have hurt, at least. The ghoul yelped and stopped in its tracks, a
steaming, puckered wound on its sternum. But the monster was still very
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