The Tyrant's Tomb

were trying to protect me…”
The idea was too awful to contemplate. My shiny new conscience would
have blown up inside me like a grenade.
Reyna gave me a brief pat on the shoulder. “All we did was show
Harpocrates how much you’ve changed. He recognized it. Have you
completely made up for all the bad things you’ve done? No. But you keep
adding to the ‘good things’ column. That’s all any of us can do.”
Adding to the “good things” column. Reyna spoke of this superpower as
if it were one I could actually possess.
“Thank you,” I said.
She studied my face with concern, probably noting how far the purple
vines of infection had wriggled their way across my cheeks. “You can thank
me by staying alive, okay? We need you for that summoning ritual.”
As we climbed the entrance ramp to Interstate 80, I caught glimpses of
the bay beyond the downtown skyline. The yachts had now slipped under the
Golden Gate Bridge. Apparently, the cutting of Harpocrates’s cords and the
destruction of the fasces hadn’t deterred the emperors at all.
Stretching out in front of the big vessels were silver wake lines from
dozens of smaller boats making their way toward the East Bay shoreline.
Landing parties, I guessed. And those boats were moving a whole lot faster
than we were.
Over Mount Tam, the full moon rose, slowly turning the color of
Dakota’s Kool-Aid.
Meanwhile, Aurum and Argentum barked cheerfully in the truck bed.
Reyna drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and murmured,
“Vamonos. Vamonos.” Meg leaned against me, snoring and drooling on my
shirt. Because she loved me so much.
We were inching our way onto the Bay Bridge when Reyna finally said,
“I can’t stand this. The ships shouldn’t have made it past the Golden Gate.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Open the glove compartment, please. Should be a scroll inside.”
I hesitated. Who knew what sort of dangers might lurk in the glove
compartment of a praetor’s pickup truck? Cautiously, I rummaged past her
insurance documents, a few packages of tissues, some baggies of dog
treats….
“This?” I held up a floppy cylinder of vellum.
“Yeah. Unroll it and see if it works.”