The Tyrant's Tomb

at bay. A young woman in maroon and gold (Right, I remembered her! She
liked to laugh at me!) was propped on her elbows, grimacing mightily, her
left leg bent at an unnatural angle. Her face was the same color as the
asphalt.
“Reyna!” I wedged Meg’s shopping cart against the truck and ran to help
the praetor. Aurum and Argentum let me through.
“Oh. Oh. Oh.” I couldn’t seem to say anything else. I should’ve known
what to do. I was a healer. But that break in the leg—yikes.
“I’m alive,” Reyna said through gritted teeth. “Meg?”
“She’s conducting,” I said.
One of the Target shoppers inched forward, braving the fury of the dogs.
“I called nine-one-one. Is there anything else I can do?”
“She’ll be fine!” I yelped. “Thank you! I—I’m a doctor?”
The mortal woman blinked. “Are you asking me?”
“No. I’m a doctor!”
“Hey,” said a second shopper. “Your other friend is rolling away.”
“ACK!” I ran after Meg, who was muttering “Whee” as she picked up
steam in her red plastic cart. I grabbed the handles and navigated her back to
Reyna’s side.
The praetor tried to move but choked on the pain. “I might…black out.”
“No, no, no.” Think, Apollo, think. Should I wait for the mortal
paramedics, who knew nothing of ambrosia and nectar? Should I check for
more first-aid supplies in Meg’s gardening belt?
A familiar voice from across the parking lot yelled, “Thank you,
everybody! We’ll take it from here!”
Lavinia Asimov jogged toward us, a dozen naiads and fauns in her wake,
many of whom I recognized from People’s Park. Most were dressed in
camouflage, covered with vines and branches like they had just arrived via
beanstalk. Lavinia wore pink camo pants and a green tank top, her
manubalista clanking against her shoulder. With her spiky pink hair and pink
eyebrows, her jaw working furiously on a wad of bubblegum, she just
radiated authority figure.
“This is now an active investigation scene!” she announced to the
mortals. “Thank you, Target shoppers. Please move along!”
Either the tone of her voice or the barking of the greyhounds finally
convinced the onlookers to disperse. Nevertheless, sirens were blaring in the
distance. Soon we’d be surrounded by paramedics, or the highway patrol, or