The Tyrant's Tomb
Ukulele song?No need to remove my gutsA simple “no” works“OH,” DON SAID IN a small voice. “That’s what smells.”“I thought you said they travel in pairs,” I complained.“Or threes,” the faun whimpered. “Sometimes in threes.”The eurynomoi snarled, crouching just out of reach of Meg’s blades.Behind me, Lavinia hand-cranked her manubalista—click, click, click—butthe weapon was so slow to prime, she wouldn’t be ready to fire untilsometime next Thursday. Hazel’s spatha rasped as she slid the blade from itsscabbard. That, too, wasn’t a great weapon for fighting in close quarters.Meg seemed unsure whether she should charge, stand her ground, ordrop from exhaustion. Bless her stubborn little heart, she still had Jason’sdiorama wedged under her arm, which would not help her in battle.I fumbled for a weapon and came up with my ukulele. Why not? It wasonly slightly more ridiculous than a spatha or a manubalista.My nose might have been busted from the hearse’s air bag, but my senseof smell was sadly unaffected. The combination of ghoul stench with thescent of bubble gum made my nostrils burn and my eyes water.“FOOD,” said the first ghoul.“FOOD!” agreed the second.They sounded delighted, as if we were favorite meals they hadn’t beenserved in ages.
Hazel spoke, calm and steady. “Guys, we fought these things in thebattle. Don’t let them scratch you.”The way she said the battle made it sound like there could only be onehorrible event to which she might be referring. I flashed back to what LeoValdez had told us in Los Angeles—that Camp Jupiter had suffered majordamage, lost good people in their last fight. I was beginning to appreciatehow bad it must have been.“No scratches,” I agreed. “Meg, hold them at bay. I’m going to try asong.”My idea was simple: strum a sleepy tune, lull the creatures into a stupor,then kill them in a leisurely, civilized fashion.I underestimated the eurynomoi’s hatred of ukuleles. As soon as Iannounced my intentions, they howled and charged.I shuffled backward, sitting down hard on Jason’s coffin. Don shriekedand cowered. Lavinia kept cranking her manubalista. Hazel yelled, “Make ahole!” Which in the moment made no sense to me.Meg burst into action, slicing an arm off one ghoul, swiping at the legsof the other, but her movements were sluggish, and with the diorama underone arm, she could only use a single sword effectively. If the ghouls hadbeen interested in killing her, she would’ve been overwhelmed. Instead, theyshoved past her, intent on stopping me before I could strum a chord.Everyone is a music critic.“FOOD!” screamed the one-armed ghoul, lunging at me with its fiveremaining claws.I tried to suck in my gut. I really did.But, oh, cursed flab! If I had been in my godly form, the ghoul’s clawsnever would have connected. My hammered-bronze abs would have scoffedat the monster’s attempt to reach them. Alas, Lester’s body failed me yetagain.The eurynomos raked its hand across my midsection, just below myukulele. The tip of its middle finger—barely, just barely—found flesh. Itsclaw sliced through my shirt and across my belly like a dull razor.I tumbled sideways off Jason’s coffin, warm blood trickling into thewaistline of my pants.Hazel Levesque yelled in defiance. She vaulted over the coffin and droveher spatha straight through the eurynomos’s clavicle, creating the world’sfirst ghoul-on-a-stick.
- 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 20 and 21: The ghoul hesitated. I’ve always
- 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 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
- Page 70 and 71: “Yep, yep,” said Ella. “No re
- Page 72 and 73: his life force to a small piece of
- Page 74 and 75: Aha.“Come, my friends,” I said.
- Page 76 and 77: demigods. Iris-messages failed. Let
- Page 78 and 79: Sing it with me: Who’sAfraid of t
- Page 80 and 81: But, of course, I knew the answer.
Hazel spoke, calm and steady. “Guys, we fought these things in the
battle. Don’t let them scratch you.”
The way she said the battle made it sound like there could only be one
horrible event to which she might be referring. I flashed back to what Leo
Valdez had told us in Los Angeles—that Camp Jupiter had suffered major
damage, lost good people in their last fight. I was beginning to appreciate
how bad it must have been.
“No scratches,” I agreed. “Meg, hold them at bay. I’m going to try a
song.”
My idea was simple: strum a sleepy tune, lull the creatures into a stupor,
then kill them in a leisurely, civilized fashion.
I underestimated the eurynomoi’s hatred of ukuleles. As soon as I
announced my intentions, they howled and charged.
I shuffled backward, sitting down hard on Jason’s coffin. Don shrieked
and cowered. Lavinia kept cranking her manubalista. Hazel yelled, “Make a
hole!” Which in the moment made no sense to me.
Meg burst into action, slicing an arm off one ghoul, swiping at the legs
of the other, but her movements were sluggish, and with the diorama under
one arm, she could only use a single sword effectively. If the ghouls had
been interested in killing her, she would’ve been overwhelmed. Instead, they
shoved past her, intent on stopping me before I could strum a chord.
Everyone is a music critic.
“FOOD!” screamed the one-armed ghoul, lunging at me with its five
remaining claws.
I tried to suck in my gut. I really did.
But, oh, cursed flab! If I had been in my godly form, the ghoul’s claws
never would have connected. My hammered-bronze abs would have scoffed
at the monster’s attempt to reach them. Alas, Lester’s body failed me yet
again.
The eurynomos raked its hand across my midsection, just below my
ukulele. The tip of its middle finger—barely, just barely—found flesh. Its
claw sliced through my shirt and across my belly like a dull razor.
I tumbled sideways off Jason’s coffin, warm blood trickling into the
waistline of my pants.
Hazel Levesque yelled in defiance. She vaulted over the coffin and drove
her spatha straight through the eurynomos’s clavicle, creating the world’s
first ghoul-on-a-stick.
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