The Tyrant's Tomb

“Now, Meg,” I said, “if Frank wants to treat me like a big deal—”
“Frank, just tell him.”
The praetor glanced back and forth between us, as if making sure the
Meg and Apollo Show was over for now. “So, Meg explained the prophecy
you got in the Burning Maze. Apollo faces death in Tarquin’s tomb unless the
doorway to the soundless god is opened by Bellona’s daughter, right?”
I shivered. I didn’t want to be reminded of those words, especially given
my dreams, and the implication that I would soon face death. Been there.
Done that. Got the belly wound.
“Yes,” I said warily. “I don’t suppose you’ve figured out what those lines
mean and have already undertaken the necessary quests?”
“Um, not exactly,” Frank said. “But the prophecy did answer a few
questions about…well, about what’s been happening around here. It gave
Ella and Tyson enough information to work with. They think they might
have a lead.”
“Ella and Tyson…” I said, sifting through my foggy mortal brain. “The
harpy and the Cyclops who have been working to reconstruct the Sibylline
Books.”
“Those are the ones,” Frank agreed. “If you’re feeling up to it, I thought
we could take a walk into New Rome.”