The Tyrant's Tomb

hoped the soot from the funeral pyre was really annoying Jupiter. I wanted to
climb up his legs and finger-write across his chest WASH ME!
I closed my eyes. This probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do when
facing a giant wolf, but I had too many half-formed ideas swirling around in
my head. I thought about the Sibylline Books, the various prescriptions they
contained for warding off disasters. I considered what Lupa might mean by
the great silence. And summoning help.
My eyes snapped open. “Help. As in godly help. You mean if I survive
the tomb and—and defeat the soundless whatever-it-is, I might be able to
summon godly help?”
Lupa made a rumbling sound deep in her chest. Finally, he understands.
This will be the beginning. The first step to rejoining your own pack.
My heart ka-thumped like it was falling down a flight of stairs. Lupa’s
message seemed too good to be true. I could contact my fellow Olympians,
despite Zeus’s standing orders that they shun me while I was human. I might
even be able to invoke their aid to save Camp Jupiter. Suddenly, I really did
feel better. My gut didn’t hurt. My nerves tingled with a sensation I hadn’t
felt for so long I almost didn’t recognize it: hope.
Beware. Lupa brought me back to reality with a low snarl. The way is
hard. You will face more sacrifices. Death. Blood.
“No.” I met her eyes—a dangerous sign of challenge that surprised me as
much as it did her. “No, I will succeed. I won’t allow any more losses. There
has to be a way.”
I managed maybe three seconds of eye contact before looking away.
Lupa sniffed—a dismissive noise like Of course I won, but I thought I
detected a hint of grudging approval, too. It dawned on me that Lupa
appreciated my bluster and determination, even if she didn’t believe I was
capable of doing what I said. Maybe especially because she didn’t believe it.
Rejoin the feast, she ordered. Tell them you have my blessing. Continue
to act strong. It is how we start.
I studied the old prophecies set in the floor mosaic. I had lost friends to
the Triumvirate. I had suffered. But I realized that Lupa had suffered, too.
Her Roman children had been decimated. She carried the pain of all their
deaths. Yet she had to act strong, even as her pack faced possible extinction.
You couldn’t lie in Wolf. But you could bluff. Sometimes you had to
bluff to keep a grieving pack together. What do mortals say? Fake it till you
make it? That is a very wolfish philosophy.