On the way, they run into a pretty nasty undead monster.
The Tyrants Tombis set to hit stores on Sept. 24.
Read the first two chapters below.
Credit: Janette Pellegrini/Getty Images
Excerpt fromThe Tyrants Tombby Rick Riordan
1.
It seems like a simple courtesy, doesnt it?
I am over four thousand years old.
Disney Press
But I find it rude not to properly dispose of corpses.
Achilles during the Trojan War, for instance.Totalpig.
He chariot-dragged the body of the Trojan champion Hector around the walls of the city for days.
I mean, come on.
Have a little respect for the people you slaughter.
Then there was Oliver Cromwells corpse.
I wasnt a fan of the man, but kindly.
First, the English bury him with honors.
Then they decide they hate him, so they dig him up and execute his body.
Finally, in 1960, I whispered in the ears of some influential people,Enough,already.
I am the god Apollo, and I order you to bury that thing.
Youre grossing me out.
I would personally escort his coffin to Camp Jupiter and see him off with full honors.
That turned out to be a good call.
What with the ghouls attacking us and everything.
Sunset turned San Francisco Bay into a cauldron of molten copper as our private plane landed at Oakland Airport.
I say our private plane.
The chartered trip was actually a parting gift from our friend Piper McLean and her movie star father.
(Everyone should have at least one friend with a movie star parent.)
Waiting for us beside the runway was another surprise the McLeans must have arranged: a gleaming black hearse.
The polished mahogany box seemed to glow in the evening light.
Its brass fixtures glinted red.
I hated how beautiful it was.
Death shouldnt be beautiful.
The crew loaded it into the hearse, then transferred our luggage to the backseat.
The plane had been stocked with half a dozen tins of the squishy red candy.
Meg had single-handedly brought the Swedish sh ecosystem to the brink of collapse.
Im supposed to drive?
Is this a rental hearse?
Calling shotgun didnt seem appropriate for a hearse.
Nevertheless, Meg skipped to the passengers side and climbed in.
I got behind the wheel.
Soon we were out of the airport and cruising north on I-880 in our rented black grief-mobile.
Ah, the Bay Area .
Id spent some happy times here.
The vast misshapen geographic bowl was jam-packed with interesting people and places.
Back in the 1950s, I played with Dizzy Gillespie at Bop City in the Fillmore.
(Lovely bunch of guys, but did they really need those fteen-minute-long solos?)
I cant claim credit for Stans music, but Ididadvise him on his fashion choices.
Those gold lame parachute pants?
Youre welcome, fashionistas.
Most of the Bay Area brought back good memories.
We gods knew the place as Mount Othrys, seat of the Titans.
I did my best to shake the feeling.
We had other problems to deal with.
Besides, we were going to Camp Jupiterfriendly territory on this side of the bay.
I had Meg for backup.
I was driving a hearse.
What could possibly go wrong?
We exist, too!
I like this place, she decided.
We just got here, I said.
What is it you like?
That sign for Bos Chicken N Waffles?
Concrete counts as nature?
Theres trees, too.
Moisture in the air.
The eucalyptus smells good.
She didnt need to finish her sentence.
The Bay Area wasnt experiencing any of those problems.
Not at the moment, anyway.
Wed extinguished the Burning Maze.
Wed freed the Erythraean Sibyl and brought relief to the mortals and withering nature spirits of Southern California.
But Caligula was still very much alive.
How I could defeat him in my present form as a sixteen-year-old weakling, I had no idea.
Except for that, everything was fine.
The eucalyptus smelled nice.
Traf c slowed at the I-580 interchange.
Apparently, California drivers didnt follow that custom of yielding to hearses out of respect.
Perhaps they gured at least one of our passengers was already dead, so we werent in a hurry.
Meg toyed with her window controls, raising and lower- ing the glass.Reeee.
You know how to get to Camp Jupiter?
Cause you said that about Camp Half-Blood.
Look, the entrance to camp is right over there.
I waved vaguely at the Oakland Hills.
Theres a secret passage in the Caldecott Tunnel or something.
Well, I havent actually everdrivento Camp Jupiter, I admitted.
Usually I descend from the heavens in my glorious sun chariot.
But I know the Caldecott Tunnel is the main entrance.
Theres probably a sign.
Meg peered at me over the top of her glasses.
Youre the dumbest god ever.
She raised her window with a finalReeee.
SHLOOMP!a sound that reminded me uncomfortably of a guillotine blade.
We turned west onto Highway 24.
The congestion eased as the hills loomed closer.
A road sign promised CALDECOTT TUNNEL ENTRANCE, 2 MI.
That should have comforted me.
Why, then, were the hairs on the back of my neck quivering like sea worms?
something malevolent, and getting closer.
I glanced in the rearview mirror.
Through the back windows gauzy curtains, I saw nothing but traffic.
I tried to keep my voice even.
Do you see anything unusual behind us?
The hearse lurched as if wed been hitched to a trailer full of scrap metal.
Above my head, two foot-shaped impressions appeared in the upholstered ceiling.
Something just landed on the roof, Meg deduced.
Thank you, Sherlock McCaffrey!
Can you get it off?
That was an annoyingly fair question.
The footprint impressions deepened as the thing adjusted its weight like a surfer on a board.
It must have been immensely heavy to sink into the metal roof.
A whimper bubbled in my throat.
My hands trembled on the steering wheel.
I yearned for my bow and quiver in the backseat, but I couldnt have used them.
DWSPW, driving while shooting projectile weapons, is a big no-no, kids.
Maybe you’ve got the option to pop fire up window, I said to Meg.
Lean out and tell it to go away.
(Gods, she was stubborn.)
What if you venture to shake it off?
A claw punctured the ceilinga grimy white talon the size of a drill bit.
I dont know how I might have finished that sentence.Protect me?
Check in the back to see if I have any spare undies?
I was rudely interrupted by the creature ripping open our roof like we were a birthday present.
Around its torso uttered a loincloth of greasy black feathers.
The smell coming off it was more putrid than any dumpsterand believe me, Id fallen into a few.
I yelled at Meg.
I was bound to obey her direct commands.
So when she yelled swerve, I yanked the steering wheel hard to the right.
The hearse handled beautifully.
I prefer it when the car is actually capable of flight, however.
Oh, good, some small part of my brain thought.Maybe well at least land in the water.
Then we droppednot toward the lake, but toward the trees.
A sound like Luciano Pavarottis high C inDon Giovanniissued from my throat.
My hands glued themselves to the wheel.
Too late to do any good, the airbags deployed, shoving my head against the backrest.
Yellow amoebas danced in my eyes.
The taste of blood stung my throat.
Blergh, I said.
I heard Meg retching somewhere nearby.
At least that meant she was still alive.
About ten feet to my left, water lapped at the shore of the lake.
I struggled to sit up.
My sinuses felt like they were packed with menthol rub.
She staggered into view around the front of the hearse.
Ring-shaped bruises were forming around her eyesno doubt courtesy of the passenger-side airbag.
Her glasses were intact but askew.
You suck at swerving.
Oh, my gods!
Youorderedme to My brain faltered.
How are we alive?
Was thatyouwho bent the tree branches?
She flicked her hands, and her twin golden scimitars flashed into existence.
Meg used them like ski poles to steady herself.
They wont hold that monster much longer.
I pulled myself to my feet with the drivers-side door.
Across the lake, the picnickers had risen from their blankets.
I suppose a hearse falling from the sky had gotten their attention.
My vision was blurry, but something seemed odd about the group.
Was one of them wearing armor?
Did another have goat legs?
Even if they were friendly, they were much too far away to help.
I limped to the hearse and yanked fire up the backseat door.
Jasons coffin appeared safe and secure in the rear bay.
I grabbed my bow and quiver.
My ukulele had vanished somewhere underneath the inflated airbags.
I would have to do without it.
Above, the creature howled, thrashing in its branch cage.
Her forehead was beaded with sweat.
Then the ghoul broke free and hurtled downward, landing only a few yards away.
I hoped the creatures legs might have broken on impact, but no such luck.
What a lovely singing voice.
The ghoul couldve fronted any number of Norwegian death metal groups.
My voice was shrill.
I wagged my finger, as if that might crank-start my memory.
Clutched in my other hand, my bow shook.
The arrows rattled in my quiver.
H-hold on, itll come to me!
Ive always believed that most sentient creatures like to be recognized.
Of course, I was just trying to buy time.
I hoped Meg would catch her breath, charge the creature, and slice it into putrid ghoul pappardelle.
It smelled of rancid meat.
It wore the feathers of a carrion eater .
Idoknow you, I realized.
The ghouls lips curled.
Silvery strands of saliva dripped from his chin.
FOOD SAID MY NAME!
B-but youre a corpse-eater!
Youre supposed to be in the Underworld, working for Hades!
The ghoul tilted its head as if trying to remember the wordsUnderworldandHades.
It didnt seem to like them as much askillandeat.
HADES GAVE ME OLD DEAD!
THE MASTER GIVES ME FRESH!
I really wished Vulture Diaper wouldnt scream.
It didnt have any visible ears, so perhaps it had poor volume control.
Or maybe it just wanted to spray that gross saliva over as large a radius as possible.
CALIGULA IS NOT THE MASTER!
Now I was doing it.
She looked fierce and warlike as she granny-walked toward me with her sword-crutches.
It was clear she would not be taking the lead in this particular fight.
Well, eurynomos, I said, whoever your master is, youre not killing and eating anyone today!
I whipped an arrow from my quiver.
Why do mortals tremble when theyre scared, anyway?
It seems so counterproductive.
IfIhad created humans, I would have given them steely determination and superhuman strength during moments of terror.
The ghoul hissed, spraying spit.
SOON THE MASTERS ARMIES WILL RISE AGAIN!
WE WILL FINISH THE JOB!
I WILL SHRED FOOD TO THE BONE, AND FOODWILL JOIN US!
Food will join us?My stomach experienced a sudden loss of cabin pressure.
I remembered why Hades loved these eurynomoi so much.
The slightest cut from their claws caused a wasting disease in mortals.
That wasnt the worst of it.
Many of them served as Hadess elite palace guards, which was a job I didnotwant to apply for.
I kept my arrow trained on the ghouls chest.
Do not let this thing scratch you.
But
yo, I begged.
For once, trust me.
FOOD TALKS TOO MUCH!
The arrow found its markthe middle of the ghouls chestbut it bounced off like a rubber mallet against metal.
The Celestial-bronze point must have hurt, at least.
The ghoul yelped and stopped in its tracks, a steaming puckered wound on its sternum.
But the monster was still very much alive.
With trembling hands, I nocked another arrow.
Th-that was just a warning!
The next one will kill!
Vulture Diaper made a gurgling noise deep in its throat.
I hoped it was a delayed death rattle.
Then I realized it was only laughing.
WANT ME TO EAT DIFFERENT FOOD FIRST?
SAVE YOU FOR DESSERT?
It uncurled its claws, gesturing toward the hearse.
I refused to understand.
Did it want to eat the airbags?
Meg got it before I did.
She screamed in rage.
The creature was an eater of the dead.
We were driving
a hearse.
She lumbered forward, raising her swords, but she was in no shape to face the ghoul.
They sparked off the creatures blue-black hide, leaving steaming, annoyingly nonlethal wounds.
Vulture Diaper staggered toward me, snarling in pain, its body twitching from the impact of each hit.
It was five feet away.
Two feet away, its claws splayed to shred my face.
Somewhere behind me, a female voice shouted, HEY!
The sound distracted Vulture Diaper just long enough for me to fall courageously on my butt.
I scrambled away from the ghouls claws.
Vulture Diaper blinked, confused by its new audience.
The girl fumbled with some sort of projectile weapon.
A Roman heavy crossbow.
The bolt was set.
She cranked the handle, her hands shaking as badly as mine.
Meanwhile, to my left, Meg groaned in the grass, trying to get back on her feet.
Youpushedme, she complained, by which Im sure she meantThank you, Apollo, for saving my life.
The pink-haired girl raised her manubalista.
With her long, wobbly legs, she reminded me of a baby giraffe.
G-get away from them, she ordered the ghoul.
Vulture Diaper treated her to its trademarked hissing and spitting.
YOU WILL ALL JOIN THE KINGS DEAD!
One of the fauns nervously scratched his belly under his PEOPLES REPUBLIC OF BERKELEY T-shirt.
Thats not cool.Not cool, several of his friends echoed.
YOU CANNOT OPPOSE ME, ROMAN!
I HAVE ALREADY TASTED THE FLESH OF YOUR COMRADES!
AT THE BLOOD MOON, YOU WILL JOIN THEM
THWUNK.
An Imperial gold crossbow bolt materialized in the center of Vulture Diapers chest.
The ghouls milky eyes widened in surprise.
The Roman legionnaire looked just as stunned.
Dude, you hit it, said one of the fauns, as if this offended his sensibilities.
The ghoul crumbled into dust and vulture feathers.
The bolt clunked to the ground.
Meg limped to my side.
Thats how youre supposed to kill it.
Oh, shut up, I grumbled.
We faced our unlikely savior.
The pink-haired girl frowned at the pile of dust, her chin quivering as if she might cry.
She muttered, I hate those things.
Y-youve fought them before?
She looked at me like this was an insultingly stupid question.
One of the fauns nudged her.
Lavinia, dude, ask who these guys are.
Lavinia cleared her throat.
I struggled to my feet, trying to regain some composure.
Thank you for saving us.
Apollo, as in
Its a long story.
Were transporting the body of our friend, Jason Grace, to Camp Jupiter for burial.
Can you help us?
Lavinias mouth hung open.
Before I could answer, from somewhere across Highway 24 came a wail of rage and anguish.
Um, hey, said one of the fauns, dont those ghoul things usually hunt in pairs?
Lets get you guys to camp.
Then we can talk aboutshe gestured uneasily at the hearsewho is dead, and why.
