I held my breath. Moments passed. Then a light came on inside the trailer. The door opened. A woman emerged. A woman, and the most unbelievable stench, like the inside of an old milk carton mixed with moldering gym clothes all doused in skunk spray.
Ladies and gentlemen, Mimi had left the building.
It was time to act. I released the net. It dropped over Mimi’s head and wrapped her up like a used Christmas tree. She let out a howl and lurched onto the steps. Her feet hit the deathballs. She skated, slipped, and sprawled straight into the trench. Janice yanked the pull rope. The keystone popped free, and in one glorious cascade, the arch and all the trash piled up around it fell on top of Mimi.
I swung from the roof through the open door into the trailer. I tore through closets and looked under the bed. Nothing. I pulled open drawers and checked the shower stall. Still nothing. I spun in circles, desperately searching for the ancile or something, anything, that would point to its whereabouts.
I almost missed it. Lying horizontal at waist height and covered by a length of purple fabric, it looked like an ironing board. But when I whisked the fabric away, there it was. The missing shield.
I snatched it up—carefully—and raced outside to find Janice and Blaise madly spritzing a moving mound of garbage with Bombilo’s Café Scent. That mouthwatering odor held her at bay just long enough for reinforcements to reach us. Aquila, Frank, and another giant eagle swooped in, caught us in their talons, and flew us off into the moonlight.
Camp Jupiter had never looked so splendid. And the baths…oh. Pure heaven.
I’ve been thinking a lot about secrets. Me and my messages and dream. The identity of the one true ancile. Elon’s wackadoodle relationship with Mimi. Would our situation have gotten so out of control if people had opened up and shared what they knew sooner? Maybe.
But mostly, I’ve been thinking about a new secret I learned today.
I was in New Rome, on my way to the library, where a new-but-old paving stone was going to be laid. The name etched on the paver? Mamurius Veturius. He wasn’t recognized as a hero in his lifetime, but he sure helped save the day in ours.
I was killing some time before the ceremony by wandering the streets. Janice had offered to go with me. Blaise, too—he turned red as a forge fire when he mumbled it, which makes me wonder if maybe he is in love with me after all. Well. Plenty of time for that sort of thing now that Camp Jupiter is safe.
I told them both thanks, but no thanks. I wanted to explore New Rome on my own this time. To drink in the sights, sounds, and yep, the smells, without any distractions. To imagine my father walking these same cobblestone streets. I had no route in mind—I just let my feet take me where they would.
They steered me to a place I’d never been to before, yet it was as familiar as the back of my hand. A doorway to a modest home tucked on a side street. There was nothing unusual about it—it looked just like every other front door on that street.
Except it was open. And leaning against the frame was a woman with dark wavy hair. Like mine. Dark eyes. Like mine. A big nose. Like mine. Her hand drifted to her stomach and rested there. And then she smiled at me.
“Hello, Claudia.” Her voice was soft and high with just the hint of a squeak.
I froze in my tracks, speechless. Then I cleared my throat. “M-Mom?”
Her smile widened. She pushed off the doorframe and moved toward me. Took my hands in hers. “My name is Cardea—Cardi, to you and your father.”
“The goddess of thresholds and hinges,” I murmured. (Thank you, ID the Deity class!)
She nodded. “I have been allowed to contact you in this form because of what you did to save our world. Without you and your friends…well, we ‘minor’ deities [Julia would have been proud of my mom’s mad air-quote skills] might not be here.”
“In this form,” I repeated. “Meaning…you’ve contacted me in other ways?” I gave myself a mental head slap. “The messages. They were from you, not Great-Granddad?”
She seesawed her hand in a maybe/maybe not gesture. “I wrote them, yes. But I couldn’t have delivered them, not without his help.”
I nodded my understanding, remembering what Leila had said about the recent problems with communications. Still…“If you knew what was going on, with the ancile and everything, why didn’t you or the other gods intervene to stop Mimi?”
Her lovely face clouded over. “Because reasons,” she said softly.
(Reyna told me later that gods and goddesses don’t appreciate it when other deities muck about in their children’s affairs. Doesn’t stop them from doing it all the time, of course. And at least my mom had done what she could to help.)
Cardea’s form started to flicker then. “My time here is almost up. Hold out your arm, quickly.” I did as she requested. “This is supposed to be done in the Forum before the Senate and the Legion, but they’re a little busy right now, so…” She met my eyes apologetically. “Close your eyes. This might hurt.”
It did hurt. A lot, in fact. A searing pain like when you brush against a hot stove, only a billion times worse. It was over quickly, though. And when I opened my eyes, I saw what had caused the burning sensation. There were now four tattoos on my forearm: a hinge, a caduceus, a single stripe, and the letters SPQR.
Mom traced her fingers over the images, a touch so featherlight I wouldn’t have felt it if I hadn’t seen her hand. And then her form faded away, and I was left with just her soft whisper in my ear. “Senatus Populusque Romanus!”
I saluted the sky. “SPQR, Mom! SPQR forever!”
ancile (ancilia, pl.) an ornate and cello-shaped shield; one of twelve sacred shields kept in the Temple of Mars
aqueduct a structure built to ferry water from a distant source
aquila Latin for eagle
Athena the Greek goddess of wisdom. Roman form: Minerva
aura (aurae, pl.) wind spirit
Bellona a Roman goddess of war; daughter of Jupiter and Juno
caduceus a herald’s staff carried by Mercury, with a pair of wings at the top and snakes entwined around the shaft
Camp Jupiter the training ground for Roman demigods, located in California, between the Oakland Hills and the Berkeley Hills
Cardea Roman goddess of the hinge
centaur a being with the torso and head of a man and the body of a horse
centurion an officer in the Roman army
Claudius Roman emperor from 41 to 54 CE
cloaca maxima Latin for greatest sewer
Cloacina the Roman goddess who presided over the cloaca maxima
cohort a group of legionnaires
Colosseum an elliptical amphitheater built for gladiator fights, monster simulations, and mock naval battles
cynocephalus (cynocephali, pl.) a being with a human body and a dog’s head
Decumanian Gate Camp Jupiter’s western entrance
denarius (denarii, pl.) a unit of Roman currency
dryad a spirit (usually female) associated with a certain tree
faun a Roman forest god, part goat and part man. Greek form: satyr
Field of Mars part battlefield, part party zone, the place where drills and war games are held at Camp Jupiter
Forum the center of life in New Rome; a plaza with statues and fountains that is lined with shops and nighttime entertainment venues