Falling Roses || Apollo [1]

☆꧁Chapter 32꧂☆

APOLLO

It takes a Village
People to protect your mind
"Y.M.C.A." Yeah

OH, THIS PART IS DIFFICULT TO TELL.
I am a natural storyteller. I have an infallible instinct for drama. I want to relate what should have
happened: how I leaped forward shouting, "Nooooo!" and spun like an acrobat, knocking aside the lit
match, then twisted in a series of blazing-fast Shaolin moves, cracking Nero's head and taking out his
bodyguards before they could recover.
Ah, yes. That would have been perfect.
Alas, the truth constrains me.
Curse you, truth!
In fact, I spluttered something like, "Nuh-uh, dun-doot!" I may have waved my Brazilian
handkerchief with the hope that its magic would destroy my enemies.
Acacia detached two daggers from her belt and threw it at the Germani, effectively maiming them both.
She then flicked her hand at Nero, as if telling Peaches to attack him. And that was what he did. He
hurtled through the air, screaming his war cry (you guessed it), "Peaches!" He landed on Nero's arm,
chomped the lit match from the emperor's hand, then landed a few feet away, wiping his tongue and
crying, "Hat! Hat!" (Which I assumed meant hot in the dialect of deciduous fruit.)
The scene might have been funny except that the Germani were now back on their feet, five
demigods and a geyser spirit were still tied to highly flammable posts, and Nero still had a box of
matches.
The emperor stared at his empty hand. "Meg...?" His voice was as cold as an icicle. "What is the
meaning of this?"
"P-Peaches, come here!" Meg's voice had turned brittle with fear.
The karpos bounded to her side. He hissed at me, Nero, and the Germani.
Meg took a shaky breath, clearly gathering her nerve. "Nero...Peaches is right. You—you can't
burn these people alive."
Nero sighed. He looked at his bodyguards for moral support, but the Germani still appeared
woozy and extremely wounded. They were hitting the sides of their heads as if trying to clear water
from their ears. "Meg," said the emperor, "I am trying so hard to keep the Beast at bay. Why won't you
help me? I know you are a good girl. I wouldn't have allowed you to roam around Manhattan so much
on your own, playing the street waif, if I didn't know you could take care of yourself. But softness
toward your enemies is not a virtue. You are my stepdaughter. Any of these demigods would kill you
without hesitation given the chance."
"Meg, that's not true!" I said. "You've seen what Camp Half-Blood is like."
She studied me uneasily. "Even...even if it was true..." She turned to Nero. "You told me never to
lower myself to my enemies' level."
"No, indeed." Nero's tone had frayed like a weathered rope. "We are better. We are stronger. We
will build a glorious new world. But these nonsense-spewing trees stand in our way, Meg. Like any
invasive weeds, they must be burned. And the only way to do that is with a true conflagration—flames
stoked by blood. Let us do this together, and not involve the Beast, shall we?"
Finally, in my mind, something clicked. I remembered how my father used to punish me centuries
ago, when I was a young god learning the ways of Olympus. Zeus used to say, Don't get on the wrong
side of my lightning bolts, boy.
As if the lightning bolt had a mind of its own—as if Zeus had nothing to do with the punishments
he meted out upon me.
Don't blame me, his tone implied. It's the lightning bolt that seared every molecule in your body.
Many years later, when I killed the Cyclopes who made Zeus's lightning, it was no rash decision. I'd
always hated those lightning bolts. It was easier than hating my father.
Nero took the same tone when he referred to himself as the Beast. He spoke of his anger and
cruelty as if they were forces outside his control. If he flew into a rage...well then, he would hold
Meg responsible.
The realization sickened me. Meg had been trained to regard her kindly stepfather Nero and the
terrifying Beast as two separate people. I understood now why she preferred to spend her time in the
alleys of New York. I understood why she had such quick mood changes, going from cartwheels to
full shutdown in a matter of seconds. She never knew what might unleash the Beast.
She fixed her eyes on me. Her lips quivered. I could tell she wanted a way out—some eloquent
argument that would mollify her stepfather and allow her to follow her conscience. But I was no
longer a silver-tongued god. I could not outtalk an orator like Nero. And I would not play the Beast's
blame game.
Instead, I took a page from Meg's book, which was always short and to the point.
"He's evil," I said. "You're good. You must make your own choice."
I could tell that this was not the news Meg wanted. Her mouth tightened. She drew back her
shoulder blades as if preparing for a measles shot—something painful but necessary. She placed her
hand on the karpos's curly scalp. "Peaches," she said in a small but firm voice, "get the matchbox."
The karpos sprang into action. Nero barely had time to blink before Peaches ripped the box from
his hand and jumped back to Meg's side.
The Germani readied their spears. Nero raised his hand for restraint. He gave Meg a look that
might have been heartbreak—if he had possessed a heart.
"I see you weren't ready for this assignment, my dear," he said. "It's my fault. Vince, Gary, detain
Meg but don't hurt her. When we get home..." He shrugged, his expression full of regret. "As for
Apollo, Rose, and the little fruit demon, they will have to burn."
"No," Meg croaked. Then, at full volume, she shouted, "NO!" And the Grove of Dodona shouted
with her.
The blast was so powerful, it knocked Nero and his guards off their feet. Peaches screamed and
beat his head against the dirt.
This time, however, I was more prepared. As the trees' ear-splitting chorus reached its crescendo,
I anchored my mind with the catchiest tune I could imagine. I hummed "Y.M.C.A.," which I used to
perform with the Village People in my construction worker costume until the Indian chief and I got in
a fight over—Never mind. That's not important.
"Meg!" I pulled the brass wind chimes from my pocket and tossed them to her. "Put these on the
center tree! Y.M.C.A. Focus the grove's energy! Y.M.C.A."
I wasn't sure she could hear me. She raised the chimes and watched as they swayed and clanked,
turning the noise from the trees into snatches of coherent speech: Happiness approaches. The fall of
the sun; the final verse. Would you like to hear our specials today?
Meg's face went slack with surprise. She turned toward the grove and sprinted through the
gateway. Peaches crawled after her, shaking his head.
I wanted to follow, but I couldn't leave Nero and his guards alone with six hostages. Still
humming "Y.M.C.A.," I marched toward them.
The trees screamed louder than ever, but Nero rose to his knees. He pulled something from his
coat pocket—a vial of liquid—and splashed it on the ground in front of him. I doubted that was a
good thing, but I had more immediate concerns. Vince and Gary were getting up. Gary tossed his
spear at Acacia, who was busy trying to get the rest of the demigods out of the fire. It pierced
through her back as she let out a small yelp of pain and collapsed to her knees, not pausing, even
when some of the fire trailed up her arm, leaving dark blisters all over it, and pretending that the
weapon that was killing her didn't exist.
Vince then turned to me, and chucked his spear. I was angry enough to be reckless. I grabbed
the point of his weapon and yanked the spear up, smacking Vince under his chin. He fell, stunned,
and I grabbed fistfuls of his hide armor.
He was easily twice my size. I didn't care. I lifted him off his feet. My arms sizzled with power. I
felt invincibly strong—the way a god should feel. I had no idea why my strength had returned, but I
decided this was not the moment to question my good luck. I spun Vince like a discus, tossing him
skyward with such force that he punched a Germanus-shaped hole in the tree canopy and sailed out of
sight.
Kudos to the Imperial Guard for having stupid amounts of courage. Despite my show of force,
Gary charged me, turning his back to Acacia. That was a mistake. With one hand, I snapped his spear.
With the other, I grabbed him by his front.
SLICE!
One dead Germani, coming up!
Acacia stared at the monster that she had just murdered, then turned to me. She stared at me for a few
seconds before collapsing in a heap.
I rushed forward to gather her in my arms, snapping the spear in half and gently pulling the parts out.
I faced Nero, keeping my tight grip on Acacia. I could already feel my strength ebbing. My muscles were
returning to their pathetic mortal flabbiness. I just hoped I'd have enough time to rip off Nero's head and
stuff it down his mauve suit.
The emperor snarled. "You're a fool, Apollo. You always focus on the wrong thing." He glanced
at his Rolex. "My wrecking crew will be here any minute. Once Camp Half-Blood is destroyed, I'll
make it my new front lawn! Meanwhile, you'll be here...putting out fires."
From his vest pocket, he produced a silver cigarette lighter. Typical of Nero to keep several
forms of fire-making close at hand. I looked at the glistening streaks of oil he had splashed on the
ground....Greek fire, of course.
"Don't," I said.
Nero grinned. "Good-bye, Apollo. Only eleven more Olympians to go."
He dropped the lighter.
I did not have the pleasure of tearing Nero's head off.
Could I have stopped him from fleeing? Possibly. But the flames were roaring between us,
burning grass and bones, tree roots, and the earth itself. The blaze was too strong to stamp out, if
Greek fire even could be stamped out, and it was rolling hungrily toward the six bound hostages.
I let Nero go. I ran to the stakes, Acacia clinging on tightly to me, only releasing me when we got
closer.
The closest was Austin's. I wrapped my arms around the base and pulled, completely disregarding
proper heavy-lifting techniques. My muscles strained. My eyes swam with the effort. I managed to
raise the stake enough to topple it backward. Austin stirred and groaned.
I dragged him, cocoon and all, to the other side of the clearing, as far from the fire as possible. I
would have brought him into the Grove of Dodona, but I had a feeling I wouldn't be doing him any
favors by putting him in a dead-end clearing full of insane voices, in the direct path of approaching
flames.
I ran back to the stakes. I repeated the process—uprooting Kayla, then Paulie the geyser god, then
the others. By the time I pulled Miranda Gardiner to safety, the fire was a raging red tidal wave, only
inches from the gates of the grove.
My divine strength was gone. Meg and Peaches were nowhere to be seen. I had bought a few
minutes for the hostages, but the fire would eventually consume us all. I fell to my knees and sobbed.
"Help." I scanned the dark trees, tangled and foreboding. I did not expect any help. I was not even
used to asking for help. I was Apollo. Mortals called to me! (Yes, occasionally I might have ordered
demigods to run trivial errands for me, like starting wars or retrieving magic items from monsters'
lairs, but those requests didn't count.)
"I can't do this alone." I imagined Daphne's face floating beneath the trunk of one tree, then
another. Soon the woods would burn. I couldn't save them any more than I could save Meg or the lost
demigods or myself. "I'm so sorry. Please...forgive me."
My head must have been spinning from smoke inhalation. I began to hallucinate. The shimmering
forms of dryads emerged from their trees—a legion of Daphnes in green gossamer dresses. Their
expressions were melancholy, as if they knew they were going to their deaths, yet they circled the fire.
They raised their arms, and the earth erupted at their feet. A torrent of mud churned over the flames.
The dryads drew the fire's heat into their bodies. Their skin charred black. Their faces hardened and
cracked.
As soon as the last flames were snuffed out, the dryads crumbled to ash. I wished I could crumble
with them. I wanted to cry, but the fire had seared all the moisture from my tear ducts. I had not asked
for so many sacrifices. I had not expected it! I felt hollow, guilty, and ashamed.
Then it occurred to me how many times I had asked for sacrifices, how many heroes I had sent to
their deaths. Had they been any less noble and courageous than these dryads? Yet I had felt no remorse
when I sent them off on deadly tasks. I had used them and discarded them, laid waste to their lives to
build my own glory. I was no less of a monster than Nero.
Wind blew through the clearing—an unseasonably warm gust that swirled up the ashes and carried
them through the forest canopy into the sky. Only after the breeze calmed did I realize it must have
been the West Wind, my old rival, offering me consolation. He had swept up the remains and taken
them off to their next beautiful reincarnation. After all these centuries, Zephyros had accepted my
apology.
I discovered I had some tears left after all.
Behind me, someone groaned. "Where am I?"
Austin was awake.
I crawled to his side, now weeping with relief, and kissed his face. "My beautiful son!"
He blinked at me in confusion. His cornrows were sprinkled with ashes like frost on a field. I
suppose it took a moment for him to process why he was being fawned over by a grungy, half-
deranged boy with acne.
"Ah, right...Apollo." He tried to move. "What the—? Why am I wrapped in smelly bandages?
Could you free me, maybe?"
I laughed hysterically, which I doubt helped Austin's peace of mind. I clawed at his bindings but
made no progress. Then I remembered Gary's snapped spear. I retrieved the point and started
cutting the bindings.
"W-wait," Acacia coughed. "T-take this." She handed me the little silver knife that she had used to
saw through the restraints.
"How would this work?" I asked.
"Chaotic S-silver." She mumbled. "My l-last gift... in case I don't m-make it."
She latched on to my hand, entertaining her fingers with mine. Her hair turned pale, and her eyes,
a familiar shade of green.
"I-I was lying," Acacia swallowed. "My name isn't Acacia," Ex-Acacia admitted, "I'm Rosalie. Rosalie Forest." The
kind smile that I had once seen in my dreams appeared on her face. "A-and the song... the song was
for you." I recalled the song that she had sung to the queen ant. The one that showed me my
memories. "Don't forget me, okay?"
"Okay," I blinked back the tears that were gathering in my eyes. "I'll remember you. Always."

"Where are Millard, Hebert, and R- the others, child?" Chiron was obviously hiding something-
seeing as he cut himself off, glancing at me warily. What? Was my acne that bad?
She bowed her head. "Millard and Hebert arrived at my house badly wounded. We were overrun by
monsters... the girl stayed behind to protect them... I don't know if they made it."

"Paulie said it would scare away tourists. 'Talk about the dragons,' he told me. 'Talk about the wolves
and serpents and ancient killing machines. Tell them about the Missing Princess. But don't mention the
grove.'"
"Ancient killing machines?" Meg asked.
"Missing Princess?" I piped up.
"Yeah," Pete said halfheartedly. "We're marketing them as fun family entertainment. A princess went missing
a few days ago. No one knows what happens every time she's gone. No one eve knows what she's the princess of."

A girl knelt over me with a concerned expression, her sword sheathed, as she checked me for injuries.
And it wasn't just any girl.
It was her.
The girl from my dreams.

"Who are you?" I blurted out.
She hesitated. "Acacia. Acacia Cascade."

"Then hear my solemn oath!"
"No!" Acacia reached out to grab my arm, which I yanked away.
"Uh, the thing is, you've got this aura around you like you just broke a sacred oath, maybe one
you swore on the River Styx? And if you break another oath with me—"
"I swear that I will save Meg McCaffrey. I will use every means at my disposal to bring her safely
from the ants' lair, and this oath supersedes any previous oath I have made. This I swear upon your
sacred and extremely hot waters!"
"Apollo!" She shrieked, facepalming herself. "You absolute idiot!"

The tree seemed to push me away, whispering in a voice
I remembered so well: Keep moving, Apollo. You can't rest here.
"I loved you," I muttered.
Part of me knew I was delirious—imagining things only because of my concussion—but I swore I
could see the face of my beloved Daphne rising from each tree trunk I passed, her features floating
under the bark like a mirage of wood—her slightly crooked nose, her offset green eyes, those lips I
had never kissed but never stopped dreaming of.
You loved every pretty girl, she scolded. And every pretty boy, for that matter.
"Not like you," I cried. "You were my first true love. Oh, Daphne!"
Wear my crown, she said. And repent.
Acacia seemed to understand what was going on as she gently guided me forward, her warm hands
heating up mine.

After Daphne, I swore I would never marry. Sometimes I claimed that was because I couldn't
decide between the Nine Muses. A convenient story. The Nine Muses were my constant companions,
all of them beautiful in their own way. But they never possessed my heart like Daphne did. Only two other
people ever affected me so deeply—the perfect Hyacinthus, and another lover that's hidden from view—
and them, too, were taken from me.

I found myself standing in the central
green at Camp Half-Blood, face-to-face with Chiara Benvenuti, who jumped back in alarm. "Apollo?"
I smiled. "Hey, girl." My eyes rolled up in my head and, for the second time that week, I
charmingly passed out in front of her, but not before I saw Acacia rush over to me, grabbing my arm
before I could fall.
"Shh..." She whispered soothingly. "Everything's alright now. Go to sleep. We'll take care of it."

"Why?" A voice said from behind me. I whirled around. Acacia? Why was I dreaming of her
again? Who really are you? I wanted to scream, but I knew that it would accomplish nothing.
"Why did you do this to me? Why?" She sounded truly heartbroken- the same way I did as I
witnessed myself lose hold of Daphne. Her hair was pitch-black, her eyes darkened.
"But..." Acacia became quiet. "Maybe this is for the best." I wanted so badly to reach out and
ask what was wrong. But then I realized something.
I caused this.

I could only stare at the hyacinths and roses and wonder if they were some sort of message. How