Haunted || Leo Valdez

40 - Now Is Not the Time to Be Heroic, Rebecca

On the way back, Hazel tripped over a gold bar.

It popped out of the ground just in time for her foot to hit it. Rebecca tried to catch her, but she took a spill and scraped her hands.

"You okay?" Rebecca knelt next to her sister and reached for the bar of gold.

"Don't!" Hazel warned.

"It's fine, Hazel." Rebecca picked it up. "Wow -- It's huge." She pulled a flask of nectar from her bag and poured a little on Hazel's hands. Immediately the cuts started to heal. "Can you stand?"

She helped her up. They both stared at the gold in Rebecca's hand. It was heavy, the size of a bread loaf, stamped with a serial number and the words U.S. Treasury.

Rebecca shook her head. "How in Tartarus—?"

"I don't know," Hazel said miserably. "It could've been buried there by robbers or dropped off a wagon a hundred years ago. Maybe it migrated from the nearest bank vault. Whatever's in the ground, anywhere close to me—it just pops up. And the more valuable it is—"

"The more dangerous it is. " Rebecca frowned. "Should we cover it up? If the fauns find it..."

Hazel's eye flickered with horror. "It should sink back underground after I leave, eventually, but just to be sure..." She pointed at the gold bar and tried to concentrate.

The gold levitated out of Rebecca's hand. It glowed with heat.

Rebecca stared. "Um, Hazel, are you sure...?"

She made a fist. The gold bent like putty. Hazel forced it to twist into a giant, lumpy ring. Then she flicked her hand toward the ground. Her million-dollar doughnut slammed into the earth. It sank so deep, nothing was left but a scar of fresh dirt.

Rebecca's eyes widened. "That was...terrifying."

Hazel blushed. "Thanks. It's not as cool as having the gold touch, though."

"'Course it is," Rebecca said with a smile. "Believe me, the only way to get the gold touch is from a god or King Midas. And believe me -- you don't want to meet King Midas. He's a psychopath."

Inside the camp, horns blew again. The cohorts would be starting roll call.

"Hurry!" Hazel told Rebecca, and they ran for the gates.

The first four cohorts, each forty kids strong, stood in rows in front of their barracks on either side of the Via Praetoria. The Fifth Cohort assembled at the very end, in front of the principia, since their barracks were tucked in the back corner of camp next to the stables and the latrines. Hazel had to run right down the middle of the legion to reach her place.

The campers were dressed for war. Their polished chain mail and greaves gleamed over purple T-shirts and jeans. Sword-and-skull designs decorated their helmets. Even their leather combat boots looked ferocious with their iron cleats, great for marching through mud or stomping on faces.

In front of the legionnaires, like a line of giant dominoes, stood their red and gold shields, each the size of a refrigerator door. Every legionnaire carried a harpoonlike spear called a pilum, a gladius, a dagger, and about a hundred pounds of other equipment. If you were out of shape when you came to the legion, you didn't stay that way for long. Just walking around in your armor was a full-body workout.

Hazel and Rebecca jogged down the street as everyone was coming to attention, so their entrance was really obvious. Their footsteps echoed on the stones. Hazel tried to avoid eye contact. Octavian, the scarecrow-like Augur and centurion of the First Cohort, smirked at them. Rebecca decided to own it. She raised her head and smacked an unimpressed expression on her face.