Scratched over the field of green grass was a huge inky sphere like a black pond…or the entrance of a cave. Dark curlicues blotted out a primary-colored rainbow. Frowning stick figures threatened the llamas with triangular knives. But in the farthest corner of the back wall, the young artist had decided to inflict a nightmarish plague upon her crayon world. Most of the drawings in this bedroom seemed typical for a child of about seven or eight. You can blame that overgrown rat snake, Python.) My Delphic Oracle had delighted in painting her cave with things she’d seen in her visions…before her oracular power ceased to work, that is. The wall art reminded me of Rachel Elizabeth Dare’s cavern of prophecy at Camp Half-Blood.
In the center, a stick-figure girl stood between two larger parental stick figures-all three of them holding hands. On the left-hand wall, opposite the bed, a crayon sun smiled down on a field of happy crayon flowers. The eggshell-colored walls had been used as a canvas for crayon art-stick-figure people, trees, houses, frolicking animals that might have been dogs or horses or llamas. A cozy bed was piled with fluffy comforters, pillows, and stuffed animals. Inside, sunlight filtered through pink lace curtains onto the hardwood floor of a child’s room. “You think I can keep this brick, at least?”Īfter a few more feet, another door opened on our right. “There’s a reason a snake on a rod symbolizes medicine. She carried the sorceress into the infirmary. “She’ll explain the Waystation better than I could.” She took Calypso from us, lifting the sorceress in her arms with no apparent difficulty. “I’ll take good care of Calypso,” Emmie promised. “Now, if I can have your friend, please.” “You think the Waystation could organize my sock drawer?”Ī brick fell from the ceiling and clunked at Leo’s feet. It’s always here, but…it’s easier to find when we need it.” “And Waystation is telling me I should treat your friend immediately.” And in the back corner, a glassed-in habitat seethed with poisonous snakes.
#The dark prophecy apollo portable
Racks of healing herbs dried against the wall next to the portable MRI machine. Inside, I glimpsed an infirmary that would’ve made my son Asclepius jealous: A fully stocked supply cabinet with medicine, surgical tools, and potion ingredients a hospital bed with built-in monitors, GCI interface, and levitating bariatric slings. About twenty feet up the ramp, a door opened on our left. Lighting appeared along the walls-warm yellow candles flickering in bronze sconces. Behind us, the emergency sirens grew louder. Her tone suggested that my welcome was probationary. It’s perfectly safe…as long as you remain our guests.” “The Waystation is no work of Daedalus, Lord Apollo. Only my sister’s followers would dare to give me such a malodorous stink-eye.
“This is a living structure? Like the Labyrinth? And you expect us to go inside?”Įmmie’s glance was definitely the look of a Hunter. Suddenly, I did not fancy the look of that ramp. “The Waystation is more than a building.” “Did you just talk to the building?”Ī smile tugged at the corner of Emmie’s mouth. With a soft rumble, the chute’s interior wall slanted backward, the bricks rearranging themselves into a gentle upward slope. “Waystation, can we have a ramp, please?”
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