The Demigods of Olympus: An Interactive Adventure (17 page)

Sam looked at me, panicked, and dropped his stick. “You have to save us,” he said.

“Me? What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

“No,” said Sam, frantically, “I mean you have to call on your parent to help us. You have to use your power!” The demons moved even closer. I could see their teeth, could hear the hissing of the zombies, could feel the wind from the ghosts.

“I don’t
have
any powers,” I said. “You’ve known me my whole life! I couldn’t even tie my shoes until last year!”

“You
do
,” insisted Sam. “Every demigod has some piece of their parent’s power. You just need to manifest it. Now listen carefully: Some gods derive their powers from
outside
of themselves—the earth, the wind, the waters—while other gods get their powers from their
insides
—their minds, their social skills, their feelings. Which one feels closer to you? ”

“But—”

“Now,”
he said.

“Inside,” I blurted.

Sam nodded, then took a step closer.

I stared at him. “What?”

He put both hands on my shoulders and rubbed gently. “Take a deep breath. Relax. Now go ahead.”

“Go ahead with what?”

“Manifest your power, call on your parent. I don’t know exactly how it works, I’m not a demigod, but it usually looks like a deep breath and then some sort of zen focused concentration stuff.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Zombies and ghosts were coming in droves now. I hadn’t seen this many brain-dead bullies since we started middle school. Sam just stared at me anxiously. The demons snuffled and moved even closer.

I inhaled and focused my energy inward, calling on my parent—whoever it was—to help, to give me power. I opened my eyes and looked around. All I saw was a frantic satyr and an army of the undead. I bit my lip and focused even harder, my knuckles turning white around the hilt of the sword…and then I felt it—something deep inside my chest, something that may have always been there.

The answer.

“Sam, what’s our main advantage over these guys?”

“Uh, we’re alive?” he said.

“No,” I said. “
Speed.
And we don’t need to kill them, right? All we’re trying to do is capture the Mormo.”

“Okay…” he said.

“So we split up and run to opposite sides of the cemetery. Half will follow me, half will follow you. We meet back in the middle in five minutes, and that’ll buy us enough time to get the Mormo into the pithos.”

“I don’t know if—”

“On three. One. Two. Three!” Before my lazy satyr friend could object, I sprinted to my right, easily weaving between the dimwitted zombies and the unfocused ghosts. I’d realized the obvious: the undead were only dangerous if you tried to fight them, or were standing still. We didn’t need to do either.

The enormous karaoke demons trudged in my direction as I ran toward the far side, darting in between towering mausoleums. The moon was full and bright, the zombies slow and doddering. I got to the fence at the edge of the property and turned around to see at least forty zombies moving toward me, a good sixty-five yards away. The demons were even farther back, and the ghosts flitted about, confused. The Mormo was around here somewhere, but if he waited just a bit longer, we could confront him as two against one instead of two against a million.

Two solid minutes went by until the horde was almost on me, and then I jogged in a looping semicircle around them, back to the spot where I’d left Sam. About thirty seconds later, Sam trotted up, huffing and puffing.

I smiled and leaned against the nearest mausoleum. We were alone in the alley.

“Look!” said Sam. He pointed at the tomb I was leaning against. It was covered with chalk X’s. “It’s Marie’s,” Sam crowed, stopping abruptly as a mist began to ooze from the wall. I leaped back.

We watched in awe as the mist coalesced into the translucent form of a dark-skinned woman wearing a turban. She peered at us, then spoke with an indistinguishable lilting accent. “You requested my favor with the Mormo?”

“Yes. Yes!” I couldn’t believe the X trick had actually worked. “Can you help us capture him?”

“I’m afraid all I can offer is my advice. For years I was able to keep the Mormo at bay, but he is relentless. The zombies and ghosts will keep coming, and eventually, you will be overwhelmed. Your only hope is to neutralize him.”

“We have the pithos…” I offered.

“Ah, yes. But how are you going to get him inside it? For that, you need an object of power.”

“A what?” I asked.

“An object of power,” she repeated. “I tried many during my time on Earth, but none was strong enough to entrap the Mormo.”

“They’re back!” shouted Sam, pointing to two approaching skeletons.

“Wait, I just thought of something!” I reached into my pocket and removed the wooden ring we’d found under the bridge in Austin. I held it out to Marie Laveau.

The spirit smiled. “Ah, yes. That just might work.” She began to fade into the above-ground tomb. “Good luck…”

“Hold on!” I called after her. “What do we—”

But she was gone.

“What does the ring do?” shouted Sam, as he kept his eyes on another half-animated corpse.

I stared at the ring. “I don’t know,” I said.

“Well, put it on!” shouted Sam, scanning the graveyard wildly as four more undead trundled toward us, their tattered clothes and clumps of skin dragging along the ground. “They’re almost here! Come on!”

We took cover behind a crumbling tomb cordoned off with yellow caution tape. Sam dropped a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I patted it and turned to give him a smile.

Sam stared at me in wide-eyed terror. Both of his hands covered his mouth. So whose hand was…? I looked down. My hand was on top of…a hand. No arm. Just a hand.

“Yaaah!” I hurled it from me and scrambled back.

“Mmmuhhhuummm.” A zombie lay on top of the tomb. She rolled off, landed with a wet thud, and lurched to her feet. Red-rimmed eyes stared out of her bloated and bruised face. Her matted hair hung in filthy clumps. Her remaining hand clasped a sword…made of Celestial bronze.

I sucked in my breath. “It’s one of the demigods Hades told us about.”

She took a laborious step toward us and raised her weapon.

Make them fully dead…
Hades’s words flashed through my mind. One thrust of my sword and I could free her from zombiedom and send her to the Underworld.

But I hesitated. Destroying monsters and vaporizing the ghosts of long dead people was one thing. Stabbing a fellow demigod, even a zombified one—

“I can’t do it.”

“Don’t have to.” Sam whipped the caution tape into a lasso, roped the zombie girl’s torso, and wrapped her up tighter than a mummy. As an afterthought, he tucked her severed hand into a fold in the tape. “That might come in handy later. Ba-dum chhh!” He mimed a rimshot.

“Hilarious. Where’d you learn to rope like that?”

“Knew a demigod rodeo cowboy. Long story. I’ll—Watch out!”

Sam pushed me out of the way and kicked one of his legs forward…right into the stomach of a boy zombie wielding a bow and arrows. I had to stop myself from cheering as Sam trussed him up with an orange plastic retaining fence.

“Two zombie demigods down, three to go.” He picked up the zombie girl’s fallen sword and began to stand guard. “Try the ring.”

“Outside,” I blurted.

Sam nodded, then took a quick step backward.

I stared at him. “What?”

He gestured expansively with both hands. “Go ahead.”

“Go ahead with what?”

“Manifest your power, call on your parent. I don’t know exactly how it works, I’m not a demigod, but for external godly parents, it usually looks like a full exhale, a sharp inhale, and then focused concentration like you’re trying to shoot lasers out of your eyes or something.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Zombies and ghosts were coming in droves now. I hadn’t seen this many brain-dead bullies since we started middle school. Sam just stared at me anxiously. The demons snuffled and moved even closer.

I exhaled. Then I took a deep breath and focused all of my energy outward, calling on my parent—whoever it was—to help, to give me power. I reached out to the air and the earth, the waters, and then the sun, trying to connect myself to any of it. I opened my eyes and looked around. All I saw was a frantic satyr and an army of zombies.

I bit my lip and focused even harder, my knuckles turning white around the hilt of the sword.

Nothing.

Wrong choice,
said a familiar voice.

“What?” I said.

“Huh?” said Sam. “I didn’t say anything. You need to
hurry
.”

I warned you
in Austin. You must begin to know yourself…
said the voice, deep inside my head.

I nodded and apologized silently, shifting my attention inward, to my very core…and then I felt it—something deep inside my chest, something that may have always been there.

The answer.

“Sam, what’s our main advantage over these guys?”

“Uh, we’re alive?” he said.

“No,” I said. “
Speed.
And we don’t need to kill them, right? All we’re trying to do is capture the Mormo.”

“Okay…” he said.

“So we split up and run to opposite sides of the cemetery. Half will follow me, half will follow you. We meet back in the middle in five minutes, and that’ll buy us enough time to get the Mormo into the pithos.”

“I don’t know if—”

“On three. One. Two. Three!” Before my lazy satyr friend could object, I sprinted to my right, easily weaving between the dimwitted zombies and the unfocused ghosts. I’d realized the obvious: the undead were only dangerous if you tried to fight them, or were standing still. We didn’t need to do either.

The enormous karaoke demons trudged in my direction as I ran toward the far side, darting in between towering mausoleums. The moon was full and bright, the zombies slow and doddering. I got to the fence at the edge of the property and turned around to see at least forty zombies moving toward me, a good sixty-five yards away. The demons were even farther back, and the ghosts flitted about, confused. The Mormo was around here somewhere, but if he waited just a bit longer, we could confront him as two against one instead of two against a million.

Two solid minutes went by until the horde was almost on me, and then I jogged in a looping semicircle around them, back to the spot where I’d left Sam. About thirty seconds later, Sam trotted up, huffing and puffing.

I smiled and leaned against the nearest mausoleum. We were alone in the alley.

“Look!” said Sam. He pointed at the tomb I was leaning against. It was covered with chalk X’s. “It’s Marie’s,” Sam crowed, stopping abruptly as a mist began to ooze from the wall. I leaped back.

We watched in awe as the mist coalesced into the translucent form of a dark-skinned woman wearing a turban. She peered at us, then spoke with an indistinguishable lilting accent. “You requested my favor with the Mormo?”

“Yes. Yes!” I couldn’t believe the X trick had actually worked. “Can you help us capture him?”

“I’m afraid all I can offer is my advice. For years I was able to keep the Mormo at bay, but he is relentless. The zombies and ghosts will keep coming, and eventually, you will be overwhelmed. Your only hope is to neutralize him.”

“We have the pithos…” I offered.

“Ah, yes. But how are you going to get him inside it? For that, you need an object of power.”

“A what?” I asked.

“An object of power,” she repeated. “I tried many during my time on Earth, but none was strong enough to entrap the Mormo.”

“They’re back!” shouted Sam, pointing to two approaching skeletons.

“Wait, I just thought of something!” I reached into my pocket and removed the wooden ring we’d found under the bridge in Austin. I held it out to Marie Laveau.

The spirit smiled. “Ah, yes. That just might work.” She began to fade into the above-ground tomb. “Good luck…”

“Hold on!” I called after her. “What do we—”

But she was gone.

“What does the ring do?” shouted Sam, as he kept his eyes on another half-animated corpse.

I stared at the ring. “I don’t know,” I said.

“Well, put it on!” shouted Sam, scanning the graveyard wildly as four more undead trundled toward us, their tattered clothes and clumps of skin dragging along the ground. “They’re almost here! Come on!”

We took cover behind a crumbling tomb cordoned off with yellow caution tape. Sam dropped a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I patted it and turned to give him a smile.

Sam stared at me in wide-eyed terror. Both of his hands covered his mouth. So whose hand was…? I looked down. My hand was on top of…a hand. No arm. Just a hand.

“Yaaah!” I hurled it from me and scrambled back.

“Mmmuhhhuummm.” A zombie lay on top of the tomb. She rolled off, landed with a wet thud, and lurched to her feet. Red-rimmed eyes stared out of her bloated and bruised face. Her matted hair hung in filthy clumps. Her remaining hand clasped a sword…made of Celestial bronze.

I sucked in my breath. “It’s one of the demigods Hades told us about.”

She took a laborious step toward us and raised her weapon.

Make them fully dead…
Hades’s words flashed through my mind. One thrust of my sword and I could free her from zombiedom and send her to the Underworld.

But I hesitated. Destroying monsters and vaporizing the ghosts of long dead people was one thing. Stabbing a fellow demigod, even a zombified one—

“I can’t do it.”

“Don’t have to.” Sam whipped the caution tape into a lasso, roped the zombie girl’s torso, and wrapped her up tighter than a mummy. As an afterthought, he tucked her severed hand into a fold in the tape. “That might come in handy later. Ba-dum chhh!” He mimed a rimshot.