The Eternal City

  This sounded more insolent than she’d intended; Laura didn’t want to offend Mercury, or, worse, bring Minerva’s wrath down on her head. While she was talking, his head twitched to one side, his short dark hair ruffled by the breeze and dusted with silvery ash. Luckily, he seemed to be intently listening rather than looking enraged.

  “Just because Romans have deserted their gods,” he said at last, “doesn’t mean that the gods have deserted Rome. This you must see, from everything going on around you. You must persevere until the battle is over, and Vulcan and Mars are vanquished. Then you will be able to leave with the sacred stones.”

  Vulcan. Mars. A battle. Mercury might think he was passing on some upbeat message about hanging tough, but from Laura’s point of view, the news just got worse and worse. A helicopter’s blades chattered close by, stirring up a storm of ash and drowning out the wail of a passing fire engine. Above the rooftops she could see flames shoot into the cloudy sky. She didn’t want honor and glory and special attention from the great goddess. She just wanted all this to stop.

  “Remember, you are to keep the sacred stones,” Mercury went on. “The eyes of the great goddess. You have let them leave your possession, and that is unwise.”

  The door to the restaurant began to creak open; it was heavy, and squeaked as though it hadn’t been oiled in years. Suddenly, Mercury sprang into the air and was transformed in an instant into a hooded crow that flew off, in a shadowy blur, into the night sky.

  Sofie emerged from the bright lights of the restaurant, tripping over the doorstep and staring at Laura with wild eyes.

  “You must come!” she said, holding the heavy door ajar. “Quick!”

  “What’s wrong?” Laura asked, her heart still thumping from the conversation with Mercury, with all its strange and unwelcome information.

  “The stones are gone,” said Sofie. “Kasper has taken them and run away to the House of Gold.”

  What?” Laura couldn’t believe her ears. “He ran off to the Golden House?”

  “Yes, yes. That’s what I said to you.” Sofie sounded annoyed. “This is where we think he goes, anyway. He tells us he goes to the bathroom, but instead he walks out the front door. And now Dan runs after him.”

  Laura pushed herself off the wall and squeezed past Sofie. This was insane: It was nighttime, and the Golden House was closed, and the city was a jumble of roadblocks, rubble, and fires. By now there were probably roving bands of looters as well, clambering through the wreckage of stores and homes, not to mention the people—or harpies or spirits or other vicious minions of the gods—who were after the star sapphires. Kasper had no idea what he was letting himself in for.

  At the table, Maia was calmly counting euros into the waiter’s outstretched hand.

  “We must go at once,” Sofie said, practically bouncing with impatience. “Hurry, hurry!”

  “This is your fault,” Maia said to Sofie, without acknowledging Laura at all. “You were supposed to be watching him.”

  “I cannot go to the bathroom with him,” Sofie complained. “You are the one who says—yes, Kasper, please put the stones in your pockets. They will be so safe.”

  Maia had nothing to say to this.

  “Let’s go,” Laura said. This was no time for one of their confusing arguments, and the Golden House was a long walk from here, beyond the Colosseum. It would be hard to catch the boys if they were running. And it would be hard for Dan to catch Kasper, if Kasper had any sort of a head start. Dan was a really strong runner, but he’d taken quite a beating today, and the city was dark and confusing.

  When she and the other two girls stepped out into the street, Rome was a jumble of shapes and shadows, lit up here and there by shooting flames. The air felt so warm and smoky, Laura felt as though they walking toward fire.

  * * *

  By the time they skirted the hulking skeleton of the Colosseum, Laura had worked herself up into a fear-fueled anger. Kasper was so arrogant, to steal something that didn’t belong to him. And how he imagined he’d “return” the star sapphires was beyond Laura. The ruins were closed to the public. What did he really think he could do?

  Silently, she, Maia, and Sofie managed to wend their way into the hilly park that now enclosed the ruins. Laura was exhausted and disoriented. In the smoky dark, any light blocked by tall trees, she could barely see her map, and the twisting paths were confusing.

  Her only clue was the tall chain link fences, the kind erected by building contractors, curtained with mesh. Warning signs depicting a large hand, and the words Vietato L’Ingresso—entry forbidden—dangled at regular intervals. These fences had to be protecting the perimeter of the ruins, to stop any visitors wandering in. At least now they had something to follow.

  The search for the main entrance—any entrance—seemed endless. Maia kept peering through gashes in the fence’s mesh coverings but must have seen nothing worth reporting on. Finally, after Laura jogged past a clump of trees that smelled of damp pine and woodsmoke, the fence gave way to more substantial iron gates topped by spikes.

  “This is it,” Laura hissed at Maia, running up to a sign that told her, in six different languages, that the Domus Aurea was closed indefinitely because it was unsafe. The structure of the ruined palace itself was hard to make out in the dark, and Laura had to peer through the bars of the gate to see its two stories of brick colonnades, patched with weedy growth. A park bench and a trash can sat at peace outside the main door, as though they were waiting for the tourists currently banned from visiting.

  This wasn’t exactly what Laura had been expecting. This looked more like a crumbling barn than an ancient villa. There were only pieces left of Nero’s great pleasure palace, she knew; it had been pillaged and dismantled, and most of it had been buried under Trajan’s baths, not to mention a more modern park, where the trees had sunk their roots into what was left of the roof. That root system was letting in dangerous amounts of soil and damp, which was why the ruins had been closed for years.

  “We will have to get over the gates,” said Maia.

  Laura pressed against the bars, gazing up at the forbidding spikes. “How?” she muttered.

  “Hey,” Sofie shouted, pointing into the air. “Can you see them? Hey!”

  It took a moment or two for Laura to work out what she was supposed to be seeing. She followed Sofie’s flapping hand, looking above the brick facade. There was another fence up there, marking the ridge of the hill where the ruins had been dug out. Shadowy figures moved along the fence, one pausing to try to scale it but sliding back down almost immediately. Two figures—the boys!

  “Hey!” Sofie shouted again. “Kasper! Dan!”

  One of the boys on the ridge above them lifted a hand to wave.

  “Hey!” he called, his voice faint, swallowed up by the night. It sounded sort of like Dan, though it was hard to tell.

  “Is he stopping Kasper or helping him?” Laura asked the others. It was so hard to see. She wanted to scream at them to come down from the ridge, but they would never hear. The other figure—was it Kasper?—had bent over. Now, moments later, he was staggering back, holding what looked like a big manhole cover.

  Oh no. Had he found a place to drop the stones?

  “We have to get up there,” she said.

  “Impossible,” Sofie replied. “We must walk and walk up the hill, and even then we might not find the place they are.”

  “We can still catch them.” Laura was trying to talk herself into this. No way was she just standing here doing nothing while Kasper threw the star sapphires into some cavernous ruins, thinking it would solve everyone’s problems. Who knew what would happen next? What if some harpy got her claws on the stones—what would she do with them? And what would Minerva do if the stones fell into the wrong hands? Maybe she’d take revenge on Laura, for betraying her sacred mission or whatever it was.

  “We need to go over this.” Maia waved a hand at the security fence and its spiky gateposts.

  “Ye
s,” said Laura. She looked at the park bench, and then at the weedy trees growing out between the bricks of the building. They could tip the bench on one end and use it as a ladder, maybe. There had to be a way.

  A crow flapped overhead; Laura heard the whir of its wings before she could see it. It landed on one of the branches growing out of the building—a sign, Laura decided. The hooded crows, Apollo’s creatures, were there to look out for them. Maybe it was even Mercury in crow form, watching and waiting.

  “Okay,” said Maia, sounding as though the task ahead was the easiest thing in the world. “Let’s do it.”

  To their right a part of the gate was embedded in a low brick wall, and Maia hauled herself onto the lowest rung of railing. If they pushed her, she could reach the top of the iron fence, and if she was really careful, Laura thought she could elude the spikes.

  She and Sofie both followed Maia’s lead, reaching for the rails and dragging themselves up the short brick wall. Laura had just enough of a foothold to help push Maia up. Although Maia was heavier than she looked, she managed to claw her way to the top, Sofie helping to keep her steady.

  “Got it!” Maia shouted, but whatever she’d gotten didn’t last long, because she slithered down the gate again, almost knocking Sofie off the wall.

  “I am the tallest,” Sofie pointed out. “I should go first.”

  She and Maia managed, with some difficulty, to trade places, and then the girls tried their hoist maneuver again. It worked better this time, because Sofie’s long arms could easily reach the top rung of the gate, though it was still a huge effort to get the rest of her up there. Maia and Laura each took hold of one of her feet, and Laura managed to get kicked on the chin and in the shoulder before Sofie, amid much squealing and what sounded like swearing in German, wedged herself into a sitting position between two spikes.

  “Now you push, I reach,” panted Sofie, her long legs dangling, one hand gripping a spike for balance. Laura pushed as hard as she could. Maia felt like a lump of concrete, but she had strong arms and managed to pull herself up pretty well, grabbing a low-hanging branch from the nearest tree to help.

  Only Laura was left now.

  She really didn’t know if she could climb the iron gate herself without someone pushing her from behind. Sofie was leaning over, waiting to grab her, but Sofie wasn’t that strong, not strong enough to hold Laura’s entire body weight with one hand. Sofie needed the other hand to hang on to the nearest spike, otherwise they’d both fall.

  Maia slid, bumping all the way, onto the ground on the other side of the gate, ready to push through the bars. For the first time in her life, Laura wished she’d made more effort in gym class, and worked on pull-ups rather than joking around with Morgan.

  The hooded crow was circling overhead now, calling out what might be a warning, or possibly encouragement.

  “Why can’t you be something useful, like a griffon?” Laura said under her breath, glancing at the swooping bird. She wedged a foot onto the low bar of the gate and stretched to reach the top with her left hand; Sofie grabbed her right, almost dragging her arm out of her socket. Laura could feel Maia’s hands gripping her legs as her sneakers scrabbled against the iron railings.

  Her sore ankle bashed the iron, and there was searing pain in her bruised wrist when she managed to grab a spike, but it didn’t matter: She was up there, with Sofie pulling her over, and Sofie and Maia catching her—more or less—when she tumbled down the other side.

  The crow whooped and wheeled overhead. Long-legged Sofie slid down the other side without any help. Laura strode toward the park bench, rubbing her aching wrist. The three of them made easy work of turning the bench on one end, and again Sofie led the way. She climbed up the first story, using two branches to pull herself up while Maia, precariously balanced, pushed from below. Laura hadn’t seen Sofie so enthusiastic about anything the past two days. Breaking and entering was clearly her thing.

  When it was Laura’s turn, she felt like a toddler compared to Sofie’s effortless climb. Maia boosted her, but it took several attempts before Laura could catch a branch, and she bashed her face and knees on multiple bricks. While Maia climbed, Laura lay prone on the walkway above, bark stuck under her fingernails and her forehead moist with blood.

  “You are still alive?” Sofie asked her, with disdain rather than sympathy, and Laura nodded, dragging herself onto her knees.

  The next level was trickier without the park bench to use as a ladder, but there was a rough stone wall here with more footholds. Sofie, stretching as far as she could, managed to haul herself onto what was left of a buttress. Maia was next, crying out when her bare legs dragged against the stone on her way up. Was that the first time she’d ever complained? Laura wondered.

  “Throw me your hoodie, Laura,” Maia shouted down. “I’ll make a rope.”

  It sounded like a good idea. Laura unzipped, glad to be rid of the warm outer layer, and tossed the hoodie to Maia. But actually going up took forever. Laura squirmed and dangled on the makeshift rope, swinging like a pendulum and bouncing off the stone wall. Finally, though, after a couple of tries, Maia was able to grab her. Sofie lunged for her, and Laura thought they might both topple off the ledge.

  Too exhausted to speak, the girls lay in a heap, breathing hard. When Laura looked up, she was relieved to see the hillside and its long fence, obscured by some pungent flowering bush, only a few feet above them. They still had to get over that fence, but it was nothing as high as the gate they’d climbed, and, thankfully, didn’t have spikes.

  Sofie climbed over easily, then Laura, then Maia—they were getting good at this, Laura thought, even though every part of her ached, and what might be sweat or might be blood was dribbling into her left eyebrow.

  “So now we must find the …” Sofie began, but if she said anything after that, Laura didn’t hear it. All she could hear was a rumble deep beneath her feet. Like a subway train, she thought, again. Then the ground started shaking, and a tree, bouncing around as though it was on a trampoline, thudded onto the damp ground. Laura dropped to the ground as well, her face pressed to its loamy wetness, the world still shivering, the crow shrieking somewhere unseen overhead.

  This time she knew exactly what it was: another earthquake.

  Maia’s leg was pretty much the only thing Laura could see, apart from dirt and grass. Maia and Sofie must have been flat on the ground as well. No one spoke as the earth trembled.

  This felt even longer and bigger than the last earthquake. Laura dug her fingers into the dirt and wished it would stop shaking. Now Sofie was saying something she couldn’t make out, and when Laura propped herself up, the fence was shaking and dancing. And where Sofie was lying, the ground was splitting open, like a wound when stitches break.

  “Get back!” Laura shouted, but she didn’t know if anyone could hear her. Maia didn’t budge from where she lay, but Sofie seemed to be wriggling across the ground. She was falling, Laura realized, falling headfirst into this schism in the earth.

  “Sofie!” Laura cried, crawling toward her like an insect, her belly scraping the grass. She groped blindly for one of Sofie’s long legs and made contact, but she couldn’t see the girl’s head or arms. She could feel Maia now crawling along beside her, trying to get to Sofie, too.

  The ground shuddered one last time and then everything got quiet again.

  Still gripping Sofie’s leg, Laura pulled herself up to her knees. Sofie was on her stomach, her legs still visible, the rest of her dangling, Laura assumed, inside the hole in the ground. It reminded Laura of when Sofie had almost been swallowed by the fresco.

  “Great,” said Maia, who’d perched on a mound of upturned turf and was hanging on to Sofie’s other leg. “Now we have to save her.”

  “Are you okay?” Laura called down, ignoring Maia’s typical lack of sympathy.

  “Yeah,” came the muffled response. “But …”

  “But what? Don’t worry—we can pull you out.” Laura wasn’t sure if this
were true, but there were two of them, and they could try.

  “No, not me,” Sofie said, and Laura realized that her voice was echoing. A chunk of turf near her shoulders dropped out of sight, collapsing into the hole, and moments later there was the unmistakable sound of a splat as it hit something—the ground?—deep below them.

  “Can you see anything?” Maia called.

  “A light,” said Sofie’s muffled voice. “Pull me up, please.”

  Standing felt strange to Laura, as though the ground were still shaking beneath her. But it wasn’t. Every time she and Maia tugged, more of the earth around Sofie dropped away, the hole in the ground growing larger and larger. Soon, Laura worried, it might all cave in and take them with it.

  It was hard to see anything clearly, because the moon and stars were all obscured behind dark clouds. Trees rustled close by, and Laura could taste clammy flakes of ash in her mouth every time the breeze stirred. She wondered where the boys were, if they’d found a way in through the grate she’d seen one of them holding. Hopefully they’d found somewhere safe to ride out the earthquake. However annoyed she was with Kasper, she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. And she couldn’t even think about something bad happening to Dan. All she wanted right now was to see his beaten-up face again.

  When they finally managed to pull Sofie free, she lay panting on her back for a moment, then sat up, dusting dirt off her shoulders.

  “They’re down there,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Who? The boys?” Laura asked, and Sofie nodded.

  “You saw them?” Maia asked.

  “Kasper has a flashlight,” said Sofie. “He showed it to me yesterday—it’s on his penknife. He’s down there, shining it around.”

  “And Dan?” Laura’s stomach churned; she was dreading Sofie’s answer. The crow took off from a tree nearby, swooping close to them before landing on another branch.

  “I think I can see his legs,” Sofie told her. “Maybe. I don’t know.”