“Siege weapons,” Frank added. “Public sanitation.”
“Yeah, fine,” Leo said. “But Archimedes was in a class by himself. His spheres could do all sorts of things, only nobody is sure…”
Suddenly Leo got an idea so incredible that his nose burst into flames. He patted it out as quickly as possible. Man, it was embarrassing when that happened.
He ran to the row of cubbyholes and examined the markings on the scroll cases. “Oh, gods. This is it!”
He gingerly lifted out one of the scrolls. He wasn’t great at Ancient Greek, but he could tell the inscription on the case read On Building Spheres.
“Guys, this is the lost book!” His hands were shaking. “Archimedes wrote this, describing his construction methods, but all the copies were lost in ancient times. If I can translate this…”
The possibilities were endless. For Leo, the quest had now totally taken on a new dimension. Leo had to get the spheres and scrolls safely out of here. He had to protect this stuff until he could get it back to Bunker 9 and study it.
“The secrets of Archimedes,” he murmured. “Guys, this is bigger than Daedalus’s laptop. If there’s a Roman attack on Camp Half-Blood, these secrets could save the camp. They might even give us an edge over Gaea and the giants!”
Hazel and Frank glanced at each other skeptically.
“Okay,” Hazel said. “We didn’t come here for a scroll, but I guess we can take it with us.”
“Assuming,” Frank added, “that you don’t mind sharing its secrets with us stupid uncomplicated Romans.”
“What?” Leo stared at him blankly. “No. Look, I didn’t mean to insult— Ah, never mind. The point is this is good news!”
For the first time in days, Leo felt really hopeful.
Naturally, that’s when everything went wrong.
On the table next to Hazel and Frank, one of the orbs clicked and whirred. A row of spindly legs extended from its equator. The orb stood, and two bronze cables shot out of the top, hitting Hazel and Frank like Taser wires. Leo’s friends both crumpled to the floor.
Leo lunged to help them, but the two armored manikins that couldn’t possibly move did move. They drew their swords and stepped toward Leo.
The one on the left turned its crooked helmet, which was shaped like a wolf’s head. Despite the fact that it had no face or mouth, a familiar hollow voice spoke from behind its visor.
“You cannot escape us, Leo Valdez,” it said. “We do not like possessing machines, but they are better than tourists. You will not leave here alive.”
Chapter 39
Leo agreed with Nemesis about one thing: good luck was a sham. At least when it came to Leo’s luck.
Last winter he had watched in horror while a family of Cyclopes prepared to roast Jason and Piper with hot sauce. He’d schemed his way out of that one and saved his friends all by himself, but at least he’d had time to think.
Now, not so much. Hazel and Frank had been knocked out by the tendrils of a possessed steampunk bowling ball. Two suits of armor with bad attitudes were about to kill him.
Leo couldn’t blast them with fire. Suits of armor wouldn’t be hurt by that. Besides, Hazel and Frank were too close. He didn’t want to burn them, or accidentally hit the piece of firewood that controlled Frank’s life.
On Leo’s right, the suit of armor with a lion’s head helmet creaked its wiry neck and regarded Hazel and Frank, who were still lying unconscious.
“A male and female demigod,” said Lion Head. “These will do, if the others die.” Its hollow face mask turned back to Leo. “We do not need you, Leo Valdez.”
“Oh, hey!” Leo tried for a winning smile. “You always need Leo Valdez!”
He spread his hands and hoped he looked confident and useful, not desperate and terrified. He wondered if it was too late to write TEAM LEO on his shirt.
Sadly, the suits of armor were not as easily swayed as the Narcissus Fan Club had been.
The one with the wolf-headed helmet snarled, “I have been in your mind, Leo. I helped you start the war.”
Leo’s smile crumbled. He took a step back. “That was you?”
Now he understood why those tourists had bothered him right away, and why this thing’s voice sounded so familiar. He’d heard it in his mind.
“You made me fire the ballista?” Leo demanded. “You call that helping?”
“I know how you think,” said Wolf Head. “I know your limits. You are small and alone. You need friends to protect you. Without them, you are unable to withstand me. I vowed not to possess you again, but I can still kill you.”
The armored dudes stepped forward. The points of their swords hovered a few inches from Leo’s face.
Leo’s fear suddenly made way for a whole lot of anger. This eidolon in the wolf helmet had shamed him, controlled him, and made him attack New Rome. It had endangered his friends and botched their quest.
Leo glanced at the dormant spheres on the worktables. He considered his tool belt. He thought about the loft behind him—the area that looked like a sound booth. Presto: Operation Junk Pile was born.
“First: you don’t know me,” he told Wolf Head. “And second: Bye.”
He lunged for the stairs and bounded to the top. The suits of armor were scary, but they were not fast. As Leo suspected, the loft had doors on either side—folding metal gates. The operators would’ve wanted protection in case their creations went haywire…like now. Leo slammed both gates shut and summoned fire to his hands, fusing the locks.