DISCLAIMER: All the characters, except the OC's, belong to Rick Riordan


Chapter 23: I plunge into the Underworld.

"No way!" The blood drained from Annabeth's face when she saw the date on the newspaper: June Twentieth. The eve of the Summer Solstice.

She was still reeling from the high of completing her masterpiece in the Lotus Casino. At this point, she was sick with fear and disgust. They'd—she'd—been easily sucked in by the enticing hotel, and they'd still be if Percy hadn't snapped them out of it. They were running out of time to complete their quest.

Annabeth's brow furrowed as she looked at Piper. With the exception of the Lotus Casino card in her hand, she was back in her Waterland merchandise clothes. An idea formed in her head and she crowded everyone into a cab.

When the meter displayed the infinite symbol, she exhaled in relief. She had at least been able to take something from the cursed Casino. She sagged back into her seat when she thought about the five days they still had yet to make up.

"I gotta tell you something." Percy furrowed his brows. "A dream, I guess."

"What?" she asked warily. Those weren't the words you use when you have good news.

He tried to remember the dream, but the more he talked about it, the more troubled he appeared. He vaguely mentioned a voice speaking to his servant from a huge pit. Something about the pit slammed into her head, but she couldn't recall the specifics.

When she suggested Hades' nicknames to connect the dream, he got all defensive on behalf of the Lord of the Underworld. "Look, the problem wasn't with Hades. The voice in the pit...it didn't sound like a god or anything."

Annabeth should've agreed. She'd seen Hades on a throne made of bones when she'd dreamed of him watching their fight with the Furies, and Percy's description didn't match the god at all; Hades never laughed. The details about the pit continued to tug at her brain.

A vast prison capable of containing an immortal. They call it the Tartarus, the pit of the gods...

In one version of the myth, Kronos' prison sentence has a limit...

Annabeth froze. Her brain didn't want to contemplate the idea that was trying to form in her head; it was too horrifying. Her face must've reflected some of it because Percy narrowed his eyes at her.

"What?"

She stopped contemplating. She wasn't sure she wanted to follow her idea to its conclusion. "No, it has to be Hades." she insisted and tried to come up with logical possibilities.

"...but if the thief stole the master bolt from Olympus, a lot of things could go wrong." she spun her story quickly. "Hades' servant could've stashed the bolt somewhere or...or misplaced it while he escaped the pursuit, I don't know..." That would explain why Furies came after them, thinking maybe they had the bolt. But she was still missing a piece of the puzzle. A piece that would fall in place if she dared to consider what the 'pit' really was.

She shook her head. It didn't matter. Either way, the answer was still in the Underworld, and she had to concentrate on getting there first. They were out of time and the Underworld was their only lead.

All her energy and motivation abandoned her when Percy asked her about the pit again. "I mean...if it isn't Hades...?"

"Percy..." her voice trembled. "Let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades... no, it has to be Hades." She wasn't sure she'd still be able to go through with the quest if she let herself believe otherwise.

Annabeth fixed her gaze on him. He scrunched his brows in a tight frown, like whenever he was in deep thought. She couldn't stand by and let him finish his train of thoughts. She caught the driver's eye in the rear mirror and tossed him another lie to chew on.

"Look..." she whispered. "The answer is in the Underworld. You saw the spirits of the dead, Percy," she went on. "There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing. We just have to make a plan for how to get there."

"After you meet Poseidon in Santa Monica," Piper reminded. "Maybe he'll have something to help us."

"That's the other thing. The lady—I mean, the river spirit—said not to trust gifts." Annabeth said.

"Yeah, but it's from Poseidon," Piper pointed out. "He was the one who needed assistance here; he would want us to succeed. The river spirit must mean some other gifts..."

"Maybe, but Poseidon isn't free right now, and I believe he won't be until we find the bolt. If the Nereid was referring to some other gifts..." Annabeth averted her gaze when Percy glanced at her.

"Like the Lotus Casino cards we got," she remarked. "We shouldn't have trusted those."

"Yeah, maybe."

Piper tugged at her shirt sleeve. "Listen, I have something to tell you," Uh oh, another bad news? But she shook her head, refusing to speak further, after a quick glance at Percy.

"We just can't hope Percy to find all answers in Santa Monica, though." Annabeth reminded. She tried to recall all of the myths and legends to break into the Underworld. "We need a plan to enter the Underworld. It won't be easy. For starters, it is surrounded by five rivers, none of which are the kind you can swim across. I don't know if we'll come across others, but the Styx is one of the entry points." she didn't know which one would be the worst and went back to formulate a plan.

"I believe there's a ferry for the dead spirits, so maybe I can sneak on with my cap. Piper—your shoes. Hermes is said to lead the spirits to the Underworld, and the shoes must also function there. Each of you can take a sneaker, and we'll rendezvous on the other side."

"What then?" Piper showed a rare display of interest. "How do we get past the guards, assuming there are some. Do you know what they are?"

"Um—not entirely. I only know for sure Cerberus is one of them—you know, the three-headed hellhound."

Annabeth tried to sound braver than she felt. Cerberus was one of the worst hellhounds and she already didn't have a great track record with them. "It'll be okay. We just need a good strategy. Like, capture the flag."

She cast a glance at Percy. He was no longer listening and stared out of the window. looking grim and pensive. She looked to Piper. "Perhaps if Hades still thinks we have the bolt and is waiting for us...as long as we keep convincing him that we're bringing it to him..."

Piper gave her a strange look. "Are you listening to yourself? Isn't our quest to retrieve the bolt from Hades? Why, assuming we have it, would we need to bring it back to him?"

Annabeth stumbled over her words but recovered quickly. "Because he was the only one who knew the master bolt's last known location. We need to persuade him to avoid conflict and call off the war." she had realized by this point that she was running out of ideas and convictions.

"You think he'll let us in without a fuss..." Piper hit the nail on the head. Annabeth hung her head, embarrassed.

They arrived at the Santa Monica Pier just before sundown. The trash of millions of tourists littered the sands, with aluminum soda cans carelessly discarded all around. They walked to the edge of the shore. Percy told them to wait for him on the beach and stepped into the surf.

As she watched him keep going, sinking deeper into the filthy water, Annabeth couldn't help but mutter. "The water in this area is extremely polluted. All kinds of toxic chemicals are dumped in the sea!"

"It's okay," Piper nudged her. "He must enter. I mean, it's the sea, right? Remember the river at the Arch. He was okay when he fell in, and that's from six hundred feet. Percy will be fine in the sea." she wrinkled her nose. "Even though it's been polluted to this degree."

They both found a clean spot on the sand (not as easy as it sounds) and sat down to wait for Percy to return from his impromptu excursion.

The sun was setting over the pacific, illuminating the sky with various shades of reds and orange reflected off the crests of the waves. She'd never seen this side of the coast before; it was pretty spectacular. The waves rushing up the beach and the rolling ocean out to the horizon was soothing.

"Peaceful, isn't it?" Piper said. Annabeth nodded.

She fiddled with the sand while Piper gazed out at the ocean, randomly packing it together, and digging around in it. Without really thinking, she began to build a small town in the sand that resembled her masterpiece construction in the Lotus Casino. She'd infused the city with elements from Olympus and the modern world. She created an open-air temple for the gods and surrounded it with soda can columns.

The town kind of resembled the suburbs of Richmond, where she'd used to live. The thought made her a little depressed.

"Hey, does it get better?" she asked abruptly. "Living with your dad, I mean?" she clarified.

"How did you know that?"

Annabeth worked on her sand colony while recounting her conversation with Percy back in the zoo truck. The sand town reminded her of her dad once again. Though she might admit now that a variety of circumstances had forced her dad into a passive stance, it wasn't an easy walk in the park to be treated as black sheep in the family either.

It's a lot harder than we could ever imagine. They care about us.

Percy only gave her a few glimpses of Piper's life to relate to her relationship with her dad. So she was eager to learn more.

"Sure, it's difficult at times, but you get used to it. You can't expect your dad to always listen to you and stick around for you. He has things to do, a life to live, and memories to treasure. Who knows what goes through his head."

"Wow, you sound a lot older than you are," Annabeth admitted. "Who taught you?" She'd never considered her dad's side before today.

Piper gave a wan smile. "That's the downside of learning your heritage early. You have the potential to do awesome stuff, but you're also forced to accept the reality and grow up quickly. Percy had a rough life. Unlike us, his step-parent paid too much attention to him. Sally married an awful guy to cover Percy's aura with a repulsive human scent."

"He...turned out to be an abusive drunk with major issues. Percy and Sally...they had to put up with his physical abuse for many years, and couldn't get rid of him either. His repulsive scent protected Percy during his boarding school terms."

"For many years, Sally had to live with the stigma of her son being labeled a trouble maker and failure at school, and an abusive husband at home, but she persisted for Percy's sake. They didn't know the other was being abused too, until one day, Percy came across the technique to mask our aura from monsters."

"And?" Annabeth's prod came out barely audible.

She didn't need Piper's wrap-up to tell Percy's stepfather was an awful, self-centered jerk. She found herself full of sympathy for him; she couldn't imagine living with such a smarmy man. Her stepmom Helen suddenly didn't seem so bad in comparison.

"He was able to successfully develop a new technique for hiding a demigod's divine aura from monsters. It's not a one-day effort, you know. Percy had to draft several theories and techniques, as well as pull himself together after several failed conclusions. He even took the risk of flying to the ancient lands to verify it."

"What?" Annabeth exclaimed. "Percy had gone to the ancient lands? But that's not possible!" Then she remembered the technique for concealing aura from the monsters; it made sense to evade monsters in ancient Greece.

"Yeah, so he knew—firsthand—how far a mortal parent would go for a demigod. Sure, I resented my dad at the beginning too; he ignored me in order to forget about Aphrodite. But what am I to do? Resent and ignore him as he did? What's the point? Whether I like it or not, he's my dad, and always will be. So I'm better off forgive and forget."

"Thanks. I needed that, Piper."

Piper grinned and pulled out two silver plastic cards. "These are the platinum cards I snagged from the Casino. Wanna try one?" she handed one to her.

Annabeth should've been thrilled. The Lotus Casino cards have unlimited cash on them, and they'd helped them to reach Los Angeles rather quickly. And unlike the Medusa credit card, no monster had been on their tail so far. But...

"Shouldn't you...share this with Percy?"

Piper waved her off. "Percy's a showoff. I won't have anything to brag about if I give it to him. Besides, he already has the green one. This could be our little secret." she winked at Annabeth.

Percy's a showoff? Like, you're not? Look at you... Annabeth thought.

She returned to finish her work. A long shadow fell over her sand colony. Percy loomed over them, completely dry despite his underwater excursion. The setting sun cast a golden halo over his head.

"I got presents from Atlantis," he said.

oOo

Annabeth was skeptical when Percy told her he hadn't actually seen his father, just some Nereid they'd seen in the Iris message. He took out two white pearls and explained their purpose. If the pearls were one-time usage, then they'd only have two chances to use them, depending on their needs.

"She didn't say exactly what would happen; just smash one in need. And, err 'what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea'." he finished the cryptic warning.

"Do you think this might be our ticket to the Underworld?" Piper wondered.

"I don't know, but we should probably hang on to them as back-up. We've got the Underworld address from Medusa's emporium. Let's try to find it on our own." Percy proposed.

Annabeth frowned. "I'm not sure we should rely on them at all. It's not a good strategy to rely on gifts without knowing what it was. After all, no gift comes without a price."

"They were free," he said foolishly.

Annabeth mentally facepalmed. Sometimes rewards had a way of coming back before the task. Those are the trickiest kind because you had to do it once you spent them, much like making a promise before you knew what it was. Besides, how many times had they already run into troubles accepting 'gifts' on the quest?

From Medusa's credit card, Ares' ride West, to the Lotus Casino cash cards—every single one of them had cost them something.

"No," she said firmly. "There's no such thing as free lunch." That's an ancient Greek proverb that has been translated into American culture. "There will be a price to pay. Let's not use it."

"It probably won't kill us. The Nereid said the Oracles foretold something...well, basically, Poseidon doesn't want me to die..."

She raised a brow skeptically. "Your dad doesn't want you to die, period?"

"Yeah, not before my time, anyway."

His response caught her like a curveball. She hadn't thought about the Great Prophecy since they'd left camp Half-Blood, but the talk about Oracles reminded her once again.

A half-blood of the Eldest gods shall reach sixteen against all odds.

Did that mean Poseidon was aware his son was meant to fulfill the prophecy?

"Anyway," Percy continued, "she also gave me a warning. She said Hades would want to keep us in the Underworld, and that not everything we see in there is true. She told me to trust my heart or lose everything."

Annabeth didn't like the sound of that either. She remembered her mother's clear advice on the subject: Let your head guide you and not your heart. She was the polar opposite of Percy; their heritage and teachings were vastly different, and even their godly parents' had raised their children differently.

"Let's keep moving," Piper suggested.

They used the last of their cash from Ares' backpack on a taxi to West Hollywood. Piper pulled out the delivery slip they'd obtained from Medusa's statuary, with the Underworld address on it: DOA Recording Studio, West Hollywood, California.

Unfortunately, the mist was so strong over it that the mortal driver they consulted couldn't figure out where it was. He advised them to look up the location in an address log or phone book.

"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," he asked Percy. "You a child actor or something?"

"Uh...I'm...a stunt double? For a lot of child actors." Percy managed.

"Oh! That explains it."

They thanked him and got off the taxi quickly at the next stop.

"We need to lay low from hereon. Our photos might be on the TV." Piper reminded.

They wandered around West Hollywood—the only known identifier on the address—searching for DOA, but no one seemed to know where it was. They ducked into alleys to avoid the cops, twice.

"You know, Los Angeles was known as the Land of Angels," Annabeth mused. "With so many movie stars and celebrities settling around the area, the city deserved the title. It was also a major hub of business, international trade, culture, entertainment, media, fashion, science, sports, and technology.

"Yeah, but such a thriving city hosts the Land of the Dead underneath," Piper said. The irony.

The shadows grew longer until finally, the sun vanished altogether, leaving them to roam the streets under the dim streetlamps. The trio huddled close together as they skirted the back alleys, trying to keep to the better-lit areas. The majority of the stores they passed were now dark and deserted.

They walked past vagrants, street hawkers, and criminal gangs, who looked at them as if deciding whether they were worth the trouble of mugging. Most of them kept their distance after Percy's hard, angry look, and their dumpster appearance. Most...

At the mouth of one dark alley, a store stood out sharpy because it was the only one with the outer lights turned on. Annabeth tried the doors. Fortunately, they were unlocked. The trio ducked inside. The mob of delinquents slipped past them.

"I think we lost them." Annabeth wheezed.

She flipped the lights on. They were in a pawn shop; the kind that purchases and sells interesting artifacts with fascinating stories. The aisles were crammed with strange assortments of merchandise from all over the country.

Piper found the phone book and began flipping through the pages, looking for the DOA studio. Annabeth and Percy went through the shop, looking for anything useful. One time, Percy stopped so suddenly she assumed he'd found something. She followed his gaze to the television blaring on a display window, broadcasting a news bulletin.

The reporter on the screen exaggerated their exploits on their quest across the country. "There you have it, America. Mrs. Jackson refused to answer any questions about her missing son. The principal of the adolescent boy's middle school claims that Percy Jackson is a troubled child, who has been kicked out of serval boarding schools before registering with them. He has shown to have expressed violent tendencies in the past too."

Annabeth's eyes darted to Percy's clenched fist. "Percy.." she reached out to take his hand.

"The Police wouldn't say that Percy Jackson is the suspect in the Amtrak derailment, but they haven't ruled out foul play. They've placed the Jackson residence under surveillance until the investigation is complete. The Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free crime-stopper hotline. Let me show you again, the last photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver."

The screen cut to a grainy shot of Percy, Annabeth, and Piper, standing outside the Colorado diner, arguing with Ares. Annabeth froze.

"Who are the other kids in this photo?" the reporter said dramatically. "Who's the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a terrorist, or perhaps a brainwashed victim of a terrifying new cult? We have a top child psychologist on standby for detailed analysis. Stay tuned, America."

She pulled Percy back before he could punch a hole through the television. They found Piper, furiously flipping through the phone book.

Annabeth cast a glance at the bulletin board behind the sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes' Delivery Service and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area monsters—The only monster yellow pages you'll ever need! Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording studios was taped to the board. She snipped it.

We're always on the lookout for new talents! it said. What can you expect at your audition? It offered commissions to the heroes' souls. The brochure behind the flier was covered with grainy shots of various checkpoints to pass before reaching the 'celebrity judges'.

"Seems like the Underworld has downsized," Annabeth mused, once she'd puzzled out the text. "Good news, their security force has shrunk."

"And the bad news?" Piper prompted. She'd long discarded the directory.

"The guard dog still has three heads." Percy winced.

"Let's go then. It's only a block from here." The trio went in the direction of the flier.

Annabeth once again formulated her plan to sneak into the Underworld. She estimated their chances had gone slightly up with the shrunken security, but Percy refused to try the flying shoes.

"The shoes didn't hold up when Piper tried to keep us airborne at the water park," he explained. "One shoe might not be able to take our weight alone. I'd just rather not fall into the rivers you mentioned about anytime soon." he trembled. "I mean, I'm good with water, but that Styx stuff just sounds awful."

Annabeth agreed. From what the brochure had said, the ferryman accepted bribes, which they could afford; they'd cleared out Medusa's cash register and added all the drachmas they could find to the bag Ares had given them.

But the three-headed guard hellhound, Cerberus, was another matter. Percy's bright idea was to distract him with a big stick—just like any other dog. He'd cut off a table post back at the pawnshop to bait and run through when the dog chased it off.

She didn't like the idea, but it was still marginally better than just pretending they had the master bolt and hoping that Hades would let them through unscathed. And there was evidence that another hero—Psyche—had done the same thing with rice cakes before.

They peered through the walkway leading to the studio after a few wrong turns, looking for any potential death traps to keep the living out of the Underworld. The glass door beneath the walkway was stenciled: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERS. THERE IS NO LIVING.

The lobby was full of people milling around aimlessly. Behind the desk sat a tough-looking guard with chocolate-colored skin and bleached blonde hair, military-style. He had a pair of sunglasses and an expensive suit that matched his hair.

The trio walked into the lobby. The carpet and walls were steel gray. The people stared at the elevator blankly, their eyes longing and haunted. As she focused on one, they began to appear...transparent. The demigod arrived at the desk.

Percy did a double-take and squinted at the guard. "Your name's Chiron too?"

Seaweed brain! Annabeth cursed internally.

The name tag under the black rose on his lapel read: C-H-A-R-O-N. She didn't need to look closer to recognize the ferryman's name from the myths and couldn't imagine Percy being that dense to mix up the names.

The man leaned across the desk and smiled at him sweetly, like a venomous snake. "What a precious young lad," he said in a strange British accent. "Tell me, mate. Do I look like a centaur to you?"

Percy quickly apologized and confessed that he was dyslexic. The ferryman pinched the name tag. "Read this with me. It says C-H-A-R-O-N. CARE-ON."

Percy nodded profusely. After the little hiccup, he managed to sweet-talk them onto Charon the ferryman's barge with a stack of drachmas and a promise of a pay rise from Hades(how he planned to follow up on that, she'd no idea).

"What's your name, mate? I don't get many visitors." Charon mused, as if receiving visitor in the Underworld was an inside joke.

Percy thought for a moment. "This is Jane," he pointed at Piper, who threw a dirty look at him. He shrugged helplessly and gestured towards her. "This is Rose, and my name is Bob." Annabeth bit back a smile at his poor naming sense.

Charon shuffled some papers on the desk and made his way to the elevator. The spirits in the lobby clamored after him. Most of them passed through the demigods, but Charon just huffed and pushed them aside. He snapped his finger and all the dead spirits froze in their tracks.

"Right." he turned around to face the spirits in the lobby. "No one gets any ideas while I'm gone, or else I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years," he announced.

He crowed the demigods into the elevator and inserted a key card into a slot on the panel. The elevator descended, unlike the one in the Empire State Building, except it was packed with dead souls to the brim, each with a green boarding card.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" she asked Charon.

"Nothing," he said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

His response made her nonplussed. "Oh, that's...fair."

Charon quirked a brow. "Whoever said the death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn."

"Don't listen to him," Percy nudged her. "It's because mortals have long ago forgotten the perform funeral rites for the dead in order to ensure their safe passage into the Underworld. And it was probably the ferryman's responsibility to only allow a spirit after the payment. They might've to spend some time in the lobby."

Annabeth wondered briefly if the camp would perform their funeral rites if they died in the Underworld or would they consider it unnecessary since they'd already crossed the lobby? Would the safe passage still be valid if they died in Hades?

The elevator jerked and landed on the water. Annabeth blinked, and the ferryman's Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe, his eye sockets filled with death and darkness. The spirits around her began to change; their modern clothing was replaced by gray robes. The elevator transformed into a wooden barge paddling across a dark, oily river, swirling with junk and strange objects. The air turned misty, sending waves of despair rushing through her.

"The River Styx," she murmured. "It's so..."

Bleak. Desolate. Despairing.

"Polluted," Charon sniffed. Annabeth looked at him. The flesh on his face became transparent, allowing her to see straight through his skull. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in whatever you could find—hopes, dreams, death wishes, and fantasies. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Annabeth observed the souls on the barge were indeed dropping items into the river: rings, medals, and toys. She saw a couple of diplomas float away, released by a man with hollow eyes. The river seemed to leech all the good out of others, sucking out their triumphs and memories into its murky depths.

What good will they do you now?

Without thinking, she slipped her hand into Percy's. It was cold and clammy, but rugged and hard. Annabeth instantly felt better, as if she was holding onto something solid the River couldn't claim. Percy squeezed her hand reassuringly.

The mist curled off the filthy water. The shoreline came into view, glimmering with a greenish light. A cave filled with stalactites filled their vision, in contrast to the craggy rocks stretched inland.

"You're an odd bunch," Charon remarked. Annabeth whirled her head at him. "One of you has no fear of the dead, while you two are afraid of different things." his hollow eyes bored into Annabeth. His empty sockets darted to Piper, who was messing with a dead spirit.

She didn't seem bothered by the gloom and despair wafting from the river but kept muttering about pollution and waste management and watched everything in fascination.

"This river is making me nervous," Percy squeezed her hand. "Its waters are repulsive and invasive, unlike the other water bodies in our world; it feels foreign." he shuddered a little and huddled closer to her.

Annabeth thought it made sense. It was probably what one would expect from a river that strips away the souls from one who didn't meet the expectations. She looked off into the distance at the looming walls that were already visible. Jagged rocks and black sand stretched inland to the base of the cavernous walls. A piercing loud howl echoed off the stone walls.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon chuckled, his skull rattling with amusement. "Bad luck for you, godlings." He parked the barge smoothly on the black sand and bowed to the passengers. The spirits shuffled off silently, muttering incoherently.

"I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here," he told them. "Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise." he pushed off with his pole, and the empty barge ferried back, through the bobbing remains of lost hopes and dreams.

The trio followed the dead up a well-worn path to the gates of Erebus. The fort walls towered over them like a huge mountain, making Annabeth feel as insignificant as an ant in front of the main gate.

Despite having read numerous books and given several ancient Grek lectures on the Underworld, the reality was still novel to her. She'd imagined a gloomy, ancient castle with towering gates and portcullis.

The entrance to the Erebus was like a tollway—a cross between airport security and Jersey Turnpike—with three queue lines under a massive, black archway. Each entrance was equipped with a metal detector and security cameras mounted on top. The security booths were manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

Two lines—marked 'ATTENDANT ON DUTY'—were piling up, with spirits being stopped at a security check and holding up the line, but in the center—marked 'EZ DEATH'—the spirits were passing one after the other through the detectors with no issues.

"What do you think?" Percy asked.

Annabeth watched the spirits in the EZ DEATH line for a minute. They all looked resigned, like they weren't thrilled with what lay ahead, but had accepted it nonetheless. There was a hint of relief and glee on their faces, too, as if they'd avoided something nastier.

"The 'EZ DEATH' line must go straight to Asphodel. No questions. They don't want to risk judgment from the court; it might be against them." Piper guessed.

"There's a court for dead people in the Underworld?" Percy asked.

"Yeah. Three judges." Annabeth informed. It was supposed to be king Minos, Aeacus, and king Rhadamanthus in the old stories, but the DOA brochure had updated information on them. "They switch around who sits on the bench. We've king Minos, Thomas Jefferson, and Shakespeare now—people like that. They consider a person's karma and contributions before deciding on a reward—the Fields of Elysium—or punishment."

"But the majority of people, well, they just lived. Nothing noteworthy, good or bad. So they choose the Fields of Asphodel, to idle around forever."

She felt a wisp of despair as they discussed the three Fields of the underworld. She'd probably end up in Asphodel if she died now since she hadn't managed anything heroic yet in her life. Or perhaps get assigned to the Fields of Punishment, for letting Thalia sacrifice and get turned into a pine tree.

She overheard Percy and Piper arguing about a similar issue while she was contemplating her death.

"I'm sure I'd end up in the punishments if I died on the quest," he mumbled.

"You...you kelp-brained sea-cow!" Piper raged. "What nonsense are you spewing now? See if I tear off your tongue out and feed it to you..."

Annabeth jerked her head back, interrupting them. "Guys. guys. You're making a scene. Look."

A couple of black-robed ghouls had pulled a spirit aside and whisked him away from the security desk. "Doesn't he seem familiar?" she asked.

"Now that you mention, he kinda does," Piper admitted. "Oh, I know. He was this obnoxious, loud-mouthed televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages only to spend it on himself."

Annabeth had read the article in a magazine while on winter break at camp. As a side hustle, the Hermes campers frequently smuggle such items for the right price.

"Too bad," Percy stared at the spirit, a hard look on his face. "He'd died in a police chase before we'd the chance to apprehend him." They watched as the security dragged the spirit to the farthest line.

"Where are they taking him?" Piper asked.

"Special punishment for swindlers," Annabeth guessed. "The really bad ones get personal attention from Hades. They'll be eternally tortured for their crimes."

"He's lucky to have Hades' special attention, I guess," Percy snarked. He seemed pretty worked up over an unfamiliar fraud; it was pretty common in the mortal world.

"But if he's a preacher," Piper reasoned. "And he believes in a different Hell..."

Annabeth shrugged. "Who's to say he sees this place the same way we do? Mortals only see what they want to see. His belief and faith must've been called into question given the way he's screaming his head off."

The line paced forward slowly. As Annabeth considered her plans to get the master bolt from Hades, she realized the black arch over the three lines was not—in fact—inanimate. The loud howling that shook the ground under them came from above the arch. The enormous shadow slowly became clear as they approached. It was a gigantic pure-bred Rottweiler.

Annabeth's dad used to own a Dobermann, so she usually liked dogs. But Cerberus was a different breed altogether. He was mostly invisible, blended into the darkness, except for his eyes and teeth. His three heads loomed over each of the lines. The spirits marched right on through him—below his belly, around his legs.

He wasn't just guarding the entrance to Erebus; he was the entrance to Erebus. The guard dog is responsible for preventing the dead from escaping the Underworld. It also blocks the living from entering.

She swallowed hard and glanced at Percy and Piper. They hadn't yet noticed the dog. Percy was still muttering about the spirit who had been whisked away by the security guards.

Then his mouth fell open. "He's a Rottweiler," he staggered. "I'm starting to see him better. Why is that?"

"I think.." Annabeth licked her lips. The more solid Cerberus got, the more insubstantial she felt, as though all her plans were dissolving into the mist that hung over the Styx. "...I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

Their plan was starting to seem more and more ludicrous. The middle head craned its neck towards them. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living." Percy identified.

"But that's okay because we have a plan." it would've been more reassuring if Piper's voice wasn't shaking.

"Right. A plan." They joined the EZ DEATH queue. Cerberus snarled and barked when they got closer.

Percy took a deep breath and extracted the makeshift stick he'd prepared. "Hey, Big Fella! I bet they don't play with you much." he tried to smile like he wasn't about to become a milk bone dog biscuit.

Cerberus snarled, throaty and full of bark like he was ready to rip their heads off.

"Good boy," Percy waved the stick hopefully. The middle head followed the stick, while the other two swiveled to stare at him.

"Fetch!" he threw the stick.

His aim was abysmal. Annabeth heard the splash as the stick joined the debris of Styx. All Cerberus' six eyes dropped in disappointment, unimpressed at Percy.

Annabeth had a sudden memory of her old Dobermann. She couldn't have looked more different from Cerberus, but his eyes were a dead ringer for the baleful look she used to get when she was ignored. She remembered the dog loved ball games. Annabeth glanced at the guard dog.

Maybe Cerberus did, too.

It was a crazy idea, but not more so than Percy's—now completely botched—plan. She dug into her Waterland backpack. If she remembered correctly, she'd swiped something useful.

"Wait..." she rummaged through it quickly. Cerberus trained his eyes on them, completely ignoring the spirits. "Got it!"

Annabeth held the red rubber ball, imagining her Dobermann standing before her, wagging its tail and lolling its tongue in excitement.

"See the ball?" she called. "You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit."

All three of his heads cocked to one side, considering her. Six nostrils dilated, trying to puzzle out her command.

"Sit!"

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips and sat back on his haunches. She couldn't see his tail, but she imagined it was thumping on the ground, probably crushing a bunch of spirits.

"Good boy!"

She tossed the ball and the middle head snapped it up immediately. The other two head-butted the middle one, demanding their turn.

"Drop it!" she ordered. Cerberus whined but released the ball. Annabeth picked up the ball, covered in monster drool. "Good boy!"

Cerberus barked and got on his feet. All three heads looked at her, eager for more. She'd gotten his full attention and he didn't seem to want to kill her yet.

"Go now. EZ DEATH line," she told her friends. "It's faster."

"But—"

"Now!"

"What about you?" Piper asked.

"I know what I'm doing," she said. "At least, I'm pretty sure..."

Percy and Piper started forward. Cerberus noticed them and growled.

"Stay!" Annabeth shouted and held up the red ball. She had to keep his attention. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus' eyes trained on her, hungrily waiting to play. She waited until the others had made it past. "Good dog!" She threw the ball into the air.

The left head immediately snatched it up, followed by the middle head slamming into him. The right head howled in protest. Annabeth took her chance when they were occupied.

Don't run, don't run. She kept chanting and passed between the legs. Percy and Piper awaited her in front of the metal detector.

"How did you do that?" Piper asked, amazed.

"Obedience school," she panted, a huge wave of homesickness swallowing her. Not that she'd ever miss living with her dad. "When I was little, we had a Dobermann, at my dad's house."

"For a while, I had thought you worked part-time in the Underworld as Cerberus' caretaker." Percy joked.

"Come on," he offered his hand. She took it gratefully. They almost stepped into the entrance.

A low, longing whine stopped her. Cerberus had turned around, staring at her expectantly. The tiny red rubber ball had been ripped to shreds. All three heads looked at her longingly.

"Good boy," she said automatically. Cerberus cocked his head sideways. "I'll...I'll bring you another ball soon. Would you like that?"

Cerberus whimpered. You don't need to speak dog to understand he was still waiting for the ball to play.

"Good dog," she told him. "I'll come to visit you soon. I—I promise." she'd no idea how she'd ever keep her word but she felt compelled to give him something. A tiny part of her brain suggested that perhaps Hades could let her through the line if she died in his palace.

She'd heard before that dogs can't be left alone for too long without going insane. Sure, Cerberus had crowds of souls passing every day, but when was the last time someone had played with him?

They couldn't stop, though. Alarms blared as soon as they crossed the metal detectors. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus barked again but the DOA brochure had proved accurate. The Underworld was facing a staff shortage. There weren't enough guards to stop them and man their security stands. The demigods were faster. They easily dashed through the entrance and found a large tree to hide behind. The security ghouls scuttled past them, yelling for backup.

"Well, what have we learned today, Mr. Expert?" Piper snarked.

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over furniture sticks?" Percy answered sheepishly.

"No," she rebuked. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

Annabeth wasn't sure about that. Though Percy's plan had been a disaster from the start, he had the same idea as she did. Even in the Underworld, everybody—including monsters—craved attention now and then.

The trio must've faded enough to blend in among the spirits because no one came sniffing them out. Cerberus' lonely whimpers rang in her head, following her all the way to the Fields of Asphodel. It left her with an uneasy conscience but didn't feel like the first time she'd walked away from something without a backward glance.

oOo

Though Annabeth had prided herself as an erudite, the Fields of Asphodel were nothing like what she'd read in the books. A dull, listless land filled with millions upon millions of lost souls spread out, stretching as far as her eyes could see. The dead souls milled around the field aimlessly, muttering incoherently; it was a cacophony of despair and tragedy.

The air was moist and warm, like a swamp near the river. The black grass had been trampled by eons of dead souls spread across the land. A forest of black poplars tree grew in clumps on the river-side, leading up to the gloomy fortress in the distance.

Except for gray and pointy stalactites, the cavern ceiling was obscured from their view, hidden behind a storm of clouds. Annabeth tried to convince herself that they wouldn't fall off suddenly, but the pathway was dotted with several broken pieces. She envied the dead spirits because they didn't have to fear being speared.

The trio attempted to blend in with the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls. They'd stumble upon a dead ghost, garbled chatter from time to time, and move past away.

Annabeth couldn't help but look for familiar faces among the spirits but shuddered at the thought of her dad among the wandering spirits. Her imagination ran wild, thinking about every person she knew in her life as a dead spirit in the Asphodel.

She felt her mouth dry and moistened her lips. The prospect of meeting her doom in the Underworld, and never seeing her friends and family made her wish that she'd visited her dad at least once. The trip to the Underworld and Cerberus heightened her heretofore homesickness.

Her brain involuntarily supplied a fuzzy recollection of her life prior to her dad's remarriage, when they were just the two of them. She remembered giddily playing with her Dobermann until her stepmom snapped at her. She recalled being taught how to read at a young age: a promise—I know it's difficult, but remember that you're the daughter of wisdom herself. You'll get it.

She recalled fleeing, stumbling through the door of her room, after a crazy spider onslaught. She recalled her dad's comforting words, soothing her jittery heart.

They care for us!

Percy's advice echoed in her mind, so loud, that Annabeth failed to make out Hades' palace halfway through Asphodel.

xXx

A/N: And done. You know the drill: tell me what you think? Reviews are appreciated.