Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Camp Half-Blood or mythology. Rick does. Well, at least the characters and Camp Half-Blood.
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Chapter 19
It was Annabeth's idea.
She loaded them into the back of a Vegas taxi as if they actually had more than twenty bucks. Percy checked the bag again. Yup, only twenty bucks. The rest of the cash was in the Lotus Casino. Shame.
"Los Angeles, please," Annabeth said.
The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized them up. "That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front."
"You accept casino debit cards?" Annabeth asked.
He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first."
Annabeth handed him her green Lotus Cash card.
He looked at it skeptically.
"Swipe it," Annabeth invited.
He did.
His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign.
The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth.
Percy felt his own jaw drop.
The cabbie looked back at them, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles… uh, Your Highness?"
"The Santa Monica Pier." Annabeth sat up a little straighter. Percy could tell she liked the "Your Highness" thing. "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change."
The cab's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert.
On the road, the three of them had plenty of time to talk. Unlike the drive with Argus, all three of them sat in the back. Thalia and Percy both flanked Annabeth, which Percy was glad for. He wouldn't feel comfortable sitting in between them. He felt embarrassed just thinking about it.
"So it's May, huh?" asked Annabeth. "I don't remember too much. Just that we went in during early April or something."
"We were in there for quite a while," Percy said. "Lair of the Lotus-eaters. They invited people to stay. Not sure if time travelling slower in there was always a thing or if it's new. Either way, the gods are getting impatient. We can't afford to lose any time now."
"Why do we need to go to Santa Monica again?" asked Thalia.
"The underwater message from St. Louis," Annabeth reminded her. "Somehow, Percy's father is helping him. Maybe there's a message waiting for him to help us get through the Underworld. I mean, if… if Hades has the—"
"He knows," Thalia said. "Conversation in the truck."
"Everything?" asked Annabeth.
"Not everything, but the general idea."
"What are you talking about?" Percy asked suspiciously.
"Nothing," Annabeth said quickly.
He didn't press them. He'd kept his fair share of lies and secrets.
Wasteland rolled by. They passed a sign that said CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES.
The closer they got to Los Angeles, the more dreadful the feeling in his stomach got. There was a missing puzzle piece to this, but the only problem was that Percy didn't think that missing puzzle piece was actually missing. He knew where the piece was, but he was just refusing to believe the fact that it was the missing link. A treacherous idea blossomed in his head.
This whole time could it have been Kronos sending the monsters after him?
We know your betrayal and we know your betrayer, the Gray Sisters had said long ago. Only time will tell.
But it couldn't be… No, it couldn't be. It was an accidental pun.
Wake! The spirits had shouted. Wake!
He remembered his mother trying to wake him up as Kronos gripped a viselike grip on him. The spirits were under the Lord of the Dead, Hades. If they were telling him to resist, did that mean Hades was trying to save him? Hades was the first god to know about him aside from his father. Hades, the ruler of the Underworld, could probably tell if something in Tartarus was stirring. Did Hades know?
The Furies had come to fetch the helm of darkness, not kill him. Back on the bus, he knew that yet he never told Annabeth or Thalia about it. The reason why they wouldn't kill him was because Hades thought he had the helm.
That's why he needed to go west. He needed to confront Hades and prove that he didn't take the helm. But was it in Ares' backpack. Percy wasn't even sure if the bolt was inside, not to mention the helm. Every time he opened it, nothing but clothes and money and drachmas appeared. He needed to see if they were there.
From the Nevada-California border onward, Annabeth tried to boost their morale by suggesting clever strategies for getting into the Land of the Dead. But things didn't add up. The prophecy worried Percy, especially the third line, but it said he was supposed to save Thalia, unless there was another "equal match." What was he going to save her from?
It felt like the Lotus Casino had short-circuited his brain. He could remember a lot of things, but some important, low-key details flew past him.
Percy looked down and re-did the knot on his sneakers. He wasn't wearing the basketball shoes anymore. He gave those back to Thalia before they left Waterland. He thought tying his shoes would keep his mind clear and calm for the task ahead: prevent the rise of time and save Olympus from disaster. And more importantly, save Camp Half-Blood from destruction.
The problem was: they were hurtling toward the Underworld at ninety-five miles an hour, betting that the items they needed would appear before them.
The cab sped west. Every gust of wind through Death Valley sounded like a spirit of the dead. Every time the brakes hissed on an eighteen-wheeler, it reminded him of Echidna's reptilian voice.
At sunset, the taxi dropped them at the beach in Santa Monica.
There were carnival rides lining the Pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfer dudes waiting for the perfect wave.
He, Thalia and Annabeth walked down to the edge of the surf.
"What now?" Annabeth asked. "What's the summons?"
The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun. He thought about how long it had been since he stood on the beach at Camp Half-Blood, on the opposite side of the country, looking out at a different sea.
And Poseidon controlled a greater part of the ocean. Percy was the son of a very powerful god. But he never felt like it. He didn't feel powerful. The only reason he'd gotten this far was because of years of training and two friends, who albeit trusted slowly, became loyal. Without them, he would've been dead already. This wasn't like the Sea of Monsters. He wasn't on home turf. Annabeth and Thalia had kept him alive thus far. He planned to keep them alive when it was his turn.
He stepped into the surf.
"Percy?" Annabeth said. "What are you doing?"
He kept walking, up to his waist, then his chest.
She called after him, "You know how polluted that water is? There's all kinds of toxic—"
That's when his head went under.
It was just like before. He could sense the power of the ocean around him. He shouldn't have been able to see through the murk, but his fishy powers granted him superhuman vision that no other demigod could possess other than another son of Poseidon.
Something rubbed against his leg. He looked down and froze in fear. Sliding along beside him was a five-foot-long mako shark.
But like with most sea creatures the thing wasn't attacking. It was nuzzling him. Heeling like a dog.
Tentatively, Percy touched its dorsal fin. It bucked a little, as if inviting him to hold tighter. He grabbed the fin with both hands. It took off, pulling him along. The shark carried him down into the darkness and deposited him at the edge of the ocean proper, where the sand bank dropped off into a huge chasm.
The surface shimmered maybe a hundred fifty feet above.
A shape glimmered in the darkness below, growing bigger and brighter as it rose toward him. A woman's voice called, "Percy Jackson."
As she got closer, her shape became clearer. She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her and her eyes were so distractingly beautiful he hardly noticed the stallion-sized sea horse she was riding. She dismounted. The sea horse and the mako shark whisked off and started playing something that looked like tag.
The underwater lady smiled at him. "You've come far, Percy Jackson. Well done."
Percy smiled back. "You're the woman who spoke to me in the Mississippi River. That's why you couldn't stay. You're a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. St. Louis is pretty far upriver. How did you manage it?"
"The naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honour Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court."
"And you serve in my father's court."
She nodded. "It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We have watched you with great interest."
Percy remembered the faint images of smiling women whenever he mulled at the beach.
"Why are you here?" he asked her.
She held out her hand. Three white pearls flashed in her palm.
"I know you journey to Hades' realm," she said. "Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules, who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus. Do you have these talents?"
"No, my lady. But I have friends."
The Nereid smiled warmly. "Yes, indeed. You have something else, Percy. You have gifts you have only begun to know. I believe you know the great and terrible future that awaits you, should you survive to manhood. Poseidon would not have you die before your time, even if the daughter of Zeus could replace you. Therefore take these as a gift from your father, and when you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet."
"What will happen?"
"What belongs to the sea," she said, "will always return to the sea."
"There was something you told me in the river." The memory was fuzzy. "You said something about a curse. What were you trying to warn me about?"
Her eyes flickered with green light. "Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all. Once you are in Hades' realm, he will never willingly let you leave. He feeds on doubt and hopelessness. However, I see now that you will fail to stop the curse. That much I know. The rest is up to you. Keep faith. Good luck, Percy Jackson."
She summoned her sea horse and rode toward the void.
"Wait!" he shouted. "What curse?"
"Good-bye, young hero," she called back, her voice fading into the depths. "You must listen to your heart." She became a speck of glowing green, and then she was gone.
Percy kicked upward toward the shore.
When he reached the beach, his clothes dried instantly. He told Thalia and Annabeth what had happened, and showed them the pearls.
Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price."
"They're from my father. I believe in them."
Both girls looked doubtful, but they had no choice.
With spare change from Ares' backpack, they took the bus into West Hollywood. Percy showed the driver the Underworld address slip he'd taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.
"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," he told Percy. "You a child actor or something?"
Percy shrugged. "Lots of people look similar in this world. It's bigger than you think."
"Oh! I guess that's true. I mean, I doubt you've met that little boy back there, but he looks a lot like you." He gestured toward a grey-eyed, blonde-haired boy sitting next to his father and then to Annabeth.
"Never seen him before," Annabeth said.
They thanked the bus driver and got off quickly at the next stop.
They wandered for miles on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book.
Twice, they ducked into alleys to avoid cop cars.
Percy froze in front of an appliance-store window when he saw a television playing an interview with somebody who looked very familiar—his former step-dad, Smelly Gabe. He was talking to Barbara Walters, as if he was some kind of huge celebrity. She was interviewing him in Percy's old apartment. He looked like he was in the middle of a poker game and was chewing on a fat cigar. He looked like a giant walrus smoking. Never mind, that was an insult to walruses all over the world.
A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, I had no idea. I always suspected that there was something wrong with the Jacksons, but I… I was too in love with Sally to ever realize. One day, she kicked me out and then died soon after. I never believed that she was anything horrible. But my stepson was a delinquent. He's a terrorist. He's probably the one who blew up the Arch in St. Louis."
"There you have it, America." Barbara Walters turned to the camera. "A family with a mysterious background. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver."
The screen cut to a grainy shot of him, Annabeth and Thalia standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares.
"Who are the other children in this photo?" Barbara Walters asked dramatically. "Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."
Thalia hauled Percy away before he could punch a hole in the appliance-store window.
It got dark, and hungry-looking characters started coming out on the streets to play.
They walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at them like they were trying to figure if they were worth the trouble of mugging.
"Whatever you do, keep moving," Thalia advised.
As they hurried past the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."
Like an idiot, Percy stopped.
Before they knew it, they were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled them. Six of them in all—white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces.
"Stop," Thalia ordered.
The kids halted where they were, as if threatened by Thalia's tone. That's right. Thalia said that she was from L.A. Her mother was an actress in Hollywood. She could get them out of there.
"Back off," she barked.
The kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept approaching her with a switchblade.
Before he could react, Thalia darted forward, grabbed the leader's wrist, twisted it and forced the blade out of his hands. She kicked him hard for extra measure before she shouted, "Run!" Pushing two kids out of the way, she raced down the street.
Annabeth and Percy followed her. Thalia never slowed down, which meant Annabeth was lagging behind. Percy'd trained for years against dryads. Those spirits were really fast, but Percy knew he was one of the fastest at camp.
Percy grabbed her hand and put on a burst of speed, making her stumble. But he never faltered. They kept running until they turned a sharp corner, where Thalia had turned a second before.
"There!" Annabeth shouted.
Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATRE BDE ALPACE.
The three of them burst through the doors, ran behind a water bed, and ducked.
A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside.
"I think we lost them," Thalia panted.
A voice behind them boomed, "Lost who?"
They all jumped.
Standing behind us was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had grey, leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile. He moved slowly, but Percy got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to.
The suit he wore belonged back in the seventies, big-time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck—he couldn't even count them.
"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile.
Yes, you are, Percy thought.
"Sorry to barge in," Percy told him.
"Hiding from those no-good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?"
Before Percy could say anything, Crusty put a huge paw on his shoulder and steered him deeper into the showroom.
There was every kind of water bed imaginable.
"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over bed covered with black satin sheets. The mattress vibrated. "Million-hand massage. Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, anyway."
"Um," Percy said, "I don't think…"
Then something snapped inside of him and he suddenly felt sleepy.
"Well," he muttered. "What's the worst it could do?"
He lay down.
He got sleepier and sleepier. He was about to doze off when suddenly ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around him, holding him to the mattress.
"W-what i-i-is-s th-thisssss?" he shouted, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool!"
The giant looked at him, then turned toward Annabeth and grinned. "Almost, damn it."
She tried to step away, but Crusty's hand shot out and clamped around the back of her neck. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec."
"No! You're Procrustes."
"Smart one, daughter of Athena." Crusty laughed darkly. "Ergo!"
A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around Percy's ankles, then around his armpits. Thalia was stuck on her own bed. The ropes started tightening, pulling them from both ends.
"Don't worry," Crusty told Annabeth. "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?"
Annabeth's eyes raced a million miles an hour. Finally, she said, "Oh, absolutely. The workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"
Procrustes grinned hugely. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?"
"Not too many."
"That's right!"
"Annabeth!" Percy yelled. "What are you doing?"
"Don't mind him," she told the giant. "He's impossible."
"Are you insane?" shouted the son of Poseidon.
Panic settled in his bones. He would die right here, right now.
The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting."
"Wow…" Annabeth was looking at the valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?"
"Absolutely. Try it out."
"Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"
"Guaranteed."
"No way."
"Way."
"Show me."
The giant sat down eagerly on the bed and patted the mattress. "No waves. See?"
Annabeth snapped her fingers. "Ergo."
Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress.
"Hey!" he yelled.
"Center him just right," Annabeth said, walking over to a sales desk.
The ropes readjusted themselves. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom.
"No!" he said. "Wait! This is just a demo."
Annabeth brought out a huge double-bladed brass axe and smirked. "A few simple adjustments…"
She slowly approached the top of the bed.
"You drive a hard bargain," Procrustes said nervously. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models."
"I think I'll start with the top," Annabeth said, raising the axe.
"No money down! No interest for six months!"
She swung the axe. Crusty stopped making offers.
Annabeth cut the ropes on the other beds. Percy and Thalia got to their feet, groaning and wincing. Thalia was cursing, but Percy grinned at Annabeth and said, "That, Miss Chase, was an ingenious plan. Can't believe I doubted you."
"Could've been faster," groaned Thalia.
Percy looked down at Annabeth. "You look shorter."
"Very funny," Annabeth said. "Come on."
"Give us a minute," Thalia complained. "We were almost stretched to death."
Percy noticed a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map.
"Then you're ready for the Underworld," he told her. "It's only a block from here."
They stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.
Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.
It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.
Percy walked inside first.
Music played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel grey. Pencil cacti grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Yup, spirits of the dead. He'd seen enough of them in his dreams.
The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so they had to look up at him.
He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-coloured skin and bleached-blonde hair shaved military style. He wore tortoise-shell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.
"Charon," Percy said.
The man smiled coldly, like a python before it struck. "Hello, dead ones. How may I be of assistance?"
"We want to go to the Underworld," Percy said bluntly.
Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."
"Really?"
"Straight forward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked them over. "How did you die, then?"
"Bus accident in New Jersey," Percy said, as if he'd rehearsed it.
"Interesting." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children… alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."
"We have coins." Percy set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash he'd found in Crusty's office desk.
"Well, now…" Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in…"
His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.
Then Charon looked at him. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest.
"Here now," he said. "You walked through the front door. These smell of… Procrustes." He leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."
"We have to get to the Underworld," Percy insisted.
Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat. Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wrist watches.
"Leave while you can," Charon told them. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."
He started to go for the coins, but Percy snatched them back.
"No service, no tip."
Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.
Percy's heart raced. "I'm Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, and you're going to get us to the Underworld." He brought out the bag of drachmas from Ares' bag. One by one, he stacked them on the counter. "You're going to bring me to the Underworld, help us get through the security, and get me to Hades."
Charon stared at the coins hungrily.
"You deserve better. You'll get better."
The ferryman clenched his teeth before saying, "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off. Besides, you're a son of Poseidon. You're not going to return alive, ha!"
He stood, scooped up the money, and said, "Come along."
Percy read at camp that the boat to the Underworld had changed in modern day times. An elevator transformed into a boat that drove across the Acheron and the Styx. But nothing really prepared him for the actual thing. The floor swayed, as if rocking on the sea. It stayed that way for a while until he actually felt the power of a river beneath him.
It was a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed car nations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.
"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so…"
"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."
Mist curled off the filthy water. Above them, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the colour of poison.
Everything was depressing. Souls muttered darkly under their long robes.
The hell they depicted in movies wasn't horrifying. Pits of lava and a fiery landscape were scary. It was basically physical torture. But the real Underworld was the real deal. There was nothing more painful to Percy than depression. The gloomy landscape that awaited them was both a physical and a mental torture. Hell was a place that made him want to escape, to leave. But the Underworld looked like a place where he knew he couldn't. There was no hope. All dreams were shattered… lost in the Styx. Everyone around him was dead.
Annabeth grabbed hold of his hand. He squeezed back. He understood how she felt. She wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.
The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as they could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.
The bottom of their boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along in arm. A boy no older than he was, shuffling silently along in his grey robe.
"Unfortunately, I have no way of getting you any further," Charon said. "Old Three-Face isn't a human domesticated dog. He wouldn't act like a Rottweiler."
He counted their golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole and ferried the empty barge back across the river.
The entrance to the Underworld was not what he expected. The Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.
There were three separate entrances under one huge black arch way that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.
The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but Percy couldn't see Cerberus yet.
The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.
"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," Annabeth said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgement from the court, because it might go against them."
"True. True."
Thalia was walking behind them, looking around nervously. Even for a brave daughter of Zeus like her, she was afraid of this place. The way things were going, it didn't seem that they'd be able to leave alive. He looked at Annabeth and noticed that they were still holding hands. He blushed in embarrassment and pointed it out to her.
She immediately let go and turned away.
They got closer to the gates. Then, about fifty feet in front of them, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster. Until it moved, it blended with whatever was behind it. Only its eyes and teeth looked solid. And it was staring straight at him.
Thalia said, "He's a Rottweiler."
The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.
Percy slowly walked up to Cerberus. All three heads trained their eyes on him as he approached. When he got within ten feet, Cerberus made a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.
"He's definitely hungry," Thalia concluded, as Percy backed up.
"Something tells me we got ten seconds," he said.
"Wait!" Annabeth said. "I put something in Ares' pack."
She started rifling through the pack. Percy couldn't move otherwise Annabeth might lose track of where the thing she was looking for was. Not that it would help anyway.
Suddenly, Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO.
Before he could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.
She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"
Cerberus looked as stunned as they were.
All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.
"Sit!" Annabeth called again.
Nervousness crept up his back. He was sure that Annabeth would soon become the world's largest dog biscuit. Even Thalia was nervous; she was shaking, like she was unbalanced.
But instead, Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.
Annabeth said, "Good boy!"
She threw Cerberus the ball.
He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.
"Drop it." Annabeth ordered.
Cerberus' heads stopped fighting and looked at her. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper—which was enough to almost make Percy piss his pants—then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.
"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.
She turned toward them. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."
Percy swallowed nervously. "But—"
"Now." She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.
He and Thalia inched forward warily. Thalia was grabbing onto him, as if she were about to pass out.
Cerberus started to growl.
"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want to ball, stay!"
Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.
Percy tried to feed off Annabeth's confidence. He led Thalia through the monster's legs, praying that the dog wouldn't sit again.
They made it through, though Thalia was really wobbly now.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from Annabeth, though.
She said, "Good dog!"
She held up the tattered red ball, and probably came to the same conclusion he did—if she rewarded Cerberus, there'd be nothing left for another trick. She threw the ball anyway. The monster's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, whilst the right head moaned in protest.
While the monster was distracted, Annabeth walked briskly under its belly and joined him and Thalia at the metal detector.
"That was amazing, Annabeth," Percy praised her. "You saved us twice. Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Obedience school," she said breathlessly, and he was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman…"
Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth stopped.
The dog had done a one-eighty to look at them. Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.
"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.
The monster's head turned sideways, as if worried about her.
"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"
The dog whimpered.
"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I—I promise." Annabeth turned to them. "Let's go."
Thalia and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"
Cerberus started to bark.
They burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which made even more alarms blare, and raced into the Underworld.
A few minutes later, they were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten truck of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.
Percy couldn't help but think about Cerberus and the way he acted like a domestic dog, as if he had feelings as well. Were all monsters like that? Some friendly, some deadly? Medusa, the Chimera and Echidna, and the Furies had all desired to kill him. And something told him that nothing would have changed their minds.
But even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while.
It reminded him of unclaimed campers at Camp Half-Blood and how they received pretty much no attention from their parents, whoever their parents were. How could the gods be so prideful and careless about mortals that they don't even claim their children? How could the gods be so heartless and not treat the beings that admired them… that wished to make them proud… fairly?
What would a world without gods be like? Percy thought. What would things be like if only mortals existed? A world where there were no monsters, no deities. Just humans.
Help me destroy them, hissed a dark voice, and this time it didn't seem like it was just in his head. It was almost as if it was coming from outside… from elsewhere in the Underworld. Destroy the faithless gods.
Then he noticed Thalia's shoes, and the alarm bells in his head went off.
"Thalia, take those shoes off!"
"What?"
And suddenly, just as the ghouls disappeared, the winged shoes sprouted into action and began dragging Thalia away. She grabbed onto the backpack. Percy had to make a choice. Let the backpack go, or be pulled along with Thalia leaving Annabeth to save the day once again.
He allowed the backpack to be pulled away but realized something horrible. The bolt was supposed to be in that bag. And the helm.
"Thalia!" Annabeth cried. She looked out of energy.
The shoes dragged Thalia across the Fields of Asphodel as the evil laugh of Kronos rolled over the flat plains, mocking him in his defeat.
Either that was unexpected, or that was a let down of an ending. In a story that should include the epic of epicness, sometimes things that go wrong are due to stupid human error. A little on the dark side but whatever, that's how it's supposed to be. This Friday I'll be going on a vacation, so by then, I'm going to post up to chapter 22 before a week-long break. As soon as I get back, I'm going to have chapter 23 prepped to update right away. Just thought I'd let you guys know, especially because I end up updating fairly quickly and often people just skip and miss stuff quite easily if they don't check daily (or every two days in my case). Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter.
Read and review.
Thanks,
SharkAttack719