conqueror • percy jackson

14.

Grover shook his head, clearly mystified. Annabeth was looking at him as if she knew his next question, and was silently willing him not to ask it. Rosalyn wouldn't meet his eyes.

"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you? I mean, if it isn't Hades?"

"Percy...let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades...No. It has to be Hades."

The son of Poseidon turned his gaze to Rosalyn, staring at her with accusation.

"Leave well enough alone. It could save your life," she said, with a tone that implied that was all she would say on the subject.

Wasteland rolled by out the windows. They passed a sign that said CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES.

Percy couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on, something even more dangerous than their quest. The problem was: they were hurtling toward the Underworld at ninety-five miles an hour, betting that Hades had the master bolt. If they got there and found out they were wrong, there wouldn't be time for them to find it. The solstice deadline would pass and war would begin.

Beside him, Rosalyn was agonizing over that same line of thinking.

At sunset, the taxi dropped them at the beach in Santa Monica. Percy walked down to the edge of the surf, the other three following behind him.

"What now?" Annabeth asked.

The boy ignored her, walking into the water.

"Percy?" Annabeth said. "What are you doing?"

He kept walking, up to his waist, then his chest. Annabeth continued calling after him until his head went underwater.

Rosalyn watched the surface of the water intently until he surfaced, just as dry as he'd been when he walked in.

"Well?" She asked, eyeing him.

Percy told his companions about the spirit of the sea that he spoke with and showed them the three pearls he'd been given.

"Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all," she'd told him on the sea floor. He chose to keep that to himself.

"No gift comes without a price, Percy," Rosie warned softly. She eyed the three pearls in his hand, her skin prickling with dread. Three pearls.

"They were free."

"No. 'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait," Annabeth warned.

On that happy thought, they turned their backs on the sea. With some spare change from Ares's backpack, they took the bus into West Hollywood. Percy showed the driver the Underworld address slip taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios. Rosalyn thanked him and they 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 even appear in the phone book.

They were walking when Rosalyn froze in front of an appliance-store window because a television was playing an interview with somebody who looked very familiar on it—Percy's stepdad, Smelly Gabe. She grabbed Percy by the shirt sleeve and pulled him to her side.

Smelly Gabe was talking to Barbara Walters. She was interviewing him in Percy's apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand. A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife...my Camaro...I—I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."