Chapter 45

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The Furies circled the parapets, high in the gloom. The outer walls of the fortress glittered black, and the two-story-tall bronze gates stood wide open. Up close, they saw that the engravings on the gates were scenes of death. Some were from modern times-an atomic bomb exploding over a city, a trench filled with gas mask-wearing soldiers, a line of African famine victims waiting with empty bowls-but all of them looked as if they'd been etched into the bronze thousands of years ago.

"That is both beautiful and scary."

Inside the courtyard was an extremely unusual garden. Multicolored mushrooms, poisonous shrubs, and weird luminous plants grew without sunlight. Precious jewels made up for the lack of flowers, piles of rubies as big as my fist, clumps of raw diamonds. Standing here and there like frozen party guests were Medusa's Garden statues- petrified children, satyrs, and centaurs-all smiling grotesquely.

In the center of the garden was an orchard of pomegranate trees, their orange blooms neon bright in the dark. "The garden of Persephone," Annabeth said. "Keep walking."

"The legend says that whoever eats food from the Underworld becomes bound to it, do you think it's true?" Rabastan asked his friends

"Of course it is. I mean look at Persephone. She was tricked into eating food from the Underworld so that she would stay with Hades." Rodolphus told his brother.

"Tricked?" Walburga screeched. "Lady Persephone willingly consumed food from the Underworld so that she could stay with the man she loved, defying the wishes of her mother. Her father, Zeus, was more than happy with the idea of her marrying his brother."

They walked up the steps of the palace, between black columns, through a black marble portico, and into the house of Hades. The entry hall had a polished bronze floor, which seemed to boil in the reflected torchlight. There was no ceiling, just the cavern roof, far above.

Every side doorway was guarded by a skeleton in military gear. Some wore Greek armor, some British redcoat uniforms, some camouflage with tattered American flags on the shoulders. They carried spears or muskets or M-16s. None of them bothered the group, but their hollow eye sockets followed them as they walked down the hall, toward the big set of doors at the opposite end. Two U.S. Marine skeletons guarded the doors. They grinned down at the group, rocket-propelled grenade launchers held across their chests.

"You know," Grover mumbled, "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen."

"Well, guys," Percy said awkwardly. "I suppose we should ... knock?"

A hot wind blew down the corridor, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside.

"I guess that means entrez-vous," Annabeth said.

"Should I correct your French or move on?" Thea whispered to the daughter of Athena, smirking, when she saw the blonde's scowl.

"Wait, she said that wrong?"

"Is that what you're focusing on? She also speaks French!"

A blush started blooming on Regulus's face. He didn't understand why or how he was feeling that way, but he was. That scared him.

Hades was at least ten feet tall, for one thing, and dressed in black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. His skin was albino white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He wasn't bulked up like Ares, but he radiated power. He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and dangerous as a panther. Hades's aura was visibly affecting Percy, just as Ares's had. The Lord of the Dead eyes, and a kind of mesmerizing, evil charisma.

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