Indigo Eyes

Chapter 8

"What about those Ash Fields Annabeth said before?" Percy continued as they walked, and she shrugged.

"Majority of people live mediocre lives. It's a sad truth but they haven't done anything relatively good or bad, they just lived. So, they go to the Fields of Asphodel," she corrected.

"And do what?"

Cressida had to keep constantly reminding herself that Percy had barely been at this demigod thing for three weeks every time he asked a stupid question.

"Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever," Grover filled in.

"Harsh," Percy remarked.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah," Percy recalled.

"For those of us who don't have TVs at camp, care to fill us in?" Cressida pointed out and both boys began explaining.

He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff.

"Can't say he'll be missed or taken easy on," Cressida remarked.

"Amen to that," Annabeth added.

"What are they doing to him?" Percy continued questioning.

"Oh, it is bad," Cressida commented.

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive."

"I wonder what kind of punishment the Kindly Ones will cook up for him. Anyone who steals money from children or hurts animals deserves it," Cressida said and all of them agreed with her, especially Grover with the animal part.

"But if he's a preacher and he believes in a different hell..." Percy began.

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. They're very stubborn – er, persistent, that way."

"Humans are a stubborn species, Grover. It's fine to say it," Cressida said as they grew closer to the gates and closer to the loud howling. And standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

Percy's jaw dropped as he said, "He's a Rottweiler. I'm starting to see him better. Why is that?"

"I think..." Annabeth began as she bit her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're closer to being dead."

"That's a positive thought," Cressida said sarcastically as Percy glared at her.

"It can smell the living," Percy realised as the dog's middle head craned towards them as it sniffed the air and growled.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to Percy. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. "A plan." But with how small her voice was, they weren't exactly hopeful. "Cressida!"

"Ok, I know I'm new to this whole friends thing, but I'm pretty sure friends don't feed their friends to three-headed hellhounds!" she exclaimed as quietly as she could.