FOTIA - percy jackson

𝟎𝟏𝟖; doggy daycare

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so they had to look up to him.

He was tall and elegant, with dark skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his head. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag. His color matching and attention to detail reminded Loralai of something Ricardo would wear.

Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?' He leaned across the desk. Percy couldn't see anything in his glasses except his own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a python's, right before it eats you. It prompted him to think about the smile Loralai would do when she was being sarcastic, he glanced back at her for help.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent- British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no," Percy stuttered. "Sir," he added smoothly. Correcting himself quickly, Percy said, "Sir."

Loralai couldn't help but admire the security guard's voice. It was smooth, and almost transatlantic, he had a certain charm about him, a perfect blend of seriousness and sarcasm. Chill, she told herself, he said like two sentences.

He pinched the name tag and ran his fingers under the letter. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon," Percy repeated. "Amazing! Now: Mr Charon."

"Mr Charon," the boy said. "Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones."

His question caught in Percy's stomach like a fastball. He looked back at the others for support. Loralai was too busy worrying to say anything, so Annabeth said, "We want to go to the Underworld."

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" she asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming No 'There must be a mistake, Mr Charon.'" He looked them over. "How did you die, then?"

Percy nudged Loralai. "Oh," she said shakily, glancing at Percy then at Charon. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."

"All three of you?" Charon asked. They all nodded. "Big bathtub," Charon commented, looking 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... Also, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Percy set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash he'd found in Crusty's office desk. Charon leaned towards the gold, moistening his lips. "Well, now..." he uttered. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..." His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

They were so close.

Then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy deadpanned, "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

Percy's eyes widened, becoming more desperate now as he insisted, "We have to get to the Underworld." Charon made a low, growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running their hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.