PHILOXENIA ➸ Percy Jackson¹

δέκα

"Sir."

"Sir," Percy added.

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

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now, Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon."

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

Percy looked at Annabeth for support, who gazed at Charon with all the confidence she could muster. "We want to go to the Underworld."

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

"Is it?" she asked.

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

Percy nudged Grover, who jolted and said, "Oh. Um...drowned...in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" he asked. They nodded in reply. "Big bathtub."

"It was more of a hot tub, really," Ciaran added, wondering if that would help sell the lie more.

"Well, 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."

Ciaran winced. They definitely couldn't afford to have that much time.

"Oh, but we have coins," Percy announced and deposited the golden drachmas he swiped from Crusty's office desk onto the counter.

"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. For a moment, Ciaran thought he might see his eyes sparkling right through the shades. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."

They held their breath as his hands hovered greedily over the coins. But just as they thought he had taken the bait, Charon looked at Percy, boring a hole straight through his chest. 

"Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No, I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling. A satyr and three godlings." He stopped when he got to Ciaran, a sound of surprise lodged in his throat. "And you...well, well. How did you find your way here? He'll not be happy to know you're here."

Percy did not like how foreboding that statement was. "We have to get to the Underworld."

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat that echoed all throughout the lobby. Immediately, everyone got up and started pacing, agitated and restless.

"Leave while you can. Especially you." Charon stared at Ciaran. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

His hands went for the coins, but Percy snatched them back before he could.

"No service, no tip."

Charon growled again—a deep, chilling sound that seemed to rattle the foundations of the building itself. The spirits of the dead began to pound on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," Percy sighed dramatically. "We had more to offer."

He held up the bag full of drachmas, the coins looking like they wanted to burst from the top, clinking together whenever he made a movement.