~ { Shadow and Beauty } ~

Why Nightmares?

   "Oh. Right. Sorry, Ephie."

   His brother snarled. They had to be twins, because their faces were identically ugly.

   "And don't call me Ephie," Ephie demanded. "Call me Ephialtes. That's my name. Or you can use my stage name: The BIG F!"

   Otis grimaced. "I'm still not sure about that stage name."

   "Nonsense! It's perfect. Now, how are the preparations coming along?"

   "Fine." Otis didn't sound very enthusiastic. "The man-eating tigers, the spinning blades... But I still think a few ballerinas would be nice."

   "No ballerinas!" Ephialtes snapped. "And this thing." He waved at the bronze jar in disgust. "What does it do? It's not exciting."

   "But that's the whole point of the show. He dies unless the others rescue him. And if they arrive on schedule—"

   "Oh, they'd better!" Ephialtes said. "July First, the Kalends of July, sacred to Juno. That's when Mother wants to destroy those stupid demigods and really rub it in Juno's face. Besides, I'm not paying overtime for those gladiator ghosts!"

   "Well, then, they all die," Otis said, "and we start the destruction of Rome. Just like Mother wants. It'll be perfect. The crowd will love it. Roman ghosts adore this sort of thing."

   Ephialtes looked unconvinced. "But the jar just stands there. Couldn't we suspend it above a fire, or dissolve it in a pool of acid or something?"

   "We need him alive for a few more days," Otis reminded his brother. "Otherwise, the eight won't take the bait and rush to save him."

   "Hmm. I suppose. I'd still like a little more screaming. This slow death is boring. Ah, well, what about our talented friend? Is she ready to receive her visitor?"

   Otis made a sour face. "I really don't like talking to her. She makes me nervous."

   "But is she ready?"

   "Yes," Otis said reluctantly. "She's been ready for centuries. No one will be removing that statue."

   "Excellent." Ephialtes rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "This is our big chance, my brother."

   "That's what you said about our last stunt," Otis mumbled. "I was hanging in that block of ice suspended over the River Lethe for six months, and we didn't even get any media attention."

   "This is different!" Ephialtes insisted. "We will set a new standard for entertainment! If Mother is pleased, we can write our own ticket to fame and fortune!"

   "If you say so," Otis sighed. "Though I still think those ballerina costumes from Swan Lake would look lovely—"

   "No ballet!"

   "Sorry."

   "Come," Ephialtes said. "Let's examine the tigers. I want to be sure they are hungry!"

   The giants lumbered off into the gloom, and Percy turned toward the jar.

   I need to see inside, he thought. He willed his dream forward, right to the surface of the jar. Then he passed through.

   The air in the jar smelled of stale breath and tarnished metal. The only light came from the dim purple glow of a dark sword, its Stygian iron blade set against one side of the container. Huddled next to it was a dejected-looking boy in tattered jeans, a black shirt, and an old aviator jacket. On his right hand, a silver skull ring glittered.