𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎: 𝐍𝐨 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐎𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚
June 20, 2018
ANNABETH WAS THE ONE WHO CALLED FOR A TAXI. She practically threw the rest of the group into the taxi as if they had money and told the driver, "Los Angeles, please."
The cab driver chewed his cigar and glared at them. "That's three hundred miles," he said. "For that, you gotta pay up front."
Percy sighed. They were screwed.
"You accept casino debit cards?" Annabeth asked.
The guy shrugged. "Some of 'em," he answered. "Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first."
"Try my card then," Olivia asked, frantically pulling her credit card out.
Percy watched in confusion. "When'd you get that?"
"It's only for dire emergencies," she said. "I didn't want to pull it out."
Percy watched as the guy's meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally, an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign.
The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He looked back at the group, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles... uh, Your Majesty?"
"Get us as close as you can to the Santa Monica Pier," Olivia said, a smug grin on her face. "As fast as you can go, please."
She clearly liked being referred to as nobility.
"And it's highness," Olivia said. "I prefer 'Your Highness.' My grandfather would lose his mind if I went around saying majesty."
Percy didn't really understand that part.
"Get us there fast," Annabeth said, "and you can keep the change."
That was all he needed to hear. The cabbie made sure the cab's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert. Percy told the others about his latest dream on the way there. But the details were kind of jumbled up. The Lotus Casino messed with his memory somehow. Percy wasn't able to recall what the invisible servant's voice had sounded like, but their voice was familiar. The servant had called the monster in the pit something other than "my lord"at some point... some special name or title....
"The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades."
"Maybe..." Percy said, though they both sounded off.
"That throne room sounds like Hades'," Grover said. "That's the way it's usually described."
"Nope," Olivia decided. "Not buying it."
"Something's wrong," Percy said. "The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit... I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."
Annabeth's eyes widened.
"What?" Percy asked.
"Oh... nothing," Annabeth said. "I was just—No, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong—"
"Like what?" Percy asked.
"I-I don't know," she stuttered. "But if he stole Zeus' symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt."
"No," Olivia said. "Hades gets nothing out of this war. It doesn't add up."
"He gets a whole bunch of dead people," Percy deadpanned. "Wouldn't the god of death like dead people?"
"God of the dead, Percy," Olivia corrected. "The god of death is Thanatos, and he doesn't really seem to like dead people all that much, either. Underworld gods aren't exactly happy with the non-Underworld gods."
"Either way," Percy huffed, "if I'd already retrieved the bolt, why would I be traveling to the Underworld?"
"To threaten Hades," Grover theorized. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your mom back."
Percy let out a low whistle. "You have evil thoughts for a goat."
"Why, thank you," Grover said. "I learned from Livvy."
"And I learned from my grandpa," Olivia said. "He's a very angry old man."
Grover chuckled quietly.
"But the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items," Percy said, suddenly remembering she thing. "If the master bolt is one, what's the other?"
"I knew it," Olivia said, tapping her knee nervously. "Something's off."
"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you?" Percy asked Annabeth. "I mean, if it isn't Hades?"
"Percy... let's not talk about it," she said. "Because if it isn't Hades... No. It has to be Hades."
Olivia stared off into the distance, eyes glowing blue. "Crap," she said. "We need to turn our goals around."
"What?" Annabeth asked.
Wasteland rolled by. They passed a sign that said CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES. Something was wrong, and it seemed that everyone knew, but Olivia was the only one who was trying to confront it. Maybe they were wrong about Hades.
The problem was the fact that they were hurtling toward the Underworld at ninety-five miles an hour, betting that Hades had the master bolt. They couldn't be wrong. They couldn't afford to be.
"We're wrong," Olivia said.
"The answer is in the Underworld," Annabeth assured Percy. "You saw spirits of the dead, Percy. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing."
"No," Olivia said. "We're so dumb. We shouldn't be going to the Underworld to confront Hades. We should be going to help Hades."
"Help him?" Annabeth demanded. "Olivia, he sent the Kindly Ones after Thalia, after Percy, even after us. And you want to help him?"
"Premonition," Olivia said quickly, too quickly. "You guys in the Underworld. He said you were trying to threaten him after stealing."
"We haven't stolen from him," Percy said.
"He must be talking about the bolt, then," Annabeth said. "Now, come on. Focus."
The cab sped west. Percy knew he was out of it. Every gust of wind through Death Valley sounded like a spirit of the dead. Every time the brakes hissed on an eighteen-wheeler, it made him think of Echidna and her reptilian voice.
At sunset, the taxi dropped them off at the beach in Santa Monica. It looked exactly the way L.A. beaches looked in films, except it smelled worse than Percy imagined. There were carnival rides lining the Pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfer dudes waiting for the perfect wave.
They walked down to the edge of the surf.
"Well, it's not Navy Pier, but sure," Olivia muttered.
"What now?" Annabeth asked.
The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun, and Olivia smiled at it, probably enjoying the sun as Percy had seen her basking in the light of it a few times. Percy considered how long it had been since he'd stood on the beach at Montauk, on the opposite side of the country, looking out at a different sea.
How could there be a god who could control all that? How could he be the son of someone who controlled two-thirds of the earth's surface? How?
Without thinking, Percy stepped into the surf.
"Percy?" Annabeth called. "What are you doing?"
He kept walking as the water came up to his waist, then his chest.
"You know how polluted that water is?" Annabeth asked. "There're all kinds of toxic—"
And then his head went under.
🌣⸻➳⸻🌣
PERCY TOLD THEM WHAT HAPPENED WHEN HE CAME BACK UP. In his hand, he held three pearls. Olivia felt her stomach twist when she realized how many of them there were compared to people.
No matter. It'd be fine. The prophecy didn't say Percy would succeed in returning the bolt for no reason.
Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price."
"They were free," Percy reasoned.
"No." Annabeth shook her head. "'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait."
With that, they turned their backs on the sea.
Using some spare change from Ares' backpack that Olivia kept staring at, they took the bus into West Hollywood. Percy showed the driver the Underworld address slip he taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.
That's because you're supposed to be dead on arrival, Olivia thought. Hence DOA.
"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," the driver said. "You a child actor or something?"
"Uh... I'm a stunt double... for a lot of child actors," Percy lied.
"Oh! That explains it."
How did people fall for his sorry excuses for lies?
They got off at the next stop. For miles, they walked on foot looking for DOA.
"Come on," Olivia said, holding a hand out. She sneezed suddenly, and when she looked up, she saw a tiny stone on the ground that she was sure she'd seen somewhere before.
"Pretty," she said, picking it up. It was the same kind of stone her mother had in her favorite ring. Olivia saw another one, several of them leading down a path.
The others hesitantly followed her down the path, but Percy froze in front of an appliance-store window because a television was playing an interview with somebody who was talking to Barbara Walters. She was interviewing him in an apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand.
A tear Olivia knew was fake glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife... my Camaro... I-I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."
So this was Percy's stepfather.
"There you have it, America." Barbara Walters turned to the camera. "A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver."
The screen cut to a grainy shot of Percy, Annabeth, and Grover standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares.
"Who are the other children in this photo?" Barbara Walters asked dramatically. "Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we—"
Olivia flicked her wrist, and the light in the TV exploded. "Let's go," she said.
It got dark fast, and sketchy looking people started coming out on the streets. Olivia led her friends past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers.
As they made their way past the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."
Percy stopped like the dork he was.
Almost immediately, they were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled them. Six of them in all—white boys with expensive clothes and mean faces.
Percy uncapped his sword.
When the sword appeared out of nowhere, the kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept coming at Percy with a switchblade.
"Ooh, wait," he said, noticing Olivia. "I like this one. Caramel's my favorite kind of treat."
"Excuse me?" Percy demanded.
Olivia scrunched her nose. "I hate guys like you," she said.
The idiot kept walking. He tried to grab Olivia, but she snatched his switchblade out of his hand and sliced at him with it. He cried out as she nicked his arm, blood staining the blade.
Olivia stomped her foot twice subtly, and Percy stared at her in shock as the sky started to darken and a low growl echoed around them.
"Dude, she's fucking crazy," one guy said. "Let's go."
The leader finally left, following his lackeys. Olivia grinned as the sounds stopped.
"Come on," Annabeth said. "Run. We're running out of time."
They bolted down the street, but Olivia froze as another premonition struck her. A turn left, a tall man with an ugly suit, and beds stretching people painfully.
"Turn right!" she screamed.
But the others went left as she went the other way.
"Oh, come on!" she snapped. "Nobody listens to me!"
Olivia looked around anxiously before racing to DOA. She had to get to the Underworld soon. Percy and the others would meet her there.
🌣⸻➳⸻🌣
"OLIVIA!" PERCY CALLED, SPOTTING HER IN THE SHADOWS OF VALENCIA BOULEVARD.
She glared at him. "We're going the wrong way," she said stiffly, a far cry from her usual soft tone.
"Wh-what do you mean?" Grover asked nervously, still shaken up from their encounter with Crusty.
"We—huh, you two look taller," Olivia said, pointing between Annabeth and Grover. "Anyways, something's wrong. I just haven't figured out what it is."
"Olivia, we're too close to completing the quest to turn back now," Annabeth said.
Olivia's eyes started to glow again, a deep golden color that seemed to fade with her natural brown eyes, giving them the appearance of turning a darker shade of melted gold, piercing into Percy's soul like before.
"Fine," she huffed, and Percy could've sworn she sounded different, like she knew what she was doing suddenly. A bit of reluctance as in her tone. "But if you insist on ignoring the prophecy, at least let me do all the talking."
Percy looked up at the gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS. Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.
The lobby was brightly lit and full of people even as it neared midnight. Behind the security desk, this tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece sat, almost like he was waiting for them.
Percy turned to the others. "Okay. We let her talk, but we remember the plan."
"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."
Annabeth looked more terrified now. "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"
"You're screwed," Olivia answered.
"Don't think negative," Percy said.
"Right," Annabeth said through a fake laugh. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."
Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given him in Santa Monica. He didn't really know how they'd help if things went wrong.
Annabeth put her hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."
She gave Grover a nudge that was very obvious.
"Oh, right!" he added. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."
Percy stared at the three people he'd come this far with, grateful. Despite every reason to not do this hitting them in the face, they still wanted to make him feel better by being brave for his sake.
He slipped the pearls back into his pocket—which was a good thing, since Clara was starting to paw at them. "Let's whup some Underworld butt," he declared.
🌣⸻➳⸻🌣
THEY TRIED TO CALM THEMSELVES AS THEY ENTERED THE DOA LOBBY. Percy listened and heard Muzak playing softly on hidden speakers that Olivia leaned towards. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator.
It was creepy, with nobody moving, talking, or anything, really. Out of the corner of his eye, Percy realized he could see them all just fine, but if he focused his attention on a specific one, they started looking more... transparent. He was able to see right through their bodies.
The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so they had to look up at him to make eye contact. The man was tall, elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. His silk Italian suit that matched his hair really separated him from the others, as did his glasses. He wore tortoiseshell shades, and a black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.
Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"
Olivia facepalmed. The tall man leaned across the desk. Percy saw nothing in his shades but his own reflection, but the guy had a sweet yet cold smile. Almost sinister.
"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but he also sounded like English wasn't his first language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"
"N-no," Percy stammered.
"Sir," the man added smoothly.
"Sir,"Percy repeated.
He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."
"Charon," Percy said.
"Amazing!" he said, almost mocking Percy. "Now: Mr. Charon."
"Mr. Charon," Percy called.
"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"
"We want to go the Underworld," Annabeth said.
Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."
"It is?" Annabeth asked.
"Straightforward and honest," Charon said. "No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'"
Hr looked the group over. "How did you die, then?"
"We—" Olivia began. Annabeth stopped her as Grover nudged Percy.
"Oh," Percy said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."
"All four of you?" Charon asked. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover nodded.
"Big bathtub."
Olivia rolled her eyes. "Give him the drachmas," she said. "Of course you agree to the plan and then ignore it."
Percy set four golden drachmas on the counter.
"Well, now..." Charon licked his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."
His fingers hovered greedily over the coins. But then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest like Olivia's glare.
"Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"
"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."
Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead," he said. "I should've known. You're a godling."
"We have to get to the Underworld," Percy insisted.
Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat. Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.
"Leave while you can," Charon warned. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."
"I told you to let me do the talking," Olivia huffed, pushing past the others. "I should've expected this to happen if we were going to be coming here."
"Olivia, we—" Annabeth started.
"Charon!" Olivia shouted. She approached him and looked him in the eyes. "We need to get into the Underworld. Now."
"Livvy!" Annabeth called. "You can't just make demands like that."
"Charon, you're gonna let us in now or you're gonna be an accomplice in a godly civil war," Olivia ordered.
"Now, missy, you can't speak to me so rudely," Charon said.
"Can't I?" Olivia challenged him. "Godly war means more dead people, which means things are more complicated for Hades to pay for, which means you're never getting that pay raise."
Charon looked shocked by her comment. "And you know this how?" he asked.
"Because I'm an Anworth," Olivia said.
"She's pushing it," Annabeth whispered back. "She thinks her privileges extend to the Underworld."
But to their shock, Charon's mouth dropped in surprise, and he sputtered in recognition before finally asking, "Are you Alisha's girl?"
Olivia smiled. Waving, she said, "I'm a lot taller, but yes, it's me."
Charon bowed his head respectfully. "Oh, by the gods!" he cried. "If I knew you were here, I'd let you in sooner, Mistress!"
Percy, Annabeth, and Grover all shared looks of amazement and bewilderment. They all had one question they shared: What the hell is going on?
"We need to get in the Underworld," Olivia said. "All of us. I need to find out what Hades needs so I can piece the whole story together."
"Of course, Misstress Olivia," Charon said.
Charon bowed his head again. "Right this way. Lord Hades has been expecting you," he said. He glanced over at Olivia. "Does your mother know you're here?"
Olivia looked away. "No."
Why would this be necessary? What could Olivia's mom do to stop Hades?
"If she finds out," Charon said seriously, "I never saw you enter. You snuck in."
Olivia just smiled again. "By the way, I like Lady Olivia just as much."
"You don't need more honorifics," Charon said. He scooped up the drachmas Percy gave him as he stood. "Come along."
They pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at their clothes. Their voices whispered things Percy couldn't make out, but Olivia gave them sympathetic looks and nodded sadly.
Charon shoved them out of the way. "Freeloaders."
He escorted the quartet into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to sneak on and pushed them back into the lobby. Then he helped Olivia on, in a way he had not done for the others.
"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to all the spirits. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"
Before there could be a reply, he shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and they started to descend.
"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.
"Nothing," Charon responded.
"For how long?"
"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."
"Be nicer to them," Olivia said. "You're just making more busywork for yourself in the end.
Charon hummed thoughtfully. Percy didn't like how constantly Olivia was singled out around here, or how calmly she seemed to be handling it. He was distracted from those thoughts by a sudden dizzy feeling. He realized they were going forward instead of down. The air turned misty, and the clothes the spirits wore started to turn into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying and Percy blinked harshly.
When his eyes were opened again, Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets, entirely dark, full of night and death and despair.
He noticed Percy looking at him. "Well?"
"Nothing," Percy struggled to say.
Horror began to set in when he realized the flesh of Charon's face was becoming transparent, and he could see straight through to his skull.
The floor kept swaying, or maybe that was just Percy feeling dizzy.
"I think I'm getting seasick," Grover sighed.
Percy blinked again, and suddenly, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. They were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling them across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things, like plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.
"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."
"It's very polluted," Olivia said. "You know, Mama told me that it's because for thousands of years, humans have been throwing in everything like hopes, dreams, and wishes that never came true in there.
"Irresponsible waste management if you ask me," Charon complained.
Mist curled off the filthy water. A ceiling of stalactites hung above them. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.
Percy started to panic. Why was he here? He shouldn't be here. These people were dead. He wasn't dead.
Annabeth grabbed hold of his hand. Normally, he would've blushed, but Percy understood her. She wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat. And Olivia's blank smile and glowing quiver of arrows wasn't doing much to help.
Percy murmured a prayer, but it felt pointless. After all, the only god that was important around here was the one god he'd come here to fight.
The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.
"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings. But he has been missing fetch these last few years, Mistress Olivia."
Olivia smiled, providing a good amount of light in the darkness.
The bottom of Charon's boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than Percy himself, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.
"I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here," Charon said. "And Mistress Olivia, try to mention a pay raise for me, will you?"
He counted the golden coins into his pouch and took up his pole. As he ferried back across the river, he warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song.
"Well, let's not wait around," Olivia said as if she hadn't just talked her way into the Underworld like she owned the place. She started up the path, the rest of them following after her in silence.
The entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.
There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.
The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but Percy couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades' door, was nowhere to be seen, though Olivia kept waving at nothing.
The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH.
The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.
"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.
"It goes straight to the Fields of Asphodel," Olivia spoke up. "Not luxury, but not punishment. It's an easy out, but I doubt they'd pick it if they knew what awaited them."
"They avoid judgment," Annabeth added. "There are three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."
"And do what?" Percy asked.
"It's boring," Olivia said. "It's like the Wizard of Oz if Dorothy never went to Oz."
"Yikes," Percy said.
"My aunt sacrificed her time in Elysium to save her mother from punishment," Olivia explained. "My mother told me about it."
"How do you know all of this?" Annabeth asked her.
Olivia looked at the floor and crossed her arms. "That's not important right now."
Percy sighed. "And how'd you do that thing when we got here?" he asked.
"Yeah, how'd you make Charon listen to you?" Grover added.
"I've known him my whole life," she replied, walking faster.
Annabeth looked sick. "How?" she pressed.
"Reasons," Olivia shrugged.
"Like what?" Grover asked, practically trembling with nerves.
Olivia's eyes seemed to change again, more annoyed in their realization than anything else. The smile she tended to wear looked more sad, the light in it gone. "You can't get mad at me for not telling you this before."
"You don't mean..." Annabeth trailed off.
Olivia's eyes were on the ground again. "Hades is my maternal grandfather."
🌣⸻➳⸻🌣