THIRTEEN, we drowned in a bathtub
❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
DOA RECORDING STUDIOS WAS the easiest sign Aster had ever read. It was in gold lettering etched in black marble, which probably helped, but she gave herself a pat on the back for overcoming her dyslexia. Underneath, there was another message stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.
That last one might be a problem.
It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.
Percy turned to Aster, Annabeth, and Grover. "Okay. You remember the plan."
"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."
Annabeth bit her lip nervously. "And what happens if the plan doesn't work?"
Percy paused for a moment. "Don't think negatively."
"Right," Aster said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and we shouldn't think negatively. Great strategy."
Percy took the four pearls he had received from the nereid in Santa Monica. He studied them for a moment, and Annabeth stepped forwards. "Sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."
She gave Grover a nudge.
"Oh, right!" the satyr chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."
Annabeth looked over at Aster, who obliged. "What they said. We technically should be dead already anyways, so why not keep cheating death?"
Percy looked at the three of them, relief flushing over his face. Aster smiled at him, and he slipped the pearls back into his pocket. "Let's whoop some Underworld butt."
"You could say that again," Aster muttered, and they walked inside the DOA lobby.
Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. 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. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of Aster's eye, she could see them all just fine, but if she focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. Aster could see right through their bodies. It was a bit unsettling, to say the least.
The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so they all had to look up at him. He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.
Aster read the name tag and frowned. Percy beat her to the question. "Your name is Chiron?'
The man leaned across the desk. Aster couldn't see anything in his glasses except her own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a python's, right before it eats you.
"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," 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." Aster mouthed the syllables as Percy said them out loud, nodding to herself.
"Amazing!" Charon had little enthusiasm. "Now: Mr. Charon."
"Mr. Charon," Percy said, less than thrilled.
"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"
Aster's heart skipped a beat, and Percy looked at her for help. "We want to go to the Underworld," she said.
Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."
"It is?" Aster asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"
Percy nudged Grover, who panicked. "Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."
"All four of you?" Charon asked.
They nodded.
"Really... big bathtub," Aster affirmed.
Charon looked 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... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."
"Oh, but we have coins.: Percy said, and he set four golden drachmas on the counter. He must have found them stashed in Crusty's desk.
"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."
His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.
They were so close, and Aster braced herself.
The Charon looked at them strangely, and Aster let out a breath of defeat. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through her chest. "Here now," he said suspiciously. "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. 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 told them. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."
He started to go for the coins, but Percy snatched them back.
"No service, no tip," Percy said boldly.
Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors. Aster could feel every hair on her body standing up.
"It's a shame, too," Percy sighed. "We had more to offer."
He held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. Percy took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through his fingers. He was taunting the keeper of the Underworld, and it was working.
Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"
"A lot," Percy said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."
"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?" Charon motioned towards his suit, which did look expensive.
"You deserve better," Aster nodded sympathetically.
"A little appreciation," Percy added.
"Respect."
"Good pay."
With each word, Percy stacked another gold coin on the counter.
Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, mates, you're making some sense now. Just a little."
Percy stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."
He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you four and be off."
Charon stood, scooped up their money, and said, "Come along."
The group pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits—which wasn't exactly hard—who started grabbing at their clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things Aster couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."
He escorted them 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 get on with them and pushed them back into the lobby.
"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"
Charon 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 said.
"For how long?"
"Forever," Charon cocked his head, "or until I'm feeling generous."
"Oh," Annabeth said. "That's . . . fair."
Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."
Aster could have sworn she saw something flicker behind his sunglasses, and it sent a cold shiver down her spine.
"We'll get out alive," Percy said.
"Ha."
Aster suddenly felt very dizzy. They weren't going down anymore, she realized, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around them started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.
Aster blinked, hard. In a split second, 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—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair. Aster almost gasped when she looked beside her to see that Percy looked hollow.
He saw them looking, and said, "Well?"
"Nothing," Percy managed.
Aster thought he might have been grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, allowing them to see through to his skull. Gross.
The floor kept swaying.
Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."
Aster rubbed her eyes, and the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. They were standing on a wooden barge. Charon was poling them across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges. The mist could do crazy things to half-mortals.
"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."
"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."
Mist curled off the filthy water. Above them, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.
Aster panicked, her throat tightening. What was she doing here? These people around her... they were dead. And she wasn't. Well, not yet anyways, but who knew where they were going. Aster grabbed Percy's hand for reassurance. At first he looked embarrassed, his cheeks flushing a bright shade of red, but then he relaxed and squeezed her hand back. Aster needed to know that somebody else was alive on this boat, and so did he.
Aster could hear Percy muttering something under his breath, sounding sort of like a prayer.
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 they could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby 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."
Aster's stomach dropped.
The bottom of the 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 was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.
Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."
He counted their golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river. The four friends followed the spirits up a well-worn path.
Aster wasn't sure what she was expecting—maybe something like the Pearly Gates, or black marble columns, similar to the outside of the DOA. But 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 toll booths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.
The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but Aster couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.
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. She studied the lines to see which one they should go down.
"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," Annabeth said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."
"There's a court for dead people?" Percy asked.
Annabeth nodded. "Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. 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?"
Aster said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."
"Harsh," Percy grimaced.
"Not as harsh as that," she muttered. "Look."
A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.
"It's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover said.
"Oh, yeah," Percy said.
Aster remembered reading about him in the weekly newspaper the camp got that Chiron ordered. 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.
Percy said, "What're they doing to him?"
"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur– the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."
Aster hoped they wouldn't have to run into the Kindly ones again. She knew that Old Mrs. Dodds and her sisters were just waiting for a chance to pounce on them. She knew that the one she had thrown a knife into must not be too pleased with her.
"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell..."
Aster shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? For all we know he could think Thomas Jefferson could be 'the man upstairs'."
"Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn– er, persistent, that way." Grover smiled awkwardly, and they continued on.
The group got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at their feet, but Aster still couldn't figure out where it was coming from. She looked all around her, and all she saw were poor spirits of the dead.
Then, about fifty feet in front of them, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster. Aster stopped dead in her tracks. Cerberus, the three-headed guard of the Underworld, was slobbering right in front of them. They must not have seen him before because he was half transparent, like the dead. Until it moved, it blended with whatever was behind it. Only its eyes and teeth looked solid. And it was staring straight at them.
Percy's jaw hung open. "He's a Rottweiler."
"That's what you're paying attention to right now?" Aster asked, and Percy shrugged, still staring straight ahead at Cerberus.
The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.
"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"
"I think..." Annabeth licked her lips nervously. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."
The dog's middle head craned toward the four friends. It sniffed the air and growled.
"It can smell the living," Percy said.
"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to me. "Because we have a plan."
"Right," Aster said, her voice small and squeaky. "A plan."
They moved towards the monster, no matter how many instincts in Aster's body screamed at her to not do that. Thalia had told her to follow her instincts, but she had to keep going. Their final destination was on the other side of that dog... monster? Rottweiler?
The middle head snarled at them, then barked so loud Aster's eyeballs rattled in her skull. It was not a pleasant feeling.
"Can you understand it?" Percy asked Grover.
"Oh yeah," Grover replied, having gone pale. "I can understand it."
"What's it saying?"
"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."
This made Aster feel infinitely better.
(Not really.)
Percy removed something from his backpack—very slowly so as to not attract attention from Cerberus. It looked to be a big stick. It looked like a bedpost from Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model, having tiger print on it. It was an odd object to take, but Aster had to applaud Percy for his foresight. He held it up to Cerberus, though she could tell he was terrified.
"Hey, Big Fella," Percy called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."
"GROWWWLLLL! "
"Good boy," Percy said weakly, the color draining from his face.
Percy waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. He had Cerberus's undivided attention. Aster didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
"Fetch!" Percy threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. Aster heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.
Cerberus glared at Percy, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.
So much for that plan, Percy. Aster rolled her eyes, her heart pounding.
Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.
"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"
Percy turned to Grover. "Yeah?"
"I just thought you'd want to know..." Grover said, nervously looking between Cerberus and Percy.
"Yeah?"
"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well... he's hungry."
Aster was ready to become monster sized dog-chow until Annabeth intervened. "Wait!" she said. She started rifling through her pack.
Aster was still worried.
"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"
Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before Aster could stop her from making a really bad decision, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.
She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"
Cerberus looked as stunned as they all were. Aster was surprised that Annabeth had enough confidence to give demands to a monster who could swallow her in one gulp.
All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.
"Sit!" Annabeth called again.
Aster braced herself, ready at any moment to become the world's largest Milk-Bone dog biscuit.
But instead, Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.
Annabeth said, "Good boy!"
She threw Cerberus the ball.
He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.
"Drop it!" Annabeth ordered. She had a stern look on her face, one that almost scared Aster
Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at her. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.
"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.
She turned toward them. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."
Aster said, "But–"
"Now!" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.
Grover, Percy, and Aster inched forward warily.
Cerberus started to growl.
"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"
Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.
"What about you?" Percy asked Annabeth as they passed her.
"I know what I'm doing, Percy," she muttered. "At least, I'm pretty sure. . . ."
"Pretty sure? " Aster repeated, exasperated but Annabeth didn't seem to hear her.
Quickly, Percy, Grover, and Aster walked through the monster's legs. More like sprinted to the other side. Aster could only pray that Cerberus didn't sit again. She didn't have the same flexibility that ghosts did, unfortunately.
They finally made it through, and Aster let out a deep breath. But she still stared at Annabeth worriedly. Cerberus wasn't any less scary-looking from the back.
Annabeth said, "Good dog!"
She held up the tattered red ball,which presented a problem: if she rewarded Cerberus, there'd be nothing left for another trick.
She threw the ball anyway. The monster's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.
While the monster was distracted, Annabeth walked briskly under its belly and joined the other three at the metal detector.
"How did you do that?" Percy asked her, amazed.
"Obedience school," she said breathlessly, and Aster glimpsed tears in her friend's eyes. "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman..."
"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at Percy's shirt. "Come on!"
They were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. It almost broke Aster's heart. Annabeth stopped. She turned to face the dog, which had done a one-eighty to look at them. Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.
"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.
The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried about her.
"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"
The monster whimpered. Aster didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball, that he wasn't done playing with his new friend.
"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I–I promise." Annabeth turned to them. "Let's go."
Aster and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"
Cerberus started to bark.
The group burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.
A few minutes later, they were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.
Aster murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"
"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"
"No," Aster told him pointedly. "We've learned that your plans suck! "
She glanced over at Annabeth, who still looked sad leaving Cerberus behind. Aster supposed that even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while.
Aster thought about that as they waited for the ghouls to pass. She pretended not to see Annabeth wipe a tear from her cheek as she listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance, longing for his new friend.