[Y/N's POV]
Annabeth had yet another brilliant idea. We loaded into the back of a taxi. I didn't think we had any money left, but she still told the driver, "Los Angeles, please."
The driver watched us through his rearview mirror. He was smoking a cigar. I didn't think this was good for any of us, but it didn't seem to matter.
"That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front."
"You accept casino debit cards?" Annabeth asked.
He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first."
Annabeth handed him her green Lotus card.
He looked at it skeptically. Eventually, the pieces clicked in my brain.
"Swipe it," I said with a weak hint of authority.
He did. His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign. The driver's jaw dropped. His cigar fell to the floor and his eyes widened.
He looked back at us, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles... uh, Your Highnesses?"
"Oh that's gonna go to her head." Grover muttered.
"The Santa Monica Pier." Annabeth smirked. Grover was right. She obviously was enjoying the "Your Highness" thing. "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change."
Well. He did get us there fast. Dangerously fast. The desert landscape was a blur and I don't know if we dropped below 100 the whole way there.
We still had plenty of time. Percy told us about a dream. He said how another person called the voice a certain title...
"The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades."
"Maybe..." Percy said.
It didn't sit right with me anyway. "The Unseen one? That's another nickname for Hades." I suggested to them.
"That throne room sounds like Hades'," Grover said. "That's the way it's usually described."
"All dark and dreary and the like." I chuckled, tightening my new shoes. They were still getting broken in.
"Something's wrong. 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. Percy looked at her. "What?"
"Oh... nothing. 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?"
"I- I don't know," she said. "But if he stole Zeus's 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."
"If we look at it like that, then the Furies would make sense." I agreed. "All three of them came after you on the bus. Maybe they thought we already had the bolt."
Annabeth looked pale. Hopefully she wasn't still reeling from the sea of spiders at waterland. She looked at me. There was panic in her eyes, and a look that said, 'This is bad.'
What exactly was bad? Good question
"But if I'd already retrieved the bolt," Percy asked, "why would I be traveling to the Underworld?"
"Maybe he thinks we're going to use that as leverage against him." I thought out loud. "I mean, he did take your mom, Percy."
"But the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items," he said. "If the master bolt is one, what's the other?"
Grover shook his head, clearly mystified.
Annabeth was looking at me as if she was trying to make me hear her thoughts. It was unsettling.
"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you?" he asked her. "I mean, if it isn't Hades?"
"Percy... let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades... No. It has to be Hades."
It clicked. I understood the look in her eyes. It might be... "Yeah. She's right. It has to be Hades... it has to."
The wasteland that was Nevada blew past us. The state line sign was an unreadable blur. The driver was burning gas like crazy. He really wanted to keep that card.
I really hoped Hades had the bolt, because if I understood what Annabeth was thinking, then that really was not good.
"The answer is in the Underworld," Annabeth assured. "You saw spirits of the dead, Percy. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing."
She tried to boost our morale by suggesting clever strategies for getting into the Land of the Dead, but nothing was sitting right. I had never been to the underworld. And I never wanted to go, but my friends wanted me here, and I couldn't leave them alone. Especially on something this dangerous.
We had finally reached Santa Monica. I only just realized I left my one of my bracers in the Lotus Hotel and Casino. I had one still, only because I got distracted in the room putting them on.
We were dropped off on the beach, right at sunset. This place smelled arguably as bad as that truck, but with less abused animals. I hoped. We saw a couple of surfer dudes waiting by the tide, and I chuckled. I poked Annabeth.
"Look, Einstein. It's your people. Go grab a board and 'hang ten' or whatever they call it." I started laughing. She wasn't amused and pinched my arm.
"Ow!"
"You deserve that."
"Probably, but still. Ouch." She smirked at my pain. Percy laughed as well. I wanted to punch; yes I mean punch; him so he could see how it felt but with Poseidon's domain so close, I feared a tidal wave would sweep me out to sea.
We walked down to the edge of the water, nearing my demise were I to injure Percy.
[Percy's POV]
"What now?" Annabeth asked.
The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun. I thought about how long it had been since I'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? What did my science teacher used to say that two thirds of the earth's surface was covered in water? How could I be the son of someone that powerful?
I stepped into the surf.
"Percy?" Annabeth said. "What are you doing?"
I kept walking, up to my waist, then my chest.
"Are you trying to get an express pass to the underworld?!" I heard Y/N call after me.
"You know how polluted that water is?" Grover cried. "There are all kinds of toxic-"
That's when my head went under.
I held my breath at first. It's difficult to intentionally inhale water. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I gasped. Sure enough, I could breathe normally.
I walked down into the shoals. I shouldn't have been able to see through the murk, but somehow I could tell where everything was. I could sense the rolling texture of the bottom. I could make out sand-dollar colonies dotting the sandbars. I could even see the currents, warm and cold streams swirling together.
I felt something rub against my leg. I looked down and almost shot out of the water like a ballistic missile. Sliding along beside me was a five foot long mako shark.
But the thing wasn't attacking. It was nuzzling me. Heeling like a dog. Tentatively, I touched its dorsal fin. It bucked a little, as if inviting me to hold tighter. I grabbed the fin with both hands. It took off, pulling me along. The shark carried me down into the darkness. It deposited me at the edge of the ocean proper, where the sandbank dropped off into a huge chasm.
It was like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon at midnight, not being able to see much, but knowing the void was right there.
The surface shimmered maybe a hundred and fifty feet above. I knew I should've been crushed by the pressure. Then again, I shouldn't have been able to breathe. I wondered if there was a limit to how deep I could go, if I could sink straight to the bottom of the Pacific.
Then I saw something glimmering in the darkness below, growing bigger and brighter as it rose toward me. A woman's voice, like my mother's, called: "Percy Jackson."
As she got closer, her shape became clearer. She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her, and her eyes were so distractingly beautiful I hardly noticed the stallion-sized sea horse she was riding.
She dismounted. The seahorse and the mako shark whisked off and started playing something that looked like tag. The underwater lady smiled at me. "You've come far, Percy Jackson. Well done."
I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I bowed.
"You're the woman who spoke to me in the Mississippi River."
"Yes, child. I am a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It was not easy to appear so far upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honor Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court."
"And... you serve in Poseidon's court?"
She nodded. "It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. We have watched you with great interest."
Suddenly I remembered faces in the waves off Montauk Beach when I was a little boy, reflections of smiling women. Like so many of the weird things in my life, I'd never given it much thought before.
"If my father is so interested in me," I said, "why isn't he here? Why doesn't he speak to me?"
A cold current rose out of the depths.
"Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid told me. "He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favoritism."
"Even to their own children?"
"Especially to them. The gods can work by indirect influence only. That is why I give you a warning, and a gift."
She held out her hand. Four white pearls flashed in her palm.
"I know you journey to Hades's realm," she said. "Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules, who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus. Do you have these talents?"
"Urn... no, ma'am."
"Ah, but you have something else, Percy. You have gifts you have only begun to know. The oracles have foretold a great and terrible future for you, should you survive to manhood. Your father would not have you die before your time. Therefore take these, and when you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet."
"What will happen?"
"That," she said, "depends on the need. But remember: what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea."
"What about the warning?"
Her eyes flickered with green light. "Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all. Hades feeds on doubt and hopelessness. He will trick you if he can, make you mistrust your own judgment. Once you are in his realm, he will never willingly let you leave. Keep faith. Good luck, Percy Jackson."
She summoned her sea horse and rode toward the void.
"Wait!" I called. "At the river, you said not to trust the gifts. What gifts?"
"Goodbye, young hero," she called back, her voice fading into the depths. "You must listen to your heart." She became a speck of glowing green, and then she was gone.
I wanted to follow her down into the darkness. I wanted to see the court of Poseidon. But I looked up at the sunset darkening on the surface. My friends were waiting. We had so little time...
I kicked upward toward the shore.
When I reached the beach, my clothes dried instantly. I told Grover, Y/N, and Annabeth what had happened, and showed them the pearls.
Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price."
"They were free."
"No." She 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."
On that happy thought, we turned our backs on the sea.
With some spare change from Ares's backpack, we took the bus into West Hollywood. I showed the driver the Underworld address slip I'd taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.
"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," he told me. "You guys child actors or something?"
"Uh, we're actually from a traveling circus." Y/N spoke out. "Yeah. It's pretty famous. Ads on tv, radio and everything."
"Oh! That explains it."
We thanked the driver and got off quickly at the next stop. Once the bus had passed us, I looked at Y/N.
"The circus again?"
"It's worked twice so far." He reasoned.
"I'm not sure I'd call the first one successful." Annabeth told him.
"Well, we're alive. That's what matters isn't it?"
***
We wandered for miles on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book.
Twice, we ducked into alleys to avoid cop cars.
I froze in front of an appliance store window because a television was playing an interview with somebody who looked very familiar. My stepdad, Smelly Gabe. He was talking to Barbara Walters. I mean, as if he were some kind of huge celebrity. She was interviewing him in our apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand.
A fake tear 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."
"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 me, Annabeth, Grover, and Y/N standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares.
"Who are the other children in this photo?" Barbara Walters asked dramatically. "One has been identified as the other boy from the St Louis arch incident. We still do not know his name." I looked at Y/N. He shook his head.
"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 chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."
"C'mon," Grover told me. He hauled me away before I could punch a hole in the appliance store Window. It got dark, and hungry looking characters started coming out on the streets to play. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a New Yorker. I don't scare easy. But L.A. had a totally different feel from New York. Back home, everything seemed close.
It didn't matter how big the city was, you could get anywhere without getting lost. The street pattern and the subway made sense. There was a system to how things worked.
A kid could be safe as long as he wasn't stupid.
L.A. wasn't like that. It was spread out, chaotic, hard to move around. It reminded me of Ares. It wasn't enough for L.A. to be big; it had to prove it was big by being loud and strange and difficult to navigate, too. I didn't know how we were ever going to find the entrance to the Underworld by tomorrow, the summer solstice.
We walked past gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at us like they were trying to figure if we were worth the trouble of mugging. Me, Grover, and Y/N kept a tight huddle around Annabeth, trying to keep her hidden from these people. She didn't exactly like being the situation but after we explained our reasoning, she didn't fight it.
As we hurried past the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."
Like an idiot, I stopped. Everyone bumped into me and I barely managed to stay on my feet.
Before I knew it, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all white outfits with expensive clothes and mean faces. Like the kids at Yancy Academy: rich brats playing at being bad boys. Instinctively, I uncapped Riptide. Grover reached down to pull off his shoes. Y/N pulled out his sword and Annabeth wielded her dagger.
When our weapons appeared out of nowhere, the kids all backed off. Their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept coming at me with a switchblade.
I made the mistake of swinging.
The kid yelped. But he must've been one hundred percent mortal, because the blade passed harmlessly right through his chest. He looked down. "What the..."
Y/N punched him in the face. He dropped like a bag of bricks. The other guys stood by in shock. I figured we had about three seconds before their shock turned to anger. "Run!" I screamed at my friends.
We pushed two kids out of the way and raced down the street, not knowing where we were going. We turned a sharp corner.
"There!" Annabeth shouted.
Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATRE BDE ALPACE.
"Crusty's WaterBed Palace?" Grover translated.
"First it's a water park and now it's water beds?" Y/N grumbled. "I get that you're Poseidon's son, Percy, but this is a little too on the nose!"
It didn't sound like a place I'd ever go except in an emergency, but this definitely qualified. We still burst through the doors, ran behind a water bed, and ducked. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside.
"I think we lost them," Grover panted.
A voice behind us boomed, "Lost who?"
We all jumped.
Standing behind us was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had gray, leathery skin, thick lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile. He moved toward us slowly, but I got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to.
His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino. It belonged back in the seventies, big time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck. I couldn't even count them.
"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar yellow smile.
"Yes, I can see that." Y/N said what I was thinking. "And I can smell it. Whew!" He pinched his nose and took a few steps back. Crusty took visible offense.
"Sorry to barge in," I told him. "We were just, um, browsing."
"You mean hiding from those no good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?"
I was about to say No, thanks, when he put a huge paw on my shoulder and steered me deeper into the showroom.
There was every kind of water bed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen size, king size, emperor of the universe size.
"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil flavored JellO.
"Million hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, anyway."
"Um," I said, "I don't think..."
"Million hand massage!" Grover cried, and dove in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool."
"Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost."
"Almost what?" I asked.
He directed Y/N to a bed. He looked reluctant but laid down anyway, having a hard time relaxing as the bed kept rippling. "Nearly there..." He muttered.
He looked at Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit."
Annabeth said, "But what-"
He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard patterned comforter. Maybe this was where Mr. D shopped for shirts. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her.
"Hey!" she protested.
Crusty snapped his fingers. "Ergo!"
Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Annabeth, holding her to the mattress. Grover tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black satin bed, too, and lashed him down. Y/N fought like an animal, thrashing against the ropes, but he couldn't escape their hold. A combination of exhaustion and the bed moving, he slowed, letting himself be pulled down tight against it.
"N-not c-c-cool!" Grover yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool a-at all!"
The giant looked at Annabeth, then turned toward me and grinned. "Almost, darn it."
I tried to step away, but his hand shot out and clamped around the back of my neck. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec."
"Let my friends go."
"Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first."
"What do you mean?"
"All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit."
They all kept struggling.
"Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. "Ergo!"
A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around Y/N, Grover and Annabeth's ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling my friends from both ends.
"Don't worry," Crusty told me, "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?"
"Percy!" Grover yelled.
My mind was racing. I knew I couldn't take on this giant water bed salesman alone. He would snap my neck before I ever got my sword out.
"Your real name's not Crusty, is it?" I asked.
"Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted.
"The Stretcher," I said. I remembered the story: the giant who'd tried to kill Theseus with excess hospitality on his way to Athens.
"Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce Procrustes? Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that."
"You're right. It's got a good ring to it."
His eyes lit up. "You think so?"
"Oh, absolutely," I said. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"
He grinned hugely, but his fingers didn't loosen on my neck. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the dang workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?"
"Not too many."
"That's right!"
"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?"
"Don't mind her," I told Procrustes. "She's impossible."
The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting."
"What do you do if they're longer than six feet?"
"Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix."
He let go of my neck, but before I could react, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double bladed brass ax. He said, "I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end."
"Ah," I said, swallowing hard. "Sensible."
"I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!"
"Percy Jackson! You are not a businessman!" Y/N shouted, his voice warbling and sounding agonized while he was stretched.
The ropes were really stretching my friends now. Annabeth was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds, like a strangled goose. Y/N was crying. His wrists and ankles looked like they were going to be dislocated soon.
"So, Crusty..." I said, trying to keep my voice light. I glanced at the sales tag on the valentine shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?"
"Absolutely. Try it out."
"Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"
"Guaranteed."
"No way."
"Way."
"Show me."
He sat down eagerly on the bed, patted the mattress. "No waves. See?"
I snapped my fingers. "Ergo."
Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress.
"Hey!" he yelled.
"Center him just right," I said.
The ropes readjusted themselves at my command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom.
"No!" he said. "Wait! This is just a demo."
I uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments..."
I had no qualms about what I was about to do. If Crusty were human, I couldn't hurt him anyway. If he was a monster, he deserved to turn into dust for a while.
"You drive a hard bargain," he told me. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models.'"
"I think I'll start with the top." I raised my sword.
"No money down! No interest for six months!"
I swung the sword. Crusty stopped making offers.
I cut the ropes on the other beds. Annabeth, Y/N, and Grover got to their feet, groaning and wincing and cursing me a lot.
"You look taller," I said.
"Very funny," Annabeth said. "Be faster next time."
Y/N kicked me hard in the leg. I hopped in pain for a moment.
"I feel like my spine got extended." I looked at Y/N. He was a couple inches taller.
I looked at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service, and another for the All New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters-"The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!"
Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map.
"Come on," I told my friends.
"Give us a minute," Grover complained. "We were almost stretched to death.'"
"Then you're ready for the Underworld," I said. "It's only a block from here."
***
We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble:
DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.
Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors:
NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.
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.
I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."
"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."
"The ultimate plan. It's great." Y/N muttered.
Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"
"Don't think negative."
"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."
I took the pearls out of my pocket, the four milky spheres the Nereid had given me in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong.
Annabeth put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."
She gave Grover a nudge and Y/N a side eye. They grumbled.
"Yes!" Y/N eventually chimed in. "We made it this far, Percy. We're gonna get this done!"
Grover bleated. "We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."
I looked at the three, and felt really grateful. Only a few minutes before, I'd almost gotten them almost stretched to death on deluxe water beds, and now they were trying to be brave for my sake, trying to make me feel better.
I slipped the pearls back in my pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt." We 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 my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.
The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we 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.
I read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?" He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a python, 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."
"Sir," he added smoothly.
"Sir," I said.
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."
"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."
"Mr. Charon," I 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 my stomach like a fastball. I looked at Annabeth for support.
"We want to go to the Underworld," she said.
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 us over. "How did you die, then?"
I nudged Grover.
"Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."
"All of you?" Grover, Annabeth and I nodded.
"Big bathtub."
"I actually got impaled by a swordfish." Y/N added. Annabeth gave him a death glare, ironically enough. Charon looked mildly impressed.
"The bathtub was on the boat. That's why we're here together." He added with a nervous laugh.
"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." I set four golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash I'd found in Crusty's office 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.
We were so close.
Then Charon looked at me. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through my chest.
"Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"
"No," I 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," I 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 us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."
He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.
"No service, no tip." I tried to sound braver than I felt.
Charon growled again. A deep, blood chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.
"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."
I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.
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," I 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?"
"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little bit of appreciation. Respect. Good pay."
With each word, I 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, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little." I 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 lot and be off."
He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."
We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."
He escorted us 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 us 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?"
He shut the doors.