The Thief // pjo

Chapter Nine // Annabeth Becomes a Dog-Mom

    DOA Records.

    We had made it.

    Now we just needed our plan to work.

    "Okay. You remember the plan," Percy hummed as he glanced at the big security guy sitting behind the desk in the front lobby.

    "The plan," Grover stammered, his eyes wide with worry. "Yeah. I love the plan."

    "What happens if the plan doesn't work?" Annabeth asked, pushing some of her matted curls from her face nervously.

    "Don't think negative," Percy told her.

    "Percy, it's kinda hard to think positive when we're literally headed into Hell," I told him in an almost steady voice.

    He bit his lip, pulling the pearls from his pocket, gazing at them in worry.

    I moved to his side, putting my arm around his shoulders, "I'm sorry, Perc. We'll be okay."

    I gave Annabeth, and Grover looks before the former exclaimed, "It'll be fine!"

    "Oh, right!" Grover jumped in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

    Percy reached up, squeezing my hand before sucking in a steeling breath and saying, "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

    I pinched my lips as I stared up at the record store and nodded, opening the door.

    The sound of soft music filled our ears as we entered, and I did my best not to look at all the silent people.

    Especially because they were all see-through.

    I had seen enough today.

    The security guy was tall with an elegant air about him. He had dark chocolate-colored skin with bleached blond hair, shaved into a familiar military style. He wore a pair of shades and an expensive suit that matched his hair.

    I leaned forward to read his nametag that was pinned under a black rose.

    I raised my brows, "Your name is Chiron?"

    The man leaned forward, and all I could see was my bedraggled reflection in his glasses, but his cold, sweet smile made me freeze.

    "What a precious young lass," He said in a weirdly British-yet-not-British accent. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

    "No, I guess," I coughed out.

    "Sir," He added.

    I refrained from rolling my eyes, "'Sir.'"

    The guy took it another step by running his finger under the letters and saying, "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-RO-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

    It took everything in me not to start cursing at him, but I refrained and repeated, "Charon."

    "Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

    "Mr. Charon."

    "Well done." The guy sat back with a grin, waving a hand through the air. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

    I was done with dweeb, so I waited for someone to answer for us.

    "We want to go the Underworld," Annabeth said bluntly.

    I almost face-palmed.

    "Well, that's refreshing," Charon replied sarcastically.

    "It is?"