Percy Jackson Back in Time

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

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.

‘Seriously’ I thought. Hades’s humor sucked. Let's all be honest here. His humor is Hades.

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."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative, it’ll just jinx us, but dont think positive either, it’ll just be as bad as thinking positive,” I said getting while getting looked at weirdly. “Let's all just keep it neutral."

"...Right," she said. "So…We're entering the Land of the Dead… and I shouldn't think negative…or positive…."

“Yep.” I said nervously taking the pearls out of my pocket.

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.

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

I looked at them both grateful to be friends with them, even if they had no idea of what was happening.

I slipped the pearls back one my pocket. "Let’s go, Hades is awaiting us," I said with a solemn tone.

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.

"Hello, Charon."

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 said with a gleam in his eye and a genuine smile on his face.

“Uh…thank you?”

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," I said.

“You might have just made my day. I can’t recall the last time someone actually said my name right. Now, how can I help you dead ones?"

"We want to go to the Underworld," Annabeth 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.”