The Moon's Shine (PJO)

Chapter 43

"This is a bad idea," Percy said as he stared at the exterior of the Empire State Building.

"I haven't even told you anything, though," Annabeth retorted. 

"You don't need to. Nothing good happens in this building." Percy held up his hands, which trembled like a sapling in a hurricane. 

A rat scurried over his feet and dove into a nearby pile of garbage. In broad daylight, Percy watched as a pair of thieves stole several expensive-looking packages from a delivery-man a block over—and yet, he felt safe where he stood.

Annabeth smiled reassuringly. "Nothing will happen. Just trust me, and let me deal with everything." She grabbed Percy's hand and, before he could react, whisked him through the huge, golden gilded green doors of the building.

Wow. Percy blinked in the blinding bright light.

"You've been here before, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth teased. "Multiple times. There's no need to be shocked."

Percy blushed, despite himself. "You should've been with me the last time I came here. I thought I was in a haunted house."

Annabeth laughed, but Percy was serious; the current lobby looked like the aftermath of a day of scrubbing by an industrial-grade cleaning crew. The shuttered windows were open, allowing heaps of light in. Modern-era paintings hung from the golden walls, while the dusty floor had given way to a bright red carpet that looked brand new. The place looked as big as a mansion.

In the center of the room, a suit-wearing guard sat behind a marble desk, which was as shiny as his bald head. He didn't look up from his phone as the two demigods approached but merely pushed a red elevator keycard towards them—the key to Olympus. "Take it and scram." 

"Isn't the whole point of you being employed here to dissuade us from entering?" Annabeth asked. 

"I don't get paid enough to deal with the Brat of Olympus." The guard glared at Percy, finally looking up from his device. He reminded Percy of Mr. D—and not in a good way.

"Er . . . I think my title is 'Hero of Olympus,'" Percy corrected.

Annabeth elbowed him in the side and stepped forward with a forced smile. "We're actually looking to go somewhere else." She pointed to the east side of the room to a gilded door, which was tucked beside a vase.

"That's . . . been here all along?" Percy asked as the guard barked out, "You can't go there."

"Not even Percy?" Annabeth questioned, staring daggers at the guard.

The guard glared back. "Not even the brat."

"I'm right here, y'know." Percy waved. 

He was ignored.

In all truthfulness, Percy was surprised that the guard could match up against Annabeth, whose street name in Camp was "The One Who Scarily Stares." With striking grey eyes that seemed to pierce through the challenger's soul, the daughter of Athena hadn't ever lost a staring contest—especially after an intense argument with Percy. She's crazy. Cool, but crazy. 

Eventually, the guard backed down, looking as though he'd swallowed a piece of trash—but he still shook his head. "I have to listen to my orders," he explained. "They're straight from the king of heavens himself. No one goes in, and no one comes out. "

"Fine. Let's go, Percy." Annabeth grabbed his arm—again.

"What?" Percy questioned incredulously as she shoved him toward the entrance. "We can't give up that easily. You're the person who brought me here!"