LUCKY | PJO [p. jackson]

02

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Charon sized up the three teenagers before him. Drowned in the bathtub... An unlikely story.

"All three of you?" He asked doubtfully. Charon had heard some strange things in his time — this could be added to the list. The three of them nodded. Charon shrugged. Who was he to question what kids got up to these days? "Big bathtub. 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..." His eyes momentarily flickered to the redhead sat by the door. "Alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

Percy frowned. Had he imagined that? The intimidating security of the Underworld had just mournfully stared at the sad girl by the door. He didn't want to ask. The plan was to get in, get on, and get out. Not feel sorry for the young girl that had accidentally foiled their scheme as soon as they entered her realm. But he said anyway: "How long has she been here?"

Charon blinked, startled by the question, as were the boy's companions. Annabeth gaped and Grover gulped. Percy tried to look confident as he waited for the answer. "Enid's been here for just over three centuries." Charon's sorrowful expression then quickly returned to uninterested. "You ready to join her?"

The question jolted Percy back to their quest. He needed to put the girl to the back of his mind. "Oh, but we have coins." Producing the stolen golden drachmas from his pocket, Percy laid out the coins and watched the immortal being's eyes light up.

Charon leaned forward greedily, preparing to swipe the gold away. "Well, now... Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..." He paused. Percy's stomach dropped as Charon's eyes slowly lifted from the coins to their trio. Even through the sunglasses he wore, Percy could feel the piercing stare behind them, turning his blood cold. "Here now. You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No. I'm dead." Percy tried. To no avail.

With a sniff, their cover was blown: "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," Percy insisted, Annabeth and Grover nodding with him. Charon growled, unimpressed. The sound rattled the spirits in the room.

Enid felt her whole body spark at Charon's irritation. It was as if all the nerves that had been asleep for the past three centuries were suddenly charged with excessive energy. She might've enjoyed the feeling, after all it was the closest she'd get to feeling alive again, but it was so uncomfortable. It was a burning itch she couldn't scratch covering her entire being, setting her on edge more than anything ever had. The other spirits seemed to agree. Everyone did what they could to relieve the feeling: pacing, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, checking watches — anything. Enid found herself fiddling with her blue hair ribbon, even pulling it from her hair to twist it between her fingers. It did very little to make her feel better. Their conversation with Charon is clearly going well. Enid strained her ears to listen in, curiosity getting the better of her, and with Charon's booming voice it wasn't a difficult feat.

"Leave while you can. I'll just take these and forget I saw you." However, the drachmas were snatched from his sight before he had the chance to pocket them.

"No service, no tip," Percy rebutted.

Enid raised a brow, impressed. He's brave. If that was false bravado, he was doing a good job of hiding it. Charon was fooled at least as his growl deepened. Enid's nerves turned to fire and she twisted her ribbon tighter.