NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jackson

one hundred and two: the big doors.

SO FAR, THEIR Death Mist camouflage plan seemed to be working. So, naturally, Brooklyn expected a massive last-minute fail.

Fifty feet from the Doors of Death, she, Percy, and Annabeth froze.

"Oh, gods," Annabeth murmured. "They're the same."

Brooklyn knew what she meant. Framed in Stygian iron, the magical portal was a set of elevator doors — two panels of silver and black etched with art deco designs. Except for the fact that the colors were inverted, they looked exactly like the elevators in the Empire State Building, the entrance to Olympus.

Seeing them, Brooklyn felt strangely homesick for once in her life. She didn't just miss Mount Olympus. She missed everything she'd left behind: New York City, Camp Half-Blood, Xander and her piles of money.

The Doors of Death seemed like a personal insult, designed to remind her of everything she couldn't have.

As she got over her initial shock, she noticed other details: the frost spreading from the base of the Doors, the purplish glow in the air around them, and the chains that held them fast.

Cords of black iron ran down either side of the frame, like rigging lines on a suspension bridge. They were tethered to hooks embedded in the fleshy ground. The two Titans, Krios and Hyperion, stood guard at the anchor points.

As Brooklyn watched, the entire frame shuddered. Black lightning flashed into the sky. The chains shook, and the Titans planted their feet on the hooks to keep them secure. The Doors slid open, revealing the gilded interior of an elevator car.

Percy took a step forward, but Bob planted a hand on his shoulder. "Wait," he cautioned.

Hyperion yelled to the surrounding crowd: "Group A-22! Hurry up, you sluggards!"

A dozen Cyclopes rushed forward, waving little red tickets and shouting excitedly. They shouldn't have been able to fit inside those human-sized doors, but as the Cyclopes got close, their bodies distorted and shrank, the Doors of Death sucking them inside.

The Titan Krios jabbed his thumb against the up button on the elevator's right side. The Doors slid closed.

The frame shuddered again. Dark lightning faded.

"You must understand how it works," Bob muttered. He addressed the kitten in his palm, maybe so the other monsters wouldn't wonder who he was talking to. "Each time the Doors open, they try to teleport to a new location. Thanatos made them this way, so only he could find them. But now they are chained. The Doors cannot relocate."

"Then we cut the chains," Annabeth whispered.

"Our camouflage," said Percy. "Will it disappear if we do something aggressive, like cutting the chains?"

"I do not know," Bob told his kitten.

"Mrow," said Small Bob.

"Bob, you'll have to distract them," Annabeth said. "Brooks, Percy, and I will sneak around the two Titans and cut the chains from behind."

"Yes, fine," said Bob. "But that is only one problem. Once you are inside the Doors, someone must stay outside to push the button and defend it."

Brooklyn tried to swallow. "Uh . . . defend the button?"

Bob nodded, scratching his kitten under the chin. "Someone must keep pressing the UP button for twelve minutes, or the journey will not finish."

Brooklyn glanced at the Doors. Sure enough, Krios still had his thumb jammed on the UP button. Twelve minutes . . . Somehow, they would have to get the Titans away from those doors. Then Bob, Percy, Annabeth, or Brooklyn would have to keep that button pushed for twelve long minutes, in the middle of an army of monsters in the heart of Tartarus, while the other three rode to the mortal world. It was impossible.