𝐂œ𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬é𝐬 [Percy Jackson]

113

Nyx lashed her whip again.

The darkness congealed around her. On either side, an army of shadows appeared—more dark-winged arai, which Hadrian was not thrilled to see; a withered man, and a younger woman in a black toga, her eyes gleaming and her smile like a serial killer's. More kept appearing: dozens of demons and minor gods, each one the spawn of Night.

Hadrian wanted to run. He was facing a brood of horrors that could snap anyone's sanity. But if he ran, he would die.

Next to him, Percy's breathing turned shallow. Even through his misty ghoul disguise, Hadrian could tell he was on the verge of panic. He had to stand his ground for both of them.

"Yeah, not bad," he admitted. "I guess we could get one picture for the scrapbook, but I don't know. You guys are so... dark. Even if I used a flash, I'm not sure it would come out."

"Y-yeah," Percy managed. "You guys aren't photogenic."

"You—miserable—tourists!" Nyx hissed. "How dare you not tremble before me! How dare you not whimper and beg for my autograph and a picture for your scrapbook! You want newsworthy? My son Hypnos once put Zeus to sleep! When Zeus pursued him across the earth, bent on vengeance, Hypnos hid in my palace for safety, and Zeus did not follow. Even the king of Olympus fears me!"

"Uh-huh." Hadrian turned to Percy. "Well, it's getting late. We should probably get lunch at one of those restaurants the tour guide recommended. Then we can find the Doors of Death."

"Aha!" Nyx cried in triumph. Her brood of shadows stirred and echoed: "Aha! Aha!"

"You wish to see the Doors of Death?" Nyx asked. "They lie at the very heart of Tartarus. Mortals such as you could never reach them, except through the halls of my palace—the Mansion of Night!"

She gestured behind her. Floating in the abyss, maybe three hundred feet below, was a doorway of black marble, leading into some sort of large room.

Hadrian's heart pounded so strongly he felt it in his toes. That was the way forward—but it was so far down, an impossible jump. If they missed, they would fall into Chaos and be scattered into nothingness—a final death with no do-over. Even if they could make the jump, the goddess of night and her most fearsome children stood in their way.

With a jolt, Hadrian realized what needed to happen. Like everything he'd ever done, it was a long shot. In a way, that calmed him down. A crazy idea in the face of death?

Okay, his body seemed to say, relaxing. This is familiar territory.

He managed a bored sigh. "I suppose we could do one picture, but a group shot won't work. Nyx, how about one of you with your favorite child? Which one is that?"

The brood rustled. Dozens of horrible glowing eyes turned toward Nyx.

The goddess shifted uncomfortably, as if her chariot were heating up under her feet. Her shadow horses huffed and pawed at the void.

"My favorite child?" she asked. "All my children are terrifying!"

Percy snorted. "Seriously? I've met the Fates. I've met Thanatos. They weren't so scary. You've got to have somebody in this crowd who's worse than that."

"The darkest," Hadrian said with jazz hands. "The most like you. Give me something to work with here. Where's the pizzaz? Where's the drama? Where's the best monsters?"

"I am the darkest," hissed one. "Wars and strife! I have caused all manner of death!"

"I am darker still!" snarled another. "I dim the eyes and addle the brain. Every mortal fears old age!"