PHILOXENIA ➸ Percy Jackson¹

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TEN—Dead on Arrival

─── ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽☼☾.* :☆ﾟ｡ ───

They stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA Recording Studios.

Ciaran thought the entrance would change as they approached, the Mist dispelling to reveal something that more closely resembled what was described in the myths. A simple hole in the ground perhaps, or a cave, or maybe something more imposing that was reminiscent of Rodin's Gates of Hell.

But the glass doors remained, stenciled with the words: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

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.

It was oddly bureaucratic. For the entrance to the Underworld, Ciaran expected a little more pizzazz, some fire and brimstone, maybe a few screaming souls. But everyone was just sitting or standing around. Wandering. Aimless.

Percy turned to them. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover swallowed. "Yeah. I love the plan."

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

"Don't think negative."

"Right. We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

"Where's your confidence as Athena's daughter?" Ciaran said.

"I'm confident," she snapped. "I'm just preparing for anything that could happen."

Percy took out the three milky spheres from his pocket. He still wasn't sure what they could be used for or how such a little thing could help them in an emergency.

Annabeth placed her hand on his 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."

"We've got the best team right here." Ciaran grinned. "If anyone can get out of the Underworld, it's us."

Percy looked at them, his turquoise eyes soft with gratefulness. He pocketed the pearls and rolled his shoulders. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

They walked inside the lobby.

Muzak played softly on the 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. At first glance, they all looked normal, like they were there to submit some paperwork. But if Ciaran focused enough, they began to look more and more transparent. He could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so they had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-covered 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.

Percy glanced at the name tag, then looked up at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk, a cold smile spreading across his face. As his eyes were completely covered, it was hard to read what he was actually thinking.

"What a precious young lad." It was difficult to place his accent, somewhere European maybe. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."