They stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.
Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: 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.
Percy turned to his friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."
"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."
Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"
"Don't think negative." Daphne shrugged, with a look that said 'duh'.
"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."
"Yep!" The girl grinned at Annabeth.
Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the four milky spheres the Nereid had given him in Santa Monica.
They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong.
Annabeth put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."
"One hundred percent." Daphne nodded.
Annabeth 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."
Percy slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."
They walked inside the DOA lobby.
Muzak played softly on 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. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator.
Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of her eye, Daphne could see them all just fine, but if she focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent.
Daphne 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-colored 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 read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"
He leaned across the desk. Daphne couldn't see anything in his glasses except their own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a python's, right before it eats you.
"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent-British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"
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A web of fates | Percy Jackson and the Olympians
FanfictionDaphne Evans, a thirteen year old girl. On the outside, she's just an ordinary girl but in reality that's not true. At the age of nine, she watched her mother die and then she was dragged to Camp Halfblood by a satyr. She's a demigod. That's what th...
