SEQUAL TO EVERYWHERE EVERYTHING
BOOK TWO OF THREE !!!
Mitchell didn't expect to wake up from a nightmare, only to find himself in a real one. When he finds Percy's bed empty in the middle of the night, he freaks out.
Mitchell will do whatever it tak...
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MITCHELL DECIDED THE MONSTERS wouldn't kill him. Neither would the poisonous atmosphere, nor the treacherous landscape with its pits, cliffs and jagged rocks. Nope. Most likely he would die from an overload of weirdness that would make his brain explode.
First, he and Percy had had to drink fire to stay alive. Then they were attacked by a gaggle of vampires, led by a cheerleader Mitchell had killed two years ago. Finally, they were rescued by a Titan janitor named Bob who had Einstein hair, silver eyes and wicked broom skills. Sure. Why not?
They followed Bob through the wasteland, tracing the route of the Phlegethon as they approached the storm front of darkness. Every so often they stopped to drink firewater, which kept them alive, but Mitchell wasn't happy about it. His throat felt like he was constantly gargling with battery acid.
His only comfort was Percy. Every so often Percy would glance over and smile, or squeeze Mitchell's hand. He had to be just as scared and miserable as he was, and Mitchell was grateful at him for trying to make him feel better.
"Bob knows what he's doing," Percy promised.
"You have interesting friends," Mitchell murmured.
"Bob is interesting!" The Titan turned and grinned. "Yes, thank you!" The big guy had good ears. Mitchell would have to remember that.
"So, Bob . . ." He tried to sound casual and friendly, which wasn't easy with a throat scorched by firewater and a face that was frozen in a scowl. "How did you get to Tartarus?"
"I jumped," he said, like it was obvious.
"You jumped into Tartarus," Mitchell repeated, "because Percy said your name?"
"He needed me." Those silver eyes gleamed in the darkness. "It is okay. I was tired of sweeping the palace. Come along! We are almost at a rest stop."
A rest stop. Mitchell couldn't imagine what those words meant in Tartarus. He remembered all the times he would beg for rest stops while he was hiding from monster's during a quest when he was younger.
Wherever Bob was taking them, he hoped it had clean restrooms and a snack machine. He repressed the silent giggles. Yes, he was definitely losing it.
Mitchell hobbled along, trying to ignore the rumble in his stomach. He stared at Bob's back as he led them towards the wall of darkness, now only a few hundred yards away. His blue janitor's coveralls were ripped between the shoulder blades, as if someone had tried to stab him. Cleaning rags stuck out of his pocket. A squirt bottle swung from his belt, the blue liquid inside sloshing hypnotically.
