ENTRAPPED ₂

88

SO FAR, THEIR DEATH MIST CAMOUFLAGE PLAN SEEMED TO BE WORKING. So, naturally, Madeleine expected a massive last-minute fail.

Fifty feet from the Doors of Death, the four demigods froze.

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

Madeleine 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, Madeleine felt so homesick, she couldn't breathe. It wasn't exactly that she missed Mount Olympus―she had only been there twice in her life, and both times, it had been during enormous tragedies. Madeleine still had nightmares about Luke's broken body on the floor, about Ethan curled up and unmoving against the marble, about Drew's unnaturally pale face.

But she missed everything it represented. She missed Apollo and his gleaming smile, she missed her father kissing her temple. She missed all the things she had left behind: New York City, Camp Half-Blood. She missed waking up in the top bunk, Connor snoring below; she missed Clarisse and her mean smile; she missed playing volleyball with Chris; she missed swimming in the canoe lake with Drew and Lee; she missed curling up with Ethan in her cabin and watching some shitty horror flick. She missed Castor and Pollux and Travis and Will and everyone else that had been taken from her.

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

Because here was the truth: even if Madeleine and all of her friends somehow survived Tartarus, the war wouldn't be over. Even if they defeated Gaea, perhaps the wars would never be over. Madeleine and Ethan would never get married or have kids, and it wasn't just because of their commitment issues. The gods would never let them rest.

The thought made Madeleine ache so bad that for a moment, she couldn't breathe. When would it be enough? How much more could she possibly give?

She forced away her self-pity. One step at a time. Right now, she still needed to keep Ethan, Percy, and Annabeth alive.

There was frost spreading from the base of the Doors, and a purplish glow crackled in the air around them. There were also the chains: cords of black iron ran down either side of the frame, like rigging lines on a suspension bridge, tethered to hooks embedded in the fleshy ground, holding the Doors fast. The two Titans, Krios and Hyperion, stood guard at the anchor points.

As Madeleine 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.

Madeleine tensed, ready to sprint forward, but Ethan grabbed her hand just as Bob cautioned, "Wait."

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."