ENTRAPPED ₂

89

GETTING KILLED BY TARTARUS DIDN'T SEEM LIKE MUCH OF AN HONOR.

In fact, as Madeleine stared up at his dark whirlpool face, she could think of about a million other ways she would have rather died, and was cursing herself for not doing exactly that. Perhaps she could have died in her father's arms, or maybe been dragged miserably to Tartarus at age fifteen and eaten, or clubbed to death by the giant she had saved Lee Fletcher from. She knew something was really wrong in her head, because all of these options were beginning to sound intensely appealing.

Unfortunately, it was a little too late for that.

She was dimly aware of the army of monsters swirling around her, but after their initial roar of triumph, the horde had fallen silent. Annabeth, Ethan, Percy, and Madeleine should have been ripped to pieces by now. Instead, the monsters kept their distance, waiting for Tartarus to act.

The god of the pit flexed his fingers, examining his own polished black talons. He had no expression, but he straightened his shoulders as if he were pleased.

It is good to have form, he intoned. With these hands, I can eviscerate you.

Madeleine saw Ethan open his mouth across the plain like he wanted to say something, but Annabeth squeezed his arm, and he closed it.

Madeleine could not believe that they were all just going to die now. Something in her brain wasn't computing.

Tartarus's voice sounded like a backward recording―as if the words were being sucked into the vortex of his face rather than projected. In fact, everything seemed to be drawn toward the face of this god―the dim light, the poisonous clouds, the essence of the monsters, even Madeleine's own fragile life force. She looked around and realized that every object on this vast plain had grown a vaporous comet's tail―all pointing toward Tartarus.

Still, Madeleine felt strangely grounded. She was shaking, yes, and she would have given anything to curl into a small ball in the midst of her friends and pass away calmly. But she also felt like she had finally found her purpose here, in this stinking pit.

She had been stumbling along, anxious and depressed and nearly useless, almost dying at the first opportunity, watching Percy and Annabeth and Ethan be hurt over and over again, intent on leaving Bob here.

She had had enough. It was over now. Madeleine just needed to make sure that she finished what she came here for.

She and Bob would hold the Doors. That was how it was supposed to be.

Percy, however, was not showing the same kind of resilience. He actually dropped his sword. It just fell out of his hand and hit the ground with a thud. Death Mist no longer shrouded his face, but he still had the complexion of a corpse.

"Percy," Madeleine hissed. "Get it together."

He was completely unresponsive.

Tartarus hissed again―possibly laughing.

Your fear smells wonderful, said the god. I see the appeal of having a physical body with so many senses. Perhaps my beloved Gaea is right, wishing to wake from her slumber.

He stretched out his massive purple hand and might have plucked up Percy like a weed, but Madeleine stepped forward. She shoved Percy back roughly with a hand on his chest and squared her shoulders. She was shaking so badly she didn't know how she was standing, but she wasn't going to let Tartarus do this. They were so close. Percy, Annabeth, and Ethan had to live, they had to.

Before the god could do anything to Madeleine, though, Bob interrupted.

"Begone!" The Titan leveled his spear at the god. "You have no right to meddle!"