Chasing Legends (Male Reader x Annabeth Chase)

Chapter Fifteen

15| Annabeth the Dog Trainer

The group 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."

Y/N gave him a silent side eye.

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

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

"Don't think negative." Percy answered.

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

"Solid advice." Y/N shrugged.

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given me in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong.

"I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine." Annabeth spoke.

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."

Y/N grinned, sneaking up behind Percy and wrapping his arms around the slightly taller boys neck and swinging him around a bit as pay back from before at Crusty's. Finally letting him go, Y/N smirked and gave him a soft shove and a big smile.

"It's going to be fine, Percy. If we we're gonna fail, we would've done it a long time back."

Y/N was absolutely nervous, but he wouldn't let the rest of his friends see that. In his mind, what was the point in that? They were long past the point of no return.

Percy slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

The group 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 Y/N's eye, he could see them all just fine, but if he focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking ... transparent. He could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so the kids 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 raised an eyebrow. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. Y/N couldn't see anything in his glasses except Percy's own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, 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?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.