TERRIFIED . . . annabeth chase

four.

THEY EMERGED IN Central Park just north of the Pond. Mrs. O'Leary looked pretty tired as she limped over to a cluster of boulders. She started sniffing around, and Nico said, "It's okay. She just smells the way home."

Percy frowned. "Through the rocks?"

"The Underworld has two major entrances," Nico said. "You know the one in L.A."

"Charon's ferry."

Nico nodded. "Most souls go that way, but there's a smaller path, harder to find. The Door of Orpheus."

"The dude with the harp."

"Dude with the lyre," Nico corrected. "But yeah, him. He used his music to charm the earth and open a new path into the Underworld. He sang his way right into Hades's palace and almost got away with his wife's soul."

Val remembered the story. Orpheus wasn't supposed to look behind him when he was leading his wife back to the world, but of course he did. It was one of those typical "and-so-they-died/the-end" stories that always made people feel warm and fuzzy.

"So this is the Door of Orpheus." Percy was hiding a grimace or something. Val could tell by his aura. "How does it open?"

"We need music," Nico said. "How's your singing?"

"Um, no. Can't you just, like, tell it to open? You're the son of Hades and all."

"It's not so easy. We need music."

Percy looked over at Val.

"I have many talents," she said, shrugging. "But I'm a horrible singer. And I don't have a piano here. Sorry. Any other ideas?"

"Yeah." Percy turned and called, "GROVER!"

They waited for a long time. Mrs. O'Leary curled up and took a nap. Val could hear the crickets in the woods and an owl hooting. Traffic hummed along Central Park West. Horse hooves clopped down a nearby path, maybe a mounted police patrol. She was sure they'd love to find three kids hanging out in the park at one in the morning.

"It's no good," Nico said at last.

Then Percy almost fell over. Talk about comedic timing.

"What happened?" Val asked.

"I got through. He's . . . yeah. He's on his way."

A minute later, the tree next to them shivered. Grover fell out of the branches, right on his head.

"Grover!" Percy yelled.

"Woof!" Mrs. O'Leary looked up, probably wondering if they were going to play fetch with the satyr.

"Blah-haa-haa!" Grover bleated.

"You okay, man?"

"Oh, I'm fine." He rubbed his head. His horns had grown so much they poked an inch above his curly hair. "I was at the other end of the park. The dryads had this great idea of passing me through the trees to get me here. They don't understand height very well."

He grinned and got to his feet — well, his hooves, actually. He was a satyr, obviously. His T-shirt had a picture from that book Where the Wild Things Are. It was covered with dirt and tree sap. His goatee looked fuller, almost manly ( goatly? ), and he was as tall as Percy.

"Good to see you, G-man," Percy said. "You remember Nico, and you probably know Val."

Grover nodded at Val and Nico, then he gave Percy a big hug.

"Perrrrcy!" he bleated. "I missed you! I miss camp. They don't serve very good enchiladas in the wilderness."

"I was worried," Percy said. "Where've you been the last two months?"