TERRIFIED . . . annabeth chase

forty nine.

NOTHING WAS EVER dull in Tartarus. Not even walking in it. That was a lesson Val had to learn early on.

After entering the storm front, they plodded on for what seemed like hours, relying on the light of Percy's Celestial bronze blade, and on Bob, who glowed faintly in the dark like some sort of crazy janitor angel.

Val could only see about five feet in front of her. In a strange way, the Dark Lands reminded her of San Francisco — afternoons when the fog bank rolled in like cold, wet packing material and swallowed Pacific Heights. Except here in Tartarus, the fog was made of Tartarus's veins. Or blood? She didn't know.

Rocks loomed out of nowhere. Pits appeared at their feet, and Val barely avoided falling in. Monstrous roars echoed in the gloom, but she couldn't tell where they came from. All she could be certain of was that the terrain was still sloping down.

Down seemed to be the only direction allowed in Tartarus. If Val backtracked even a step, or turned around, she felt tired and heavy, as if gravity were increasing to discourage her. Assuming that the entire pit was the body of Tartarus, Val had a nasty feeling they were marching straight down his throat.

She was so preoccupied with that thought, she didn't notice Annabeth falling.

Percy yelled, "Whoa!" He grabbed for her arm, but she was already falling.

Fortunately, it was only a shallow depression. But Annabeth screamed and flailed, toppling sideways off the mound.

Percy helped her to her feet. "You okay?"

Val looked down the pit and nearly threw up.

Curled in the membrane bubble was a fully formed Titan in golden armor, his skin the color of polished pennies. His eyes were closed, but he scowled so deeply he appeared to be on the verge of a bloodcurdling war cry.

"Hyperion," Percy said. "I hate that guy."

Annabeth backed away further. "I thought Grover turned this guy into a maple tree."

"Yeah," Percy agreed. "Maybe the maple tree died, and he wound up back here?"

Val frowned. "Oh, was he the tree I flew over at one point? I was wondering why there was just a random tree there."

No one answered her. So helpful.

She was about to suggest that they burst Hyperion's bubble before he woke up. He looked ready to pop out at any moment and start charbroiling everything in his path.

Then she glanced at Bob. The silvery Titan was studying Hyperion with a frown of concentration — maybe recognition. Their faces looked so much alike . . .

Val nearly laughed at herself. Of course they looked alike. Hyperion was his brother. Hyperion was the Titan lord of the east. Iapetus, Bob, was the lord of the west. Take away Bob's broom and his janitor's clothes, put him in armor and cut his hair, change his color scheme from silver to gold, and Iapetus would have been almost indistinguishable from Hyperion.

"Bob," Annabeth said, "we should go."

"Gold, not silver," Bob murmured. "But he looks like me."

"Bob," Percy said. "Hey, buddy, over here."

The Titan reluctantly turned.

"Am I your friend?" Percy asked.

"Yes." Bob sounded dangerously uncertain. "We are friends."

"You know that some monsters are good," Percy said. "And some are bad."

"Hmm," Bob said. "Like . . . the pretty ghost ladies who serve Persephone are good. Exploding zombies are bad."