GOLDEN | annabeth chase

xii

AS SHE LOOKED UP FROM THE SHADOWS OF VALENCIA BOULEVARD, EVE SAW GOLD LETTERS ETCHED IN BLACK MARBLE: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

underneath, stencilled 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 them. "okay. you remember the plan." 

"the plan," grover gulped. 

"yeah. i love the plan." annabeth said, "and what happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"don't think negative!" eve said.

"right," she said. "we're entering the land of the dead, and i shouldn't think negative."

percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the four milky spheres the nereid had given him in santa monica. they didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong.

annabeth put her hand on eve's shoulder. "i'm sorry, eve. you're right, we'll make it. it'll be fine."

she gave grover a nudge.

"oh, right!" he chimed in. "we got this far. we'll find the master bolt and save percy's mom. no problem."

eve and percy looked at them both, and felt really grateful. only a few minutes before, they'd almost gotten stretched to death on deluxe waterbeds, and now they were trying to be brave for their sakes, trying to make them feel better.

percy slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "let's whip some underworld butt."

they walked inside the doa lobby.

after a bit, they saw that the security guard's desk was on a raised podium, so they had to look up at him.

he was tall and elegant, with chocolate-coloured 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.

eve read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "your name is chiron?"

he leaned across the desk. she couldn't see anything in his glasses except her own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

"what a precious young lady." he had a strange accent – british, maybe? but also as if he had learned english as a second language. "tell me, miss, do i look like a centaur?"

"n-no." eve replied.

"sir," he added smoothly.

"sir," eve said.

he pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "can you read this, miss? it says C-H-A-R-O-N. say it with me: CARE-ON."

"charon."

"amazing dear! now: mr charon."

"mr charon," eve said.

"well done." he sat back. "i hate being confused with that old horse-man. and now, how may i help you little dead ones?"

his question caught in eve off-guard, so she looked to annabeth for support.

"we want to go the underworld," she said.