The Cult of Dionysus

Callida

I remember watching movies in the rec room with Pollux, where the characters go on a road trip and sing songs in the car and enjoy the wind in their faces, the views, the wide open spaces.

Of course, they're not demigods, and movies are not the real world.

In reality, road trips are pretty boring. I listen to all my songs five times over and all the recommended songs Spotify plays for me. In fact, I listen to so much Spotify that the app seems to run out of new songs to play. I get so desperate for entertainment that I listen to podcasts.

The other reality that I didn't expect: the entire American midwest is just... farms. Cornfields and wheat fields and any other kind of field you could possibly expect as far as the eye can see.

The Blue Ridge Mountains had been cool, except for all the bands of Cyclopes and wild centaurs that roam around. But at least the view had been nice.

Corn fields are flat and boring and full of karpoi. I mean seriously, I thought I killed them all, but there's still plenty left in the fields.

It's especially fun when I get a flat tire and I have to fight them off as I change the tire. I mean seriously, you'd think that monsters would be a little more wary of me after their mass casualty at Camp Half-Blood, but I guess word doesn't get around very quickly in Tartarus.

I saw an exit sign for Salt Lake City. That was a blast from the past. I actually had to pull over and steady my breathing. That happens to me sometimes now, when I get a flashback to our quest. My senses had all been on such high alert for so long that reminders of it send my body back into fight-or-flight mode.

Vegas is pretty cool too. I see the Lotus Hotel and Casino, which I briefly consider entering. Something about going in there, forgetting who I am, and eventually leaving at a completely different point in history sounds like a blast. But I have a mission. I have a project. A plan. Well, not really a plan. The extent of my plan is to get to Hollywood. That's about it. I know the basics of what I have to do, but how I'm going to do it, I have no idea.

I got as much information out of Percy, Annabeth, and Nico as I could. The entrance to the Underworld is underneath DOA Recording Studios. I have to give a drachma to Charon in order to get a ride down the Styx. Then I have to deal with Cerberus. I have some nice Mozart conciertos saved on my phone for that. From there, I just have to find my way to Hades's palace. I'm not entirely sure what to expect from that. I figure if I plead with the god, he may take pity on me and give Leo Valdez back. But if he refuses, I've already decided I'm marching to Elysium myself and bringing him out Orpheus-style.

You may be wondering why I'm choosing the main entrance over any of the other secret entrances to the Underworld. For one thing, I've heard how dangerous they are. And another thing: if I'm going to the Underworld to plead with the Lord of the Dead, the least I can do is use the main entrance. I don't want to cheat my way there and risk that being an issue.

Eventually, I reach Los Angeles. The trip only took me about five days, but it feels like I've been driving forever. My hands and back and legs are all stiff. My eyes hurt, despite my sunglasses. I haven't showered, which is also disgusting. But, Chiron gave me the camp's platinum credit card, which he promised to pay off for me on my journey. Of course, he doesn't know what I'm planning to do. All he knows is I'm heading west towards Camp Jupiter. Something tells me he knew I was planning more, but he didn't question me, which I appreciated. He simply gave me the card and said, "for gas, hotels, or any other emergencies you might have."

My first task: find DOA Recording Studios. I expected it to be difficult, but for once, things seem to be going my way. After wandering around in Hollywood traffic for about twenty minutes, I find the building. It has a Greek-style face, with enormous marble columns and the name carved in golden letters on the front.

Now that I know where it is, I need to find a hotel with parking, which is also surprisingly easy. Mortals obviously don't know that the building is an entrance to the Underworld, but they do not seem keep to stay in any hotels within a one block radius. And the hotels aren't bad.

I pick a nice Hilton Suites, give my car to the valet, and enter the building.

The receptionist seems wary about me, but she takes my fake ID that my dad gave me for my birthday and gives me my room key.

Tomorrow, I enter the Underworld.