Chapter 21

                                    

                                          
"Did you two really have to do that?" Annabeth asked as we continued down the street.
"What, it was just a small fight," Clarisse replied.
"Yeah, they started it, we finished it," I added.
"Whatever."
We soon 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.
I sighed as I stretched. "Let's whoop some Underworld butt."
We 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, talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.
The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we 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.
I read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Charon, I presume?"
He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a python, right before it eats you.
"What a precious young lad," he said with a strong greek accent— "It feels so great to be recognized."
"We want to go to the Underworld," Annabeth said.
Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."
"It is?" she asked.
"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"
"Oh," I said laughing.. "We were swimming at the beach during a storm, and we drowned."
"All three of you?" Charon asked. We nodded.
Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."
"Oh, but we have coins." I set three golden drachmas on the counter.
"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."
His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.
They were so close.
Then Charon looked at me. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through my chest. "Here now," he said. "Are you dyslexic, lad?"
"No," I said. "I'm dead."
Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling. And you boy, you smell like Hades."