chapter thirteen
❛ pets and pawns ❜

━━━━━ IMAGINE THE LARGEST concert crowd ever seen, a football field packed with a million fans. After that, picture a field a million times larger than that. Imagine it packed with more people than humanly possible, and that all of the electricity had gone out — no noise, no light, no beach ball bouncing around over the crowd. Instead of cheering and adoring fans, it was whispering masses of people just milling around in the shadows, waiting for all eternity.

        That was the Fields of Asphodel. The black grass had been trampled by eons of dead feet. A warm, moist wind blew like the breath of a swamp. Black trees — she recognized them as poplars and elms — grew in clumps here and there.

        The cavern ceiling was so high above the questers it might've been a bank of storm clouds, except for the stalactites, which glowed a faint grey and looked wickedly pointed. Josephine tried not to imagine they would fall on her at any moment; however, her mind continued to wander as dotted around the fields were several stalactites that had fallen and impaled themselves in the black grass. She guessed the dead didn't have to worry about little hazards — you know, like being spontaneously speared by stalactites the size of booster rockets. They didn't have to worry as they were already dead.

        She, Annabeth, Grover, and Percy tried to blend into the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls as they tried to find their way out. She couldn't help but look for her father or Mrs. Hall among the spirits of Asphodel. She wasn't even sure if either had passed (but deep down, some part of her just knew they were), but even then, the dead were hard to look at. Their faces shimmered when looked at head-on. They all looked slightly angry or confused all the time. They'd come up to her and speak, but their voices sounded like chatter — like bats twittering. Once they realize that Josephine couldn't understand them, they frown and move away.

        That's what made Josephine realize the dead aren't scary, they're just heartbreaking.

        I don't ever want to end up like them, she thought quietly as an elderly man walked through her.

        Then don't, Onesimus said passingly, his voice eager to get away from here. Become something better than just the Field of Asphodel.

        That's easy for you to say, Josephine gripped. You're not the one who sucks at being a daughter of Apollo!

        You don't suck, Onesimus corrected. You just have ... different strengths than your siblings. A different path. Now, hurry! Your answers are near!

        The four questers crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates towards a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read:

JUDGMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATIONWelcome, Newly Deceased!

        Out the back of the tent came two much smaller lines.

        To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path towards the Fields of Punishment, which glowed and smoked in the distance; a vast, cracked wasteland with rivers of lava and minefields and miles of barbed wire separating the different torture areas. Even from far away, Josephine could see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches, or whatever else Hades thought fit for their forever punishment. She could just make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top. And there were worse tortures, too — things she never wanted to live through.

        The line coming from the right side of the judgment pavilion was much better. This one led down towards a small valley surrounded by walls — a gated community, which seemed to be the only happy part of the Underworld. Beyond the security gate were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period throughout history, Roman villas, medieval castles, and Victorian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled in rainbow colors. Josephine could hear laughter and smell barbecue cooking —

        Elysium. She knew exactly what she was looking at.

        In the middle of that valley was a glittering blue lake, with three small islands like a vacation resort in the Bahamas — the Isles of the Blest, for people who had chosen to be reborn three times, and three times achieved Elysium. Josephine knew that's where she wanted to go when she died.

        That's where you want to go, I'm sure? Onesimus read her thoughts.

        Of course! When you died, where did you go? Josephine found herself asking.

        Whoever said I was alive like you? he countered. Whoever said I could die the way you can?

        So ... you're not human, not a passed-on half-blood? Josephine asked, surprised at Onesimus's answers. Admittedly, she didn't know what she expected him to reply with. She had just assumed Onesimus was a half-blood who had died; perhaps even a monster sent by whoever stole the Master Bolt to taunt her.

        But Onesimus didn't respond to her question.

        "That's what it's all about," Annabeth said suddenly, breaking Josephine out of her stupor. "That's the place for heroes."

        But Josephine thought of how few people there were in Elysium; how tiny it was compared to Asphodel or even the Fields of Punishment. So few people did any good in their lives. It was depressing.

        They left the judgment pavilion and moved deeper into Asphodel. It got darker. The colors faded from their clothes. The crowds of chattering spirits began to thin. After a few miles of walking, they began to hear a familiar screech in the distance. Looming on the horizon was a palace of glittering black obsidian. Above the parapets swirled three dark batlike creatures — the Furies. Josephine got the feeling they were waiting for the questers.

        "I suppose it's too late to turn back ..." Grover said wistfully.

        Josephine wanted to take up on Grover's obvious hints and run as far away from the palace as she could — but she couldn't. They couldn't leave, not with so many lives at stake.

        Onesimus was whispering in her ears, telling her to go further. Answers! he told her.

        I get it! You've told me this enough! she snapped back.

        "We'll be okay, you guys," Josephine said, trying her best to sound confident. "Everything will work out."

        "Maybe we should search some of the other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance ..."

        Annabeth linked her arm with Grover's forcefully. "Come on, goat boy."

        The satyr yelped. Suddenly, out of nowhere (and with no one saying, Maia), Grover's shoes sprouted two pairs of white wings, and his legs were lifted into the air. Then, the shoes shot forward, dragging Grover along behind them. Annabeth lost her hold on him, and she tilted on the balls of her feet from the suddenness. Grover landed flat on his back, right into the black grass.

        Annabeth straightened, smoothing down her shirt as she huffed loudly. "Grover," she chided with a roll of her eyes. "Stop messing around."

        The satyr looked at her, tilting his chin upwards and through his top lashes from his spot on the ground. For a moment, his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Eventually, he managed to say, "But I didn't —"

        However, the wings on the shoes were flapping crazily now. Grover yelped again as his feet were lifted off the ground, and then he started screaming as they started dragging him off. "Maia!" he yelled, but the magic word seemed to have no effect. "Maia, already! Nine-one-one! You guys, help!"

        Grover outstretched his hands to the others, grasping wildly at the empty air. Percy was the first to move after him. He darted forward, nearly tripping over his feet, as he extended both hands out to try to grab Grover — but he was too late. The satyr was picking up speed, and fast; he was sliding down a dark hill, barreling through dark tufts of grass and bobbing around any fallen stalactites.

        With no other choice, the others ran after him.

        It wasn't easy running after a satyr who was flying down the hill like a possessed lawnmower. He screamed loudly, trying to dig his hands into anything he could — tufts of grass, rocks, fallen stalactites, or even spirits. But it was all in vain, especially the spirits, considering they weren't solid matter, and his hands would slide right through them.

        "Grover, untie the shoes!" Annabeth shouted, running ahead of Josephine and Percy.

        It would've been a genius fix to a horrible problem — except for the fact that Grover couldn't reach the shoelaces to untie them. He kept trying to sit up, but the momentum kept pulling him back down.

        They — Josephine, Percy, and Annabeth — had to keep running after him. But it was proving to be incredibly difficult. Grover was zipped between the legs of spirits who only chattered at him in annoyance. She was certain that Grover was going to barrel straight through the dark gates of Hades's palace, and that'd be one way to enter — but then, his shoes veered sharply to the right, dragging him in the opposite direction. Somehow, the satyr's screams became even louder as he was dragged off into the unknown.

        The three skittered to struggling stops, nearly tripping over themselves to keep on the lawnmower path of Grover Underwood. The further the shoes took him, the steeper the slopes became, and the faster Grover started flying (and the even more panicked his screams became). The three chasing him were sprinting now just to keep up, let alone have a chance of catching him. Josephine felt a painful stitch form right underneath her right rib, however, she ignored it—she couldn't just let Grover get dragged off into the darkness of the Underworld. The cavern walls started to narrow in, and her heart started to race with adrenaline plus claustrophobia. At some point, they had entered some kind of side tunnel in the Underworld—no black grass or trees, just rock underfoot, and the dim light of the stalactites overhead.

        Onesimus was yelling at her now, telling her this wasn't the way to the answers she desperately wanted. She did her best to shove his voice to the back of her mind, where she would no longer have to hear him. She knew this wasn't the way to the answers, but Grover ...

        "Grover!" she yelled, her chest and lungs constricting as she tried to catch her breath. Her voice echoed loudly in the tunnel. "Hold on to something!"

        His head whipped wildly back and forth, trying to grab a glimpse of her. "What?" he yelled back. He was grabbing at the gravel beneath him, but it was useless. There was nothing big enough to slow him down, not even slightly.

        The further they ran, the colder and darker the tunnel became. The hairs on Josephine's arms stood on end, almost like they were on alert. Her skin tingled nervously, and she wiped her hands on the end of her shirt anxiously. Her hands, she could feel that ... whatever it was, it was boiling just beneath her skin. It smelled evil down here—a heavy stench that made it hard to breathe, even if she hadn't already been out of breath. It infiltrated her nose, infecting her brain, making her think of things she never wanted to think about; things she shouldn't even know about — dark blood spilled on an ancient stone altar, the foul breath and stench of a murderer.

        In front of her, Percy skittered to a stop, looking on in a horrified mix of fear and astonishment. Josephine was forced to slow down, skittering around Percy — yet, the sight even forced her to stop in shock and fear. Before them, the once-narrow, tight tunnel widened into a huge, dark cavern. In the very middle of it was a chasm the size of an entire city block — and Grover was sliding straight for the edge.

        Josephine grabbed Percy by the arm, trying to pull him along. "C'mon, Percy! Grover!"

        Percy stared on in horror. "But that's —"

        "What you saw in your dreams," she interrupted. "I know!"

        From the narrow tunnel, Annabeth pushed past the two, sprinting for the chasm. "Grover's going to fall if we don't catch him!" she snapped back at them.

        As it normally goes, the blonde was right — and Percy knew it, too. He started moving again, sprinting after Annabeth and Josephine. The satyr was screaming loudly, clawing at the ground; however, the winged shoes continued to drag him toward the pit — and it didn't seem possible that they would reach him in time.

        What ended up saving him was his hooves. The flying sneakers had always been a loose fit on Grover, no matter how hard they pulled on the shoelaces or how tightly they knotted the bow. And that was the thing that saved him — and the big rock Grover flew into. The left shoe came flying off, picking up speed as it was suddenly totting only its weight instead of the weight of a twenty-eight-year-old satyr. It sped off into the darkness, disappearing down into the chilling chasm. However, the right shoe was still tied around Grover's hoof, and it was still tugging him along — but at a far slower pace. Grover spun his body around, wrapping both arms tightly around the large rock, and used it as an anchor.

        He was ten feet from the edge of the pit, ten feet from the sharp drop into nothingness. Annabeth and Josephine threw themselves the three feet of distance between them and Grover, grabbing an arm each, and pulled him over the rock and back up the slope. The right shoe fought back, trying to pull Grover back toward the chasm. Eventually, it slid off, and it started to circle them angrily, trying to kick their heads in protest — then, it threw itself into the chasm to join its left half.

        The four stared at the dark pit for a moment, the stunned silence settling over them like a heavy, albeit cold, blanket. Then, Grover sank to the ground, gasping for air as he angled his head toward the obsidian gravel. Josephine's limbs felt like they had been replaced with lead. It felt like someone had placed heavy rocks on her chest as she tried to breathe, as she tried to catch her breath.

        Grover was scratched up, and his hands were bleeding. His eyes had turned slit-pupilled, the way they did whenever he was terrified. And given what had just happened, all of that was a good outcome. "I don't know how ..." he panted, still staring down at the gravel. "I didn't ..."

        Josephine kneeled beside the satyr, rubbing her own trembling hand over his back. "Grover, it's okay. We know you didn't do anything. The shoes — there's something wrong with them." She looked back at the chasm, her eyes struggling to adjust to its darkness specifically. "I just ... don't understand why they did it. I mean —"

        "Posie, wait," said Percy, his eyes scanning the chasm. "Listen."

        She stopped, looking up from Grover and to the chasm. For a long moment, all she could hear was the blood rushing inside her ears and the rapid heartbeat against her ribs. Then, she heard it — a deep, hollow whisper from the darkness. It was a voice meaner than Onesimus could ever hope to sound. She didn't know what it was saying, and the more she listened, the less she understood—as if she understood anything in the first place.

        She stood up on shaky knees, her blood having long run cold. "Let's just leave, okay?" Her voice was panicked, and she sounded desperate, but she didn't care — that voice was worse than evil.

        Annabeth stalled, still staring at the pit. "This place —"

        Percy quickly shushed her, holding out a hand to her. Annabeth looked miffed at him for a moment, but she didn't bite back a response, letting the silence seep back in. But the silence seemed to let the voice become louder — the evil voice was muttering louder now, from far, far below them. It was coming from the pit.

        Panic created this painful bubble in Josephine's chest, and she was still struggling to breathe even after minutes of no movement. Her hands shook, and the burning beneath her skin started to become stronger; it started to become harder to ignore and push down.

        Grover looked up. "Wha-what's that noise?"

        "Tartarus," replied Annabeth. Josephine looked at her, and from the look in her eyes, she knew Annabeth could hear it now, too. It was written in her steely grey eyes. "That's the entrance to Tartarus."

        Get out, you idiotic girl! Onesimus was nearly pleading with her.

        There was a sudden shring! that made her jump in surprise — but it was just Percy uncapping Anaklusmos. The Celestial bronze sword expanded, gleaming brightly in the darkness. She thought it must have been her imagination, but Josephine swore she heard the evil voice falter — just for a moment before it returned to its chant. She could nearly make out the words now — ancient words, even older than Ancient Greek. It almost sounded like ...

        "Magic ..." Percy suddenly whispered, tightening his grip on Riptide.

        She couldn't stand it anymore — the darkness, the chanting, Onesimus yelling, none of it. The burning beneath her skin felt like it had a pulse — it was becoming something tangible. She remembered the pain she had felt back at Aunty Em's, but she also remembered the all-consuming fear she had. It was one or the other, and both options terrified her, and she could control neither one — but the anxiety of the evil voice in the chasm was stronger. She held out her right hand, turning over her hand so her palm faced upwards — a ball of green light exploded from her skin, chasing back the darkness. Her skin burned and tingled, and the glow danced lifelessly inches above her skin — instead of giving anyone boils on the skin, she made a makeshift lantern. She kept her hand firmly away from the three with her, worried the glow would become too strong and latch onto them, giving them whatever new symptom of sickness this time.

        Her eyes flittered nervously from the pit to her outstretched hand, where the green glow was casting long shadows just before her feet. The burn was starting to become normal now; unwanted, but expected — she didn't like it. "We have to leave," she practically pleaded with the others. "It's dark magic in there."

        (But then what was my hand-lantern trick? part of her brain wondered, which she quickly tried to squash. Onesimus, however, had already heard the thought, too. What makes magic dark is the person who wields it, he told her. You don't want to do bad, do you?)

        Annabeth's eyes lingered on Josephine's hand, but she looked the daughter of Apollo in the eye — instantly, some odd understanding passed between them. They remembered the conversation they had on the Amtrak, where Annabeth promised there had to be an answer to Josephine's green glow. "We have to get out of here," she agreed.

        Percy and Annabeth scooped Grover up by the arm on either side, helping him to his shaky hooves. It took a few minutes, but they eventually got the satyr moving, and they started the long trek back up to the tunnel. With the makeshift hand-lantern, Josephine led the way, holding out her hand carefully as the green glow bathed the area in this sickly green color, creating long shadows that danced as she walked. The glow never wavered, and the burning had become so consistent that she no longer felt it — like it had just been a figment of her scared imagination.

        The further the four got away, the louder and angrier the voice became. Onesimus started urging her to hurry, and — she felt it. It was like a shiver up her spine, and Josephine broke out into a run. The others behind her didn't question it. They must've felt the same thing she did, quickly following suit as she raced up the slope.

        Whatever senses that had been working overtime for that shiver to run up her back, it was the thing that saved her life — hers and the others. Cold blasts of air whipped around Josephine, making her movements sluggish as she fought against the winds. The wind was trying to pull her back, right into the chasm she was running from. It was like the pit was inhaling, trying to pull them back in, realizing they were trying to escape. Behind her, she felt someone grabbing at her shirt, and as she turned around — she saw Percy slipping on the gravel, trying to cling onto anything he could. She didn't think about it, fully turning around and grabbing the collar of his T-shirt. If it had been her right hand, the fabric would've rotted in her grasp — and Percy would've slipped even further. If they had been any closer to the edge, he would've been sucked right in.

        Percy rightened himself, hooking his right arm with her left, and started tugging her back up the gravel. Josephine didn't fight it, turning her back to the chasm, and raced back up the slope with the son of Poseidon. They made it back to Annabeth and Grover, and the four continued to struggle forward, fighting against the inhales of breath every step of the way. They finally reached the top, where the large cavern narrowed into the tunnel, and just beyond the end of the tunnel, Josephine could see a blimp of the miserable-looking Fields of Asphodel. Percy was the last one to make it to the top, having pushed Josephine in front of him. She didn't think twice, holding out her left arm and helping him up. And as soon as Percy made it out of the chasm's right, the wind died, and then a wail of outrage echoed from deep within the pit.

        Annabeth's eyes widened. "Go, go, go!"

        No one needed to be told a fourth time. The green glow had long since died from Josephine's hand. They were running through the dark tunnel in pure darkness — but they didn't think twice about it. Running through darkness was better than whatever was screaming at them from that pit. The questers spilled out from the entrance of the tunnel, tripping over one another to try and get away. They collapsed in what felt like relative safety inside an empty, poplar grove.

        Grover sat at the roots of one tree, panting as he placed a hand on his chest. "What was that? Another of Hades's pets?"

        Josephine didn't know how to respond, collapsing beside him and leaning back onto the poplar tree, her head against the thick trunk. There was a lot she didn't know about Hades. She thought Cerberus was bad, but compared to whatever was down there, he was like a slobbering, joyful puppy.

        No, it's not another of Hades's pets, disagreed Onesimus, his voice shocking her. Through all the commotion, she had almost forgotten about him. It's something worse.

        A shiver crawled up Josephine's back. She quickly looked between the others physically with her — Grover, Percy, and Annabeth. What do you mean? she asked him. What is it?

        Onesimus was silent for a long moment. The silence became so long that she figured he wasn't ever going to reply. It wouldn't be the first time he's dogged a question that way. But he replied, eventually. I can't tell you, he admitted. Not yet.

        Suddenly, Annabeth and Josephine locked eyes. The daughter of Apollo could tell her friend was nursing an idea — she was chewing on her bottom lip, her brows knitted together deeply, as she tugged at her leather necklace. It was probably the same idea Annabeth had gotten during the taxi ride to L.A., but she was still too uncertain about it — or, more likely, too scared by it to share with the others. And whatever could terrify Annabeth, petrified Josephine.

        Percy capped Riptide, and there was a golden shimmer as the sword disappeared back into a simple-looking ballpoint pen. "Let's keep going," he decided. He stood up, dusting off his pants, and looking at Grover. "Can you walk?"

        Grover's eyes were still slitted like a goat's, but he tried to swallow his fear. "Yeah, sure. I never liked those shoes anyway." He tried to sound brave, making a joke to lighten the mood — but he was trembling as badly as Josephine was.

        She smiled lightly as she met his eye, grabbing Grover's hands as he helped her to her feet. Such a simple thing made her feel better — he didn't hesitate to grab the hand that glowed green, even if the glow had long since died out. Her skin still tingled, and she still felt like something was boiling just beneath her skin. Whatever was in that pit was nobody's pet, not like how Grover had suggested. Something that unspeakably old and dangerously powerful could never be a pet.

        She was so anxious to get away, that she was almost relieved to turn her back on the dark tunnel and make her way toward the Palace of Hades — almost, that is.

✿

High up in the gloom, Josephine saw vague outlines — the three Furies overhead, circling the parapets of the palace like flying guard dogs. The outer walls of the fortress glittered black in the dim light of the Underworld, and in the center of the wall stood the two-story-tall bronze gates — and they were wide open. Hades was expecting visitors.

        The closer they walked, the clearer she could see the smaller details — the engravings on the gates that depicted scenes of death. Not two scenes were the same, either. Some were more modern: an atomic bomb exploding over a city, a trench filled with gas mask-wearing soldiers, a line of famine victims waiting with empty bowls — but all of them looked as if they had been etched into the bronze thousands of years ago, the deep curves and etches having oxidized from the cool, damp air of the Underworld. Josephine had to wonder if these carvings were prophecies that had been made thousands of years ago, and if so, who had seen them.

        With the open gates, they had run out of excuses to stall their meeting with Hades — so they went inside. Just inside, between the outer walls and the main castle, as if it had been tacked on as an afterthought, was the strangest-looking garden Josephine had ever seen (and that was considering something since Cabin Four liked to create all sorts of odd concoctions when it came to plants). The air was cool and damp, making her skin prickle with goosebumps. Walls of flowers lined the courtyard, luminous and smelling faintly as Josephine walked by. For such a dark place, it was covered in plants — multi-colored mushrooms, luminous plants, and subterranean trees. The colors of them, too: sickly greens, noisy blues, radiation orange, and they all glowed neon. White birch trees grew high into the air like frozen ghosts, looming menacingly over the four. Lined along a dark path on the ground were poisonous shrubs, littered with multi-colored mushrooms in between.

        Further inside the garden, the lack of flowers started to become apparent. All the bright colors caught attention, but the closer one looked, the more they noticed how few those flowers actually were. To compensate for the lack of floral diversity were precious jewels — clumps of raw diamonds, piles of rubies, and clusters of jagged emeralds were strewn about in the dark grass carelessly. A brook winded through the greenery, weaving through the walls of flowers and birch trees, leading further into the garden. Here and there, strewn about, were frozen party guests — the kind like Medusa's. It was petrified children, satyrs, and centaurs — and all were smiling grotesquely, though their eyes were wild with forever fear.

        The brook and the path worked in tandem to lead to the very center of the garden, and that's when Josephine spotted it — an orchard of pomegranate trees. Their orange blooms were neon bright in the darkness. The cold, damp air was filled with the overwhelmingly sweet yet tart smell of the fruit growing all around them.

        Annabeth paused just before the orchard. "The Garden of Persephone ..." she murmured, her eyes taking in the scene hungrily. She had to be, as an aspiring architect — the way the brook and pathway winded together, the walls of flowers and how they created a scene of seclusion, the shrubbery and how it made the ginormous garden feel almost homely (if able to forget the fact they were currently in the Underworld). Yet, she was able to tear her eyes away from it, looking back at the others. "We've got to keep walking."

        Josephine swallowed nervously. Her eyes took one last gigantic sweep of the garden. "Gladly," she agreed with zero complaints.

        The tart smell of the pomegranates was starting to become overwhelming. She was fighting the urge to march up to a tree and just pluck one. But she dug her nails into her palms, forcing herself to remember the story of Persephone — one bite of Underworld food, and the Goddess of Springtime could never leave the Underworld. Being trapped in a place like this was the last thing she wanted.

        They walked up the dark steps leading to the palace, weaving between carefully placed black columns, through a black marble portico — and they were in the house of Hades. Josephine's skin crawled as the realization dawned on her. This place was the very opposite of everything her father stood for. The entrance hall had a polished bronze floor, which seemed to boil in the reflected torchlights high above them, nailed to the black columns. But as Josephine looked up, she realized there was no ceiling — just a cavern roof far, far above them. Weather wasn't a concern down here, only the dead were (and whatever was in that chasm).

        Every side doorway was guarded by a skeleton in some form of military gear. Some wore ancient Greek armor, some donned British redcoat uniforms, and some had on camouflage with tattered American flags on the shoulders. They carried spears, muskets, or M-16s. None of them bothered the four, but their hollow eye sockets carefully followed their movement down the hall. Josephine's skin crawled, but she forced herself to keep her head trained forward as she and the others made their way to the big set of doors on the very opposite end.

        At the very end, guarding the double doors, was a pair of U.S. Marine skeletons. They grinned down at the four, rocket-propelled grenade launchers held at their chest rigidly, just like they had never forgotten their military training.

        "That's ..." Josephine stared at the skeletons, "just a little overkill, don't you think?"

        Grover eyed the security with the same weariness Josephine had. "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen 'cause of it."

        "I doubt guns and an undead army are why the Underworld doesn't get any salesmen," she replied dryly.

        Percy steeled his shoulders, stepping in front of Josephine and Grover. He held a tight hold on the backpack Ares gave him, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Well, guys, I s'pose we should," he looked between the two skeletons, "knock ..."

        From the back of her mind, Onesimus quipped, That would be kind of you, yes. She did her best to shove him even further away. The last thing she needed was him chiming in as they tried to confront Hades for stealing the Master Bolt (which Josephine still didn't believe he took).

        Percy hesitated, his eyes flickering nervously between the guarding skeletons, before finally stepping forward close enough to the door. He raised his hand, his finger curled inward, getting ready to knock when — a hot wind blew past them, coming from down the hall and wrapping around them, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside, lowering their guns to face the ground.

        Annabeth looked over her shoulder for any sign of where the sudden breeze came from. When she found nothing, she turned back around, locking eyes with an anxious Josephine. "I guess that means Entrez-vous," said the daughter of Athena, starting to step forward.

        The room inside was just as Percy had described — a vast room with black marble walls and bronze floors. Nailed to columns made from the same dark marble with torches that burned brightly in the dark Underworld, and their firelight glinted lustrously off the polished bronze floors. There was a dais on the other end of the room, with bronze steps leading up to a throne made out of human bones. Instead of the throne being empty, as Percy saw it in his dream of the room, this throne was holding a god.

        The God of Riches wasn't the first god Josephine had ever met (no, that was Mr. D — unfortunately for her), but there was no mistaking that Hades was a god. Josephine has heard that Apollo and Aphrodite are as dazzling as one thinks a Greek god would be; Dionysus could show off terrifying powers that a Greek god could — but Hades just had this sickly presence about him. He didn't need to be as muscular as Ares to radiate power.

        He was commanding, without even trying to be. He was at least ten feet tall, dressed in black, silk robes, and had a crown of braided gold on his head. His skin was as white as paper, with shoulder-length jet-black hair. He lounged on his throne, fused of human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and as dangerous as a panther. She just knew it in her gut — Hades was meant to be giving orders. Even if he wasn't over two thousand years old, he would still know more than she ever could —

        No, she was there to get something back. She wasn't there to cower at Hades, the God of the Underworld's feet. (That being said, she would rather high-tail and run the entire way back out of the Underworld.)

        Her skin crawled as goosebumps raised along her arms. There was this tight ball right in the middle of her chest — it was her terrible fear and horror of meeting the God of the Dead. It was Hades's doing; his aura was affecting her, just as Ares's had. But she had managed to subdue the anger that came to fruition when Ares found them in the diner. She could at least try and subdue the fear ravaging her stomach and pooling in her chest from the mere presence of Hades; however, she wasn't sure what much she could do. Hades had these intense eyes — almost mesmerizing in a horrible way. And the god hadn't even spoken yet.

        Hades's dark eyes flickered from one to the other — Grover, Annabeth, Josephine, then Percy. His displeased face somehow worsened when his eyes landed on Percy. "You are brave to come here, Son of Poseidon." His voice was oily and cold. "After what you have done to me, very brave — or perhaps you are simply very foolish."

        This strange sense of numbness crept into her bones — she felt that it was infecting every inch of her. It seeped into the folds of her brain, telling her to just lie down and take a small nap at Hades's feet. The way a cat would — curl up and snooze away, forever. She swallowed hard, feeling as if her tongue had swelled to twice its normal size. She breathed in and out through her nose, keeping her eyes carefully trained away from Hades's face and feet.

        Percy stepped forward, though he was trembling. "Lord ..." he hesitated, his brows furrowing, "and Uncle — I come with two requests."

        Hades arched his eyebrows at the boy. When he sat forward on his throne, his hands holding each armrest next to him, shadowy faces appeared in the golds of his black robes — faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying desperately to get out. "Only two requests?" he repeated, his nose curling. "Arrogant child. As if you have not already taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead — yet."

        Josephine swallowed again. This was going about as well as she had feared. Still avoiding glancing at the God of the Dead, her eyes locked on the small throne placed next to Hades's. It was shaped like a black flower, gilded with gold on the edges that glinted in the torchlight. Part of her wished Queen Persephone were here. According to the stories, the goddess had a way of calming her husband's awful moods — but it was summer. Persephone was far above them, up on Olympus, with her mother, Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture. Persephone's visits to and from the Underworld and Olympus created the seasons.

        Annabeth cleared her throat, the sound ringing throughout the Underworld's throne room. Her forefinger prodded Percy in the back — a poke that told the son of Poseidon to keep talking. He glanced back at Annabeth, almost resentfully, before turning his head back to face Hades. "Lord Hades," he started, his eyes darting all across the throne room. "Look — sir — there can't be a war among the gods. It would be ..." he shrugged, "bad."

        Grover nodded from behind him. "Really bad," he added helpfully.

        "So ... return Zeus's Master Bolt to me," finished Percy, awaiting the god's answer.

        Josephine quickly glanced at the son of Poseidon. "Please, Lord Hades," she added, sending Percy another look.

        "Please, sir," he revised his wording. "Let me carry the Master Bolt to Olympus. Back to Zeus."

        Hades's entire lower half of his face curled with anger, so much so that his teeth started to even bare. His dark eyes grew dangerously bright, looking cool lava becoming ready to be heated up once again. "You dare keep up this pretense? After what you have done?"

        Percy opened his mouth — perhaps getting ready to graciously accept the Master Bolt from Hades — but he faltered, a small, "Huh?" filtering out of his lips. He quickly glanced over his shoulder at Josephine, Annabeth, and Grover. The people who had traveled across the country with him looked just as confused as Percy did.

        Percy turned back. "Um ... Uncle," he started, looking hesitant, "you keep saying 'After what I've done' ... What exactly have I done?"

        Hades's face twisted, and all around them, the throne room shook — a tremor so strong it had to have been felt on the surface in Los Angeles. Debris fell from the cavern ceiling, covering the four in a thick layer of Underworld dust. The doors along every wall burst open, and skeleton warriors poured in — hundreds of them, all marching in perfect formation, from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking all conceivable exits.

        Oh ... Onesimus murmured in what sounded like a sympathetic tone. Not going well, huh?

        And you're not helping! Josephine nearly wailed aloud.

        Hades's entire face contorted as he glowered at the son of Poseidon. "Do you think I want war, godling?"

        Percy's eyes darted downwards, carefully away from Hades's face and to his feet. "You're ... the Lord of the Dead," he said, his tone more even than Josephine had ever heard from him. "A war would expand your kingdom, right?"

        Hades scoffed, his hands tightening on the armrest of his bone throne. "A typical thing for my brothers to say! Do you think I need more subjects, Son of Poseidon? Did you not see the sprawl of Asphodel?"

        Percy tilted his head to one side, looking at the line of skeletons blocking the doors along the wall. "Well ..."

        Hades leaned forward on his throne, his eyes ablaze with anger. "Have you any idea how much my kingdom has swollen in this past century alone? How many subdivisions I've had to open?"

        Josephine stepped forward, placing a hand on Percy's shoulder. She opened her mouth, ready to try and attempt any sort of damage control she could muster — Hades, however, was on a roll, now. "More security ghouls," he bemoaned, leaning back on his throne, and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Traffic problems at the judgment pavilion. Double overtime for the staff. I used to be a rich god, Percy Jackson. I control all the precious metals under the earth. But my expenses —!"

        "Charon wants a pay raise," Percy blurted.

        As soon as the words left his mouth, Josephine tightened her grip on his shoulder before pulling him back, like she was trying to keep a child under control.

        "Don't get me started on Charon!" bellowed Hades, and more debris fell from the throne room's roof. "He's been impossible ever since he discovered Italian suits! Problems everywhere, and I've got to handle all of them personally. The commute time alone from the palace to the gates is enough to drive me insane! And the dead just keep arriving." He stared coldly at Percy, who swallowed anxiously. "No, godling. I need no help getting subjects. I did not ask for this war!"

        "But ..." Percy glanced at the others, as if trying to get them to back him up, "Lord Hades, you took Zeus's Master Bolt."

        "Lies!" Hades bellowed, and the ground rumbled beneath them; another layer of debris fell on them. Hades rose from his throne, towering to his full height. "Your father may fool Zeus, boy, but I am not so stupid. I see Poseidon's plan."

        Percy stared at the god for a brief moment. "Poseidon's plan?" he repeated, confusion etched into his words.

        "You were the thief on the Winter Solstice," Hades said, sounding sure of himself. "Your father thought to keep you his little secret. He directed you into the throne room on Olympus. You took the Master Bolt and my Helmet. Had I not sent my Fury to discover you at Yancy Academy, Poseidon might have succeeded in hiding his scheme to start a war. But now you have been forced into the open. You will be exposed as Poseidon's thief, and I will have my Helmet back!"

        "But —" Annabeth cut her sentence short. Josephine could tell that the blonde's mind was working at a million miles an hour. "Lord Hades, your Helmet of Darkness is missing, too?"

        "Do not play innocent with me, girl!" snapped Hades, staring down at them from his full height. "You, the Apollo spawn, and the satyr have all been helping this hero — coming to threaten me in Poseidon's name, no doubt — to bring me an ultimatum. Does Poseidon think I can be blackmailed into supporting him?"

        "No!" protested Percy loudly. "Poseidon didn't — I didn't —"

        "I have said nothing of the Helmet's disappearance," snarled Hades, making Percy's mouth clamp shut, "because I had no illusion that anyone on Olympus would offer me the slightest justice, the slightest help. I can ill afford for word to get out that my most powerful weapon of fear is missing. So I searched for you myself, Percy Jackson, and when it was clear you were coming to me to deliver your threat, I did not try to stop you."

        Josephine's heart felt like it had turned to stone, quickly sinking to the very bottom of her stomach. Is this what Onesimus was telling her about? Was this her answer? That there were a million different things at play, and when she just felt like she was getting her mind wrapped around everything, another piece of the game would be thrown in, shattering any understanding she had. "You didn't try and stop us?" she asked. "But —"

        "Return my Helmet now or I will stop death," Hades threatened, his eyes flashing dangerously bright. "That is my counter-proposal. I will open the earth and have the dead pour back into the world, the living world. I will make your lands a nightmare. And you, Percy Jackson — your skeleton will lead my army out of my palace."

        Every single skeletal soldier took one step forward, a sound that was reminiscent of a million guns being fired — not helping the fact that every skeleton moved to make their weapons at the ready. Josephine's heart jumped into her throat, becoming lodged as her hand dropped down to where she kept her two daggers.

        However, Percy stared up at Hades, his brows furrowed deeply. "You're as bad as Zeus," he decided. "You think I stole from you? That's why you sent the Furies after me?"

        Hades nodded. "Of course."

        "And the other monsters?"

        The god curled his lip. "I had nothing to do with them. I wanted no quick death for you — I wanted you brought before me alive so you might face every torture in the Fields of Punishment. Why do you think I let you enter my kingdom so easily?"

        Percy's eyebrows arched considerably. "Easily?" he repeated, disbelief lacing his words.

        Hades slammed his fist into the armrest of his throne. "Return my property!"

        "But I don't have your Helmet!" Percy shouted back. "I came for the Master Bolt —"

        "Which you already possess!" snapped Hades, interrupting the boy. "You came here with it, little fool, thinking you could threaten me!"

        "But I didn't!" the son of Poseidon protested.

        Hades stared at the boy, his nostrils flaring painfully wide. Then, he dismissively waved at the backpack slung on Percy's shoulder. "Open your bag, then."

        Percy hesitated, glancing down at the shoulder strap. However, he slung the backpack off his shoulder, setting it down to unzip it. Josephine fought the urge to lean forward to look, but she still had a clear view — inside was a two-foot-long metal cylinder, spiked on both ends, humming with energy.

        Her jaw fell, and her eyes darted back up to the black-haired boy. "Percy," she started, "how —?"

        She thought she saw his hands trembling as he held onto the unzipped backpack. "I — I don't know. I ... don't understand."

        "You heroes are always the same," sneered Hades, staring at the Master Bolt with disgust. "Your pride makes you foolish, thinking you could bring such a weapon before me. I did not ask for Zeus's Master Bolt, but since it is here, you will yield it to me. I am sure it will make an excellent bargaining tool. And now — my Helmet. Where is it?"

        Hades slowly sank back into his throne, staring at the backpack hungrily, as if he expected the Helmet of Darkness to dart out and head straight for him — but they didn't have the Helmet with them. At the very least, it wasn't in Percy's backpack with the Master Bolt, and no one else of the four had a backpack anymore. Chiron had said from the beginning that this all must be some trick pulled by Hades, something she had never fully believed, and now she had confirmation. Every single brother, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, had been tricked — cards played to make the brothers at each other's throats. And someone had played those cards, and that's who the Big Three needed to go after.

        Her eyes darted back to the backpack, where the Master Bolt was still humming. Percy had gotten the backpack from ...

        Answers, Onesimus spoke up. I never said they would be easy to get. But this is the path to them.

        She stepped around Percy, making her way closer to the god (despite feeling as if her knees could give out at any moment). "Lord Hades, wait," she spoke up, and his eyes darted to her, and a new layer of goosebumps appeared over her arms. "This isn't — There's an explanation! You and your brothers — you've been tricked!"

        "Tricked, Josephine Pascual?" repeated Hades, baring his teeth like an angry dog.

        In one fluid movement, the skeletons aimed their weapons. From high above, there was a fluttering of leathery wings — the three Furies swooped down to perch on the back of the god's throne. The three grinned eagerly at each other, like their favorite show was on.

        Josephine winced, licking her lips nervously. "I — Okay, maybe tricked wasn't the right word. You, Zeus, and Poseidon have been lied to! We didn't —" She looked back at Annabeth, Grover, and Percy. "We thought —"

        Hades's eyes narrowed on Josephine, and she got the feeling he was looking straight through her. "Lied to ...?" he mused the idea, though he was still scowling. "Daughter of Apollo, perhaps you should look at Percy Jackson if you want lies. Besides, you, of all godlings, know about lies, Josephine Pascual. I know why the son of Poseidon came here — I know the real reason he brought the Bolt. He came to bargain for her."

        He raised his fist out in front of him, turning his palm upwards and uncurling his fingers — out came a sphere of golden fire. It slipped through his fingers, falling down the bronze steps of the dais — until it exploded at the very bottom step, maybe thirty feet in front of Josephine. Bathed in a golden light was a woman who was frozen; she was in the middle of struggling against something. She quickly looked back and saw the look of longing on Percy's face. His hands were kept firmly by his side, though his knuckles had turned a few shades lighter now.

        A look of satisfaction masked Hades's face. "Yes, I took her. I knew, Percy Jackson, that you would come to bargain with me eventually. Return my Helmet, and perhaps I will let her go. She is not dead, you know — not yet. But if you displease me, that will change."

        Percy looked as though he was wrestling with a thousand different emotions. Slowly, his hand started to drift toward one of his pockets.

        "Ah, yes, the pearls," Hades said suddenly. "Yes, my brother and his little tricks. Bring them forth, Percy Jackson."

        Percy hesitated for a moment, but, however, he did bring the pearls out of his pocket. He carefully stepped closer to Hades, cradling them in his palm.

        "Only four," the god pointed out. "What a shame. You do realize a pearl only protects a single person, correct? Try to take your mother, then, little godling. And which of your friends will you leave behind to spend eternity with me? Go on. Choose. Or give me the backpack and accept my terms."

        Josephine looked back at Annabeth and Grover, whose faces were painted with the same despair and anger she felt.

        Percy turned his back on Hades, closing his fingers around the pearls. "We were tricked," he said. "Set up."

        "Yes, obviously," replied Annabeth shortly, her brows furrowed together. "But why?"

        "And by who?" wondered Josephine, her mind trying to wrap around everything they had learned. "That voice in the pit —"

        "I don't know yet," replied Percy, his face stormy. "But I intend to ask."

        From his throne, Hades scowled. "Decide, boy!"

        Grover grasped Percy by the shoulders, making him look the satyr in the eyes. "Percy, you can't give him the Bolt."

        "I know that," he replied quickly.

        "Leave me here," offered the satyr, looking from Percy to Annabeth and Josephine. "Use the fourth pearl on your mom, Percy."

        "What?" The son of Poseidon's eyes widened. "No way!"

        "I'm a satyr," Grover insisted. "We don't have souls like humans do. He can torture me until I die, but he won't get me forever. I'll just be reincarnated as a flower or something. It's the best way."

        "Not a chance, Grover." Annabeth drew her knife, her eyes flickering to the rows of skeleton soldiers aiming guns at them. "You and Josephine go. Grover, you have to protect Percy. You have to get your searcher's license and start your quest for Pan. Posie — Josephine, you have to figure out what that green mist was, even if it was you or not." Her eyes flickered back to the golden form of Percy's mother. "Get his mom out of here. I'll cover you. I plan to go down fighting."

        Josephine's eyes lingered on the golden image of Percy's mother. She thought about the conversation she accidentally eavesdropped on — a big reason Percy was going on this quest was to get his mother back. "I'll stay," she offered. "About that green mist — maybe it can work on the undead. On their bones or something. Maybe not boils, but ... something. I'll find a way to get out."

        Answers, Onesimus told her. For a while, it was something he dangled over her head like a treat, to get her going to where he wanted the way people do for dogs. Then, as they entered the Underworld, he started saying it more — a lot more, and she understood it to be that the Underworld was where the answers were. She just needed more time down here, despite how much she wanted to escape with one of the pearls.

        "No way." Grover shook his head. "I'm staying behind."

        "Think again, goat boy," Annabeth said shortly.

        Josephine frowned at both of them. "But —"

        "You guys, stop it!" snapped Percy, staring hard at the ground. His hands were truly trembling by now. "I know what to do. Take these."

        He handed a pearl to each of them. Josephine took it in stunned silence as Percy grabbed her wrist and shoved the pearl deep into her palm. Her fingers curled tightly around the pearl, expecting a cool sensation; however, it felt scalding hot. It was like a burning sensation searing into the skin on her palm. But she couldn't bring herself to look, and she also couldn't believe Percy. He was going to leave his mother behind in the Underworld, all for them and the rest of the world. Josephine knew firsthand what it was like to lose a parent, and truthfully, she didn't know if she could've made the same sacrifice as Percy.

        Annabeth stared at him, pursing her lips tightly. "Percy ..."

        However, the son of Poseidon was careful not to look any of them in the eye before turning back around. His eyes locked onto the golden form of his mother. "I'm sorry," he told her, his voice shaky. "I'll be back. I'll find a way."

        The smug look on Hades's face had long melted away. He started to sit up on his throne. "Godling ...?"

        Percy steeled his shoulder, looking up to the god. "I'll find your Helmet, Uncle," he promised. "I'll return it. Remember about Charon's pay raise."

        Hades started to stand up now. "Do not defy me —"

        "And it wouldn't hurt to play with Cerberus once in a while. He likes red rubber balls."

        "Percy Jackson, you will not —"

        The son of Poseidon looked over his shoulder at the three behind him. "Now, guys!"

        The four questers smashed the pearls at their feet. For a scary moment, nothing happened.

        Hades swept one long arm across, controlling a mass of skeleton soldiers. "Destroy them all but Apollo's spawn! Leave her alive!"

        Josephine's heart raced as she stared at the god. It felt as if her stomach had lurched into her throat, becoming lodged up there. The army of skeletons rushed forward — swords out, guns clicking to full automatic. The Furies lunged off the back of the throne, their whips bursting into flames. Just as the skeletons opened fire, and the four braced for impact — the shards of a pearl exploded at Josephine's feet with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind. Before she knew it, she was encased in a milky-white sphere, which was starting to float off the ground.

        Annabeth, Percy, and Grover were all just in front of her. Spears and bullets sparked harmlessly off the pearl bubbles as the four floated upwards. Hades bellowed with such rage that the entire fortress shook, and Josephine knew it wasn't going to be a peaceful night in L.A.

        "Look up!" Grover suddenly yelled. "We're going to crash!"

        The satyr was right — the four were racing right toward the stalactites, which Josephine figured would easily pop the bubbles and skewer them.

        "How do you control these things?" Annabeth shouted, her voice muffled through the layers of spheres.

        "I don't think you do!" Percy yelled back.

        With no other option, the four started to scream as they floated for the stalactites on the ceiling — but nothing. Nothing but darkness, at least. But they couldn't be dead. If Josephine were dead, she wouldn't be feeling a rushing, racing sensation in her gut. Or Onesimus telling her to keep her hand closed tight. Or the burning sensation still scorching away at her right palm (even after throwing the pearl at the ground, so it wasn't the pearl's fault).

        The four bubbles were floating upwards still, through solid rock as easily as bubbles would move through the air. It made Josephine a little queasy to think about. What if the bubbles decided to pop all of a sudden? What if they popped all because Poseidon wasn't happy with what his son had chosen? For a few moments, she couldn't see anything through the smooth walls of the sphere, then — her pearl broke through on the ocean floor. Above her, the three other milky spheres holding Percy, Grover, and Annabeth were soaring through the water, heading right for the surface.

        The four exploded onto the surface of the water, in the middle of Los Angeles Bay. They ended up knocking a surfer off his board, to which he gave an indignant, "Dude!"

        Annabeth and Josephine spluttered for a moment, but managed to keep their heads above the water's surface. Grover, on the other hand, started to sink, flailing his arms wildly — Percy quickly grabbed Grover underneath the arms and dragged him over to a lifebuoy. He then grabbed Annabeth and Josephine and pulled them over, too. A curious shark was circling them — a great white shark about eleven feet long.

        Percy glared at the animal. "Beat it!"

        The shark turned in the opposite direction and raced away.

        The surfer screamed something about "Bad mushrooms," quickly paddling away from the four as fast as he could with his board. Josephine looked up at the sun — with the way it was in the sky, it was morning now. The morning of June 21st, the day of the Summer Solstice.

        In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire — plumes of smoke were curling into the air from all over the large city. There had to have been an earthquake from Hades's rage. By now, he was probably sending an army of the dead after them. But at the moment, the Underworld wasn't the questers' biggest problem. They had to get to shore. They had to get Zeus's Master Bolt back to Olympus by the end of the day. Most of all, they needed to have a serious conversation with the god who had tricked them.

        Look at your hand. Your palm, Onesimus told Josephine.

        Josephine did as told, turning her palm upwards and unfurling her fingers — in the very middle of her palm, where Percy had placed the milky white pearl, was a small ring. It was small enough that she could wear it around her pinky finger. It had the head of a snake, but the snake's mouth was carved to look as if it were biting the end of its tail, creating an endless loop. It was the color of pure black, and it could've been carved out of black marble. Just vaguely, Josephine could see emerald eyes glinting (real emerald gems that were chipped small enough to fit into the eye sockets) in the sunlight, as if it was winking at her.

        Josephine knew this — the snake biting its own tail. It was an Ouroboros.

        It's an answer, Onesimus declared.

✿  JUL. 12TH, 2023  /  honestly not super happy with this chapter but i also don't hate it,, so here we are

you do have to look closely here and there to see where posie's arc is gonna go but it is starting to really unfold - with the ring being, like, the turning point

i'm also gonna post chapter 14 with this one as a double update because i hate the next chapter (solely because i just don't like the fact percy fought and won against the god of war)

the next chapter'll be posted a bit later

i don't like the way hades and ares were written in pjo/hoo and i want to change it, but i also don't want to create more plot holes because i know that's what would happen

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??

EDITED  /  jan. 7th, 2025

for my winter break i wanted to churn out the rest of this act plus act two

i go back on the 21st ...

it took me from the beginning of my break (dec. 5th) to now to get this out :crying: