pocket full of posies
❛ xiii. confusing answers ❜

━━━━━ IMAGINE THE LARGEST concert crowd ever seen, a football field packed with a million fans.

              Then picture that field a million times larger, packed with more people than humanly possible, and all the electricity had gone out. There was 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.

              Everything Josephine just described 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, but dotted around the fields were several that had fallen and impaled themselves in the black grass. She guessed the dead didn't have to worry about little hazards like being speared by stalactites the size of booster rockets.

              She, Annabeth, Grover, and Percy tried to blend into the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls. Josephine couldn't help but look for her father or Mrs. Hall among the spirits of Asphodel ( and she wasn't even sure if either of them had passed, but some part of her just knew they had ), but the dead were hard to look at. Their faces shimmer when looked at head-on. They all look slightly angry or confused all the time. They'd come up to her and speak, but their voices sound 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 a 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! You're 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 DAMNATION
Welcome, 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.

              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? Onesimus countered. Whoever said I could die like you?

              So ... you're not human, not a passed on half-blood? Josephine asked, finding out her assumptions were wrong. ( She didn't exactly know what she had assumed; that voice talking to her was a half-blood like her? Some monster sent to torment her until she died? )

              But Onesimus didn't respond.

              "That's what it's all about," Annabeth said, like she was reading Josephine's thoughts. "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 Punishment. So few people did 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, 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 ..."

              "Come on, goat boy." Annabeth grabbed his arm.

              The satyr yelped. His trainers sprouted wings and his legs shot forward, pulling him away from Annabeth. He landed flat on his back in the grass.

              "Grover," the blonde chided and rolled her eyes. "Stop messing around."

              "But I didn't—"

              He yelped again. His shoes were flapping like crazy now. They levitated off the ground and started dragging him away from the demigods.

              "Maia!" he yelled, but the magic word seemed to have no effect. "Maia, already! Nine-one-one! Help!"

              Percy was the one to move first, making a grab for Grover's outstretched hand, but he was too late. Grover was picking up speed, skidding downhill like a bobsled.

              The three ran after him.

              Annabeth shouted, "Untie the shoes!"

              It was a smart idea, but not so easy when the shoes are pulling you along feet-first at full speed. Grover tried to sit up, but he couldn't get close to the laces.

              They kept after him, trying to keep him in sight as he zipped between the legs of spirits who chattered at him in annoyance. Josephine was sure Grover was going to barrel straight through the gates of Hades's palace, but his shoes veered sharply to the right and dragged him in the opposite direction.

              The slope got steeper and Grover picked up speed. The three had to sprint to keep up, now. The cavern walls narrowed on either side, and Josephine realized they had entered some kind of side tunnel. No black grass or trees now, just rock underfoot, and the dim light of the stalactites above. Onesimus was yelling at her, telling her to get out. That this wasn't the way to the answers she needed.

              "Grover!" she yelled, her voice echoing. "Hold on to something!"

              "What?" he yelled back.

              He was grabbing at gravel, but there was nothing big enough to slow him down.

              The tunnel got darker and colder. The hairs on Josephine's arms bristled. It smelled evil down here. It made her think of things she never wanted to think about, things she shouldn't even know about—blood spilled on an ancient stone altar, the foul breath of a murderer.

              Then she saw what was ahead of them. Percy skitted to a stop, looking in terrified astonishment at what was awaiting them.

              The tunnel widened into a huge dark cavern, and in the middle was a chasm the size of a city block. Grover was sliding straight toward the edge.

              "'Come on, Percy!" Josephine yelled, tugging at the boy's wrist.

              "But that's—"

              "I know!" Josephine shouted. "The place you described in your dream—!"

              "Grover's going to fall if we don't catch him," Annabeth yelled, sprinting for the satyr.

              The daughter of Athena was right. Grover's predicament got Percy moving again, running after Josephine and Annabeth. The satyr was yelling, clawing at the ground, but the winged shoes kept dragging him towards the pit, and it didn't look like they could possibly get to him in time.

              What saved him were his hooves.

              The flying sneakers had always been a loose fit on him, and finally, Grover hit a big rock and the left shoe came flying off. It sped into the darkness, down into the chasm. The right shoe kept tugging him along, but not as fast. Grover was able to slow himself down by grabbing onto the big rock and using it like an anchor.

              He was ten feet from the edge of the pit when Josephine and Annabeth caught him and hauled him back up the slope. The other winged shoe tugged itself off, circled around them angrily, and kicked their heads in protest before flying off into the chasm to join its twin.

              The four collapsed, exhausted, on the obsidian gravel. Josephine's limbs felt like lead. It felt like someone had filled the bottom of her sneakers with rocks as she tried getting to her feet.

              Grover was scratched up. His hands were bleeding. His eyes had gone slit-pupilled, goat style, the way they did whenever he was terrified.

              "I don't know how ..." he panted. "I didn't ..."

              "S'okay," Josephine promised, waving her hand as if to wave the issues away. "I'm just wondering why had they done that. I mean—"

              "Wait," Percy said. "Listen."

              Josephine stopped, feeling her rapid heartbeat rattling inside her chest. Then, she heard something—a deep whisper in the darkness. A voice meaner than Onesimus could ever hope to sound.

              After another few seconds of listening and Josephine could feel her blood running cold. "Let's just leave, okay?" she said, waiting to see if anyone would follow her lead.

              Annabeth said, staring at the pit, "This place—"

              The son of Poseidon shushed her, standing up.

              The sound was getting louder, a muttering, evil voice from far, far below them. Coming from the pit. Josephine's hands twitched, hating the darkness around them. The familiar burning sensation beneath her skin started.

              Grover sat up. "Wh—what's that noise?"

              Annabeth was hearing it now, too. Josephine could see it in her eyes. "Tartarus. The entrance to Tartarus."

              Get out! Onesimus was practically pleading with Josephine.

              Percy uncapped Anaklusmos. The bronze sword expanded, gleaming in the darkness, and the evil voice seemed to falter, just for a moment, before resuming its chant. Josephine could almost make out words now; ancient, ancient words, older even than Greek. As if ...

              "Magic," Percy whispered.

              She couldn't stand it anymore; the darkness, the chanting, Onesimus yelling at her; none of it. Josephine held out her right hand, palm facing upward, and a beam of green light expanded, chasing back the darkness. It felt like her skin was boiling with the glow and fear dancing within her. She'd take that kind of feeling over what was latching onto her from that pit. She kept her hand aimed away from the three with her in case the glow tried expanding past her hand and onto them.

              "Let's leave," she insisted. "It's dark magic."

              "We have to get out of here," Annabeth agreed.

              Together, Percy and Annabeth dragged Grover to his hooves and started back up the tunnel. Josephine was leading them, holding her hand out. The glow never wavered as Josephine found their way out. The three behind her were struggling to match her pace. The voice got louder and angrier behind them, Onesimus started urging her to hurry, and when Josephine broke into a run, Annabeth, Percy, and Grover followed suit.

              And not a moment too soon.

              A cold blast of wind pulled at their backs, as if the entire pit were inhaling. For a terrifying moment, Percy lost ground, his feet slipping in the gravel. Josephine reached around, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. If she had grabbed his shirt with her right hand, the faded orange T-shirt would have been rotted. If they had been any closer to the edge, they would've been sucked in.

              The four kept struggling forward, and finally reached the top of the tunnel, where the cavern widened out into the Fields of Asphodel. The wind died. A wail of outrage echoed from deep in the tunnel. Something was not happy they had gotten away.

              "What was that?" Grover panted, when they'd collapsed in the relative safety of a black poplar grove. "One of Hades's pets?"

              No, Onesimus disagreed, his voice almost scared. Something worse.

              A shiver crawled up Josephine's back. What do you mean? What is it?

              ... I can't tell you. Not yet.

              Annabeth and Josephine looked at each other. The daughter of Apollo could tell Annabeth was nursing an idea, probably the same one she'd got during the taxi ride to L.A., but she was too scared to share it. And that was enough to terrify Josephine.

              Percy capped his sword and put the pen back in his pocket. "Let's keep going." He looked at Grover. "Can you walk?"

              The satyr swallowed. "Yeah, sure. I never liked those shoes, anyway." He tried to sound brave about it, but he was trembling as badly as Josephine was.

              Josephine tried to smile at the satyr's attempts at lightening the mood. The green glow emanating from her right hand faded out, leaving her skin feeling like it was boiling. Whatever was in that pit was nobody's pet, not like how Grover had suggested. It was unspeakably old and powerful. She was almost relieved to turn her back on that dark tunnel and head towards the palace of Hades.

                  Almost.

✿

The Furies circled the parapets, high in the gloom. The outer walls of the fortress glittered black, and the two-story-tall bronze gates stood wide open.

              Up close, Josephine saw that the engravings on the gates were scenes of death. Some were from modern times—an atomic bomb exploding over a city, a trench filled with gas mask-wearing soldiers, a line of African famine victims waiting with empty bowls—but all of them looked as if they'd been etched into the bronze thousands of years ago. She had to wonder if she was looking at prophecies that had come true.

              Inside the courtyard was the strangest garden Josephine had ever seen. Multicolored mushrooms, poisonous shrubs, and weird luminous plants grew without sunlight. Precious jewels made up for the lack of flowers; piles of rubies as big as her fist, and clumps of raw diamonds just sitting in piles on the dark grass. Standing here and there like frozen party guests were Medusa's garden statues, petrified children, satyrs, and centaurs, all smiling grotesquely.

              In the center of the garden was an orchard of pomegranate trees, their orange blooms neon bright in the dark. "The garden of Persephone," Annabeth said. "Keep walking."

              "Gladly," Josephine agreed with no complaints.

              The tart smell of those pomegranates was almost overwhelming. Josephine was fighting the urge to pick one, remembering the story of Persephone: one bite of Underworld food and the Goddess of Springtime could never leave the Underworld. Percy pulled Grover away to keep the satyr from picking a fruit.

              The four walked up the steps of the palace, between black columns, through a black marble portico, and into the house of Hades. The entry hall had a polished bronze floor, which seemed to boil in the reflected torchlight. There was no ceiling, just the cavern roof, far above. Josephine guessed they never had to worry about rain down here.

              Every side doorway was guarded by a skeleton in military gear. Some wore Greek armor, some British redcoat uniforms, and some camouflage with tattered American flags on the shoulders. They carried spears or muskets or M-16s. None of them bothered the questers, but their hollow eye sockets followed them as they walked down the hall, toward the big set of doors at the opposite end.

              Two U.S. Marine skeletons guarded the doors. They grinned down at the questers, rocket-propelled grenade launchers held across their chests.

              "A little overkill, don't you think?" Josephine murmured under her breath.

              Grover said, "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen because of it."

              "I doubt the guns are the reason for the lack of salesmen," the daughter of Apollo said.

              "Well, guys," Percy said, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "I suppose we should ... knock?"

              That would be kind of you, Onesimus quipped.

              A hot wind blew down the corridor, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside.

              "I guess that means entrez-vous," Annabeth said.

              The room inside looked just as how Percy described it, except this time the throne of Hades was occupied.

              The God of Riches wasn't the first god Josephine had met ( no, that was Mr. D—unfortunately ), but he was one of the few gods that really took part in acting godlike. Sure, Apollo or Aphrodite looked as dazzling as any god or goddess could look, and Dionysus showed powers that any god could, but they didn't act as terrifying as one would assume a Greek god would act; they didn't have the same presence that Hades had.

              This god was at least ten feet tall, dressed in black silk robes, and a crown of braided gold. His skin was as white as paper, his hair shoulder-length and jet-black. He wasn't bulked up like Ares, but he radiated power. He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and dangerous as a panther.

              Josephine immediately felt like he should be giving the orders. He knew more than she did. Even if that was true, ( which it definitely was since he had lived over two thousand years and she was twelve ), she was there to get something back

              Hades's aura was affecting her, just as many other gods' had. If Josephine was able to subdue the anger that came into fruition around Ares, she could try and subdue the fear bubbling in the pit of her stomach around the God of the Dead. She wasn't sure how much hoping she could do; Hades had intense eyes, the kind of mesmerizing, evil captivating.

              "You are brave to come here, Son of Poseidon," Hades said in an oily voice. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish."

              Numbness crept into Josephine's joints, tempting her to lie down and just take a small nap at Hades's feet. Curl up and sleep forever. She swallowed hard, keeping her eyes wide, as if that was the best way to fight sleep.

              Percy stepped forward. "Lord and Uncle, I come with two requests."

              Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward on his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out.

              "Only two requests?" Hades said. "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.

              She glanced at the empty, smaller throne next to Hades's. It was shaped like a black flower, gilded with gold. She 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. Of course, Persephone would be above in the world of light with her mother, the Goddess of Agriculture Demeter. Her visits, not the tilt of the earth, created the seasons.

              Annabeth cleared her throat. Her finger prodded Percy in the back, a poke that told the son of Poseidon to keep talking.

              "Lord Hades," Percy said. "Look, sir, there can't be a war among the gods. It would be ... bad."

              "Really bad," Grover added helpfully.

              "Return Zeus's master bolt to me," Percy said.

              "Please, Lord Hades," Josephine quickly said, giving the black-haired boy beside her a wide-eyed look.

              "Please, sir. Let me carry it to Olympus," Percy said.

              Hades's eyes grew dangerously bright. "You dare keep up this pretense, after what you have done?"

              The son of Poseidon glanced back at the people who had traveled with him across the country. Josephine, Grover, and Annabeth looked just about as confused as Percy looked.

              "Um ... Uncle," said the son of Poseidon. "You keep saying 'after what I've done'. What exactly have I done?"

              The throne room shook with a tremor so strong they probably felt it upstairs in Los Angeles. Debris fell from the cavern ceiling. Doors burst open all along the walls, and skeletal warriors marched in, hundreds of them, from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking the exits.

              Oo, not going well, Onesimus whispered.

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

              Hades bellowed, "Do you think I want war, godling?"

              "You are the Lord of the Dead," Percy said carefully. "A war would expand your kingdom, right?"

              "A typical thing for my brothers to say! Do you think I need more subjects? Did you not see the sprawl of Asphodel?"

              Percy tilted his head, looking over the lines of skeleton warriors blocking the doors they had walked through. "Well ..."

              "Have you any idea how much my kingdom has swollen in this past century alone, how many subdivisions I've had to open?"

              Josephine opened her mouth, ready to try and do damage control, but Hades was on a roll now.

              "More security ghouls," he moaned. "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," the boy blurted. As soon as the words escaped his mouth, Josephine pulled the boy back, beside her, as if keeping a child under control.

              "Don't get me started on Charon!" Hades yelled. "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. No, godling. I need no help getting subjects! I did not ask for this war."

              "But you took Zeus's master bolt."

              "Lies!" More rumbling. Hades rose from his throne, towering to the height of a football goalpost. "Your father may fool Zeus, boy, but I am not so stupid. I see his plan."

              "His plan?" Percy asked, sending Josephine a confused look.

              "You were the thief on the winter solstice," the god said. "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 spoke. Josephine could tell her mind was going a million miles an hour. "Lord Hades, your helmet of darkness is missing, too?"

              "Do not play innocent with me, girl. You, the Apollo spawn, and the satyr have been helping this hero—coming here 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!" Percy protested. "Poseidon didn't—I didn't—"

              "I have said nothing of the helmet's disappearance," Hades snarled, "because I had no illusions 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, and when it was clear you were coming to me to deliver your threat, I did not try to stop you."

              Josephine's heart was sinking. Is this was Onesimus was telling her about? This was her answer? This was going even worse than she could've ever imagined. "You didn't try to stop us?" she asked. "But—"

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

              The skeletal soldiers all took one step forward, making their weapons ready. Josephine gripped her two daggers tightly, her knuckles turning white.

              "You're as bad as Zeus," Percy said, his eyebrows furrowing together. "You think I stole from you? That's why you sent the Furies after me?"

              "Of course," Hades said.

              "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?"

              "Easily?"

              "Return my property!"

              "But I don't have your helmet. I came for the master bolt."

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

              "But I didn't!" Percy protested.

              "Open your pack, then."

              The son of Poseidon slung the bag off his shoulder and unzipped it. Inside was a two-foot-long metal cylinder, spiked on both ends, humming with energy.

              Josephine's jaw dropped. "Percy," she said. "How—?"

              "I—I don't know. I don't understand."

              "You heroes are always the same," Hades said. "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?"

              Josephine was speechless. And no doubt, Percy was too; the boy looked shocked and deceived. They had no helmet with them. They had no idea how the master bolt had gotten into Percy's backpack. The daughter of Apollo wanted to think Hades was pulling some kind of trick, that Hades was the bad guy. But suddenly the world turned sideways. She realized they had been played with. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades had been set at each other's throats by someone else. The master bolt had been in the backpack, and Percy had gotten the backpack from ...

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

              "Lord Hades, wait," Josephine spoke up, her voice tight. "This isn't—There's an explanation! You and your brothers have been tricked!"

              "Tricked, Josephine Easton?" Hades roared.

              The skeletons aimed their weapons. From high above, there was a fluttering of leathery wings, and the three Furies swooped down to perch on the back of the god's throne. The one next to Mrs. Dodds grinned eagerly at the former math teacher.

              Josephine winced, straightening her back as she spoke to the god. "You, Zeus, and Poseidon have been lied to! We didn't—we thought—"

              Hades narrowed his eyes at the girl. It was like he was looking straight through her. "Lied to?" he mused with a sneer. "Daughter of Apollo, maybe you should look at the son of Poseidon if you want lies. Though, I'm sure you've met plenty of lies yourself, all out of your own mouth. I know why the son of Poseidon came here—I know the real reason he brought the bolt. He came to bargain for her."

              Hades loosed a ball of gold fire from his palm. It exploded on the steps in front of them, and there was Percy's mother, frozen in a shower of gold, looking as if she was about to be squeezed to death.

              The black-haired boy reached out to touch her, but the retracted his hand as if the light had burned him.

              "Yes," Hades said with satisfaction. "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 like he was wrestling with a thousand different emotions.

              "Ah, the pearls,"' Hades said, as if reading the boy's mind. "Yes, my brother and his little tricks. Bring them forth, Percy Jackson."

              Percy brought out the pearls given to him.

              "Only four," Hades pointed out. "What a shame. You do realize each only protects a single person. 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 at the three she had traveled across the country with. All of their faces were painted with despair and anger.

              "We were tricked," Percy said. "Set up."

              "Yes, but why?" Annabeth asked.

              "And by who?" Josephine said, "That voice in the pit—"

              "I don't know yet," Percy said. "But I intend to ask."

              "Decide, boy!" Hades yelled.

              "Percy." Grover put his hand on the son of Poseidon's shoulder. "You can't give him the bolt."

              "I know that."

              "Leave me here," said the satyr. "Use the fourth pearl on your mom."

              "No!"

              "I'm a satyr," Grover said. "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."

              "No." Annabeth drew her bronze knife. "You and Josephine go on. Grover, you have to protect Percy. You have to get your searcher's license and start your quest for Pan. Get his mom out of here. I'll cover you. I plan to go down fighting."

              "No way," Josephine said. "I'll stay. Look, I can give people boils—hopefully, I can give the dead boils. I'll find a way to get out."

              Answers, Onesimus had told her. He started saying that as they entered the Underworld, that meant there must be something down here that would give Josephine what she needed. She just needed more time down here, despite how much she wanted to escape.

              "No way," Grover said. "I'm staying behind."

              "Think again, goat boy," Annabeth said.

              Josephine frowned. "I told you—"

              "Stop it, you guys!" Percy said. "I know what to do. Take these."

              He handed the three of them each a pearl. The daughter of Apollo closed her hand tightly around the pearl, a burning sensation searing into her palm, like something more was encased within her fingers. In fear of what was going to happen next, she didn't look.

              Josephine couldn't believe the son of Poseidon. He was going to leave his mother behind in the Underworld for the rest of the world. She knew firsthand what it was like to lose a parent, and she didn't know if she would have made the same kind of choice.

              Annabeth said, "But, Percy ..."

              The son of Poseidon turned and faced his mother. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I'll be back. I'll find a way."

              The smug look on Hades's face faded. He said, "Godling ...?"

              "I'll find your helmet, Uncle," Percy promised him. "I'll return it. Remember about Charon's pay raise."

              "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 shouted, "Now, guys!"

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

              Hades yelled, "Destroy them! Leave the Apollo spawn alive!"

              It felt like her stomach lurched in her throat; Josephine's heart raced as she stared at the god. The army of skeletons rushed forward, swords out, guns clicking to full automatic. The Furies lunged, their whips bursting into flame. Just as the skeletons opened fire, the pearl exploded at Josephine's feet with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind. She was encased in a milky white sphere, which was starting to float off the ground.

              Annabeth, Percy, and Grover were right behind her. Spears and bullets sparked harmlessly off the pearl bubbles as we floated up. Hades yelled with such rage, the entire fortress shook and Josephine knew it wasn't going to be a peaceful night in L.A.

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

              Sure enough, the four were racing right towards the stalactites, which Josephine figured would pop their bubbles and skewer them.

              "How do you control these things?" Annabeth shouted.

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

              They screamed as the bubbles slammed into the ceiling and ... darkness. Were they dead? Josephine really hoped not. All of that for nothing.

              No, if she was dead, she wouldn't feel the racing sensation. Or Onesimus telling her to keep ahold of whatever was in her hand. Or that burning sensation still scorching away at her right palm. They were going up, right through solid rock as easily as an air bubble in water. That made her a little queasy to think about. What if the bubble decided to pop and Poseidon wasn't happy with what Percy had chosen?

              For a few moments, she couldn't see anything outside the smooth walls of the sphere, then her pearl broke through on the ocean floor. The three other milky spheres, Annabeth, Grover, and Percy, kept pace with her as they soared upward through the water.

              They exploded on the surface, in the middle of Los Angeles Bay, knocking a surfer off his board with an indignant, "Dude!"

              Percy grabbed Grover and hauled him over to a lifebuoy. He caught Annabeth and Josephine and dragged them over too. A curious shark was circling them, a great white about eleven feet long.

              Percy told it, "Beat it."

              The shark turned and raced away.

              The surfer screamed something about bad mushrooms and paddled away from the four as fast as he could. Josephine could tell by the way the sun look that it was early morning; the morning of June 21st, the day of the summer solstice.

              In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, and it was Hades's fault. He was probably sending an army of the dead after them right now.

              But at the moment, the Underworld wasn't the questers' biggest problem.

              They had to get to shore. They had to get Zeus's thunderbolt back to Olympus. Most of all, have a serious conversation with the god who had tricked them.

              Look at your hand, Onesimus told her.

              Josephine did as told, opening her fingers to reveal a small circular charm sitting in the palm of her hand. It was small enough that she could wear it around her ring finger and it had the head of a snake. And the snake's mouth was biting on the end of its tail, creating an endless loop. It was the color of black, looking like if was carved out of black marble. Vaguely, Josephine swore she could see its emerald ( real emerald gems carved to fit in the small space for the eyes ) green eyes glint, as if winking at her.

              Josephine knew what it was supposed to look like. An Ouroboros.

              An answer, Onesimus told Josephine.

✿ JULY 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 close here and there to see where posie's arc is gonna go but it is starting to really unfold,, with the charm being, like, the turning point

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

it'll be posted a little bit later btw

like,, 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 bc i know that's what would happen

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??