“That’s very nice of you,” Percy said. “But I’ve had enough poison for one trip. Now, can you hide us in your Death Mist, or not?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Annabeth said.
The goddess’s eyes narrowed. “Fun?”
“Sure,” Annabeth promised. “If we fail, think how great it will be for you, gloating over our spirits when we die in agony. You’ll get to say ‘I told you so’ for eternity. ”
“Or, if we succeed,” Percy added, “think of all the suffering you’ll bring to the monsters down here. We intend to seal the Doors of Death. That’s going to cause a lot of wailing and moaning. ”
Akhlys considered. “I enjoy suffering. Wailing is also good. ”
“Then it’s settled,” Percy said. “Make us invisible. ”
Akhlys struggled to her feet. The shield of Hercules rolled away and wobbled to a stop in a patch of poison flowers. “It is not so simple,” the goddess said. “The Death Mist comes at the moment you are closest to your end. Your eyes will be clouded only then. The world will fade. ”
Percy’s mouth felt dry. “Okay. But…we’ll be shrouded from the monsters?”
“Oh, yes,” Akhlys said. “If you survive the process, you will be able to pass unnoticed among the armies of Tartarus. It is hopeless, of course, but if you are determined, then come. I will show you the way. ”
“The way to where, exactly?” Annabeth asked.
The goddess was already shuffling into the gloom.
Percy turned to look at Bob, but the Titan was gone. How does a ten-foot-tall silver dude with a very loud kitten disappear?
“Hey!” Percy yelled to Akhlys. “Where’s our friend?”
“He cannot take this path,” the goddess called back. “He is not mortal. Come, little fools. Come experience the Death Mist. ”
Annabeth exhaled and grabbed his hand. “Well…how bad can it be?”
The question was so ridiculous Percy laughed, even though it hurt his lungs. “Yeah. Next date, though—dinner in New Rome. ”
They followed the goddess’s dusty footprints through the poison flowers, deeper into the fog.
PERCY MISSED BOB.
He’d gotten used to having the Titan on his side, lighting their way with his silver hair and his fearsome war broom.
Now their only guide was an emaciated corpse lady with serious self-esteem issues.
As they struggled across the dusty plain, the fog became so thick that Percy had to resist the urge to swat it away with his hands. The only reason he was able to follow Akhlys’s path was because poisonous plants sprang up wherever she walked.
If they were still on the body of Tartarus, Percy figured they must be on the bottom of his foot—a rough, calloused expanse where only the most disgusting plant life grew.
Finally they arrived at the end of the big toe. At least that’s what it looked like to Percy. The fog dissipated, and they found themselves on a peninsula that jutted out over a pitch-black void.
“Here we are. ” Akhlys turned and leered at them. Blood from her cheeks dripped on her dress. Her sickly eyes looked moist and swollen but somehow excited. Can Misery look excited?
“Uh…great,” Percy asked. “Where is here?”
“The verge of final death,” Akhlys said. “Where Night meets the void below Tartarus. ”
Annabeth inched forward and peered over the cliff. “I thought there was nothing below Tartarus. ”
“Oh, certainly there is. …” Akhlys coughed. “Even Tartarus had to rise from somewhere. This is the edge of the earliest darkness, which was my mother. Below lies the realm of Chaos, my father. Here, you are closer to nothingness than any mortal has ever been. Can you not feel it?”
Percy knew what she meant. The void seemed to be pulling at him, leaching the breath from his lungs and the oxygen from his blood. He looked at Annabeth and saw that her lips were tinged blue.
“We can’t stay here,” he said.
“No, indeed!” Akhlys said. “Don’t you feel the Death Mist? Even now, you pass between. Look!”
White smoke gathered around Percy’s feet. As it coiled up his legs, he realized the smoke wasn’t surrounding him. It was coming from him. His whole body was dissolving. He held up his hands and found they were fuzzy and indistinct. He couldn’t even tell how many fingers he had. Hopefully still ten.
He turned to Annabeth and stifled a yelp. “You’re—uh—”
He couldn’t say it. She looked dead.
Her skin was sallow, her eye sockets dark and sunken. Her beautiful hair had dried into a skein of cobwebs. She looked like she’d been stuck in a cool, dark mausoleum for decades, slowly withering into a desiccated husk. When she turned to look at him, her features momentarily blurred into mist.
Percy’s blood moved like sap in his veins.
For years, he had worried about Annabeth dying. When you were a demigod, that went with the territory. Most half-bloods didn’t live long. You always knew that the next monster you fought could be your last. But seeing Annabeth like this was too painful. He’d rather stand in the River Phlegethon, or get attacked by arai, or be trampled by giants.
“Oh, gods,” Annabeth sobbed. “Percy, the way you look…”
Percy studied his arms. All he saw were blobs of white mist, but he guessed that to Annabeth he looked like a corpse. He took a few steps, though it was difficult. His body felt insubstantial, like he was made of helium and cotton candy.
“I’ve looked better,” he decided. “I can’t move very well. But I’m all right. ”