pocket full of posies
❛ xii. obey your orders ❜

━━━━━ THE FOUR STOOD in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at the gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

              Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

              It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

              Percy turned to his three companions. "Okay. You remember the plan."

              "The plan." Grover swallowed nervously. "Yeah. I love the plan."

              Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

              "Don't think negatively," Percy chided her. Although, the way he said it, it sounded more like a question than a command.

              Josephine looked at the building with wary eyes. "You're telling us to not think negatively as we're entering the Land of the Dead. That seems a little counter-intuitive to me."

              You're getting closer, Onesimus told her. The time is coming near.

              And this isn't the time for you to talk, Josephine hissed. Earlier would've been great if you gave me some answers, but don't talk now.

              I can't give you answers, Onesimus told her. Not yet, anyway.

              The son of Poseidon took the pearls out of his pocket, the four milky spheres the Nereid had given him in Santa Monica. Josephine never said it, but the gift didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong.

              Noticing his worried expression, she sighed and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "You're right, I—we" —she took a hard look at Annabeth— "shouldn't be so negative. We'll make it, I'm sure of it."

              The daughter of Apollo looked not-so-discreetly at Annabeth and Grover, not-so-secretly hinting at them to add comments.

               "Oh, right!" the satyr chimed in. "We got this far. Well find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

              Annabeth tried to give Percy a smile. "Yeah, they're right. The plan's gonna work perfectly."

              Percy managed to give the three a half smile as he slipped the pearls back into his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld ass."

              Smiling slightly at the ridiculousness of his sentence, Josephine walked after Percy into the DOA lobby. Onesimus was whispering in her head, half-chanting and half-cheering. She shook her head, rattling the man's voice around her mind.

              Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel grey. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, standing up, staring out the windows, or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of her eye, Josephine could see them all just fine, but if she focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking ... transparent. She could see right through their bodies. They were all ghosts.

              The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so they had to look up at him.

              He was tall and elegant, with dark-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

              Josephine read the name tag, then looked at the man with bewilderment. She was sure her mouth was hanging open and that her expression wasn't very kind.

              "Your name is Chiron?" Percy asked, leaning closer to the man.

              The man leaned across the desk, closer to Percy. Josephine couldn't see anything in his glasses except hers and Percy's reflections, but his smile was sweet and cold. "What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

              "N-no."

              "Sir," he added smoothly.

              "Sir," Percy repeated.

              The man pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

              "Charon."

              "Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

              "Mr. Charon."

              "Well done." The man sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

              Percy, looking like he had just gotten sucker punched in the gut, looked at Josephine. The girl shook her head in disapproval, both knew just how horrible of a liar she was.

              Annabeth shoved an arm between them, pushing past them to say, "We want to go the Underworld."

              Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

              Josephine's brows furrowed. "How so?"

              "Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon'." He looked the four over. "How did you die, then?"

              Before Annabeth could come up with another lie, Grover said, "Oh ... um ... drowned ... in the bathtub."

              "All four of you?" Charon asked.

              With no other choice, they nodded.

              "Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children ... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

              "Oh, but we have coins." Percy set four golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash he'd found in Crusty's office desk.

              "Well, now ..." Charon licked his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in ..."

              His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

              They were so close. Onesimus was getting louder in Josephine's head, urging her to hurry up.

              Then Charon looked at Percy. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

              "No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

              Josephine clenched her jaw, stopping a bubble of laughter or stopping herself from yelling in frustration.

              Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

              "But, sir, we have to get to the Underworld," Josephine insisted.

              Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

              Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running their hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

              "Leave while you can," Charon told the questers. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

              He started to go for the coins, but Percy grabbed them back. "No service, no tip," he said.

              Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

              "It's a shame, too," Percy sighed. "We had more to offer."

              He held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. The son of Poseidon took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through his fingers.

              Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh ... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

              "A lot," Percy said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

              "Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free'. I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

              "You deserve better and better pay, Mr. Charon," Josephine agreed, catching on to what Percy was doing. "And a lot more appreciation and respect. More gratitude, too."

              With each word the daughter of Apollo listed off, Percy stacked another gold coin on the counter.

              Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, kids, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

              Percy stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

              Charon sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you four and be off." He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

              The four pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at their clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things Josephine couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

              He escorted them into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with them and pushed them back into the lobby.

              "Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

              He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and they started to descend.

              "What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

              "Nothing," Charon said.

              Josephine glanced at the daughter of Athena, exchanging a look with her. "For how long? Like, forever?"

              Charon nodded. "Forever—or until I'm feeling generous."

              "Oh," said the daughter of wisdom. "That's ... fair."

              Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

              "We'll get out alive," Percy said.

              Charon snorted at the son of Poseidon's optimism.

              Josephine got a sudden dizzy feeling. They weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. The spirits around her started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into grey hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

              Closer, Onesimus insisted. You'll get some answers soon.

              She blinked hard. When Josephine opened her eyes, Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

              He saw her looking, and said, "Well?"

              Josephine averted her eyes quickly. "Nothing," she croaked.

              The daughter of Apollo thought Charon was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting her see straight through to his skull.

              The floor kept swaying. Suddenly, Josephine wasn't sure if it was because of pure shock coursing through her body; she was seeing Charon's skull, here.

              Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

              Josephine looked at the satyr with pleading eyes. "Don't you dare puke."

              When she blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. They were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling them across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

              "The River Styx," Josephine murmured, frowning deeply. "It's so ..."

              "Polluted," Charon agreed. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

              Mist curled off the filthy water. Above them, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison. Josephine's stomach lurched at the sight; that was the exact same green her hands glowed.

              Panic had long seized Josephine's heart. She had no place there. She didn't belong just yet. She wasn't dead. And the people around her were.

              In search for something she knew was alive, Josephine seized Percy's hand, holding his tightly. She needed reassurance that someone also had a beating heart. Josephine needed to make sure the people she was on a quest with hadn't suddenly disappeared. Percy seemed to understand her worries. He never let go of her hand, he squeezed her hand tightly, in fact, as if making sure she was still alive.

              The daughter of Apollo found herself muttering a prayer, maybe to her father, maybe to the Fates to reconsider if they really wanted this to be her last moments. However, Josephine wasn't sure how much her prayers would matter. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one they had to confront.

              The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as Josephine could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

              "Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

              The bottom of the boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than Josephine was, shuffling silently along in his grey robe.

              Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

              He counted their gold coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river. The four followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

              No luck down here, especially for the unlucky, Onesimus agreed. So listen to me, Josephine Easton.

✿

Josephine wasn't sure what she was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

              There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said: YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector mounted with security cameras. Beyond this were toll booths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

              The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but Josephine couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

              The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked: ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked: EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

              "What do you figure?" Percy asked.

              "The fast line must go straight to Asphodel," Annabeth said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

              "There's a court for dead people?"

              "Yeah," said Josephine. "There're three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Fields of Asphodel."

              "And do what?"

              Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

              It wasn't the ending Josephine wanted for herself. Or Mrs. Hall. Neither of them deserved that. But her father ...

              "Harsh," the son of Poseidon said.

              "But there's harsher," Josephine told him. She pointed and Percy followed her lead. "Look."

              A couple of black-robed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk.

              "He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

              "Oh, yeah," Percy said, staring at the man. "What're they doing to him?"

              "Special punishment, I'm sure," said Josephine. "Those kinds of punishments are given out by Hades. The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Kindly Ones will set up eternal torture for him."

              As soon as the word 'Kindly Ones' rolled off her tongue, a shiver crawled up her spine. Josephine realized she was in their home territory now. There would be no easy escape from the Kindly Ones.

              "But if he's a preacher," the black-haired boy said, "and he believes in a different hell ..."

              Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. They're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

              The four got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at Josephine's feet, but she still couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

              Then, about fifty in front of them, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

              Josephine hadn't seen it before because it was half transparent, like the dead. Until it moved, it blended with whatever was behind it. Only its eyes and teeth looked solid. And it was staring straight at them.

              Percy's jaw hung open. "He's a Rottweiler."

              Josephine gave the boy an odd look. "And he has three heads. That's what you noticed?"

              Cerberus was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, mostly invisible, and had three gigantic heads. The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

              "I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

              Josephine's heart got lodged in her throat. "I think it's because we getting closer to being dead."

              The dog's middle head craned towards them. It sniffed the air and growled.

              "It can smell the living," Percy said.

              "But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to the son of Poseidon. "Because we have a plan."

              "Right," Annabeth said. Josephine had never heard the daughter of Athena's voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

              They moved towards the monster. The middle head snarled at them, then barked so loud Josephine was sure her brain rattled in her skull. Even Onesimus's whisperings clattered with the bark.

              "Can you understand it?" Percy asked Grover.

              "Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

              "Then what is Cerberus saying?" Josephine prompted.

              "I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

              Percy took the big stick out of his backpack—a bedpost he'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up. He tried to smile like he wasn't about to die.

              "Hey, Big Fella," he called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

              Cerberus growled loudly.

              "Good boy," the son of Poseidon said weakly.

              He waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. The son of the Sea God had Cerberus's undivided attention. Josephine wasn't exactly sure that was a good thing.

              "Fetch!" Percy threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. Josephine heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

              Cerberus glared at Percy, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold. The three-headed dog was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

              "Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

              "Yeah?"

              "I just thought you'd want to know."

              "Yeah?"

              "Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that ... well ... he's hungry."

              "Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack. Josephine's face was apprehensive.

              "Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

              The daughter of Athena produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled: WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before Josephine could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

              Annabeth shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

              Cerberus looked as stunned as Josephine was. All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

              "Sit!" Annabeth called again.

              Josephine was sure that any moment the daughter of wisdom would become the world's largest dog biscuit.

              But instead, Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

              Annabeth said, "Good boy!"

              She threw Cerberus the ball. He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

              "Drop it!" Annabeth ordered.

              Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at her. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

              "Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster's spit all over it.

              She turned towards the three behind her. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

              Josephine frowned. "But—"

              "Now!" Annabeth ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

              Grover, Josephine, and Percy inched forward warily.

              Cerberus started to growl.

              "Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

              Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

              "What about you?" Josephine asked Annabeth as they passed her.

              "I know what I'm doing, Posie," she muttered. "At least, I'm pretty sure ..."

              The daughter of Apollo glanced over at the nickname, but didn't correct the blonde at the usage.

              Josephine, Percy, and Grover walked between the monster's legs. All the while, Josephine was hoping the blonde wouldn't catch a mean streak and order Cerberus to sit. They made it through unscathed, but Cerberus wasn't any less scary-looking from the back.

              Annabeth said, "Good dog!"

              She held up the tattered red ball, and probably came to the same conclusion Josephine did—if she rewarded Cerberus, there'd be nothing left for another trick.

              The daughter of Athena threw the ball anyway. The monster's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head while the right head moaned in protest.

              While the monster was distracted, Annabeth walked briskly under its belly and joined them at the metal detector.

              "How did you do that?" Percy asked her.

              "Obedience school," she said breathlessly, tears breaming in her eyes. "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Dobermann ..."

              "Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at Percy's shirt. "Come on!"

              They were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth stopped. She turned to face the dog, which had done a one-eighty to look at the four. Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

              "Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

              The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried about her.

              "I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

              The monster whimpered. Josephine didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

              "Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I—I promise." Annabeth turned to her friends. "Let's go."

              Grover and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

              Cerberus started to bark.

              They burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

              A few minutes later, they were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

              Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

              "That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

              "No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

              Josephine gave the satyr a warning look—for the bad joke and for the horrible timing. The daughter of Apollo pretended not to see Annabeth wipe a tear from her cheek as she listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance, longing for his new friend.

              You're closer, Onesimus insisted. Just listen to my orders.

              So my answers are gonna come from this scary place? she asked. That's lovely.

              Some answers will, Onesimus replied.

✿ JULY 10TH, 2023 / again,, this feels boring- but we have onesimus being a weirdo so there's that

anyways,, thoughts? opinions??