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☠︎
Charon stands up and scoops the three coins in his hands.
Morana moves out of the way, letting him pass, him bowing with an irritated face at her. Morana pushes Annabeth forward, Grover following suit, then Percy and then Morana.
They push through the crowd of waiting spirits, who start grabbing at their clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things the three in front of Morana can't make out. Charon shoves them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."
Morana shields Percy and Grover with her wings, stretching them ahead and creating a barrier. Annabeth is shielded by Charon which Morana has to give him some respect for.
He escorts them into the elevator, which is already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Morana squints her eyes at two spirits who try to push past her, and they fall back, lowering their heads.
"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone", Charon announces 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 shuts the doors.
He puts a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and they start to descend.
"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asks. "Nothing," Charon answers.
"For how long?"
"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."
"Oh," she breathes, "That's . . . fair."
Charon raises 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 argues. "Ha", Charon chuckles darkly, then points to Morana. "Her maybe. But then again. . . You're bringing godlings in. He won't be too happy with you either", Charon turns to Morana who scoffs but deep down she knows he's right.
The air turns misty. Spirits around them start changing shape. Their modern clothes flicker, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator begins swaying. Charon's creamy Italian suit gets replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses are soon gone.
Where his eyes should be, are empty sockets. Totally dark, full of night and death and despair.
The floor keeps swaying. Grover mumbles, "I think I'm getting seasick."
