“I’m back!” said Jeremy.
He stood in the doorway of the little room in the Enchanted Theater.
“Meow,” said Aristotle from the top of a gold and blue trunk.
“At last!” said Mr. Magnus. He sat on a stool beside the window. He held a scroll made of thin parchment. “Come in! Come in!”
Jeremy’s heart thumped. All the strange things that had happened yesterday were true! It wasn’t just a dream!
He walked around the room. It looked almost the same. Bright costumes hung on racks. Silver swords and shields leaned against the walls. Zeus’s lightning bolt gleamed in the corner. Do Not Touch signs dangled from strings.
But something was different.
Books!
Books rose in tall wobbly stacks everywhere. Books were piled on the windowsill. Books were scattered across the floor. Tattered markers stuck out from between the pages.
“Wow!” said Jeremy. “Where did all the books come from?”
“The library,” said Mr. Magnus. “I signed out all the books on ancient Greek myths.”
“To help you solve the riddle!” said Jeremy. He stared at the scroll. “So you can save the Enchanted Theater!”
The Enchanted Theater was in trouble. Every time Mr. Magnus tried to put on a play, lightning flashed. The power went out. All the people went home.
One night the lightning bolt was in the shape of
the letter Z. It was a sign from Zeus, the king of the ancient Greek gods.
Yesterday, Jeremy and Aristotle had traveled back in time three thousand years. They traveled to Mount Olympus to talk to Zeus.
Zeus said that Mr. Magnus was ruining the Greek myths. He mixed things up in the plays. He changed the endings.
Zeus gave Jeremy three scrolls. Each scroll had a riddle in it. Zeus said that when Mr. Magnus solved all three riddles, he would take away the curse on the Enchanted Theater.
“I’ve been reading the books all day,” said Mr. Magnus, “but it hasn’t helped.”
“I’m good at riddles,” said Jeremy. He stood beside Mr. Magnus. He read the words on the ancient scroll out loud: “In the land of Hades by night and day, six blood-red lanterns light my way. Who am I?”
Jeremy frowned. It was a hard riddle.
“Hades is the god of the Underworld,” said Mr. Magnus helpfully. “He’s in all the books.” He sighed. “But the books don’t say anything about blood-red lanterns.”
“What’s the Underworld?” said Jeremy.
“It’s where all the dead people go,” said Mr. Magnus.
“Oh,” said Jeremy.
The Underworld sounded horrible. Jeremy shivered.
Aristotle twitched his tail back and forth. “Meow!” he said.
Mr. Magnus said, “I’m getting to that part, Aristotle.”
“What part?” asked Jeremy. His neck prickled.
“It’s Aristotle’s idea,” mumbled Mr. Magnus. “The two of you will go to the Underworld to find the blood-red lanterns.”
“You mean travel back in time?” said Jeremy. “Again? To a place with dead people? No thanks!”
Jeremy sighed. “Okay, okay. But will you come with us this time?”
Mr. Magnus looked alarmed. “The Enchanted Theater Rule Book says—”
“I know,” muttered Jeremy. “You have to be a hero to time travel.”
He had felt like a hero yesterday. He had done five brave things to get back from Mount Olympus. But he didn’t feel like a hero today. He just felt like Jeremy, a boy whose mother was expecting him home for supper.
The Rule Book also said that time travel happened at sunset. You held onto one of the actors’ props and counted to ten.
Jeremy glanced out the little window. The sky was purple and pink.
For the first time, he noticed a long black whip leaning against a tower of books. “Is this the prop we’re going to use?” he said.
“Wait! Don’t touch!” screeched Mr. Magnus.
But it was too late. Jeremy had picked up the black whip. It was warm. His fingers tingled.
“You’re not ready!” said Mr. Magnus. “I haven’t shown you my map! I haven’t told you about the ferryman and the three-headed dog—”
Everything swirled around Jeremy. Mr. Magnus slid something over his arms. It felt like a backpack. There was a thump on his shoulder. Soft fur brushed his cheek.
Aristotle whispered, “We’re going!”
Then everything went black.