Hera! No wonder her voice had sounded familiar. What a sneak! She was a Power Olympian, and she’d talked an innocent sibyl into trading places with her so she could play a “funny trick.” Funny to her, maybe. Now I knew that every one of the XII labors would be designed to get rid of Hercules.

After their visit to the sibyl, Hercules and Cee started off for Mycenae. I ducked back down to the Underworld. When I got there, I was surprised to find my queen, Persephone, waiting for me in the den.

“Hades, where have you been?” she asked.

“On earth,” I told her. “Checking on Hercules. Didn’t you get my note?”

“I got it, Hades,” Persephone said. “You know, I’ve hardly seen you this winter. It’s the only time we get to spend together. I guess I was hoping you’d stay home.”

“Oh, Phoney, honey,” I said. “I want that, too. But Hercules is in real trouble.” I told her about Hera impersonating the sibyl and sending Hercules off to do XII labors for Eury. “If I don’t go up to earth to help him, there’s no telling what might happen to him.”

“I’ll bet you’d be surprised by what he can do on his own,” said Persephone.

I shook my head. “No, he needs me, P-phone,” I said. “He’s our nephew, after all. And he’s a mortal. Any one of these XII labors could be the end of him. That’s what Hera’s hoping.”

“Have it your way, Hades,” said my queenie. “Winter’s almost over, anyway. Then I’ll be gone for nine months. You think you could help Hercules finish up all his labors by the time I come home next winter?”

“Count on it,” I told her. “Next winter it’s you and me, sitting by the fire.”

“Plus a few dinners at the Underworld Grill?” Persephone smiled hopefully.

“Deal,” I said to her.

I went back up to earth the next day. I arrived in time to see Hercules walk through the city gates of Mycenae. Cee was still on his shoulders. I hiked invisibly along up the steep hill to King Eurystheus’s palace, which stood on a mountaintop. A huge bronze pot sat beside the palace door. It had no lid. It was too big to be of any real use. What was it for, I wondered?

Hercules pounded on the palace door.

A frightened-looking servant opened it. “Come in,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “King Eurystheus is sitting on his throne, waiting to see you.”

“Hercules will not set foot inside this palace,” Cee told the servant. “If the king wants to see him, let him come to the door himself.”

The servant’s eyes popped open in surprise. Clearly not many people—and even fewer lions—gave orders to the king. But he scurried away. A few minutes later, King Eury appeared at the door. A big gold crown sat on his surprisingly small head.

Eury had grown tall. But under his oversized crown, I could tell he was the same runny-nosed bully who had taunted Hercules all those years before.

When he saw Hercules standing before him, nearly as big as a god and wearing a lion’s-head helmet, King Eury shrank back into the palace. He all but shut the door, leaving only a little crack. “It’s good that you didn’t come inside and smell up my palace,” King Eury said from behind the door.

“You are to give Hercules XII labors,” Cee told the king. “So give.”

King Eury opened the door halfway. “Don’t tell me what to do!” He wiped his nose on his silken sleeve. In his hand, he held a slip of parchment. “Here’s the deal. Either you’ll rid the earth of twelve horrible, monstrous things and make me look good—or one of the twelve monstrous things will get rid of you.” Eury smiled, showing a mouth full of crooked yellow teeth. “I’ll read you the first one.” He looked down at the parchment.

“Labor I: Slay the monster lion, NeMean, who eats everyone’s cattle, and bring me his impenetrable pelt.”

Hercules brightened. “Check!”

King Eury frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means check it off the list,” said Hercules. “I’m wearing NeMean.” He took off his lion helmet and breastplate. He held them out to Eury. “Here.”

“Just put them on the stoop,” said King Eury, not wanting to risk opening the door wider.

“All right!” said Hercules. “One down and only . . . ” He wrinkled his forehead and began counting on his fingers.

“Eleven to go,” Cee whispered.

“Here’s a little background on your next labor,” said King Eury. “A terrible Hydra monster lives in a swamp in Lerna. It has nine disgusting heads. When it breathes its poisonous breath on goats, cattle, sheep, shepherds, whatever, they drop dead. So, here’s Labor II: Go to Lerna, slay the Hydra, and bring it to me!” The king laughed. “See you—never!” He slammed the door.

I groaned. Long ago, when I was chasing the monster Typhon, I’d gone to his foul-smelling cave in Sicily and found his wife, Echidna, with their brood of monstrous children. One of them was my own three-headed guard dog, Cerberus. There was also the goat-headed Chimera. And the riddle-telling Sphinx, part-lion, part-girl. Hydra was another of Echidna’s offspring. I remembered her as a nine-headed freak who gave new meaning to the term “bad breath.” But still, she was Cerbie’s sister. Cerbie was family to me. And that made Hydra—well, some sort of way-distant cousin. I couldn’t let Hercules slay her. I thought I’d better go and have a talk with Hydra’s mom.

I knew it would take Hercules and Cee a few days to get to Lerna. While they were on their way, I astro-traveled to Sicily.

ZIP!

I landed just outside the mouth of Typhon and Echidna’s cave.

“Hello? Echidna?” I called. “Hades here. Anybody home?”

“Hades?” answered a musical voice. “Come in!”

I made my way into the cave. The last time I’d been there, it was a dark, dank monsters’ lair. But now, to my surprise, the place was light and airy. It had been totally redone, with Italian-tile floors and walls painted in muted pastels.

Echidna was sitting behind a desk. Well, “sitting” isn’t exactly the word, since her bottom half was that of a huge speckled serpent. Echidna was more coiled behind the desk. Her top half, that of a beautiful woman, was dressed in a neat white robe.

“Surprised, Hades?” Echidna said. “Hey, it’s just me now. The kids are all grown and out on their own. My husband lives under a mountain.”

“Hmmm, sorry about that,” I mumbled. I hoped she didn’t hold it against me that I’d sent Mount Etna tumbling on top of Typhon.

“Don’t apologize, Hades,” said Echidna. “I’ve never been happier. I’ll make us some tea.” She got up and slithered over to a state-of-the-art kitchen. “So, how do you like the cave?”

“It looks fantastic,” I told her. “It should be in one of those home-decorating magazines.”

“You think?” Echidna smiled. “I did it myself. Typhon would never let me fix up the place. He thought Architectural Digest was what you did after you ate somebody’s house. But now I’ve started my own decorating business.” I sat down at a table. Echidna poured our tea. “I did Sphinx’s new place over in Egypt. Surrounded it with lots of big stone pyramids. Very dramatic.”

“Speaking of your kids,” I said, “I came to talk to you about one of them.”

Echidna’s smile faded. “Cerberus? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” I said. “Excellent guard dog. No, it’s Hydra.”

“Oh, poor Hydra!” Echidna sighed. “When she was a little nine-headed baby monster, her breath stank. But when she got older, it turned poisonous. Very strong stuff. One little ‘Hello!’ can kill an army. So I sent her to live in a deserted, foul-smelling swamp in Lerna where she can’t do much harm. I figured the swamp smelled so bad already that her breath couldn’t make much difference. Hydra’s got problems, but she’s not a bad girl. She always obeys her mother, I’ll say that for her. Well, what’s she done now?”

“It’s not what she’s done,” I said. “It’s what someone wants done to her.” I explained about King Eurystheus and how he’d told Hercules to kill Hydra.

Echidna only laughed. “Hercules can’t kill her,” she said. “One of Hydra’s heads—the one with the big mouth—is immortal. Oh, and if there is a battle, be sure to tell Hercules not to cut off Hydra’s other heads, either. If he does, two heads will sprout up in the place of every one he chops off.”

“I hope there won’t be any battle,” I said.

“Monsters and heroes are fated to battle.” Echidna shrugged. “You know, Hades, Hydra has a hard life in that dreary swamp. The world is always unkind when you’ve got really, really bad breath. And Hydra’s is the worst.” She shook her head. “Be sure to give her my love when you see her. And if you want her to do something, just tell her I said so.”

“Thanks, Echidna.” I invited her to come down and visit Cerberus some time. She said she would and even offered to help Persephone and me if we ever decided to redo Villa Pluto.

I left Echidna’s cave, put on my Helmet of Darkness, and chanted the astro-traveling spell for Lerna.

ZIP!

And P.U.!

I found myself standing ankle deep in smelly swamp ooze. Not three dekafeet from me, a battle was already underway. Hercules held a huge wooden club. Cee was yelling directions to him. Both were covered head to toe in swamp goo.

Cee pointed to a wide circle of bubbles coming up from beneath the thick brown water.

“Here she comes!” shouted the lion.

And up from the swamp sprang Hydra. Her monstrous body was no more than a blob. From it sprouted nine long snaky stalks. Each stalk was topped with at least one small head, no bigger than a fist. Each little fist of a head had a human face.

“Get that head, Hercules!” shouted Cee, pointing.

Hercules drew back his club and took a mighty swing.

THWACK!

The little head went flying.

PLOP! It landed in the swamp.

Instantly, two more little heads popped out of the end of the stalk.

Hydra had more than nine heads now. Many more! I figured the battle must have been raging for some time. If ever a hero needed help, it was Hercules.

I whipped off my helmet and tossed it into my wallet. “Stop fighting!” I called, making the classic time-out T with my hands. “Hydra! Hercules! Cee! Hold it!”

The three stopped thrashing and splashing through the swamp.

“Whoa!” said Hercules. “Back off, Hades. I was about to slay the Hydra!”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“I don’t think so either,” muttered Cee.

I turned to face the monster. “Hydra,” I said. “I am Hades, King of the Underworld.”

One of Hydra’s head stalks thrust itself up above the others. Two little eyes met mine. Then Hydra opened her jaws wider and wider until the little head was all mouth.

“Hhhhhhello, Hhhhhhades,” she said.