Ah, it was good to be back home in the Underworld! Good to be doing my kingly duties. And this time I stuck around for such a long stretch that Cerbie finally stopped being spiteful and went back to being the great triple-headed pooch he’d always been.

Each month or so, I’d make a day trip up to earth to see how Odysseus was doing. And every time I checked, I found him and his men living happily on Circe’s island. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get home. I understood. After all they’d been through, why wouldn’t they want to hang out for a while in a safe place with great eats?

At the same time, I couldn’t help but wish that they’d set sail again. I was ready for Odysseus to make it to back to Ithaca. Once he was home, I could stop worrying about what sort of revenge my bro Po might take on him for blinding Polyphemus. And I could stop worrying about Po turning my kingdom into Water World.

When fall rolled around, Persephone came home. Life in the Underworld was so good that I sort of forgot about checking on Odysseus. In fact, I didn’t think about that wily mortal at all.

Then one warm fall evening, Persephone said, “I have a surprise for you, Hades.”

“You know I’m not big on surprises, P-phone,” I said.

“I’ve made a picnic supper,” Persephone went on. “We’re going to eat it beside the Pool of Memory, and I’ve asked the Furies to join us.”

As surprises go, that didn’t sound so bad. We headed over to the P of M. Persephone carried a picnic basket, and Cerbie trotted happily at my side. When we reached the spot, I saw that Meg, Tisi, and Alec were already there, sitting under the poplar trees.

The three Furies have been in the universe practically forever, doing odd jobs, most of which involve revenge. They live in their own wing of Villa Pluto, and each night they fly up to earth on their great, black, leathery wings to punish wicked mortals, lashing them with their little whips called scourges. Mortals who aren’t nice to their mothers? They get extra lashes.

“Greetings, my avengers!” I said, sitting down next to Tisi on a patch of asphodel while Persephone spread her picnic cloth and began laying out our supper. “What’s new with you?”

Tisi smiled, showing her gleaming white fangs. “We just got back from Ithaca,” she said.

“Really?” I said. “Did you see Odysseus’s wife, Penelope?”

“We didn’t,” said Meg. She shook her head, riling up the dozens of snakes that she and the other Furies have instead of hair.

“But we saw Telemachus!” said Alec.

“Ah, their son,” I said. “I hope he hasn’t been mean to his mother.”

“Telemachus is a good son,” said Tisi.

“But he wants to leave home to search for his father,” added Meg.

“And that makes his mother worry!” said Alec.

“Hold it,” I said. “How old is Telemachus?”

“He’s almost a man now,” said Tisi.

“Odysseus has been gone for many years,” added Meg.

“Some say Odysseus is dead!” said Alec.

“No, he’s alive,” I told them. “He and what’s left of his crew are chilling with Circe on her island right now, but I’m hoping he’ll soon head home.”

“Many suitors have come to the palace to woo Penelope,” Tisi said.

“Whoever marries her will become king of Ithaca,” added Meg.

“The suitors are wicked!” said Alec.

“They loll about Odysseus’s palace all day,” Tisi put in.

“They eat Odysseus’s food and drink his wine,” said Meg.

“They are disgusting!” said Alec.

“Let’s eat!” called Persephone.

I turned and saw that the goddess of spring had spread out a colorful fall feast on her picnic cloth — roasted purple eggplants and red peppers, pasta salad with yellow tomatoes, and for dessert, blueberry pie.

We all dug in.

* * *

I kept meaning to go see what Odysseus was up to on Circe’s island, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and somehow I never got around to it.

One afternoon, I was driving my chariot, making the usual rounds of my kingdom. Cerbie was dozing contentedly beside me in the passenger seat. Harley and Davidson were going at a nice slow pace, giving me time to get a good look at everything we passed. I drove around the Underworld traffic circle, and past the Underworld Courthouse. Ghosts stood in an orderly line, waiting to be judged. As I passed Motel Styx, I saw ghosts lined up outside, waiting to check in, but only a few. Nothing that Hypnos and Thanatos couldn’t handle. It wasn’t a sunny day — it never is in the Underworld — but otherwise things couldn’t have been more perfect.

Then suddenly Cerberus’s eyes popped open, all six at once. He lifted one head. His second head rose and then the third. He looked around, giving the air a big sniff, sniff, sniff.

“What’s up, Cerbie?” I asked.

Cerberus answered with a menacing triple-growl and leaped from my chariot.

“Cerbie! Come back!” I cried.

But the Guard Dog of the Underworld ignored me and raced toward the River Styx.

“Giddy up, steeds!” I called. Harley and Davidson broke into a gallop, and at last we caught up with my dog.

“Cerbie!” I called, but he ran on, so I drove on after him as he sped along the river bank, all three of his tongues hanging out of his mouths. That dog hadn’t gotten this much exercise in centuries!

At last we came to the place where the River Oceanus flows into the River Styx. I slowed my steeds, and now I heard what Cerbie’s triple hearing must have picked up earlier — mortal voices.

When mortals die and come down to my kingdom, their ghosts speak in thin, high-pitched tones. But now I heard the deep voices of living, mortal men.

Worse yet, the sounds were coming from the secret back entrance to the Underworld. Persephone, Hermes, and I were the only ones who knew about that secret entrance. How had mortals discovered it?

I rounded a corner and yanked on the reins. “Whoa, steeds!” I cried.

They screeched to a halt, which was a good thing, for right in front of them stood Odysseus and his crew. Cerberus had cornered the whole lot of them and backed them up against a rocky wall.

“Grrr! Grrrrrr! Grrrrrrrrrrrr!” growled Cerbie, baring all three sets of teeth.

“Good doggy, doggy, doggy,” Odysseus was saying, trying to calm him. “I have a dog. His name’s Argos. I love dogs!”

I shouted, “Cerberus, OFF!”

Cerbie gave me a triple dirty look, but he obeyed.

“You’re the best guard dog in the Underworld,” I praised him as he slunk off. “Yes, you are, are, are!” The last thing I needed was Cerbie getting all bent out of shape because I’d yelled at him.

I hopped out of my chariot. “Odysseus!” I said. “What in the Underworld are you doing down here?”

At the sight of me, the crewmen cowered against the rock.

“We’re all going to die!” shrieked Rylo.

But Odysseus broke into a smile. “Lord Hades!” he cried. “Great to see you.”

“How did you get down here?” I asked.

“Circe the sorceress told us the way,” said Odysseus.

So much for my secret entrance.

“Circe cast a spell on me,” Odysseus went on. “It made me forget all about going home. It made me want to stay with her forever.”

So that’s why the men stayed so long on that island. I should have guessed that turning men into pigs wasn’t Circe’s only trick.

“After a year, my men came to me and said they wanted to go home,” Odysseus continued. “I went to Circe and asked to be set free. She lifted her spell from me and agreed to let us go, but she warned me of the many perils we will face on our journey home. And she said that before we set sail, we must travel down here to speak with the ghost of the blind prophet, Tiresias of Thebes.”

“What for?” I asked.

“Because he can see into the future,” Odysseus said. “And only he can tell us what we need to know to reach Ithaca.”

I heard the tap of a cane and turned to see the ghost of Tiresias coming toward us.

“You have visitors, Tiresias,” I told him.

“Is that you, Lord Hades?” asked the ghost of blind the prophet in his high, ghostly voice. “I’ve been wanting a word with you. My living quarters down here are not as promised.”

I sighed. Ghosts are so ungrateful. Even the ones like Tiresias, who spend their afterlives in beautiful Elysium.

“We’ll talk later, Tiresias,” I told him. “Right now, you need to advise the mortal, Odysseus.”

“Ah, yes!” said the prophet. “I knew this moment would come. Foretold it all.” He smiled. “I will speak with you in private, Odysseus,” he said, and Odysseus led him away from the others. The crewmen couldn’t hear what was said, but with my godly hearing, I took in every word.

“Listen to me, Odysseus,” said Tiresias. “Poseidon is boiling mad at you for blinding his son, Polyphemus.”

“Duh,” said Odysseus.

“He will make your journey home absolutely horrifying!” warned Tiresias.

“He’s already done that!” said Odysseus.

“If you and your crew want to get home safely,” Tiresias went on, “you must do exactly as I say.”

“I’m all ears,” said Odysseus.

“Your ship will pass the green-hilled island of Thrinacia,” Tiresias said. “This is where the sun god Helios keeps his sacred cattle. Whatever you do, DON’T TOUCH THOSE COWS!”

“Okay,” said Odysseus. “Anything else?”

“If you do no harm to Helios’s cattle, you and your crew may reach home safely,” Tiresias went on. “But remember — don’t mess with the cows!”

“We won’t,” said Odysseus. “Is that it?”

“LEAVE THE COWS ALOOOOOONE!” wailed the ghost.

“All right already!” said Odysseus. “I get it.”

Tiresias shook his cane at the mortal hero. “Heed my words, Odysseus!” he cried. “Or all your men shall die horrible deaths!”

“What about . . . me?” said Odysseus.

Tiresias shrugged. “You may survive,” he said. “But your homecoming won’t be any picnic.”

“What does that mean?” cried Odysseus.

“Suitors for your wife’s hand have taken over your palace,” said Tiresias.

“What?” cried Odysseus. “I’ll slay them all!”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Tiresias. “There are more than a hundred of them and only one of you.”

Odysseus’s face reddened with anger. “Anything else, prophet?” he growled.

“Yes,” said Tiresias. “Even if you do manage to get rid of the suitors, you must still take a long journey by land.”

Odysseus groaned loudly.

“You must put an oar over your shoulder and walk from city to city until you meet someone who doesn’t know what you’re carrying,” said Tiresias.

“Everybody knows what an oar is!” said Odysseus.

“Not someone who’s never seen the sea,” pointed out Tiresias. “When you come to this place, make a sacrifice to Poseidon. Only then will he forgive you.”

“This is sooooo complicated,” wailed Odysseus.

“Just leave the cows alone,” said Tiresias. “That’s all I have to say.”

The ghost of the old prophet turned and began tapping his way back to Elysium.

I stepped toward Odysseus, half thinking of inviting him to come back to the palace for a cold one. But I wondered — would Po consider that helping? In the end, I said nothing and watched him go back to his men.

“Good luck with the rest of the trip!” I called after him.

Odysseus turned around and gave me a wave.

“Thanks, Hades.” He sounded a little down after his chat with Tiresias. “I could really use some good luck.”