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Nick felt great as they left the spring. Finally, somebody loved him! Somebody who wasn’t his mom or one of his many aunts. That put a spring in his step as they walked out through the trees. Then, he started to think . . . about what Helen had told him.
So, she was a mom. Not of twins or triplets, but monsters. What did they look like? Nick wondered. Did they wave around tentacles or have huge eyes on stalks? He didn’t want to ask. Then, something hit him: one day, he might be their stepdad!
“Ew,” he said, as they headed for a narrow path.
“Ew what?” asked Helen, her hair glinting in the sun.
“It’s okay. Just thinking about that Hydra.”
She nodded, leading him deeper into what he saw was olive grove. Hey, maybe Ya-Ya was right! They both picked a few handfuls. Nick had never eaten them fresh, and found himself disappointed that they were kind of bitter. Oh, well. At least they wouldn’t die of thirst since Helen had filled his helmet with water back at the spring. As the afternoon shadows lengthened, Nick just took it easy. He felt he had earned it after this crazy day.
After Helios did his thing, a mild night fell. Nick wished he could make a bed out of branches—like those guys on Naked and Afraid—but he was a city boy who had never slept outdoors. Thoughts of the nearby Hydra made him keep his sword close as he slumped against a tree.
“Sorry,” he said to Helen.
“For what?” she asked, sliding beside him.
“For not being able to build a hut.” She laughed. “At least it’s not freezing here.”
“No,” she said.
Nick tried to close his eyes, but they were plagued by too many images: Helen, naked in the spring, her lips pressed against his; and her startling confession.
“Nick,” Helen’s voice called softly. “Do you mind?”
“What?”
“That I’m the mother of monsters.”
“Uh . . .” He tried to think. “Guess I’d have to see them first.”
“That’s fair,” she said, though he thought he heard disappointment.
“Look,” he said, “I’m scared to be dad to a squid, but I’m certainly willing to try.”
Helen burst into laughter.
“You are a strange one,” she said.
The next morning when he awoke, Nick saw Helen already up. She’d gathered a clump of olives which Nick gratefully took. After he’d eaten his fill, he glanced at his shield . Ugh. There was the Hydra: spitting poison from every head. What had made it so mad?
“So,” he asked Helen, “is Snaky worse than Leo?”
“I would say . . yes. I confess that last night, I prayed hard to Athena. She implored her sister Artemis, who has given you this.”
From behind a trunk, she withdrew an archer’s bow—and a quiver of bronze-tipped arrows.
“Whoa,” said Nick, picking both of them up. “I just wish I knew how to use them.”
“Aim and shoot,” said Helen. “Now, you can strike from a distance.”
Nick nodded, fingering the taut string. Now he wished he’d done Archery when he was a kid at camp.
“We better get started,” said Helen. “It’s twenty stadia back to the lake.”
“I wonder,” said Nick, “why you’re always so eager, and, for some reason, I’m not.”
“Hmmp,” she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the swamp. They could smell it before they could see it, and it wasn’t exactly like roses.
“Blech,” said Nick. “Old Snaky’s sure smelly.”
As they came closer, he saw that the “lake” was more like a swamp itself.
“I prefer Lake Elsinore,” said Nick, holding his nose. “Or anyplace, really.”
As he and Helen circled the shore, they looked for a mutant reptile. But they didn’t see the Hydra: just a cave that bellowed foul steam.
“That must be its lair,” said Helen.
“They all seem to have one,” Nick said. He was getting, if not casual, than used to this whole monster thing.
With Helen beside him, he slogged through mud to the cave.
“What’s up?” Nick yelled, his words muffled by rock. “It’s me, Nick—Nikólaos, son of Chiron. I’m here to beat your slimy behind!”
Nick heard hissing within: then, the steady movement of coils.
“Oh boy,” he breathed, grabbing his bow and an arrow. He shakily notched up the shaft and slowly pulled back the string. His jacked-up arms didn’t hurt.
“Hey, Snake Boy!” Nick yelled.
This seemed to anger the Hydra, since Nick heard its scales slide faster, until, from the cave mouth, came a slithering, stinky mess!
It really did have nine heads, and all were bobbing and hissing, eighteen fangs bared like daggers. The Hydra was truly hideous, with scales of green and grey, about the same size as his old friend Leo. Trembling, Nick didn’t hesitate: he let his arrow fly, and, at this short distance, struck one of those hissing heads!
“Cut it off!” Helen yelled, then covered her mouth. She wasn’t allowed to help, and Nick bet the Hydra knew it.
He went in with his sword, swiping under the injured head. THERE! He lopped it off, but, to his horror, two more grew in its place!
“I think I saw this in a movie!” Nick shouted, firing off two more arrows. They pierced the Hydra’s coils, but not enough to stop it.
“Okay then,” Nick yelled, running toward those clustered snake heads. He cut one off, then another, but all they did was multiply. Nick counted twelve; then sixteen: he had a feeling he would never see a prime number!
C’mon, he groaned to himself, his sword arm getting heavy. Stop growing already!
Despite the swarm of heads, Nick tried to keep the main one in sight: the one that was immortal. It did look kind of smug, with an expression that said: “You can’t kill me, so don’t even try.” In the meantime, Nick felt a coil slither against his sandals, and, with a snap, drag him across the ground.
“Hey!” he yelled, raising his sword, but couldn’t see where the Hydra began and his ankles ended. It would be a shame, he thought, to cut off his own foot.
Nick felt the same kind of fear as had in the Lion’s cave. The Hydra was sweeping him closer, his death just seconds away.
“Helen, I’m sorry!” he cried, losing sight of her between heads. Nick saw them swoop in: even felt their fetid breath as their yellow eyes blazed. He closed his own against the sight of so many fangs, but oddly, felt nothing: no bites followed by pain. As the coils around him stiffened, he allowed himself to look . . . and saw that the Hydra was as motionless as a rock.
“Helen!” Nick shouted, using his sword to cut himself free. “You didn’t—?”
She nodded sheepishly.
“I couldn’t help it,” she said. “That monster was going to kill you.”
“Oh no,” Nick breathed.
He turned his shield around to look at the Labor engravings. Sure enough, the third one had a red circle with a slanted line slashed through it.
“I knew it,” said Nick. “The International ‘No’ Sign.” He slammed down his shield. “So this one doesn’t count.”
“Please forgive me,” said Helen, hanging her head. “It’s just that . . . all those fangs . . . and it had hold of your feet . . . ”
Nick nodded, thinking of what she had sacrificed in becoming a monster again.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s chalk this one up to practice. I need all I can get before I face Mr. Big.”
“You mean father,” Helen said.
“Yeah, and I have a feeling he makes his kids look cuddly.”
Helen sighed as Nick expelled foul air. He had an urge to touch the Hydra, its scales a ghastly white, but managed to stop himself. You never know, he thought.
“Wait,” said Helen, and then she did something weird: she gathered up all his arrows—those on the ground and the ones still in his quiver—dipping them in green blood which pooled beneath stone heads. Nick could see—and smell—the arrows’ brass tips exuding a foul-smelling smoke.
“Souvenir?” he asked.
“I have a feeling,” she said, “that these could come in handy.”
“Okay.”
“Stay away from the tips. They can kill in an instant.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
Nick made sure to swing his quiver well away from his back. He took Helen’s hand as they moved away from the Hydra which could now be displayed in the Getty.
“I’m sorry,” said Nick, turning to her.
“For what?”
“For you having to be Medusa.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “It was just for a minute.”
“Hmm. I didn’t know you could change back.”
“Neither,” said Helen, with a toss of her hair, “did I.”
