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“Hey,” Nick said as they hauled themselves over rocks. “What kind of a beach is this?”
“It’s not,” said Helen.
They both stared back at the water. Across it sat a small island that looked more like a cliff.
“Pithecusae,” said Helen. “That’s where my mom Echidna lives.”
“Maybe we should stop by.”
“She’s a monster,” Helen said. “With the bottom half of a snake.”
“Forget I said anything.”
Nick surveyed where they stood. It was a bunch of black rocks, and the ground seemed more ash than soil.
“Nice place,” he said. “Look, I think it’s past time you told me about my next Labor.”
Helen took a deep breath.
“You’re not going to like this,” she said.
“Do I ever?”
“I’m afraid this next one makes my mom look sweet.”
Nick gritted his teeth.
“Shoot.”
“Well,” she said, “we have to go to the Underworld.”
Nick’s head swam for a moment.
“You mean . . . Hell?”
“If that’s where dead souls—”
“—Hell,” Nick repeated.
“As far as the Labor. . . it involves, uh . . . slaying Cerberus.”
“That sounds familiar,” said Nick.
“He is the dog who guards the gates of Hades.”
“A dog?” Nick asked in disgust. “That’s a Labor?”
“He has three heads,” said Helen.
“Naturally.”
“And is as big as a horse.”
“Oh,” said Nick. “Any chance they could swap him for a Yorkie?”
Helen rolled her eyes.
“We have to find the gates,” she said.
“Where are they?”
“Different places, but one set is here.”
Nick sighed, looking at her mom’s island from which white smoke erupted.
“I suppose,” he said, “That Typhon is uh, lying under our feet?”
Helen nodded, causing Nick to lift a sandal.
“Let’s get moving,” he said. “I want to be gone by the time your dad pops his top.”
“Agreed,” said Helen. She seemed to be thinking. “According to myth,” she told him, “the Sybil of Cumae lives in a cave in Avernus.”
“Who’s she?” Nick asked. “I thought we were going to Hades. Wait . . . that didn’t come out right.”
“She is the guide,” said Helen. “She will give us directions, but only if we ask good questions.”
“‘Good’?”
“Not stupid.”
“Oh boy,” said Nick. “Well, I did beat the Sphinx.”
“This isn’t a riddle,” said Helen.
“Okay, riddle me this—should I change?”
“Nope. Avernus is close.”
“For once!” Nick cried.
He followed Helen as she tramped east. This place was pretty blasted, with all these twisted lava cones. He had to plug his nose as they passed some small geysers burping out foul-smelling gas.
“Typhon’s breath?” he asked.
Helen just gave him a glare. After tramping awhile, they came to a wooded shoreline.
“Lake Averno,” she said. “They say that the Sybil is close.”
She set off at a firm clip, but Nick felt almost sick at the path ahead: which was lined with dead birds!
“Blech,” Nick remarked as the two of them entered a cave. He saw some small bowls resting on wooden stands. It looked like some kind of altar.
“Libations,” said Helen, “to Hecate.”
“Who?”
“The Goddess of Witchcraft and Magic.”
“Hmm,” said Nick, “just what kind of being is Sybil?”
“Unlike any you’ve known,” said a voice, echoing down a long tunnel. “Though I am mortal, I have lived a thousand years.”
“Like you,” Nick whispered to Helen.
“Not exactly,” said the Sybil. “Come closer so I can see you.”
Nick started to make for the tunnel, but Helen put out a hand.
“Careful,” she warned. “The Sybil doesn’t take to everyone.”
“C’mon, she’s got to like us. Aren’t we Mýthos myths?”
“Yes, but she has known great sorrow.”
“I say we cheer her up.”
Nick ran down the tunnel, grateful for the cool air. He wondered what Sybil looked like: would she be a babe?
As it turned out, she was dust.
Or, more precisely, a bunch of grains in a jar.
“Sybil?” Nick asked. “Are you like . . . Grape-Nuts?”
“Yes,” said the grains. “Long ago, Apollo wanted me, but I thought to spurn him. What you see is the result.”
“Harsh,” said Nick. “Can you . . . can you see us?”
“Yes. I still have all my senses, just no body to house them.”
Nick shuddered.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Apollo once helped me, but he can be kind of a jerk.”
“Why have you sought me?” the grains asked. “You must ask me questions, which I may or may not answer.”
“Right,” said Nick. He had to get past the point where he felt silly talking to cereal. “Uh . . . can you tell me the way to the Underworld?”
“There are a hundred caves branching off from this tunnel.”
“And?”
“Only one leads to Hades.”
“And that one would be . . . ?”
The grains refused to answer.
“Right, not a good one.” He looked at Helen. “Can she give me a clue?”
“‘The gates of hell,’” said the Sybil, ‘are open night and day. Smooth the descent, and easy is the way ...’”
“Are you related to the Sphinx?” Nick asked.
Silence.
“This one cave. Does it have like a sign?”
Silence.
Oh, boy, Nick thought, this Sybil was stricter than Miss LaRose.
“Any ideas?” he asked Helen.
She put a hand to her chin.
“Well, we seek the entrance which leads to Cerberus.”
“Right.” Nick asked the Sybil, “When we stand there, can we hear him?”
“No.”
“But if we call for him, will he bark?”
“Yes.”
Helen turned to Nick.
“Her goddess Hecate,” she said, “casts her spells to the four elements. Water to the North, Air to the East, Fire to the South, and Earth to the West.”
“What is your question?” asked the Sybil.
Man, this was harder than Jeopardy!
“Oh,” Nick said, now picking up on Helen’s hint. “Should we head south, toward fire, which I hear is big in Hades?”
“YES,” said the Sybil. “Very good, son of Chiron.”
“Thanks,” said Nick. “I took a lot of AP’s.”
“I am happy to help you,” the grains/Sybil said, “for I am the daughter of Glaucus.”
“Whoa,” Nick yelled. “He’s like my only best friend!”
The grains in their jar started shaking.
“We better go,” Helen whispered. “Thank you,” she said to the Sybil. “I’m sorry about Apollo.”
“Good luck on your journey. If you see Aeneas, tell him I said hello.”
“Will do,” said Nick, taking Helen’s hand and hurrying down the tunnel. It was almost pitch black. “Doesn’t anyone here like light?”
“It is meant to be foreboding.”
“Score!”
They walked for what seemed like miles inside the tunnel. Once Nick’s eyes adjusted, he found he liked the lava-carved tube and its smooth curving walls.
“Weird that we’re literally . . . going to Hell,” he said. “I always thought it would be worse.”
“Pray you never find out,” said Helen, “and end up in Elysium Fields.”
“Where’s that?” Nick asked. “Somewhere up in the sky?”
“No,” she answered, “it’s in Hades too.”
“Wow,” said Nick. “Even though I’m Greek, I admit my people are strange.”
“Hmmp,” said Helen.
They continued their downward trek.
“Look,” she said. “We’re here.”
They both stood in awe. Branching off from the underground tunnel were at least a hundred openings.
“We go south,” said Helen, turning in that direction.
She was greeted by twenty-five entrances.
“No worries,” said Nick, handing over his stuff. To himself, he ordered: “Allagí. Into a horse, that is.”
He took up most of the tunnel’s width as he stood there swishing his tail. With a neigh, he moved his ears: Man, they really swiveled. With his horsey hearing, Nick heard sounds from below: grunts, shrieks, mad laughter, and . . . a big dog’s growls. He lifted his right foreleg and pointed a hoof toward this entrance.
“Good work,” said Helen, patting him on the neck.
Nick tossed his mane and Allagí-ed back to himself. He was sure to put back his armor, considering where they were going.
“After you,” Nick said to Helen, gesturing like a waiter. “Guess sometimes I don’t muck it up.”
“Sometimes,” she said, giving him a quick kiss.
Once they entered the cave mouth, they were able to walk side-by-side. Nick noticed that shortly, they were standing at a steep angle. It made him wish his sandals were made of Velcro.
“Phew!” he breathed, as the pleasing cool of the tunnel gave way to scorching heat. “I think I know what’s coming.”
Helen nodded, clutching at the smooth walls so she wouldn’t tumble. Nick followed suit, sweating beneath his armor,
“Well,” he told Helen, panting, “as we say in L.A.: ‘At least it’s a dry heat.’”
“I can’t stand it,” said Helen. “Even Titan/Gorgon me.”
Nick’s throat was starting to desert.
“How much longer?” he croaked.
“I have no idea,” said Helen. “But I do have an idea.”
He looked at her with hope.
“Why,” she asked, “don’t you become a centaur? On this slope, you can dig your hooves in.”
“Hmm,” said Nick, so hot he was up for anything. He turned and ripped off his armor. “Allagí,” he ordered, and did. “You’re right; this works. Four feet are better than two.”
“Good,” said Helen. She sighed. “I just wish we’d brought some water.”
“No ice water here!” Nick crowed.
Helen did not look amused as she covered her nose and mouth. Now Nick could smell it too: a sour stench like those geysers belching above. Could this be the famous “brimstone” that went along with hellfire?
“We’re getting close,” said a muffled Helen.
“Better climb on,” Nick told her.
When she was on his back, he picked his way down the tunnel. With both hooves and arms, he was able to keep his balance. Man, was this an inferno. Nick felt kind of offended that Hell turned out to be . . . hot.
“Shhh,” Helen said, leaning forward.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Shhh!”
Nick strained to hear. He wished he still had horse’s ears. But, from down below, came the sound of barking. It reminded Nick of a fenced lot filled with guard dogs, but here there was only one: who happened to have three heads.
