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As Nick slid down on his hooves, he saw that the ground became level, until he was standing straight up. With relief, he exhaled, despite the heat and the barking.
“I don’t like this,” he told Helen, who handed him his bow plus one Hydrafied arrow.
“I think you’ve done worse,” she said, now able to unpinch her nose. The smell of brimstone down here seemed a lot more spread out.
“I didn’t care about killing Ladon or those other monsters,” Nick said. “But . . . I like dogs. And I don’t want to hurt one.”
“Yet,” Helen yelled over the sound of deep growls, “it wants to kill you. This isn’t a family pet—it’s the hound of Hades!”
“Okay,” said Nick, loading his bow. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
It really wasn’t that hard as a rough black shape bounded toward him: fully the size of him, it drooled from its twelve fangs while barking its joined three heads off.
“Better get off,” Nick told Helen.
She leapt to the ground and crept behind him. He carefully aimed his arrow, but all that barking was jarring, causing him to miss.
“Damn!” Nick yelled, unable to believe he’d blown it from so close. What would Orion say? He didn’t have time to worry since Cerberus loped toward him in a spray of drool. Nick’s horse instincts kicked in, and he started to kick, rearing and using his front legs to slam that monstrous body.
Nick heard the beast whimper. This was so unfair. But as Cerberus came at him, Nick made sure the dog got a mouthful of spear.
“Hey,” Nick cried, as Cerberus went for his throat, causing him to chomp down on fur. “Man bites dog!” he shouted. Yet it was his hooves—kicking the monster’s heads—that served as his best weapon. Three pairs of eyes clouded over before the hellhound crumpled. “Sorry, boy,” said Nick, feeling a stab of guilt.
“Well done,” said a voice, and, from behind some scattered fires, Nick saw the outline of a man. He was tall, in a long robe, and held a two-pronged fork just as big as he was.
“Lord Hades,” said Helen.
“The God of Death?” Nick breathed.
He couldn’t believe he was really meeting That Guy!
“Um,” said Hades, “sorry, but that would be Thanatos.” As he emerged from ash, Nick saw he looked a bit gloomy. “I am the God of the Underworld, brother to Zeus and Poseidon. My realm spans from Tartarus to the Elysian Fields.”
“Bro,” said Nick, “can we talk? You know, I’d rather end up—"
“I don’t decide that,” said Hades. “I suggest you lead a good life if you don’t want to end up down here.” He swept his fork-thing past flames. “Of course, I’m always happy to host you.” Giving a close-mouthed smile, he walked—glided?—over to Helen. “What have we here?” he rumbled. “I haven’t seen such a beautiful—living—woman since. . . you know, I honestly can’t remember.”
“What about Persephone?” asked Helen.
“She bores me. What is your name, my dear?”
“Medusa,” said Helen, looking him straight in the eye. “Sister to your dead hound.”
“But so much lovelier.”
“She can turn you to stone!” Nick cried.
“Me?” asked Hades. “Boy, you can’t be serious. I’m one of the Big Three!”
Nick put his hand on his sword.
“In any case,” said the god, “I often find myself lonely. Persephone comes in the Winter, but, for the rest of the year, I just play a lot of discuses . . . dískoi.”
“Isn’t that fun?” Nick asked. “I bet you win tons of medals.”
“It’s not the same,” sighed Hades. “Having Medusa with me would make the eons go faster.”
“But I’m not immortal,” said Helen.
“You can be,” Hades purred. “Just leave it to me.”
“I’m not having it!” Nick cried, raising the Pelian spear.
“A centaur challenging me?”
Hades shook with laughter.
“Not just any old one,” said Nick.
“I don’t care if you’re my son—you’ll soon be joining the dead.”
“Wait,” said Helen. “As a god, you know all. Which means . . . you know I’m in love with Nikólaos.”
“How sweet,” said the Underworld God. “I almost wish Eros was here.”
He hoisted his fork like a javelin.
“Just a sec,” cried Nick. “Surely you know that I was sent here by Zeus!”
“Curse him and his imperious ways.”
“Also,” Nick went on, “I’m a favorite of your niece: the grey-eyed goddess Athena.”
“Curse her too,” said Hades. “I have too many damned relatives.”
“Do you want to cross her?” Nick asked. “I saw that she has a spear which makes mine look like a toothpick.”
Hades looked up to the heavens.
“Very well,” he said, lowering his big fork. “I take back my claim to Medusa.”
“Thank God,” Nick muttered.
“You’re welcome,” said Hades. “Nikólaos, son of Chiron, I free you now to perform your final Labor.”
“Whaaa-t?” Nick asked.
“And your father was a teacher. Look, you asked the Sybil good questions, killed my dog, and freed Medusa from me. That’s nine, ten, eleven . . . last time I checked, next one’s twelve.”
“But . . . the Hydra doesn’t count.”
“It does now,” said Hades. “Oh, the sheer joy of being a really big god!”
Nick raised his sword. To his surprise, there were three new letters.
“Wow,” he said. He almost couldn’t believe it. He was in the home stretch!
“There’s one more thing,” said Hades.
“That’s never good,” Nick answered.
“You understand,” said the god, “that once you’re in Hades, you can never leave?”
“That wasn’t the deal!” Nick cried.
“I just love collecting souls. And it makes me so sad when anyone tries to leave.”
Oh no, Nick thought, this guy’s got abandonment issues!
“But . . . we’re not dead,” Helen told him.
“To escape while alive, you must have a show-stopping talent—think Orpheus and his harp. Do you have such a gift, boy?”
Nick thought but came up empty: he didn’t even play glockenspiel.
“I-I have this armor,” he stuttered, seizing his breastplate from Helen. “And-and this shield and sword. All forged by your brother-god, Heph.”
“Nice,” said Hades, though he looked bored. “What use do I have for weapons? When I’m holding this—”
He thrust out his fork, causing Nick’s shoulders to slump. He was all out of ideas.
“Don’t look so glum,” said Hades. “Remember, I rule over Tartarus.”
“Where my father lies,” said Helen.
“Right,” Nick answered. At least he could do his last Labor.
Hades sighed, then lifted a hand to his head.
“I suppose,” he asked, “you’ll be wanting my Helmet of Invisibility?”
“What?”
“Here.”
The god took off a hat—more like a sculped square—and handed it down to Nick. “Put this on when you meet Typhon. I don’t believe you can best him, but I suppose you can try.”
“Thanks, Hades,” said Nick. “You know, you’re not such a bad guy.”
“Everyone hates me,” sighed the god, “but it’s not really my fault. I couldn’t rule over something pleasant: like the heavens, or water. No, I’m the guy with the souls.”
“Sorry,” said Nick. “Hey, thanks for the hat, and could you tell us the way to Tartarus?”
“It is the same distance from Hades as Mýthos is from here.”
“You’re saying . . . down?”
“You must journey,” said Hades, “to the core of the world, where you will see sights of such horror they may well drive you mad.”
“I’m nearly there,” said Nick. “Oh, you’re giving me money?”
Hades swept out a gold coin which he placed in Nick’s palm. It was engraved, quite nicely, with the raised form of a bee.
“Buzz buzz?” Nick asked, not sure where the god was going with this.
“For Charon,” said Hades, “to ferry you over the Styx.”
“Thanks,” Nick said. “You know, you’re not half bad.”
“As you are half a man.”
“Ha?” asked Nick.
“Speaking of which,” said Hades, “you must take your human form. My realm is not for beasts.”
Nick nodded and changed, fastening on his armor.
“I wish you luck,” said Hades, like a sad uncle at a funeral. “Just remember: when you need them most, the gods will not forsake you. So the rules of this last Labor is that there are no rules.”
“Oh,” said Nick. He hadn’t expected this.
“Which way to Charon?” asked Helen.
“Take a left by the three burning fires, then a right when the sulphur gets strong.”
“Cool,” said Nick, grabbing Helen’s arm.
“That was close,” she told him as they came to the three fires. “The last thing I want is to rule here.”
Nick nodded, sweltering in the heat. Now, he could hear screams—much worse than the Mares’.
“The Furies,” Helen whispered. “They torment the damned.”
“I suggest we avoid them,” said Nick.
“Agreed.”
