by Maz Evans
Elliot felt his stomach rise up into his throat as Thanatos suspended Virgo over the flames again.
‘I mean it, Elliot,’ Virgo whimpered. ‘Please, please, don’t—’
But whatever Virgo was trying to say, Elliot couldn’t hear it. Without pausing to think, he raised his arms high above his head, closed his eyes, took a deep breath . . . and threw himself head first into the raging fire below him.
The second his body hit the flames, he could feel their ferocious heat blast every millimetre of his skin. But while they were hot, they weren’t burning him. He was in no pain. He dared to open one eye. He was inside the fire, sort of . . . floating around in it. The flames still burnt, but they bent around his body, not touching his skin. Elliot had to hand it to Medea: she knew her skincare.
Stranded now in the middle of the river, Elliot moved his arms as if he were doing front crawl – this propelled him slightly forward. He kicked his legs to see if that helped, and before long he was actually swimming in the fire. If it weren’t likely to fry him into a memory at a moment’s hesitation, it would actually have been pretty cool.
Virgo’s scream of pain catapulted him straight back into the moment. Virgo – what if Thanatos . . .
The moment the thought entered his head, the flames roared at his body, their searing fingers threatening to burn him to a crisp.
The heart of a lion, he thought. No more thinking about what was happening on the shore. He had a job to do.
He gave a big kick and swam down towards the riverbed, grateful that Hypnos’s goggles spared his eyes from the unrelenting heat. All he could see was the colour of hot – red, orange and yellow danced around him, distorting everything, surrounding him in a maze of flame.
But then a flash of blue caught his eye. There it was – the Fire Stone.
Gotcha, he thought, and took a few strokes towards the huge sapphire. It was so close. The final Chaos Stone. The one that would bring his mum back.
Mum. Josie’s smiling face eclipsed all other thoughts in his mind. They’d be together again at last. The vision of his beautiful mother powered his arms and legs as he swam closer to the giant gem. Him and Mum. It would be perfect.
With unsteady hands, he reached out his fingers and gently plucked the Fire Stone from the ash-strewn ground. Without thinking, he held it to his chest and tried not to weep with relief. He’d done it. He had found all four Chaos Stones. He could get her back. Everything was going to be OK.
But first, he needed to get out of this fire.
He swam his way steadily up towards the surface. But as he swam, dark thoughts started to pollute his focus, trying to make themselves heard above his single-minded determination.
But where will you live? Patricia Horse’s-Bum has your farm . . .
Elliot could feel the heat intensify around him. He closed his eyes and tried to answer his heart’s fears. It didn’t matter where they lived. He’d live in a cave if it meant being with Mum.
If you give Thanatos the stones, how will you keep her safe? After all, you couldn’t do it before . . .
‘Argh,’ he cried as a flame bit his cheek. He looked up – he was a long way from the surface. If the flames started to burn him, he’d be dead before he could reach the shore.
A second flame jumped and burnt his shoulder. He had to conquer his fears.
I don’t want you, hissed a new voice inside his head. It was Dave, his so-called father. Elliot felt his hatred grow, but this only seemed to fuel the flames around him. They were enveloping his body in an unbearable blanket of heat, licking at his skin. He was losing control. He was going to die.
And then you will have failed, laughed Dave inside his head. Again.
Elliot felt a huge flame scorch his right arm. It was no use. He’d never get out of this alive. His dad was right. He had failed.
He looked at the fire fighting to consume his body. The flames had won. At least Thanatos wouldn’t get the Chaos Stones this way. And maybe, just maybe, this would bring him back together with his mum . . .
There was nothing more he could do. He was all out of fight.
Elliot Hooper closed his eyes, lay back in the flames and waited for the end to come.
5. Shades
‘Mate,’ sighed Hermes, reclining in the Ship of Death, his winged hat flapping in the breeze as Charon, the immortal ferryman, rowed them briskly towards Tartarus. ‘I don’t mind telling you. This all has the whiff of an epic anti-bosh.’
‘Whaddya mean?’ said Hades, his eyes not moving from their course along the River Styx.
‘I dunno,’ said Hermes. ‘Something just feels . . . off. You know, like, when you’ve just eaten a Double Bacon Typhon-burger when you should have smashed out a workout.’
‘I could have told you all this was coming,’ Charon announced. ‘Saw it a mile off.’
‘Er, not being funny, mate,’ said Hermes, ‘but it might have been, like, totally helpful if you’d pointed that out.’
‘None of my business,’ sniffed Charon, pulling hard on his oars. ‘I’m a Neutral. I just keep quiet, me . . .’
‘Probably for the best,’ said Hermes. ‘After all, you don’t want—’
‘Although if anyone did ask my opinion—’
‘Which they didn’t . . .’
‘Then I coulda told ’em,’ Charon continued. ‘Thanatos. The stones. The mortal. Total recipe for disaster.’
Hermes rolled his eyes at Hades, who simply smiled back. His uncle was quiet today. Made a nice change.
‘Anyway, like you say, Charon mate,’ said the Messenger God, ‘best to keep our opinions to our—’
‘I mean, what was Zeus thinking?’ Charon exploded. ‘Getting Hypnos to steal the Chaos Stones off Thanatos, his own brother? Imprisoning the Daemon army in Tartarus? Forcing Hypnos to hide the stones around the world? Pythia’s prophecy warned him that it could all go pear-shaped, but would he listen? Absolute madness. But, like I say, I just keep it all to meself. No one cares what I think.’
‘Exactly,’ said Hermes. ‘I just hope E’s OK. He’s totes had, like, a massive trauma, and now he’s in Thanatos’s hands. It’s a proper boom-not. Gods only know what he might do. Do you really think he’d hand over the Chaos Stones?’
‘Yeah,’ said Hades firmly. ‘I do.’
‘Mate,’ sighed Hermes again. ‘How did it get to this? One minute we’re all playing happy families at Home Farm; the next, I have a kip for five minutes and it’s all gone to Hades in a handcart . . .’
‘Well, if you want my opinion,’ Charon piped up.
‘We don’t,’ said Hermes firmly.
‘If I’ve learnt one thing,’ smiled the God of the Underworld, ‘it’s never to underestimate a Daemon. What you gonna do?’
‘Well, first up, we need to get to E,’ said Hermes. ‘He’s my bruvva from anuvva muvva. I just hope I can get through his muddled nut before it’s too late. Then . . . well, then, we just get him and V the mega-boom out of there before Thanatos can get his mitts on the stones.’
‘What about Nyx?’ said Hades. ‘I’m telling you, Hoimes, you need to watch that broad like a hit musical. She’s dangerous.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ said Hermes. ‘She’s the one that put me in that coma with the poisoned Hydra arrow. She and I have a score to settle. And I will settle it, never you fear.’
‘Really?’
‘You bet your lucky pants I will,’ Hermes vowed. ‘While there are chiselled abs on this body, I will, like, totes have my revenge.’
‘Good luck with that,’ said Charon, shipping his oars. ‘Here – we’re at the Underworld checkpoint. Security round here’s gone nuts – get your papers ready.’
The ship came to a gentle halt alongside a small booth on the banks of the River Styx. Cerberus, the three-headed hound of hell, poked his heads amiably out of the window.
‘All right, boys,’ he greeted them. ‘Long time no see.’
‘Cerberus, mate!’ said Hermes, meeting the hound’
s outstretched paw for a fist-bump. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Oh, you know – the usual,’ replied Cerberus’s middle head. ‘Too many kids, not enough time. Wife wants us to move again. Says we need more space.’
‘She’s planning more kids?’ said Hermes.
‘She’s planning more clothes.’ Cerberus shook his right head. ‘I swear, pal, she burns through dresses like a phoenix burns through feathers.’
‘Well, if it keeps her happy,’ Hermes grinned.
‘It certainly keeps my credit-card company happy,’ groaned Cerberus’s left head. ‘I’ve had to take on extra security shifts just to keep up. Anyways – what you doing down here? It’s been an eon. And I didn’t think you had clearance no more?’
‘Official business,’ said Hermes, handing over the paperwork the Zodiac Council had provided. ‘It’s, like, totes important.’
‘I hear you, friend,’ said Cerberus. ‘I just need to take you through some vital security procedures before you can go through.’
‘Course, mate,’ said Hermes.
‘Right,’ announced Cerberus, clearing his throat. ‘Are you planning to do anything stupid or dangerous for the duration of your stay in the Underworld?’
‘No,’ replied Hermes uncertainly.
‘Great. Everything looks in order,’ said Cerberus, handing the sheaf of papers back with three smiles. ‘Sorry for the formality – can’t be too careful in these strange times. Wotcha, Hades.’
‘Hey,’ said Hades, looking over the other side of the boat.
‘Right – well, then, you’d best be on your way,’ said Cerberus, raising the barrier to allow them into the grey fog of the Underworld. ‘Good to see you.’
‘You too, mate,’ said Hermes, offering a friendly high-five. ‘And listen, if Mrs C ever wants some advice on some banging places to go shopping . . .’
‘Advice!’ laughed Cerberus. ‘The woman’s a walking credit-card bill! Mind how you go.’
Charon took up his oars and steered them onwards, through the swirling mists of the Underworld.
‘Cheery gaff, innit?’ said Hermes, looking out into the endless gloom.
‘I kinda like it,’ said Hades, looking around appreciatively.
‘Push on to Tartarus, Charon,’ Hermes ordered. ‘If Thanatos is there, that’s where we’re gonna find E.’
‘No!’ said Hades suddenly, making Hermes jump.
‘Chill out, mate,’ said Hermes, holding a hand to his heart and hovering gently back to his seat. ‘You got a better suggestion?’
‘If I was a Daemon,’ Hades began, ‘I’d stick him in the Cave of Sleep and Death, right here in the Underworld. No one’s gonna find him there, hardly anyone knows where it is.’
‘Do you?’ Hermes asked.
‘Of course,’ said Hades with a wink. ‘Charon, drop us here, please.’
The ship pulled up by a secluded path along the River Lethe.
‘Thanks, mate,’ said Hermes, tossing Charon a glass Coca-Cola bottle and an old plug. ‘And keep the change.’
‘Much obliged, guv,’ said Charon. ‘Best of luck with it all. If you need any advice . . .’
‘Gotcha,’ winked Hermes, and he watched the Ship of Death fade into the swirling mists.
‘This way,’ said Hades, starting up the path confidently.
Hermes looked around uncertainly. This place was epically chilling.
‘Between you and me, Uncle H, I hope it don’t come to war with the Daemons,’ Hermes whispered, trying not to shiver.
‘Why not?’ Hades asked. ‘Your dad seems confident.’
‘Dad’s not the fighter he was,’ said Hermes. ‘None of us is. We’ve had it too easy for too long. If Thanatos gets the Chaos Stones . . . Honestly, I can’t say for mega-sure we’d beat him. It’s, like, totes hashtag – worried.’
‘I see,’ said Hades. ‘You really think the Daemons could win?’
‘Mate,’ said Hermes grimly, ‘I don’t want to think about it at all.’
They continued in heavy silence along the winding path.
‘Here we are,’ Hades announced a few moments later, coming to a halt. ‘The Cave of Sleep and Death.’
‘Boom,’ Hermes whispered, peeking into the dusty entrance. ‘D’ya think Thanatos is here?’
‘Who knows?’ said Hades, rummaging in the poppies that swayed in the stale air outside the cave. ‘Only one way to find out.’ He pulled out the Hydra bow that had wounded Hermes only a few weeks before.
Hermes recoiled at the sight of the weapon that had so nearly claimed his immortal life.
‘How did you know that was there?’ he demanded.
Hades winked and tapped the side of his nose.
‘I make it my business to know everything.’
‘You wanna be careful with that. That thing’s dangerous.’
‘Good,’ said Hades. ‘Let’s go.’
Hermes peered into the cave’s mouth and craned his neck.
‘Pretty quiet in there,’ he said. ‘Sounds like no one’s home.’
‘Better safe than sorry,’ said Hades. ‘After you.’
Hermes crept forward, wincing as a twig snapped beneath his winged feet. He elevated slightly and fluttered silently into the cave. In the centre of the main chamber sat Thanatos’s throne of bones.
‘Not being funny,’ whispered Hermes to Hades behind him, ‘but he ain’t got much of an eye for interior design . . .’
He floated through the cave, past Hypnos’s sable-covered bed, searching every corner of the dank, lifeless dwelling.
‘He ain’t here,’ he eventually said at normal volume. ‘No one is.’
‘Try that,’ said Hades, pointing to a small door at the back of the cave that Hermes hadn’t noticed. ‘If I was gonna imprison someone, that’s where I’d put ’em.’
‘Nice spot, Uncle H,’ said Hermes, patting his uncle on the back. ‘Don’t know what I’d do without you.’
He approached the door and tried the handle. It was locked.
‘E!’ he whispered, knocking softly. ‘E – you in there?’
A muffled shout answered his call.
‘Mmmmph! Mmmmmph!’
‘OH. MY. GODS!’ Hermes shouted. ‘You were right: he’s there! E – hold tight, mate, I’m gonna get you out of there!’
Hermes yanked frantically at the door, but it was locked fast.
‘No way!’ he cried. ‘Elliot, stand back! I’m coming in!’
‘MMMMMMMPH!’ The muffled noise was getting louder. ‘MMMMMMMPH!’
‘I know, mate, it’s OK,’ said Hermes, floating back to the entrance to take a fly-up. ‘It’s all gonna be OK. Ready? Cos here comes the H-bomb! BOOOOOOOOOOOM!’
And, taking off like a bullet from a gun, Hermes shot headlong towards the door. He whizzed through the air like a jet plane, gathering speed with every millisecond. He put his head down and braced himself. He was going to blast straight through that—
But, just as he was about to make impact, Hades put his hand to the door handle and opened the door.
‘What the—?’ Hermes began, but it was too late. With no time to brake, he went flying through door – and crashed straight into the person locked inside.
‘MMMMMMMMPH! MMMMMMMMPH!’ screamed a writhing figure as Hermes picked himself up from the floor in a daze. He was in a long pitch-black cell.
‘E, mate, I’m so sorry!’ he said, floundering around in the darkness to try to help his friend. His hands met with a flailing body that he could feel was tied and gagged. Hermes felt his way to ropes at its wrists, freeing the hands, which desperately started working at the gag.
‘MMMMMMMMMMMPH!’ he screamed, ever more urgently. ‘MMMMMMMMMPH!’
‘All right, mate, calm down . . . nearly there,’ said Hermes, helping to untie the gag. ‘Not gonna lie, E – you’ve grown since I last saw you. You need to lay off them pizzas, boy . . . Nearly . . . got . . . it . . . There! Now, what you trying to tell me? Hang on, I can’t see a boshing t
hing.’
He pulled out his iGod and turned on the light. The magical device immediately illuminated the figure in front of him.
‘I SAID, HOIMES!’ came the unexpected voice. ‘GET OUTTA HERE!’
‘You what?’ said the confused Messenger God. ‘Hang on a sec – you’re not Elliot. You’re . . . me Uncle Hades. So who the anti-bosh is . . . ?’
Hermes shone the light at the door, where the second Hades was standing with a drawn bow and a smirking face.
‘What the actual . . .’ Hermes began, looking at the two identical figures. ‘Oh, no. You are having a laugh . . .’
‘I think you’ll find,’ said the Hades by the door, a plume of black smoke billowing around his feet, ‘the joke is on you. Again.’
And as the smoke enveloped Hades’s body, Hermes slapped his winged head in realization.
‘Nyx!’ he said darkly.
‘At your service,’ said the Goddess of the Night, taking a small bow.
‘I don’t . . . how the . . . when did you . . .’
‘As soon as I saw the beacon, I knew the Gods would assemble,’ said Nyx. ‘Hades is my closest neighbour, so it seemed the best bet to take his place.’
‘But . . . Daemons can’t travel to Olympus,’ said Hermes. ‘So how did you?’
‘She ain’t a Daemon,’ Hades replied. ‘She’s the Goddess of the Night. A dark, twisted, sorry broad of a Goddess. But a Goddess. She can travel to Olympus.’
Nyx laughed.
‘You need better security,’ she hissed.
‘Not being funny, but you need a right good—’ Hermes threatened, flying towards his immortal enemy. But a strong hand from Hades grabbed his ankle and held him back.
‘Hoimes!’ he said. ‘Don’tcha be a fool.’
‘He’s right,’ said Nyx, aiming the bow straight at the Messenger God. ‘You got lucky once. There’s no more potion to save you a second time.’
Hermes stopped mid-air. She was right. He was no good to Elliot in a coma.
‘I tried to warn you,’ Nyx smirked. ‘I’m dangerous.’
‘And I tried to warn you,’ Hermes glowered. ‘This ain’t over yet.’
