"You did; you saida""

"I said we could get to Argus from here," the Valkyrie clarified. "The Nether Lands connect all the Afterworlds, including the one where we'll find Argus."

"In that case, Angelo can take us to wherever he is. He can move between dimensions or... whatever they are. It'll mean holding his hands, but he's wearing trousers now at least."

"No, he can't. Not here. There are many ways into the Nether Lands, but only one way out. A portal."

"Where is it?"

"The portal can be found right at the top of the Mountain of Eternal Torment, in the Cavern of the Endless Damned."

Zac winced. "Oh, great. Really?"

"No, not really. Just kidding," said Herya. "It's in the middle somewhere. At the lowest point. The Nether Lands is like a big bowl with the portal at the bottom."

Zac scuffed a foot across the ground. It sloped slightly downward in one direction. "Right. Then we go this way." He reached out into the fog. "Grab my hand. Then we can all stick together."

"Yeah, in your dreams, mortal," said Herya. "I'll take the demon's hand and the demon can take yours."

"Angel, not demon," Angelo laughed. "You're such a Mrs Mix-up!"

"OK, fine, whatever," Zac sighed. He fumbled around until he found Angelo's left hand. Herya was already holding on to the right.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Angelo said, his broad smile wasted in the fog. "This is really nice. Three friends, just hanging out, holding hands."

"Just what I always wanted," said Zac. Then they all set off down the slope into the deepest depths of the Nether Lands.

HE GROUND WAS rough and uneven. They picked their way down it carefully, relying on their feet to feel the way. Zac took the lead; Herya's heeled boots were no good for testing the ground and Angelo... well, Angelo was just Angelo. Zac glanced in the boy's direction whenever another crack of lightning illuminated the fog, just to be sure he was still the same size and shape.

They had been walking for twenty minutes or more. The slope had become dangerously steep at several points, but they'd moved sideways until they'd found an easier route and carried on down that way instead.

Three times they heard a howl, each time further away than the last. But Zac remained focused, listening for any other movement in the mist. He wasn't keen on the idea of being eaten at the best of times, but to be eaten, digested and then passed back out in a place where it was impossible to die was, he reckoned, a definite no-no.

"He's got the whole world in His hands," began Angelo. "He's got the whole world in hisa""

"Please don't," said Zac, his voice clipped and gruff.

Angelo fell silent, but only for a moment. "Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning," he sang. "Give me oil in my lamp, I pray a" Hallelujah! Give me oil in my lamp keep me burning burning burning; keep me burning till the break of day. I wanna sing Hosanna, sing Hosannaa""

"Please stop," groaned Herya.

"What," protested Angelo, "just because it's not about... about... a giant's knickers it's not a good song all of a sudden?"

"Look, no one's singing anything," Zac said. "It makes too much noise. You'll attract attention."

"We should be safe to talk, though," Herya replied. "So talk to me. Tell me things."

Zac slid a few centimetres down a gravelly incline, paused, then sidestepped on to more solid ground before continuing downwards. "What sort of things?"

"I don't know. Isn't that what you do on Midgard? Just talk endlessly and never actually do anything?"

"Midgard?" said Zac. "That's what your lot call Earth, isn't it?"

"No. Earth is what your lot call Midgard."

"Ooh! Ooh! I can tell you something," said Angelo. If the others hadn't been holding them, he'd have raised a hand. "Me, me. I can tell you something!"

"Go on, then, demon."

"Angel," said Angelo automatically. His mind raced through the list of topics he knew about. The focus was narrow, so it didn't take long.

"I have two-hundred-and-nine Hulk comics, and the Hulk's real name is Bruce Banner," he announced happily.

Zac shook his head. "Jesus," he muttered.

"Where? Here? What's he doing here?" gasped Angelo. He shouted into the fog. "Jesus? Jesus, it's me, Angelo!"

A chorus of howls rose up, some far away, some not so much.

"Sssh, shut up!" Zac hissed. That settled it. He came to a decision. "As soon as we get to the portal, you're going home."

"What? But I can't," Angelo said. "They told me I had to go with you. I'll get into trouble if I don't goa""

Zac cut him off. "The decision's made. Herya will come with me. You'll go back to Heaven. No arguments."

"Buta""

"No arguments."

They trudged on without speaking for all of thirty seconds.

"My feet hurt."

Zac sighed. "They'll be fine. Keep walking."

"That's easy for you to say. I've got no shoes on. I bet you've got shoes on, haven't you?"

"Ha!" said Herya. "You think you've got problems? Try walking in these boots."

"What, can I?" Angelo asked.

"No."

"Oh, but I could just try them on for aa""

"Seriously, demon," the Valkyrie warned, "don't even think about it."

On they walked, in single file, hands locked, down through the soupy fog. For an hour they continued like that, in silence apart from the occasional comment from Angelo. Once, he made a tuneless attempt to whistle what may have been *All Things Bright and Beautiful', but which might just as easily have been *Can't Touch This' by MC Hammer. He'd sighed heavily when Zac had told him yet again to shut up, and had remained quiet ever since.

Until now.

"Please don't send me back yet. I don't want to get into trouble."

"The fog's thinning," said Zac, ignoring the request. "I can see my feet."

"The area round the portal should be clear," Herya said. "The mist sits above it like a cloud."

Zac felt Angelo's hand tighten in his. "Are we nearly there, then?" the boy asked.

"Must be," replied Zac. "And, yes, you are going home. It's too dangerous to come with me. You could get killed."

"I don't mind that it's dangerous. I'm not scared of going into Hell," Angelo insisted.

"No, I meant I might kill you if you keep singing."

"Well... Well... OK. You can if you want, I don't mind. Seriously. Just, just please don't send me back. I don't want to get into trouble."

"Come on, it's Heaven. What are they going to do? Take away your harp privileges?"

"They might take away my posters. Or my comics. Or both," Angelo said. His voice shook. He took a deep breath. "Besides," he mumbled, "I'm having fun."

"Fun?" said Zac. "You call this fun?" He saw Angelo shrug through the final wisps of fog.

"It's more fun than sitting in my room all the time," he said. "That's all I ever get to do. No one else likes me, really, because I'm not a full angel. Even my mum doesn't come round. You two are my only friends in the whole Afterworld."

Herya snorted. "What? When did that happen, exactly?"

"Everyone says I can't do anything. They say I'm useless," Angelo said. He sniffed and blinked back tears. "And if you send me back, then that means they're right, doesn't it?"

"Oh, he's good," Herya said. "You've got to give him that."

But Zac wasn't listening. He was looking instead at a tattoo on Angelo's scrawny chest. The words HALF BLOOD had been inked on to it.

"Who did that?"

Angelo looked down at the tattoo. "Hm? Oh, that was Michael. He said it was for the best."

"Did he?" said Zac. The skin round the writing was red and raw. "Did it hurt?"

"I didn't cry," said Angelo, but he avoided Zac's gaze.

"Right, you can come," Zac said. "I mean, if you really want to."

"Whoopee!" cried Angelo, punching the air.

Zac rolled his eyes. Whoopee. Who actually used the word whoopee?

"But don't get in the way, don't sing and whatever you do, don't get angry." Zac turned and marched briskly down the hill. "We really don't like you when you're angry."

"This is it."

It had taken another hour or more of walking before they came to a ramshackle circular bandstand at the lowest point of the slope. It looked like it might once have been a grand, impressive construction, but now the red paint on the roof was flaking away, and the purple drapes that hung from each of the eight carved pillars were tatty and threadbare.

The curtains were all closed over the spaces between the posts, but there were gaps here and there, through which Zac could see something moving.

"Are you sure this is it?" he asked quietly.

Herya gestured around them at nothing but emptiness. "No; maybe it's in one of these other places."

"All right, all right," Zac said. "So what do we do?"

A curtain gave a sudden swish and a face appeared round the edge of the material. The thing looked almost rat-like, with a long pointed snout and ears that stuck out like perfect triangles from the side of its head.

The nose crinkled as it looked at the three of them in turn. "Yes?" it demanded in clipped, nasal tones. "Yes? Yes?"

Herya stepped forward. "Hail, oh dweller of the Nether Lands," she began, "and Guardian of the Grand Portal."

She made a movement with her hands in the air, and Zac realised she was following some sort of official protocol or tradition.

"We have come to make use of the portal," she continued, "that we may leave this accursed place and gain passage to the Greek underworld, also known as Hades, also known as Erebus, also known as the Asphodel Meadows, also known asa""

"Well, you can't," sniped the rat-creature. "We're shut."

This took the wind from Herya's sails. "Shut?"

"Also known as closed," sniggered the creature. "Also known as Bugger off, the lot of you."

"Shut?" Herya said again. "What do you mean, you're shut?"

"I mean we're shut. Read the sign!" The rat-creature's eyes gestured left. The others looked and saw a notice fixed to one of the pillars. It read: WE'RE SHUT.

The face vanished as the curtain swished over again. "Come back tomorrow," said the thing on the other side. They heard it give a low, sinister chuckle. "Assuming, of course, you can survive that long."

From beyond the curtains there was a shimmer of green light. Zac bounded up the three wooden steps at the base of the bandstand and pulled the drapes aside.

A large wooden hoop stood inside. It was around three metres high and attached to an ornate base. The final flickers of an eerie green glow sizzled across its surface, then the hut fell dark and silent. Aside from the hoop, the place was empty.

And the rat-creature had gone.

ABRIEL SAT BEHIND a long walnut desk, writing neatly in the hardback notebook he used as a journal. With a final flourish, he finished the day's entry, and carefully set the quill pen down on the desktop.

He blew softly on the ink to dry it, then closed the book and slipped it into a drawer. Finally, he laced his fingers together in front of him and looked towards the door. A moment later it opened and Michael entered.

"Good afternoon, Michael," Gabriel said. "What may I do for you?"

"He's been asking questions," Michael barked.

"Who?"