"Ooh, liar, liar pants on fire!" called Argus from across the room. He slapped himself on the hand. "Sorry. I lip-read. It is a terrible habit."

"She wasn't lying. She does know her way around. She led us here."

"Oh, really?" said Argus. "You ask her yourself."

Zac turned back to the Valkyrie. "You do. Don't you?"

Herya sighed softly. She shook her head. "He's right. I don't know anything."

"What? Yes, you do. You knew about the Nether Lands, about Hades and Eyedol. You'd been to them all before, youa""

"I haven't been anywhere."

Zac blinked. "What? But..."

"I haven't been anywhere, OK?" The Valkyrie looked down at the floor. "I've never even left Asgard before today. I've barely set foot outside Valhalla."

"But... all those things you knew."

"People talk," she said. She shrugged, sending a stab of pain through her injured wing. "Especially when they're drunk. They talk. I listen. I hear them going on about all these... these amazing places, and they sound so exotic and exciting and... I never thought I'd get to see any of them. So I just listened. And I've been listening for a long time."

Angelo appeared at Zac's back. "That's OK," he said cheerfully. "We don't have a clue where we're going, either. She can still come, can't she?"

Zac searched Herya's face. "She doesn't want to," he said at last. "Do you?"

Herya met his gaze just briefly. She shook her head. "Guess I'm not as tough as I say I am. I've never even been in a real fight before. Some warrior, huh?"

Zac didn't quite know what to say. "What will you do?" he asked.

"Go back to Asgard," Herya said. "Face my punishment. Hope they take me back."

"We could still use you," Zac told her. "You knew about these places. It doesn't matter how you knew. You knew about them. We could use your help getting the book back." Zac glanced back at the others and lowered his voice. "I could use your help."

Herya drew in a shaky breath. "I'm scared," she admitted, and her voice cracked with the weight of the word. "I don't want to go to Hell. I don't want to die. Not for the sake of some book."

"It's not just some book."

She smiled sadly. "It is to me."

"But... the team," whimpered Angelo. "You can't break up the team!"

Zac leaned back and folded his arms. "Forget it, Angelo. She's made her mind up."

"But... but, the team!"

"There is no team," Zac snapped, suddenly angry. Angelo took a startled step back. "Don't you get it? There's me doing the work and then there's you tagging along and getting in the way."

He saw the wounded look on Angelo's face and felt that pang of guilt in his chest again. It wasn't the boy's fault, but there was no denying the facts. "I'm the one they picked to get the book back. I don't need anyone's help."

"You do need this, though," said Argus, holding up a small black rucksack and grinning like some demented clown. "It may be of assistance. Usually it is not possible to bring things with you in or out of Hell, but anything inside this bag will make it through. I have placed some eyes in there. Once you are inside, you know what to do, yes?"

"I know what to do," said Zac, swinging a strap of the bag over his shoulder.

"Are you sure I cannot tempt you with some weapons?" the demon asked. "A flaming sword or two, maybe?"

"They'll just get in the way," Zac said. "The plan is to sneak in and out. If we get caught, then it's game over. Swords won't help."

"You are wise beyond your years," Argus acknowledged. He lifted his tiny fez in salute, then replaced it on his head. "And you are right, of course. But perhaps you will take this, at least?"

He passed over a leather case about the size of a small laptop computer. A slim buckle held it closed. Zac unclipped it and the case fell open.

"A gun?"

"A tranquilliser pistol," Argus said. "The darts, they are tipped with a unique blend of draughts and potions. They will send a manticore to sleep for a week, and they will do the same for any demons you meet."

Zac took the pistol from the case and tossed it from hand to hand, assessing the weight. "How many darts are in it?"

"Eight," Argus said. "This is all I have. The materials required for the poison are not easy to come by."

Zac tucked the gun into a fold inside his jacket. "Right," he said. "And, well... thanks."

"Do not thank me, Zac Corgan," Argus said. "It is you who are doing me the favour, yes? Deliver my eyes. Find your book."

"I will."

"Well, yiassas," Argus said, then he leaned in and pecked Zac on both cheeks. "Yiassas, Angelo," he continued, moving to kiss him too.

"Ugh, get off!" Angelo yelped, ducking for cover behind Zac. "I'm not kissing a demon!"

Argus looked puzzled. "What? But you area""

"Leaving," said Zac hurriedly. "He's leaving. We both are. Right now."

Herya was suddenly standing beside them. Zac turned to her.

"Changed your mind?"

"No," the Valkyrie replied. "I was just going to wish you luck."

"I don't believe in luck," Zac told her. "Come on, Angelo. We're going."

He turned and made for the lift. Angelo hung back. He started to close in on Herya for a hug, then thought better of it and just waved instead. "Bye, then," he said, then he scampered after Zac and ducked into the elevator just as the doors swept closed.

"Bye," whispered Herya, watching the lights above the lift door begin counting down.

"Do not feel bad, Herya of the Valkyries," Argus said. "Not everyone can be the fearless hero."

He turned and flashed her his toothiest of grins. "Now, are you going to leave quietly?" he asked. His hands went to his belly and he formed the folds into the shape of a mouth once more. The flab-roll lips wobbled up and down as he made them speak: "Or must we have you killed?"

Zac and Angelo stood at a ramshackle wooden jetty on the banks of the River Styx. The black water burbled and boiled, bobbing a small motorboat up and down on its surface.

Above them, the clouds were a ceiling of grey, and in all directions the monochrome landscape was empty and sparse.

"Turned out nice again," said Steropes cheerfully. He was crouching down on the jetty, pulling the boat in with one massive hand.

Angelo shuddered. "This is nice?"

"Well, it isn't raining acid, and we haven't got the old toxic fog hanging about, so, yeah, I'd call that a right result." Steropes hauled the boat up to the edge of the small pier and held it steady. "There you go. In you hop."

Zac jumped down into the boat, then watched as Angelo fumbled around on the jetty's edge.

"Come on, hurry up!" Zac urged.

"I'm coming, give me a minute," Angelo replied. He sat on the pier's edge, then twisted on to his front. His legs dangled just a few centimetres above the boat, his toes stretching and kicking as they tried to find purchase.

"You're there, just jump."

"Stop rushing me!"

"Stop being so hard on your friend a" he's doing his best," Steropes suggested.

"He's not my friend, he's my colleague," Zac said.

Angelo's arms had been wobbling with the effort of holding him up. They gave out then and he fell, screaming, into the boat. It rocked violently from side to side for a moment, before Steropes managed to steady it again.

"There we go," the Cyclops said. "That's you in." He pointed downriver in the direction of the flow. "You want to go that way. There should be plenty of fuel, but if you see anything moving in the water, you'll be best cutting the engines for a while."

Zac's head snapped up. "Anything moving? What do you mean? What's going to be moving?"

"Who knows?" said Steropes. "The river runs through some nasty places. There are bound to be a few things swimming around down there."

"Great," Zac tutted. "It would've been nice if Argus had mentioned that when we were planning this whole thing."

Steropes shrugged. "It would, but then he's a demon. He's not supposed to be nice."

"You're quite nice, though," Angelo said. Steropes's face lit up.

"Well, thank you, Angelo," he said. "I really appreciate that. And sorry again about putting you in a bag. It was nothing personal, honest."

"It's fine," Angelo said. "I quite enjoyed it. Not at the time, but looking back, I mean."

"All this male bonding's great and everything, but we really should get going," Zac said.

Steropes frowned. "What?"

"I said the male bonding a" it's nice, but we need to move."

"Male bonding?" said Steropes. His eyebrows rose and his voice took on a higher pitch. "What are you saying?"

"What do you mean, what am I saying?"

"I'm not male!"

"You're... You're not?"

"No!" Steropes yelped. "I thought that would've been obvious!"

Zac stared at the Cyclops's stubble and bare, muscular chest. A shudder travelled the length of his spine. "My mistake," he said.

Steropes released her grip on the boat. "Right," she said, suddenly sounding much less friendly than she had just a moment ago. "Well... off you go, then."

Angelo unfolded himself and slid on to a wooden bench at the front of the boat, just as it began to drift down the river. "Bye, Steropes," he called, waving enthusiastically. The firing-up of the boat's motor cut off the Cyclops's reply.

"You know," Angelo said, "I'm going to miss him."

"Her," Zac corrected.

"Her. Right." The same shudder ran down Angelo's back. "I forgot."

"I wish I could," Zac muttered, then he steered the boat towards the centre of the river and chug-chug-chugged off in the direction of Hell.

HE RIVER STYX was one of those things that cropped up in all sorts of different religions and legends. It was first mentioned in Greek mythology, where the ferryman Charon would transport the dead to the underworld on his boat, provided they'd remembered to bring the correct change, and weren't too concerned about the lack of toilet facilities.

Later, the river appeared in Christian tales. According to these stories, sinners would be drowned in its murky waters prior to being sent into Hell itself, like a small starter portion of suffering before the main course of eternal damnation.

And on and on the waters flowed, through other tales of other underworlds from countless other faiths.

Although flowed probably wasn't the right way to describe the river's movement. It oozed like treacle through the desolate landscape. The water a" for want of a better word a" clung to the sides of the boat, making progress slow and steering sluggish. Zac watched the surface closely, but the constant bubbling made it difficult to detect any movement beneath the waves.

"Hey, look, people."

Zac looked in the direction Angelo was pointing and saw a crowd lining the shore. They stood like zombies, their mouths hanging open, their arms drooping limply by their sides. They gazed at the boat and through it as it crawled along.

"Coo-ee!" yelled Angelo, giving the figures on the shore a wave. They didn't wave back, just watched with mournful eyes and groaned with mournful mouths until they were swallowed by the gloom.

"Well, they weren't very friendly, were they?" Angelo said as the boat continued down the river.

Zac grunted. "Can't imagine why."

"It's all right, this, isn't it?" said Angelo.

There was a moment of stunned disbelief from Zac. "Well, I've had better days."

"Yeah, but right now. It's all right. Just hanging out on a boat. I've never been on a boat before." Angelo reached for the rudder. "Can I drive?"

"No, you can't. Sit down," Zac told him.

Angelo deflated with a sigh, then slumped back on to the bench. "I wish Herya was here," he said. "I liked her. Did you like her?"