The Shadow Thieves - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 5

PART FOUR

The Beginning of the End

CHAPTER 19

Descent

DID I SAY BLACKNESS?

Yes, blackness.

Cold blackness. Wet blackness. Slimy, icky blackness. The sort of blackness that would make you want to turn around, run home, and hide under your covers, never to get out again.

But, with trembling hands and brave hearts, Charlotte and Zee stepped into the cold, wet, slimy, icky blackness – for sometimes, as scared as you are, as much as you would like to run, you really have no choice but to go forward-and the door slammed shut behind them with a certain finality that Charlotte did not like one single bit.

They were in a very narrow tunnel made of rock, that much they could tell. The air possessed a certain chilly hollowness that gave Charlotte the feeling that the tunnel wasn't going to end any time soon. When they stepped forward, their footsteps made muffled clunks against the hard stone floor.

"At least we have the bird," said Charlotte.

"Squawk," said the bird, who suddenly flew off ahead of them, his flight stirring up the dust of the ages. He disappeared into the blackness, but they could hear the beating of his wings. It went on and on and on for what seemed like miles, getting quieter and quieter, until it faded away. Charlotte and Zee stopped and waited, but the sound did not return.

"Or not," said Charlotte.

"I guess we're on our own," Zee murmured.

They moved on, the light from Zee's watch the only thing keeping them from perfect blackness. The cave quickly became too narrow for them to walk side by side, so Zee, ever the gentleman martyr, took the lead. Charlotte held on to the back of his sweater.

Oh, it was cold. The type of cold that travels through your warm sweaters, your shirts, your undershirts, your skin, your muscles, and hits you right in the bone. The type of cold that makes you shiver from your inside, the one that goes beyond chilling your body into freezing your very essence.

"Wow, it's cold," Charlotte muttered.

"Yeah," said Zee, his voice shaking a bit. He stopped and turned to glance at Charlotte, who was trembling. "Maybe… well… here." Tentatively he reached out toward her, putting his hands on her arms. He began to rub them up and down, with a strange combination of chivalry and uncertainty, but all Charlotte could feel was the warmth in his hands. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her and warmed her back.

"Better?" he said.

"Yeah," said Charlotte.

"Okay, let's keep going."

And they did. On and on, through the darkness, stopping occasionally to warm each other, forgetting their awkwardness in the need to stop trembling. Every once in a while something flittered by them on the walls, on the ground, or in the air, but Charlotte opted not to think about that too much. Their eyes adjusted a bit over time, and they could see a few feet in front of them, but the view was always the same-craggy rock, slanting down, leading them deeper and deeper into the earth.

And deeper they were going. Charlotte could feel the pressure changing, as if the weight of the earth were above them, which in fact, it probably was. Her breath felt labored. She noticed Zee seemed to be just fine, which, she supposed, happened when you spent your afternoons running back and forth on a soccer field. She'll suggest that to the gym teacher as a slogan when they get back- Get in shape! You never know when you'll have to descend into the Underworld! It's a looong way down!

Though as they continued to make their way downward, even Zee seemed to labor a bit. As one, they stopped and leaned against a rather slimy wall to rest.

"Oh, man," said Zee, catching his breath.

"Yeah," said Charlotte, catching hers.

He nodded toward Charlotte's backpack. "Do you have any water in that magic bag of yours?"

"Oh!" Charlotte slung her pack off her back and unzipped it, bringing out one of the bottles. They each took a few sips. Charlotte wanted to drink the whole thing down, but she had a feeling it might be a wise idea to conserve. Which reminded her:

"Hey, Zee… when we're down there? Don't eat anything. Like fruit from the trees or whatever."

Zee made a sound through his nose. "I assure you," he said, "that I will not."

Charlotte grinned. "I suppose that was pretty obvious. Persephone did it, though. She ate some pomegranate seeds, and that's why she had to stay."

Zee shook his head. "Next you're going to tell me not to drink the water."

"Well, yeah," she smiled. "Don't do that, either." She took a sip from her bottle. "You know… you can be funny when you put your mind to it."

Zee gaped at her. "Can I?" Was Charlotte mistaken, or did he sound just a mite sarcastic? Really, she was just trying to help.

"Yeah!" Charlotte said. "Once you've, you know, relaxed."

Zee let out something between a cough and a snort, then grabbed Charlotte's hands, looked into her eyes, and said, "Charlotte, I promise you on my life that once we get out of the Underworld alive, I will be the funniest person you've ever met."

Charlotte blushed. "Okay, okay. It's just… you know. What you said before. About not knowing what to say. I mean, all the girls at school are totally crushed out on you."

Zee dropped her hands. "They are?"

Charlotte nodded. "Most of them, anyway. Ashley and Audrey asked me if you had a girlfriend."

"They did?"

“Yup.”

Charlotte watched as Zee contemplated this for a while. Then something seemed to come over him. He looked away and muttered, "Well, I don't. Have a girlfriend."

His tone seemed to end the conversation. Charlotte offered him a last sip of water, then screwed the top back on and put the bottle in her backpack. Zee was still staring at something indefinable off at the other end of the tunnel. He exhaled and then said quietly, "There was a girl, though. In London… Samantha…"

Charlotte looked up. "Oh! What was she like?" Some sort of large, spiderlike thing crawled right by her foot. She glared at it. She was finally getting something personal out of her cousin; no Underworld spider was going to make her shriek.

"I don't really know," Zee shrugged. "But I wanted to find out." He shook his head. "She was one of the first to… you know- they took her shadow"

"Oh."

"Yeah, so.."

"So." Charlotte looked at Zee, and Zee looked at Charlotte, and they both nodded and proceeded on their way.

It was about a half hour later, when they were just beginning to despair of ever reaching the end, that they noticed the change. Something had opened up, the air moved more freely, and off in the distance-in the very great distance- they could see something that looked very much like light.

Charlotte's heart started throbbing, and not from the exertion. Her grip on Zee's sweater tightened. He reached back, grabbed her hand, and squeezed it (Charlotte noticed his palms were as clammy as hers), and together they moved toward the light.

A few paces on, Zee stopped and started to look around carefully. He leaned back and whispered, "Did you hear something?"

"You know," Charlotte whispered back, "I really hate it when you ask that." She listened. Yes, she did hear something. Wings! She heard wings! Their bird was coming toward them! Well, good, that would be a big help…

No, no, wait-not their bird. Too big to be their bird. Really, those wings sounded awfully large -very, very large…

"Duck!" Zee hissed.

"Du-? Oh!" And Charlotte ducked.

A huge mass of a thing flew by them, a thing that was definitely not a duck, a thing that made their bird look like a chickadee. The thing was the size of a bear-a flying bear-with vast wings like those of an eagle. It was an eagle, a bear-size eagle, or it would have been, had its face not been that of an old woman. A nasty old woman, like the one who sat in the ice cream aisle of Charlotte's grocery store shouting mean things at whoever passed her by. The thing (the ugly bird, not the ugly ice-cream-aisle woman) had claws the size of sickles, the tips of which seemed to gleam.

The Harpy- for that is what the woman-faced, eagle-bodied, impossibly enormous, and, while we're at it, quite bad-smelling creature was -was singing a little song to herself. If it could be called singing, if singing were a tuneless, phlegmy, cackling, screeching sort of endeavor, which it's really not. But anyway. The song went something like this:

"I'm a little Harpy, short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout. I'll be back soon, so start to shiver, Cuz I'm coming to gnaw on yer liver." {Repeat}

Charlotte and Zee remained as still as they could possibly be, long after the sounds of the flapping wings and the raspy song had faded into the air.

"Is it gone?" Zee whispered after a time.

Charlotte checked behind her. "I think so."

"Man," said Zee. "I hope there are no more where she came from."

But as they continued on, they found that there were at least two more where she had come from, or so they learned as a pair of them swooped in from behind them, heading toward the light. Charlotte and Zee ducked again, but the Harpies had no interest in them, they were too busy singing, in a round, this song:

"Twinkle, twinkle, little man, I wonder how you'd taste with jam, Chained above the world so high, Like a lamb chop in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little man…" {And so on}

The Harpies weren't the only creatures Charlotte and Zee encountered. There was more flapping, more scurrying, more crawling, and a great deal more creeping. Two-headed bats flew by; rats with fire for eyes and a squadron of fist-size beetles scurried past as if they had somewhere very important to be.

And then, suddenly, they were out. The cave ended and launched them into… not light, exactly, but not blackness, either. Grayness, maybe-a strange, glowing grayness that seemed to flicker as if lit by fire.

They stood at the mouth of the cave, looking out at what lay before them. It was a world made of rock-a deep red rock that looked like nothing on Earth, craggy and cliffy and endless. Perpetual fog rolled in front of them. And there was not a creature in sight. Charlotte felt suddenly a distinct and terrible sense of loneliness, as if she were the only person in the world, as if she would never see anyone again, never hear another voice, never feel another touch. Her very bones were lonely. Next to her she felt Zee shudder- and the cousins stepped closer together.

Charlotte gulped. They had better get moving. "I don't think… I don't think," she started. "I don't think we're really there yet. There's a river we have to cross…"

Zee nodded slowly. "Okay, let's keep going."

They exchanged a look, then began to move forward.

"The Outer Banks are where people, um, line up and wait after they've died," Charlotte said after a few moments. "And I guess Charon-that's the Ferryman – won't take you over unless you've got a coin. And if you haven't been buried, well, you can't go into the Underworld for, like, a hundred years, so you wait on the Outer Banks."

Charlotte realized Zee probably knew most of this and was simply too polite to tell her to shut up already; he'd seemed pretty caught up with the whole Greek myths unit. (And… hey! Wasn't it funny that Mr. Metos had started with a Greek myths unit? It was like he was trying to prepare them. Which he probably was. Wow… cool.) Anyway, it was reassuring for Charlotte to say it. As if she had some idea what in the heck they were in for. As if it didn't matter. Zee didn't seem to be listening anyway. He was off in Zee land again, staring at something that wasn't there.

"Hey, um, Charlotte?" he said quietly. But then he pursed his lips and shook his head.

Charlotte stared at him. "What?"

"Well…I'm just wondering…," he muttered, looking down at his feet. "Do you think we might be able to, you know, find people who have died?"

"Oh!" she gulped. "I… I don't know" She bit her lip and looked at the ground.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. So anyway, to the Styx…"

They walked up a small hill and looked down. A valley stretched before them, long and dark, filled with that strange, glowing fog. Rock formations were everywhere, cliffs rose from the ground, and at the end of the valley, just beyond the cliffs, they could see the river. Which seemed to be, by the way, steaming.

And there was nothing else. Just… nothing.

"Shouldn't there be, you know…" Zee trailed off.

"People?" Charlotte said. Yes, there should be. People… or whatever they were now. She hadn't known what to expect in the Underworld, but she certainly didn't think it would be empty.

"Maybe they're all… somewhere else," Zee said weakly.

"Yeah," agreed Charlotte, gulping. Not that she actually wanted to encounter any Dead, now or in the rest of her life, but she'd at least like to know where they all were.

Slowly they began to climb down the rocky hill. Charlotte gasped as her foot hit a small rock and she started to skid. Then Zee reached out and grabbed her arm before she fell down completely.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"We better be…"

Zee stopped. He was staring at something just beyond, looking as if he had seen a… well, you know. Charlotte turned. Just ahead of them hovered a bright, ghost-like form, and before Charlotte could really process that, another appeared before them. And then another. And then another. The cousins stood, wide-eyed and trembling.

"I guess those are the Dead," Charlotte said, nearly inaudibly.

"I guess so."

And then the cousins realized that these ghosts were everywhere, had been everywhere the entire time-what they had thought was fog was a great mass of Dead. Charlotte and Zee were surrounded. Hundreds, thousands, of ghosts floated about. They were indistinct, faceless, like shadows without a body-but these shadows were made not of darkness, but of an eerie, pale kind of light. Charlotte felt tears rise to her eyes, chills wracked her body, and somehow despite herself she could not help but feel that there was something oddly beautiful about them, these creatures of light illuminating this dark, dark place.

There were more Dead, and more, and soon the cousins realized that they were at the center of a great crowd of them, that the crowd was reaching toward them, pushing toward them, trying to get a glimpse of Life. The Dead were everywhere. They crowded, thicker and thicker, until they became indistinct from one another. The Dead were the air, and the air was the Dead, and the cousins were surrounded. Never had Charlotte been so cold.

"How do we… how do we tell them apart?" Zee asked quietly.

"I don't know," Charlotte whispered, casting a glance at him. He looked overwhelmed, strangely desperate, and achingly sad. Charlotte had an urge to put her arm around him and lead him away from all this, but she could not. And she knew, anyway, that right now he would not go. And maybe now, with the world at stake, she wouldn't go either. Yes, Charlotte Mielswetzski was going to try harder. Though, right now, she would rather not meet new people.

"Do you think we can talk to them?" Zee asked. "Maybe they can help us."

Charlotte shook her head. "I have no idea," she whispered. She was sort of hoping the answer was no.

Zee turned his head a little toward one part of the crowd. Sucking his breath in, he took a step toward them. "Um… hello?"

A great shudder seemed to pass through the Dead, and Zee shuddered in concert. Charlotte hung back, hugging herself tightly.

"Hello?" Zee said again, nearly in a whisper. The Dead trembled, but they did not respond. "Uh… can you talk?"

Nothing.

"Hello?" he whispered. He kept getting quieter and quieter, and soon it seemed he would not be able to make any sound at all. He looked around desperately, and Charlotte caught a glimpse of tears in his eyes. She inhaled and, taking a step toward him, put her hand gently on his arm.

"Your grandma wouldn't be here, you know," she said softly. "She'd be on the other side."

Zee turned his gaze from the Dead toward Charlotte. He sighed and nodded slowly. "We better just keep moving," he said. "Come on." He tugged at her arm, and they went, through the light, through the Dead, toward the Styx.

They climbed their way through the craggy Outer Banks, now ignoring the great fog of Dead that huddled around them. The rocks grew and grew, and great cliffs rose from the landscape ahead of them. They reached a small passageway in the cliffs, exchanged a glance, and stepped in. At that point the Dead stopped following them, and Charlotte tried not to wonder why. Was it worse to have the Dead following you, or for them not to want to go where you were going?

Zee seemed to have calmed a little; he was looking ahead, not back, and he'd stopped trembling. Charlotte understood. They couldn't talk to the Dead, they couldn't think about his grandmother, they couldn't focus on the task ahead of them (for they had no idea what they were supposed to do), all they could do was keep walking.

Slowly they began to hear noises again, strange to their ears after all the deathly quiet. They could hear distant, scratchy, sing-songy voices that sounded all too much like the Harpies for Charlotte's taste. From somewhere far away came a few sudden cries, which exploded, then were extinguished-whether from an animal or a human, Charlotte could not tell. As they passed deeper into the rock passage, a twittering began to accompany them, a hollow whistle that sounded like the death of spring. Charlotte looked up and saw what seemed to be the skeletons of small birds flying above their heads. She inhaled sharply. There were small holes in the rock face, and little bird skulls were peering out from them here and there. Some skeletal bodies sprang from the rock and joined the pack. The songs multiplied; the pack of birds thickened. There were more and then more, and soon Charlotte's ears were ready to burst with all the sound. There were packs, droves, and as Charlotte looked up to see the sky darkening with them, the bird skeletons looked down and noticed her. One came swooping down from the sky, then another, then the whole pack of the deathly creatures dived right toward Charlotte and Zee. Charlotte screamed, and the cousins covered their eyes with their hands as they dropped to the ground. They felt the birds coming closer, closer, barreling right toward them, until, as one, they turned and flew off through the passageway. While Charlotte and Zee crouched on the ground, a group passed inches from their heads, bone wings making strange creaking noises in the air.

And then they were gone, they had flown off into the distance, and the cousins got up, trembling, and walked forward again. Soon all other sounds became drowned out by the rushing of the river- strong, fierce, and near.

They emerged to find themselves on flat land. In front of them stood a smaller white boulder, and up ahead in the distance flowed the waters of the Styx, which were-Charlotte's eyes had not been deceiving her-in fact, steaming. Well. They were certainly not going to swim across. Charlotte was eyeing the river nervously when suddenly she heard a strangled noise come from Zee.

"Charlotte! Look up!" He had turned around and was pointing to the top of the cliff they had just passed through.

A man was chained to the cliff, a shirtless man dangling against the rock face, with blood all over his stomach. Three Harpies were circling around his head. And even though she could not really see his face, Charlotte knew.

"Mr. Metos!" she exclaimed.

"Oh my god," said Zee.

"Oh my god," said Charlotte. She cupped her hands and shouted, "Mr. Metos? We're here! We came!"

The man started and looked down. His eyes popped. "What are you doing here?" he yelled fiercely.

Charlotte and Zee exchanged a glance. "We got your message!"

"I didn't send you a message! I told you the last thing we wanted was for you to be down here. Do you think I'd then send you a message telling you to come down here?"

Charlotte stumbled back. "You didn't send the message?"

"No," said a silky voice behind them. "I did."

CHAPTER 20

Oops

THE COUSINS WHIRLED AROUND. A MAN WAS STRIDING toward them, or something like a man-really, he was too tall to be a man, and, frankly, too evil looking. He wore a black tuxedo topped with a white cravat and had a black cape. Black, spiky hair framed a thin, cruel gray face, and red eyes matched red lips that seemed to stretch on for miles. The lips smiled; large, bony hands clapped; and a voice oozed, "Hello, my sweets!"

Mr. Metos bellowed, "Run!"

No need to tell them twice. Charlotte and Zee turned and ran-in their minds they traveled back through the passage, back through the fog of Dead, back through the rocks and the cave, through the endless tunnel, through the very plain door, through the Mall, on the bus, and back home.

But in reality they made it about three steps. The man's voice sang out, "Oh, lads?" and just like that, the Footmen appeared from the shadows. Two, four, six… twelve of them surrounded Charlotte and Zee in a perfect circle. The cousins looked around wildly, but there was nowhere to go.

Oh, they were hideous. It was one thing to see two of them hovering over you in a neighborhood street-okay, that was a big thing, but still-it was quite another to see twelve of them surrounding you in the rocky plains of the Stygian banks, their lips cracking, their yellow eyes glowing, their white faces flickering in the strange, unsteady light of the Underworld. Charlotte and Zee drew toward each other and grabbed hands. Zee urgently whispered something to Charlotte, but she could not hear over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She shook her head at him, and he whispered again, "If I can-"

But Philonecron loudly cleared his throat, then with a flourish of his cape the demon-like man glided into the circle next to Charlotte and Zee, and Charlotte could not catch the rest of Zee's words.

"I've been so rude! I haven't introduced myself," the demon-like man said. "I am Philonecron." He bowed deeply and then surveyed them, smiling strangely. "Oh my darlings, I'm so glad you are here!" he enthused. "It's been quite a challenge to get you down here, you know. I tried kidnapping, I tried seducing you through your dreams…" He clucked, staring at Zee. "Fortunately, when your meddling friend came down here"-he pointed up at Mr. Metos-"it gave me an idea."

From his unfortunate position on the cliff, Mr. Metos started yelling something at Philonecron in a language that Charlotte did not understand, but one thing she could tell: The words did not sound like nice words.

"Really, Metos, such language," Philonecron chided, looking up at him. "Why don't you be quiet so my Harpies can enjoy their dinner? Liver is their favorite."

From up in the air, where the Harpies circled around her English teacher, Charlotte could hear the very distinct sound of raspy nursery rhymes. She whirled toward Philonecron.

"You can't do that to him!" she yelled. Zee clenched her hand.

"Oh, can't I?" Philonecron smiled haughtily.

"He's mortal," she protested, ignoring Zee. "His liver won't regenerate… he'll die!" There were tears in her eyes, which she tried to will away. I will be brave, she thought. I will be brave.

"Ah, I see you know your history, my dear girl. Do not worry, I would not let Metos get out of his due punishment so easily. I've cast a spell-his liver will regenerate every night so my Harpies can feed on it anew in the morning." He clapped his hands together and smiled brightly. "Feel better? Now, what else… you've met my men. Lads?"

As one, the twelve Footmen bowed. Charlotte noticed that one of them was wearing a bandage around his ankle, and his pant leg was frayed. Philonecron followed her gaze.

"Yes, your little hellcat destroyed a perfectly good pair of tuxedo pants," he growled, shaking his head tragically, "not to mention an ankle. Poor Epsilon! Poor, beautiful trousers!" Philonecron sighed. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes. My children. Do you know how long I've waited to meet you? Not you so much"-he glared at Charlotte -"but you, my precious, my sweet, my little Zero."

Zee gasped involuntarily and took a step back.

"Oh, no, no, no… don't be scared! Don't be," Philonecron said softly, creeping closer to Zee. "Don't you see? You're home now!" He put his arms out and gazed lovingly at Zee. "My dear, I know. I know you've never felt comfortable anywhere. I know that." He nodded earnestly "I'm just like you. I never had a place in the world either, until now. But here"-he twirled, arms wide -"with me, my little Zero, you belong."

Charlotte moved in front of her cousin, stomping her foot on the ground. "Stay away from him!"

"My, aren't you saucy," Philonecron smirked, reaching down and patting her on the head. "Now, be quiet. Zero and I have much to discuss."

Charlotte opened her mouth, but Zee moved in front of her, as if she weren't even there. "Why are you calling me that?" he whispered urgently.

"Why," Philonecron wrapped his hands around Zee's cheeks, "that's who you are, my sweet. My Patient Zero. Brave and strong and handsome and clever. Oh so clever! You are going to start an army. A revolution!" He tapped Zee on the nose with one finger and smiled kindly.

That was the last straw. It was one thing to insult her, but another to abuse Zee. Zee was sensitive. Charlotte found herself starting toward Philonecron surprising even herself-and, in a blink, three of the Footmen moved to her, one grabbing her by the shoulders. She squirmed. From his perch Mr. Metos started yelling again.

"Why do you think I'm going to help you?" Zee asked dully. He looked so strange, Charlotte thought. Not struggling at all, not defiant, just staring up at Philonecron, sounding like he really wanted to know the answer to the question. She didn't understand. He'd been fighting all this time, the whole way-he was the brave one. Why was he stopping now?

"Because you are my precious Zero," Philonecron said. "And because you will see it's… for the best." He nodded menacingly toward Charlotte. She shuddered, and the Footman tightened his grip. "And if you do not, I can simply hypnotize you, make you say the spell, then leave you at the mercy of the Harpies." From above, the Harpies let out a little cheer.

"I have your blood, my boy," he purred. "I know you. I know your blood. I know what makes it sing, what makes it flow, what makes it boil. Remember your little sleepwalking trip?" He leaned down to Zee and looked him in the eyes, his voice growing soft and dreamy. "Zachary," he sang, "lift up your left arm."

And before Charlotte's eyes Zee's left arm went up. Something inside Charlotte screamed.

Zee gasped and slammed his arm down at his side, then balled up his hands as if he were going to start punching Philonecron-who didn't seem at all concerned.

"Now, Zachary," he murmured, looking back and forth from Charlotte to Zee, "take those lovely fists and go punch your little cousin in the stomach."

"Hey!" Charlotte yelled.

But Zee said nothing. He just turned toward Charlotte. His face was contorted, his eyes burning, his every muscle clenching. Yet he began to move to her stiffly, slowly, painfully, looking like a very uncomfortable zombie. Mr. Metos kept shouting from above, and Philonecron let out a merry laugh. Charlotte could only stare as her cousin stopped right in front of her. He looked at her helplessly, then closed his eyes. Charlotte squirmed again, and the Footman held her tightly.

"Zee!" Charlotte screamed.

"No cheating!" Philonecron sang. "Punch her as hard as you can."

Well, maybe he was just pretending, Charlotte thought. Maybe Zee was pretending to be under Philonecron's control to trick him, and-

And then suddenly a truck ran into Charlotte's stomach, and everything went black for a moment. She tried to gasp, to take in air, but she couldn't breathe. She was completely empty, hollow, and her body sang with the pain of it. She tried to take in air again and again-she was going to die, right there, her ears were buzzing with death-and then finally her lungs filled. Breathe. Deep. Breathe. Her legs had given out and tears were streaming down her face.

Breathe. Breathe. Come on, Charlotte, you can breathe. Philonecron was laughing, and in front of her, tears dripped from her cousin's eyes. Charlotte stared at him plaintively.

"Charlotte, I'm so sorry" he whispered desperately, "I'm so, so, so sorry…"

"Come back, Zero," Philonecron said. And Zee turned and walked back, tears silently flowing. "Now, stay still. That's my boy. Yes, you see"-he smiled brightly to the whole group -"I can make Zero do whatever I want… but that's not as much fun, is it?" He turned to Zee and held his arms out to him. "Wouldn't it be better to do this together, my Zero? Yes, I really thought…" He looked down at the ground, shaking his head, gathering himself. "I really thought this would be something we could do together."

Zee's whole body was trembling with rage. The tears had stopped running, and now his face was twisted over with hatred. He stared at Philonecron as if he were the devil. One breath, two, three… something seemed to pass over Zee, and he closed his eyes and was still a few moments.

Charlotte stared, still gasping. Philonecron stroked Zee's face with a bone-like finger, and then Zee opened his eyes and turned to look at Charlotte. The Footman grinned, put his arm around Charlotte's waist, and lifted her in the air. Charlotte tried to kick, to fight back, but her muscles just wouldn't work. Zee shook his head and looked at the ground.

Charlotte knew that look by now. That was the this is all my fault look. That was Zee's my grandmother is dead look. That was his I don't want anyone else to suffer look. Charlotte gasped, "Zee!" The Footman clamped his other hand around her mouth. She bit down, but he did not let go. She got the worse end of that deal; his hand tasted like mold.

And then Zee spoke. "I'll do it," he said quietly, "if you let Charlotte and Mr. Metos go."

"Zachary, no!" Mr. Metos shouted.

"No!" screeched the Harpies as one.

"Ah, my boy." Philonecron clasped his hands together, his eyes filling. "You're so noble! I knew you would be. You're a wonderful, wonderful boy." He nodded affectionately at Zee. "But, alas… we all have our destinies. Metos is destined to be on the menu at my little restaurant for all eternity. A house specialty, as it were. You can't fight destiny, my boy. You'll learn that. But your little friend, well, why not?"

"You'll let Charlotte go?" Zee stared at Philonecron.

"Zee!" Charlotte yelled.

Zee turned to glare at her. "Would you let me do the talking for once?" he snapped.

Charlotte gaped. Yes, the circumstances were extreme, but there was no need to be rude.

"I will," Philonecron said. "For you, Zero, I will let her go. Now, come with me."

He held out his hand and Zee took it. Charlotte didn't know if he had done so out of force or will. Mr. Metos was still shouting things that Charlotte, by this point, was beginning to understand. Philonecron led Zee to one of the Footmen, who bowed. "Now, you go with Alpha here, and he'll take you to the shadows, all right? I'll meet you there." He smiled giddily. "Oh my boy, we'll remake the world! What a grand thing! What a great day it is!"

The two walked off, Zee shooting looks at Charlotte all the while, as if he was trying to communicate something. But what?

Philonecron stood on his tiptoes, watching them go off into one of the caves. "Bye!" he waved.

He turned to Charlotte. The Footman still held her by the stomach, and Charlotte winced when he squeezed. Philonecron walked up to her, chucked her on the chin, and kneeled in front of her grabbing her hands.

"My dear," he smiled earnestly. "I'd like to let you go. I really would. I don't want to deceive the poor boy just as he and I are developing an interpersonal trust. But my Zero, he is, well, naive. An idealist. You know how he is. You and I, we're realists, we know how the world works. And you know I can't just let you go." He grinned menacingly. As he talked, something in Charlotte's mind began to soften, as if someone had turned the dimmer switch down a bit. She shook her head back and forth.

"Oh, I know you, little girl," he continued. "I was the one who found you, you know… Zero's blood led me to you. You helped us find so many wonderful shadows. But still, your blood is weak. I've tried to speak to it, but it's just not the same. You just don't have enough Zero in you… he's twice the person you are. You're really just a mongrel. An unfortunate, meddling mongrel with a rather unpleasant complexion. You'll go scampering off to Hades and warn him, in some futile attempt to save the world. We can't have that, can we?"

He stood up, brushed his hands off, and turned to the Footman who was holding her. "Throw her in the Styx."

Charlotte was being carried in the arms of the Footman, like a damsel over a mud puddle, heading down the clearing toward the Styx. She could still hear Mr. Metos's invectives echoing behind them, but the Footman did not stop. A Harpy flew overhead, looked down at them, screeched, "Freckle face!" and went on her way.

Charlotte tried to keep herself from struggling. She had to think. She kept hearing Zee's whisper in her ear, whatever he had been trying to tell her when Philonecron confronted them. If I can-

If I can what?

She could hear the sounds of the words, she could almost make them out, but not quite. For surely Zee had a plan, surely he did not mean just to give in, surely he had a way out of this.

Of course, she thought, it was just like him to give in to save her. Always so polite and generous all the time. Hiding behind his chivalry. So brave when it came to protecting Charlotte. Sure, evil guy, you can corrupt me, I'll destroy the world, just to save Charlotte. Come on, now- don't hurt my little cousin, she's very fragile and can't do anything by herself. Except for mouth off, maybe.

That's a laugh. Charlotte was doing things by herself long before Zee got there. And if Zee didn't have a plan, if he really was being such a stupidhead and sacrificing himself to save her, well, then… it was all up to Charlotte.

All up to Charlotte.

She had to do something. She couldn't just walk away from this. It was time for Charlotte to act, time for her to take charge. Time for Charlotte to save the world. Once upon a time there was a girl named Charlotte who was not good for anything, until she saved the world.

But how?

And then she realized: Philonecron had told her exactly what to do. In his evil speech. "You'll go scampering off to Hades and warn him," he had said. Charlotte almost laughed out loud. Really, people should stop making evil speeches, because they always give themselves away.

And he had. He had given himself away, for that was exactly what Charlotte needed to do. She couldn't fight off Philonecron, but Hades certainly could. He was a god. One of the biggies. One of the Big Twelve-really, the Big Three! And he surely had, you know, monsters working for him. Centaurs and Minotaurs and Gorgons (oh, my!). And stuff. All she'd have to do was make her way through the Underworld, find Hades, and convince him he was in danger. And that she could do, for she was Charlotte Mielswetzski, and she could talk.

But first she had to get free, as she was about to be in some very hot water-and she meant that quite literally.

The Footman was walking along slowly, stiffly, bearing her like a prize. As they went along and she didn't fight back, he seemed to relax his grip on her a little, as if he'd forgotten she was animate, and Charlotte closed her eyes and tried to figure out how to get out of this. They really hadn't covered this one in their self-defense unit in gym.

It was hard to think calmly. She did not want to die. Not ever, really, but not now, not here. She had to save the world. And then she had to go back and take care of Mew and write Caitlin and be nice to her mom and maybe try out for the gymnastics team again.

And then the Footman stopped suddenly. Charlotte felt a great heat near her, and her eyes popped open. They were on the banks of the Styx now, and the Footman was studying the river, as if to determine the proper trajectory in which to throw her. Charlotte's heart raced, and she had to bite back the fear that was threatening to overwhelm her.

Come on, Charlotte. It's now or never. This is your chance. You are a heroine, and it is time to start acting like it. What does a heroine do?

The Footman stepped forward and death was before Charlotte, and something surged through her veins. She exploded into action. Quick as she could, she leaned over, bit the Footman on the shoulder (gross), kneed him in the stomach (payback), and elbowed him in the neck (for good measure). With a soundless cry of surprise the Footman dropped her. She felt steam hit her face-she was looking over the river now; one wrong move and she'd be in, but there was no time to think about that, she had to fight-and she sprang up, back toward the bank, scrambling up against the loose rocks. She looked around frantically- she could run, but where? She needed to get across the river, and she needed to stop the Footman from killing her. Actually, the latter was more pressing. The Footman had righted himself, and he bowed his head and smiled at her, then made a grab for her. Instinctively she ducked out of the way. She was small but quick; he was big but slow, and he tumbled forward. And there Charlotte saw her chance. She lunged behind him, and with a great breath she pushed, with all her might she pushed, his feet slipped on the rocks, and the Footman went headlong into the Styx.

Splash! The river roiled. The current began to carry him off, even as he bobbed up and tried to claw his way back to shore. The steam seemed to come up to him, it surrounded him, and before Charlotte's eyes his face began to melt. Clay dripped and rolled, splashing into the bubbling water, until there was nothing left but a very tall, very narrow tuxedo floating off into the distance.

She had done it. She beat the Footman. She had lived. Better, she had survived.

But instead of feeling elated, she felt spent. Charlotte collapsed on the bank. Closing her eyes, she put her head in her hands and began to cry.

She cried for Mr. Metos, getting his liver pecked out. She cried for her gentlemanly cousin, who had punched her in the stomach, who thought he was saving her and was now in very great trouble. She cried for all the children who had lost their shadows. And, most of all, she cried for herself and what she had already done and how much she still had left to do.

That was enough bravery, enough heroism for one day. She had stopped the Footman from killing her. Charlotte Mielswetzski had acted, had seized life, had become everything everyone wanted her to be. Wasn't that enough?

It wasn't. She knew it wasn't. She wasn't done yet.

So then Charlotte Mielswetzski did the bravest thing she had ever done. She wiped her tears away and began to get up.

"That was impressive," a nasal voice said.

Charlotte looked around. A few feet upstream was a small, thin, very old, and rather skuzzy-looking man sitting on a small wooden boat, chewing his cuticles. On the bank next to the boat was a great line of Dead. The line, formed by a vast network of velvet ropes and giant brass pedestals, wound and stretched as far as

Charlotte could see. The man didn't seem interested in the line at all. She turned back toward him.

"Thanks for your help," she muttered, nodding to the spot where the Footman had fallen.

"Philonecron will be mad about the tux, though," he continued. "A shame." He smiled, revealing a toothless mouth, and climbed out of the boat onto the shore. "I won't tell him who did it… if you make it worth my while."

"You must be Charon," Charlotte said.

"Yup," said Charon. Charlotte eyed him. Boy, he was gross. His clothes were ragged and filthy, he was streaked with dirt, and he had a little greasy, gray, stringy beard. He made the creepy man on the bus look like a movie star. And after the events of the day, Charon-eternal Ferryman of the Underworld-looked like just another creepy man on a bus.

She sighed, got up, brushed herself off, and approached him. "Can you take me across?"

He frowned and sniffed her, then shook his head emphatically. "I don't take living mortals over. Big trouble. It's always trouble."

"I can pay." Charlotte reached into her backpack and pulled out her allowance. "You can use the money to buy a new shirt," she added.

Ignoring the last remark, Charon grabbed the money from her and counted it.

"Not enough," he said. "What else you got?"

"Well…" Biting her lip, she reached into her backpack. "I have Fruit Roll-Ups…" She took out the box-as Charon watched carefully-opened it, grabbed a package, unwrapped it, and began to unroll. "They're grape," she said, peeling off a piece from the wax paper backing. "They're really, really good!" She smiled brightly and tried to look convincing. Charon took the piece from her hands and licked it, then grabbed the whole Roll-Up and ate it, wax paper and all.

"Delicious!" he said, and grabbed the box. "So fruity! And so portable!… Okay, I'll take you"-he squinted at her-"For the whole box."

Charlotte sighed as if this were a great sacrifice. "All right, you win. But"- Charlotte turned to look at the lines of Dead-"what about them?"

"They have all the time in the world," he smiled greasily. "Shall we?"

And Charlotte stepped carefully into the boat, and he began to row across the great river, through to the Land of the Dead.

CHAPTER 21

Zero

ZEE WANTED TO KILL PHILONECRON. NOT LIKE WHEN you're really angry at someone and you say, "I'm gonna kill that guy," but you don't really mean kill kill. Zee meant kill kill. Zee meant a long, slow, painful death for Philonecron, effected by him, Zachary John Miller.

Never in his life had he felt hatred before. Real, pure hatred. It started in his chest and worked its way throughout his body. He could taste it in his throat, hear it in his ears, feel it rumble in his arms and tingle in his feet. Zee was a new person now-he knew what it was to hate.

Zee was sitting on a rock in a small, shallow cave, with one of the Footmen standing watch over him. The Footman had led him off, away from Charlotte and the banks of the Styx, through another passageway in the high rocks, and then tucked him into this cave, where he sat burning with hatred and thinking about just how he might go about killing an Immortal. Or at least causing him a lot of pain. Or at least-yes, that's what he wanted-making Philonecron feel utterly helpless, utterly alone, utterly lost, just the way he had made Zee feel.

Can you imagine? Can you imagine being under the control of someone else? Can you imagine hurting your family because of it? Can you imagine feeling your body do things you never wanted it to do?

All of his life Zee had been master of himself. He had made his own choices and suffered the consequences for them. Now he no longer was. So who, then, was he? What became of someone who was utterly under the control of someone else? What became of someone who had no will? He was a robot, a cipher. He was nobody. He was Zero.

And he had punched Charlotte. He had hurt Charlotte. He would never ever, ever forget the way she had looked at him. At least she was safe now. He could do that for her. She was probably on her way back home, where she belonged. This wasn't her battle. This was all his fault-his shadow, his blood-and it was up to him to make it all right.

He had had a plan, too. Or at the very least it was an idea. He came up with it when they were going down to the Underworld. There was only one way he could think of for an ordinary kid (him, specifically) to defeat someone like Philonecron. And if the shadows started their march, it seemed like the only option. But his plan required him. Zee. Not automaton Zee, but real Zee.

But he wouldn't be able to do it. Because he could not fight off Philonecron, and that meant he was going to fail. He was going to fail and everyone was going to suffer for it.

And do you want to know the worst part? The worst part was that there was part of him that didn't even care about everyone anymore-not about the kids, the shadows, the world- for all he wanted was to make Philonecron pay.

Zee picked up a rock and threw it as hard as he could against the wall of the cave. The Footman gazed down at him imperiously, arching an eyebrow. Zee wanted to tell him off, but he couldn't quite find the words. Charlotte would have told him off Charlotte would have had just the right thing to say.

But Zee was not Charlotte. He was not even himself anymore. He was nobody.

Zee kicked the ground in front of him, and dust flew everywhere. The Footman's other eyebrow went up, and Zee glared at him. Boy, that would show him!

"Zero!"

He turned. At the mouth of the cave was Philonecron, beaming and holding his arms out. Zee gulped down his hatred. "Charlotte's safe?"

Philonecron clasped his hands together. "Oh my boy, I find your concern so touching. That's the problem with the modern world; people just don't care anymore. You care. It's such a beautiful thing."

"Is she safe?" Zee asked. He could feel his mind fogging over a little at the sound of Philonecron's voice. Yes, I care, yes, it is beautiful. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Would I go back on my word to you? I assure you, your little cousin is completely out of danger."

Zee inhaled once, twice. He wanted to run to Philonecron and start pounding on him, but he couldn't. Even if he could, he shouldn't. Zee didn't have anything else to do but try his plan, even though he knew it would fail. And that plan depended on Philonecron's believing Zee was on his side.

"Zero, my boy!" Philonecron stepped forward. "Is something troubling you? You don't seem yourself!"

Don't seem myself. As Philonecron got closer, Zee's head fogged more, and soon Philonecron's voice seemed to be ingratiating itself with Zee's very veins. Zee shuddered and tried to move back a little.

"No!" Philonecron said quickly. "No! Don't retreat from me! Oh, Zero. Don't you see? We're going to have so much fun together, you and I." He got down on his knees, grabbed Zee's hands, and stared into his eyes. Zee was helpless to resist.

"My precious boy. We're really going to change things! We'll clear this place of bureaucrats, throw the Shades into Tartarus, and make a new world! Don't you see? There's nothing to be frightened of. You must be happy. Don't look back anymore-look ahead! It's going to be a bright, new day. Do you see?"

Bright, new day. Look ahead!

"Now, my Zero. What would you like to do first? Do you want to talk awhile? I could read to you. Would you like me to play the violin?… Or would you like to see your army?"

Zee sat up. Suddenly his mind was perfectly clear. "I would like to see the army," he said.

Philonecron beamed and clapped his hands together. "Oh, how grand! How grand! The army it is, then! Oh, boys?"

Philonecron snapped his fingers, and two more Footmen entered the cave. There was barely room for them, and they had to sidle around Philonecron to get behind him. Not that there was anything behind them to get to-just a craggy cave wall.

Or so Zee thought. The Footmen stood on either side of the back wall of the cave, looked at each other, nodded, and in perfect synchronicity pressed down on two rocks that jutted out from the wall.

And then the wall evaporated. Just like that. Poof! Zee gasped. Their cave was not shallow at all, rather, it was the doorway of an enormous expanse, of a great cavern the size of several football pitches, lit by countless burning braziers. Zee's eyes could not take it all in; it went on and on-but he knew the cavern was far, far bigger than the rock that housed it.

And the shadows were there. Thousands, tens of thousands, of four-foot-high figures-all lined up in perfect formation, waiting to be brought to life.

They were in the vague shape of people, yet without any real definition. They looked like, well, like shadows – black, flat, faceless, opaque, each one identical to the next. They had bodies that seemed to grow out of the ground, thick and shapeless at the bottom, narrowing up through the torso, with ovular bulges where the arms should have been and heads like candle flames. And they were all perfectly, eerily still-objects forever stuck in space, an endless series of black paper dolls, like crosses in a military graveyard. The shadows stretched as far as Zee could see, and beyond, and still beyond that. They looked like a great ghost army frozen in time. Zee shuddered.

"Impressive, isn't it?" said Philonecron. "If I do say so myself."

Zee could only nod.

"Would you like to examine the troops?"

He nodded again. He hated to give Philonecron the satisfaction, but he did want to look more closely at the wonder before him. He needed to know what he was dealing with. So, willingly, he followed the creature who had taught him to hate into the room with the vast legions of shadows.

"See, my darling?" Philonecron said, holding his hands out. "This is what you have done."

Slowly, carefully-aware of his heart beating too fast and the dry taste of fear in his mouth-Zee walked along the front row of the army, examining the soldiers.

As Zee studied the shadows, he tried to keep himself calm. He could look through one and see the foggy forms of those behind it, on and on. He reached out to touch one, slowly, and his hand passed through, as if through smoke.

"Oh, do not worry, my dear Zero!" Philonecron said. "As soon as you enchant them, they will be able to gain substance at will-or become as insubstantial as fog. It's going to be quite devastating!" He cackled.

As Zee walked, he noticed that the farther away from Philonecron he was, the clearer his mind was. Philonecron was talking to him, but the words were just words – they stayed out of his head, out of his blood.

But what use was it? The army was too big. Once launched, it could never be stopped. The shadows were insubstantial, could not be hurt-and vested with Philonecron's power, who knew what they could do?

It occurred to Zee then that there was another plan, a far simpler plan. Philonecron needed Zee to enchant the shadows. If Zee were dead, he couldn't utter the words of the spell. All he would have to do was run, run as fast as he could. If he could get to the Styx before the Footmen got to him, he could jump in and save the world. Easy.

It was the best way. The best way for everyone. His other plan was far too complicated, and he could easily mess it up, and what if it didn't work and what if Philonecron stopped him and what if he then doomed humanity because he was just too weak-minded to resist?

Zee's heart pounded. He was on fire, every part of him. This would do it. This would humiliate Philonecron, leave him just as helpless as he made Zee feel. This would solve all Zee's problems. All he had to do was keep away from Philonecron, get free, run, and then jump-and then it would all be over.

He walked behind a row of shadows, trying not to attract attention. If he could just get past the small cave, he'd be home free. Slowly, resolutely, he made his way toward the door of the vast room, trying to quell something that was rising in his chest and throat. No, no, this was the right thing. He was almost there, he was ready to make his break, and then-

And then he felt Philonecron's hand on his shoulder and his voice whispering in his ear. "Shall we get started?" he murmured. And that's when everything went black.

The next thing Zee knew, he was standing on a large platform, supported by four of the Footmen, holding a hollowed-out horn of some beast or another, shouting something in a language he'd never heard before:

"Ek skotou es to phaos!"

The enchantment had begun.

Philonecron was standing right behind him, telling him what to say-and the words, whatever they meant, were coming right out of his mouth.

"Ek thanatou es to sden!"

He still felt so foggy, as if he were half there-but he was aware enough to know that he had completely failed. He couldn't even kill himself. He wanted to sob, to run, to die-but he couldn't move from where he was. And now it was too late, and it was all his fault.

In front of him were fifty thousand shadows, in perfect rows, still and stiff. From where he stood, they looked even more like headstones towering up into the night.

Zee could hear his words booming through the hall over them-he barely recognized his own voice, sounding so strong and sure through the bullhorn.