The Demigods of Olympus: An Interactive Adventure (18 page)

“Hilarious. Where’d you learn to rope like that?”

“Knew a demigod rodeo cowboy. Long story. I’ll—Watch out!”

Sam pushed me out of the way and kicked one of his legs forward…right into the stomach of a boy zombie wielding a bow and arrows. I had to stop myself from cheering as Sam trussed him up with an orange plastic retaining fence.

“Two zombie demigods down, three to go.” He picked up the zombie girl’s fallen sword and began to stand guard. “Try the ring.”

I swallowed once, hard, leaned my own sword against a nearby crypt, then slipped the ring onto my finger. I winced, ready for anything…

I felt dizzy and my stomach moved into my throat, as if I was descending too fast in an elevator. The landscape had changed—it was now unrecognizable—but my body didn’t feel different. I tried to summon lightning bolts or stir raging floodwaters. I tried to call down the sun or raise crops from the muddy earth. Nothing. I looked to Sam in despair, and—

He was huge! A giant! I was only as tall as his shoe. The ring had shrunk me!

He was frantically searching for me. “Zane?” shouted Sam. “Come back!”

I pulled one of his shoelaces to get his attention. “I’m right—”

“Ahh!” he shouted, swinging the demigod’s sword.

I ducked instinctively, even though the blade was nowhere near the ground. “Sam!” I screamed. It sounded like a squeak. “I’m right here!”

He looked around wildly, then raised the sword again. I finally remembered to yank the ring off my finger, and my personal elevator instantly brought me back to size. As I shook off the feeling of vertigo, Sam made a choking sound and fell backward. “You were gone!” he said.

“I didn’t go anywhere…” I said. “Just down. I was tiny!”

“The incredible shrinking ring!” he said, mouth agape.

The Mormo’s laughter echoed across the cemetery, and a fresh wave of skeletons and half-decomposed corpses sludged toward us. In the distance, I heard the enormous karaoke demons grunting and moving. I thought fast. “Marie said we had to use the ring to beat the Mormo.”

“But how can being tiny convince him to go inside the pithos?” asked Sam.

“I don’t know yet. But I feel like you should wear it. We might be able to surprise him if he can’t see one of us,” I said.

“You…trust me to do that?” asked Sam.

“Sam, you’re as much of a hero as I am,” I said. A slow, scraping sound filled the air and I shivered. “Okay,” I said, handing him the ring. “Go.”

Sam looked at me nervously and slipped the ring onto his finger, instantly disappearing. “Did I shrink?” came a small voice from below.

“Definitely,” I said, looking down and being careful not to move my feet. “You’re a cute little teeny tiny goat man.”

“Shut up. I’m going to head left and see if he follows me,” said Sam, his voice growing increasingly faint as he moved away. “You can count on me!”

I needed a really, really good idea. What would the Mormo want? What could I promise him was inside the pithos?

The scraping sound grew louder, and I ducked down, laying the pithos on its side.

“Over here, fang face!” I heard Sam squeak. Fortunately, he still had a big mouth for such a little guy.

I saw the Mormo stop and turn. “Here’s what’s going to happen, demigod,” he called, both his teeth and his voice oozing venom. “Eventually, I’m going to catch your friend, and I’m going to kill him. Then I’m going to come back and kill you. You won’t leave, because you have to get me into that fragile little pithos…and I’m not ever, ever going to do that. And if I don’t get you…the zombies will.” He smiled a little wider, then set off in the direction of Sam’s voice.

“No!” I shouted, and took a few steps forward, but I couldn’t leave the pithos unattended. “Sam! Come back!”

When the only reply was the grunting of the undead, something inside me snapped, and I took off running after the Mormo. I wasn’t going to leave my best friend alone, not when he was the size of a mouse in a zombie-filled New Orleans graveyard with a deadly demon chasing after him. “Sam!” I called again. Then I started singing our code song.
“Oh when the Saints! Go marching in!”
It was my way of telling Sam that we needed to get out, that none of this was worth it, that I’d rather have my best friend alive than know who my godly parent was, or kill a bunch of zombies, or make Hades happy.

“Oh when the Saints go marching in!”
I heard Sam’s voice answer and I followed it, looping around back toward the pithos.
“Oh I want to be in that number! Oh when the Saints go marching in!”

I turned down a long aisle of mausoleums to see the Mormo narrowing in on an aisle. I sang even louder, hoping Sam would take the hint and get out.
“Oh when the Saints—”

Now, I’m not the greatest singer, but I can carry a tune. So what the Mormo did next astonished me.

He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, just like the little boy in Preservation Hall. Then he started keening as if in agony.

Guess not everyone is a music lover
.

Music, I thought. Music is his weakness. It hurts him.

Jazzed by my revelation, I stopped in mid-song. That was a mistake. The Mormo sprinted toward me. “Sam, sing! Sing and try to get as close as you—”

From out of nowhere, Sam’s reedy voice picked up where I’d left off.
“Oh when the Saints go marching in.”

The Mormo clamped his hands over his ears again and grimaced in pain. He snapped his fingers, sending a cluster of zombies my way, and another in the direction of Sam’s voice.

“Keep going!” I shouted to Sam. “I’ll get the pithos!”

“The ring is working! The zombies can’t figure out where I am!” Sam shouted back. “Wait, I’ve got an even better idea….”

I sprinted around the standing mausoleums, searching for the pyramid-shaped tomb where I’d left the pithos. Behind me, I heard the Mormo’s howling melt into Sam’s caterwauling.

“Keep it up!” I shouted as I spotted the pithos. I grabbed it and ran back to find the Mormo writhing in pain on the ground, while a horde of zombies knelt around him, seemingly searching for Sam. My satyr friend was still singing—he sounded very close now.

Then I spotted him—he was standing on the Mormo’s shoulder, singing right into his ear.

I started singing my heart out too as I laid the jar on its side and uncapped it.

“When the Saints go marching in!”

We finished the chorus and stopped singing.

The Mormo dropped his hands.

“You can’t bite both of us at the same time!” I yelled. “Whichever one of us you attack, the other will go all diva on you!”

“And I know Italian opera!” Sam added.

“Gahh!” The Mormo began to dissolve, and Sam jumped to the ground. If the Mormo vanished now, we were sunk….

I moved forward. “You can’t escape music!” I cried in desperation. “It’s everywhere!”

He solidified again. “Not if I destroy it where it reigns!” He stood and prowled back and forth like a caged lion. “Silencing New Orleans jazz is just the first step. Nashville, Memphis, Detroit, Seattle, Cleveland—”

“Country, blues, Motown, grunge,” said Sam from somewhere near my left shoe. “Wait. Cleveland?”

“Rock and Roll Hall of Fame,” I supplied.

“Ah.”

The pieces fell into place. “Zombies can’t sing or play instruments, can they? Not even the trom-
bone
—ba-dum chhh!”

Sam added a sliding note. “Wah-wah-
waaaaah
.”

“Silence!” the Mormo shrieked. “I must have silence!”

“That’s why you’re making zombies—to help you silence all music. Well, there’s only one place where you can get the peace and quiet you want.”

Right on cue, I heard Sam’s words echo from inside the pithos. “Yeah! In here!”

“Never!” The Mormo rushed me, fast as lightning.

“Ninety-nine bottles of goat milk on the wall! Ninety-nine bottles of milk!”
Sam’s voice reverberated in the empty jar.
“You take one down—”

“Gahhh!” The Mormo fell to his knees.

“—and pass it around—”

“He’s got ninety-eight verses to go. So what’s it going to be? Eternal peace within the pithos or the musical renderings of Sam the Satyr?” Making sure Sam was no longer inside, I righted the jar. “It’s your choice.”

“Ninety-six bottles of—”

The Mormo shape-shifted into gas. Like a genie returning to its bottle, he vanished into the pithos. I quickly slammed down the lid.

“—one down, pass it around—”

“Sam, you can stop now. We got him!”

“
Ninety-five
—Oh.” Sam broke off. “We got him?”

“We did, and guess what? It wouldn’t have happened without you, the so-called lowly satyr! Even Hades would have to admit that.”

“I couldn’t have been much lowlier, that’s for sure.” Sam suddenly grew back to normal size beside me. “Ah, that’s better. Here, take this. I’ve had enough of being a cemetery rat.” He passed me the ring. “Your plan worked.”

“It wasn’t an actual plan,” I said, smiling. We looked around as the zombies slowly blinked and straightened up, color rushing back into their gray skin. Hades had been right—freed of the Mormo’s curse, the spirits were returning to their rightful bodies.

Then, from behind the pyramid-shaped tomb, the five enormous karaoke demons shuffled out. “Oh
man
,” Sam whimpered. “I was just about to celebrate.”

“But we captured the Mormo!” I protested. “How come these guys didn’t poof away?”

“The Mormo summoned them, but he didn’t
create
them. They exist with or without him.”

Sam and I moved back to back, the jar between our feet, swords poised and ready. The
daimones keramikoi
shuffled forward, their legs making squishing sounds as they moved. And I heard other noises, too—scuffling, scraping, and whispers from behind the surrounding tombs.

“Sam, the
keramikoi
aren’t our only problem,” I hissed. “Something else out there is about to—”

“Attack!”
A figure sprang out of the darkness, yelling at the top of his lungs. Four others raced to join him.

When I was a kid, I saw this corny Western movie where the cavalry rode in and saved the day. Now I was living that scene. Five dirty but very much alive demigods—one trailing yellow caution tape, another with an orange mesh vest—came out of nowhere and rushed to our aid. An arrow pierced the torch-wielding arm of the demon I assumed was Charrer. It dissipated with a bellow. A girl wearing thick leather gloves flung a razor-edged discus, slicing one of the hammer dudes in half. The three other demigods each picked off a
keramikoi
. Moments after the battle began, it was over.

The demigods strode toward us. Their clothes were in tatters and their hair had seen better days, but otherwise they seemed unharmed. I noted with relief that both of Caution Tape’s hands were in place. Grinning, she held the previously severed one out and said, “Put it there. I’m Tabitha.” When I hesitated, she added, “Don’t worry. It’s on nice and tight.”

Tabitha introduced us to the others. “Ming is the one rocking the discus. You’ve met Ely, with the bow and fancy new vest. The others are—”

Introductions were cut short when the ground rumbled and gave way near the pithos. A figure emerged from the hole and brushed dirt off his suit.

“Hades is in the house,” Sam muttered.

The lord of the dead casually toed the pithos into the hole. When I didn’t hear it hit earth, I guessed the hole tunneled all the way to the Underworld.

“Zane, walk with me.” Hades crooked his finger at Sam. “You, too.”

“Me?” Sam sounded surprised.

“You have proven yourself worthy of the gods’ gratitude, satyr. So what I am about to reveal concerns you as well.”

We strolled a short distance through the cemetery. “Tell me, demigod, have you figured out your parent’s identity?”

My heart hammered in my chest. “I—I have my suspicions.”

“And if your suspicions don’t match your hopes? Will you be disappointed?”

I lifted my chin. “I will be satisfied just knowing the truth.”

“And you, Sam Greenwood. Will you continue by this hero’s side regardless of ancestry?”

“Always,” Sam replied without hesitation.

“Very well.” Hades threw his arms open wide and cried, “The time has come to claim this demigod as your child!”

Nothing happened at first. Then a glowing white owl clutching a silver olive branch appeared above my head, spinning slowly.

“Wow,” I breathed as I stared at it. “Just…wow.” Sam gave an awed bleat.

The other five demigods joined us. They congratulated me, and Tabitha gave me a warm hug. “We took a vote, and it’s unanimous. If either of you ever need a hand”—she grinned and wiggled her fingers—“just holler and we’ll be there.”

“Friends for life,” Ely added. The others echoed their agreement.

“Relish this moment, demigod,” Hades advised. “You’ve earned it.”

“No.” I slung my arm around Sam’s shoulders. “
We’ve
earned it.”

Hades nodded solemnly and then stomped his foot once. The ground swallowed him up, leaving behind a fresh mound of dirt.

“Gotta love the dramatic exit,” Sam said. Then he looked past me. His eyes widened and he slipped out from under my arm. “Zane, you know how I vowed to stay by your side? Well, there’s one thing you need to do alone.”

“Huh?”

“Someone’s waiting for you.” Sam gently turned me around.

I blinked. Standing not twenty feet away was a statuesque woman with a light gray cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Thick black hair was tucked behind her ears, accentuating intense gray eyes and the angular peaks of her face.

“Zane,” she stretched both arms toward me. I recognized the voice as the one that had spoken inside my mind in Austin. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time.”

I moved toward her slowly, suddenly hesitant. “Why did you wait so long?” I asked.

Athena touched the side of my face tentatively. “I have looked for you.” Her voice caught. “But you were kept hidden from me. I…it is a story for another time. What is important is that you have a great future ahead of you, Zane, and I am proud to call you my son.”