“My pleasure,” he says, flashing us a brilliant, white-toothed grin. It’s then that I realize he’s different from the others. No purple haze, no green demon glow. He’s alive. Just like us!
With a deft flick of his sword, he breaks through my restraints, then moves on to help Race and Jareth. Once we’re all free, he beckons for us to follow him. “Come on,” he urges. “They’ll be more of them coming. We must get out of here.”
We don’t need a second invitation. When he takes off, we run after him, exhaustion eclipsed by adrenaline. Down the dark streets, through alleyways and back roads, up stairs and down, until we come to edge of a wide black river, with a small rowboat pulled up to the shore. As I lean down, hands on my knees, gasping for breath, the man pushes the boat into the water, then gestures for us to all get in.
“Let’s go,” he says, looking beyond us, searching the streets with an anxious look on his face. But there’s no one coming. We’re safe for now.
We climb into the boat and our rescuer scrambles in behind us, pushing off from the shore and into the dark, black waters of the river. As we float downstream, the ugly lights from the Way Station fade behind us until they’re only a mere glimmer.
“Is everyone okay?” our rescuer asks, looking us over carefully as he rows.
I nod, then glance over to Jareth and Race. They nod, too, though they both look pretty shaken. “Who were those guys?” I ask.
“The Demon Patrol,” the man explains. “Mercenaries, paid by the Big Ugly to police the streets of Hades. Not that there’s usually much to do—most people are so shell-shocked when they get here, they tend to keep in line. So when these guys come up against a real bona fide threat like the living, they tend to get a little… enthusiastic.”
“And what would they have done to us?” Jareth asks. “If you didn’t arrive?”
Hercules shrugs. “Depends on their mood. If they felt like following the rules, they would have thrown you in prison and allowed Hades to dictate your fate. Or they might have decided to make you permanent residents and take their time doing it. Like I said, they’re pretty bored. And they love carnage.”
I shudder, neither scenario sounding much better than the other. “Well, we really, really appreciate you rescuing us,” I tell him. “You came just in time.”
He flashes me another big grin. “I would have liked to have found you earlier. Less messy that way. I started hearing rumors of a group of living vampires wandering around, asking questions. I’d been trying to track you down all night before the patrol found you. I was seconds too late.”
“And who are you again?” I ask.
He gives a small bow. “Hercules, at your service.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Hercules? You mean like the legendary Greek god Hercules? Son of Zeus?” Wow. I guess that explains the super muscles…
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” he jokes. “Lucky for you I was down here to pay a visit to my girlfriend. Otherwise, I’m not sure things would have worked out so well for you, no offense.”
“Well, we definitely appreciate it,” Jareth says. “Thank you.”
Hercules waves him off. “My pleasure. So what are you doing down here, anyway? This isn’t exactly a great spot to vacation, you know.”
“We were trying to get an audience with Hades,” I explain. “To get him to agree to release my sister’s soul before she’s judged.”
Hercules nods knowingly. “Ah, yes, the old soul-release attempt. We get people down here at least once a decade trying to get their loved ones out.” He gives me a sorry look. “I hate to break it to you, but Hades is pretty stingy with releasing them these days—ever since his little frenemy, Lucifer, knocked him out of the Guinness Book of Hell Records for number of captured souls. He’s been desperate to catch up and very stubborn about releasing any he’s already gathered.”
I bite my lower lip. That doesn’t seem good. “But it’s still possible, right?” I ask, not ready to give up hope.
“Anything’s possible. You have to go in there with something he wants,” Hercules explains. “Oh, and get an appointment to begin with. That’s tough in and of itself.” He drags his oar down on the ground, slowing the boat. “So where would you like to go in the meantime?” he asks. “Any friends or family that might be able to take you in while you’re figuring things out? Otherwise the Demon Patrol is going to find you again. And this time I won’t be there for the rescue.”
I draw in a breath. “My father,” I tell him, showing him my hand with the address. “Do you know how we can find him?”
Hercules studies my hand for a moment, then gives me an impressed look. “Nice location,” he tells me. “Over on the outskirts of the Elysian Fields. He must have been a pretty good guy on Earth to score such a killer address.”
My mind flashes back to my father, on the ground, dying of iron poisoning after saving my life. “Yeah,” I agree. “He was.” From the corner of my eye, I catch Jareth shooting me a sympathetic look.
Hercules releases the oar and the boat starts floating down into a dark tunnel, under a sign that reads: ENTERING THE CIRCLES.
“Circles?” I question.
“Not up on your Dante, are you?” Hercules asks. “Well, no matter. These are the Circles of Hell. Depending on how you sinned during your life, you might end up stuck in one of these for eternity.” He shudders. “Trust me, once you see them for yourself, you’ll never want to sin again.” He points over to a small island on the port side of the boat. “See that? We’re passing through Lust right now. A neighborhood dedicated to those who couldn’t keep it in their pants.”