Elliot said nothing. For the brief moments his body allowed him to sleep, his mind tortured him with dreams of Josie. Every time he slept, she was alive and well and loving him as she always had. Every time he awoke, he faced again the cruel reality of life without her. It was easier just to stay awake.

‘We try tomorrow. Get some rest,’ Thanatos declared, nodding at the door, which opened at his silent command. ‘You’re going to need your strength. Every last drop of it.’

Elliot rose from the chair and walked out of the office on to the fiery plains of Tartarus. He crossed over a bridge that took him away from the Phlegethon and back towards his sleeping quarters. The screams of its eternal inmates polluted the ash-filled air. On the dark horizon, Elliot could see the hill and valley where Sisyphus, Tantalus and Asteria’s family toiled fruitlessly at their endless punishments. Everywhere in between, the fiery landscape was filled with Elementals making weapons and practising how to use them. He ducked as a rock whizzed over his head from a makeshift catapult.

‘Sorry,’ shouted a young satyr.

‘No worries,’ Elliot mumbled as he ploughed on across the scorched land. Hypnos was flittering along behind him. Elliot could sense he was waiting for Thanatos to be far enough away before he spoke.

‘You don’t have to go through with this, you know,’ whispered the Daemon of Sleep. ‘I can help you escape. I can hide you where Thanatos would never find you. You can just leave now.’

‘Why would you do that?’ Elliot asked, stopping to look at the Daemon of Sleep. ‘You bored of trying to kill me?’

‘I guess so,’ Hypnos shrugged. ‘Besides – think of the fun you could have with the Chaos Stones. The world would be your oyster! Your hurricane-filled, flooded, earthquakey oyster if you wanted. And we could get up to all sorts . . .’

‘I can’t,’ Elliot said simply. ‘I have to do this.’

He thought of Josie and took a deep breath. While there was even the most desperate chance of seeing her again – whatever he had to do, no matter how risky it was and how slim the chances of succeeding – Elliot Hooper wasn’t going anywhere.

2. Going, Going, Gorgon

2. Going, Going, Gorgon

Virgo surveyed the solid stone wall in front of her.

‘Right,’ she said, hoping she sounded determined. ‘This one is going to work. Are you ready?’

Her former colleagues from the Zodiac Council – now fellow prisoners – looked uncertainly from one to another in the confines of their dank jail in the deepest cell in Tartarus.

‘Er, Virgo,’ whispered Cancer the crab. ‘Far be it from me to be a stickler for procedure . . .’