‘It’s nothing,’ said Nyx, ‘I’ve ordered its destruction.’

‘Why ever would you do that?’ said Thanatos, admiring the wooden warthog.

‘I don’t trust it,’ said Nyx. ‘I don’t trust anyone.’

‘Well, you trust me, don’t you?’ said Thanatos. ‘And I rather like it. Bring it in.’

The Daemons looked nervously from Nyx to her son.

‘Don’t move a muscle,’ Nyx commanded. ‘What are you doing? We have no idea what this is or who it’s from. I say we burn it.’

‘I say we enjoy it,’ said Thanatos. ‘It’s probably someone trying to curry favour. They know which way the wind is blowing. Bring it in.’

‘Leave it there!’ Nyx ordered again. ‘I am telling you, as your mother, no good can come of this.’

‘And I am telling you, as the soon-to-be ruler of the world, I don’t care,’ Thanatos growled. ‘Last time I checked, this was my party and I say who’s invited. Now stand aside.’

‘You are making a big mistake,’ Nyx glowered. ‘I can sense it.’

‘And this will look great in my new palace,’ said Thanatos. ‘I can see it. So, Mother. Move.’

Nyx glared angrily at her son. But there was nothing she could do. With the utmost reluctance, she moved out of the warthog’s path and watched it being wheeled slowly into Tartarus. The Daemons closed the massive bronze gates behind it.

‘There,’ said Thanatos. ‘Now, what’s this about a surprise . . . ?’

‘ATTAAAAAAAAACK!’

The cry made Nyx leap into the air.

‘What’s going on?’ she shouted, looking at the large flap in the warthog’s backside, where three fully armed heroes were climbing out. ‘Daemons! We’re under siege!’

At her command, a small flock of Daemons flew from their posts, surrounding the wooden warthog.

‘Daemons, eh?’ roared Hercules, punching Corus and Epiphron out of the way. ‘Theseus? How do you fancy a Daemon Deli?’

‘On it,’ said Theseus, slicing his way with a meat cleaver through the swarm of Daemons in a cloud of goo. ‘Jason, you with us?’

‘Ready,’ said Jason, kicking Daemons left and right with some stealthy karate moves. ‘I’m working on the title song of my next album: The Day the Daemons Died (And Took All Hope With Them).’

‘You see!’ screeched Nyx, grabbing her son by the collar. ‘I told you! I knew it was a trick!’

‘Babe,’ grinned Thanatos. ‘Chillax. And watch the threads . . .’

‘What did you just call me?’ Nyx said, withdrawing cautiously.

‘I said,’ Thanatos repeated, ‘you need to chillax. Babe.’

Nyx tried to quell the rage that consumed her soul as Thanatos’s figure melted before her eyes, dissembling into his true form. A dissembler. A dissembler with an invisibility helmet who could fly over the walls of Tartarus. How could she have been so foolish?

‘Gotcha,’ winked the fully armed Hermes, regaining his usual form. ‘Boom.’

‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!’