Jeremy in the Underworld Read online

  Jeremy in the Underworld

  Becky Citra

  with illustrations by

  Jessica Milne

  To the boys and girls at Bridge Lake School. —B.C.

  To my husband Greg, and our newborn son Thomas. —J.M.

  Text copyright © 2006 Becky Citra

  Interior illustrations copyright © 2006 Jessica Milne

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Citra, Becky

  Jeremy in the underworld / Becky Citra; with illustrations by Jessica Milne.

  (Orca echoes)

  Sequel to: Jeremy and the enchanted theater.

  ISBN 1-55143-466-0

  I. Milne, Jessica, 1974- II. Title. III. Series.

  PS8555.I87J474 2006 jC813’.54 C2006-900340-8

  First Published inthe United States: 2006

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2006920832

  Summary: In this sequel to Jeremy and the Enchanted Theater,

  Jeremy and Aristotle must journey into the world of the dead.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Department of Canadian Heritage’sBook Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP),

  the Canada Council for the Arts, and the British Columbia Arts Council.

  Design by Lynn O’Rourke

  Orca Book Publishers Orca Book Publishers

  P.O. Box 5626, Stn.B PO Box 468

  Victoria, BC Canada Custer, WA USA

  V8R 6S4 98240-0468

  Printed and bound in Canada

  09 08 07 06 • 5 4 3 2 1

  Chapter One

  The Riddle

  “I’m back!” said Jeremy.

  He stood in the doorway of the little room in the Enchanted Theater.

  “Meow,” said Aristotle from the top of a gold and blue trunk.

  “At last!” said Mr. Magnus. He sat on a stool beside the window. He held a scroll made of thin parchment. “Come in! Come in!”

  Jeremy’s heart thumped. All the strange things that had happened yesterday were true! It wasn’t just a dream!

  He walked around the room. It looked almost the same. Bright costumes hung on racks. Silver swords and shields leaned against the walls. Zeus’s lightning bolt gleamed in the corner. Do Not Touch signs dangled from strings.

  But something was different.

  Books!

  Books rose in tall wobbly stacks everywhere. Books were piled on the windowsill. Books were scattered across the floor. Tattered markers stuck out from between the pages.

  “Wow!” said Jeremy. “Where did all the books come from?”

  “The library,” said Mr. Magnus. “I signed out all the books on ancient Greek myths.”

  “To help you solve the riddle!” said Jeremy. He stared at the scroll. “So you can save the Enchanted Theater!”

  The Enchanted Theater was in trouble. Every time Mr. Magnus tried to put on a play, lightning flashed. The power went out. All the people went home.

  One night the lightning bolt was in the shape of

  the letter Z. It was a sign from Zeus, the king of the ancient Greek gods.

  Yesterday, Jeremy and Aristotle had traveled back in time three thousand years. They traveled to Mount Olympus to talk to Zeus.

  Zeus said that Mr. Magnus was ruining the Greek myths. He mixed things up in the plays. He changed the endings.

  Zeus gave Jeremy three scrolls. Each scroll had a riddle in it. Zeus said that when Mr. Magnus solved all three riddles, he would take away the curse on the Enchanted Theater.

  “I’ve been reading the books all day,” said Mr. Magnus, “but it hasn’t helped.”

  “I’m good at riddles,” said Jeremy. He stood beside Mr. Magnus. He read the words on the ancient scroll out loud: “In the land of Hades by night and day, six blood-red lanterns light my way. Who am I?”

  Jeremy frowned. It was a hard riddle.

  “Hades is the god of the Underworld,” said Mr. Magnus helpfully. “He’s in all the books.” He sighed. “But the books don’t say anything about blood-red lanterns.”

  “What’s the Underworld?” said Jeremy.

  “It’s where all the dead people go,” said Mr. Magnus.

  “Oh,” said Jeremy.

  The Underworld sounded horrible. Jeremy shivered.

  Aristotle twitched his tail back and forth. “Meow!” he said.

  Mr. Magnus said, “I’m getting to that part, Aristotle.”

  “What part?” asked Jeremy. His neck prickled.

  “It’s Aristotle’s idea,” mumbled Mr. Magnus. “The two of you will go to the Underworld to find the blood-red lanterns.”

  “You mean travel back in time?” said Jeremy. “Again? To a place with dead people? No thanks!”

  There was a long silence.

  Jeremy sighed. “Okay, okay. But will you come with us this time?”

  Mr. Magnus looked alarmed. “The Enchanted Theater Rule Book says—”

  “I know,” muttered Jeremy. “You have to be a hero to time travel.”

  He had felt like a hero yesterday. He had done five brave things to get back from Mount Olympus. But he didn’t feel like a hero today. He just felt like Jeremy, a boy whose mother was expecting him home for supper.

  The Rule Book also said that time travel happened at sunset. You held onto one of the actors’ props and counted to ten.

  Jeremy glanced out the little window. The sky was purple and pink.

  For the first time, he noticed a long black whip leaning against a tower of books. “Is this the prop we’re going to use?” he said.

  “Wait! Don’t touch!” screeched Mr. Magnus.

  But it was too late. Jeremy had picked up the black whip. It was warm. His fingers tingled.

  “You’re not ready!” said Mr. Magnus. “I haven’t shown you my map! I haven’t told you about the ferryman and the three-headed dog—”

  Everything swirled around Jeremy. Mr. Magnus slid something over his arms. It felt like a backpack. There was a thump on his shoulder. Soft fur brushed his cheek.

  Aristotle whispered, “We’re going!”

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter Two

  Back in Time

  Jeremy blinked. He was sitting beside a swamp. Green slime covered the murky water. Cold clammy fog tickled his face.

  Jeremy had just traveled back in time three thousand years. He didn’t look any different. He was still wearing his jeans and runners. He didn’t feel any different. Except that he was stiff and cold.

  He looked around for Aristotle. The cat was sitting on a mossy log, washing his fur.

  “The Underworld sure is foggy,” said Jeremy.

  Aristotle stopped licking. “We aren’t in the Underworld yet.” He flicked his tail. “You better check the map.”

  “What map?” said Jeremy. Then he remembered the backpack that Mr. Magnus had slipped over his shoulders when they were leaving. He slid it off and unzipped it.

  One by one, Jeremy took out all the things that Mr. Magnus had packed inside. He took out a bright red flashlight. He took out a peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich wrapped in wax paper. He took out a shiny silver flute.

  Aristotle peered over his shoulder. Jeremy pulled out two gold coins. He slipped them into his pocket.

  He dug to the bottom of the pack. He felt a stiff roll of paper
.

  Mr. Magnus’s map!

  Jeremy unrolled it. He spread it across his knees.

  “This isn’t a swamp,” he said. “It’s the River Styx. And we have to get to the other side!” He peered into the gloom. “Wherever that is!”

  Splash splash splash.

  Jeremy’s heart jumped. He strained harder to see into the fog.

  Splash splash splash.

  Someone was coming across the river!

  “Pretend to be dead!” hissed Aristotle.

  “Whaaa?” said Jeremy.

  “We want to get into the Underworld, don’t we?”

  Jeremy lay on his back. The ground felt cold and soggy. He closed his eyes. He tried not to breathe.

  Bump.

  Something hit the bank.

  Squish squish squish.

  Jeremy shuddered.

  Who was coming?

  Chapter Three

  The Ferryman

  Jeremy took a big breath.

  He opened his eyes. A man stared down at him. He had long straggly gray hair. His skin was white. He wore a dark oilskin coat and muddy boots.

  Jeremy gulped. He tried to remember what Mr. Magnus had said. “You must be the ferryman,” he stammered.

  The man scowled. He looked like he was waiting for something.

  Aristotle nudged Jeremy. The gold coins! Jeremy sat up and dug them out of his pocket. He gave them to the ferryman.

  The ferryman’s hands felt like damp leaves. The coins disappeared into the folds of his long coat. Then he grunted, “Get in.”

  Jeremy looked around for the ferry. All he saw was an ancient rowboat. It was made of weathered gray boards. The boards looked rotten.

  “Er...Does your boat ever leak?” said Jeremy.

  The ferryman didn’t say anything. He climbed into the boat. Jeremy crammed everything into the backpack. He scrambled into the boat. Aristotle hopped in after him.

  The man hunched his shoulders and pushed against the pole. Pale green weeds trailed against the bow of the boat. A thin snake glided through the murky water. Two mud-brown eyes stared from a lily pad. Cold mist swirled around them. Jeremy hugged his arms. He was freezing.

  He peered into the thick gray fog. After a long time the rowboat bumped against a bank. They had made it! Jeremy and Aristotle climbed out. The ferryman poled silently away.

  “Wait!” called Jeremy. “Do you know where we can find six blood-red lanterns?”

  But the ferryman had disappeared. Jeremy gazed around. The fog parted. A huge iron gate loomed out of the mist. In front of it was the biggest doghouse Jeremy had ever seen.

  The three-headed dog.

  The fur on Aristotle’s back bristled.

  “Don’t worry,” said Jeremy quickly. “I don’t see anything moving. And it’s awfully quiet. He’s probably not home—”

  A loud cracking sound made them both jump.

  Aristotle shot between Jeremy’s legs.

  It was the sound of a giant dog crunching on giant bones.

  Chapter Four

  The Three-Headed Dog

  Jeremy and Aristotle hid in the middle of a bush.

  CRACK! CRUNCH! SNAP!

  “He guards the gate to the Underworld,” whispered Aristotle. “He was in one of Mr. Magnus’s books. He only lets you in if you’re a shade.”

  “What’s a shade?” said Jeremy.

  “A dead person,” said Aristotle.

  “Great,” said Jeremy. They had fooled the ferryman. But he didn’t think they could fool the three-headed dog.

  The gigantic doghouse rumbled and shook.

  “He’s coming out!” said Aristotle.

  A huge, shaggy, black dog lumbered out of the dog house. The dog had three enormous heads. Its fiery red eyes glowed. Its white fangs glistened. Its huge hairy ears flapped like wings.

  The monster turned its three heads from side to side.

  Sniff! Sniff! Sniff!

  Jeremy held his breath. The dog growled and lay down on its stomach.

  Jeremy let his breath out.

  “What else did it say in the book?” he whispered to Aristotle.

  Aristotle sighed. “Only a few people who are alive have ever got past him into the Underworld. But I don’t remember how they did it.”

  “Think!” said Jeremy.

  Aristotle’s tail twitched. “Mr. Magnus read a story about a man who wanted to visit his dead father. He gave the dog a honey cake. It put him to sleep.”

  Jeremy and Aristotle looked at each other.

  The peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich!

  Jeremy slid the backpack off his shoulders. He took out the peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich. He unwrapped it. The wax paper crackled.

  “Shhhh,” said Aristotle.

  Jeremy glared at Aristotle.

  Then he said, “Here goes!”

  He crawled out of the bush. He inched forward on his hands and knees. He flung the sandwich in front of the dog. Then he scurried back to the bush.

  The monster lifted its three heads.

  Sniff! Sniff! Sniff!

  Drool dripped from its three massive jaws. Then it flopped back down on the ground.

  “He’s not hungry,” said Jeremy. “He ate too many bones.”

  “I know!” said Aristotle. “You could pretend to be Orpheus!”

  “Who’s Orpheus?” said Jeremy.

  “A famous Greek musician. He was in Mr. Magnus’s books too. Orpheus wanted to rescue his girlfriend from the Underworld. The three-headed dog stopped him at the gate. But Orpheus played such beautiful music that the dog fell asleep.”

  Jeremy and Aristotle looked at each other.

  The silver flute!

  Jeremy took out the flute. “Here I go again!” he said. He crawled out of the bush. His hands shook. He licked his lips. He blew into the flute.

  WHOOSH! SQUEAK!

  He blew harder. SCREECH!

  The dog whined. Its huge ears drooped. Its red eyes blinked.

  Jeremy looked back at Aristotle. “I don’t know how to play a flute!” he hissed.

  “Try singing,” Aristotle hissed back.

  Jeremy frowned. He couldn’t remember any songs. Then he thought about the ferryman. He took a big breath. He sang in a loud voice:

  “Row row row your boat

  Gently down the stream

  Merrily merrily merrily merrily

  Life is but a dream.”

  Jeremy sang the song four more times. He peeked at the dog. Its eyes were shut. Deep grumbly snores rumbled from its three throats.

  “It worked!” said Jeremy.

  Aristotle bounded out beside him. “Come on!”

  Jeremy and Aristotle ran past the sleeping monster. They ducked through the iron gate. They sped up a misty road between two steep hills.

  “We’d better stop and look at the map,” said Jeremy, panting.

  Just then a shrill whinny rang through the mist.

  There was a rattling noise.

  And the sharp crack of a whip.

  “Someone’s coming!” said Aristotle. “Quick, Jeremy! Hide!”

  Chapter Five

  King of the Underworld

  Jeremy and Aristotle jumped off the road. They scrambled up the hill and hid behind a boulder.

  A black chariot pulled by two black horses burst through the mist. The horses had flowing black tails and manes. Red rubies sparkled on their harnesses.

  A tall man drove the chariot. He wore a black helmet that glistened with diamonds. His black cape swirled in the wind. He cracked a long thin whip.

  “That’s Hades,” said Aristotle. “He’s the god of the Underworld.”

  Jeremy shivered.

  “Whoa!” shouted Hades.

  He pulled the reins. The horses reared. Smoke poured from their flared nostrils.

  Hades stared up the side of the hill. He stared right at their boulder. His face was like cold stone.

  Goose bumps prickled the back of Jeremy’s neck. Then Hades
looked the other way.

  “He’s searching for shades,” whispered Aristotle. “Dead people. He wants to take them to his palace to be his slaves.”

  “Oh,” said Jeremy. He tried to crunch into a tiny ball. His runner kicked against a loose rock. It rattled down the side of the hill.

  Hades spun around. He looked right at Jeremy.

  “Run!” shouted Aristotle.

  Aristotle bounded up the steep hill. Jeremy scrambled after him. He grabbed onto tufts of grass to pull himself up.

  Jeremy looked back.

  The gray mist swirled around him. He could hear rocks sliding and heavy breathing.

  Hades was coming after them!

  And then, when Jeremy turned around, he couldn’t see Aristotle!

  He was in the middle of a thick gray cloud.

  A voice squeaked, “Over here!”

  The voice came from inside the hill. A large rock ledge jutted out in front of Jeremy. He crawled underneath into a tiny cave. Aristotle crouched at the back.

  Jeremy squeezed beside Aristotle.

  There was a loud crunching sound. A pair of huge black boots loomed right outside the cave.

  Jeremy gulped.

  They were close enough to touch!

  Chapter Six

  The Seven Sisters

  Jeremy closed his eyes. He held his breath. When he opened his eyes, the boots were gone.

  After a long time, Jeremy and Aristotle crept to the entrance of the cave. An eerie laugh floated up through the mist. A horse whinnied. Chariot wheels clattered away on the stony ground.

  “Whew!” said Jeremy. “That was a close call.”

  Jeremy and Aristotle went back down the hill to the road. They walked for a long time. The land on either side of the road was flat and gray. An icy wind blew.

  Jeremy checked the map. “This is called the Plains of Judgment.” He shivered. “It’s creepy here.”

  Just then he heard a soft rustling sound. He turned around. A man trudged up the road behind them.

  “It’s a shade,” said Aristotle nervously. “Let him go by, and pretend you don’t see him.”

  Jeremy frowned. The shade didn’t look scary. He looked like a real person.