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New York Underworld
    Jack dove into the tiny tunnel. Euri held her finger to her lips. Jack nodded and didn’t make a sound.
    Just a few feet away, four enormous paws paced back and forth. Strings of drool pooled to the ground. A huge black head darted into the tunnel entrance, and a pair of red eyes met Jack’s. The dog bared its long, white teeth and began to bark. The smell that issued from its mouth made Jack’s stomach turn. Then another head pushed its way into the entrance and began to bark. And another. Jack gasped. All three heads were attached to the same body. It was Cerberus, the supposedly mythical three-headed dog that guarded the underworld. Luckily, he was too large to fit the rest of his body into the tunnel.
    “Heel!” a deep, male voice shouted in a New York accent. “Damned mutt. He’s wedged in there so tight I can’t see past him.”
    “Get up,” ordered another voice—this one commanding and cold. “He always thinks he smells something in those little tunnels. There’s no one there.”
    Two of the heads yelped, but the third snapped at Jack before it was yanked away.
    Jack felt a tug on his jacket. Euri motioned to him to crawl deeper into the tunnel. Long, ropelike roots hung down from the brick walls, and beetles scampered over them. As he edged forward, his backpack scraping the top of the tunnel, he whispered, “Is this the Greek underworld?”
    Euri shook her head. “Nah. It’s the New York underworld. The Greek underworld’s in Astoria.”
    “Astoria?”
    “Yeah, Astoria, Queens. That’s where all the Greeks live.”
    “If you’re dead,” said Jack, “how come I can see you?”
    “Because you’re in the underworld too now,” Euri said. “The question is how you were able to see me before you crossed over. I’ve been hanging out in that station for seven years, and no one living ever has. You even convinced the old beggar to let you in. I didn’t think he would.”
    “Charon,” said Jack.
    “Who?”
    “The old beggar. His name is Charon. In Greek mythology, he’s the gatekeeper to the underworld. He ferries the dead across the River Styx in exchange for coins.
    That’s why the ancient Greeks put coins in people’s mouths after they died.”
    Euri shrugged. “You’re in New York, not ancient Greece.”
    “Well, subway tokens, then. Are you sure I’m not dead?”
    “You didn’t find that token in your mouth, did you?”
    She started to crawl forward, but Jack didn’t follow her. “Are all the dead here?”
    Euri turned around. “Not all the dead. Mostly just the ones who died in New York.”
    “My mother died in New York.”
    “I know. You told me.”
    Jack thought about his accident, how it had led him to New York, and to Euri. Maybe following her to track 61 hadn’t been a mistake. Maybe it was meant to happen, so he could find his mother. For the first time in years he allowed himself to imagine seeing her again, and his chest tightened. He took a deep breath. “Do you think I could find her?”
    “It depends on whether she’s moved on yet.”
    Euri began to crawl forward, and this time Jack followed her. “Moved on?”
    “Yes, to Elysium.”
    Jack knew that Elysium was the region of the underworld where heroes went after they died. It was supposed to be a peaceful place where the dead spent their days hunting and feasting. “Where is Elysium?” he asked.
    “Somewhere in the Hamptons,” said Euri. “That’s my guess, anyway. But none of us really know because we haven’t moved on yet. And it’s impossible to contact anyone once they’ve gone there. They’re supposed to be in this state of total peace, and they don’t want ghosts who still have problems disrupting them.”
    Jack wanted to ask how the dead moved on to Elysium, but he was distracted by a shuffling sound up ahead. “What’s that?”
    “It’s safer for you to hide in a crowd. Hopefully you’ll blend in. So listen up. Here’s your story. You died this morning. You