tightly, but it wasn’t much comfort. It felt like I was taking a cap gun into a showdown at high noon.
The dog was almost as tall as I was and much more ferocious. As I held my weapon tightly, I couldn’t help thinking that an axe usually took several blows to cut down a tree, even one the size of Cerberus. I wasn’t sure I would get more than one swing.
In those few seconds before the battle began, all I could think about was Amy and Peter and how much I would give to see them again. I didn’t want to die without telling them I was sorry, without telling them I loved them. Although I was hopeful, I knew in my heart that I didn’t stand much of a chance.
With one final tug, Cerberus was free, and the thing I wanted most was to turn tail and run away. But I knew that what Asterion had told me was true; if I didn’t defeat this creature, Amy would receive that Polaroid. She already had enough circumstantial evidence to draw her own conclusions, and my coffin already had all the nails it needed without adding one more.
The hellhound raced toward us, its eyes alight with a demonic fire. All three heads were eager for a bite of my flesh. Spittle and foam flew from each dangerous mouth. I stood there, statue-still for a moment, the axe held high above my head. I was frozen in place by fear.
Midnight dropped the flute, leaped through the air and broad-sided the massive hound. It was like watching two patches of shadow collide and repel each other. Midnight took a vicious, bloody bite out of the sable flank of Cerberus, and was bitten three times in return. It pained me to hear Midnight howl, but I knew that pain wouldn’t compare to the agony I would feel if Cerberus got hold of me. I raced into the fray, prayed that one blow would do it and brought the axe down as hard as I could across the hellhound’s back. It was like firing a gun at a window made of bulletproof glass. The axe blade skidded off of Cerberus’ back, jarring my hands. The hellhound scarcely even noticed. He was too preoccupied with Midnight to care about me.
Midnight was bleeding, but that didn’t stop him from launching attack after attack. Some of his bites went deep, taking out huge gouges of underworld flesh. Others merely annoyed the three-headed dog, distracting it long enough for me to lift the large axe into the air again. The second time I struck the creature, I went for the head in the middle and this time the results were a little more favorable. The flat side of the axe pummeled the middle head, knocking it unconscious. Much to my dismay, the axe handle came off in my hands while the blade landed on the other side of the battleground.
Where I had once had an axe, I now had a makeshift club.
The remaining two heads snapped and barked while the middle head drooped like a wilted flower. The head on the right volleyed with Midnight, biting and nipping, while the one on the left studied me with interest and growled. That head knew I was defenseless and that he had the upper hand.
I raised the axe handle, ready to play baseball with one of the heads. As I did so, I noticed that the dog followed the stick with its eyes. An idea quickly formed, and I picked up the wooden recorder with my other hand. I held the axe handle out to one side and the flute out with the other. Both heads stopped barking and studied me intently. The head in the middle was just beginning to wake up.
I knew that I would have to time this just right.
Midnight stood in front of me, as if to ward off the three offending heads. His hackles were raised; his muscles were taut, and his coat was thick with drying blood. At that moment, he looked more like a guardian of the underworld than Cerberus; his crimson coat gave him a certain menace. He growled at the hellhound, but the monstrosity wasn’t paying any attention to him. Each of the heads had their eye on what was in my hands.
I waited until the unconscious head in the middle opened its eyes. When it did, I tossed the axe handle in one direction and the wooden recorder in the other.