He got dizzy and tried not to look down.
He kept climbing.
He saw mountain peaks in the distance. He spied ravens’ nests in their crags. At one point he was so high up that his throat began to tighten from lack of oxygen until he remembered—duh, he was a god. He kept climbing.
He felt like he was practically as high as Olympus! Could he see it from here? Should he call out for Zeus or Athena? Nah, he’d give them a nice surprise when he was on the other side and had all his powers back.
Finally, he reached the end of the ladder. The pirates down below were just a bunch of dots. Hades removed a transistor radio from Jafar’s junk shop that he’d been tinkering with; he’d carried it all the way up in his bag. He had this idea to shoot a bolt of electricity at the invisible barrier, sort of like using Zeus’s bolts of lightning.
He pressed a switch and sent a huge jet of power blasting at the top of the invisible dome. The dome was supposed to shatter and fall, and everyone would be free. Including Hades!
But nothing happened. It didn’t work.
The barrier was still there.
Hades raged. He screamed. He turned red—everywhere but his electric-blue hair, that is. If there had been magic on this side of the barrier, he would have burst into flame.
But instead, in his rage, he just fell off the ladder, back onto the island, hitting the ground with a thump.
The pirates looked over. “You all right, dude?”
“I’m alive! I’m alive!” he said. (After all, he’d never been dead.)
Hades picked himself up and looked at the deep crater he’d created. Hmmm. Maybe he was going the wrong way. Maybe he should have been digging instead of climbing all along.…
“Pirates!” he called. “I’ve got a new idea.”
ne thing you could say about the Isle of the Lost was that it never changed. Mal wasn’t sure if she loved or loathed that about the place. When Mal, Evie, Carlos, and Jay arrived in the middle of the busy market, everything was exactly as they remembered it. The decrepit tenement buildings covered with peeling paint and graffiti on the sides, the lines of wet, ragged laundry that crisscrossed the plaza, the tin sheds, the hay carts, the vendors hawking everything from holey scarves to varnished trinkets. The sky was gloomy, and everyone looked filthy and sad. This was where they had come from, the neglected island prison where villains were trapped for their crimes against the people of Auradon.
Granted, the four of them had returned to the Isle not so long ago to fetch Mal and then rescue Ben from Uma’s clutches. But, just the same, it was still a shock to see it.
Mal glanced up at her mother’s old balcony. Her entire childhood had been spent in those shabby rooms above the Bargain Castle that sold wizard robes half price. She used to sit on that balcony and look wistfully over at the mainland, wondering when her life would change. Sometimes Jay came to join her and they would split a bag of stale cheese puffs, their fingers turning as orange as the sunset.
“Come on,” said Evie, taking Mal by the arm. “Let’s go to our old hideout.”
“Hideout?” asked Carlos. “Isn’t this an official visit from the palace? Don’t we have any other place to stay?”
Evie smiled at him indulgently. “You’re cute.”
“You’d rather go to your house?” teased Mal.
“Never,” said Carlos. “Lead the way.”
“There aren’t any five-star castles on the Isle of the Lost,” Jay chided.
“I just remembered that,” said Carlos, smacking his forehead. “If anyone asks, I didn’t pack my spa bathrobe, okay?”
A few curious onlookers spotted them in the crowd, but most left them alone. Mal’s fearsome reputation tended to keep people away. But even though it seemed like people still feared her, she wondered if they would ever look up to her as a true leader, someone to follow and admire and respect, especially now that she was on official business from Auradon. She tried smiling magnanimously at a street urchin who scurried past them, but the kid just squealed and sped up. Mal sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.
Once they arrived, Carlos found the hidden latch, and Jay threw his shoe at it. The iron door opened, and they walked up to the loft. It was just as they’d remembered, with graffiti on the walls, lumpy mattresses, and trash everywhere.
“Home, sweet hideout,” said Evie, wrinkling her nose. Mal knew she was thinking of their pretty room back at school, with its comfortable beds, fat fluffy pillows, neat rows of bookshelves, and lush carpeting. Carlos grimaced at the sight, and Jay looked just as bummed. It was seriously grimy. There was soot on the windowsill, and there were streaks of dirt on the floor.
“It’s only for a few days,” said Mal, trying to sound comforting.
“I know, I just…I always forget what it was like,” said Evie.
“Who wants to remember?” Jay smiled. “Dibs on the couch.”