“What if she tries to stop us?”

“She won’t. Not this time.”

Cassandra slid her fingers against his. “This isn’t your fault. Not really.”

He squeezed her hand and held it to his lips. “Don’t give up. I’ll stand against anything that tries to hurt you. Even my crazy-ass stepmother.”

They drove, fast and silent, along the curving highway that bordered the lake. Aidan kept one hand twined around Cassandra’s. He muttered to himself, curses and plans and possibilities. She watched him check the fuel gauge for the hundredth time since they left the freeway.

“Aidan!” Henry shouted.

Aidan looked up just in time to see the person in the road. He jerked the wheel hard, and the tire caught the edge of the shoulder. For an instant, the Mustang tilted precariously, and the screaming of rubber against asphalt and gravel rose in Cassandra’s ears. But then the car slowed and straightened out. Aidan hit the brakes hard and the jolt of the stop threw Cassandra mostly onto the dashboard. The Mustang sat half on and half off of the road, the front end pointed toward a slender but imposing-looking pine tree.

“What the hell was that about?” Andie asked breathlessly. The person in the road had been an old woman, and she’d walked right out of the trees into the path of the car. “Some old lady, just walking across the road? Where did she come from? Did you see a house?”

The stretch of highway was secluded, bordered on both sides by pines and orange-and-brown autumn trees. Farther out, Cassandra saw the slate gray edge of Seneca Lake peeking through the trunks. She thought back over the way they’d come.

“There was no house. No driveway, not even another car for the last five miles. What was she doing, popping out of the trees?”

“Thank god we didn’t hit her.”

“It would have been better if we had.” Aidan stared into the side mirror, looking back with dread. Cassandra craned her neck to look out the window.

The old woman stood in the middle of the road as though dazed. Her arms hung slack at her sides, and she swayed on her feet, which were planted wide apart. Something was off. Something wrong. The vacant way she stared at the car made Cassandra want to crawl under the seat.

“What’s the matter with her face?” Henry asked. As they watched, the old woman’s cheeks began to sag. The lines became deeper, and the corners pulled down until her mouth was a leering scowl. Then it dripped off, leaving behind a wet, black spot.

“Get it in gear, Aidan,” Andie said shrilly as more of the old woman’s face detached and hit the pavement. All of her skin liquefied; her hair slid down her head to reveal the skull beneath: obsidian black and covered in slime and scales.

“What is that thing?” Henry asked, but Aidan didn’t answer. He threw the car into reverse.

“Buckle up.”

* * *

We have to go faster. Much, much faster.

Athena sat in the passenger seat; her knee bounced and twitched nervously. Odysseus was driving as fast as he could, but it was nowhere near fast enough. They were headed south, toward the Finger Lakes, on Route 89. Seneca Lake was close enough to smell, but they were still at least twenty minutes from finding Apollo and Cassandra. She glanced toward Hermes with annoyance. She refused to believe that there hadn’t been anything faster in the car lot than a ’91 Dodge Spirit. She looked back to Odysseus. He was scared. Much of that fear was concern for her. Was he really driving as fast as he could?

She pushed her neck back slightly and checked the gauges. Eighty miles an hour. Any faster and the engine in the piece of crap would fall out onto the highway.

Apollo, you fool. What would make you run anywhere near these deep, dead lakes when you know that Poseidon is on your tail?

* * *

The tires squealed; the smell of burnt rubber bloomed instantly in the air. The Mustang growled into reverse, aiming straight for the old woman.

Cassandra would have winced, even if she had been the most evil old woman on the face of the planet. Even if she had been granny-Hitler, she would have winced at the idea of running her down. But the thing standing in the road looked nothing like an old woman anymore. It was hulking and webbed, with teeth like an anglerfish from the depths of the ocean. The last of the old woman sat in a puddle around its feet.

The Mustang hit it with a heavy thud, and Cassandra bounced as the body passed beneath first the back and then the front set of tires. Aidan braked hard, and the car slid to a stop.

“What the hell is that thing?” Henry asked again.

“It’s a Nereid,” Aidan growled. “It’s disgusting and warped, but that’s what it is. They serve Poseidon.”