“It won’t matter. It’ll do. Thank you, Andie.”

“No problem. I guess.”

“So,” Henry said, “all caves lead to Olympus? How come nobody’s ever accidentally spelunked into it, then?”

“All caves lead to Olympus for gods,” Hermes replied. “As all bodies of water lead to the underworld for us. At least, when Olympus and the underworld exist.”

Cassandra could barely believe it. Olympus. The underworld. Unreal places made real, as if she could look out her bedroom window and see a floating castle in a cloud. As if she could look into the river at Abbott Park and see Aidan waving up at her. Her brows knit as she realized. If Olympus had returned, perhaps the way to the underworld had opened as well.

Sudden hope ignited in her chest.

“The underworld,” she said. “Has it returned with Olympus?”

Athena and Hermes traded an uneasy glance.

“If we can get to Olympus, can we get there, too?”

“I don’t know,” Athena said.

“Bullshit.”

“I really don’t,” Athena said gently. “I suppose it’s possible.” She took a deep breath. “I know why you’re asking.”

“Take me there.”

“Cassandra—”

“Look,” Cassandra said, doing her best to keep from trembling, “I’m not mad, okay? I know you couldn’t before, you didn’t know. Maybe it wasn’t even possible before.” But it was possible now. She knew the legends. The myths. Orpheus and Eurydice. The Cyclops being freed. Freed. You could pull someone out of the underworld if you loved them and had a god or two on your side. She’d sing Aidan out of that hole if she had to do it belting “The Star-Spangled Banner.” And she wouldn’t be a fool and look back too soon.

“A trip like that,” Athena said, “we don’t know how long it would take.”

“Don’t you want him back?” Cassandra goaded. “Don’t you want another soldier to help keep the mortals alive on that mountain?”

Athena gritted her teeth.

“We don’t have time.”

“Time? What are you talking about? Olympus isn’t going anywhere, is it?” Cassandra dug her nails into her palms. Nobody said a word. Andie held tight to Henry’s arm. Achilles and Calypso barely blinked. Even Odysseus, the great butter-inner, remained silent, curious to see how it played out. Or maybe he was as crazily hopeful as she suddenly was. That she could have him back.

Athena looked nearly ready to pop when Hermes pulled her close and whispered into her ear.

“No,” she said softly. “You can’t wait.”

“I can. I promise I can. And if it might be possible?”

“If it’s possible now, it’ll be possible after,” Athena hissed.

“There won’t be an after,” Cassandra said. “If someone doesn’t take me, then I’m not going with you to Olympus. Good luck with Hera. She’ll turn you to feathery paste.”

“You’re making threats now?” Athena asked. “Giving orders?”

“Stop.” Calypso stepped in between them. “You don’t need to do this. I’ll take Cassandra, if you won’t.”

Cassandra smiled triumphantly; Athena looked as if she’d swallowed a rock.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We have no idea what condition the underworld is in,” Athena said. “And it’s no picnic on a good day.”

“I don’t care,” said Cassandra.

Athena glared at her, every muscle in her jaw clenching. But Cassandra wouldn’t give in. She couldn’t. Not if it meant Aidan.

“Go home and pack,” Athena muttered and turned her back. “Get an hour of sleep if you can. We leave before dawn.”

*   *   *

Odysseus went with Cassandra to her house, along with Andie and Henry. After the growl of the Mustang faded, Athena went back into the yard and kicked the stone statue of Hera in half of its face over, and over, and over. In five minutes, the toes of her favorite boots were ruined, and chunks of Hera lay scattered across the grass.

“Dress rehearsal?”Achilles asked.

Athena smiled ruefully. “Maybe.”

“We could do it all ourselves, you know. Walk in there. Blow up the place. Walk back out. Just you and me.”

He sounded so confident. Very Crocodile Dundee. But it wouldn’t work.

“No,” she said. “We need her. We need Cassandra.”