Inside the boathouse, Athena chose a light wooden skiff and pulled it down as easily as if it were an empty nutshell. She set it into the water, and Cassandra grabbed oars off the wall. Athena knelt and gripped the sides.

“Get in.”

Cassandra lowered herself in carefully. The skiff rocked and bobbed. Below the sides, the water looked black and very cold.

“How far do we have to row?” she asked.

“We’re not rowing anywhere.” Athena stood and let go of the boat, and Cassandra made a mad grab for the dock.

“Hey, jerk! How about a warning?” She flexed her arms and tugged the boat close to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I was thinking torches, but that might be a bad idea. Plus—” Athena looked back the way they’d come in. A large flashlight was affixed near the door. “I’m not sure about the batteries, though. We should probably bring both.”

“Both?”

Athena shrugged and went for the flashlight. “You’re right. This should be plenty.”

“Have I mentioned that I love the way you explain things?” Cassandra asked. She looked out across the lake. Daylight had begun to leak through the clouds, showing them low and gray. It wouldn’t be dark much longer. Athena handed her the flashlight.

As Athena got into the skiff, something shifted. The boat and the water, normal, everyday things a moment before, turned strange and out of context. The air went stagnant, and despite the motion of the skiff, the black water didn’t ripple. The flashlight was just a flashlight, but right then it felt about as familiar as a goat’s head.

Athena crouched and reached into the pocket of her jacket. What she pulled out looked like a bunch of sticks mixed with small, dried flowers. She flicked a lighter and set them on fire, burning orange against her cheeks, her lips whispering words Cassandra couldn’t hear.

“Turn the flashlight on,” Athena said.

“What?” Cassandra asked, an instant before Athena dropped the flaming bundle into the water, and the world around them went pitch dark.

“What’s happening?!” She fumbled with the switch on the flashlight, terrified it would slip out of her hands and be lost in the water. “I can’t find the button!” But in the next second she did, and the beam fell yellow on Athena’s calm face. “Why is it so dark?”

“The way down is always dark.”

But this was more than dark. The beam of the flashlight felt heavy trying to cut through it.

“What did you do?” Cassandra asked. “Are we still in the boathouse?”

“Not exactly.”

Cassandra’s heart pounded, bobbing on top of the inky water. Water that might very well have reached the center of the earth.

“Athena?” Her voice trembled. “I think I’ve had enough cryptic. Would you tell me what’s going to happen, please?” She pointed the beam of the flashlight back toward the dock, and it hit nothing. Just blackness, in all directions. Nothing to be seen except for the boat they sat in and Athena’s unruffled face. She’d never been so grateful for Athena’s unruffled face.

Athena looked into the flashlight beam a moment.

“Don’t be scared,” she said, and her voice was softer. “This is how it happens. I’m opening the way. Now we just have to find the river.”

“How do we do that?”

“Hold the flashlight steady. And look away, if your stomach’s feeling weak.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a short-bladed knife.

“What’s that for?” Cassandra asked.

“Not for you. But we have to pay the fare. And the fare is blood.”

Cassandra swallowed. As Athena talked, she felt less cold, and less scared.

“I thought it was just coins,” Cassandra said. “We used to put coins on their eyes, for the boatman. For Charon.” Charon, the ferryman of the dead, who transported souls across the river to Hades for a price. “Don’t tell me that didn’t work.”

Athena smiled. “Sometimes I forget what you are. That you were with us back then, when we were real.”

“You’re still real to me, if you haven’t noticed. Irritatingly real.”

“Well,” Athena said softly, “no Charon this time. It seems I lost his number a few thousand years ago. This time it’s blood. I just hope the blood of a god is payment enough, since I couldn’t fit a sheep in this boat.” She reached out and handed Cassandra the burlap sack she’d brought from the house. “But just in case mine doesn’t work, I brought a snake.”