Persephone looked from Cassandra to Athena with a mix of amusement and hunger. She stepped away from Cerberus and walked closer. “Why have you come?”

“We’ve come for—”

“Aidan! Apollo. Your cousin,” Cassandra blurted again. Athena pursed her lips, but Cassandra couldn’t help it. He was here. So close.

“My cousin,” Persephone said. Her black tongue rolled in her mouth, dry and granular in the quiet. “Have you paid the fare?”

“I paid it,” Athena said. “She doesn’t have to pay.”

Persephone’s head twitched, so much like a zombie that Cassandra was sure she’d charge them any minute, biting.

“I make the rules here, cousin,” Persephone said. “And a little blood is not too much to ask.”

“Back off, Persephone.”

“How much blood?” Cassandra asked. She held her hand out for Athena’s knife. “How much to pay his passage back?”

“Cassandra, don’t,” Athena said, but Persephone started to laugh.

“His passage back?” She cackled. “You can’t take him back! He’s dead. This is his home!”

“Mortals have left here before,” Athena said. “Surely a god is allowed special favors.”

Persephone licked her lips, her eyes marking the path of Cassandra’s veins.

“Pay the fare,” she said. “Perhaps there will be special favors.”

“Give me the knife, Athena.” Cassandra held her hand out, but Athena didn’t move. She only stared deep into Persephone’s eyes.

“He’s not here,” Athena said.

“No,” said Cassandra. “He has to be. Where else would he go?”

“Where dead gods go,” Athena said. “No one knows. Including her.”

Persephone slid toward them, her rotten eyes so wide they threatened to fall out.

“No, no,” she hissed. “He is here. He is. Let me taste the girl, and you’ll see. Let me drain the girl, and I’ll bring him.”

The idea of those teeth on her skin, of that dead girl anywhere near her, was terrifying. But it was for Aidan. She’d do it for Aidan.

“It’s okay, Athena,” she said.

“It would be,” the goddess agreed. “If she wasn’t lying.”

“You don’t know that,” Cassandra said. She tried to tug the knife closer, but it was useless. She pulled on Athena’s arm, and her feet skidded in the dirt. “Just let me have it!”

“Wait,” Athena said gently. “Persephone. What’s his last name?”

Persephone’s head twitched to the side.

“Apollo has no last name. He is Apollo. Sun-lord.”

“And he uses a last name now. Like you must’ve done, during your time above. So what is it?”

“He hasn’t said.”

“Go ask,” said Athena. “We’ll wait.”

Cassandra let go of Athena as Persephone trembled. She didn’t know. She couldn’t ask. He wasn’t here. Cassandra’s heart fell down hard and took her body with it.

*   *   *

Athena tried to catch Cassandra as she crumpled, but the girl hit the ground.

“Dammit.” Athena scowled at her cousin. “Where is he? Is he not here? Tell the truth! I’ll pay your stupid fare.” She tore the sock off her hand and used the knife to cut through the clots. Blood ran into the dirt. Cerberus sniffed the air.

“I don’t want your filth,” Persephone said. “Vile blood, infested with feathers.”

“Well, it’s what you get. You certainly don’t get Cassandra. You don’t even get my snake.” She reached into Cassandra’s backpack and uncapped the honey. It flowed into her palm and pooled with her blood, sweet and golden with salty and red. She drew back and threw the whole mix into Persephone’s face.

“Tell the truth!” she shouted.

Persephone grimaced and growled, but her black tongue stole out and licked the mess from her cheeks in spite of herself.

“He is not here,” she said after she’d swallowed. “He never was.”

“If you’re lying, I’ll slice you down the middle. Dead half separate from deader half.” Athena stepped in front of Cassandra where she’d buckled, her hands dangling in the dirt.

“Why would I lie?” Persephone asked. “And if he were here, do you think I could control him?”

“Where is he, then? Where are they? Where do they go?”