Athena cocked her head. “You seem less crazy here, Aphrodite.”

“You seem less bitchy,” Aphrodite said, and Athena curled her lip.

“Persephone is strong,” Athena warned. “Maybe stronger here than we are.”

“I’m not worried about that,” said Ares. “The hardest thing is going to be finding her. But don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.” He and Aphrodite headed farther in, toward the labyrinth of tunnels.

I might be an idiot, following those two. Or we might all be idiots, going in there.

Athena looked over her shoulder to where Odysseus lay propped against a stone, watching. Oblivion sat by his side. Panic paced near the edge of the river.

“Don’t worry about him,” said Ares. “They’ll make sure he’s safe. And they won’t kill him, either.”

“If they take so much as a nibble, I’ll eat my fill of red and black wolf.” Athena said it loud, and saw Oblivion flash his fangs.

It felt stupid to go. To leave Odysseus in a den of enemies.

But she had no other choice.

*   *   *

Athena stayed behind them by a few steps, feeling safer with Ares and Aphrodite in her sight line. Except that meant that she would be the one Persephone sank her teeth into first, if she came upon them from behind. There was no winning.

The walls of the underworld stretched up on all sides, translucent, pale, and cut through with dark veins of rock. Or was it oil? Red-orange light played off the surface and made the whole thing seem to move. It reminded Athena of an old person’s skin, or of Persephone’s decaying half. As she watched, a shadow passed close to the surface and made her jump.

Ares heard, and chuckled over his shoulder.

The dead roamed the walls in numbers beyond counting. But they were only shadows. Stuck shadows.

“You all right back there?” Ares asked.

“Shut up, Ares. And that goes for both of you. The way you’re walking you might as well be a herd of cattle. Have you forgotten how to hunt?”

Ares made no attempt to lessen the audible crunching of his shoes on the ground. If anything, he got louder.

“I never learned to hunt,” he said. “I learned to kill.”

“Whatever you say, Chuck Norris.”

Aphrodite looked back, but when she spoke it was to Ares, not Athena.

“She’s gotten so adorably human, hasn’t she? In love with a mortal. Perhaps not even a virgin anymore.”

“Where are we going?” Athena asked, ignoring her. “Not past the palace?”

If Hades had returned home, that’s where he would be. And if he was pissed, he’d have called the Judges home as well.

The Judges. If we manage to get out of here without facing them, I’ll hug Ares. Hell, I’ll hug them both.

“No,” Ares replied. “We’re going to the lake.”

The dead tended to gather near the lake to wander, to try to drink, and to remember who they were. It was a sad, horrible place, the air choked with equal parts frustration and despair.

They were close, if the scenery could be trusted. Small sprigs of asphodel had begun to crop up along the walls, having twisted their way through cracks. The banks of the lake were covered with it: small, pale blossoms of delicate beauty with no scent. The sight of the bloom filled the dead with hope only to tear it away when they buried their noses in the flowers and smelled nothing.

When they came upon the lake, it lay still and coldly black, stretching out into the distance. Asphodel carpeted the banks. A few ambitious sprouts had even flowered in the shallows. Athena kept herself from sniffing. It was difficult, even though she knew better. After a few seconds, she moved her eyes to the water, unable to look at the flowers anymore.

“What are we doing here, Ares?” she asked. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“We’re looking for some dead to do a job for us.”

Athena scanned the lake. They were alone. No shades. Perhaps their presence had frightened them off.

“I don’t see any dead.”

Ares smiled and drew a knife from his pocket.

“That’s because we haven’t called them.”

10

FURY

The Fury railed against the chains in the basement. Her rage shook the foundation of Thanatos’ house, and every time she screamed, Cassandra’s spine tried to crawl out of her back and take up residence on the ceiling.

“Maybe we should have taped her mouth,” Calypso suggested.

Thanatos leaned against the bookshelves in his living room.