Mortal Gods (29 page)

“All right,” he said. “I’ve got granola bars, beef jerky, bottled water, a few apples, some canned meat, and bread.” He touched each lightly. “And, of course, a bear-shaped bottle of honey. Everything you need for a trip to the underworld.”

“Okay,” said Cassandra. “What’s with the honey? Odysseus mentioned it, too.”

“Well, it’s pretty good on the granola bars. Or, if the dead surround you, you can take the cap off and throw it in the other direction.”

Cassandra’s brow knit. “The dead can eat?”

“They can taste,” said Hermes. “They can drink. Hell, I don’t know, maybe they just like to roll around in the stuff. It’s been awhile since I’ve been down there.” Underneath the jovial tone he was tense and nervous. On his overthin frame it gave an impression of constant vibration.

“Are you okay, Hermes?”

“Haven’t been for over a year,” he said. “But a few more days won’t hurt. And I understand why you’re going. Half of me wants to go with you. He was my brother, too.”

“I know. And we’ll hurry.” Maybe she did understand Athena’s rush. Hermes was so thin he looked fake, like a wax figure or a mannequin. Far too thin to be alive and talking.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, still chestnut and shiny despite the failure of his muscles and tightening skin.

“Just, when you get back, I don’t want to see any new feathers coming out of my sister’s ass, okay?”

Cassandra nudged him. “You know you’re making me pass up a great joke about ass plumage, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know. But now’s not the time.”

*   *   *

An hour and a half later, Cassandra followed Athena through the dark, over rocks and boulders still half-covered with snow and ice. She couldn’t see two feet in front of her face. They could have been going anywhere. But she bit her lip and didn’t ask. She felt enough like a child already, scrambling along, without whining and wanting to know if they were there yet. Since leaving the house, they hadn’t spoken much aside from the usual questions about whether it was warm enough in the Dodge and if she needed to stop to go to the bathroom. Which was fine by Cassandra. She wasn’t there to bond.

But she wasn’t particularly angry, either. Mostly she was nervous and afraid. If Athena had any sense of how to deal with mortals, she would have seen the fear leaking straight through the bottom of Cassandra’s wet shoes. But Athena didn’t notice. She parked the car on a side road in the middle of nowhere, mumbled that it was adjacent to a state park, and plunged onto the trails.

They crested a hill, and the barest glimmer of predawn light showed a dull wooden building lit poorly by pale fluorescent lights. Beside it, a large lake lay choppy and slate gray.

“Where are we?” Cassandra asked finally.

“Boathouse.”

“What are we doing here?”

“Stealing a boat.”

Of course. They would need one to get across the river to the underworld. She remembered that much from her life in Troy. They had to cross over either the river Styx or the river Acheron to reach the shores of the dead.

“We’re not going to portage, are we?” she asked. “Because I can guarantee my slowness will piss you off.”

Athena didn’t look back. “We don’t need to portage.” She walked straight for the deserted boathouse, across the nicely plowed dirt road and very empty parking lot. Cassandra smacked her lightly on the back.

“Why didn’t we park here?”

“I didn’t want the Dodge here,” Athena replied.

“Or maybe you just wanted to make me hike three miles over frozen rocks.”

Athena sighed. “Not everything I do is expressly designed to make your life harder, Cassandra.”

“Sure.”

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.”

“A snake?” Cassandra shone the light on the burlap and saw slow movement inside. “There’s been a snake in here the whole time?”

“Mm-hmm. The cold keeps her still.”

“So.” Cassandra turned the bag. “If you’re not sure your blood will work, why don’t we just start with the snake?”

Athena snatched the bag back. “I like this snake.”

Once the snake was safely in the belly of the boat, Athena put the knife to the palm of her hand and nudged one of the oars toward Cassandra. Cassandra grabbed it as the blade dug deep into the meat of Athena’s palm. The blood pooled for a few seconds, and then she tipped it over the side in a steady stream as if from a chalice. Her lips moved in a soundless prayer or incantation, and she plunged her hand into the water.

“Push us out, Captain.”

*   *   *

They moved off into the dark, slowly at first, and then faster. The water against Athena’s wrist stung like blades of ice. She fought the urge to pull her hand out, had to force herself to leave it below the surface, trailing like chum to the sharks, to every monster and beast that lurked in the water below the paper-thin belly of the boat. Some hideous child of Keto might twist out of the depths and tear her hand off with rows of triangular teeth. Or worse, they could drag her down to be crushed in the dark between scaly coils.

But no matter how her teeth threatened to chatter, she kept her voice calm. Cassandra was still afraid.

“That’s good,” Athena said. “Good. Don’t worry about direction. I can feel the current now. It’s taking us.”

Cassandra nodded, and Athena realized she could see her outside of the flashlight beam. The dark wasn’t so complete. The current grew stronger against her fingers, and she detected a hint of warmth, separate from the steady stream of blood pulsing from her palm.

“Athena? I think it’s working.”

Light came up slowly, light the likes of which only existed in one place. Orange and rosy red at once, it cast no shadows. The light of the underworld. Athena pulled her hand out of the water: a sad, pale, empty thing that throbbed and ached. She wiped it on her jeans and balled it into a fist.

“Here.” Cassandra nudged her and handed her a long white sock. “For your hand. And it’s not off my foot; it’s out of my bag.”

“Thanks.” Athena tied it around her palm. “We’re almost there.” Banks of black rocks and sand appeared on both sides of the broad waterway. She almost told Cassandra not to look up. The expanse over their heads would make her dizzy to the point of vomiting. But it was better not to. If she told Cassandra not to do it, she’d do it for sure.

“What river are we on?” Cassandra asked. “Acheron, or Styx?”

Acheron or Styx. The river of pain or the river of hate. Not much to choose from, but no rivers of dancing ponies led into the underworld. Athena leaned over the side and scooped up water. She pushed it into her mouth, swished it around, and spat.

“Styx.” She spat again.

“How do you know?”

“Don’t you know what hate tastes like?” She glanced back. Cassandra’s face darkened. Silly question. She knew better than most people. “I’m sorry,” Athena said. “It’s making my voice harsh.” She spat more. “Don’t drink it. Don’t even smell it.”

Below them and on all sides, the Styx glittered like a malevolent jewel. Achilles’ mother had dipped him in up to his heel to make him a killer of men, to make him invincible. The lengths of a mother’s love. Athena supposed it had worked. But it was difficult to imagine dunking an infant into so much hateful water.

Behind her, Cassandra looked from shore to shore with fearful fascination.

“Where do we go? It all looks the same. Which side is the one we want?”

“Probably best to ask the dog,” Athena said.

Cassandra frowned. “Cerberus?”

“Ding, ding, ding! Ten points for the princess of Troy.”

“Is this the river of hate, or the river of smartass?”

“Sorry,” said Athena. “Let’s just hope Hades’ three-headed Fido is still alive and kicking.”

Athena put her fingers to her lips and whistled. After a few seconds of tense silence, Cerberus howled back. Twice.

Twice?

They waited, but no third howl followed. Then the river turned and they saw why, as he bounded down the bank.

Two of his heads were alive and well. The third was not. It dangled from his black shoulder, a grotesque marionette of bloodstained bone and sinew that rattled as he pawed the sand.

“Land the boat,” Athena said.

“Where? Near that?”

“He’s not a ‘that.’ He’s a dog.” She pointed toward him again, and Cassandra reluctantly maneuvered the boat toward shore.

“Dog,” Cassandra muttered. “He’s the size of an elk.”

And a large elk at that. Cerberus was two thousand pounds of muscle and shining black fur, with fangs just a size too large for his mouth.

“He doesn’t seem dangerous,” said Athena. “His tail’s wagging, for Pete’s sake.”

“Yeah,” Cassandra said. “But wagging why? Maybe he’s happy to see us because it’s been a long time between meals.”

The belly of the boat scraped against the rock and sand bed of the river. Athena used the other oar to push them in hard, and wedged the bow in deep. As they landed, Cerberus stayed back, watching with alert black eyes in both heads, tail still wagging softly.

“Cerberus.” Athena held one hand out and slipped her other, sock-wrapped hand into her pocket, for her knife. Just in case. The dog’s heads bobbed and licked their jaws. If he decided to bite with both sets of teeth, she’d lose most of an arm.

“Well,” she said, “will you sniff? Or strike?”

He did neither. The left head darted forward and ducked under her hand. She grinned and let go of the knife to pet the other head.

“Is it safe for me, too?” Cassandra asked.

“I should think so.” Athena scratched Cerberus’ ears as Cassandra got out of the boat, careful to keep her feet dry. In seconds she was also stroking and patting the dog’s massive shoulder.

“He’s sort of … monstrously cute.” Cassandra leaned away from his teeth and looked at the fallen head, lying limp and furless in a string of bones. “That’s either disgusting or the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”