***ALEX POV***

I awoke laying on a couch, the murmur of a small crowd around me. I opened my eyes, raising my hand against the bright light coming in from a window next to me.

"Oh good. You're awake," droned a voice from beside me. "Took you long enough."

I lowered my hand, blinking as my eyes adjusted. A man in an Italian suit stood over me. "Who are you?"

"Charon," he enunciated, clicking his nail on his name tag.

"Where am I?" I asked, sitting up. I was in what looked like a lobby.

"The waiting room of the Underworld," he spread his arms in a grand gesture. "Otherwise known to the living as DOA Records."

"Why?" I looked around, trying to remember how I ended up here. The last thing I could remember was being at Camp Half-Blood, trying to get the Apollo and Athena kids to stop bickering. Again.

He let out a soft sigh. "For a child of Hermes, you're not very swift, are you? I normally don't initiate conversation with the recently departed, but I have special instructions from your father."

"Recently departed? What are you talking about?" I reached for my wand, but my pocket was empty. "Where is my wand? And why am I wearing dirty cargo pants?"

"Well, what I'm talking about is the fact that you're dead. And if you didn't have it with you when you died, then you're not bringing it with you into the afterlife. As for the pants, my best guess is that you have terrible style."

"Is this a joke?" I asked. "This is some kind of joke, isn't it?"

"Most spirits who died abruptly have a difficult time coming to terms with their demise," he said, more to himself than me.

"Okay," I stood, walking to the door. "This has been fun. Really. I don't know how much the Stoll brothers paid you to do this, but I hope it was worth it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be going." I turned to the front door, shoving it open. Well, I would have shoved it open, if my arm didn't go right through the door. I yanked my hand back, clutching it to my chest.

"What the— What was that?" I looked at Charon, my voice a few octaves higher than normal.

"The dead can't open doors," Charon said. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that you are in that category now."

"But I can Swayze my way through them?" My voice lowering to its normal pitch.

"Yes, but you couldn't come back here on your own. And while I'd love to be rid of you, I was given special instructions to make sure you made it through the gates of the Underworld. So the only way for you is forward." He started walking to the elevator.

"Wait!" I hurried to catch up with him, "Who gave you special instructions?"

"Your father," he said, pressing the down button. "But your father told me that it is imperative that you move on immediately."

"Hermes?"

"He is your father, yes?" The doors opened and he stepped in, turning back to me.

"Yeah, but I mean, why?"

"That's not really my concern. Though he did say something about you being important for something or other that he has planned. Are you coming?"

"I don't like this…" I muttered, stepping in.

I was outside the throne room of Hades and Persephone. Charon had ferried me down the River Styx to the gates of the Underworld. He left me with two envelopes and told me to give one to the Judges and the other to Hades. The Judges had seemed puzzled after looking over their letter, but they said nothing, pointing to me to the palace of Hades.

So here I was, trying not to bolt out of the palace to find a way out of the Underworld. I sat on the black marble floor instead, picking at the dried lumps of mud and weeds on my pants, willing myself to remember how I had died. At least I felt more substantial down here than I had in the lobby upstairs.

I jumped as the doors in front of me swung open, revealing the room, and the god, within. "Enter," called Hades.

"Hello, sir," I said, stopping several feet from the thrones. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"I've seen far worse," he assured. "Charon sent word that you would be coming. He said that you had something for me."

"Yeah—yes." I stepped forward to hand him the second envelope.

He read over the letter for a while before addressing me. "It seems your father wants you alive. He says someone will be coming here shortly to retrieve you."

"Really?" I frowned. "That's what that letter says?"

He raised an eyebrow, reaching for the paper, "If you don't believe my sincerity, you're welcome to read the letter for yourself."

"No! I mean, I think you're telling me the truth. I just don't understand why it's true. Does he say why?"

"Not in detail. He says he cannot explain much, but that you have an important role in a plan of his."

"I don't know anything about any of his plans. I'm not even sure how I got here."

"Ceasing to be alive is how people usually get here." I couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a joke.

"I mean I can't remember how I died."

"Ah. You're one of those," Hades said, leaning back in his throne.

"One of what?"

"Souls who don't remember their demise are somewhat rare here. Most choose to leave the lobby upstairs rather than let Charon ferry them here."

"Oh. Yeah, Charon told me about what would happen if I left. Didn't sound too appealing."

"I'm glad. What is the last thing you remember of your life?"

"I was at camp. I had settled an argument, and then I… I think Chiron had wanted to talk to me about something."

"Do you recall what it was he wanted to speak about?" He urged.

Fragments of a memory flashed in my mind. "I kinda remember—"

"Alex?" a voice behind me called. I turned to see a man standing in the doorway, his dark clothing and even darker hair creating a chameleon effect against the marble of the throne room. "Are you alright? I came as quickly as I could manage."

"I might have been" I huffed as the memory faded away. "If you didn't have the worst timing."

"It was never my intention for you to end up… here. I had no idea that 'hero' would be so reckless."

"Why are you worried about me?" I was getting a little weirded out by this guy. "Who are you?"

"Alex, what are you doing? You know me." He frowned, moving closer. I backed up, tripping on the base of Hades' throne, sitting down hard on the dark stone. I was surprised to feel pain spark across the middle of my back. Could the dead feel pain?

"Kindly refrain from startling my subjects," Hades said. "You are the one sent to bring Alex's soul back?"

"Yes," the stranger turned away from me, somewhat reluctantly, to acknowledge the god for the first time. "Her father sent me. He said you owe him a favor."

"That is true. However, I do not make a habit of simply letting souls return to the mortal world without a price."

"What sort of price?"

"Alex has no memory of approximately the past twelve hours. Including you. So my price is this: if you can succeed in getting Alex to recall how she died, then you may both return to the mortal world."

"And how do I know it was not you who did this to her? Perhaps your plan is to manipulate her into staying here."

"Because it is not my place to alter the memories of anyone, dead or otherwise, for any reason. You may accept my offer, or you may leave. The choice is yours."

"Do I get a choice in this?" I piped up from my spot on the floor.

Hades looked down at me. "The Judges informed me that you would be sent to Elysium, should you stay. You'll be happy here, I'm sure. But no, you do not get a choice in the matter, I am afraid."

"Your price," said the man. "What are the terms?"

"Alex is free to ask you whatever she wishes, except for your name and precisely how she died. However, you may only answer her questions, do not add anything unwarranted."

"I accept."

"Okay, uh…" I stood, facing the stranger. "I don't remember you, so I'm assuming we met sometime in the past twelve hours?"

"Correct."

"Alright. Where did we meet, then?"

"A cliff. We were close to Stuttgart, if I'm not mistaken."

"What? Why was I on a cliff in Germany?"

"You've yet to tell me, actually."

"Okay then… Was my death an accident?"

"Supposedly." He scowled.

Feeling a little bolder, I stepped up to him to see him better. He seemed calm, but I thought I could see fear in his eyes. It was hard to tell in the dim light.

"Prove that you know me."

"You can only ask him questions," Hades reminded.

"Fine," I said. "Can you prove that you know me?"

The man thought for a moment, before reaching into his coat. "Well, this belongs to you." He pulled out short rod, holding it out to me.

I peered at the object, gasping when I realized what I was seeing. "Is that—That's my wand! How do you have my wand?"

"You had dropped it when you were… when you passed. I was planning on giving this back to you when we returned to Midgard."

"Well give it back to me now, Loki!" I tried to grab it from him, my hand passing right through his—and my wand. My shoulders sagged. Apparently I wasn't as substantial down here as I had thought. I walked away from him, sitting on the floor by the wall.

"I'm never going home, am I?" I mumbled to no one in particular.

"What did you just say?" he asked, sitting near me.

"That I'm never getting out of here. No offense, but I'm not remembering anything."

"No, what did you say before that."

"I told you to give me my wand back…" I looked up at him. "Loki?"