Lucy jumped as a rich voice suddenly spoke behind her: “Who is this goddess?” She turned to find a classic Venetian Carnevale figure—with an exquisite mask of gold leaf rising to a crown, wrought from lacquered music paper, borne on a stick. She was genuinely surprised when it dropped to reveal a smiling Alex. He looked breathtaking, almost Byronic, which she thought utterly out of character. His hair had grown a shade longer and very slightly curlier, and he was sporting a hint of stubble. She liked it: it really suited him, and it was a new person for her to become acquainted with, a new facet of his character. Was this the immaculate Alex off duty; or was it only affected to enhance his role for the evening?

He had been concentrating on the vision of Lucy, while she made these mental adjustments to his changed physiognomy. He took his time; then, without comment besides a deep, appreciative smile, he closed his hand over hers, and led her toward the Grim Reaper.

“Tickets for the boat ride to Hades, quickly please, Dr. Stafford…and Goddess. We’re about to sail, and half of them on board are ripped already.” The cloaked figure glanced at the tickets. “You’ll find a band in the saloon on the right, and drinks in the bar to the left, or under the canopy, outside on the forward deck, up the stairs through the bar. Enjoy your evening.”

Lucy was amused by Death’s chirpy informativeness, but as they stepped off the gangway onto the boat, two masked figures dressed as spirits sprang at them, blocking their progress.

“A thousand pardons, good souls, but you must pay the ferryman for this voyage. To the realms of the dead.” The man held out a hand.

Alex pulled a ten-pound note from his pocket and proffered it to the spirit. His female companion took the note, holding it between her long white fingers. She rubbed the fingers of the other hand over it, blew magically, and it disappeared. She bowed with a grand gesture.

“Perhaps a Troilus for this Cressida, good doctor?” she begged.

Alex reached into his pocket again, and this time took out a five-pound note. “More an Elizabeth Fry for your Charles Darwin.” He grinned as they moved forward.

“True, sir, but while we beggars do have to move with the times, there’s something lost in the translation, don’t you agree?” Alex laughed. “It is for a good cause, as you know. So I thank you, good sir.”

“Left to drink, right to dance?” Alex offered Lucy the choice as they hovered in the passageway between the halls.

“Let’s take a peek.”