Compensating and shifting my weight onto my heels led to the discovery that the slippers had zero traction. The rocks shifted under my feet. Two quick steps kept me from tumbling down, but I was certain that something had pierced the sole and cut into the arch of my foot. The eggs clacked roughly in the bowl, but when I inspected them, none had cracked.

Trying futilely to regain my solemn demeanor amid the giggling from Nana and Eris, I proceeded between the torches. Crouching before the water, I found my bell sleeves made placing the bowl into the river tricky. Not willing to let anything further dampen the mood, or my sleeves, this problem was solved by wrapping the draped length around my forearm and tucking the edge under. “I offer this food for the Supper of Hecate, for the Lady of the Crossroads.” The bowl quickly floated out of sight in the mist.

“I am the mother,” Eris said.

She awkwardly surrendered the red bowl to me. In the transfer, I couldn’t help seeing the red ink now embedded in Eris’s palm. That, too, had happened when she’d reversed the spellwork on Johnny.

The red bowl contained a round loaf of bread and a fresh log of goat cheese. As I placed it into the river Eris said, “I offer this food for the Supper of Hecate, for the Queen of Witches.”

“And I am the crone,” Nana croaked.

When she placed the black bowl in my hands I saw that it bore three Filet-O-Fish sandwiches.

The drive-thru contribution lacked the charm an offering should have. Rolling my eyes up at her I whispered, “Really?”

“I wasn’t about to stink up the apartment cooking fish.” She flapped her hand at me. “That’ll do just fine.”

I took the black bowl to the water.

“I offer this food for the Supper of Hecate,” Nana said, “for the Dark Mother of the Underworld.”

The river carried Nana’s offering away. Finished, I held the hem of my skirt up, put my foot on the slope, and dug my toes in. It felt secure, so I took the step.