No voice spoke out of the water this time, asking for a deposit. I got the feeling the fountain was waiting for me to make the first move. I probably should’ve gone back to bed. Instead I thought about what I’d seen last night—the weird image of Nico at the banks of the River Styx. “You’re trying to tell me something,” I said. No response from the fountain. “All right,” I said. “Show me Nico di Angelo.”
