Zach drove around the island one final time just to make sure that Hector wasn’t following him, and then returned to his master’s ship. Hector might be an Outcast, but he was still funneling information to the Delos family, and Zach couldn’t afford to slip up. Automedon would do far worse than kill him if he accidentally led Hector to their base on the ship with the red sails.
Killing the engine, Zach stared at the dock that led to the graceful yacht, bobbing gently on the night swells. His palms started to sweat and his stomach fluttered at the thought of walking down that row of planks and delivering his full report to Automedon. The face-to-face report was just a formality—Zach had emailed the entire text thread to his master as soon as he had stolen it—but Automedon liked reminding his minion that every second of his day belonged to his master.
There was no way out of this for Zach. And it was all Helen’s fault. That bitch.
He had just wanted to know what she had been hiding for all those years. He had tried to talk to her about it in private, but no matter how caring he had acted, she wouldn’t let him in. If she had just paid attention to him, maybe gone out with him a few times, none of this would have happened.
Zach ended up getting all the answers he wanted—and much more that he didn’t. Automedon came from an era where the only difference between a free man and a slave was timing, and Zach was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Zach got out of his car and started down the gangplank, reminding himself that at least his master had respected him enough to be honest. He had even been given an important job. He was to spy on his former friends, especially Helen, and give his master any information he could gather about her quest in the Underworld. Dishonorable, but hey, it was a way in to this world, at least. Helen was a snob. And the Delos boys? They were all too busy buffing their pretty muscles and sleeping with every hot girl on the island to notice a lowly normal human like him.
Tonight he had served his master well, even though the information he had supplied was not welcome. Zach had proven that there was another surviving Rogue, and if there were two—Helen and this new guy, Orion—then there could be many, many more.
Zach wasn’t an idiot. It hadn’t taken him long to understand the politics or the ultimate prize involved. Raising Atlantis would give immortality to the Scions, and after thousands of years stuck in a stalemate with the gods, the Hundred Cousins were determined to claim their prize.
There was some debate, coming from the whiny Delos faction, about a great war starting as a result of this, but Zach’s master had explained it all to him. War would be a really bad choice for the gods. The Hundred, immortal as soon as they raised Atlantis, would outnumber the Twelve Olympians by at least eighty-eight, and everyone knew that there were more than a hundred cousins in the Hundred.
If the Olympians tried to fight, they would be forced to surrender almost immediately. Humanity would finally have gods who could really understand them, gods who had once been mortal. Maybe, for a change, people’s prayers would get answered instead of ignored.
It made perfect sense to Zach. He knew he was on the right side.
It’s just that sometimes Zach heard his master say horrible stuff, like how he wished all of humanity was either gone or turned into mindless slaves, like in an ant colony. On more than one occasion, Automedon had said that he wanted his master to “wipe the world clean.” Zach had never met his master’s master, and from what he had heard, he didn’t want to. Ever.
Stepping onto the yacht, Zach heard multiple voices belowdecks and smelled an acidic, rancid scent, like sour milk. His body recoiled from the smell of the visitors, but he told himself to ignore it. Sometimes his master didn’t smell right, either. Even though he looked mostly human on the outside, Automedon had an exoskeleton instead of skin and he didn’t breathe through his mouth, but through tiny holes hidden all over his outer surface. He didn’t smell human—more like musk mixed with dry leaves.
Zach took a seat on the now-vacant upper deck. The other members of the Hundred who’d come with Automedon to the island had all been called back by Tantalus shortly after the confrontation with Hector, Lucas, and Helen in the woods. Zach wasn’t sure exactly why, but he thought it had something to do with Tantalus being attacked. Whatever had happened must have been big in order for Tantalus’s elite guard to circle the wagons the way they had. All Zach knew was that now an entire battalion of the Hundred Cousins was committed to chasing some mystery woman across the world.
The voices belowdecks rose slightly in disagreement, and then quickly softened as one or the other side backed down. Zach knew better than to interrupt, so he waited on one of the teak benches.
They knew he was there, of course. Zach had learned that his master could hear him no matter how softly he tried to walk. Whoever was down there with him was equally as gifted—either a high-ranking Scion, or something else even more powerful. His master did not use that reverent tone of voice on any being he deemed less than himself, and there were very few beings on the planet that Automedon did not rank as beneath him.
When he heard the group belowdecks begin to ascend, Zach stood respectfully. Following his master up the stairs was a tall woman and a pale young man. They looked like fashion models with their delicate beauty and luminous gray eyes, and they moved like they were floating.
But, on closer inspection, there was too much white in their gray eyes, and they seemed to pant instead of breathe. Zach backed away, and by the displeased look on his master’s face knew he had done something terribly wrong. The panting woman waggled her head toward Zach, like a snake zeroing in on its target.
“Kneel, slave!” Automedon commanded.
Zach dropped to his knees but continued staring at the hypnotically ugly woman. It had taken him a moment to realize it, but for all her height and sharp features, she wasn’t a beautiful fashion model. She was repulsive, and so was the stooping, stumbling boy next to her.
They were the source of that horrid smell—bad milk mixed with sulfur. It made his eyes water, so he shut them. Violent, chaotic emotions began to bubble up inside him. He wanted to hit someone or light something on fire.
“Finally, some reverence,” the woman hissed.
“He is ignorant,” Automedon said dismissively.
“Is he too stupid to fulfill his duty?”
“Not at all. He is native to this place and quite tied to the Face,” Automedon answered smoothly. “If these are the Three Heirs of the prophecy, I expect my slave to behave just the way we need him to. Like an envious human.”
“Good.”
Zach didn’t hear the woman and the young man walk away, but when he opened his eyes, they were gone. Only the hideous smell lingered. The reckless feeling overwhelmed him, and he looked around the deck of the ship for something to break.
The Furies whispered names and hiccupped with pitiful sobs.
Helen told herself to take her hand off Orion’s chest and back away. She could feel him between her legs, but she couldn’t see him in the pitch black of the cave. That helped. If she could just stop touching him, she would be able to calm down, and she needed to calm down. She was so angry that she could have sworn she felt the earth shake.
But she didn’t back off. Without ever making a decision, she found herself digging her fingers into him, clutching at his shirt and wrenching him closer to her as he tried to back away.
Another tremor rocked the cavern floor beneath her, and this time she knew it was not her imagination. The quake was so strong that it knocked her off Orion. A great booming noise thundered through the cave as the ground heaved up and came slamming back down. She heard Orion’s breath catch in his throat as he tried and failed to say her name. Somehow, he had scrabbled out from under her, but Helen knew that he was still close.
Desperate for some light, Helen thought about summoning a bolt. She was severely dehydrated after toiling for so long in the Underworld, and she knew that dehydration would make her lightning highly unstable. If she didn’t have full control over her bolts, one could explode out of her at full force and collapse the already earthquake-damaged cave. The cestus protected Helen from weapons, not poor judgment, and the earth could smother her as quickly as the sea could drown her.
“Helen. Run,” Orion managed to say in a raspy voice. “Please.”
His voice scratched at her nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but at least it guided her back to his position.
She dove on top of him, straddling him again and pinning him down tightly between her knees. She felt his hands grip her forearms, stopping her from raining blows down on his head. Each of his hands was wrapped around each of her wrists in the dark.
As they struggled, Helen felt a third hand, insubstantial as air but unmistakably Orion’s. It reached up to touch her chest. She shook and shivered convulsively, away from the shock of his impossible touch.
With infinite tenderness, Orion’s third hand passed through her clothes, her skin, and her bones. It strummed the branching nerves caged inside her backbone, then cupped that place behind her breastbone where her laugh began—the same place that had ached so terribly since she had lost Lucas.
While Helen knew that an organ in her chest was not responsible for her emotions, it felt as if Orion held the center of her heart in his invisible hand.
She froze, overwhelmed by this new sensation. Orion sat up under her, their faces inches apart in the dark.
“We don’t have to hurt each other, Helen,” he breathed softly. His lips brushed against the hypersensitive patch of skin between her ear and jawbone. The dusting of hairs across Helen’s cheek stood up and reached out to touch Orion’s mouth as if he was summoning them. Her fists relaxed and fell from their combative posture, drifting down uncertainly, until her palms came to rest on Orion’s warm, thick shoulders.
Inside her, Orion’s third hand flexed and rushed out in five directions, like five fingers extending. His inner touch flooded down each of her four limbs and, lastly, the fifth finger reached up to fill her head.
“I could never hurt you.” His voice broke, and his real hands ran down her back to cradle her hips.
“I don’t know what you’re doing to me,” Helen whispered, keeping her voice nearly soundless so she didn’t groan or sob or scream by accident. She couldn’t decide if Orion’s inner touch was the most amazing thing she’d ever felt, or if it was so intimate it passed through pleasure and became pain. “But I don’t want to hurt you, either.”
“They must not!”
An insistent susurration flooded the cave, and the sound quickly rose to shouting. The Furies were at a fever pitch, and for the first time Helen could remember, they actually touched her.
Thumping their damp foreheads and their brittle, ash-dusted limbs against Helen’s back, the Furies closed in on her. Stumbling forward, they scratched her face and pulled her hair, tearing at Helen with their sharp little nails to break her out of Orion’s thrall.
A thousand unavenged murders flashed red in Helen’s thoughts.
“Kill him! Kill him now!” they hissed. “He still owes a debt to the House of Atreus. Make him pay in blood!”
Overwhelmed by the Furies, Helen’s heart slipped out of Orion’s invisible hand and filled with rage. She reared back and hit him as hard as she could manage—trying to ram her fist down his throat.
Whatever control Orion had been exerting over himself was lost. The Furies were quick to possess him. He snarled like an animal and shot forward, grabbing Helen’s upper arms and pushing her roughly onto her back. With his Scion powers restored, he was faster and stronger than she could have imagined. Hector had been right. Orion was enormously powerful. Helen tried to struggle out from underneath him, but it was too late. He had the upper hand now, and with his size and skill he could easily keep her pinned down.
Risking a catastrophic eruption of electricity, Helen allowed a current to run across her skin. She was hoping to knock Orion unconscious, but fatigue made her fall short of the mark, and the painful shock she delivered only made him angrier. Orion screamed and twitched with agony, but he didn’t let her go. When he recovered from the electrical storm in his head he leaned down hard on her shoulders, grinding her back into the wet floor of the cave until a gasp of pain escaped from her lips.
Helen realized then that she had misjudged Orion horribly, and that she would pay for it. She still couldn’t see him, but she could feel the full mass of him looming above her. She had never noticed how large he was until now, probably because she never had reason to fear him before. As she pushed uselessly against his face and throat, she knew that she would not win this fight. She was injured, dehydrated, and beyond exhausted. Orion was going to kill her.
Helen didn’t even have to think about it. She knew she’d rather die buried under a thousand tons of rubble than submit to him. She relaxed and began to summon a true bolt—one that would easily kill him and most likely collapse the cave and kill her as well. But she didn’t get the chance to release it.
Suddenly, Orion let go of her and pushed himself up, as if he were waking from a dream. She heard him frantically scrambling away from her in the dark. Not knowing where he’d gone made her desperate for some light. Straining her ears against the pounding silence, Helen waited for the sound of another attack.
Orion’s boots creaked somewhere out there. The Furies hissed, calling out to Helen from Orion’s hiding place. They were directing her, wanting her to finish the fight.
But now that she was no longer touching him, Helen felt uncertain. Orion wasn’t her enemy, was he? In fact, she cared for him—so much that she was starting to worry that she had really hurt him. But the impenetrable dark of the cave revealed nothing, no matter how hard Helen tried to stare through it.
She decided that she needed to know two things. First, was he was okay? Second, if he was, was he about to attack her?
Focusing all her remaining strength on maintaining a balanced charge, Helen conjured a small globe of glowing electricity in her left hand and held it up above her head. Her eyes darted around the toothy stalactites and stalagmites until she spotted Orion. He was backed up against the wall on the other side of the small cavern, his eyes pinched closed. Blood was running down his chin.
“If you’re going to kill me, do it now while my eyes are closed.” His deep voice rang out sure and steady, echoing down the empty passageways. “I won’t fight you.”
Generating light had been a mistake. Now Helen could see the Three Furies gnashing their teeth and raking their fingers down their bodies in the shadows. They tore their clothes and left deep red welts on their bleached and clammy skin.
Helen stood up and stalked toward Orion robotically, like a clockwork killer full of cogs instead of thoughts. In an ecstasy of hate, she fell down on her knees in front of him and put her right hand under his shirt.
Sliding her hand along Orion’s belt, Helen felt for the knife she knew he kept strapped to his back. He must have known what she was doing, but he didn’t try to stop her. Helen unsheathed his knife and held the tip of the blade against his chest.
“I don’t want this,” she said. Her voice shook and her eyes were blurry with tears that gathered, tipped, and then tumbled down her hot cheeks. “But I need it.”
Orion kept his eyes shut, his hands gripping the cavern wall. In the icy, erratic light of her barely controlled electricity, Helen saw him calm himself, as if he’d done this many times before. The ghost-white limbs and ashy hair of the Furies blinked in and out of the corner of Helen’s eye.
“I feel it, too. The bloodlust,” he whispered, so softly Helen understood his meaning more than heard his words. “It’s okay. I’m ready now.”
“Look at me.”
Orion opened his bright green eyes. The Furies screamed.
A boyish, surprised expression stole across his face. He began to take labored little breaths and his head fell listlessly toward Helen, inch by inch, until his lips grazed lightly against her own. His mouth was very warm and soft. Like a new flavor she couldn’t quite place but that she wanted to swallow whole, Helen pulled his lower lip into her mouth to take a bigger sip of him. Catching his face in one of her hands so she could tilt his wilting mouth toward hers, she noticed something sticky between her fingers. Helen pulled back and looked down.
There was blood on her hands.
Stunned out of her trance, Helen looked down and saw a dark, wet circle expanding across Orion’s shirt. His surprised look. She had stabbed him. And then she kept pushing the tip of the blade into him a tiny bit at a time as they leaned toward each other. And he had allowed her to do it without complaint.
Seeing what she had done, Helen yanked the blade out of Orion’s chest and sent it clanging against the floor behind her.
He pitched forward with a small sigh and crumpled up at her knees.
Horrified, Helen dug her heels into the slippery ground and scrambled away from Orion’s still body, extinguishing her globe of light in the process. Her back hit a stalagmite and she remained motionless, listening for any sound from him. The Furies whispered to her to get up and finish what she had started, but she was too stunned to obey.
“Orion?” she called across the cavern.
She would carry him out, she reasoned with herself. The blade hadn’t gone in that deep, so he was just unconscious. Right? Right, she told herself firmly. If he was too far gone to heal himself, she’d bring him to Jason and Ariadne, and they could save him, she knew they could do it. She didn’t care how exhausted she was, how huge he was, or how far she had to carry him. Orion was going to live, no matter what she had to do.
But the Furies . . . they would make even the compassionate twins want to kill Orion. That is, if Helen could resist the Furies as she brought him back to Nantucket. How could she trust herself with him after what she’d just done to him?
“Orion, answer me!” Helen cried into the dark. “You can’t die!”
“Well, someday, I will. But not yet,” he groaned. The Furies’ whispers rose. “You have to get out of here.”
“I don’t want to leave you. You’re hurt.”
“I’m nearly healed. Follow the water uphill. It will lead you out.” Orion swallowed painfully. “Please, get away from me!”
The Furies were talking to Orion now, guiding him toward Helen. She could hear them begging him to kill her. He made a desperate sound and Helen sensed him lunging toward her.
Narrowly avoiding his tackle, Helen disengaged gravity and soared up into the air. As soon as she was flying she could sense the faintest movement of air, right down to the minute flow around the stalactites that hung from the ceiling. The air currents helped her figure out which way led up and out of the cave.
She could also feel gusts of air being stirred up by Orion, who was flailing his arms below as he searched for her in the dark. Wounded or not, Helen knew she had to leave him immediately or neither of them would survive the night. She soared out of the cavern and up through the winding passageways until she could see the dim glow of predawn light at the mouth of the cave.
Helen floated higher to get her bearings. Looking down at the still-dark landscape, she saw that she was near the south shore of Massachusetts and relatively close to the coast. She turned to the first rays of the sunrise, and headed due east out over the open water.
Somewhere over Martha’s Vineyard, Helen started crying. She kept picturing the stunned look on Orion’s face as she stabbed him—stabbed him, she kept repeating to herself in shock.
A sob burst out of her and she covered her mouth with her hand. She tasted something very wrong on her lips and looked at her hand in disgust. It was covered in Orion’s blood. She really had almost killed him, and the proof of it was stained into her skin. If he hadn’t kissed her, he’d be dead now.
Helen swooped dangerously in the air above her house. She tried to clear her eyelashes of the tears that were freezing as soon as they welled up, but they just kept coming. The more she tried to stuff the sobs down, the more violently they seemed to burst out of her. What had Orion done to her heart?
Helen’s control over the wind began to falter, and she tumbled in midair like a plastic bag in a storm. She dropped out of the sky and made a beeline for the blue tarp covering her bedroom window.
Tearing the tarp aside, she dove into bed and buried her head under her chilly pillow to muffle the sound of her tears. She could hear her father snoring in the next room, blissfully unaware that his daughter had very nearly become a murderer.
Helen cried herself out as quietly as she could, but no matter how tired she was, she refused to fall asleep. She couldn’t bear the thought of descending back into the Underworld so soon, although she knew that it didn’t make any difference. This cycle that she was stuck in seemed never ending. If she slept, if she stayed awake, what did it matter? There was no rest for her no matter what she did.
Zach saw Helen lift up the blue tarp over her window and fly under it. He’d seen his master do a lot of things that were physically impossible, but seeing a girl he’d known his whole life flying was difficult for him to process. She’d always been like an angel, so beautiful she was almost painful to look at, but in flight Helen really did look like a goddess. She also looked upset. He wondered what had happened to her. Whatever it was, wasn’t good. Zach assumed she still hadn’t been successful in the Underworld.
And how the hell had she gotten out of the house in the first place? he wondered. Then he started to sweat. Somehow, Helen had switched out the lights in her bedroom, and then about half an hour later appeared behind him in midair. Could she teleport now? What was he going to tell his master?
Zach knew he had to make a report. He turned to walk toward his car, parked down the street, and jumped. Automedon was standing behind him, as silent as a grave.
“How did the Heir get out?” he asked calmly.
“She just fell asleep. . . . She didn’t leave, I swear it.”
“I can smell your fear,” Automedon said, his red eyes shining in the dark. “Your eyes are too slow to see her. I can no longer trust you with this task.”
“Master, I . . .”
Automedon shook his head. That was enough to silence Zach.
“My master’s sister has had word from her brother. They are almost ready,” Automedon continued in his blank and emotionless way. “We must make preparations to capture the Face.”
“You master’s sister?” Zach asked shrewdly. “But Pandora’s dead. Don’t you mean Tantalus’s wife, Mildred?” Zach crumpled onto his knees, all the air rushing out of his lungs. Automedon had punched him in the gut so fast he’d never seen it coming.
“You ask far too many questions,” Automedon said.
Zach gasped and clutched his middle, certain now that Automedon had a different master. He wasn’t working for Tantalus anymore, and Zach had a feeling it had something to do with that tall, inhuman woman and the misshapen boy with her. Whoever she was, she was calling the shots now for her brother, and it was her brother who was Automedon’s real master. Zach knew that Automedon didn’t trust him enough to tell him who he was working for, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still find out. He just had to be careful.
“Forgive me, master,” Zach wheezed as he stood up, still bent over with pain and seething with bitterness. “I will get you what you need. Instruct me.”
Automedon’s mouth twitched, like he could smell Zach’s disingenuous intent. Zach tried to think loyal thoughts. His life literally depended on it.
“Rope, a stake, and a bronze brazier. Do you know what a brazier is?”
“A ceremonial bronze pan. Used to hold burning coals or fire,” Zach repeated lifelessly. His master nodded once.
“Keep all of these things on hand. When the time comes it will all happen very quickly.”
Sitting up, Helen rubbed her throbbing head and noticed that she was still covered in blood and grime. Her skin was oily and tender from lack of sleep and her face felt hot, even though she knew that her bedroom was literally freezing cold. The glass on her nightstand had a spiky film of ice on top.
Forcing herself out of bed, she staggered into the shower and stayed there, trying to forget the way Orion had looked at her, how lost he’d seemed. The word stabbed kept echoing around the inside of her malfunctioning mind, confusingly coupled with the memory of how he had touched her.
Helen knew Orion could control hearts, but nothing could have prepared her for what she’d felt when he reached inside her. It sort of hurt, but in a good way—in the best way, Helen realized. Her hot face got even hotter and she pinched her eyes shut tightly and turned directly into the stinging spray. For a moment it felt like Orion could have done whatever he wanted to her, and Helen knew she would have let him. Worse, she suspected that no matter what he asked of her, he could have made her enjoy it, too.
“Helen!” Jerry yelled, jolting her out of her vivid thoughts. He only called her Helen when he was really ticked off. “Why is it so damn cold in this damn house . . . damn it!”
That’s it, Helen thought. I’ve finally made my father so angry he’s actually forgotten how to speak English.
Jerry came to the bathroom door and started yelling at her through the wood. She could almost picture him out there, pointing his finger vehemently at the door while he got himself so worked up that he started mixing up words like irresponsible and thoughtless and said things like irrespons-less-ness.
Helen shut off the taps and shrugged into a robe, still wet. She pulled open the door and leveled her father with a look. Whatever Jerry was going to yell next died with a whimper as soon as he saw Helen’s face.
“Dad,” she said carefully as she dangled precariously from the end of her emotional tether. “This is the situation. I already called Mr. Tanis at the hardware store and he came over on Friday to measure the window. Then, he placed the order with a glass shop on the Cape because this house is so old that none of our fixtures are standard size. We have to wait for the shop on Cape Cod to make the window, ship it to back to us, and Mr. Tanis will come and install it. But until then, it’s going to be freaking freezing cold in my bedroom, okay!”
“Okay!” he said, leaning away from Helen’s sudden attack of the crazies. “Just as long as you’re taking care of it.”
“I am!”
“Good!” He shifted awkwardly on his feet and looked at Helen with a penitent expression. “Now what do you want for breakfast?”
Helen smiled at him, grateful that of all the proverbial doorsteps Daphne could have left her on, she had chosen Jerry’s.
“Pumpkin pancakes?” she said with a sniffle. She rubbed her runny nose on the sleeve of her robe like a little kid.
“Are you sick? What’s wrong with you, Len? You look like you’ve been to hell and back.”
Helen laughed, resisting the temptation to tell him how on the mark his guess was. Her sudden laughter only confused Jerry even more. He backed away with a slightly weirded-out look on his face and went downstairs to make her pancakes.
When Helen was bundled up in a thick wool sweater and even thicker wool socks, she joined him in the kitchen and helped. For about an hour she and her dad just hung out, ate, and shared the Sunday paper. Every time the thought of Orion arose, she would try to sideline it.
She couldn’t allow herself to become too attached to him. She knew that. But little details kept swimming up to fill her mind’s eye—the single beauty mark that hung like a dark tear high on the slope of his right cheek; the sharp, diamond shape of his incisors when he smiled.
Why hadn’t he texted yet?
“Are you going to Kate’s later?” she asked her dad to get her mind off Orion.
“Well, I wanted to ask you first,” he answered. “Are you going to Luke’s?”
Helen stopped breathing for a moment, collected herself, and tried to pretend that her stomach hadn’t fallen to the floor. For a moment, she tried to reason with the voice in her head that was whispering the word unfaithful. She and Lucas were not together. What did it matter if she thought about Orion?
“I’m going to Ariadne’s, Dad. She and I have this thing; so go to Kate’s. I’m not going to be here.”
“Another project for school?” he asked so innocently that Helen knew he didn’t believe it.
“Actually, no,” Helen admitted. She was too tired to keep all the lies straight anymore and decided she would try a touch of truth for a change. “She’s teaching me self-defense.”
“Really!” he exclaimed, completely shocked. “Why?”
“I want to learn how to protect myself.”
Helen realized how true it was as she said it. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life hiding behind other people. Eventually, she would run out of champions—especially if she kept stabbing them in the chest.
Orion should have texted her by now. Where was he?
“Oh. Okay.” Jerry scowled as he collected his thoughts. “Lennie, I give up. Are you and Lucas dating or not? Because I can’t figure it out, Kate can’t figure it out, and you look really miserable. I’m assuming you two broke up, but if you did, then why? Did he do something to you?”
“He didn’t do anything, Dad. It’s not like that at all,” Helen mumbled. She was still incapable of saying Lucas’s name. “We’re just friends.”
“Friends. Really? Lennie, you look like the walking dead.”
Helen stifled a bitter laugh and shrugged. “Maybe I’ve got the flu or something. Don’t worry. I’ll get over it.”
“Are we talking about the flu or Lucas?”
Helen’s phone buzzed. She dove for it—Orion!—but it was Claire, asking where she was.
“What’s wrong now?” Jerry asked.
“Huh? Nothing,” Helen responded, still staring at her phone. Why hadn’t Orion texted her yet?
“You look disappointed.”
“I gotta go. Claire’s coming up the street,” she lied, ignoring her father’s comment about being disappointed—which she wasn’t, she told herself. She was worried, and that was different.
What had Orion done to her? She knew this wasn’t normal. She felt like her brain had been hijacked, and apparently, her skin had gone along for the ride, too. She could still feel his hands on her, and she knew she wasn’t just imagining it. She could feel points of pressure on the small of her back, like his fingers were pressing into her. She felt him tug on her hips, pulling her closer to him, even though she knew he was miles away on the mainland.
She put a hand out to steady herself and counted to three. The feeling that he was holding her hips in his hands receded, but it didn’t entirely go away. Rushing to get away from so many impossible sensations, she kissed her dad good-bye, put on her shoes and coat, and hurried out of the house.
The steps swam in front of her and a familiar scent lingered on the breeze. Helen spun on her heel and twisted her head around to find the source of it. Disoriented, she fell to her knees and held her arms out, groping around like she had been blindfolded. Something was terribly wrong with her eyes. The sky in front of her looked mismatched, as if it had been ripped apart and then hastily stitched back together a millimeter or two askew.
Helen felt heat—wonderful, comforting heat in a sea of cold. Some invisible sun was warming her ever so slightly. She closed her eyes and held out her hand to touch the warmth that hung a shadow’s width away, but as she reached out to touch it, it bled into the cold October air and disappeared.
Hot tears stung Helen’s out-of-focus eyes. She felt as if she had just been denied something she needed so desperately. Helen swatted at the empty air with her hands, but there was nothing there.
Come to me, Dreamless One. I miss holding you in my arms.
Helen froze and looked around. She had heard a man whisper—but from where?
The sound had come from inside her own mind, but the voice had definitely not been hers. It had sounded so soothing. Helen wanted to hear it again.
Getting up off her knees, Helen glanced around self-consciously at the neighbors’ windows, hoping none of them had seen her. She didn’t know how to explain her momentary freak-out to anyone, least of all to herself. A terrifying thought crossed her mind. Blurry vision, disrupted balance, and hot and cold flashes were all known side effects of sleep deprivation. So was dementia. It was possible that she had imagined the whole thing, including the voice.
Helen knew she couldn’t afford to panic. She shook off the fear. Jogging a ways down the street, she made sure no one was watching and then took to the air. Moments later, she landed in the Deloses’ arena, right next to Ariadne and Matt, who were already in the middle of a training session. Matt screamed like a little girl.
“What the hell, Lennie!” He scrambled through the sand to regain his lost footing. “You just fell out of the frigging sky!”
“Sorry! I didn’t think,” Helen apologized.
She’d forgotten that Matt had never really seen her fly, but she had been so surprised that Matt and Ariadne were practicing openly that she had forgotten to come in for an easy landing. She was about to ask if Matt had somehow convinced Ariadne’s father that he should be trained when she heard Claire cracking up in the corner.
“Jeez, Matt! I haven’t heard you hit a note that high since the fifth grade.” Claire cradled the leather-bound book she was reading to her chest as she shook with laughter.
“Ha. Ha.” Apparently, Matt was not up to being teased just then. He turned to Helen with a stern face. “What are you doing out here, Len? Aren’t you supposed to be in the library with Cassandra?”
“What’s the point? Claire is ten times the researcher I am. I’d just get in her way, taking books out of the library that I don’t understand half as well as she could.” Helen made an expressive gesture toward Claire, who somehow managed to bow magnanimously while she was still sitting down. “Right now, studying isn’t what I need. I need Ariadne to train me.”
Ariadne looked at Helen doubtfully. “Helen? You know I adore you and all, but I’m so not about to get electrocuted. Why don’t you fly to the mainland and find a nice, big tree to set on fire and we’ll call it even?”
“You’re not understanding me,” Helen said forcefully.
All eyes turned to her and she froze. Helen fleetingly realized that she could sound too strong, maybe even a bit scary when she lost her temper. She looked down and saw her hands were blue with static and extinguished the growing bolt immediately. Shaking her head to clear it, Helen redirected her wandering attention and calmed herself. She knew her mind was not entirely grounded anymore and that she needed to be careful.
“Then explain it to me. What don’t we understand?” Ariadne said reasonably.
“I need to learn how to fight hand to hand without my powers. I need to be able to beat someone at least as big and as strong as Matt without using an ounce of my Scion strength or any of my other talents.”
“Is there a reason why?” Claire asked bluntly.
“Last night in the Underworld, Orion and I ran into Ares.”
Dumbstruck looks bounced around the arena. Helen’s fuzzy brain registered a few hours too late that she probably should have called someone or given someone a heads-up about the whole Ares thing. Meeting a god was a really big deal. She had been so preoccupied with what had happened between her and Orion in the cave that she hadn’t even considered the ramifications of what had happened before that, when the two of them were still in the Underworld.
What had happened between them was more important to Helen than a god, especially now that she was beginning to suspect Orion was purposely avoiding her. Still, she should have remembered to tell someone about Ares. Why can’t I control my thoughts anymore? Helen wondered blearily.
Because you need me. Come. I can give you the sweetest of dreams.
Helen spun around in a circle and looked for the source of the voice. After one rotation, it became clear that the voice was in her mind again. She took a few breaths and shook her head to clear it of all the skittering cobwebs that were tracing bright, ghostly paths across her eyes.
“Helen? Are you okay?” Ariadne asked, touching Helen’s elbow gently with her Healer hands. Helen smiled at Ariadne’s kindness but pulled her arm away.
“Ares ran from Orion because it’s obvious that with or without his powers, Orion knows how to fight. But I don’t,” Helen said, reining in her focus by sheer force of will. “I need to learn how to stand up to Ares on my own.”
Especially if Orion hated her now and never wanted to see her again. When she considered returning to the Underworld without Orion, she had to stop herself from tearing up.
“Ares. As in Ares, the God of War?” Claire sounded like she wanted to make absolutely certain that everyone was on the same page.
“Yes,” Helen said, nodding regretfully.
“Well, what happened?” Matt yelled in frustration. “Did you speak to him?”
“It wasn’t like a normal conversation or anything. He’s crazy, Matt—and I mean really crazy. He talked like he was reciting poetry or something and he leaked blood from the strangest places. Even his hair bled, if you can imagine it, and I don’t think any of that blood was his.” Helen looked down and saw her fingers vibrate. She was shaking all over.
In the harsh light of day, Helen suddenly wondered if she had imagined the entire encounter with Ares. Everything around her looked so real, but it seemed fake. Colors were oversaturated, and voices raked at Helen’s ears like they were all too loud and jarring. It was as if her surroundings had suddenly turned into the set of a Broadway musical, and Helen was the only one standing far enough upstage to see that the world was entirely made out of paint and plywood.
“As near as we can figure, Ares is as mortal in the Underworld as we are.” She was trying to outshout all the thoughts in her head. “But he’s still a big man and he knows how to fight. I can’t defend myself against him without more training. I need you to teach me, Ari. Will you do it?”
“You’ll have to be the one to spar with her so I can teach,” Ariadne said to Matt quietly. “Are you up to this?”
“Probably not. But let’s do it, anyway,” he replied.
“Down to the cage,” Ariadne said solemnly. “Matt. You’ll have to change into a gi. I don’t want you to get blood all over your street clothes.”
While Helen and Matt trained, Claire went inside to tell the rest of the Delos family about Helen’s encounter with Ares and maybe try to come up with some kind of plan. Matt and Helen worked for hours, and Ariadne was not kind. More than once, Helen felt as if her sweet, delicate friend was actually channeling Hector in all his drill-sergeant glory.
Hitting Matt was not easy. He was wearing protective gear so he didn’t get injured, but even so, Helen balked more often than she should have. Each time she worried about hurting Matt. That thought would lead her back to how she had hurt Orion, and guilt would overwhelm her.
The Furies had made her do it. She hadn’t really meant it when she’d stabbed Orion, she reminded herself repeatedly. Even though at that moment when she knelt in front of him, she had wanted to kill him. In fact, there was only one other person toward whom she had ever felt such an overpowering emotion.
It’s the Furies, Helen thought firmly. It’s instinct, not real emotion.
But if her instinct was so terrible, how could she trust herself? It seemed like everything she instinctively wanted was immoral, hurtful, or just dead wrong. She had no idea what to do next.
Too tired to lift her arms, Helen let her hands drop. Matt punched her in the face.
“Yikes, Lennie! You really do suck without your lightning,” Claire yelled as she came through the door.
“Thanks, Gig,” Helen said sarcastically, hauling herself reluctantly off her butt. “What did Cassandra and Jason say?”
“That they would try to figure it out.” Claire grimaced. “Honestly? I don’t think anyone has a clue about what to do next.”
“Great,” Helen said while Matt tugged her arm and helped her to her feet.
“Come on,” he said to encourage her. “Back to work.”
Helen didn’t want to work anymore, but she knew Matt was right. Time was short. They all knew that Helen would have to go to bed eventually, and it seemed like she needed everything at once . . . fight skills, plans on how to deal with Ares, theories about what he was doing down there. She needed everyone to come together and figure certain things out for her or it would never get done. Still, Helen felt responsible, like she should be the one to handle this.
A voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Hector’s reminded her that delegating was one of the most important skills a general needed to learn.
Since when am I a general? she thought ruefully. At that moment, Helen would have given just about anything to be able to call Hector and ask him for his advice, or text Orion and joke around. And Lucas . . . here Helen stopped. There were a thousand things she needed Lucas for, none of which she would ever get. Why couldn’t she just have them in her life? Why was everything so complicated?
“Focus!” Ariadne barked.
Matt saw an advantage and shot in, sweeping Helen off her feet. Her back slammed down on the mat, and Helen stared up at the naked bulb over the cage, thinking about where she had gone astray. In one bright flash, she enumerated all the missteps that had led her to this place.
First: Hector—she knew it was her fault that he was an Outcast. She should have stopped him from killing Creon. But because she had been too afraid of the Shadowmaster’s darkness, Hector had been forced to kill her enemy for her. Now Hector was banished.
Second: Orion—he had resisted the Furies when he could have easily killed her. In payment she had stabbed him in the chest. Now it was starting to look like she had lost him. The thought hurt so deeply, she gasped and shied away from it.
Last: Lucas. Always Lucas.
Just thinking his name seemed to halt Helen’s spinning thoughts. No other thought dared come after. For one brief moment of lucidity, there was nothing but his name, clearing a bright path through her crowded mind.
“Lennie? Are you okay?” Matt asked nervously. Helen realized that she was still on her back, thinking.
“Peachy,” she said, dabbing at the fat lip he had just given her. She looked at Matt standing over her with his fists still up and ready. “You know what, Matt? You’re becoming quite a badass.”
Matt rolled his eyes and walked away with a disgusted look on his face, like he thought Helen was teasing him. But she wasn’t. He’d put on some muscle the last few weeks, and he stood like a fighter now instead of a golfer. If Helen squinted and forgot that it was Matt she was looking at, he looked almost tough. And kind of hot, she had to admit, even though it grossed her out to think of Matt as anything but a brother.
“Are you going to get up, or are you done?” Claire shouted cheerfully at Helen’s prone form.
“Yeah, I think I’m done,” Helen said to the ceiling.
“Good, ’cuz you’ve got a bunch of texts from Orion,” Claire said, unabashedly reading through them. “Wow, he seems really upset. What happened?”
Claire didn’t get a chance to finish the question. Helen flew out of the cage and snatched her phone away.
Orion had left her about half a dozen texts. They started out funny, like he wanted to diffuse the situation, and then they got increasingly more serious. The second-to-last text he sent her said, We can get past this, can’t we?
And ten minutes after that he had sent, I guess last night was a deal breaker.
“What happened last night?” Claire asked, reading over Helen’s shoulder. “Did you two . . . ?” She broke off when she saw Helen’s eyes flare with anger.
“What? What do you want to ask, Gig?” Helen said, mostly to hide her embarrassment. Helen didn’t want to talk about how Orion had touched her, not even with Claire. It was private, but more important, it might turn them against Orion.
They all knew the rules surrounding the Truce. They wouldn’t want her to see Orion again if they thought she was too attached to him. But attached or not, Helen didn’t know if she could continue in the Underworld without him. She needed him. She just hoped, for all their sakes, that she didn’t need him too much.
“Claire didn’t mean anything, Helen,” Matt said calmly. “We’re just concerned. It’s obvious from your reaction to his text that you two have grown close.”
“You know what? I’m sick of all the little looks I get every time Orion texts me,” Helen said defensively. “Of course we’re getting close! He and I are going through hell together. Actual hell, get it? And last night was bad—really bad. After what I did, I didn’t know if I’d ever hear from him again.”
“What happened?” Matt asked calmly when he heard Helen’s voice break with emotion. She regained control and continued.
Helen told them all about Cerberus, the mysterious person that had caused a distraction, and how she and Orion had run for their lives for the portal. Then, in a dark monotone, she described how they had seen the Furies.
“He was resisting them, but I guess I wasn’t strong enough,” she admitted. “I looked him in the eye and stabbed him with his own knife. And I did it slowly.”
While I was kissing him, Helen added in her mind but would never say aloud.
Everyone stared at Helen in utter shock. Guilty tears sprang up in her eyes and she brushed them away angrily, wishing she could as easily brush away the image of Orion’s face. He had looked so surprised and hurt. And it was because she had betrayed him.
“Yeah, I know. I’m a horrible person. Now will you all give me a sec to text him back?”
The three of them tried to tell Helen that they didn’t think any less of her, that it wasn’t her fault that she had attacked Orion, but Helen turned her back on them and focused on her phone. She needed to reconnect with Orion much more than she needed to have her guilt assuaged by her well-meaning friends.
I’m so sorry, Helen wrote. Please, please, please, forgive me?
She waited. Nothing came back. She started scrolling through the other texts he had left, and from what she read, she didn’t think he seemed angry, but maybe he’d had some time to think about what had happened and changed his mind. She might never see him again. In desperation, she sent a flurry of texts:
If you don’t forgive me, I swear I’ll never sleep again.
Orion? At least answer me.
Please talk to me.
Helen stared at her screen after each text, waiting for a response, but none came. After a few minutes of dead air, she sat down on the floor, utterly exhausted. Her whole body was hot and shaky, and her head felt like someone with massive hands had grabbed her by the face.
“Still nothing from Orion?” Ariadne asked. Helen shook her head and rubbed her eyes. How long had she been staring at the screen? Looking around, Helen noticed that Jason and Cassandra had joined them in the practice room. She rubbed her face and shivered, suddenly very cold.
“We need you to tell us about this distraction you mentioned; the one that sidetracked Cerberus,” Cassandra said.
“We didn’t see who it was,” Helen answered. “But I’ll tell you, whoever it was can really yodel.”
“It just seems impossible,” Cassandra said doubtfully.
“Maybe it was one of those harpies?” Jason offered gently.
“It wasn’t a harpy, Jason. It was a person’s voice, a living person who risked being eaten by a very large, three-headed wolf to help us. I know, it sounds crazy—but Orion heard it, too. It wasn’t an illusion.”
I’m no illusion, either, Beauty. I’m waiting for you.
Helen sat up straighter, her head cocked to the side, trying to locate the source of the voice. It was obvious no one else had heard it.
“Will you come with us to the library, Helen?” The way Cassandra asked made it seem almost like an order. “Jason and I want to talk to you.”
Jason nodded curtly at Ariadne as he passed her. His lips were pinched tight in annoyance. Helen noticed that he didn’t even look at Claire or Matt; he just walked by them coldly. Glancing back over her shoulder, Helen saw Claire staring at Jason as he walked away from her. She looked like she wanted to either call out to him or start crying. Helen could tell something had happened between the three of them, and she had a feeling it had something to do with how openly Ariadne was training Matt now.
They went upstairs to the library. Through the large glass doors that overlooked the ocean, Helen could see that it was dusk. Another day was dying, but to Helen it was just a change of light.
She looked out at the pewter horizon as it turned darker then lighter and darker again, shifting in bands from sea to sky, and thought how similar the gradient hues of gray were to her experience of day and night. Everything looked like a blah blend of black and white.
She’d have to go to sleep soon. Even if Orion refused to see her again, eventually Helen knew she would close her eyes and go back there. Alone.
“Helen?” Cassandra sounded worried.
Helen realized that her mind had wandered off again and wondered how long she had been staring out the window.
“You wanted to talk to me?” she asked, trying to sound normal. Her nose was stuffed up and starting to run again. Jason and Cassandra looked at each other, like they hadn’t decided who was going to speak first.
“We were wondering how you were feeling,” Cassandra finally said.
“I’ve felt better.” Helen looked between the two of them, sensing something fishy.
“Would you like me to check you out?” Jason said tentatively. “I may be able to help.”
“That’s great, but unless you can take a nap for me, I don’t think there’s much you can do.”
“Why don’t you let him try?” Cassandra asked a bit too sweetly.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Helen said in a no-nonsense way. Again, they shared a conspiratorial look. “Hey. I’m sitting right here. I can see you two looking at each other, you know.”
“Fine. I want Jason to check you over because we want to know if descending has caused any damage to your brain.” Cassandra had clearly had enough of being polite.
“What she means is that we’ve noticed you seem distracted, and your health has been failing,” Jason soothed.
“Enough, Jason. She wants us to be blunt, so I will be, even if you’re too squeamish.” Cassandra’s imperious gesture made her seem like a woman decades older than she was. “Scions are susceptible to only one kind of illness, Helen. Mental illness. Demigods don’t get the flu or the sniffles. They go mad.”
“Or you can just come right out and say it, Cass. Just like we planned on not doing,” Jason said, rolling his eyes in frustration. “Helen, we’re not saying that you’re crazy. . . .”
“No, but you think I’m getting there. Don’t you?” Helen and Cassandra traded stares, each measuring the other.
Cassandra had changed. Whatever was left of that lovable little girl that Helen once met was either gone or buried so deep Helen didn’t think she’d ever see her again. Helen had to admit she wasn’t a fan of the woman who was replacing Lucas’s little sister. In fact, she thought this new Cassandra was kind of a bitch, and she was moments away from saying so.
“What we need to know is if you are capable of finishing what you started in the Underworld,” Cassandra continued, undaunted by Helen’s challenging look.
“And if I said no, what would you do? What can anyone do?” Helen said with a shrug. “The prophecy said that I’m the only one that can get rid of the Furies and every night I descend whether I want to or not. So what difference does it make if I can handle it or not?”
“Honestly? None. But it does change how we view the information you bring us,” Jason said reasonably. “We’re trying to believe that what you told us about your descent last night is true, but . . .”
“You have got to be kidding me!”
“You said you saw a god—a god who has been imprisoned on Olympus for thousands of years! Then, you said that there was another living person in the Underworld with you and Orion, someone who appeared out of nowhere and miraculously saved your lives,” Cassandra said with a raised voice. “How did this other person get down there?”
“I don’t know! Look, I even doubted that was real for a second there, but I wasn’t the only one who saw all of this, okay? Ask Orion. He’ll tell you exactly the same thing.”
“Who’s to say that your delusions aren’t affecting Orion’s experience of the Underworld, as well as your own?” Cassandra shouted at Helen. “You are the Descender, not him! You’ve told us many times that if you go to bed feeling miserable, you end up in a miserable place. And if you go to bed hearing voices that aren’t there, what then?”
“How do you know I’m hearing voices?” Helen whispered. Jason looked at her sympathetically, like everyone else could see something that Helen couldn’t.
“All we’re saying is that you seem to be able to control the landscape of the Underworld to some extent. You have to consider the possibility that you might be able to create entire experiences.”
Helen shook her head fearfully, unable to accept what they were saying. If they were right, then what was real? She couldn’t allow herself to give in to this insidious thought. She needed to believe in some things, or she might as well give up. And she couldn’t give up, even if she wanted to. Too many people were counting on her. People like Hector and Orion. People she loved very much.
“Cass, you’re the Oracle,” Helen said, grasping at straws. “Why can’t you just look into my future and tell me if I’m going insane?”
“I can’t see you,” Cassandra said a bit more loudly than was necessary. She made a choked sound in the back of her throat and started pacing around. “I can’t see you and I’ve never been able to see Orion. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because the two of you only meet in the Underworld, and I can only see the future of this universe, or maybe . . .”
“What?” Helen challenged. “You started this conversation, Cassandra. You’d better finish it.”
“Maybe you and Orion go insane and don’t have coherent futures that I can read,” Cassandra said tiredly, glancing uncertainly over at Jason, who was glaring back, warning her with his eyes.
“No.” Helen stood up. She felt a pressure inside her head give way and her nose start to run again. “I hear what you’re saying, but you’re wrong. I’m being pushed to my limit, and I know that it’s taking a lot out of me, but I’m not going crazy.”
Jason sighed and dropped his head into his hands like he was as weary and as fed up as Helen. A sudden burst of energy overcame him. He took three fast strides over to his father’s desk and pulled a handful of tissues out of the box that was resting on top.
“Here,” he said in an intense voice as he gestured to Helen’s face with the tissues.
Helen raised a searching hand and touched her nose. When she pulled her hand back it was covered in blood.
“Scions don’t get spontaneous nosebleeds.” Cassandra’s expression was unreadable. “Jason and I think this problem is much worse than anyone else is willing to admit.”
Helen cleaned herself off as best as she could and looked first at Cassandra, then at Jason. Neither of them would meet her eyes.
“Jason,” Helen said, a note of pleading creeping in on her otherwise frustrated tone. “Just spit it out. How much worse?”
“We think you’re dying,” he replied quietly. “We don’t know exactly why, and because of that, we have no idea how to help you.”
