Lucas took his last look at paradise.
“Ready?” Helen asked him, holding his hand tightly in hers.
“No,” he sighed, watching her ever-changing eyes catch the light of the rising sun. “But let’s go, anyway.”
A stab of startling cold, like being plunged into ice water, and they were back at his house. It was quiet in a way that the Delos compound almost never was.
“I thought you said everyone was waiting for us,” he said, starting to worry.
“They were,” she said tentatively. “Orion?” Helen called.
Jealousy shot through Lucas, white hot. He tried to brush it off, but couldn’t. She was still holding his hand, but she was thinking about Orion. In Everyland, Helen could pamper him and treat him like he was the only person in the world, but back on Earth she had someone else to love—someone who wasn’t her cousin.
“My dad,” she said, giving him a worried look.
“Come on,” he said, using the moment to pull his hand out of hers before she saw the battle in his heart.
Lucas and Helen went upstairs and found Kate watching over her father, still asleep.
“Why are you the only one here, Kate?” Helen asked angrily. “You’re not strong enough to stop Daphne if she tries to drug him again.”
“Daphne’s gone down to the beach with everyone else for the duel,” Kate said, her eyes searching Lucas for injury. “Where have you been?”
“What duel?” Lucas looked at Helen to see if she knew. When Helen shrugged, Kate quickly explained what happened after he and Helen had vanished.
“What about Orion?” Helen asked. “Phaon is only doing this to get to him.”
Lucas gritted his teeth and tried to remind himself that he should have expected this. She loved Orion, and Lucas couldn’t blame her. It was easier to love Orion—less complicated.
“Doesn’t matter.” Kate shook her head. “Daedalus and Phaon weren’t allowed to choose . . . what do you call them? Backups? Wingmen?”
“Seconds,” Lucas said, supplying the name.
“That’s it—no seconds allowed for their fight.”
“Even if Phaon lives, he won’t be able to go after Orion,” Lucas told Helen to set her at ease. “Not that he would. Orion would crush him in an open duel.”
“But if Phaon wins, and kills Daedalus . . . ,” Helen began.
“If he wins, he wins. No one can retaliate. Not even Orion.” Lucas watched Helen try to digest this, and he could see she was having a hard time with it. “It’s better this way. The killing has to stop somewhere.”
Helen finally nodded, accepting this even though she didn’t want to. Lucas didn’t blame her. He didn’t want to see a murdering pedophile get away with it if Daedalus lost to Phaon, but there was no way around it. Duels had strict rules. The Titan Hecate, goddess of all portals and crossroads, made interfering with them impossible. It was said that not even Zeus could defy Hecate. She was the only Titan he couldn’t send to Tartarus.
“Do you want to go? I should probably stay in case Daphne comes back,” Helen said to Kate in a weak voice. She obviously didn’t want to stay, but she felt like she had to offer.
“Go? And watch a couple of sweaty dudes I don’t know try to hack off each other’s kibbles and bits with swords?” Kate asked with a cocked eyebrow. “No thanks. I’ll stay here with Jerry.”
“You’re awesome. You know that, right?” Helen told Kate, giving her a hug.
“I do,” Kate replied. She pulled back and looked at Helen, smoothing a hand over her face for a moment and growing serious. “And the less you vanish in a ball of fire and ice the less gray hair I grow. You know that, right?” Helen chuckled. Kate turned to Lucas and pointed at him. “And no more grabbing on to Helen when she’s a human torch, okay?”
“Very sound advice,” he replied as Kate hugged him.
Leaving Kate to watch over Jerry, they hurried down to the beach. As they made their way to the large group of bystanders gathered by the water, Lucas didn’t try to take Helen’s hand again. He could tell that she was eager to get to Orion, and he didn’t want to make her feel like he was holding her back.
As soon as she caught a glimpse of Orion, she took to the air and flew to him in a rush. Lucas walked the rest of the way to give them a moment alone and to give himself a moment to cool down.
It wasn’t that he thought Helen didn’t love him. He knew she did. But Orion could give her what she needed, and he couldn’t. All Lucas had to do to make Helen happy was get out of the way. It was simple—even if it was also killing him.
“Lucas?” his father called out, sighting him. He came running down the beach in a blur.
Castor may have had a head start, but Hector and Jason both beat him to where Lucas hung back, walking slowly up the beach.
“I can’t believe it!” Hector howled, grabbing Lucas in a bear hug. “We all thought you got toasted!”
“I did,” Lucas said, laughing as his cousin swung him around.
“Get off him, doofus,” Jason said irritably to his brother. “Let me at least check him over before you crack his ribs.”
“I’m fine, Jase,” Lucas insisted as Hector put him down. “Completely healed.”
It took him what seemed like forever to greet the rest of his family. While he tried to prove to his mother that he had all his skin still on, he caught a glimpse of Helen having an intense conversation with Orion.
When Lucas next stole a glimpse of Helen, she was glaring at her mother, and Lucas could tell that they’d had a quick exchange about Jerry. He didn’t know what they had said to each other, but he was pretty sure that they’d decided to save their fight until later.
The group formed a circle around a leveled area of sand. It was a makeshift arena, probably very much like the first fighting grounds. Unfamiliar Scions—Lucas assumed they were members from the Hundred Cousins—finished their task and backed out of the ring, throwing a torch, a key, and a serpent into the cleared area.
A woman appeared, and the three symbols that had conjured her vanished. She wasn’t young, and her features weren’t perfect, but even still she was lovely. And terrifying, Lucas decided.
“Hecate,” Hector whispered. Lucas nodded absently, momentarily transfixed on the only Titan left to wander the world, before she disappeared again.
Lucas glanced up and down the beach. It was November, not long after dawn, and bitterly cold, but there were still a few people scattered along the shore. What if someone saw?
“How are they expecting to pull off a duel without bystanders calling the police?” Hector mumbled to Lucas.
“Hecate,” Lucas mumbled back. “Once the duel starts, nothing can stop it. She’ll keep any interference away. Especially uninvited mortals.”
Lucas looked over at Orion. His eyes were on his father, who stood a few paces in front of him, his sword ready. Helen was at his side. Lucas quickly looked away when he saw Helen and Orion join hands.
He turned his attention to Phaon, who stood across the ring. His stance was slack, listless, like he wasn’t really paying attention. Compared to Daedalus, who was squared off and eager to get into the fight, Phaon’s mind seemed to be elsewhere.
“He’s dead already,” Hector said in Lucas’s ear. Lucas nodded in agreement. Phaon had given up. Although Lucas knew that Phaon deserved this death, he felt pity for him.
“I just want to say one last thing, if I may?” Phaon’s thin voice barely outshouted the waves. “I was not always a horrible person, although I’ve done horrible things. I understand now that what I did was wrong.”
Lucas felt his pity deepen. He took a step forward to say that this duel should be stopped, when Phaon crumpled to his knees with a shriek. He clutched at his chest, like someone had just stabbed him there.
“Try that again and I’ll rip out what’s left of your heart,” Orion said, his face livid. Whatever internal battle the two of them were fighting with their talents from the House of Rome, Orion won. The ground shook, and for a moment it looked like Orion was ready to tear Phaon apart with his bare hands, but Helen put her arm out and stopped him.
Lucas no longer felt pity, although Phaon had never looked more pathetic. His sympathy had strangely vanished. He realized that Phaon must have been controlling their emotions. Looking around at the rest of the group, Lucas saw that everyone was as furious with Phaon for manipulating them as he was.
“Get up,” Orion commanded, and Phaon rose to his feet. “Pick up your sword.” Phaon took the hilt of his sword in his hand and a lascivious leer tugged his face into an ugly shape.
“Why so frustrated? I already told you, you can have the little one, Orion. You know she wants it from you.” Phaon grinned obscenely at Cassandra.
Lucas felt Hector and Jason grab his arms, and he realized that he had been moving forward to get the twisted bastard.
“Don’t,” Hector growled in his ear. “It’s not your life to take.”
“I’ll see you all in Hades,” Phaon said with a despotic laugh.
“No,” Helen said, her voice ringing like a goddess. “You won’t.”
She spoke with such certainty that Phaon’s manic smile melted. He stared at her, knowing that she knew better than any of them what awaited him. The look on Helen’s face was sphinxlike. Merciless. It terrified him, as it should have.
“Begin,” Orion said. He moved out of the arena’s circle like he knew exactly what he was doing. For a moment, Lucas wondered if Orion had dueled more than one man in the Colosseum.
“For my sister, Cassiopeia,” Daedalus said quietly, almost like he was praying.
And then he attacked Phaon with all the skill and power of a seasoned warrior.
Lucas counted four strokes before he saw Phaon gushing blood from a wound in the leg. Phaon limped around, kicking up sand to distract his opponent, but that didn’t deter a veteran like Daedalus. He feinted, moved past Phaon, and reversed his thrust with the tip of his blade to pierce Phaon in the back—specifically in the kidney, a very painful wound.
Jason nudged Lucas. They glanced at each other, and realized together what Daedalus was doing. He wasn’t going to go for a quick kill.
“He’s going to bleed Phaon to death,” Jason whispered.
“Good,” Lucas replied. He looked to his right and saw Hector nodding in agreement.
It took almost twenty minutes. A cut here, a bone-breaking blow there, and on and on it went, until even Lucas, Jason, and Hector became uncomfortable. Daedalus was ruthless. He inflicted each injury as if he were ticking off the ultimate bucket list. This was obviously something Daedalus had thought about for a very long time.
No one spoke or moved to stop him.
Lucas looked at his father, expecting to see him growing uncomfortable as he watched the systematic torture of another human being. But instead, all he saw was a removed expression on Castor’s face, like his father was remembering something painful that still lingered from long ago. Glancing at all of the members of the older generation, Lucas saw similar expressions, and he knew that everyone present believed that Phaon deserved the extreme punishment he suffered now.
Phaon flailed. In agony, he chattered on about how he wasn’t sorry. He went on and on about how he owned innocence because he stole it, and now he was the god of innocence. He insisted that he might be a monster, but weren’t they all?
The answer was a decided no. The rest of the Scions, for all their faults, were not like him. When Daedalus finally cut off Phaon’s head with a straight, clean blow, they nodded as one, turning their faces to the sky.
Catharsis, Lucas thought.
“Well done, my son,” said a ringing voice.
The circle turned and looked at the waterline. Striding up out of the waves was a bare-chested young man with black hair and piercing blue eyes. He carried a trident, but because of the look on his face, to Lucas it appeared to be more like a pitchfork in the hands of a devil. A devil that looked exactly like Lucas.
He heard gasps from the group, and he felt Hector nudge him.
“There’s your evil twin,” Hector said under his breath, his face enlivened by the danger he felt in the air.
Lucas knew he should have been more amazed by the appearance of a god, but he wasn’t. Strangely, he could only think about his swim with the lemon shark a few minutes ago. Helen had just given him a new power over the ocean. He could breathe underwater. Not for the first time, Lucas wondered if she’d given him more powers than that.
“My Scions have always been stronger than yours, niece, and here again, my Daedalus has proven the physical superiority of my offspring by killing your Phaon.”
“Like I care about a show of brute strength?” asked another voice that purred seductively.
Again, the group turned as one to see a tall woman, her blonde hair falling in clouds down to the back of her knees and her voluptuous body undulating like waves beneath it. Dressed only in a sheer white slip, she sauntered up the beach, her toes tickling the foamy crease where the waves met the sand.
“It’s not the strength of the arm, but the passion inside the hearts of those who fight that ultimately determines the winner of the war, Poseidon. We’ve been through this.” She went directly to Helen and stood in front of her as she spoke. “Many times, in many wars, we’ve seen how the hearts of men and women decide the outcome of battles.” She smiled and took both of Helen’s hands in hers. “Hello again, Helen.”
“Hello, Aphrodite,” Helen replied, tears gathering in her eyes.
Helen actually remembers her, Lucas thought. For the first time he considered what that meant. Helen remembered Troy. She knew what really happened.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Aphrodite said.
“And I’ve missed you,” Helen said, her voice catching, like she was not only surprised to find herself saying this, but surprised to be feeling it, too.
“Funny, isn’t it? I’ve known every love possible, but as the years stretched out, the love I longed for the most is the one I shared with my sister.”
The two women hugged each other tenderly, and the golden glow that grew around them was mesmerizing to see, like looking at magic. Lucas could hear the hearts of the Scions slow to beat with Helen’s and Aphrodite’s. It was a strong, binding synchronicity that Lucas knew they would all remember, no matter how opposed they were in the future.
Fear ballooned inside of Lucas. Not because the gods were among them again, but because Helen was at the center of it all. She inspired such love in him, in Orion, even in a goddess. There was no hate without love, and Lucas couldn’t help but think that they would all soon be facing a desperate fight because of the pure love they all felt in that moment.
“A touching reunion,” said the bare-chested man with black hair. “But your man lost, Aphrodite. And you still owe me our wager.”
Lucas pushed his way through the group and faced what looked like a wet and slightly feral version of himself. “This is not a game for the gods to bet on. These are our lives.”
Poseidon studied Lucas, and laughed. “The Fates would put my face on a moralizing sap. Let me tell you something, boy. I don’t care what the Fates want. In the sea, the big fish eat the little ones. You’re going to have to grow some thicker skin if you’re the one who’s supposed to try and replace me.”
“At least he’s intelligent,” said another familiar voice. A god who looked like Hector’s twin came down the other end of the beach, interrupting Lucas before he could question Poseidon’s last remark. “My would-be replacement is brave, but he’s got to be the dumbest of all the Scion mongrels. He actually wanted to challenge me—still mortal as he is. It’s embarrassing, really.”
Lucas automatically grabbed Hector by the arm. He could feel his cousin itching to jump Apollo, immortal or not, and that would probably get them all killed.
A burst of freezing air from the center of the circle interrupted a fight before it could begin.
“Now, now, Apollo,” said the young, blond man who stood in the patch of newly formed ice. A gust of air passed over Lucas, but it wasn’t sea air. It smelled like the mountains, laden with herbs and smelling faintly of stone. It had to be from another world. “None of us make wise decisions when it comes to women. Hector is no exception. He wants his Andromache for himself. Can you blame him?”
The young blond man was tall but no giant. He wasn’t exceptionally muscular, either, but despite the fact that both Poseidon and Apollo were larger and more physically developed, he radiated power as he walked to Helen and Aphrodite. The goddess nodded at the god respectfully, but it was Helen whom he addressed.
“Well, daughter. You’ve been busy,” Zeus said in a softly scolding tone.
Lucas schooled his face so he didn’t give away his emotions as he thought this through frantically. He had known for a while that the Fates assigned roles, trading out new actors in each new cycle so that everything stayed the same even as it changed. Lucas quickly looked around at the gods and their Scion doubles before his gaze settled on Orion. Orion’s twin was missing.
“What do you want from us?” Helen asked, squaring off with Zeus. Lucas couldn’t help but be proud of her, even though it was insane to talk to a god like that. Zeus had cursed entire generations for lesser offenses, but Helen didn’t show a drop of fear.
“Not us. It’s what I want from you, Helen.” Zeus spoke softly but his voice still seemed to boom.
“What’s that?” Helen asked cautiously, her bravado wearing thin.
Poseidon and Apollo positioned themselves behind Zeus. Aphrodite kissed Helen’s cheek, released her hand, and reluctantly went to stand behind her father. Hector, Lucas, and Jason all reacted in kind and angled themselves behind Helen and Orion.
“I want your shiny new world,” Zeus replied.
More gods joined him. A huge woman in armor came first. Then a boy who moved so fast he seemed to buzz like a hummingbird, a hunchback carrying a hammer, a man with grapevines in his hair, and finally another woman wearing a dress of peacock feathers, all fell in behind Zeus.
Helen looked at Orion. Lucas bit down hard, grinding his teeth to keep himself from yelling. Didn’t she just tell him a few hours ago that he was the one who helped her figure out everything? Lucas watched as an understanding passed between Orion and Helen. He didn’t know what it was because she was withholding information. Again. Helen and Orion made a silent agreement, and she turned to face Zeus.
“You can’t have it,” Helen said deliberately.
Zeus smiled like Helen had just given him keys to the world he really wanted. “Challenge.”
Helen hoped like hell this worked.
“Accepted,” Hector said, barreling forward until he was at Helen’s right hand and glaring at Zeus over a few feet of sand. Voices shouted out, and several challenges were made at once as the crowd of Scions all reacted to Hector’s move against the gods.
“Wait!” Helen held up an arm to stop Hector from starting a mêlée right then and there. Lucas and Jason came to keep Hector in check.
“I haven’t seen such fire in a hundred generations,” Zeus said, laughing. “You’re right, Apollo. He’s brave, even braver than your boy at Troy, but dumber than a block of marble.”
“Easy,” Orion said to Hector. “Trust us.”
Zeus leaned in close to Hector, close enough for Helen to see the lightning bolts that flashed inside his amber eyes. “If he had an ounce of sense, he would remember that no matter how skilled he is, he cannot kill me.”
“Exactly,” Helen said in a controlled voice. “So it’s not a true challenge. The gods aren’t allowed to fight mortals in duels, which is why at Troy only demigods fought demigods. The gods can try to kill Scions with ocean waves and lightning bolts and curses. But they are not allowed to participate in one-on-one combat with us unless they’re mortal as well. Like when Ares tortured me in the portal. He wasn’t immortal there, so he could kill me. But away from a portal, the gods need to find a way to make us fight each other instead. Like they did at Troy.”
“And like they’re doing right now,” Orion continued pointedly, so more Scions could hear and understand that the gods were just trying to kill them all off.
“There are rules to these things. You’re already my chosen champion,” Helen said. “And you’re mortal, so Zeus has to pick a mortal champion, too.”
“How did you learn all this?” Zeus asked Helen with narrowed eyes.
“A little river told me,” she answered, inwardly sighing with relief that her Helen of Troy memories were correct.
Helen saw Hector relax and smile. Lucas and Jason eased back, finally trusting that Helen and Orion knew what they were doing.
Most of the other Scions relaxed as well. Even though the other Houses didn’t know Hector personally, they had all heard of his reputation. He had killed Creon, a Shadowmaster, with his bare hands. As far as they were concerned, that was proof enough of his skill in single combat.
There really was no Scion who could match Hector, except maybe Helen herself. He was the perfect hero. The biggest physical threat was Daphne and she adored Hector. No matter what Daphne’s motives were, and Helen openly admitted to herself that she had no idea what those could be, Helen sensed that her mother would never kill Hector. He reminded her too much of Ajax.
At least, that’s what Orion and Helen were banking on. Neither of them could think of a Scion who could beat Hector, so they hoped that the death toll for the day would end at two—Phaon and some other poor thing, hopefully from the Hundred Cousins or from a distant offshoot of the House of Athens.
All of this last-second planning she and Orion had done should have put Helen at ease, but it didn’t. When she looked back at Zeus, his smile had grown wider.
Helen noticed a disturbance around them, like the sand dunes were coming alive. A moment later, the dunes were covered in strange men, dressed in archaic armor. Helen could see that some had shiny red eyes, and others had hard, armor-like skin or pincers for hands. Myrmidons. She remembered Automedon killing Zach, and her fingertips crackled with angry lightning.
“Do you think you can take a Myrmidon?” Helen asked in an aside to Hector, realizing that she and Orion hadn’t accounted for this.
“I got it,” he whispered back confidently. Helen looked past Hector to Lucas, who pursed his lips and nodded, silently confirming that he thought Hector could do it, too.
“I have chosen a champion as well, Helen,” Zeus announced. Triumph gleamed in his eyes. “Achilles to match your Hector.”
The Myrmidons parted and let a single warrior pass through their ranks to stand across from Hector. Helen knew this warrior—his walk, his haircut, even the T-shirt he was wearing, although at that moment it was mostly covered by strange armor. He’d had that shirt for two years now, and Helen knew it was his favorite. Everything about him was familiar to Helen, except for the newly developed power she could sense in him now.
“Matt?” Helen howled disbelievingly. “What the hells are you doing hanging out with a bunch of Myrmidons?”
He glanced at her and quickly turned his attention to Hector.
“It’s not you I want,” Matt said to Hector. “There’s only one life I want to take, and it was never yours. I came to kill the Tyrant.”
“Matt,” Lucas said calmly while Hector and Matt stared each other down. “There is no Tyrant.”
“Oh yes there is,” Matt said harshly. He looked at Helen.
They had been friends since they were too little to stand, and she had never seen his face like this. It was like he hated her.
“She may not be doing anything to hurt you now, Lucas,” he continued. “But absolute power corrupts absolutely, and there has never been a being with more power than Helen.”
Helen felt dizzy and slightly nauseous. Because she knew he was right.
“Helen? The Tyrant?” Orion said, guffawing with disbelief.
Tantalus, Daedalus, and Pallas all moved away from Helen and positioned themselves behind Matt.
“Dad,” Orion hissed, but then quickly shut his mouth. Helen saw his eyes harden, and she could see in his heart that Orion was scolding himself for not having anticipated this.
Helen looked at Hector and saw him staring at his father, Pallas. There was genuine hurt in his eyes, but no blame. They were so different that it didn’t surprise either one to find the other on the opposite side of the war.
Castor stood firmly behind Lucas, glaring at his brothers. Helen felt Daphne take a position behind her and Orion.
More Scions shuffled around on the outskirts of the group. Tense, murmured arguments flared up and then subsided as individual members broke from their Houses and decided for themselves which side they preferred—Helen’s or the god’s. Two distinct sides were being drawn. Matt raised his voice so everyone could hear him.
“The prophecy says that the Tyrant is the vessel where the blood of the Four Houses has mixed. Tell me Orion, how many powers did Helen get in the blood-brother exchange with you and Lucas?” Matt said. “Nearly all of them, right? That’s what we’ve figured.”
Matt gestured to Claire and Ariadne, and they moved to join his side. Helen felt her stomach slide down like she was on a roller coaster. All of a sudden, she couldn’t breathe.
Losing Matt was a big enough blow, but losing Claire was unthinkable. Her Giggles. Her best friend ever, and she’d picked the other side. Helen knew that Claire had doubts about her. She should have tried to talk to Claire instead of keeping secrets, but instead she’d let the rift between them grow larger and larger. And all that fear she saw in Claire’s heart had taken over.
Helen heard Jason whisper Claire’s name to himself, and when she glanced over at him, it looked like he was dying inside. Helen had a brief memory flash of Troilus, whose wife, Cressida, betrayed him by choosing a Greek lover over him. Helen could see into Claire’s heart, and it was obvious how torn she was. But when Helen looked at Matt’s heart, there was no conflict. He believed what he was doing was right.
“Matt. How can you do this?” Helen asked, trying her hardest not to cry.
“Because you can control the earth, the sea, and the sky,” Matt said as more and more Scions joined his side. “You can call lightning, manipulate gravity, and pull all the swords out of an army’s hands by generating a magnetic field. You can control hearts, and now I learn that you’ve even created your own world. Helen, is there a force you don’t command—except maybe yourself? You nearly killed Lucas your emotions were so out of control, and from what I’ve seen your behavior is getting more erratic as time goes on, not less.” Helen looked away and made a frustrated sound, but Matt continued. “Most important, please explain to me, if you can make your own world—a perfect world that you control utterly—what’s to stop you from destroying this one if we don’t do exactly as you say?”
Silence.
All Helen could hear were waves and seagulls. Matt would be the first to figure that out. He’d always been so darn smart.
“Do you remember homecoming freshman year?” Matt asked. He shifted on his feet uncertainly, his eyes sad.
“Yeah,” Helen said with a shrug. “A bunch of us spent the whole night talking around the bonfire, like, five minutes down the beach from here.”
“Do you remember Zach asking us if we could build a time machine, would we use it to go back and murder Hitler when he was just a baby?”
“Yes,” Helen replied, her voice coming out like a croak. “I remember. So I take it you think I’m Hitler.”
“No. I think you’re the Tyrant,” Matt said. “You have the potential to be much worse.”
“My daughter can’t be the Tyrant. Listen to me!” Daphne said passionately as she waved her hands to get everyone’s attention.
It was the first time Daphne had ever stood up for her, and even though Helen was still furious at her mother for what she’d done to Jerry, she couldn’t help but be touched.
“The Tyrant is supposed to replace Hades. He is supposed to become the Scion lord of the dead. Helen is meant to rule the sky and replace Zeus, which is exactly why he got a champion to challenge her.” Daphne pointed an accusing finger at Zeus and won over a few believers. “Think about it. Zeus is about to get overthrown by a Scion with more powers than he has, and he’s trying to turn us against her so we’ll kill her for him. She’s powerful, yes, but Helen can’t be the Tyrant.”
“Where is it written that the Tyrant has to take Hades’ place?” Matt asked, his voice frighteningly calm. “The three major gods are supposed to be replaced by three Scions—that we know from prophecy. We’ve always assumed that the Tyrant would rule Hades, but the Tyrant could as easily rule the sky.”
Daphne paused. All the vigor went out of her argument, and a fearful look crossed her face. “I’m sorry,” Daphne whispered to Helen, her cheeks pale.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ve suspected this for a few days now. Born to bitterness?” Helen asked, not unkindly reminding her mother of the prophecy. “Is there anyone in the world more bitter than you?”
“No. You don’t understand,” Daphne continued, and then stopped when Helen stepped forward and dared to tread on the line in the sand that had formed between the two sides.
“Matt’s right. I’m the Tyrant. Or I’m supposed to be, if the Fates have their way. But you’ve got to trust me. I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I know you’ll try,” Matt said, and sighed heavily. “You’ll mean to do only good things with your powers, and in the beginning, you’ll right wrongs and defend the weak. I know you will. But it has to go sour eventually. No one person, no matter how well-intentioned, is meant to rule the world.”
Helen could see the electric change in him that she’d noticed before, that thing that made him more than just Matt. He was different, stronger, and full of strange magic, but even still, Helen knew he was making all the same choices he would have a year ago. He was still Matt—a true moral compass—and, as usual, he was right.
“You’ve always hated bullies. And I guess I’m the biggest bully on the block now, huh?” Helen said with a fond smile. Matt smiled with her. Neither of them wanted this to happen.
“Everybody hang on,” Claire said anxiously, rushing to stand between the factions like she could think up a bridge between the two. “Lennie—maybe there’s a way you can give some of these powers back? Is there something you can do to, I don’t know, just be you again so we don’t have to freak out?”
“Sorry, Gig,” Helen replied, knowing that she was hurting her best friend more than she ever had before. “This is me. It always has been.”
Claire’s eyes filled with tears. But no matter how much she loved all of the people standing on the other side of the imaginary wall that was building between the two factions, Helen knew that Claire was going to do what she thought was right.
When she took her place again behind Matt, Helen didn’t blame her. In fact, she admired Claire for her strength and bravery even though it stung like crazy.
Helen wished she could shout out her plan, tell her friends and family why she was doing this, but she couldn’t. The Fates might not be able to hear her while she was with Orion, but Zeus certainly could, and while the Fates might be her ultimate enemy, Zeus was the one she had to find a way to imprison. Until she did that, Helen couldn’t give back an ounce of power or she knew she wouldn’t be strong enough to fight him. And then Zeus would find a way to kill every last one of them.
Like Helen of Troy before her, Helen Hamilton knew that she’d happily play the bad guy and make everyone hate her, before she’d allow all the people she loved to die. She remembered Ariadne telling her once that for a Scion to name her daughter Helen was like a Christian naming her child Judas. Like all the other Helens before her, Helen Hamilton had decided that being Judas to her family was worth it—so long as they survived.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” she said, trying in vain to do a mind-meld with her friend and get her to understand without saying anything. “But I’m not giving up my powers.”
“And that’s that,” Matt said, truly saddened. “She won’t ever be our ‘Lennie’ again, Claire. She’s made her choice—power over us.”
Matt angled his head over his shoulder and made an inhuman chittering noise. Helen recognized it. Automedon had used it to command his men when he attacked Helen, Hector, and Claire in the woods outside a track meet.
The Myrmidons reacted to Matt’s command by backing up and forming a semicircle on their side of the “wall.” One of them moved forward and retrieved Phaon’s body, and a second group came forward and swept the sand clean. They were as efficient as an army of ants, and within seconds a new battleground had been cleared inside the makeshift arena on the beach.
An offering was brought into the circle. A pumpkin.
“What’s going on?” Helen said to Orion, as memories of cooking with her father, turning pumpkins into pancakes, pie, and Popsicles crowded into her mind.
“It’s one of her symbols. Hecate’s power covers a lot of different things,” he whispered in answer to her half-formed question. “Portals, crossroads, boundaries, trade, and bargains are the big ones, which is why she officiates over duels, which are sort of a bargain if you think about it. But she’s also the witch goddess. Something about Macbeth and bargaining your soul. The pumpkin is one of her symbols because she’s the first witch.”
Helen stared at that silly pumpkin, quite certain that the Fates were laughing their heads off at her. She loved pumpkins. Of all the many-life memories that Helen had recently been subjected to, the memories that she made on Nantucket were her favorites. Jerry had given her the best life she’d had in all of her many existences. Daphne had been right when she’d said Helen should thank her for making her think that Jerry was her father.
One look at that blasted pumpkin, and she knew that she’d trade all this Scion nonsense, all of her wondrous powers, for one more night of baseball and ice cream with her dad. Just one night where Lucas could come over for some pasta, eat awkwardly in front of her overprotective father, and then they could all watch sports and argue about politics like everyone else in Massachusetts. But that perfect night would never happen.
Helen would never be a normal high school kid again.
A bright flash, and a strange orange fire erupted around the boundaries of the arena. Hecate didn’t reappear, but her presence was manifest in the hum of power that encircled the ring. The pumpkin disappeared. The fire went out. The challenge was set.
The crowd behind Helen whispered frantically to one another. Thunderclouds rolled in off the water, and lightning flashed in the distance. Zeus and the Olympians arranged themselves to have the best view. They were enjoying this.
Helen tried to step into the arena and found that she couldn’t. Orange fire flashed. A regular person would have been burned by it, but it only threw Helen back a few paces. Matt walked easily into his spot, ten feet away from the line in the sand at the middle of the cleared oval. He unsheathed his sword, a thick, wicked-looking thing that made Helen’s breathing pick up. She tried again to enter the circle, only to find an invisible barrier stopping her. Helen tried to use her talent to create a portal to get inside the ring, but nothing happened. Hecate could even bar a Worldbuilder from crossing a boundary if she wanted to. Helen paused to mull this over.
“What are you doing, dummy?” Hector asked her, half a laugh in his voice. As she had been reminiscing about pumpkin pancakes and contemplating the power of Hecate, Lucas, Jason, and Orion had been busy strapping armor onto Hector piece by piece in what looked to her like a ritual.
“What do you mean, what am I doing?” Helen asked—irked as usual when Hector made fun of her. “He doesn’t want to fight you, he said he only wants me.”
Hector only laughed harder at her melodramatic tone. “You’re not about to steal my glory, Princess.”
She really hated it when he called her that.
“Don’t call me . . .”
“He’s your champion, Helen!” Lucas snapped, and his tone was not playful like Hector’s.
Helen looked at Lucas. The fear and frustration in his eyes silenced her immediately. She knew Lucas was upset with her for not handing over Everyland when Zeus asked for it. She wanted to scream at him that she had a plan, damn it, but of course, she didn’t dare do that.
“You took an oath, and for us, those aren’t just words,” Lucas continued. “You cannot walk into that arena. Only Hector can meet your challenger now.”
“W-wait,” Helen said stumblingly, her tongue growing heavy in her mouth with fear as the first part of her plan came undone. “Matt said he doesn’t want Hector, he only wants me. So this is my fight.”
“No it isn’t,” Hector said seriously. All his lighthearted joking vanished, and Helen could hear the voice of an ancient hero in him.
For a moment she saw Hector standing on a great wall, watching Achilles half insane with grief over the death of Patroclus, beating the horses of his chariot raw while calling out Hector’s name to meet him in single combat. Matt didn’t look like Achilles, but he had the same presence, the same power. She didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow, Matt had become Achilles, the Warrior.
“This has always been my fight,” Hector said gently.
“Don’t do it,” she whispered, her voice failing as she remembered what happened the last time.
“Don’t do it!” echoed another, much more strident voice.
Helen turned and saw Andy pushing her way through the disturbed crowd. Her face was shocked, like she couldn’t believe what she was saying and doing, but couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Andy made her way through the commotion and stood inches away from Hector, begging him with her eyes. “Don’t fight him.”
“Tempting,” he said, smiling down on her lovely and totally confused face. “But who would I be if I didn’t? Not myself, that’s for sure. You know I have to do this, Andy.”
“I love you,” she blurted out, completely horrified that she was saying something so sappy in front of a huge crowd like this.
“Well, it’s about time,” Hector replied sarcastically.
For a second, it looked like Andy was going to punch him, so Hector did the wise thing and kissed her. When he finally pulled away he did so reluctantly.
“Hold that thought?” he asked her, his eyes vulnerable. Andy nodded slowly and released him.
Hector turned to Lucas, Jason, and Orion, holding out his hand for his sword. Lucas handed it to him, his face darkened with frustration. Embracing his brothers one by one, Hector walked into the ring alone.
Helen went to Lucas, pleading in a low voice. “Is there anything we can do to stop this? Think, Lucas.”
“Nothing. Only one of them can leave that ring alive,” he replied angrily. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
She didn’t. Helen had no idea if her plan would work. The only thing she knew was that she had to try to change things, and sticking close to her Shield while she thought it out was the only chance she had. Helen backed up until she was leaning against Orion to brace herself. Lucas swallowed hard and looked away.
“He’s hurt,” Orion whispered in her ear. “He thinks you’re choosing me over him.”
Helen knew this. She also knew that every second she hung on Orion hurt Lucas more and more. But there was nothing she could do about it right then.
“Just help me come up with a way to save Hector,” Helen whispered back.
“I can’t,” Orion replied. He wrapped his arms around Helen and squeezed, more to comfort himself than her. She stayed near him, hoping that not only was she protected from the Fates by Orion’s presence, but that Hector was as well.
“It could be different this time,” she said, feeling optimistic as she watched Hector and Matt face off. She lowered her voice to the softest of whispers and pressed her lips to Orion’s ear to make sure the gods didn’t hear. “With you around, the Fates can’t use him.”
Orion nodded, and when he pulled back and looked at Helen there was cautious optimism in his eyes.
The first blows came so fast Helen could barely see them. Even though Helen had fought Hector many times, and even though he’d trained her from day one, she still couldn’t believe that such a big guy could move so gracefully and so swiftly.
But this new, supercharged Matt was just as fast. He parried Hector’s blinding strokes, twisted, and maintained his balance even though his adversary tried to use his larger size to press in and intensify the angle. Instead of getting trapped under Hector’s rain of downward strokes, Matt was able to make space between them without losing his footing on the sand.
Helen felt Lucas, Orion, and Jason all inhale sharply when they saw Matt dart in and draw first blood.
“Hector!” Ariadne cried out.
Hector backed away from Matt, dropping the point of his sword and touching his ribs. His hand came back red. He looked across the arena at his sister and his father who stood with Tantalus. They had sided against him.
As soon as Hector looked at her, Ariadne ran to the edge of the circle, nearly dancing on her toes along the magically sealed rim, like she was trying to throw herself into it and stop this fight. Hector smiled at his sister.
“It’s okay, Ari,” he said, forgiving her. “I understand.”
Hector faced Matt again grimly, aware now that he had met his match. He didn’t waste any time, feinting and spinning past Matt, and slashing downward at Matt’s heel as he spun away. Blood flowed freely from Matt’s Achilles heel, but he didn’t die. He limped away from Hector and took up position on the other side of the arena.
“Wrong heel, my friend,” Matt said sympathetically as the wound closed immediately.
“It was worth a shot,” Hector replied with a shrug, and then he pressed in again with reckless abandon.
Scions healed quickly, but for Matt it only took seconds for his skin to seal back up like nothing had happened. After seeing that, Hector knew his only shot at beating Matt was to find his one weakness. Matt had to have one. He had to be at least partially mortal or Hecate wouldn’t have allowed him to take part in this fight, but there were a lot of body parts to choose from. Hector tried the other heel first, but Matt only recovered faster this time.
“Cut his head off!” Daphne yelled, her eyes wide with fear for Hector now that stabbing both Achilles heels hadn’t worked.
“His heart! Hit his heart!” Orion shouted after her.
As soon as these first two ideas were offered, the Scions on Helen’s side began calling out suggestions in a flurry of voices. Hector fought on, stabbing at Matt’s heart, liver, and even trying to cut off his head, but none of these turned out to be right. Matt would feel the injury but heal immediately, and all the while Hector was getting wounded and not healing as quickly. With each furious exchange, Hector was the one who grew weaker.
The gods looked on with rapt expressions. It was clear that this was the best fight they’d seen in over three thousand years. They were soaking up every minute of Hector’s and Matt’s pain like they were cheering downs at a football game. It was sport for them.
Unable to bear watching the bloodthirsty gods, Helen looked over at Lucas for comfort. He wasn’t even watching the fight anymore. He was looking blankly at the sand, racking his brain for the body part that Matt would choose as his one weakness. She could see him talking to himself, frantic for a way to figure it out. She thought she heard Lucas repeating the word “heel” over and over to himself.
Lucas lifted his head and made eye contact with Helen, his face bright with hope.
He’d figured it out.
At that very moment, Helen and Lucas heard Hector shout. Their heads spun around in time to see Hector crumple to his knees. Matt’s sword was buried up to the hilt in his chest.
Many voices cried at once, and bodies on both sides of the arena’s circle pressed against the invisible barricade in a wave, as loving members from both factions tried to rush into the arena and come to Hector’s aid. But the magic of the battleground prevented any being from interfering.
Matt stood over Hector, his lips trembling and his shoulders hunched with regret. Nearly out of her mind, Ariadne was screaming hateful things at Matt while Claire tried to hold her back.
Hector fell onto his side, still clutching the thick blade that had run him clean through the heart. He hit the ground and his head turned upward, his eyes staring directly at the clouded sun. He pulled in one taut breath, then another, and then no more. His mouth seemed to smile at the sky, but his eyes, which had always been so fierce and full of life, ran dry.
Hector was dead.
