Helen and Lucas appeared on the beach. Hoping to end up close to Orion, Helen figured that the best place to appear was near the spot of the makeshift arena where the duels had taken place. She was expecting to find that the battle lines being drawn on the beach wouldn’t be that much bigger than when she had left, so that she would instantly know which way to go to find Orion. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
When Helen and Lucas stepped out of the ring of frost, they found themselves in the middle of a gigantic camp crawling with thousands of fighters. Scions, Myrmidons, and mortals were all preparing themselves for battle.
“Son of a biscuit,” Helen said, gaping like a hick at the bustling tent city that had sprung up along the beach. Helen saw Mr. Tanis from the hardware store sharpening a sword on a large, round stone. His eyes looked blank and strange. Helen was just about to call out to Mr. Tanis and check if he was okay, when she felt Lucas yank roughly on her arm.
“Up!” he growled fearfully and threw her into the air. As she disengaged gravity, he flew past her and took her hand to pull her along. “Wrong side!” he shouted back at her, steering them inland.
From the air, Helen could see the two camps, but she still couldn’t believe the scale of it all. She and Lucas floated for a few moments, studying the new map that had been drawn over the beach on the westernmost side of Nantucket Island. From Siasconset all the way up to Sesachacha Pond, the shore was lined with the tents of Tantalus’s army. Orion and his soldiers had been backed up onto the dunes, where they huddled on the high ground, ridiculously outnumbered. Helen could hear Lucas whispering to himself, like he was memorizing a list of things for later.
“Didn’t we just leave?” Helen gasped, incredulous. There were too many people down there, too many tents. “How did this happen so fast?”
“Hephaestus has enough arms stored under Mount Olympus to put a sword in the hands of every man, woman, and child in the world,” Lucas replied distractedly. Helen watched his eyes skip around, and his lips move as he counted tents under his breath and marked supply lines.
Arrows started whizzing past them. A few of them bounced off Helen, and Lucas instinctively jerked her out of their path. They had been spotted by a phalanx of Myrmidons, and more arrows followed until the air was thick with them.
“I’m fine,” she said, knocking a shower of arrows away from her face. She touched the gold heart she wore around her neck to remind Lucas that she wore the half of the cestus that protected her from weapons. “It stings, but arrows can’t kill me. Or you, either.”
Lucas watched as arrows bounced off him, his expression blank. Helen looked at his heart and saw a dozen different emotions swirling around inside of him.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked pleadingly, placing her hand on his chest. Lucas looked up at Helen, but his eyes were so wild she had no idea what was going through his head. “I know I made you mostly immortal without even asking you first. But it’s still up to you. If you want to die, you still can whenever you want. Not that you’d want to die right now. But say someday in the future—you know, you still can.”
Lucas’s face crumpled with confusion.
A flaming ball catapulted past, barely missing them, but neither Helen nor Lucas paid it any mind. Another hail of arrows darkened the sky around them, but it was all background noise, easily ignored now that she had this chance to tell Lucas everything.
“And then there’s all that stuff I said about you not being compassionate,” Helen continued, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. “You have to know I don’t really think that about you. I just said it because you hadn’t been tested like Orion and I were. It was the only thing I could come up with to use at the trial—the only reason the dead would vote you down.”
Lucas’s expression was still blank. Helen took that to mean that what she had said about him during the trial had made him see her differently, just as she had feared. In order to save him, she’d made him stop loving her. Tears spilled down Helen’s face.
“You hate me now, don’t you? But I had to point out your one big flaw, even if it did change the way you feel about me. I did it to get you back, even if it means I’ve lost you.”
“You couldn’t lose me, Helen. Not even if you tried,” he said, pulling on her arm to bring her closer to him. “And for the record, I agree with you. I should be more compassionate. I never expected you to think I was perfect. I know I’m not.”
“You are to me.”
“That’s all I care about,” Lucas said quietly. “Not-my-cousin Helen.”
For just a moment, Helen was scared he wouldn’t do it. She’d gotten her hopes up so many times now and been disappointed, that she doubted it would ever actually happen again. But it did happen. He buried his hands in her hair, pulled her to him, and kissed her.
The sky filled with flaming arrows and giant projectiles that smelled like melted asphalt. Everything started exploding around them, but Helen couldn’t care less. She was home, and she never wanted to leave it again.
Helen tightened her arms around him desperately, and the kiss grew frantic. Arrows flew this way and that as Orion’s soldiers retaliated against the Myrmidons. Noticing that they were caught in the crossfire, Lucas ended the kiss, but still held her close.
“We’ll finish this later,” he promised breathlessly, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment to calm down. Then he turned and led her back to earth.
They flew swiftly, avoiding the stinging onslaught of weaponry as best as they could, and landed on their side of the battle line. Archers bristled with arrows. Armor clanked and leather creaked. An army of Scions, small though it was, faced the first wave of Tantalus’s army—thirty-three Myrmidons that stood opposite them over a wide strip of sand, with Tantalus standing at the rear as their leader. Helen listened to Tantalus shout orders to the standing army and decided that she had to hand it him. He’d been her personal boogeyman for several months now, but he was no coward.
As soon as Helen and Lucas touched down, Orion and Castor ran forward to meet them.
“How did you . . . ?” Orion asked Helen as they watched Castor hug his son tightly.
“Tell you later,” Helen replied.
“Where’s Hector?” Lucas asked.
“In my tent,” Orion responded, leading Helen and Lucas to it. “He actually thinks he’s going to fight.”
“I don’t think I’m going to fight, I am going to fight,” Hector said in his grouchiest voice from inside the tent.
“Hector, if you get yourself killed again, when I take over Hades I’ll give you a really long time-out in Tartarus,” Lucas said jokingly as they entered.
Helen and Lucas went inside, and the first thing that Helen noticed were six sets of armor, hanging from their racks like hollow soldiers standing guard over the room.
Bronze for Hector, white for Orion, silver for Castor, red for Jason, and black for Lucas, Helen thought. Apart from the rest, there was a set of golden armor—the size and shape indicated that it was made for a woman. That’s mine.
Beneath the sets of armor, Jason was wrapping gauze around Hector’s chest. Jason looked pale and shaky from healing his brother.
“Lucas!” Cassandra said, and launched herself at her brother. He caught his little sister and hugged her. His cousins swarmed him, hugging him and thumping his back, but despite their happiness at seeing him, everyone had heard what he’d said.
“What do you mean, ‘when you take over Hades’?” Cassandra asked, releasing Lucas.
“What happened?” Castor asked Helen accusingly, like she’d only done half her job.
“Dad, look, there’s no way out of the vow I made. But thanks to Helen, I don’t have to take over right now. Let’s focus on the battle at hand.” Lucas squeezed his father’s shoulder, then turned to Hector. “Helen and I saw behind the enemy lines from the air. Where’s the map?” He sounded like he’d planned a battle a million times.
Cassandra led the men to a table in the corner, and Lucas immediately began breaking down the setup of the enemy camp. Helen was about to join them when she heard a familiar voice. It was distant and weak, calling out from the no-man’s-land between the two sides.
“Somebody help!” Claire was screaming.
She was in pain.
“Gig?” Helen called, and ran outside the tent, blindly heading for the edge of the line. The burning balls of pitch that the Myrmidons had launched at Helen and Lucas blotted out everything with huge clouds of black smoke.
“Here!” Claire shouted back hoarsely, somewhere behind the smoke screen.
“Helen, don’t!” Orion yelled, but Helen didn’t listen.
It didn’t matter to Helen if Claire had chosen Matt over her. The sound of her best friend in pain wiped everything else away. Helen charged into no-man’s-land.
A new wave of arrows was unleashed as soon as Helen set foot on the line—warning shots from the Myrmidons.
“Lennie!” Claire howled, her voice jagged with pain.
Claire was somewhere out there in the dunes, but Helen couldn’t see her. Too many arrows were falling, and fires were raging in the rose-hip bushes and in the marsh grass.
Helen felt a giant swell of power surge up and out of her, as a desperate need to find Claire overtook her. Several things happened at once. The fires on the ground extinguished in a hiss of frost and steam. A great wind blew and whipped all the smoke back, revealing Claire and Daphne crouched on the sand. And a hundred arrows paused in midair, their bronze tips balancing on the edge of Helen’s magnetic field. Everything was still for a moment.
Her heart in her throat, Helen saw that even though Daphne was shielding Claire from the fires with her body, they had both been shot several times with arrows.
Claire was bleeding badly.
Helen ran to her, her hands tingling with panic. She was belatedly aware of the fact that by running into no-man’s-land she had taken the field. Inadvertently, Helen had made it okay for the Myrmidons on the other side to do the same.
Helen heard Lucas, Orion, and Hector sound their battle cries behind her to summon their soldiers. As one, they charged headlong into the fray that Helen had unwittingly started. All she could see was Giggles, crying and clutching at the arrow in her chest.
“Get out of her!” Helen screamed nonsensically to the arrows sticking out of Claire. They all obeyed and jumped out of Claire’s skin, making matters much worse. Rivers of blood began to flow from Claire’s body.
Helen got to Claire and Daphne before the charging armies met. She pulled them both close and rocketed into the air as the Scions and the Myrmidons met in a clash of swords and shields beneath her.
As she rushed Claire and Daphne to Jason, she glanced down and saw Castor, Hector, Orion, and Lucas plowing into the Myrmidon phalanx without their armor. Lucas took the lead, blocking furiously. The sight of Lucas knocking blades out of the way with his bare hands sent a shiver through Helen, and even though she knew a sword or an arrow couldn’t kill him, she was relieved that she had to focus on flying and couldn’t watch. In a moment she had Claire and Daphne in the tent.
“I’m fine,” Daphne insisted, limping off toward the table and chairs. Helen laid Claire down in front of Jason and Cassandra. Jason reacted immediately, his hands glowing blue to stop Claire’s bleeding even as his heart crawled with hurt over what she’d done.
“Jason, wait!” Claire pleaded.
“Claire, for once in your life, could you please just shut up?” Jason said angrily. Helen looked in his heart, yellow and bruised, and she could see he was so wounded by Claire’s betrayal that he couldn’t even look her in the eye.
“Pallas won’t fight you and Hector,” she gasped, stubbornly continuing. “Daedalus refuses to fight Orion, and the gods have lost the support of most of the Scions on their side because they’re hypnotizing mortals.” Blood began to pour out of her mouth.
The one freaking power Helen didn’t have, and it was the one that she most wished for—the ability to heal her loved ones when they were suffering.
“Do something!” Helen yelled at Jason.
“Her lung is punctured,” he said as Claire struggled under his hands. “I have to put her under.”
“Claire, please, calm down,” Cassandra said soothingly. “Let Jason work.”
“No!” Claire replied, knocking Jason’s glowing hands away. She tried to sit up, but more blood poured out of her mouth. Still, she fought to deliver her message. “Tantalus, a handful of the Hundred Cousins, and the Myrmidons are all that’s left,” she said, choking on her own blood. “Tantalus leads them all. He’s the brains, and he’s heavily guarded by the Myrmidons.”
“Try to keep still,” Cassandra said, easing Claire back down.
“I’m so sorry,” Claire coughed. “Ari and I thought we were doing the right thing.”
“I know,” Jason replied, and the mustard-colored bitterness that Helen saw in his heart morphed into a gorgeous red-gold cloud. “Now, seriously, shut the hell up,” he whispered tenderly.
He passed a glowing hand over Claire’s head, and she blacked out. Helen watched for a moment as Claire’s wounds began to close, and Jason’s face grew paler with the effort to heal her, before she turned to Daphne.
“Thank you,” Helen said grudgingly. “For getting her.”
Daphne nodded and looked down at a wound in her thigh. “I’m in no position to request anything in return. But I’m asking you to leave Tantalus to me.”
“He’s all yours,” Helen said unfeelingly, before leaving the tent to fly over the battle and find her men.
She spotted Lucas first. He was fighting alongside his father. She knew that Lucas would be fine, and that he would protect Castor. She looked around for Orion. Arrows whistled around her as the Myrmidons behind the front lines emptied their quivers. Seeing the arrows bounce off of her, they quickly put up their bows, pointing and crying out at the impossible sight.
From the air, Helen found Orion and Hector fighting back-to-back. A circle of six Myrmidons had them pinned down. Helen flew to them, and once she was in range, she called the swords out of the Myrmidons’ hands. Six swords jumped into the sky and hovered there as Helen landed with an earthshaking thud next to Hector and Orion.
Her arrival did not have the effect she expected. Instead of running away, the Myrmidons began to close in.
“The Tyrant,” they chanted in unison as they moved toward her like a congealing mass of hate. “Kill the Tyrant.”
“Not your best move, Princess,” Hector scolded. He pointed a frantic finger at Orion. “Get her off the battlefield!”
Before Helen could figure out why Hector was so bent out of shape, Orion threw her over his shoulder and started running to the tent. As she bounced uncomfortably against Orion’s back, she managed to prop herself up enough to see the entire phalanx of thirty-some Myrmidons zeroing in on her, and she figured it out.
The queen may be the most versatile piece on the chessboard, but if she gets taken out, the game doesn’t end. It’s only over when the king gets cornered that someone calls checkmate. Belatedly, Helen realized that she was the king in this game, not the queen.
As she thought this, Helen noticed someone running through the battlefield dressed in golden armor—her golden armor.
“Wait!” Helen screamed, reaching out for the girl in gold who was foolishly impersonating her. “That’s suicide!”
But the girl disappeared in the smoke, fog, and the surging throngs of fighters without pause.
As Scions from the House of Athens closed ranks behind Orion and faced the pursuing Myrmidons, Helen realized that the girl in gold could only be one person. Her mother.
Daphne waited until Jason had nearly knocked himself out to heal Claire, and Cassandra had gone to fetch him some food and water to revive him, before she brought the gold armor down off its rack. She donned it quickly and, wearing Helen’s face, charged into the battlefield.
She knew she’d never make it out alive, but she had never cared about her own life. Ajax was lost to her. Finally, after all these years, she’d accepted that. There was only one thing left to accomplish. One promise left that she had to keep.
All she had to do was get across the lines while the majority of Tantalus’s fighters were occupied with the battle. Then she would be close enough to kill him.
She’d traded her heart for this months ago—her heart for Hecate’s help in taking one man’s life. It didn’t matter what precautions Tantalus took. Hecate, the guardian of all crossroads and thresholds, had promised that she would open any door for Daphne.
As she ran across no-man’s-land, part of Daphne hoped that Helen believed that she was doing this to help her. An even bigger part of Daphne wished that it were true. But she knew better. She was doing this mainly for revenge. The fact that it helped Helen was just a bonus.
The Myrmidons were distracted, chasing the real Helen, who was thrown over Orion’s shoulder and being carried back behind the lines. Embarrassing, but Daphne knew her daughter’s removal from the battlefield was for the best. For all her awe-inspiring power, Helen was not a born fighter, and Daphne was glad that Orion had the good sense to get her out of the way.
Unlike her bighearted and easily bewildered daughter, Daphne had been in many battles and she knew how to use a sword. Ignoring the rapidly healing wounds in her thigh and shoulder, she cut down a few members of the Hundred Cousins where they stood and began clearing a path to the enemy line.
Daphne spun around in a circle to engage as many of them as she could to distract the enemy from Hector, Lucas, and Castor. None of Helen’s men were wearing armor and they needed to regroup. The only way for that to happen would be if Daphne could win the field and push the enemy back. As long as the Myrmidons were chasing the real Helen, Daphne might just have a chance to get across the lines and on to her real goal.
She killed three men and electrocuted another before her lightning caught Castor’s attention.
“Helen!” he shouted. Seeing Daphne surrounded by more and more soldiers, he began to charge to her rescue.
“Get back, Caz!” Daphne yelled, purposely using his old nickname. He was a smart man and quickly realized that the girl in the golden armor wasn’t Helen, even if she looked exactly like her.
Castor held out an arm to stop Lucas from flying to her and quickly explained things to his son. The two of them turned their attention back to fighting the Hundred Cousins, and Daphne killed the last of the men who had surrounded her.
Breaking across enemy lines, Daphne kicked a few hypnotized mortals out of her way. All the Scions and Myrmidons were on the battlefield, and the mortal reserves had yet to be deployed. Daphne didn’t want to use her sword on full mortals and sheathed it in favor of nonlethal hand-to-hand combat.
Even bare-handed, she tore through the reserves in seconds and headed for a cluster of big tents, calling out her challenge.
“Tantalus! Let’s decide this right now!” Daphne-as-Helen yelled. “One life instead of one thousand!” The crowd started whispering the word Tyrant all around Daphne. They were buying it. “Your life or mine. We’ll end this war before it starts.”
Tantalus flipped back the front flap of his tent and stepped out in full armor. Daphne dropped her face visor and wrung the pommel of her sword between her hands.
“But I have no lightning. I can’t summon earthquakes. I can’t fly,” Tantalus said, holding his hands out as he walked toward her, like he had nothing to hide.
“Sword against sword,” Daphne-as-Helen retorted. “No other talents allowed. Just your blade against mine.”
The crowd murmured their assent, except for one.
“Helen, don’t!” Ariadne yelled. Her father prevented her from running to Daphne’s side. “He’s too good.”
“No other talents and no tricks?” Tantalus asked Daphne uncertainly. He didn’t want to face her unless he was certain he could win.
“None,” Daphne said without pause, knowing she had already paid for this lie with her whole heart.
“Let Hecate decide,” Tantalus said, warming up to the idea of being the big hero by winning the war in one duel. “Offering!”
Pallas stepped forward and threw a handful of saffron into the air between Tantalus and Daphne. Orange fire erupted out of the sand to form an oval. Tantalus and Daphne stepped into the arena unhindered. Tantalus unsheathed his sword slowly and smiled at her.
“Pallas tells me you’re a terrible swordswoman,” he whispered with a cold smile.
Daphne let her own face show through for just a moment so Tantalus knew whom he was facing. When she saw recognition paralyze his expression, she quickly shifted back to Helen’s youthful version of the Face and smiled back at him.
“I think you’ll find me much improved,” she said.
The gods converged on the duel eagerly, each of them taking a prized position at the edge of the sealed arena. Tantalus turned around, about to protest that it was Daphne and not Helen he was fighting, but was met with a wall of orange fire. Seeing that it was impossible to back out now, Tantalus smiled sadly to himself and nodded at the sand.
“Every evil thing I ever did, I did because I love you,” Tantalus said just loud enough for Daphne to hear. “You, of all people, should understand that by now.”
“I do,” she replied quietly. “And I hate you for teaching it to me.”
He stood at one end of the oval, and Daphne at the other. By putting as much distance as possible between them, they had opted for a one-strike duel. This was not going to be a long fight, filled with fancy footwork and genteel fencing. Like medieval jousters or Wild West gunslingers, they were both going for the single, killing blow.
They broke into a run at the same time and charged each other. It was over in a moment.
Daphne ignored the hot sting that traced across her neck, and cut off Tantalus’s head with one strike. Just as he had done to Ajax. She saw Tantalus’s head roll past her and hit the barrier of orange fire, his dead eyes staring back at her.
It was finally finished. Daphne fell to her knees as she listened to his headless body fall to the ground in stages behind her. Silence followed—then a ringing in her ears. Daphne felt a familiar, seeping cold. Looking down, she saw blood pooling in the sand around her. She tried to inhale, and sucked in salty liquid instead of air, like breathing tears. Her body collapsed, and she toppled into the sand as her almost completely severed neck bled out in an instant.
One line from “the Scottish Play” ran through her head: The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures.
Ajax used to love to draw her while she slept. He was such an amazing artist. . . .
Orion threw Helen down next to Jason, who was sleeping—or passed out—on the floor next to Claire. He was so angry Helen didn’t know if she should even try to get him to calm down. She decided to hazard an apology.
“Orion, I’m sor—” she began.
“Shush!” Orion said, holding up a hand to silence her. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself before starting again. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“That this is my fight, not yours. Not Lucas’s. Not Hector’s. Mine,” Helen said, standing up and facing Orion. “I was trying to fight for myself.”
“You realize that’s not how these things are done, don’t you? We choose champions for a reason—because if you die, we lose. I thought you understood that.”
“Yes, I do. Helen of Troy had no choice but to sit back and let other people fight for her, and we all know how well that worked out for Troy,” she said pointedly. Orion shut his mouth and turned to the armory.
“You’re really pissing me off, Helen,” he said, undoing his belt and yanking off his clothes, stripping down so he could get into his armor. Helen moved quickly to help him.
“I know I am,” she replied, pulling down Orion’s white breastplate. “Because I’m too chicken to do what I really have to do.”
“And what’s that?” he asked, holding out his arms for Helen to tie his breastplate at the sides. Cassandra appeared at Helen’s elbow, the bracelet Orion made her tinkling prettily. “Kitty, what are you still doing here?” Orion asked her impatiently as if he’d just noticed her presence.
“I—” she started.
“Go home to Noel and Kate. This place is too dangerous for you,” he scolded. Cassandra wavered, about to put down the gauntlets she carried, but Helen grabbed her hand and stopped her.
“Cassandra is here to be close to you so she doesn’t prophesy,” Helen reminded him. She fumbled with the ties on Orion’s armor for a moment and quickly threw up her hands. “And she’s here to dress you. I have no idea how these dratted things are put on.”
Helen backed off and let Cassandra do what she so obviously wanted to do. Touch Orion. He didn’t even look at her.
“So, keep going. I’m dying to hear what is it you’re ‘too chicken’ to do,” Orion said with a doubtful look, like he didn’t really believe Helen could be chicken about anything.
“Make myself immortal,” Helen replied, her voice breaking. “And not mostly immortal—not immortal except for one tiny clause where I can let myself off the hook in a jillion years if I get sick of it all—but really, honestly, till-the-stars-wink-out immortal so I can fight Zeus one-on-one. I don’t want to be immortal.” Helen felt tears sting the backs of her eyes. “I’m terrified of forever.”
Orion broke away from Cassandra like she wasn’t there and hugged Helen.
“Okay, yeah. That would terrify me, too,” Orion said, holding her gently so he didn’t crush her against his armor.
Helen opened her eyes as Orion held her and saw Cassandra staring at them, her blue eyes wide and glassy with hurt. Helen pulled away from Orion and put some distance between them. How could Orion be so insensitive to Cassandra?
Did he simply not like her? Helen knew that wasn’t true. He was genuinely fond of his “little Kitty”—he just didn’t see her as a woman. Yes, she was a bit young for him at the moment, but there was still something weird about how he couldn’t seem to see inside her the way he could with other people. Like the Fates can’t see through him, she thought. Aeneas was a son of Aphrodite, but he never suspected Cassandra of Troy loved him, either.
Helen realized that the Fates must hide Cassandra from Orion in much the same way that Nemesis hid Orion from the Fates.
“Why do you have to become immortal in the first place?” he asked, interrupting Helen’s train of thought and bringing her back to the more pressing situation.
“To make it my fight. Like it should have been right from the start,” Helen mumbled, rubbing the palms of her hands against her jeans nervously.
They heard noises outside the tent—the sound of their army returning. Helen heard Scions from the House of Rome saying, “He’s dead! Tantalus is dead! The gods have no champions left!”
But Helen knew the gods would not be beaten so easily. They would unleash every storm, every earthquake, and every tidal wave at their disposal before they allowed Helen to walk away with a win.
“Who killed him?” Orion shouted happily, striding to the entrance of the tent.
“My mother,” Helen answered behind him. She ran and grabbed him by the shoulders before he could join his men in celebration. “Orion. Don’t let Poseidon destroy this island. Fight his earthquakes, and fight the tidal waves. Are you strong enough to take him on like that?”
“I’ll try,” Orion said, his face blanching. “Is that where this war is going?”
“Yes,” Cassandra intoned. Helen shivered at the sound, like someone had poured ice water down her back.
Orion and Helen turned to look at the Oracle. The air around her flashed with color, and her body rebounded like she was being punched from the inside, but her face and voice remained her own as she fought the Fates.
“The Twelve immortals cannot meet mortals in open combat. Tyrant, they will unleash their darkest weapons to fight you until you meet Zeus in battle as an equal. Do not delay. One of you must go to Tartarus and complete the cycle.”
“We’ll see about that,” Helen said defiantly.
Cassandra’s frail body shook like she was being electrocuted. Her face shriveled and her eyes filmed over with cataracts as the most terrifying of the three Fates, Atropos—she who cuts off the thread of life—pushed her way through and possessed Cassandra.
“The veil of Nemesis does not always work on the one already blinded,” Atropos said, poking her finger into Cassandra’s eye.
“Orion!” Helen screamed, and he ran to Cassandra to stop the violent prophecy that was trying to shatter her from the inside out. But the old woman danced away from him in Cassandra’s body.
“You’ll not steal our vessel again, pretty one,” Atropos cackled. She made Cassandra’s hips sway suggestively, taunting Orion. “Poseidon is raising his darkest pets from the bottom of the ocean. The Kraken comes to kill you this time!”
Orion wrapped his arms around Cassandra, and she swooned as the Fates were finally driven away. He picked her up as easily as he would a doll and carried her to a chair so he could sit down and hold her in his lap.
“Kitty?” he said gently, touching her face. She didn’t respond. “C’mon, now, wake up.” He shook her, fear making him angry. “Cassandra!” he commanded, but she didn’t even flinch.
Helen saw something flare inside of Orion, and before he could snatch the emotion away, she recognized it. It was a bright flash of love.
Shouts and screams of panic began to sound from the soldiers on the battlefield. Lucas, Hector, and Castor entered the tent in a rush, their faces stark white and staring.
“What’s going on?” Helen asked, fearing the worst, but the men were still too stunned to speak.
From outside the back part of the tent, on the inland side, Helen heard Andy’s siren voice commanding soldiers to hold the line. A moment later, Andy ducked in under the flap at the back and did a grossed-out dance like her skin was crawling.
“There are things coming out of the water!” Andy squealed, just shy of hysterical. “Freaky fish men, and crab women, and—” She broke off and wiggled her fingers, a horrified look on her face. “They’re all gooey! I’m half siren. I’ve seen most of the creepy crawlies on the ocean bed, but these things are disgusting!”
Andy’s freak-out woke Jason and he stumbled to the group, his face so drawn it was nearly skeletal. He pointed to Cassandra sprawled across Orion’s lap.
“What happened?” he croaked.
“Prophecy,” Orion answered. “She won’t wake up.”
“What did she say?” Lucas asked.
“That I have to go do something because if I don’t the gods will—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—unleash the Kraken.” Helen still couldn’t grasp it. “Is the Kraken even Greek?” she gibbered.
Castor got a hold of himself first, and he rushed to take all their armor down. “Boys!” he said roughly. “Help each other with your armor. Quickly!”
Helen stood stock-still while they all stripped and then began strapping each other into their armor. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. How could she watch all of these people she loved die?
“How would you all like to see Everyland?” she shouted, her voice shaking. Everyone paused, stunned by Helen’s seemingly insane offer.
“Helen?” Lucas said, his voice deadly serious. “Are you thinking of making everyone immortal?”
“No,” she replied. “If I make everyone immortal, and I lose to Zeus, he’ll have no choice but to put you all in Tartarus for eternity. There’s no other way to get rid of a full immortal. I can’t do that to you.” Helen was panting. She couldn’t seem to catch a breath. When next she spoke, her voice was so high it squeaked. “But how would you all like to be mostly immortal, like Lucas?”
A deafening sound rumbled through the sky and shook the ground. Collapsing to her knees, Helen felt Lucas throw himself over her, covering her ears. Panicked screams were drowned out by the single unearthly bellow that Helen knew could only mean one thing.
The Kraken was rising.
