“The prophecy says that the choices the Tyrant makes leading up to the Final Battle may decide all our fates, god, Scion, and mortal alike. That’s really all we know,” Castor added.
“Remember, this is just one section of a very long and very complicated prophecy. Most of which is missing,” Ariadne explained to Helen, Matt, and Claire. “And there’s quite a bit of debate about whether what we have was taken down verbatim, or if parts are just poetry, like in the Iliad.”
“So this prophecy could be nothing more than a bunch of pretty words, but you’ve already decided that Orion is this Tyrant guy?” Helen asked in disbelief. When no one spoke up to deny it, Helen continued. “That’s so unfair.”
Lucas shrugged, his jaw clenched, but kept his eyes trained on the floor. The rest of the Delos clan shot each other looks. Helen glanced from face to face, and then threw her hands up in frustration.
“You don’t know him,” she announced defensively to everyone.
“Neither do you,” Lucas countered harshly. He looked up and met her eye to eye for the first time in a week, and the force of his glare knocked the air right out of Helen’s lungs. There was a tense moment, and everyone stiffened, watching Lucas. He dropped his gaze.
“But he’s not like that,” Helen said barely above a whisper, and shook her head. “Orion could never be a tyrant. He’s really sweet and, well, compassionate.”
“So is Hades,” Cassandra said, almost as if she were talking about a long-lost friend. “Of all the gods, Hades is the most compassionate. After all, he’s said to be the one who’s watching with you when your life flashes before your eyes. Maybe it’s Orion’s compassion that makes him the right replacement for Hades.”
Helen didn’t have a clue how to argue with that, but she knew in her heart that it was wrong of Cassandra to compare Orion to Hades, or to call him a tyrant. Orion was so full of vitality and optimism—he’d even made her laugh in hell. How could a guy like that ever take the place of Hades and become the Scion version of the god of the dead? It didn’t fit.
“None of this is set in stone, Helen,” Ariadne said when she saw how upset Helen was getting. “If you say Orion is a good guy, I believe you.”
“Orion’s been through a lot because of the Furies, and he’s willing to risk his life to help me get rid of them, so that no one else suffers like he has. That’s not something a bad person would do,” Helen insisted.
“Sounds like you know him better than you’ve said,” Lucas said stiffly.
“I’ve only talked with him twice, but time is different down there. It was like days passed. I’m not saying I know everything about him, because I don’t. But I do trust him.”
Helen could feel waves of irritation radiating out from Lucas, but he didn’t say another word. In a way, she would have preferred it if he had starting shouting at her again. At least then she would know what he was thinking.
“Let’s hope you’re right, Helen. For all our sakes,” Cassandra said pensively. Then she stood up and went to the scrolls, essentially dismissing everyone. Taking the hint, they all filed out of the library and headed toward the kitchen.
Noel had prepared a mini-feast to celebrate the ordination of the first new priests and priestesses of Apollo in probably about a jillion years. Helen had to smile at the spread, appreciating the fact that the Delos family did pretty much everything with food. Fights, celebrations, convalescences—every major turning point and sometimes just Sunday mornings, merited a major sit-down. It made their house a home. Helen knew she was a cousin and that she was a part of this family, but she didn’t feel welcome anymore. If she stayed, she knew Lucas would go. Helen hung back, unwilling to enter the kitchen.
“Get in there and eat!” Claire ordered cheerfully, coming up behind her.
“Ha! Do I look that thin?”
“Thinner.”
“I can’t do it, Claire,” Helen said hoarsely.
“He’s already left, you know. He just took off. But I get it.” Claire shrugged. “It sucks you won’t stay and celebrate, but I can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t feel comfortable, either.”
“This was really brave of you, you know,” Helen told her seriously. “It took a lot of guts to join the priesthood.”
“I should have done it sooner,” Claire said quietly. “I let you wander around down there without any help for too long, and . . . well, look at you. I’m so sorry, Lennie.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah,” Claire said bluntly. “You look really sad.”
Helen nodded acceptingly. She knew that her friend wasn’t being cruel, just honest. She gave Claire a hug and snuck out the back before anyone else could tell her to come in and sit down. Helen was just about to fly off when she heard someone approaching from the side, moving across the lawn toward her.
“Just tell me you’re not letting him call the shots down there,” Lucas said in a low voice. He stopped while he was about ten feet away from her, but she still edged away from him. There was something combative about his stance that Helen didn’t like.
“I’m not,” she said. “Orion isn’t what you think. I told you, he just wants to help me.”
“Right. I’m sure that’s all he wants.” Lucas kept his voice flat and cold. “You can fool around with him as much as you want, but you know you can’t really be with him, don’t you?”
Helen’s jaw dropped. “I’m not with him,” she huffed, nearly breathless with shock.
“The whole point is to keep the Houses separate,” Lucas said bitterly, ignoring her denial. “No matter how charming this Orion guy is or how many times he lends you his jacket, don’t forget that he is the Heir to two Houses and you are the Heir to another. You can never commit yourselves to each other.”
“Okay. I’ll try to resist marrying him at that cute little chapel in hell. You know, the one right next to the festering pit of dead bodies?” Helen seethed. She wanted to scream at him, but forced herself to keep her voice down. “This is ridiculous! Why are you even saying all this to me?”
“Because I don’t want you getting sidetracked by some trashy piece of Roman eye candy.”
“Don’t talk about Orion like that,” Helen said in a low, cautioning voice. “He’s my friend.”
Helen had seen Lucas get angry plenty of times before, but she’d never heard him put anyone down so callously. It was beneath him. He seemed to sense her disappointment and had to look away for a moment, like he was disappointed in himself, too.
“Fine. Have your friend,” Lucas said calmly, his face controlled again. “Just remember that this is your task. The Oracle said you were the one who has to complete it. Don’t get confused. What you’re attempting to do in the Underworld is so difficult that the Tyrant might not need to fight you to get you to fail. Maybe all he needs to do is distract you.”
Suddenly, Helen was sick of getting lectured by Lucas. He didn’t have the right to tell her how to behave, and he certainly didn’t have to remind her what her duty was. She took a step closer to him.
“I’m not distracted, and I know this is my task. But I’m not getting anywhere on my own. You have no idea what it feels like to be down there!”
“Yes I do,” he whispered harshly, almost before Helen had stopped speaking. Then Helen remembered. Lucas had been in the Underworld, too, the night they fell. She was close enough to him now to see his eyes, and they were so dark blue they were nearly black and sunken. His face looked thinner and much too pale, like he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks.
“Then you should know it’s almost impossible to make it through that place without someone there to help you,” Helen said, her voice catching slightly at the thought of how sick he looked. But she didn’t back down. “And Orion is helping me—not distracting me. He’s taken a lot of risks to be there for me, and I know in my heart he wants to stop the Furies just as much, maybe even more than we do. I don’t believe he’s this evil Tyrant everyone is talking about. And I’m not going to judge m
y friend based on some ancient prophecy that may or may not be a bunch of poetic nonsense.”
“That’s very fair of you, Helen, but remember there’s always a grain of truth in the prophecies, no matter how much poetry has been frosted on top.”
“What’s wrong with you? You never used to talk like this!” Helen exclaimed, raising her voice to a shout for the first time. She didn’t care if the whole household came running and saw them alone together. She took another step toward him, and this time, he was the one to take a step back. “You used to laugh at all that ‘inevitable fate’ crap!”
“Exactly.”
He didn’t have to finish his thought aloud. She knew he was talking about the two of them. Tears started to heat up Helen’s eyes. Helen knew she couldn’t get emotional in front of him or she would truly lose it. Before she could start crying, she jumped into the night sky and flew home.
Dawn was near. The sky began to fade from deepest black to a midnight blue, and soon it would brighten with the color-rush of sunrise. Daphne didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. She had stopped shivering hours ago, which meant that she was becoming hypothermic. The sun would warm her, but it would also dehydrate her further. She had used up most of the water in her body generating nonlethal bolts to use on Tantalus, and that was before she had thrown herself into the ocean, over twenty-seven hours ago.
She shifted on the patch of flotsam that she had latched on to after hurling her body out the window. She had fallen well over a hundred feet into the churning waves, and then smashed repeatedly against the rocks. The gash on her forehead had closed, and three of her four broken ribs were mended, but the fourth would heal no further until she ate and drank. Her left wrist was still broken, too, but her ribs had tormented her the most. Every breath, every rise and fall of the water, almost felt like her last.
But not quite.
Daphne raised her head and craned it around painfully to find land. The tide was changing. It would bring her back in closer to shore, like it had the previous morning. She could only hope that Tantalus’s guards had either abandoned their search for her up and down the beach, or that she had been swept far enough away that she could allow her pathetic collection of discarded fishing net, Styrofoam, and twigs to drift ashore. She knew she couldn’t last forever in the water. Her raft was beginning to sink. Guards or no, Daphne would have to go ashore soon or drown.
She stayed low, glancing at the beach every time the swells allowed. She saw a large man running toward the water’s edge, faster than a mortal’s eyes could see. He stripped to the waist as he charged through the sand, his blond curls glinting gold in the first flashing rays of the dawn.
Her beloved Ajax, a true son of the sun, had come with the dawn to rescue her.
Daphne tried to cry out with joy and found that she could do no more than wheeze through her swollen throat. Though it made her cracked lips bleed, she smiled at the sight of her beautiful husband, who was just about to take her in his arms and carry her far away from all danger. Just like he always did, before he was murdered.
If Daphne could have cried then, she would have. Ajax was dead, she remembered anew, and it hurt as much as it had that first moment. Why struggle so hard to live when her beloved was waiting for her by the River Styx? She thought of the terrible lie she had told her daughter and for a moment she regretted leaving Helen to believe she was Lucas’s cousin, now that she was going to die. Her wounded body relaxed, her eyes still locked on her husband’s twin.
The man’s thick thighs hit the water, somehow resisting the normal drag. Slipping beneath the surface, she saw him jackknifing through the waves. As her ears became submerged, Daphne heard Hector, son of Pallas, call out to the sea and ask it to support her surrendering body.
Daphne felt her face tilted back toward the air, and took a ragged, choking breath. She hacked at the vile salt water bubbling up out of her lungs, trying and failing to say the words Myrmidon and Helen. But all she could see was Hector’s worried face. At the end of her endurance, Daphne finally lost consciousness.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Helen didn’t see Orion for the next few days. She had to descend each night whether she wanted to or not, but she told him not to waste his time meeting her there until they had a plan.
I’m better off alone for now, she texted while Claire drove to school. After all, the monsters think you’re the delicious one.
Smart monsters. I am tasty.
Says who?
Don’t believe me? See for yourself.
Yeah? How?
Bite me.
Helen burst out laughing. Claire looked over at her as they walked across the parking lot.
“What are you two texting about?” Claire asked.
“Nothing important,” Helen mumbled, hiding her phone in her bag.
As she and Orion texted throughout the day, cracking jokes about how exhausting it was to lead a double life, Helen started to get the feeling that he was a little too relieved to be given a break.
You don’t have to jump for joy at the thought of NOT seeing me tonight, you know, she typed testily on her way to lunch.
NOT happy I won’t see you. Happy b/c I need to study. Can’t pay my board w/o full scholarship, and my broke ass has no place else to go. Bad grades=homeless Orion. ☹
Helen stared at his text, her brow pinched together. She could tell he had put the frowny face at the end to make light of what he wrote, but it didn’t work. She thought about what it meant to have no place to live but boarding school.
Where do you go over summer break? Christmas vacation? Do you just stay in the dorms by yourself?
Oh boy. Can of worms . . . he texted after a long pause. Summers I work. Christmas I volunteer.
What about when you were a little kid? When you were only 10? Helen remembered that he’d told her he’d been on his own since then. You couldn’t have had a job that young.
Not in this country. Look, just drop it, okay? Class is starting.
“Helen?” Matt asked, repressing a smile. “Are you going to text with Orion all through lunch?”
“Sorry,” Helen said with a grim expression. She put her phone away, wondering what country Orion meant. She pictured him as a little boy, having to work in some horrendous sweatshop that condoned the use of child labor, and started to get angry.
“Did something happen between you two?” Ariadne asked. “You seem upset.”
“Nope. Everything’s fine,” Helen said as cheerfully as she could. Everyone was staring at her like they didn’t believe her, but she couldn’t tell them what the text was about. It was private.
Orion sent her a “good luck in the Underworld” text that night, but he sent it so late that Helen didn’t get it until the next morning. It was obvious he was dodging her—probably because he didn’t want to talk about his childhood. Helen decided to let it go until he trusted her better. This was not something she could rush, but she was surprised to find that she didn’t mind waiting. So what if she had to work a bit harder to gain his confidence? He was worth the extra effort.
“Is that Orion?” Claire asked, her eyes narrowing when Helen jumped to pull out her vibrating phone.
“He said he found something,” Helen said, ignoring Claire’s disquiet.
Her best friend shot her a concerned look, and Helen hoped Claire would let it go. She didn’t have the energy to deal with a “Do you like this boy, or like this boy?” cross-examination by her best friend, especially not when so much was at stake.
“What is it?” Cassandra asked.
“A scroll from the private diary of Marc Antony that talks a lot about the afterlife. He wants to know if you want him to scan and email it to you.”
Cassandra rubbed her eyes. They had been locked in the Delos library every day after school for three nights in a row, looking for some kind of clue that could lead them to a plan. So far nothing had come up.
“Wait, Marc Antony? As in Antony and Cleopatra?” Ariadne asked wi
th stars in her eyes. “She was such a badass.”
Helen grinned in agreement and typed the question to Orion. She paused to read his response. “Yup, same Roman. I guess he’s a relative on his mother’s cousin’s side. It looks really convoluted, but Orion’s mother was related to both Marc Antony and Julius Caesar if you go back far enough.”
“Yeah, but go back far enough and even you and me could be related, Len,” Claire said wryly. She fluffed her inky black hair to point out how genetically different she and blonde Helen were.
“Huh. I’ve never thought of it like that, but you’re probably right, Gig,” Helen mused. A disturbing idea started to bud in her mind, but Cassandra interrupted Helen’s half-formed thought.
“Helen, tell Orion not to bother. Marc Antony was trying to become Pharaoh, so he would only have been interested in the Egyptian afterlife.” Cassandra’s mounting frustration was obvious.
Helen began to type in Cassandra’s reply, adding the “thank-you” that Cassandra so glaringly omitted.
“Wait a sec, Len,” Matt said before she could send it. “Just because Orion’s information is from a different culture doesn’t make it incorrect.”
“I agree with Matt,” Jason said, perking up from his study stupor. “The Egyptians were obsessed with the afterlife. It’s possible they knew more about the Underworld than the Greeks did. They could have exactly the information Helen needs to navigate down there. We could overlook it if we’re biased to favor the Greeks.”
“Sure, it’s possible that the Egyptians had a three-dimensional map of the Underworld complete with magic passwords!” Cassandra responded sarcastically as her frustration boiled over. “But Marc Antony was a Roman invader. An Egyptian priest initiated to the level of knowledge that Helen needs would have died before telling a conqueror even one of the sacred secrets of the Underworld!”