Helen got out of the tub and dried off. She didn’t really know what she was going to do next, but she knew that she couldn’t go back to her frozen room. There was always the couch downstairs, but she decided that whether she lay down or not, it really didn’t matter. She’d lost track of how many weeks she’d gone without true rest, anyway.
She spent a very long time in the hot bathroom catching up on the grooming ritual that she’d neglected for ages. She clipped things that needed clipping and rubbed all of her bendy parts with gooey oils. When she was finished, Helen wiped the steam off the mirror over the sink and for the first time in ages, she took a good look at herself. The first thing she noticed was her mother’s necklace. It stood out in sharp relief against her flushed skin, glowing on her throat as if it had sucked power from all of her self-pampering. Then she looked up at her face.
It was the same face that so many people had died for eons ago, that so many were still dying for. Scions were still killing each other to avenge deaths that went back all the way to the walls of Troy—all the way back to the first woman to wear the exact face that Helen was looking at in the mirror.
Was any face worth all that? It didn’t make any sense. There had to be more to the story. All this suffering couldn’t be about one girl no matter how pretty she was. Something else had to be going on that wasn’t in the books.
She heard her phone buzz and rushed to grab it, knocking over half the toiletries on the sink as she did so. She snatched the assorted bottles and tubes out of the air before they had a chance to clatter noisily against the floor and wake her dad. Suppressing a nervous giggle, she put them silently back in their proper places, then looked at the message.
I’ve thought it over. If this is what it takes to keep you alive, then I’m ready for it, Orion answered, almost half an hour after they’d stopped texting. I’ll let you go, I’ll let this whole quest go, but I can’t let you die.
Helen slumped down on the edge of the tub in disbelief. Giving up would damn Orion to a life on the run, without a home or a family. He was willing to suffer all that—for her.
Or was it for her stupid face? After all, they barely knew each other. What could inspire that kind of self-sacrifice?
Daphne had called their nearly identical faces cursed, and Helen had always assumed that her mother had meant that their faces had cursed them. For the first time, Helen considered the possibility that her mother had meant that it cursed the people who looked at them. The thought of Orion sacrificing everything he’d ever wanted just because it was dangerous for her didn’t sit right with Helen. There was so much more at stake than just one person’s life, even if that life was her own.
Helen felt something give way inside—so what if she had a crush on him, or if he had one on her? Orion couldn’t give up now. Not just because of what it would cost him, but because of what it would cost them all. If no one got rid of the Furies, what would happen to Hector and the other Outcasts? What would happen to all the Scions? Helen remembered Orion telling her about his dream of a field of Scion bones in Hades, and realized that it had been more than just a nightmare. Orion had received a warning in that dream, Helen was sure of it. The cycle had to end or their kind would eventually become extinct, just like the Ice Giants.
You jackass. She stabbed at the keys with her fingers, like she was trying to push her words directly into his big, fat, self-sacrificing, and unbelievably brave head. If you give up on our quest I will hunt you down myself! I’ll find a way to fix this dreaming/banished-by-Hades problem, and when I do we’ll free the Furies together. In the meantime, you KEEP GOING. Got it?
She pressed send and waited. There was a long pause. Several times Helen started to write a text, but she ended up erasing each one. She was so tired her eyes were watering and her ears kept getting blocked up, forcing her to yawn repeatedly to clear them.
Mid-yawn Helen felt something pop behind her eyes, and noticed her upper lip had suddenly become very damp. She touched her mouth and found blood on her fingers. She put a tissue to her nose before she had a chance to stain anything and pressed down hard, waiting for the bleeding to stop. Finally, after mopping up her bloody face and glaring at her phone as if that would make Orion respond faster, it lit up again.
You can hunt for me all you want, Hamilton, but you know you’ll never find me, right?
He was joking around again, which was a very good sign. Helen knew this decision had been hard for him, so she needed to be sure. She needed something that resembled a promise, in case she didn’t make it to the end of their quest.
Do we have a deal? You’ll keep going no matter what? she texted. He didn’t respond immediately, so she added, Hello? Deal?
Sorry. Getting into bed. Yeah, I’ll keep going.
Helen smiled and slid off the edge of the tub to lean against the wall. She wrapped herself up in her robe and stuffed her feet in her slippers as she scooted down into a makeshift nest of warm, damp towels. She imagined him climbing under the covers in his dorm, taking his phone with him. He’d fall asleep like that, she thought, with their conversation cupped in his hand.
Knew I could count on you, she sent, cradling his messages close to her.
Always and forever. Where are you?
Bed, she wrote, even though it was more like “floor.”
Good, me too. You can finally rest. And so can I! Exhausted.
Helen didn’t want to stop texting with him. She could have stayed up all night trading little stories in the dark, but she was finally warm again after what seemed like years of shivering. Her eyes were beginning to close on their own.
Good night, Orion.
Sweet dreams.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Helen’s eyes opened. She didn’t feel like she was waking up, and she suspected it was because she hadn’t really been sleeping. It felt more like she’d been hit on the head and lost consciousness for a few hours, and was now coming around. Like a jump cut in a movie, one moment Helen was looking at Orion’s last text and the next she was looking at the bath mat on the floor. The sun was up, her hair was dry, and she could hear her dad getting out of bed.
Helen could tell from the jittery, clammy feeling all over her body that although her brain had checked out for a few hours, she hadn’t gotten what she needed. She hadn’t descended, which was a relief, but she also hadn’t dreamed. That was very bad. Persephone had told her that she didn’t have much time, and Helen didn’t know how much longer she could last without dreaming.
Hearing Jerry opening his closet spurred Helen into action. She jumped up and dismantled the nest she’d made herself the night before, then hastily began brushing her teeth to give her father the illusion that she’d just beaten him to the bathroom.
It was Monday, a new week, and Helen’s turn to do the cooking. She rushed into her frozen room dreading what she was going to find, but was pleasantly surprised that it had mostly thawed. Something clicked in her head. The intense cold must have something to with how she had been turning her bed into a portal to the Underworld. Since she hadn’t descended the night before, the cold had dissipated a bit. It was still a meat locker in there and everything was damp with melt water, but at least she didn’t have to take a hair dryer to her dresser to get the drawers open, like she’d had to the day before.
So far she’d been able to hide just how cold it had gotten in her room from her father, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it from him much longer. Helen decided that there wasn’t anything she could do about that. She just hoped he stayed out of her room. She had other things to worry about, not the least of which was the Myrmidon that was probably watching her at that moment. Helen shrugged off this disturbing thought as best she could, but still went into her closet before she took off her clothes.
She got dressed as quickly as possible, shivering the few seconds she was forced to spend exposed, and then ran downstairs to warm up at the stove as she cooked breakfast. For a while, she turned up the gas on the stove
like it was a campfire. When the air all around her wavered with the heat, she sighed happily and closed her eyes, but something wasn’t right. She didn’t feel like she was alone. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked around. The air continued to dance in front of her for a few moments, and then it settled.
Doubt began to creep in. She wasn’t hearing voices, but she still felt like there was another presence in the kitchen, and that was obviously impossible. Helen knew she was losing it. She didn’t have much time left, but there was nothing she could do about it until that night. She turned back to the stove and got to work on breakfast.
When she was done making pumpkin pancakes she glanced at the clock. Her father was running a bit late, so she put in a bit of extra effort and sprinkled powdered sugar over the top of the stacks through an old bat-shaped cutout, like they used to do when Helen was a kid. When she was finished she looked up at the clock again. She was just about to go to the bottom of the stairs to call up for Jerry when she heard him come down.
“What took you so . . .” Helen stopped dead when she saw her father.
He was wearing a tattered black dress with red-and-white-striped stockings, a black wig, and his face was painted green. In his hand was the traditional pointy witch’s hat with a fat silk sash and a silver buckle on the front. For a moment she just stared at him with her mouth hanging open.
“I lost a bet with Kate,” he said sheepishly.
“Oh, man. I gotta get a picture of this.” Her shoulders were shaking with laughter as she grabbed her phone. She snapped a quick shot of her dad before he could run away, and sent it immediately to pretty much everyone she’d ever met. “Is it Halloween today? I’ve lost track.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, sitting down to eat his pancakes. “I’ve got two whole days in drag and then I’m never celebrating Halloween again.”
Halloween was always a busy time at the News Store, and despite Jerry’s grumbling about having to wear a dress, Helen knew he loved to celebrate all the holidays. Helen asked her dad if he needed help at the store, but he told her there was no way he was letting her come in.
“You look greener than I do,” he said with worry. “Do you need to stay home from school today?”
“I’ll be all right,” Helen said with a shrug and looked down at her breakfast to hide the guilt she felt. She honestly didn’t know if she was going to be all right or not, and she couldn’t look at her father and lie.
Claire cruised up to the house in her nearly silent car, rolled down the passenger window, and blasted the song on the radio rather than honking.
“I’d better go before the neighbors call the cops,” Helen said to her father as she gathered up her stuff and ran out of the house.
“Come right home after school; you need your rest!” Jerry shouted after her. Helen waved in a noncommittal way from the door, knowing that she couldn’t. She had to train with Ariadne for her return to the Underworld. The clock was ticking for Helen, and she had a lot of promises to keep before it stopped.
Lucas watched Helen run out her front door and jump into Claire’s car. She looked exhausted and skinny, but even so, her smile for Claire was bright and beautiful and full of love. That was Helen. No matter what she was going through, she had this nearly magical way of opening her heart for others. Just being near her made him feel loved, even if he knew that her love wasn’t directed toward him anymore.
She’d almost caught him again that morning, and he was starting to suspect that he was scaring her. Somehow, she could still sense him. Lucas had to figure out why, because he certainly wasn’t going to stop guarding her. Not until he was certain that Automedon was gone for good.
Claire and Helen started shrieking as they drove off, murdering one of Lucas’s favorite Bob Marley songs. Helen had the worst singing voice. It was one of the things he liked the most about her. Every time she warbled like a cat that just got stepped on, he wanted to pick her up and . . . yeah.
Reminding himself that Helen was his cousin, he dropped his light-cloak and soared up into the air so he could switch on his phone and start his day. He had a text message waiting.
I know you were down there w/us. And I think I know how u did it, read the text. We need to talk.
Who is this? Lucas replied, already knowing who it was. Who else could it be, after all? But he didn’t want to give the guy an inch. He couldn’t. He was too angry.
Orion.
Making him text it was even worse. Seeing that guy’s name and picturing Helen say it just ate him up inside. The rage was getting worse every day, and he had to take a moment to stop himself from chucking his phone across the Atlantic.
Great. What do you want? Lucas replied when his hands had unclenched enough to type. It was bad enough he had to let Helen go, but did he also have to get texts from the guy who got to spend every night with her?
You need to be a dick—I get it. But there’s no time. Helen is dying.
“You’re in a good mood!” Helen chirped.
“I am!” Claire practically screamed.
“Ooh, don’t tell me! Flushed cheeks, dewy eyes . . . Could you be love? Oh, yeah!”
Helen sang the final part of the Bob Marley song that Claire had been howling. It perfectly summed up Claire’s ecstatic mood, and Claire joined her for the “oh, yeah” part, answering Helen’s tacit question.
“What can I say? He really is sort of a god.” Claire sighed and giggled gloriously as she careened down the street.
“What happened?” Helen screeched, vicariously giddy. It felt so good to laugh again, Helen forgot about everything else in her life but Claire’s glowing face.
“He FINALLY kissed me! Last night,” she practically sang. “He climbed up the side of my house! Can you believe it?”
“Um, yeah?” Helen grinned and shrugged.
“Oh, right, I guess you can,” Claire said, waving it off good-naturedly. “So, anyway, I opened my window to yell at him and tell him that he was going to wake my grandma—you know how she can hear a dog fart two houses down. But he said he had to see me. That he couldn’t stay away from me anymore, and then he kissed me! Is that not the best first kiss ever?”
“Finally! What took him so long?” Helen laughed. The laugh turned into a yelp as Claire stomped on the brakes to obey a stop sign. Horns honked at them from either side of the street.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Claire drove on, ignoring the fact that she’d nearly caused a horrendous traffic accident. “He thinks I’m too fragile, that I don’t know the danger I’m in—blah, blah. Like I haven’t spent my entire life around a Scion. Ridiculous, right?”
“Yeah. Ridiculous,” Helen said as she grimaced in fear at both Claire’s nonchalant attitude toward Scions and her daredevil driving. “You know what, Gig? Love doesn’t make you immune to car wrecks.”
“I know that! God, you sound just like Jason,” Claire responded, her entire being melting a bit as she said his name. She pulled into her parking spot in the school lot, shut off her car, and turned to Helen with a sigh. “I am so in love.”
“Apparently!” Helen grinned. She knew she wasn’t Jason’s favorite person anymore, but regardless of how he’d been treating Helen, she could see that Claire needed her support in this. “Jason really is a great guy, Gig. I’m so happy for you two.”
“But he’s not Japanese,” she said, her face falling. “How am I supposed to bring him home to my parents?”
“Maybe they won’t mind so much,” Helen said with a shrug. “Hey, they got used to me, right?”
Claire gave her a dubious look, held out her hand palm down, and tipped it left and right as if to say “fifty-fifty.”
“Really?” Helen exclaimed. She couldn’t believe it. “We’ve been friends our entire freaking lives and your parents still don’t like me?”
“My mom loves you! But, Lennie, you have to understand, you’re really tall and you smile a lot. That’s kind of not cool with Grandma.”
“I can’t believe it,?
?? Helen muttered crankily as she got out of the car and headed across the parking lot. “I’ve spent more time with that old bat . . .”
“She’s traditional!” Claire said in defense.
“She’s racist!” Helen countered, and Claire backed off because she knew Helen was sort of right. “Jason is perfect for you, Gig. Don’t you dare let the fact that he isn’t Japanese ruin this! That guy was willing to die for you.”
“I know,” Claire said, her voice getting hoarse with emotion. She stopped dead, even though everyone else was rushing into school to avoid being late. Helen stopped with her, moved by Claire’s rare show of vulnerability. “I was so scared down there, Len. So lost and thirsty, you know? And then . . . there he was. I still can’t believe he actually came to get me in that horrible place.”
Helen waited for Claire to calm down. The rawness of the emotions surrounding Claire’s near-death experience reminded Helen of how awful the Underworld actually was. Orion had changed the Underworld so drastically for her that she didn’t consider it punishment to be down there anymore. As long as she was with him, she could almost enjoy it.
“But I don’t love him just because he saved me,” Claire continued, breaking Helen out of her thoughts about Orion. “Jason is one of the best people I’ve ever met. I would admire him regardless.”
“Then forget what your grandmother thinks,” Helen said with a firm nod.
“Ugh, I wish I could! But the old boot never shuts up,” Claire groaned as she tugged on the door and walked in with Helen, both of them laughing again. Helen had forgotten how great it felt to just goof off with Claire. She began her day in high spirits.
The rest of the morning, however, was like a slow dive into a state of exhaustion. Helen had to keep shaking herself awake, and several times her teachers reprimanded her for nearly dozing off. Somehow she managed to stumble through the morning and met back up with Claire at lunch.