“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Helen said sadly, hugging the other side of the bag.
“Oh, the irony. Right?” he joked, and then frowned suddenly. “But you’ve got other possibilities.”
“And you don’t?” Helen laughed. “Or is it just that you’ve already slept with every other hot girl in the world, and there’s no one left?”
“I’m serious,” Hector said, no longer smiling. “Do you feel anything for Orion, or is it like you and Matt? He’s too much of a pal to you?”
“No, that’s definitely not it.” She thought about what Morpheus had revealed to her—that in some ways she might want Orion even more than she wanted Lucas. “I’m really attracted to Orion.”
“And do you care about him?”
“A lot.”
“Then commit yourself to him.” Hector regarded Helen with complete candor. “They’re both waiting for you to make a choice. And none of you are going to move on until you do. You, Helen. You have to make this choice.”
Helen wanted to shout “Lucas,” but she pictured the disgusted look that she knew Hector would give her for preferring her cousin over Orion, and swallowed Lucas’s name. “I have,” she said with more conviction than she felt. “I have,” she repeated.
Hector smirked at her. “The first time you said, ‘I have’ was pretty believable. The second? Not so much.”
“What am I going to do?” she groaned in response, hitting her forehead against the bag. “I feel like a Ping-Pong ball.”
“I think we both need to get out of here and do something useful.” He caught her around the neck in a playful headlock and led her toward the stairs. “Come on, Princess. Let’s go see if your father’s store is still standing.”
Hector and Helen loaded some spare lumber from the shed, a tool kit, and a box of nails into the back of Hector’s truck. After a brief argument about whether or not Hector should take the chance of being seen, it became apparent that if he didn’t get out of the house that currently sheltered Andy, he was going to run screaming through the streets, anyway, so Helen reluctantly agreed. She put her foot down about who drove, though. Helen took the wheel for the trip past her house to make sure it was okay, and then on to the News Store while Hector hid in the back.
Hector stayed out of sight inside the store, sweeping up glass and debris left over from the riot while Helen took the ladder from the storeroom out to the front and began nailing boards over the broken windows. It was depressing work. Every time she looked around, Helen was reminded that the store could be rebuilt, but it would never be the same again. Not really. As she climbed a ladder and started boarding up the smashed front windows, Helen realized that some things stay a little bit broken forever—even after they’ve been fixed.
Lost in her thoughts, Helen didn’t notice that someone had come up behind her on the sidewalk.
“You know what? If that board was any more crooked, it’d come back ’round the other way and be straight as an arrow,” Orion said from the ground behind her, like he was in awe of how rotten a job she’d done. “Are you drunk?”
Helen’s shoulders started shaking with laughter. “No! I’ve never done this before!”
“Apparently.” He grinned up at her and motioned for her to come down off the ladder. Laughing, she climbed down and stood next to him. “Still got both your thumbs?” he asked, inspecting her hands. He took the hammer away from her like it might bite her. “Better give this to the professional.”
“Professional, huh?” Helen didn’t doubt it. She’d taken a peek at his driver’s license when she’d accidentally stolen his jacket and wallet, and she knew that he was cleared to operate heavy machinery.
“I’ve worked a couple of construction sites. Built some houses,” he said, a cagey smile on his face, like he’d done more than just that.
“Jewelry maker, carpenter . . . you’re a real jack-of-all-trades,” she said, smiling up at him.
“Yeah. Of all trades that pay jack,” he added with a shy chuckle.
“Hey, you’re a son of Aphrodite. You could have taken the easy way out. Puckered up those pretty lips for some rich woman and made her fall so madly in love with you she just had to give you a diamond mine or something.” Helen grinned up at him, loving how he always downplayed his talents—and not just the Scion ones. “But you didn’t. You work for your money.”
“All five dollars of it,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“An honest buck may not buy any more groceries than a dishonest one, but it’ll always be worth more. Especially to me,” she replied seriously. He was a self-made man, just like her dad, and she respected that quality in him the most because his dignity was something he earned, not something he was born with.
“Hey, Orion? Put some pants on, toss her over your shoulder, and carry her off like a man, for the love of Pete!” Hector hollered from inside. Orion cringed and shared a pained look with Helen.
“The caveman approach,” he whispered to Helen conspiratorially. “Not really my style.”
“Ah, Hector. Our loveable lug,” Helen replied quietly. Their heads leaned close as they shared a muffled chuckle.
“Kiss. Kiss. Kiss,” Hector chanted, peeking at them between the misaligned slats over the broken window.
“Can I bring you on all of my dates?” Orion asked Hector, clapping his hands together in mock excitement.
“Sure, buddy! I’ll walk you through the whole thing,” Hector replied with a wicked grin. “First, you take the girl and grab her by the . . .”
“And this is exactly why I’m so glad testosterone isn’t contagious,” Helen said loudly, cutting Hector off. She shoved Orion up the ladder to fix the mess she’d made, and went inside to help Hector finish cleaning up.
Somehow, between all the horsing around, they managed to get the whole store boarded up, swept, and emptied of all the rotting perishables. Every now and again Helen would run across something personal amidst the smashed debris—an ill-shaped macaroni “I LOVE MY DADDY” sculpture she’d made in elementary school, a butt-ugly, heavy-as-a-horseshoe pot she’d made for Kate when she was trying to learn how to throw clay freshman year, and a bunch of second-place trophies from running track.
Worst of all were the photos. It killed her to see the broken frames and the smashed glass that nicked the pictures, ruining them. Some of the shots had been hanging in the store since she was a little girl. She’d seen them every day and, as she tossed most of them in the garbage, she was all-too aware that she’d never see them again.
Each time Helen came across one of these emotionally charged items, she noticed that either Hector or Orion would crack a joke or do something goofy to snap her out of it. She knew what they were up to, but that only made their lame attempts to cheer her up all the more touching.
They knew it wasn’t really about losing a bunch of stuff. When Orion and Hector were goofing off to distract her, she couldn’t think too much about what was really bothering her—that her father didn’t seem to be getting better. Losing the pictures, the macaroni sculpture, and the hideous attempt at pottery were nothing compared to the fear she felt when she pictured her father lying unconscious in a bed. Why couldn’t he wake up?
She wanted to say something to them both, to thank them for helping her get through this, but she knew enough about these two guys to keep her mouth shut. Hector would only tease her if she got all sincere on him, and Orion already knew how grateful she was because he could see right through her—literally. So Helen mentally filed away the hours they spent digging through her mugged childhood, knowing that she could never truly repay them for what they did for her.
“So . . . Hector’s going to take the truck back,” Orion said, interrupting Helen’s sad thoughts. “By himself.”
“Huh?” Helen said blankly. “No. Hector shouldn’t drive. He can’t be seen.”
“I won’t be. It’s too dark now. No one will be able to recognize me,” Hector said. “And I can blur myself a bit if I hit onc
oming lights—which I probably won’t.”
Helen looked around and noticed that he was right. At some point when she wasn’t paying attention, the sun had set. It was nighttime, and no one was on the streets to begin with. Not many people had ventured out of their houses since the riots. Nantucket Island had been like a ghost town for days now.
“Okay, I guess you’re right. Thanks for helping me out today,” Helen said to Hector, giving him a hug. She stopped herself before she got all mushy and said something he would find unforgivably sentimental.
“Have fun tonight, Princess.” Hector replied, his voice uncommonly soft as he released her. He looked at Orion and nodded once, and then turned to leave without one joke or snide remark.
Helen took Orion’s hand shyly, knowing that Hector had just given them the chaperone’s equivalent of a Hergie hall pass. No matter what the two of them did that night, they could be assured that Hector wouldn’t put them in detention for it.
“So,” she said, looking up at Orion. Her throat was suddenly dry and she swallowed. “You said you wanted to show me something?”
“Yeah,” he replied, biting his lower lip like he was regretting it. “You’ve had a rough day, though. And what I want to show you isn’t exactly uplifting.”
“Well, now you have to show me,” Helen said, throwing an arm out wide to include the whole store. “I can’t be the only one whose life is a total bummer.”
Orion laughed, flashing his bright, sharp teeth. He tugged Helen close, holding her against his chest. The laugh quickly disappeared and he kissed her temple, barely brushing her brow with his lower lip as his mood changed. A part of Helen was aware that he had pulled her close for two reasons. The first was that he sincerely wanted to hold her, but mostly he was dong it so she couldn’t see what was going on inside his heart.
“Trust me. You aren’t the only one whose life is a total bummer,” he whispered unevenly.
“So show me.” Helen pulled back and looked him in the eye. “We’ve been to hell and back together, Orion. What could be harder to deal with than that?”
The corners of Orion’s lovely mouth turned up in a wistful smile. “Family,” he replied. Helen remembered how sad Orion got every time someone mentioned his father, Daedalus. She knew there was a deep, dark story there.
“Ah. Your father.”
“No,” he said, releasing her and looking away anxiously. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
“Hey, have you ever been flying?” she asked quickly. Orion gave her a puzzled look, like he was totally thrown, which was exactly Helen’s intention. “Not in a plane, I mean,” she clarified. “Have you ever flown like I do?”
“No. Never.”
“Want to?”
“This is the craziest effing thing I’ve ever felt!” Orion giggled.
“Shhh,” Helen admonished, eyes closed. “Quit moving around. You’re like, three of Claire.” She was trying not to smile at the sound of utter glee in Orion’s voice, but he was making that almost impossible. He was adorable when he got excited. She needed to distract him so she could focus. “Is anyone coming?”
Orion took a moment to look up and down the alley behind the News Store where they were standing with their arms around each other. “We’re good,” he said.
Helen felt his breath on her forehead as he returned his gaze to her down-tilted head and closed eyes. It was warm and sweet, and it skipped a bit as he let it out in excitement. She nearly had the full mass of him in her mind—the exact proportion of skin, blood, and bone that was perpetually falling toward the center of the Earth. She reached out with that other sense of hers, the thing that released gravity, and enlarged it until it slipped around Orion’s big body.
“That tickles!” he gasped, his arms around her waist squeezing her tight.
“Shhh!” she repeated, concentrating hard. And then she felt it. His body suddenly clicked into place in her mind. “Gotcha,” she whispered triumphantly.
Releasing his gravity was effortless once she had the shape and weight of him figured out. She opened her eyes so she could watch Orion’s face as they soared up into the air and hovered among clouds that glowed white-violet with starlight. Orion had one of those faces that constantly surprised her. Just when she thought she was getting accustomed to how blindingly beautiful he was, she’d see a new expression on his face, and a huge part of her nervous system would seize up.
“So. Where are we going?” she asked him, her voice steadier than she thought it’d be. “You said you wanted to show me something.”
He tore his eyes away from the view and regarded her, his face falling. “Helen,” he started to say, dismayed.
“No, I’m serious, Orion,” she interrupted firmly. “You agree to come fly with me even though you know I’ve only tried this with a passenger once before, but you won’t tell me your big secret? So—you trust me with your life, but not your past?”
“That’s not it,” he said, and then stopped to struggle with his thoughts.
“Like I’d think less of you because of what you’ve been through? How judgmental do you think I am?”
“No! It’s not about what you’ll think. ’Least, not entirely,” he said, the words half choking him. “It hurts me to go back there.”
“And it will keep on hurting you as long as you keep it hidden,” Helen said in a softer tone. “I know who you are, Orion. And maybe the process it took to make you wasn’t the prettiest thing to watch, but trust me.” She ducked her head down, angling her face under his so he had to look at her. “The result is spectacular.”
He chuckled quietly, blushing a bit, and then grew serious again as he thought it over.
“Besides,” she continued, grinning determinedly at him. “You know I’ll never let you back down on the ground until I get what I want.”
“Okay, you win . . . as usual,” he groaned. “Head north.”
“And where am I taking us?” Helen asked enthusiastically.
“Newfoundland. Where I was born.”
From the detached way Orion named his place of origin, Helen got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t taking her to a place that he considered a home. She didn’t try to distract him or make a joke, like she normally would when she saw him fall into one of his melancholic moods. Instead, she focused on flying as fast as she dared with a passenger.
After only a few minutes and a few course adjustments by Orion, they were hovering over a foamy, storm-bitten hunk of rock at the edge of the frigid Atlantic Ocean.
Clinging to the top of a high, spindly promontory crouched a tiny, nearly windowless cottage. It was a dark night. Fog rolled in off the ocean and blotted out the moonlight. Barely discernable, the cottage was lit from the inside by a single light.
Orion sighed heavily and nodded, like he was taking responsibility for an unfortunate act of vandalism. “That’s it. That’s where my parents live.”
“Your parents?” Helen repeated, confused. “But I thought your mother was dead. Did your dad remarry?”
“You’ll see,” was all he’d say, shaking his head.
Orion directed her to land them just outside the circle of light cast around the one semi-large picture window on the ground floor.
Careful to remain in the shadows, Helen glanced inside. The first thing she saw was a big man sitting in an armchair, reading a book. He wore faded jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and he had black hair that was shot through with premature silver at the temples. He was older, maybe mid-forties, but still very handsome and incredibly fit. The sharp, aquiline angles of his face and the golden tan that warmed his olive skin reminded her of Lucas. Even the shape of his hand as it gripped the spine of the book was hauntingly familiar. It disturbed Helen to see this other, older man with Lucas’s hands.
Helen had heard it mentioned several times by the family that Lucas looked like a son of Poseidon. Based on the striking resemblance, Helen knew she had to be looking at Daedalus, Head of the House of Athens, the direct descendant of
Poseidon, and Orion’s father.
The second thing Helen saw was her own mother, Daphne, fast asleep on the couch across from him.
SIX
Helen backed away from the window. There was a squeezing feeling in her throat, and her feet were bumbling over the uneven ground with shock. Orion reached out for her, but she threw his hands off blindly. Undeterred, Orion reached for her again and clamped a hand over her mouth when he’d captured her.
“Take it easy! It’s not what you think,” he hissed in her ear.
He led them both away from the house, and as far back across the top of the promontory as he dared without shoving them both off the cliff before he continued.
“Daphne helps my father handle my mother when she has one of her spells. She must have had one tonight, probably because my dad has to go to the meeting of the Houses. My mom hates all the Houses, even her own.” He paused in the middle of his rushed explanation, looking to see if Helen was keeping up. “There was a Scion war before we were born,” he said.
Still muffled behind Orion’s hand, Helen relaxed her muscles and nodded, both in answer to his tacit question about the war and to let him know that she wasn’t going to barge into the house or start yelling. He relaxed his grip on her mouth but kept her close to him. Helen had known that there had been some sort of final confrontation between the Scion Houses about twenty years ago, and that it had been a bloodbath—the End Times—or so it had seemed to them.
“My mom was Head of the House of Rome, and she killed a lot of people. The war really messed her up. And now my mother doesn’t deal well with any mention of the Houses,” he tried to continue but had to stop there, gritting his teeth to control his voice. “She doesn’t deal well with anything, actually. She’s sick, Helen.”
Helen knew that Scions only get sick in one way. Orion was trying to tell her as gently as he could that his mother, Leda, was insane.
Based on the fact that Daedalus needed Daphne to help him control Leda, Helen knew Leda was not only strong, but that she had to be the kind of insane that was truly dangerous to be around. The house they lived in was miles away from anyone, as far away from civilization as they could get without tipping into the sea. Helen could only imagine the amount of screaming that must accompany the “spells” as Orion had called them. She wondered what it was like for him to have grown up with all that as a small boy.
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