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  away from her to get a better look. He studied her bedraggled

  clothes speckled with sand, and asked suspiciously, “What

  happened to you today besides Creon?”

  “How is that fair?” she demanded. She pushed him from her with

  a bitter laugh. “If I lie to you you’ll know, and if I stay silent you’ll

  assume something worse than the truth.”

  “Then just tell me as much or as little as you want,” he said

  quietly, stepping away from her to allow her some personal space.

  “But tell me something. What happened?”

  “I was dodging practice because I couldn’t bear to see you. Hector

  found me hiding on the beach, I got in his face, and he nearly

  drowned me to teach me a lesson in humility,” she blurted, tears of

  exhaustion brimming in her eyes. “Then I went to Claire’s to cry on

  her shoulder and tell her I was a Scion. Then I flew home, where

  Creon attacked me, tried to break my neck, and stabbed me in the

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  heart. You pretty much know the rest. Now I just want to take a hot

  shower and lie down because I’m freezing cold and itchy and I

  don’t think I can handle anything else happening today.”

  “Okay. You go shower,” Luke said, nodding tightly as he stepped

  out of her path. “I’ll wait for you in your room.”

  Helen staggered up the stairs and ran into the bathroom. She got

  into the shower and began to cry. Sitting down in the tub with the

  spray fanning out all around her she couldn’t stop the tears any

  longer. She tried to be as quiet as she could, and hoped that the

  droning rush of water would mask the sound of her crying.

  When she finally got it all out she dried off, put on a sweetsmelling

  tank top and pair of sweatpants fresh from the laundry,

  and went back into the foggy bathroom to finish her evening ritual.

  As she flossed and brushed her teeth, she heard her dad come

  home and turn on the TV in the living room. She went to the top of

  the stairs and shouted a good night down to him. He grunted a

  good night back, but he was too engrossed in the Red Sox race to

  October to start a conversation. Helen went into her bedroom.

  Lucas was waiting for her in there. When Helen saw him, lying

  on top of her covers fully dressed with his shoes kicked off, she

  stopped and stared at him from the doorway. He was too long for

  her little-girl bed, but even so he looked just right lying in it. He

  stared back at her for a moment before he swallowed painfully, lifted

  up the covers, and motioned for her to get in. When she

  paused, caught between arguing that her father could walk in at

  any second and asking him to take his clothes off, he spoke.

  “I only have so much willpower, Helen,” he whispered. “And

  since you apparently sleep in the most ridiculously transparent

  tank top I’ve ever seen, I’m going to have to ask you to get under

  the covers before I do something stupid.”

  The blood rushed to Helen’s face, and she immediately crossed

  her arms to cover her chest. She ran and jumped under the covers.

  Lucas just laughed and folded the comforter up over her as if it

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  were some uncrossable line that would magically keep the two of

  them from doing “something stupid.” As she snuggled down, he

  wrapped an arm around her and rubbed his face into the back of

  her neck.

  “No need to be embarrassed. After seeing you in my cousin’s

  nightgown, you’ve got nothing to hide. But why were you crying in

  the shower?” he murmured into her hair. She could feel his lips

  moving against her scalp, and feel the press of his hips through the

  covers, but his arms were an unyielding cage. She tried to turn over

  to face him, to welcome him under the covers with her, but he

  wouldn’t let her.

  “I was crying because I’m frustrated! Why are you doing this?”

  she whispered into her pillow.

  “We can’t, Helen,” was all he said.

  He kissed her neck and said he was sorry over and over, but try

  as she might, he wouldn’t let her face him. She began to feel like

  she was being used.

  “Please be patient,” he begged as he stopped her hand from

  reaching back to touch him.

  She tried to sit up, to push him out of her bed, anything but suffer

  lying next to someone who would play with her so terribly. They

  wrestled a bit, but he was much better at it than she was and felt

  even heavier than he looked. He easily blocked every attempt she

  made to wrap her arms or legs or lips around him.

  “Do you want me at all, or do you just think it’s fun to tease me

  like this?” she asked, feeling rejected and humiliated. “Won’t you

  even kiss me?” She finally struggled onto her back where she could

  at least see his face.

  “If I kiss you, I won’t stop,” he said in a desperate whisper as he

  propped himself up on his elbows to look her in the eye.

  She looked back at him, really seeing him for the first time that

  night. His expression was vulnerable and uncertain. His mouth

  was swollen with want. His body was shaking, and there was a fine

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  layer of anxious sweat wilting his clothes. Helen relaxed back into

  the bed with a sigh. For some reason that obviously had nothing to

  do with desire, he wouldn’t allow himself to be with her.

  “You’re not laughing at me, are you?” she asked warily, just as a

  precaution.

  “No. There’s nothing funny about this,” he answered. He shifted

  himself off her and lay back down alongside her, still breathing

  hard.

  “But for some reason, you and I will never happen,” she said,

  feeling calm.

  “Never say never,” he said urgently, rolling back on top of her

  and using all of his unusually heavy mass to press her deep into the

  cocoon of her little-girl bed. “The gods love to toy with people who

  use absolutes.”

  Lucas ran his lips across her throat and let her put her arms

  around him, but that was all. He kept her pinned under the

  blankets, mummified in miserable chastity, allowing her to hold,

  but not fully embrace him.

  “Do you care for me? More than just in a life or death ‘we need to

  stop the Hundred Cousins from starting a war with the gods’ type

  of way?” she asked flippantly.

  She knew that on some level she was being petty and insecure,

  but she needed to know how he felt about her. He propped himself

  up on his elbows so he could see her more clearly and so that she

  could see him back.

  “Of course I care for you,” he said intently. “The only thing I

  wouldn’t do to be with you is cause innocent people to die. And

  that’s pretty much it.” He moved on to his back again, jabbing a

  hand in his hair. “But apparently that’s enough.”

  Helen knew there was a lot more behind what he was saying than

  he was letting on, but she couldn’t bear to ask any questions that

  might have awful answers. She’d had enough awful for one day.

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  She rolled on top of him and tucked herself into that spot on his

  chest that she was convinced
still held a Helen-shaped dent in it.

  “Just so you know? Just so we’re clear. I care about you, too. And

  if this hug is all I can have, I’d prefer it over anything else from

  anyone else.”

  “That’s because you’ve never been with a man,” Luke said as he

  kissed the bit of skin on her forehead that was just about to be hair.

  “Now go to sleep,” he ordered.

  Helen would have argued, but she was too damn tired from fighting

  for her life twice in one day to do more than blink contrarily.

  Lucas’s arms wove a safe basket around her mending heart and she

  relaxed completely into him. She listened to the particular resonance

  of his breathing, a sound that she already knew so well, and

  fell into a deep, nightmare-free sleep.

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  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  .....................................................................

  Chapter Thirteen

  Swathed in black shadows, Creon crouched outside Helen’s

  house, his eyes glued to her bedroom window. He could

  hear Hector four doors down, slipping through the neighbor’s

  yard, searching for him. But Creon knew Hector

  didn’t have a prayer. No one could find Creon at night if he

  didn’t want to be found.

  His little cousin Lucas was up there, in Helen’s bed, holding her

  while she slept. Creon shook from head to toe, resisting the nearly

  all-consuming urge to leap through the glass and fight his cousin

  for her life. Or maybe just for her. Creon wasn’t sure what he

  would do anymore, and he didn’t like this newfound uncertainty.

  He gritted his teeth and forced himself to get control. If he challenged

  his cousin, it would be a fight to the death. Creon had no

  doubt he would win, but in winning he would lose everything. He

  would become an Outcast, and Atlantis would remain lost.

  The choice was clear: immortality or Helen. So why was he

  sweating with the effort to resist? He heard Helen sighing in her

  sleep and Lucas shifting his body under hers, pulling her even

  closer. Creon’s legs straightened as if of their own accord. He took

  two steps toward the window, his head swimming in the red-lit

  haze of bloodlust.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket.

  Alerted to the danger, Hector broke into a sprint and headed

  straight for that slight sound. Creon had no choice but to run. He

  couldn’t take both his cousins and Helen. He would have to come

  back some other time.

  It took him ten minutes to lose Hector in the center of the island.

  His cousin was persistent, but eventually the suffocating darkness

  of Creon’s shadows disoriented Hector enough so that Creon could

  slip away.

  Trotting up the eastern side of the beach, Creon finally checked

  the ID on the call that had saved him from a terrible mistake. It

  didn’t surprise him that it was from his mother. She may not be a

  Scion, but she had uncanny timing. He called her back and told her

  what he had found tucked away on that tiny island.

  At first she didn’t believe him, though in her careful choice of

  words, Creon sensed that her incredulity came not from a belief

  that what he had described was impossible, but rather that she

  doubted Helen herself was responsible for the phenomenon he had

  witnessed. Somehow, his mother had seen or heard of a Scion being

  able to break blades with his or her skin before, and Creon

  pressed her to tell him who it was. Instead of answering, she asked

  yet again for Creon to describe Helen. He did.

  “Well, it must have been that your blade was defective. From how

  you describe Helen, it can’t be her or her daughter,” Mildred said

  quickly.

  Creon continued to press his mother and she grew increasingly

  frustrated, raising her voice and even swearing a bit. Creon was

  shocked by her crass behavior. A lady never cheapened herself by

  using foul language, and he hadn’t even considered his mother

  capable of it until that moment. He asked her politely how she

  could be so sure his blade was defective.

  “Because if this girl truly was impervious to weapons, then you

  would have also said she has the most beautiful face you’ve ever

  seen. You wouldn’t be able to ignore that fact—it’s in your blood,”

  she replied petulantly.

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  “And if she does have the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen?

  What then?” Creon asked calmly, although a wonderful rush of adrenaline

  was sending a chill across his skin. The line went silent for

  a full five seconds.

  “You need to come home now. We need to tell your father. This is

  much bigger than you know,” Mildred finally choked out before

  she abruptly ended the call.

  The next morning Helen jerked herself awake, her entire body

  snapping from sleep to high alert in a blink. Her hand flew to that

  spot on her chest where Creon’s blade had broken, and she had to

  press her fingers into her breastbone to convince herself that there

  was no gaping hole there.

  She heard faint whispers coming from across the room. Sitting

  up, she saw Lucas standing in the window, talking to someone outside

  in such a low voice that no human could hear. The clock by her

  bed read 5:25, and the sky was barely gray with the dawn.

  “She’s safe, that’s all that matters,” Lucas said out the window.

  “Not all that matters,” came the whispered reply.

  Helen got out of bed and joined Lucas at the window. She looked

  down and saw Hector standing on the edge of her lawn. He looked

  up at them, glancing back and forth from Helen to Lucas, an indignant

  look on his face.

  “You okay?” Hector asked Helen gruffly.

  “Yeah. But you don’t look so hot,” she said. Even from one flight

  up she could see that Hector’s eyes were bloodshot with fatigue

  and worry. He grimaced sarcastically at her compassionate look,

  and turned to Lucas with a warning.

  “Stay high until we’re sure. She’s safer in the air.”

  Hector ran off so fast that Helen could only make out his blur.

  Lucas shut the window and leaned against it. His eyes were wide

  and unblinking.

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  “What was that about?” Helen asked in a nearly inaudible voice.

  She could hear her dad’s deep breathing from his bedroom. Thankfully,

  he was still asleep.

  “My family went looking for Creon last night,” Lucas answered

  with downturned eyes. “We think he caught a charter flight off the

  island, but we aren’t sure yet.”

  “He’s gone?” Helen asked, a little too hopefully.

  “Maybe. But if he did leave, it won’t be forever.” Lucas stared at

  Helen so intensely she had to reach out and touch him somehow

  just to break the tension. She stepped forward and placed her hand

  on his chest. He was shaking.

  Straightening suddenly, Lucas crossed to the door. “Put on

  something warm.”

  “Why? Where are we going?” she whispered.

  “Up.”

  As soon as they were airborne, Lucas seemed to relax a little, but


  not much. She asked for a flying lesson, partly because she wanted

  to learn, but mostly just to distract him. They worked on Helen’s

  air-pressure control for over an hour before they got a call from his

  family. Castor had called from the airport, finally confirming that

  Creon had left the island by private charter like they had suspected,

  and it was safe for Lucas to bring Helen in.

  Hector took the phone and insisted they come in right away—he

  wanted her to resume her combat training that morning. The cousins

  got into a heated exchange. Finally, Lucas agreed to land, but

  he seemed put out by the request.

  “What’s wrong?” Helen asked, confused that he wasn’t happier to

  learn that Creon was gone.

  “Hector has the wrong idea about us being up here alone. I’m not

  keeping you aloft so we can . . . damn it, you need to learn this!” he

  snapped, raking a hand through his hair. “I want you to be able to

  fly away from trouble, rather than try to stand and fight.”

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  “Me too,” she replied enthusiastically, grabbing on to Lucas’s

  shoulders so she didn’t waft away. “Call your cousins back and tell

  them we’re not done. I’d rather spend the day flying with you than

  getting sweated on by Hector any time.”

  Lucas gave Helen a sinking look, like he was thinking a painful

  thought. “We’d better go in,” he finally decided, his face darkening.

  “You need to learn both.”

  Helen knew Lucas was worried, but after spending the morning

  soaring weightless, she couldn’t feel anything but elated. She took

  both his hands and swung him around her so they spun in a spiral

  and tumbled in the air like they were on a roller coaster. The

  swooping sensation in her stomach made Helen shriek, but it

  worked. Lucas grinned and took the bait.

  He seized on her arms and brought her into a dive that had her

  screaming bloody murder. At the last moment he pulled up, holding

  Helen cradled in his arms before allowing her to float to his

  side. They hovered over the Delos lawn like that for a moment,

  holding hands and laughing hysterically. They failed to notice the

  worried stares they were getting from the rest of the Delos family

  inside the house.

  “Now, before you land I’m going to teach you another skill,” Lucas

  said as he looped over her shoulder and put an arm around her

  from behind. “I’m going to teach you how to transition into the