Dreamless (Starcrossed Book 2)
Dreamless: Chapter 6

The sun was just starting to come up. Helen woke in her bed, freezing cold and reaching out to grab on to a boy who had never been in her bedroom.

“No!” she exclaimed in a ragged voice. Her breath puffed out of her mouth like smoke in the subzero room. “Oh, no no no, this can’t be happening!”

Helen scrambled out of bed and staggered to her dresser on numb legs to get her phone. The message light was blinking. She went into her messages and read:

That sucked. I’m going to bed now. Text me later.

She sat down on the edge of her bed. Relieved laughter bubbled out from between her chattering teeth as she shivered in her freezing-cold bedroom. She checked the time; Orion had texted her at 4:22 a.m. It was 6:30-ish now, and Helen wondered if that was late enough. Deciding that it was silly not to try to get in touch with him she sent back:

R U still in 1 piece?

She waited a few minutes but didn’t get a reply. Helen wanted to fly to the mainland and check on Orion at Milton Academy, but the last thing she needed was to get into trouble for skipping. Finally, she had to let it go and start getting ready for school.

Helen stood up, and as she did, she saw that she was still wearing Orion’s jacket. She could already hear him teasing her about that one, even though this time, stealing his jacket hadn’t been her fault. She tilted her face down, slowly brushing her cheek and lower lip across the collar. It smelled like him—fresh and a little wild, but still safe somehow.

Shrugging impatiently out of the sleeves and telling herself not to be so foolish, Helen went into the bathroom to take a shower. She took her phone with her, in case Orion tried to contact her, and reminded herself to wash her hair. She even took time to condition it.

As she toweled off and brushed her teeth she thought about how she needed to stop being at the mercy of the Underworld. She had been wandering around aimlessly for . . . well, for a lot longer than real-world time reflected. She owed it to Orion to make a better plan.

At school, the first thing Helen did was track down Cassandra.

“We need to meet this evening,” Helen told her.

“Okay,” Cassandra replied calmly. “Did something happen last night?”

“There’s something I need to tell the whole family. And I’m inviting everyone. Claire, Jason, Matt, Ari,” Helen added as she backpedaled down the crowded hallway.

“They’re not ready,” Cassandra called out in protest, but Helen cut her off.

“Then make them ready. I’m done wasting time.” Helen didn’t give Cassandra a chance to argue.

“You up for a little ancient Greek tonight?” Helen asked Matt and Claire in homeroom.

“Yeah!” Matt responded excitedly, like the über-geek he was. “Do we need to bring anything?”

“Claire?” Helen asked with a shrug, understanding that Matt was asking about what was required for them to become ordained. “You’re the one who found the scroll.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said. “I didn’t read the whole damn thing. I’m not actively suicidal.”

“I’m sure Cassandra will know. We’ll figure it out tonight,” Helen said confidently.

“Why the big switch?” Matt asked. “Last time I checked, you were on the fence about us joining the ‘study group.’”

“And look how great that’s worked out for me,” Helen said. “Let’s face it, Matt, you and Claire have been helping me prepare for tests since we were in kindergarten. Last night I realized that I’ve been trying to take this test on my own, and that’s probably why I keep failing it.”

She would have told Matt about Orion, but she noticed Zach staring at her, and decided to wait until that night to tell everyone together. The bell rang and ended the conversation. Helen left for her first class wondering what Zach had heard, and how much of it he would be able to understand.

Orion didn’t contact Helen again until lunch, and when he did all he sent were little word-bursts like zzz and taco and H2O. Helen could relate. She didn’t know how long she and Orion had spent in the Underworld the night before, but as usual it had left her tired, hungry, and unbelievably thirsty. At least now there was someone in her life who knew what she was really going through down there. She asked him how he managed to make it out of hell with all his body parts still attached, but his reply was “It’ll give me a thumb cramp.” After that, Helen figured he was either planning to tell her in person, or that he wanted to avoid a rehash altogether, so she let it go.

That evening Cassandra agreed to ordain Matt, Claire, Jason, and Ariadne in the arena with Castor, Pallas, Helen, and Lucas as witnesses. She recited a few things in ancient Greek while she burned some resinous logs in a bronze disk thingy that Jason told her was called a brazier. Then Castor took out a cage full of small birds that started tweeting away as soon as they were uncovered.

“Wait, what are those for?” Claire said in a voice that edged dangerously close to a screech.

“Just be glad the ceremony didn’t call for something big, like a horse or a cow,” Jason said as an aside to Claire. He wasn’t kidding.

Cassandra bowed gravely to her father and held out her hands like a platter. Castor took a tiny blade from his belt and laid it on Cassandra’s palms. As he did so, she started glowing bright green, purple, and blue with the icy hues of the incalculably old, tri-part aura of the Oracle. Possessed by the Three Fates, Cassandra turned to Matt and offered the blade to him first.

“Cut off the offering’s head and throw the carcass in the fire, mortal. You have been found worthy,” the three voices chimed with creepy harmonic beauty.

After a moment’s hesitation, Matt reached into the cage and grasped a struggling bird in one hand and took the little knife in the other. In the firelight, Helen could see that Matt’s face was a mask of disgust, and his hands were shaking terribly as he cut.

Thankfully, he didn’t falter, and the sacrifice was over quickly. Ariadne and Jason followed Matt efficiently, like they had done this sort of thing before, which Helen assumed they probably had. Claire was the only one who balked, and Jason had to steady her hands the whole way through it.

When all four had been initiated, the Fates left Cassandra in a rush, and the fire went out as if it had been doused with a bucket of water. Cassandra staggered for a moment, balanced herself on Lucas, and then finally managed to stand up straight.

As they all made their way back into the library, Claire started to cry a little, shaken by what she had done. Helen wanted to run up and comfort her, but Jason pulled Claire close and bent down to whisper something reassuring in her ear. For a moment, Claire hid her face against Jason’s chest and let him guide her as she walked along blindly.

At such a show of tenderness, Helen couldn’t help but look over toward Lucas, who was walking on the other side of the group. He was as far from her as he could get, and he never once glanced up at any of them. Helen looked away. She felt the weight settling on her chest again, but this time the crushing feeling that she was becoming so familiar with was coupled with something else. Frustration. She had to stop falling apart every time she looked at Lucas, and focus. Too much was at stake.

When they all got back into the library, Matt was still a little green around the edges. Helen started talking immediately to divert any well-meant but probably embarrassing questions about whether or not he needed to puke.

She told everyone about Orion, his fights in the Under­world, and his connection with her mother. There were a few questions about how he got into the Underworld, and more than one disbelieving outburst that anyone but her could survive down there. Helen explained that Orion had the Bough of Aeneas, and it allowed him to travel between the worlds.

“And he’s definitely not just a spirit,” Helen said with certainty. “He loaned me his jacket, and it was still on me when I woke up in the morning.”

“That break-in at the Met?” Castor said urgently to his brother as soon as Helen mentioned the Bough.

“Had to have been. All that was stolen was a piece of ancient metalwork. A golden leaf,” Pallas replied. “And it was stolen by an unknown woman who walked right in, smashed her hand through plate glass, and walked out. A woman who didn’t bother to wear a mask, didn’t use anything but her bare hands, and apparently didn’t shed one drop of blood.”

“Let me guess,” Helen said heavily. “My mother, right?”

“But why would Daphne steal the Bough, and then just hand it over to Orion?” Jason asked. “It’s such a powerful object.”

“Orion told me he’s descended from Aeneas, so he’s the only one that can get it to work,” Helen answered.

“Then he’s Heir to the House of Rome,” Castor said in a slightly awed voice.

“He’s actually the Head of that House. How’d you know?” Helen asked.

“You haven’t read the Aeneid yet, have you?” Castor said, without reproof. “Aeneas was Hector’s best general in the Trojan War, and one of the few survivors when Troy fell. He was also the founder of Rome, and the founder of the Scion House of Rome.”

“And he was the son of Aphrodite.” Ariadne grinned suggestively at Helen. “So is this Orion guy as hot as . . . Ouch!”

Jason had kicked his tactless twin under the table. When she looked over at him he shook his head at her to make sure she didn’t keep going. As it was, Helen felt like her face was trying to burst into flames, though she didn’t know exactly why. She hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of.

“You said ‘that’ House a moment ago, almost as if he were connected to more than one,” Lucas said without raising his eyes to meet Helen’s.

“He is,” Helen stammered, looking anywhere but at Lucas. “Orion is Head of the House of Rome, but he’s also Heir to the House of Athens.”

The room erupted into several conversations at once. Apparently, Orion was the first Scion ever to inherit two Houses, which made sense once Helen thought about it since the Furies worked so hard to keep the Houses separate. As Helen picked snippets of conversation out of the turmoil, it became clear that there was a prophecy concerning Orion, and it wasn’t a good one.

“Wait! Hold up,” Helen interrupted as she started to hear people talk about Orion in a way that she didn’t like. “Will somebody please explain this to me?”

“There’s not much to explain,” Cassandra said briskly. “There was a prophecy made before the Trojan War by Cassandra of Troy. She foresaw that there would be a Multiple Heir—we think that means a Scion who inherits more than one House. This Multiple Heir, or the ‘Vessel Where Royal Scion Blood Has Mixed’ to be exact, is one of a trinity of Scions that we think are supposed to replace the three major gods—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. The Three Scions are to rule the sky, the oceans, and the land of the dead, if they manage to overthrow the gods and take their places, that is. The existence of the Multiple Heir is a sign that the End Times are coming to a close. The final battle is about to begin.”

“He’s known as the Tyrant,” Lucas said quietly, and all eyes turned to him in the otherwise motionless room. “He’s described as being ‘born to bitterness’ and he’s supposed to be capable of ‘reducing all mortal cities to rubble.’”

“Like a Scion Antichrist?” Claire whispered to Jason, but in such a hushed room, everyone heard her desperate question.

“No, dear, it’s not exactly the same,” Pallas said soothingly as he reached out to Claire and briefly squeezed her hand. “In our understanding, this is when we Scions get the chance to fight for our immortality. It’s not intended to be the end of the world. That said, if the Final Battle goes badly, most mortals won’t survive it. The coming of the Tyrant is one of the signs that it’s all beginning.”

“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 my 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 replace 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.