There was no warning, no notice that Lucas had pushed too far. Without a sound, his father rushed him like a bull. Lucas jumped back up to his feet but didn’t know what to do next. He was twice as strong as his father, but his hands stayed passively at his sides while Castor grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back until he was pinned against the wall. Castor glared into his son’s eyes, and for a moment Lucas believed his father hated him.
“How can you be so selfish?” Castor growled, his voice seething with disgust. “There aren’t enough Scions left for either one of you to just decide you don’t want to have kids. We’re talking about our species, Lucas!” As if to drive home his point, Castor slammed Lucas into the wall so hard it began to crumble behind him. “The Four Houses must survive and stay separate to maintain the Truce and keep the gods imprisoned on Olympus, or every mortal on this planet will suffer!”
“I know that!” Lucas yelled. Plaster from the shattered wall rained down on them, filling the air with dust as Lucas struggled under his father’s grip. “But there are other Scions to do that! What does it matter if Helen and I don’t have children?”
“Because Helen and her mother are the last of their line! Helen must produce an Heir to preserve the House of Atreus and keep the Houses separate—not just for this generation—but for the ones yet to come!”
Castor was shouting. He seemed blind to the white dust and breaking masonry. It was as if everything his father had ever believed was tumbling down on top of Lucas’s head, smothering him.
“The Truce has lasted for thousands of years, and it must last for thousands more or the Olympians will turn the mortals and the Scions into playthings again—starting wars and raping women and casting horrendous curses as it amuses them,” Castor continued relentlessly. “You think a few hundred of us are enough to preserve our race and keep the Truce, but that’s not enough to outlast the gods. We must endure, and to do that every single one of us must procreate.”
“What do you want from us?” Lucas suddenly shouted back, shoving his father off of him and rising up out of the bowed and breaking wall. “I’ll do what I have to for my House, and so will she. We’ll have kids with other people if that’s what it takes—we’ll find a way to deal with it! But don’t ask me to stay away from Helen because I can’t. We can handle anything but that.”
They glared at each other, both of them panting with emotion and covered in white dust grown pasty with sweat.
“It’s so easy for you to decide what Helen can and can’t handle, is it? Have you looked at her lately?” Castor asked harshly, releasing his son with a disgusted look on his face. “She’s suffering, Lucas.”
“I know that! Don’t you think I’d do anything to help her?”
“Anything? Then stay away from her.”
It was like all the anger had rushed out of Castor in a flash. Instead of yelling, he was now pleading.
“Have you considered that what she’s trying to do in the Underworld could not only bring peace between the Houses, but also bring Hector back to this family? We’ve lost so much. Ajax, Aileen, Pandora.” Castor’s voice broke when he said his little sister’s name. Her death was still too fresh for both of them. “Helen is facing something none of us can imagine, and she needs every ounce of strength she has to make it through. For all our sakes.”
“But I can help her,” Lucas pleaded back, needing his father on his side. “I can’t follow her down into the Underworld, but I can listen to her and support her.”
“You think you’re helping, but you’re killing her,” Castor said, shaking his head sadly. “You may have made peace with how you feel for her, but she can’t cope with her feelings for you. You’re her cousin, and the guilt is tearing her apart. Why are you the only one who can’t see that? There are a thousand reasons you need to stay away, but if none of them matter to you, at the very least stay away from Helen because it’s the best thing for her.”
Lucas wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. He remembered how Helen had told him that she would “pay for it later” if she talked with him about the Underworld. His father was right. The closer the two of them got, the more he hurt Helen. Of all the arguments his father had made, this one cut Lucas the deepest. He shuffled to the couch and sat down again so his father wouldn’t see his legs shake.
“What should I do?” Lucas was completely lost. “It’s like water running downhill. She just flows toward me. And I can’t push her away.”
“Then build a dam.” Castor sighed and sat down across from Lucas, rubbing plaster from his face with his hands. He looked smaller. Like he had just lost the fight, even though he’d won, taking everything from Lucas. “You have to be the one to stop this. No confiding in each other, no flirting at school, and no quiet talks in dark hallways. You have to make her hate you, son.”
Helen and Cassandra were working in the library, trying to find something—anything—that could help Helen in the Underworld. It was a frustrating afternoon. The more the two
girls read, the more they were convinced that half the stuff about Hades was written by medieval scribes on serious drugs.
“Ever see any talking-skeletal-death-horses in Hades?” Cassandra asked skeptically.
“Nope. No talking skeletons. Horses included,” Helen responded, rubbing her eyes.
“I think we can put this one on the ‘he was definitely high’ pile.” Cassandra put the scroll down and stared at Helen for a few moments. “How are you feeling?”
Helen shrugged and shook her head, unwilling to talk about it. Since Castor had caught her and Lucas outside his bedroom, she’d been tiptoeing around the Delos house when she had to come over to study, and stuck inside the hell-house each night.
Usually in the Underworld, Helen could count on at least one or two nights a week where she was walking down an endless beach that never led to an ocean. The endless beach was annoying because she knew she wasn’t getting anywhere, but compared to being trapped inside the hell-house it was like a holiday. She didn’t know how much longer she could take it, and she couldn’t talk about it with anyone. How could she possibly explain the perverted wool coat and lurid peach curtains without sounding ridiculous?
“I think I should go home and eat something,” Helen said, trying not to think about the night that awaited her.
“But it’s Sunday. You’re eating here, right?”
“Um. I don’t think your dad wants me hanging out here anymore.” I don’t think Lucas does, either, she thought. He hadn’t looked at her since the day Castor had caught them with their arms around each other, even though Helen had tried several times to smile at him in the hallway at school. He’d just walked by like she wasn’t there.
“That’s nonsense,” Cassandra answered firmly. “You are a part of this family. And if you don’t come to dinner, my mom will be offended.”
She walked around the table and took Helen’s hand, leading her out of the study. Helen was so surprised by Cassandra’s uncharacteristically warm gesture that she followed quietly.