Horrified, Helen dug her heels into the slippery ground and scrambled away from Orion’s still body, extinguishing her globe of light in the process. Her back hit a stalagmite and she remained motionless, listening for any sound from him. The Furies whispered to her to get up and finish what she had started, but she was too stunned to obey.
“Orion?” she called across the cavern.
She would carry him out, she reasoned with herself. The blade hadn’t gone in that deep, so he was just unconscious. Right? Right, she told herself firmly. If he was too far gone to heal himself, she’d bring him to Jason and Ariadne, and they could save him, she knew they could do it. She didn’t care how exhausted she was, how huge he was, or how far she had to carry him. Orion was going to live, no matter what she had to do.
But the Furies . . . they would make even the compassionate twins want to kill Orion. That is, if Helen could resist the Furies as she brought him back to Nantucket. How could she trust herself with him after what she’d just done to him?
“Orion, answer me!” Helen cried into the dark. “You can’t die!”
“Well, someday, I will. But not yet,” he groaned. The Furies’ whispers rose. “You have to get out of here.”
“I don’t want to leave you. You’re hurt.”
“I’m nearly healed. Follow the water uphill. It will lead you out.” Orion swallowed painfully. “Please, get away from me!”
The Furies were talking to Orion now, guiding him toward Helen. She could hear them begging him to kill her. He made a desperate sound and Helen sensed him lunging toward her.
Narrowly avoiding his tackle, Helen disengaged gravity and soared up into the air. As soon as she was flying she could sense the faintest movement of air, right down to the minute flow around the stalactites that hung from the ceiling. The air currents helped her figure out which way led up and out of the cave.
She could also feel gusts of air being stirred up by Orion, who was flailing his arms below as he searched for her in the dark. Wounded or not, Helen knew she had to leave him immediately or neither of them would survive the night. She soared out of the cavern and up through the winding passageways until she could see the dim glow of predawn light at the mouth of the cave.
Helen floated higher to get her bearings. Looking down at the still-dark landscape, she saw that she was near the south shore of Massachusetts and relatively close to the coast. She turned to the first rays of the sunrise, and headed due east out over the open water.
Somewhere over Martha’s Vineyard, Helen started crying. She kept picturing the stunned look on Orion’s face as she stabbed him—stabbed him, she kept repeating to herself in shock.
A sob burst out of her and she covered her mouth with her hand. She tasted something very wrong on her lips and looked at her hand in disgust. It was covered in Orion’s blood. She really had almost killed him, and the proof of it was stained into her skin. If he hadn’t kissed her, he’d be dead now.
Helen swooped dangerously in the air above her house. She tried to clear her eyelashes of the tears that were freezing as soon as th
ey welled up, but they just kept coming. The more she tried to stuff the sobs down, the more violently they seemed to burst out of her. What had Orion done to her heart?
Helen’s control over the wind began to falter, and she tumbled in midair like a plastic bag in a storm. She dropped out of the sky and made a beeline for the blue tarp covering her bedroom window.
Tearing the tarp aside, she dove into bed and buried her head under her chilly pillow to muffle the sound of her tears. She could hear her father snoring in the next room, blissfully unaware that his daughter had very nearly become a murderer.
Helen cried herself out as quietly as she could, but no matter how tired she was, she refused to fall asleep. She couldn’t bear the thought of descending back into the Underworld so soon, although she knew that it didn’t make any difference. This cycle that she was stuck in seemed never ending. If she slept, if she stayed awake, what did it matter? There was no rest for her no matter what she did.
Zach saw Helen lift up the blue tarp over her window and fly under it. He’d seen his master do a lot of things that were physically impossible, but seeing a girl he’d known his whole life flying was difficult for him to process. She’d always been like an angel, so beautiful she was almost painful to look at, but in flight Helen really did look like a goddess. She also looked upset. He wondered what had happened to her. Whatever it was, wasn’t good. Zach assumed she still hadn’t been successful in the Underworld.
And how the hell had she gotten out of the house in the first place? he wondered. Then he started to sweat. Somehow, Helen had switched out the lights in her bedroom, and then about half an hour later appeared behind him in midair. Could she teleport now? What was he going to tell his master?
Zach knew he had to make a report. He turned to walk toward his car, parked down the street, and jumped. Automedon was standing behind him, as silent as a grave.
“How did the Heir get out?” he asked calmly.
“She just fell asleep. . . . She didn’t leave, I swear it.”
“I can smell your fear,” Automedon said, his red eyes shining in the dark. “Your eyes are too slow to see her. I can no longer trust you with this task.”
“Master, I . . .”
Automedon shook his head. That was enough to silence Zach.
“My master’s sister has had word from her brother. They are almost ready,” Automedon continued in his blank and emotionless way. “We must make preparations to capture the Face.”
“You master’s sister?” Zach asked shrewdly. “But Pandora’s dead. Don’t you mean Tantalus’s wife, Mildred?” Zach crumpled onto his knees, all the air rushing out of his lungs. Automedon had punched him in the gut so fast he’d never seen it coming.
“You ask far too many questions,” Automedon said.