Daphne had called their nearly identical faces cursed, and Helen had always assumed that her mother had meant that their faces had cursed them. For the first time, Helen considered the possibility that her mother had meant that it cursed the people who looked at them. The thought of Orion sacrificing everything he’d ever wanted just because it was dangerous for her didn’t sit right with Helen. There was so much more at stake than just one person’s life, even if that life was her own.
Helen felt something give way inside—so what if she had a crush on him, or if he had one on her? Orion couldn’t give up now. Not just because of what it would cost him, but because of what it would cost them all. If no one got rid of the Furies, what would happen to Hector and the other Outcasts? What would happen to all the Scions? Helen remembered Orion telling her about his dream of a field of Scion bones in Hades, and realized that it had been more than just a nightmare. Orion had received a warning in that dream, Helen was sure of it. The cycle had to end or their kind would eventually become extinct, just like the Ice Giants.
You jackass. She stabbed at the keys with her fingers, like she was trying to push her words directly into his big, fat, self-sacrificing, and unbelievably brave head. If you give up on our quest I will hunt you down myself! I’ll find a way to fix this dreaming/banished-by-Hades problem, and when I do we’ll free the Furies together. In the meantime, you KEEP GOING. Got it?
She pressed send and waited. There was a long pause. Several times Helen started to write a text, but she ended up erasing each one. She was so tired her eyes were watering and her ears kept getting blocked up, forcing her to yawn repeatedly to clear them.
Mid-yawn Helen felt something pop behind her eyes, and noticed her upper lip had suddenly become very damp. She touched her mouth and found blood on her fingers. She put a tissue to her nose before she had a chance to stain anything and pressed down hard, waiting for the bleeding to stop. Finally, after mopping up her bloody face and glaring at her phone as if that would make Orion respond faster, it lit up again.
You can hunt for me all you want, Hamilton, but you know you’ll never find me, right?
He was joking around again, which was a very good sign. Helen knew this decision had been hard for him, so she needed to be sure. She needed something that resembled a promise, in case she didn’t make it to the end of their quest.
Do we have a deal? You’ll keep going no matter what? she texted. He didn’t respond immediately, so she added, Hello? Deal?
Sorry. Getting into bed. Yeah, I’ll keep going.
Helen smiled and slid off the edge of the tub to lean against the wall. She wrapped herself up in her robe and stuffed her feet in her slippers as she scooted down into a makeshift nest of warm, damp towels. She imagined him climbing under the covers in his dorm, taking his phone with him. He’d fall asleep like that, she thought, with their conversation cupped in his hand.
Knew I could count on you, she sent, cradling his messages close to her.
Always and forever. Where are you?
Bed, she wrote, even though it was more like “floor.”
Good, me too. You can finally rest. And so can I! Exhausted.
Helen didn’t want to stop texting with him. She could have stayed up all night trading little stories in the dark, but she was finally warm again after what seemed like years of shivering. Her eyes were beginning to close on their own.
Good night, Orion.
Sweet dreams.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Helen’s eyes opened. She didn’t feel like she was waking up, and she suspected it was because she hadn’t really been sleeping. It felt more like she’d been hit on the head and lost consciousness for a few hours, and was now coming around. Like a jump cut in a movie, one moment Helen was looking at Orion’s last text and the next she was looking at the bath mat on the floor. The sun was up, her hair was dry, and she could hear her dad getting out of bed.
Helen could tell from the jittery, clammy feeling all over her body that although her brain had checked out for a few hours, she hadn’t gotten what she needed. She hadn’t descended, which was a relief, but she also hadn’t dreamed. That was very bad. Persephone had told her that she didn’t have much time, and Helen didn’t know how much longer she could last without dreaming.
Hearing Jerry opening his closet spurred Helen into action. She jumped up and dismantled the nest she’d made herself the night before, then hastily began brushing her teeth to give her father the illusion that she’d just beaten him to the bathroom.
It was Monday, a new week, and Helen’s turn to do the cooking. She rushed into her frozen room dreading what she was going to find, but was pleasantly surprised that it had mostly thawed. Something clicked in her head. The intense cold must have something to with how she had been turning her bed into a portal to the Underworld. Since she hadn’t descended the night before, the cold had dissipated a bit. It was still a meat locker in there and everything was damp with melt water, but at least she didn’t have to take a hair dryer to her dresser to get the drawers open, like she’d had to the day before.
So far she’d been able to hide just how cold it had gotten in her room from her father, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it from him much longer. Helen decided that there wasn’t anything she could do about that. She just hoped he stayed out of her room. She had other things to worry about, not the least of which was the Myrmidon that was probably watching her at that moment. Helen shrugged off this disturbing thought as best she could, but still went into her closet before she took off her clothes.
She got dressed as quickly as possible, shivering the few seconds she was forced to spend exposed, and then ran downstairs to warm up at the stove as she cooked breakfast. For a while, she turned up the gas on the stove
like it was a campfire. When the air all around her wavered with the heat, she sighed happily and closed her eyes, but something wasn’t right. She didn’t feel like she was alone. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked around. The air continued to dance in front of her for a few moments, and then it settled.
Doubt began to creep in. She wasn’t hearing voices, but she still felt like there was another presence in the kitchen, and that was obviously impossible. Helen knew she was losing it. She didn’t have much time left, but there was nothing she could do about it until that night. She turned back to the stove and got to work on breakfast.
When she was done making pumpkin pancakes she glanced at the clock. Her father was running a bit late, so she put in a bit of extra effort and sprinkled powdered sugar over the top of the stacks through an old bat-shaped cutout, like they used to do when Helen was a kid. When she was finished she looked up at the clock again. She was just about to go to the bottom of the stairs to call up for Jerry when she heard him come down.
“What took you so . . .” Helen stopped dead when she saw her father.
He was wearing a tattered black dress with red-and-white-striped stockings, a black wig, and his face was painted green. In his hand was the traditional pointy witch’s hat with a fat silk sash and a silver buckle on the front. For a moment she just stared at him with her mouth hanging open.
“I lost a bet with Kate,” he said sheepishly.