Dreamless (Starcrossed 2)

“Okay. Thanks,” Helen said.

She twisted her hands and shuffled her feet, not knowing what to do with herself. She knew she was supposed to go upstairs and check on her father, but she didn’t want to see him hurt. She felt her loose ends starting to flap around again.

Looking at Helen’s attack of the fidgets, Noel’s eyes widened and she immediately put down her scorched wooden spoon, wiped her fingers on her apron, and pulled Helen into a big, soft hug. At first Helen was startled stiff, but then she just let go and really leaned into it. Noel smelled like bread dough and baby powder. Helen couldn’t remember anyone but Kate ever feeling so fluffy and relaxing. It was like hugging a warm muffin.

“Better?” Noel asked as she leaned back and looked Helen over appraisingly. “You look exhausted. Did you stop dreaming again?”

“No, I can dream,” Helen said, laughing a bit as she smoothed down her now torn and dirty dress and wondered how Noel knew about the whole non-dreaming thing. “It’s just been a really long day.”

“I know, honey. And you’ve done so much,” Noel said, cupping Helen’s face in her hands and looking at her intently with wide, loving eyes. “Thank you for bringing my Hector back to us.” Noel kissed her on the forehead, the gesture reminding Helen of Lucas. Which reminded Helen . . .

“Wait. How could you know about Hector? That happened, like, five minutes ago.”

“All my boys call me first whenever they have either really good or really bad news. It’s the in-between news that boys are not so good with,” Noel said with a grin and narrowed eyes. “You’ll see for yourself someday.” Then she turned back to the counter, picked up a giant knife, chopped something like it had insulted her, and dumped its sorry bits into a bubbling pot.

Surprising herself, Helen wrapped her arms around Noel from the side and stole a quick hug. Noel absentmindedly kissed the top of Helen’s head and stroked her hair while she stirred, like she was used to both giving and receiving random affection at any given moment from any kid in her inner circle. More relaxed now and ready to deal, Helen went upstairs to find her father.

Automedon left his master in the strange in-between land at the bottom of the cave, went above ground, and summoned his slave. The mortal boy was not accustomed to his new life of servitude, but luckily for him, he was moderately intelligent and didn’t make many mistakes. As soon as Automedon relayed directions to the cave and inquired after the arranged provisions, he raced back to Nantucket, still not certain if the curse of the Furies had been entirely lifted or not. He was willing to take the chance and move forward with the plan either way, but it took him a full thirty-eight minutes to return and locate the Face.

At first, Automedon had looked for her at home, but found only her scent lingering heavily in the front yard. He could taste that she had not been alone, and that even the Outcast had been with her at her house. A brief glance at the ground told Automedon that there had been no confrontation, no Fury-induced fight. There was only one explanation for that.

The Descender had been successful! After so much waiting and watching, after so many generations had proved themselves unworthy, it was finally time. His master was right. All that she had needed was a little push, a little incentive to figure it out, and she had. This was no look-alike. This Descender was the princess he had been waiting for—the real Helen.

Fired up by this new victory, Automedon tasted the trails. They were still so fresh he could sense the emotions of the Scions who’d made them. There was nothing but brotherhood in the air—brotherhood and undying love. The taste of love rose, and then faded in the turbulent winds of the atmosphere. She must have flown away. The m

en had definitely run off together to the center of town, back toward the distraction that had been carefully orchestrated to occupy the small army of powerful Scions that guarded this new—and Automedon would swear before the gods—true Helen. So far, everything was going according to plan, except for the most important part.

Automedon held very still. He couldn’t afford to waste one movement. This was the event that three and a half thousand years had built. Everything was in order, everything was finally as it was always meant to be—except for one thing. He had to find Helen.

She wasn’t at the home of her mortal father. She wasn’t with the lover. She wasn’t at school. Unless Helen had left the island, which she almost never did, there was only one place left: the satellite dwelling of the House of Thebes in Siasconset.

Both of the twins were sleeping, one on either side of Jerry in the big, white bed that Helen herself had healed in after her fall with Lucas. Jerry looked pale and sunken, like he had been deflated. Lying on top of the covers and curled up like cats at the bottom of the bed, the twins had their eyes closed in restless sleep.

They were panting and their fingers kept tensing into claws, their brows wrinkling in unison as if they were sharing the same nightmare. The air in the room was baked dry as a desert. Helen knew that meant they were following Jerry around the edge of the dry lands, just outside the Underworld, trying to shepherd his frightened spirit back into his body. They were fighting like crazy, that was obvious, but they both were covered in sweat and paler than sheets of paper. Helen knew they wouldn’t last much longer.

Kate stood up from a chair in the corner and rushed to embrace Helen when she entered the room. As they hugged, Helen saw Claire sitting on the floor on Jason’s side of the bed. Claire gave Helen a wan look and stood up gingerly, like her legs had fallen asleep a long time ago. The three of them silently agreed to go down the hallway to another room before they had their talk, so as not to disturb the trio in the sickbed.

By chance, Kate happened to pick Lucas’s room. Helen almost backed out, but then she found that she couldn’t resist the temptation of being close to anything that belonged to him.

“What’s going on?” Helen asked.

“Jason said that Jerry got lost down there. He said that all of this should have been over before we even got in the car and came here,” Claire said calmly.

Kate jumped in, unable to contain herself. “But there was some horrible god interfering. He must have led Jerry’s spirit in the wrong direction while we were carrying him to the car,” Kate said in a shaky voice. “And now the twins can’t find him.”

“Morpheus met with Ariadne on the border of his land to tell her that it was Ares who misled your dad,” Claire said in a hushed voice, and looked over at Kate for corroboration.

“Helen. Why is the god of war trying to kill your father?” Kate asked, her voice trembling on the verge of hysteria. Kate was a practical woman, and not accustomed to emotional outbursts, but she was still trying to wrap her brain around the fact that everything she knew as myth was really true. Helen took her hand and squeezed it.

“I should have told you,” Helen said, barely able to look Kate in the eyes. “I thought I could protect you if I kept you separate, that you and dad could go on with your lives if you just didn’t know. It sounds so stupid now when I say it out loud, but I really believed it could work, and I’m sorry. Ares is trying to get to me. I don’t know why he’s doing it, but I know he’s using Dad as bait.”

“Okay,” Kate said, wiping away a leaking tear and pursing her lips in determination. “So what can we do about it? How do we save Jerry?”

“Not we,” Helen whispered darkly, remembering Morpheus’s warning that Ares dreamed of hurting her. “Me. Ares wants me.”

“And you’re just going to go running right down there to face him, aren’t you?” Cassandra asked from the doorway. Helen turned to see Cassandra standing behind her with her arms crossed in anger. “Even though you know this is probably a trap?”

“Yes. And I have to go right now.”