“It’s time. Everyone’s here,” Daphne said brusquely.
“How do you know?” Helen asked.
“I recognize all their voices.” Daphne laughed mirthlessly and tucked her hair behind her ear with her pinkie finger. “Some of the people downstairs I know better than I know you.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Not fault,” Daphne said gently. “Choice. It was my choice, Helen, and it was the right one. You really were better off without me.”
Helen opened her mouth to argue with Daphne, but stopped. As a Falsefinder, she could hear the truth in Daphne’s voice. Daphne wasn’t feeding her a line or trying to excuse herself for bad parenting. She really believed that she’d done the right thing and, thinking about her father still asleep just down the hall, Helen agreed. She had been better off without her mother. Daphne might have abandoned her, but she’d abandoned her to a better life—a happier life—with Jerry for a dad, and Claire and Matt as best friends. It must have taken a lot of discipline for Daphne to do that. Helen started to understand how fortunate she’d been. She’d had about seventeen years of normal life that had shaped her into the person she was now. And Daphne had been the one to give that to her, by leaving.
“Thank you,” Helen whispered.
“You’re welcome,” Daphne said back hollowly.
Surprised at her tone, Helen looked down at Daphne’s chest and saw nothing but a dark void—a gaping hole that went on and on, like an endless well of emptiness instead of a heart. She shrank away from her mother. The gesture was not lost on Daphne.
“What, Helen? What is it?” she asked.
“Your heart’s gone,” Helen answered, too overwhelmed by the unnatural hole inside Daphne to remember to conceal her new talent.
“It died the day Ajax did,” Daphne replied simply.
“But there’s nothing there. Not even a broken heart,” Helen said, shaking her head. “You’re not sad or angry or hurt. You feel nothing. That can’t be natural.” She locked eyes with Daphne and grabbed her wrist to keep her from moving away. “What did you do, Mother?” Daphne tried to pull away from Helen, but her daughter was too strong.
“Whatever was left of my feelings I traded in order to accomplish a goal. Women do it all the time. Scion women swear it before Hecate,” Daphne said, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as a thought occurred to her. “But how can you know what I don’t feel?” Daphne murmured, more to herself than to Helen.
“Helen?” Andy said as she tapped on the door. “Are you in there?”
“Yes,” Helen replied. She released her mother and quickly turned to the door. “Come in.”
Andy pushed the door open tentatively and peeked into the room. “Noel is getting . . . ah . . . antsy is the only polite word I come up with right now. She says you and your mom need to get your butts downstairs before somebody murders somebody else and gets blood all over her clean floors.” She smiled and held up her hands. “I’m quoting her, by the way.”
“I’ll bet.” Helen chuckled. “We’re coming.”
There was still so much she and Daphne needed to talk about, but as usual where her mother was concerned, Helen was going to have to wait until later to get any answers. She and Daphne followed Andy out of Ariadne’s bedroom and down the hallway toward the stairs.
“My, my,” Daphne said quietly as she followed Andy’s graceful silhouette. “Aren’t you a rare fish?”
Helen saw Andy’s back stiffen at Daphne’s taunt and her gait taper off to a stop.
“I’m half siren,” Andy said. She turned to look Daphne dead in the eye. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No,” Daphne replied. She met Andy’s gaze and stood firm. “But you obviously do, and it’s time you got over it.”
Daphne brushed past Andy. Helen followed reluctantly, giving Andy an apologetic look as she passed by.
“Hector isn’t Apollo,” Daphne added when she reached the stairs. “It’s time you got over that, too.”
“You have no right,” Andy began angrily.
“Hector is one of the best men I’ve ever known, little half siren who hates herself,” Daphne interrupted, silencing Andy. Helen saw Daphne’s eyes harden until they sparkled like diamonds. “You don’t deserve him.”
Helen mouthed the words I’m sorry to Andy as she went down the stairs, but Andy had turned on her heel and gone before Helen could finish.
Still thinking about Andy, Helen followed her mother into the tense living room. Her eyes went immediately to a big, blond man who stood in front of Castor and Pallas in the place she knew was reserved for the Head of the House of Thebes.
He had to be Tantalus, and although she had never met him before, she recognized him. She pictured his face, red, sweaty, and twisted with rage as he tried to beat her child out of her.