Dreamless (Starcrossed 2)

“I think for every battle date they make us memorize in history class, they should make us learn at least two awesome things. Like, how many people get saved every year by firefighters, or the number of people who’ve walked on the moon. You know what’s awful? I don’t even know the answer to that.”

“Neither do I,” Orion said with a quiet smile.

“And we should know that! We’re Americans!”

“Well, officially I’m Canadian.”

“Close enough!” Helen said, waving an enthusiastic hand in the air. “My point is that considering all the amazing things that people are capable of, why do we focus on war? Humans should be better than that.”

“But you’re not human, not really, not wholly human. Pretty little godling,” hissed a slippery, wheedling voice.

Helen heard a ringing scrape, and a bright flash caught her eye as Orion unsheathed one of the many blades he kept strapped under his clothes. He pushed her behind him and dug his fingers into her hip, his large hand pinning her in place in case she tried to do something idiotic, like jump out and start swinging.

“Come and face me,” Orion challenged to their adversary. His voice was calm, icy—almost like he had been waiting for this.

Frustrated with herself for being so helpless without her lightning, Helen resolved to learn how to fight like a mortal as soon as she was back in the real world. If she ever made it back.

A thin, warbling laugh echoed through the forest of bones, and a haunting almost-song wove its way toward them.

“Big baby godling! Bigger than most, like the hunter he was named for! Want to fight me, foolish Sky Hunter? Caution! I invented war. War, little beauties, I invented it. But, no, Sky Hunter won’t heed. He will fight! And he will forever chase her across the night! For how prettyprettypretty she is!”

The singsong voice slid off into peals of childlike laughter that made Helen’s teeth grind together until they squeaked. As Orion circled defensively, Helen caught a glimpse of a long, gangly figure darting this way and that through the Ice Giants’ graveyard. He was scrawny, nearly naked, and painted all over with blue-dye curlicues, like some Stone Age wild man.

“So like my sister, my lover. So like the Face! Oh! The Face that loved, that launched, that spilled so much bloodbloodblood! Again, again! I want to play the Game with the pretty little godlings again!” Giggling, he darted in close, trying to lure Orion away from Helen, but Orion didn’t fall for it.

As the wild man came nearer, Helen got a better look at him. Horrified, she pressed herself tighter against Orion’s back. The wild man had bulging gray eyes and long dreadlocks that looked like they might have been platinum blond or white before they were matted with blue dye and clotted blood. Blood seemed to bubble up out of his skin. It ran from his nose and ears—even from his scalp, as if his rotted brain leaked gore from any handy hole.

In his hand was a raggedy sword, its edges orange with rust. Whirling around as Orion intercepted one of the wild man’s feints, Helen caught a whiff of him. Her stomach heaved at the necrotic stench. He smelled like sour fear-sweat and rotting meat.

“Ares,” Orion whispered to Helen over his shoulder as the god skipped off, giggling hysterically, to hide among the bones. “Don’t be afraid, Helen. He’s a coward.”

“He’s insane!” Helen whispered back frantically. “He’s completely and totally insane!”

“Most of the gods are, though I hear Ares is by far the worst,” Orion said with a comforting smile. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t let him near you.”

“Um, Orion? If he’s a god, can’t he pretty much crush you?” she asked delicately.

“We don’t have our demigod powers here, so why should he have his god powers?” he said with a shrug, like he was tossing an idea out there. “And he’s the one running away from us. That’s usually a pretty good sign.”

Orion had a point, but Helen still didn’t relax. She could hear the mad god humming to himself as he trotted off in the distance. He didn’t sound very afraid of them.

“You there, little godling! Hiding from the others?” Ares suddenly called out, a few hundred yards away. “So inconvenient, when I need all three of you together to start my favorite Game! Soon, soon. For now I will settle. I will watch you play with my uncle’s pet instead. Here he comes, little godling!”

“Who’s he talking to?” Orion whispered over his shoulder to Helen.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s us. Maybe he’s seeing things?” she guessed.

“Maybe not. Earlier, I thought I saw . . .” Orion’s sentence was abruptly interrupted.

A great howl sounded through the bone forest. It was so deep and loud Helen could feel it vibrating inside her chest. A second howl, then a third followed, each one closer than the last. Helen froze out of sheer instinct, like a white rabbit in the snow.

“Cerberus.” Orion’s voice cracked. He recovered from his fear quickly. “Move!”

He grabbed Helen’s arm and dragged her along, snapping her out of her terrified trance. The two of them ran for their lives with Ares’ cackling laughter ringing in their ears.

They vaulted over brittle bones, trying to keep the howling behind them while making sure not to run down a dead end. Luckily, the bones kept getting smaller and smaller as they zigzagged out of the forest.

“Do you know where you’re going?” she panted. Orion twisted his wrist out from under the sleeve of his jacket and looked at the golden cuff.