Zach gasped and clutched his middle, certain now that Automedon had a different master. He wasn’t working for Tantalus anymore, and Zach had a feeling it had something to do with that tall, inhuman woman and the misshapen boy with her. Whoever she was, she was calling the shots now for her brother, and it was her brother who was Automedon’s real master. Zach knew that Automedon didn’t trust him enough to tell him who he was working for, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still find out. He just had to be careful.
“Forgive me, master,” Zach wheezed as he stood up, still bent over with pain and seething with bitterness. “I will get you what you need. Instruct me.”
Automedon’s mouth twitched, like he could smell Zach’s disingenuous intent. Zach tried to think loyal thoughts. His life literally depended on it.
“Rope, a stake, and a bronze brazier. Do you know what a brazier is?”
“A ceremonial bronze pan. Used to hold burning coals or fire,” Zach repeated lifelessly. His master nodded once.
“Keep all of these things on hand. When the time comes it will all happen very quickly.”
Sitting up, Helen rubbed her throbbing head and noticed that she was still covered in blood and grime. Her skin was oily and tender from lack of sleep and her face felt hot, even though she knew that her bedroom was literally freezing cold. The glass on her nightstand had a spiky film of ice on top.
Forcing herself out of bed, she staggered into the shower and stayed there, trying to forget the way Orion had looked at her, how lost he’d seemed. The word stabbed kept echoing around the inside of her malfunctioning mind, confusingly coupled with the memory of how he had touched her.
Helen knew Orion could control hearts, but nothing could have prepared her for what she’d felt when he reached inside her. It sort of hurt, but in a good way—in the best way, Helen realized. Her hot face got even hotter and she pinched her eyes shut tightly and turned directly into the stinging spray. For a moment it felt like Orion could have done whatever he wanted to her, and Helen knew she would have let him. Worse, she suspected that no matter what he asked of her, he could have made her enjoy it, too.
“Helen!” Jerry yelled, jolting her out of her vivid thoughts. He only called her Helen when he was really ticked off. “Why is it so damn cold in this damn house . . . damn it!”
That’s it, Helen thought. I’ve finally made my father so angry he’s actually forgotten how to speak English.
Jerry came to the bathroom door and started yelling at her through the wood. She could almost picture him out there, pointing his finger vehemently at the door while he got himself so worked up that he started mixing up words like irresponsible and thoughtless and said things like irrespons-less-ness.
Helen shut off the taps and shrugged into a robe, still wet. She pulled open the door and leveled her father with a look. Whatever Jerry was going to yell next died with a whimper as soon as he saw Helen’s face.
“Dad,” she said carefully as she dangled precariously from the end of her emotional tether. “This is the situation. I already called Mr. Tanis at the hardware store and he came over on Friday to measure the window. Then, he placed the order with a glass shop on the Cape because this house is so old that none of our fixtures are standard size. We have to wait for the shop on Cape Cod to make the window, ship it to back to us, and Mr. Tanis will come and install it. But until then, it’s going to be freaking freezing cold in my bedroom, okay!”
“Okay!” he said, leaning away from Helen’s sudden attack of the crazies. “Just as long as you’re taking care of it.”
“I am!”
“Good!” He shifted awkwardly on his feet and looked at Helen with a penitent expression. “Now what do you want for breakfast?”
Helen smiled at him, grateful that of all the proverbial doorsteps Daphne could have left her on, she had chosen Jerry’s.
“Pumpkin pancakes?” she said with a sniffle. She rubbed her runny nose on the sleeve of her robe like a little kid.
“Are you sick? What’s wrong with you, Len? You look like you’ve been to hell and back.”
Helen laughed, resisting the temptation to tell him how on the mark his guess was. Her sudden laughter only confused Jerry even more. He backed away with a slightly weirded-out look on his face and went downstairs to make her pancakes.
When Helen was bundled up in a thick wool sweater and even thicker wool socks, she joined him in the kitchen and helped. For about an hour she and her dad just hung out, ate, and shared the Sunday paper. Every time the thought of Orion arose, she would try to sideline it.
She couldn’t allow herself to become too attached to him. She knew that. But little details kept swimming up to fill her mind’s eye—the single beauty mark that hung like a dark tear high on the slope of his right cheek; the sharp, diamond shape of his incisors when he smiled.
Why hadn’t he texted yet?
“Are you going to Kate’s later?” she asked her dad to get her mind off Orion.
“Well, I wanted to ask you first,” he answered. “Are you going to Luke’s?”
Helen stopped breathing for a moment, collected herself, and tried to pretend that her stomach hadn’t fallen to the floor. For a moment, she tried to reason with the voice in her head that was whispering the word unfaithful. She and Lucas were not together. What did it matter if she thought about Orion?
“I’m going to Ariadne’s, Dad. She and I have this thing; so go to Kate’s. I’m not going to be here.”
“Another project for school?” he asked so innocently that Helen knew he didn’t believe it.
“Actually, no,” Helen admitted. She was too tired to keep all the lies straight anymore and decided she would try a touch of truth for a change. “She’s teaching me self-defense.”