Goddess (14 page)

Ariadne nodded and looked at the floor. Unable to resist, Matt leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Her hair smelled the same, like honey and summer. He let himself run his hand down the back of her bent neck, feeling how slender it was under his calloused palm—as fragile as a flower’s stem.

“Will you try?” she whispered, not looking up.

“Yes. I’ll try.”

“Hey. Are you mad at me?” Lucas heard Helen ask.

He turned and saw her floating toward him across the roof of the house. He shook his head, and she sat next to him on the very edge of the roof over his bedroom.

“I didn’t mean to disagree with you in front of the family back there. About Orion being the Shield,” she continued.

“It’s okay. You were just bringing up a good point,” he said, knowing she could hear the truth in his words. Helen’s new talent as a Falsefinder made things both easier and harder between the two of them. He could never lie to her again, not even to protect her. Not that lying had ever kept her safe. Lucas briefly wondered if he’d ever protected her at all. “I still think Orion’s the Shield, though.”

“But I don’t need a Shield. I never did,” she said, almost like she was reading his mind. With all the new things she could do, Lucas wouldn’t put telepathy past her.

“No. I guess not,” he agreed. Something about that troubled Lucas. Helen had always been the strongest, so what did the Shield “shield” her from, exactly?

“Maybe Orion is the Lover. He is a son of Aphrodite,” Helen said, like she was considering it.

That made sense. And although it killed him to think about it, Lucas was pretty sure that Orion was Helen’s actual lover now. But no matter how mixed up all the signs for the different roles were, Lucas knew better.

“Orion isn’t the Lover.”

“How do you know?”

“That part’s taken already.”

Helen looked at him, her beautiful mismatched eyes swimming with regret and, Lucas hoped desperately,
not
pity as well. “You know . . . all these new talents I have . . .” Her voice wavered. “One of them is controlling hearts.”

“So you mentioned.”

“I could take your love for me away,” she offered in a small voice.

“And then what?”

Helen’s brow pinched together, like she was confused by his question. “Well, then you could move on with your life. We’d have to stay away from each other, though.”

“We tried that already, remember?” Lucas asked with a wry smile. “It didn’t work.”

Lucas had no doubt Helen could erase his love for her, but he also knew he’d only fall in love with her again the next time he laid eyes on her. There was no “moving on” for him. No matter what else Lucas did in his life, his love for Helen would always define him. He was the Lover.

“Please, Lucas? I want to make this easier on you,” she said quietly, her head tilted down.

“Then stop talking nonsense.” He bumped her shoulder playfully with his until she dropped her pained look and smiled. “We’ve been over this a dozen times. Nothing’s ever going to change the way I feel about you.”

She finally met his eyes and nodded sadly, accepting what she could hear in his voice—the truth.

“So, maybe Orion’s the Hero?” she asked, trying to change the subject to something more productive.

“Hector,” Lucas replied immediately, shaking his head.

“Right. That’s a no-brainer,” Helen said, rolling her eyes a little. “Unless Hector’s the Warrior?”

“The Warrior joins the fight last, and Hector’s never come late to a fight in his life. I’d bet just about anything Hector’s the Hero and Orion’s the Shield.”

Helen seemed to struggle for a moment with her next question. “What is it?” Lucas asked coaxingly.

“Is the Tyrant really as bad as Pallas said?”

Lucas nodded slowly. He didn’t want to scare her, but he also knew he couldn’t lie to her. “What little of the prophecy we have left talks about the Tyrant like he’s stronger than all the gods combined. And there’s supposed to be this huge battle with monsters and storms when the Tyrant rises. Even the sky is supposed to change colors, like a kaleidoscope.”

“Sounds like the apocalypse.”

“Yeah,” Lucas said, feeling Helen shiver.

They sat there for a while, dangling their feet off the side of the house. Even though the conversation had taken such a dark turn, just having Helen near him relaxed Lucas and helped him focus. He might not be able to kiss her, but if she was sitting right next to him, he didn’t torture himself over who else she might be with. And what they were probably doing.

He reminded himself it was better this way and swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted Helen to be happy, and he trusted that Orion could give that to her. Lucas certainly never had. All he ever did was make Helen miserable, and as soon as he knew this whole mess was over, he was going to make sure he never hurt her again.

Burying these consuming thoughts, Lucas forced his mind to drift instead. He shuffled through every image and use of a shield he could come up with.

“Shield, defense, bastion, block . . . ,” he mumbled. “What does Orion shield us from? What does he block?”

“Well. He seems pretty good at blocking doorways,” Helen joked. Her smile disappeared quickly as a thought occurred to her. “And prophecies.”

“And the futures of anyone who spends a lot of time with him,” he breathed. “Orion shields you from the awareness of the Fates, Helen. If the Fates can’t see you, they can’t decide your life for you. Do you know what this means? You have free will.”

They stared at each other, so shocked they almost couldn’t believe it, but both of them sensed a tingling in the air that told them they were onto something huge.

“But why me? Why am I the one who gets to choose?” Helen’s eyes darted around fearfully. “What role am I playing, Lucas?”

“You’re the Descender.”

“That’s not on the list.”

She was right. Lucas felt a moment of anxiety, and then relaxed as the solution came to him. “Out of all of us, you were the last one to discover that you’re a Scion—the last to join the fight. You’re the Warrior, of course.”

Helen calmed down and smiled tentatively. “Huh. Go figure.” Her nose wrinkled as she thought of something. “The Fates know I suck at fighting, right?”

“You’ve gotten better.” He really tried to keep a straight face, but it wouldn’t hold.

Helen pushed him off the roof. He floated up in front of her, holding his hands in an “I surrender” gesture, still trying not to laugh. She crossed her arms huffily and looked away, trying not to laugh with him.

“Lover, my heinie,” she said, cracking a grin and nudging him away from her with her foot.

He caught her ankle and pulled himself between her dangling legs. Helen’s eyes widened with surprise and her lips softened and fell apart.

“That’s right,” he whispered. Lucas leaned in close to her, loving that in spite of everything that had happened, she couldn’t help but react to him. “Don’t ever forget it.”

He grazed the curve of her cheek with his fingertips before flying away.

EIGHT

H
elen stared off the side of the house for a while, wondering whether or not she’d done the right thing. A part of her knew she was hurting Lucas more by not setting him straight about her and Orion, but in the end she couldn’t do it. Her reasons were selfish, but still valid. If Lucas thought she was with Orion, he would eventually pull away and she really needed him to do so.

She could look inside him and see he was still in love with her, but that the love had changed slightly. Regardless of what Orion said about it not making any difference to Lucas if she spent the night with another man, it
had
altered something in him—not the amount of love he felt, but how keenly he felt it. Helen figured it made sense. Even with a physical injury, there’s only so much pain a person can take before they start to go numb.

Helen saw Matt leave the house and go to his car. She inhaled a breath, about to call out to him and ask him where he was going, but she remembered all the sleeping people just under the roof she was sitting on and stopped herself. Matt turned and looked in her direction, anyway.

Impossible,
Helen thought as he smiled and waved up at her.
There’s no way he could have heard me inhale. But how else could he have known to look on the roof?
Helen waved back, and Matt got into his car and drove off.

Still mulling it over, Helen flew in Lucas’s window and sat down on his bed. For a moment, she considered climbing into it, but there was a chance Lucas would come home and find her there. It wasn’t fair to do that to him. Helen hauled her tired body up and walked down the hallway to Ariadne’s room.

She was surprised to find Ariadne awake.

“Hey,” Ariadne said, automatically sliding over to make room for Helen in her bed.

“Hey yourself,” Helen replied with a worried frown. Ariadne’s heart was a throbbing mess of emotion, and Helen knew it had to have something to do with Matt. She kicked off her shoes and got into bed. “I just saw Matt leave. Did you two talk?”

Ariadne avoided all mention of her feelings and instead told Helen what she and Matt had discussed about the Scions being stuck in one repeating cycle. She explained how Matt thought the Fates needed all the roles to be filled, and if they weren’t, the cycle would just start over again with the next generation.

“I think everyone’s coming to the same conclusion,” Helen said with a nod. “It would explain why we all look like people from Troy—we’re stuck. There’s something that didn’t happen way back then that the Fates are still trying to bring about.”

“But what?” Ariadne asked, exasperated. “And something else I don’t understand? Why can’t the Fates just make what they want to happen, happen? It doesn’t make sense.”

“What did Matt say?” Helen asked, feeling a sinking sensation in her stomach.

“He said that there must be a force working against the Fates in every cycle. Something that keeps ruining the play before the Scions can get all the way through it the exact way the Fates want. He said he thinks it’s Nemesis, working against her sisters.”

“By blocking the Fates and giving a Scion free will,” Helen whispered. “At least that’s what Lucas thinks. Every cycle someone who’s supposed to make a huge decision has free will and ruins the Fates’ plan.”

Ariadne rubbed her eyes. “Does Lucas have any idea who has free will in this cycle?”

Helen felt like the universe kept pointing an accusing finger at her.

“We aren’t sure,” she lied.

Helen rolled over and opened her eyes. She expected to see Ariadne lying next to her. Instead, she saw a man’s naked back, swelling and sinking with the deep breaths of sleep.

Lucas,
Helen thought, recognizing his shape immediately. She wanted to run her hand between the bunched muscles of his shoulder blades and down the trench of his spine, but something was off. The room Helen had awoken to was familiar, although she had never been in it before.

The other Helen sat up slowly, watching her husband carefully to make sure she didn’t disturb him. She needed to sneak out before Paris woke up, or she wouldn’t be able to get away that day as she had planned.

Helen watched as Helen of Troy tied her simplest chiton over her shoulder, gathered up an old girdle, veil, and worn sandals. She noticed that Helen of Troy had one brown eye and one that was turned blue by a lightning-bolt scar that ran down the center of the iris. Helen knew that it had happened during the stoning. The beating Helen Hamilton had taken from Ares had given her the same mark.

The other Helen hurried a short ways down the dark marble corridor without putting her sandals on and stopped at a door. Inside the room was a little girl, no more than three or four, still in her bed. The little girl opened her eyes with uncanny prescience.

“Mommy?” whispered the little girl, awake in an instant. “Are we going to see Auntie Briseis today, like we promised?”

“Yes, Atlanta,” Helen said quietly, rushing into the room and closing the door behind her.

“Are we going to walk with the Lady first?” Atlanta asked. Sensitive to her mother’s mood, she kept her voice down.

“Not today.” Helen dressed Atlanta in an old skirt and shawl she had borrowed from a servant.

“But the people like it when you and the Lady walk through their gardens. They hug each other and kiss your hand.”

“That’s because Aphrodite brings love to the beasts and to the growing things and they multiply,” Helen said with a sad smile as she turned to finish dressing herself. “It’s why our people have lasted so long without starving inside the walls.”

“Starving—like they are outside?” Atlanta asked with a troubled frown.

“That’s right. That’s why we have to go see Auntie Briseis. We must bring her more food.”

Helen of Troy picked up her daughter and put her on her hip. “Change your face, like mommy taught you,” she said, touching half of the cestus that hung in the shape of a heart charm around Atlanta’s neck. Atlanta squinted in concentration, and her face magically altered. “Don’t forget your hair,” Helen reminded her, and Atlanta’s sparkling blonde locks darkened to brown. Helen then altered her own looks, adopting the plain face and stout figure of a hardworking field hand before the pair left the room.

They made their way swiftly through the palace and down to the kitchens. An old woman who had nursed Briseis as a baby handed Helen a prepared bundle, which she tied across her back. A quick glance to make sure no one but the loyal old woman was watching, and she stole out through a back door and through the kitchen gardens. Helen ran swiftly to the wall, her daughter clinging to her tightly. Picking up speed as she reached the fortifications, she scrabbled up one side of the wall and down the other faster than the guards could see in the low predawn light.

Atlanta was not afraid, although she knew that outside the wall she and her mother were in mortal danger. Helen smiled at her brave daughter proudly, and slipped through the sleeping siege camp. They stopped at one of the largest tents and whistled softly at the entrance.

A moment later, a woman who looked just like Ariadne appeared and wrapped the disguised mother and daughter in a warm hug.

“Briseis,” Helen said softly to the woman. The sisters-in-law kissed each other warmly on both cheeks.

“There isn’t much time for a visit,” Briseis said as she led Helen and Atlanta into the tent. “Achilles will be back soon.”

“There is an easy remedy for that. One that allows us to spend as much time together as we wish,” Helen said leadingly as she allowed her real face to appear.

“Don’t start,” Briseis warned. “I won’t leave him.”

“I know.” Helen put Atlanta down and gave her a small wooden figurine to play with before handing Briseis the bundle of food. “Have you thought about what will happen when Achilles joins the battle lines again?”

“He may never join them. He detests Agamemnon and refuses to do his bidding anymore.”

“He didn’t cross the sea with his army for nothing, Briseis.”

“I’m aware of that.” Briseis’ eyes sparkled with anger. “But he’s different now. He told me he has no quarrel with my brother.”

“It doesn’t matter if he has a quarrel with Hector or not. This is war. Don’t let your love for Achilles blind you.”

“I haven’t.” Briseis looked away. “But I know what side of the wall I’m on.”

“And what side of the war? What about her?” Helen pleaded quietly, gesturing to Atlanta. She saw Briseis’ eyes widen with worry, and knew that the risk of bringing Atlanta was worth it for this reason alone. Helen pressed her case while she had the chance. “Achilles came here to kill the Tyrant. That was the one argument Agamemnon made that convinced him to fight.”

“Atlanta has nothing to fear from him, I swear it,” Briseis said, glancing down at Atlanta protectively. “He would never kill a child. You don’t know him.”

The two sisters-in-law glared at each other. The only sound in the tent was Atlanta whispering to her doll.

“Do you like the pretty garden I made? The sun never burns and the bees never sting and the stones stay out of your sandals,” Atlanta cooed, completely lost in her game of make-believe.

Helen rolled her eyes comically and spoke under her breath to Briseis. “She spends all day imagining a perfect world where no one suffers. Terrifying, isn’t she?”

Briseis looked away again, her face falling into a frown as her thoughts turned dark. “It helps that she was born a girl. No one suspects her to be the Tyrant now. Not really.”

“Then why does Achilles stay here even though his men starve?” Helen asked desperately. Briseis had no answer. “Sister, I believe you when you say he’d never kill a child. Achilles is a man of deep principles—principles that brought him to Troy. Have you ever considered that ridding the world of the Tyrant is so important to him that he might be willing to wait for her to grow up first before he kills her?”

“You must go,” Briseis said suddenly, waving at the air like it had filled up with flies. “He’ll be back any moment.”

Helen sighed and dropped her head in defeat and then reached down to scoop up her daughter. “I’ll be back with more food in a few days.”

The two women embraced, cautiously at first as if they were still at odds, and then with true tenderness before Helen and Atlanta assumed their disguises and left the enemy camp.

Helen woke up with a thick tress of Ariadne’s hair in her mouth. She spat it out and mentally apologized for drooling all over it before rolling over. She rolled over onto something that squeaked. It turned out to be Andy, who batted at her and made protesting sounds in her sleep. Wishing Noel would get even just one more mattress for the girls to sleep on, Helen scooted down to the end of the bed and crawled out as quietly as she could without crushing anyone.

Helen hugged herself as she left the room, trying to shake off the memory. That one had seemed closer to her than the others had, like she was more than just a spectator this time. In fact, halfway through it had started to feel like it was Helen of Nantucket, and not Helen of Troy, who was in that tent. She could still feel the warm, squirmy weight of her little girl (correction—Helen of Troy’s little girl) in her arms, so of course she ran into Lucas in the hallway. She ached to hold one of them, either the little girl or the little girl’s father, so desperately she actually groaned.

“I thought you’d gone home,” Lucas said after a pause.

“Haven’t been there in days,” Helen said, staring at him greedily. “I figure, why bother when everyone is here?”

“And more on the way,” he said, suddenly frowning.

Helen nodded. “The meeting of the Houses. Did you call—”

“Orion? Yeah,” Lucas said, finishing her sentence. “He’s waiting for us in the library.”

“What time is it?” Helen asked, and peered blinkingly at the slanted light coming in a nearby window.

“Past two.” He chuckled at the shocked look on Helen’s face. “Meet us downstairs?” he said as he passed by her and made his way to the staircase. “We need to make plans.”

“I just need a minute,” Helen said, gesturing to her rumpled clothes and ratty hair.

“Take your time,” Lucas said. As he walked by on his way down the hall, he bent close to her, running his hand up her arm. His large hand swallowed every curve of her slender muscles, cupping them one by one in the palm of his hand and leaving a trail of goose bumps behind. His skin was so hot on hers, she shivered when his warmth was removed, which it was, far too quickly.

Helen peeked in on her father first. Jerry still slept deeply, but even standing over him she could hear his heart beating strong and steady. He looked like he was in another world, a peaceful one that he was reluctant to leave. Helen didn’t know if it worked like this or not, but she hoped that if Jerry were merely sleeping, that Morpheus was watching over him.

Helen ran to the bathroom, conniving to beat Ariadne and Andy to the shower before they got out of bed. She darted in before they’d even started scratching and shut the door behind her with a satisfied smile.

Helen turned on the tap and started pulling off her clothes, the memory of Lucas’s hand on her arm still burning bright. She showered quickly. While she toweled off, another chance encounter in another dark hallway, centuries ago, billowed up in Helen’s mind like the steam rising off the white tile.

Lancelot had been away from Camelot for many months.

The Barbarians—big, blond invaders from a land of ice—had kept the Knights of the Round Table busy. Guinevere’s father had fought the Barbarians his entire life, as her father’s father had fought before him. Now, with the marriage between Guinevere and Arthur finalized, the dragon and wolf worshippers from the world of snow were Arthur’s problem and, therefore, the problem of every knight sworn to him in Briton. If Guinevere’s island home was to survive, the Barbarian invasion must be stopped, or every Briton-born would be slaughtered before the year was done.

Arthur was not prepared for the Berserkers. His men were orderly soldiers, trained in the Roman fashion of warfare. They were not used to the drug-induced trances that the Barbarians employed to send their rabid hordes screaming down on men, woman, and children. The horrors they saw during these barbaric hit-and-run raids were taking a toll on all of Arthur’s men. The knights were outnumbered, and an all-out war was brewing.