Goddess (28 page)

“No,” Hades said firmly. “I had a child with a woman from the House of Thebes many hundreds of years ago.” He paused for a moment as a look of regret passed over his face, even though it had happened so long ago. “The blood of a god does not dilute—we are immortal and so are our . . . well, our genes, I guess you could call them. You are mine and Apollo’s, but I see more of myself than him in you.”

“Can you think yourself warm?”

“No. That trait you get from Apollo. You can withstand any heat, except Helen’s. She can get even hotter than the sun.”

“I noticed,” Lucas said with a little rueful laugh.

“But the majority of your talents, you get from me. I’m sure you find all this disturbing.”

“Not at all,” Lucas responded. “It actually makes this easier. Like it was meant to be.”

“Go home, son,” he said kindly. “Your absence is causing turmoil where it is least needed.”

“How can anyone know that I’m absent?” Lucas asked, confused. “I thought time stopped in the Underworld.”

“It does, unless you are with Morpheus or with me, in which case time passes as it does on Earth. We must live
in
time in order to affect lives.”

Lucas thought it through quickly and nodded. “Or you’d be trapped in one eternal moment—and no one would ever find either of you.”

“Very good,” Hades said musingly. “Not even Helen noticed that, and she is very clever.” He smiled at Lucas like he was pleased with him before continuing. “I know you grieve for your cousin, but I don’t allow people to trade themselves for dead loved ones. If I did, it would lay too much guilt on those who would rather live than sacrifice themselves for the dead. This would hurt more people than it would help.”

He even sounded like Orion, except that his way of speaking was slightly more formal. They both had a compassion for others that Lucas respected.

“That makes perfect sense,” Lucas conceded. “And I think you’re absolutely right. But I didn’t come here to trade myself for Hector. I came here to trade myself for you.”

“For me?” Hades repeated, surprised for the first time in what Lucas assumed to be millennia.

“I know you didn’t choose to be the lord of the dead. It was forced on you. I know how that feels. I feel as if the Fates are trying to force me into Poseidon’s role. But I am going to reject that fate of my own free will in favor of another.”

Lucas stepped over the border and entered Hades’ land, knowing that if he succeeded, he might never leave it again.

“Bring Hector back to life, and I’ll take
your
place in the Underworld for the rest of eternity.”

Helen stared up at Lucas, easily seeing inside his cloud of shadows. She knew she could follow him, but if she did she would have to leave everyone else unprotected. Orion and Jason were great fighters, Daphne was a flat-out monster, and Helen knew better than to second-guess Castor’s skills, but there were twenty times more fighters on the gods’ side than on hers. Almost all of the House of Rome and half of the House of Athens had joined her and Orion, but it still wasn’t enough to beat both the Hundred Cousins and the Myrmidons. If Helen left she knew that her side wouldn’t stand a chance.

“We wish to honor our dead,” Castor called across the arena, the sand of which was still stained with Hector’s blood . . . and with Matt’s.

Helen felt her eyes fill and her chest heat up with sobs. Two people she loved dearly were dead. That wasn’t what she’d planned.

As the gods conferred with the generals of their mortal army, resolve solidified in Helen and froze her tears in their tracks. She knew that if she allowed herself to give in to sorrow, she wouldn’t be of any use to anyone. Let Andy cry for Hector, and let Ariadne cry for Matt. Helen no longer had the luxury to mourn.

“We can’t deny you the right to prepare your dead,” Tantalus shouted back at Castor, their emotions lighting up their insides like swords being sharpened on rocks. “But the Tyrant’s champion has gone missing.” Tantalus continued in a falsely innocent tone. “How can you prove that he did not run away because he has taken a mortal injury from our champion?”

“Ridiculous!” Orion shouted. “Matt never even touched Lucas. We all saw the duel.”

Helen spun around and looked at her mother. “What’s going on?” she asked in a whisper.

“You’re in danger,” Daphne replied tersely, but she didn’t have a chance to elaborate before Tantalus continued.

“The Tyrant’s champion isn’t here to prove that he is unharmed,” Tantalus said with a forbidding shake of his head. “Produce your
living
champion, or hand over the Tyrant.”

“And who will enforce that?” Orion called back. “The gods can’t fight us.”

“My army will,” Tantalus replied calmly.

Orion and his entourage of loyal Athenians moved like a swarm, massing between Helen and the battalion of Hundred Cousins that seemed to materialize out of thin air around Tantalus.

“The House of Thebes goes too far!” hissed a relative of Orion’s who Helen didn’t know.

“Again, Tantalus wants to wipe out every other House, starting with Atreus and Athens,” said another, even more boldly. “And when we are dead, the gods will let him plunder our Houses. Again.”

Helen felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced over to see that her mother was pulling her back in the ranks. It suddenly seemed like the beach was filled with hundreds of men. Where did they all come from? Helen wondered in a daze.

“Get behind them,” Daphne said to Helen in a low voice. A flood of armored Romans seemed to surge forward to stand with the Athenians at Orion’s side. “Back, back!” Daphne growled in Helen’s ear as she hauled her daughter away from the front lines.

In the stampede of armored men, Helen got knocked to the ground. Daphne stood over her daughter, her hands crackling with lightning. The dry, stale smell of burnt ozone wafted all around her, and the acrid glow made the swelling wave of soldiers peel off around them as Daphne helped Helen to her feet.

“Castor!” Daphne cried desperately, searching the throngs of massing soldiers for a familiar face. “Shelter for the Heir of Atreus!”

Helen wrapped her arms around her frantic mother and soared into the air, carrying both of them away from the danger of the trampling army.

“You can carry me?” Daphne asked, stunned. “Ajax couldn’t carry me when he flew.” Daphne smiled, thrilling in the sensation of flight, despite the desperate situation.

“My father could fly?” Helen asked, curious that no one had mentioned this to her before.

“Oh yes, he could fly.”

Daphne’s voice chimed out of tune in Helen’s ear.

“My
father
can fly?” Helen asked again, making them soar higher above the massing armies on the beach.

“Yes,” Daphne repeated distractedly, still laughing at the uplifting sensation of weightlessness that Helen gave her.

Helen cringed at the lie, and Daphne’s smile fell.

“You’re a Falsefinder now, aren’t you?” Daphne asked resignedly, like she knew she’d already lost.

“Yes,” Helen whispered.

The cottony middle of a new cloud misted the cheeks of the embracing mother and daughter. Dappled sunlight made its way through the dense thunderheads that Zeus had conjured, making the dew in Helen’s and Daphne’s identical blonde hair fracture into tiny rainbows. Two pairs of amber eyes locked, but the blue bolt in Helen’s scarred right iris sparkled when she spoke.

“Is Ajax my father?” Helen asked in a dangerous monotone, already knowing the answer—it had been right in front of her for a week now, but she’d only just put the pieces together in her mind.

Ajax looked like Hector—they were the same character in the Fates’ big play, separated by a generation. And Orion had told Helen that the main characters from Troy got replaced with a new baby when they died. Hector had replaced Ajax when Ajax died. But Hector was a year older than Helen, so Ajax had to have been dead for a
year
before Helen was conceived.

“Answer me,” Helen threatened, needing to hear it from Daphne.

“No,” Daphne replied, her voice hollow. “Jerry’s your father.”

Helen wondered if she dropped her mother from this height, would she survive? Daphne looked down, as if she knew what Helen was thinking. Her breathing sped up with panic.

“Is that why you drugged him? To keep him from waking up and telling me the truth?”

“It wouldn’t take you long to figure out that I lied if you talked with him. I knew it wasn’t a permanent solution, but I only needed a couple more days,” Daphne answered unapologetically.

They drifted for a few moments, Daphne’s words running around in Helen’s head like they were too big and too awful to stop and sink in anywhere.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.” Helen’s voice was completely steady.

“Because I didn’t kill Jerry, and I could have,” Daphne replied immediately. “You owe me for that.”

“Why?” Helen’s voice faltered, and they swooped dangerously in the sky. “Why did you lie?”

“Helen . . . we should go down now,” Daphne said anxiously as she clutched Helen closer. “It doesn’t benefit you to kill me. Think clearly.”

“I am thinking clearly. You’ve never done anything but hurt me. Why should I let you live?”

“I sent you Orion.”

“And why did you do that?” Helen asked suspiciously. “I’m sure you had a reason that served your purposes and not mine.”

Daphne opened her mouth to answer and shut it again.

“Did you just remember that you can’t lie to me anymore and decide to hold your tongue?” Helen scoffed.

“That’s right,” Daphne replied, her eyes hard. “And if you really want answers from me you’re going to have to land. If you kill me now, you’ll never know. I’m not going to say another word until you bring me back to Castor’s house.”

“All right,” Helen said, her lips tight with hatred. “But don’t think you’re any safer on the ground than you are up here.”

Helen flew them at an uncomfortably fast pace to the Delos house and felt Daphne squirm in her arms with fear. When they were still twenty feet up, Helen dumped Daphne and let her crash down onto the lawn. As she watched her mother do a shoulder roll to avoid breaking a leg, Helen realized that she’d landed on that same spot the first time Lucas took her flying.

Lucas.
Not
her cousin. Everything they’d gone through together, the way they’d tortured each other and pushed each other away, was based on a lie.

Helen pounded into the grass bare inches away from Daphne, knocking a great ditch into Noel’s backyard and showering Daphne with dirt. Helen had only felt this kind of hatred for one other being, and she’d sent him to Tartarus. While Daphne floundered over the uneven ground, trying to get away from her livid daughter, Helen grabbed her by the back of her jacket and hauled her up like she was handling a doll, and then tossed her onto more even ground.

“Start talking,” Helen ordered as she stalked toward her mother, who was scrambling away from her on hands and knees. “I want to know everything.”

“Helen!” Castor shouted, and a second later he was holding her arms and trying to pull her back. “What happened?” he asked, breathless with the effort to control her.

Helen could easily overpower Castor, but even as she considered doing just that, he spoke into her ear.

“It’s not worth it,” Castor said in sympathetic tone. “Whatever she did to you, it isn’t worth it. That’s what they
want
us to do, Helen. They want us to kill each other off, and then all of their problems are solved. Remember that.”

She did remember. It had happened in several of the lives she could recall. The worst instances burned the brightest.

She remembered when Arthur, the champion of the gods, had fought his nephew Mordred, the champion of Avalon. Two great men mortally wounded each other, and both were killed in one fight. Avalon dissolved into the mists, and Camelot crumbled, snuffing out the two brightest lights in an age of darkness. The only winners of that fight were the gods.

Helen relaxed and nodded to let Castor know she wasn’t going to kill her mother. He released her, and she turned to see Noel had joined her husband.

“What’s going on?” Noel said, looking at the torn-up yard. “Please. Come inside and calm down.”

“She lied. I’m not Ajax’s daughter. I’m Jerry’s,” Helen said in a robotic voice. “Lucas and I aren’t cousins.”

“How?” Noel asked. She and Castor exchanged confused looks. “Lucas heard her say—”

“That we were
all family
,” Helen interrupted, figuring out how Daphne had done it. “That’s what she said, word for word, in front of Lucas. And technically, she’s right. All the gods are related, so we are, too—distantly.” She stopped and swallowed around the choked feeling in her throat. “
I’m
the one who told Lucas I was Ajax’s daughter when he and I were alone, not her.”

Helen paused, remembering how she’d almost given in to Lucas in the greenhouse, right before she’d fed him her mother’s big lie. She remembered how Lucas had kissed her as if he could breathe her in through his skin. How he’d tugged at her clothes as he’d guided her down to the ground so gently. She could still feel him, still see the shape of his big shoulders over her, and she knew that the moment when she pushed him off of her was the moment that had decided her whole life.

Lucas. Her home. The mansion she’d paid for a million times over but hadn’t lived in yet.

She and Lucas were meant to be together. They should have been together that night, but instead, she’d pushed away the biggest blessing of her life because of her mother. Hate hit her like a cramp, and Helen hovered somewhere between sickness and pain.

“I believed it, so Lucas heard the truth, even though it’s a lie.” Helen finished in a low voice, trying to control the almost physical need to punch her mother.

“My father used to do that to me,” Castor admitted, like he understood what Helen was feeling. “He’d make me believe a lie, then send me to tell Tantalus so all my brother would hear was the truth—the truth as I understood it. That’s the only way to sidestep a Falsefinder. Turn the people who trust you the most into patsies.”