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  them as well.

  “Helen, this is my aunt Pandora. Dora, this is . . .” Ariadne

  rapped her fingertips on the bedspread like a drumroll. “The famous

  Helen Hamilton!”

  “Ta-da,” Helen replied weakly. Pandora sat down on the end of

  the bed.

  “Gorge-ous! I can see why she’s got Luke’s panties in a twist,” she

  said with a cheeky grin.

  “No! That’s all done with! We haven’t heard the Furies since we

  woke up on the beach,” Helen said urgently. When Pandora gave

  her a quizzical look, Helen felt like she had to keep going. “I don’t

  want to kill any of you anymore. Just to be clear.”

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  “Well, good, ’cuz I hear you’ve got quite the arsenal,” Pandora

  said as if she was giving a big compliment. Helen had no idea what

  she was talking about so she changed the subject.

  “How is Lucas?” she asked cautiously, still surprised that she

  could say his name without being launched into a fit of anger. Pandora

  and Ariadne glanced at each other.

  “He’ll be okay,” Pandora said firmly. She shook her wrists and

  sent her bangles into a cascade of sparkles and jingles, almost as if

  she believed the cheerful sound would banish all dark thoughts.

  “It was close, but he’s healing,” Ariadne added with an optimistic

  face. Helen couldn’t look at either of them. The tense moment was

  broken by a glugging sound in Helen’s stomach, which lasted for

  an inordinately long time.

  “Well, you’re hungry,” Pandora said drily. “And I think you might

  be able to come downstairs with some help.”

  Helen was outfitted with a long terry-cloth bathrobe, which bore

  the logo of a popular Spanish soccer team, from Ariadne’s closet.

  Then, with a few more jokes about how Helen could use a little fattening

  up, she was carried downstairs by her two new patronesses.

  When they reached the kitchen, they were greeted with a heavenly

  scent blossoming off of the stove, and Helen’s stomach

  growled again. Hector heard the noise and cocked an eyebrow as

  she was deposited gently in a chair at the kitchen table. He said

  something to the woman who was orchestrating dinner, and she

  spun around to look at Helen.

  “I didn’t think you’d be joining us,” the woman said with a

  startled face. “I’m so glad.”

  “Thank you. And thank you again for the stuff you sent my father

  and me,” Helen said. She knew immediately that this was Noel

  Delos, and she could also tell that Noel was a normal woman

  without an ounce of demigod strength. A big, bubbling pot of guilt

  boiled over in Helen’s chest. She had threatened this fragile human

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  in a family of superheroes—threatened her to her son and her

  nephews, no less. Noel smiled knowingly at Helen’s penitent face.

  “You’re very welcome. Now, first things first. How do I contact

  your father to let him know you’re okay?”

  “I’d rather keep my dad out of this,” Helen replied nervously.

  “You’ve been gone all night and all day. Don’t you think he’ll be

  worried?”

  “He’s in Boston for the weekend. He won’t be back until tomorrow

  night.”

  “All right, it’s up to you, but I want you to know I think it would

  be better if you and your father had a long talk about all this,” Noel

  said with piercing eyes. Then she whirled around and got busy with

  dinner. Helen had the feeling that she may have been granted a

  stay of execution, but she wasn’t pardoned yet. “Are you ready to

  eat now?” Noel asked, buzzing around.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry,” Helen replied

  truthfully.

  “It’s the heal,” Noel said, smiling at some internal thought as she

  laid down bread, salt, and oil in front of Helen. She poured a tall

  glass of milk before gesturing impatiently. “Eat. This isn’t the time

  to be shy, Helen. You need it.”

  Helen ripped into the bread like a medieval glutton with low

  blood sugar. Noel smiled again and asked Hector to go get some

  hard cheese out of the fridge. He grudgingly did as he was told. As

  he put the cheese down he made a joke about being scared to get

  his fingers too close to Helen’s mouth.

  “You’re one to talk,” Pandora grumbled. “Just two weeks ago I

  had to count the silverware after every meal to make sure you

  hadn’t swallowed any of it.”

  “You were healing two weeks ago?” Helen asked, and then remembered

  that Hector and Pandora had arrived later than the rest

  of the family.

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  So much had happened in just a few weeks that Helen felt like

  every day had telescoped out into a week in itself. As she marveled

  at how much her life had changed, she noticed that a silence had

  fallen over the kitchen. Apparently, Helen had stumbled on to a

  touchy subject because everyone was exchanging nervous glances

  over her head.

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to intrude,” Helen amended quickly.

  “No, it’s fine. It’s just that Hector’s recent heal is part of

  something much bigger,” Noel said. “Right now, you eat.”

  At first she felt the lingering reticence of a new guest, but as soon

  as the lentil stew was put down in front of her, Helen’s whole being

  was lost in a flavor blur. She was vaguely aware of other people

  pulling up chairs or standing around by the stove while they tasted

  this or that, got themselves a plate, or just hung out to talk, but she

  was far too focused on the ever-changing dishes in front of her to

  pick individuals out of the crowd. Noel kept the food coming. A few

  times, Helen was aware of Cassandra shuttling trays up and down

  the stairs, but it didn’t sink in that those were for Lucas until Helen

  was falling asleep over something sweet and nutty made out of

  dough.

  “Ready for ice cream?” Noel asked her, absentmindedly pushing

  a thick swath of Helen’s long hair behind her shoulder so it didn’t

  fall into her food.

  “I think I’ve gone blind,” Helen replied, unable to chew or swallow

  or see straight anymore.

  “Finally,” Noel sighed as she sank into a chair across the table

  from Helen. She looked as tired as Helen felt. “Jason? Do you think

  you could take her up?”

  “Sure,” Jason replied, and scooped Helen out of her chair. She

  was suddenly very awake.

  “I can walk! Really, you don’t have to carry me,” she said,

  squirming in his arms.

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  “Sure you can. Now hold still or I’ll drop you,” he replied with a

  good-natured smile. She had no choice but to relax and let him

  carry her.

  When they got upstairs, Cassandra came through one of the

  many doors, holding a tray stacked to overflowing with dirty

  dishes, and Helen got a brief glimpse of Lucas lying in bed. She

  tensed and tried to crane her head around Jason’s shoulders to get

  a better look, but Cassandra shut the door.

  “Is he really going to be all right?” Helen asked Jason as he

  brought her into the guest room.

  “Yeah,” Jason said, bu
t he didn’t meet her eyes when he said it.

  He forced an uncomfortable laugh. “Luke’s just milking it to get

  Cass to pamper him. He’ll be fine,” he said. He laid her down and

  turned to go.

  “I’m really sorry,” Helen called out as Jason reached the door. He

  stopped uncertainly and turned to listen as Helen unburdened herself

  with increasing emotion. “I was so scared and I was running

  away into the fog and then I felt really light and really cold. When I

  looked down and realized that I was flying, I fainted. I always knew

  I was strange, that there was something wrong with me, but I

  didn’t know . . .” Helen trailed off. Jason came back to her bedside

  and touched her shoulder.

  “Nobody blames you,” he said, but Helen waved a dismissive

  hand.

  “Yeah, you do. You all do. Because I started this when I attacked

  Lucas in the hallway at school.”

  “You didn’t start this,” Jason replied forcefully. “This war started

  thousands of years ago.” Helen gave him a confused look, but he

  shook his head before she could ask any questions. “Get some

  sleep, and don’t worry about Lucas. Even compared to other Sons

  of Apollo, he’s really tough.” Jason switched off the light on his way

  out, but left the door open a tiny crack in case she needed to call

  out for help in the middle of the night.

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  Helen snuggled into the down comforter and tried to relax, but

  she was jittery with exhaustion and overwhelmed with the strangeness

  of the room and the house. And the flying. She could

  fly—there was no denying it now. She wasn’t just a gifted athlete

  with paranoid notions about possibly being some kind of genetic

  experiment. She could frigging fly, which is aerodynamically impossible

  for a Homo sapiens, so she had to be something else. Something

  other than human.

  The only explanation was what Lucas had said, but that didn’t

  make much sense, either. The Greek gods were myths, anthropomorphic

  manifestations of powerful natural forces, not historical

  figures with actual descendants—or so she’d been taught in eighth

  grade. But now she wasn’t so sure. She thought of how it felt to fly,

  how the air had become solid—a malleable object—and she knew

  that the argument was over in her heart. Somehow, she was a

  demigod, and she was just going to have to accept it.

  In the early morning hours, Helen woke up with a start and

  looked around at the dark, unfamiliar room. She had been dreaming

  about flying, which was great, until she realized she had no

  idea how to land. Her first waking thought was that she would have

  to get Lucas to teach her. Then it occurred to her he might never be

  able to fly again.

  Despite what his family said about him being fine, Helen knew

  she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep without checking for herself.

  She needed to see his face tanned and normal, not white and

  scared as it was when they were in the dry lands together.

  She touched her feet to the floor and tested them, applying more

  pressure until she was sure she could stand, and then made her

  wobbly way down the hall to Lucas’s room. She had never had shin

  splints, had never had any kind of sports injury at all, but as she

  crept along she imagined that what she was feeling had to be similar,

  if not much, much worse. Her muscles wouldn’t stretch as far as

  usual; her joints felt swollen and hot. By the time she silently

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  pushed Lucas’s door open she was covered in a thin, sickly sweat.

  Lying on his back and staring at the moon in the window, Lucas

  spun his head to look at Helen as she appeared in the doorway. A

  moment passed.

  “Hi,” he whispered.

  “Hi,” she whispered back. “May I come in?”

  “Yeah. But quietly.” He gestured to Cassandra asleep on a couch

  on the other side of the room. “She was awake for two days

  straight.”

  Helen made her way into the room, crouching like an old woman

  and wincing at the pressure on her feet. She felt like some ridiculous

  fairytale hag and she started laughing silently at the thought

  of chasing kids off her gingerbread lawn.

  “You shouldn’t have come on your own. You’ve worn yourself

  out,” Lucas admonished her gently.

  “I was fine a second ago, but it was farther than I thought. Your

  house is huge,” Helen whispered, aiming her creaky body at the

  chair next to his bed.

  “You won’t be able to sit up long. Here,” he said as he pulled back

  his covers. “You’d better lie down.”

  Helen looked uncertainly at his bed. She had spent all of last

  night melded to him, but now it was different somehow. If she lay

  down with him it would be a choice. She saw him smirking up at

  her, and realized he thought she was being silly. Which she was,

  because her knees were shaking with the effort to hold her up. She

  tried to sit down as carefully as she could so as not to disturb him,

  but at the last moment her legs gave out and she pretty much

  flopped into bed with him.

  “Sorry,” she whispered as she gathered the covers over them.

  “It’s okay. Careful of your toes—my legs are splinted,” he warned

  her. Helen peeked under the covers and saw that his lower body

  was wrapped in soft casts. “See? You’re completely safe with me.”

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  He grinned at her in the dark and she grinned back, until the reason

  for her draining trek came back to her. Her smile faded.

  “How bad is it? Can you even tell right now?” she asked him seriously.

  She propped herself up on an elbow so she could look directly

  into his face and scan him for any well-intentioned lies. Even

  in the low moonlight dribbling through the casement she could see

  the intense jewel blue of his eyes.

  “I’ll mend,” he said so softly his lips hardly moved.

  “Completely? Will you still . . . you know . . . walk and run and . . .

  fly and all that?”

  “Yeah,” he whispered before she had even finished talking. “Good

  as new in another day.”

  It occurred to Helen that all she had to do was lean down and she

  would be kissing him. It seemed like such a natural thing to do—as

  if she should be kissing him—that she was halfway to his mouth

  before she stopped herself and pulled back, stunned by her lack of

  self-control. She saw him swallow hard.

  “Lie back, Helen,” he told her, which she immediately did to hide

  her confusion.

  For a few minutes they were both breathing a lot faster than they

  should have been, but after a while, Lucas relaxed enough to take

  her hand and hold it under the covers. She watched his chest go up

  and down in a way that was familiar to her now, and smiled herself

  to sleep.

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  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  .....................................................................

  Chapter Seven

  “Because I didn’t want to wake up Lucas!” a frustrated

  voice hissed.

 
Helen had no idea how Ariadne had made it to the

  tea table at the top of the Golden Gate Bridge. Ariadne

  couldn’t fly.

  “Why are you fighting me on this?” Cassandra pleaded quietly.

  Hmm. Helen couldn’t be on top of the Golden Gate Bridge so she

  must be in bed, but she couldn’t figure out what Cassandra was doing

  in bed with her. If she could only open her eyes and see.

  “I don’t doubt you. But what can we do?” asked Noel.

  “We should leave. Now. Pack up the house and go back to

  Europe.”

  “You’re overreacting,” huffed Ariadne, not even bothering to

  whisper.

  “Two nights in a row, Ari. They ate the same food. Shared a roof

  and a bed, and now they have witnesses!” Cassandra said just as

  loud.

  “But they haven’t done the most important thing!” Ariadne

  shouted back.

  “Girls!”

  Even though she was still so tired she felt glued to the mattress,

  the yelling made Helen’s eyes open. She saw Ariadne, Cassandra,

  and Noel standing over her bed. Correction, they were standing

  over Lucas’s bed and Helen was in it. Her eyes snapped open and

  her head whipped around to look at Lucas. He was frowning himself

  awake and starting to make some gravelly noise in the back of

  his throat.

  “Go argue someplace else,” he groaned as he rolled over onto

  Helen. He tucked himself up against her, awkwardly fighting the

  drag of the casts on his legs as he tried to bury his face in Helen’s

  neck. She nudged him and looked up at Noel, Ariadne, and a furious

  Cassandra.

  “I came to see how he was and then I couldn’t get back to my

  bed,” Helen tried to explain, absolutely mortified.

  She gasped involuntarily as one of Lucas’s hands ran up the

  length of her thigh and latched on to the sloping dip from her hip

  to her waist. Then she felt him tense, as if he’d just realized that

  pillows weren’t shaped like hourglasses. His head jerked up and he

  looked around, alert for a fight.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said to Helen as he remembered. His eyes relaxed

  back into a sleepy daze. He smiled up at his family and stretched

  until he winced, then rubbed at his sore chest, no longer in a good

  mood. “Little privacy?” he asked.

  His mother, sister, and cousin all either crossed their arms or put

  their hands on their hips. Humiliated, Helen tried to untangle herself

  from the sheets and roll out of bed without attracting too much