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  attention. Cassandra spun on her heel and stomped out of the

  room.

  “Ari, help Helen,” Noel said gently as she saw Helen’s difficulty.

  Then she turned and bellowed angrily down the hall. “Hector! Get

  in here and help your cousin!”

  “I’m okay,” Helen protested as she stood up on tender legs, only

  using Ariadne’s helping hand to maintain her balance. She realized

  she was wearing that ridiculous scrap of silk Ariadne had the nerve

  to call a nightgown, although that detail had escaped her notice the

  night before when she decided to take her little stroll.

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  “Whoa! That’s . . . interesting,” said Hector as he arrived and saw

  Helen.

  “What’s interesting?” Jason asked as he passed in the hallway.

  He poked his head in the door and saw what his brother was looking

  at. “Aw, damn!”

  They both stared at Helen, half naked and totally busted as she

  got out of Lucas’s bed. Then they looked at each other, threw back

  their heads in unison and laughed.

  “Okay, okay. Enough,” Lucas said defensively. “She was worried

  and came to check on me, but by the time she made it here she was

  practically falling over. I didn’t want to wake Cassandra to carry

  her back to the guest room, so I had her lay down with me. Obviously,

  we just slept. Now, can everyone but Hector or Jase get out

  of my room, please? That includes you, Mom. I need a shower.”

  Helen made it back to the guest room without accepting any

  more help than she had to. She was so embarrassed all she wanted

  to do was run screaming out of the house, and to do that she was

  going to have to prove she was healthy.

  “No thanks, I got it now,” she said to Ariadne when asked if she

  needed help bathing.

  “Okay. Just shout if you need me,” Ariadne replied with narrowed

  eyes.

  Twice Helen had to sit down on the shower floor to rest, but she

  eventually managed to clean all the itchy sand out of her hair and

  towel off without calling for Ariadne. It took her ten minutes to

  struggle into her own freshly laundered clothes alone, but it was

  worth it. All she wanted do was say thank you and slip out without

  drawing too much attention to herself.

  When she got downstairs the whole family was in the kitchen, including

  Lucas. His face lit up like Vegas when he saw her. She

  automatically went straight to him and sat down, her hopes of a

  quiet escape ruined by what felt like a knee-jerk reaction. She

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  hadn’t intended to stay for breakfast, but it was almost as if she

  needed to be near him.

  “We were just about to send someone up to make sure you hadn’t

  washed down the drain,” joked Noel.

  “Helen’s modest. She wanted to dress herself,” Ariadne said,

  drizzling honey over a bowl of oatmeal and putting it down in front

  of Helen.

  “Modest? Sure she is,” Hector said sarcastically as he passed Lucas

  the bacon.

  “That was your sister’s nightgown, wasn’t it?” Lucas asked

  without skipping a beat as he served Helen and himself. Hector

  wisely shut his mouth.

  “Yeah,” Ariadne replied for him, not getting it. “So comfortable!

  What? What are you all laughing at?”

  “Nothing, Ari. Just drop it,” Jason said in a pained voice, a hand

  over his eyes. Everyone was cracking up, including Castor and

  Noel.

  Helen was torn. She didn’t want to laugh at the joke because it

  was partly on her, but she couldn’t entirely stop herself. She stifled

  a giggle and looked down at her full plate. It was the kind of breakfast

  that was almost always followed by a nap, and Helen was dying

  to go somewhere and hide. She thought about skipping it so she

  could get away sooner.

  “I know you’re hungry,” Lucas said so quietly that Helen alone

  could hear him. “What’s the matter?”

  “I feel like I should go home. I’ve imposed long enough. . . .” She

  trailed off as Lucas started shaking his head.

  “That’s not the reason,” he said positively. “What is it?”

  “I feel like a jackass! Waking up practically naked in your bed

  with half your family standing over us? Not okay,” she said through

  clenched teeth as a hot blush burned her cheeks. He smiled slowly

  as he watched her cheeks stain red.

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  “If that hadn’t happened, would you want to stay?” he asked, suddenly

  serious, his eyes focused on hers. She looked down and nodded,

  still blushing. “Why?” he persisted.

  “For one thing, I have questions,” she said, hazarding a glance up

  at him. He was staring at her with an unreadable look on his face.

  “Is that the only thing?” he whispered.

  “Enough chat, you two. You both need to eat,” Noel called across

  the table, making Helen jump, which in turn made Lucas chuckle.

  She and Lucas dug in with all the ferocity of two people who were

  literally rebuilding their bodies cell by cell. When Helen finally

  looked up after a solid hour of determined chewing, everyone else

  was done eating but still sitting around drinking coffee and passing

  around sections of the paper. It was as if they always spent half of

  Sunday sharing an enormous brunch, then the other half hanging

  out around the kitchen waiting for dinner to start. Lost in the

  shuffle, Helen was surprised to find herself having a good time.

  Lucas was still bent over his plate, so Helen took the sports section

  when Hector put it down, and read up on her beloved Red

  Sox, who were battling their way through September. She must

  have been muttering to herself out loud because when she finally

  put down the stats sheet she had the attention of all the men at the

  table.

  “‘Pitching wins pennants,’ huh?” Castor asked with a delighted

  smile.

  “‘We’ve got too many injuries and no closer,’ do we?” Jason repeated

  back to Helen, then looked at Lucas. “Okay, you win,” he

  said cryptically.

  “Thank you,” Lucas said through a shaky grin. He leaned back

  and closed his eyes, and Helen saw a sweat break out on his forehead.

  She touched his head to see if he had a fever, but Jason was

  already standing up.

  “I got him, Helen,” he said as he came around the table. Jason

  went to pick Lucas up, but Lucas wouldn’t let him. Instead, he

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  threw his arm over his cousin’s shoulder and allowed Jason to prop

  him up.

  “Just to the stairs, okay?” Lucas asked, and Jason nodded back,

  the bond between them so strong they didn’t seem to need words

  to communicate. Helen saw Noel throw up her hands in frustrated

  helplessness.

  “Let him find his own pace,” Castor said gently to his wife. She

  nodded, like it was something they had been over a million times.

  Then she turned her attention back to the brunch leftovers.

  “Hector! It’s your turn to clear the table!”

  Helen noticed Noel had a tendency to parse out her anger as judiciously

  as she possibly could. She needed a good yell, but she

/>   couldn’t scream at Lucas because he was hurt, and she couldn’t yell

  at Jason because he was helping Lucas, so she picked the next boy

  she could find. It was the same thing Noel had done when Helen

  was just waking up, speaking softly to Helen and then yelling for

  Hector. Poor Hector seemed to get the brunt of her frustration, and

  from the way he slunk into the kitchen shaking his head, Helen

  had the feeling he’d been Noel’s favorite whipping boy since Lucas

  got hurt. For a moment she almost felt bad for him, but when she

  saw the way Noel stared worriedly after Lucas as he winced his way

  out of the kitchen, she couldn’t blame her.

  Lucas paused before he left the room.

  “Dad?” he called back without fully turning around. “Helen has

  questions.”

  Still seated at the head of the table, Castor nodded, deep in

  thought for a moment, and then stood up. “I thought she might,”

  he said, smiling kindly at Helen. “Would you like to join me in my

  study?”

  Castor took her to a quiet end of the sprawling house and into a

  half-unpacked study with a spectacular view of the ocean. Leather

  chairs and boxes of books in a dozen different languages fought for

  floor space with rolled-up carpets and un-hung paintings. Two

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  large desks stood on opposite sides of the room. The tops of each

  were already covered in various papers, envelopes, and parcels.

  Along the back wall was a row of French doors that opened up to

  a patio bordering the beach. In front of the doors were two sofas

  and a big armchair, all three set up facing each other.

  Cassandra sat in the oversized armchair reading a book, which

  she put aside when Helen and Castor entered. Helen expected her

  to leave, or at least be asked to leave, but after a few moments it

  was clear that Cassandra had been waiting here for Helen and

  Castor to come to her and have this conversation. How Cassandra

  knew there would be a conversation at all was beyond Helen, but

  Castor didn’t seem surprised.

  Castor offered Helen a seat on one sofa and then sat down on the

  other. He glanced at Cassandra, dwarfed by her giant chair, and

  then began.

  “How much do you know about Greek mythology?” he asked.

  “You mean, like the Trojan War? Homer and all that?” she asked

  in return. When Castor nodded, she shrugged. “I know bits of it. I

  was supposed to read the Iliad but there was this chemistry exam

  . . .” Her excuses were interrupted by Cassandra passing Helen

  the book she was reading. It was an anthology containing both the

  Iliad and the Odyssey.

  “Keep it. We’ve got plenty of extras,” she said with a wry smile.

  It was the first attempt at a joke Helen had ever seen Cassandra

  make, so she forced a smile in response.

  “I’m pretty sure my son has already told you that we are descendants

  of what are known as the Greek gods,” Castor began. When

  Helen grimaced uncomfortably, he nodded with good humor. “I

  imagine it’s hard to grasp, but you have to understand that Homer

  was a historian, and the Iliad and the Odyssey were accounts of a

  real war that took place thousands of years ago. Most of the ancient

  myths and great dramas are based on real people. Hercules

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  and Perseus, Oedipus and Medea. They all existed, and we are

  their descendents. Their Scions.”

  “Okay,” Helen said, hearing how frustrated her laugh sounded.

  “Say I believe you, and all this did happen. Gods had babies with

  humans? Fine. But wouldn’t all that magic, or the god-ness or

  whatever, been bred out of us by now? That was a really long time

  ago.”

  “The gifts don’t dilute,” Cassandra responded. “Some Scions are

  stronger than others, and some have a broader range of powers,

  but the strength of those powers isn’t dependent on how strong

  their parents were.”

  Castor nodded and took over to clarify.

  “For example, my wife is entirely mortal, but both of our children

  are stronger than I am. And I am very strong,” he said without

  boasting. “We think it has something to do with the fact that the

  gods are immortal. They never fade, so neither do the talents

  they’ve given us, no matter how many generations pass. In fact—”

  he started, but broke off, looking at Cassandra.

  “We are getting stronger, and each successive generation of

  Scions are being gifted with more and more talents than their parents

  were. But there is still some argument as to why this is so,”

  Cassandra finished.

  “Okay,” Helen said mostly to herself. “I knew I had to be

  something not entirely human, but can I ask another question?

  What are the Furies? And why aren’t they bothering us anymore?”

  This question earned a long pause. Cassandra and Castor made

  eye contact as if they were trying to read each other’s minds before

  Cassandra began to speak.

  “We aren’t completely sure why they went away. In the past,

  there have been rumors about pairs of Scions, usually a man and a

  woman, who have found a way to be together and not see the Furies,

  but it’s never been proven. As far as we know for sure, you and

  Lucas are the first to manage it. I think it might have something to

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  do with saving a life. I think somehow you managed to save each

  other, and this freed you from the cycle of vengeance, but I can’t be

  certain about that,” she said.

  Helen had a fleeting thought about Lucas in the dry lands—blind

  and lost and unable to get off his knees. She pushed the horrible

  image aside.

  “Vengeance?” Helen questioned. Castor saw her confusion.

  “The Trojan War was very long with many casualties. It was the

  worst the world had ever seen at that point. A blood feud started. It

  began as a punishment for one single family who returned from

  the war, but as the years passed it spread to all of the Four Great

  Houses and set them against one another.”

  “‘Houses’ are what we call the four different bloodlines of

  Scions,” Cassandra interjected when she saw Helen frown at the

  term. “They were royalty in ancient Greece.”

  “The Furies are our curse, our punishment,” Castor said quietly.

  “They compel members of opposing Houses to kill each other to

  pay a blood debt we owe our ancestors. It’s a vicious cycle. Blood

  for blood for more blood,” Cassandra whispered, and Helen

  shivered at the empty gleam in her eyes.

  “I know that part. Orestes had to kill his mother because she

  killed his father because he killed their daughter,” Helen said. “But

  I read those plays and they had happy endings. Apollo talked the

  Furies into forgiving Orestes.”

  “That part was pure fiction,” Castor said, shaking his head. “The

  Furies never forgive, and they never forget.”

  “So basically, our families have been murdering each other since

  the Trojan War?” Helen asked. “There can’t be many of us left.”

  “There aren’t. The House that our family belongs to is called the

  House o
f Thebes. It was thought to be the only House left—until

  the Furies led us to you, of course,” Castor responded.

  “What House am I from?”

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  “We won’t know that until we know who your mother was,” Cassandra

  said.

  “Her name was Beth Smith,” Helen said, hoping Lucas was

  wrong and that his father would remember her somehow. But

  Castor shook his head kindly.

  “Whoever she was, she obviously told you and your father a fake

  name to protect you. You certainly look like someone I used to

  know, but Scions don’t always hand down physical traits the same

  way mortals do,” Castor spoke haltingly as he shifted in his chair.

  “For instance, Lucas looks nothing like me—he doesn’t even look

  like a typical Son of Apollo, like my brother or me. We Scions are

  half human, half archetype, and every now and again the way one

  of us looks has more to do with the historical figure the Fates

  destined that Scion to model his or her life after than who the parents

  were.”

  “So who do I look like? ” Helen asked.

  “We don’t want to jump to conclusions. Maybe you have some

  pictures, or some video of your mother? Then we might be able to

  confirm who she was,” Castor said eagerly, like they were close to

  figuring out a huge puzzle that had been troubling them.

  “I have nothing. No pictures,” Helen replied in a flat voice. Cassandra

  exhaled sharply and nodded her head at some internal

  thought.

  “To protect you, probably. If she severed all ties with you and

  made sure you grew up on a small island with a limited group of

  friends it was less likely that a rival House would discover you,”

  Cassandra observed as if she was a detective gathering together all

  the clues.

  “Apparently, that didn’t work,” Helen scoffed.

  “It did for a long while, but the Furies would not allow it forever,”

  Castor said quietly.

  Helen ran the charm of her necklace along its chain, and held it

  out for Castor and Cassandra to look at. “This is all I got from her.

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  A piece of jewelry. Does it mean anything to you?” she asked

  intensely.

  A part of her had always hoped that her necklace was important—

  that maybe someday it would answer all her questions. In her

  wildest daydreams she imagined it being the talisman that would

  someday guide her to her mother. Cassandra and Castor studied