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  you understand him a little better if you can flip it, and try to see

  that your arrival in our lives is just as big a bombshell for us as it is

  for you. Do you know about the way our looks are handed down?”

  Helen felt her face twitch in confusion at what seemed like a one

  eighty in the conversation.

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  “Sort of,” she said. “Castor said something about archetypes, and

  then Cassandra said that we all look like the people who fought in

  the Trojan War, or something.”

  “So we’ve all got these recycled faces, right? And we don’t always

  look like our parents, or even Scions from our own Houses, but

  rather like the people from history that we are supposed to

  reincarnate.”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  “And since Scions usually tend to fall madly in love with one person

  they are ‘destined’ to be with, and then they go and have about

  a billion kids really young, the older generation sometimes has the

  dubious honor of seeing the faces of people they once knew—and

  here’s the real bitch—the faces of people they once fought against,

  in the younger generation. Sometimes, even in their own children

  or in someone who their children love.”

  “Oh. That doesn’t sound good,” Helen said, a strange dread growing

  in her. “Pallas hated me the first time he saw me. So who do I

  look like?”

  Pandora sighed. The spangles on her wrist shook as she took

  Helen’s hand.

  “This totally sucks,” she said apologetically. “But you look exactly

  like Daphne Atreus—the woman who killed our brother Ajax

  twenty-one years ago.”

  Helen noticed that Pandora stumbled over his name. For a moment,

  Helen thought the usually happy Pandora would cry.

  “But I didn’t do it! I didn’t kill your brother,” Helen said, shaken

  to a whisper by the depth of emotion she was seeing. Hearing

  Helen’s urgency, Pandora snapped out of her sad thoughts and

  squeezed Helen’s hand.

  “I know that!” she exclaimed kindly. “It’s insane to blame you,

  and most of us don’t. I certainly don’t. We have no way of knowing

  if you’re even from her House.”

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  “But Pallas does,” Helen said, finally getting Pallas’s instant dislike

  of her. Pandora nodded reluctantly.

  “When we lost Ajax it’s like we lost the best of us,” Pandora said,

  her eyes downcast and her lower lip momentarily catching between

  her teeth. “Ajax was . . . the best. You should have seen him. Actually,

  you can see him.”

  Pandora shook her right wrist out from under the piles of

  bangles. At the very bottom, clipped tightly to her skin, was a cuff.

  Pandora opened the oval face to reveal that the cuff was actually a

  wrist-locket, something Helen had never seen before. Inside was a

  picture of what Helen first thought was Hector, tickling the daylights

  out of a little girl with short dark hair.

  “My brother Ajax,” Pandora said wistfully. “He always had time

  for me, which is a big deal when you’re in a family as large as ours.

  It’s easy to get lost in the shuffle, especially when you’re the littlest.

  I used to follow him around everywhere he went, begging him to

  give me jobs to do. He started calling me ‘Squire’ and I loved it.”

  Helen looked at the joyful little girl squirming under the giant

  hand of her big brother, and then up at Pandora’s glistening eyes.

  “Even just looking at this picture I can tell he loved you very

  much.”

  “He did, and I loved him. I used to pretend he was a glorious

  knight and I was his only trusted sidekick, and he played along. He

  was so patient. He used to send me on dangerous quests to find his

  car keys or summon the elevator. I was seven when he died. I

  wasn’t supposed to be following him that night, but I was. I was

  there when he was murdered.”

  Helen was about to speak, to say something comforting if she

  could, but Pandora changed abruptly, and continued. “He was like

  Apollo himself,” she said with a bright, although slightly forced,

  smile. “Like Hector in a lot of ways . . . only sweet, and not a cranky

  wiseass. Don’t get me wrong, I love my nephew, but damn! He can

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  be a such a grouch.” They both broke into a much-needed laugh at

  Hector’s expense.

  “I wish I’d met him. Your brother, I mean,” Helen said, and was

  surprised to realize that she meant it. Ajax must have been truly

  special to inspire such enduring love in his younger sister.

  “In a lot of ways none of us have gotten over losing him,” Pandora

  said, shrugging as though she had run out of explanations for

  Helen. “But my brother Pallas is the only one who can’t look at you

  and accept that you’re a different person, even though he knows

  it’s got nothing to do with you.”

  “I get it,” Helen conceded. “It’s not fair, and I still think he’s

  mean, but I get why Pallas hates me.”

  “Don’t worry, eventually he’ll get over it. Deep down he knows

  you didn’t choose your face. The Fates did,” she said. She gave

  Helen a cheeky smile. “And damn, girl! But you got a nice one!”

  “So did you!” Helen insisted, and she meant the compliment she

  gave.

  “Whatever,” Pandora said, rolling her eyes and shaking her tinkling

  wrists. “I’m probably one in a hundred who gets some stupid

  handmaiden’s face, or a vestal virgin’s from Troy, considering my

  luck with men!”

  Even while she laughed, Helen couldn’t quite shake a strange

  doubt. Finally, she gave into it and asked, “So who from Troy do I

  look like?”

  “Hell, no!” Pandora said, standing up. “I promised—we all did.

  You need to talk to Lucas about that one, Helen. Sorry, but I’ve

  already given you enough to think about for one night.”

  And with a considerable amount of jangling and sparkling, Pandora

  announced that she needed a glass of wine and disappeared

  in the mix of her family. Helen grimaced after her. She knew that

  Pandora had really opened up and entrusted her with an emotionally

  dense bit of information, but Helen still felt dissatisfied. She

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  wanted to know what role the Fates intended for her to play. She

  was going to ask Lucas the second she got him alone.

  She looked over at him. All night she had felt him watching her,

  and the weight of his eyes had been like an encouraging hand on

  the small of her back. She didn’t have to slouch or pretend to be

  weak or less of a geek than she was. She simply fit in. She realized

  that this new ease with herself was partly due to the fact that for

  the first time in her life she was around people who were just as

  odd as she was . . . but it was mostly because of Lucas. He never

  stood next to her, but she could feel they were still tied to each other

  by the trust they had built during their flight. His gaze had such

  a positive impact on her that she felt unbalanced as soon as his

  eyes abandoned her. She looked around to see what had caught his

  attention and spotted him talking p
rivately with Pallas.

  Helen did not approve of using Scion hearing to violate another

  person’s privacy—she and Hector had already had an argument

  about just that when she accused him of eavesdropping on her and

  Jerry from the widow’s walk, but now she couldn’t seem to stop

  herself. When she heard Pallas say her name, she had to know

  what they were saying about her.

  “I’m not going to lie to you. Helen caught my eye,” Lucas was saying

  in a low voice. “But nothing’s going on.”

  “So everyone keeps telling me,” Pallas replied. Helen saw him rub

  his lower lip in thought before continuing. “I’m not so worried

  about that right now, but what I am worried about is a month or

  two down the road when the two of you are flying off every direction

  together. Alone. It can’t happen, Luke.”

  “It won’t,” Lucas replied coldly. “I’m teaching her to fly and I’m

  making sure she doesn’t get killed, but there’s no way I’d ever

  touch her. Give me some credit.”

  They continued talking, but Helen had stopped listening. She felt

  sick. Stumbling in her borrowed shoes, she went over to her dad.

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  She stood right next to him as he talked to Pandora, and stared at

  his profile until he took the hint and looked at her.

  “What’s the matter with you?” he asked sarcastically at first, until

  he took a good look at her and became concerned. “You okay,

  Len?”

  “Can we go? I have so much stuff to do. Homework and chores.

  And I’m so tired,” she said, making up random excuses until he responded.

  She was causing a bit of a scene, which she hated, but she

  simply couldn’t stand there and suck it up for one second longer.

  Jerry glanced down at his watch. “Sure, yeah. I guess it’s getting

  kind of late. Was that supposed to be my line?” he asked with a

  guilty grimace.

  “No, you’re good. It’s still early. I’m just . . . I’ve got stuff,” Helen

  said before she launched immediately into the thank you, goodbye,

  and see-you-tomorrow crap that she wished she could just

  skip.

  Ariadne shot Helen a worried look, but Helen didn’t care about

  anything anymore, not anyone’s feelings or whether or not they all

  thought she was rude or crazy or both. None of it mattered. She

  just needed to get out of that house before she saw Lucas again or

  she was going to lose her mind. It was rude and awkward, but

  Helen managed to drag her dad out the front door before Lucas

  and Pallas had even looked up from their conversation in the

  corner.

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  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  Chapter Eleven

  Helen rode her bike to school the next morning, giving

  her dad instructions to tell Lucas that she had a few

  things to do before homeroom. Jerry was a little put

  out that Helen refused to call Lucas to explain it herself,

  but she honestly couldn’t make herself listen to his

  voice.

  “Did something happen at dinner last night?” Jerry asked. She

  ran out the door and pedaled off before he could get a straight answer

  out of her.

  The cool autumn wind felt good on her face, which was puffy

  from staying awake half the night with her eyes leaking. She hadn’t

  really cried, and never got that explosive release that comes from a

  good old fashioned weep-a-thon. Lying there, she’d been too

  shocked to sob. She felt like an idiot. She knew there had to be

  worse things in the world than being dissed by the boy of your

  dreams, but at that moment, she couldn’t think of any of them.

  Kate, Claire, even her dad had asked her repeatedly what was going

  on between her and Lucas, like it was expected that the two of

  them would get together eventually, but no one had ever asked Lucas

  what he thought about being paired off with Helen. Now Helen

  knew for a fact that he “would never touch her.” Those words kept

  coming back to her, not just the words, but how passionately he

  had said them. The way he had spoken about her made it seem as if

  the very thought of kissing her was disgusting to him, and Helen

  was just as confused by this as she was hurt. How could he want to

  hold her hand all the time if he thought she was repulsive?

  Helen got to school, locked up her bike, and took an alternate

  route to her locker. It was longer, but she knew it would be Delosfree,

  and therefore worth all the extra steps. She had left her house

  so early that even with the longer walk she beat everyone to

  homeroom.

  When Claire arrived, she noticed immediately how awful Helen

  looked. Like the good friend she was, she forgot all about the argument

  they were supposed to be having, asking Helen a dozen questions

  about her red face and ratty hair before she had even put

  down her book bag. Helen lied as best she could, but so halfheartedly

  she never would have gotten away with it if Matt didn’t

  back her up by explaining how sick Helen had been the day before.

  It didn’t help that Zach kept making scoffing noises as Helen tried

  to put Claire off. Helen ignored him, as she usually did, but she

  could still feel him watching her with a sneer plastered on his face.

  Helen kept her head down all day and did her work. She found

  now that she simply didn’t care anymore if she did well in class,

  drew attention to herself, and potentially got the cramps. As she

  walked to lunch she considered faking the stomach pain if it could

  get her farther away from Lucas. She didn’t want to go into the

  cafeteria and face everyone, but she still had to go somewhere, and

  the auditorium door was right next to her. It had been left ajar, so

  Helen pushed it open and went in. Helen knew whe wasn’t allowed

  in there. Any room that was unsupervised by a teacher was off-limits

  to students, but that didn’t stop her. She really didn’t care if she

  got caught—she just needed a moment alone.

  There was only a dim light onstage, and it was very quiet, exactly

  what Helen was looking for. She sat down on the apron of the stage

  and unpacked her lunch box. Chewing, Helen glanced around, taking

  note of all the new sets that were just beginning to be built. The

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  drama club put on two shows a year—a winter play and a spring

  musical.

  She wondered what play the drama club was going to put on, and

  saw a spare script lying in the wings. A Midsummer’s Night’s

  Dream. Helen opened to the first page and read, “SCENE 1. ATHENS. THE

  PALACE OF THESEUS.” She rolled her eyes and dropped the script, feeling

  set up. Maybe the Fates really did pull all the strings.

  Helen zombied her way through the last three periods, but her

  luck couldn’t hold out all day. When the bell signaling the end of

  school rang, she rushed to her locker to get to track as quickly as

  she could, but Lucas was anticipating her.

  “Hey!” he shouted from halfway down the hall. He looked big and

  dangerous
as he walked toward her, every step sending underclassmen

  scurrying to get out of his way. “Where have you been all

  day?”

  “Busy. I can’t be late for track again,” she replied tersely, not

  looking at him as she dug her stuff out of her locker.

  “I’ll walk you,” he said. He tried to get a look at her face.

  She kept her head down and her face covered with her hair and

  didn’t reply. They walked down the hall next to each other at the

  same pace, but today Helen felt even more lonely with Lucas beside

  her than she had when she was by herself.

  “Why didn’t you call me this morning? I could have picked you

  up earlier if you needed to stop somewhere,” he said when the silence

  became intolerable.

  “Look, Lucas. The whole ride to school thing is sweet, but I think

  it’s easier for me to just take my bike. So maybe we should just forget

  it.”

  “You don’t want me to pick you up anymore?” he asked in a cold

  voice.

  “No, I don’t,” she said. They neared the end of the hallway that

  led down to the locker rooms. She finally turned to look at him,

  which she shouldn’t have. He looked hurt.

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  “Okay,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Are you going to tell me

  what I did wrong or am I supposed to guess?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Helen answered listlessly. He

  looked at her, waiting to feel the lie, but there wasn’t one. The light

  scattered momentarily around his face, hiding his expression.

  “You’ll be able to get yourself to my house after track?” he asked

  as he glanced around, so confused he didn’t know where to look or

  what to say.

  “About that,” Helen started, trying to think up a believable

  excuse.

  “You’re coming. We still haven’t found those two women and

  now Creon is out there. Learning to defend yourself is more important

  than what I did or didn’t do to piss you off,” he said, suddenly

  angry.

  She nodded, knowing it was stupid of her to even suggest giving

  up her training. She could barely see him through the confusing

  images he was creating as he bent the light around him. It was as if

  there were three of him for a moment, whirling around like she

  was looking at him through a kaleidoscope. She kept her head

  down and her eyes behind her hair until his image stilled and she

  could look at him without getting dizzy.