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      “No. I would bet anything she still has her soul,” Castor said,

      shaking his head.

      213/395

      “And how would she have gotten to the River Styx? There hasn’t

      been a Descender in millennia,” Cassandra added doubtfully.

      Descender? Helen wondered.

      “What about something more basic, like a gun?” Jason asked. He

      was still trying to wrap his head around Helen’s unbelievable

      talent.

      “Since when were bullets ever fast enough to hit a Scion? That’s

      why we still use swords, dummy,” Ariadne said with a smirk.

      “We’re the only things that can move fast enough to kill us.”

      “Yeah, but what if we had her just stand there and take a few bullets?

      Technically, we can be killed by them, if we’re hit enough

      times,” he said logically.

      “It doesn’t matter how many times she gets shot. You could drop

      a bomb on her and she’d be fine, that’s what I’m trying to tell you,”

      Cassandra said with tired frustration.

      “There has to be a reason behind it. It isn’t a talent, so she must

      have some form of protection we don’t know about. I’ll start doing

      some research and put together a list of possibilities,” Pallas interjected,

      still staring at Helen.

      “I’ll help you, Dad,” Hector said from the doorway. He limped into

      the kitchen, his hair damp from a shower. “I’m dying to know

      how Sparky here does her little impervious trick.”

      “I tried to get him to lie down, but he wouldn’t listen,” Pandora

      complained from the hallway behind him. Hector walked straight

      over to Lucas.

      “How are you feeling?” Lucas asked guiltily.

      Hector clasped hands with him. “It’s okay, brother. I would have

      done the same thing if I were you,” he said. Then he flashed one of

      his mischievous smiles. “Only I would have hit you harder.”

      They hugged each other, and just like that the whole confrontation

      was forgotten. Ariadne started to ask Pandora a question, but

      Helen couldn’t hold her tongue for a second longer.

      214/395

      “Will someone please tell me why you all call me ‘Sparky’?” she

      burst out in frustration. “And if I get stabbed one more time tonight

      I’m going to lose it!” she added, rounding on Jason who was

      sneaking up behind her holding a stapler.

      “You haven’t told her yet?” Cassandra said to Lucas with disbelief.

      “You should have done it days ago.”

      “I was going to tell her today, but I never got the chance,” he

      replied, looking at the floor.

      Helen thought about how he had hunted her down in the hallway

      after school, like he had something urgent to say, and how she had

      told him she didn’t want to see him. But that was his fault, she reminded

      herself. He was the one who was forcing himself to teach

      her how to fight and fly, right?

      “Well, tell me now, then,” she said briskly. Lucas looked up at her

      sharply. His eyes were angry.

      “You can generate lightning. Electricity. I don’t know how strong

      a charge you can create, but from what I’ve felt, and what Hector

      felt in the grocery store, I’m thinking it’s big.”

      “Lightning?” Helen said with disbelief.

      She remembered Hector convulsing when he first touched her in

      the grocery store, and then she remembered Lucas letting go of her

      so abruptly in the hallway the very first time she had seen him. She

      had been so afraid of them both, so desperate to defend herself

      . . . . Was it possible she had summoned a power she had never

      been aware of? Had she created lightning?

      Somewhere in the back of her mind she saw a blue flash, and

      Kate crumple to the ground. A terrible thought occurred to her.

      She tried to banish it as she had done since childhood, but this

      time the thought wouldn’t go away.

      “We think that means you are descended from Zeus,” Cassandra

      said. “But from which House is still uncertain. Three of the Four

      Houses were founded by either Zeus or his god-children,

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      Aphrodite and Apollo. Only the fourth House, the House of Athens,

      was founded by Poseidon, so it can be ruled out. Well, maybe.”

      “My House?” Helen said, still so wrapped up in her own head

      that she was having a hard time understanding English. She was

      remembering a blue flash from her past, and a scary man that kept

      trying to touch her hair, flying away from her off the back of the

      Nantucket ferry. The smell of burning filled her throat. Helen

      rubbed her hand over her face and tried to rebury that memory.

      She had always believed that she couldn’t have been the cause of

      that. And worse—had she hurt Kate, too?

      “When we say your House, we mean your heritage, Helen,”

      Castor said gently, noticing Helen’s disquiet. “Zeus had a lot of

      children—including our father, Apollo—so your House can’t be

      pinpointed with any certainty yet. But don’t worry, we’re still trying

      to find out who your people were.”

      “Thanks,” Helen muttered, still overwhelmed.

      “You can’t control the lightning yet, it sort of jumps out of you

      when you’re upset,” Lucas said after a long pause. He was looking

      at her strangely.

      “Is it like a Taser?” Helen asked anxiously, suddenly snapping

      out of her trance.

      “Yeah,” Hector said as if he was recollecting both sensations and

      comparing them in his mind. “But stronger.”

      “Does it really hurt?” Helen said quietly. She felt sick to her

      stomach.

      “I guess,” Hector said with a condescending shrug. “You know, if

      you put in some real training, you could probably generate a lethal

      charge soon.”

      “That won’t be necessary,” Helen said, jumping to her feet, horrified

      with the suggestion. And with herself.

      “Wait, Helen, it could be a good thing,” Jason replied. “You could

      learn how to use your bolts instead of fighting.”

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      “You don’t have to use them to kill. Just to knock people out,”

      Lucas amended, aware now that something was disturbing Helen

      deeply.

      He couldn’t know that what he was saying to make it better only

      made it worse. Helen thought of Kate’s unconscious body—how

      Kate had convulsed in that nauseating way when the blue light

      flashed. How her head had lolled back and her mouth fell open uncontrollably

      when Helen had picked her up off the ground. She

      couldn’t get the horrifying images out of her head so she started

      pacing around, wringing her hands to dispel the nervous energy

      she felt. She knew everyone was staring at her. She looked up and

      locked eyes with Pandora, who was clearly attentive to her strange

      reaction.

      “Why don’t we talk about this tomorrow?” Pandora said to the

      room in general. “Hector needs to eat and everyone else needs a

      shower. No offense, but pee-ew, guys.” She got a few laughs, but

      more important, she got the focus off Helen. Helen could have

      kissed her.

      “Are you okay?” Ariadne whispered in Helen’s ear as the family

      meeting broke up. Helen squeezed Ariadne’s hand and tr
    ied to

      smile, but she had no idea what to say. She started to wander toward

      the door.

      “I’ll take you home,” Lucas called out over his shoulder to Helen,

      ending the brief conversation he was having with his father and

      uncle.

      “I’m supposed to watch Helen tonight,” Jason said apologetically.

      “And I have my bike,” Helen said. She couldn’t bear to be with

      him alone.

      “I don’t care,” Lucas replied bluntly to them both. He stared

      down Jason for a moment, speaking volumes with his eyes, then

      turned back to Hector. “I need your truck,” he said with barely controlled

      anger. Hector nodded, glancing over at Helen and back at

      Lucas with something approaching sympathy.

      217/395

      Lucas grabbed Helen’s hand and pulled her outside. He loaded

      her bicycle into the back of Hector’s SUV, held Helen’s door open

      for her while she got in, and drove out of the garage without a

      word. Once off the Delos property he pulled over into one of the

      many scenic park-and-gawk spots and turned in his seat to face

      Helen.

      “What’s going on?” he asked, angry and frustrated and frightened

      all at the same time.

      Helen didn’t have an answer for him.

      “Will you at least tell me what I did wrong?”

      “I already told you, you didn’t do anything,” Helen said to her

      lap.

      “Then why are you treating me like this? Look at me,” he

      pleaded, taking her hand. She stared at their linked hands like it

      was the first time she had ever seen anything like it.

      “What the hell is this?” she asked. She pulled her hand out of his

      with disgust. “You know what? I take it back. You did do

      something to me. You led me on.”

      Luke’s whole face crumpled. Helen had had no reason to hope

      after what she had heard the night before, but for some reason

      there was a tiny spark still glowing in her that maybe, somehow,

      she had misunderstood. Or that he would change his mind. It went

      out completely when Lucas nodded.

      “I led you on,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his

      fists so hard Helen thought for a moment he was going to rip the

      steering wheel off. His voice was harsh, almost a snarl. “You and I

      can’t be together, so just get it out of your head and move on.”

      Helen unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car.

      “Wait, please,” he started to say, almost as if he was in pain, but

      Helen slammed her door shut and cut him off.

      “Wait for what? For you to tell me that I’m a really nice girl but

      you’d never touch me? Thanks, I got that part already. Now open

      the back so I can get my bike,” she bit out. Her voice was foreign to

      218/395

      her, so bitter and loaded with sarcasm that it sounded like

      someone else’s.

      “I promise I won’t say anything the rest of the way if you don’t

      want me to. Just let me take you home,” Lucas replied calmly. She

      hated that he was calm.

      “Open the damn door, or I’ll rip it off!” Helen yelled back.

      She knew she was making a fool of herself, throwing a tantrum in

      the middle of the road like this, but she couldn’t stop. Humiliation

      was leaking out of every pore and she needed to get away from him

      fast. She didn’t want to leave anything behind, either—nothing that

      would force her to come back to him later to ask for what was hers.

      She stood at the back of his car with her head down and her arms

      crossed tightly over her sore heart. She knew he was looking at her

      in the rearview mirror, so she angled her body away. Finally, he

      popped the back. She got her bike out and rode off without another

      word.

      When she got home she fell into bed without even taking her

      clothes off. She could hear Jason moving around on the widow’s

      walk as he settled down for the night, but she didn’t feel guilty

      about leaving him up there. All Helen wanted was to run as far

      away from the Delos family as fast as she could.

      She was on the edge of the dry lands, in a new place that she had

      seen from a distance, but had never thought she could reach. It

      was still rocky, but interspersed with the tufts of razor-sharp

      grass, there were tumbled-down drums of mason-carved marble,

      a thousand Parthenons’ worth of scattered columns. There had

      once been an empire here. No longer.

      Far off, there was the promise of a river. Helen couldn’t tell if

      she could hear it, or if she felt the extra part per million of moisture

      in the air, but she knew there was running water nearby. She

      felt so dry and empty inside. Where was the river?

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      As she searched, she looked down at the fallen architecture and

      read the names graffitied on its sides. Gracus loves Lucinda.

      Ethan loves Sarah. Michael loves Erin. For what seemed like days

      she ran her fingers over the names carved into the broken bones

      of fallen loves, stepping around the tumbled pillars of unkept

      vows and dusting the headstones in the graveyard of love with

      her hands. Every kind of death had a resting place in the dry

      lands.

      She walked until her feet bled.

      Helen woke to a room filled with sad blue light. She tried to roll

      over and felt tied to her mattress, like she had been jumped by the

      Lilliputians in the middle of the night. Somehow in her sleep she

      had shucked off her shirt and shoes, but her jeans were so tangled

      up in her sheets that she had to push herself off the bed and fight it

      out on the floor to unwrap herself. It was an ugly battle, especially

      since she was still covered in dirt from the trench Lucas had dug

      with Hector’s body, dried blood from her cut feet, and a gray,

      powdery dust from the dry lands. Her feet had healed themselves,

      of course, but still there were blood-encrusted foot smears all over

      her sheets. They were ruined, and she would have to buy new ones.

      Luckily, her dad was too squeamish about girl stuff to ask

      questions.

      She shimmied out of her jeans on her way to the bathroom and

      climbed into the shower before the water even had a chance to heat

      up. Opening her mouth, she gulped down as much of the cold

      spray as she could catch. She was so dry inside. Her body ached

      from walking hundreds of miles under a dead sun—the cold water

      was like a blessing even though it made her shiver. Helen looked

      down at her skin and watched the water get forced into little rivers

      by the raised hairs of her goose bumps. It made her think about the

      river she had seen from a distance right before she woke up.

      She couldn’t remember it.

      220/395

      She knew she had felt a sigh-worthy relief, and only one thing

      could have made her feel that way in the dry lands. Water. But she

      couldn’t remember anything about it. How could she forget a river

      in the dry lands? It was unthinkable, so she stopped thinking about

      it.

      It bothered her that her brain refused to think about it. She

      walked, still naked and dripping wet, to the vanity in her bedroom,

      picked up some old viper-gre
    en eyeliner Claire had left the last

      time she slept over, and wrote THE RIVER I CAN’T REMEMBER

      on the mirror, just in case she forgot again. Then she got dressed.

      It was getting cold out, and the air was damp with fog. Helen

      zipped her jacket up to her throat and regretted not bringing

      gloves. As she rode to school she had to keep one hand in her pocket

      and one on the handlebars, and then switch off when the hand

      she was using to steer got too numb.

      When she arrived she saw Lucas waiting in the parking lot, leaning

      up against an Audi she’d seen in the Deloses’ garage, but never

      seen him drive before. It reminded her how stupid she’d been to

      think he was going to kiss her that night in his garage. She dropped

      her head and hurried toward the school without waving to him. He

      took a step after her and opened his mouth to say something, but

      stopped himself and let her go.

      When Helen got to the door, she heard Claire call out from behind.

      She paused and waited for her to catch up.

      “Are you two fighting?” she asked, glancing back at Lucas’s

      stooped form. When she got a good look at how terrible Helen

      looked she burst out, “Holy crap! What the hell happened to you?”

      “I didn’t sleep well last night,” Helen mumbled.

      “Your eyes look black and blue, Len. Like you haven’t slept in

      weeks,” Claire responded, sounding seriously worried. “Were you

      crying a lot?”

      221/395

      “No. Not at all,” Helen said. It was true, too. She was sad, but she

      never felt like crying when she was depressed. She felt like

      sleeping.

      “Can you tell me what the fight was about?” Claire asked

      cautiously.

      “There was no fight, really. Lucas just doesn’t want to be with

      me,” Helen said. She rammed her fists into her pockets. She found

      that if she tensed her muscles she could keep herself from giving

      up on moving.

      “I don’t believe that,” Claire said doubtfully. “He punched Hector

      in the face for just talking to you and pretty much announced to

      the whole school that you were his girlfriend.”

      “Well, I guess he must have changed his mind since then,” Helen

      said, shrugging. She didn’t have the strength to argue. She barely

      had the energy to turn the combination on her locker. She was so

      tired from walking for weeks, but that had been a dream, hadn’t it?

      How could she be physically worn out from something that had

     


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