“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.
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.
“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, but 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 startedthousandsof 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.
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 theflying. 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 friggingfly, which is aerodynamically impossible forHomo 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 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.
