“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 of 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?”
“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, do I look like anyone?” 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. 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 the heart charm carefully, but there was nothing special about it.
“It’s very pretty,” Cassandra said kindly.
“It is, isn’t it? But it’s from Tiffany so there are probably thousands just like it. It’s just that this is all I have,” Helen said, the words spilling out uncensored. “My dad says she must have been planning to leave for a long time because by the time he figured out she had left us, all the pictures were gone. Every single one. Even pictures he thought she had no idea he’d taken.”
Helen stood up suddenly and started pacing around aimlessly. She walked to the far end of the library, looking at all the books that the Delos family had collected together, all of the antique furniture they probably handed down, generation to generation. It was a family legacy Helen had been denied, and she felt a sense of loss not knowing where her mother was, or where she’d come from. But she also sensed a possibility in that ignorance.
“Your family is tight, I can see that. You always know where everyone is. But my mother did something drastic, right? She ran away.” Helen struggled with the right way to phrase her thought, and decided the best thing would be to ask a question. “Why were you so sure that the House of Thebes was the only House left? How could you possibly know that?”
“We keep very close watch over our numbers, Helen,” Cassandra said.
“Yeah, but how can you know for sure?”
“It’s barbaric,” Castor said, shaking his head. When Helen gestured for him to continue he did. “When one demigod kills another from a rival House there is a traditional celebration for the champion called a Triumph. It’s considered a great honor.”
“But that doesn’t meanmymother is dead. Maybe she’s just missing! You don’t even know who she is!” Helen said. The tears tipped over the edge of her eyelids and splashed down on her shirt.
“The fact that you exist proves that anything is possible,” Cassandra said. But she wasn’t able to look Helen in the eye.
“Right around the time you were born, the Houses were going through a period of intense fighting that was thought to be the final confrontation. There were a lot of deaths,” Castor said, looking down at his hands as if he expected to find blood on them.
Helen turned her back on Castor and Cassandra and tried to breathe her way through the tears, but still it took a few moments before she knew she wasn’t going to start sobbing. She didn’t even know why she was so upset. She’d always thought she hated her mother.
“Helen, we understand that you might need some time before we continue. We still have a lot more to talk about, but we’re not going anywhere and we can finish this conversation when you’re ready. In the meantime, please know that we really do want to help you,” Castor said gently from somewhere on the other side of the room.
Helen heard them get up to leave, but she couldn’t bring herself to say good-bye. After they’d left, she opened up the French doors and went out onto the patio. The sight of the pristine beach and rolling blue water blunted the sharper edges of her emotions and before she knew it she was shuffling down the beach.
