Claire brushed close to Helen as she passed, whispering something about the “old friends” not being cool enough to sit at the same lunch table whensomeonesuddenly has a popular boyfriend. Before Helen could get into a well-deserved fight with Claire, Ariadne pulled Helen down next to her to stop one of the hormone-infested boys from getting any closer to her.
By the time the bell rang for classes, all of Helen’s normal friends had been driven away from the table—a table that had been theirs since freshmen year. Matt’s sad look made Helen wonder how long it had been since the two of them had been able to talk. It must have been months.
Claire wasn’t waiting for her at the trail when track practice started. It was silly for her to try to avoid Helen by leaving without her, because they both knew that she could catch up with Claire no matter how far behind she was, but the intent was clear. When Helen came jogging up, Claire didn’t even turn to look at her.
“Just keep running, Hamilton. I am so not into you right now,” Claire said as she veered away and raised her arm in a “talk to the hand” gesture.
From many years of experience Helen knew that Claire needed to punish her a little before she’d be ready to move forward. Then they’d talk on the phone, make up, and the next day everything would be back to normal. Just this one time, Helen wished they could skip to the end of the fight, especially since she hadn’t done anything, but she knew better than to rush Claire. Instead, Helen dutifully ran past her.
After a few minutes of running alone, Helen started to get bored with the mortal pace. She looked at her watch to calculate exactly how much time she would need to kill before making her way back to the trailhead, and took off across the moors at an impossible speed. She knew Lucas could simply step up into the air and start flying, but so far that approach hadn’t worked for her. Maybe she needed to be running to get airborne, kind of like an airplane. Here was a chance to test that theory.
As Helen struck out off the trail and through the marshy land surrounding Miacomet Pond, she began to sense the lightness she associated with flight. There was a fluttery feeling in her stomach, a barely contained wildness that she assumed was an expression of Scion power. She felt static energy running over her skin. It was as if she had rubbed a balloon over her entire body and then held it just far enough away so that her whole surface felt the outward tug of an electrical field.
Taking an experimental leap, Helen soared up into the air. At first she thought she had done it, that she was flying, but she soon felt herself reach the top of a very large arc and begin to descend. She had merely jumped higher than ever before—too high—and her brain was still hardwired to believe that when she hit the ground she would go splat and die.
She tried to grab at the air, and although there was a part of her that knew how to make it hold her, she was either too scared or not scared enough to do the trick in time. She hit the ground at an angle and went into a skid, her feet digging up two loamy troughs in the mud.
She was fine, of course, but still deeply shaken. Her knees were wobbly and she had to laugh to let out the crazy feeling flapping around inside her chest. After she had calmed down a bit she hauled herself up off her butt. She pulled her feet out of the mud and started to walk back toward the school, feeling like a jackass. She was covered in smelly muck up to her waist, and in her head she pictured how she must have looked as she came down from her leap, her arms pinwheeling frantically like a cartoon character falling off a cliff.
She glanced around to make sure no one had spotted her in her moment of foolishness, just out of habit, but she wasn’t expecting anyone to be near. Her heart turned over when she saw a dark smudge turn into a man’s shape. Then he suddenly stopped and changed direction just over the next rise. He had seen her get up and walk away laughing after falling from fifty feet high. Worse than that, Helen could see there was something wrong with the way he moved. He was going much too fast to be human.
Her entire body tensed instinctively. Without even thinking about it she took off after the dark shape. Whoever he was, he was headed back toward the high school—back toward Claire, who was probably huffing and puffing along, slow and small and human. The image of Kate lying unconscious on the ground flashed through her head and spurred Helen to run faster. She skipped over massive swaths of landscape, bounding recklessly over hillocks and cranberry bogs, unable to think of anything but catching him.
She noticed that she was having a hard time finding him in the strange shadowy light, but as she got closer, the darkness that seemed to swath itself around him abated a little and she was able to pinpoint his location. It looked like he was sucking light out of the air. There was something creepy about the way the dark shadows radiated out from him like a sinister halo—he was definitely controlling the light. That meant he was another descendant of Apollo—one of the Hundred Cousins from the House of Thebes, and therefore a threat.
From what she could see, the shadowy man was a few years older than she was, but still barely out of his teens. When she was only a few paces behind him she could see that he had fair hair and skin. With a fresh burst of speed she reached out, trying to grab on to him, and ripped off his shirt. Finally, he allowed the last of the darkness clinging to him to be swept away by the sun glowing on his huge, bare shoulders. Up close, he looked so similar to Hector in both coloring and build that they could have been twins, except for their faces. There was a hollow look to this man, a cragginess that made him seem sickly.
A horrendous cramp crumpled up her torso like origami, and Helen tumbled to the ground with a scream. She curled up on the ground in the fetal position, unable to move or even take a breath. Through the long blades of grass that partially obscured her vision she could see the blond, shirtless Cousin trot back toward her with an inquisitive look on his face.
“Interesting,” he said with a cocky smile. Something behind Helen caught his eye and he started to back away. “I’ll see you sooner rather than later,preciosa,” he promised as he ran off, a dark, ominous mist collecting to obscure his outline.
Helen tried to shout something tough and ballsy after him, but all that came out was a pathetic moan. He was gone in a second, and she was left to lie there alone until she was noticed or until she was well enough to walk away. Finally, she heard someone approach.
“Helen?” a familiar voice said as it neared. “Oh, no. Itisyou.”
“Matt,” Helen grunted. “Get Lucas.”
He came around into Helen’s field of vision and got down on his knees in front of her. “Don’t you think the nurse would be a better idea? Or maybe a paramedic?”
“Please. Lucas. Quick.”
He sighed once, rubbed Helen’s back in an awkwardly reassuring way, and then got up and ran off. Once she got her breathing under control, Helen could see enough around her to take in the fact that she was practically in the school parking lot—much closer to the school than she had realized. Still curled up in a ball on the ground, Helen banged her forehead against her knees. She couldn’t believe she had been that stupid. Her ear pressed to the ground, Helen heard approaching footsteps that were a little too heavy and a little too quick to be a normal’s and smiled to herself with relief even though she was still in terrible pain.
“Thanks, Matt,” she heard Lucas say from somewhere behind her. “Where are you hurt?” he asked her as he came around toward the front, Jason close behind him. Helen pointed to her stomach and spoke with her eyes. Lucas nodded and looked around, confused.
“Did you see what happened?” he asked Matt.
“I think she was running after someone. I don’t know,” Matt said skeptically. “I just heard from Gretchen that Helen was chasing some guy, then she screamed and fell down.”
“Is that true?” Lucas asked Helen with a tense face. She nodded, and he smiled back at her, his worried eyes softening for her sake. He plucked some of her hair off her sweaty forehead and looked back over his shoulder.
“I’m on it,” said Jason too quietly for an ordinary mortal to catch, and then Helen heard his rapidly retreating footsteps.
“I should go with him,” began Hector’s voice from someplace that Helen still couldn’t see.
“No, you shouldn’t,” ordered Lucas sharply. “I need you to get the girls. They could have whatever sickness Helen has, and they might need you. Right?”
“Right,” Hector said without bitterness, suddenly understanding Lucas’s hidden meaning. Cassandra and Ariadne were unaware, unprotected, and therefore in the most danger of being attacked by the stranger. Hector ran off so silently that Helen couldn’t even hear his feet brush against the grass, and she couldn’t help but be both impressed and a little frightened by his skill.
