“Do you care for me? More than just in a life or death ‘we need to stop the Hundred Cousins from starting a war with the gods’ type of way?” she asked flippantly.
She knew that on some level she was being petty and insecure, but she needed to know how he felt about her. He propped himself up on his elbows so he could see her more clearly and so that she could see him back.
“Of course I care for you,” he said intently. “The only thing I wouldn’t do to be with you is cause innocent people to die. And that’s pretty much it.” He moved on to his back again, jabbing a hand in his hair. “But apparently that’s enough.”
Helen knew there was a lot more behind what he was saying than he was letting on, but she couldn’t bear to ask any questions that might have awful answers. She’d had enough awful for one day. She rolled on top of him and tucked herself into that spot on his chest that she was convinced still held a Helen-shaped dent in it.
“Just so you know? Just so we’re clear. I care about you, too. And if this hug is all I can have, I’d prefer it over anything else from anyone else.”
“That’s because you’ve never been with a man,” Lucas said as he kissed the bit of skin on her forehead that was just about to be hair. “Now go to sleep,” he ordered.
Helen would have argued, but she was too damn tired from fighting for her life twice in one day to do more than blink contrarily. Lucas’s arms wove a safe basket around her mending heart and she relaxed completely into him. She listened to the particular resonance of his breathing, a sound that she already knew so well, and fell into a deep, nightmare-free sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Swathed in black shadows, Creon crouched outside Helen’s house, his eyes glued to her bedroom window. He could hear Hector four doors down, slipping through the neighbor’s yard, searching for him. But Creon knew Hector didn’t have a prayer. No one could find Creon at night if he didn’t want to be found.
His little cousin Lucas was up there, in Helen’s bed, holding her while she slept. Creon shook from head to toe, resisting the nearly all-consuming urge to leap through the glass and fight his cousin for her life. Or maybe just for her. Creon wasn’t sure what he would do anymore, and he didn’t like this newfound uncertainty. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to get control. If he challenged his cousin, it would be a fight to the death. Creon had no doubt he would win, but in winning he would lose everything. He would become an Outcast, and Atlantis would remain lost.
The choice was clear: immortality or Helen. So why was he sweating with the effort to resist? He heard Helen sighing in her sleep and Lucas shifting his body under hers, pulling her even closer. Creon’s legs straightened as if of their own accord. He took two steps toward the window, his head swimming in the red-lit haze of bloodlust.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Alerted to the danger, Hector broke into a sprint and headed straight for that slight sound. Creon had no choice but to run. He couldn’t take both his cousinsandHelen. He would have to come back some other time.
It took him ten minutes to lose Hector in the center of the island. His cousin was persistent, but eventually the suffocating darkness of Creon’s shadows disoriented Hector enough so that Creon could slip away.
Trotting up the eastern side of the beach, Creon finally checked the ID on the call that had saved him from a terrible mistake. It didn’t surprise him that it was from his mother. She might not be a Scion, but she had uncanny timing. He called her back and told her what he had discovered when he tried to stab Helen.
At first she didn’t believe him, though in her careful choice of words, Creon sensed that her incredulity came not from a belief that what he had described was impossible, but rather that she doubted Helen herself was responsible for the phenomenon he had witnessed. Somehow, his mother had seen or heard of a Scion being able to break blades with his or her skin before, and Creon pressed her to tell him who it was. Instead of answering, she asked yet again for Creon to describe Helen. He did.
“Well, it must have been that your blade was defective. From how you describe Helen, it can’t beheror her daughter,” Mildred said quickly.
Creon continued to press his mother and she grew increasingly frustrated, raising her voice and even swearing a bit. Creon was shocked by her crass behavior. A lady never cheapened herself by using foul language, and he hadn’t even considered his mother capable of it until that moment. He asked her politely how she could be so sure his blade was defective.
“Because if this girl truly was impervious to weapons, then you would have also said she has the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. You wouldn’t be able to ignore that fact—it’s in your blood,” she replied petulantly.
“And if she does have the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen? What then?” Creon asked calmly, although a wonderful rush of adrenaline was sending a chill across his skin. The line went silent for a full five seconds.
“You need to come homenow. We need to tell your father. This is much bigger than you know,” Mildred finally choked out before she abruptly ended the call.
The next morning Helen jerked herself awake, her entire body snapping from sleep to high alert in a blink. Her hand flew to that spot on her chest where Creon’s blade had broken, and she had to press her fingers into her breastbone to convince herself that there was no gaping hole there.
She heard faint whispers coming from across the room. Sitting up, she saw Lucas standing in the window, talking to someone outside in such a low voice that no human could hear. The clock by her bed read 5:25, and the sky was barely gray with the dawn.
“She’s safe, that’s all that matters,” Lucas said out the window.
“Notallthat matters,” came the whispered reply.
Helen got out of bed and joined Lucas at the window. She looked down and saw Hector standing on the edge of her lawn. He looked up at them, glancing back and forth from Helen to Lucas, an indignant look on his face.
“You okay?” Hector asked Helen gruffly.
“Yeah. Butyoudon’t look so hot,” she said. Even from one flight up she could see that Hector’s eyes were bloodshot with fatigue and worry. He grimaced sarcastically at her compassionate look, and turned to Lucas with a warning.
“Stay high until we’re sure. She’s safer in the air.”
Hector ran off so fast that Helen could only make out his blur. Lucas shut the window and leaned against it. His eyes were wide and unblinking.
