“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t do this. I’ve done a lot, but this is too much.”
“And what’s that?” Hades asked. “What can’t you do?”
Helen raised her head and regarded Hades with blank, desperate eyes. “I can’t go back to rest of the Scions and tell them that all this murdering they’ve been doing so they could get to Atlantis has been for nothing!” Her voice took on a hysterical edge. “What was all that crap from the Oracle about there being only one House left, and that ‘One House’ being the key to Atlantis? They’ve been killing each other off for decades now, and you want me to go back to them and tell them it was all a lie, that there is no Atlantis? I can’t do it!”
“It’s not a lie. Just a misinterpretation of the prophecy,” Hades said calmly. She stared up at him, numb with shock.
“That’s not good enough,” she replied in a surprisingly level voice. “You need to tell me more.”
He sat down next to her on the sand, near enough that the shadows parted a bit so she could see the bright green of his eyes and a familiar beauty mark that hung like a dark tear high on the slope of one of his perfect cheekbones.
“The prophecy has been fulfilled. The Houses are one, Helen.” Hades took her hands between both of his, cradling them in warmth. “You will raise Atlantis, or Avalon, or Helena—whatever you wish to call it—and once your world is made you can decide who may enter, who must stay or go, and how each inhabitant experiences your land. It really is all up to you.”
“That’s too much for one person,” Helen said, shaking her head like she could keep her responsibility at bay by rejecting it vehemently enough. “It’s too much power.”
Hades pushed back the cowl covering his head, removed the Helm of Darkness, and banished the shadows that clung to him. Staring back at Helen was a face she knew and loved dearly.
“There will be many Scions who will agree with that statement. Many beings, both mortal and immortal, will stop at nothing to keep you from claiming your true power.” Hades’ bright green eyes were dimmed by sadness. “If you build a world, many forces will try to rip it down. You and your Scion alliance will have to fight to defend it, and many of you may die, just as the gods want.”
“So I won’t build a world.”
Hades took her hand. “The Fates will make sure you have no choice.”
“No,” Helen said, shaking her head stubbornly. “I refuse to believe three cr
ones run my life. I won’t build a world if the cost is that my friends and family must go to war. If I never build my own world, the gods won’t challenge us, and no one has to fight.”
“You are brave and compassionate, as a Worldbuilder should be, and I am very proud of you. But a war is coming to your shores, niece,” Hades said sadly. “You, like your namesake before you, must decide how to meet it.”
SEVEN
The shrill chirp of a cell phone parted Helen’s reluctant eyelids. It was still dark out, and dawn was a long way off. Underneath her, Orion shook himself awake and reached for his jeans that were draped over Helen’s back like a shawl. His fingers fumbling with cold and sleepiness, he finally managed to dig his cell phone out of his pocket and answer before it stopped ringing.
“’Lo?” he grumbled, his voice still half asleep. “Hey, bro. Yeah, she’s safe. She’s right here with me.”
Helen focused her hearing so she could listen in.
“Oh. Good,” Lucas said over the phone in a leaden tone. “Can you both come back to my house? Cassandra is about to make a prophecy. She’s been asking for you specifically, Orion. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
Helen’s eyes met Orion’s as they flared in understanding.
“We’re on our way now. Luke, wait. . . .” Orion said, but it was too late. Lucas had hung up. Orion gave Helen a sheepish look. “Sorry ’bout that.”
“Why? Maybe it’s better if he thinks we slept together. Maybe he’ll . . .” She trailed off when she saw the doubtful look on Orion’s face.
“He’s not going to get over you, Helen. Doesn’t matter how many men you spend the night with.”
Helen nodded, accepting this. Orion looked Helen over and changed the subject.
“Where’d you get the clothes?” he asked.
“I sort of called them into existence in the Underworld.”
“How long were you down there for?” he asked, starting to get concerned. “What happened?”
Helen debated telling Orion everything that Hades told her. But after the night they’d just had, how was she supposed to tell Orion that his mother had fought in a war that drove her insane because of a misunderstood prophecy about a place that didn’t even frigging exist anymore? She didn’t know if she would ever be able to tell him that. Instead, she just shrugged.
“Let me guess,” he said, turning away so he could shake the sand out of his jeans. “It’s another long story. You’re going to have to start telling me some of these long stories of yours at some point, you know.”