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The world started to slow down and thicken around her, and Helen knew that meant that in the regular world her body was waking up. A part of her brain was beginning to register an annoying bleating noise coming from a universe away, and she knew that she would never make it to Haircut before waking. Helen looked around frantically, then bent down and picked up a rock at her feet, straightened up, and chucked it at the monster . . .
. . . and the rock from the Underworld went right through her bedroom window, breaking it into about a hundred pieces.
CHAPTER THREE
Helen sat up in bed, listening to the annoying blare of her alarm clock. The one night she actually wanted to stay in the Underworld, and she’d woken up. It was still dark, but even in the predawn gloom she could see the mess she’d made.
Jerry was going to kill her. No matter how much Kate pleaded with him that Helen had a rare “sleep disorder,” this time Jerry was actually going to murder her.
Her dad had this thing with conserving heat—like the house’s thermostat had a direct line to his psyche—and chilly gusts were already blasting directly through the gigantic hole she’d made in her window. Helen smacked herself on the forehead and fell back onto her mattress.
She was as good as grounded, that flying monstrosity had probably eaten Haircut, and it was all because Helen had to wake up at ugly-o’clock-in-the-morning to get to a track meet on the mainland.
High school sports are complicated for people who live on tiny islands. In order for island athletes to compete with other schools they have to travel by boat or by plane, and for Helen and the rest of her teammates, that meant getting up before the crack of dawn. Sometimes she really hated living on Nantucket.
Stifling a yawn and trying to push the image of Haircut dying a vicious death from her mind, Helen pulled herself out of bed. She duct-taped a blanket over her broken window, gulped down some instant oatmeal, and left for the island’s airport. Ironically, she flew there. But of course she couldn’t fly all the way to the mainland. Missing the plane and then showing up at the meet on time would raise all kinds of questions, so she did the responsible thing.
Landing a cautious distance away, she started jogging toward the tarmac just as the sky turned a shy pink. She saw Claire parking her car in the lot and ran over so they could go together to the waiting prop plane. Helen was excited to tell Claire about Haircut, but before she could open her mouth, Claire was rolling her eyes and grabbing Helen by the shoulders.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Claire mumbled in exasperation as she undid the misaligned buttons on Helen’s pesky jacket and then redid them correctly. “You look like a dyslexic five-year-old. Am I going to have to come over every morning and dress you now?”
“Hamilton!” Coach Tar shouted before Helen had a chance to think up a reply, let alone tell Claire what had happened the night before. “You’re sitting with me. We need to talk strategy.”
“I have something to tell you,” Helen blurted out to Claire as she backpedaled toward Coach. “I saw someone there, you know, last night.” Claire’s eyes widened hopefully as Helen got dragged away.
The rest of the flight, Coach blabbed excitedly about how Helen should draft this runner and then pull out in front of that runner—all useless advice considering that if she wanted to she could break the sound barrier. Helen half listened and tried to not worry too much about Haircut.
He was big, tall, and powerfully built, and he looked like he knew what he was doing with that long dagger he had been using to defend himself. Helen tried to convince herself that he was probably fine, but she wasn’t entirely convinced.
Whoever Haircut was, he certainly looked like a Scion. But maybe he was just a six-foot-four, muscle-y, unbelievably good-looking mortal with a great smile. And if that was the case, the poor thing was definitely dead. No mortal could fight off that harpy.
All morning, Helen tried to find an opportunity to talk to Claire, but she didn’t have a chance. She ran her first race, trying not to win it outright, but she was distracted, wondering whether or not it was possible to get killed in the land of the dead. The useless internal debate ruined her concentration, and she ended up running way too fast. Helen pretended to pant when she realized that all of the spectators were staring at her with their mouths hanging open. All except one.
Zach Brant didn’t look the slightest bit surprised as Helen ran past at jackrabbit speed. In fact, he looked almost bored. Helen had no idea what Zach was doing at the meet—he’d never come to one before. From the way his eyes seemed to be glued to her, Helen could only assume he had come to watch her, but she had no idea why. There had been a time when Helen would have assumed Zach was watching her because he had a crush on her, but that time was long gone. Lately, it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with her.
Helen won her race, then she cheered while Claire finished one of her own before they finally met up by the triple-jump sand strip.
“So what happened?” Claire puffed, still winded from running.
“I saw . . .” Helen broke off. “Let’s go over there,” she continued, pointing to an empty expanse of field at the edge of the track. There were a lot of people milling around, and Zach was standing a bit too close.
By this point, Helen was nearly bursting to tell Claire what she had seen. While they walked she whispered under her breath, “I saw a person. A living person.”
“But, I thought you were the only one who can go down there in your body—not just as a spirit.”
“Me too! But last night there was this boy. Well, not a boy. I mean he was ginormous. A guy, around our age, I guess.”
“What was he doing down there?” Claire asked. She didn’t sound convinced that Helen had really seen someone.
“Getting his ass handed to him by a harpy?” Helen said. “But the night before last, he pulled me out of the quicksand. One of his arms is all shiny, like it’s covered in gold.” Claire looked at her dubiously, and Helen realized just how nuts she sounded. “Do you think I’m going crazy? Sounds crazy, right? And it’s not even supposed to be possible.”
“Do you mind?” Claire said suddenly. She glared over Helen’s shoulder at Zach, who was following them. “Private conversation here.”
Zach shrugged, but he didn’t walk away. Claire took his defiance as a challenge. She yelled at him to go away in her most authoritative voice, but he wouldn’t budge. Eventually, she had to take Helen’s hand and steer her toward the edge of the open field where the woods began. Zach couldn’t very well follow them without Claire causing a scene about it, but he didn’t turn away, either. He just kept staring at them as Claire dragged Helen into the scrub.
“Is this necessary?” Helen asked as she straddled a scratchy bush and untangled the end of her braid from the brittle, lichen-covered branch of a small birch tree.
“Zach’s been acting really weird lately, and I just don’t want him to see us,” Claire said with narrowed eyes.
