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Silence.
All Helen could hear were waves and seagulls. Matt would be the first to figure that out. He’d always been so darn smart.
“Do you remember homecoming freshman year?” Matt asked. He shifted on his feet uncertainly, his eyes sad.
“Yeah,” Helen said with a shrug. “A bunch of us spent the whole night talking around the bonfire, like, five minutes down the beach from here.”
“Do you remember Zach asking us if we could build a time machine, would we use it to go back and murder Hitler when he was just a baby?”
“Yes,” Helen replied, her voice coming out like a croak. “I remember. So I take it you think I’m Hitler.”
“No. I think you’re the Tyrant,” Matt said. “You have the potential to be much worse.”
“My daughter can’t be the Tyrant. Listen to me!” Daphne said passionately as she waved her hands to get everyone’s attention.
It was the first time Daphne had ever stood up for her, and even though Helen was still furious at her mother for what she’d done to Jerry, she couldn’t help but be touched.
“The Tyrant is supposed to replace Hades. He is supposed to become the Scion lord of the dead. Helen is meant to rule the sky and replace Zeus, which is exactly why he got a champion to challenge her.” Daphne pointed an accusing finger at Zeus and won over a few believers. “Think about it. Zeus is about to get overthrown by a Scion with more powers than he has, and he’s trying to turn us against her so we’ll kill her for him. She’s powerful, yes, but Helen can’t be the Tyrant.”
“Where is it written that the Tyrant has to take Hades’ place?” Matt asked, his voice frighteningly calm. “The three major gods are supposed to be replaced by three Scions—that we know from prophecy. We’ve always assumed that the Tyrant would rule Hades, but the Tyrant could as easily rule the sky.”
Daphne paused. All the vigor went out of her argument, and a fearful look crossed her face. “I’m sorry,” Daphne whispered to Helen, her cheeks pale.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ve suspected this for a few days now. Born to bitterness?” Helen asked, not unkindly reminding her mother of the prophecy. “Is there anyone in the world more bitter than you?”
“No. You don’t understand,” Daphne continued, and then stopped when Helen stepped forward and dared to tread on the line in the sand that had formed between the two sides.
“Matt’s right. I’m the Tyrant. Or I’m supposed to be, if the Fates have their way. But you’ve got to trust me. I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I know you’ll try,” Matt said, and sighed heavily. “You’ll mean to do only good things with your powers, and in the beginning, you’ll right wrongs and defend the weak. I know you will. But it has to go sour eventually. No one person, no matter how well-intentioned, is meant to rule the world.”
Helen could see the electric change in him that she’d noticed before, that thing that made him more than just Matt. He was different, stronger, and full of strange magic, but even still, Helen knew he was making all the same choices he would have a year ago. He was still Matt—a true moral compass—and, as usual, he was right.
“You’ve always hated bullies. And I guess I’m the biggest bully on the block now, huh?” Helen said with a fond smile. Matt smiled with her. Neither of them wanted this to happen.
“Everybody hang on,” Claire said anxiously, rushing to stand between the factions like she could think up a bridge between the two. “Lennie—maybe there’s
a way you can give some of these powers back? Is there something you can do to, I don’t know, just be you again so we don’t have to freak out?”
“Sorry, Gig,” Helen replied, knowing that she was hurting her best friend more than she ever had before. “This is me. It always has been.”
Claire’s eyes filled with tears. But no matter how much she loved all of the people standing on the other side of the imaginary wall that was building between the two factions, Helen knew that Claire was going to do what she thought was right.
When she took her place again behind Matt, Helen didn’t blame her. In fact, she admired Claire for her strength and bravery even though it stung like crazy.
Helen wished she could shout out her plan, tell her friends and family why she was doing this, but she couldn’t. The Fates might not be able to hear her while she was with Orion, but Zeus certainly could, and while the Fates might be her ultimate enemy, Zeus was the one she had to find a way to imprison. Until she did that, Helen couldn’t give back an ounce of power or she knew she wouldn’t be strong enough to fight him. And then Zeus would find a way to kill every last one of them.
Like Helen of Troy before her, Helen Hamilton knew that she’d happily play the bad guy and make everyone hate her, before she’d allow all the people she loved to die. She remembered Ariadne telling her once that for a Scion to name her daughter Helen was like a Christian naming her child Judas. Like all the other Helens before her, Helen Hamilton had decided that being Judas to her family was worth it—so long as they survived.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” she said, trying in vain to do a mind-meld with her friend and get her to understand without saying anything. “But I’m not giving up my powers.”
“And that’s that,” Matt said, truly saddened. “She won’t ever be our ‘Lennie’ again, Claire. She’s made her choice—power over us.”
Matt angled his head over his shoulder and made an inhuman chittering noise. Helen recognized it. Automedon had used it to command his men when he attacked Helen, Hector, and Claire in the woods outside a track meet.
The Myrmidons reacted to Matt’s command by backing up and forming a semicircle on their side of the “wall.” One of them moved forward and retrieved Phaon’s body, and a second group came forward and swept the sand clean. They were as efficient as an army of ants, and within seconds a new battleground had been cleared inside the makeshift arena on the beach.
An offering was brought into the circle. A pumpkin.
