Goddess

by Josephine Angelini

  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.

  “What’s going on?” Helen said to Orion, as memories of cooking with her father, turning pumpkins into pancakes, pie, and Popsicles crowded into her mind.

  “It’s one of her symbols. Hecate’s power covers a lot of different things,” he whispered in answer to her half-formed question. “Portals, crossroads, boundaries, trade, and bargains are the big ones, which is why she officiates over duels, which are sort of a bargain if you think about it. But she’s also the witch goddess. Something about Macbeth and bargaining your soul. The pumpkin is one of her symbols because she’s the first witch.”

  Helen stared at that silly pumpkin, quite certain that the Fates were laughing their heads off at her. She loved pumpkins. Of all the many-life memories that Helen had recently been subjected to, the memories that she made on Nantucket were her favorites. Jerry had given her the best life she’d had in all of her many existences. Daphne had been right when she’d said Helen should thank her for making her think that Jerry was her father.

  One look at that blasted pumpkin, and she knew that she’d trade all this Scion nonsense, all of her wondrous powers, for one more night of baseball and ice cream with her dad. Just one night where Lucas could come over for some pasta, eat awkwardly in front of her overprotective father, and then they could all watch sports and argue about politics like everyone else in Massachusetts. But that perfect night would never happen.

  Helen would never be a normal high school kid again.

  A bright flash, and a strange orange fire erupted around the boundaries of the arena. Hecate didn’t reappear, but her presence was manifest in the hum of power that encircled the ring. The pumpkin disappeared. The fire went out. The challenge was set.

  The crowd behind Helen whispered frantically to one another. Thunderclouds rolled in off the water, and lightning flashed in the distance. Zeus and the Olympians arranged themselves to have the best view. They were enjoying this.

  Helen tried to step into the arena and found that she couldn’t. Orange fire flashed. A regular person would have been burned by it, but it only threw Helen back a few paces. Matt walked easily into his spot, ten feet away from the line in the sand at the middle of the cleared oval. He unsheathed his sword, a thick, wicked-looking thing that made Helen’s breathing pick up. She tried again to enter the circle, only to find an invisible barrier stopping her. Helen tried to use her talent to create a portal to get inside the ring, but nothing happened. Hecate could even bar a Worldbuilder from crossing a boundary if she wanted to. Helen paused to mull this over.

  “What are you doing, dummy?” Hector asked her, half a laugh in his voice. As she had been reminiscing about pumpkin pancakes and contemplating the power of Hecate, Lucas, Jason, and Orion had been busy strapping armor onto Hector piece by piece in what looked to her like a ritual.

  “What do you mean, what am I doing?” Helen asked—irked as usual when Hector made fun of her. “He doesn’t want to fight you, he said he only wants me.”

  Hector only laughed harder at her melodramatic tone. “You’re not about to steal my glory, Princess.”

  She really hated it when he called her that.

  “Don’t call me . . .”

  “He’s your champion, Helen!” Lucas snapped, and his tone was not playful like Hector’s.

  Helen looked at Lucas. The fear and frustration in his eyes silenced her immediately. She knew Lucas was upset with her for not handing over Everyland when Zeus asked for it. She wanted to scream at him that she had a plan, damn it, but of course, she didn’t dare do that.

  “You took an oath, and for us, those aren’t just words,” Lucas continued. “You cannot walk into that arena. Only Hector can meet your challenger now.”

  “W-wait,” Helen said stumblingly, her tongue growing heavy in her mouth with fear as the first part of her plan came undone. “Matt said he doesn’t want Hector, he only wants me. So this is my fight.”

  “No it isn’t,” Hector said seriously. All his lighthearted joking vanished, and Helen could hear the voice of an ancient hero in him.

  For a moment she saw Hector standing on a great wall, watching Achilles half insane with grief over the death of Patroclus, beating the horses of his chariot raw while calling out Hector’s name to meet him in single combat. Matt didn’t look like Achilles, but he had the same presence, the same power. She didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow, Matt had become Achilles, the Warrior.

  “This has always been my fight,” Hector said gently.

  “Don’t do it,” she whispered, her voice failing as she remembered what happened the last time.

  “Don’t do it!” echoed another, much more strident voice.

  Helen turned and saw Andy pushing her way through the disturbed crowd. Her face was shocked, like she couldn’t believe what she was saying and doing, but couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  Andy made her way through the commotion and stood inches away from Hector, begging him with her eyes. “Don’t fight him.”

  “Tempting,” he said, smiling down on her lovely and totally confused face. “But who would I be if I didn’t? Not myself, that’s for sure. You know I have to do this, Andy.”

  “I love you,” she blurted out, completely horrified that she was saying something so sappy in front of a huge crowd like this.

  “Well, it’s about time,” Hector replied sarcastically.

  For a second, it looked like Andy was going to punch him, so Hector did the wise thing and kissed her. When he finally pulled away he did so reluctantly.

  “Hold that thought?” he asked her, his eyes vulnerable. Andy nodded slowly and released him.

  Hector turned to Lucas, Jason, and Orion, holding out his hand for his sword. Lucas handed it to him, his face darkened with frustration. Embracing his brothers one by one, Hector walked into the ring alone.

  Helen went to Lucas, pleading in a low voice. “Is there anything we can do to stop this? Think, Lucas.”

  “Nothing. Only one of them can leave that ring alive,” he replied angrily. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  She didn’t. Helen had no idea if her plan would work. The only thing she knew was that she had to try to change things, and sticking close to her Shield while she thought it out was the only chance she had. Helen backed up until she was leaning against Orion to brace herself. Lucas swallowed hard and looked away.

  “He’s hurt,” Orion whispered in her ear. “He thinks you’re choosing me over him.”

  Helen knew this. She also knew that every second she hung on Orion hurt Lucas more and more. But there was nothing she could do about it right then.

  “Just help me come up with a way to save Hector,” Helen whispered back.

  “I can’t,” Orion replied. He wrapped his arms around Helen and squeezed, more to comfort himself than her. She stayed near him, hoping that not only was she protected from the Fates by Orion’s presence, but that Hector was as well.

  “It could be different this time,” she said, feeling optimistic as she watched Hector and Matt face off. She lowered her voice to the softest of whispers and pressed her lips to Orion’s ear to make sure the gods didn’t hear. “With you around, the Fates can’t use him.”

  Orion nodded, and when he pulled back and looked at Helen there was cautious optimism in his eyes.

  The first blows came so fast Helen could barely see them. Even though Helen h
ad fought Hector many times, and even though he’d trained her from day one, she still couldn’t believe that such a big guy could move so gracefully and so swiftly.

  But this new, supercharged Matt was just as fast. He parried Hector’s blinding strokes, twisted, and maintained his balance even though his adversary tried to use his larger size to press in and intensify the angle. Instead of getting trapped under Hector’s rain of downward strokes, Matt was able to make space between them without losing his footing on the sand.

  Helen felt Lucas, Orion, and Jason all inhale sharply when they saw Matt dart in and draw first blood.

  “Hector!” Ariadne cried out.

  Hector backed away from Matt, dropping the point of his sword and touching his ribs. His hand came back red. He looked across the arena at his sister and his father who stood with Tantalus. They had sided against him.

  As soon as Hector looked at her, Ariadne ran to the edge of the circle, nearly dancing on her toes along the magically sealed rim, like she was trying to throw herself into it and stop this fight. Hector smiled at his sister.

  “It’s okay, Ari,” he said, forgiving her. “I understand.”

  Hector faced Matt again grimly, aware now that he had met his match. He didn’t waste any time, feinting and spinning past Matt, and slashing downward at Matt’s heel as he spun away. Blood flowed freely from Matt’s Achilles heel, but he didn’t die. He limped away from Hector and took up position on the other side of the arena.

  “Wrong heel, my friend,” Matt said sympathetically as the wound closed immediately.

  “It was worth a shot,” Hector replied with a shrug, and then he pressed in again with reckless abandon.

  Scions healed quickly, but for Matt it only took seconds for his skin to seal back up like nothing had happened. After seeing that, Hector knew his only shot at beating Matt was to find his one weakness. Matt had to have one. He had to be at least partially mortal or Hecate wouldn’t have allowed him to take part in this fight, but there were a lot of body parts to choose from. Hector tried the other heel first, but Matt only recovered faster this time.

  “Cut his head off!” Daphne yelled, her eyes wide with fear for Hector now that stabbing both Achilles heels hadn’t worked.

  “His heart! Hit his heart!” Orion shouted after her.

  As soon as these first two ideas were offered, the Scions on Helen’s side began calling out suggestions in a flurry of voices. Hector fought on, stabbing at Matt’s heart, liver, and even trying to cut off his head, but none of these turned out to be right. Matt would feel the injury but heal immediately, and all the while Hector was getting wounded and not healing as quickly. With each furious exchange, Hector was the one who grew weaker.

  The gods looked on with rapt expressions. It was clear that this was the best fight they’d seen in over three thousand years. They were soaking up every minute of Hector’s and Matt’s pain like they were cheering downs at a football game. It was sport for them.

  Unable to bear watching the bloodthirsty gods, Helen looked over at Lucas for comfort. He wasn’t even watching the fight anymore. He was looking blankly at the sand, racking his brain for the body part that Matt would choose as his one weakness. She could see him talking to himself, frantic for a way to figure it out. She thought she heard Lucas repeating the word “heel” over and over to himself.

  Lucas lifted his head and made eye contact with Helen, his face bright with hope.

  He’d figured it out.

  At that very moment, Helen and Lucas heard Hector shout. Their heads spun around in time to see Hector crumple to his knees. Matt’s sword was buried up to the hilt in his chest.

  Many voices cried at once, and bodies on both sides of the arena’s circle pressed against the invisible barricade in a wave, as loving members from both factions tried to rush into the arena and come to Hector’s aid. But the magic of the battleground prevented any being from interfering.

  Matt stood over Hector, his lips trembling and his shoulders hunched with regret. Nearly out of her mind, Ariadne was screaming hateful things at Matt while Claire tried to hold her back.

  Hector fell onto his side, still clutching the thick blade that had run him clean through the heart. He hit the ground and his head turned upward, his eyes staring directly at the clouded sun. He pulled in one taut breath, then another, and then no more. His mouth seemed to smile at the sky, but his eyes, which had always been so fierce and full of life, ran dry.

  Hector was dead.

  FOURTEEN

  Staring at Hector’s body lying on the sand, Helen couldn’t help but think—I chose him as my champion because I couldn’t bear it for Lucas or Orion to be lying there. This is my fault.

  “Challenge!” Lucas shouted, his deep voice piercing through the commotion.

  The gods collapsed into a tight group to confer.

  “How can this be?” Poseidon asked. “I thought you said the Face took him to her world.”

  “She did,” Hermes answered defensively. “She must not have made him . . .”

  “Wait,” Zeus said, holding up a hand to silence them before Hermes could finish. “Hecate still has to decide.”

  Lucas reached the edge of the arena and strode into the ring, unhindered by the barrier that had kept everyone else out. Whatever old magic tested a challenger’s fitness, it had accepted Lucas. The gods exchanged looks of confusion.

  Helen followed Lucas in a daze, unconcerned with the gods’ reaction. She knew why it was possible for Lucas to enter the ring. She just didn’t know why he would want to. It didn’t make any sense. Matt had killed her champion, and now he was supposed to challenge her.

  “Lucas? What are you doing?” she asked, fear making her breath flutter. He didn’t answer or even acknowledge that he’d heard her.

  “Lucas is Hector’s second, Helen. It’s his right to challenge Matt before Matt can challenge you.” Jason’s voice was breaking. Helen looked at him. Tears were falling freely down his face for his brother. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

  “Can I stop them?” she whispered.

  “No. This is what it means to be a champion’s second.”

  Helen knew it was foolish of her not to have realized that, but it honestly never occurred to her that anyone could defeat Hector in the first place. And if they did, she figured it was up to her to do her own fighting. She looked at Orion pleadingly, and he shrugged, helpless.

  Inside the circle, Lucas had crouched down over Hector’s body. Matt stood back respectfully as Lucas shut his dead brother’s eyes. Helen could hear Pallas and Ariadne weeping on the other side of the arena. Helen knew she was crying, too, but more important to her than her own sorrow was the guilt she saw in Lucas.

  “One more second,” Lucas whispered to Hector’s body. A sob burst out of him unexpectedly, like it escaped without his permission. It was a rough and angry noise.

  Lucas picked Hector up and carried him to Orion and Jason who were waiting at the edge of the barrier. As he handed Hector’s body over, Andy pushed her way into the tight circle that waited to claim the fallen hero.

  “Wake up!” Andy commanded, her voice carrying that haunting note that made nerve endings strain to obey. He didn’t move. Her cheeks flushed a bright red as she concentrated every ounce of power she had.

  “I said, wake up!” she repeated, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.

  Her siren voice echoed across the dunes and the water. Sand and spray jumped into the air like they were trying to flee from her. But still, Hector did not move. When Andy started to shout and call him all kinds of nasty names for leaving her behind, Castor was the one to finally come in and drag her away from Hector’s body.

  “Enough! He’s gone, and not even you can wake him,” Castor said, trying to get through to her. She didn’t have the strength of a Scion, but she fought him for a moment before she fell apart.

  Noel was there to hold her as she cried. But even as she comforted Andy, her eyes were fixed on Luca
s, who still had yet to fight. Lucas had his hand in his right pocket, his fingers worrying something he kept in there.

  “Bow and arrow,” Lucas called to Jason.

  A startled murmuring began to rise among the onlookers. Several of the gods laughed.

  “This one doesn’t disappoint,” Apollo said excitedly to the goddess in armor. Helen assumed she was Athena. “It’s just like last time.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Athena said back to Apollo. Her shrewd eyes were trained on Lucas.

  “Why didn’t he pick a sword?” Helen asked Orion, ignoring the gods as they placed bets.

  “I have no idea,” Orion responded.

  “Well . . . how many arrows does he get?”

  “Just one.”

  Helen’s head snapped around, and she stared at Lucas as he stood calmly in the ring. “Why would he pick that weapon then? That doesn’t make any sense,” she pressed. Orion’s puzzled look deepened Helen’s fear.

  “Come on, Luke,” Jason said, throwing up his hands in an exasperated gesture, like he didn’t know what Lucas expected of him.

  “Bow and arrow,” Lucas repeated distinctly.

  Flushed with anger over Lucas’s seemingly suicidal choice, Jason picked a bow and a single arrow from the weapons chest that waited on the edge of the dueling ground. He pulled on the bow and stared down the shaft of the arrow to test them, and then brought them to Lucas.

  “You aren’t even wearing armor,” Jason said to him in a harsh undertone. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  As soon as Helen heard Jason say this, she realized that she hadn’t considered that possibility. What if Lucas was so fed up that he wanted to die?

  Lucas took his weapons without answering Jason and moved away from the edge of the ring. He didn’t try to communicate with his father or mother. He didn’t embrace Jason or give a last-minute speech about what he was doing and why. He didn’t even look at Helen or try to let her know that it was going to be okay. Lucas simply took his weapon and squared off opposite Matt, signaling that he was ready.