Dreamless

tried to decide who to protect and who to fight against. But they were all her neighbors, and from what she could see, the vast majority of them were hurting each other out of sheer panic. She noticed a path being cleared through the random swarm and headed for it.
    Automedon, closely followed by her old pal Zach, was carelessly flicking helpless people out of his way. With his inhuman strength, he sent anyone who stepped in his path soaring through the air like kites that had been snipped from their strings. The Myrmidon wasn’t intentionally seeking to hurt people—he just didn’t care if anyone around him lived or died.
    A man was lying on the ground, directly in Automedon’s path. A little girl in a princess costume and a boy dressed as a bear were beside him, standing in a pile of spilled Halloween candy. The little girl was bawling inconsolably and pushing on the man’s back, trying uselessly to wake him. The brave little boy turned to face Automedon, his fists clenched inside the furry bear paws, ready to defend the fallen man and the defenseless baby girl. The man was Luis, Helen realized as she drew closer, and the children were Marivi and Juan.
    Automedon hardly even glanced down. He batted Juan out of the way as an afterthought, and sent his tiny body soaring limply over the crowd. Orion turned into a blur at her side, but Helen stayed rooted to the ground in shock. Zach’s face froze into a mask of fear, and he dove for cover as a bolt of ice-white lighting arced out of Helen’s chest and connected with Automedon.
    She didn’t think. She didn’t consider whether or not people were watching, or if she wanted to spare the insect for strategic purposes. In her mind’s eye, Helen could see nothing but the image of Juan in his darling little bear costume, floating limply through air. She raised her left hand, focused the stream of pure energy, and turned Automedon into a flaming, vaguely man-shaped torch as she strode toward him.
    Automedon writhed in agony like a half-crushed bug. As his skin went from fiery orange to dull red, he fell to his knees, and then onto his side, and then—charred to black—he finally went still.
    “Helen, stop!” Orion yelled at her. “He’s dead!”
    Cutting off the stream with a crisp, snapping sound, Helen retracted her left hand and looked down on the charcoal husk that used to be Automedon. Zach scrambled to his feet and took off. Helen let him go, turning instead to face Orion.
    He was holding Juan. In such large arms the little boy looked like a toy teddy bear. Helen covered her mouth with a hand, unwilling to ask out loud how bad it was.
    “It’s okay, I caught him before he hit the ground,” Orion said comfortingly as he strode toward her. “But we should get these kids out of the street.”
    They looked down at Marivi. She was staring up at Helen, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in awe.
    “Do you remember me?” Helen asked. Marivi nodded, her expression frozen in shock. “Will you come with us?” Marivi nodded again, her eyes still wide.
    Helen held out an arm to the little girl and she jumped up, clinging to Helen’s neck and wrapping her legs around Helen’s waist as tight as a barnacle. Orion balanced Juan carefully on Helen’s other hip and then he bent down to study Luis, who still seemed to be breathing.
    “He’s out, but he’ll be all right,” Orion said, picking him up without delay. “Is there a safe place near here? The hospitals will be overflowing tonight.”
    “Ah . . . the News Store?” Helen said, at a loss. “There’s a first aid kit, and maybe my family will be there.”
    “Perfect,” Orion replied, motioning for Helen to lead on.
    As they headed off, Automedon’s blackened body moved. They heard a brittle, cracking noise, and a large rent opened up down his back, exposing damp pink skin underneath. It breathed . Marivi buried her face in Helen’s neck, hiding her eyes.
    Orion and Helen exchanged shocked looks. Suddenly, the shell around Automedon split in half, and he climbed out of his own burnt skin like a crab shedding its outer casing. Covered in mucus, and crouching next to his castoff remains, Automedon looked up at Helen with milky, film-covered eyes and smiled.
    “That hurt,” he told her in a detached, nearly robotic way as he drooled stringy spit. He looked at Orion and then down at the gold cuff on Orion’s wrist, narrowing his oozing eyes. “The Third Heir. Nice to see you again, General