Dreamless

find three freezers. Open the short one and take out the big roast. Hurry-hurry! Everyone will be hungry.”
    “Short one. Big roast. Got it,” Helen said, and bolted off to run Noel’s errand. She didn’t even try to argue. She may not have been around the Delos family for very long, but she knew enough to know that when she was in Noel’s kitchen she’d better do as she was told. She came back in half a second and put a frozen roast the size of an ox in the sink that Noel was pointing at in a hassled way.
    “They’re working on Jerry in the guest room we normally put you in,” Noel said, finally turning to Helen with a sympathetic look. “Go quietly. If one or both of the twins are sleeping, don’t wake them. It could injure them.”
    “Okay. Thanks,” Helen said.
    She twisted her hands and shuffled her feet, not knowing what to do with herself. She knew she was supposed to go upstairs and check on her father, but she didn’t want to see him hurt. She felt her loose ends starting to flap around again.
    Looking at Helen’s attack of the fidgets, Noel’s eyes widened and she immediately put down her scorched wooden spoon, wiped her fingers on her apron, and pulled Helen into a big, soft hug. At first Helen was startled stiff, but then she just let go and really leaned into it. Noel smelled like bread dough and baby powder. Helen couldn’t remember anyone but Kate ever feeling so fluffy and relaxing. It was like hugging a warm muffin.
    “Better?” Noel asked as she leaned back and looked Helen over appraisingly. “You look exhausted. Did you stop dreaming again?”
    “No, I can dream,” Helen said, laughing a bit as she smoothed down her now torn and dirty dress and wondered how Noel knew about the whole non-dreaming thing. “It’s just been a really long day.”
    “I know, honey. And you’ve done so much,” Noel said, cupping Helen’s face in her hands and looking at her intently with wide, loving eyes. “Thank you for bringing my Hector back to us.” Noel kissed her on the forehead, the gesture reminding Helen of Lucas. Which reminded Helen . . .
    “Wait. How could you know about Hector? That happened, like, five minutes ago.”
    “All my boys call me first whenever they have either really good or really bad news. It’s the in-between news that boys are not so good with,” Noel said with a grin and narrowed eyes. “You’ll see for yourself someday.” Then she turned back to the counter, picked up a giant knife, chopped something like it had insulted her, and dumped its sorry bits into a bubbling pot.
    Surprising herself, Helen wrapped her arms around Noel from the side and stole a quick hug. Noel absentmindedly kissed the top of Helen’s head and stroked her hair while she stirred, like she was used to both giving and receiving random affection at any given moment from any kid in her inner circle. More relaxed now and ready to deal, Helen went upstairs to find her father.
    Automedon left his master in the strange in-between land at the bottom of the cave, went above ground, and summoned his slave. The mortal boy was not accustomed to his new life of servitude, but luckily for him, he was moderately intelligent and didn’t make many mistakes. As soon as Automedon relayed directions to the cave and inquired after the arranged provisions, he raced back to Nantucket, still not certain if the curse of the Furies had been entirely lifted or not. He was willing to take the chance and move forward with the plan either way, but it took him a full thirty-eight minutes to return and locate the Face.
    At first, Automedon had looked for her at home, but found only her scent lingering heavily in the front yard. He could taste that she had not been alone, and that even the Outcast had been with her at her house. A brief glance at the ground told Automedon that there had been no confrontation, no Fury-induced fight. There was only one explanation for that.
    The Descender had been successful! After so much waiting and watching, after so many generations had proved themselves unworthy, it was finally time. His master was right. All that she had needed was a little push, a little incentive to figure it out, and she had. This was no look-alike. This Descender was the princess he had been waiting for—the real Helen.
    Fired up by this new victory, Automedon tasted the trails. They were still so fresh he could sense the emotions of the Scions who’d made them. There was nothing but brotherhood