Dreamless

death. Persephone can’t die until Hades lets her,” Cassandra spoke from across the room, making Helen jump.
    She’d forgotten Cassandra was sitting there, writing a letter to her father, who was still in New York City. Castor and Pallas were only allowed to receive written messages while in Conclave, and they had asked for some specific information on the Myrmidon. Cassandra had always had the disturbing ability to remain as still as a statue, and lately that ability had become so pronounced it was getting downright spooky. She joined the rest of the group and stared at Persephone’s picture with a frown.
    “So she’s trapped down there,” Helen said, directing her focus back to Persephone’s sorrowful figure.
    “But she could still help you,” Cassandra said. “She knows everything about the Underworld.”
    “She’s a prisoner,” Helen replied with an angry scowl. “ We should be helping her . Orion and I should, I mean.”
    “Impossible,” Cassandra said. “Not even Zeus could get Hades to part with Persephone when Demeter demanded her daughter back. Demeter sent the world into an ice age, nearly killing off humanity over it.”
    “He’s a kidnapper!” Matt exclaimed, outraged. “Why isn’t Hades locked up on Olympus with the rest of them? He’s one of the three major gods. Shouldn’t he be part of the Truce?”
    “Hades is the eldest brother of the Big Three, so I guess that technically he is an Olympian, but he was always different. I can’t remember any literature that says he’s even been to Mount Olympus,” Cassandra said with a quizzical little grimace. “The Underworld is also called ‘Hades’ because it is entirely his realm. It’s not part of the Truce, or even part of this world for that matter.”
    “The Underworld has its own rules,” Helen said. She understood this bit better than anyone. “And I’m guessing you all think that Persephone might be willing to break a few of them?”
    “I don’t want to promise anything, but if anyone would even be able to help you down there, it would probably be her,” Jason said. “She is the queen.”
    Helen’s phone buzzed.
    Want to know Julius Caesar’s favorite dirty joke? Orion texted.
    Meet me tonight , Helen texted back. I think we’re onto something.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    H elen stared at the croissant and wished that one of her talents was X-ray vision. She very much wanted to know what was under that flakey crust. If it was spinach, it had to go on the tray at the end of the case. If it was ham and cheese, well then, it had to go in her belly.
    “Lennie? You’ve been staring at that pastry for ten minutes,” Kate said in a matter-of-fact way. “Any longer and it’ll get stale before you get it into your mouth.”
    Helen straightened up and focused her eyes, trying to laugh like nothing was wrong. The laugh came out so forced and delayed that it sounded almost creepy. Kate gave her an odd look and stared pointedly at the croissant. Helen took the expected bite and regretted it. Spinach. Still, it gave her something to do so she would stay awake, and Helen had to stay awake for the rest of her shift, no matter what she had to put in her mouth.
    Her vision had been blurring in and out every few minutes all night, and if she accidentally fell asleep and descended without Orion’s face in her mind she knew she wouldn’t meet up with him in the Underworld like they had planned. But even more important, she couldn’t allow herself to nod off and a microsecond later appear in the News Store, covered in crazy gunk from the Underworld.
    The last few days Helen had been scared stiff that she might fall asleep in class or at work, descend, and wake up in front of everyone she knew covered in unexplainable filth. Especially this evening. She was more tired than she had ever been in her life, and Zach was bogarting a table at the back of the News Store, in the Kate’s Cakes section. Where Helen was stationed.
    Several times Helen had tried to strike up a conversation, trying to find out what he was doing there all by himself on a Saturday night, but he barely even acknowledged her. He just kept ordering food and coffee, and typing on his laptop in a distracted way, almost as if he were just doodling. Never once did he make eye contact. When she did catch him staring at her, which happened more than Helen liked, he usually had a disgusted look on his face, as if he had just caught her picking her nose or something.
    Wiping