Dreamless

again!” Giggling, he darted in close, trying to lure Orion away from Helen, but Orion didn’t fall for it.
    As the wild man came nearer, Helen got a better look at him. Horrified, she pressed herself tighter against Orion’s back. The wild man had bulging gray eyes and long dreadlocks that looked like they might have been platinum blond or white before they were matted with blue dye and clotted blood. Blood seemed to bubble up out of his skin. It ran from his nose and ears—even from his scalp , as if his rotted brain leaked gore from any handy hole.
    In his hand was a raggedy sword, its edges orange with rust. Whirling around as Orion intercepted one of the wild man’s feints, Helen caught a whiff of him. Her stomach heaved at the necrotic stench. He smelled like sour fear-sweat and rotting meat.
    “Ares,” Orion whispered to Helen over his shoulder as the god skipped off, giggling hysterically, to hide among the bones. “Don’t be afraid, Helen. He’s a coward.”
    “He’s insane!” Helen whispered back frantically. “He’s completely and totally insane!”
    “Most of the gods are, though I hear Ares is by far the worst,” Orion said with a comforting smile. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t let him near you.”
    “Um, Orion? If he’s a god, can’t he pretty much crush you?” she asked delicately.
    “We don’t have our demigod powers here, so why should he have his god powers?” he said with a shrug, like he was tossing an idea out there. “And he’s the one running away from us . That’s usually a pretty good sign.”
    Orion had a point, but Helen still didn’t relax. She could hear the mad god humming to himself as he trotted off in the distance. He didn’t sound very afraid of them.
    “You there, little godling! Hiding from the others?” Ares suddenly called out, a few hundred yards away. “So inconvenient, when I need all three of you together to start my favorite Game! Soon, soon. For now I will settle. I will watch you play with my uncle’s pet instead. Here he comes, little godling!”
    “Who’s he talking to?” Orion whispered over his shoulder to Helen.
    “I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s us. Maybe he’s seeing things?” she guessed.
    “Maybe not. Earlier, I thought I saw . . .” Orion’s sentence was abruptly interrupted.
    A great howl sounded through the bone forest. It was so deep and loud Helen could feel it vibrating inside her chest. A second howl, then a third followed, each one closer than the last. Helen froze out of sheer instinct, like a white rabbit in the snow.
    “Cerberus.” Orion’s voice cracked. He recovered from his fear quickly. “Move!”
    He grabbed Helen’s arm and dragged her along, snapping her out of her terrified trance. The two of them ran for their lives with Ares’ cackling laughter ringing in their ears.
    They vaulted over brittle bones, trying to keep the howling behind them while making sure not to run down a dead end. Luckily, the bones kept getting smaller and smaller as they zigzagged out of the forest.
    “Do you know where you’re going?” she panted. Orion twisted his wrist out from under the sleeve of his jacket and looked at the golden cuff.
    “It glows when I’m near a gate,” he shouted back at her.
    Helen dodged around a particularly sharp-looking pelvis, and then glanced at Orion’s cuff. It wasn’t glowing, not even a little bit. The howling of Hades’ three-headed hellhound was getting closer by the second.
    “Helen. You have to wake up,” Orion said grimly.
    “I’m not going anywhere.”
    “This isn’t up for debate!” he shouted at her with real anger. “Wake up!”
    Helen shook her head stubbornly. Orion caught Helen roughly by the arm, forcing her to stop. He shook her shoulders and glared into her eyes.
    “Wake. Up.”
    “No.” She glared back at him. “We leave together or not at all.”
    Another chest-rattling howl split the air. They both turned and saw Cerberus, less than a football field away, bounding through the diminishing cover of the boneyard.
    A strange squeak came out of the back of Helen’s throat at the sight of him. She didn’t know what she was expecting—maybe a pit bull or a mastiff with the head of a Doberman thrown in to round out the trio. The sight of any recognizable breed would have been a comfort. But, no. She should have known that none of those familiar, tame dogs existed eons ago when this beast was whelped.
    Cerberus was a wolf. A