Dreamless

island to notice a lowly normal human like him.
    Tonight he had served his master well, even though the information he had supplied was not welcome. Zach had proven that there was another surviving Rogue, and if there were two—Helen and this new guy, Orion—then there could be many, many more.
    Zach wasn’t an idiot. It hadn’t taken him long to understand the politics or the ultimate prize involved. Raising Atlantis would give immortality to the Scions, and after thousands of years stuck in a stalemate with the gods, the Hundred Cousins were determined to claim their prize.
    There was some debate, coming from the whiny Delos faction, about a great war starting as a result of this, but Zach’s master had explained it all to him. War would be a really bad choice for the gods. The Hundred, immortal as soon as they raised Atlantis, would outnumber the Twelve Olympians by at least eighty-eight, and everyone knew that there were more than a hundred cousins in the Hundred.
    If the Olympians tried to fight, they would be forced to surrender almost immediately. Humanity would finally have gods who could really understand them, gods who had once been mortal. Maybe, for a change, people’s prayers would get answered instead of ignored.
    It made perfect sense to Zach. He knew he was on the right side.
    It’s just that sometimes Zach heard his master say horrible stuff, like how he wished all of humanity was either gone or turned into mindless slaves, like in an ant colony. On more than one occasion, Automedon had said that he wanted his master to “wipe the world clean.” Zach had never met his master’s master, and from what he had heard, he didn’t want to. Ever.
    Stepping onto the yacht, Zach heard multiple voices belowdecks and smelled an acidic, rancid scent, like sour milk. His body recoiled from the smell of the visitors, but he told himself to ignore it. Sometimes his master didn’t smell right, either. Even though he looked mostly human on the outside, Automedon had an exoskeleton instead of skin and he didn’t breathe through his mouth, but through tiny holes hidden all over his outer surface. He didn’t smell human—more like musk mixed with dry leaves.
    Zach took a seat on the now-vacant upper deck. The other members of the Hundred who’d come with Automedon to the island had all been called back by Tantalus shortly after the confrontation with Hector, Lucas, and Helen in the woods. Zach wasn’t sure exactly why, but he thought it had something to do with Tantalus being attacked. Whatever had happened must have been big in order for Tantalus’s elite guard to circle the wagons the way they had. All Zach knew was that now an entire battalion of the Hundred Cousins was committed to chasing some mystery woman across the world.
    The voices belowdecks rose slightly in disagreement, and then quickly softened as one or the other side backed down. Zach knew better than to interrupt, so he waited on one of the teak benches.
    They knew he was there, of course. Zach had learned that his master could hear him no matter how softly he tried to walk. Whoever was down there with him was equally as gifted—either a high-ranking Scion, or something else even more powerful. His master did not use that reverent tone of voice on any being he deemed less than himself, and there were very few beings on the planet that Automedon did not rank as beneath him.
    When he heard the group belowdecks begin to ascend, Zach stood respectfully. Following his master up the stairs was a tall woman and a pale young man. They looked like fashion models with their delicate beauty and luminous gray eyes, and they moved like they were floating.
    But, on closer inspection, there was too much white in their gray eyes, and they seemed to pant instead of breathe. Zach backed away, and by the displeased look on his master’s face knew he had done something terribly wrong. The panting woman waggled her head toward Zach, like a snake zeroing in on its target.
    “Kneel, slave!” Automedon commanded.
    Zach dropped to his knees but continued staring at the hypnotically ugly woman. It had taken him a moment to realize it, but for all her height and sharp features, she wasn’t a beautiful fashion model. She was repulsive, and so was the stooping, stumbling boy next to her.
    They were the source of that horrid smell—bad milk mixed with sulfur. It made his eyes water, so he shut them. Violent, chaotic emotions began to bubble up inside him. He