Dreamless

dark blue that bordered on black. It was like looking at the midnight twin of her sunshine Lucas. He was still beautiful, but so sad it was painful for her to look at him.
    After everything he’d put her through, Helen knew she should want to punish him, but she didn’t. Somewhere along the way she had laced her arms around his neck and he had started running his hands up and down her back, and she wasn’t the least bit angry anymore.
    Staring into his eyes, she could see an odd gloom creeping around in there, trying to snuff out the glow she’d always found inside of him. But before she could figure out how to ask him what he meant by “consequences,” Lucas changed the subject and pulled away from her.
    “I had a long exchange with Orion today,” he said, opening the door on the widow’s walk that went downstairs into the house and holding it open for Helen. “He had a feeling that you weren’t telling us everything about what was going on in the Underworld. He asked me to help. He cares about you very much.”
    “I know that.” Helen led him into the house and down to her cold bedroom. “But he’s wrong. I’m not keeping anything from anyone. It’s just that I figured there’s no help for me, so why go into the details? I’m not dreaming , Lucas. How does Orion think you or anyone else can fix that?”
    Lucas slumped down on the edge of Helen’s bed, shrugged off his jacket, and kicked off his shoes while he thought. He was so comfortable in her room, it was like he belonged there. Helen’s every instinct screamed that Lucas did belong in her bedroom, despite the fact that they both knew he shouldn’t be there.
    “I descended into the Underworld the other night. At first, it was to see if I could help you in any way—without interfering, of course. And then after a few hours it was just to watch the two of you together. For a lot of reasons,” Lucas finally admitted, laying all his cards on the table. “Anyway, I got sloppy. Orion saw me there and worked out how I did it. He got in touch with me today to tell me why you were dying, and together we realized that I might have the one thing you need to get well again. So I guess I did find a way to help you after all.” He swung his legs up onto her bed and settled back against the pillows.
    Helen stopped dead. She wanted to stare at him all night, lying in her bed like that, as perfect as could be, but she couldn’t get past what he’d just told her.
    “You descended into the Underworld? When? How?” she asked, trying not to squeak.
    “Saturday night. Ares saw me hiding in the boneyard and talked to me. I was the other ‘little godling.’ Remember? Then I distracted Cerberus when she chased you.”
    “The yodeler?” Helen asked in disbelief. “Wait, she’s a she ?”
    “Yes,” he said through a chuckle. “I was the yodeler and Cerberus is a she-wolf. Now go wash up. I’ll be right here.”
    “But . . .”
    “Hurry,” he urged. “I had to wait until you were away from our family to bring you this, but I can’t stand to see you so sick for much longer.”
    Helen bolted into the bathroom and nearly washed her mouth out with soap and brushed her face with toothpaste, she was shaking so badly. She stripped and scrubbed and flossed and combed pretty much everything at the same time before jumping into clean pajamas and running back into her bedroom.
    He was still there, just like he’d promised, and Helen’s last nagging doubts evaporated. The unnatural separation was over, and they weren’t going to start yelling at each other or pushing each other away anymore.
    “Oh, good. I’m not hallucinating,” she said, only half kidding. “Or dreaming.”
    “But you need to dream,” he said softly across the room, staring at her. Helen shook her head.
    “This is better,” she said certainly. “Even if it kills me, staying awake and seeing you in my bed is better than any dream.”
    “You’re not supposed to say things like that,” he reminded her.
    He closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them he smiled resolutely and lifted up the edge of the covers. Helen ran and dove into them, beside herself with happiness. She didn’t care about right or wrong anymore. She was dying, she reasoned; shouldn’t she at least die happy? Helen turned over onto her back and lifted her arms up to him invitingly, but he captured her face between his palms and made her settle back into the bed. He hovered over her, on top of the