Starcrossed

think? I get it, Hector. I’m in a lot of danger. But you should have at least given me a heads-up about this.”
    “All right! Point taken!” he said, nearly growling with frustration. “But we’re still not leaving you or your father unguarded at night.”
    Suddenly, Helen wasn’t angry anymore. In fact, knowing that Hector and his family extended their protection to her father made her feel ridiculously grateful. She stood there smiling at him for a second.
    “Thank you,” she said quietly.
    He froze midbreath and stared at her, amazed that her mood had changed so quickly. “That’s it? No more arguing?” he asked doubtfully.
    “Why, do you want to—” she began, but she was interrupted by her father’s voice from downstairs.
    “Lennie?” Jerry called from the hallway in front of Helen’s bedroom. She had been so distracted by Hector she had forgotten to listen for her dad.
    “Yeah!” Helen called down, motioning desperately for Hector to get away from the door. She changed places with him and made it inside just in time.
    “Are you sleeping up there again?” Jerry asked when he saw Helen shutting the door to the roof and coming down the steps. “It’s way too cold out, Helen.”
    “Do you have any idea how late it is? Go to sleep,” she scolded as she hurried past him.
    “I know, I’m going to bed right now . . . Hey! You go to sleep,” Jerry scolded back, belatedly remembering that he was the parent.
    As Helen jumped into bed and burrowed into her comforter, she could have sworn she heard Hector chuckling softly to himself up on the widow’s walk.

Chapter Ten
    MAJORCA , SPAIN
    C reon watched the reporter for five minutes before he decided to uncloak himself from the shadows. He appeared out of the darkness behind her, barely a step away. She spun around and inhaled a startled breath so quickly it almost sounded like a sob. There was something exhilarating about seeing a woman afraid, Creon thought, especially when that woman was a pushy bitch like this one. A little fear is good; it reminded non-Scion mortals of their place, and Creon wanted this mortal in particular to remember that she might be able to force this meeting by threatening to have the police investigate his family, but she wasn’t in control.
    That’s why he picked the docks at night. He wanted to see how committed she truly was to writing a story on his family. The fact that she met him there proved she had a spine, if not a brain, and because of that Creon decided she deserved a moment of his time. Besides, she made such a pleasant sound when she was startled. Maybe he would hear it again.
    He smiled down at her innocently, as if to let her know that he was just playing a little trick. She met his eye, but she also took a step back—which meant she was brave but scared. Creon liked to see those two emotions together; it made him feel like he had won something.
    “Again, I ask for the father but instead I get the son,” she said in accented English.
    “I speak perfect Spanish,” Creon replied in her native language, still smiling at her. “And you know my father doesn’t meet reporters.”
    “Your father doesn’t meet anyone. That’s why I’m here,” she continued stubbornly in English. He shrugged impassively, refusing to take the bait. She crossed her arms and studied him. “Tantalus Delos hasn’t let anyone see him in almost twenty years now. Strange, no?”
    “He likes his privacy,” Creon said through a grin that had grown tight.
    “Privacy is the one luxury a billionaire aristocrat can’t buy. You’ve heard the stories about your father, yes?”
    “They’re all lies,” Creon said as smoothly as he could, but her eyes were so doubtful he nearly faltered. How dare she?
    Over the years there had been many stories floating around the tabloids about his father—that he had been maimed, that he had lost his mind to an obsessive-compulsive disorder like Howard Hughes, that he was dead. Creon knew at least that his father was alive, and he had vehemently denied all of the other accusations time and time again. But the truth was, Creon hadn’t seen or spoken to his father in nineteen years. No one had seen Tantalus except Creon’s mother, Mildred Delos.
    His mother insisted that Tantalus was in hiding in order to protect himself and the House of Thebes, but she never could explain to Creon why his father wouldn’t call him on the phone, not even once. It seemed like such a little thing to