nothing.
She could feel Claire stealing little glances at her while they put coins in the vending machine, searching Helen’s face for some kind of explanation. But Helen didn’t have the words to explain what was going on.
“What?” Helen asked defensively when she couldn’t take Claire’s stares anymore.
“Nothing,” Claire said, pursing her lips. A tense moment passed between them, and Helen’s frustration grew.
“Just say it, Claire.”
“You’re different.” Claire gathered their makeshift meal out of the bottom of the machine and turned, but Helen reached out and stopped her.
“I’m different because I have to be,” Helen said, her voice harsh. “The way I used to be wasn’t enough. Not for this.”
“And how much more are you going to change?”
“As much as I have to in order to win.”
“Does that include manipulating cops?” Claire said hotly. “What did you do to him, anyway?”
Helen felt guilty about the police officer, even though she didn’t fully understand what she’d done. There was something wrong about being able to take away someone’s will like that. Helen knew as much, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Claire.
“I did what I had to do. Or do you think I should have killed him to get in the room?”
Claire opened her mouth to say something but quickly shut it again, edging away from her as they walked back to the car. Helen realized that Claire was genuinely afraid of her, not just afraid of a few sparks and a booming voice. Helen knew she should have said something to make her feel better. But she didn’t. A big part of Helen was angry with Claire for not being more understanding. Even though it didn’t make any sense, Helen resented her best friend for fearing her.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but this isn’t just about our friends and family anymore,” Helen said bitterly. “And I don’t need to explain my actions to you. Or ask your permission to use my powers.”
“You’re right,” Claire replied. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. Just make sure you can explain your actions to your conscience.”
They didn’t talk much after that. Helen and Claire woke Ariadne up and made her eat a granola bar from the vending machine and drink a bottle of water before Helen drove them all back home. She dropped Claire at her parents’ house with a few mumbled plans about meeting up first thing tomorrow, and then went on to the Delos place.
It was late when they pulled in, and Helen was so exhausted that she barely had the energy to carry the other two girls up to Ariadne’s bed before she collapsed on the couch.
Helen sat opposite herself inside a covered, horse-drawn carriage. It was dark in the enclosed compartment. The only light came from between the slats of a tiny, shuttered window. Helen wondered how she would get in and out of the carriage, because she couldn’t see a door. She guessed that the window might be large enough to let her squeeze through . . . if there weren’t bars over it.
The other Helen who sat across from her was not the Spartan one from before. This one was wearing a gown made out of some kind of rough, homespun material. There were blue-dyed strings woven into her long, blonde hair and she sat on a pile of tanned skins and furs. The backs of her hands were painted with more blue dye in intricate curlicues that Helen vaguely recognized as Irish. The word Celtic bubbled up in her mind and she knew that description, while maybe not completely accurate, was closer to the true one.
At the other Helen’s waist was a dagger. Her hand clutched it desperately at every sound she heard from outside the shuttered and barred window of her prison-like carriage. This other Helen looked like a savage and was being treated like a caged animal. Helen wondered if this “other her” was dangerous.
“My lady Guinevere!” shouted a familiar voice outside the window.
Lucas’s voice.
Guinevere
Salman Rushdie
Ed Lynskey
Anthony Litton
Herman Cain
Bernhard Schlink
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RJ Astruc
Neil Pasricha
Frankie Robertson
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