Helen and Troy's Epic Road Quest (22 page)

They hurried to their rooms. Helen plucked the shield from the wall without much effort. They expected to be attacked, but nothing popped out at them as they gathered their luggage and made their way to the exit. At the threshold Troy stopped.

“Hold on. I almost forgot something.”

He ran all the way back to Babs's hidden kitchen and grabbed the helmet. Metal screamed as the old witch punched her way free of the oven. The house trembled and shuddered.

Troy bolted toward the front door without looking back. He imagined Babs scrambling right behind him, but he didn't dare look.

Achilles barked.

“Troy, we gotta go!” shouted Helen from the porch.

With each step the rattling grew stronger. He vaulted over a tipped end table and narrowly missed being hit by a falling portrait of a foxhunt. They stepped off the porch just as the house rose into the air. The Mystery Cottage ascended, borne aloft by a pair of giant chicken legs. The monstrous structure took a step toward them. It knocked over several trees while shaking the earth with its stride.

The helmet flew out of Troy's hands and hovered above them. Its rust fell away, revealing a gleaming silver finish. Two pinpoints of yellow light appeared in its empty eyes, and thunder cracked in the clear night sky.

Somewhere the Lost God chuckled. The helmet fell at Troy's feet. The parking lot pavement cracked, and a dozen tall, proud trees withered and died in seconds.

Then there was only the quiet whistling of the wind through the forest, sounding very much like the far-off screams of damned, demented souls.

The familiar cackle of Babs frightened the dead into silence.

She smiled down at Troy and Helen from her front porch. The hunched hag rubbed her hands together. “I'm afraid I can't step foot outside this old home, children. Oh, I suppose I could have my house step on you, but I'm not malicious. And since one of you didn't eat my food, I'm not so certain I'm allowed. Silly of me to think I could break the rules. Can't win them all. You've earned your lives. And your prize.” She bowed, complete with a sweeping gesture of her long, gnarled arms. “Let's hope your world isn't made worse for it.”

Her cabin mansion turned and stomped its way into the forest. Even after its footfalls ceased to shake the earth, the deathless witch's laughter echoed through the chilly night.

Helen and Troy drove until they found a truck stop with a restaurant where they found a booth, ordered some food they didn't want, and sat there, not talking, studying the silver helmet they'd won for not getting eaten.

Neither said much of anything. Both were too busy listening to the din of thoughts in their own heads.

“Hey, Troy,” said Helen. “Thanks for not leaving me there. In the oven.”

He pushed his cold eggs around with his fork. “Did you think I even considered it?”

“No, but it doesn't mean I can't say thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

They shared a smile.

“Hel…” He started but trailed off.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say that I like you.”

She leaned back in the booth, took a bite of dry toast. Not because she was hungry, but it was something to do. “I like you too, Troy.”

He said, “No, I mean, I really like you. Like, a lot.”

Helen narrowed her eyes in a way that struck him as suspicious.

“I'm just trying to—” He waited for her to smile or nod. Or scowl. Or lean over and kiss him. Or throw the table in the air and storm out. Something. Anything. She only sat there.

“What I'm trying to say is that maybe we should, I don't know, like go see a movie or something sometime. After all of this is over.”

“Wow.” Her expression and body language remained unreadable. “You are really bad at this.”

“Yeah. I guess I am. See, I've never actually asked anyone out before.”

“What are you talking about? I've seen you with women.”

“Oh, I've dated plenty,” he said. “I've just never had to ask them out. Either they ask me, or we end up dating over time, like a natural progression. Never had to do the official ‘Want to grab dinner sometime?' thing.”

She smiled. Very slightly.

“So how about it?” he asked.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no.”

Troy lost all interest in pretending to eat his eggs. “Don't you like me?”

“I'd rather not talk about it.”

“Oh, OK.”

He slouched in his chair. It was the first time she'd seen him slouch.

She picked up the helmet. “What do you think this does?”

“What did I do wrong?” he asked.

Helen set the helmet back down. “I really don't want to talk about it.”

His hangdog expression confirmed he wasn't going to drop the subject.

“You didn't do anything wrong, Troy.”

“Don't you like hanging out with me?”

She nodded.

“Don't you find me attractive?” he asked.

“That's a stupid question. Who doesn't find you attractive?”

“Then what's the problem? I'm not saying this has to be serious, but can it hurt anything to see what happens?”

It could hurt a lot of things, she thought.

“OK. You want to talk about this. Let's talk about it. Let's talk about the minotaur in the room. Let's talk about the horns and the tail and the fur. What about those things?”

“I don't think they matter to me,” he said.

“You don't
think
they matter?”

Troy set down his fork and pushed away his plate, having lost even his fake appetite. “I won't lie to you. They could matter. But I don't think they will. I won't know, though, until we try.”

She matched his slumped posture. “No, Troy, they won't matter. Not to you. Because you're so damn wonderful all the damn time. Everyone else sees Helen Nicolaides, cursed girl with horns. But not you. You see more than that.”

“And how is that a bad thing?”

“It's bad because, for better or worse, this isn't about you and me. If we started dating, you have no idea what you'd be in store for. People would wonder why you were with me. People like us, we don't date. The world doesn't want us to. Because I'm what I am, and you're Wyatt Wingfoot.”

“You lost me.”

“She-Hulk can't date Wyatt Wingfoot.”

She hoped the sentence would discourage him but wasn't surprised when it didn't.

“Wyatt Wingfoot is this amazing guy,” she said. “Like you. He's good-looking and smart. He kicks ass. Hangs out with the Fantastic Four. Fights robots and saves the Earth. He's all kinds of awesome. And he sometimes dates She-Hulk, who is the Hulk's smarter cousin. But, despite the fact that Wyatt is amazing, he never gets serious with her because nobody wants to write that story.”

“You're saying you don't want to go out with me because of a comic book character?”

“No, I'm saying we can't go out because of what that character represents. We don't live in a culture where regular guys, even amazing ones, have seven-foot monster girlfriends.”

“You're not a monster.”

“I look like one standing next to you. It'd be different with the genders reversed. Everybody gets beauty and the beast. But this thing between us, it'd be weird to most people.”

“So you admit there's something here.”

“Maybe. It could just be the excitement of the quest, though, a romantic fling brought up by all the dragon fighting. And as long as we're doing that, it might work, but what happens after the quest? Assuming we survive and don't destroy the world.”

She leaned forward, almost put her hand on his, but folded them under her chin instead.

“You don't know what it will be like, Troy.”

“I'm just talking about a date.”

“Then what? What happens if it's more than that? What happens when you want to introduce me to your parents? What happens when your friends start making cow jokes or the tenth time some hot babe hits on you right in front of me because she assumes it'd be easy to steal you away? Or you start losing friends because they're not sure how to deal with your girlfriend? Do you think you're ready for that? Are you ready for people to start disliking you, being uncomfortable around you, just because your girlfriend has fur?

“You don't know what you'd be getting into. I'm not saying my life is bad. It isn't. But I'm reminded of what I am every day, and if we dated, you'd be reminded too. And you have the option of walking away from it. And I couldn't blame you if you did because there are days, lots of them, when I wish I could.”

He wanted to tell her he wouldn't feel that way, but it would have been an empty promise. His own ethnic heritage came with baggage. People assumed things about him based on nothing more than a glance. He got around most of those by being personable and popular, but they were still there, popping up to annoy him on occasion.

He couldn't imagine what Helen dealt with. At school he'd heard the whispered jokes, the cruel jabs some of the other students could make. He didn't hear many because he was the cool popular kid, and he set the rules for his crowd. But he couldn't pretend that they weren't said or that many of his friends didn't say them when he wasn't around to disapprove.

He reached for her hands.

She pulled them away and hid them under the table.

“You're great,” she said softly. “You have no idea how wonderful it is that you even asked. But you and me, we don't work together.”

“Hel…”

She looked away. “Drop it, Troy.”

He didn't want to, but he didn't see the point in arguing with her right now. There would be time to discuss it later. He hadn't given up, but he didn't press the issue.

She knew every thought running through his head. Troy wasn't easily discouraged. But he'd realize she was right sooner or later.

Helen excused herself to use the restroom. She locked herself in the small room that stank of cheap pine and that indefinable musty public bathroom smell. People knocked on the door. She ignored them until they went away.

She stared at the minotaur in the mirror, and as much as she wanted to hate her curse, this wasn't about horns or hooves. It went deeper, all the way to the place where a little girl wanted to believe a handsome prince could rescue her.

That girl wasn't there anymore.

“You suck.”

Troy waited patiently for Helen to get back. After five minutes he resisted the urge to check on her. After eight he got out of the booth, walked halfway to the bathrooms, then changed his mind and turned back. After ten he found himself worrying, but he was determined to give her the space she needed.

He paid the bill and went outside to grab some air. He stood awkwardly in the parking lot. It was a new experience, this uncertainty. Helen was the first thing he had been unsure of in a long, long time. So long, he couldn't remember the last. Although he was positive there had to be at least one forgotten moment in his past.

He was wrong. This was the first.

A lunch wagon pulled into the parking lot. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't pay it much mind. Not until the short, hairy man stepped out of it. Pollux Castor, the lunch wagon oracle, had found them again. Troy ran over.

“Am I glad to see you,” he said.

Pollux glanced at Troy. “Something I can do for you, kid?”

“You can tell me what to do next. Isn't that why you're here?”

Pollux patted his belly. “I'm here for dinner. Now, if you'll excuse me…”

He pushed past Troy and walked toward the restaurant. Troy walked by his side.

“Don't you remember me?”

“Should I?”

“You helped me on my quest,” said Troy.

“I've helped a lot of people on their quests. You'll have to be more specific.”

“I was the guy with the…tall girl.”

“Not ringing any bells.”

Troy struggled to not say it. Pollux reached for the handle of the diner's door.

“The minotaur girl,” said Troy softly.

Pollux stopped. “Oh, yes. I remember you two.”

Troy hated himself for saying it, and he hated the world for making it such a big deal in the first place. It only proved Helen's point. She would always be the girl with fur.

Pollux said, “You're still alive. I wasn't certain you'd pass the first challenge, but you seem to be doing all right. You don't need my help. And if I'm not in Colorado by tomorrow night to show an unassuming middle manager how to get his hands on some golden fleece, you can kiss the Atlantic Ocean good-bye. The oracle business keeps me on a tight schedule. I just want to grab some steak and eggs and be on my way. Just follow the road you're on. It'll always lead you where you're going. Trust in yourself. Beware of Greeks bearing gifts. Other sagely advice. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Can you at least tell me if I'm going to unleash a disaster?”

“I could, but why ruin the surprise?”

Troy was too tired to have this conversation. “Sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you.”

“Don't worry about it.”

Pollux went inside, leaving Troy with his thoughts. The short oracle came back a moment later.

“All right, all right. You seem like a good kid. I can spare a few minutes, but let's make this quick. What's bugging you?”

“It's Helen.”

“Who?”

“The…tall woman I was with.”

“Right, right. The
tall
one.” Pollux rubbed his round chin. “Got a thing for her, do you?”

“How'd you know?”

“Just part of the oracle biz. Just like I know your next question. How do you win her over? Short answer: you don't. The way to another's heart, that isn't something I can help you with. It was different in days of yore. You met a woman, you slew a monster or fetched an enchanted rose from a frozen mountaintop, you get married. And sometimes it worked out. Sometimes the wife cooked her children in a stew and served them to her husband. Overall it was a simple system.

“Today it's a bit more complicated. I can tell you where to find a tree that grows golden apples that will make you immortal. I can tell you where to find a bottle holding the first ray of light ever to touch this world. I can tell you how to reach the kingdom of the gods above with a sailboat and a good sextant. But how to convince someone to trust you with their heart, that's not my department.”

Pollux slapped Troy on the back.

“I wish I could tell you the right thing to say and the right way to say it. If I could slip you a love potion, I would. The only thing you can do is give her the time to figure it out on her own and be there when she's ready. And if she's never ready, be ready to move on. Unrequited love is bullshit. And it always ends up hurting everyone involved.”

“You can't tell me if she changes her mind?”

“Everybody thinks they want to know the future,” said Pollux. “But nobody does. Not really.”

Troy said, “What are you hiding?”

“Oh, nothing important. Have a good life, kid.”

He turned, but Troy grabbed Pollux by the arm.

“Ow. Just a word of advice. Manhandling an oracle is a good way to meet an ironic end.”

“What is it?”

The look in Troy's eye told Pollux everything he needed to know. He'd seen it in the eyes of a hundred heroes more brave than wise. There was no reasoning with that type.

“By the end of this quest, one of you will have to die.”

“What? How?”

“Don't know. Just know it has to happen. If you make it to the end of this journey, which I can't guarantee. But if you do, when the time comes, one or both of you is going to have to die because the gods love melodrama. And a story where two mixed-up kids conquer the world and become better for it, it might put a smile on your face, but it isn't going to be the stuff of legends.

“Sorry to break it to you like that, son. It's a hard pill to swallow, but you aren't the first hero screwed by the gods. You won't be the last. My advice is to try not to think about it and enjoy the journey.”

He waited for Troy to release him. It took a few seconds.