Elena was dismissed the next week. Silently Helle watched from her usual spot in the day nursery, as Elena crouched wailing on the doorstep, much as Sofia had done, clinging to her father's trouser leg and begging forgiveness.

Athanasios' voice carried even from the down there and through the window. "Elena, you are demeaning yourself, and me. Please get up, and leave."

"I beg of you sir, let me stay! I am not to blame!"

"Your lying is just convincing me further that you are an unsuitable nursemaid for my daughter."

He stepped back, forcing Elena to let go, and watched coldly as she turned slowly, sobbing into her apron, and began staggering to her feet. Helle's gaze followed her all down the front path, until Elena reached the gates, and turned one last time. She gazed back at Athanasios imploringly, and he folded his arms and waited. Suddenly Elena spotted Helle, watching everything from the top floor window. Her face creased with loathing and misery. She stared up at the little girl for several minutes, as though searching desperately for the right parting words, and then simply shook her head at Helle and burst into tears again, disappearing forever into the street.

Behind Helle, the door clicked and swung open, revealing Ionna, tall and beautiful in a diaphanous grey dress and shawl. Smiling sadly at her daughter, she drifted over to the window and gently took Helle's arm, steering her away. "I'm sorry you had to see that, darling."

"That's quite all right, mother."

"We'll find you a new nurse, a nice and proper one, yes?"

"I don't want a new nurse," explained Helle, glancing over her shoulder as the decrepit old gardener stomped past, a shovel resting on one shoulder. He cast a frightened look at her, put his head down and hurried on.

"Helle dear, don't argue. In the meantime, why don't you practice your singing?"

"Yes mama."

Ionna took Helle into a pale blue, brightly lit room. The afternoon sun beamed through its one glass wall, behind which one could just make out the dusty yellows and greens of the garden. Despite the gardener's best efforts, the hot Greek summer had taken its toll on the plants.

Patiently Helle took her seat in a soft cushioned wicker chair, and watched her mother polish one corner of a piano that would once have been grand, but was now rather chipped and sun-bleached. "Mother, I don't need the piano."

Ionna paused and glanced around at Helle. "Are you sure, my darling?"

Averting her eyes, Helle nodded. "I can practice without music. It's not a problem."

"You don't want me to play with you?"

"No, thank you, mother."

Slightly disappointed, Ionna nodded and lowered her hand from the piano lid. Smiling thinly at Helle, she swept from the room. Helle leapt off the chair and tottered to the door, flinging it open and staring at her mother's rapidly decreasing figure. "Mother?"

Ionna said nothing, didn't even turn around. Sighing to herself, Helle closed the door once more and wandered back to the piano, casting an eye over the many sheets of beautifully inked paper that were cascading over its glossy black surface. Picking one up, she closed her eyes and selected a note at random. At her first attempt her voice wavered and died, the note falling flat in the still air. Frowning with concentration, Helle sat down and turned back to the first page of the song. Taking a deep breath, she passed a hand through her already tidy hair and began to sing.

***

Athanasios frowned at the small notebook in his hands. "When did Helle write this?"

"Two days ago," said Ionna, gazing vacantly out the window, sewing lying forgotten in her lap.

"Hm. Have you read it, dear?"

"Bits," said Ionna vaguely.

His frown deepening, Athanasios flipped several pages, examining the tiny slanted handwriting. "Listen to this: 'The gentlemen was gone yet his wife remained, weeping and weeping until her eyes were dry, and so she killed herself and fed the skeleton into her body and so they lived again as one'." Athanasios threw the book down onto a table, making Ionna flinch. He turned his back on his wife, hands in his pockets and chewed contemplatively on his lip. "It's not like Helle to be so morbid."

"I don't know…" murmured Ionna. "She has been getting so odd lately."

"Odd?" Athanasios glanced sharply at her. "How so?"

"Oh, I don't know," moaned Ionna, covering her face with her hands. "Just so…strange. I'm finding it hard to look her in the eyes any more." She lowered her fingers from her eyes, and looked up at Athanasios, expression tired and worn. "I do try, my darling. I make an effort to speak and spend time with her…but I feel she doesn't want it any more."

"I suppose she's just beginning to grow up," shrugged Athanasios, picking the book up once more. "Perhaps we should start looking for a husband for her."

"She'll be eleven in two weeks. She's too young."

"Well. Sometime soon perhaps." There was a silence, broken only by the gentle rustling of paper as Athanasios turned pages.

"Darling, I feel we need to hire a new nursemaid as soon as possible," sighed Ionna.

"It won't be easy," admitted Athanasios. "Helle can be such a difficult child. Why don't we wait, and then you can try spending more time with her?"

"I don't want to," breathed Ionna, bearing a striking similarity to her daughter's selfish conceitedness. "I'm telling you, Athanasios, I can't look at her anymore."

"Why ever not?" demanded Athanasios, lowering the book and staring at his wife in surprise.

"I know it's childish of me," whispered Ionna, standing up and clinging to her husband. "But Athanasios, she looks at me sometimes, and…I swear that, even for a moment, her eyes are yellow."

Athanasios frowned.

"I mean it," whimpered Ionna. "At first I thought I was imagining things, but it keeps happening…her eyes honestly go yellow, like…like a wolf's or something…"

"Well darling, I'm sure it's nothing," managed Athanasios after a moment. "If it really worries you, we can take Helle to a doctor tomorrow."

He made a mental note to book his wife in too. Hallucinations were not a good sign. He patted Ionna's shoulder and smiled reassuringly at her. "We'll sort it out, don't you worry."

After a moment, Ionna returned his smile. "I'll try not to."

They both jumped suddenly as there was a gentle tap at the door. After a moment's tense silence, Athanasios dropped his hands from Ionna and strode over, wrenching it open.

Pale-skinned and dark-haired, Helle gazed up at her father, blinking hopefully. "Father, I was hoping we could go out to dinner tonight…"

"We can consider it, sweetie," smiled Athanasios, putting his arm around Ionna's shoulders. "That would be nice, wouldn't it, darling?"

"Of course," said Ionna, managing a smile. "Did you practice your singing, Helle?"

"Yes, mama," beamed Helle proudly. "Would you like to hear me?"

Athanasios nudged Ionna as the woman hesitated slightly. She shook her head and forced herself to smile back at Helle. "That would be lovely, my darling. Shall I come and play the piano for you?"

"Yes, please." Helle spun daintily on her heel and skipped down the corridor again, her white skirt flying around her skinny knees.

"Go, dearest," whispered Athanasios, gently pushing Ionna through the door. "I'll go and find a restaurant for this evening."

Ionna nodded and strode away, the storm-grey material of her dress streaming behind her tall form. Thoughtfully Athanasios watched her go, and then he returned to perusing Helle's notebook. He frowned in concern at what he saw, running his gaze over pages of narrow dark scribbles, and the occasional blotchy ink drawing of what looked like horribly mauled people. He allowed his hand to hover over the phone, trying to remember the name and number of the family doctor. Just as he was about to knock the receiver off the hook and begin dialling, a scream echoed from the depths of the house, making him jump and drop both the phone and book to the floor with a loud clatter.

"Ionna!" He threw himself at the door and burst into the corridor.

"Athanasios! Oh, Athanasios!" Her wails echoed off the walls, reverberating and doubling in volume. Athanasios quickened his pace and rounded the corner, to be greeted by his wife kneeling on the floor, reaching out with trembling hands to their daughter's inert form. Helle lay slumped on one side, hair spread over her face and limp arms flung over the tiled floor.

Athanasios dropped down beside Ionna and gently shook Helle's shoulder. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know!" cried Ionna. "She just collapsed! Call a doctor, get help!"

"Helle? Helle!" Carefully Athanasios pulled Helle towards him and brushed the hair from her face. "Are you awake, darling?"

"Athanasios, she's bleeding!" Ionna grabbed her husbands arm. "She's hit her head!"

Horrified, Athanasios touched his fingers to Helle's forehead. The blood stood out starkly against her white skin, and as he gently lifted her into a sitting position it tricked down her face, staining her cheeks. He pressed a hand to her temple and swept it across, smearing the blood away. Immediately it welled up again, causing Athanasios to frown in concern and dab it away once more. "She's cut herself."

Ionna surged to her feet and staggered away. "I'm calling a doctor."

As his wife disappeared around the corner, Athanasios swallowed and cradled Helle's unconscious head in his hands. The blood continued to run over her cheeks and down the side of her head into her hair, dripping onto Athanasios' otherwise pristine suit. He raised a hand above her face with half a mind to clean the blood off again, only to freeze in shock as Helle's eyes shot open and she gazed up at her father.

Her eyes gleamed yellow in the fading sunlight that struggled through the one unclean window of the corridor.

"Helle!" Athanasios gently leaned her against the wall, and squatted in front of her, peering into his daughter's face. He hesitated, and waved an uncertain hand at her. "Helle? Are you feeling okay, darling?"

"Never better, my father," she breathed, lowering her hand from her face. "It has been so long…"

"Helle?" He blinked in confusion, and moved back slightly. "Are you…what's the matter?"

"Move out of my way," said Helle suddenly, pushing her father to one side and slowly struggling to her feet. Once up, she rubbed at her forehead furiously, gazing at the crimson staining her fingertips. Athanasios stared up at her, his mouth falling open at the bizarre cross shapes scored across her brow. "Helle, you're hurt!"

"Oh don't be silly," she laughed, cleaning the blood from her fingers with her tongue. "Hmm…" Curiously she examined her pale, mild hands, turning them before her newly glimmering golden eyes. "Still a little premature…I'll have to wait a little longer before greeting my siblings, I suppose…"

At this moment Ionna returned, wringing her hands in anxiety. "Athanasios, I called the doctor, he's on his way now. I - " She abruptly stopped short, staring at Helle. "Oh darling, you're standing again! How are you feeling?"

"Ionna, there's something wrong with her!" said Athanasios, getting to his feet and stumbling to his wife's side. "She's not herself!"

"Do be quiet," said Helle, her tone becoming slightly snappish. She frowned at her parents, with an expression that was somehow too old to belong to her.

Frightened, Ionna clung to Athanasios' arm and stared at Helle with wide eyes. "Athanasios, her eyes!"

"I know, Ionna. But that's not all…"

Suddenly Ionna shrieked and charged forwards to catch Helle as her eyes rolled upwards into her head and she crumpled before their eyes. She sagged in her mother's arms, and Ionna began whimpering helplessly, stroking Helle's damp and stained forehead. "Oh Athanasios, what's wrong with her?"

"I don't know," moaned Athanasios. "We'll just have to wait for the doctor to get here. In the meantime, bandage up her forehead."

"I…can't."

"What?" He stared incredulously at her. "Why not?"

"It's…it's gone." They both leaned over Helle, and gawped at the bloodstained, sweaty, and completely unharmed, surface of Helle's skin. With a trembling hand Ionna rubbed the worst of the blood off, and shook her head in disbelief. "What's going on, Athanasios?"

"I don't know," said Athanasios in a hushed voice. "Come on. Let's get her upstairs, and we'll see what the doctor says…"

Ionna followed her husband up the staircase, her worried gaze fixed firmly on Helle as the girl's head lolled brokenly from her father's arms.

***

"Temperature, certainly," frowned the doctor, a hand resting on Helle's forehead. "Only slight, but it's there. I can't seem to find anything else wrong, though."

"But she was bleeding from the forehead not twenty minutes ago!" said Athanasios. "There's got to be something you can do, Vlasis."

Solemnly, Vlasis shook his head and shrugged helplessly at Ionna and Athanasios. "I really can't see anything else wrong with her." He closed his thin black case. "Apart from slight bruising on her forehead, and a negligible temperature, she's fine."

"Why did she pass out then?" demanded Ionna, snatching up a bowl of water and a sponge to begin dabbing Helle's still-stained skin.

Vlasis shrugged. "Possibly she was suffering from the heat. Has she been drinking enough?"

"Of course she has," snapped Ionna.

"Darling, please," Athanasios soothed. He nodded at Vlasis. "Well, thank you anyway."

"Her eyes changed colour!" cried Ionna shrilly, pointing at Vlasis with a trembling finger. "You didn't see it! They turned yellow!"

Vlasis glanced at Athanasios, eyebrows raised. The other man sighed, and nodded. "Actually, that's true."

"Hmm." Vlasis frowned and ran a hand over his chin with a rasp of stubble. He bent over Helle and prised her eyelids open. "Well, they're brown now. Has she been exposed to any dangerous substances?"

"Her maid smoked," said Ionna immediately. "Every day. Could that be it, doctor?"

"Probably not," admitted Vlasis. "I really don't know. I've never heard of eyes changing colour like that before. I'd have to see it for myself before I can make any sort of decision."

"She was acting strange too," said Ionna breathlessly. "What did she say, Athanasios?"

"I don't remember," frowned Athanasios. "She seemed to forget who she was…She didn't recognise us."

"It's likely her head was suffering from her fainting episode," explained Vlasis, sliding his gloves off and grabbing his case. "Think of it as amnesia. If anything further happens, give me a call."

But before he could take a step from Helle's bedside, her eyes flicked open and her hand shot out to attach itself to Vlasis' wrist. He blinked in surprise and lifted his arm slightly. She clung tighter and pulled herself into a wobbly sitting position, eyes fixed on his shocked face.

He gaped at her. "Her eyes - "

"I told you!" cried Ionna. "Look at her, Vlasis! What's wrong with her?"

Helle's gaze flicked briefly over to Ionna and Athanasios, and then returned immediately to Vlasis. "Who are you?"

He shook his hand in an attempt to loosen her grip. "Helle, I'm Vlasis. Your doctor. You've known me for four years."

"Oh, of course." She threw his hand aside and threw the duvet back. "Move out of my way."

"Helle, stay down," said Vlasis firmly. "It's important you rest."

Athanasios approached warily, and put a tentative hand on Helle's shoulder. "Helle, darling? I think it would be best if you stayed in bed for a few days. Your mother and I will take good care of - "

She surged upwards and grabbed the front of her father's shirt, pulling it sharply towards her so she could stare right into his frightened eyes. "I'm still waiting for the day when I'm going to have to kill you, father."

"Helle!" screamed Ionna, slapping her daughter across the face. "Stop behaving like this!"

Helle immediately released her father and tumbled back onto the bed, clutching her stinging cheek. Slowly she pushed herself into a sitting position, and glared at her mother through dishevelled black hair. Ionna blinked and stepped back, wary of the intense loathing that lit up her daughter's new eerie yellow gaze. "…Helle?"

"I see you, mother," she hissed. "I see you with…no head." A wicked smile split her face. "Do you know what it means for someone to have no head, mother?"

Vlasis put a firm hand around Ionna's forearm and dragged her away from Helle's bedside. "Ionna, Athanasios, I think you might want to contact the priest."

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Athanasios. "She's just ill!"

"She's bleeding again, Athanasios!" howled Ionna, gesturing wildly at their child. "What's happening to her?"

Helle clapped a hand to her forehead as the skin forced itself open, fresh blood streaming down her already stained face. And suddenly her eyes darkened once more, and tears began to spill over. "Mama! Father! Why do I hurt?"

Vlasis and Athanasios stared at each other, bewildered.

Helle began to cry in earnest. "Mama, I'm bleeding!"

Tears of sympathy welled up in Ionna's large dark eyes. "Oh, my child!" Weeping bitterly, she drew closer, only to cry out and leap back as Helle jerked her head back and screamed.

"Vlasis, do something!" roared Athanasios as Helle fell backwards, back arched and screaming and thrashing.

The doctor grabbed Ionna and shoved her at her husband, where she collapsed sobbing onto his shoulder. Desperately Vlasis tried to hold Helle down as she threw herself about, crying out in agony. "It hurts, oh mama, it hurts!"

Feverishly Vlasis tore his briefcase open and began sifting through the contents, eventually extracting a long needle and a small bottle of clear liquid. After a moment's difficulty he succeeded in injecting the substance directly into Helle's arm. For a few tense minutes she continued to writhe and scream, and then gradually calmed down.

There was a silence, broken only by Ionna's frightened sobbing.

Vlasis gingerly leaned over and moved the hair off Helle's damp forehead. His eyes bulged with astonishment. "I've…never seen anything like this before."

The cuts were gone, leaving only a faint bruising that stood out starkly against Helle's pale and clammy skin. He ran a finger over the largest bruise, an ugly purplish shape that hovered right in the middle of her forehead. Ionna and Athanasios watched in horrified anticipation as Vlasis frowned in confusion. "This…this is…"

"What's happening to her, doctor?" whimpered Ionna.

Vlasis stood up and brushed himself down. "I really think you should call the priest, Athanasios," he said seriously, and glanced back once more at Helle's unconscious figure. Glanced back at the shadow of a cross that lingered on her brow.