by Raye Wagner
“But you said—”
“Furthermore,” Priska continued as if Hope hadn’t said anything, “You’ve sulked around the last week as if I’m thwarting your super awesome plan and it’s you against the world. You don’t play nice at school, where honestly, it’s your best shot at getting noticed by a legitimate demigod, a psachno, and not some loser . . .” She shook her head. “Hera and Zeus! I am trying to help you.”
Hope seethed. How could she even respond to that without yelling at Priska?
Priska closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Silence settled in the cracks and the fissures of empty space. “If I let you go by yourself, will you stay out of sight? Go somewhere on the other side of the mountains and leave tonight?” The bright hazel eyes held only the embers of Priska’s earlier emotion. “I want you to be safe.”
There was that word again. Safe. A hopeless mantra of paranoia eating at Hope’s life. Exactly why she needed to break the curse.
“I’ll go tonight and get a hotel in Wenatchee. Then I’ll drive out early in the morning.”
“And check in with me tonight and tomorrow morning, please.”
“Fine.” She grabbed her bag and her keys and, without another word, fled the apartment.
IT WAS A QUARTER AFTER five in the morning when she sent Priska a text. Going to pull off now. Will likely be out of range ’til tomorrow night. Will check in again then. Hope hit send and climbed out of bed. It was easier to send the text now than have to worry about it later.
The cool air hit her bare legs and made her shiver. If she didn’t hurry, she would be stuck in the stupid motel for the next two days. She pulled on her sweats and slipped on her flip-flops as she zipped up her hoodie. She grabbed a bottle of water from the table and shoved it in her bag as she walked out the door. Her thoughts went to Hermes, patron god of travelers, and she sent a silent plea that there would be a suitable exit within ten or fifteen minutes of getting on Highway 2.
Perhaps the gods did listen. She saw a “No services” sign and followed the road through the foothill of the Cascades. She took the first dirt road past a barn and a trailer on blocks, and drove until there was nothing. The road forked, but grass had claimed the path on the right. She pulled into the thick brush.
Pale pink tinged the horizon.
Hope jumped out of the car and frantically pulled at the drawstring at her waist.
Too late.
Her body burned, cramped, prickled, and stung. With a whoosh, her amber wings unfurled, tearing holes through her white tee. Her legs pulled in as they morphed into the hindquarters of a great cat, her gray sweats tangled around her lower extremities. The stinging released as golden fur covered her skin.
At least she’d managed to get her hoodie off in time. She pulled the sweats off and inspected them. No holes. That was good. She could still wear them home. She picked off the scraps of pink fabric that had been boy briefs seconds before. Her bra fared better, still in one piece, and was itchy against the golden fur that covered her from the chest down. It was a struggle to get the undergarments off, and she put the wisps and fragments into her bag, along with her pants, hoodie, and car keys.
She faced the morning, letting the sun’s rays bathe her face. She unfurled her wings, letting the crisp air tease her feathers. With two strong beats, she pulled herself into the sky and flew.
As she sat in a clearing on a distant mountaintop, her thoughts turned to Priska, swirling dark and distrustful. Hope didn’t know who the demigods were, or where she could find them. Priska might know, but it was clear she wasn’t sharing. Except what she thought was “safe.”
Hope resigned herself to hopelessness. What could she do? How much longer would it take to find demigods Priska approved of? Would she approve of any demigods? Doubts seeped into the corners, at first unnoticed, then oozed like spilt honey sticking to every thought.
Hope spent the two days in her cursed state, wallowing deep in a well of self-pity. If Priska wasn’t helping her find a way into the conservatory, perhaps it was time for Hope to do something about it herself. She refused to let Priska’s fear become her own. Life was meant for living.
The golds in the sky melted into soft pinks, and with deep resolution Hope knew what to do. She needed to have a serious talk with her surrogate aunt. If Priska wouldn’t help, Hope would move out on her own.
With a burst of motivation, Hope beat her tawny wings and took flight. She soared down from the mountain range to the fields below, eagerness pulling her to action. But the tall grasses of fall hid several previously unnoticed cars. How had she missed that yesterday?
The sun lolled through the pink taffy and cotton candy sky, pouring its last rays across the mountain range. She dipped low to find vehicles on cinderblocks, or those abandoned without hope of fixing, but her car—
“Hades in Hell!” A deep baritone hollered. “Steve! You gotta see this!”
Another head popped up from the tall grass. The men were dressed in camouflage with bright orange vests screaming their presence.
How had she missed that? And where was her car?
“What the . . .” A gasp of disbelief.
She pulled higher but could still hear the shouting.
“What is that thing? Is that a monster?” Excitement laced the words.
Indecipherable shouting. A heavy thud.
She needed to get higher. She needed to get away. How could she have missed them? Panic made her thoughts run in a loop. Get away . . . Get away . . . Get away.
“Good gods! Get a picture!” The same enthusiasm. The same tone. What was he twelve?
She scanned the ground. The grass, the barns, dirt . . . Nothing was familiar. Nothing.
“What are you doing?”
Her heart was race, race, racing. Her breath only short gasps. This was wrong. Priska was going to kill her!
“It’s a monster,” one of them said in a dispassionate voice. “We’ll be rich.”
A loud bang disoriented her, and then white-hot pain seared her arm. Warmth trickled down past her elbow to her wrist.
“Don’t! Don’t shoot.”
Oh, gods, they were shooting at her! She scanned the dead grasses beneath her. Where in the name of Gaia was her car? Her eyes welled. Another shot echoed through the air, and stabbing agony hit her shoulder, and she faltered, her body tumbling toward the ground. No. No. No. She was immortal! These bullets couldn’t kill her.
Gritting her teeth, she beat her wings and banked hard to one side and then the other. It was all she could think of to make herself more difficult to hit. Her blue Civic peeked out from the growth, the last rays of the day turning the amber grass a chocolate brown. Hope pushed toward her salvation.
The sun dipped behind the mountains, the pinks darkened to purple, and Hope’s wings disappeared. Tumbling through the air, fur floated on the breeze, and then sloughed off in clumps as she hit the dry grass.
Silence.
Nothing. She allowed the pent-up whimper to leak out. It took several minutes before the pain lessened enough to sit up, and then several minutes to crawl to her car and get dressed. She sat in the driver’s seat for over an hour. When the darkness settled from dusk to night, she started her car.
“WHAT THE KRACKEN, HOPE?” Priska held out her phone. The fuzzy grain of motion made her features blurry, but the video was of her. “I thought you said everything was fine?”
“It is fine. You can hardly even see my face.” She pulled the covers back over her head.
“It’s definitely not fine. Your curse has been hidden from the world for centuries. Mythology texts had the Sphinx killed by Oedipus in Thebes. Your grandmother wanted it that way. She sacrificed, risked her life, to go to the Graeae and have the curse interpreted by primordial power, to get as much security, as much privacy, as possible. But in the last year, you’ve announced, in no uncertain terms, that the Sphinx still exists. Artemis, what a mess.”
Despite being under the covers, Hope closed her eyes and willed Pri
ska to disappear.
“You would think after everything you’ve been through that you’d have some understanding of the need for concealment now.”
Hope knew she was referencing the previous picture and the article in the newspaper. She threw the covers back. “I do! It’s just—”
“Funny way of demonstrating it.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Fine. You’re right. I should’ve been paying better attention and seen those men.”
“No. That’s what you’re not getting. You never should’ve been in that area to begin with. If there’s even a chance of any population, you shouldn’t be there as a Sphinx.” Priska dropped her head into her hands. “I put a call into Charlie. I’m hoping the video will be off the Internet before morning. Maybe we’ll be lucky and no one local will see it.”
“Even if they did, it’s not like you can tell it’s me.”
“It makes that whole area off-limits. You can’t go over to eastern Washington at all. The sons of Apollo will investigate, and if you keep popping up where the Sphinx appears, they will want to investigate you. We don’t need that.”
Ha! Actually, she did want the demigods searching for her.
But a shiver of terror reminded her, not the sons of Apollo. And not as the Sphinx.
WHAT A SUCKY DAY. Typically, November meant gray skies, at the very least, which would match her overcast mood. Usually, it meant rain. But the sun was out, mocking her. Hope walked down the crowded hall, glanced out the windows, and furrowed her brow. It was just wrong. People bumped and bustled by, words dropping in her ears, small tinkling sounds that meant nothing to her—football, party, dance.
It wasn’t the sun that caused the crease in her forehead. No. She’d failed her calculus test, and not because she didn’t know the answers. Her mind had drifted to her fight with Priska, and like magic, twenty minutes had disappeared.
The sun teased Hope, and she stared through the glass at the waning warmth of fall, the bright leaves burning against the blue sky. When the bell rang, her thoughts solidified into decision. She’d had enough school today.
She spent the next several hours wandering the streets downtown. She stopped at a newspaper stand after noticing headlines she wished she could forget: Sons of Apollo Closing in on Sphinx, Monster of Poseidon Spotted Off Coast of Mexico, Did Scylla Escape Again? Mermaid Sighting at Half Moon Bay. Had the world gone mad? She’d never heard of many of the monsters being spotted. Granted she’d only started paying attention after her mom died.
As the sun dropped lower in the sky, she made her way toward the market and bought a cup of tea. She was putting off the inevitable. The temperature continued to drop, and as the last rays dipped below the horizon, Hope knew it was time to head home, face Priska, and find something for dinner.
Hope walked up Market Street and was almost to her building when someone grabbed her wrist. His skin was pale, and his fingers seemed more apt to play piano than fight. Nevertheless, his grip was a rough vise.
Her breath caught, and her training took over. Hope twisted to the side, pulling her attacker toward her while she rotated her hand to take control. With her free hand, she torqued the arm and applied pressure on his elbow.
Then she looked up at his face. What the Kracken? She released some of the pressure but maintained the offensive position.
“What are you doing?” She hissed at Xan.
He laughed. “I had no idea you could move so well.”
Hope scowled and twisted his arm. “What do you mean?”
“You blend in pretty well, considering.”
Hope tilted her head, trying to decipher his cryptic meaning. “Considering?”
He smiled, and his dimple flashed. He leaned forward, and his breath warmed her skin as he whispered in her ear, “Considering you’re a demigod, lass.”
She let go of his arm, and dropped her hands to her sides. “What?”
He laughed again as he pulled away. “Immortal, unable to die by mortal means. You’ll live forever. That kind of immortal.” He pulled his hand away from hers and tapped himself on the chest. “Demigod.”
Fear. Excitement. Trepidation. “What took you so long?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? It’s been what, a few weeks—?”
“It’s been months!”
Xan exhaled forcefully. “Right. There were a few hang-ups.” He pursed his lips as he studied her. “And you were worried about a few weeks? How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Shocker,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.
A brief flash of irritation made her bite her tongue. What was that for? She wanted to snap a witty retort, but what came out was, “Where have you been?”
He chuckled, and a dimple flashed. “Why?” His head dipped, and he whispered in her ear, “Did you miss me?”
She blushed, and then blushed deeper as she increased the distance between them. “No, I was . . .” She stopped talking and took a deep breath. “I thought you might be a demigod.”
“Now, Hope, why would you say that?” He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm as he led her toward the apartment building.
She should have pulled away. And she would have. If she weren’t so cold. “Where are we going?”
“What do you think? I’m here to collect you.”
“To collect me?” Like she was a package? She pulled her arm free and stepped away from him.
Xan stopped, his chin lowered in a condescending glower. “Yep. You need some education.”
“You can’t make me—”
“No?” His face hardened, and his eyes were ice. “Perhaps not. But if you don’t come with me, we won’t protect you anymore either.”
This was what she’d been waiting for, so why was she nervous? And not just about the plan. There was something about him.
“Are you coming or staying?”
“What about school? What about Priska?” She grasped for straws, her words surprising her. Not even ten minutes ago she’d been ready to dump both.
“School.” He stopped walking and regarded her with a smugness both brash and irritating. “Uh, yeah. Your primary education is going to take a bit of a shift. Consider yourself a high school dropout if you’d like.” He smirked, then continued, “Or, better yet, think of it as homeschooling.” He continued to lead her toward the apartment building.
“And Priska?”
He clenched his jaw. “The demigod living with you?”
“Uh, yeah.” Was she supposed to disclose that or keep it a secret? “I mean, I think . . . How can you tell?”
He stopped walking, and his ice blue eyes pinned her to the spot. “Does she have a Mark?”
“What are you talking about?”
“All of us have a Mark, a birthmark. Given to us by our immortal parent.” He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and started to take off his watch.
Like the birthmark of the lyre Athan had. Hope couldn’t help but compare the thick muscles of Xan’s arms to Athan’s ropey ones. Her gaze travelled up to Xan’s face, and she studied his pale skin and striking features.
He cleared his throat and pointed to his hands. There, on the inside of his wrist was the outline of a helmet, almost as if it were a stamp, in angry red tissue. “Lucky for me mine can be hidden. Ugly, eh?”
Hope pushed the sleeves of her sweater up, but there were no marks. “I don’t have anything like that.” Crap! Of course she didn’t. She pulled the sleeves down.
He nodded. “Yeah, you do.” He started walking again, and she hurried to catch up. “You may not know where it is, yet, but you’ll find it. Or someone else will.” He waggled his brows. “It can be anywhere on the body, and it can be any one of the symbols of your parent. I’m told I had an ancestor with a vulture scar on his face.” He laughed again. “That would suck!”
Hope said nothing as he kept up the constant chatter. Her stomach churned with her warring emotions.
They wa
lked into the lobby, and Xan pushed the button for the elevator. “How long will it take you to get your stuff together? I’m ready to be out of this Hades-infested hole.”
“We’re leaving now? Like right now?”
“I’m sorry. Is this a bad time? Do you have a pressing engagement?” he mocked.
“Well, I should . . .” She began to protest but caught herself mid-sentence. There would never be a better time. “No, now is good.”
“Great. This is all working out so well for everyone.” His lips curled in a sneer, and there was no warmth in his expression.
He was annoying. And a little scary.
They got on the elevator, and Hope pushed number twenty-one.
“What if Priska’s home?” She peeked at him from the corner of her eye. His white shirt hugged his broad shoulders and hung loose at his narrow waist. Dark tattoos were visible under the pale cotton sleeves.
“She’s not. She left about twenty minutes ago. Out looking for you, actually. Perfect time for our escape.” He smirked as he said the last bit. “You don’t really like her much, do you?”
Hope flinched with the accusation. “Why would you say that? How would you know?” Then it registered. “Have you been spying on me?”
“Spying? That sounds awful. No, we don’t spy. We’ve been observing you.”
She seethed in frustration, and the only sound was the ping of the elevator as it climbed.
“I will say Priska’s made it difficult,” Xan said.
The light went on, and her anger flared. “Was that you on the phone with her?”
Xan frowned but didn’t answer.
The small amount of guilt she had for leaving evaporated.
“She doesn’t care for us, huh?” He fidgeted, his thumbs beating a rhythm on his thighs.
“What?”
“The other demigods? She doesn’t like us.”
Hope forced her gaze away from his hands and risked a glance at his face. “No, she doesn’t care for you. I mean, not you personally. She probably doesn’t even know you.”
His eyes hardened. “Oh, she knows me.”
“How?” Oh, gods, was he a son of Apollo?
