Demigods and Monsters (The Sphinx Book 2)

by Raye Wagner

  Great. Just what she needed, more demigods. But she did appreciate not being left with Obelia and Endy.

  Silence stretched between them. Hope half-heartedly tried to think about a way to get out of leaving but gave up when she thought of Obelia yelling at her.

  “You all right?”

  Hope frowned. Was he kidding? “Sure.”

  Xan squeezed her hand. “You look right mad. Have I done something to upset you?”

  It wasn’t his fault. None of it. “No. I’m just . . . done.”

  “Want to belt it out?” He leaned forward, and his fist barely touched her chin. “We could go spar if you’re not too tired.”

  It was barely eight o’clock. The desire to hit something spread from her heart to her limbs. “That’d be awesome.”

  “Go get your gear, and I’ll meet you in the gym.” He brushed her cheek with a quick kiss, and then he was out the door.

  Somehow the kiss felt less like a kiss and more like a hug. It was nice. Weird, but nice.

  The exercise was cathartic. Hope channeled her frustration, hurt, and anger into her blocks and counter skills.

  Xan called time.

  Both were breathing heavily and beaming.

  “You’re all right.” He pulled off his gloves and dropped them in his mesh sparring bag. He sank to the floor to pull off the rest of his gear.

  Hope sat next to him and took a long drink from her water bottle.

  “You’ve gotten much better. Not so hesitant in your movements.”

  She laughed, a weak, tired wheeze. She put her mouth guard in its plastic container. “Sparring with you is nothing like sparring with mortals.”

  “Aye. I should hope not. Humans are slow and weak.”

  It would probably seem that way to her, too, now. “There should be a sign on every martial arts academy: ‘No demigods allowed.’”

  “You were well trained, but not challenged enough, I think. And honestly, you’re better than almost anyone here, except maybe Dahlia.”

  She blushed with the praise and shoved her pads into her bag. “You seem determined to make up for lost time in challenging me.” The pads would dry, but she’d definitely need to clean them before she sparred again. She lifted the hem of her damp shirt and wiped her face.

  She caught Xan looking at her stomach, and she pulled the shirt down.

  Xan’s gaze travelled up over her sweaty shirt and stuttered over her lips before making eye contact.

  “I’m starving,” he said, his voice husky and deep. A faint pink tinged his skin.

  Her stomach jumped.

  “Do you want to get something to eat?” His brogue became more pronounced, and his gaze was intense, burning into her.

  Hope shook her head as much to clear it as to answer him. “No, I ate a lot when I got back. Besides, I need a shower in a serious way.”

  He laughed. “Aye. You almost smell like wet fur. Did you sleep in a bear’s den last night?”

  Fresh anxiety coursed through her. She stood up and slung her gear bag over her shoulder. “Maybe.” She needed to get out of there, but the feeling of connection with this strange demigod had her reaching out without consciously thinking it through. She brushed her hand against his arm. “Thanks for the workout. I feel much better.” She let out a slow exhale. “What time do we leave tomorrow?”

  Xan stood up. “Zero six. Unless you want to fly. Then we could go a bit later.”

  She’d never been in an airplane, and she didn’t want to. The only kind of flying she was going to do was the kind she could control.

  They walked out the door together, and their shoulders brushed.

  “No, six o’clock is fine. Are you driving?”

  “We’ll take my car, but I’ll make Dahlia take first shift. That way we can both catch a little extra sleep. Later, Hope.” Xan walked toward the kitchen.

  “Good night.” Hope called after him. She went to her room and threw a couple of outfits into her canvas duffle bag. She wasn’t sure what she would need, and Xan hadn’t told her to bring anything in particular. She buried the immortal daggers under the clothes and shoved her Book of the Fates on top. Then, grabbing a change of clothes, she headed to the bathroom.

  THEY DROVE THIRTEEN HOURS straight, and Hope slept for twelve of them. Xan woke her up at noon for lunch but let her return to the back seat while he took the next driving shift.

  It was early evening when consciousness pulled her through the fog of sleep. The movement reminded her that she was in a car, and the voices told her with whom. The lemon of Dahila’s lotion mixed in the small space with the earthy scent of Xan’s cologne. Their words tickled Hope’s ears, and she kept her eyes closed.

  “You’re being too protective. How is she ever going to learn to defend herself if you don’t let anyone near her?”

  Xan snorted. “She’s had to defend herself plenty before she ever got here, Dahl. And she has contact with almost everyone. Besides, she can handle herself fine. You should’ve seen her last night.” A moment of silence. “I think she could give you a run for your money.”

  “I know she can fight,” Dahlia said.

  “Then what’s the problem?” He huffed.

  “That’s not the only way she’ll be attacked.”

  Someone shifted in their seat.

  “True. But it’ll end any attack,” Xan snapped.

  There was a long exhale.

  “You’re not going to be able to keep them all away from her. Endy’s scared of you. Ty and his brothers won’t care a bit.”

  “Aye,” he whispered.

  Hope yawned and stretched, drawing attention to the fact that she was waking up. She met Xan’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “Good morning, princess. Have a nice rest?”

  Her smile wobbled, and then she fixed it firmly in place. “Yes, quite. Thank you.”

  Dahlia twisted in her seat.

  “How much did you hear?” Her brows drew up in expectation.

  Hope blushed. Caught. “Just that Endy’s scared of Xan, but Ty won’t be.” She thought about it. That was the second time she’d heard Ty’s name. “Who’s Ty?”

  “He’s an arse. All of them are,” Xan said. “Do your best to stay out of their way. I’ll have a talk with them when they get there. You don’t have to worry about it, Hope.”

  She wanted to agree with him, but Dahlia’s words held more conviction. These were boys Hope would need to worry about. “Who’s his father?”

  “Apollo,” Dahlia said. “And if you think Endy’s an idiot . . .” She frowned. “He’s got nothing on these guys.”

  Apollo’s sons. What if they were the same ones from Goldendale? They almost certainly were. This was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

  “Hey, it’s okay.”

  Hope realized she was still shaking her head and stopped. “Oh, no. It’s fine.” She would need to step it up, get the information, and get out. “When do they get here?”

  Xan and Dahlia shared a look, and then Xan met her eyes in the mirror again.

  “Any day,” Dahlia said, and then she faced front.

  Xan frowned. “Who knows? They could come soon, but it could be weeks afore they get here.”

  She’d really have to dedicate more time to her search. It had been frustrating. She’d found lots of books about curses from the gods, but everything about her curse was wrong. In the histories she’d read about monsters, the Sphinx was said to be sent by Hera to Thebes, and her parentage was believed to be of primordial monsters, like she’d learned in Mr. Barton’s class all those years ago. How could there be so much misinformation? And did that mean all the information about monsters was wrong? How was she supposed to find anything accurate? Her thoughts drifted to the book in her bag.

  “Hey, can I ask you a question?” She continued without even pausing for breath, “Can a Book of the Fates be wrong? And where are they? In the library, I mean.”

  Xan frowned, and Dahlia turned again to face Hope.

 
“The Books of the Fates?” Dahlia asked.

  Why were they staring like that?

  “Yeah. The ones by the Moirai.” Surely they’d heard of them.

  “The Books of the Fates are in the Underworld, Hope. The Moirai are bound there, and so are their writings.”

  “And even if they were here, no one can read them.” Dahlia quirked her head. “I mean the writing is allegedly invisible unless the person reading them is pure or something.”

  Hope’s lips made an O. She swallowed. “Why are they in the Underworld? I mean if no one can read them, it shouldn’t matter, right?”

  Dahlia studied Hope, and Xan quirked an eyebrow. “It’s always been that way.”

  Hope scowled. Great. She’d thought if she could get Apollo’s book, there would be information there.

  “How do you even know about The Books of the Fates? Has Obelia already talked to you about them? That’s pretty advanced.” Xan’s pointed questions seemed more than idle curiosity.

  Uh-oh. “No. My mom used to talk about them. The whole of a person’s life recorded just like a story.”

  Dahlia cocked her head “Your mom told you?”

  She’d stumbled and didn’t know how to recover. Hope bit the side of her mouth and nodded.

  “Right. Well, that’s what we’re taught. Why the interest?” Dahlia asked.

  Hope’s foot bounced with an urge to run, but there was nowhere to go. She glanced out the window as the pine trees passed by. “Ah, a project Obelia has me working on. I thought if I could read someone’s Book, I could get the whole story, instead of reading different accounts by different people. I mean, they don’t always add up.” It sounded good. Maybe.

  Xan laughed. “That would be the best way to go about it. The Fates can’t lie, hence their stories, nay, history, would be accurate.” He winked at her. “That would save heaps of time on research, and Obelia would be out of a job.”

  Bummer. On both counts.

  “We’re here.” Xan pulled off onto a long road that led to a hotel on the top of a bluff overlooking the ocean.

  It was gorgeous. Hope rolled the window down, and balmy air filled the vehicle. The humidity was cut by the cool breeze lapping off the ocean waves. The air held a salty tang, and the crash of waves reverberated up the bluff.

  “Here?” Dahlia hissed and glared at Xan.

  They drove the rest of the way up the hill in silence. Sprawling in front of them was a gigantic white structure, glowing from the lights strategically placed on the grounds surrounding it.

  Xan handed the keys to his BMW to the valet, and they crossed the circular drive to the lobby doors. The glass slid open, and they stepped into a marble foyer, where an enormous glass sculpture hung suspended from the ceiling, dripping in golds and creams. Hope stood rooted, trying to take in the extreme opulence. She’d never seen anything like it before. She glanced down and had to race to catch up to Xan and Dahlia.

  “Two rooms, please.” Xan slid his credit card across the counter.

  Dahlia fixed Xan with a glare.

  “I hate you for this.” She scanned the lobby then said, “I’ll catch you later.” She stalked off.

  What was that? Hope had never seen her friend this upset. She’d never seen anyone that upset. What had Xan done to deserve that kind of wrath? She studied him as if to figure out the puzzle.

  “Sir,” the receptionist said, “would you like them adjoining?”

  Xan caught Hope watching him and smirked.

  “Sir?”

  His gaze was still locked with Hope’s, but he answered, “Aye.”

  “Would you like the rooms to be next to each other?” The receptionist’s eyes shifted from Xan to Hope.

  Hope wanted to laugh at him. The receptionist thought he’d said “I.”

  His face tightened, and he turned back to the receptionist. “Aye. Yes. I would like the rooms to be adjoining, right next to each other. Thank you.” Xan enunciated each syllable as if speaking to an idiot.

  Hope narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be a jerk, Xan.”

  The woman blushed and typed on the keyboard under the counter.

  “Here you are, sir. Seven hundred eighteen and seven hundred twenty.”

  He took the proffered keys, signed the papers she put in front of him, then extended his hand. “Here’s your key. I’ll meet you for dinner, or would you rather rest?”

  Hope noticed several shadows, some long and dark, all foreboding. She inched forward and took the key. “What about Skia?”

  Xan looked around, scrutinizing the corners and patches of dark. “Right. I’ll come up with you if you want to sleep. Otherwise, let’s go have dinner now.”

  “Where’s Dahlia?”

  Xan frowned. “Getting pissed. Probably best to avoid her tonight. She hates this place.”

  They crossed the lobby and entered the restaurant. “You’ve been here before?”

  “Aye.”

  He said nothing more about it as they had dinner, or even when they went to their rooms later. He insisted on keeping the adjoining door open until Dahlia got back, but Hope fell asleep before that happened.

  “GET UP,” DAHLIA SAID.

  Something cold slid down the front of her shirt, and Hope sat up with a squeal.

  “Bloody Hades, Dahl. Don’t be taking your anger out on her.” Xan touched Hope’s arm.

  Dahlia glared at them both.

  “It’s her fault I’m here, so shut your face.” She still wore the same rumpled clothes as yesterday, and pain seemed woven into her features. Pain and anger. She started toward the restroom.

  Hope climbed out of bed and shook the ice cube from her shirt. She grabbed her bag and covered her chest.

  “I should go, uh, clean up.” She trailed after Dahlia.

  “Go use Xan’s.” Dahlia poked her head out then closed the door in Hope’s face.

  Hope spun around, incredulity hot in her chest. It was one thing to be upset, but—

  “It’s my fault.” Xan grabbed Hope’s bag and crossed into his room.

  Hope padded after him.

  “I should’ve taken us to a different hotel, but this is the closest one.” He spoke to himself as much as to her.

  “What’s wrong with her?” she asked.

  “She has a lot of memories here.” He handed her the bag. “Go get dressed. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Xan quirked a brow at her. “To the ocean.”

  Hope rolled her eyes and closed the bathroom door behind her.

  Twenty minutes later, the three of them were hiking down to the water.

  “What exactly are we doing here?” Hope studied the uninhabited beach. The waves pounded on the dark, jagged rocks and lapped at the sandy breaks, leaving bits of kelp and seaweed stranded on the shore. The ocean appeared as deserted as the beach.

  Dahlia said nothing as she kicked rocks off the path.

  “We’ll ask the Mers to leave the humans alone, first. If they don’t . . .” Xan stared out at the water.

  Hope didn’t like the way that sounded. “If they don’t?”

  “Then we’ll deal with it,” Dahlia snapped.

  “Is it dangerous?” Hope couldn’t help the nerves scratching at her. Dahlia’s deadpan glare made it worse.

  “Not usually.” Xan pushed Dahlia down the path. “Go on ahead. You’re not helping here at all.”

  Hope wanted to ask Xan about Dahlia. Why was she angry? Her short temper reminded Hope of how she felt about Athan . . . Oh. Oh no.

  They eventually made it down to the beach. The smell of salt water and tangy kelp competed with the sour smell of dead fish. As the three of them wandered toward the rocks, the smell of fish grew stronger.

  “Ugh. I hate the Mer,” Dahlia grumbled. “I hate fish.” She clutched her stomach. “I hate you, Xan.” She ran back up the path toward the hotel.

  Xan motioned Hope forward.

  “Where’s she going?”
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  “To throw up,” he said with a shrug. But she saw the pain buried in his eyes as he stared after his cousin, while he chewed on his lip. And then he turned back to the trail, and with two steps passed Hope to lead the way.

  “Will she be all right?”

  “Eventually,” he said.

  He offered no other assurance, and Hope was left struggling to believe him.

  They climbed over the rocks, Xan offering his hand when there was a sharp drop or a steep climb. Eventually, they arrived at a pile of fish bones on a sliver of beach.

  “Come on.” He leaned over and untied his shoes.

  Hope followed suit. “Why are we getting barefoot?”

  He rolled up his pants to his knees.

  “Are we getting in?” The idea of standing in the crashing surf, fish guts washing over her skin, maybe even live fish swimming around her . . . She backed up.

  “Don’t be daft. We’ve only got to stand in the surf to call them. Once they get here, we can get out.”

  “Do I have to?”

  He shuffled in the sand toward the water. “I guess not.”

  She swallowed her fear.

  “Sorry. I can help.” She peeled off her socks and rolled up her cuffs.

  Xan stepped over the fish, grabbing two corpses by the tails.

  Hope followed him into the surf, cringing as the waves crashed over her feet.

  “David!” Xan yelled then threw the dead fish bones into the water. “David!”

  Obviously this wasn’t the first time he’d done this if he knew the Merman’s name.

  The surf pounded at their feet, and the pull of the undertow grew stronger.

  Xan grabbed a silver dagger from his waist and dipped it in the water. “David!”

  She recognized the irritation laced through his voice. David was going to have to deal with an angry demigod if he didn’t hurry up.

  Hope saw the crown of dark hair break through the surface, followed by smooth caramel-colored skin and soft Asian eyes. The man coming toward them was bare-chested, his muscles tight and toned. He looked familiar. Really familiar.

  Hope stumbled back and heard Xan splash next to her. Her jaw dropped when the god walked out of the surf and onto the beach.