by Raye Wagner
“Thanatos!” Hermes lunged across the room.
But it was too late. The woman’s body and soul were separate, no longer the same. The form now crumpled on the floor was still human from the waist up, but large feathered wings lay folded behind the feline haunches that had appeared in place of her legs. This was the Sphinx!
“You can’t bargain with them, Hermes. They have nothing to offer except their pain.”
The woman’s soul turned to Thanatos and fixed him with a glare. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“She cannot speak?” Athan looked from his father to Thanatos. In all the years Athan had been travelling with his dad, he’d never even tried to talk to one of the deceased.
Thanatos laughed. “The dead cannot speak in the realm of the living.” He shifted and then amended, “Not before judgment. I’m surprised you did not know this, son of Hermes.”
“It’s Athan,” he said, tilting his chin up and extending his hand.
Thanatos chuckled but did not take Athan’s outstretched hand.
Hermes pushed his son’s arm down. “Don’t shake hands with Death, unless you’re done living.” He pushed the other god away. “You’ve done what you need to do here. I’ll do the rest.”
The spirit of the woman watched her eyes wide. She flailed her arms, moving her mouth in a desperate attempt at communication, but the silent outpouring was useless.
Thanatos’s smile became a thin line, and he reached for her. “She is strong, that one. She did not want to come.”
She turned away from the god and looked down at the crumpled form.
An unfamiliar heaviness filled Athan’s chest.
Hermes took her hand. “You are the Sphinx?”
She nodded.
“But you are not the first one?”
A shake of her head.
“And you have a daughter?” When she again nodded, he continued, “Is she a Sphinx?”
Another nod.
“Skata!” The curse rang, an exclamation of impossibility. “How old?”
She flashed ten fingers and then another six.
“Sixteen?” Hermes looked at his son, then back to the Sphinx again.
There was another Sphinx? How was that even possible?
She nodded, her eyes wide, and pointed at Athan.
Hermes looked at his son. “Well? What do you think?”
What was he asking? “You want me to go get the Sphinx?”
Hermes shrugged as if he were suggesting a quick trip the grocery store then leaned forward, eyes fixed with intensity.
“Find her and bring her to me.” He stepped away and continued. “You saw what happened.”
Athan’s heart pounded to life, the thrill of the hunt taking over. He could do this. And it would be a nice break from babysitting reluctant, ignorant demigods.
“Will she be human?” He pointed at the monster’s body on the floor. “Or am I looking for this?”
She pointed at her soul and flashed her fingers, then to the body on the floor, and held up two. Her mouth continued to move, but it was pointless. Whatever detail she meant was lost without her voice. But he gathered the creature would be able to shift; sometimes she’d look human and other times the Sphinx. He had no idea how that could even be; he’d never heard of a monster that could shapeshift. Not that it mattered. A sphinx couldn’t be too difficult to find, so he’d just focus on that. “Is she dangerous?”
The woman shook her head.
What was she going to say? His mind went back to the history of the Sphinx and the hundreds of men she’d strangled outside the gates of Thebes. A monster with the power of an immortal—she could kill him if he wasn’t careful.
Thanatos laughed. “You’re going to hunt the monster?”
“Thanatos.” Hermes glared at the other god.
“What?” The god of death sneered.
“If you are not gone in two seconds, I will make it my personal mission to bind you in Tartarus,” Hermes threatened.
“I do not answer to you.”
“Hades will hear my petition.”
Thanatos narrowed his eyes. “You will not be the only one hunting her, Hermes. Just know that others will see her for what she is.”
“Is that a threat?” Hermes glared at the dark god. “Get out of here. Now.”
The god of death stepped into a shadow and disappeared.
Hermes faced his son. “Find the girl. You have a few months at most if Hades sends his Skia.” He paused momentarily, rubbing his hands together while he thought. “Bring her to a temple. And, Athan, I want her alive.”
“She’s just a monster, Dad,” Athan said, with a grimace at the reminder of his past.
Hermes laughed, but it was manic and brash. “But that’s not all she is. Besides, are you afraid?”
Even if Athan were, he wouldn’t admit it. All these gods interested in this monster, she must have power. He’d make sure his father was the one to wield it. “It won’t be easy to get her to a temple.”
“Just find her. I’m going to take this Sphinx’s soul to the Underworld. Perhaps I can talk Hades out of getting further involved. I don’t know what he would hope to gain.” The last bit was mumbled, a question for the universe.
“I thought Oedipus killed the Sphinx in Thebes,” Athan said.
Hermes raised his eyebrows. “So we were told, and therein lies the riddle.”
“Why do you care, Dad?”
“I hate Apollo.” The venom in his answer singed the air. “He’s an arrogant ass who meddles where he shouldn’t.”
Since when had the gods cared about mortals, monsters, or even their demigod children, except as their personal playthings? But the animosity between Hermes and Apollo was longstanding.
Hermes took the soul’s hand and looked her in the eye. “We’ll find your daughter.” Then he turned to Athan. “Start a fire. Make it look like a Skia attack. I’ll meet you at the portal in two hours.”
“Skia?” The shadows of Hades didn’t kill monsters, did they?
Hermes pursed his lips. “I want as little attention as possible on the Sphinx until I know what Apollo is up to. If it looks like Skia attacked, everyone will assume it was just another demigod killed.”
“But once the mortals find her body . . .” Athan pointed at the creature.
“The body will shift again once her soul leaves this world. Curses from this realm will not hold in death.”
Interesting. “If I wait until her daughter comes home—”
Hermes rolled his eyes. “Remember, whoever she was talking to is on their way here.” He pointed at the phone on the floor. “And, when they get here . . . it’s likely the mortal law enforcement will be called. If you want to wait, at least be smart about it. I’ll see you soon.”
Hermes turned to the spirit of the Sphinx.
“Wait, Dad! Which portal? Where are we?”
Hermes turned back to his son. “Bellevue, Washington.”
With that, Hermes and the womanly apparition teleported from the apartment.
Bellevue. A suburb of Seattle, not too far from the conservatory downtown. Athan took a deep breath and turned to his task: a fire.
By the time he got outside, he could see the flames licking the windows.
As he reached the parking lot, a gray sedan pulled up. A dark-haired woman flung open the door and ran toward the building, nearly colliding with him.
“Best be careful,” he warned, pulling her to a stop.
Her body went rigid with the contact.
Acrid smoke filled the air. It would be only seconds before—the window exploded. The woman wrenched free from his grasp and ran.
Flames greedily lapped at the sides of the building, and, in the distance, Athan heard the sirens wail.
“Hope, are you awake?” Leto’s voice was just above a whisper, just louder than the hum of the engine of their car as they made their way out of the city.
Hope shifted in the bucket leather seat but di
dn’t look at her mother. “Yes.”
The early morning hours were dim and quiet as they drove up Highway 18 toward I-90. Hope rested her head against the window of the car, letting the cold seep from the glass into her skin. Strands of her honey-blond hair fell from her messy ponytail, and she tucked them behind her ear. With a heavy exhale, she left a foggy patch on the glass and then dragged her finger through it.
They passed a temple for Demeter, goddess of agriculture, and Hope stared at the bright lights meant to be a beacon to parishioners, until they disappeared into the gray pre-dawn. She’d always wondered what happened in the temples, but of course they’d never go. Gods, demigods, and religious zealots would all be her enemies. Like the boys in her nightmares who chased her and her mother in an attempt to kill them. And somehow they were called monsters? Right. Hope shook her head to clear it of these depressing thoughts.
It would be good to be out of the apartment this time. Last month they couldn’t go because the sky decided to unleash unholy amounts of water, and spending two days inside the small space they called home made Hope crazy. Besides, she loved to fly.
Leto pulled off at the top of the pass, drove past the closed ski area, a shrine for Boreas, god of winter, and down an access road until they hit gravel then dirt.
When the sky began to lighten, they both got out of the vehicle and undressed. Hope’s teeth chattered as she glanced over at her mom, who was stretching up to the sky. There! The first rays of sunlight spilled over the horizon.
The pressure in Hope’s back built until it felt like she was being squeezed into a corset, and then . . . Whoosh. Her wings unfurled. Her legs cramped, the muscles seized, and her human legs folded, replaced by lion-like haunches. Her skin tingled. A million fire ants were biting, biting, biting . . . Finally, the pain dissipated, and soft golden fur appeared on her breasts, torso, and lower extremities. The change was over.
Hope pulled her hair up in a messy bun, then glanced over her shoulder at her amber wings; the crimson-tipped feathers looked like they’d been dipped in blood.
“Are you ready to fly?” Her mom came around the car on her paws and hands.
“Are you kidding?” Hope said with a laugh. She loved to fly, loved the freedom of it. Relished it. Even craved it.
A sudden strong breeze almost lifted her off the ground.
“Careful,” her mom cautioned.
As Hope pumped her wings, a gust pulled her away from the earth, and she was airborne.
The sky in the east was pale blue with feathers of yellow as the two Sphinxes flew over the mountain range.
“Where to?” Leto’s voice carried over the wind and tickled Hope’s ears with possibilities.
“Somewhere warm.”
Leto’s laugh was crisp, like the air. “It’s only cold because we’re on the top of the pass. South it is, then.”
As the sun climbed, the air warmed. The two creatures flew, weaving away from populated areas. They passed the blackened skin of earth where a forest fire had raged and the snowy caps of Mount Rainier, Mount St. Helens, Mount Adams, and then Mount Hood. Her mom pointed each of them out as if giving a geography lesson.
“Getting tired?” Leto dropped lower in anticipation.
“Not yet. Let’s go just a little farther.”
The air was much warmer at the lower elevation, and rivulets of sweat tickled Hope’s skin as they dripped down her neck. She stared ahead at Mount Bachelor, the bright whiteness looming as they drew closer.
“Hope!”
Her gaze jumped to where her mother was, just ahead, only to find empty air.
Time seemed to slow. The hum of an engine, way too close. Her mother yelling her name. The sun suddenly too hot, and her skin chilled with panic.
Her mother was above her.
“What in the name of the gods is that?”
The voice belonged to a male. And he was likely human.
“Get your phone!”
“Get a picture!”
“Get your gun!”
Oh gods! Hope pulled up, beating her wings as fast as she could.
Bam! A huge branch dropped from the sky, right on the hood of the car. The tires squealed, and curses issued from the windows.
“Hera and Zeus!” her mother cursed, dropping a second branch. “What are you doing?” She motioned for Hope to follow.
Shame burned Hope’s cheeks, but her heart continued an erratic rhythm of panic. The two flew over a copse of trees and into the foothills of the Cascades.
“I called your name at least three times. What were you thinking?”
“I didn’t hear you,” Hope said.
Leto looked around, pointed at a clearing in the trees, and dropped to land.
Hope landed several feet from her mother and braced herself.
“What’s the first thing I taught you? You’ve got to be aware of your surroundings. Your vision, your hearing, your reflexes are useless if you aren’t paying attention. I won’t always be there to rescue you. If we’re ever found out, they’ll kill us! Zeus Almighty!”
Her mom was right. All of Hope’s supernatural powers would be worthless if she wasn’t paying attention. And had those men been demigods, they could have killed her; death had been that close.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t keep you safe. In this world, we are the monsters to them. Stay invisible. Always. Stay invisible.”
Hope nodded. She’d heard this talk about staying hidden before. In fact, she’d heard it her entire life. The elusive, and much sought after, concept of safety was why they moved so much. Her mother’s obsession with not letting anyone close enough to know their secret. Curse creatures were hunted. No one would accept them.
“If you aren’t going to pay attention, maybe we should stay inside the apartment when—”
“No! Please. I’ll pay attention from now on. I promise.”
“We can’t afford mistakes.” Leto stalked over on her hands and haunches, her feline grace suited to her wooded surroundings. She put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, and their gold eyes met. “Please. Please, be more careful.”
They spent an entire two days in the clearing, surrounded by tall pines, moss, and wild grasses. When it was time to fly back to the car, neither said anything, but they flew high, close to the mountains, far away from human eyes. High enough that even the demigods couldn’t see them.
The message was clear. Stay hidden to stay safe. Don’t let anyone in. Protect the secret of their curse. It was the only way.
“Hitler?” Mr. Burton’s gaze swept over his students. “Any guess as to his divine parent?”
“Ares, god of war.” A guy with a baritone voice answered the question, then muttered under his breath, “Supposedly.”
The teacher ignored the snarky comment and continued with his lecture. He paced the front of the classroom, glancing down at his notes. “And Marie Curie?”
“Athena.” Another student shouted the answer, and several other students cheered.
Hope put her head down on her desk, wishing for what she knew she couldn’t have. It would be nice to be a part of their laughter. It would be nice to be included.
“Good. Very good. You should all do very well on your quiz tomorrow. Now, shifting gears. How many of you know the story of the Sphinx?”
Hope sat up but refused to raise her hand. If she’d known class was going to be about her, she would’ve slept in.
Mythology, like English and math, was required all four years of high school. And if she lived in the same blissful denial as the rest of the students, it might have been fun to learn about mythology.
Hope glanced at her classmates.
Most of them would live their entire lives believing the gods had withdrawn from humanity, with the exception of the occasional demigod offspring. Most would never be bothered by a deity. Never have to worry about immortal hunters. Never feel the curse of the gods. She sighed.
As it stood, her sophomore mytholog
y class, Of Men and Monsters, was turning out to be thoroughly depressing. Even so, she was getting a solid A.
She drew a daisy and then connected it with the other ten already on the margin of her paper. She shaded in the leaves, waiting for Mr. Burton to continue.
“Hey. Hope.”
Warm fingers wrapped around her wrist, and she glanced over into the eager face of Caidyn Brown.
“Do you have a pencil I can borrow?” His dark skin contrasted with his bright smile.
The corner of her lip responded. “Sure. Just a sec.”
She reached into her bag, pushing aside keys and paper. She grasped two thin cylinders and held out his options. One was pink and glittery, a gift from her mother, the other a standard yellow number two bought in bulk at the beginning of the year.
“Pink and sparkles?” He took the proffered pencil. “It must be my lucky day.”
She snorted. Because what man didn’t like pink? “If you like it that much, keep it.”
“Eyes up here, people,” Mr. Burton interrupted.
She turned to face the board where Mr. Burton wrote Sphinx in red.
“All right. How many of you have heard of the Sphinx?” He turned back to the class.
A few hands went up.
“What is it?”
Hope shifted in her seat.
“A monster.”
“A cursed person.”
“A figment of your imagination.”
The last commenter got raised eyebrows.
“The Sphinx was a monster.” Mr. Burton threw a miniature candy bar at the student who’d given the correct answer. “And a monster, in mythology, is . . .”
Several hands went up.
“Yes, Gage.”
“A monster is a mixed breed created by a god. Usually cursed for some offense.”
Candy flew through the air.
“And what was the Sphinx?” His gaze roamed the room. “Alani.”
“Lion and eagle.”
He tilted his head and pursed his lips. “What else?”
The room was silent.
“Human.” Hope said it. She didn’t even know why. She’d gone the entire semester without saying much of anything. And she didn’t even like chocolate.
