Cursed by the Gods

by Raye Wagner

  “How’s school?”

  She snorted her response. “Fine. Suzy Sunshine is in three of my classes, and I think I’ll try out for the cheer squad.”

  Priska’s laugh was just a fraction off. Forced. And then she continued, “And did you get settled? Clothes and kitchen unpacked?”

  “Yep. It’s all good.” But not really. Just hearing Priska’s voice was causing waves in the pool of Hope’s emotions. “How are you? How’s Turkey?”

  “Unproductive. The priestesses were a nightmare. I finally got through today, but so far no one on Olympus is talking about your mom, or her death. Artemis said she’d keep her ears open, but it sounds like Skia.” There was a long sigh. “I’m going to leave tomorrow.”

  Hope sat up. “Are you coming home?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to try and get into a conservatory. I want to see if there is any chatter among the demigods. Sometimes they know even more than their parents.”

  “A conservatory?” The conservatories were safe from Skia and provided free housing for the offspring of the gods. These homes were also exclusively for demigods, some even requiring the immortal parent to vouch for their children before they would allow entrance. “How much longer will you be?”

  The more she listened to Priksa, the more Hope wanted her to come home. But that would mean that they wouldn’t know what happened to her mom. And that wasn’t acceptable.

  Hope let out a slow breath while giving herself a mental pep talk. She wanted this.

  “I don’t know. A month, maybe two? It depends on how long it takes to get in. This is the only other thing I can think of.” Priska paused. “I’ll call you every night until I get in.”

  “And then? What happens when you get in?”

  “Not sure. I’ll play it by ear. But with all the subterfuge, I may not be able to call.”

  Hope was silent. The phone calls weren’t nearly enough, but she clung to them, her only contact with someone who loved her.

  “I promise I’ll text you every night, Hope. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

  But this is what she wanted. “Will you be safe?”

  “It’s part of why I’m going where I’m going. There’s an Athenian shrine close by, and I hope the conservatory has at least one of her daughters. They tend to be resourceful women, not impetuous. I’ll be fine. Remember, lie low.”

  Hope knew. “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish there was another way.”

  Hope nodded at the phone. Her chest squeezed, and the dam was threatening to burst.

  “And Hope?”

  “Yes?” she hiccupped.

  “Stay put until I get back. No friends. Don’t stand out. And keep the immortal daggers close by. If you can get away with carrying one, it would probably be wise to have one on you all the time.”

  The daggers? She swallowed hard. They were two mismatched knives that her grandmother purportedly stole from demigods she’d fought hundreds of years ago. One was about six inches long with a blood-red ruby in its hilt, the other a couple inches longer, bright gold with inscriptions of the sun. They’d probably been packed in one of the boxes of her mother’s things. Hope would need to dig them out. But she couldn’t do one more thing today. She’d look for them in the morning before school.

  “Be careful.” Something about the plan made Hope uneasy.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Priska said.

  But even after they hung up, Hope lay awake. What would she do if something happened to Priska?

  The days at school bled one into one another. Mrs. Biggers lectured on symbolism used by the gods. In chemistry, they learned about ionic charge. At lunch, she sat in the library. In Spanish, she memorized irregular verbs. When the school bell released her, she went home. Her only relief came in the runs she started taking. With every step, she told herself she was doing what was necessary. That she wasn’t running away from anything but racing toward a finish that would bring her answers.

  But the words were hollow wishes that disappeared with the sweat from her run. Nevertheless, Hope began to settle into her life in Goldendale.

  Gradually, interest in the new girl waned. A few more courageous boys tried to befriend her, but curt replies put them off. Most girls, either intimidated or offended, didn’t reach out at all.

  Overall, she should have been happy with her success. But as the days passed, a cold weight settled in her chest. She was hollow, empty, and very, very alone.

  She held out a sliver of hope that Priska would come back soon, because the last thing Hope wanted was to be on her own. But deep down, she wasn’t fooling herself. She was on her own.

  Some people counted sheep to help fall asleep. Others drank warm milk with honey. As Hope lay in bed night after night fighting the sleep that would force her to relive her losses in dreams, she constructed a brick wall. Carefully, she placed brick after brick on wet gray mortar, building an impenetrable fortress around her heart.

  She’d spent a restless night at a hotel in Toppenish and climbed out of bed an hour before dawn. It would be her first flight without her mom, and she hoped the time outside would be liberating. She drove till she found an abandoned barn far outside the small town, a perfect hiding spot for her car.

  The sky was hovering between black and gray when she began to undress. As the first rays pierced the sky, her body tingled, and a surge of energy pulsed through her. The morphing took only seconds, and then soft, golden fur covered her breasts, torso, and haunches. The amber feathers of her wings stretched out several feet, and she pulled them close to her body while pulling her long blond hair up into a messy knot. Grabbing her messenger bag, she made her way out of the barn.

  She pulled herself into the air, climbing high enough that anyone looking from the ground would be perplexed by the large bird but not be able to distinguish its features. She would be up in the peaks before the sun rose, high enough to be safe.

  She spent the day reading, allowing the words of a well-written fantasy novel to distract from her own bleak reality. If she crammed her quiet moments with something, anything, she wouldn’t feel the pain.

  Not nearly soon enough, the stars lit up the night sky with only a sliver of the new moon.

  “Finally!” She exhaled and released her wings, allowing the wind to tickle and tease at her feathers before she beat them up and down. Once airborne, she left the seclusion of the mountains and swept into the valley below.

  A sense of freedom played in her heart, and she felt a stirring of hope. She danced in the air and looked to her side, where her mom should be. Unbidden memories overwhelmed her. Their flights together. Her rich laugh. Golden eyes. Her constant worry for Hope. Her love.

  It wasn’t fair. Gods, it was so unfair!

  Tears blurred her vision, and she tumbled from the sky. Branches scratched and clawed as her paws flailed to the ground. She slipped on something hard and round, and, with a thump, she slid into the trunk of a squat apple tree.

  Physically bruised and emotionally broken, she roared her frustration and yanked up the offending tree as if pulling up a weed. The cool air was sticky sweet. Angry with the apples on the ground, the trees that scratched her skin, and incensed with the injustice of her life, Hope’s pent-up emotion exploded. Screaming and out of control, she marched down row after row of the orchard, wrenching trees up by their trunks, leaving a wake of destruction behind.

  As the sky lightened, she was pulled from her rage. She surveyed her surroundings and the ruin she’d caused. Guilt and shame filled her. Unsure of what to do, she took off for the protection of the mountaintops. It would be sundown before her body would change back to human form, hours before she could do anything.

  Icy patches of snow still stuck to the moss-covered ground, and rays from the morning light reflected diamonds. The evergreens swayed in the wind, and Hope lay on the ground shivering, her breath like steam from a teapot. The fur that covered her body shielded her from the biting air, but not
hing protected her heart, and she sobbed.

  Hours later, when the catharsis of tears was over, her mind cleared. She could get through this. She would get back into a routine, just like Priska said. And Hope would run. She wouldn’t go flying again; not until she was sure she could control herself, control her emotions. She would still change, there was no way around that, but she would stay in the solitude of her house. No more destruction. No more risks.

  The brightness of the sky faded from azure into pinks and lavender on its way to indigo. She stood, and with two powerful beats of her crimson-tipped wings, she lifted into the air.

  Remorse pushed her to fly past the farmhouse adjacent to the orchard she’d uprooted. She’d send money. A lot of it. How many years would it take to grow an orchard that size? She shook her head. In the back of her mind, she could hear her mom’s voice cautioning against flying low. Hope considered the risk that someone might see her but quickly dismissed it. No human could see this high.

  She landed outside the dilapidated building and slipped inside just before the sun dipped below the horizon. She stood up on her haunches, stretching toward the sky, her wings spread wide. As the sun disappeared, she pulled her wings in. They collapsed, folding into her back, and instantly she could feel the pressure of their containment. Cramping in her lower extremities was followed by a searing pain, as the muscles of her haunches extended into human legs. The fur sloughed from her body, dropping like a discarded blanket. Hope thoughtfully brushed her hand over her skin and then dressed.

  “You did what?” Priska huffed. “Skata, how could you be so careless?”

  Sitting on her bed, Hope spilled her guilt out over the phone. “It just happened. I . . . I don’t even know what started it . . . But I want to make it right. Can I send money? I got the address.”

  “Call Charlie in the morning. He’ll tell you what needs to happen. You’ll probably need to sign some paperwork, but he can take care of it.” She sighed. “How are you holding up? Besides, the whole—”

  Hope wanted to cry. There was a constant ache of loneliness that threatened to swallow her whole. She cleared the emotion from her throat so she could respond. “Fine.”

  “Obviously not, or you wouldn’t have torn up an orchard.” Priska laughed. “An apple orchard—that’s a new one.”

  “I’m glad you find it amusing.” Hope bit her tongue. Too late.

  “Don’t get all twitted out. It’s not the end of the world. Have Charlie send some coins from your grandmother’s treasure chest, and the owner won’t ever have to work again.”

  Hope’s grandmother, the first Sphinx, had worked for a pharaoh in ancient Egypt. Her payment in coin and jewels had increased in value over the centuries, not to mention her income as a physician for hundreds of years.

  At least they had something to talk about. So many of their calls were just a short check in. Hope missed her aunt. Fiercely.

  “Did you locate the conservatory? Have you found any demigods?” What Hope really wanted to ask was how soon Priska was coming home.

  “Yes, actually. I’m hoping they’ll invite me in soon. Gods, I can’t wait to be done.”

  “But . . .” More than just the ache of loneliness hit Hope with her aunt’s words. Was she a burden? “You want to know, too, right?”

  “You know I do. That’s why we’re doing this. I’ll call you tomorrow. Stay safe.”

  “You, too.” Hope tapped the End button and then dropped her phone on the down comforter. If Priska turned up nothing in the conservatory, then what?

  Mr. Burgess’s tedious baritone was droning on about the applicability of balancing chemical equations, and Hope was struggling to stay awake. It wasn’t just that she was tired. She was exhausted, like she’d run a marathon instead of her usual three-mile loop. To top it off, it felt as if someone had thrown sand in her eyes. She shouldn’t have gone running so late last night, but it was beautiful and cool, and she hadn’t been sleeping anyway. She was paying for it now.

  In addition to the fatigue, the ever-present pressure in her back throbbed. It was always worse a few days before and after changing, but the ache of sore muscles, like she’d worked out too hard, was always present.

  Fighting sleep, she sat up straight and let her focus drift to the conversation behind her.

  “Where did he move from?”

  Krista. Hope inwardly groaned. She was about to pull her focus back to Mr. Burgess but caught the response.

  “Seattle area. His mom died last week in a car accident, I think,” Angela whispered, but the excitement in her voice was palpable.

  Hope focused in earnest. The pain of losing her mother was suddenly raw and fresh. An ache swelled for this new student and his loss.

  “Oh, that’s awful.” Krista actually sounded sincere. “What about his dad?”

  Hope gritted her teeth; she doubted Krista could even be sincere.

  “I guess he’s not around. Mrs. Stephens is his great aunt. Or something like that.”

  “Mrs. Stephens?” Krista moved abruptly and dropped her pencil. There was a moment of silence from the two girls. “I don’t know which is worse, losing your mom, or having to live with that kind of crazy.”

  On this point, Krista was probably right. Mrs. Stephens was definitely not all there. Hope had seen the older woman once at the grocery store and watched in pity as she chanted a rhyme about animals seeking night and battling fear. All while staring at the meat case. It didn’t seem to bother Mr. Stanley, but the woman was cracked.

  “I’ve never seen him here before, you know, visiting or whatever. I’m sure we would have noticed him.”

  “No. His mom wasn’t close to Mrs. Stephens. It’s some weird relationship, like his dad’s mother’s sister’s daughter, or something like that.”

  That would be his second cousin. Hope rolled her eyes. She remembered that Angela’s mother was the school counselor. In listening to how much Angela knew about the newcomer, Hope was grateful she’d declined the school’s services. She again felt a pang of sympathy for the boy.

  “Athan Michael.”

  “Ethan?”

  “No, Athan, with an A,” Angela explained. “It’s Greek. My mom said—”

  “Have you seen him yet?” Krista interrupted.

  “No. He just got here yesterday. I guess it will be a couple of days before he—”

  Krista cut Angela off with a sharp intake of breath. “He’s crazy hot!”

  Angela giggled, and Hope lost interest. They rarely said anything of value, and if they did, they didn’t mean to. Now, she really did feel sorry for the new boy. Not that she would do anything about it. She just couldn’t get involved.

  The bell rang, and Hope stood and collected her books. The other students, gathered in groups, ignored her as she walked to her locker. She pulled out her books for math and Spanish and then turned toward the library. That’s when he caught her eye.

  The only reason she could see him was because of his height. His skin was tanned, with olive undertones, and his tawny hair disheveled in a way that told of too much time in front of the mirror, or no time at all. His features were intense, but his body language said he couldn’t have cared less. A large group surrounded him, and rich laughter drifted from that side of the hall.

  She stood, momentarily transfixed. He was undoubtedly the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

  He must have felt the weight of her gaze. His jade eyes met her gold ones, drifted over her body, and then came back to her face.

  She couldn’t help the heat that rushed to her cheeks, but she couldn’t look away.

  He winked.

  She was so startled she actually jumped. Flushing heat blossomed up her neck to her face, and she averted her gaze. Without another thought, she walked as fast as she could, but when she got to the end of the hall, she realized she’d gone the wrong way. With a huff of disgust, she doubled back to the library.

  She settled into her favorite corner, her mind spinning. How
could someone be so . . . She couldn’t even think of a word to describe it. He winked at her! He was flirting right after . . . right after his mother died? Shouldn’t he be mourning or something? What a loser. It was the only word she could come up with. All sympathy for the boy disappeared. She was angry and felt somehow betrayed.

  The bell rang, and she grabbed her books and headed off to algebra II. She was usually the first to enter the classroom, so she was surprised to see a small group of students in the back corner talking. She sat down, ignoring the noise, and pulled out her homework.

  “So, are you a math prodigy or an all-around nerd?” The voice was soft and deep, his speech highly inflected and full of liquid consonants. English was definitely not his first language.

  She glanced up from her paper and followed the hand on her desk up to the face of Athan Michael.

  “Uh, excuse me?” She stumbled over the words, her heart skipping and tripping in her chest.

  “I was wondering. You have your homework out, and it’s done.” He pointed at her paper. “Are you always on top of things, or is this your favorite subject?” Intensity flashed in his green eyes, and a slow half-smile pulled at his lips. When she said nothing, he raised his brows expectantly.

  “I’m not even sure how to answer that.” As soon as the words left her lips she wished she could take them back. It wasn’t that she couldn’t answer, she internally berated herself, but was he being serious, or was he teasing? And if he was teasing her, to what avail?

  “I might need a tutor. Are you game?” He smiled, a full smile all the way to his eyes, and it was as if he was bestowing a grace upon her.

  She could see what Krista was talking about earlier. He was good-looking, and he knew it. Hope’s opinion dropped off a cliff, but her heart hadn’t seemed to have gotten the message. It picked up until it was in a race to beat out of her chest. Irritation over her own physical betrayal made her steel herself. She was a rational creature. Not a ball of hormones.