Cursed by the Gods

by Raye Wagner

  “Disgusted with the idea, but not wishing to offend her father, she proposed that she would wed the first man to beat her in a foot race. However, if she won the foot race, the losing suitor would be beheaded. Iasus agreed.

  “Despite Atalanta’s famed athleticism, there were many suitors. And soon, many heads.

  “A young man named Melanion was desperately in love with Atalanta. He knew he couldn’t beat her on his own and prayed to Aphrodite for aid. His impassioned plea touched the goddess of love, and she agreed to help the young man. With one condition: Melanion must perform a sacrifice to Aphrodite prior to the wedding. Melanion agreed.

  “Aphrodite gave Melanion three golden apples, fruit of the gods. She explained that the apples would be irresistible to Atalanta, and Melanion should carry them in the race.

  “The next morning, Melanion sought Atalanta’s hand. It had been some time since a race, and the crowd was large. The race began, and Melanion struggled to keep pace with Atalanta. Just as she was starting to pull away, Melanion tossed a golden apple at her feet.

  “Atalanta’s desire for the ripe, celestial fruit overwhelmed her. She stopped to retrieve the apple and consumed it on the spot. Even with the delay, Atalanta was confident the interruption wouldn’t affect the outcome of the race.

  “She did, in fact, catch up with Melanion, but not until almost halfway through the race. When Atalanta was about to pass the young man, he again threw a golden apple, this time a bit off the racecourse.

  “Having tasted the exotic fruit, Atalanta’s desire was heightened, and she again stopped to recover the apple. Unable to postpone her pleasure, she devoured it.

  “This cost valuable time, but she was fast. She caught up to Melanion just before the finish line and was set to beat him when he tossed the last apple just out of Atalanta’s reach. Atalanta debated for only a second before she claimed the last of the heavenly crop.

  “The decision cost Atalanta the race, and Atalanta and Melanion were married that afternoon. In his excitement, Melanion forgot all about his promise to Aphrodite.

  “But the gods don’t forget. The young couple was walking past a temple of Zeus when Aphrodite struck. The pair was so overcome with desire and passion they consummated their love within the sacred shrine of the god. Offended at this desecration, Zeus turned the lovers into lions.”

  There was silence.

  “THAT’S IT?” Brawny Jock broke the silence.

  Athan nodded, but his gaze narrowed as he scanned the group of teens, almost as if he were studying them.

  “Seriously? That is so . . .” The hulking young man paused as though thinking of an adjective.

  “LAME!” Krista exclaimed. “What kind of story is that? Why did the gods have to screw it up?”

  “Do you think so?” Athan’s accent became more pronounced, his words flowing together. He looked at Krista for a moment and then turned to Hope. His voice dropped, “What did you think of it?”

  She shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “It sounds like typical Greek mythology to me.” She hated the story but had been as entranced as the rest while he spoke.

  “Hmm.” He looked at a couple on the other side of the fire and walked toward them.

  “Do you believe the gods are still involved in this world?” Tristan asked Athan as he retreated.

  Athan stopped and turned. “Does it matter?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I claimed to be agnostic or atheist, would it change anything?” Athan sighed. “It would be nice to believe gods don’t exist, but . . . You know that story about Atalanta?”

  Collectively they nodded, but Hope held her breath. Something about the way he spoke was like he knew.

  “The gods don’t fix problems.” Athan paused as if measuring his words. “They make bigger ones. Every story, every myth, every legend ends tragically for a human. Gods have amazing powers, but they leave a path of destruction and never think about the consequences that others have to deal with.”

  “So you don’t worship the gods?” Tristan asked.

  “Worship them?” Athan laughed, but the sound was mirthless. “Do any of you worship the gods? Have any of you even been to a temple in the last year to make an offering?”

  “I did.” Tristan’s voice was steady. “Last spring with my dad. We made an offering to Demeter.”

  “Did it work? Were your crops more plentiful?” Hope couldn’t help the words tumbling from her mouth. There was desperation in them, a want so substantial it almost choked her. She hoped that somehow, at least one of them was still good. Why it was so important she couldn’t say, but she needed it to be true.

  “It was their best harvest ever.” Haley smiled.

  There was momentary hope in the words.

  And then Tristan shook his head. “We had our best harvest ever, but my dad promised Demeter ‘anything.’” He held his hands up and made air quotes. “I don’t think he would have made that promise if he’d known the cost.”

  “What happened?” Hope asked.

  “My mom left. Told us all good-bye, that she loved us, and then she left.” The words were choked with emotion. “She’s a priestess, or whatever they’re called, in that temple off Highway 97. We can go see her whenever we want, but . . .”

  A heavy weight settled over the group.

  “By the gods, you people are such downers!” Krista blasted. “She was probably going to leave anyway.” She stood up and grabbed a beer. “Anyone else want to drown that depressing story?”

  Several hands went up, and Krista passed out cans.

  Someone threw another log on the fire. The wood popped, and sparks floated in the air.

  Hope shoved her hands deeper into her pockets and moved toward the orange glow. She was cold, but the chill in her heart wasn’t something the fire would fix.

  The shadows shifted.

  A man walked toward them from the parking lot. At first Hope thought he was another kid from high school coming late to the party. There was something familiar about his stride, maybe she’d seen him before. He crossed under a streetlight, the light reflecting on his pallid skin, and she knew he wasn’t from school. His relaxed pace was at odds with the bitter cold, especially considering he was only wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, no jacket.

  The girl talking with Athan screamed.

  Silence enveloped them as the world stood still.

  Hope swallowed, and clenched her hands. She knew exactly what he was, and when her heart started beating again, it was pounding as if trying to run away on its own. She looked around at the crowd of teens, but they were singularly focused on the girl and not the monster from the Underworld.

  “What the Hades, Chelli?” Krista glared at the girl.

  A few nervous chuckles floated from the group, and Athan smirked and said, “Stop trying to freak everyone out.”

  He laughed as he stood and put his arm around Brand.

  Someone made a comment about Chelli being crazy, and Krista took it one step further with a snide remark about her being off her meds. Conversations erupted, a cacophony of sound, the kids completely unaware of the creature in their midst.

  Athan leaned into Chelli and Brand and said more quietly, “You should go. Now.”

  Then Athan ushered the girl and her boyfriend away with a wave.

  The Skia reached into his coat.

  Hope should do . . . something. What should she do? What could she do? In the back of her mind, she heard her mother’s panic. Her mother’s mantra of safety, the reason they stayed home so often. Heard Priska warning of Skia. She should go home. Should she just leave? Should she say something to Haley?

  While her mind contemplated what she should do, Hope stood transfixed, her gaze darting from Athan to the Skia. But Athan never even looked at it. He saw the two other students to their car and casually came back to the fire.

  And the Skia . . . was gone. She squinted into the night, but the inky blackness
was only a void. Her gaze drifted back to the attractive young man. Had he seen it?

  “So you’re interested in Athan?” Krista sneered.

  Hope turned to face the petite girl, staring at her as she flipped her dark hair behind her shoulder. Why would she think that? Hope ran through the last few minutes in her mind. She had looked at Athan, probably several times, but only because it seemed as if he sensed the Skia, too.

  “He doesn’t even know you exist, you know?”

  Hope shrugged. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t interested in him anyway. Not like Krista.

  “You might be kinda pretty, but you’re not his type.”

  People had types? She couldn’t even think of what to say to that and thought her best tactic would be to just ignore the other girl. Then maybe she would leave.

  “Are you dumb? Gods! Just stay away from him.” Krista sauntered past, bumping Hope on the way.

  Hope sighed. She had no intention of getting anywhere near Athan.

  “It won’t work,” Tristan said. He and Haley skirted around a couple sitting in the grass and walked up to Hope.

  Hope looked out at the parking lot, wishing she’d never come. She steeled herself to deal with whatever else was coming, and then faced them. “What won’t?”

  “Even if you don’t pay attention to her, she’ll just take it as a challenge,” Haley said. “She really sucks.” Her eyes widened, and she turned to Tristan, “Uh, I mean—”

  “I don’t like her either,” he said.

  Hope looked down and noticed they were holding hands.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “you looked like you were going to try the whole ignoring thing. Like, if you pretend she doesn’t exist, she’ll go away. We just thought you should know it won’t work.”

  Great.

  Just great.

  It was two days before she would change, and Hope needed to get some groceries. Mostly, she needed to get some meat so she wouldn’t be hungry when she changed. Not that she couldn’t eat, but her tastes were definitely different as a sphinx than in human form.

  “Hope!” Mr. Stanley smiled as she approached. “It’s so nice to see you.”

  She wanted to smile, but her heart hurt. Loneliness had become her constant companion, and even though she knew it was best, it still sucked. And so did Krista. So much.

  Hope surveyed the contents of the meat case. “What’s the best today?”

  “Hmm. The skirt steak is on sale, and if you slice it thin, it makes excellent fajitas.”

  She stared at the meat. Fajitas sounded like so much work for just her. And not really worth all the effort.

  “Or, you could go with a tri-tip.” When she didn’t answer, he bent over to meet her eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” No. Not at all. Haley and Tristan had been correct about Krista. She was making it her personal mission to destroy Hope’s new popularity. Unfortunately for them both, it seemed to be backfiring. The tension at school, coupled with tension about Priska, and curse day only two days away . . .

  “Well, I’m sorry for whatever has taken the spring from your step.”

  No argument there. “I’ll take the tri-tip. I can just grill that, right?”

  “Yep.” He pulled on clear plastic gloves and grabbed the roast. “I’ve got a new riddle for you. Tell me, have you heard this one? I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?”

  She had heard it, but the kindness of his gesture made her smile. “The letter E. That’s old, Mr. Stanley.”

  “So it is.” He handed her the paper-wrapped package. “I was a bit worried you’d switched stores on me.” He was clearly referencing the grocery store on the other side of town and her long absence.

  “Nope. I can’t believe their butcher would be as cool as you.” She held up her meat. “Thanks, Mr. Stanley.”

  He gave her a wave and turned to the next customer.

  Hope stood in line, the blinking 5 marking the only register open. Candy lined one side of the aisle, and beauty magazines the other. Diet, detox, celebrities . . .

  A fuzzy photo stopped her heart. THE MONSTER LIVES, read the headline, and there was a picture of her as the Sphinx. Her! It had to be years old.

  The desire to flee seized her, and she eyed the exit. With a swallow, Hope looked around. Did anyone know?

  “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.”

  Hope turned to see Mrs. Stephens staring at her. A Hello Kitty T-shirt and yoga pants seemed too young for the woman to be wearing, and too normal.

  “Kitty, kitty, kitty . . .” The dainty woman skipped over in her neon-pink flip-flops and pointed at the magazines.

  “What do you want?” Hope asked.

  Mrs. Stephens closed what little space was left and whispered to Hope, “You don’t need to worry.” She shook her head. “Not yet. Not yet.”

  What did she know?

  “I, uh . . .” What could Hope say?

  But it seemed that the weird lady wasn’t interested in a response anyway.

  “Be wary of death.” Mrs. Stephens drew close, her hand extended. “The reapers will visit, and they will see.”

  Hope stepped back.

  “Is this all for you?” the cashier asked in a monotone voice.

  Hope gulped back her fear, nodded at the man, then looked back at Mrs. Stephens.

  But she was skipping down the cereal aisle.

  “So, are you going to come?”

  Haley bumped Hope’s arm as they walked down the hall between classes. Students and conversations flowed around them. Despite Hope’s best effort at ignoring Haley, she seemed to believe they were now friends.

  Hope instinctively pulled away. “No.”

  There was nothing appealing about going to the river again. First the Skia, then crazy Mrs. Stephens, and now the change tomorrow. Besides feeling overwhelmed, anxiety was firmly settled in her heart and pulsed through her body with every heartbeat. Disaster was right there, at her door, and Hope’s concerns were not who would be at the river this weekend. Tomorrow she would shift into the Sphinx. And miss school. Again.

  How was she going to deal with Mr. Jeffers?

  “Are you kidding? It’ll be epic!”

  Haley practically bounced, forcing Hope’s attention her way. There was something . . . endearing about the girl’s enthusiasm.

  “I could get Tristan to set you up with one of his friends. I mean, face it, you could have just about anyone you want.” She slowed down and sighed. “Except Athan. I can’t believe he’s going out with Stacie.”

  Stacie was best friends with Chelli. Hope snorted her disgust. She could really care less who Athan dated. “Whatever.”

  Apparently, she was alone in her sentiment.

  Haley continued her mooning over him, with big doe-eyes. “He’s just so—”

  An earsplitting cry for help broke through the din of the hallway. The high-pitched wail was followed by more screaming. And then more.

  Hope forgot about Haley, the noise drawing her in, pulling her like a magnet down the hall. A huge crowd of students was gathered around the locker bay, and initially Hope thought someone must have started a fight, but the screams were increasing, and panic charged the air.

  “Someone call 9-1-1!”

  A tall young man ran by her, brushing her shoulder. And then several more people. They were running away from something. Or someone.

  Fear filled her, its icy finger tracing her spine, clenching her heart. She fought the instinct to run and forced herself toward the screams.

  Her vision tunneled, and the beige walls disappeared, as did the students in her periphery. As she approached the crowd, her height gave her a view over the other students, and she froze.

  There on the ground, a young student thrashed. It was the boy from the campfire—the one Athan had spoken with and made leave. Brand. His name was Brand.

  Above him—Oh gods. She couldn’t believe it. I
t just couldn’t be.

  “Get him off me!” The boy screamed from the floor. “Help!”

  Straddling the young man, the Skia held a black knife high in the air. The boy kicked at the creature’s legs. A grim look of determination was fixed on the sallow face of the monster from the Underworld. And then, the knife came down.

  “Arghhhh!” The boy screamed, his eyes widening. “Boreas! Save me!”

  His screams became indecipherable as he bucked and writhed on the pale tile.

  The blade came down again and again.

  The air thinned, and Hope gasped. A deep heaviness settled in her chest, and her heart pounded a rhythm of terror. But she could not look away.

  This was the fear her mother held, the cause of her panic. The reason for their moves. This was the packing, the no friends, the constant hiding. This was rationale for the isolation.

  “Oh my gods! Help him!” The auburn-haired Chelli shouted above the melee. “Brand! Brand!” Her wide eyes searched the group, a silent plea for help. Finding none, she stepped forward to her friend.

  The Skia shoved her, and, as if shot from a cannon, the girl flew into the crowd, knocking people over like bowling pins. A tangle of legs and arms lay in a heap, unmoving.

  Hope stood transfixed by the horror. This . . . This was her mother fighting for her life.

  The Skia stabbed, and the boy’s thrashing grew weaker with each blow.

  “Boreas.” His screams turned to pleas then a whimper. Still, the pale hand of death struck, again and again.

  No one. Not one person moved to help him. The boy’s cries weakened and then stopped. Where the knife had struck there was no blood, no gaping stab wound. Nothing. The boy’s body continued to lurch off the ground, seizing and then relaxing.

  This was her mother’s death.

  Cold webs of alarm circled her heart. He could kill her next. And she didn’t have her knives. She never even looked for them. How could she forget? And she was defenseless without them.

  The Skia turned his midnight eyes toward her.

  “You,” the demon hissed. “You cannot hide from me. I will come for you.” He turned back to his prey, and bringing his pitch-colored blade above his head, he drove it into the young man’s chest.