Curse of the Sphinx

by Raye Wagner

  Haley blew out a breath. “Well, maybe someone was just trying to be nice. I mean, he didn’t threaten you or anything, right?”

  “No. But he’s called like another five times.”

  “Well, I’d let it go. Unless you keep getting calls, or if the guy threatens you, or something.”

  It was sound advice. No need to freak out about one more thing.

  Nine days until the change

  “HOW WAS YOUR weekend?” Athan asked.

  He stood at her locker staring at her. It was the oddest sensation. A mixture of pride and anxiety coursed through her, and she wanted to giggle and run away. “Fine. I hung out with—”

  “Hey Hope.” Haley bounced up. “How are you?” She smiled at Athan as if just noticing him. As if. She turned back to Hope. “Oh, I was going to ask you, have you had any more phone calls?”

  And so much for secrets.

  “Phone calls?” Athan frowned.

  Hope rolled her eyes. “No.” She turned to Athan. “It was nothing. Just a wrong number, but they kept calling back. Kinda freaked me out.” She snapped her locker shut.

  “You two hung out?” Athan asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

  “Well, yeah,” Haley said. “That’s what friends do, you know.”

  “Yes, so I’ve heard.” He gave Hope a hard look.

  “What?” She asked him. “We hung out on Friday.” Why was he acting all weird?

  “I bet she didn’t have to coerce you to hang out,” he grumbled.

  The three of them walked down the hall drawing several stares.

  “Of course not,” Haley responded. “My motives aren’t questionable.”

  Hope laughed and walked into mythology, but she still heard him . . .

  “There is nothing questionable about my motives, either.”

  “ARE WE EATING lunch or what?” Athan asked. He’d met her at her locker right after chemistry, before she had a chance to disappear into the Library.

  Hope pushed down anticipation—if that’s what it was—and took a deep breath. It was raining, so the commons was out. “How about the cafeteria?”

  He nodded. “You got it.”

  He held the door open for her, and then led them to the table where Tristan, Lee, Scott, Haley—and Krista—were sitting.

  “Hey guys,” Athan said, setting his stuff down. “Can we join you?”

  Haley smiled at Hope from the other end of the table, and Tristan scooted his tray over. “Yeah, of course,” he said.

  Athan sat.

  This was not quite what she’d been thinking, but not knowing what else to do, Hope slid into a chair.

  As soon as she was seated, he stood up and leaned to whisper into her ear, “I’ll be right back, I need to get some food. Stay put.”

  He pushed her hair back exposing her ear, and his hand rested on her neck. Leaning closer, his lips brushed her ear as he spoke. “They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”

  Her head and heart swirled as he walked away. Scared of her?

  “So, Hope, what did you do this weekend?”

  Startled, she glanced up to Tristan studying her expectantly.

  “Uh, homework. Went and saw a movie.”

  “Lame,” Krista muttered.

  “With me!” Haley stared at Krista until she looked away.

  Hope’s distress drove her to say something. “I heard you guys had a great time down at the river.”

  Conversation erupted all around her. She tried to stay involved in it, and by the time Athan returned, she no longer felt the need to run. She was listening to Tristan talk about the observatory when she heard a high-pitched whizzing sound. Instinctively, she glanced at the sound, and caught a roll of bread midair just before it hit Athan. Someone hooted their approval, and someone else cheered.

  She felt her stomach churn. She dropped the roll like it was on fire.

  “Nice catch.” Tristan leaned over and bumped her shoulder.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  “Impressive skills.” Athan picked up the roll as if weighing it.

  “Freak,” Krista spat.

  “Twelve years of tae kwon do.” And supernatural hearing and reflexes.

  “Tae kwon do teaches you how to catch?” Tristan asked.

  “No, but it improves hand-eye coordination and reflex time.”

  “Twelve years?” Athan asked.

  She shrugged. “My mom wanted to make sure I could defend myself.”

  When the bell finally rang, Hope threw her barely eaten sandwich away. Without saying anything, she started to her locker. Athan kept pace next to her.

  “Tae kwon do, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, they loved you,” he teased. “You just got twenty new BFFs, and a starting position on the football team if you want it.”

  She exhaled. “Yeah, sure. Did you not notice the shade Krista was throwing?”

  He shrugged. “She’s just jealous.”

  She scratched at her palms. When she parted with Athan in algebra, she slumped into her seat with relief. But he was persistent, and caught up with her after Spanish.

  “I’m meeting Tristan in a few minutes, but what are you doing later?” His stride matched hers as they walked toward the lockers.

  She shrugged. “Same old.” Haley stood at her locker waiting.

  “Same old is so boring. Let’s hang out.” He bumped her arm.

  Tingles shot up from the contact. She shook her head. “It’s too much.”

  “What?” He tilted her chin so she was forced to meet his eyes.

  “I . . . I don’t know if I can do this. It’s too much.” She was exhausted.

  “You’re too much,” he teased. “See you soon.” He turned and jogged down the hall.

  “So, you gonna hang out with him?” Haley asked as they walked out to the parking lot.

  “I don’t know.” She sounded like a broken record. “All of this . . . activity . . .”

  Haley laughed. “Hope, this is normal.”

  “Not for me,” Hope muttered.

  “Where did you live before here? A cave?” Haley twisted her light-brown hair into a bun. “Seriously, you should hang out with him, or we could do something together.”

  “Tomorrow. I have homework tonight. We can do something tomorrow.”

  Because she could not handle one more thing today.

  Eight days until the change

  IT WAS EARLY afternoon, and they were in her Civic heading south on I-82 to the fish hatchery. Tristan and Haley sat in the back seat, their constant conversation lulling Hope’s nerves. Athan chimed in occasionally, mostly to give her directions.

  Today had been different. She sat with Haley, Athan, and their friends at lunch and found herself laughing at Tristan’s jokes. Haley invited her to come to the river Thursday night for a bonfire, and she contemplated going. Krista had left her alone. There’d been no further phone calls from Priska’s number. And no Skia. If Priska would just come back, life would be perfect.

  “You look awfully pleased.”

  Athan’s comment pulled Hope from her reverie. “Oh, just thinking. Are you going to the river Thursday?” Part of her wanted to hang out with her new friends.

  “Do you want to go?” He asked.

  She shrugged, unwilling to commit.

  “I think you’ll have a great time if we go, but I’ll leave it up to you.”

  She caught his wording, and her heart fluttered.

  They pulled off the freeway and she followed signs to the Bonneville Fish Hatchery.

  Hope looked out the window, trying to assess the surroundings. She could see picnic tables, benches, and a water fountain from the car. Trees and shrubs lined the concrete landscape; small pink petals floated in the breeze.

  “How did you know about this?” She asked, as they walked past a couple of industrial pools and started down a path that wound alongside a natural-looking creek and several smaller ponds. The flower
s were blooming white, pink, and lavender. The smell from the blossoms mixed with the scents of the nearby river and the large pine trees. Overhead, she could hear the chirping of small birds.

  Haley laughed. “Seriously, this isn’t really a dude kinda place.”

  “Oh, I asked Scott what there is to do around Goldendale.”

  “Scott?” Surprise was written all over Haley’s face.

  Tristan chuckled. “Scott loves to fish. They have monster sturgeon here.”

  “Come on.” Athan gave Hope’s arm a little tug.

  She could only stare when she first saw them. She had no idea that fish in a river could be so big and so ugly. They reminded her of the picture of catfish that she’d found in an encyclopedia when she was younger.

  “Can you believe that Poseidon created that?” Athan leaned against the glass tank, looking at Hope.

  “It’s disgusting.” Haley wrinkled her nose. She turned to Tristan. “Let’s go feed the fish. I saw fish food thingies . . .”

  Poseidon? Since starting public school, Hope had rarely heard anyone mention the gods outside of a curse or a plea for a blessing. Athan seemed well versed in their mythological history.

  “It’s like a giant albino catfish.” She stepped up to the glass and watched as the large fish circled aimlessly in the tank.

  The same despondency she felt when visiting a zoo gripped her heart, a pity for the wild creatures held within strict confines, their freedom limited by someone more powerful.

  She felt a soft pressure at the small of her back and turned to see Athan beside her, staring into the tank. “It’s sad, don’t you think?”

  “Do you ever feel like that?” Her thoughts slipped out.

  “Trapped?” He turned to face her, his eyebrows furrowed then released. “Do you feel trapped?”

  She swallowed and bit her lip. “Doesn’t everybody sometimes?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I asked first.” Her chin jutted out.

  “Fair enough.” He laughed. “Yes. Sometimes.”

  She exhaled, releasing the tension. “Me, too.”

  He took a deep breath. “I didn’t want this to be such a downer. Come on, let’s go feed the trout.” He took her hand and led her from the sturgeon tank. He stopped to put quarters into a vending machine for fish food, and they filled their hands with little brown pellets.

  Her mood lifted as she tossed the stinky bits into the ponds and streams. The silver sides of the fish slid over each other as they came to the surface, their mouths opening wide as they gulped the small particles of food.

  It was peaceful, with just the occasional splash from the fish, and the sun warmed her through her dark sweater.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “You’ll feel ripped off,” she warned him. “It’s peaceful here.” She brushed her palms off over the water. They watched as the trout slid back into the darkness and the water calmed. They walked through the park, and when they didn’t see their friends they went back to the entrance.

  “Hey guys!” Tristan yelled. “Are you almost done? We’re starving.” He stood by the storage ponds in front of the gift shop.

  Haley sat on a picnic table out by the parking lot. She held her hands out as if begging. “Please . . . I’m dying . . . I . . . must . . . have . . . food.”

  The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and a chill blew in on the breeze.

  “Skata!” Athan breathed the curse under his breath, startling Hope. “What would you say to some seafood?” He tugged on her hand, not waiting for a response.

  Instinctively, she pulled back, causing him to drop her hand. She saw a flicker of movement by the flower beds.

  Her eyes widened.

  The Skia stepped from behind the budded trees. He stared at her, but made no move to come closer.

  “What is with you, Hope?” Haley asked. “Don’t you see I’m withering away?”

  This was a dangerous place to be. Could she reveal what she saw? Should she? She swallowed the truth. “I . . .”

  She turned to Athan, but he’d bent down and was fiddling with his shoe and pant leg.

  She glanced once more at the Skia, but he was gone. Again.

  Athan dropped his pant leg and stood up. “I’m starved. Let’s go eat.”

  “Finally!” Tristan said.

  Haley grabbed his hand and turned toward the car.

  Hope wouldn’t ask Athan what made him curse. Maybe if she didn’t ask him, he wouldn’t question her.

  HOPE SET HER bag on the table and grabbed an apple. A light rap at the door brought a smile of expectation.

  “Grab your homework. Let’s go.” Athan said.

  “Where are we going?” she asked from the kitchen, as she grabbed her backpack. They’d talked about getting together to study, but never agreed on a place.

  “My aunt wants to meet you, so I thought we’d have dinner with her. I hope you don’t mind skipping your run?”

  She thought of the strange meeting at the grocery store weeks ago and shook her head.

  “No, you don’t mind, or no you don’t want to go?”

  The latter. But of course she didn’t say that. “I don’t mind skipping the run.”

  “Good.” He grabbed her bag and slung it over his shoulder. “She’s great, but a bit odd,” Athan said. They wound through the quiet town toward the highway. “If she starts singing, or talking in rhyme, it’s okay to ignore her.”

  “Does she do that a lot?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes. She’s also likes to talk about the future.”

  “Can she tell the future?”

  “Sorry, what?” He turned but never met her eyes.

  “I asked if she can see the future.”

  He snorted. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  She shrugged. Maybe.

  They pulled into the driveway of the old bed and breakfast, and Athan faced her. “I know she’s a little . . . odd, but she’s always been there for me. I told her about you, and she wanted to meet you.”

  Hope nodded. “Then let’s go see your aunt.”

  White azaleas and pink rhododendrons lined the walkway, complementing fresh coat of paint.

  “Been doing a bit of work?”

  “My aunt thinks it helps keep me from being idle.” Athan laughed. “‘A teenager shouldn’t have too much free time or he’ll find trouble.’” He wagged his finger at her.

  Just before opening the door, he gave her hand a squeeze.

  “Aunt Myrine?” Athan called out as soon as they crossed the threshold.

  The inside of the house was a mess. Boxes lined the entryway, halls, and other rooms, making the house feel like a maze. As they walked down the hall, Native American masks, statues of Greek gods, and stacks of books drew Hope’s attention.

  A door opened, and Myrine stepped out of a darkened room. Tinted goggles covered half her face, and her white hair escaped the confines of the bun at the top of her head.

  When she removed her goggles, Hope’s gaze was drawn to her unlined face. If her hair had been any color besides white, she could easily have been in her twenties. Her pale blue eyes glanced at Athan and then converged on Hope. The look was piercing.

  “Athan” she addressed him, but kept her focus on Hope, “you’ve brought me a riddle.” She extended her hand and added in a singsong voice, “A riddle, a joke, lots of fun to poke, poke, poke.”

  Hope cringed, but took the woman’s hand. It was dry and cool.

  “Cats, and bats, and lots of boys,” Mrs. Stephens chanted.

  “Excuse me?” Hope stuttered.

  Athan put his hand at the small of her back. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, then cleared his throat. “Aunt Myrine, what are you talking about? This is Hope, the girl I was telling you about.”

  The two exchanged a look, and Myrine nodded. “Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Here for dinner. Hello, my dear. Manners, manners, m
anners. I’m Myrine, but of course you know that. And you are Hope. But of course you know that, too.” She turned and addressed him, “Locks of gold, and eyes that glitter, touched by gods . . . I can see why you are intrigued.”

  Hope said nothing, and Myrine prattled on.

  “Come for dinner; come to eat. What a treat . . .” Her eyes squinted and she nodded. “Yes, yes. Athan, go start the grill.” She waved at him in dismissal. “Hope, my dear, help me in the kitchen?” Myrine bounced down the hallway, rhymes dribbling from her lips. “Greens are good, bread and butter, need some meat, yes, beef is better.”

  “Are you freaking out?” Athan asked.

  “She’s . . . odd.” She was freaking out, but clearly it meant something to Athan for her to be here. And the weird verses seemed harmless. “I think I’ll be fine.”

  As she walked down the hall, she looked into the open doorways. Artifacts littered the house: a golden pomegranate, a wooden birdcage carved with doves and roses, a small harp . . . an anvil and tongs?

  When Hope stepped into an immaculate, completely updated kitchen, she stood momentarily blinded by the incongruence.

  “Thou art the great cat.” Myrine nodded at her. “Avenger to the gods . . .”

  She was done being nice. Hope glared at her hostess. “What are you saying?”

  “It’s on the royal tombs in Thebes.” Myrine shook her head. “You . . . you have told him nothing.”

  Hope’s jaw dropped. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “As you wish, as we be.” Myrine smoothed her hair back, then went to the sink. “Do be a dear and help me with the broccoli, Hope.” She set a paring knife and cutting board next to a produce bag on the counter. “I’ll get the corn ready.”

  “Are you a witch?”

  “A seer, a sage, a sibyl, a witch—call me what you want, take your pick.”

  Was that a yes?

  “You have many roads before you, kitten. Choose wisely where you step, for that is where you will walk.” Myrine closed her eyes. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.”

  “Stop!” Hope clenched her fists. “Just stop.” Her heart hammered. “Why are you saying all that? What do you want?”