Curse of the Sphinx

by Raye Wagner

  His eyes shifted, his gaze intent on her face. His phone started ringing again, and he ran his fingers through his hair, ignoring the incessant sound. “Yeah, me too,” he responded. He touched her chin. “Please, be careful,” he whispered. His jaw clenched and a vein visibly pulsed in his neck. “Please.”

  He took a step back, painted on a smile, and added, “And have fun.”

  She stared at him, something pulling at her consciousness. “Thanks.” She unlocked the door and slid into the car. “See you in a couple of days.”

  He wasn’t looking at her, and his fists clenched, then released. “Yeah, see you soon.”

  HER INITIAL PLAN to stay home till her Friday appointment with Mr. Davenport seemed oppressive. She didn’t want to be cooped up for the next two days as a Sphinx. No. She would drive toward Seattle and find an uninhabited area to stop. A place where she could fly. Far away from civilization. She couldn’t afford another sighting.

  She ate, gorging herself until she felt like she would burst if she took another bite. Then she packed a couple of sandwiches for the morning. It was all she could do to prevent the need to eat over the next two days.

  There were some things she appreciated about being the Sphinx. She loved being able to see at night, as well as over long distances. Her reflexes were better than a human’s, and some of the physical capabilities were fun, like leaping from a tall building and landing on her feet, just like a cat.

  Up until her mother’s death, Hope had enjoyed these skills. How had she forgotten that? She could see it clearly now. For months, she had wallowed in self-pity. While she went through the motions of living, it had been a mere existence.

  Over the last couple of weeks, she’d drawn strength from her emotions. Her life was a mess, but the choices were hers. She’d felt happy, sad, confused, hurt, angry. Most important, she’d felt. She didn’t want to lose that.

  She packed an overnight bag with a change of clothes and toiletries, took her homework to do during the day, then glanced around her house. All set.

  She climbed in bed, hoping to sleep before her alarm went off at four o’clock.

  It was dark as pitch when she got up.

  Eastern Washington was sparsely inhabited in places, and she expected to find somewhere that would serve her purpose. She drove, her mind wandering, and when she hit Toppenish she glanced at the clock. Plenty of time. She continued toward Yakima.

  When she hit the freeway, she glanced again in her rearview mirror. Was that Athan’s truck? She slowed to get a better look, but wasn’t able to see more than a few cars behind her through the early morning traffic. I must be delusional, or really obsessed.

  The fuel light came on. Flipping on the blinker, she swerved across the three lanes to get to the exit. The early morning hours were cold and dark. Unwilling to leave the safety of the bright lights over the gas pumps, she huddled by her car. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she got back behind the seat and clicked the locks.

  As she drove up I-82 toward I-90, she started scanning for a good place to stop.

  A sign indicated no services for fifty miles. The pressure in her back was building. She had about twenty minutes before sunrise. This area would have to do.

  She drove another ten miles and followed the exit to a four-way stop. The road to the left had grass growing up through the asphalt, and she took several odd turns until she saw a dilapidated barn off a dirt road.

  She pulled into the decaying structure, and the smell of old hay and rotting wood assaulted her. As she pulled the sagging barn door closed, she noticed the sky lightening. She undressed and stretched upward.

  The first rays of the sun broke the horizon, and the tension in her back released as her wings expanded with a whoosh. She beat her wings’ red-tipped feathers twice, reveling in the strength. She could feel her legs changing, the heaviness pulling at her hips and knees. Then relief, and she sat on her haunches. The soft downy fur that covered her skin was the same golden honey as her hair, and she ran her hand over the silky coat.

  She grabbed her backpack and left the barn before the sky got any lighter. It was always risky leaving cover, but she wasn’t waiting.

  Instinct took over. She pulled her wings down hard and let them float back up, again and again, creating the change in pressure that would give her lift. When her body left the ground, she laughed. She rose high into the sky, past the low-flying birds, up to where the eagles flew.

  She flew north, toward Wenatchee and then Leavenworth. It was too early in the spring for tourists, and the locals were still warm in bed, but she flew high, just in case. Despite the covering of fur that kept her warm, the temperature at this height was biting.

  Scanning the ground, she looked for a suitable landing place. There were plenty of wooded areas, and she finally saw one with a small clearing. She circled in closer. No roads, no hiking trails—Hope went through her mental checklist. She landed on her feline feet and padded through the clearing. Satisfied with the isolation it provided, she curled up in the sunlight and slept.

  She woke in the early afternoon. After stretching up toward the sun, she contemplated the rest of the day. Homework first, she decided, and grabbed the bag she’d used as a pillow. Without distractions, she hammered through the work, finishing just before sundown.

  With the sun setting, and nothing else to occupy her, her thoughts turned to Athan. In the past, he’d made it sound like he enjoyed spending time with his dad, but yesterday it was all he could do to get out of it.

  With the cover of dark, she’d be almost invisible. Hope decided to fly to Goldendale. The air was crisp, and she circled high over the sleepy town. Then she wound her way in and out of the windmills that dotted the hills on both sides of the Columbia River, making a game of speed and maneuverability. When she got to the river, she dropped lower and ran her hand through the water. Her mood lightened with the thrill of flying.

  She dove down to the water, then pulled up so that her haunches dragged through the cold water. Laughing, she dove again and again. She flew west to Portland, following the river out to the ocean. As she got closer to the city, she increased her elevation, and after briefly admiring the city lights, she turned around.

  On the return trip, she pushed her speed. It was only a few hours before the sun came up, and she took her cues from the landmarks to cut the travel time. As she came over Goldendale, her heart beat rapidly in anticipation. From up above, she saw the Athan’s truck in his driveway, and her heart expanded. A light flicked on in the kitchen, and she pulled higher into the darkness. Laughter bubbled from her lips, both nervous and relieved.

  The night was drawing to a close, and she flew north.

  She spent much of the next day sleeping. She reviewed her homework, finishing the outline for a paper. She’d decided to write about the curse placed on King Minos’s wife, which led to the birth of the monstrous Minotaur. Unsurprisingly, another depressing tale of the gods taking revenge on a human.

  As the sun fell, the trees cast long shadows across the wild grasses. Hope shoved her books into her backpack, and glanced over the small area. Clinging to the straps of her bag, she beat her wings and lifted into the cool air.

  Icy-cold needles encircled her ankle, and she was yanked from the sky. With a cry of pain, she crashed to the ground. She pulled her wing away from her face and time slowed.

  Skia. The one from the Dalles.

  “It will be your fear that destroys you,” he rasped, stalking toward her. “And you should be afraid.”

  What was he doing here? “What do you want?” she asked, even as she pushed her wings out and curled her fists, the best she could do for a defensive stance.

  He laughed and danced to the right, and then to the left.

  Hope had never fought in this form. Not as the Sphinx. She shifted on her haunches, testing reflexes and maneuverability.

  Crack.

  Her chest lit with pain, and she doubled over with a gasp.

  “You are t
oo slow, beast.”

  Her eyes narrowed. He’d gotten in and out fast. Really fast.

  The sun was setting. She needed to get off the mountain before she changed. There was no time for fear. No time to think. Only time to act.

  She took a deep breath and stared at the torso of her attacker. He feigned left. But she saw his weight shift right. This was it.

  His fist extended as he came in, and she rotated her hand as she blocked with her forearm. With a fluid movement her opposite elbow followed through, connecting with his leg, just below the hip. A crunch of bone, and he collapsed with a scream.

  Hope backed away and pumped her wings.

  The Skia lay on the ground in a sliver of sun. She could hear him gasping.

  She circled once, but he didn’t move.

  She dove in for her backpack, and the shadow monster rolled. As she clasped the strap of her bag, his hand grabbed her wing and yanked.

  A searing pain tore through her back. Panic and self-preservation drove her to kick out with her haunches, again and again. He released her, and gritting her teeth, she flew off the mountain.

  The last rays of sun were slipping over the horizon as she tumbled from the sky.

  She fell to the ground naked, just outside the abandoned barn, and crawled through the doors.

  MERCER ISLAND SAT in the middle of Lake Washington, just east of Seattle. It boasted beautiful views and prime real estate. There were several office complexes in the commercial district. Jamie Treadwell, Hope’s grandfather had found Charlie Davenport in a cluster of yellow buildings in the hub. He and his daughter, Leto, had moved back to Seattle after travelling around the States for almost eighteen years.

  He’d asked around for an estate lawyer, and someone from the University of Washington had recommended Davenport. The paperwork for the trust was signed only two days before Jamie died. A short time later, Priska went to work for the attorney, and she’d been there ever since.

  Hope parked her conspicuous Civic among the more luxurious BMWs, Porsches, and Mercedes in the parking lot.

  She’d barely slept at the small hotel outside of Cle Elum, but the bright rays of sun made the darkness of Hades seem distant.

  Hope walked into the office at eight forty-five.

  The faintest hint of lavender reminded Hope of Priska, and she felt a pang of loneliness. Shrugging it off, she looked around the waiting room, knowing the leather chairs looked more comfortable than they were. The area rug was thick and the design subdued, as was the abstract art on the walls. It was very much a Priska way to decorate.

  But the brunette woman arranging the refreshment area was not Priska. Judging from the number of baked goods she was heaping onto a tray, Hope was one of many clients this morning.

  The woman turned as the door clicked shut, and with a look of polite deference she asked, “May I help you?”

  “I’m Hope Treadwell. I have an appointment with Mr. Davenport.”

  The woman’s smile was one of relief. “You’re early.”

  Hope’s mom ran early, too. “Is that okay? Is he running late?’

  The woman shook her head. “No. He should be with you shortly. Can I get you anything?” She pointed at the tray of pastries and muffins.

  “Just a water, please.” Hope accepted the bottle gratefully, and drank deeply. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll let him know you’re here.” The woman finished stacking the tray, then walked down the hall. She returned a couple of minutes later. “He’ll be with you momentarily.”

  Seconds later, Mr. Davenport appeared in the waiting room.

  Charles Davenport was in his early fifties. Tall and fit, he kept his head shaved, but the outline of a receding hairline was faintly visible. He wore a dark, tailored suit, and the smell of expensive cologne wafted in with him. But something in the way he moved made it look like he carried a weight of worry squarely on his shoulders.

  “Hope Nicholas, so nice to see you.” His deep bass communicated the words with feeling, and he extended his hand. She took it, and he covered hers with both of his. His gaze held hers while he spoke. “I’m glad you’re running early.”

  They walked back into his office, and he closed the door.

  “Without Priska I seem to make more of a mess of my schedule, and Melanie can’t seem to work the same magic.” He sighed.

  “I thought her name was Melody?”

  He frowned and looked off into space for a moment. “No, I think that was the last one.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I can’t keep them straight. Gods, I wish she’d come back.”

  Hope’s heart fell. She’d been hoping he’d have some news. “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes met hers. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about. I know you miss her, too.”

  She nodded.

  He exhaled a big breath, and extended his arm. “Let’s sign you into your inheritance.”

  Mr. Davenport grabbed a folder from his desk, and pulled a chair up next to her. He shuffled quickly through the paperwork, and she signed where he indicated as he explained the purpose of each document. When they finished, Hope stood to leave.

  But, after he put the paperwork away, Mr. Davenport remained seated.

  He glanced up at her, his lips pursed. “There is something else we need to talk about. I think it might be better if you sit.” His face was lined with consternation.

  With a growing sense of dread, she sat and waited.

  “I hope you understand that I always try to act in your best interest.” He paused, as if calculating what to say next. “Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Jeffers called. He was trying to confirm the date and time of our appointment.”

  Her heart stopped, and anxiety danced through her body.

  “Melanie took the call, and of course refused to confirm that you were even a client here, but passed the message to me. I called the school back, and spoke with him.”

  She nodded.

  “Normally, I would have stayed on the side of the law and refused all information, but since we’d discussed this, I explained the law to Mr. Jeffers, and confirmed that you are a client. I did not confirm or deny any appointments, and reminded him that I work for you, and if frivolous action were taken, I would represent you and ensure he became unemployed.”

  Hope’s mouth dropped open, but the words were slow in coming. “Um, I . . . I can’t believe you did that.”

  He waved his hand through the air. “I’m not sure I did you any favors. The man was livid. Perhaps my threat was a bit much. Are you struggling in school? He called you . . . an ‘at risk’ student.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m getting straight As.”

  “Then this is ridiculous. Would you like me to call him back?”

  It would be nice to let Mr. Davenport handle it, but the battle wasn’t his. “Let me see what happens when I get back. There are only a couple more weeks of school, so it shouldn’t even matter. Maybe . . .” She shrugged. “I could try and smooth things over.”

  “Of course, my dear. And if I might make a suggestion, since your absences seem to be an issue in Goldendale, you might consider moving before the next school year. Something to think about.”

  It was a reasonable suggestion. But she didn’t want to move.

  Mr. Davenport stood. “Your aunt loved you very much. And I want you to know, if you ever need anything, you can call me.”

  Hope stood, but words eluded her. Emotion she’d held in check threatened to burst. She closed her eyes, willing herself to hold it together.

  Warm hands cupped her shoulders.

  “I miss her, too,” he said.

  Hope looked up and saw in Mr. Davenport’s face pain that mirrored her own.

  She swallowed, and nodded. “Thank you.”

  He walked her to the office door, and she went down the hall toward the waiting room by herself.

  SHE DROVE INTO Goldendale with an hour of school remaining.

  Plenty of time to turn in her completed assignments. I
t might help. It couldn’t hurt.

  One by one, she stopped into each class. Each of her teachers thanked her for the work and wished her a good weekend. The last bell rang as she walked down the hall. Students poured out, and Hope swam upstream through the crowd.

  Students’ voices filled the halls, and the smell of the numberless bodies tickled her nose. With a sigh, she looked for Athan but couldn’t see his tall figure anywhere. Tristan stood by his locker with Lee, and she walked over to them.

  “Hey, you’re back!” Tristan greeted her. His smile was a direct contrast to the cold one from Krista standing just behind him.

  There was some satisfaction that the nasty girl was sporting matching black eyes.

  “Yeah, I just got back.” Hope responded. “Is Athan here today?” She glanced around as if he might materialize.

  “No.” He sounded disappointed. “He’s been gone since Tuesday. With his dad, I think.”

  “I thought his dad was dead,” said Lee.

  “Nah,” Tristan responded. “He travels a lot so Athan couldn’t stay with him.”

  Obviously she wasn’t the only one he’d shared with.

  He turned back to Hope. “They were going hunting, maybe?” His face scrunched.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. He’s been gone, same as you.” He tilted his head. “Someone said you two were skipping together, but obviously not.”

  That again? She drew back. “No.”

  Lee raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. Obviously.”

  “Huh.” Tristan frowned. “Maybe he really went hunting.”

  “I didn’t know he hunted.”

  “He’s never talked about it before.” He shrugged. “Maybe I misunderstood.”

  “Okay. Well, have a good weekend.” She turned to leave, and Tristan’s voice called her back.

  “Hey, Hope! We’re going to go down to Maryhill Park tomorrow for the day. BBQ and all that. You’re welcome to come if you’d like. I know Haley would love to have you there.”

  “Thanks. I’ll try.” She forced a smile and waved good-bye.