Curse of the Sphinx

by Raye Wagner

  “She’s scared,” Artemis said, breaking the silence. “She feels responsible for what happened to your mother. And she feels bad about what could’ve happened to you.” She grabbed Hope’s chin and forced her head side to side. “You want to break the curse?”

  Hope nodded.

  “It won’t solve your problem,” the goddess warned, dropping her hand.

  “It won’t solve all my problems.” Hope took a deep breath. “But it will give me freedom to love who I want, and no one will hunt me.”

  “Perhaps.” Artemis grabbed an arrow and strung her bow. A faint twang, and the arrow lodged in a tree at least a hundred feet away. “Do you believe you are more deserving of this freedom than your mother or grandmother?” She released another arrow, which embedded in the trunk next to the first.

  “No. No more deserving than they. But no one deserves to be cursed by a god.”

  Artemis dropped the bow and arrow to her side and faced Hope. “Who are you to decide that?”

  Anger fueled her courage. “Really? Your brother got dumped, and he killed the girl who dumped him, and her husband. In the mortal realm, that’s murder, and in some states it will get you the death penalty.” She took a deep breath and continued, “But he didn’t stop there. In his infinite wisdom, he cursed their baby and changed her into a monster. Along with that, he made it so if she didn’t choose to sleep with him and have his babies, her posterity would continue to carry the curse. How exactly is there any shred of fairness or even a modicum of rationality to that?”

  Artemis did the last thing Hope expected.

  The goddess of night broke into peals of laughter. She dropped her weapons and held her sides as she chortled.

  “Dear gods, what did you do?” Priska walked back to Hope with Angel in her arms.

  Hope shrugged.

  “She is . . . very much . . . like you . . .” Artemis took lungfuls of air, her smile bright like the moonlight. “When you were younger, you had a very strong sense of justice.”

  “Most youth do.” Priska grimaced. “It doesn’t make them right.”

  “But their naivety doesn’t make them wrong, either.” Artemis sobered. “You are becoming cynical, Priska.”

  “No, Mother, just pragmatic.”

  Artemis’s focus shifted to Hope. “I can’t take away the curse. No one can. Even the Graeae have said as much.”

  Hope stomach dropped. “Can you help me?”

  “No.”

  Her heart stopped. Then why had they gone through all the––?

  “I can’t help you directly. There would be…problems on Olympus, if I did.” Artemis scanned the night sky before facing Hope. “You need to start with all the facts. Which means you need to go to the Olympian library and do some research on my brother. Then, if you have time, read up on divine law. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  “Yes.” No.

  Artemis rolled her eyes. “Priska will help. After you get your information, you’ll need to see an oracle. Be careful who you choose.” She bit her lip. “The rest will be up to you.”

  Research Apollo and divine law. Go see an oracle. “Got it.” Sort of.

  Artemis turned to Priska. “I am proud of you. No matter what, I love you. You have become far greater than I ever could’ve imagined.” The two hugged again. Artemis pointed at Hope but kept her gaze on her daughter. “Keep her safe. I will talk to my mother. You’ll be able to get her in, but the others will be very angry if they figure it out, so be careful.”

  “Thank you. I love you.” The women embraced again.

  “Work hard and be smart, young Hope.” Artemis clicked her tongue, and Angel bounded over to the goddess and wagged her tail. “Come, young pup. We have much training to do.” The two walked into the forest and disappeared into the darkness.

  The trees shimmered, and the surrounding forest’s colors blurred with a soft breeze, like watercolors running down a page. The moon waxed full, then waned to a sliver of pale light. Hope’s eyes adjusted, and they stood in a plain concrete room with a statue of Artemis with her bow drawn. The air was stale, and at the base of the statue lay a sundry of offerings, forlorn in their abandonment.

  Priska sighed. “Let’s go home.”

  Hope’s shoulders sagged as the weight of the encounter settled. “How do we get into an Olympian library?”

  The young Priska gritted her teeth and pulled the ornate wooden door open. “There’s only one.”

  “HOW DO WE get into the Olympian library? And where is it?” Hope asked when Priska walked in the door. She wasn’t willing to remain silent forever. In the almost week since their visit to the temple, Priska had talked of her work, getting Hope enrolled in school, and how to spend the rest of summer. Not once had they discussed the subject of the library or the curse. But not for lack of Hope trying.

  Priska had morphed back into her older self and was back to work at Mr. Davenport’s office. “Good evening to you, too.” She set her bag on the counter. “Are we eating out again tonight? What sounds good?”

  Hope stared blankly at her aunt. She didn’t care if they ate in or out. She didn’t care if they had Italian, Chinese, Mexican, or Indian. What she wanted was answers.

  “My choice? Excellent. Let’s have Italian.”

  “It’s not going to go away because you won’t talk to me about it. I know that’s what you want, but I’m not going to do nothing. If you won’t help me, I’ll––”

  “Stop.” Priska closed her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know—”

  “I would know if you talked to me. You used to talk to me, tell me stuff. Now it’s like you don’t even care.” Hope flopped down on the couch. “If my mom were alive—”

  “I said stop!” Priska glared at Hope. “You want to know? The Olympian library has two ways to access it. Two.” She held up a finger. “The first is from Olympus, where the gods live. The only way to get to Olympus is by invitation. Not going to happen.” She held up a second finger. “The only other entrance is through a conservatory. A home for demigods. Which you are not.”

  Olympus was definitely out, so a conservatory was the only way in. “But—”

  “To refresh your memory, I escaped from a conservatory about a month ago. Barely alive, I might add. And I feel the need to point out that the sons of Apollo are probably still hunting you. And did I mention that they were the ones that almost killed me?” Priska dropped her head into her hands.

  What had happened to her fearless aunt? Where was the woman who hunted Skia and laughed about it? “Tell me what I need to do to be safe?”

  “You need to not go.”

  This wasn’t a whim. It was her life! “But Artemis said you would be able to get me in.”

  “She did, and I can. But before you decide—”

  “You want to tell me all the risks?” Hope sucked in a deep breath, preparing for rebuttal.

  “No. It wouldn’t do any good anyway.” Priska’s shoulders dropped, and she studied Hope. “Your chin juts out when you get stubborn. Just like your mother. I can see it all over your face that you won’t let it go.” She picked up her phone. “Let’s order dinner. Then we’ll come up with a plan.”

  “I AM SICK of this,” Hope muttered to herself as she trudged up the sidewalk on her way home from school. She kicked at a pebble on the ground and listened to it skip up the street.

  After all that planning with Priska, nothing was happening. Seriously, nothing.

  Demigods used the conservatory as a safe haven, and young demigods stayed there to get training and education. They’d moved close to the one in Seattle, and the goal was to have the demigods “stumble across” them, invite them in, and then, somehow in the course of her studies, Hope would sneak into the library and do her research. Priska had made it sound easy, and of course Hope trusted her. But seriously? Were all demigods on holiday?

  The overcast sky hung heavily with moisture, and rain oozed from the clouds, un
able to be contained. Nothing like cold, damp weather to explicitly state that the extended summer was over.

  Not that she even cared about the weather. Or school. Or that Priska was likely already at their new apartment, baking cookies. Well, actually, that sounded kind of nice, but the rest of it was all-around sucky.

  All Hope wanted was for the stupid demigods to find her so she could get to the conservatory, find out how to break her curse, and… maybe apologize to Athan. Maybe.

  She still wasn’t sure about that last one. In hindsight, she’d jumped to conclusions. He’d told her he’d been sent to hunt her. He’d also said he’d keep her safe. But when she overheard him talking to his dad, Hermes . . . No, it didn’t matter. A relationship between Hope and Athan wouldn’t work. Hermes had even said as much. And if Apollo found out, he’d kill Athan.

  But she couldn’t help the guilt that gnawed on her, especially late at night. Especially when she thought of how stupid she’d been. She shouldn’t have let Priska talk her into another new phone and number. She shouldn’t have put off calling him. Because when she finally had, he’d changed numbers too. And even though Haley still kept in contact with Hope, her best friend had no forwarding number for him.

  She wanted it to be over already.

  If patience was a virtue, Hope was a serious detriment to the moral fiber of society. Actually, the fact that she was a cursed monster would probably be considered worse than her impatience.

  But really . . . what was taking so long?

  Priska’s brilliant plan was to get Hope “discovered.” Like Athan’s initial misunderstanding, they were banking on the demigods assuming she was one of their own, and then hopefully she’d be invited into the conservatory. At that point she’d have to figure out how to get into the Olympian library.

  The Olympian library, where she could peruse every book ever written, every story ever told. It was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. She’d need to figure out how it was sorted so she could focus on Apollo and her curse.

  The whole thing would be overwhelming, except for the little hang-up of not being able to even get to the haystack. She couldn’t do anything until she was found by some stupid demigods.

  Stupid demigods.

  She pushed through the glass doors into the sparse lobby of the high-rise apartments and strode toward the elevators. The doors were starting to close, and she cursed as she ran, sliding her arm into the shrinking gap at the last second. The doors slid back open, and Hope stared at the male occupant.

  He was young, certainly less than twenty. He exuded a strength and power that made her want to back away. It wasn’t just that he was well built, although he was. His shirt hugged his body, and the tattoos on his arms accentuated where his muscles dipped and curved. His hair was dark, almost black, cropped short, and although disheveled, it appeared to have been spiked up in the front earlier in the day. His eyes were a striking ice blue. Everything about him seemed hard.

  She hesitated, debating if she should back out, and then he smiled. Not in a friendly way to put her at ease. His smile mocked her, like he knew the effect he was having on her, and she was somehow beneath him because of it.

  “Are you coming in?” His accent was Irish or British . . . or maybe Australian.

  She frowned.

  “Or did you want to wait for your own lift, princess?”

  Definitely not American.

  “Hello?” He waved his hand at her.

  Yikes. She was still standing with her arm blocking the elevator doors. She shook off the shiver of fear.

  “Excuse me.” She stepped onto the elevator and gave him her most withering glare. “Would you push twenty-one, please?” While her words were polite, there was no warmth behind them.

  “Oh, but of course.” He inclined his head, pushed the button, and then leaned back as the elevator doors slid shut.

  Hope watched the numbers light up, one by one. A spicy smell, both strong and masculine, filled the small area. Hera and Zeus, he smelled good. Seven . . . eight . . . Trying to be discreet, she glanced at the young man.

  He met her eyes with appraising ones of his own, and he lifted his brows. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

  “You were staring at me.” It felt imperative that she correct his blatant misrepresentation. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to stare? It’s rude.” There was something arrogant and irritating about the stranger.

  He laughed, a short guffaw, and a dimple appeared. “I’m certain she did, probably right afore she boxed my ears.” He straightened up and held out his hand. “I’m Xan.”

  Hope refused to act intimidated, regardless of the butterflies in her stomach. Taking his hand, she replied, “I’m Hope.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hope.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  His hands were rough and calloused, and the handshake was brief. She took a step back as soon as her hand was released.

  After a brief silence, the elevator doors slid open with a ding, and Hope moved toward the exit. A firm grasp pulled her back from the door. The contact was brief, but a whirlwind of anxiety coursed through her.

  “I was thinking you don’t want to get off here.”

  She looked at him again and couldn’t help but feel like he was laughing at her. Even his dimple mocked her. Disgusted, she eyed the monitor. They were on the seventeenth floor. Someone must have pushed the call button and gone back to their apartment.

  She backed into the elevator. “Umm, thanks.”

  “Right.” He smirked.

  The door slid shut, and they started climbing again.

  An unsettling feeling gnawed at her stomach. Hope fixed her gaze on the climbing numbers. It was only another moment before the elevator stopped on the twenty-first floor.

  “Um, thanks for uh . . . you know, making sure I didn’t get off on the wrong floor, and uh . . . yeah.” She forced her lips into something she hoped resembled gratitude and glanced at the keypad, making sure she was on the twenty-first floor. She also saw that Xan was staying on the top floor. Penthouse.

  “You’re quite welcome.” He met her gaze, and his lip curled. “Have a nice day, Hope.”

  “Um, yeah. You too.” The doors slid shut and she stood frozen, seeing only her reflection in the polished metal. Could she have sounded any more stupid? What in the name of Hermes…? Her train of thought skidded to a halt.

  Hermes, god of linguistics. Athan’s dad.

  Athan. She shook her head.

  She needed to get over him. Because it was over. She’d probably never see him again. And even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. She’d never put him at risk.

  What Hermes had said about Apollo was true. He’d killed her mom because she’d married someone else. Apollo would never let her be with anyone but him. Ugh. And he was like a million years old.

  No. She needed to focus on breaking the curse. Because that was the only way for her to be free. Free to make her own decisions about life and love. She swallowed her emotions and locked her memories of Athan away in the darkest corner of her mind.

  She opened the door to the scent of chocolate chip cookies.

  My favorite painting is Sleeper, Lost in Dreams by James Christensen. The artwork is both breathtaking and inspiring. There is a quote with the piece that sums up exactly how I feel…

  We are, each of us, angels with only one wing.

  And we can only fly embracing each other.

  — LUCIANO DE CRESCENZO

  I’m so grateful to my family: Jason, Jacob, Seth, and Anna. Each of you have made sacrifices and offered heaps of support. Words are inadequate for how much I love you.

  Pete, Ashlyn, and Nathan. Fabulous art skills. Danke for making everything so pretty!

  And more family: Mom, Dad, Nate, La, Abby, Liv, Veronica, Clark, Max, Jared, Hilary, Carter, Avery, Maia, Colby, Jayne, Sully, Luke, Kirs, EmJ, Joshua, Benjamin, Samantha, Reillee, Kayde, Matthew, Sam, Emily, Kincaid, He
nry, Miles, Charlie, D.J., Angie, Amelia, Bryson, Eli, Mari, Bobby, Mabel, Hazel, Margo, Peter, Ashlyn, Piper, Janice, Elisa, Shawn, Devon, Dorian, Taylor, Sara, Curtis, Karen, Cindy, Marcus, Rachel, Ethan, Sophie, Bella, June, Mike, Maddie, Matthew, Ryan, Jilene, Tristin, Donelle, Wes, Jared, Mason, Emma, Rob, Chandra, Lydia, Gabriel, Maria, Dan, Savannah, Xander, Dave, and Rita. Family is the bestest thing, and I appreciate all of your support.

  To my bestie pals: Alli, Cassy, and Katie. I’m not sure how you ever finished the original tome, but thank you. It made me believe that the story was worth working for.

  And my critique partners: April, Angela, and Chris. Your words of encouragement and constructive criticism helped me find what was good, and what needed to be better. And Ethan, you were right about the first line!

  To the KidLit group: It is amazing what you learn about yourself, and your writing, one chapter at a time. Thanks Jamie, Janet, Angela, Sue, April, Jess, Chris, Lindsey, Kelly, Deena, Amanda, and Bev. Each of you have helped my writing become a craft.

  To Lindsey Alexander, editor extraordinaire: You helped me polish the words until the story shined. Thank you!

  To Jen McConnell: Thanks for finding the hidden holes and filling them up. It was truly a blessing to have met you at UtopYA!

  And to you, my readers: Thank you for helping my story to fly!

  Raye Wagner grew up in Seattle, the second of eight children, and learned to escape chaos through the pages of fiction. As a youth, she read the likes of David Eddings, Leon Uris, and Jane Austen. Inspired by a fictional character, Raye pursued a career in nursing, and still practices part-time. She enjoys baking, puzzles, Tae Kwon Do, and the sound of waves lapping at the sand. She lives with her husband and three children in Middle Tennessee.

  You can connect with Raye via Facebook, Twitter, or her website: http://www.rayewagner.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3