Cursed by the Gods (The Sphinx Book 1) Page 3

  Mr. Burton nodded his approval and tossed another silver wrapper.

  Hope caught the candy and set it on the desk, wishing she could retract her answer. She was supposed to stay invisible. In plain sight.

  “You going to eat that?” Caidyn whispered.

  She held the candy out, and he took it. “Thanks.”

  Their eyes locked, and she had the distinct feeling that precipitated the change into her other form. Excitement. Trepidation. Shuddering, she forced her attention back on her instructor.

  “There is significant debate regarding the Sphinx,” Mr. Burton continued. “Some say she was born of monsters: Orthrus, Chimera, Typhon, or Echidna.” He wrote the names on the board.

  Her heart beat faster, and her palms began to tingle with the desire to hit something. “Maybe the Sphinx was human,” she blurted. “Maybe she was cursed.”

  It was like she had no control over her mouth today. She pressed her lips together until the pressure turned to pain. She needed to shut up.

  “Maybe.” Mr. Burton tossed more candy at her, but she slumped back into her seat and made no move to catch the treats. “There is no question the monster was feared because of her murderous instincts.”

  As Mr. Burton’s Q&A continued, Hope forced herself to tune out. She knew her history. How her grandmother sat outside of Thebes, questioning every man who wanted to enter the city. She asked the same riddle to each, and when they couldn’t answer, she strangled them.

  What the myth lost through time was how her grandmother, who was actually the granddaughter of Hera, was hiding in Thebes from a son of Apollo who was determined to kill her. While she was there, she fell in love. But her lover was killed as she tried to defend the city. Mad with grief, and attempting to protect Thebes, she wouldn’t let strangers into the city. The myth told nothing of her pain. Murderous instincts? Right.

  And Oedipus? Sure, he came to free the city from the monster, but the myth was wrong, like so many others. The very morning he showed up, Phaidra had killed the demigod who’d been after her. She wasn’t interested in fighting Oedipus. Instead of solving the riddle, he struck a deal with her. She fled, and he got all the glory.

  “Hope?”

  Her name brought her back to Mr. Burton’s class, and the now almost-empty classroom. She focused on the glittery pencil drumming on the edge of her desk.

  “Hey. Did you want your pencil back?” Caidyn held it out.

  She shrugged. “If you want it, you can have it.”

  “You sure?” He waved it in front of her as if it were a prize.

  She relented with a smile. “Uh-huh. You can keep it.”

  It was the longest conversation she could remember having since her arrival at Kentwood.

  When her year started, Hope had been the new pretty girl in school. New and pretty sparked curiosity. But her lack of social skills, and her mom’s insistence that Hope keep to herself, were a block of concrete in the ocean of interest. Within a few weeks, she was invisible. Again. Exactly how it was supposed to be.

  But she hated it.

  And then two weeks ago, Caidyn moved from Atlanta. Attractive, athletic, and friendly, he persisted in talking to her, even when she put her foot in her mouth.

  They walked out of the classroom together and toward her locker.

  “So, I was just thinking,” he started.

  Her cheeks tinged with warmth, as they always did with his attention. She was one measure hopeful, one measure dreadful as she anticipated his words. Students parted as Hope and Caidyn walked down the hall. She wasn’t naïve enough to think the deference was for her. Caidyn drew attention everywhere he went.

  He leaned toward her and bumped her shoulder. “You’re pretty smart, and I’m pretty smart. Maybe we could get together and study sometime?”

  The elation at being invited was almost immediately replaced with despair. “Um, I’m not allowed to have study groups.” The warmth in her cheeks turned to fire, even as she pulled away. “I mean, I’m not allowed to go to study groups.”

  His smile didn’t falter as he considered her. “Why not? Is your mom the Wicked Witch or something?”

  “No.” Maybe.

  “Whatever. Tell her it’s a class assignment. I’ll be on my bestest behavior, a real prince.” He waggled his brows.

  She blushed and stuttered. “I . . . I don’t think that would help any.”

  He stepped closer and whispered, “What if you told her you were studying with a demigod? We could sort through the monsters and devise the best way to destroy each one.”

  Her heart stopped. A lump of terror exploded in her chest.

  “Are you . . . are you kidding me?” The words tripped out of her mouth.

  “Will it convince your mom to let us hang out?” He smiled, and a glint of amusement shone from his dark eyes. “If I told you my dad was Hedylogos, would it make any difference?”

  Zeus Almighty!

  “Is he really your dad?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  Caidyn shrugged. “Would it matter?” He leaned toward her. “You know who Hedylogos is?”

  “God of flattery.” Of course she knew. She knew them all.

  Caidyn brushed hair away from her face with his fingertips and whispered, “I can tell you’re immortal. Just like me.”

  She flinched as if he’d struck her, and her heart beat a rhythm of fear. He could tell? How could he tell? Her gaze darted around for an exit, but she was snared by the intensity in his eyes.

  His gaze dropped to her lips. “And the god of sweet talk.” He straightened back up. “Maybe you shouldn’t tell her that part, though.” He took a step back. “I can come over to your house; that way your mom can supervise. Do you think that will work?”

  She shook her head. She needed to get out of there. She mumbled something she hoped sounded like she would need to check with her mother first. Hope’s cold, clammy hands were shaking. She gripped her backpack to make them stop.

  The bell rang.

  He was looking at her funny. Like maybe she’d said something wrong? She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed out, “I’ll . . . I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

  Caidyn winked at her. “Perfect. Hey, why don’t you come eat lunch with me today?”

  He started walking backward.

  She shrugged. She wasn’t going to eat lunch with him. She’d probably never see him again.

  “I’ll find you!” Caidyn waved, then he turned and sprinted down the hall.

  She stood alone, panic racing through her veins. A demigod? Could that even be? Here in Kent? Gods! She needed to tell her mom. She needed to tell her mom right now.

  “I’m home!” Hope dropped her bag on the linoleum floor just inside the door.

  The two-bedroom apartment in Bellevue was far enough away from anywhere they’d lived in the last several years that no one should recognize them. It was close to major freeways and only thirty minutes from the airport. They were on the second floor of an old complex, the last remaining complex in Bellevue with only two floors. The older buildings had been torn down in the last few years, rebuilt more in sync with the very modern, high-rise city. For whatever reason, this one had been spared. It meant cheaper rent but transient occupants. Which was perfect. Except old apartments always stunk of fresh paint.

  The bland beige carpet was met with bland beige walls of a slightly lighter shade. True to every move Hope could remember, the walls were bare and the furniture cheap and functional. A statue of Hecate sat on the mantel, the shrine an alleged protection from the Skia of the Underworld.

  “Oh good.” Leto’s voice floated down the short hall of the apartment. “How was school?”

  Hope shrugged. It was late July, and she was taking two classes at the community college out of desperation. Because of their recent arrival, she had two weeks’ worth of work to catch up on. It was a relief to have something to do before her junior year started.

  The trust fund from Hope’s grandparents was
substantial, but her mom kept them in quiet obscurity, just one more attempt to keep them from drawing attention.

  Her mom poked her head around the corner of a small bedroom. “I said how was school?”

  “Fine.” It was always fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.

  “Good.” Leto came out of her bedroom. “Can I get you a snack?”

  Hope rolled her eyes. “I’m not five. I can get my own snack.”

  She stepped around a box, into the barren kitchen, and opened the fridge. They needed to go grocery shopping still. The few snacks of string cheese and dried meat were scattered on the top shelf of the otherwise empty refrigerator. Hope slammed the door shut.

  A muscle in her mom’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t take the bait. “Priska said she’s coming by tonight.”

  Priska, her aunt, always heralded their comings and goings. But Hope was so sick of moving. So sick of running and hiding from the figments of her mother’s imagination. Maybe Skia really did exist, and maybe they were bad. But Hope didn’t think they’d ever actually seen one. Except for the picture Priska had shown of a man with black eyes and pale skin, which incidentally, had only been a Photoshop rendition. Not that Hope didn’t hear about Skia All. The. Time.

  Hope dreamed that if they could just stay in one place, maybe she could someday make a friend. Maybe she could have a sliver of a normal life. But probably not. “Does this mean we’re going to move again?”

  The moving boxes were still stacked in the bedrooms of the apartment. It would be another day before Leto had everything unpacked. Knowing her mother’s tendency toward the compulsive, it might even be two.

  “Ha, ha!” Leto went back into her room. “Go get your homework done. Maybe we can talk Priska into staying for games.”

  At least that was something.

  Over the last year they had moved seven times. Seven. They hadn’t stayed in Vancouver much longer than they’d stayed in Mount Vernon or Kent. Same for Pasco, Bellingham, and Aberdeen. And now they were in Bellevue—but for how long?

  Hope picked up the gray backpack and headed to her room. Her bed was pushed up against the wall, and the cream comforter promised to make everything better. She pushed the empty boxes to the side and fell onto her bed.

  The edge of something heavy dug into her ribs, and she rolled to the side and grasped a thick book. She tugged the leather-bound volume out and let it drop to the floor with a thud. Hope lifted her head just enough to verify that it was the Book of the Fates. Her mom had given it to her the day before, and she’d thumbed through the story of her grandmother, Phaidra, but slammed it shut after only minutes of reading. Hope didn’t want to know any more of her depressing history, even if it was the only accurate record. She buried her face into the soft bedding.

  “I put away most of your clothes, but you’ll need to finish your toiletries.” Leto said from the doorway.

  “Mfft.”

  “Are the kids at school nice? How are your teachers?”

  Hope rolled over. “They’re fine.”

  “I’m so glad. I think we’re going to like it here.”

  “I’m sure we will. For at least a week.”

  Leto said nothing.

  Bellevue was just across the lake from Seattle and boasted a large mall, several movie theaters, and restaurants on almost every corner. It was a nondenominational city, one with temples for most of the Olympians and several Titans. Not that any of this mattered. She would be going exactly nowhere without her mom or, if she was lucky, Priska.

  “Priska will be here in an hour.”

  Hope rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “Okey-dokey.”

  She heard her mom’s forced exhalation, followed by her retreat down the hall.

  When Priska came, Hope vented to her for what felt like hours, until Leto finally tapped on the door. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for bed.”

  Priska stood up. “Sorry you’re having a rough go, sweet girl. I’m sure it will get better.” She stooped and retrieved the leather-bound book on the floor. “Have you started reading this?”

  “Not yet.” Guilt nagged at Hope’s conscience, but she pushed it down.

  “Hmm. Maybe you should.”

  The door closed but didn’t latch. Hope could hear them speaking in the hall. She slid from the bed and crept across the floor, then she eased the door open.

  “I think this is important for her.” Her aunt made the statement as if it were fact. “She’s never had any friends—”

  There was a snort.

  “All I’m saying is I think it’s important for her to have friends, and that’s impossible if you move every two months and keep her under lockdown.”

  Leto sighed. “You know it is only for her safety.”

  “Hey,” Priska placated. “I’m on your side. On all of this, okay? I’m all about keeping you safe. I just think maybe it’s time to do something different. For her.”

  “Do you want to go into Seattle for the day?” Leto stood just outside Hope’s room, hand hovering at the door.

  Hope’s plans to spend the day in bed came to a screeching halt. Her book slipped from her fingers, and she turned to her mom with disbelief. “What?”

  “I thought it would be nice to go to Pike Place Market, and then maybe walk down to the aquarium.”

  “Sure.” Hope threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.

  “Great. Priska has work this morning, but said she could meet us for lunch.”

  Hope froze, her mouth agape.

  “This is me trying to do something a little different,” Leto said with a small smile, her eyes filled with hope.

  A little different? This was a lot different. A spark of something warm and exciting tingled as it spread through Hope’s chest. A quick dance through her closet found clean jeans and a T-shirt. She brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back, worried that her mother would change her mind.

  Leto chatted aimlessly about books and movies as they drove across the 520 Bridge, but Hope sat dumbfounded, barely listening. Finally, the suspense made the words explode out of her.

  “Why are we doing this?”

  Stillness settled between the two of them.

  Leto sighed. “I don’t want you to turn out weird. I mean . . . any weirder.”

  Weird? Hope laughed. “So, does this mean we’re going to start doing normal things?”

  “I . . . I think we should try it. See how it goes. Maybe turn over a new leaf.”

  “You mean I can make friends, have study groups . . . go on dates?” Un—freaking—believable. She didn’t even know what it would mean, but possibilities suddenly stretched in front of her.

  “Don’t push it. Let’s start small and see how things go.”

  They parked on the street just south of the market and followed the scent of donuts to a tented stall. Armed with a paper bag full of hot cinnamon-sugar sweets, mother and daughter walked down to watch the mongers throw seafood.

  The pungent smell of fish permeated the air. Two men in orange rubber overalls and boots talked with shoppers; another one was filling outstretched hands with samples of salmon jerky.

  “Two red snapper!” One of the men yelled an order, and then—

  “Watch your head!”

  “Red snapper!” A large fish flew through the air.

  Hope cringed and ducked.

  “Snapper one!” A man behind the counter caught the fish and ripped a large piece of brown butcher paper. The monger deftly wrapped the large fish, his fingers reaching for a roll of tape.

  “Red snapper two!”

  She turned in time to see another fish soar overhead.

  Somehow, the monger caught the fish midair.

  “Snapper two!” He turned back and tore another piece of butcher paper.

  Her gaze wandered the crowd. At least fifty people were gathered on the sidewalk, watching the show. A little girl screamed and pointed at an ice display with a large fish whose jaws were moving up and down. A man bobbed
up from behind the counter, and the crowd laughed.

  A cloud passed over the struggling summer sun, and a chill blew through the air. Two kids climbed on a large brass pig, and one shouted for her picture to be taken.

  Out of the shadows of the stairwell, a man seemed to materialize. Dressed in black, his pallid skin looked almost ashy. With no shirt but a tank top, he should have been cold in the morning air, but he moved through the crowd, as if unaware of the temperature. And no one moved out of his way. He bumped through the throng, not stopping to apologize, and it was almost like the people couldn’t—no, that couldn’t be. It was like they couldn’t see him.

  The man looked up at her, and her breath caught. His eyes!

  “Mom!” She tugged at Leto’s coat.

  Leto, laughing at the fish show, turned to her daughter. “What’s the matter?”

  She pointed to the crowd where the apparition had been. Except . . . he was gone. Disappeared. She scanned the surrounding crowd, looking for the otherworldly creature. He’d evaporated.

  Hope swallowed. If she told her mom what she’d seen, would they ever go out again? “Nothing. I thought I saw something, but . . . it was nothing.”

  “By the gods, don’t scare me like that.” Leto’s hand relaxed and came out of her purse empty but shaking.

  Hope hung her head, but her heart was still pumping. “Sorry.”

  “No worries.” Leto pulled her phone from her purse and tapped at the screen. “I’m just telling Priska where we are so she can meet us for lunch. She said she’d be caught up in a couple hours.” She put the phone back and glanced around the square before her eyes settled on Hope. “Let’s go see what else is here.”

  “Okay.” Her gaze flitted over the throng, but there was no sign of the dark figure.

  They went through countless artisan’s stands and then into the open-air stalls where piles of produce, herbs, and vegetation surrounded them. The temperature had risen with the climbing sun, and Hope asked when Priska would be there so they could get lunch.

  “At least another hour. Oh, let’s get some flowers for her.” Leto surveyed the premade arrangements wrapped in white paper. “You know how she loves Gerbera daisies.” She pointed at a bunch with red and orange blooms.