Curse of the Sphinx (17 page)

Athan sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. “What happened?”

She sat close enough that she could feel his warmth, needing the reassurance that could only come from another human being. With a deep breath, she tried to explain. “When I dropped off that stuff, there were . . . two men. I hit . . . I hit him. I must have gotten some of his blood . . . on . . . me.”

She looked up to see Athan gaping in horror.

“But you’re okay?” He crouched down, and his eyes came into focus as he cupped her cheeks in his hands.

She forced herself to focus on his eyes. Such a strange green. Like the moss on the trunks in Bellevue. What was he saying?

“Are you okay?”

She brushed her tongue over the roof of her mouth. It felt like sandpaper. “Water. Please. I’m . . . so . . .”

Too exhausted to think anymore, she curled into a ball. When he returned, she took the cup gratefully and drank the contents.

He sat next to her, his arm circled around her, his hand resting on her back. He brushed a tendril of hair back behind her ear. With his touch came warmth, and she involuntarily leaned toward him.

“Just . . . sit here . . . a minute?” If he would just stay for a minute or two, she would be all right.

“Sure.”

He took her hand and she felt comfort. Peace. Her lids became heavy, and she fought to stay conscious.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. She knew she should ask him to leave, or see him out, but she couldn’t make herself move. She felt the light touch of him tracing his fingers over her hand, and as she drifted off to sleep, she was vaguely aware of him humming.

WHEN HOPE WOKE
, her thoughts were already racing.

She sat up, the memory of the previous night’s events crashing into her. She glanced down at her clothes, and while they were clean, she could see flecks of blood under her fingernails. Her attacker’s blood. Her victim’s blood.

Her stomach lurched, and she dashed to the bathroom. Throwing up bile, Hope retched until her muscles hurt, then rested her head on the floor until the churning stopped. The sharp tang of bleach burned her nostrils.

Willing her rubbery legs to hold, she stood at the sink and brushed her teeth. Then, she filled her hands with liquid soap. With the water running, she scrubbed her fingers with her toothbrush, and then her palms. Suds dripped into the water, disappearing down the drain. Her skin was raw, and the water stung as she rinsed the last drops of her fight down the drain.

Her body ached, and she was overcome by the urge to clean every part of her body present at the attack. She turned on the shower, and then remembered Athan. Was he still there? She turned off the water and tiptoed out into the hall.

“Athan?” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat. “Athan?” She looked in the study, the kitchen, the spare bedroom, and the living room. Finding herself alone in her own home and the front door locked, she went back to the bathroom.

She bathed fiercely, scrubbing until her skin was tender. When the water ran cold, she climbed out. While she dressed, she remembered her clothes from last night, still behind the door.

But the clothes were gone, as was the washcloth and towel she’d used last night. Sharp as the scent of bleach, understanding cut through her. She shivered as icy fingers of dread crawled over her scalp and down her back. She shut the bathroom door and climbed onto her bed. The panic made her ache for the familiar. She called Priska’s number, hoping but not believing. It went to voicemail on the first ring. With a sigh, Hope disconnected. Why bother leaving another message?

What to do? She should leave Goldendale, move to another part of the state, or maybe another part of the country. She left all those boxes at the Salvation Army, and, no doubt, the cops would link her to the crime. She thought of the Skia and then . . . The man travelling with him was definitely alive. But humans couldn’t see Skia, which meant . . . Her head swam; there was a pounding, a constant thumping, and she closed her eyes in an attempt to seek relief from the incessant noise.

The pounding stopped, and she let out a sigh of relief. Then the floor creaked, and her heart stuttered.

“Hope?” Athan tapped on her bedroom door.

A sob escaped her lips.

“Hey.” Athan sat on the bed next to her, and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into him.

She couldn’t control it. She sobbed into the warmth of his shirt.

Her comfort turned to embarrassment and then horror at the reality swirling around her. What did he know? What could she say?

She ducked her head and pulled away from him, mumbling something akin to an apology, if it had been coherent.

He scooted close to her again. “What?”

“I’m. Sorry.” She said it slow, so that she wouldn’t have to repeat it again.

He wrapped his arms back around her, and his chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Yes. I can see that you are.”

She felt brief pressure on the top of her head, and then he pulled away.

“I’m staying with you today. All day.” He picked up her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “And before you protest.” He tightened his grip. “You do need me to.”

Her eyebrows pulled down.

“I saw the news this morning. There was an attack last night in the Dalles. Some guy, named Antony Kohl who was out on parole. A real dirt bag.”

She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“There’s speculation that he was a demigod, and Skia killed him. The police are looking into it.”

Her vision spotted, and the room spun.

“Hope! Breathe.”

She gasped.

“Don’t
do
that.” His hand cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I can’t help if you pass out.”

What was he talking about? Help her? Help her what?

“Have you eaten today?”

She shook her head, and looked down at their hands. Hers lay in his, but even with his fingers wrapped tight, she could see the tremor.

“Stay right here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” She leaned back into the pillows, her eyelids heavy. She had been up for just over an hour. Why was she so tired?

She could hear him pulling dishes from the cabinets, opening and closing the fridge. Lulled into a sense of security, she closed her eyes.

“Here you go, Sleeping Beauty.” He set a plate with two slices of cinnamon toast in front of her. “I would have made you more, but I think it’s best we make sure you can keep this down.”

She took a bite and savored the sugary spice flavor. She inhaled the rest. “Thanks.”

He took the plate and set it on the dresser, then sat at the foot of her bed. “I burned your clothes this morning. I think the only link anyone will have to last night will be the boxes you dropped off. Do they have your name on them?”

She thought about it. “Yes, just . . .” Just Nicholas, her last name. But that wasn’t what she was going by. “Just my last name.”

“Okay. That’s okay. Donating stuff doesn’t tie you to the . . . incident.”

Incident? Is that what he was calling it? “Do they have a security camera?”

He shook his head. “Nope. It was on the news.” He sighed. “I think today will be the hardest. We need to make sure it’s like nothing happened. Just in case.”

Just in case. The swallow was almost painful. She could do this. “I could drop off the rest of the boxes.”

“Let’s do it.” His head tilted at her. “Anything else you need to get done today?”

“Homework.”

He smiled. “Let’s get started. Just like any other day.” He stood, collected the plate from the dresser, and stepped into the hallway.

SHE SNACKED ON
dry cereal while she peeled and cut vegetables. Finished with a mound of onions, carrots, and potatoes, she dropped them into the large Crock-Pot. The mundane movements helped steady her heart rate. After filling the bottom of the pot, she seasoned the chuck roast she’d bought earlier that week and put it on top of the vegetables.

Athan sat quietly at the table, looking between her and his math homework.

“What happened last night?” she asked. “The last thing I remember was drifting off on the couch.”

“You fell asleep. I moved you to your bed, then I slept out here on the couch till about seven. I checked on you before I left to shower and change clothes, you were still asleep.”

She noticed his hair was still damp. “And the bathroom?”

“I thought it would be better if you didn’t have to face the cleanup.”

She blushed and nodded.

“Oh.” He dug into his pocket, and then put her keys on the table. “I’m sorry, I took these. I wasn’t sure how else to lock up when I left.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. Thanks for your help. I think . . . I might have gone a little crazy.” She could feel the emotions simmering, threatening to boil over, and knew she’d better change the subject.

He stood and reached for her hand. “What do you say we take the rest of the boxes to the Goodwill in Yakima?”

Instinctively, she stepped back. “No. Let’s drop them at the Dalles. I…I need to not be afraid.”

His hand dropped to her waist. “Do you want me to load everything into my truck?”

“No. There’s room in my car. The trunk is still full, but the last few boxes should fit in the back.”

“All right.” He lightly pushed her aside. “Let me get a drink of water, then I’ll go load. Meet you at the car?”

The heat from his hand was still there, and she wanted to soak in that warmth. She shook herself free from the trance. “I’ll go get my shoes.” She dropped the keys back onto the table for him and went back to her bedroom.

He was loading the last box into the back seat when she came out. She got the keys and locked up the house. Athan walked over to the driver’s side.

“Hey, I’ll drive,” she protested.

With a shake of his head, he cut her off, “I don’t think you should be behind the wheel today.” He slid into the car, and then looked up at her and grinned. “Besides, I’m a male chauvinist. I always drive.”

The joke made her smile. She climbed into the passenger side.

When he started the car, the radio blared, and he quickly shut it off.

Funny
,
I don’t remember hearing anything on the way home last night
. She remembered the blood on her hands, and her eyes locked on the steering wheel.

“I cleaned up in here, too.” Athan explained. “It wasn’t bad, but . . . Hope?”

“Hmm?”

“If anyone ever asks . . .” He paused. “I want you to tell them we were together last night.”

“But you were at the river.”

“Yes, but I was back in Goldendale before midnight.”

Midnight? “But that would mean . . .” She couldn’t say it. He sat in his car watching her for over two hours?

“I promise I’m not stalking you. I drove around for a while. When I passed your place, I saw you sitting in your car. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A strange feeling warmed her chest. Unsure of what it was, or what it meant, she was certain of one thing: She was glad to have him here.

His hand lifted from the wheel, and he gently wove his fingers through hers.

She looked down at his dark olive skin, and her own, pale gold. In her chest, hundreds of butterflies emerged from cocoons. She slid her hand away.

“I don’t . . .” She struggled not only with what to say, but how to say it. “I don’t understand you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I . . . I don’t know if I can trust you. How do you know if you can trust someone?” She wanted to, and was so, so afraid.

“You just decide.” His hand grabbed hers again. “Trust me. I promise you won’t regret it.”

His warmth seeped from her fingers up her arm and into her heart.

She took the leap. “Okay.”

WHEN THEY ARRIVED
in the Dalles, she heard the click of a seatbelt, and sat up rubbing her eyes.

Athan leaned toward her, his hand on her leg. “Why don’t you just sit tight? This will only take a second.”

She nodded. When he left the car, she sat up and stared at the empty alleyway. Memories flashed through her mind like pictures. The Skia standing there watching her. What did he mean she didn’t know what she was dealing with? She knew exactly what he was. And she knew she’d hurt the demigod.

She leaned back in her seat and pulled out her phone. She wanted to send a note to Priska.
Crap
. Someone else had Priska’s phone. Oh, gods, she’d called her this morning. Did she leave a message?

“So.” Athan slid back into the driver’s seat. “What else do you have on your agenda today?”

There was nothing she could do about it now.

She sighed. “I need to finish my algebra and Spanish. What about you?”

The right corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Same.” He paused briefly, “Is it going to bother you if I crash and do homework with you? Maybe stay for dinner?”

“Um, did you just invite yourself over for dinner?” Inside she was jumping up and down clapping.

He chuckled. “Yes. Yes, I did. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Actually, it’s a great idea. I owe you more than dinner for all your help.”

“It’s called friendship, Hope. You don’t
owe
me anything. But I will be your best friend if I can have some of that roast.”

They stopped for lunch at a sandwich shop, and, when they headed back to the car, she slid into the passenger seat.

Once they were on the interstate she turned to him. “What was your mom like?”

Athan was quiet.

Had she offended him? Should she apologize?

“She was the greatest.” His voice was soft, as if he was living among his memories. “She was beautiful. She had dark hair, almost black, and I got her green eyes. She loved to laugh, and she would try to play jokes on people, but she could never keep a straight face. She loved to dance. When I was little, she would turn on music, and we would dance in the living room. She was a great cook, too. She was . . . she was the best mom.”

“What happened?”

His gaze hardened, and he took a deep breath. His exhale was slow and measured. “She got sick. The doctors didn’t know what it was. My dad went crazy trying to find someone to help her, but no one could.” His words were strained. “One night she went to bed and didn’t wake up. We knew it was coming, but still . . .”

“Do you miss her?” She stared out the windshield, trying not to cry.

“Every day.”

She nodded. “Me, too.” Her tears fell silently. She wiped them away, and then Athan took her hand. “What about your dad?” She asked.

“He’s gone, too,” he whispered.

She squeezed his hand, hurting for him and his loss.

He continued to hold her hand while they drove to Goldendale.

They spent the rest of the day on homework. And Hope found her perspective shifting even more. Athan was actually smart. Really smart. Especially in math and science.

When it started to get dark, Hope unwound herself from her chair and headed into the kitchen. She diced a tomato to toss into a salad and rinsed grapes from the bunch. She grabbed a couple of plates, silverware, and glasses and brought them to the counter. She dished up their dinner, just like she would for her and her mother, and brought the plates to the table.

Athan looked up from his homework as she came in and then jumped up out of his chair.

“I’m sorry. I should have been paying more attention. I could have helped.” He ran into the kitchen and grabbed napkins from a holder on the counter.

When he joined her at the table, her heart thudded, and she gulped a deep breath. All the stability she’d tried to build in Goldendale was shattered, and Athan was sitting at her dinner table. She’d hated him, and now—

“Hey. What’s up?” He broke through her reverie.

But she could only give him a blank stare.

“You don’t look so good.” He waved his hand in front of her. “You feeling okay? Is the shock getting at you?”

His words registered, and she looked at him with horror. “Yeah.” Her appetite dissipated, but she sat down. “I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling myself.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Maybe another time.” Or another lifetime.

She picked at her meal, worrying and overanalyzing her actions and his behavior. She could tell Athan knew something was up, but he seemed to be giving her the space to figure it out.

When he scraped his fork on his plate, Hope noticed he had devoured his food.

“Do you want seconds?”

He grinned. “If you aren’t going to finish yours, just pass me your plate.” He did the meal justice, eating all of his food and most of hers. “Go set up a movie,” he said when they were done. “I’ll load the dishes.”

She went into the living room, turned on the television, and scanned through the titles. There had to be something Athan would enjoy, or at least tolerate.

He came up behind her, reading over her shoulder. His body was so close the heat filled the space between them. She was no longer reading titles, but trying to regulate her breathing.

“Hmm, what’s that one about?”

His voice was soft and low, and his breath tickled her neck. He placed his hand on her waist at the same moment she turned to ask him which movie he was talking about. Her breath caught. They were almost face to face. She moved to step back, but his hand kept her close.

“Hope,” he breathed her name so softly it was a caress. He removed the remote from her hand, and then brushed her hair away from her face. His green eyes were just inches from her gold ones, and she could feel the tension of his body, his muscles taut, the vein in his neck pulsing. “What are you thinking?”

She could feel their breath mingling, and her emotions whirled. Her desire to lean into him was so overwhelming she struggled to form a coherent response. “What movie . . . should we watch?”

He laughed softly and clicked through the titles. “How ’bout this one?
Some Like It Hot
?”

It took all her focus to pull herself together. “Yeah, I guess some do.”

The knock at the door startled them both. She jumped away, her heart pounding against her chest. Eyes wide, she looked at him, but the same confusion marked his features.

She thought of the dead man. Had the police found out about her? How could she explain?

The knock came again, this time a bit harder.

“Wait, Hope.” Athan grabbed her wrist. “Remember. We were together. No matter what they ask. We were together last night.”

She nodded at him, and with a deep breath she opened the door.

Scott and Krista stood on her doorstep. Scott shifted from foot to foot, a grimace on his face. Krista looked like a cat that had just caught its prey.

“Oh. Hi.” Krista gave her a too-sweet smile. “Is Athan here? We thought we saw his truck outside, and he’s supposed to come with us to Lee’s tonight.”

“Sorry guys, I totally forgot.” He moved toward the door and put his hand at the small of Hope’s back. “We were just getting ready to watch a movie.”

“Come on. You promised last night you’d come, and we need even numbers to play.” Krista was wheedling, her voice honey, but the hint was hardly subtle.

“Well, do you mind if Hope comes?” He looked to her.

Krista rolled her eyes.

Before Krista could respond, Hope shook her head. “Actually, I think I’ll call it a night. I could use a little extra rest.”

Athan frowned. “Really? I could—”

“No, you should go ahead. I’m tired. I don’t think I’d be much fun tonight.”

Krista beamed.

Athan looked at Hope intently. “Are you sure?”

When she nodded, he sighed. “All right.” He turned to the two on the porch. “Why don’t you guys head over? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“We’ll see you soo-oon,” Scott teased. Krista elbowed him, and they left.

Athan wrapped his arms around Hope, and she sank into the embrace. With a deep breath, she pulled back. “I think everything is catching up to me.”

He nodded. “If you’d feel better having someone here, you know I’ll stay, right?” He took her hands, his thumbs tracing circles over her palms.

“Thanks. I’ll be okay.” She pulled away. “I’m so tired, I’m sure I’ll go right to sleep.”

“Will you call me if you don’t? I mean, if you’re scared, or need something, will you call me?”

She laughed because she felt like she should, but there was nothing funny. She
was
scared.

His lips pulled up into a sheepish grin. “I’m being ridiculous, huh?”

She offered a wan smile. “You’d better go before Krista comes and hauls you off.”

“You’re probably right.” He started toward the door but stopped halfway, returning to cup her chin in his hand. “Please remember to call me if you need anything,” he whispered, and gently kissed her forehead.

She locked the door behind him and went into the kitchen. She felt like the energy had been sucked from her body. She prayed to Hypnos that she would be able to sleep and to Artemis for protection before she placed a small plate of the roast by the shrine of Hecate. But she grabbed her daggers, just in case.