Curse of the Sphinx (7 page)

“Hope?” Sarra approached, her violet eyes puffy and rimmed in red.

She looked up at her best friend. “My mom . . .” She couldn’t say it. A sob broke, and she put her head in her hands.

A warm hand on her shoulder was followed by an arm, and then Sarra’s small frame scooted close. “I’m so sorry.”

Hope couldn’t speak. She buried her head in her arms and let the tears fall.

“Do you know what happened?”

Hope waved at the evidence above. It was all she knew for sure. A fire? They couldn’t be killed by fire, could they? Skia? Demigods? A god? Was something after her?

The shrill blare of a horn blew, and Paul’s white car slowed in front of the two girls.

“Sarra, get in.” His voice was tinged with panic. He circled the front of the car and opened the passenger door. “Right now.” His eyes stayed focused on his daughter, as if the world might collapse if he let her out of his sight.

Sarra stood slowly. “In the car?” Her eyes blinked once, twice. “Now?”

“Now.” He stepped forward, grabbed her arm, and pulled.

Sarra stumbled and looked back at Hope.

Paul pushed Sarra, forcing her into the car, avoiding her questions and her pleas. He didn’t even look at Hope.

The door closed, and Paul leaned against it, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.” The apology was just barely audible. “You’re a . . . monster. A beast. You’re not safe, and I need to keep my daughter safe.” Without ever looking at her, Paul got in the car and drove away.

There were no words. Hope stared at her hands as if the answers might appear within her palms, but the only thing she saw were the lines and cracks, a map that went nowhere, that meant nothing.

She was a monster. Of course Sarra wasn’t safe. Her vision blurred, and she bowed her head to the consuming grief.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

The broken voice was familiar, and she turned to see Priska, her face splotchy with emotion.

“Come on.” The older woman extended her hand.

“No!” Hope’s protest was a weak whisper.

Priska pulled Hope to her feet and put her arm around her shoulders, as if to hold her up. “It’s time to go.”

“Go where?”

Tears ran openly down Priska’s cheeks. “I’m taking you home with me tonight.”

“Can I see her? Can I see my mom?” Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe her mom was just injured.

“You don’t . . . you don’t want that memory.”

“Am I going to stay with you?” She looked down at her aunt.

Priska wiped at her face and took a deep breath. “You can stay with me as long as you want.”

She opened the door to her gray sedan, and Hope collapsed in the passenger seat. The drive to Mercer Island was silent. She walked into Priska’s house in a daze, clinging to the warm hand that guided her. She spent hours sitting at a window, staring at the sky as it changed from gray to black and back to gray again. The gray lasted so long, so much longer than the black.

HOPE SAT ON
an armless chair staring out the window at the gray drizzle. “Was it Skia?” Her voice cracked as if she were breaking it in. When her words met with silence, she turned to fix her gaze on Priska. “Did Skia get her?”

Her aunt’s head dropped. “I’m so, so sorry. I failed her. I failed you.”

Hope’s heart stopped. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know what happened.” Priska’s eyes were puffy and swollen. “She called me . . . just before . . . She saw Skia when she was out. Said she had something important she needed to tell me. Asked me to come over as fast as I could.”

“And?” It wasn’t making sense. “What happened?”

“I went, but . . . it was too late. I was too late.” Her voice cracked.

Too late?
A wave of pain crashed in Hope’s chest and rolled lower. The pain receded and an ache followed. Bitterness burned the back of her throat, and she raced from the room.

She retched into the toilet, the yellow bile making the water bright. Tears left salty streaks on her skin. She pulled tissue from the roll and blew her nose.

“I’m so sorry.” The words fell all over the floor, the mess too big to step around, opening a gaping chasm between the two of them.

Priska stood in the open doorway, but Hope refused to look at her.

“I thought you were supposed to help keep us safe.” The words were an accusation, and they found their mark. “I thought Hecate was supposed to keep us safe.”

“I know. I know. Hades in hell, I KNOW! Don’t you think I know? I told her! I told her it was time to move. Told her that nothing could happen with Paul. I told her!” Priska was sobbing, her small hands covering her face. “I don’t know what happened . . .”

Hope sat dumbfounded while the older woman wept.

Priska sagged to the floor. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Do you know what it’s like to be an epic failure?”

Hope didn’t know what to say. She grasped, but words were elusive wisps that floated away.

“Do you know what it’s like to watch time and again as your loved ones die? Over and over and over again? And you can do nothing, absolutely nothing about it? It would be easier to cut out my own heart, and I am so, so, so sick of it.” Priska’s sobs started again.

Hope’s eyes got bigger and bigger until they felt like they were going to pop out of her skull. What was she saying? The words made no sense.

A haze of silence descended, filling the space with a throbbing ache. Hope could say nothing to comfort her aunt, and nothing Priska said made her feel better. So, she waited, not knowing what to do, and not wanting to do anything. Eventually, her eyes went to the frosted window above the tub, and she watched as the light faded.

“Zeus Almighty.”

She looked away from the window, to Priska standing over her.

“I think we better go to bed.” Priska made no movement to help, but stepped away, giving ample room.

Hope pulled herself up, feeling pins and needles from sitting too long on the tile floor.

“Second door on the left, you remember?” Priska walked down the hall without looking back.

Hope remembered the room. It had been her mother’s for a few months before she’d married her father, and then again after he left.

Hope couldn’t sleep in there, in a room filled with loss and pain. No. She wouldn’t sleep there. Not tonight.

Not ever.

Two days since Mom died

“HOPE.” PRISKA SAT
on the edge of the overstuffed sofa and tapped her back.

Hope sat up, blankets falling from her shoulders, the
Book of the Fates
thumping to the floor. The room was dark, but light seeped in from the cracks in the shutters. The smell of peach tea wafted from the mug her aunt was holding.

Her restless sleep left her disoriented and confused, but there was something wrong—she just couldn’t remember what.

It hit like an anvil to her chest. Two days. It had been two days. In six more days, she would shift and become the Sphinx. For the first time in her life, she would change alone.

Priska pulled her into a hug, her arms lingering for only a few seconds. “We need to talk about what happened.”

She tried to swallow the mass of sorrow lodged in her throat. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry until her feelings fled, until she had no emotion left. This weight was too much. “I’m going to change without her,” she whispered.

Priska’s hand was on her knee, and then it was gone. “I think you should stay in the apartment this time, when you change. Just . . . stay. I don’t think you should go anywhere right now.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Priska’s teeth were clenched, her lips pursed. “You’ve done it a thousand times.”

She hadn’t done it a thousand times, but Priska was right.

“There’s something else, Hope. When I was there, at the apartment, I’m pretty sure . . . I saw a demigod.”

“A demigod? I thought you said mom saw Skia? That Skia were hunting us.” She thought about how her mom had burned. “And what about the fire?”

Priska pushed against Hope’s legs, scooting back further onto the couch. “When I got to the apartment, after your mom called me, I noticed a young man walking away from the building. He looked familiar, but I’m pretty sure . . .” She ran her hand through her dark hair. “He’s a demigod.”

“A demigod?” Demigods with their immortal weapons. “Is that what happened?”

“I don’t know. Your mom called me, just before. She told me . . .” Priska’s lips pulled into a tight line. “There were Skia close by. She’d seen one a week earlier, when she was grocery shopping.”

Hope stared at her aunt, momentarily dumbfounded. That would explain Paul’s fear, his panic. Her mom must have told him something. Demigods, Skia, gods—they would all kill her.

“But none of it makes sense. Demigods don’t start fires. That’s more of a Skia ploy. And the only god who would care is . . .” She didn’t say his name, but they both knew. “And then only if the curse were complete.”

“What does that even mean?” The words circled around her head, creating a cyclone of chaos. So many questions. “And why doesn’t the
Book of the Fates
say what happened?” She’d spent hours last night staring at the blank pages that should tell her mom’s story. “Why is her story not written?”

Priska shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know how soon after death the Fates write the story. I don’t know.” She sighed. “I think we’d better move. It isn’t safe here.”

“I need to know what happened,” Hope said. “Who killed my mom.”

She could stay with Priska and help. They could solve this together, and then Hope could take her revenge.

“Hope.” Priska interrupted her musing. “It was probably Skia. The most important thing is still to keep you safe.”

“But I want to know. I
need
to know . . .”

Priska sighed and held out her hands as if she were weighing them against each other. “If you want me to find out what happened to your mom . . . You being with me will not be safe.”

“What are you saying?”

Priska put her hand on Hope’s shoulder. “You need to stay hidden. If we stay together or not, you’ll need to be holed up in some small town where you can become invisible. If you want me to hunt down your mom’s killer, you’ll be by yourself for a while.”

She’d never been alone before. Fear clawed at her stomach and up into her chest. “What about Paul and Sarra?” Even as she said the words, Paul’s voice echoed in her mind. She shook her head. “He knows something.”

“What do you mean?”

“He came just before you did . . . at the apartment. Got Sarra away from me, and drove away like demons were chasing him.” Something inside her didn’t want to believe he’d called her a monster, and she refused to admit it.

Priska sank into the cushions of the couch with a sigh. “I don’t know what happened there. I guess I can look into that, too.”

Hope’s brow furrowed. “Maybe . . . maybe I could say goodbye to Sarra?”

“Call her.” Priska sighed. “But make it fast.”

Hope stood and retrieved her phone. Sarra picked up on the second ring.

“Sarra? It’s Hope.” Tears spilled from her eyes.

“Why are you calling me?” Replacing the soft voice of her friend was a razor’s edge.

“I . . . I thought…I thought we were friends.”

“You’re a monster. A freak. You lied to me.” There was a pause before she continued. “Don’t call me, Hope. We aren’t friends.”
Click.

Hope stood motionless, staring at her phone.

Priska came over and took the small device from her trembling hands.

“There was a reason your mom kept you from the world for so long. Having friends can be wonderful. But humans fear what is different.”

She could only nod while she swallowed back her hurt, shoving the pain into the dark recesses of her heart. If isolation was so safe, why didn’t she just move into the mountains and live in a cabin by herself?

“Where am I going to go?”

“I think you need to find a quiet little town to hide in. Get into a routine, be quiet, keep your head down. You’ll need to be emancipated, and until that happens . . .” She took a deep breath before continuing. “You’ll need to go into the foster care system.”

Priska outlined her side of the plan. While Hope hid in Eastern Washington, Priska would go to Turkey, where the original temple of Artemis stood. There, she could petition her mother for divine aid. Both of them knew the mortal police wouldn’t find anything.

“But we don’t need to do this. I can move with you and help keep you hidden until you’re old enough to be on your own.”

Hope pushed back the frustration caused by her aunt’s words. “No. I’m almost seventeen. I can handle being alone if it means finding out what happened.”

Priska nodded. “You understand—”

“I get it Priska.” Hope could hardly breathe. “How soon can we start?”

“The day you shift back to human. I can take you into Children’s Services first thing Tuesday.”             

Hope felt the last sliver of light in her life extinguish, and she bowed her head. “Let’s file the paperwork, or whatever we need to get done. I want answers.”