Curse of the Sphinx (9 page)

He came around the counter, and as he peeled off a plastic glove, he said, “My name is Peter Stanley.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m here during the week, seven to four. Let me know ahead of time, and I’ll get you anything you need.”

She took the outstretched hand and shook it. “I’m Hope. Thank you, Mr. Stanley, for the meat. And the riddle.”

As she drove home, she found herself thinking of Mr. Stanley’s riddle, and smiled as she mumbled aloud to herself. “Chicken.”

IT WAS LATE
and books covered the bed. Despite the effort to study, Hope jerked awake from the obnoxious ring tone. She pushed her chemistry homework aside and grabbed her phone.

“Hello?” Her voice was groggy with sleep.

“It’s Priska.”

She rolled onto her back and held the phone to her ear. Who else would it be? Priska had given her the new phone, and hers was the only number programmed in it. There was no one else who even had the number besides the school. “Yeah?”

“How’s school?”

She snorted her response, “Fine. Suzy Sunshine is in three of my classes, and I think I’ll try out for the cheer squad.”

Priska’s laugh was just a fraction off. Forced. And then she continued. “And did you get settled? Clothes and kitchen unpacked?”

“Yep. It’s all good.” But not really. Just hearing Priska’s voice was causing waves in the pool of her emotions. “How are you? How’s Turkey?”

“Unproductive. The priestesses were a nightmare. I finally got through today, but so far no one on Olympus is talking about your mom, or her death. Artemis said she’d keep her ears open, but it sounds like Skia.” There was a long sigh. “I’m going to leave tomorrow.”

“Are you coming home?”

“Not yet. I’m going to try and get into a conservatory. I want to see if there is any chatter among the demigods. Sometimes they know even more than their parents.”

“A conservatory?” She sat up. The conservatories were safe from Skia, and provided free housing for the offspring of the gods. They were also exclusively for demigods, some even requiring the immortal parent to vouch for their children before they would allow entrance. “How much longer will you be?”

“I don’t know. A month, maybe two? It depends on how long it takes to get in. This is the only other thing I can think of. She paused. “I’ll call you every night until I get in.”

“And then? What happens when you get in?”

“Not sure. I’ll play it by ear. But I with all the subterfuge, I may not be able to call.”

Hope was silent. The phone calls weren’t nearly enough, but she clung to them, her only contact with someone who loved her.

“I promise I’ll text you every night, Hope. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

But this is what she wanted. “Will you be safe?” Some demigods were allegedly vicious killers, notably the sons of Ares.

“It’s part of why I’m going where I’m going. There’s an Athenian shrine close by, and I hope the conservatory has at least one of her daughters. They tend to be resourceful women, and not impetuous. I’ll be fine. Remember, lie low.”

Hope knew. “Okay.” It came out as just a squeak.

“I’m sorry. I wish there was another way.”

Hope nodded at the phone.

“And Hope?”

“Yes?” she hiccupped.

“Stay put until I get back. No friends. Don’t stand out. And keep the immortal daggers close by. If you can get away with carrying one, it would probably be wise to have one on you all the time.”

The daggers? She swallowed hard. They were two mismatched knives that her grandmother purportedly stole from demigods she’d fought hundreds of years ago. One was about six inches long with a blood-red ruby in its hilt, the other a couple inches longer, bright gold with inscriptions of the sun. They’d probably been packed in one of the boxes of her mother’s things. She’d need to dig them out.

Tomorrow.

She’d look for them in the morning before school.

“Be careful.” Something about the plan made Hope uneasy.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Priska said.

But even after they’d hung up, Hope lay awake. What would she do if something happened to Priska?

THE NEXT FEW
days at school were much the same as the first few. Mrs. Biggers lectured on symbolism used by the gods. In chemistry they learned about ionic charge. At lunch, she sat in the library. In Spanish, she memorized irregular verbs. When the school bell released her, she did not linger.

She began to settle into her life in Goldendale. Gradually, interest in the new girl waned. A few more courageous boys tried to “befriend” her, but curt replies put them off. Most girls, either intimidated or offended, didn’t reach out at all.

Overall, she should have been happy with her success. But as the days passed, a cold weight settled in her chest. She was hollow, empty, and very, very alone.

She held out a sliver of hope that Priska would come back soon, because the last thing she wanted was to be on her own. But deep down, she wasn’t fooling herself. She was on her own.

Some people counted sheep to help fall asleep. Others drank warm milk with honey. As Hope lay in bed night after night fighting the sleep that would force her to relive her losses in dreams, she constructed a brick wall. Carefully, she placed brick after brick on wet gray mortar, building an impenetrable fortress around her heart.

Curse day one

SHE’D SPENT A
restless night at a hotel in Toppenish and climbed out of bed an hour before dawn. It would be her first flight without her mom, and she hoped the time outside would be liberating. She drove till she found an abandoned barn far outside the small town, a perfect hiding spot for her car.

The sky was hovering between black and gray when she began to undress. As the first rays pierced the sky, her body tingled, and a surge of energy pulsed through her. The morphing took only seconds, and then soft, golden fur covered her breasts, torso, and haunches. The amber feathers of her wings stretched out several feet, and she pulled them close to her body while pulling her long blond hair up into a messy knot. Grabbing her messenger bag, she made her way out of the barn.

She pulled herself into the air, climbing high enough that anyone looking from the ground would be perplexed by the large bird, but not be able to distinguish its features. She would be up in the peaks before the sun rose, high enough to be safe.

She spent the day reading, allowing the words of a well-written fantasy novel to distract from her own bleak reality. If she crammed her quiet moments with something, anything, she wouldn’t feel the pain.

Not nearly soon enough, the stars lit up the night sky with only a sliver of silver from the new moon.

“Finally!” She exhaled and released her wings. She allowed the wind to tickle and tease at her feathers before she beat them up and down. Once airborne, she left the seclusion of the mountains and swept into the valley below.

A sense of freedom played in her heart, and she felt a stirring of hope. She danced in the air and looked to her side, where her mom should be. Unbidden memories overwhelmed her. Their flights together. Her rich laugh. Golden eyes. Her constant worry for Hope. Her love.

It wasn’t fair. Gods, it was so unfair!

Tears blurred her vision, and she tumbled from the sky. Branches scratched and clawed, as her paws flailed to the ground. She slipped on something hard and round, and, with a thump, she slid into the trunk of a squat apple tree.

Physically bruised and emotionally broken, she roared her frustration and yanked up the offending tree as if pulling up a weed. The cool air was sticky sweet. Angry with the apples on the ground, the trees that scratched her skin, and incensed with the injustice of her life, Hope’s pent-up emotion exploded. Screaming and out of control, she marched down row after row of the orchard, wrenching trees up by their trunks, leaving a wake of destruction behind.

As the sky lightened, she was pulled from her rage. She surveyed her surroundings and the ruin she’d caused. Guilt and shame filled her. Unsure of what to do, she took off for the protection of the mountaintops. It would be sundown before her body would change back to human form, hours before she could do anything.

Icy patches of snow still stuck to the moss-covered ground, and rays from the morning light reflected diamonds. The evergreens swayed in the wind, and Hope lay on the ground shivering, her breath like steam from a teapot. The fur that covered her body shielded her from the biting air, but nothing was protecting her heart, and she sobbed.

Hours later, when the catharsis of tears was over, her mind cleared. She could get through this. She would get back into routine, just like Priska said. And she would run. She wouldn’t go flying again; not until she was sure she could control herself, control her emotions. She would still change, there was no way around that, but she would stay in the solitude of her house. No more destruction. No more risks.

The brightness of the sky faded from azure into pinks and lavender on its way to indigo. She stood, and with two powerful beats of her crimson-tipped wings, she lifted into the air.

Remorse pushed her to fly past the farmhouse adjacent to the orchard she’d uprooted. She’d send money. A lot of it. How many years would it take to grow an orchard that size? She shook her head. In the back of her mind, she could hear her mom’s voice cautioning against flying low. She considered the risk that someone might see her, but quickly dismissed it. No human could see this high.

She landed outside the dilapidated building and slipped inside just before the sun dipped below the horizon. She stood up on her haunches, stretching toward the sky, her wings spread wide. As the sun disappeared, she pulled her wings in. They collapsed, folding into her back, and instantly she could feel the pressure of their containment. She felt cramping in her lower extremities, and then a searing pain as the muscles of her haunches extended into human legs. The fur sloughed from her body, dropping like a discarded blanket. Hope thoughtfully brushed her hand over her skin, and dressed.

Twenty-six days until the change

“YOU DID WHAT?”
Priska huffed. “
Skata
, how could you be so careless?”

Sitting on her bed, Hope spilled her guilt out over the phone. “It just happened. I . . . I don’t even know what started it . . . But I want to make it right. Can I send money? I got the address.”

“Call Charlie in the morning. He’ll tell you what needs to happen. You’ll probably need to sign some paperwork, but he can take care of it.” She sighed. “How are you holding up? Besides, the whole—”

Hope wanted to cry. There was a constant ache of loneliness that threatened to swallow her whole. “Fine.” She cleared the emotion from her throat.

“Obviously not, or you wouldn’t have torn up an orchard.” Priska laughed. “An apple orchard—that’s a new one.”

“I’m glad you find it amusing.” Hope bit her tongue. Too late.

“Don’t get all twitted out. It’s not the end of the world. Have Charlie send some coins from your grandmother’s treasure chest and the owner won’t ever have to work again.”

Hope’s grandmother, the first Sphinx, had worked for a pharaoh in ancient Egypt. Her payment in coin and jewels had increased in value over the centuries, not to mention her income as a physician for hundreds of years.

At least they had something to talk about. So many of their calls were just a short check in. Hope missed her aunt. Fiercely.

“Did you locate the conservatory? Have you found any demigods?” What she really wanted to ask was how soon Priska was coming home.

“Yes, actually. I’m hoping they’ll invite me in soon. Gods, I can’t wait to be done.”

“But . . .” More than just the ache of loneliness hit her. Was she a burden? “You want to know, too, right?”

“You know I do. That’s why we’re doing this. I’ll call you tomorrow. Stay safe.”

“You, too.” Hope tapped the
End
button, and dropped her phone on the down comforter. If Priska turned up nothing in the conservatory, then what?