Curse of the Sphinx (11 page)

THE INTERCOM BUZZED
. “Ms. Biggers?”

Hope flinched. The cumulative lack of sleep and panic had settled into hopelessness and dread. Perhaps it was paranoia, but something in her gut told her this was for—

“Please send Hope Treadwell to the office.”

She could feel the weight of twenty-two pairs of eyes, and flushed.

She’d gotten back to Goldendale last night, but without any reassurance about Priska her anxiety remained high, and she’d hardly slept the last six nights. She reached over and grabbed her backpack.

“Go ahead, Hope. Get your things together,” said Ms. Biggers, waving her hands. “You can get the assignment from Krista later.”

Hope stopped her hand midair.
Right
. She glanced at Krista just in time to see her turn away with a sneer. At least the feeling was mutual.

She stepped out into the hall and trudged to the office.

“Go ahead and sit there, Miss Treadwell.” Ms. Slate indicated a row of hard plastic chairs. “Mr. Jeffers will be with you shortly.”

Shortly.
Was that code for time to stress you out more?

Hope tapped her foot; the anxiety demanded some form of release. The trip last week to Seattle had been completely unfruitful. After waiting three days at Priska’s apartment, she went to see Mr. Davenport. Priska had been in contact with him the entire time she’d been gone, too. But all communication from her had stopped. Her last text was to Mr. Davenport about a minute after the one Hope got, promising to call in the morning with travel arrangements. Then, nothing.

Mr. Davenport had tried to locate her through tracking her phone, but the last known location of her phone was Atlanta. He’d filed a missing person report with the police. He’d even hired a private investigator to look for her.

On the sixth day, Mr. Davenport pushed Hope to go back to school, and promised to continue to marshal all his “resources” to locate Priska.

“She didn’t believe it was safe for you on this side of the mountains, Hope. Too many demigods here. Go back and hide where you’re safe. I’ll let you know the minute I find out anything,” he said.

So she’d come back.

“Mr. Jeffers will see you now.” Ms. Slate interrupted her reverie.

Hope sighed.

She opened the door and walked into a plain, functional office. A metal desk sat in the middle of the room. Wire baskets filled with papers sat on either side of the computer screen in the center of the desk. The overhead lighting was off, but sunlight lit the room. The shades were adjusted so a beam streamed right into the chair opposite Mr. Jeffers’s desk.

“Ah, Miss Treadwell.” Mr. Jeffers wheeled out from behind his desk in a sleek wheelchair. “Thank you for coming in.” He extended his hand. His fair skin contrasted with curly brown hair, just starting to gray at the temples. He wore a short-sleeved polo, and she could see the cording of muscles in his forearms.

Hope shook his calloused hand. “Of course, sir.”

“Pull up a chair.” He pointed at the hot seat, then wheeled around behind his desk. “You seem to have disappeared for a few days.” He glanced down at something on his desk, then back at her. “Four, to be exact.”

She nodded.

“Would you like to elucidate?”

“My aunt . . . disappeared, and I was . . . worried. I went to see if I could find her.”

Mr. Jeffers nodded. “And did you?”

She shook her head.

“Hmm. Are you close to your aunt?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But you don’t live with her?”

“No, sir. She lives in Seattle.” Dang! The seat was uncomfortable as well as warm. Hope shifted trying to pull out of the light.

“And she’s not your guardian, correct?”

“That’s correct. She travels, and we thought—” What was he getting at?

“So the responsibility for your education falls on . . .” His head dipped at her meaningfully.

“Me?”

“And here we come to the crux of it, Miss Treadwell. You’ve been at our school for a little over a month and you’ve had six absences. All . . . unexcused.” He tapped the paper in front of him. “Are you unwell?”

She swallowed. “No, sir.”

“You’ll not find me unreasonable.” He sat back and spread his arms wide. “But, I don’t write the laws, Miss Treadwell. At ten absences I have to report you to the truancy board. I imagine at that point your emancipation may come under scrutiny.” He sighed and wheeled out from behind his desk. “You’re skating on thin ice. I would hate for you to get in over your head.”

Too late
.

“If you need to talk with someone, I can arrange for you to meet with Mrs. Rossi, our school counselor.”

Mrs. Rossi, aka Angela’s mom. “No, thank you.”

“Then I suggest you get caught up in your classes.” He indicated the door with a wave of his hand. “Good day.” He turned to his computer screen, effectively dismissing her.

Good day? Who said
that
anymore?
She left, stopping to get a note from Ms. Slate before heading back to class.

So what was she going to do when she changed?

Nine days before the change

“EXCUSE ME?”
WHAT
was her name?
Gods, if only she’d paid more attention when all those girls introduced themselves. She leaned forward, entering the girl’s personal space. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but . . .” She hated to admit it. “I need some help.”

The brunette sat up her eyes wide. “Oh. Hope. Hi.” Her smile was tentative. “What can I do for you?”

“I . . . I need to borrow notes . . . from last week . . .” Her heart was hammering in her chest. “Please?”

The young woman’s smile spread. “Sure. No problem. I’ll print them off for you during computer lab, ’kay?” She leaned toward Hope. “Are you okay? I heard about you having to see Mr. Jeffers. He can be a real jerk.” She made duck lips.

“No, I mean, yeah.”
What was she saying?
“Um, Thanks.”

“So where’d you go?” The girl followed Hope out of the classroom and toward her locker.

“Over to Seattle.”

“Oh.” The girl nodded. “The rumor was you skipped town, you know, ran away, but obviously that’s not true. I mean, why would you run away? Seattle’s awesome. I love it over there. Have you been to Pike Place Market?”

“Yeah. But it’s been a while.”

“Cool.” The bell rang. “Well, I’ll see you later, ‘kay?” The girl gave her a wave and walked off.

Weird.

As promised, the brunette girl gave Hope a stack of notes at the beginning of Spanish. There at the top of the page was her name. Haley.

Hope wanted to start looking at them right then, but Haley lingered at her desk.

“I was thinking,” Haley started. “If you’re not busy Saturday night, you should totally come to the river with us. I mean, me. I mean, there will be a ton of other people there, but, it would be cool to have you come, too. If you want. I could pick you up.”

Was she serious?
Hope stared at Haley, her mind processing the request.

The bell rang.

“Great. ‘Kay then.” And Haley walked to her seat in the back of the room.

Five days before the change

HOPE TAPPED PRINT
and listened as the paper fed through the printer. There was something decidedly satisfying about finishing a paper. She’d spent the entire day on missed assignments, and there were only a couple of worksheets left and she’d be caught up in all her classes.

She stacked the papers, then stapled them together.

A glance out the window to the deepening sky told her she had plenty of time to finish her chemistry before bed.

If she wanted. But she really didn’t want to. She was over it. Tired of typing. Tired of writing. Tired of balancing and equating. Tired of translating. Over it.

Hope grabbed her phone from the desk, and pushed the
Power
button. Still no messages. Her stomach knotted in worry.

Please call me. Please text me. Please let me know you’re ok!

Her finger hovered over the
Send
button. Every day, she sent a worded plea to Priska’s phone. Every day she checked for a reply. Every. Single. Day. She clicked send, hoping this one would be the one.

Hoping but not believing.

Knock knock
.

“Hey, Hope, it’s me, Haley.”

Oh blast. She
was
being serious about going to the river tonight.

Hope opened the door a crack. “Hey, Haley.”

Haley’s eyes widened as she looked Hope over. “You’re going in your pajamas? Ugh. I wish I’d thought of that.” Haley was wearing jeans, dark leather boots, and a brown fleece jacket.

“Um, no. I wasn’t planning on—”

“You aren’t going to come?” Haley’s shoulders dropped. “Really?”

Hope looked around her house. What else was she going to do? Everything she’d ever been taught said she shouldn’t go. Even her own experiences were evidence that it wouldn’t end well. And yet, sitting at home alone, again . . .

“No, I’ll come. But, let me put some jeans on. Just give me five?”

Hope changed quickly, and soon they were on the road.

“Do you think Tristan’s cute?” Haley asked as she drove. “I mean it’s okay if you do, but I didn’t want to, you know, try and hook up, if you were interested, or something.”

Hope squirmed. “Nope.”

Haley veered the car to the right as she looked at Hope. “No you don’t think he’s cute?”

Hope stomach churned. “No, I’m not interested. I guess he’s cute.” Did it matter?

“Cute, but not demigod cute, huh?” Haley sighed.

Hope’s stomach churned.

“Not that we’ve had one here for, like, a year at least.” Haley paused. “Although maybe Athan is one. He’s hot enough, anyway.”

Hope nodded.

“What about you?”

Hope frowned. “What about me?”

“Are you a demigod?”

Was that why Haley had asked her to come tonight? “No.”

“I didn’t think so. I mean you’re pretty, and all. But—” She snapped her fingers over and over. “I don’t know. You just don’t seem the type.”

“You’ve known that many demigods?” A desire to open the door and flee clutched her.

“A couple.” She shrugged.

The silence stretched into awkwardness, but Hope didn’t know what to say.

“My best friend was a demigod,” Haley said. “But they got her a couple years ago.”

“Who got her?” Even as she asked, she knew the outcome wouldn’t be good. The mood dropped from awkward to somber.

They pulled into the parking lot, but Haley made no move to get out of the car. She turned to Hope. “Skia got her.”

THEY GATHERED AROUND
the fire, like bugs to light. Or like cold humans to warmth . . . because they were.

It
was
freezing. Was there a way to ask Haley to take her home, or would that be rude?

Several of her classmates roasted marshmallows, others sipped at cans in their laps. The conversations were in twos and threes, and Hope stood in the shadows watching. She felt the warmth of someone behind her and turned.

“What’s the matter? Don’t want to mingle with the trash of Goldendale?” Athan whispered.

Hope stepped away. “I didn’t . . . No. I didn’t say that.”

“Then why are you over here by yourself?” He smirked.

The cold air nipped at her ears and nose. “Why are you?” She glared.

“A better view.” He raised his brows.

The wind shifted and the smoke stung her eyes. She coughed and stepped away from Athan and into a group of girls.

Tristan stood up and yelled for attention. “Hey! Story time! Everyone quiet down. Athan, come tell us a story.”

Haley grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to the fire and the large group there. “Come on, you’ll want to hear this,” Haley said.

“Uh, okay. But no scary stuff,” a freckle-faced boy said.

“Oh, are you scared?” The brawny teen that had tried to help her to her locker when she first moved in teased. “Lee, you’re such a girl. Better run—”

“No, you pissy harpy, there are ladies here, and maybe—”

“I’ve got a good story.” Athan stepped into the firelight and cut off the bickering. “I think you’ll like it. Even the ladies.” He winked at the group of girls Hope and Haley hovered around.

Silence settled.

Athan began, “When the Olympians were still young and involved in their rule of this sphere, Atalanta was born. Her father, King Iasus, was so disappointed that the babe was not a son, he took his newborn daughter into the woods and left her to die.

“But the gods smiled on the young one, and a mother bear adopted the infant. Atalanta’s first years were those of a cub: wrestling, hunting, running, and climbing. When she was still a young girl, a passing hunter saw her kill a doe with only her hands.

“The hunter was married but childless, and he took the girl home to his wife. The couple recognized that Atalanta was strong in mind and body, and encouraged her to develop her talents.

“Atalanta became renowned. Famous because of her physical prowess and hunting skills, she was invited to participate in the Calydonian Boar Hunt. Of all the hunters, she won the trophy for drawing first blood. She gained further fame after defeating Peleus in a wrestling match. Peleus was Achilles’s father.

“Not only was Atalanta strong and brave, she was beautiful. However, she saw no use for a man—for what could he do that she could not?”

“Hey, hey,” Brawny Jock interrupted, “I could show her something.”

“Yeah, you could show her your mama’s house and your mama’s car—”

“Shut up.” Haley’s soft voice was unusually forceful. “I want to hear the story.”

“Of course you do.” Tristan laughed, and winked at her.

Athan continued, “A few tried to take advantage of the young lady; all were injured, most were killed.

“After all her accomplishments and renown, her father, Iasus, finally acknowledged her as his child and brought her home. Once there, Iasus tried to fulfill his parental responsibility and find Atalanta a husband.

“Disgusted with the idea, but not wishing to offend her father, she proposed that she would wed the first man to beat her in a foot race. However, if she won the foot race, the losing suitor would be beheaded. Iasus agreed.

“Despite Atalanta’s famed athleticism, there were many suitors. And soon, many heads.

“A young man named Melanion was desperately in love with Atalanta. He knew he couldn’t beat her on his own and prayed to Aphrodite for aid. His impassioned plea touched the goddess of love, and she agreed to help the young man. With one condition: Melanion must perform a sacrifice to Aphrodite prior to the wedding. Melanion agreed.

“Aphrodite gave Melanion three golden apples, fruit of the gods. She explained that the apples would be irresistible to Atalanta, and Melanion should carry them in the race.

“The next morning, Melanion sought Atalanta’s hand. It had been some time since a race, and the crowd was large. The race began, and Melanion struggled to keep pace with Atalanta. Just as she was starting to pull away, Melanion tossed a golden apple at her feet.

“Atalanta’s desire for the ripe, celestial fruit overwhelmed her. She stopped to retrieve the apple and consumed it on the spot. Even with the delay, Atalanta was confident the interruption wouldn’t affect the outcome of the race.

“She did, in fact, catch up with Melanion, but not until almost halfway through the race. When Atalanta was about to pass the young man, he again threw a golden apple, this time a bit off the racecourse.

“Having tasted the exotic fruit, Atalanta’s desire was heightened, and she again stopped to recover the apple. Unable to postpone her pleasure, she devoured it.

“This cost valuable time, but she was fast. She caught up to Melanion just before the finish line, and was set to beat him when he tossed the last apple just out of Atalanta’s reach. Atalanta debated for only a second before she claimed the last of the heavenly crop.

“The decision cost Atalanta the race, and Atalanta and Melanion were married that afternoon. In his excitement, Melanion forgot all about his promise to Aphrodite.

“But the gods don’t forget. The young couple was walking past a temple of Zeus when Aphrodite struck. The pair was so overcome with desire and passion, they consummated their love within the sacred shrine of the god. Offended at this desecration, Zeus turned the lovers into lions.”

There was silence.

“THAT’S
IT
?” Brawny Jock broke the silence.

Athan nodded.

“Seriously? That is so . . .” He paused as though thinking of an adjective.

“LAME!” Krista exclaimed. “What kind of story is that? Why did the gods have to screw it up?”

“Do you think so?” Athan’s accent became more pronounced, his words flowing together. He looked at Krista for a moment, and then turned to Hope. His voice dropped, “What did you think of it?”

She shook her head. “It sounds like typical Greek mythology to me.” She hated the story, but had been as entranced as the rest while he spoke.

“Hmm.” He looked at a couple on the other side of the fire and walked toward them.

“Do you believe the gods are still involved in this world, Athan?” Tristan asked.

He stopped and turned. “Does it matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I claimed to be agnostic or atheist, would it change anything?” Athan sighed. “It would be nice to believe gods don’t exist, but . . . You know that story about Atalanta?”

Collectively they nodded.

Hope held her breath.

“The gods don’t fix problems. They make bigger ones. Every story, every myth, every legend ends tragically for a human. Gods have amazing powers, but they leave a path of destruction and never think about the consequences that others have to deal with.”

“So you don’t worship the gods?” Tristan asked.

“Worship them?” Athan laughed, but the sound was mirthless. “Do any of you worship the gods? Have any of you even been to a temple in the last year to make an offering?”

“I did.” Tristan’s voice was steady, “Last spring with my dad. We made an offering to Demeter.”

“Did it work? Were your crops more plentiful?” Hope couldn’t help the words tumbling from her mouth. There was desperation in them, a want so substantial it almost choked her.

“It was their best harvest ever.” Haley smiled.

There was momentary hope in the words.

Tristan shook his head. “We had our best harvest ever, but my dad promised Demeter ‘anything.’” He held his hands up, and made air quotes. “I don’t think he would have made that promise if he’d known the cost.”

“What happened?” Hope asked.

“My mom left. Told us all good-bye, that she loved us, and then she left.” The words were choked with emotion. “She’s a priestess, or whatever they’re called, in that temple off Highway 97. We can go see her whenever we want, but . . .”

A heavy weight settled over the group.

“By the gods, you people are such downers!” Krista blasted. “She was probably going to leave anyway.” She stood up and grabbed a beer. “Anyone else want to drown that depressing story?”

Several hands went up, and Krista passed out cans.

Someone threw another log on the fire. The wood popped, and sparks floated in the air.

Hope shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, and moved toward the orange glow.

The shadows shifted.

A man walked toward them from the parking lot. There was something familiar about his stride that Hope struggled to place. He crossed under a street lamp, the light reflecting on his pallid skin. His relaxed pace at odds with the bitter cold.

The girl talking with Athan screamed.

A heartbeat of silence.

Hope swallowed, and her hands clenched. She knew exactly what he was, and her heart pounded. She looked around at the crowd of teens, but they were singularly focused on the girl.

“What the Hades, Chelli?” Krista glared.

A few nervous chuckles.

“Stop trying to freak everyone out.” Athan laughed. Then more quietly, “You should go. Now.” Athan ushered the girl, and her boyfriend, away with a wave.

Conversations erupted, a cacophony of sound, the kids completely unaware of the creature in their midst.

The Skia reached into his coat.

She should do . . . something. What should she do? What could she do? In the back of her mind she heard her mother’s panic. But it never solidified, instead teasing at the corners of her consciousness.

Hope stood transfixed, her gaze darted from Athan to the Skia. But Athan never even looked at it. He saw the two other students to their car, and casually came back to the fire.

And the Skia . . . was gone. She squinted into the night, but the inky blackness was only a void. Her gaze drifted back to the attractive young man.

“So you’re interested in Athan?” Krista sneered, and flipped her dark hair behind her shoulder. “He doesn’t even know you exist, you know?”

Hope shrugged. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t interested in him anyway. Not really.

“You might be kinda pretty, but you’re not his type.”

Ignore. Ignore. Please go away!

“Are you dumb? Gods! Just stay away from him.” Krista sauntered past, bumping Hope on the way.

Hope sighed.

“It won’t work,” Tristan said. He and Haley walked up to Hope.

She turned to them. “What won’t?”

“Even if you don’t pay attention to her, she’ll just take it as a challenge,” Haley said. “She really sucks.” Her eyes widened, and she turned to Tristan, “Uh, I mean—”

“I don’t like her either,” he said.

Hope looked down, and noticed they were holding hands.

“Anyway,” he continued, “you looked like you were going to try the whole ignoring thing. Like, if you pretend she doesn’t exist, she’ll go away. We just thought you should know it won’t work.”

Great.

Just great.

Two days before the change

“HOPE!” MR. STANLEY
smiled as she approached. “It’s so nice to see you.”

She wanted to smile, but her heart hurt. She surveyed the contents of the meat case. “What’s the best?”

“Hmm. The skirt steak is on sale, and if you slice it thin, it makes excellent fajitas.”

She stared at the case. Fajitas sounded like so much work.

“Or, you could go with a tri-tip.” When she didn’t answer, he bent over to meet her eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” No. Not at all. Haley and Tristan had been correct about Krista. She was making it her personal mission to destroy Hope’s popularity. Unfortunately for them both, it seemed to be backfiring. The tension at school, coupled with tension about Priska, and curse day only two days away . . .