Curse of the Sphinx (25 page)

She couldn’t process. If he could see the Skia . . . “What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about that night in the Dalles? Why didn’t you tell me one was Skia?”

“What are you talking about?” Her fear made her angry. “I . . . I told you. I told you there were two guys. And, I . . . I couldn’t tell you . . .” The sting of betrayal was sharp. He’d been hiding his identity the whole time!

“How was I supposed to know?” He was talking but not even looking at her. Then his attention zeroed in on her. “Come on.” He grabbed her wrist.

His stride cut with purpose, and Hope, clumsy with shock, stumbled behind him.

They got to her house, but Athan led her to his truck. Wordlessly, he opened the door, picked her up, put her inside the cab, and buckled her in.

Neither spoke. When he pulled up to his house, Hope noticed Myrine sitting on the porch staring up at the sky. She glanced up and saw the stars, millions of tiny lights, oblivious to the chaos all around.

His voice pulled her back, “Let’s go inside.”

Dreading whatever was next, she slowly climbed down from the truck.

As they walked toward the darkened house, Myrine turned toward them. “Tread softly, Athan. Where you walk leaves prints in the sand,” she cautioned, as she walked out into the darkness.

He opened the door and flipped the on the lights.

Momentarily blinded, Hope stood rooted in the entryway.

“In here.” His voice was sharp.

“All right.” She could almost smell his fear. She walked into the sitting room and waited.

“So, it seems that we have a little more in common.” He exhaled and shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were immortal?” His eyes bore into her, tension etched in every feature of his face. “All of this could have been so much easier, if you’d just told me.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

His ember of anger flared into flame. “Well, it’s not like I tell—”

“You lied!” Her anger overwhelmed the fear, the fatigue, and the worry.

His head dropped, and he rubbed the back of his neck before his eyes bore into her again. “Point taken. I just . . .” He shook his head. “Skata!” His voice was tight, and he rocked back on his heels. “How much do you know?”

“Know about what? Immortals?” When he nodded, she continued. “I know the academics—demigods have an immortal parent. Skia kill demigods. My mom always kept us on the move; she said it was the best way to keep hidden from Skia.” And you.

He nodded in response, as if he were listening but still thinking. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

He looked at her, questioning. “Really?”

He was asking her age? What in the name of Hades? “Really. I turned seventeen just over a month ago, April fifth.”

He shook his head. “Who is your mom?”

“My mom’s dead, Athan.”

“We don’t have time for this.” He folded his arms across his chest and compressed his lips. “I need the truth.”

Her veins thrummed with adrenaline. “Why don’t you answer some of my questions?”

His brows pulled down. “I can answer your questions later. I need to get—”

“What!?”

“There are Skia after us. I’m trying to assess what I’m dealing with, so I need to know: Who. Is. Your. Mother?”

“SHE’S DEAD!”

He took a deep breath. “FINE! I’ll pretend that’s true. What’s her name?”

She collapsed in the chair. Her chest heaved. Tears ran rivers on her cheeks.

“I’m still waiting. What’s your mother’s name?”

Her voice was small, “Leto.”

“Leto?” He moved so quickly he was just a blur. In his face, his alarm was sharp and pungent. “Are you lying to me?”

She was momentarily dumbfounded. She sucked in air and tried to steady her thoughts.

“Are you lying to me?”

“Stop it!” she screamed. “Just stop!” She shoved him away, and he stumbled back a step. “What about you? Who are you?”

He sighed. “Hermes’s son.”

“Hermes? As in god of thieves?” She shook her head as things fell into place. His ability to persuade. The running. His talent with music and languages. “Of course. What are you doing here?”

“What? I’m trying to figure out—”

“No. What are you doing here in Goldendale?”

“Oh.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m psachno.”

“USUALLY, I DON’T
know who I’m searching for. Sometimes, the gods report their offspring, then it’s easy. Otherwise, I go to areas where either a demigod or another immortal reports someone with potential immortal characteristics, and I check it out. Like what happened with Brand and Chelli. Sometimes, I get lucky, and stumble across someone . . . like you.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Leto? The Titan goddess?”

Her heart skipped a beat. He’d misunderstood.

Leto was a Titan goddess, one of the few that wasn’t bound in the Underworld when the Olympian gods took over. She was goddess of motherhood and modesty, consort to Zeus, mother to Apollo and Artemis. Athan thought her mom was that Leto. He didn’t know.

So what did he know? She ignored his question. Something was missing from his story. “What about the hunting with your dad? The whole lost package thing?”

Athan drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “About forty years ago, my dad led the Sphinx to the underworld. We thought she was dead, hundreds of years ago.” He paused momentarily. “No, thousands of years ago. But it turns out the Sphinx had a daughter, and she was also a Sphinx. Not even a year ago, she died, the daughter of the first . . .” Athan drew in another deep breath. “Recently, someone reported the monster near Goldendale. I’ve been tracking her ever since.” He cleared his throat, looked around the room, then pulled a chair over, and sat across from her, knee to knee.

Her heart stopped, and she wondered if he could hear it. Fear struck, its lashes quick and brutal. He was hunting her.

“Finding you was a fabulous surprise.” His words were gentle, and he moved closer to her, his arms up in surrender. “You saw that Skia at the bonfire, didn’t you? That’s when I first suspected . . .”

She stood, staring at him, the shock overwhelming. He really didn’t know? “Can you take me home? I . . . I need to go home. Right now. Please?”

“No. You need to stay here. It’s protected here. Please, I need to keep you safe.”

She shook her head. “I want to go home. I have a shrine of Hecate, from the goddess herself. I’ll be safe. I just . . . I need to go home.”

“Fine. But tomorrow, we need to get you to a conservatory. It’s the only place you’ll be truly safe.”

Safe? What did that even mean?

Completely dazed, they were at her house before Hope even thought to buckle her seatbelt. She slid from the truck, oblivious to Athan walking beside her until she opened the door and turned on the light.

The deep intake of breath reminded her of his presence.

Before she could say anything, he grabbed her arm. “Hope?” The intensity of his voice was cutting. “What is all of this? You are leaving?”

His glare seared her.

She swallowed, almost afraid to answer. “Yes.”

“You’re moving? Where?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters. To me.” His voice was steel, and then dropped to a whisper. “You were going to leave and not tell me.”

“Athan. You broke up with me. We’re finished.” Part of her wanted to explain, but the risk was too great.

“You planned this before . . . before anything even happened tonight!” His voice trembled with the raw emotion. “Why?”

“You. Broke. Up. With. Me—”

“To keep you safe.” He pulled her collar down exposing the still mottled flesh. “You think I don’t know what this is? There’s only one type of blade that leaves a mark like this. And if you were mortal it would have killed you.” He dropped his arm. “I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to trust me. But you wouldn’t.”

“So you dumped me? How exactly was dumping me going to keep me safe?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. I let my emotions get in the way, but—”

“Well, I decided it would be better to move closer to the city. Regardless of your emotions.”

“Don’t lie to me.” The intensity in his voice was mirrored in his eyes. “I know you care—”

“Don’t lie to you?” She yanked her arm from his grasp, and her eyes narrowed. “All you’ve done is lie to me.”

“That’s not true,” he defended.

“Really? Then tell me, did you ask me out after you were suspicious about my mortality. Is that . . . Is that why you asked me out?” Her voice trailed off to only a whisper as she finished the question. She put it out there, knowing the answer, knowing she would hate hearing the truth.

“Maybe initially, but—”

“And then you broke up with me because I wouldn’t tell you?”

“I wanted you to trust me. And as an immortal . . . I need to take you somewhere safe.” He spoke quickly, as if knowing she would cut him off again.

“What is it with you?” All of her feelings for him turned to ice. “Was everything you did calculated?”

“Of course.” His fingers ran through his hair, making it stick up where it was wet with sweat. “But not the way you’re implying. At first, I was trying to figure out if you were a demigod. There were things about you that are . . . different. And when I started to suspect that you were . . . It’s my job to make sure you are safe. But along the way, something . . . something changed.”

His hesitation put her in physical pain.

“Really?”

He reached his hand out as if to touch her, but dropped it when she pulled back. “This . . . this is different. I’ve . . . I’ve fallen in love—”

“Don’t!” Her voice broke. “Just . . . Stop. Don’t say it.” She was pleading. Tears filled her eyes, and she was fighting to stay in control.

“Come on. You knew that. It’s obvious.”

“I don’t. I thought I did, but . . . I need to leave.” She moved toward the door, but he moved with her. Hope felt the hair on her neck stand up with his proximity.

“Please. Let me help you. Even if you don’t believe me on anything else, I can help you. That Skia, Darren, he’ll be back. And you attacked him. He’ll take that personally. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“You think you can help me?” She yelled. “You are at root of every one of my problems in Goldendale. Since I met you, I’ve seen more Skia than in the rest of my life combined, I’ve had to leave school, and—”

“Those things are not all my fault and you know it,” he cut her off. He took a deep breath, and then, more calmly, continued. “Skia can be anywhere, and once they know who you are—”

“That’s why I have to hide!”

“No. Please listen. I can help.” His eyes were pools of pleading.

She wrenched her hands away as if his touch burned. Unable to stand in front of him any longer, she paced the room. “I was doing fine until you got here.”

“Until I got here?” The spark roared to life. “You weren’t even alive when I got here.” His finger rested on her chest. A vein in his neck pulsed. “I’ll tell you what I see; I see a scared girl pushing away the best help she has because of pride and fear.” He threw his arm back and it hit a stack of boxes. The top one crashed to the floor spilling its contents.

Oh, gods. No.

The Book of the Fates lay on the floor face up.

The deep maroon leather was worn at the corners, and in gold lettering was the inscription Curse of the Sphinx. Next to the book lay the silver dagger with the blood red ruby in its hilt.

Athan stared at the book and the dagger. His gaze went to the golden hilt at her side, then back to the book. Then finally, he looked up at her with wide eyes. “Why do you have that?”

With a few steps forward, Hope bent to grab the book. But he was faster.

He seized it and moved back.

Hope stood still, her hand going to the dagger at her waist.

“Why do you have this? Hope! Why do you . . .” He shook his head. “Oh, gods, you . . . You are the Sphinx?” He took a step forward.

“Don’t come near me.” Adrenaline still ran through her veins, and her heart beat a rhythm of fight or flight. She stepped back again and brought the weapon out in front of her. She didn’t want to fight him, but she would, if he took one step forward.

“Hope. No. I . . . couldn’t . . . I won’t . . .” His face looked stricken, but he remained where he was. “Skata!”

She shook her head. “Just stay back.” He was hunting her. She glanced around her house, and made a split decision. Instinct. Without taking her gaze from him, she continued her pacing backward. Her back hit the door, and she reached for the handle, at the same time as grabbing her keys from the peg.

Without looking back she was running toward her car.

HER EYES BURNED
, but the tears had long since dried by the time Hope pulled into the well-lit lot with the blinking vacancy sign.

After paying for her room, she drove through the parking lot until she located 217 and parked just below the door. She wasn’t sure a second-story room was best, but she had been just as uncertain of a first-story room.

Housekeeping must have left the air conditioning on, and the bite made her shiver as she turned the deadbolt on the door. She surveyed the dark shadows.

Furnishings, she told herself. Wanting to turn on the lights, she battled her fright, and closed her eyes. Afraid of what might be in the room, afraid of who—or what—might see the glow of lights from outside. If someone had followed her . . .

It didn’t matter that she was being unreasonable. She was terrified.

She focused on her breathing. In, two, three, four, five, six. Out, two, three, four. After nine slow breaths, she opened her eyes. Nothing in the room had moved. What was initially lost in shadows was now clearly visible to her adjusted eyes. The bed, armoire, desk, and chairs. A small table sat against the window.

She leaned over, pulled the curtains closed, and secured them to the wall with the table. No one would be able to see through the window. She turned off the air conditioner, turned on the light, and climbed onto the bed.

Twenty-three days until the change

THE FILTERED LIGHT
of the sunrise didn’t wake her. In fact, she hadn’t noticed the sunrise at all. She lay on the bed, staring at the black screen of the television as the room lightened around her. She’d spent the night fretting. What if? What if? What if?

But by the time the sun was up, Hope decided fretting wouldn’t do. She probably hadn’t been fair to Athan, but it didn’t matter. Life wasn’t fair.

As she saw it now, she had two choices. She could run. Or she could stay.

With a sigh, she acknowledged the truth. There was nothing to run to, and there was nothing to stay for. Would running away solve anything? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about much.

Even if she left . . . She needed to go home. Needed to get the Book of the Fates. Needed her statue of Hecate and her other dagger.

She squared her shoulders. She would face whatever was there. And she would deal with it.

AS SHE APPROACHED
the house she saw Athan’s monstrous truck. Of course he was still there. Of course.

Her heart beat furiously, trying to leap from her chest. Mixed emotions warred momentarily before hurt settled hard in her gut.

This was her house. Her stuff. Her space.

How dare he? And yet, she’d expected it, hadn’t she?

She parked the car and stormed into her home.

Athan was lying on the couch, but sat up as soon as she opened the door. The thick, heavy Book of the Fates fell to his lap, lying open somewhere in the middle. With lithe grace, he closed the red leather cover and stood in one movement. He held it out to her.

She crossed the room and snatched the treasured tome, holding it close to her chest. “How dare you?”

He’d been reading her history! The history of the curse. From the divine birth of her great-grandmother and her refusal of Apollo leading to the cursing of her grandmother, the first Sphinx. It was all in there.

He inclined his head, and his eyes closed just too long to be a blink. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Like that would make it better? How much had he read? How much did he know?

She didn’t know what to say. Her eyes bulged, and the lump in her throat wouldn’t go away.