by Raye Wagner
“I thought it would be nice to go to Pike Place Market, and then maybe walk down to the aquarium.”
“Sure.” She threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.
“Great. Priska has work this morning, but said she could meet us for lunch.”
Hope froze, her mouth agape.
“This is me trying to do something a little different,” Leto said as way of explanation.
A little different? This was a lot different. A spark of something warm and exciting tingled as it spread from her chest. A quick dance through her closet found clean jeans and a T-shirt. Hope brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back in a hurry. Her mother could change her mind.
Leto chatted aimlessly about books and movies as they drove across the 520 Bridge, but Hope sat dumbfounded, barely listening. Finally, the suspense made the words explode out of her.
“Why are we doing this?”
Stillness settled between the two of them.
Leto sighed. “I don’t want you to turn out weird. I mean . . . any weirder.”
Weird? Hope laughed. “So, does this mean we’re going to start doing normal things?”
“I . . . I think we should try it. See how it goes. Maybe turn over a new leaf.”
“You mean I can make friends, have study groups . . . go on dates?” Un—freaking—believable. It felt like she had just won the lottery. She didn’t even know what it would mean, but the possibilities stretched out in front of her.
“Don’t push it. Let’s start small and see how things go.”
They parked on the street just south of the market and followed the scent of donuts to a tented stall. Armed with a paper bag full of hot cinnamon-sugar sweets, mother and daughter walked down to watch the mongers throw seafood.
The pungent smell of fish permeated the air. Two men in orange rubber overalls and boots talked with shoppers; another one was filling outstretched hands with samples of salmon jerky.
“TWO RED SNAPPER!” One of the men yelled an order, and then—
“WATCH YOUR HEAD!”
“RED SNAPPER!” A large fish flew through the air.
Hope cringed and ducked.
“SNAPPER ONE!” A man behind the counter caught the fish and ripped a large piece of brown butcher paper. The monger deftly wrapped the large fish, his fingers reaching for a roll of tape.
“RED SNAPPER TWO!”
She turned in time to see another fish soar over her head.
Somehow, the monger caught the fish midair. “SNAPPER TWO!” He turned back and tore another piece of butcher paper.
Her eyes wandered the crowd. At least fifty people were gathered on the sidewalk watching the show. A little girl screamed and pointed at a large fish on an ice display whose jaws were moving up and down. A man’s head bobbed up from behind the counter, and the crowd laughed.
A cloud passed over the struggling summer sun, and a chill blew through the air. Two kids climbed on a large brass pig, and one shouted for her picture to be taken.
Out of the shadows of the stairwell, a man seemed to materialize. Dressed in black, his pallid skin looked almost ashy. With no shirt but a tank top, he should have been cold in the morning air, but he moved through the crowd, as if unaware of the temperature. And no one moved out of his way. He bumped through the throng, not stopping to apologize, and it was almost like the people couldn’t—no, that couldn’t be. It was like they couldn’t see him.
The man looked up at her, and her breath caught. His eyes!
“Mom!” She tugged at Leto’s coat.
Leto, laughing at the fish show, turned to her daughter. “What’s the matter?”
She pointed to the crowd where the apparition had been. Except . . . he was gone. Disappeared. She scanned the surrounding crowd looking for the otherworldly creature. He’d evaporated.
Hope swallowed. If she told her mom what she’d seen, would they ever go out again? “Nothing. I thought I saw something, but . . . it was nothing.”
“By the gods, don’t scare me like that.” Her hand relaxed and came out of her purse empty, but shaking.
Hope hung her head, but her heart was still pumping. “Sorry.”
“No worries.” Leto pulled her phone from her purse, and tapped at the screen. “I’m just telling Priska where we are so she can meet us for lunch. She said she’d be caught up in a couple hours.” She put the phone back and glanced around the square before her eyes settled on Hope. “Let’s go see what else is here.”
“Okay.” Her eyes flitted over the throng, but there was no sign of the dark figure.
They went through countless artisan’s stands, and then into the open-air stalls where piles of produce, herbs, and vegetation surrounded them. The temperature had risen with the climbing sun, and Hope asked when Priska would be there so they could get lunch.
“At least another hour. Oh, let’s get some flowers for her.” Leto surveyed the premade arrangements wrapped in white paper. “You know how she loves Gerbera daisies.” She pointed at a bunch with red and orange blooms.
Hope looked up from the bouquets to see the shadows at the back of the stall shift. A short man dressed in black advanced, his step both graceful and predatory.
This was not the same man she had seen by the Fish Market earlier, and yet his movements were eerily similar, as were his pale skin and dark eyes.
Her heart rate doubled, and instinctively, she stepped back. Her conversation with Priska came crashing back to her. She knew what this was.
“Leto! Hope!” Priska’s petite figure pushed through the crowd toward them. Time seemed to slow.
Leto took the change from the vendor and turned toward her best friend, her expression morphing from excitement to terror. The paper-wrapped bouquet slipped to the ground.
Hope’s eyes shifted from her mother to her aunt, and her muscles tensed even as her vision tunneled. Out of the corner of her eye, the dark figure was coming straight for them. She suppressed the cry that bubbled up her throat.
Priska crashed into them, grabbing at both of them with shaky limbs. Her head jerked side to side, her eyes bulging. “Holy Hades! WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THE GODS ARE YOU DOING HERE?”
Hope’s gaze swung back to the stall. Unable to look away, she watched as the man melted back into the shadows. The vendors were oblivious to him, even after he overturned a bucket of lilies, and one of the workers jumped to save the blossoms from being trampled. No one, not one single person, turned to look at him.
“This place is crawling with Skia!” Priska scolded them. “If I’d known you were coming here . . . I would’ve never agreed—”
Leto shook her head. “I had no idea. I figured with all the people we’d be safe. I even brought the blades. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Skia! Hope’s heart tripped over and over again.
The immortal knives had been passed down by her grandmother, their only protection from immortal beings. Her mom must have them in her purse.
“Of all the places you could’ve picked.” Priska looked back and forth between the two of them. “You haven’t seen any?”
Leto shook her head.
“By the gods, you have incredible luck.” She let out an exhale that sounded like a million worries. “Let’s get out of here.”
They started to the car, walking close together. Hope watched the two vigilant women, then glanced around as if she would see something they missed.
An Asian couple hurried past, the woman speaking in her native tongue. A kid on a scooter, followed by his harried father. A jogging stroller pushed by a woman with neon-orange shoes.
They walked past a bank, and a young man stepped out from the doorway, bumping into her.
“Pardon.”
It took a moment before she realized he’d apologized. When she turned to acknowledge him, he grabbed the brim of his baseball cap and tilted his head at her, effectively blocking most of his face from her view, with the exception of his smile, and . . . a dimple? He was fair, but not i
n a pasty way. He wore short sleeves, and dark tattoos banded his arms. She couldn’t help but stare. He was definitely alive, and definitely not Skia.
Nevertheless, she had the distinct impression he was watching them all the same.
“Hope!” Her mom’s voice broke her focus, and she turned to see the two women standing at her mom’s blue Prius at least a hundred feet up the street. “For the love of Artemis, please stay with us!”
She hurried to the car, but glanced back. The young man was gone.
“Sorry, Mom.” She turned and offered a half smile.
Leto shook her head and pushed the button to unlock the doors.
“Did you see something?” Priska pierced her with her gaze.
She ducked into the car, thinking about her answer. If she told the truth, her newfound freedom would disappear. If she had to pick, death sounded better than isolation.
“She was staring at that boy.” Leto shook her head.
Afraid her voice wouldn’t convey the conviction, and embarrassed that she had been caught by her mother, she deflected, “How did you know there were Skia there?”
“Are you kidding me?” Priska’s brows raised. “There are always Skia, but this area is close to a conservatory for demigods. The more immortals there are around, the more Skia.” She turned back to the front, but her voice was strong, almost angry as she continued, “If they find you, they’ll kill you. In the future, probably best to stay out of downtown.”
“Does this mean we have to go home?” The expectations of a day out began crumbling around her.
“No.” Leto looked at Priska. “No. We’re doing something different. We can go to the mall . . . in Bellevue. And we’ll have lunch on the Eastside, too. There are lots of great restaurants there.”
“Then why didn’t you just stay in Bellevue?” Priska’s muttering carried to the back.
IT WAS RAINING. Not enough to need an umbrella, but the perpetual drizzle of the Pacific Northwest left her hair and her clothing damp.
Hope found an empty seat and dropped her backpack on the floor as she scooted close to the window on the school bus. School had started, and the only good thing about being back was that her entire day was filled with classes. She looked out at the sea of gray. At least it was still light. In another month, it would be dark when she left for school and dark when she got home.
“Is this seat taken?”
The feminine voice was lyrical and soft, and Hope glanced up at a fragile-looking girl whose features were a study in contrasts. She had alabaster skin, black hair, and her eyes were that curious shade of dark blue that was almost lavender. She looked hesitant and scared.
“Go ahead and sit.” Hope turned back to her window.
“Thank you.”
The seat dipped infinitesimally.
She could hear the zipping of the girl’s bag and then the rustle of paper. Curious, she turned her head just enough to see that the girl was reading a book.
Reading was Hope’s crutch, her lifeline, her sanity. “Any good?”
The girl looked up, but made no move to put the book away. “Vampire Night.”
“The first one?”
“Yep. Have you read them?”
She nodded. “Yeah. The first two are really good, but don’t bother with the rest.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “I know!” She put the book in her lap. “I hated so much when Aedan got killed, and then Jaye got together with Bazin, who is so creeptastic. You just knew that he was the instigator of everything against Aedan, and I could almost forgive him, because he loved Jaye so much, but the whole stalking in her house was just too much. By the time Aedan healed, or whatever”—she waved her hands before continuing—“Jaye was duped, and well, you know”—she took her first breath—“I just really hated the ending.”
This girl understood exactly how she felt! “I know, right?” The words seemed foreign in her mouth.
“I’m Sarra Crawford.” The girl extended her hand with a bright smile.
“Hope Nicholas.” She took the proffered hand and was surprised by the thin girl’s firm grip.
“It’s nice to meet you. Have you read the Starvation series?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but the middle book was slow.”
“I thought so, too.” Excitement radiated from her thin frame. “What about Remembrance?”
“Just the first one. I think I got sidetracked with Shattered and then the Defiance series.”
“Oh, yeah! I loved Defiance. And Shadows…swoon.” The girl tilted sideways and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “Andrew was so yummy in that one.”
The bus stopped in the lot outside of school. It was the first time a bus ride had felt so . . . fast.
Sarra shoved her book back in her backpack and stood. But it would be another couple of minutes before the boys up front let them get off.
“Zeus and Hades! I’m so glad I sat next to you.” Sarra sat back down. “I was just certain I wouldn’t make any friends at this place. We moved here three days ago, and I had no idea that I needed designer clothes to avoid social suicide.” Sarra looked at the front of the bus and then back. “It’s not the most friendly place on earth, huh?” She blushed. “I mean, you’re friendly and all. I just . . . I had a really bad day yesterday.”
Hope couldn’t believe that the girl could have so much inside just bursting to come out. Or how fast it would come out.
Sarra’s eyes widened, and then she looked at her shoes. “But maybe you don’t want to be friends . . .” She swallowed.
Crap! “Yeah, I mean, no.” Why couldn’t her brain keep up with her tongue? “No, I do want to be friends. That would be . . . nice.”
Sarra let a big breath out. “Oh good.”
The two walked down the black rubber tread and stepped off the humid bus. The misty drizzle pushed them to hurry to get under cover.
“So what classes do you have?”
Sarra’s eyebrows pulled together. “We’re in the same English, math, and chemistry classes.”
Hope nodded, now remembering Mr. Jones, the English teacher, introducing a new student yesterday. “Sorry. I guess I was kind of out of it yesterday.” It must’ve sucked missing the first day of school and having to be introduced in each class. She pulled open the metal door leading to the student union, and they flowed through with a wave of adolescents.
“No worries,” Sarra said as they walked to the lockers.
The smell of wet leather, hair gel, body odor, and lemon disinfectant competed to overwhelm her. She needed to get out of the mass of people so she pushed to the stairwell.
Sarra followed, still talking. “It’s a good thing I was paying attention.”
Hope turned back to her new friend. “What other classes do you have?”
“Spanish, Modern Myths, and Voice. But sometimes I think the electives they offer—”
“Do you have Mrs. Lourdes for Spanish?” Hope sat down on the step. The smells were stale in the windowless well.
The petite girl nodded. “And Smith for Myths. Are you taking a mythology this semester?”
“Yeah, I have Stevenson for Myths and Legends.”
Hope heard humming. She realized she had heard it on the bus, too, before they started talking. “You sing a lot?”
Sarra laughed. “Was I singing on the bus?”
“Just humming.”
She nodded. “My dad says it’s my first language. Music. English is my second.”
The bell rung, and the two girls pushed back into the hallway to go to class.
Fifty-one days since last move
“CAN I HAVE friends?” Hope dropped her backpack on the floor and shut the door with her foot.
“What?” Leto stopped chopping carrots and looked at her.
Their gold eyes met, and Hope refused to back down. “You heard me. I met someone I think would be a good friend.”
She could see her mother’s jaw clench and her chin jut forward. The small apartment seemed
to close in as the tension radiated from mother to daughter.
“What’s his name?”
What was wrong with her mom? “Why would you think it was a boy?” She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of carrot sticks from the wooden board.
Her mom exhaled and her shoulders dropped. “I don’t know. I guess you’re getting older, I thought maybe . . . Never mind. What is her name?” She resumed chopping the large carrots into thinner wedges.
“Sarra. Sarra Crawford. We have some classes together, and I thought she could come over and study with me.”
Leto’s eyebrows pulled down. “You need help studying?”
Hope wanted to laugh. “Uh, no. She needs help. She’s practically failing math, and her dad’s gone all the time. We got partnered up last week for quizzes and I corrected hers. Anyway, she asked for help. I told her I had to check with you.” She hopped up on the speckled counter and reached for more carrots.
“What about her mom?” Leto rifled through the Tupperware drawer and pulled out a container and lid.
“Her mom left. Like five or six years ago. It’s just her and her dad.”
Her mom said nothing as she put the carrots into the plastic cube.
Hope counted the seconds, knowing the quiet meant it could go either way.
“Where does she live?”
“Right here. In our complex. Please mom, I promise you’ll like her.” What she wasn’t saying was how nice it was to have someone to eat lunch with, to visit with between classes, to chat with at the bus stop.
“It won’t last. Sooner or later, we’ll have to move again.”
“I know.” The whisper was laced with resignation for the inevitable.
Leto nodded. “Okay.”
Hope pulled out her phone and texted her friend.
Two minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Sixty-five days since last move
THEY SAT ON the bed doing geometry homework.
“How did you do number eight? I’m stuck.” Sarra’s soft voice almost sounded as if she were singing the words.
Hope moved over. She was explaining the Pythagorean theorem when Leto stuck her head into the room.