by Raye Wagner
BETWEEN THE SKIA, the hours in the car, the stress of school, and Athan being unavailable, Hope felt like she would explode. All she wanted was to go for a run. The late afternoon sun lolled on the horizon, keeping the night chill at bay. The smell of summer played on the wind. And Hope decided she would not let fear rule her actions. With resolve, she strapped her golden dagger at her hip before she left the house.
Hope took a deep breath and started at a jog.
She would not worry about Mr. Jeffers.
She would not worry about Skia.
She would not worry about Athan.
She would not worry about Priska.
She would not worry . . .
The tension in her shoulders and back drained as she pounded the pavement. Sweat dripped from her hairline, leaving tracks down her face and neck. Her tank top was saturated.
It was good to be home. Everything was going to be okay.
She’d looped through the town twice, and was halfway through a third loop when she saw Athan’s truck at the school, in the back lot. Had it been there this afternoon?
Hope walked to it and put her hand on the hood. Wasn’t that supposed to tell you if it had been driven recently? Gods, she’d make a terrible spy. She looked around but didn’t see him. She went to the school, on the pretense of getting a drink, but the doors were locked.
She crossed the empty bus lot as the sun continued its descent leaving orange only on the horizon.
Athan’s truck still sat unoccupied.
She turned to go home, and crossed the street, passing by the abandoned factory.
This time she could feel his presence even before she saw him.
Nausea roiled through her, and the smell of decay travelled on the breeze.
The Skia stepped out from the shadows; the tall figure’s sallow appearance bordered on emaciated. He walked with a limp, as if the bone had not been set right after their fight last night.
Her fear turned to anger. But her training dictated her actions unconsciously. She stepped back, coiled to run.
“It won’t do any good,” he rasped. “I can follow you, monster. Through the shadows, I can see you.”
Her muscles tensed. “What do you want?” She gritted her teeth. He was well out of striking distance, and despite her anger, she’d rather not fight him. “Why did you attack me?”
“You are wanted by my master.”
“Hades?” She clasped her clammy hands to her hips. She could throw the immortal dagger, but she wasn’t trained to work with blades. Her fingers itched to reach for the weapon, or to close the gap and beat him. But . . . She reined her emotions in. Fight smart, not angry.
He stepped toward her. “You are very ignorant.”
She gritted her teeth. Even if it was true she didn’t want to hear it. She stepped away. “Did you kill that man? In the Dalles?”
He chuckled. “You mean the spawn of Dionysus? Why would you care? If he had found you alone, he would have killed you . . . or worse.” He tilted his head.
With his eyes just all-black orbs, it was impossible to see exactly what he was looking at.
“I would have been fine.” Hope spit out.
He nodded. “Perhaps.” He pulled out a black blade. “But you are not invincible.”
Her anger pulsed in waves, and all her training flashed through her mind. The first lesson in self-defense is to use your voice as a weapon.
“Stop!” Hope issued the command. She gripped the gold dagger with the blade pointing down, and held it close to her chest. She took another step back. “Go back to your master and tell him there is nothing here for him. I am not dead.”
The Skia chuckled, and he dissolved into a shadow.
That was almost too . . .
Hope let out a sigh of relief, but her shoulders stopped midslump as cold metal rested at her throat.
His cold breath was like sleet against her skin, and he whispered in her ear, “You do not command me.” He grabbed her shoulder; his icy grip chilled from skin to bone.
Her pulse jumped a staccato arrhythmia, as fear pulsed through her. Her knife slipped through her fingers, clattering to the ground.
“Not now, not ever.” He pulled the icy blade across her skin. “I will take you, and you can’t stop me.”
A tingling sensation gave way to shards of ice bludgeoning down her neck and into her chest. The pain was unreal, and she gasped. Blood welled at the cut, then dripped down, staining the collar of her tank black in the twilight. She could feel him pulling her back, dragging her, but she couldn’t find any strength to fight it.
“Sphinx,” he hissed.
She glanced behind her and saw him step into the shadows.
Oh. Gods.
He dragged her closer to the darkness, and she watched in terror. He’d completely disappeared into the blackness of Hades except for his arms.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry.
This was not how she was supposed to die.
He yanked her forward, and it felt as if she’d hit a brick wall.
Pain blossomed and flowed from her scalp to her chest. Icy tendrils stabbed in pin-like projections, and the Skia pulled at her again and again, slamming her into an invisible barrier.
He swore, and then the tension was gone. Hope fell to the ground. Her head dropped, and she vomited. Wave after wave of glacial pain stabbed her.
She screamed, and then sobbed, begging for mercy, as her tears turned the dirt to mud.
But the pain would not stop.
Her cries grew weak, and when she collapsed, it was with a plea for death.
But, death had refused her.
The night sky was dotted with silver when Hope rolled over. She blinked again and again, the pain waning ever so slowly, and Hope shivered with the cold. The pain in her chest persisted, it’s throbbing, an unremitting thump-thump. With a deep breath, she pulled herself up onto her hands and knees.
The ground spun, and then settled.
She waited.
The sour smell of vomit clung to her hair, and her shirt was sticky with her own blood.
Hope tried to suppress the shuddering cold as she crawled to the sidewalk. Using a street sign, she dragged herself upright. When the world stopped spinning, she staggered home in the shadows.
By the time she got through the door, she didn’t care that she smelled of vomit and blood and sweat. She didn’t care about anything. She pushed the door closed, and fell to the floor exhausted.
Twenty-four days until the change
THE SUN STREAMED through the open curtains. Hope turned to get out of the light, and groaned. The stabbing pain had been replaced by a dull throbbing, and the shaking chills had left her sore and achy. But she was alive. And glad for it.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the image of Hecate. She never really believed it before, that the little statue kept the Skia from her house, kept them from crossing through her doorways. She wanted to carry the effigy everywhere, and at the same time she was bitter that the gods had that much power. With a grunt of disgust, she stood.
The shower was pure heaven. Clean clothes like nirvana. And her bed . . .
Elysium.
It felt like minutes later that the noise forced her to peel her eyes open.
Not even seconds later, the knocking was accompanied by her phone chiming.
“Just a minute,” she shouted, then looked at her phone. Haley.
“Hello?” She answered the phone as she pulled an oversized sweatshirt from her floor.
“Where have you been?” Haley’s question sounded like an accusation.
Hope pulled the hoodie on, then held the phone back to her ear. “Home.”
“All weekend? I came by Hope. You weren’t there.”
Hope crossed through the house while she talked. “Yes, all weekend. I . . . I was sick. I must have picked up something while I was in Seattle.” She peeked through the peephole.
Athan.
“Listen, Haley,
Athan just got here. Call you back a little later?”
Haley laughed. “No. I’ll just see you in school tomorrow. You’re well enough to come, right?”
“Yep. See you tomorrow.” Hope pressed End and turned to Athan.
Athan stood before her in jeans and a pale olive sweater. His scent tickled her senses, and she drank him in. There were dark circles under his eyes that told of too little sleep, but the jade jewels sparkled with emotion. She could see the hint of joy that played at the corners of his mouth. She wanted to fling the door open and pull him in.
“Hey.” She tried for a casual smile, but her grin broke through and she reached for him.
“Hey, yourself.” His voice was low and soft, and his hands felt rough when he touched her cheek. He pressed his lips to hers. “Can I come in?”
Emotion ignited between them, and she couldn’t look away. “Of course.” She backed away from the door, allowing him passage.
“How was your weekend?” she asked, noting his sallow appearance. His hands were scraped, and there was a fresh scab on his neck that was long and thin.
“Loads of fun.” His smile was wry and his voice heavy with sarcasm. He moved to the couch, and patted the cushion next to him. “What about you? Did you do anything fun?”
“No.” She waved her hand around the house as she continued. “I cleaned house and finished my mythology essay. And then I got sick.” She collapsed on the couch and snuggled close to him.
“Finished your mythology essay? The final?” Athan pursed his lips. “The one that isn’t due for another week?”
She nodded. “I know I’m a nerd.” Her laugh was tinged with embarrassment. “I heard you went hunting?”
He sat up. “Who told you that?”
“Tristan.”
“Oh.” He sat back. “He must have misunderstood.”
“Well, you look like you’ve been in boot camp or survival training.” She reached out and traced the scab on his neck.
“You’re not far off,” he replied with a snort. “It felt like boot camp. I was working for my dad.”
“Working for your dad? I thought you said your dad owned a courier business?” She frowned, pulling away to look at him.
“Yeah, and a guide service.” He shrugged with the reminder.
“So were you delivering a package or giving a tour?” She worried the tassels of a pillow.
“I was searching for something that got lost.”
“A package got lost?” She swallowed. “Or a person?” What kind of business was this? And why did he look like he’d been in a war zone?
Athan laughed. “Don’t worry.” He took her hand away from the pillow fringe.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” It shouldn’t matter, but it did.
“No,” he replied, staring down at their entwined hands. “But I’m close. I know it,” he whispered to himself. He traced circles on the back of her hand. “What about you? What did you get sick with?”
Hope relayed the same lie she’d told Haley only minutes before.
“Ugh, that’s awful.” His gaze travelled over her face and stopped at her neck a moment. “All better now, though?” His eyes met hers.
She nodded.
“Well, that’s lucky.” He touched the base of her throat. “Are you feeling up to going to the observatory? We could go look at the stars.”
She flinched at his touch as much as the suggestion. “I think I’d rather stay in, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Sure. What do you want to watch?”
He shrugged. “You choose.”
He released her hand, and she stood to put something in the DVD player. She grabbed the case that was sitting on top of the rest of the stack: What’s Up, Doc? Her mom’s favorite. She put it in and pushed Play.
Athan stretched out the length of the sofa. “Here, come lay down in front of me,” he said.
She shook her head. “No. You look like you need it. I’ll sit right here.” She grabbed a couple of pillows and made a makeshift chair up against the couch. She took his hand and draped it over her shoulder.
He leaned forward, and she twisted to meet his lips. The kiss was tender and soft, and Athan pulled away with a smile. “Do you want to watch the movie . . . or something else?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“No, let’s watch the movie. I think you’ll like it, and I could use a laugh.”
They both chuckled and hooted throughout the movie, the slapstick humor was ridiculous, charming, and . . . distracting. It was just what she wanted—really, what she needed. When it was over, he grabbed a pillow from the couch and stretched out on the floor next to her.
“That was hysterical.”
“I’m glad you liked it. My mom said you could always judge a person’s sense of humor by watching that movie with them.”
“Oh, so it was a test?” He arched his brow.
“Yeah,” she countered, “and you failed. Miserably.” She reached out and touched his nose.
“Do you think your mother would have liked me?”
She sighed. “Yeah.” But she wouldn’t let me be with you. We would’ve moved as soon as you showed interest in me, or me in you. I would have been gone before you knew it. The thoughts came unbidden and unwanted, and she fought for control.
“Hope.” He touched his finger to her lips. “I’m crazy about you.”
Thoughts scattered into a swirl of colors, and her breath caught. “Really?”
He pulled back. “Haven’t I made it obvious?”
She reached out and stroked the tired shadows, traced his nose, and then his lips. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t lie, and there was no way to down play her feelings.
“I’m pretty crazy about you, too.” The truth tore at her heart.
“Is that a problem?” His brows pinched together.
“No, it’s just . . .”
“You know you can trust me, right?”
“I do trust you.” But even as she said the words, she knew they were a lie.
“Come here.” He stood and pulled her up to him. His fingers traced her lips, and he drew closer. “You have turned my world upside down, and I don’t think it will ever be the same.” Their breath mingled, and his scent was overwhelming.
It was too much. She took a step back.
“Do I make you uncomfortable?” His hands dropped to his side as he studied her.
She closed her eyes. “Yes.” She sighed. “It’s just . . . I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” That wasn’t the whole of it.
He chuckled and stepped up to her, tracing her face with his forefinger. “I promise I’ll take it slow, and you can always say no. To anything. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be happy. I want you to feel safe.”
And then he was kissing her. His lips were soft, barely brushing hers, again and again. Her breathing became shallow as he kissed her jawbone, her neck, and pulled her hoodie to kiss the base of her throat. His hands slid down her back to her hips, and he pulled her into him.
Hope let go of her worry. Let go of her fear. There was a stirring, and she yearned to be closer. She gripped at his arms, drawing the embrace tighter. His lips parted, and her world exploded. Emotions of vibrant colors pulsed through her body, heat and light, sweetness and desire.
He backed her against the door, his hands at her neck and then in her hair. His body pushed up against hers. “Hope,” he breathed her name, and kissed her again. He tugged at her sweatshirt, and she pulled it off.
Her fingers splayed across his back, clinging to him. She could not get close enough, and it felt like she was drowning in happiness.
Athan kissed her neck, and then pulled back with a ragged breath. “Hope, please stop.”
Her eyes drew down in confusion. “What’s the matter? Did I do something?” Her hands fell to her sides. Hurt and doubt crowded in and pushed at the passion she’d felt only seconds before.
He trac
ed over her collarbone, leaving the warmth of his fingers. “You are perfect.” He bent, kissed her softly on the mouth, but pulled away before it could go any further. His features battling in a mixture of desire and restraint, he glanced down at her neck again before meeting her eyes. “I . . . I need to go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Don’t forget to lock up.”
And he was gone.
Hope grabbed her sweatshirt off the floor and threw it over the couch. What in the name of Hades?
As she stood in front of the mirror brushing her teeth, she saw it.
She leaned forward and touched the scab from where the Skia blade had cut her. What the Kracken was that? Not only was the scab black, but the surrounding skin was dusky with streaks of pitch.
Oh gods.
No wonder Athan took off. He probably thought she had some disease—
No.
He’d said she was perfect after he’d seen it. And he’d touched it.
What did he know?
“NICE FACE, KRISTA.” Tristan chuckled.
“Shove off, D-bag.”
Hope turned to see Krista, the skin around her eyes still mottled yellow and purple. Their eyes met, and Krista glared.
“What are you looking at, harpy? Gloating because you broke my nose?”
Hope cringed at the thought. She leaned forward to apologize, and then stopped herself. “I didn’t attack you, Krista. All I did was block.” She straightened her shoulders. “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to fight.” She went to her locker leaving Krista sputtering among their friends.
“What the Kracken, Hope?” Seconds later, Haley pushed Hope’s locker closed. “You never called me back.”
Hope frowned at her friend. “I thought we agreed that we’d just see each other at school.”
Haley raised her eyebrows as she gave Hope a once over. “Was Athan over late? Is that why you’re wearing that?” She plucked at the high collar on Hope’s shirt.
Hope batted her hand away. “Eww. No. I mean yes . . . and no.” She turned and dialed her combination. “He was over late, but we just kissed.” The blush spread from head to toes.
“Oh. Well, too bad for you, I guess.”
Hope grabbed her mythology book. “No, I think we did all right.” Her eyes widened.