Cursed by the Gods (The Sphinx Book 1)

by Raye Wagner

  Her heart fell into her stomach, and she gaped after him. That was it? Just like that. Hope collapsed on the bottom step.

  The bell rang.

  She felt like there was a flashing sign in her mind . . . Does not compute.

  With her world upside down, Hope went to close her locker.

  Six hours later, she slammed the door to her home, shutting out the pity that had followed her all day. She saw it in Haley’s eyes. Felt it in the conversation. And by the end of school, everyone knew.

  The ache in her chest had nothing to do with the Skia blade, but she wished it did. Perhaps, if he had cut just a little deeper, she would be in the Underworld?

  She shook her head. What in the name of Hades was she thinking? Good gods! She was not going to let Athan breaking up with her turn her into a moping child.

  Hope reviewed the last several days with sudden clarity.

  Skia were watching her. Her principal had all but threatened to expel her. Her boyfriend—She got tingles when she thought about him and then wanted to slap herself. If she was anyone else, she would slap herself. Because her ex-boyfriend was a liar. She didn’t know exactly what about, but did it matter? Well, maybe he wasn’t lying, per se, but . . . He was being deceitful. And it didn’t even matter because they weren’t together.

  Yes, she had friends, but the smart thing to do would be to leave. She should leave Goldendale.

  Start over.

  It’s what her mom would have recommended weeks ago. No, it’s what she would’ve demanded they do.

  Hope took a quick trip to DT Moving Supplies on Main Street. The sun was just setting when Hope started packing. One by one, she pushed the boxes into the living room. Linens. Toiletries. Dishes.

  Even while her heart was breaking, she knew it was for the best.

  She liked Haley. She liked Athan. Hades, she like liked Athan. But he’d ended it. And really it was probably for the best. She’d been crazy to think she could get close to anyone. And what kind of a jerk broke up with you for lying when he was lying, too?

  There was nothing safe about staying in Goldendale.

  Similar to her first day at Goldendale High, Hope arrived early. The pine disinfectant hung in the air, and coupled with the silent halls, she felt a shiver of déjà vu. However, today she knew her way to the office, she expected the bell announcing her arrival, and she addressed the assistant without having to glance at the nameplate.

  “Good morning, Ms. Slate. Is Mr. Jeffers in yet?”

  Ms. Slate stopped her typing and picked up the phone.

  She waited while the plump woman called into his office. Seconds later, Ms. Slate waved her through without a word.

  Hope took a deep breath, forcing the butterflies and caterpillars to the depths of her soul. This was for the best; despite what her heart said, her mind was made up.

  She knocked.

  “Come in,” a deep voice instructed from behind the door.

  Hope opened the door and walked into his practical office. He looked up from his computer screen and met her eyes. “Hope Treadwell, what can I do for you this morning? Not planning on missing more school are you?”

  He extended his hand.

  Clenching her teeth, she swallowed a snide remark, and grasped his hand briefly. “No, sir. But I do need to talk with you about that.”

  “I can appreciate your concern. You seem to have an issue with attendance.” He pointed at the chair across from his desk.

  Hope pulled the chair far away from the glare of the sun, offered a tight smile, and sat. “Yes. Mr. Davenport spoke of your concerns. Though, I think it’s interesting, this concern you have.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Interesting? How so?”

  She took a deep breath, as if contemplating the words. “One would assume that your interest is in your students learning and their progress. However, if that were your focus, you would’ve noticed that I have straight As. I make up all my work. All of it. If you were attentive to the needs of the students, you would see their suffering and struggles, not just their attendance. If learning— actual knowledge and education—were actually your concern, you would make your students, not attendance numbers, your focus.”

  His eyes grew wide.

  “And don’t even get me started on your choice of counselor, and her serious lack of confidentiality. Not only does her daughter seem to know everything that happens, but she shares it with the entire school. If you decide to report me”—she glared at him—“I will let them know every single violation that goes on here. Besides, I don’t think that the absences of a straight A student who, incidentally, has lost her mom and her aunt both in the last six months, would really meet criteria for an at-risk situation, or whatever it is you call it.”

  He sat back in his chair and exhaled. Then with a wave of his hand he dismissed her concerns. “No. No need. We’ll just . . . move forward. In the event of future absences, please just provide a letter stating the necessity of said absence.”

  She swallowed, but her anxiety didn’t disappear. “I understand, Mr. Jeffers. But I came in to let you know I will be withdrawing from school.”

  He set the papers down and narrowed his eyes. “When?”

  “Today.”

  He frowned. “I hope this choice to move is not in response to any . . . misunderstanding.”

  “Why would you think that?” Not waiting for an answer, she stood. “I’ve been advised to move closer to Seattle so I have easier access to the services I’m using. I’m sure you’ve had other students coping with loss, so you understand.” She extended her hand. “Thank you for your time.”

  Mr. Jeffers wheeled around the desk. “Of course. My door is always open to the students.”

  He clasped her hand; it was clammy with sweat.

  “I’m sure it is, sir.”

  As she shut the door, she could hear the clicking of his keyboard.

  Students filed in as Hope walked to her locker. Might as well get her stuff while she was here. Bitter anger surged. It was so unfair. She turned the dial quickly, missing number after number. A growl of frustration escaped, and she hit the metal door.

  “Hope.”

  She turned, her heart flipped, and her mouth went dry.

  “I think we should . . .” Athan’s brow creased. “You don’t look so well. Are you ill?”

  For the first time in her life, she was grateful that her emotions played so obviously on her face. “Why would it matter to you? Go away, Athan.”

  She turned back to the locker and spun through the combination.

  “No. I want to talk to you about yesterday.”

  She shoved notebooks into her bag and pulled out the textbooks, putting them into her locker. “I’m not feeling up to it right now. I’m just here to grab my stuff, then I’m heading home.”

  “What? You’re going home?”

  She offered him a tight smile. “If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise . . .”

  Athan’s brow creased. “I . . . I’m sorry I lost my temper yesterday. I . . . I want us to still be friends.”

  Was he kidding? “Okay. Fine.”

  “Okay? Oh, great. Good. So maybe—”

  She slammed the locker shut. “See you later, Athan.”

  He sighed. “I hope you feel better. Will I see you tomorrow?”

  He reached out as if to touch her, but she pulled back. “Yep. See ya.”

  It was so much easier to hide behind her anger than acknowledge her hurt. Friends? Whatever. She just needed to finish packing, and then she could leave.

  By early evening, the house was packed. She’d moved her mother’s box, the boxes of books from the study, and the duffle bags into the front room. She’d call a moving company in the morning, but she wanted to get on the road tonight. She grabbed the two duffle bags and went out to her car.

  The air had cooled with the sunset, and her feet dragged as she walked back to the house. She needed to move a few more boxes into the living room, fi
nish packing her car, and then she’d be ready.

  She opened the front door to the ringing of her phone. It had been ringing all afternoon. All evening, too. The lit screen showed ten missed calls. All Athan, and no messages.

  Looking through her house with boxes stacked all around, she felt the walls closing in. Hot emotion roiled through her body, and her head ached with the tension. She wanted to hit something, or someone. She ran through her breathing exercises, trying to calm down, but the energy needed an outlet. With a dare to the universe, and the Skia from Hades, she grabbed her running clothes and went to change.

  Night had fallen by the time she stepped outside, and she closed her eyes to the veil of darkness. With a deep breath, she turned the key, and someone coughed behind her. Her heart thudded, and she turned.

  Athan stood under the streetlight.

  “What is it with you today?” he said, unhitching himself from the post. He wore long baggy athletic shorts, a T-shirt, and running shoes.

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “You don’t answer my calls, you ran off in school . . .”

  The urge to tell him off was almost as strong as the urge to cry. She mentally pounded it into oblivion and fixed her eyes on the ground. If she glanced his way, she knew her will would crumble.

  “I have a lot going on, and you’re not helping. Besides, I thought you didn’t care.”

  “Why would you say that?” He stepped closer, his gaze darting to her neck.

  “Um, you broke up with me.” She itched to hit him.

  “You think I broke up with you because I don’t like you?” He sounded incredulous.

  She laughed. “I may not be well versed in the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but usually you don’t break up with someone you like.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Look, I need a run . . . to clear my head.” She looked up at him. “Do you ever do that?” She started walking briskly and wasn’t at all surprised when he kept stride.

  “All the time.” He trailed his hand down her arm.

  Despite yanking her arm away, she had an almost overwhelming compulsion to share her plans with him. Keeping her focus on the road, and her mouth clamped shut, she picked up the pace. It wasn’t until she was running that her desire to bare her fears, her plans, and her secrets passed.

  She lost herself in the release.

  After lapping the town twice, she slowed their pace to a jog and then a brisk walk. On Broadway, still three blocks from her house, Athan broke the silence.

  “You can’t avoid talking to me forever. You can’t just ignore something and have it go away.”

  “Are you kidding me?” How dare he? He knew nothing about why she did what she did. “You want me to be all open and honest, when you’re clearly not forthcoming with information, either, Athan. So don’t you dare lecture me.”

  She sprinted up the stairs to her house and shoved the key in the lock. She couldn’t get away fast enough.

  “Wait!” he called, following her up the stairs. “I really like you, Hope. I’ll . . . I’ll tell you everything.”

  She paused with her hand on the doorknob and waited.

  “Everything I told you is true. My dad runs a courier service. A few months ago, a package went missing.” He took a deep breath and continued, “Why didn’t you tell me about the Skia?”

  She couldn’t process his shift in topic. “What do you mean?”

  He pointed at her neck. “When did you get attacked?”

  How could he tell? Oh gods. She wanted to run right then. Panic thrummed through her, and her gaze darted to the car.

  “I just want to talk to you, Hope. I promise, that’s all. And, maybe, I can help.”

  Was he serious? There was no way he could know and be offering help. She swallowed her fear and waved him forward. “We’d better go inside.”

  It was just safer there.

  As soon as she turned on the light, he gasped, and she knew it had been a mistake to have him come in.

  Before she could say anything, he grabbed her arm. “Hope?” The intensity of his voice was cutting. “What is all of this? You’re 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.” What was the point in trying to explain something that made no sense to her?

  “You planned this . . .” 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 glared at him. “All you’ve done is lie to me.”

  “That’s not true,” he yelled, throwing his arms up in frustration. “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. It’s not like I couldn’t tell.”

  Her heart stopped. “You can tell?”

  He bit the side of his mouth and regarded her. “You hide it better than most. You definitely have some characteristics, but it’s not as clear as say, Chelli and Brand.” He sighed. “I just wish you would’ve told me.”

  “You didn’t tell me.” Did he not get how hypocritical he was being?

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

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

  Closing his eyes, he rubbed the back of his neck. With a slow exhale he met her gaze, his eyes boring 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 5th.”

  He shook his head. “Who is your mom?”

  The truth slipped out before she could contemplate the repercussions. “My mom’s dead, Athan.”

  “We don’t have time for this.” He folded his arms across his chest, his lips flattening into a thin line. “I’m done playing games. At this point, I just 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 you. I’m trying to assess what I’m dealing with, so I need to know: Who. Is. Your. Mother?”

  “She’s. Gone!”

  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 down her cheeks, and her nose clogged with mucus.

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

  Hope wiped her face with the hem of her tank and answered in a voice as small as her shriveling feelings for him. “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?”

  He pointed to the boxes with her mother’s name on them. “Skata. I’m pretty sure she didn’t report you. Gods, what a mess.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. He’d misunderstood.

  Leto was a Titan goddess, one of the few that weren’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? 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. “Okay. Total honesty as a gesture of good faith, okay?”