by Raye Wagner
She nodded and waited.
“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. Panic 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 knew—”
“Wait a minute.” She held up her hand as she spoke. “You asked me out after you were suspicious about my mortality. Is that . . . Is that why you asked me out?”
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 psachno . . . 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.” He ran his fingers 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’re 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 . . .” She moved toward the door, but he moved with her. The hair on her neck stood 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, whoever he is, he’ll be back. They always come back. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
“You think you can help me?” she yelled. “You are at the 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 leave!”
“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.”
The words stung, as if physical blows. She needed him to stop. “I want you out. I want you to leave me alone. Let me go, and—”
“You are so naïve. You don’t even know what you’re suggesting. The Skia will hunt you. Like a dog.”
How dare he? “I’m not asking, Athan. This is my home. I’m telling you to get out.”
She pointed at the door to reinforce her point.
“No.” He closed the distance until he stood before her. “I know you’re mad at me. And you have every right to be. I screwed up. I hurt you, and I’m sorry. But don’t ask me to leave you unprotected.”
She shook her head while he spoke. “Do you not get it? I don’t want you here. You saying sorry doesn’t make anything better—”
He grabbed her arm as pain flashed across his face. “Hope—”
“Get. Out!” she screamed. She yanked her arm from his grasp and shoved him toward the door.
The boxes were everywhere, and Athan stumbled, tripping over a stack in his path. He fell, just as the boxes spilled their contents on the floor.
Oh, gods. No.
On the shaggy beige carpet, 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. The black velvet lay in a heap, the silver dagger with the ruby hilt fully exposed.
Athan stared at the book and the weapon. 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 snatched it up, then backed away from her. His hurt at her refusal of him morphed to shock and then horror.
He snapped the book shut and stared at the cover, and then he flipped it open.
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’re the Sphinx?” He took a step forward.
Hope yanked the book from him, then scooted out of his reach.
“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.
“It’s you,” he whispered.
“Please just leave,” she pled. She didn’t know if she’d be safe if he left, but she couldn’t fathom killing him. Her hand trembled, and she clutched the blade tight in an attempt to make her shaking stop.
“You’re the Sphinx. Oh, gods.” He reached for something at his belt, hesitated and then brought his empty hands up in a gesture of surrender. “You’re the Sphinx.”
He knew. Hope’s mind raced. He was a demigod. Demigods killed monsters. Gods, was he one of them?
The surprise on his face disappeared, and he shored up his obvious emotions. He clenched his jaw, and his eyes hardened with a look of resolve. “I’m so sorry, Hope. I’m going to need you to come with me.”
He grabbed at her arm, and she pulled away. She brought the blade in front of her and waved it at him. “I told you to stay away.”
Athan shook his head. “I didn’t want it this way.”
He grabbed her wrist, his hand slid up her forearm, and then his thumb became a nail driving blinding pain up her arm as he pressed on a nerve.
Hope dropped her blade, and his grip became a steel trap, so different than his touch only seconds before. With his other hand, he yanked the Book of the Fates from her. “Where did you get this? These have been bound—”
“It’s mine.” She reached for it, but he held it away. She tugged and pulled to try and get away, but Athan was not letting go.
The pressure turned to pain as he tightened his grip. “I’m not letting you go, Sphinx. My father has been looking for you. He needs you.”
“So you’re just going to take me to him?” Her shock made her stupid. How could he do this? How could he . . .
“You tricked me—”
“I never lied!” she screamed at him.
But his face was all closed off with no feeling. The son of Hermes pulled her out the door, and she stumbled down the steps.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. Why would Hermes want her? Ho
w could Athan do this? The questions ran through her mind as he led her to his truck. As he pulled the door open, she realized there was nothing but death if she went with him.
And death was not an option.
“No!” Her panic exploded, and she kicked and hit, lashing out with everything in her. She heard Athan grunt as a strike landed, and the pressure on her arm lessened. She took the opportunity to wrench her arm free, and without looking behind, she took off running.
Maybe if she could get far enough ahead, she’d be able to find a hiding—
The force that collided with her threw them both to the ground. Hope bucked and threw everything she could at the weight that sat on her.
“Hope!”
She had no idea how long he’d been yelling her name, and she didn’t care. If Athan meant death, she would fight him for the rest of her life.
“Hope!”
“Let me go!” she screamed.
Athan dropped his entire body on her. Chest to chest, his breath caressed her face. His gaze dropped to her lips, and then back to her eyes.
She could see the conflict, but he was not even her friend anymore. He was the enemy. Tears pricked her eyes. She’d really liked him, and his betrayal was a knife in her heart. She turned her face to the side and shut her eyes, refusing to let him see how much he’d hurt her.
He sighed. “I’m going to help you up. Please stop fighting me.”
The pressure lessened and then disappeared except the grip on her wrists. He pulled her up until she was standing. “We’re going to get in my truck and then go talk with my dad.”
Was that code for kill you?
Hope opened her eyes, searching for a way out, and saw her potential salvation in the man strolling toward them.
His gait was oily and fluid, and there was something strangely familiar about how he moved. The man passed under a streetlight, and Hope gasped.
Skia. The one that had attacked her. She could make out the blackness of his eyes and the sharp angles of his features. The leer made her stomach clench in fear. He was not salvation. She was dead either way.
“Darren.” Athan’s voice seethed. Releasing his grip on her arm, he pushed Hope behind him.
She pulled back in shock, her heart skipping a beat. “You know him?”
“You’ve seen him before?”
“He was the other guy in the Dalles. The one that gave me this.” She pointed at her neck as if Athan could see it.
“Skata.” Without looking back, he pulled a small silver blade from each hip. “Hold it, Darren.”
“You two immortals. . .” Darren’s voice rubbed like sandpaper. “Together. Who would have thought?” He laughed. “It’s like two for one.”
Not only could Athan see the Skia, he actually knew him. Gods!
“What makes you think we’re coming with you?” Athan questioned, and, with supernatural speed, he flicked his wrist, sending the dagger flying.
Quick as lightning, the Skia dropped, rolled, and came up with a black blade in each hand.
At the sight of the dark daggers, Hope shuddered. She knew the pain that would come. But she refused to let the monster from the Underworld decide her fate.
“I will kill you, Darren,” Athan swore, as he advanced on the demon from Hades.
The rasp from Darren could’ve been a laugh, but it was menacing and full of hate. “You are not capable, demigod.”
Athan dodged a blade, then punched the Skia in the gut.
Hope stood frozen as Darren’s elbow stuck Athan’s side. With only a small wince to acknowledge the hit, Athan pulled back and circled the shadow demon.
The two figures squared off, and it became a brawl.
Instead of fleeing, Hope inched forward, stopping to pick up Athan’s blade on the sidewalk. It was lighter than her gold one, and the blade appeared to be the staff of the caduceus that Hermes was known for. The snakes wound around the hilt, and Hope guessed it was an emerald the snakes had for eyes.
She looked up, transfixed, while the two enemies traded punches, kicks, and elbows. Athan had great technique, but he hesitated as if the moves were unfamiliar, or he was trying to recall them. Nevertheless, he moved quickly, and his blocks and intuition were solid.
The Skia was a force to be reckoned with. What he lacked in technique, he made up for in speed, force, and sheer prowess. Grunts and curses singed the air.
It was the perfect time to leave. Both were so occupied she could disappear before either even knew she’d left.
She backed away, slowly so she wouldn’t draw their attention.
She’d barely gotten a few feet when there was a crack of bone, and Athan screamed, falling to his knees. The Skia held a fistful of his hair, forcing his head back, exposing his neck.
Time stopped.
The Skia was going to kill him.
She told herself that it was the best thing that could happen. With the demigod’s death, her secret would be safe. She could kill the Skia with the weapon in her hand and then disappear. It was for the best.
But something in her heart screamed in protest. She would live to regret it she was sure, but if she let Athan die, she would be the monster he claimed she was.
And she refused to let him be right about that.
Hope looked down at the silver dagger, and she knew she was not going to be an accomplice to Athan’s death. She would not be a monster.
“Stop!” she screamed, running toward them as fast as she could. “Stop!”
The two immortals froze.
It was all the time she needed.
She leaped forward and dragged the blade across the Skia’s chest, slicing through his clothing, the blade biting into his pasty flesh.
The Skia’s blade clattered to the ground, then disappeared.
“Agghhh!” Darren hissed. Something dark oozed from the wound, staining his shirt with dark shadows. He opened his mouth, vomiting light. The cut pulsed a bright beam, and the Skia flickered, his very body seeming to fade.
Athan swore.
Hope dropped the knife, and the clang made her jump. She stared at the weapon, then glanced up at the Skia, but he was gone. She stooped to pick up the blade, but it was covered with a sticky pitch. Athan jumped up and grabbed the blade, wiping the darkness on the hem of his shirt.
His skin was pale and clammy, and his hands shook.
She stared at her hands and wasn’t surprised to see them trembling. She wanted to throw up.
She wanted to run away.
And she couldn’t move.
Athan walked toward her, his voice gentle and slightly awed. “Hope?”
He tucked the silver blade somewhere at his hip. And then he stood before her, his hands out with an empty offering. “You saved my life.”
“Please leave me alone,” she whispered, and then she ran to 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 th
e 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.
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 little to stay for. Would running away solve anything? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about much.
But besides the two bags in her car, she’d left everything of value back at her house in Goldendale. And by everything of value, she meant her immortal blades, the statue of Hecate, and the Book of the Fates.
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?
And what if Hermes was there? What then?
Maybe it was suicidal, but with fierce determination, she decided she’d deal with him, too.
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, pausing to grab her golden dagger that still lay on the floor, before snatching the treasured tome from him. Holding it close to her chest, she glared at him. “How dare you?”