Besphinxed Page 5

  When he opened his eyes, he saw three things. Firstly: the whole gymnasium was dancing together. Secondly: he was dancing with Heather again. Thirdly: Kai had noticed.

  Kai’s body moved only slightly with the pulsating beat. She looked from Owen to Heather and then back again. Her dark eyebrows went from curious to concerned.

  Is this a thing now? Kai’s voice echoed inside his head, through their special bond that afforded them the luxury of not speaking aloud.

  Owen wanted to explain, take the time to tell her the whole story, but there were too many other things rolling around in his brain that he wasn’t ready to share with Kai yet.

  “I’m dying for the loo,” he said to no one, before quickly elbowing his way through the dancing students and out the gymnasium door. He took a deep breath and leaned his head back against the building. He could feel the bass from inside the room reverberating in his bones. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

  “Greetings, Owen,” said the Arachne.

  One, two, three…blast.

  4

  “I need some air,” Heather said to Poppy. “Take over for me.”

  “What?” Poppy’s pink ponytails bobbed up and down. Her black-rimmed eyes became saucers.

  Poppy was a great cheerleader, but not at all cut out for a leadership position. Oleander would have been a slightly better choice, but if Heather wanted to find out why Owen had suddenly run away, there was no time like the present to go after him.

  “Let Oleander help you. Or Bellamy and the rest of the squad. Or Hubble. He knows how to direct, sort of.” Heather needed to lay out all the options that might never occur to Poppy herself. “Or just let everybody dance a few more songs. I’ll be right back.”

  Heather would not be right back. She would be back when she felt like it, and Poppy knew that.

  Why did she even care about Owen?

  Heather told herself it was to preserve her grade in Consumer Magics. Whatever had been wrong with Owen in class today, he obviously hadn’t gotten over it. Maybe it was a lazy cat thing. Even so, if she went home with another C on her report card, Daddy wouldn’t let her get the new car she’d had her eye on.

  Well…he would. But that wasn’t the point.

  And how had he hijacked her magic microphone? That sort of weird connection just didn’t happen. Ever.

  She took one step forward before she noticed Kai Xanthopoulos trying to stare a hole into her. Kai obviously knew something was up. But Heather didn’t need to explain herself to Kai or anyone else. If Kai wanted to know what was going on with her feline BFF, she could ask him.

  In the meantime, Heather didn’t want to make it look as if she was running around after some low rent boy—a boy she wasn’t even supposed to care about—so she stuck her nose in the air, pivoted on her heel, and made her way to the girls’ locker room instead. She could exit out the door there.

  Heather caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she sped by, once again impressed by her ensemble. Teased out hair with temporary lowlights, black glitter in the pigment around her haunted eyes, strategically ripped couture and smart boots…she could strut down a Paris catwalk in this outfit. Being undead never looked so hot. Maybe Zombie Chic would be her parting gift to the student body this year.

  Squinting into the harsh daylight, she sped along the outside wall of the gymnasium, peeking around each corner before sprinting to the next. In the heat of the late Georgia afternoon, she was glad she’d opted for a miniskirt. Mostly, she felt like a thief. A stupid, ridiculous, well-dressed thief. And yet…she stopped herself before turning into the courtyard.

  Heather could make out two voices. One was definitely Owen’s. Crouching behind a bush, Heather risked peeking around the corner of the building.

  “I saw a photo of you once,” said Miss Sunshine. “You have not changed a bit.” Her words dripped with irony.

  Heather quickly crouched down, completely out of sight. Branches caught in her teased hair and already-run fishnet stockings, but she didn’t care. Not only did Miss Sunshine know Owen, she obviously knew enough about him to make some sort of snide joke that Heather didn’t get.

  “I spent a hundred years in the body of a cat,” said Owen. “I’ve watched people come into this world, and then leave it again. I’ve witnessed empires fall. I’ve walked beside orphic families as they made a foothold in this country. That’s more than enough change, I’d say.”

  Heather’s brain quickly ran through everything she knew about animal shifters. None of it included anything about extending one’s life expectancy beyond that of the average healthy, long-lived human. Was Owen not a true were? Plenty of stories existed about were who had not been born so—like that podunk town in northern Virginia where Sam and his annoying sister Natalie came from. Their entire population had been changed into weres back in 2012.

  A few years ago. Not a hundred years ago.

  And what on earth were “orphic” families?

  “You have not commented on my appearance. Surely, you recognized me too.”

  Heather clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud. That woman must seriously be insecure, if she cared what some high school boy thought about her looks.

  “Of course,” said Owen. “All you Arachnes look alike.”

  “So you know what I have come for.”

  “Just as you know I have no intention of giving it to you.”

  “Only my sisters and I have the power to free you from the Great Sphinx’s curse. If you refuse to help us, you will remain a cat for all time.”

  “Fine.” Heather could hear the shrug in Owen’s voice. “I’ve found a community of similar individuals, and I’ve made a home. Being a cat is virtually commonplace here. It is no hardship to me.”

  Miss Sunshine made a noise at that—a sound no human could make. It had not occurred to Heather until this moment to wonder what type of paranormal creature their substitute might be. She had supposed Miss Sunshine was a witch, since so many of the teachers were, but it seemed that she was something more. Something dangerously more.

  “Tell me who the Fury is, and I will kill them myself,” said Miss Sunshine.

  “Never,” said Owen.

  What exactly was an Arachne? And why did she and her sisters want to kill Kai? Whatever conversation Heather had been expecting to overhear, this was not it. Her gut told her to protect herself immediately, however she could.

  Listen to your instincts, said the voice in her head.

  Heather bit her lip. She took note of her surroundings; another errant branch scraped her cheek as she did so. She’d moved off the stone path and was kneeling on the ground beside the bushes. Excellent. Using the first two fingers of her right hand she drew a circle of protection in the dirt around herself, as all young witches at Harmswood were taught to do their very first year. She wished she could extend that protection to Owen, but her skills were not at that level. If such a thing were even possible.

  If she leapt up now and made her presence known, it was possible that she might frighten Miss Sunshine away, but she also might prompt the sub-beast to do something worse.

  Or, Heather would say the wrong thing and end up cursing everyone in the courtyard, including herself.

  She pressed the moon and star of her necklace between her fingers…and scowled. The charm was as useless as she felt at the moment. It held no more power than the belief she’d had in it until this afternoon.

  She was her own talisman, Professor Blake had said. She needed to believe in herself.

  Heather took a calming breath. She closed her eyes and thought of Owen, thought of a safe place.

  Vermont.

  She imagined him standing beside her in the circle, as if they stood beside a roaring fire in a cabin at the top of a snow-capped mountain, far away from the rest of the world.

  “If you will not tell me, I will simply find out for myself.”

  Miss Sunshine’s voice sounded deeper now. Heather r
ecognized that tone: it was one burdened with power. Heather’s mother’s tone dropped like that right before she performed a spell—usually in anger. Heather wondered if Owen had any clue what was about to happen.

  “You will get nothing from me,” Owen said defiantly.

  “Let’s see about that, shall we?”

  The mental image of Heather’s mountain paradise shifted. The walls and floor of her imaginary cabin turned to shifting sands. The heat of the fireplace became that of the burning sun. The slate hearth transformed into a different kind of stone, rising up, up into the heavens. Heather leaned back and squinted into the sky. Looming far above her was a giant stone face. The face of a king. A face with no discernible nose.

  Heather tried to open her eyes—her real eyes, back in the real world, the ones attached to the body kneeling in the dirt at Harmswood—but she couldn’t. Her every muscle seized in terror. She wasn’t in the Harmswood courtyard anymore.

  She was in Egypt.

  An Owen stood next to her, but it was not the Owen she had imagined into the protective circle with her. This Owen’s skin was two shades darker; his hair two shades lighter. His shirt and trousers were plain cotton or linen. Both were the same color as the sand, but if they had started out that way or become that way from wear, Heather couldn’t tell.

  The most remarkable thing about this Owen was his energy. It was the same never-ending banked-fire type of energy that the rest of the teen boys at her school possessed. Heather hadn’t truly considered the difference until this very moment. The Owen she knew was…calmer? Serene? Nonchalant? Definitely more catlike.

  Not that she knew Owen very well. She didn’t know him at all, really. But she knew enough to know that her Owen, the Harmswood Owen, was a different sort of animal.

  This Owen, who had also been looking up at the great monument, turned and smiled at her excitedly. Heather gasped. He couldn’t have seen her—it took her a moment to realize that he must be looking through her apparition to someone standing behind her. The reason it took her a moment was because his eyes were so strange.

  They were brown.

  Harmswood Owen’s eyes were not brown. This was one thing Heather most definitely did know. She had stared into them for the better part of a waltz, right up to the moment when he’d saved her life. Her Owen’s eyes were green. Pale green, like jade dipped in gold.

  “It’s spectacular!” Brown-eyed Owen shouted his appreciation for the carved behemoth through Heather, to the person she now turned to see.

  Owen hadn’t been wrong. All the Arachnes—who or whatever they were—did look alike. Same dark hair and eyes, same perfect skin. The only difference between this woman and Miss Sunshine was her clothing. Egypt Arachne wore a sort of navy uniform, skirt loose to the mid calf and belted tight around the waist, with a scarf knotted much like a necktie and a flat, wide-brimmed hat. Heather coveted her boots.

  “Be sure to stand back far enough that you can see the pharaoh’s face in its entirety.” While beautiful, this woman did not sound quite like the sexy substitute at Harmswood. Was she Greek? Arabic? Egyptian? Heather had never heard an Egyptian accent before.

  Brown-eyed Owen took a few steps back from the monstrosity, his bare toes sinking into the sand.

  “They say if you stare into the eyes of the Great Sphinx, you will learn all his secrets,” said the Arachne.

  “Imagine the things he has seen in all the centuries he has watched over this land.” Owen’s voice was filled with wonder. “So many secrets,” he breathed.

  Heather could also see the temptation. Knowledge was its own kind of power. Everybody knew that.

  “Knowledge is power,” the Arachne said predictably. “But I know you young boys. You do not have the patience required to sit and stare at one thing for a very long time.”

  “I could,” said Owen, almost to himself. “I could stare at this majestic beast until I turned to sand myself.”

  Boldly, the Arachne laughed at him. “You are a sweet boy, but I’m afraid I do not believe you. Come, now. Your uncle will be waiting.”

  It was the laugh that did it. Heather had used that same laugh more than once to get a guy to do a job he was unmotivated to do. Fix a broken parade float, dress up for Halloween, participate in a school-sponsored choreographed flash mob. Laugh at a man, and he will instantly work as hard as he can to prove you wrong about anything.

  “The baron is waiting for some forgotten pharaoh’s tomb to suddenly pop up beneath his feet. He’s certainly not waiting for me.” Owen glanced up at the Great Sphinx’s head again. “Let me try. If I can unlock these mysterious secrets, perhaps one of them will tell me where the baron should dig next. We can all go home rich as Croesus.”

  “I couldn’t leave you to do this,” lied the Arachne. “Even if I could, you don’t have enough water to last you through the night.”

  “Give me your canteen.” Owen’s imperial tone sounded a bit more like the Harmswood Owen. “Come back for me at daybreak.”

  “No.”

  “Do it, or I’ll tell the baron that you’re not who you say you are.” Owen smiled wickedly. “I might not know all the Great Sphinx’s secrets yet, but I know some of yours, Miss Salamis. If that is even your name.”

  Feigning reluctance, the woman handed over her canteen and left in a huff. Owen lifted it to his lips and took a huge swig. Then he stepped back a few more feet, sat down on the sand, crossed his legs, and stared up at the sphinx with all his might.

  The scene sped up after that. Day shifted into night like some sort of time lapse video. Owen stared at the Great Sphinx’s head rising from the sand, and Heather stared at Owen. He finished the canteen, his skin grew dry and his lips cracked, but brown-eyed Owen’s gaze never left the unblinking stare of the stone beast.

  Sometime around daybreak, those eyes turned green.

  Heather thought it was a trick of the light, but the higher the sun rose, the greener they became. It wasn’t long before the boy’s sand-covered flesh shifted into that of a small, tawny pixie cat.

  “Well, that was stupid of you, wasn’t it?” Heather almost felt bad for the brazen boy who’d let himself be tricked into a curse.

  Cat-Owen yowled, a sound that seemed to pierce Heather’s ear drums. She clapped her hands over her ears, but the screech went on and on inside her head. The scene slipped and slid around her, like the sands in Professor Blake’s hourglass clock. Heather tried not to be sick.

  When the world stopped spinning she was in a small room. The yowling cat was on a table. The Arachne stood over him, with her loose hair swirling about her and a face like Helena Bonham Carter in one of her madwoman roles.

  “Cry all you want! You will find the Fury and—dead or alive—bring one of her feathers back to me, or you will remain a cat for the rest of your life. Your very long, and very humble life that you will live as long as the Great Sphinx that cursed you—ai!”

  Cat-Owen had bit the Arachne’s finger. Hard.

  “Good for you, cat!” Heather cried.

  The cat leaped off the table and sped out the door. The Arachne screamed after him.

  The world spun again. The scenes shifted faster and faster. An old man—presumably the baron—dying. Arachne, slipping a ring off the dead body’s finger and placing it on her own. A city on fire, the sky black with smoke, women and children crowded together on the docks, spilling into the water. Only women and children, and screams. A young woman being pulled out of the water onto the deck of a ship. A poor farmhouse. Another sea voyage. Back alleys and gutters. Wooded areas and suburban streets. A restaurant. But not just any restaurant.

  Mummy’s Diner.

  Heather felt a glimmer of relief. She might be stuck in this nauseating Dickensian montage of Owen’s life, but at least she was back in Nocturne Falls.

  The world stopped again in front of a house on a hill. The scene lasted more than a moment, so she took a deep breath and walked closer. A cat darted through the bushes around to the side of the
house. Owen, no doubt. Heather followed him.

  The cat peeked through a small window in the foundation—some sort of basement. Heather crouched down next to him and took a look of her own.

  Mesmerized, Heather watched as Maya Cordova turned a giant mirror—and then herself—black. She saw Kai Xanthopoulos’s mother shift into a being of flame. She saw Finn’s face morph from wolf to human again, his reflection in the mirror surrounded by a vile green haze.

  And then Heather saw herself in that mirror.

  So that’s how they’d known. That’s how Kai and her friends had discovered that it had been Heather who’d cast that stupid curse.

  Kai was the last to change form, turning into the legendary Fury that Heather had only heard whispers about. She recognized those silver-gray wings, watched as Kai pulled one feather out before collapsing onto the floor. The feather that should have taken Heather’s life. And still could.

  Heather didn’t realize she was crying until a tear hit the skin of her arm. She didn’t realize she was shaking. For the millionth time, she wished she could go back in time and undo the stupid decision she’d made the night she’d cursed Finn.

  She gasped and fell back into a sitting position, away from the window. Cat-Owen turned and looked at her with those cursed green eyes of his. But he couldn’t have been looking at her. There must have been a lizard or a mouse or a bug or something in the trees behind her that had caught his eye. It was strange, though. The way he seemed to focus on her was simply uncanny.

  “Get out of my head,” Cat-Owen said with a growl.

  In a blink, Heather was back beneath the bushes in the courtyard at Harmswood. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from gasping the breaths her body wanted to take. She felt the streaks of tears on her cheeks—the salt of them stung the scrape there.

  “A-ha!”

  Disoriented, it took Heather a moment to place Miss Sunshine’s voice.