Sweet Legacy (Sweet Venom) (11 page)

“Good,” I say. “Anything else we need to know?”

Greer shakes her head, like she’s regrouping.

“We can use these”—she hands everyone a safety whistle on a lanyard—“to signal each other.”

Clearly, she doesn’t like the idea of separating, either.

Thane and the golden maiden slip theirs over their necks, and I do the same. Sillus swings his wide, letting the cord wrap around his waist until the whistle hits him in the backside, then swings it back around the other way. I ignore him.

“Good idea,” I tell Greer. “When you find something, whistle once.” I demonstrate with a sharp trill. “If you find trouble, whistle twice. If you don’t find anything, then meet back here and wait for everyone else.”

Hopefully Sthenno is being held in
this
dungeon, and not one of the others somewhere else on Olympus.

Everyone nods. Greer doesn’t offer any argument or suggestion, which I take as a sign that she realizes how serious our situation is. Maybe she’s learning.

“And don’t draw attention to Ursula’s location,” I warn as I hand flashlights to Greer, Thane, and the golden maiden. “If someone or something comes, hide elsewhere.”

I want all of us out of here, safe and in one piece. That includes Ursula.

Then, with my instructions delivered, we separate. Sillus heads back to the maze of cells to start his search. The rest of us each take different hallways. As my boots pound down the darkened corridor, I flick on my flashlight and cross my mental fingers, hoping that the search for Sthenno goes fast and easy. That would be nice for a change.

CHAPTER 12
G
REER

A
s Gretchen and Thane disappear down other hallways, I hesitate before moving. I might as well try to make my power more useful. I need the practice. Eyes closed, I focus, searching for a feeling—anything that will tell me which hallway holds Sthenno.

“Sugar,” I whisper when nothing comes to mind. But then, as I open my eyes, I see a faint glowing light in one of the hallways—one not chosen by the others. It’s just a faint blue glow, but I figure it’s as good a sign as any.

Ignoring the dull throb in my skull—I rarely get headaches, but lately I have had almost constant pain—I start forward, keeping to the side, near the wall. If anything shows up, maybe I will see it in the dim light before it sees me in the shadows.

My hallway turns a corner, and what light there is all but disappears. It’s blacker than the abyss. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face.

I tighten my grip on the flashlight Gretchen gave me. Dare I risk the glow?

Then I remember a lesson from my self-defense seminar. If I’m shining the light, I’ll blind my opponents. I will be able to see them, but they won’t see me through the beam.

I have to take that chance. Sthenno might be captive in here.

Turning the flashlight over in my palm, I take a deep breath and hold it as I push the button.

Light fills the space, which is just another hallway—another gray stretch of corridor with doors lining either side, like something from a psychiatric hospital.

I shake my head. What had I been expecting? Monsters hanging from the ceiling?

Doors are a good sign. That means prisoners might actually be held here.

I walk over to the nearest door. It’s large and metal, a battleship gray devoid of anything resembling real color. At face level there is a window.

There is no glass in the opening, just a grid of steel bars.

I hear growling from within.

“This can’t be good,” I mutter.

Then I catch myself. I never mutter. I never back down. That is how I’ve succeeded at everything in my life, and it’s how I will succeed in this world of mythology.

Being a good Morgenthal, I suck in a sharp breath, straighten my spine, and point the flashlight into the window.

The flashlight clatters to the floor as I leap back in shock. The creature inside is almost as large as the small cell—a big mass of clumping fur, sharp teeth, and drool, something like a werewolf in a horror movie.

“Definitely not Sthenno.”

My headache builds and I take a moment to rub my temples, hoping to keep the symptoms in check. I seriously wish I’d thought to bring some painkillers.

I retrieve the flashlight, quiet my shaking hand, and move on to the next cell, and the next, and every last one until the very end. Then I start back down the hall on the other side.

Each room on the hall is occupied, filled with some creature or another. Most are more animal than human and only snarl and snap when the see my light. Some are almost half human, either on the bottom or the top. They don’t look any happier to see me.

I’ve peered into every window, making sure Sthenno isn’t within, and am about to concede defeat and return to the meeting place when my light flashes over a small reflective surface back at the far end of the hall.

I sigh.

“This is the place in the movie,” I whisper, “when the audience yells for the heroine to run.”

I don’t have the luxury of choice.

Tracing my tongue over my teeth, I let my fangs drop as I make my way back down the hall. My headache grows into a persistent pulse, a throbbing pressure against my skull.

The reflecting surface, it turns out, is a tiny metal door sunk into the stone at knee height. About a foot wide and a few inches high, it’s hinged along the top so an object can be slipped inside without risk of losing fingers or an inhabitant escaping, like an in-the-door mail slot.

“Can’t turn back now,” I tell myself.

Then, my hands shaking with fear of the unknown, I squat down on the balls of my feet and reach for the metal door.

It squeaks on its hinges, like it hasn’t been used in a long time. Either the cell beyond is empty or the thing inside hasn’t been fed in ages.

I carefully push the door up and shine my light inside.

The opening is so small that at first I can’t see anything but the glow of the beam on the opposite wall. I move the flashlight to one side of the slot and maneuver myself into position to get a better view.

I swing the beam around until I see her.

Sitting in the corner, back to the wall, wrists draped over her knees, her dove gray suit marred by what looks like dirt and blood, is Sthenno. Our immortal aunt. Grace’s school counselor. The therapist who at one time banished visions of monsters from my mind.

For an instant, I let myself indulge in the fantasy of having her do it again. I don’t even know if she could, but there’s a chance. The question is . . . would I want her to? After everything that’s happened in the past few weeks—monsters and sisters and ancient prophecies—do I want to make it all go away?

The idea is tempting.

But, as any one of my friends or my smooth-talking ex can attest, I never succumb to temptation. And I never shirk a responsibility.

My light hits her eyes and she winces, holding a hand up to shield her eyes.

“Sthenno?” I ask.

“Who’s there?” She squints, trying to see through the light.

“It’s Greer,” I say. “I’m Grace’s sister. One of the triplets.”

She’s across the room and at the metal slot in a flash. And I thought Euryale was supposed to be the supernaturally fast one.

“Are you all here?” she asks. “All three of you?”

“No, Grace had to go back.” I kneel down, glad I decided to wear my least attractive jeans. I’ll be lucky if they survive all the wear and tear I’m putting them through on this expedition.

“Good,” she says. “That’s good.”

“Why are you in here?” I ask. “Why aren’t you in a cell like Euryale?”

Her laugh is full of pride. “The shackles and steel bars were no match for my strength.” She demonstrates by yanking the metal flap off its hinges. “I broke out of three cells before they decided to contain me in here. If there was any exposed hardware, I’d have broken out of this place too.”

“That’s really—”

A sharp pain pierces my skull, right above my forehead. I rub at the spot, trying to do something—anything—to stop the pain. My migraines are usually triggered by bright lights—clearly not the case here.

I just have to push through the pain.

The pain is only the beginning
, the male voice says.

No, not now.

Leave her
, the woman says.

You dare defy me?
he roars.
You dare violate the binds of ritual?

No more than you fight the prophecy itself
, she throws back.
You mock your own rules and—

“Enough!” I shout. Hands pressing on my temples, I try to push the voices out of my mind. “Leave me alone!”

I clench my eyes shut, waiting for the argument to continue, but there’s nothing but silence—blissful silence.

When I open my eyes, Sthenno is frowning at me through the small opening.

“You touched the pendant,” she demands, “didn’t you?”

She sounds furious.

“Yes,” I reply, wary at her tone. “I had to. Gretchen went into the abyss and we didn’t know how to get her out. I had a vision that told me the pendant would give me the answers. And it did. If I hadn’t touched the pendant, she wouldn’t have—”

“Damn it! You are a walking trap,” she says. “You’ll get us all killed or captured.”

“No,” I argue. “We’re going to rescue you.” The pain is getting worse—my vision is starting to blur. I reach for the whistle hanging around my neck and lift it to my lips. “We already have Euryale safe. We’re going to take you home.”

Pain slices through my forehead. I suck in a breath to blow the signal.

As the ear-piercing shrill of the whistle echoes down the stone hallway, off the metal doors and into the dungeon beyond, my mind explodes like someone took an ax to my skull.

“Greer!” I hear Sthenno cry out as I collapse to the ground.

I don’t even fight the black as I am yanked into another vision.

I am in a white room. It is made of marble, like the halls of Mount Olympus, and decorated with laurel branches and ravens. In the corner, a stand holds a golden instrument that looks like a miniature harp.

“Welcome, young huntress.”

I spin to face the source of the familiar voice, the voice that has been whispering in my mind. It is a man—no, more than a man. A god. I don’t know how I know; I just know.

“Who—who are you?”

I never stammer. But, then again, I’ve never come face to face with a god—not even in a vision.

He smiles, his beautiful face transformed into an angelic expression. “You do not know?” His smile fades, replaced by a scowl. “How charming.”

I take it all in—the ravens, the lyre, the too beautiful face.

“You’re Apollo.”

He applauds softly. Mockingly.

“After all the time we’ve spent together, I would be hurt if you didn’t know.”

“Time together?” I shake my head. “We’ve never met.”

“Not formally, I suppose.” He studies me. “But I have been watching you closely since you touched my pendant.”

“Watching me?” The air rushes out of my lungs.

If he has been watching me, he has been watching my sisters, watching our progress. No wonder enemies keep showing up everywhere we go. Apollo knows just where to send them.

Remembering the sensation of being pulled out of my body and pulled into this vision, I ask, “Why did you bring me here?”

“I thought we should have a chat. Please”—he gestures at the space in front of me, and a chair appears—“have a seat.”

Something feels very wrong about this situation. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be having a conversation with a god while in a vision. They shouldn’t work like this.

I slowly shake my head. “No thank you.” I straighten my spine. “What do you want from me?”

“What do I want?” he asks, his voice deceptively sweet. “I want you and your sisters to walk away. I want you to let the door seal forever so my family has
something
else to talk about over dinner.”

In a flash, Apollo is right in front of me, mere inches away.

“Since you do not seem inclined to give up,” he says, “then I want you dead.”

“You will have to find us first,” I say with more bravado than I feel. My heart pounds like an earthquake in my chest. “You cannot kill what you cannot catch.”

“You cannot hide.” He smiles, and the expression knocks my breath away. “You and your companions have fought children until now. The wrath of Olympus is in motion against you. Not even one of my sister’s wayward soldiers can save you. You will not know what hit you.”

His sister’s soldiers? What does that mean? He is only trying to confuse and frighten me, and, well . . . I do not frighten easily. I’ve never faced down a god before, but I dig down deep and draw out all my courage.

“We are strong,” I insist. “We can take whatever you dish out.”

His smile is full of wickedness.

“And we will kill you,” he replies. “You, your sisters, your friends and family . . . one by one, until no one who even remembers the Keys remains.”

My hand strikes out without hesitation. My palm stings, the pain as real as if the slap had occurred in real life, not only in my mind.

And Apollo’s rage is just as tangible.

That’s my girl
, the woman’s voice says.

He reaches out to strike me, hard and fast, a blow that I’m sure will leave me bruised and bloody.

Not so fast, wolf god.

I’m gone before his hand can connect with my cheek, pulled back out of the vision, just as violently as I was pulled in.