Sweet Legacy (Sweet Venom) (12 page)

CHAPTER 13
G
RACE

A
voiding the elevator, I run up the stairs to my floor, taking the steps two at a time. I don’t have to look back to know that Milo is keeping up. As I step out into the hall, I can see that the door to my apartment is open—wide open. This can’t be a good sign.

Milo follows me down the dark wood-paneled hall, but when we get to the front door, he pulls me back by the shoulder and steps in first. He pauses in the doorway, and I stand on my tiptoes to peer over him.

Everything looks normal.

“Are they gone?” I whisper.

“Let me check,” he says. “Stay here.”

I smile. The old Grace would have gladly waited in the hall while the boy went inside to search, but the new Grace has courage and confidence—and fangs.

As Milo moves left, through the dining room and into the kitchen beyond, I scan the living room on my way to the back hall. I duck my head into my bedroom, snatching my phone off the nightstand and slipping it into my pocket, and then check Thane’s room and the bathroom we share. Milo meets me in the hall outside my parents’ room.

He frowns but doesn’t say anything.

Together, we walk into the last room of the apartment.

Empty.

“They’re gone,” I say, defeated.

There is no sign that any kind of violence occurred here—no blood, nothing broken or disturbed. The monsters who were after me are gone. They must have taken Nick with them.

The earlier scene in the apartment plays through my mind. The boss and his goons hadn’t looked too happy with Nick calling the shots. Nick threatened to kill me—and I’d thought he was betraying
us
. He actually betrayed
them
. I don’t think they treat traitors like him very well.

“He’s gone,” I whisper. “He saved my life by sacrificing himself. They’ll kill him for sure. Gretchen is going to hate me.”

“Grace,” Milo says.

I jump at the sound of his gentle voice. I was so lost in thought, I’d forgotten he was here. Turning slowly to face him, I can’t keep the despair off my face.

He lays his hands on my shoulders and leans his head down to look me in the eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

I shake my head, either because I can’t tell him or because I can’t speak at all. I can’t just confess what’s going on. Besides the fact that humans aren’t supposed to know that monsters and mythology are real and running wild on the streets of San Francisco, I don’t
want
him to know.

I like Milo. I mean, I
really
like him, and I don’t want to scare him away.

I don’t want him to see me as anything other than an ordinary girl.

So I look away, unable to meet his steady gaze.

“Clearly you’re freaked out,” he says, dropping his hands. “I am, too, after you materialized out of thin air onto my soccer field and then you told your parents the monsters found your house—”

My gaze flies up. I hadn’t even been thinking when I said that on the phone. I’d been totally intent on making sure my parents stayed safe. I hadn’t stopped to realize Milo was listening.

“So why don’t I go grab us a couple of sodas from the fridge,” he continues, as if the world around him were still perfectly normal. “We can sit down at the dining table, and then you can tell me what’s going on.”

He turns and walks away before I can respond.

My heart races.

As much as I don’t want to, as much as I think it’s a horrible idea, he already knows too much. Right now I have no one else to trust. I have to keep my parents safe, my sisters and my brother are back in the abyss—or, hopefully, by now, on Mount Olympus—and the supernatural boy who came with me to help is now a prisoner of my enemies. Milo is all I have.

As I sit across the dining table from Milo, my courage vanishes.

It seems like such a small thing, only a few words. But when it comes to actually getting them out . . . My mouth goes dry.

Our relationship, whatever it is, is still so new—just as new as the world of myth being part of my life. I remember how hard it was for me to process, and it’s a part of me. How on earth will Milo understand?

“Listen, Grace,” he says, not looking at me. He has his forearms braced on the table, fidgeting with a flyer for an outdoor movie series Mom left out. “We haven’t known each other very long, so I get it if you don’t want to tell me.”

Oh, but that’s not true. I do want to. I hate keeping secrets—I’m terrible at it. I want to tell Milo everything. I’m just afraid of what will happen once I do.

“You should know that I like you a lot,” he says, not looking up from the bright yellow paper.

My heart does a little flip-flop.

“And that I’m a pretty open-minded guy,” he continues.

“I—” I stare down at my hands. “This is a really hard thing to explain.”

When I look up, he’s carefully folding the flyer into smaller and smaller shapes—first a square, and then a triangle, and then a smaller triangle.

Two things connect in my mind. When I saw the unicorn in the abyss, I knew I’d thought about one recently. I’d chalked it up to something I read or Gretchen mentioning the one she met, but now I really remember.

Milo once gave me an origami unicorn.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I think about Nick suddenly appearing in Gretchen’s life and turning out to be more than human. There’s something special about Thane, too. Maybe Milo is more than he seems. Maybe he and Thane didn’t become friends by accident. Maybe his interest in me isn’t purely romantic. At least that would make sense.

“You make origami,” I say dumbly.

He shrugs. “Yeah. When I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous?”

I almost laugh. I’m the one on the verge of telling the boy I like that I’m a freak creature from mythology, and he’s nervous. Of course, seeing a girl appear out of nowhere and hearing her say that monsters are after her is pretty scary. He probably thinks I’m mental.

“The other day,” I say, “when we were at lunch, you made an origami unicorn. Why? Why a unicorn?”

He glances up at me through his thick lashes. “Honestly?”

I nod.

He holds up the piece of paper he’s been meticulously folding. He tugs on both ends, and the paper pops up into the shape of a unicorn. “It’s the only thing I know how to make.”

This time I do laugh.

For a second, I’d started to believe maybe Milo had given me the unicorn as a hint that he’s part of this mythological world, too. Maybe I was hoping that was the case. But it was only a coincidence—just my frightened brain trying to see a connection that isn’t there.

I take the unicorn from his outstretched palm.

The relief that Milo is a normal boy—with a normal interest in me—relaxes me. For some reason, that makes this easier.

“You’re sure you want to hear the truth?” I ask.

“Without a doubt.”

I hope he still feels that way in a few minutes.

“In case you didn’t already know,” I begin, “Thane and I are adopted. . . .”

Milo watches, focused, as I explain everything. I tell him about my sisters, about our mythological heritage, about the door and the legacy and the brewing war that might turn San Francisco into a battleground.

“One group,” I say, “wants to stop us before we can open the door. We think Zeus, Hera, Apollo, and a few other Olympians are on that side.”

He doesn’t flinch when I start naming gods. I’m impressed.

“Another group wants to take us out after the door is open.” I lower my gaze as I trace figure eights on the tabletop. “That’s most of the monsters. We don’t know who all is on their side. Maybe Hades and Ares because, well, they like to stir up trouble.”

He shifts in his seat, and I glance up to see if he’s ready to bolt. Not yet.

“We’re kind of caught in the middle,” I say, describing the third and final faction. “A handful of gods, spirits, and even some monsters want us to open the door and guard it like it was meant to be guarded.” I shrug. “That group is the smallest one.”

I lay it all out for him—every last detail. Through it all, Milo watches me intently.

Then I tell him about Nick being taken prisoner and my mission to find my birth mother.

“I managed to find her name in our adoption records, and I wasn’t in that big a rush to find her. But now our enemies are trying to kill her,” I explain, “because they think that will destroy our powers.”

“Powers?”

Oh yeah. That.

“Um, I can kind of . . .” I can’t think of an easy way to tell him about autoporting. I’ll have to show him.

Closing my eyes, I focus on the space behind his chair. There’s a light and then, when I open my eyes, I’m looking at the back of his head.

“I do this,” I say as I tap him on the shoulder.

He spins around in his seat, his pale eyes wide and unblinking. He stares at me for several long, torturous seconds before he says, “So you
did
appear out of nowhere on the soccer field.”

“Yeah,” I say, “I did.”

I pop back to the other side of the table, back into my chair. Milo turns back around to face me, his features frozen with shock.

He finally blinks and swipes his tongue across his lips.

“Grace, I . . .”

I close my eyes. This is the part where he decides that he didn’t see what he just saw, that I’m nuts, completely delusional—dangerously so, probably, since I’m talking about biting monsters and coming war—and that he should be as far, far, far away from me as he can possibly get. Like in Japan, or on Mount Everest.

“It’s okay,” I say, pushing back from the table. “I know it sounds crazy. Believe me, I know.”

I start to stand, but Milo’s hand wraps gently around my arm before I can push up.

“Wait.”

I sit, frozen, staring at the spot where he holds my wrist.

Then his other hand slides forward, under mine, so I’m sandwiched between his palms. I look up, uncertain but hopeful.

“It does sound crazy,” he says, his pale eyes watching me, “but you’re not. You’re as far from crazy as anyone I’ve ever met.”

I swallow hard, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“So if you’re telling me this is true”—he lifts his brows—“then it must be true.”

I shake my head. “Are you . . .” Surely I heard him wrong. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe.” He stands and tugs me up and forward. As he leans over the table, he whispers, “Definitely.”

His lips are soft and warm and everything I need right now. They’re a gentle connection to something real, something not dangerous or deadly or out to kill me, my sisters, or my friends—something . . . perfect.

When he pulls back, his eyes are glowing—like a normal, excited human glow, not a demon monster from the abyss or anything.

“Now,” he says with a dimpled smile, “what’s the plan?”

CHAPTER 14
G
RETCHEN

W
hen I hear the whistle, I run.

There was only one short burst of sound, which means someone found Sthenno, and it echoed all the way through the dungeon.

My hallway was a dud—nothing but empty cages and cells filled with crates of supplies or something, most of them with bright yellow Xs spray-painted on the sides. No gorgons hidden there. No prisoners at all.

When I get back to the fork where Thane, Greer, the golden maiden, and I split up, I pause to listen for another whistle burst. I hear nothing except the echoing sound of booted feet running on stone. I back myself up against the nearest wall and wait until I see Thane emerge from his hallway.

“Was that you?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

The golden maiden arrives, looking just as expectant.

Thane and I simultaneously say, “Greer.”

“You stay with Ursula,” I tell the golden maiden. I toss her the keys. “She needs to be ready.”

Thane and I take off running down the hall my sister chose.

Behind us, I hear metal clanking against stone—a whistle dragging on the floor—and Sillus calling out, “Wait, huntress, wait.”

I don’t stop.

“Hush, little one,” I hear the golden maiden say as I race out of earshot.

Greer’s hallway is dark, with no torches or lights or magical whatevers to illuminate it, but there is a low beam of light spraying across the floor at the far end of the hall—her flashlight on the ground. I break into a sprint.

Thane beats me to her.

He skids to the ground on his knees right next to her head, reaches under her shoulders, and cradles her in his lap. I kneel at her side.

“Greer,” he says, gently shaking her. “Greer, wake up.”

She doesn’t move.

A scratching clank announces Sillus’s arrival. “Oh, no, huntress.”

I ignore him, scanning my gaze over Greer, looking for an injury or a wound. She doesn’t look hurt, and there are no signs of—

“Gretchen?”

I twist around at the sound of my name, searching for the source. There are doors on either side of the hall, so I grab Greer’s flashlight off the ground and peer inside.

“Down here,” the voice says. “The door is hidden.”

“Here, huntress,” Sillus cries out. “Look here.”

I spin back, the flashlight beam swinging back and forth as I follow the direction of his excited gesture. Then I see it, just a couple of feet off the ground, in the middle of the wall that ends the hallway: fingers reaching out and wagging at me from a narrow opening. Non-monster fingers.

“It’s me,” the voice says. “Sthenno.”

“Sthenno,” I whisper, relief washing through me. I drop to my knees in front of the opening. “What happened?”

“I’ll explain that later,” she says, “once we’re out of here. Apollo will have raised the alarm. The soldiers won’t be long now.”

I scan my gaze over the wall around the opening, tracing the beam of light over every stone, every joint of mortar. There is no sign of a door at all, let alone a way to open one. It’s like she’s sealed in.

“How?” I ask. “There’s no door.”

“One of the stones is a false front.” She gestures to the left of the door. “Somewhere over there. It pushes in to release the catch.”

With the flashlight in one hand, I start running my other hand over the wall. I push on every stone, waiting for one that gives way. Push after push, and nothing.

Finally, I get to the smallest stone—only about four inches square—and when I press on its surface, it sinks back into the wall.

“Got it,” I exclaim.

The words are no sooner out of my mouth than I hear a metal-on-metal sound and the entire wall around the opening—maybe four feet across and six feet high—pops out from the rest. Thane gets to his feet, Greer hanging limp in his arms, and moves them out of the way. I try to get a handhold on the stone edge to pull the door the rest of the way open.

“Stand back,” Sthenno says.

Sillus scrambles to my side.

I find a rough spot where I can get a grip. “I’ve almost—”

The door moves suddenly, swinging open like a tetherball on a string. It knocks me a few feet to the left, but I manage to keep my balance.

Sthenno appears in the doorway, dirty and bedraggled but otherwise intact. That was an impressive display of strength.

“We must hurry,” she says, stepping into the hall. “They know you’re here, and they’re coming.”

We run down the hall, the light from Greer’s flashlight guiding our way. Sillus’s whistle drags on the ground, but I don’t yell at him to pick it up. We’ll be gone before it matters.

The golden maiden is waiting for us at the fork, a serious look on her face.

Gesturing at us to be quiet, she hurries to meet us. She whispers, “There are soldiers guarding the closet door.”

“Ursula?”

“They know someone is inside,” she says, “but the door is locked. They have sent someone to retrieve a key.”

Hugging the wall, I move to the end of the hall and peer around the corner. There are only a few of them, but they are bigger than and just as armed as their friends who took a dip in the moat earlier. It’s only a matter of time before they open the door. Ursula is so weak, she’s virtually helpless. We have to get the soldiers away and us back home.

“Maybe,” I say, thinking out loud, “if we—”

“As soon as they are gone,” the golden maiden says, “get to the closet and get home.”

Then, before I can ask her what she means, she’s stepping out of the hallway and calling out to the gathered soldiers.

“Great Zeus,” one of them says when he sees her. “It’s a golden maiden.”

“There hasn’t been one on Olympus for centuries,” another says.

A third grins. “Not since Hephaestus threatened to melt them all down for their insubordination.”

“Those are the lies he spread,” she mutters quietly. The golden maiden places herself between the soldiers and the staircase that leads back up to the shining halls of Olympus. “What was his offered bounty again?”

“A sword that never misses its mark,” one shouts.

“And, as I recall,” she says, with a teasing tone, “a helm of immortality.”

In a glint of gold, she’s racing across the hallway and disappearing up the stairs.

The soldiers chase after her, abandoning their posts for the promise of reward. She’s fast. I’m sure she can outrun them. I
hope
she can.

We don’t have time to wait around to find out.

The golden maiden has bought us a few precious minutes, a narrow window of opportunity. I rush to the closet door and unlock it. Ursula steps out, looking far more like herself. Guess I come by my fast healing honestly.

She looks at her sister. “Are we too late?”

Sthenno shakes her head. “But we must hurry.”

“I’m not sure I have the strength.”

Sthenno steps up to her and places a palm on either side of her face. “I shall give you the strength.”

“What about her powers?” Thane asks. “Are they still tethered?”

Sthenno studies him appraisingly. I can’t guess her judgment.

“No,” Sthenno says. “Once free from the cell, her powers are released.”

“Hurry,” Ursula says. “Everyone gather close. Make sure you are touching one of us.”

I start to pocket the dungeon keys, but something stops me.

“Give me a sec,” I call out over my shoulder as I head down the hall toward the maze of cells.

“Gretchen,” Sthenno shouts, “we haven’t the time.”

I don’t stop to argue. They won’t leave without me, and this will only take a moment.

Back in the vast, smoke-filled room, I hurry to the cell of the man who talked to me earlier. He looks up as I toss the keys into his cell.

“Everyone deserves a trial,” I say.

I don’t wait for a response before sprinting back to the group.

Sthenno scowls at me, but we’ll have that discussion later.

Sillus jumps onto my back as I wrap a hand around Sthenno’s forearm. I can feel power—strength—surging through her beneath the fabric of her jacket. Thane steps to my side, Greer still cradled in his arms. He turns to press his shoulder against Ursula’s.

I’m not convinced that’s enough, so I grab Greer’s hand with my free one.

“It will not come.” Ursula’s voice is weak, and she sounds like she’s given up.

“It will, sister,” Sthenno says. “Concentrate.”

Ursula opens her eyes. “It is no use. I am too weak.”

I’m not sure what scares me the most: the threat of our enemies coming back for us, or the defeat in Ursula’s gray eyes. Since that day four years ago when she pulled me off the street, talked me out of the warehouse I was calling home, and gave me a bed, a future, and a destiny, she’s been nothing but strong—nothing but certain that I can succeed in whatever I try.

To see her give up like this ignites a fire in me.

“The hell you are,” I shout.

She looks at me, eyes wide.

“You are going to get us out of here,” I say. “You’re going to autoport us the hell out of this mountain. Right now.”

Her gray eyes light up and I see the first spark of hope—of belief.

She closes her eyes again, focusing, and I tighten my grip on Sthenno’s arm. I channel whatever powers I have into Ursula. Together, we can do anything.

The bright light is already blinding me before I remember to tell her not to autoport us to the loft.

When the world stops swirling, I open my eyes. We’re standing in the hollow shell of what used to be our home. The building still smells like barbecue and burned rubber.

Releasing my grip on Sthenno and Greer, I say, “I might have forgotten to mention that—”

Ursula collapses to the ground.

“Ursula!”

“We must get her to the healer,” Sthenno says. “Who has a vehicle?”

“I do,” I say. “But not here.”

My car is halfway across town, parked in front of Greer’s house.

“Where is the healer?” Thane asks. “Greer needs help, too.”

Sthenno looks at Greer, frowning with concern. “I am afraid,” she says, “that a healer cannot help her.”

The muscles in Thane’s jaw clench. If I didn’t know Sthenno was the gorgon with super strength—like me—I’d be worried for her health. Thane looks like he wants to destroy something, or someone.

I know the feeling.

“I’ll go get my car.” I glance at our two unconscious companions. “It will take me a while. Maybe twenty minutes.”

“There is no time,” Sthenno says. “Can you carry your sister?”

“Of course,” I reply without hesitation. Sillus climbs off my back.

Sthenno smiles like a proud teacher. “And I can carry mine. We can be at the healer’s in a matter of minutes.”

I reach for Greer, but Thane holds her out of range. “I have her.”

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I feel like we’re going to have a stare-down. Then his look softens, and his brows dip just a little, turning his expression into a plea. I don’t have to be a social genius to know what that means.

“Fine,” I say, pulling the monkey back onto my shoulders so he won’t slow us down. “Let’s get moving. Sthenno, you can lead the way.”

The healer is in a tiny storefront in Russian Hill, a short uphill trek from the loft. Unlike the oracle’s abandoned-looking shop, this place is all lights and neon. Only a plastic “closed” sign on the door gives a go-away message.

Sthenno knocks on the door.

The painted notices in the window invite customers to get acupuncture, acupressure, massage, facials, and aura readings inside. A glowing neon sign advertises aromatherapy. There is a special discount—free aura reading with the purchase of six acupressure sessions.

“Who is this quack?” I ask. “How can they help us?”

Sthenno looks evenly at me. “This quack,” she intones, “is a child of Panacea, a goddess of healing.”

My cheeks burn, and I try to disguise my embarrassment with cooperation. “Oh, that’s good, then.”

When the door swings open, I want to take back my words.

“Sorry,” the short, wiry man says, “we’re—”

When he sees Sthenno, his jaw drops.

“Gorgon,” he says, inclining his head, “you are most welcome.”

He steps back and waves us inside. Sthenno goes in first, carrying Ursula in her arms as if my mentor weighs nothing. I wave Thane in before me, and Sillus and I bring up the rear.

The healer takes one look at the two unconscious bodies and says, “Come this way.”

We follow him through the space, into a large room in the back with twin massage tables set up in the center. It smells like herbs and essential oils, and the air is filled with music that sounds like the soundtrack to some tragic movie where everyone dies.