Sweet Venom (20 page)

There is not a bird-woman in the shop
, I tell myself.
There is
not
a—

“Here you go,” Kelly Anne says, bringing a pair of boxes to the woman who—no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise—has the head of a big black bird. Her inky black feathers gleam yellow in the fluorescent light.

I can't take it anymore.

Standing, I grab my satchel and head for the door.

“Is something wrong, Greer?” Kelly Anne asks, rightfully concerned about her favorite client—me—walking out of the shop.

“No,” I squeak. “Fine. I love these. Put them on my tab.”

“No problem.”

I push open the door, desperate to get away.

“Greer, wait!”

I ignore whatever Kelly Anne is trying to say. She has more important things to worry about, like finding the perfect shoes for the bird-woman. Probably something in a black patent pump.

Sweet mercy, not even Kelly Anne's boutique is safe anymore.

As I hurry down the sidewalk, I hear her call out, “You forgot your espadrilles.”

A small price to pay to escape the presence of yet another monster. Why? Why is this happening to me? I've been a good girl, for the most part, all my life. I try to meet and exceed everyone's expectations. I don't lie unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm loyal to my friends, I get stellar grades, I make my bed every day. I don't drink, do drugs, sneak out, or break any laws. What did I do to deserve this kind of fate? I'm going insane as I'm surrounded by ever-increasing numbers of freaky monsters.

Seriously, a woman with a raven's head?

I jerk to a stop in the middle of a crosswalk. There is only one person—well, two people, actually—who can answer my questions. Who can tell me why this is happening and how to make it stop. Because it has to stop. The same two people whose presence in my life seems to have been the harbinger of my descent into madness.

My—I swallow tightly—sisters.

A blaring horn bursts my thoughts and reminds me I'm standing in the middle of the street. But now I know where I need to go. Only I don't know
where
to go. It's not like I collected business cards when they showed up on my doorstep. Or when Grace and I were fighting the crazy sea snake.

I don't even have a phone number for them.

Something in my gut compels me to head downhill to the marina. It's such a strong feeling, I don't stop to think. I jog across the street—Kelly Anne was right about these heels, they
are
ultracomfortable—just in time to catch the bus. Seven minutes later I jump off at Marina Boulevard.

Not sure why, I turn and head east toward the nearest pier, toward the big warehouse-like building jutting out over the water. It's like I'm on autopilot.

Before I know it, I'm banging on a big metal door. An echo thunders around me and through the building beyond the door. It sounds empty.

After a couple of minutes I'm starting to think my insanity must be expanding to new and different levels. Why would I come here, of all places?

But when I'm about to turn and walk way, the door swings open with a painful screech.

“What do you want?” Gretchen asks, her seemingly ever-present scowl in place.

Oh, thank goodness.

“I'm seeing monsters,” I explain. “Everywhere.”

She shrugs, as if to say,
What should I do about it?

“They're in the park and at my school and just . . . everywhere! I need to know what exactly is going on,” I explain. “I need to make it stop.” Because clearly my force of will isn't going to be enough.

“Greer!”

I turn and see Grace hurrying across the driveway. When she gets to the door, panting, she says, “I'm so glad you're here.”

“And how exactly did you get
here
?” Gretchen asks with a snarl.

I look from Grace to Gretchen and answer honestly, “I don't know.”

Grace gasps. “Did you autoport?”

“Did I what?”

“Autoport,” she repeats. “You know, did you just zap here?”

“No.” I am so confused. “I took a bus.”

“Oh.” Her face falls. Then, after a beat, she beams. “
Oh!
You must have Medusa's gift. Second sight.”

“Look, can we—” I struggle to retain my trademark calm. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

Gretchen doesn't speak, but she steps out and pulls the door shut behind her. As she walks past us, I share a look with Grace. She shrugs and heads off after our sister. Not having anywhere else to turn, I do the same.

I
can't believe I'm sitting at a table in a sushi restaurant with my two sisters. My sisters! I don't think I've been this happy since we adopted Thane—who is hopefully busy working on his own bid for happiness—and this is happy on a whole different their-blood-is-my-blood level.

Gretchen and Greer don't seem to share my excitement.

To my left, Gretchen's arms are crossed and leaning on the table, a stormy look on her face. There's a line between her eyebrows where she's squeezed them together. Her eyes are a darker shade of gray than I've ever seen in my mirror. I wonder if that's what I look like when I'm angry.

Or am I more like Greer, sitting stiff spined in her chair, exuding haughty annoyance and looking like she might fracture into a million pieces at any second?

Either way, the tension at the table is practically killing me. I'm not just going to let things go and pretend like everything is okay, though, because big things are going on and we need to talk about them. Sitting up straight in my chair, I look at Gretchen.

“I know who Sthenno is.”

Immediately her demeanor changes. “Who?”

“My counselor, Ms. West,” I say, so proud to have figured it out. “I didn't get a chance to talk to her about it because, well, she disappeared.”

“Not like you?” Gretchen clarifies. “Not autoporting?”

“No, she just walked out of the building—”

“I'm sorry,” Greer interrupts. “But, Sthenno? As in the immortal Gorgon Sthenno?”

“The same,” I say with a grin. “After you and I fought the serpent-lady at the wharf—”

“Sea dracaena,” Gretchen mutters.

“Right.” I flash a scowl at her. As if that's helping right now. “Anyway, after you left, then Gretchen's mentor, Ursula, visited me. Only she's not just Ursula, she's really the other immortal Gorgon, Euryale.”

“An immortal Gorgon visited you on the wharf?”

“Yes.” Am I being unclear? I don't think so. “She autoported to me, thinking I was Gretchen, because she's been imprisoned somewhere and I guess her autoporting wires got crossed—”

“Grace,” Gretchen interrupts with a snarl. “Can we get back to the part where you discovered your counselor is Sthenno?”

“Oh, right.” I guess it's better to stay on track. “Anyway, she got away before I could ask her, and I thought maybe, if you want, we could go talk to her together. I could make an appointment for after school or something.”

Gretchen nods and I sigh with relief. We've found Ursula's sister and now maybe we can figure what's going on and why things are changing. That's one thing checked off the list of unanswered questions today.

“Great,” Greer says, not sounding thrilled. “Can we get back to my problem here?”

Gretchen scowls. “Of course,” she sneers. “Because this is all about you.”

“Now, Gretchen,” I say, wanting to diffuse the sudden tension.

“No,” Greer says before I can finish. “That's fair.”

Gretchen seems stunned that Greer would make that kind of concession. I guess I'm actually a little surprised too. They look at each other—okay,
glare
—and I feel caught in the middle.

Thankfully, the waitress arrives, breaking the unsisterlike tension.

“You girls ready to order?” she drawls, looking from Greer to me to Gretchen. “Well, aren't you three adorable? Triplets, huh?”

I smile. “Yes, we—”

“I'll have salmon nigiri and a bowl of miso soup,” Greer says, cutting off my answer.

“The tempura platter,” Gretchen says. “With extra shrimp.”

The waitress quickly scribbles down their orders and then looks at me.

“Can I just get an avocado roll?” I ask. When the waitress nods and adds it to the order, I say, “Thank you.”

The waitress grabs our menus and leaves, probably eager to escape the tension-filled table. If only I could go with her. No. I'm not going to run away. I'm going to face this and find a way to make them see reason.

“We're here to talk,” Gretchen says. “Let's talk. Ask your questions.”

Her gaze doesn't waver from Greer, who's been practicing the silent treatment since we left the loft. I don't have to know her like a sister to literally feel the anger pouring off her in frosty waves.

While they have a little stare-down, I drum my fingers on the underside of my chair, feeling powerless. With two such strong personalities, how can I ever make them see how lucky we are to have found each other? We need to find an element of common ground, beyond our shared DNA and monster-hunting destiny, something to show my sisters that we aren't as different as we seem.

Looking around the table, though, I can't help but worry that maybe we are. One is a gruff, tough commando chick, who dresses all in black and drab and prefers to fight alone. Another is a pretty, preppy, popular girl, who wears the finest fashions and prefers to keep her social calendar intact.

And then there's me. What type am I exactly? The eco-conscious computer geek who'd rather be comfortable than fashionable and who is still learning how to stand up for herself. On the surface we don't have much to bond about.

“Listen,” I begin, “I really think we should—”

“Tell me about the monsters,” Greer says. “Where do they come from?”

“Another realm,” Gretchen replies. “Sealed off from ours.”

Greer asks, “Then how do they get here?”

“Well, there's this—”

“The seal is cracked,” Gretchen explains.

Speaking of the seal . . . “You know, I read in that Medusa book that we're supposed to—”

“What do they do here?” Greer continues, as if I hadn't spoken.

Gretchen shrugs. “Feed on humans. Drain their life force and then either kill or control them.”

“Kill or—” I stutter. Did Gretchen just say
control
humans? “You never said anything about—”

“But there are others, right?” Greer asks, interrupting me
again
. “Ones that don't . . .
feed
on humans.”

I'm thrilled that they're talking, but do they really have to keep cutting me off? Letting me finish a sentence would be nice. Now is not the time for that battle, though, so I bite my tongue and listen.

“I don't know,” Gretchen says with a sigh.

“Really?” I gape.

“Maybe that's one of the things that's changing.” She rubs her neck. “There might be beasties coming through that aren't pure evil.”

That's news to me. From the start, Gretchen has been very clear. Monsters are bad, end of discussion. Something must have made her question the truth of that conviction.

“Why are we the only ones who see them?”

“It's our legacy as descendants of Medusa. We are the huntresses who keep the monsters in their realm and out of ours.”

Greer leans forward across the table. “No,
you're
a huntress,” she says, looking only at Gretchen. “Grace and I are obviously sweet, normal girls.”

I want to take offense, but I'm thrilled that she's found something to connect us. “But we took down that serpent crea—” I glance at Gretchen. “That sea dracaena the other night. We
are
huntresses.”

Greer glares at me.

Gretchen gives me a tight smile. “You're working on it.”

“When we fought that sea whatever,” Greer says, gesturing at me, “it disappeared. One moment it was there, the next it was gone. What happened?”

“I bit it,” I explain, jumping at the chance to explain something. Glancing quickly around to make sure no one is watching, I focus on my teeth and slide my fangs down into view. I've been practicing. “We have
fangs
,” I whisper. “They inject a sweet venom that sends the monsters back to their realm.”

Greer looks like I said we cut off their heads and fry them up for breakfast. Her lips move, and I know she's licking her tongue along her front teeth to make sure she didn't suddenly sprout fangs.

“They're instinctive,” I explain. “They'll come out when you need them.”

“The venom is a one-way ticket back to their realm,” Gretchen says. “Some kind of supernatural express train.”

“That,” Greer says with a sneer, “is one of the most disgusting things I have ever heard.”

“It's not that bad,” I say, though who am I to say? I've only bitten one beastie. I'd been so full of fear and adrenaline, it could have tasted like burned garbage and I wouldn't have noticed.

Gretchen adds, “You learn to deal.”

From the look on Greer's face, she doesn't want to learn to deal. She wants to wake up from this terrible nightmare and pretend none of this is true. Totally understandable. It's not as if this news is easy to digest.

“How many are there?” she asks.

“What? Monsters?” Gretchen shrugs again. “Who knows? Hundreds. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Hundreds of thousands?” Greer echoes. “Here in the city?”

“Oh no,” I hurry to say. Gretchen may be keen on scaring Greer away, but I'd like to keep her from bolting. “Not all at once. They used to get out only one at a time.” I glance at Gretchen. “But that's changing too.”

“Everything is changing,” Gretchen says. “None of the old rules seem to apply anymore.”

“Why?” Greer asks.

“Because we're reunited,” I say. “I moved to the city and now things are weird.”

Gretchen may not have said it out loud, but I'm sure she thinks that too. And after what Ursula told me, I must be right.

“But some of them live here?” Greer asks. “In this . . . realm. Right?”

“No,” Gretchen replies. “They can only be here temporarily.”

“But what about Harold?”

“Who's Harold?” I ask.

“The janitor at my school,” Greer explains. “He used to be normal, or at least I used to
see
him as normal. Today, when I looked, he was a giant spider. And I think he always has been, and I just couldn't see it before.”

“That makes no sense,” Gretchen says. “Haven't you always been able to see monsters?”

Greer's face shutters, like she's blocking something out. “I— Just once,” she says, shaking her head. “When I was a child. But then not again until you two knocked on my door. Now it's like nonstop monstervision.”

“That's weird,” I say. I get the feeling she's not telling us something. “Maybe some of them have been released. If they can get out permanently as a reward for bringing us in, then maybe they can get granted release for other things too.”

Gretchen shakes her head. “I just can't believe I haven't seen any of those long-term visitors before this week.”

“Maybe they stayed away from you,” I suggest, giving her a sympathetic smile. “You do have a killer reputation for monster hunting.”

The look on Gretchen's face makes it clear she thinks the idea is ridiculous. Hey, it could happen.

“Why doesn't anyone else see them?” Greer asks.

“We're special that way,” Gretchen retorts.

“Monsters create a false appearance, an illusion when they're in this realm,” I explain, throwing Gretchen a you're-not-helping look. “Ordinary humans see them as human.”

Greer scowls. “And we're
not
human?”

Right then the waitress returns with a tray of food. As she sets down plates and bowls, we sit there in silence. When we've assured her that everything looks great, she leaves and I let out a huge breath. I'm as eager to hear this answer as Greer is, I think.

“We are human,” Gretchen explains, stabbing a piece of broccoli tempura with her fork. “We're just not
ordinary
.”

“We are descendants of Medusa and her human husband,” I add, repeating the information from the book that led me to finding Greer. “They had three half-human daughters. They in turn had three daughters, and so on until now.”

“So, there are more of us?” Greer asks.

I can sense her eagerness, can practically see her hope that maybe she doesn't have to feel so responsible for this if there are others to take up the fight. I'm almost sad to burst her bubble. Almost.

“No,” I say. “There are only three in every generation.” I look at Gretchen, then back at Greer. “There's only us.”

I don't have an answer to the unspoken questions, though. Not yet. What about our mother? What about our aunts? Grandmothers and great-aunts? Cousins? Are they alive? If so, where are they and what are they doing?

We all fall silent in our own thoughts. Gretchen shoves a full forkload of tempura vegetables into her mouth. She doesn't seem happy or excited or even hopeful about our sisterly reunion. I can't help but be all three. This is what is supposed to happen.

As I stir my wasabi into a dish of soy sauce, I watch Greer take an elegant sip of soup. Her fingers hold the spoon perfectly, and she doesn't spill or drip a single drop. Her face doesn't betray any of the thoughts and questions I'm sure are racing through her mind.

Finally, she sets down her spoon next to the bowl, taking a moment to compose herself before asking, “What's the point?”

“I don't get the question,” Gretchen replies, then stuffs a big bite of shrimp into her mouth.

“The monsters come out,” Greer says. “One of— Somebody bites them. They go back. That's it?”

“That's pretty much it.” Gretchen takes a gulp of her water.

“And this goes on for, like, what? Forever? For the rest of our—your life?”

Gretchen looks thoughtful as she sets down her glass and considers Greer's question. It's a valid question. I mean, Gretchen's been doing this for years, since we were twelve. Maybe she's never thought about where it's all going. Maybe she's always been willing to devote her entire life to stalking monsters in the night. Or, as it's been lately, in the day and dusk and dawn and any other time. Maybe she's never asked herself the question,
Then what?