Sweet Venom mg-1

by Tera Lynn Childs

  She replies with a sad face and says Thane’s out for dinner too. I wonder if he’s with Milo. I text back that I look forward to leftovers tomorrow; with Thane not eating at home, there might actually be some.

  Of course, as soon as I send the text, my stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten since lunch. Gretchen’s workouts zap everything out of me and I need extra nourishment to keep up. If I were home for dinner more lately, Mom would probably notice a huge spike in my appetite.

  Content that Greer will be safe without my eyes on her for a few minutes, I head out in search of food. There aren’t that many vegetarian choices in the land of seafood. Most of the vendors give me an are-you-crazy? look when I ask. Pulling out my phone, I open the VegFinder app and do a quick search within a two-block radius. Within seconds it finds a stall with a vegetarian corn chowder on the menu. I gratefully accept the paper container and hand over my cash.

  With the chowder warming my hands, I take my time wandering back to my bench.

  It amazes me how many people there are in San Francisco. The population of Orangevale was probably smaller than our block’s here. So many people from so many different places, a mix-and-match collage of cultures. Between the tourists and the residents, I think every ethnicity, religion, and heritage in the world is represented. It’s the most exciting place I’ve ever been.

  In Orangevale, you couldn’t leave the house without running into twelve people you knew. With only a couple grocery stores and one post office, everyone had to run their errands to the same few spots. Here, though, there are dozens of post offices and hundreds of grocery stores. Hundreds of restaurants and boutiques and coffee shops. You could live here your whole life and never run into someone you know.

  “Grace?”

  I jump at the sound of Thane’s voice. I swallow the hot bite of chowder before I choke on it. In that moment, I do a quick glance around to see if Milo is here. No such luck.

  “Thane,” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”

  “Me?” he asks with a scowl. “I thought you were studying at a friend’s house.”

  “I, um, am.” Great. Lying to Mom via text is one thing, but face-to-face with Thane is impossible. I need to stick as close to the truth as possible. “I was. I—” I look around, hoping for inspiration but finding none. “I’m supposed to be.”

  “This isn’t your friend’s house.” He steps closer. “Tell me what’s going on. Have you—”

  The crowd jostles, knocking me forward into Thane. We both stumble but stay upright, and I take the opportunity of distraction to change the subject.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. “Don’t you have practice?”

  He scowls more than normal, deepening the creases across his forehead, and a rosy pink floods his cheeks. “Did,” he says abruptly. “It’s over.”

  “Oh, then why are you—”

  “Supposed to be meeting someone here.” He looks around, and I can’t tell if he’s looking for someone or avoiding looking at me. “She’s a no-show.”

  “She?” I ask, agog. “You’re meeting a girl?”

  His blush deepens.

  Oooh, this is so juicy. It’s not like Thane hasn’t dated before—he’s just really particular—and it’s not like he couldn’t have almost any girl he wanted. I know he’s my brother, but I think I can see him objectively. He’s tall, broad shouldered, and strong. He has chiseled features, sharp cheekbones, and a square jaw. With his brown hair cropped short, his eyes positively glow. He looks like the star of some Hollywood army flick or a cologne ad. Girls definitely go after Thane.

  He doesn’t often reciprocate.

  “Just a . . . friend,” he mumbles, not sounding pleased at all. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “I’ll see you at home. Be safe.”

  He turns and disappears into the crowd. How odd. I wonder what set him off? Thane is always a little cryptic, but that was exceptional. I only hope he doesn’t plan to tell Mom and Dad that I’m not where I’m supposed to be.

  I’ll have to ask him later about his girl friend.

  What a funny coincidence to run into him. At first I thought it was kind of serendipitous that Gretchen and I were at the same nightclub at the same time. But maybe coincidental run-ins aren’t as uncommon in the big city as I thought.

  Or maybe, I wonder, it was a little more than coincidence. If we really are the Key Generation, then maybe someone has manipulated things to bring us together. From everything I’ve read about mythology, the gods love to stick their noses into the affairs of others. And fate is their favorite plaything.

  Maybe Gretchen and I were supposed to meet at that club.

  I take another bite of chowder, letting the steaming goodness warm me from the inside, and weave my way through the crowd as thoughts of fate and coincidence swirl in my mind. San Francisco is much colder than I ever imagined. I’m practically shivering in my short-sleeved tee. If it gets any chillier, I’ll be tempted to pull my dirty gym clothes out of my bag and start layering.

  By the time I make it back to my bench, it’s surrounded by a sea of people. A startled shout emerges from somewhere in the crowd, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. Relax, Grace. It could be anything. I sniff the air but get nothing beyond the heavy scent of fish and ocean. The people are so thick, I can’t see beyond the circle immediately around me. Curious, I climb up on the end of the bench to get a better view.

  I almost drop my chowder.

  Not twenty feet away, winding through the crowd and knocking people over along the way, is a soaking-wet woman with a serpent’s tail. Oh, shoot.

  I stand frozen, not sure how to react. There’s a snake-woman slithering among the hundreds of tourists filling Fisherman’s Wharf, and I have no idea what to do.

  For a second, I wish I’d gone home with Gretchen when I had the chance.

  No, that’s cowardly thinking. I’m done with cowardly. I’m a descendant of Medusa and a monster huntress. Cowardly isn’t in my blood.

  Still, Gretchen is the one with all the knowledge and skills.

  “Maybe I should call her,” I tell myself.

  A guy shouts an obscenity as the serpent’s tail slithers around his ankles.

  There’s no time to wait for Gretchen. It would take her at least fifteen minutes to get here from her loft. Who knows what kind of havoc the snake-lady could wreak in that time?

  I glance up at the restaurant windows, where I know Greer is safely eating dinner with her date. Well, I wanted to protect her. This is my chance.

  And I’ll save a few dozen ignorant tourists in the process.

  Jumping down from my bench, I toss the remains of my chowder into the nearest trash can, tighten down the straps on my backpack so it doesn’t get in the way, and head off in the direction of the monster. She’s moving deeper into the crowd. The first thing I need to do is get her away from all these people. How on earth am I going to—

  “Ugh,” I grunt as I crash into someone.

  “Watch where you’re going,” my collision victim snaps. “This isn’t bumper walking.”

  I jerk back at the familiar voice.

  “Greer?” I ask.

  Our silver-gray eyes meet.

  “What are you doing down here?” I ask. “I thought you were having dinner upstairs.”

  “I was,” she says, not bothering to disguise her annoyance. “Until I saw this . . . thing climb out of the bay. Wait, how did you know where I was? Are you following me?”

  “You saw her?” I squeal, ignoring her questions.

  She stiffens, like she didn’t realize the slip until I commented. But she can’t take it back. She saw the monster. She is a descendant of Medusa, destined to be a huntress, just like me and Gretchen.

  “That’s wonderful!” I scream. I wrap my arms around her before she can push me away. She’s got a few inches on me in her heels. “I knew you could see them too.”

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s a flippin’ family reunion.” She pats me awkwardly
on the back and then leans away. Gesturing to the snake lady’s wake, she asks, “Shouldn’t you do something about that?”

  “Yes!” I jump back, beaming. “Yes, we should.”

  I stare at her, beyond thrilled that she has admitted to seeing the creature. And maybe that will mean she’s willing to accept her responsibility as a huntress. Then the three of us can be reunited as sisters, as the Key Generation, and we can roam the streets, tracking monsters together. We’ll figure out what the seal is all about and how we’re supposed to be making the world safer for—

  “And that something would be . . . ?”

  “Right,” I say, jerking myself back to the immediate situation. Tourists. Wharf. Sea-serpent lady. “First, we need to get her away from this crowd.”

  “Um, we? And how do you suggest we do that?”

  “Oh, I’ve got an idea,” I say, a plan forming in my mind. A dangerous plan, true, but it’s the only one I’ve got. “You go down to the end of the pier, out of sight behind the building, where there won’t be any people.”

  “And where will you be?”

  I give her a shaky grin. “I’ll bring the monster.”

  Greer looks unconvinced but heads off to the end of the pier. I turn and follow the sounds of grunts and thuds to where the snake-lady has almost made it off the pier and onto the mainland. I need to be fast. For a lot of reasons.

  Catching up to her serpent tail, I take a deep breath, tell myself to be brave, and stomp my foot down on the scaly flesh as hard as I can.

  Snake-lady howls in pain, spinning her torso around to face her attacker.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, with mock sincerity and even more mock courage. “Did that hurt?”

  “A huntress,” she coos, a look of evil delight creasing her craggy features.

  “You guessed it,” I retort. My hands are shaking so hard, I have to grasp the straps of my backpack to hide obvious signs of my fear. “And people say snakes are dumb.”

  As she emits an earsplitting howl, her torso dives forward, the rest of her serpenty body coiling around for the strike. That’s my cue.

  I turn and run, slipping through whatever space I can find in the crush of people, shoving into bodies left and right if they’re in my way. It’s a dash for my life at this point. Possibly for a lot of people’s lives. Maybe I shouldn’t have taunted the evil monster—the lure of the bounty might have been enough to get her attention—but I had to get her to follow me. And making her angry was the only way I came up with.

  Now I know why a rabbit’s heart beats so fast when you catch it, because mine is fluttering in my chest like a butterfly on a sugar rush.

  Finally, after what seems like forever, the crowd thins and I can sprint straight for the end of the pier. I skid around the corner, where Greer is waiting with a bored expression.

  “She’s coming,” I pant. “Get ready!”

  “Ready for what?” Greer asks, a sudden look of sheer panic on her face.

  “To pounce.” I brace myself into a defensive stance. “Grab on and don’t let go no matter what.”

  I’ve barely finished my command when snake-lady comes slithering around the corner. Her beady eyes focus on me, so she doesn’t see Greer standing next to the wall.

  “Now!” I shout.

  Without hesitation, Greer dives onto the serpent tail. I give her a little silent cheer. The creature twists to see what has landed on her tail. I take advantage and launch myself onto her back.

  I have no idea where the hot spot on this creature is—I’m not even sure what the creature is called—but since I’m not interested in my first taste of monster, I’m hoping a single bite in the torso will do the trick. Since it’s a human torso, I’m going for close to the neck.

  She’s not thrilled to have me as a passenger, that’s obvious, and as soon as I wrap my arms and legs around her, she starts thrashing around, trying to dislodge me. I squeeze tight and ride it out, hoping for an opportunity to bite her without knocking my teeth out in the process.

  The world around me spins, everything a blur. I hear a big splash.

  Oh no, what if she takes us into the Bay? She might be able to breathe underwater, but Greer and I would drown. I have to take a chance and get my fangs into her flesh fast.

  Without further hesitation, I pull myself up a few inches, close my eyes, and bite. Thankfully, I feel my fangs pop out as my lips brush her flesh. I can only hope my venom is making its way into her bloodstream.

  After a few more moments of holding on for dear life—only now accompanied by the eardrum-bursting screams of a monster in agony—suddenly my arms are wrapped around thin air. I fall several feet to the weathered boards of the pier, landing with a thud. My breath whooshes out of me. It takes a few seconds of painful effort to get my lungs working again.

  “Holy goalie,” I gasp, rolling onto my back and staring up at the overcast sky. “We did it.”

  When Greer doesn’t respond, I call her name. Nothing. I sit up and look around, afraid something awful has happened to her. But then . . .

  I stifle a giggle.

  “Uh . . .”

  Well, she’s not dead. That’s something.

  “Guess I know what that splash was, huh?”

  “Apparently.”

  Greer is standing about ten feet away, right at the edge of the pier, completely drenched. Her beautiful hair is hanging down in limp, dripping clumps. The gorgeous sequined tank and gray skirt have a slightly brownish tint. One of her shoes is missing.

  “Oh Greer,” I say, scrambling to my feet. “I’m so—”

  “Don’t.” Her eyes squeeze shut. She looks like she’s doing deep-breathing meditation or something.

  “Can I help?” I offer. Slinging my backpack to one shoulder, I unzip the main compartment. “I have my gym clothes in here. They’re not exactly clean, but they’re dry.”

  “This is all your fault.”

  I jerk back, confused. “What? How? How is this my fault?”

  “You were following me,” she accuses.

  “Well, um . . . . kinda.”

  “Well, um,” she says mockingly. “Then that creature must have climbed out of the Bay to find you.”

  “It didn’t,” I insist, even though I can’t really be sure of that. From everything Gretchen has said, I think that’s unlikely, but even she admits that things are changing right now.

  “If you hadn’t shown up on my doorstep today,” she continues, “I would still be upstairs, enjoying exquisite shrimp scampi with Kyle and deciding whether he’s earned a goodnight kiss. I would still be blissfully ignorant, and monster sighting would just be an embarrassing childhood memory.”

  “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

  “Instead, I’m drenched in stinky, fishy Bay water.” She looks like she wants to throw up but has too much class to do it. “I’m seeing mythological monsters again. I’ve lost a two-hundred-dollar shoe to the murky depths, and my favorite date outfit is completely ruined.”

  I feel awful. Especially since my only side effects from the fight are a bad taste in my mouth and getting the wind knocked out of me for a few seconds.

  “Maybe, if you take it to a dry cleaner . . .” I suggest.

  She spears me with an annoyed look. A clump of seaweed drops off her head and onto her bare foot.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she says with a finality in her tone that worries me, “I need to go figure out how to retrieve my purse without my boyfriend—or anyone more than absolutely necessary, for that matter—seeing me in this state.”

  “But Greer—”

  “Good.” She turns on her one shoe and stomps lopsidedly away. “Bye.”

  With sloshy up-and-down steps, she disappears around the corner. Okay, so she’s not thrilled. And I feel bad for her getting dunked in the Bay, I really do.

  But I can’t help but be excited. She saw the snake-lady and left her dinner to do something about it. She’s not completely immune to our r
esponsibility.

  Together, we defeated the monster. It’s my first battle victory, and although I know there are tons more where snake-lady came from, I feel like I can take them all on.

  Gretchen is going to be so proud of me. Of both of us.

  Pulling my phone out of my backpack, I’m about to punch the speed dial for Gretchen’s ultraprivate phone number when I sense a presence. I look up, don’t see anyone around, and am about to dismiss the weird feeling when a woman appears right in front of me.

  I mean right in front of me.

  “Gretchen?” she asks, a faint scowl on her sophisticated gray brow.

  She’s tall and elegant, like a graceful ballerina. Her clothes—softly flowing pants and a long, draped top made of a kind of stretchy, purple-gray fabric—ripple around her in waves.

  I shake my head, uncertain what to say or what is going on.

  “Silly me,” she says with a gentle laugh. “You must be Grace. My sister told me about you. The resemblance is remarkable.”

  She reaches out her hand, like she wants to touch my cheek, but pulls back at the last moment.

  “There isn’t time for that.” She kind of flickers, like a holographic image. “Do you know who I am?”

  I didn’t. But as soon as she asks the question, the pieces fall into place.

  “You’re Ursula, aren’t you?” I ask, even though I already feel the truth of the guess. “Gretchen’s mentor.”

  “I am.” She grins. “Good, that means you and Gretchen have found each other.”

  “We’ve found Greer too.”

  Her elegant brows arch up, surprised. “That is an un-expected delight.”

  “She doesn’t want anything to do with us,” I feel compelled to confess.

  “Give it time,” she says.

  As if startled by some noise behind her, she looks over her shoulder. Now she seems frightened.

  “Listen carefully.” She fixes her gaze on me. “You must take a message to Gretchen for me. Tell her I have been taken prisoner. I—”

  “Oh no,” I gasp. “Are you all right?”