Sweet Legacy (Sweet Venom)

by Tera Lynn Childs

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve been feeling it, too,” Gretchen says.

  “I—” I want to say that I’ve noticed something, but I haven’t really. Maybe I’m just not as observant as my sisters. I whisper, “Then we’ll be extra careful.”

  Gretchen volunteers to check out the parking-lot side of the Palace, the entire far side of the building that’s full of locked doors and service entrances, in case the door turns out to be an actual door, I guess. Nick goes with her.

  Greer and Thane head off to the pond side of the building, the exterior rotunda and open-air porticos with lots of columns and great photo ops. It’s swarming with tourists trying—and mostly failing—to get pictures without anyone else in the frame.

  Gretchen orders Sillus to go take a nap so he won’t slow us down. She sounds harsh, but I think she feels bad for him. He scrambles to the nearest empty bench and curls up in a tiny ball.

  I get the lucky job of checking out the grassy areas and the open space around the eastern side of the pond. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m glad to be out in the sun. It almost makes me feel like I’m back in Orangevale. Not back home in Orangevale, because San Francisco is finally starting to feel like home. I wish Milo was here to enjoy the day with me.

  There’s not very much to inspect on my side of the pond—a few trees, some benches, a tree-dense minipeninsula at one end. Lots of ducks and a pair of pristine white swans. Nothing that looks like a door, or even a door that’s not a door. It takes me only a few minutes to walk the entire length and back again.

  I don’t notice any standout threes—I’m not counting the trio of seagulls that tried to chase me up a small hill. Nothing exceptional. Now what?

  I sit down on the bench next to Sillus and stare out over the water.

  The door is probably somewhere near the building anyway, right? The building has doors and archways and other door-like things.

  Then what Sthenno said echoes in my mind: the door doesn’t look like a door. It’s a location—a certain place where, if my sisters and I open a portal, the door will appear.

  Maybe I need to reorient my thinking. If we’re looking for a door that’s not a door, then the things that look like doors—the arches and actual doors—are less likely to be right.

  As I survey the world around me, I run the third line of the riddle through my mind over and over again.

  “Be three within three,” I mutter.

  Three columns? Three benches? Three . . . I-don’t-know-whats.

  Three within three, three within—

  I gasp. “Three trees.”

  It’s right there, right in front of me. As in directly in front of me.

  Three gnarled and ancient-looking trees arranged in a triangular shape on a little piece of land that juts out into the pond just a tiny bit. They are tall, and their bark is almost black. Three within three. Three sisters within the triangle of three trees.

  I quickly compare them to the other trees in the park. The rest look completely ordinary. There are none like them.

  This has to be it.

  Part of me wants to jump up and down, run over to the three trees—maybe hug them—and shout for my sisters to hurry up and join me. But I remember what Greer said about the weird texts, and what Gretchen said about feeling like we’re being watched. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to the door.

  If anyone from the Olympic faction—Zeus, Apollo, or one of their many allies—finds out we’ve located the door before we’re ready, they won’t think twice about killing us to keep us from breaking the seal.

  For all I know, one of their agents is somewhere here among the tourists, just waiting for a reason to strike.

  Or someone from the monster side is hiding out nearby so they’re ready to attack the moment we open the door.

  If we thought things were dangerous before, when we were just beginning to figure things out, then it’s going to be all-out war when the factions involved find out we’ve found the door.

  There is no place more dangerous for me and my sisters to be.

  So, without sparing the three trees another glance, I lean back on the bench, drape my arms over the back above Sillus’s snoring body, and wait for my sisters to return.

  “Nothing,” Gretchen says with a huff when she and Nick return. “All normal doors and architectural details. This is a waste of time.”

  She flops down on the bench next to me while Nick stays standing in front of us. Sillus sits up at the sound of her voice and climbs over my lap to cuddle into hers.

  I can barely contain my excitement. Her hand moves to pet Sillus’s furry head.

  “Um, Gretchen?” I ask offhandedly.

  She turns her head to look at me.

  “Don’t look,” I say, moving my lips as little as possible, “but the door is right in front of us.”

  She immediately looks. “Where?”

  “Gretchen,” I growl.

  She quickly turns back to me. “Right. Where?”

  “There—”

  “I found several likely candidates,” Greer says, stepping in between me and Gretchen and the three trees. “We will have to test them to be certain. Though I’m not really sure how to do that.”

  I glance up and give her a try-to-be-subtle look, but she’s not paying attention.

  “We should narrow it down before we attempt anything. The rotunda would be a prime candidate,” she explains, “but there weren’t any noticeable threes. They could be hidden, of course, so we might as well start there.”

  When Thane nudges her, she looks at him. Then, following his gaze, she finally looks at me.

  Gretchen cuts to the chase. “Sit down, shut up, and act like nothing’s happening.”

  Sillus lifts his head. “Huntress quiet.”

  Greer purses her lips like she’s irritated, but then Gretchen gives her a fierce glare and her eyes widen as she sits down on my other side. I lean back and stare off to the south. Nick stands casually in front of Gretchen, while Thane—more relaxed than usual, but still way more tense than Nick—stands practically at attention between me and Greer.

  “Directly in front of us,” I whisper, “is a triangle of trees. Three trees.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see Gretchen subtly scan her gaze over the trees, checking it out. She returns her attention to me.

  “You think that’s it?”

  I shrug and shake my head. “I can’t be one hundred percent sure until we try.”

  “Of course. It makes perfect sense,” Greer whispers. “It’s outdoors, under the sky.”

  “And it would be easy enough to be three within three,” I explain.

  Gretchen scowls, like she’s thinking it through. “And trees could be here forever and no one would notice.”

  “Three tree,” Sillus whispers reverently.

  “They look like they could have been here since the time of the gorgons,” I say.

  Greer nods. “This must be it.”

  “Agreed,” Gretchen says.

  “So . . .” I look from one sister to the other. “Now what?”

  CHAPTER 29

  GREER

  All my years of service in student government, mock United Nations, and various leadership roles in clubs and activities have trained me to step up and take charge. So that’s what I do.

  “First,” I say, standing and stepping away from the bench, “we need to go somewhere else.”

  The last thing we need to do is have a brainstorming session right here in front of the door, where anyone and everyone can see. We need to plan and strategize without worrying that one of the factions is going to burst in on the scene.

  Gretchen and Grace stand with me while Nick and Thane flank us on either side, like bodyguards.

  “The marina is two blocks that way,” I say, pointing to the northeast. I smile tightly. “It’s a lovely day to watch the boats sail by.”

  And figure out how to save the world without getting ourselves killed in th
e process. Dying again would be so anticlimactic.

  We walk in silence, lost in our thoughts. I don’t know about my sisters, but my heart is racing. I feel like all of a sudden this is all too real. Certainly I’ve seen monsters before. I have been in the abyss and the dungeons of Mount Olympus and fought creatures most humans have never even imagined. But this? It’s the gold ring. It’s what we’ve been talking about, what we’ve been trying to do. What we’ve been risking everything to make happen. What we were born to do, literally.

  It’s fairly overwhelming.

  If it weren’t so important or so immediate, I might stop to wonder if we can really do it. There is fear and doubt, no matter how much I tell myself I don’t believe in either. The truth is, it doesn’t matter if I think we can. We don’t have a choice. A lot of lives are depending on us, on our success. We have to do it.

  We reach the corner of the marina, the spot where sailboats sleep and waves from the Bay gently slap against their hulls. It’s quiet, peaceful. And we’ve come here to talk about war.

  I’m not certain whether that’s ironic or simply sad.

  “Before we do anything else,” Gretchen says as soon as we’re settled, “we have a decision to make. Are we opening the door?”

  “What?” Grace gasps.

  I meet Gretchen’s gaze. “I didn’t think that was up for debate.”

  Gretchen doesn’t blink as she speaks. “Maybe it’s not,” she says, “but we are in this together. The responsibility will be ours together. We need to decide this together.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss.” Nick looks like he wants to be sick.

  “I’m sorry, Nick,” Gretchen replies, “but you don’t get a vote. We’re the Key Generation. There are other alternatives and I don’t want there to be any regrets.”

  Alternatives? Gretchen is right. Even if we believe we are decided, we need to at least consider the other options. This decision will affect the rest of our lives. We need to think this through. What if we don’t open the door? What if we seal it forever or just let it seal itself through our inaction?

  A picture of my life before—before I met my sisters, before I started seeing monsters again, before I knew that I had an ancient legacy to fulfill—flashes through my mind. At first, I’d thought that life was worth holding on to at all costs. Do I still want that? The success and the pressure and the twenty-year career plan?

  The very thought makes me want to yawn.

  “Well, I vote yes,” Grace says after the slightest hesitation. “It’s our destiny. We can’t just let all those creatures die.”

  Those creatures—some of them—are our friends.

  I think back to our time in the abyss. Sealing the door forever—and we do mean forever—would mean the death of every living thing inside. The Nemean lions and skorpios hybrids I’m not terribly compassionate about—I wouldn’t mind fewer run-ins with them—but the golden maiden? The oceanid? The onyx guards? Sillus?

  How could I live with myself if I sacrificed countless innocent creatures for the selfish purpose of preserving my social life? I couldn’t.

  Grace is right; we can’t condemn them to death for the evils of others. They are pawns in this game of the gods.

  Besides, the image of the picture-perfect life I once thought I wanted doesn’t seem all that appealing anymore. New-student socials and midterm study groups have lost their allure. They’re downright boring. I’ve gotten kind of used to danger and adventure. I’m not about to give that up now.

  “I agree,” I finally say. “We open the door.”

  Gretchen nods, smiling like I passed a test. “Then it’s unanimous.”

  Nick visibly relaxes. Did he really think Gretchen—any of us—would say no? Maybe he did. Maybe the old Gretchen would have. The Gretchen I first met, only a few weeks ago, would not have thought twice about the innocent creatures. Monsters were monsters were monsters; her only job was to send them home, by any means necessary. She’s changed a lot in a short time. We all have.

  Wise choice, the woman says.

  “Oh for the love of Gucci,” I shout. “Who are you and what are you doing in my brain?”

  “Um, Greer?” Grace asks.

  “What?” I snap.

  My sisters exchange a look. Gretchen asks, “Who were you talking to?”

  Oh, just the voices in my head—yeah, that confession would go over real well. They’re still freaked out that I might somehow rekindle my connection to Apollo. I don’t need to make them worry, not when we are at such a critical point in the prophecy.

  “Then”—Grace looks at each of us—“what next?”

  “Well, if we’ve interpreted the riddle correctly,” I reply, “we stand within the triangle of trees, join our blood, and the door opens.”

  “Just like that?” Grace asks, skeptical.

  “No,” Gretchen says, “not just like that. First, we have to battle the Olympic faction that wants to prevent us from opening the door. They will try to kill us before we have a chance to pull out the dagger.”

  “They’ll have numbers on you,” Nick says. “They’ve been planning this for millennia.”

  “They might not find us,” Grace suggests. “We might be able to open the door without them ever finding out.”

  “Only if our luck changes,” Gretchen says.

  Thane shakes his head. “They’ll find you. With Apollo on their side, it’s only a matter of time.”

  Grace looks at me. “At least he isn’t magically connected to you anymore.”

  Yeah, thankfully. Thankfully I died and severed that—

  “Oh!” I say, remembering the message the Fates—another important trio—gave me on my visit to Hades. “There is something else we need to do before we open the door.”

  “What’s that?” Gretchen asks.

  “‘Fight not alone,’” I say, repeating the words of advice.

  “What?” Gretchen frowns.

  Grace asks, “What does that mean?”

  “It’s the advice from the Fates,” I say. “I think it means we need to call for help.”

  “From who?” Gretchen asks.

  “The gorgons are on their way,” Grace offers.

  “We’ll need more than the gorgons,” I reply. “We’ll need as much help as we can get.”

  “From who?” Gretchen repeats.

  I resist the urge to correct Gretchen’s grammar. “From everyone. From the monster realm, from our friends.” I look each of my sisters in the eye. “Right now, I have to believe that the more people we have on our side, the better.”

  Grace nods like she agrees. “Before and after we open the door.”

  Gretchen scowls, thinking.

  “Both factions will have armies working against us,” Thane says.

  “The more numbers we have, the better,” Nick adds.

  “You’re right,” Gretchen finally says. “We need to have an army of our own.”

  We agree to meet back here in an hour, with our makeshift troops gathered to our sides. We’re going to do everything we can to balance the odds.

  School is in session.

  When I push through the front doors of Immaculate Heart, I’m stunned to realize I don’t even know what day it is. I have no idea how many school days have passed since I last attended classes. Two? Ten? Twenty-seven? How many truancies have I accrued?

  My parents are going to hear about it when they get home. Mother is adamant about a perfect attendance record—of course, Mother is adamant about many things. That used to matter to me. I used to exhaust myself trying to please her, even though I never could. Now I don’t have time to worry about something as trivial as a few unexplained absences.

  The first place I check is the maintenance office on the first floor, at the end of the first hall near the front door. The door is locked, and my knocks go unanswered.

  He could be anywhere in the school.

  After I discovered who—what—I am and started seeing monsters again, I sudden
ly saw through the friendly school janitor’s human glamour to the furry spider inside. He knew I was a descendant of Medusa, a member of the Key Generation, and he promised to help when the time came.

  Well, the time has come. And where is Harold?

  As I walk past the front office, the secretary calls out my name.

  “Greer,” she shouts into the hallway. “Miss Morgenthal?”

  I suck in a deep breath as I stop. I don’t have time for this discussion, but the school secretary is a battle-ax. I can spare a few seconds, if only long enough to use my hypno powers to make her forget she saw me. If I don’t at least listen to her reprimand, things will only be worse later. Of course, if I die in the upcoming battle—or, rather, die again—I won’t be around to care. Still, this will make things easier in the long run.

  I turn back to face the secretary.

  “Miss Tregary,” I say, pasting a huge smile on my face. “How are you this lovely morning?”

  “Fine, dear, fine,” she says, waddling out from behind her desk.

  I never noticed before, but she does walk rather awkwardly. Perhaps that’s why she wears long Gypsy skirts. I always thought it was to hide really hideous legs.

  “I apologize for my recent absences,” I say, trying to deflect the confrontation by confessing my wrongdoing before she can accuse me. “I’ve had some pressing outside responsibilities that I could not ignore.”

  I’ve mastered nothing if not the ability to be vaguely evasive.

  “I’m not worried about that, dear,” she says, waddling closer. “I’m sure ye have yer reasons.”

  She reaches into her bosom and pulls out a piece of paper.

  “Harold asked me to pass this along if I saw you.”

  I take the note. “Um, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says. “Now ye’d best get going.”

  She turns to walk back to her desk. I’m about to leave the room when I catch a glimpse of something beneath her skirt. It looks like . . . well, the tip of a lizard’s tail.

  “Miss Tregary?”

  She looks up as she settles back into her desk. “Yes, dear?”

  For a moment, I consider asking her about it—asking her to help—but I quickly dismiss the idea. The older woman can barely walk; how could she ever help us fight?