Sweet Legacy (Sweet Venom) (5 page)

For now, we each have our missions.

Taking Nick’s hand in mine, I suck in a deep breath.

“See you soon,” I say.

Gretchen backs away.

I close my eyes and focus. The times I’ve autoported before have always been in really dangerous situations, when I was fueled by fear. I try to channel those feelings of desperation. Every ounce of my energy, my concentration,
my very being
is funneled into autoporting us home. Home. Home, home,
home
.

Bright light penetrates my eyelids, and I sense the world around us shifting. We’re moving, traveling through the portal. It’s working! I’m sending us—

Nick’s arm is around my throat before I can breathe.

“Move an inch and I’ll snap it like a twig.”

The menace in his voice is unmistakable.

“What?” I gasp. How could I have been so wrong about him? Gretchen will never forgive him. She’ll never forgive herself.

CHAPTER 5
G
REER

R
eady to go?”

Gretchen moves the instant Grace and Nick disappear, slinging a backpack over her shoulder and heading across the cave. All right by me. The less time spent in this wretched place, the better. If I hadn’t truly needed to rest, I would have insisted we proceed sooner. Besides, any longer and I’m sure Gretchen would toss me over her shoulder and push on. Good thing I recover quickly.

“Right as rain,” I say with an ambitiously cheerful smile.

Mother always says if you project the image you wish the world to see, eventually it will become reality. I don’t wish to be miserable and in pain, so I will pretend I’m not.

As I push to my feet, my body no longer feels like it’s melting from the inside out. The hellebore Thane used to counteract the venom was hard on my system, but apparently it worked. I’m not dead, in any case, and that has to be a point in favor of the antidote.

Thane hands me a backpack that feels lighter than before. He doesn’t meet my gaze as he hefts his own pack into place.

“You didn’t need to carry any of my load,” I say.

“I know,” he says, adjusting his straps.

I’m not a wilting flower who needs a boy to carry her gear, but my legs feel like overcooked spaghetti at the moment, so I choose not to argue. “Thank you.”

Gretchen stands at the cave entrance with several of the creatures who brought us here. A few plan to accompany us on our journey, to see us safely to Olympus. No, I am not ready to think about Olympus yet. I’m not ready to worry that far into the future. One step at a time. Stepping out of the cave and into the great vast cavern beyond without tripping over my tennis shoes will be an auspicious start.

I will face the future as it comes.

Gretchen nods as Thane and I approach, then turns and leads the way out through the tunnel. The portal was only the doorway here. This is the
real
first step of the journey.

The golden maiden follows in second place, along with the little furry monkey who came through the portal with Gretchen the other day and an oceanid named Petraie who looks like she’s made out of water. She’s fascinating. Her skin is dark gray, rippling like the sea beneath a storm. I wonder what it feels like.

As strange as these companions are, they are welcome additions to our group. The idea of the five of us—let alone
three
now that Grace and Nick are gone—fighting the great monster horde had me somewhat concerned. If there weren’t a vastly bigger saving-the-world picture and a millennia-old legacy at stake, I might have signed up to stay home.

But the gorgons need our help. So does the human world. It’s our destiny, our responsibility, to carry on the tradition. I push the fear aside, put one foot in front of the other, and follow my sister out of the cave.

With Thane at my back, I actually feel safer than I have in weeks, since before I found out about my sisters and the previously hidden world of myths and monsters exploded around me.

Thane is strong, yes, but that’s not why he makes me feel so safe. He’s dedicated. Driven. No, devoted.

That’s the word. He’s
devoted
—to Grace, to his family, to Gretchen and me.

I get the feeling he would do anything within his power to keep us safe and make sure we succeed. Unlike Nick, who clearly is interested in Gretchen but also believes in the cause, I think Thane couldn’t care less about the cause. His motivation is us—Grace, especially, and, for some reason I don’t quite understand, me.

From the moment he opened the door at Grace’s apartment and his dark gray eyes looked into my silver ones, our connection has been undeniable. I know I’m safe as long as it’s within his power to protect me.

We emerge from the tunnel, and the group huddles up before proceeding.

“We move in silence,” Gretchen says. “Nothing above a whisper from here on out.”

Now why is she looking straight at me as she says that? Grace is the one with the tendency to talk too much. I choose to ignore her implication.

“Keep close, in tight formation.” She scans her gaze over the entire group. “Use the buddy system. I’ll pair up with the golden maiden. Sillus and Petraie, and Greer and Thane. Keep track of each other. Whistle if there’s a problem.”

My eyes roll instinctively.

Gretchen scowls. “Problem, Greer?”

I want to say,
This isn’t kindergarten
, but I don’t think she’d appreciate the snark. Besides, the statement is all too true. This
isn’t
kindergarten. This situation is serious and dire. Extra precautions are warranted.

I swallow the attitude. “No,” I reply. “No problem.”

“We go without pit stops,” she continues. “Until it’s an emergency, keep moving.”

“How long?” I ask. “How far is it to Mount Olympus?”

Gretchen looks to the golden maiden for the answer.

“There is a shortcut,” she says. “We can reach the entrance in perhaps a dozen hours, if we encounter no trouble.”

No trouble? Only if our luck improves.

You are good to be cautious
, a voice echoes in my mind.
Trouble seeks you.

Did I just hear that? I blink and shake my head. Perhaps it is a side effect of the hellebore. Thane said it would be hard on my system.

I keep the voice in my head and my cynicism to myself as Gretchen turns and starts walking, the golden maiden at her side. The monkey and the oceanid take the middle, while Thane and I bring up the rear.

“Twelve hours,” I mutter.

“Can you make it?” Thane asks. “If you’re still too weak—”

Gretchen cuts him off with a glare over her shoulder. I glare back, but she’s already turned back around and begun marching on.

“I’m fine,” I reply with a whisper. “It’s just a long walk.”

“It is,” Thane says, not whispering, but somehow still quiet enough to avoid Gretchen’s wrath. “We’ll make it.” He glances sideways at me. “Together.”

“Together,” I whisper.

I can handle that.

Our hopes of traveling without trouble evaporate in the first hour.

We’re just rounding a big black rock formation that looks like any of a dozen we’ve passed since starting out when Gretchen pulls to a sudden stop. There, not twenty feet from our path—not that there is an actual path to see, just a general direction we’re heading in—at the shore of the inky black river we’ve been following, is a pair of ugly beasts splashing themselves with water.

We all shuffle to a stop behind her, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Following Gretchen’s motions, we tiptoe around the outcropping, pressing ourselves as close to the rock as we can, staying deeply hidden in the shadows.

I even hold my breath, as if the rasp of air from my lungs will somehow alert the creatures to our presence—although I’m not entirely certain why we are bothering with stealth, considering some monsters obviously already know we’re in the abyss and these two wouldn’t be much trouble to take care of.

Still, I don’t voice my opinion. I think the idea that our venom actually kills the monsters in this realm really bothers Gretchen. Not that she’s said anything, but I don’t imagine she likes being a killer. Huntress, yes—a mythological bounty hunter, so to speak. Killing is different.

But arguing with Gretchen is like arguing with a brick wall, and just as effective. For the sake of traveling in peace, I keep my mouth shut—and my breath held—until we are well out of range of the bathing beasts.

Besides, I suppose the last thing we want is to draw any unnecessary attention. Our goal is to travel through the abyss quickly and quietly. My recovery period has already set us back several hours. We want to avoid any more delays. Our real mission lies beyond. We don’t need the distraction of fighting two random monsters.

I sneak a glance at Thane, walking silently at my side. He’s been stealthy as a mouse since our first steps into the abyss, whether there were monsters around to hear or not. It’s unnatural how quiet he is.

After a quick check to make sure Gretchen isn’t watching, I whisper, “You’re like a ghost.”

He scowls at me. “What?”

“You’re so quiet,” I explain. “How do you keep from making any noise?”

Even in my soft-soled sneakers, I can’t quiet my footfalls entirely. They still scuff and squeak against the stone. He’s wearing work boots but not making a sound.

He shrugs. “I just am.”

“You just are?” I repeat. “That’s not an answer.”

He cuts me a glance. “If you had spent time on the street, you’d know how to be quiet, too.”

I blink several times. He lived on the street? Grace has never said much about his background—nothing, really. Why would she? I know he was adopted, like her, but I didn’t know he’d been old enough to have lived on the street. I suppose I just assumed he was adopted as a baby like my sisters and I were.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I didn’t know.”

We walk on in silence. I’m unsure what to say now, and that makes me uncomfortable. I’m not usually the sort of girl who’s at a loss for words.

I keep picturing little boy Thane, his chiseled features softened by youth, stormy gray eyes wide and round, fending for himself. Homeless. Hungry and alone.

It’s unconscionable.

Finally, I ask, “How long?”

“How long what?”

“Were you on the street?” I can’t imagine what that’s like. “How old were you?”

The muscle along the bottom of his strong jaw pulses and clenches. He doesn’t like to talk about himself, especially about personal, emotional things. I understand. I keep my emotions close to the vest, too. It’s precisely why I’m known as the ice queen.

I’m about to tell him to forget I asked when he says, “Six months. I was eight.”

“I . . .” Eight years old—a little boy without the strength and self-confidence he has now. He must have been very vulnerable.

I like to think I don’t take my life for granted. I understand that I’m privileged and that many kids—
most
kids—have nowhere near the advantages I’ve had. But in this moment, as I walk to my destiny side by side with this boy who is so very different from me, but then not so different, I feel like I’ve never appreciated those advantages more.

“Do you—” I begin, then realize I’m about to ask the wrong question.
Do you want to talk about it?
To which he will reply,
No
. Instead, I ask, “Have you talked about it with anyone? Do Grace or your parents know?”

That muscle in his jaw clenches again. Tick, tick, tick.

A dull ache throbs at the base of my skull. I lift my hand to rub the spot, trying to relieve the pressure.

“Some.” He shifts the heavy backpack on his shoulders. “Not much. They don’t need to know.”

I twist my head side to side, loosening my tight neck muscles. “They might not need to,” I say gently, “but maybe they want to.”

When he doesn’t reply, I add, “Maybe I want to.”

This gets his attention—but not in a good way.

“No,” he says, his voice gruff and uncompromising, “you don’t.”

I can practically feel his pain. He increases his pace to catch up with the pair in front of us. He says something to them, and seconds later Gretchen’s monkey friend drops back to my side.

“He say switch buddy,” the furry thing says. “Okay?”

Hand on my neck, I study Thane’s back as we keep walking. He wants to be an enigma? All right, he can try. But there is little I can’t accomplish when I set my mind to it. I do love a challenge.

“Yes,” I say to the monkey. “Everything is just fine.”

I march on, thinking, studying . . . plotting. Thane might have been able to keep secrets from his family until now, but he’ll have a more difficult time trying to do the same with me.