Sweet Shadows (2 page)

“Greer!” Grace gives up her struggle and stands, limp, staring at the open door through which Gretchen disappeared. “What if she—?”

“She won’t,” I insist, with more conviction—and more faith—than I knew I had. I take a deep breath, letting my faith in Gretchen straighten my spine. “She is strong and tough and capable in more ways than we can imagine. She’ll be fine.”

As I say the words, I realize they’re true. And I believe them.

Like Grace and me, Gretchen has had to face unimaginable changes in the last two weeks. She discovered she’s a triplet—which Grace and I just discovered as well, along with the fact that we’re descendants of Medusa, destined to hunt monsters and chase them out of our world. She learned that her mentor, who is also one of our immortal ancestral aunts, the Gorgon Euryale, has been taken as a prisoner the gods only know where—literally. And now, twice in one night, someone has tried to kill Gretchen. She’s handled all of these changes with dignity and courage. I don’t believe there is anything she can’t face.

Of course, a burning building isn’t a mythological monster, and maybe this is one challenge she isn’t trained for. A trickle of fear slides down my spine.

Just as I begin to doubt my conviction, Gretchen’s black Mustang bursts through the end wall of the building in an explosion of wood and plaster, squealing backward onto the blacktop. She cuts a tight turn and shifts into forward, skidding to a stop right next to my silver Porsche.

I purse my lips to keep from grinning like a fool—Mother would be appalled at my near display of emotion. I knew she would be fine. I knew it.

Gretchen climbs out of the car, coughing.

Grace rushes forward. “Are you okay?”

She wraps Gretchen in a tight hug. I look away, trying to keep the tears of fear and relief and emotional release from spilling out.

My attention drifts to my car, catching on the set of ugly dents on my otherwise perfect hood. They’re a reminder of the first near-death experience I encountered tonight—a six-armed giant who showed up at my front door—that feels so long ago now.

So much for avoiding emotional reaction.

“Yeah—” Gretchen is seized by a spasm of wheezing coughs. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sound fine,” I say sarcastically, earning a glare from both sisters.

Gretchen walks around to her trunk, pops it open, and starts digging around inside. She pulls out a duffel bag, slams the trunk shut, and sets the bag on top.

Feeling more in control of myself, I walk up to my car and run a hand over the dents—thankfully there don’t appear to be any scratches in the metallic clear-coat paint. There are so many ways the evening could have ended badly. Even if my car is a little the worse for wear, I’m relieved that we’re all safe and whole. Tonight could have easily wound up a tragedy—if I hadn’t managed to outrun and then outdrive that giant, if Grace hadn’t autoported away from that monstrous bear in time, if she and I hadn’t gotten to Gretchen’s loft at just the right moment to help her fight the manticore, or if Gretchen hadn’t dragged us out an instant before the explosion.

“Wait a minute,” I say, my analytical mind returning to working order. Something must have compelled Gretchen to throw us out into the bay. Something more concrete than my sense of dread. I think back to those moments, trying to remember exactly what happened. My mind was clouded by the nausea, but I remember a ringing sound. “You got a phone call,” I say, turning to Gretchen. “Someone warned you about the explosion, didn’t they?”

I watch as her shoulders stiffen. She pauses in digging through the duffel bag just long enough for me to know she heard me. Then she simply says, “Yes,” and starts pulling things out.

“Yes?” I echo. As if that’s an adequate answer.

A pair of combat boots hits the trunk with a thump.

“Do you know who called?” Grace asks, shivering harder now.

“Yes.”

I ask the obvious question. “Who?”

Anger rolls off Gretchen in hot waves. Yes, she knows who made the call. She’s going to find out what else that person knows. And she’s not going to tell us any more about it. Not acceptable.

“Did your mystery caller give any specifics about the explosion?” I ask. “Was it a bomb or a gas leak or—”

“No,” Gretchen interrupts. “He only said to get out.”

Her silver eyes cloud over, and I’m immediately glad I’m not on the receiving end of her shadowed looks. I have no doubt the caller will regret ever meeting her before the night is through.

Gretchen reaches back into the duffel, pulls out a dry tee, and tosses it at Grace.

Despite her obvious shyness, Grace pulls off her icy wet shirt and pulls on a dry one from Gretchen’s stash. The black knit sticks to her still-damp bra, but the moisture won’t show on the dark fabric. Though the wet denim of her jeans probably feels like lead dragging her down, it’s probably insulating as well. She still shivers, but less violently.

“Who?” I repeat.

Gretchen glances at me, maybe surprised at my persistence. “Someone who knows more than he’s let on.” When I start to ask more, she says, “I’ll take care of it. He’s my responsibility.”

There’s an undercurrent of something—guilt maybe—and I let it go. We’re all in shock. Right here, right now is not the time to push her for more.

“Now what?” I ask.

“Now,” Gretchen says, finding another top and throwing it my direction, “you two go home and I go find the jerk. I’ll get the whole story from him. For once. If I have to beat his pretty face to a pulp, I’ll find out what’s going on.”

I quickly change into the dry tank. I don’t miss her reference to his pretty face. He’s not just a random acquaintance. I have a feeling there’s more to their relationship than she’d ever let me and Grace know.

Gretchen finally digs a pair of dry cargos out of the bag and, without hesitation, drops her drenched ones to the ground. She steps into the dry pants—not caring that her underwear is still soaked—yanks them up, and quickly zips and buttons them with jerky, angry movements. She pulls her wet tank off, leaving just her white sports bra.

She’s raring to go.

It’s all well and good that she wants to go pound some information out of the pretty face who called to warn us, but that doesn’t change the fact that there are big angry beasts waiting at home for me and Grace.

“What about the monsters?” I ask. “There’s a six-armed giant tearing through my house. And a massive bear in the alley behind Grace’s apartment.”

Grace blushes. I’m not sure whether it’s because she’d forgotten about the bear or because she’s embarrassed to need Gretchen to help her get rid of it. Either way, Grace and I are not capable of taking on the vile creatures on our own.

Gretchen doesn’t respond. Just drops her boots to the ground and steps into them. She bends over and quickly does up the laces.

“Yeah,” Grace says quietly. “I don’t like the idea that they’re out there looking for us. Or,” she adds softly, “our families.”

Well, I don’t need to worry about that possibility. Mother and Dad won’t be home until the wee hours. But the idea of going home alone and maybe having to face that terrifying giant again—not precisely how I hoped to end the evening.

Gretchen runs a hand over her wet hair.

“Hell.” She closes her eyes. “You’re right. I’ll deal with those first.” She nods at Grace. “I’ll start with the bear.”

Grace gives her a relieved smile.

“Can you take her home?” Gretchen asks me. “Give me a five-minute head start and I’ll have the thing back in the abyss before you get there.” When I nod, she adds, “Then I’ll take out your giant.”

“We can help,” Grace insists. “You don’t have to face them alone.”

As much as I don’t relish the idea of ever seeing that thing again, Grace has a point. I’m not the kind of girl who lets someone else do my dirty work.

“Yes, of course,” I say. “We’ll go with you.”

Gretchen shakes her head. “I’ll be fine,” she says. “Nothing I haven’t faced before.”

I nod, recognizing this is a matter of pride for her. And maybe an opportunity to work out some frustration.

“Where will you sleep?” I ask. “We have a comfortable sofa bed in the rec room. No one goes down there much anymore.”

“You can come home with me,” Grace offers. “I’ll have to explain things to my parents, you know, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I’ve got a place,” Gretchen says. “Ursula and I have a safe house—somewhere to go, with basic supplies and weapons, in case something like this happens.”

“Are you sure?” Grace asks.

Gretchen nods. “I’ll be fine.”

I find myself saying “Thank you” and really meaning it. I feel a little guilty about letting Gretchen go hunting alone. I’m going to have to learn how to fight these monsters on my own eventually. I won’t always have one of my sisters around to help.

But for tonight, after everything I’ve been through, after everything that’s changed in my world in the last few days, it’s a relief to know that Gretchen is here to take care of business. I have no doubt that the creatures sent to kill us will be long gone before Grace and I get home.

Then my biggest challenge will be figuring out how to explain to my parents about the dents in my car and the damage to our front door. Frankly, that’s no less terrifying than the monsters.

T
hanks for the ride,” I say to Greer as she pulls up in front of my apartment building. There’s no sign of Gretchen or her car, so she must have been here and moved on already.

Greer smiles—a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes—and says, “No problem. It’s on my way home anyway.”

I know that’s a lie and that her house is in the opposite direction, but I don’t call her on it. She’s been through a lot—we all have—and I’m just thankful she isn’t running away from our legacy. From us. I would hardly blame her after tonight.

I open the door, ready to climb out, but at the last second I lean back across the seats, the stick shift jabbing into my ribs, and wrap my arms around her. The thought of what might have happened tonight if she had run away, if she hadn’t helped me and Gretchen fight the manticore … it’s too awful to imagine. I’m so grateful that we’re together in this, the three of us.

“Thank you,” I whisper against her damp hair.

I’m pretty sure it’s a sign of our extreme circumstances that she hugs me back. Before she can take it back or say something to ruin the moment, I jump out of the car and slam the door behind me.

I watch, sad and happy at the same time, as she drives away. If we can survive a night like tonight with our fragile sisterhood intact, I have to believe we can survive anything as long as we stick together.

When her taillights disappear around the corner, I turn and trudge up the sidewalk to the front gate. I dig in my jeans pocket, thankful to find my keys still stashed inside. I quickly let myself in through the courtyard gate and then the main door of the building.

I don’t realize how exhausted I am until I slide my key into the apartment door. It’s like my mind decides that all threats are behind me now that I’m home and it’s okay for my body to collapse for a while. My feet are too heavy to lift, and it’s all I can do to turn the handle.

I swing the door open as quietly as possible.

I shouldn’t have bothered. Every light is on and I hear my dad’s voice booming from the kitchen.

“I don’t care if it’s only been five minutes,” he shouts. “She is not the kind of girl—”

There’s a pause and my heart drops into my stomach.

I hear my mom sobbing. Oh no. Oh no-no-no-no-no. I can’t believe I didn’t think about them at all—at
all
—in the last few hours. I was so caught up in everything, I never once considered that they might be wondering where I went, worrying about my safety.

If they knew why, I’m sure they would understand. But I can’t—won’t—tell them.

Feeling like the worst daughter in history, I walk to the kitchen.

“Something has happened to my daughter,” Dad continues, “and if you don’t send someone to help us search, I’ll—” He sees me and freezes.

I try to look as apologetic as I feel.

The look in his eyes shifts quickly from shock to relief to pure fury.

Mom gasps and rushes me, pulling me into a suffocating hug.

Dad looks like he wants to explode.

“Never mind!” he barks into the phone. Then, after hanging up on what I can only assume is the police department, he roars, “Where the hell have you been?”

“I was so worried,” Mom sobs. “I sent you to take the garbage out and you never came back. That was
hours
ago. I imagined the worst.”

“You had your mother scared half to death.”

They look at me, their expressions angry and accusing and, I’m sure, relieved. But mostly angry. I never even thought about the fact that Mom would be expecting me back, would be wondering where I went.

I know I was a little preoccupied, what with almost getting killed by a giant bear and then blown up, but that’s not really an excuse. I had time after the fight at Gretchen’s. After my shower, while Greer and I were giggling over the binders. I had plenty of time. I could have called home to check in.