Sweet Legacy

I draw in a deep breath and, turning to Cassandra, say, “Let’s try again.”

CHAPTER 24

GRACE

Greer isn’t telling us everything about her lack of vision, I’d bet my laptop on it. But what I can’t figure out is why. What could she have seen that she wouldn’t want us to know?

Then again, she’s been through a lot today—I mean, she died. Maybe she just didn’t have a vision. Maybe I’m wrong. It’s possible.

Gretchen isn’t so accepting.

“How could you not see anything?” she demands. “You were out for ten minutes.”

“I don’t know.” Greer’s eyes slide away. “Maybe my energy is drained.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Do you want a soda?” I ask her.

“I’ll get one,” Cassandra offers.

“What I really want,” Greer says, “is to try again.”

Gretchen jams her hands on her hips, staring Greer down across the table.

“You’re lying,” she accuses.

For several long, tense moments, they have their battle of wills. I’m glad I’m not caught between the two of them. My sisters are powerful—and stubborn—girls. Finally, Greer gives up. She rolls her eyes and relaxes back into the chair.

“All right,” Greer says with a sigh. “I saw something. But it’s not relevant. It wasn’t about the door or the oracle. It was personal.”

Cassandra sets a glass of fizzing orange soda on the table.

“Fine,” Gretchen says, gesturing at the bowl of water. “Try again. Maybe focus harder this time.”

“I was focused,” Greer bites out. “In case you don’t remember, I died this afternoon. My apologies if it takes me a minute to recover from that.”

Gretchen pounds her fist on the table, sloshing some soda onto the already dirty surface.

“Maybe you should take that nap.” I nod toward the bedroom. “Your focus will be better when you’re rested.”

“I was focused,” Greer shouts. The outburst is so unlike her that we all jerk back. Even Sillus scampers away, wedging himself into the corner by the front door.

“I’m fine,” Greer insists, calming herself with a deep breath. “I’ll just go splash some cold water on my—”

A knock at the door interrupts our conversation.

Gretchen is instantly on alert, her body tense and her ear cocked to the door. Sillus’s eyes are so wide, they take up half his furry face.

“Maybe it’s the gorgons,” I whisper. “Maybe they found the oracle.”

Gretchen scowls at me. “Ursula has a key.”

She scans her gaze around the room, a finger pressed to her mouth.

I bite my lips to ensure my silence.

She walks stealthily to the front door, her boots barely making a sound on the old shag carpet. Sillus moves behind her. After lifting up the peephole’s cover to peer through, she says, “Who is it?”

“Landlord,” a bored male voice replies. “Doing my annual inspection.”

She hesitates. “Everything’s fine in here.”

“Don’t matter,” the landlord says. “Gotta check it out firsthand. I got forms to fill out.”

Gretchen looks to us like she’s seeking an opinion. I keep my lips between my teeth while Greer lists to one side in exhaustion. Our mother moves to her side and places supportive hands on her shoulders.

“There’s no alarm system?” Greer whispers, shaking off her fatigue. “Security cameras?”

“This is a safe house,” Gretchen hisses, “not a vault. Ursula’s magical protections are supposed to keep others from finding it. Secrecy is its security.”

Gretchen bends down and pulls a dagger out of her boot. Sillus reaches into her other boot and palms the dagger hidden there. With one hand on the knife, Gretchen twists the deadbolt with the other. She throws us a be-prepared look. Then she reaches for the handle, twisting slowly before pulling the door open an inch.

The door bursts open inward, knocking Gretchen back into Sillus.

“Run!” she shouts as she shoves her shoulder into the door, holding back the intruders.

The landlord pushes in first, and I can see at least a dozen more bodies behind him. I don’t look long enough to tell if they’re man or monster. It doesn’t matter.

“Not landlord,” Sillus says, jumping up and down.

I grab Greer by the hand and yank her off the chair.

“We have to go!” I shout at her.

“Come,” Cassandra says, hurrying across the room to the small window on the exterior wall. She yanks the curtain back, flips a couple of latches, and then pulls the window open wide, revealing a fire escape just outside. “Hurry.”

She waves me and Greer toward the window, but I hesitate. I glance back at Gretchen, who is struggling—with Sillus’s minimal help—to hold the door against the army outside. They’re barely maintaining their ground.

“Here,” I say, pushing Greer at Cassandra. “Take her and get out of here. I’m going to help.”

Cassandra looks like she wants to argue.

I cut her off. “Go!”

She nods.

As soon as she is guiding Greer out over the windowsill, I rush to the front door.

“What are you doing?” Gretchen demands.

I shove my shoulder next to hers up against the door. “Helping you, stupid.”