He nods.
“And keep yourself there, too,” I add. “Stay safe.”
He grins, tracing an X on his chest. “Not a scratch.”
Next comes Gretchen, without Nick. What happened to him? She squeals into the parking lot, pops her trunk, and starts hauling duffel bags out of her car. A furry monkey jumps out after her, and at first I think it’s Sillus. But then another monkey climbs out, and another, and even more—at least twenty little Silluses pile out of the Mustang. They run around to the trunk and try to help Gretchen.
She already has all four duffel bags out and on the ground. They’re totally stuffed to the brim.
She says something to the monkeys and then hefts a bag onto each shoulder, walks over to the rendezvous spot, and drops them to the ground with a clatter.
“Weapons,” she says, glancing around at the gathered crowd, not acting at all surprised by the sheer number of monsters in our group. “Lots of them.”
Thane crosses to her car and grabs the other two duffel bags away from the monkeys who are trying—and failing—to drag them across the concrete. My brother brings them over and adds them to the pile.
“Who are your friends?” I ask Gretchen, hiding a smile.
“Apparently,” she says with a wary look at the monkeys, “this is Sillus’s extended family.”
Two of the little guys have climbed onto Gretchen’s roof and are trying to shove the trunk door down from above without success. A few are in the trunk, jumping up and down to make the car bounce as they giggle and laugh. Another pair sits in the driver’s seat—one standing behind the steering wheel pretending to drive, the other on the floor playing with the pedals.
I hope Gretchen has her keys secured.
“They’re adorable,” I say.
“They smell,” she replies, but there is no venom in her tone. She likes them.
“So,” I ask, “where’s Nick?”
She shakes her head. “He had to—”
“Right here,” Nick says.
We all turn as he appears out of nowhere—literally out of nowhere. That must be what my autoporting looks like. Nick brings with him a couple dozen of his closest friends. Most of them look . . . more than human: women with leaves and flowers in their hair, men with tree trunks for legs, and various beings of both sexes who look like they’re made out of soil, rock, and water.
“I brought more troops,” he says with a wink.
“What are they?” Gretchen asks in a suspicious whisper.
“Nature creatures,” he replies. “Dryads, naiads, and all the other ‘ads.’ These are the nymphs.”
“Did you just autoport?” I ask. I thought that was my special gift—mine and Euryale’s, anyway.
“No,” a woman’s voice says. “But we did.”
Speaking of Euryale, she and Sthenno appear right in front of us.
“I did not find the oracle,” Sthenno confesses. “She has truly gone to ground.”
“That’s all right,” Greer replies. “We found the door without her.”
“That is most impressive.” Euryale grants her a brilliant smile.
I can understand why Gretchen is always so determined to make her proud. She has a way of making you feel like a superstar.
“I had success as well,” Euryale says. “Our Olympic allies will be ready when the battle begins.”
“That’s great news,” I cheer. “Right?”
“Yes, it’s stupendous,” Gretchen says, handing me a dagger. “Now let’s get back to business. Start coating the weapons with venom.”
I stare at the knife for a few seconds before asking, “With venom? How do we do that?”
Gretchen grabs another dagger, drops her fangs, and then traces them over the blade. When she holds it out for me to inspect, I can see the glisten of clear purple liquid on the edge.
“Only our venom can send the monsters home,” she says. “Once the door is open, they’ll be pouring out into our realm, so we’re going to give as many people as possible the power of our venom.”
That’s assuming we get the door open.
I nod and let my fangs drop.
Gretchen hands a knife to Greer, who does the same. We each take a duffel bag of weapons, coating every dagger, sword, and arrow, along with weapons I can’t even name, with our sweet purple venom. Gretchen coats two duffel bags full in the time it takes me and Greer to each do one.
When all the weapons have been envenomed, we hand them out to our growing crew of volunteers.
“We’ll need to be armed too.”
I look up and see Cassandra leading a crowd of women into the group.
“Who are all of these women?” I ask.
“Your family,” she replies.
“I thought there were only three daughters born to every generation,” Greer says. “There must be almost fifty women here.”
“Not all are blood relatives,” Cassandra explains. “This is the Sisterhood of the Serpent. There are aunts and sisters-in-law and adopted cousins and stepdaughters and other women who married into the Medusa clan. Since the time of prophecy, the Sisterhood has gathered the women in our family to prepare them for this very moment. We have known for generations that you would need help.”
Without stopping to think, I pull her into a tight hug. “That’s amazing.”
Sthenno clears her throat. Loudly.