Sweet Shadows
Page 53What I don’t realize is that, while the one head has been spilling his guts, the other has been quietly plotting. In an instant, the thing has both arms loose and is wrapping them around Grace’s waist.
She screams.
I react. In a heartbeat, I’m sinking my fangs into the creature’s thigh.
It howls in pain but doesn’t vanish immediately, and for three long seconds—which feel like three long years—I have to listen to Grace cry out as the creature tightens his grip on her.
Then, with one final screech, he’s gone.
Grace crashes to the floor.
“Are you all right?” I ask, kneeling at her side.
“Yeah, I—” She turns and rests her back against the end of the loveseat. “Man, that thing had a grip.”
I wipe at my mouth—the taste of whatever that was is not five-star dining—and move to sit next to her. Great. I sent away our best chances at getting answers. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” she asks. “Why?”
“I just reacted.” I’d seen the thing grab Grace and protective instinct took over. “I should have knocked it out again. Now we can’t ask it any more questions.”
“It wasn’t being that helpful anyway,” Grace says.
She nods and I push myself to my feet. I run upstairs and grab a pair of San Pellegrino Limonatas, and when I get back Grace is dropping onto the couch.
“Now what?” Grace asks, wincing. She ignores her pain and pulls out her phone. She studies the translation she transcribed as the monster spoke. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.” I sink onto the couch next to her and hand her one of the cans.
She shakes her head. “I thought for sure …”
“It was a good idea,” I concede, popping the top on my can. “A great idea. I thought the oracle’s note would help too. I think it’s really important.”
I down the entire beverage, relieved when my palate clears of the beastie flavor.
“Just not for this,” she says, sounding defeated. “Guess we’re back to square one.”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to.
With a sigh, Grace leans to the side and rests her head on my shoulder. I reach down and pat her knee. Then, because I feel suddenly relaxed and comfortable, I let my head rest against hers.
But my mind is still on the problem. On the hope that somewhere just out of reach is the clue we need to get Gretchen home. As much as I love Grace, it’s not the same with only two of us. The Key Generation is meant to be three. We have to get Gretchen back, by whatever means necessary.
CHAPTER 20
I think she’s waking up.”
“Is she still breathing?”
“What if she bites me?”
“Bited me once.”
“I’ve never seen a huntress before. Maybe she’ll—”
“Shut up!” a final, resounding voice barks. Then, quieter, “Look, give her some space. We have to see what she has to say.”
I pry open one eye just as one of the earlier voices snickers and says, “Don’t you mean hear?”
There’s a soft growl and I spot the source, a golden woman who looks like she might be made out of the precious metal. Her body, clothing, even her hair is gold, cascading down her back in a solid, unmoving wave. When she turns to look at me, the motions are robotic. Stiff.
“Hello, huntress.” She smiles. “Welcome to Abyssos.”
I frown. Abyssos? My voice scratches as I whisper, “Where?”
“That is the native term for this realm,” she explains. “The original Greek.”
“I imagine you call it the abyss.”
That I understand.
Everything comes back to me in a flash. Nick, the portal, a dead monster, and almost drowning in the black lake.
“Who are you?” I ask, pushing into a sitting position. My head throbs and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What are you?”
I’ve never seen anything like her before. All the creatures that come into the human realm are full-on creatures. Part human, part monster, part whatever. There hasn’t been a robot lady—or a robot anything—since I’ve been hunting. There aren’t any listed in the case files, either. I would remember that.
“I am a golden maiden,” she says patiently. “Crafted by Hephaestus to serve at his will.”
I force my headache under control and open my eyes to look at her. “But you’re not …”
“A monster?” She laughs, making a light, tinkling sound similar to the clinking of a knife against a glass goblet. “No, I am not. Neither are my friends, here, in the negative sense of the word. We are, however, nonhuman creatures.”
She swings her golden arm wide, drawing my attention to the rest of the group gathered around me. There are a number of beings—some nearly human looking, some barely recognizable—including the unicorn I saw after I came out of the lake.
“The water,” I say as my memory returns. “Something grabbed me. Something else—”
“A merdaemon,” the golden maiden says. “The dark, deadly version of a mermaid. They control the waters here. They keep everything else out, guarding it for their wicked kin.”