Sweet Venom

For some reason, I get the feeling she’s thinking about that boy, Milo. I could give her a lecture or well-meaning advice, but I’m not her conscience. That’s a moral decision she’ll have to make on her own.

“You know,” I say, “I think that we’ve done enough for the first day of training.”

“Yeah,” she says, shaking off her thoughts. “I’ve definitely got standing down pat now.”

I push away from the balcony and head inside. “You need a ride home?”

“No thanks,” she says. “I know which buses to take now.”

She grabs her backpack off the conference table and pulls out the monster binders she took home last night. After returning them to the shelf, she grabs a few more.

When she has them zipped in, she slings the pack over her shoulder and turns to face me. “So, same time tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.” I glance down at her feet. “Might want your shoes, though.”

She laughs, but her cheeks flame bright pink. “Probably a good idea.”

She’s on her way out the door, shoes in place, when she turns back and says, “Thanks, Gretchen.”

“For what?”

“For training me, for finding me, for being my sister.” She gives me a small smile. “For everything.”

I nod and she disappears out the door.

Gretchen the teacher had a good first day. Now it’s time for Gretchen the huntress to go out on patrol. Just because I didn’t scent any beasties from the balcony doesn’t mean they’re not out there. Yesterday’s missing hybrids are my first priority. I snatch Moira’s keys off the counter, grab my leather jacket as I walk out the door, and head back into familiar territory.

Chapter 12

Grace

My body is so sore and achy, I feel like I’ve been beat up by a sledgehammer. Which, I suppose, is pretty equivalent to two days of training with Gretchen. She’s mentioned, several times, that I need to get into shape. My strength and stamina are lacking, she says, and that translates into lots of push-ups and jumping rope.

After dragging myself home, I collapse onto the couch, wondering how on earth I’m supposed to fight a monster if I can’t lift my arms. Seems counterproductive to turn me into a pile of muscle mush.

Maybe, if I close my eyes for just a few minutes, I’ll . . .

“Hey Grace,” Milo says.

My eyes flash open and my heart spasms. In a heartbeat, my mind is completely awake.

“Milo,” I stammer. “Hi, I didn’t know you were here.”

“We weren’t,” he says, jerking his head at Thane, who is stuffing a lemon bar into his mouth as he emerges from the kitchen. “Just got back from practice.”

Did they just walk in? Maybe I actually dozed for a minute. Or longer. My sluggish brain is fully refreshed, and some of the painful ache in my muscles is gone. Either I snuck a bit of a nap or those quick-healing powers Gretchen told me about have made fast work of my training pains.

“I’m getting a shower,” Thane announces.

As he heads down the hall, Milo drops his duffel on the floor by the front door and walks into the living room. Besides the couch I’m crashed out on, there are a couple of armchairs and an ottoman. All of which are perfectly comfortable. All of which Milo ignores, instead circling the coffee table and taking the other end of the couch.

“So,” he says, leaning back into the corner of the couch and stretching out his legs so they’re only inches from mine, “how are you liking San Francisco?”

My skin tingles at the thought of him sitting only a few feet away. I try to deepen my shallow breathing. It won’t do me any good to pass out right now. I want to absorb every moment.

“I, um, it’s—” I take a deep breath and force myself to look up. Not quite into his eyes, but at his temple, at the dark curls just above his ear. “Great.”

“It’s a big change, huh?” he asks.

“You have no idea,” I say.

And I’d like to keep it that way. The last thing I want is Milo finding out I’m a freak with fangs, a secret sister, and a monster-hunting destiny. My best chance with him is to be a normal, average girl.

“It’s different,” I say, “but I like it.”

My gaze shifts to his eyes, and I find him studying at me. I’m caught in his eyes. Hypnotized by his—

Shoot. I can’t look into his eyes. I don’t want to accidentally hypnotize him or make him think or feel something he really doesn’t. If Milo likes me, I want him to like me for real.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I—”

He pushes away from the end of the couch, moving to the cushion directly next to mine. Startled, I start to lean back, until I see him slowly lift his hand. I watch, frozen, as he reaches out and brushes his fingertips against my forehead, right at the hairline.

The contact sends shivers over my skin.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper, just inches away. “You have a nasty-looking bruise right here.”

I jerk back and slap my hand to my forehead, connecting with the bruise and sending a throb of pain through my head. Ouch.

“Oh, that.” Like I can explain that my long-lost twin accidentally—or so she said—karate chopped me in the head during a monster-hunting training session. “I hit my head on a cabinet,” I explain. “I have klutz tendencies.”