Sweet Legacy

CHAPTER 2 GREER

My heart stutters. This is the creature from my vision. Every detail is the same, like a memory come to life. Earlier today, sitting at Grace’s dining table, I saw this monster nearly slice my sister into shreds. My head throbs and my hands shake as Grace and I go after the hideous woman with blades for claws.

Seeing a vision and believing it’s true are two completely different things.

I didn’t want to believe it was true.

“You go right,” Grace mutters. “I’ll go left. Maybe we’ll confuse her.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, I start right.

The picture of my vision fills my mind: Grace, with this creature’s claws at her throat. I feel the same terror now as I did when I first saw this moment. Memory and reality blur until I can’t tell which is which. I only hope the rest of the vision comes true as well.

I glance around and realize Thane is nowhere in sight. The other fights have spread out beyond my range of vision in the faint light of the abyss.

In the vision, Thane saved her life.

Panic sets in. How can he save her if he’s not near enough?

My stomach heaves.

“Greer!” Grace shouts, tugging me out of memory and into reality.

And the reality is that I’m the only one who can help her now.

The clawed woman has turned to face Grace, leaving her back vulnerable to me. I watch, stunned, as the creature reaches out and wraps one hand around my sister’s throat. I stop thinking—stop remembering—and lunge forward. I grab a wing with each hand, ripping apart with all my might. My fear makes me strong—not as supernaturally strong as Gretchen, but strong enough. Beneath my palms, I feel the crack of bones snapping.

The beast turns on me with a howl. Without releasing Grace, it swings one arm wide, knocking across my temple and sending me stumbling back to the ground.

The world around me blurs and I squeeze my eyes open and shut in an attempt to clear the picture. I can’t save Grace if I can’t see.

Desperation drives me. I push to my feet, fighting dizziness and nausea as twin sets of Grace and the clawed woman—bladed hand still around my sister’s neck—move in and out of focus. When the two images finally converge, I gasp as I see the claws of the other hand moving toward Grace’s throat.

I try to shout for help, but the nausea overpowers me and I bend over, clutching my stomach.

I look up, my vision spinning, expecting—fearing—that I’ll see Grace eviscerated by the woman’s claws. Instead, I see Thane running. Sword held high, he swings it in a sideways arc, connecting the flat edge with the woman’s head.

Her hand slacks and Grace falls from her grip as the clawed woman crumples to the ground in an unconscious heap.

I want to cry with relief. Every lesson Mother ever taught me about maintaining my composure in the face of crisis evaporates, and I’m overcome by emotion. I let it overtake me.

“Are you okay?” Thane demands of his sister.

Tears tickle at the corners of my eyes and I blink them away, trying to regain control. Grace is alive. Everything is going to be all right.

“Yes, I’m—” She shakes her head. “Greer,” she says. “Help Greer.”

Help me? I don’t need help. I try to tell them I’m fine now that my vision has come true, but it sounds muffled and weak.

My tongue feels like a sponge, growing and expanding in my mouth until I feel like it’s going to choke me from within. I frown, trying to comprehend this strange sensation.

Thane is at my side instantly, pulling his backpack off and digging around inside. He’s frowning. He’s worried about me. No one ever worries about me. Greer can take of herself, Mother always says. If she cannot, she will not learn how by being coddled.

I can’t take my eyes off Thane’s face, the serious and concerned look wrinkling his forehead. It’s a good forehead. Strong, solid. Loyal.

What an odd thought.

The boy is loyal, a faint, foreign voice echoes in my mind.

“She’s been scratched,” Thane says to Grace.

She asks, “Is that bad?”

He doesn’t answer.

I don’t even care.

He saved her. He saved Grace and my vision came true. I have to let him know, have to tell him about the vision. He should know that he’s supposed to be here, that I knew what would happen. I have to at least smile. My mouth refuses to cooperate.

“Damn it,” he curses as he pulls a bottle out of small zippered bag. “Forgot cotton balls.”

“Here,” Grace says, followed by the sound of fabric ripping. “Use this.”

Thane takes the piece of shirt Grace offers him. He twists the cap off the bottle, pours some of its contents onto the cloth, and then reaches for my face.

Stormy gray eyes meet mine, and I’m transfixed.

“You’re going to be fine,” he says. “But this is going to sting.”

The instant he dabs the cloth on my cheek, I see stars. Bright, bold streaks of light flash across my vision even though my eyes are open, like shooting stars inside my head. Like when I held the pendant of Apollo in my palm to seek out how to get Gretchen back from this awful place.

The pain is so sharp, I feel my consciousness fading.

“What happened?” I hear Gretchen ask.

Thane replies, “Keres venom.”

“Hell,” Nick utters.

“She’ll be fine,” Thane says, like he won’t allow anything less.

Grace insists, “Of course she will.”

I can hear the fear in her voice, but I refuse to be frightened. I refuse to drag my attention away from Thane’s eyes, sure and steady and focused on me. He keeps dabbing the wet cloth on my face—on my forehead, my chin, my lips—but his gaze doesn’t shift. Something in his eyes pulls at me. I need him. I know nothing about him except that he’s Grace’s adopted brother, but I feel myself getting drawn, deeper and deeper, into the dark gray of his eyes.

As the liquid sears my face, his eyes anchor me, keeping me strong.

Soon, though, even that is not enough.

Finally the pain gets to be too much, and I succumb to the lure of the unconscious. As I close my eyes, I whisper, “You saved her.”

He whispers back, “You knew I would.”

I open my eyes, but nothing changes. I saw black, and I still see black. Blinking several times does nothing to change my vision. Natasha must have drawn the blackout shades. I have asked her countless times not to do that without alerting me. Waking up to sunlight is far preferable to encountering utter darkness.

Perhaps I will have Mother speak with her this time.

No, I will handle it myself. No need to bother Mother.

I draw in a deep breath—and practically choke on the stench. Why does my room smell like decaying garbage?

When I try to move, pain pulses through my body.

Oh, yes. Now I remember. Not my room. Not my house or even my realm. Memories wash through my brain like a vision, but these things have already happened. The monsters. The battles. The creature that almost killed Grace and knocked me off my feet.