Sweet Venom

made. There is a full glass of water on the nightstand, next to a book with an ancient Greek statue on the cover.

It feels like an invasion to be in here without her permission.

“I don’t have a choice.”

I take a quick breath and then begin the search.

Starting with the drawers, I pull open each one and sift through the contents. Lots of soft and flowing clothes in elegant neutrals, like camel and ivory. Ursula always looks soft and elegant, in sharp contrast to my dark and hard wardrobe. As I process each drawer, I make sure to leave it just as neat and organized as I found it. Ursula’s gone, but that doesn’t mean I get a free pass to mess up her stuff.

I slide the final drawer shut and turn to evaluate the rest of the room. The only other furniture is the bed and nightstand.

Dropping to the floor, I peer under the bed frame. Nothing but empty space. A clear view over the flat carpet to the balcony on the other side.

I quickly flip back the bedding, checking under the comforter and the pillows. Nothing.

Same thing under the lamp and the book on the nightstand. With only one place left to look, I tug open the nightstand drawer.

Inside, in a neatly organized drawer divider, are Ursula’s essentials. Lip balm, nail file, reading glasses. A tube of her lemongrass lotion. No note.

I grab the lotion, twist off the top, and squeeze a tiny drop onto the back of my hand. As I rub the silky lotion into my skin, I’m overwhelmed by the scent memory.

She smelled just like this that night four years ago when she first brought me back to the loft. I was scared out of my mind, afraid to trust this woman who seemed to know things about me and my history that no one should know, but even more afraid to go back to the street life I’d been living since I’d run away.

“Welcome home, Gretchen,” she said, gesturing one arm in a wide circle, sweeping over the sparkling surfaces and furniture of the loft.

Home? My whole life, I’d only ever had two homes. The filth hole of dirty clothes and broken junk where Phil and Barb slept and the abandoned warehouse where Ursula found me. As much as I hated both, I belonged in both of those more than I belonged here. With my ratty clothes and filthy hair, I shouldn’t even have stepped inside somewhere as gleamingly pristine as this heavenly space.

“I—”

I couldn’t say it. As much as knew I didn’t belong here, I wanted to even more.

“Come,” Ursula said. “Let me give you the tour.”

As I followed her around from room to room—a training gym, a library, a kitchen with a refrigerator full of fresh, delicious-looking food—I found myself inching closer and closer to her side. As her fresh scent of lemongrass enveloped me, I found myself hoping I could belong here someday. Wanting to be good enough for a place like this.

“And here,” she said, leading me to the final unopened door, “is your room.”

The door swung wide, revealing a place I had only dreamed about before. There was a big bed with fluffy bedding, a tall dresser, a closet full of fresh, clean clothes.

“Go on,” Ursula said, urging me forward. “Look around.”

“I c-can’t,” I’d stammered. “It’s too—” I bit my lip and shook my head, unable to finish.

“It’s yours,” she insisted, pushing gently on my back until I stepped inside.

A bed of my own. A whole room, without a stack of dirty laundry or torn upholstery or broken floorboard in sight. The opposite of everything I’d ever had.

In that instant, I was determined to make myself worthy.

I spun around to face her. “Tell me what to do,” I said, full of a courage I was only beginning to feel. “How do I earn my place?”

It feels so long ago now. Ursula insisted I didn’t need to earn anything, that the room was mine without conditions.

But I was eager to prove myself. We started training the next day. Everything from martial arts to weapons to memorizing mythology. Ursula has been my guide and mentor in everything about my heritage.

I drop the tube of lotion back into the nightstand and slam the drawer shut. “Where are you?” I shout to the empty room. “How could you just disappear?”

Frustrated, I throw myself onto her bed. As I bounce, a pillow lurches to the side, knocking the book off the nightstand. With a groan, I roll to the side, leaning down to pick it up.

When I do, a small white envelope falls to the ground.

My heart rate triples.

I set the book back on the nightstand, snatch the note off the floor, and sit up, holding the crisp paper in both hands. Scrawled across the envelope is a single word: Gretchen.

My breathing shallows as I lift the flap and pull out the folded notecard covered in Ursula’s elegant script.

Dearest Gretchen,

     If you are reading this note, then I must have been gone for some time already. I feared this might happen. Since your sixteenth birthday some weeks ago, things have been changing. Perhaps you’ve begun to notice. I knew this time was coming and have been making preparations for the upcoming events, but there are still some mysteries I must solve first. The hunt for answers may take me into danger. Do not worry about my safety—I assure you I am fine. But if I am kept from you at this critical time, you must find my sister. Although we have remained out of touch in recent years, I do know she is living and working in the city. I wish I could give you more information to go on, but our separation has been essential for your protection. Find her, as she can help guide you into this next phase if I cannot. I apologize for the cryptic nature of this note, but if it is discovered by someone other than you, I must guard our secrecy at all costs.

Yours ever,

Ursula

“What. The. Hades?” I reread the note, not believing it could be as mysterious as it first seems. But after four passes, it still makes no sense. My birthday, changes, new phase, secrecy. She’s in danger, but she’s safe. Her sister? Does she know that I have a sister too?

I flop back onto her bed. Great. I found a note, exactly what I was hoping for, but I’m even more lost than before. I’m used to knowing exactly what to do—sniff a monster, find it, send it home. I’m at a total loss right now. And I don’t like the feeling.

Chapter 10

Grace

Standing in the cafeteria line, waiting to pay for a bottle of kiwi-strawberry juice to go with the hummus- and-spinach wrap and baby carrots already in my reusable lunch bag, I’m not really excited to spend another lunch period in the library. Last week was bad enough, and I could at least claim new-girl status as my excuse.

But by day three, shouldn’t I have someone to sit with?

Maybe not. This whole new-girl thing is totally foreign to me. I try to remember new students at Orangevale, and how long it took them to assimilate. I only remember one who—

“You’re up,” a gruff female voice says from behind me in line.

I twist around. “Oh, Vail. Hi.”

She jerks her head toward the checkout.

I step forward and show my juice to the cashier. After handing over my money, I turn and say, “Thanks.”

She shrugs, sliding her tray of lumpy school food forward.

I turn, ready to head out the side door for the library and another lunch hour alone with the books. It could be