Sweet Venom

realm.”

Greer looks like I said we cut off their heads and fry them up for breakfast. Her lips move, and I know she’s licking her tongue along her front teeth to make sure she didn’t suddenly sprout fangs.

“They’re instinctive,” I explain. “They’ll come out when you need them.”

“The venom is a one-way ticket back to their realm,” Gretchen says. “Some kind of supernatural express train.”

“That,” Greer says with a sneer, “is one of the most disgusting things I have ever heard.”

“It’s not that bad,” I say, though who am I to say? I’ve only bitten one beastie. I’d been so full of fear and adrenaline, it could have tasted like burned garbage and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Gretchen adds, “You learn to deal.”

From the look on Greer’s face, she doesn’t want to learn to deal. She wants to wake up from this terrible nightmare and pretend none of this is true. Totally understandable. It’s not as if this news is easy to digest.

“How many are there?” she asks.

“What? Monsters?” Gretchen shrugs again. “Who knows? Hundreds. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Hundreds of thousands?” Greer echoes. “Here in the city?”

“Oh no,” I hurry to say. Gretchen may be keen on scaring Greer away, but I’d like to keep her from bolting. “Not all at once. They used to get out only one at a time.” I glance at Gretchen. “But that’s changing too.”

“Everything is changing,” Gretchen says. “None of the old rules seem to apply anymore.”

“Why?” Greer asks.

“Because we’re reunited,” I say. “I moved to the city and now things are weird.”

Gretchen may not have said it out loud, but I’m sure she thinks that too. And after what Ursula told me, I must be right.

“But some of them live here?” Greer asks. “In this . . . realm. Right?”

“No,” Gretchen replies. “They can only be here temporarily.”

“But what about Harold?”

“Who’s Harold?” I ask.

“The janitor at my school,” Greer explains. “He used to be normal, or at least I used to see him as normal. Today, when I looked, he was a giant spider. And I think he always has been, and I just couldn’t see it before.”

“That makes no sense,” Gretchen says. “Haven’t you always been able to see monsters?”

Greer’s face shutters, like she’s blocking something out. “I— Just once,” she says, shaking her head. “When I was a child. But then not again until you two knocked on my door. Now it’s like nonstop monstervision.”

“That’s weird,” I say. I get the feeling she’s not telling us something. “Maybe some of them have been released. If they can get out permanently as a reward for bringing us in, then maybe they can get granted release for other things too.”

Gretchen shakes her head. “I just can’t believe I haven’t seen any of those long-term visitors before this week.”

“Maybe they stayed away from you,” I suggest, giving her a sympathetic smile. “You do have a killer reputation for monster hunting.”

The look on Gretchen’s face makes it clear she thinks the idea is ridiculous. Hey, it could happen.

“Why doesn’t anyone else see them?” Greer asks.

“We’re special that way,” Gretchen retorts.

“Monsters create a false appearance, an illusion when they’re in this realm,” I explain, throwing Gretchen a you’re-not-helping look. “Ordinary humans see them as human.”

Greer scowls. “And we’re not human?”

Right then the waitress returns with a tray of food. As she sets down plates and bowls, we sit there in silence. When we’ve assured her that everything looks great, she leaves and I let out a huge breath. I’m as eager to hear this answer as Greer is, I think.

“We are human,” Gretchen explains, stabbing a piece of broccoli tempura with her fork. “We’re just not ordinary.”

“We are descendants of Medusa and her human husband,” I add, repeating the information from the book that led me to finding Greer. “They had three half-human daughters. They in turn had three daughters, and so on until now.”

“So, there are more of us?” Greer asks.

I can sense her eagerness, can practically see her hope that maybe she doesn’t have to feel so responsible for this if there are others to take up the fight. I’m almost sad to burst her bubble. Almost.

“No,” I say. “There are only three in every generation.” I look at Gretchen, then back at Greer. “There’s only us.”

I don’t have an answer to the unspoken questions, though. Not yet. What about our mother? What about our aunts? Grandmothers and great-aunts? Cousins? Are they alive? If so, where are they and what are they doing?

We all fall silent in our own thoughts. Gretchen shoves a full forkload of tempura vegetables into her mouth. She doesn’t seem happy or excited or even hopeful about our sisterly reunion. I can’t help but be all three. This is what is supposed to happen.

As I stir my wasabi into a dish of soy sauce, I watch Greer take an elegant sip of soup. Her fingers hold the spoon perfectly, and she doesn’t spill or drip a single drop. Her face doesn’t betray any of the thoughts and questions I’m sure are racing through her mind.

Finally, she sets down her spoon next to the bowl, taking a moment to compose herself before asking, “What’s the point?”

“I don’t get the question,” Gretchen replies, then stuffs a big bite of shrimp into her mouth.

“The monsters come out,” Greer says. “One of— Somebody bites them. They go back. That’s it?”

“That’s pretty much it.” Gretchen takes a gulp of her water.

“And this goes on for, like, what? Forever? For the rest of our—your life?”

Gretchen looks thoughtful as she sets down her glass and considers Greer’s question. It’s a valid question. I mean, Gretchen’s been doing this for years, since we were twelve. Maybe she’s never thought about where it’s all going. Maybe she’s always been willing to devote her entire life to stalking monsters in the night. Or, as it’s been lately, in the day and dusk and dawn and any other time. Maybe she’s never asked herself the question, Then what?

“I—” Gretchen stammers. She looks uncertain for the first time since we met. Then, as if realizing her display of weakness, she clenches her jaw and flattens her palms on the table. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” I say.

Both girls look at me.

“Well, I know part of it,” I add. “It was in that Medusa book that told me about Greer, about the three sisters in every generation. It says that the monsters are sealed in the other realm until the Key Generation is born.”

“The Key Generation?” Greer echoes.

Gretchen asks, “What’s that?”

“It’s a set of triplets.” My heart races as I tell them everything I know. “Triplets that had to be separated at birth for their protection, and who are reunited when the time is right to break the seal.”

“Break the seal?” Gretchen barks. “That’s the only thing keeping the beasts from overrunning our realm. Why on earth would we break it?”

“The book didn’t say,” I answer quietly.

“Well, the book is wrong,” she snaps, pushing back from the table and lurching to her feet.

I wish that were true, if only to stop the pain I see in her eyes. She’s been dealt a lot of jarring and emotional blows in the past couple weeks. It’s no wonder she’s having a bad re-action to the latest news.

“The book is wrong, the rules are wrong.” She closes her eyes. “This whole situation is wrong. I’m out of here.”

I stand too, needing to be on equal ground. “Gretchen, don’t—”

“No.” She grabs her jacket off the back of her chair. “I’ve had enough.”