“I don’t know.” Greer’s eyes slide away. “Maybe my energy is drained.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Do you want a soda?” I ask her.
“I’ll get one,” Cassandra offers.
“What I really want,” Greer says, “is to try again.”
Gretchen jams her hands on her hips, staring Greer down across the table.
“You’re lying,” she accuses.
For several long, tense moments, they have their battle of wills. I’m glad I’m not caught between the two of them. My sisters are powerful—and stubborn—girls. Finally, Greer gives up. She rolls her eyes and relaxes back into the chair.
“All right,” Greer says with a sigh. “I saw something. But it’s not relevant. It wasn’t about the door or the oracle. It was personal.”
Cassandra sets a glass of fizzing orange soda on the table.
“Fine,” Gretchen says, gesturing at the bowl of water. “Try again. Maybe focus harder this time.”
“I was focused,” Greer bites out. “In case you don’t remember, I died this afternoon. My apologies if it takes me a minute to recover from that.”
Gretchen pounds her fist on the table, sloshing some soda onto the already dirty surface.
“Maybe you should take that nap.” I nod toward the bedroom. “Your focus will be better when you’re rested.”
“I
“I’m fine,” Greer insists, calming herself with a deep breath. “I’ll just go splash some cold water on my —”
A knock at the door interrupts our conversation.
Gretchen is instantly on alert, her body tense and her ear cocked to the door. Sillus’s eyes are so wide, they take up half his furry face.
“Maybe it’s the gorgons,” I whisper. “Maybe they found the oracle.”
Gretchen scowls at me. “Ursula has a key.”
She scans her gaze around the room, a finger pressed to her mouth.
I bite my lips to ensure my silence.
She walks stealthily to the front door, her boots barely making a sound on the old shag carpet. Sillus moves behind her. After lifting up the peephole’s cover to peer through, she says, “Who is it?”
“Landlord,” a bored male voice replies. “Doing my annual inspection.”
She hesitates. “Everything’s fine in here.”
“Don’t matter,” the landlord says. “Gotta check it out firsthand. I got forms to fill out.”
Gretchen looks to us like she’s seeking an opinion. I keep my lips between my teeth while Greer lists to one side in exhaustion. Our mother moves to her side and places supportive hands on her shoulders.
“There’s no alarm system?” Greer whispers, shaking off her fatigue. “Security cameras?”
“This is a safe house,” Gretchen hisses, “not a vault. Ursula’s magical protections are supposed to keep others from finding it. Secrecy is its security.”
Gretchen bends down and pulls a dagger out of her boot. Sillus reaches into her other boot and palms the dagger hidden there. With one hand on the knife, Gretchen twists the deadbolt with the other. She throws us a be-prepared look. Then she reaches for the handle, twisting slowly before pulling the door open an inch.
The door bursts open inward, knocking Gretchen back into Sillus.
“Run!” she shouts as she shoves her shoulder into the door, holding back the intruders.
The landlord pushes in first, and I can see at least a dozen more bodies behind him. I don’t look long enough to tell if they’re man or monster. It doesn’t matter.
“Not landlord,” Sillus says, jumping up and down.
I grab Greer by the hand and yank her off the chair.
“We have to go!” I shout at her.
“Come,” Cassandra says, hurrying across the room to the small window on the exterior wall. She yanks the curtain back, flips a couple of latches, and then pulls the window open wide, revealing a fire escape just outside. “Hurry.”
She waves me and Greer toward the window, but I hesitate. I glance back at Gretchen, who is struggling —with Sillus’s minimal help—to hold the door against the army outside. They’re barely maintaining their ground.
“Here,” I say, pushing Greer at Cassandra. “Take her and get out of here. I’m going to help.”
Cassandra looks like she wants to argue.
I cut her off. “Go!”
She nods.
As soon as she is guiding Greer out over the windowsill, I rush to the front door.
“What are you doing?” Gretchen demands.
I shove my shoulder next to hers up against the door. “Helping you, stupid.”
She actually laughs.
“You’re getting a bit of an—oof—defiant attitude, Grace Whitfield,” she says.
I smile back, pushing all of my weight into the door. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Good,” she says, “because it was.”
“Huntress talk later,” Sillus says. “Push now.”
Together, we all shove, and the door moves. Almost closed. Sillus jumps up on Gretchen’s shoulder and leans down to the narrow opening where human and inhuman fingers are struggling to get a grip on the door. Opening his jaws wide, he chomps down on the fingers.
When the hand jerks away, we give the door one more solid shove, and it connects with the jamb. Gretchen quickly flips the deadbolt.
“Go,” she says. “Now!”
She shoves me away from the door, toward the fire escape. Sillus scampers out ahead of me. I don’t bother looking back. I know she will be right behind me. Placing a palm on either side of the window, I climb out onto the metal platform.
Far below, I can see Greer and Cassandra climbing down the ladder to ground level. I release a tentative sigh of relief as I start down after them.
I drop to the ground, wishing for once I’d worn shoes with more cushion than my standard uniform Chucks. They’re awesome for pretty much everything but shock absorption.
As soon as I’m down, I move out of the way so Gretchen can follow.
“Jump, huntress, jump,” Sillus calls out.
Gretchen leaps down, landing hard on her combat boots.
“We need to move,” Gretchen barks. “Head around back in case there are more of them waiting out front.”
“You cannot escape, huntress!”
We glance up and see the fake landlord leaning out over the fire escape railing.
“Go,” Gretchen shouts.
I don’t wait to hear what else the man shouts. Taking Greer by the hand, I set out at a run, around the back of the building and into yet another alley. Gretchen passes me and takes the lead as she reaches the head of the alley. She stops just long enough to make sure the coast is clear and then takes off down the sidewalk.
Cassandra takes Sillus’s hand, and they run after Gretchen. Greer and I struggle to keep up. I’m panting by the time we catch them, stopped at a red light two intersections later.
The five of us huddle up next to the lamppost.
“Where do we go?” Cassandra asks.
I shake my head.
“I don’t know,” Gretchen says. “They’re still finding us wherever we go.”
“Who were they?” Cassandra asks.
