Sweet Legacy

still being safely inside.

I stop in front of the narrow tunnel that leads back out into the main cavern of the abyss, turn to face him, and cross my arms over my chest. Thane stands perfectly still, unblinking and tense. I don’t need Greer’s power to know he knows exactly what I’m going to ask.

“Tell me,” I say.

He hesitates and then shakes his head.

“What’s going on?” I demand. “You clearly know more about all of this”—I wave my hands at the general circumstances of my life—“than you should. That sword. The hellebore. Tell me.”

“No.”

No? I jerk back, shocked. “Why not?”

He shakes his head again, his stormy eyes darkening to almost black.

“You know everything I know,” I insist. “I have no secrets.”

He cocks one brow at me.

A flash of heat burns my cheeks.

Okay, I have almost no secrets. I haven’t been completely open and forthright about how I’m sorta, kinda, maybe dating his friend Milo. Maybe when I know for sure if we’re together, I’ll talk to Thane about it. For now I’m too afraid to mess things up. Besides, that’s hardly relevant to our situation here.

I correct my statement. “I have no secrets about this.”

He softens, just barely—there’s a slight drop in the rigid stance of his shoulders—but I can tell he’s battling this on the inside.

“Grace-face, I—” He cuts himself off, frowning like he’s thought better of answering. “I can’t.”

What a cop-out.

“You can,” I throw back, “but you won’t.”

He shrugs as if there’s no difference.

I study him intently, trying to think of some reason that he wouldn’t want to tell me the truth. He’s not the kind to be embarrassed, so I’m sure that’s not it. He also wouldn’t keep something from me unless he felt he had to. The only other thing he’s ever been this secretive about is his past—the time before Mom and Dad adopted him into our family.

He’d only been eight. What could that have to do with this?

“If this is about your past,” I say, “it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about anything that happened before we even met. I love you. Besides,” I continue, “I know you. I know it can’t be anything bad.”

He stares at me, unblinking.

I whisper, “It can’t be that bad.”

His cheeks flush with color, and I’m stunned by his re-action. He’s scared, of what he’s done and of me finding out. I don’t know what to say. Thane doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. Sure, he and Dad fight about his plans for the future, and he barely gets by in school, but he’s kind and loyal and good. He loves his family above anything. The idea that he ever did something so bad that he’s afraid to tell me . . . I don’t believe it.

As I shake my head, he drops his gaze away. “Leave it, Grace,” he says. “Please.”

That shocks me even more than his refusal to answer. Thane doesn’t beg—ever—which only makes whatever he’s hiding scarier. He’s my brother in every way that matters. I won’t push him to tell the secret that causes him so much pain as long as it’s not dangerous.

I stiffen my spine. “Will it endanger my sisters or our mission?”

He flinches, as if the very idea hurts him. “No. Never.”

Thane and I exchange a look, and I know he understands.

“Will it endanger you?”

He shrugs again and drops his gaze.

“Oh, Thane.” I step forward and pull him into a hug, relieved when he hugs me back tighter than ever. I’m scared for him, but I’m also amazed at his strength, at his willingness to shoulder all of this on his own. He’s incredible.

“Excuse me,” a male voice says behind me. “Can’t a monoceratus get through here?”

“Oh, sorry,” I say, moving out of the way of the entrance.

Turning to see exactly what a monoceratus is, I’m smiling as I look up into the glowing face of a unicorn.

“Holy goalie,” I mutter.

“Yeah, yeah,” the single-horned horse says, walking past me into the cave. “Gretchen and I already went through this once. I’m a unicorn. Woo-hoo.”

I turn to see if Thane is as awed as I am, but he has already disappeared back to Greer’s side. The unicorn walks past me, heading for the golden maiden. Something tickles at the back of my memory. Why do I feel like I’ve thought about unicorns recently? I can’t imagine why. It’s not as if they’re a part of everyday conversation like when I was eight. Maybe there was one in the monster binders I scanned before Gretchen’s loft blew up. That must be it.

I return to the group at the heart of the tiny cave. Greer has almost recovered. Nick and I need to leave soon. We can’t afford to waste any time. We have to go save my biological mother from monster-realm assassins. I only hope we can get to her before it’s too late.

“The line is heavily guarded,” the unicorn tells the group. “Not a chance of getting through without drawing their attention.”

Gretchen swears. “There goes that plan.”

“Isn’t there another way to get to our realm?” I ask. “A back door or something?”

“Back door,” Gretchen’s monkey friend says with a giggle.

The creatures around me exchange mocking laughs and skeptical glances.

“Not one that you would survive,” the golden maiden answers diplomatically. “The only ways of exiting Abyssos are through the door or through the godly realms.”

“Godly realms?” Gretchen asks.

The golden maiden explains, “Hades and Olympus.”

“What’s wrong with them?” I ask. “Can’t we use one of those entrances?”

She shakes her head. “The path from Olympus to Panogia is more heavily guarded than even the door. With an army at your side you could not succeed.”

She doesn’t have to voice the implied, You would not survive.

“That’s why we’re going through the abyss to get there,” Gretchen says. “It’s the only way to bypass the tough security.”

“Hades then?” We can’t just let the assassins find and kill our mother; I can’t, I won’t—not when I haven’t even met her yet. Not when we’re so close. I have so many questions.

“The underworld is worse,” the unicorn says. “Airtight security to keep the dead from returning to life.”

“And the journey through Hades itself would be no easy task,” the golden maiden adds. “Most likely you would not even make it to the Panogian path.”

“Where does that leave us?” Greer asks. “There is no way home?”

She doesn’t sound as freaked out as I am. “We’re trapped here?” I gasp. “Forever? We just give up?”

“Of course not,” Gretchen says, but without her usually infallible certainty.

The group falls silent, and I scan the crowd for any signs of an idea. Anything. There has to be some hope, some way we haven’t thought of.

Greer clears her throat. “What about autoporting?”

We all turn to face her.

“What?” I ask.

“Autoporting,” she repeats, checking her fingernails. Yep, almost back to normal now. “Maybe you can use your power to get home.”

Why didn’t I think of that? I have this power—for just this kind of situation, I hope.

Encouraged, I turn to Gretchen.

“Maybe,” she says, considering.

“It must be possible,” I say. “Euryale autoported to me that night on the