Sweet Shadows
Page 68
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Dragging my eyes open, I see the smooth white expanse of a ceiling, not green glow against shiny black rock.
Definitely not the abyss.
I roll upright and remember where I am—Greer’s basement—and why.
Halfway through the portal, Nick started trying to explain what happened. Spewing garbage. How I was misinterpreting the situation and he was really on my side and if I would just listen to him—
I turned around and punched him above the left ear. He slumped forward against me, and by the time we emerged in this realm, I had his hands zip tied.
In the chair at the center of the room, Nick’s head is lolling back and forth, like he’s struggling to regain consciousness. I need to establish my advantage quickly. Scanning the room to memorize the objects and their locations, I reach up and flick off the table lamp next to the couch. The room plunges into blackness. Darker, even, than the abyss, because my eyes are light blind.
“What happen?” Sillus asks.
“Ssssh.” I forgot about the silly monkey. How had I missed him in the scan? He must be curled up in hiding somewhere. “Stay where you are. And stay quiet.” He doesn’t respond, so I assume he’s taking my order seriously.
The couch squeaks as I push to my feet. Nick’s moaning stops. I stealth-walk across the carpet, careful not to let my heels thud against the floor.
“Gretchen?” Nick’s voice sounds rough and raspy.
I should have gagged him.
By now I’m standing over him, looming above him from behind. My eyes are adjusting to the faint glow of light seeping in beneath the door and I can see him try to twist in his chair.
The zip ties keep him in place.
“Gretchen, come on,” he says, yanking at his binds. “I know you’re here.”
He struggles a little more and then must realize the futility of his attempts. He stills and, I think, sniffs the air. He turns his head to the side and I can almost feel his dark eyes rake over me.
“I can smell you,” he says.
I lift my foot and kick the back of his chair, sending him thudding face-first into the floor. Unfortunately Greer’s parents splurged on extraplush carpet. That probably hardly hurt him at all. The weight of the chair holds him down, but I rest my foot against the seat anyway.
“Let me explain,” he says, his voice muffled against the carpet.
“Explain what? How you tricked me?” I shove my weight into the chair. “How you lied to me? Made me trust you? When, all the while, you were getting ready to betray me? To kill me and my sisters?” I shove the chair again, harder, and am satisfied when he grunts in pain. “Yes, please, explain that to me.”
As if he could say anything—anything—to justify what he did.
“I’m a mole.”
I jerk back. My foot falls to the floor.
“What?”
“A mole,” he says. “Gretchen, I’m a double agent.”
I reach down, wrap a hand over the back of the chair, and pull it—and Nick—upright. The chair is still rocking to a standstill when I walk over to the door and throw the light switch, flooding the room with bright light.
When I turn back around, Nick is watching me. There’s a red spot on his forehead that I’m sure is going to turn into a nasty bruise. Good. It’ll go with the one darkening on his temple.
“Tell me,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning back against the door. “Tell me everything.”
He nods, his dark-blue eyes serious.
“You remember I told you about the factions,” he begins, “about the two groups waging a war for control of the door? For control of the Key Generation?” I just stare at him. Of course I remember. “Well, there is a third faction. A group that wants neither of those things.”
“Sthenno told us about them,” I say. “Before your friends kidnapped her.”
“They aren’t my friends,” he says, snarling. “That third side, the one that wants a return to balance. That’s the side I’m on. We want the door opened and the guardians in place.” He takes a deep breath and sighs. “We want the world back as it was meant to be.”
“Who?” I demand. “Besides you and the Gorgons, who’s on that side?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t identify everyone involved. I honestly don’t know. I’ve been undercover for a long time.”
“Wrong answer.” I start for him.
“But,” he says, giving me a pointed look, “I can tell you what I know.”
I return his pointed look.
“Euryale and Sthenno are the leaders.”
“Welcome to yesterday’s news,” I say. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“There are at least three Olympians, maybe four, on your side.” He shakes his head. “On our side.”
“Name them.”
“I—” He starts to refuse but then changes tacks. “Hermes is the only one I know for certain. I think Demeter is another one. Maybe Aphrodite, but the gods are so good at falsities and double-crosses, I can’t be sure.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” I mutter.
He ignores that. “Only the Gorgons know for certain.”
“Well we can’t ask them now, can we?”
It makes sense, though. With opposing sides wanting me and my sisters dead—either before or after we break the seal—Ursula and Sthenno knew we would need real power at our backs. That’s reassuring, at least. Especially after what I saw in the abyss, the numbers on the monster side.
Definitely not the abyss.
I roll upright and remember where I am—Greer’s basement—and why.
Halfway through the portal, Nick started trying to explain what happened. Spewing garbage. How I was misinterpreting the situation and he was really on my side and if I would just listen to him—
I turned around and punched him above the left ear. He slumped forward against me, and by the time we emerged in this realm, I had his hands zip tied.
In the chair at the center of the room, Nick’s head is lolling back and forth, like he’s struggling to regain consciousness. I need to establish my advantage quickly. Scanning the room to memorize the objects and their locations, I reach up and flick off the table lamp next to the couch. The room plunges into blackness. Darker, even, than the abyss, because my eyes are light blind.
“What happen?” Sillus asks.
“Ssssh.” I forgot about the silly monkey. How had I missed him in the scan? He must be curled up in hiding somewhere. “Stay where you are. And stay quiet.” He doesn’t respond, so I assume he’s taking my order seriously.
The couch squeaks as I push to my feet. Nick’s moaning stops. I stealth-walk across the carpet, careful not to let my heels thud against the floor.
“Gretchen?” Nick’s voice sounds rough and raspy.
I should have gagged him.
By now I’m standing over him, looming above him from behind. My eyes are adjusting to the faint glow of light seeping in beneath the door and I can see him try to twist in his chair.
The zip ties keep him in place.
“Gretchen, come on,” he says, yanking at his binds. “I know you’re here.”
He struggles a little more and then must realize the futility of his attempts. He stills and, I think, sniffs the air. He turns his head to the side and I can almost feel his dark eyes rake over me.
“I can smell you,” he says.
I lift my foot and kick the back of his chair, sending him thudding face-first into the floor. Unfortunately Greer’s parents splurged on extraplush carpet. That probably hardly hurt him at all. The weight of the chair holds him down, but I rest my foot against the seat anyway.
“Let me explain,” he says, his voice muffled against the carpet.
“Explain what? How you tricked me?” I shove my weight into the chair. “How you lied to me? Made me trust you? When, all the while, you were getting ready to betray me? To kill me and my sisters?” I shove the chair again, harder, and am satisfied when he grunts in pain. “Yes, please, explain that to me.”
As if he could say anything—anything—to justify what he did.
“I’m a mole.”
I jerk back. My foot falls to the floor.
“What?”
“A mole,” he says. “Gretchen, I’m a double agent.”
I reach down, wrap a hand over the back of the chair, and pull it—and Nick—upright. The chair is still rocking to a standstill when I walk over to the door and throw the light switch, flooding the room with bright light.
When I turn back around, Nick is watching me. There’s a red spot on his forehead that I’m sure is going to turn into a nasty bruise. Good. It’ll go with the one darkening on his temple.
“Tell me,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning back against the door. “Tell me everything.”
He nods, his dark-blue eyes serious.
“You remember I told you about the factions,” he begins, “about the two groups waging a war for control of the door? For control of the Key Generation?” I just stare at him. Of course I remember. “Well, there is a third faction. A group that wants neither of those things.”
“Sthenno told us about them,” I say. “Before your friends kidnapped her.”
“They aren’t my friends,” he says, snarling. “That third side, the one that wants a return to balance. That’s the side I’m on. We want the door opened and the guardians in place.” He takes a deep breath and sighs. “We want the world back as it was meant to be.”
“Who?” I demand. “Besides you and the Gorgons, who’s on that side?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t identify everyone involved. I honestly don’t know. I’ve been undercover for a long time.”
“Wrong answer.” I start for him.
“But,” he says, giving me a pointed look, “I can tell you what I know.”
I return his pointed look.
“Euryale and Sthenno are the leaders.”
“Welcome to yesterday’s news,” I say. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“There are at least three Olympians, maybe four, on your side.” He shakes his head. “On our side.”
“Name them.”
“I—” He starts to refuse but then changes tacks. “Hermes is the only one I know for certain. I think Demeter is another one. Maybe Aphrodite, but the gods are so good at falsities and double-crosses, I can’t be sure.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” I mutter.
He ignores that. “Only the Gorgons know for certain.”
“Well we can’t ask them now, can we?”
It makes sense, though. With opposing sides wanting me and my sisters dead—either before or after we break the seal—Ursula and Sthenno knew we would need real power at our backs. That’s reassuring, at least. Especially after what I saw in the abyss, the numbers on the monster side.
