Sweet Venom
Page 41

I spin around and lean back against the counter. “Yes. Bite fast and hard. In a vein is best,” I explain. “Fastest. But anywhere will work. As long as you don’t get bitten or scratched in the meantime.”
“What happens if I get bitten or scratched?”
“Monsters have venom of their own. Each one is different. Most only cause unbearable pain if not treated quickly enough.”
“Most?” she asks.
Some part of me doesn’t want to tell her, wants to protect her from the harsh reality of the world she’s been forced into. Born into, I suppose. But shielding her from reality doesn’t make it any less true. “Some are deadly,” I have to admit. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at her face. “We have antidotes for a lot of them. Not all.”
“Like the blue liquid you used on your neck the other night?”
I nod. “Griffin antivenom.”
I sense Grace leaning against the counter next to me.
“It’s not a bad dream, is it?” she asks quietly.
“No,” I say just as quietly. “It’s not.”
We stand there in silence for a few minutes. I can imagine what’s racing through her mind—a swirl of thoughts about monsters and fangs and venom and attacks and maybe getting killed in the process—but mine is calm. For the first time in days, I know what I have to do; I don’t have much of a choice. Either I teach her to defend herself, or she’s a sitting duck for any monster that pops into our world.
“You need training,” I say, turning my stare across the dining area and out over the dark bay. Now that I know what needs to be done, I’m ready to attack it with the same confidence I attack everything.
“You think?” she replies with unexpected sarcasm.
I smile at the spunk I haven’t been giving her credit for. She’s my sister in more ways than one, I guess.
“Can you be here?” I ask. “Every day after school, and on weekends.”
“I—” She hesitates—maybe worrying what her parents will think, since she has parents to worry about her whereabouts—but then says, “Yes. I’ll be here.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to put myself into the mode of teacher. “We’ll start with basic defense strategies,” I explain. “Ways to protect yourself from an attack.”
She looks down at her ointment-covered fingertips. They’ve stopped bleeding, but they’re still pretty raw. “I could have definitely used that tonight.”
I try not to think about what might have happened if she hadn’t managed to autoport. I’d be back to being an only child in a venom-filled heartbeat. I push the thought aside. No point worrying about that now. Time to focus on the future and not dwell on the past.
“Once you’ve mastered some basic defense techniques,” I say, “we’ll move on to offensive strategies.”
“Biting?” she asks.
“Biting,” I agree. “And other things. It’s not always easy to get a bite in, especially on the multiheaded creatures. You’ll need backup techniques. Punches and kicks and weapons.”
“Like the knife in your boot?”
I turn a surprised look on her. “How do you know about my knife?”
She shrugs. “I caught a glimpse the other night when your pant leg was rolled up. And when you carried me out of the nightclub.”
“Oh,” I mumble, suddenly feeling guilty about my actions that night. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries.” She’s surprisingly chipper for someone who has, in the last week, been kidnapped, discovered a long-lost sister, started seeing monsters, and been attacked by one.
“I’m—” She dips her head, like she’s embarrassed. “I’m glad you did. I’m glad we . . . found each other. No matter how it happened.”
As much as it shocks me to admit it, I say, “Me too.”
We stand there, side by side, leaning against the counter, and I’m surprised at how comfortable it feels. I’m not usually at ease around other people, especially not people I’ve just met. I don’t know if it’s that I prefer being alone or that I’m used to being on my own. Or at least that used to be true.
That’s another part of the strange events of late, because it’s not only Grace who makes me feel this way. It’s Nick too. Even though I know he has to be nothing but trouble, I let my guard down when he’s around. I let myself be a little more . . . me than I am with other people.
I shake my head to get those thoughts out. There’s no place for Nick or any other boy in my life. I have a mission and a destiny and a world of responsibility that no one else can possibly understand.
Well, no one but Grace, now.
“What are we going to do about Milo?” she asks, pulling me thankfully from my thoughts.
“Who?”
“Milo,” she repeats. “The boy who thought you were me at school today. You didn’t even know who he was?”
“Oh, him,” I reply. I forgot that part of my day and Grace’s rushed recap of the situation. “Nope, never saw him before. Or at least never noticed him.”
“Never noticed him?” she asks in disbelief. “How could you not notice Milo?”
I shrug. “Guess I wasn’t looking.”
I do my best to stay off other people’s radar and to keep anything that’s not from the beastie realm off mine.