that I donât hear my double walk up behind me.
âWhatâs your name?â she demands.
My heart jump-starts and I whirl around with a gasp, clutching my palm to my chest. âOmigosh, you scared me.â
She lifts her brows.
Sheâs pulled off the long-sleeved black tee she was wearing at the club and is now in a black tank top. One leg of her cargo pants is rolled up to the knee, and her ankle is wrapped in white gauze. Sheâs dabbing at the back of her neck with a cotton pad soaked in a blue liquid that smells like mouthwash.
âGrace,â I say, leaning back against the railing. âMy name is Grace.â
âGrace what?â
âWhitfield,â I answer. âWhatâs your name?â
She turns away, walking back inside. I follow her through the living room and into a brightly lit bathroom, a little annoyed that she ignored my question. Twisted around with her back to the mirror, sheâs trying to secure a second gauze bandage to the back of her neck.
âHere,â I offer. âLet me help.â
She gives me a skeptical look but doesnât argue when I brush her hand aside and hold the bandage to her wound. As I tear off a piece of first aid tape, she mumbles, âGretchen.â
âGretchen?â I echo, securing a second piece of tape.
âSharpe,â she says, almost reluctantly.
I release the bandage, and it seems like itâs going to stay in place. I step back and around to face Gretchen. With a smile, I say, âAll patched up.â
She mutters a quiet âThanks,â and then turns to put away the first aid supplies.
I would offer to help, but I have a feeling sheâs not interested.
âSo, Gretchen,â I say instead. âWanna tell me whatâs going on?â
She closes up the first aid box, slides it under the sink, and then leans back against the counter. Itâs hard not to squirm as she scrutinizes me with eyes the same silvery gray as my own.
âThat depends,â she says, crossing her arms over her chest. âHow much do you know?â
I laugh. A big giant guffaw just bursts out, I canât help it. Itâs a slightly hysterical reaction to an extremely ridiculous question. âHow much do I know?â I ask, still laughing. âI know that yesterday I started seeing monsters from Greek mythology come to life, and you look like my twin.â
She looks at me, like sheâs waiting for me to say more. When I donât, she asks, âThatâs all?â
âTo the syllable.â
âAnd before yesterday you never saw a monster?â She uncrosses her arms and tucks her hands into the back pockets of her black cargo pants.
âNot once.â
âWhat happened yesterday?â she asks.
âI told you,â I say, getting a little frustrated that sheâs doing all of the asking and none of the answering. âI saw the minotaur in the dim sum parlor. And then Iââ
âNo, before that.â She shifts her weight to the other foot. âWhat was different about yesterday? Whatâs changed in your life recently?â
Well, thereâs only been one really big change.
âWe moved to San Francisco,â I say, using up the last of my patience. âYesterday was my first day at the new school.â
âThat explains it,â Gretchen says, as if now everything should be clear. âMonsters donât get far from the city.â
Without another word she walks out of the bathroom, leaving me standing there like an idiot, facing my own reflection. That explains it? That doesnât explain anything .
âGrrr,â I growl at the mirror.
I let myself get kidnapped by a stranger and then lied to my family about it. I at least deserve some answers in exchange. Obviously, sheâs not going to give them to me. I have to go after them.
I stomp out of the bathroom.
âLook,â I say, finding her in the kitchen. âI
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