Sweet Venom by Tera Lynn Childs

that I don’t hear my double walk up behind me.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” she demands.
    My heart jump-starts and I whirl around with a gasp, clutching my palm to my chest. “Omigosh, you scared me.”
    She lifts her brows.
    She’s 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. She’s dabbing at the back of her neck with a cotton pad soaked in a blue liquid that smells like mouthwash.
    â€œGrace,” I say, leaning back against the railing. “My name is Grace.”
    â€œGrace what?”
    â€œWhitfield,” I answer. “What’s your name?”
    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, she’s trying to secure a second gauze bandage to the back of her neck.
    â€œHere,” I offer. “Let me help.”
    She gives me a skeptical look but doesn’t 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, “Gretchen.”
    â€œGretchen?” I echo, securing a second piece of tape.
    â€œSharpe,” she says, almost reluctantly.
    I release the bandage, and it seems like it’s going to stay in place. I step back and around to face Gretchen. With a smile, I say, “All patched up.”
    She mutters a quiet “Thanks,” and then turns to put away the first aid supplies.
    I would offer to help, but I have a feeling she’s not interested.
    â€œSo, Gretchen,” I say instead. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
    She closes up the first aid box, slides it under the sink, and then leans back against the counter. It’s hard not to squirm as she scrutinizes me with eyes the same silvery gray as my own.
    â€œThat depends,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much do you know?”
    I laugh. A big giant guffaw just bursts out, I can’t help it. It’s a slightly hysterical reaction to an extremely ridiculous question. “How much do I know?” I ask, still laughing. “I know that yesterday I started seeing monsters from Greek mythology come to life, and you look like my twin.”
    She looks at me, like she’s waiting for me to say more. When I don’t, she asks, “That’s all?”
    â€œTo the syllable.”
    â€œAnd before yesterday you never saw a monster?” She uncrosses her arms and tucks her hands into the back pockets of her black cargo pants.
    â€œNot once.”
    â€œWhat happened yesterday?” she asks.
    â€œI told you,” I say, getting a little frustrated that she’s doing all of the asking and none of the answering. “I saw the minotaur in the dim sum parlor. And then I—”
    â€œNo, before that.” She shifts her weight to the other foot. “What was different about yesterday? What’s changed in your life recently?”
    Well, there’s only been one really big change.
    â€œWe moved to San Francisco,” I say, using up the last of my patience. “Yesterday was my first day at the new school.”
    â€œThat explains it,” Gretchen says, as if now everything should be clear. “Monsters don’t get far from the city.”
    Without another word she walks out of the bathroom, leaving me standing there like an idiot, facing my own reflection. That explains it? That doesn’t explain anything .
    â€œGrrr,” 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, she’s not going to give them to me. I have to go after them.
    I stomp out of the bathroom.
    â€œLook,” I say, finding her in the kitchen. “I