The Venom: Venom And Vanilla Part 17

I smiled. "Yeah, it is."

The rest of the drive back to the bakery was quiet. Uneventful. Which was good and bad. Good because I wasn't sure how much more upheaval I could handle without completely losing my mind. Bad because my thoughts were all my own and I couldn't escape them.

Could my whole life have been . . . wrong? Could Ernie be right and everything my mother presented have been skewed?

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel as I tried to come to grips with the tiny epiphanies as they rolled through me in rapid-fire succession.

I would always defend my family, and Ernie was right about that. Protecting my family would never be wrong. If I were put in the same position again, I would fight with all I had even knowing the outcome. I felt bad for the deaths I'd caused. But I wouldn't let it eat away at me. I straightened up in my seat like a weight had slid off my shoulders.

Being turned into a Super Duper . . . maybe I was going to h.e.l.l for that. But was it worse to not be human or to turn away from a chance at life? Really, if I hadn't fought to live, was that not like a form of pa.s.sive suicide? Which was also wrong according to my mother and the Church of the Firsts.

That worry slid off me until there was only one left. My mother. Her condemnation, and her belief that I no longer existed. That I was no longer her daughter, all because I didn't look right. I frowned and stared out into the dark night. I tried to put myself in her position and realized if Tad had come to me, if he'd told me he was a Super Duper, I never would have turned from him. Even though I feared the supernatural, I never would have turned from someone I loved.

The fact that she'd turned away from Tad and me when we'd needed her most . . . Perhaps I needed to reevaluate my belief system if that was the kind of people it produced.

I thought about what Dad had said. That Tad and I were the babies they'd fought for. Was there something in Mom's past that drove her to the Firsts? Something she thought she could protect herself with by being better than anyone else?

I pulled into the bakery, feeling hopeful for the first time since I'd agreed to Merlin turning me. "Come on, Ernie. Time to bake."

He grinned up at me. "Now you're talking, honey b.u.t.t."

"That is a horrible nickname." I let us back into the bakery. I flicked lights on and got the oven heating up.

"Well, until something better comes along, I'll just keep trying them on for size. Baby."

I snorted. "That's off-limits. Roger used to call me baby."

"Hmm. That the ex?"

"Yes. The ex who couldn't even wait for me to kick the bucket before finding a new girlfriend. And telling me what he was going to do with my life insurance."

"He didn't."

"Yeah, he did."

Ernie sat himself on the top of the counter near the sink. "He sounds like a total d.i.c.k of epic proportions."

I grinned. "I'd hardly call it epic. More like forgettable."

Ernie's jaw dropped and he fell backward. "Oh, G.o.ddess. Tell me. I love gossip."

That was something I was beginning to see. So while I got things going, I told him all about Roger, the story punctuated by the opening and closing of the fridge and Ernie's guffaws of laughter.

Within a few short minutes I had the food processor going full tilt, the loud purr of the powerful, compact engine doing that same weird vibration to my skin. This time, though, I kept my hands on the sides of the bowl. In the past, I'd always done things by feel in my bakery. With the extrasensory issues going on, that intuition was heightened even further. I dumped walnuts and cinnamon in and pulsed them until they were partially chopped. I actually felt it when the consistency was spot on and flicked the processor off. The scent that rose up as I lifted the lid made me close my eyes. Cinnamon, that had Remo all over it.

"You're thinking about the mob boss again."

My eyes flew open. "How do you know?"

Ernie winked. "Heart rate, flushed skin, parting of the lips. You're so hot for him you can't hide it."

I cleared my throat. "I need the phyllo dough." I pulled it out of the fridge and rolled it out, covering it with a damp towel.

"What are you making?"

"You can't guess? I thought the phyllo would be a hint." I grinned at him and his eyes widened.

"Tell me you're making baklava!" he screamed, his voice pitching far higher than I thought possible, as his fists shot in the air as if he'd just won the Super Bowl.

"I'm making baklava!" I yelled back at him, laughing. He spun around a few times in the air, and I went back to my baking.

Once I had the pastry in the oven, I let myself stop the distractions. "Achilles has Tad. Another trap for me and one I won't walk away from."

Ernie flew away from the oven door, where he'd been staring at the pastries. "Yes and yes. No one else would take him."

"Remo might," I said softly, sc.r.a.ping the remaining dough off the counter and tossing it into the sink.

"The mob boss? Why would he do that? Doesn't he want to get in your panties?"

I flushed, and dusted off my hands before I glanced up at him. "He wants me to . . . side with him. Thinks he can keep me safe from Achilles."

Ernie lowered himself to a clean section of counter and plopped himself down. "Doubt that he can keep you safe at all. Thing with heroes, the originals at least, is that they aren't really human either. Achilles's mom was a nymph, and his dad one of the original bad boys. Just like the other heroes, he has a background that all but screams what he's going to do with his life. They're made or born to kill monsters and perform ridiculous tasks. That being said, you need to get Tad away from Achilles sooner rather than later."

"But aren't the heroes supposed to be good guys? Shouldn't Tad be safe with him?" Even as I said it, I knew that was why I hadn't been terribly worried. In my head, even though Achilles hated me, I didn't think he would hurt an innocent. That wasn't how heroes did things. Right?

Ernie shook his head. "Tad is a bad guy to Achilles. To all the heroes, what you look like dictates which camp you are in. Which is why they particularly hate sirens. You confuse them at the best of times with your beauty, which to them should make you good. But then you can turn around and kill people, which makes you bad. They are black and white. You are serious shades of gray."

"I am nothing like Shades of Grey," I said quickly. "I didn't even read the book."

"That denial came way too fast." He laughed and picked up the previous thread. "Pretty much the fact that Tad is a snake s.h.i.+fter makes it perfectly okay to hurt, torture, or kill him in Achilles's eyes. All in the name of good versus evil. It's not wrong to make the evil ones suffer, you know."

"Tad is the furthest thing from evil." I paced the room while the air filled with the scent of baklava. I grabbed a pot and threw it on the stove, filling it with vanilla, honey, sugar, and water, my movements on autopilot.

This was not happening. It couldn't be. "Ernie, how long do you think we have?"

"Hard to say. Hours. Days. Maybe a week? It will depend on whether Achilles has already killed him."

I froze where I was, unable to move past what Ernie had said. "Killed?"

Ernie flew close to me and put his chubby fingers on my cheeks. "You need to be prepared for the worst. That's life when dealing with the Greek geeks."

I put both my hands on the counter, and the oven dinged. Moving swiftly, I grabbed the oven mitts and pulled the pan of baklava out. I drizzled the honey mixture over the pastries.

Ernie made a "gimme" motion, flickering his fingers at me repeatedly. "Those smell amazing."

"Thanks." The word was automatic. I dropped the pan on top of the stove and pulled the gloves off. Ernie shoved a pastry in his mouth and grabbed two more.

Who would know better where Tad might have been taken? Zeus was the obvious answer. But I still had another two hours before I was to see him. That only left one person I trusted, other than Ernie, who knew the Greek pantheon. Someone who'd been a part of it in her own way.

Yaya.

"Let's go." I turned the oven off and threw the pans into the empty sink with a clatter.

Hurrying to the car, we were on our way in seconds. Ernie licked his fingers the whole way, which kept him busy. Not that I wouldn't have wanted to talk, but I couldn't. My voice kept getting stuck on a single word.

Killed. Tad could have been killed already. I might be too late.

The hospital was only ten minutes away in good traffic, and I made it in less than five. I hurried to the front doors. The receptionist looked up as I entered, his heavy jowls and sallow skin speaking to too many night s.h.i.+fts.

"Visiting hours are from nine to four during the day."

I slumped. "Please, I need to see my grandmother. Just tell me what room she's in and I'll not say anything about you-"

He tapped the sign beside him. "Not my rules."

Ernie was nowhere to be seen. So I was on my own. Time to embrace what I was, and not just the monster side either.

I needed to see Yaya, and I wasn't leaving without talking to her. I slowly turned back to the receptionist, and leaned in as if to read his name tag. "Steven, is it?" I batted my eyes and drew in a slow breath, which lifted my chest up. His eyes dropped and he swallowed hard.

"Yeah."

"I . . . want . . . to know where Flora Dininny is. What room. I'd be awfully grateful." I smiled and tried to think about how to convince him I was serious. What did women do when flirting? Something with the tongue. I ran mine along my top lip and Steven's eyes went wide.

"What are you?"

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the gla.s.s above his head. The very tip of my tongue was forked.

Oh dear. That was not the reaction I wanted. "You will help me. Now. What room is Flora Dininny in?" I put everything I had, all the need and desire I had in me into the words. There was no going back.

Steven's face went slack and his hands fumbled over the keyboard; his eyes flicked and he pointed. I leaned into his cubicle and read the screen. Fourth floor, room 415.

"Thank you. Pretend I was never here."

He nodded, his head bobbling like it wasn't attached quite right. "Yes. You were never here."

I hurried away toward the elevators. I pressed the b.u.t.ton and nothing happened. Of course, they were locked after visiting hours. I paused and looked around for the stairwell. There to my left the door beckoned. I jogged to it and raced up the three flights in a matter of seconds.

I wasn't even winded.

At the fourth floor I pushed on the door. Locked. I hung my head, defeated by a hospital door.

Again.

"You're strong enough to break it."

I turned to see Ernie flying up the last few stairs. "I'm not going to s.h.i.+ft in the stairwell."

"Even in this form, you're strong enough. Just shove it hard, you'll break the lock." He floated above my head as he pointed at the door. As if I'd forgotten it was there.

I wrapped my hands around the cool metal handle. "Okay. Here we go." Putting my feet against the wall, I pulled. Slowly, I added to the force until the metal began to grind, like a mortar and pestle working overtime. Except all that happened was the handle let go first, snapping off.

"Fricky d.i.c.ky!" I threw it down the stairwell, the clang of it bouncing all the way down, echoing far louder than I'd thought it would. I flinched. "I hope no one heard that."

"The nurses are probably all sleeping. You wrecked the handle, see if you can pull it apart now." Ernie peered at the door.

He was right; there was a small section of metal that was bent outward where the handle had been. I put my hand into it and fished around for the lock mechanism.

"You'd make a pretty good thief." Ernie smiled. "If you weren't a giant snake, that is."

"Shut up, Ernie." I grasped what I could and yanked it out of the hole. The door leaned open. I grinned up at the cherub. "Got it."

I slipped through the door, Ernie right behind me. The nurses' station was ahead and to my right, and Yaya's room was to the left. Two nurses were sitting, watching a small TV, both with headphones on. That had to be against the rules. But it had worked in my favor. I dropped to my belly and army-crawled forward. "You be the lookout for me."

I turned to see Ernie already floating above the nurses' heads. "They're watching a p.o.r.no."

"They are not!"

"You want to see?"

I hurried, not answering him, slithering on my belly down the hall until I reached room 415. Moving into a crouch, I reached up and opened the door, let myself in, and finally took a deep breath. I looked around the room, seeing easily despite having very little light. Another perk of being a monster. I went straight for the bed on the right, where Yaya's earbuds lay on the side table.

"Yaya?"

A shuffling of sheets and she sat up, looking around for me. Of course, she couldn't see me like I saw her. She fumbled for her light and flicked it on. "Alena?"

Someone across the room muttered, "Shut the d.a.m.n light off, you old kook."

I grabbed the curtains around Yaya's bed and pulled them, closing us off as best as I could from the other person in the room.

"How did you get in here?" Yaya's eyes were wide.

"The nurses are . . . distracted right now. Yaya, Achilles took Tad, I have to go see Zeus in about an hour, and I don't know if he'll help me. I don't know what to do. What if Tad is already-"

"Hush, he isn't. I'd know."

"You would?" I sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand. "How?"

"I'm his grandmother. I would know if he died. Just like I knew when Owen slipped away from us."

"Yaya, I have no idea where to start looking for Tad. And I know it's going to be a trap, but-"

"Listen to me. You're going to go to Zeus. He will fill you in on what he can. While he can be difficult, he won't lie to you. I think."

I grimaced. "Well, that's comforting."

She shrugged. "The pantheon can't be trusted, most especially when they say, 'Trust me.' Achilles has the weaponry to kill you, Alena, just as you have the weaponry to kill him."

I bit back the desire to say I didn't want to kill him. He had Tad.