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Always Bet on Medusa » Tera Lynn Childs

Are you prepared for some monster searching goodness?

This Candy Venom brief story originally appeared within the Vegas Robust anthology (a charity undertaking developed within the wake of the Las Vegas Capturing that provides all proceeds to the Code Inexperienced Marketing campaign, a first responder oriented psychological health advocacy and schooling organization).

Warning: Sweet Venom trilogy spoilers!

“You’re going to love it,” Greer says. “Trust me.”

“The last time I trusted you, I ended up hanging from the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“That wasn’t her fault,” Grace insists.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead. “That’s debatable.”

Once we acquired the report of an enormous white worm splashing round in the Bellagio fountains, I assumed a fast trip to Las Vegas can be a welcome reprieve from the chilly and rainy weather we’ve been having in San Francisco. If I’d recognized it was going to be this scorching I might have left my jacket behind.

Plus, it’s not like monster-hunting descendants of Medusa get to take many holidays. Or any. There’s all the time one other beastie to battle.

“I just want to go home,” I say, “and wash off the putrid smell of Helmis Indikos.”

“You could always take a quick swim.” Greer gestures at the fountains under us.

As if on cue, music begins blaring and water shoots up into the air as the fountain involves life. I saw the water show in a movie as soon as. I all the time figured it was pc enhanced to look extra spectacular. However it’s fairly spectacular in individual, too.

I present Greer a gesture of my own.

“Come on,” Grace says, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “I want to see the Conservatory. I did some research when the report came in.”

In fact she did.

Grace provides me an expectant look. “They’re supposed to have a really cool Halloween display on right now.”

Greer shifts her weight to at least one hip and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s a posture meant to ask if I’m going to be the one to deny the sweetest of us triplets this little piece of joy. I’d technically be the youngest, but Grace is certainly the infant. Greer knows too nicely that I discover it arduous to disclaim Grace anything.

“Fine,” I relent. “But just for a minute.”

Grace claps excitedly and begins up the sidewalk.

When Greer cocks an I-always-get-my-way eyebrow at me, I virtually take back my consent. But Grace is already halfway to the entrance.

Greer turns and follows her. I attain toward her snobby little neck, venting a few of my frustration by pretending to truly strangle her from behind.

But since she’s a black belt with psychic powers, she would in all probability thrust kick me into the fountain before I even laid a finger on her.

One among today, she and I are going to face off. Simply not at the moment. Not once we’ve already fought off a deceptively innocent-looking worm creature. Once I take on Greer, I need to do it on recent legs.

I comply with my sisters up to the fancy-looking fundamental entrance. If not for the flashing lights, stretch limos, and ladies in barely-there clothes, I’d assume we have been really at some fancy European resort. I half anticipate some valet or bellhop to cease me in my tracks to not-so-politely ask me and my smelly exercise clothes to take ourselves elsewhere. However I make it via the doors with out getting a lot as a sideways look.

Then again, that is Vegas. I assume they’ve in all probability already seen a one or two of the whole lot.

“Wow!” Grace pulls to a cease so shortly that I virtually crash into her.

I comply with her gaze upward, to the place dozens—perhaps tons of—of colorful glass blobs fill an enormous, oblong part of the ceiling. It appears like some sort of rainbow jellyfish conference.

“Fiori di Como,” Greer says with an Italian accent. “It’s a Chihuly sculpture.”

Grace has an awestruck expression on her face. “There are so many colors.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, pretending not to be impressed by the great thing about the show. “Where is this conservatory we’re supposed to see?”

Greer throws me an irritated look, however I throw one proper again at her.

“Follow me,” she says, starting off by way of the foyer and never waiting to see if Grace and I are actually following.

I seize Grace by the hand as I stroll by, dragging her with me as I attempt to sustain with Greer.

She will get a bit forward of us. All of the sudden the gang morphs, merges, and I can’t see her anymore. Forging ahead within the path I final noticed her, I weave a path by means of the gang till instantly we emerge in a clearing.

“Wow!” Grace exclaims once more.

Wow is true. The ceiling above us provides solution to an ornate glass skylight, like something out of a Victorian dollhouse.

The air around us modifications. All of the sudden it’s crammed with a pure floral scent.

I take a step forward, forgetting that I still have Grace by the wrist. When she tugs away, I launch her and stare, with awe on the display before us. It’s like a cross between the Rose Bowl Parade and an English garden. It’s exhausting to take all of it in directly.

A pair of aisles lead into the conservatory, flanked on each side by fields of pumpkins in sizes from teeny-tiny mini to greater than a automotive. Solely they’re not pumpkins. As I step closer I see that they’re truly flower-covered pumpkin sculptures. Marigolds, if my very limited flower information is right.

The more I go searching, the extra I see that the whole lot is flower-covered. Big maple tree with a friendly face within the trunk? Flowers. Huge white ghosts and creepy black bats hanging from the glass ceiling? Flowers. Creepy-looking Victorian mansion at the far end of the area? Flowers, flowers, and extra flowers.

It’s, in a phrase, breathtaking.

“I told you it was worth seeing.”

Greer’s smug voice wipes the awe right off my face. I don’t care if the flowers sing and provides out Halloween sweet, there isn’t any approach I’m letting Greer see how impressed I am. The last thing that woman needs is a much bigger ego.

With a pressured sigh, I turn to face her. “Yeah, it’s great. Can we go now?”

“Look at this!” Grace exclaims.

She rushes down one of many aisles, spinning round to face us when an arc of water shoots over her head.

“How cool is this?” She lifts a hand, catching the stream and sending a sprig of water throughout herself and the aisle filled with vacationers.

“See,” Gree says with a smirk. “Another chance for you to bathe.”

I open my mouth, able to toss her another snide comment, when a distinctly non-floral odor hits my nostrils.

From the look on Greer’s face, I know she smells it too.

A beastie. Proper right here within the conservatory.

Great. A huntress’s work isn’t carried out.

“What is it?” Greer asks.

“More importantly,” I counter, “where is it?”

“Um, guys…” Grace factors above our heads.

With a growing sense of dread, I lookup.

There, sitting on the top of a creepy bat product of flowers, is an enormous black fowl. Like a car-sized raven, however with glossy green eyes and talons as lengthy and sharp as kitchen knives.

“Is that—”

“Yes,” I reply before Grace has completed her question. “It’s a stymphalian bird.”

That woman has a near photographic memory, which is clearly not genetic as a result of regardless of us being similar triplets it’s a miracle I may even keep in mind the identify of the factor.

“Let me guess?” Greer asks with disgust. “Man-eating?”

“The stinky ones always are,” I reply.

Its expansive wings stretch out far past the bat, blocking out a lot of the solar coming in from the skylight. To the strange people enjoying the floral display it should look like a random cloud has drifted into the sky. Only my sisters and I know the truth. A bloodthirsty mythological hen is on the hunt. And if we don’t ship it again to Abyssos, it’s jail realm residence, one among these vacationers is going to turn into lunch.

“How do we get up there?” Greer asks.

Grace shakes her head. “Or get it come down here?”

I don’t like both choice. I’m not a huge fan of heights, however I’m not precisely wanting to deliver the man-eating hen down amongst the lads.

The beast chooses that actual second to let loose an eardrum-shattering screech. A number of the tourists wince and press their palms to their ears, despite the fact that they do not know why.

There’s no time to waste.

“Grace,” I bark, shifting into chief mode, “get the humans out of right here.


“I don’t care.” I scan the world, on the lookout for some type of projectile. “Just use your hypno eyes. Tell them there’s a gas leak.”

“No,” Greer says. “Tell them there are free buffet tickets at the concierge desk. There will be a stampede.”

Grace nods and then starts going by way of the gang one after the other, making eye contact and convincing them to go away the world. That needs to be probably the most useful powers inherited from our historic ancestor. Though the myths described it as turning individuals to stone, the actual power is extra like hypnosis. And in situations like this, it undoubtedly saves lives.

“We need to work fast,” Greer says, shifting to my aspect. “It won’t take long for security to notice something strange is happening.”

“First, we need to get it down here.”

We each search the world, in search of one thing we will use. As Greer walks down the aisle, the arc of water sprays over her head.

“Wait,” Grace calls out from throughout the conservatory. “I remember reading something about stymphalian birds being hydrophobic.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I shout back.

She smiles at my ignorance. “It means they’re afraid of water!”

In fact. A number of the airborne beasties avoid the wet.

Thirty seconds later, Greer and I have yanked a defend from one of the floodlights and positioned it in front of the nozzle. The beastie continues to be sitting up there on the bat, a confused expression on its face as all the potential snacks walk out of the conservatory underneath Grace’s energy.

“Ready?” I ask Greer.

She stands up, activating the movement sensor and setting the water in movement. The stream hits the light defend and displays up greater into the air. Right into the face of the stymphalian fowl.

The response is quick.

It takes off, sending the floral bat swinging.

“Go!” I shout to Greer. “Get behind it. I’ll distract it from the front.”

Which sounded great in principle. However as the enormous fowl soars down towards me, I understand too late that it doesn’t have the management to vary course. I dive out the best way a split-second before it might have speared me with its razor-sharp beak, as an alternative sending myself headfirst into the marigold-covered pumpkins.

I don’t have time to cease and odor the anything, although, because the moment the stymphalian chook hit the ground, it decides that if no humans are available, one teenage descendant of Medusa would make a mighty positive alternative meal. As Grace comes on the hen from one aspect and Greer from the other, I bounce to my ft and take off by way of the pumpkins.

“I’ll circle around!” I shout as I emerge onto the opposite aisle. “We can trap it in the back, behind the house.”

I sprint to keep ahead of the creature,  barely making it behind the makeshift maple tree before it lunges at me. In my spur-of-the-moment plan, I hadn’t counted on the likelihood that perhaps I couldn’t truly get behind the creepy Victorian house. But as I race around the again, I discover myself at a lifeless finish.

Spinning around, I know I’m trapped. The fowl is in front of me, the home behind me, the back wall of the conservatory on one aspect, and an ornate topiary in the different.

I can see the women approaching the fowl from behind. Luckily—if anything about my present state of affairs could possibly be referred to as lucky—the chook’s consideration is all on me.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” I shout to Greer as I wave my arms to keep the hen targeted on me.

They’re shifting into place and I need to give them the absolute best probability to catch it unaware. Which suggests making sure the beastie retains eyes on me. I knew my interest of taunted the monsters before sending them back would come in useful.

“I wanted to go home, take a long hot shower,” I continue, louder than mandatory, “and then curl up with a good book.”

That last one virtually blows the whole plan. Grace snorts at the concept I might ever spend a night studying. That’s more her type.

Luckily, the fowl brain is just too intent on me to notice the noise.

“But noooo,” I taunt as Greer strikes in. “We just had to come inside to smell the flowers.”

Grace tenses for the attack.

“Maybe you’ll listen to me next time.”

All of it happens in a blur. The hen lunges for me. I sidekick the thing proper within the beak. Grace grabs it by the leg as Greer launches herself onto the shiny feathered back.

I dive for the opposite leg, considering I’ll help Grace hold the fowl on the ground. But I’m forgetting one essential reality: birds can fly. And mythological birds can apparently take off even with the load of three teen women holding them down.

Big wings flap and carry us larger into the air.

“Any day now!” I shout at Greer.

“I’m trying,” she snaps back. “These feathers are too thick to bite through.”

Grace squeals. “It’s heading for the skylight.”

If it breaks by way of into the open air, our fall back to earth goes to harm when Greer finally sinks fangs into flesh and the factor disappears back to Abyssos.

“Just find somewhere and—”

“Found it!” Greer exclaims.

A cut up second later, the fowl is gone and I’m freefalling back to earth.

“Ooof!” I exclaim as I hid the bottom. And then again when Grace falls on prime of me.

I manage to roll us each out of the best way earlier than Greer hits. Not that she appreciates landing on the onerous tile as an alternative of our tender bodies. Serves her proper. She’s the rationale we’re right here.

We lie there for a number of long seconds, staring on the floral bats and ghosts swinging from the glass ceiling.

When my respiration lastly returns to regular, I say, “Well, that was the opposite of fun.”

Greer makes a gagging sound.

“I really wouldn’t have thought it could get off the ground with us weighing him down,” Grace says. “That defies the laws of physics.”

“Our entire existence defies the laws of physics,” I reply.

She pushes up to a sitting place. “True.”

“Can we go home now?” I sit up subsequent to her.

“Yes, just let me—”

“No,” Greer says, climbing to her ft. “There is an exquisite patisserie just around the corner.”

I stare at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I need something yummy to erase the taste of nasty bird monster from my memory.” She dusts off her pants. “A triple chocolate cheesecake is the perfect cure.”

Grace jumps to her ft. “I never say no to chocolate. Or cheesecake.”

“This is why I liked working alone.” I increase my arms and let my sisters pull me to my ft. “If another beastie shows up, you two are on your own.”

“Deal!” Grace says with more enthusiasm than I feel I’ve felt in my whole life.

We start out of the conservatory simply as the first wave of tourists, dissatisfied to study that there were no buffet freebies at this time, is returning. And I catch the primary hint of a odor that doesn’t belong. Hopefully, no matter monster is lurking around the nook can wait until after chocolate. Because despite what I advised my sisters, I never say no to chocolate both. Or cheesecake.

Once I wrote this story, I needed to point out the joyful aspect of a city that had simply suffered a terrible tragedy. Hopefully it unfold just a little mild into the world, and I hope you enjoyed studying it.

If you want to get copy paperback copy of this story (and help the Code Inexperienced Marketing campaign) you possibly can order Vegas Robust from most retailers.*

And if you wish to read more about Gretchen, Grace, and Greer and the way they received collectively, take a look at the Sweet Venom collection.

*Not all the stories in the anthology are YA or YA-friendly.