I feel that the answer I’m looking for is somewhere close by. That if I just reach out—with my mind, with my fingertips, with something—I’ll grab it. I close my eyes and try to focus my thoughts entirely on the problem. Using meditation techniques my personal trainer taught me, I visualize the problem—Gretchen in the abyss—and then a solution appearing in a sealed envelope. Mentally, I reach out and take the envelope. I break the seal, lift the flap, and pull out the paper inside. It says—

“Greer!” Veronica screeches, her whiny voice shattering my visualization into a million tiny pieces.

Enough. As much as I want to tell them to leave me alone with my thoughts, for the time being I need to focus. I need to get through this meeting, get everything on track for Saturday’s big day, and then I can work on the Gretchen problem. I put the mythology half of my life into a mental box and lock it tight. I will reopen it when the meeting is over.

“Sorry,” I say, still tossing a glare at Veronica for good measure. “What’s the vote?”

An hour later, I declare the meeting over and I can’t get out of the conference room fast enough. I’ve had enough color choices and garnish preferences and last-minute seating arrangement quandaries to last me a lifetime. I stuff everything into my satchel and rush out, trying to get away before anyone can stop to ask me questions—about the tea, fashion, homework, whatever.

As soon as I step into the street, I sense Grace. It’s like the mythology box in my brain bursts open. I don’t know how I know she’s here, but I’m getting used to just knowing some things. Head whipping around, I spot her standing across the street.

“Greer!” she calls out, waving from a spot next to a streetlamp.

I look over my shoulder, relieved to see no one behind me. Yet. I wave her out of sight as I hurry across the street.

“Are you crazy?” I demand, irritation flaring. How would I explain to the tea committee about my previously unknown twin sister showing up at my school? “What if someone saw you? What if—”

“I know what to do,” she interrupts. “I mean, I think I do. I have an idea how to get some answers.”

“You what?”

Across the street, the front doors swing open and the rest of the committee emerges from the building. I duck down, pulling Grace with me.

“Stay low,” I instruct. “Meet me at my car around the corner. Go.”

I give her a gentle shove. She stays low, below the roofline of the cars lining the street. I stand and pretend to check my lipstick, giving her time to get around the corner before following.

When we’re both safely in my car, I say, “You didn’t have to come here. I was going to call you.”

“I know,” she says, sounding contrite. “But I couldn’t wait.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Tell me about your big idea.” She fidgets with the hem of her tee, not taking her eyes off her lap. “Grace,” I say as I turn onto my street. “What do we have to do?”

“We need to capture a monster.”

I pace the carpet in the basement rec room. Grace has spent the last twenty minutes trying to convince me this is a good idea, but I’m not so sure. Monsters are, for the most part, dangerous and deadly creatures. Especially for a pair of newbie huntresses whose dead bodies could win a couple of bounty-hunting beasts their freedom. We’re a temptation for even the not-so-dangerous ones.

The idea is certifiably insane.

The problem is, it’s our only idea.

“This is crazy,” I say for the twentieth time.

“I know.” She sits on her hands on the couch. “What other choice do we have?”

I drop onto the couch next to her. I run through the scenarios in my mind, trying to come up with any other plan. Nothing. This is the first viable idea we’ve had since Gretchen left. Grace is right, I know she’s right. I just don’t want her to be right.

The image of Gretchen, leaping into the portal, into the abyss, to save her friend, flashes through my mind. She had no thought beyond protecting her own, even at the cost of her safety. She is courageous and loyal. She would have done the same for me or Grace without hesitation. What kind of sister—what kind of guardian—would I be if I didn’t show just as much courage when it comes to rescuing her? I might be scared—terrified—but she’s my blood.

“All right,” I finally say. “We can do this.”

“I think I know where to find one,” she says. “Gretchen told me about a kind of hotspot. An abandoned warehouse pier where she found tons of monsters over the years.”

I nod. For a moment I think about suggesting something safer, like the giant spider who is the custodian at my school. But that would mean bringing the two parts of my life together, and I want to avoid that at all cost. For as long as possible.

Besides, I like Harold. I don’t want to torture him for information.

“Sounds good,” I say, even though it sounds terrifying. “We can bring it back here.”

No one ever comes down here anymore, not since I stopped having slumber parties. Mother and Dad won’t be home until late and the housekeepers only clean this room once a month. I won’t have to explain why there’s a monster—who looks like a man—tied up in my basement. I only hope this hunt brings us the answers we need.

An hour later, Grace and I crouch on a stack of crates outside the warehouse, peering in a filthy window.