“Makes sense,” Grace says. “Since she’s the one who got Medusa killed in the first place, she probably didn’t want our jobs made any easier.”

I shrug. “Anyway, the best I can do is send them back where they belong.”

“How?”

“With these.” I pull back my upper lip, revealing my teeth as my fangs pop down into place.

Grace’s eyes widen. “Fangs?” She touches her own canine teeth, as if expecting fangs to suddenly burst through. “Are we, like, vampires?”

“Not even close,” I say, tossing the apple from hand to hand. “These babies don’t suck, they inject.”

She looks concerned, like she doesn’t believe my insistence that we’re not bloodsuckers. I’m kind of surprised her fangs haven’t made an appearance already. Especially during her run-in with the basilisk hybrid tonight. Maybe if her subconscious didn’t know about the pair of weapons hiding in her mouth, they couldn’t engage. Self-preservation instinct sent her magically to my door instead.

Obviously she needs training, to learn how to defend herself against the creatures that would love nothing more than to send their own nasty venom coursing through her veins. As much as I wish I could send her away, back to the world she’s always known, that’s not possible anymore. Monsters know about her and she knows about them. The floodgates are open, and there aren’t enough buckets on the planet to get the water back behind the dam. I’m going to have to train her, for her own protection, and this might as well be lesson number one.

“Here, take this,” I say, handing her the apple. “And close your eyes.”

I think back to Ursula’s earliest lessons. It’s been four years since she found me and we started training, but I remember every session as if it were only yesterday. When you’ve spent a lifetime feeling like a worthless burden, you tend to pay attention to the person who gives you a destiny.

Grace closes her eyes.

“Now,” I say, circling around her as I speak, “think about the monster that attacked you at the bus stop. Picture every slimy, snaky detail.”

Her brow creases and her upper lip curls in disgust. Good girl.

“Imagine it has you pinned down. You’re trapped.” I step close and whisper, “You’re scared and helpless and angry.”

She starts shaking all over, and I have a feeling I’m getting it pretty close to what actually happened. I’m not trying to freak her out, but she has to learn to overcome the fear. I wouldn’t be good at my job if I went out hunting terrified of what might happen.

To her credit, she doesn’t open her eyes or beg me to stop.

“You think you’re about to die,” I say, making my voice as low and hypnotic as possible. “Now”—I stop in front of Grace—“picture yourself flipping it over, so you’re on top and it’s trapped beneath you. You’re in control.”

Her lips spread into a small smile. Two perfectly white fangs slide into place so smoothly, she doesn’t notice.

“Now, pretend the apple is the beast’s neck,” I command. “Bite!”

Without hesitation, she lifts the apple to her mouth and sinks her teeth into the shiny red skin. She sighs, and my own fangs tingle with envy. When the venom flows, there’s a kind of sweet euphoria. I call it the huntress bliss, an amazing feeling that you want to experience again and again. It makes you want to hunt again and again. After four years, the novelty has kind of worn off, but sometimes it catches me by surprise. If I could bottle that feeling, I’d be a billionaire.

I cup my hand around hers and pull it and the apple away from her mouth. Her fangs recede as she opens her dreamy eyes, clearly confused about what has just happened.

“Did I—?”

She doesn’t need to finish the question. I hold out the apple, showing her the twin fang holes oozing with the translucent purple liquid, the venom that holds the power to send monsters back to their realm, and the unequivocal proof that she’s a huntress too.

She lifts her hand to her mouth, running fingertips over her back-to-normal teeth. “I did that?”

“All you.”

“Can I—?” She reaches out and gingerly touches the apple, collecting some of the venom on her fingertip.

“It’s harmless to us,” I explain. “Taste it. It’s kind of sweet, actually.”

I don’t mention that it’s probably sweet in order to cut the nasty taste of monster. She doesn’t need to know that yet.

She dabs her finger to her lip and licks a tiny taste of the purple fluid. She looks up at me, amazed. “It is sweet.”

I turn and toss the apple into the compost can on the counter. If there’d been any doubt before about Grace being my sister, it has just evaporated like a monster back into the abyss. My sister.

For a second, with my back to Grace, I press my palms against the cool black granite and let all the changes of the last few days overwhelm me. For so long, it’s been me and Ursula. Two, alone. And before that, only me. I don’t know how to have a sister, how to be a sister. How to be a teacher. Who am I to give lessons to Grace? Just because I can hunt doesn’t mean I can teach someone else to do it.

I don’t know if I can do this.

“So I’m supposed to . . . bite them?” she asks.

I suck in a deep breath. Whether I think I’m up to the task or not, I’m the only one around who can train her. It’s either me or a painful death at the hands of some hideous creature. I’m definitely the better of the two options.