“I recall dancing.” She closed her eyes. “You’ll believe me, Daddy. Won’t you?”
Berrick winced. Once she’d turned ten, she’d stopped calling him “Daddy.” From then on, he’d been “Father.” She’d begun to call him “Father” as they’d stood over her mother’s coffin.
“You’ll listen,” Marim said. “I danced with the devil…” She cried out and sat up, her eyes wide open. “She didn’t kill him. The roses have no scent. They’re monsters, Daddy, Daddy!”
“She who, Marim?” Berrick asked, though he already knew the answer.
“I don’t know, Daddy! I don’t know!” She turned to him and buried her face in his jacket. He held her, stroking the back of her head until she grew calm again. Then she pulled away and looked at him with her soft brown eyes. “Where’s Tyr?”
Berrick paused and looked into her eyes. If she referred to her little brother, she always called him by his full name. The nickname died with his little boy. The amber eyes that stared at him were wild and scared. “He’s fine.”
“He’s not hurt?”
“No.”
“I’ve had weird dreams where he wasn’t safe.”
“I’ll keep us safe, little one.”
“Please do, Father.”
Berrick relaxed when she called him “Father.” He looked in her face and saw nothing but Marim.
As the sedative the countess gave her kicked in and she fell back into a heavy, drugged sleep, Berrick watched Marim. He stared at her pale eyelashes lying against cheeks that were just beginning to lose the freckles of childhood.
Those creatures came here, and they touched her. They hurt my little girl. And they could have killed her. I couldn’t have stopped it.
The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, and after an unmeasured length of time, Berrick got up and left his sleeping daughter. The other victim of that night might have answers.
Darith’s room was in another wing of the mansion, and as Berrick walked the halls, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had missed something. He would expect with a sick child in the house that the area around the room would be bustling. The parents would remain within earshot, lest their child called out, but the hallway that contained Darith’s bedchamber was empty.
Was he hurt worse than implied? On the doorways hung black mourning cloths covered with the family crest. What was the count thinking? He had a living, breathing son in agony behind one of those doors. How was it that Berrick was the only person in evidence?
The door swung open at a touch, and Berrick looked across the room at Darith. The boy lay in bed with a sheet covering the lower half of his body. His hand lay over a book.
“Come to ogle the cripple?” Darith asked. The look he leveled at Berrick was full of pride and disdain.
“I’m doing an investigation, Darith. I need to know what happened to you that night.”
Darith watched him with a blank hateful stare from his bed. His face was pale when he spoke.
“You aren’t going to believe me. No one does.”
“Give me a chance, kid. Marim was out there too. She never had secrets from me, told me the promises you made her. You were her white knight, and now someone’s hurt her. Are you going to let that stand?” The words were a risky ploy. Berrick had never seen much evidence of altruism in Darith, but Marim thought the world revolved on Darith’s shoulders. She believed he would protect her. Time to test the theory.
Darith paused. “They led us out there, a man and a woman. They were brother and sister, or that’s what they said.”
Berrick’s teeth ground together. That described Silvia and Halis.
“She was gorgeous but cold,” Darith continued. “If Marim hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have had a second thought, but despite her beauty, I kept expecting… I didn’t know if it was more likely she’d take off her dress or gut me. I should have cared, but I didn’t. They led us out into the garden. Marim and the man walked behind while the woman, Silvia, and I went ahead. At first, we walked very close together, then Marim and the man drifted farther back. She seemed happy. I had no logical reason to believe she was in danger.”
Berrick waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have stalled. “I know you didn’t. Tell me what happened.”
“Silvia and I, well…” Darith averted his eyes. Was he blushing? “We moved off the path, and…” Darith motioned emphatically with his hands. “She was very beautiful, sir. And more than willing. Eager. She was eager.”
This kid had gone off to dally with a woman when he was supposed to be watching after Marim? That thought wrestled with pity for how much trouble the young gentleman was having telling Berrick about his exploits. Both emotions were wiped clean when Darith leaned forward, his impetuous motion stopped by the dead weight of his legs. He was just a kid.
Only nineteen. And where were his parents?
“When it was over, something happened to me. She bit my neck, and I got very tired. I just lay there in the trees. I couldn’t.”
“She didn’t hurt you?” Berrick asked.
“She bit me. Nothing more. But she changed into a beast. You won’t believe me, will you?”
“A beast?” Berrick said.
“A spider. A giant spider.” Darith stared at him with a challenge in his dark eyes. “As big as a man.”
Berrick looked beyond Darith’s head. Stories like this one were rare, but not unheard of. Sometimes victims of violent attacks had no other way of processing than to victimize their attackers. He had heard retellings of trees that moved and of rats as big as dogs. Something about this story unsettled his stomach. Silvia and her brother had come, and now both Darith and Marim spoke about demons.
Berrick stood up and turned away from the bedside. He stared at the wall and shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. Darith began to laugh behind him. It was a cold, lost laugh. Darith didn’t care who heard him. He might as well have been crying for the desperation and sadness in the sound. There was mirth there as well.
“Don’t believe me?” he said. “Cops never listen, especially to kids. I thought maybe I was old enough that one of you would bother to listen. I overestimated you. Try to catch them—you’ll see.”
“I will catch them, Darith,” Berrick said. Once his word was given, he never broke it. Not only would he not be helping those siblings, he’d see no one else could, either. “I’ll make them pay.”
Darith continued to laugh.
Chapter 7
Magic & a Gun
The garden outside the fluttering curtains was dotted with color. Flowers lined a cobbled landing and a walkway that stretched out of Darith’s view. From composition and beauty alone, the spot would have been a perfect strolling place for lovers, but no one ever walked the path but for a gardener. Trees stood in a line behind the flowers, forming bright green bars that locked the outside world from him. The noonday sun pounded onto the stones, causing a glare to warp the view and burn like probing fingers into Darith’s skull.
He lifted a hand and tried to call the power to soothe away the throbbing, but nothing responded inside him. The web the spiders had left had locked that part of him away. Yet when he reached down, a voice thrummed in the distance, its words indistinguishable, and thousands of eyes stared into his mind.
Darith smacked his skull into the bedpost and the flash of sharp pain dimmed the relentless headache for a moment.
Crippled. They’ve not only taken my legs, but the only power that was mine.
The door opened and the curtains around the floor-length window billowed at the change in pressure. He refrained from looking since only silent servants came and went. His mother’s single visit had only reinforced for him that he could expect to remain a leper. It was not until tentative steps entered the room that he paid attention.
“Darith?” The whisper from the entrance accosted him, driving into his solitude, making demands.
Darith gripped the sheets in a hand and turned. A neatly dressed gir
l with skin the color of molasses and full, red lips wrung her hands as she approached. He assumed she had been cued by his mother’s investigation into finding an heir among the village girls. On any normal occasion, Gretta would never have thought to visit him here. Even while their short-lived physical relationship had thrived, she’d never come here.
A questing smile formed on her painted lips. Their last encounter had not ended well, and he waited for her to gloat. Last time she’d lacked a potent weapon and had hurled clods of grass from the field at him, accusing him of exaggerated cruelties. Now he was certainly at a disadvantage. But there was no triumph in her brown eyes, just sorrow.
“I’m surprised the servants let you in. Am I so fallen in their eyes?” Darith asked.
Gretta smoothed her dress, an expensive creation, funded by the profits of her father’s store. Yet having money did not make her noble, and even the servants on the Cortanis estate could spot a peasant, no matter how finely dressed.
“Hush. If ye talk cruel to me, I’ll go.”
“Why did you even come? Just to reassure yourself that you achieved a stroke of luck escaping being tied to me?”
“Has nothing to do with that. I heard of yer misfortune. I wanted to see how ye were.”
“You’ve seen.”
“Darith.” She stepped farther in, and her cleavage rose and fell inside her tight bodice. Her breath was fast, nervous. “I came because I care.”
“Came to gloat.”
She didn’t lower her eyes and blush as a noble girl would, but her eyebrows creased and her hands plunked on her hips. “You stop that business. Gloat over what? I don’t want bad things fer you. When ye discarded me like some piece of trash stuck ta yer shoe, I was fit to strangle you. But ye were right about our future together and a stern manner does not change noble intent. Can’t ye let me be concerned?”
“Why concern? Concern implies there is some chance I’ll avoid disaster. I’m done. Nothing left but a slow rot, and I don’t need voyeurs… especially pretty ones.”
“Who says yer done? Your parents maybe.” She shook her black curls.
“You talk to Mr. Dent?”
“No. Not every girl is just out to land a man. I wasn’t turning him down because of you, but because I had no interest. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get along. I’m more worried about you and it’s not the accident, more that you’re trapped here. Afraid ye’ll lose yourself.”
Darith gritted his teeth. Now, this reeked of pity.
“Tell me, Darith, and gods’ own truth, I’ll leave ye be. Now that ye can’t escape them and this place in the village, tell me there’s something else ye love. Something that means something ta you?”
“I’ve got no use for girls now.”
“Not everything is about sex. Lots of folks in the village have accidents, can’t do what they did. Some of them get bitter and mean. Some of them find a way to move on, love life for what it is. You’re already bitter and mean, but that doesn’t mean ye can’t find joy. You ain’t dead. Not everything ye ever did was with yer legs, was it?”
Darith stared at his fingers and tried to feel the tingle of magic inside, but nothing came to him. That’s gone too. He didn’t speak his thoughts. Her interest touched him. It felt like true concern. He didn’t want to burden her heart further.
“You’re a good woman. I’d assume you’d still be angry.”
“I was, but you were trying in yer own pigheaded lord-y way to look out fer me. I just want to do the same fer ye. If ye need something, something ye can’t get here from the servants and lord types, just ask.”
“Don’t let my mother see you here,” he said. “She’s bent on finding a bastard child. If she knew we were having contact, she’d be certain you were the girl.”
“I said I was here for Marim.”
“You know her?”
“We all grew up here. Yes, I know her, not well, but I know her.”
“Don’t tell her you know me.”
“You think I’d brag? Not exactly a selling point for a girl to have slutted around. Why do ye care anyhow?”
“She’s one of those things you were talking about,” Darith said. “Things I care about that doesn’t require anything I lost.”
∆∆∆
Berrick thrust the door open. Henri, who must have heard Berrick barreling up the walkway, bustled the remaining few steps to the door. A large smile spread over Henri’s sickly face. The hallway behind Henri was covered in spiderwebs, giving it the appearance of a house long abandoned. The showroom feel he’d noticed days before had been swept away.
“Out of my way,” Berrick said.
“Berrick! Come in, come in. I’m so glad you’re back.”
“Where are they?” Berrick entered. His boots crunched on the stone floor. The dirt under the heels made little crackling sounds as he moved.
“I’ll tell them you’re here. Would you like a drink while you wait?” Henri’s smile faded. With distaste, he looked at the dirty trail Berrick had made. That he did not admonish Berrick for the mess told Berrick all he needed to know about Henri’s state of mind.
Berrick grabbed his brother’s arm and pressed his gun into Henri’s stomach. “I’m not here to play games. Where are they?”
“You’re making a mistake!” Henri shook in his grasp.
“Where?” Berrick’s thumb pulled back the safety.
“If you just give them what they want, they’ll go away,” Henri pleaded, his forehead damp with sweat. He looked up into his brother’s eyes, then winced.
“Where. Are. They,” Berrick said. He dug the muzzle of the gun into Henri’s gut.
“They’re upstairs. I don’t know where,” Henri squeaked.
“You do, and you’ll show me.” Berrick shoved Henri toward the stairs.
Henri stumbled up the web-ridden steps in front of him. He began to whimper, and Berrick jabbed the gun into his back. Henri led his brother back to a room, then stopped in front of the door. His entire body shook.
Either way, the game ends here. Either they die or I do.
Berrick took a deep breath. He opened the door and strode inside. A perfectly normal bedroom awaited him. Normal except for the dark-skinned man, dressed in black silk, whose black eyes drank the light of the room around him.
Halis leaped to his feet from his reclined position on the bed. Berrick pointed his gun and pulled the safety. Halis smiled, an odd, shimmering field rippling around his body.
Berrick pulled the trigger.
The bullet crashed into the wall, behind the spider.
“What the…?” Berrick leaped back. His arms dropped. He held on to the gun by force of habit and swore. The spider scuttled toward him, its legs covered in hairs as long and thick at the base as Berrick’s fingers. Berrick stumbled away from the huge creature, colliding with the wall.
The spider struck at his arm with one bone-thin limb, knocking the gun from Berrick’s hand. The mandibles encasing its massive mouth clacked loudly.
One of the spider’s long, sharp-tipped arms came flying at Berrick. He dropped to the ground out of the way and rolled to the side. The coarse hair on the spider’s legs brushed his arm as he moved past.
Where’s the damn gun?!
One of the spider’s massive legs drove down into Berrick’s thigh. Berrick screamed as blood welled from his leg. His vision blurred under a haze of agony that threatened to pull him under its waves. Another leg drove toward him. He kicked into its underside. The spider jerked back, and Berrick pulled himself out of the way.
The gun lay a few feet from Berrick. He dove and grabbed for it. A spider leg tore the fabric of his shirt, leaving a burning pain down the side of his back. His fingers met cold metal.
He pointed and shot. He shot again, and the spider fell back.
The spider let out a high-pitched scream. One of its legs hung limply at its side, and blood dripped from the right side of its body. Berrick hoisted himself up against the wall and lifted the gu
n.
The creature before him was huge, and it had Halis’ cold, laughing eyes. He steadied his arm and aimed at the thing’s eyes.
A word exploded in the air and caught him.
He tried to pull the trigger, but his finger wouldn’t move.
Silvia moved into his line of sight with Henri slumped behind her. Her finger pointed at Berrick and the whites of her eyes swirling with black.
Berrick struggled to scream. Struggled harder to pull the trigger.
He knew magic, but this wasn’t in the scope of reason. This went against everything he’d ever learned about the mystical arts. For her to wield power so extreme wasn’t possible.
Henri’s face was pale as death, and he stumbled. His hair was entirely gray and his skin a shade that nearly matched. Silvia gripped Henri’s shirt and threw him in front of her on the ground. Henri crumpled, giving no resistance.
The sorceress stepped toward Berrick with her teeth bared. She struck the gun from his hand and the pistol spun across the floor. She hissed another word, and the gun melted.
Henri twitched behind her, his body sinking inward, his skin shriveled and colorless.
Then Silvia slapped Berrick. Her ring dug into the flesh of his cheek and ripped a bloody patch out of it. Berrick struggled to move again, and the spell rippled around him. She shoved him back against the wall, and he drove against her. She had amazing strength for a woman so slender. And then Halis was by her side. A line of blood trickled from his mouth. He punched Berrick in the face, and Berrick slammed into the floor.
Spider's Kiss: Book One of the Drambish Chronicles Page 7