“It’s your lucky day,” Ymel said, picking a piece of glass from her cheek. “What are their names?”
“Silvia, Silvia and Halis, please—”
Now they were free, and it would all lead back to him.
∆∆∆
The leaves yellowed in the trees, and a few danced downward to the ground. Risa ran out from a farmhouse into the yellowing orchard with all the determination of her six years. Her hair was in long braids that trailed down her back like little rivulets. Her new black boots sank into the moist earth, leaving a trail her father would later find and follow, and she ran. She darted over the mud with the determination of childhood, completely bent on finding something for her rock collection, but if she happened to find something else that caught her eye, that might suffice.
Once inside the trees, the little girl slowed. She picked her way around the tree trunks until she came to a shining stream. Sitting down on a rock, she stuck the toe of her boot into the flow, disrupting the water and making white eruptions churn around her foot. She picked up a handful of rocks and began to toss them one by one into the water.
“Hello.” The man hadn’t been there a moment before, but now he was. Risa looked up into his night-dark face and smiled. She looked around but didn’t see a car parked along the road.
“Where’d you come from, mister?” she said, peering up at him. She held tight to her handful of rocks.
“Oh, my car is parked a ways down the road. I thought I’d walk over to the stream. And you must belong to that farm just up the road.”
Risa nodded. The man was quite fascinating, she decided. He wasn’t dressed at all like the people she knew—too fancy, too clean. He looked like a movie star. She wanted to ask him if he was but didn’t quite dare.
The man picked up a rock and tossed it up and down in his palm.
“I’m Halis,” he said.
The little girl wondered if she was supposed to know that name. Maybe he was famous. He didn’t look famous, though, on second thought. Famous people didn’t just wander around in the countryside. They drove around in cities in nice big carriages and swam in pools.
Probably they didn’t live on Yahal at all. She’d heard Mother say it was a backwater planet. That was before Mother ran off, Risa guessed to find a planet that “embraced modern technology and values.” Hogwash, according to her father.
“I’m Risa,” she said, pushing a braid back over her shoulder.
Halis’ eyes met hers. They were dark and deep as the lake in winter. Fear tugged at Risa, like a dead weight from her braids that she couldn’t shake. She took a step back, and the water sluiced up against the back of her boot. A woman came into view behind Halis, no more than a silhouette against the sun.
“Halis, no,” the woman said.
Risa looked over at the woman, whose black eyes were wide and frightened in her ice-white face.
“No? Silvia, no what?” Halis grinned. His teeth were sharp.
He took Risa’s arm and tugged her closer. She tried to pull away, but his hand tightened.
“She’s just a little girl,” Silvia said, but she didn’t step any closer. “You don’t have to.”
“I’m hungry,” Halis said, pulling Risa closer to him.
Risa pulled away again. She meant to call for help, but she didn’t make any noise. All she could do was look at Silvia. But when she met Silvia’s eyes, she flinched away; they were the same black voids as Halis’. Then she discovered that her arm wasn’t being held anymore. She took a few stumbling steps backward into the stream and looked up.
Then she did scream. The creature was hideous; she fell back into the stream, and the cold water penetrated her lungs after one struggling breath. Then the spider was on her. She shrieked and tried to push herself away. All that existed was water and the creature. A mouth like a gaping hole into wrinkled black descended on her, the two fangs dripping. A crippling pain bit into her side, and she struck out. The water around her was tinged with blood, and it poured into her mouth as the creature pushed her under with its razor-sharp leg.
She was free, and she kicked her leg out at the ground and surfaced. The spider stared at her. She turned and tried to run, but the water pressed against her waist and then there was something sticking through her. She couldn’t understand. The sky was red, and blackness swooped down on her.
Was she out of the water now? Risa’s eyes registered nothing.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Silvia said into the darkness. “There was no reason. You didn’t accomplish anything.”
“I was hungry.” His words were softer, fading into the void.
I’m scared, Risa tried to say, but she couldn’t feel her mouth.
“She was just a child,” Silvia repeated.
“She was a human. She was food.”
“You’re a monster,” Silvia said.
“We’re one and the same.”
And then all was silent.
Chapter 12
Endings & Beginnings
The day was golden. The Cortanis’ pool glittered, reflecting hundreds of tiny blue skies and brilliant suns in its ripples. Sparks of light bounced around the grassy area and made a playground of the sandy space skirting the pool. The chill of early fall hung in the air and the water, though inviting, swirled in the wind, creating menacing patterns in the ripples.
Having strolled through the gardens, Marim knelt at the edge, trying to see the lapping water as innocuous, but shadows lurked everywhere now. At the corner of her eye, a devilish form with eight long, spindly legs scurried toward her, only to dissipate as she turned. Tiny flashes of light reflected from the water dashed across her skin. The joyous dancing light only brought out the dark circles beneath her nervous eyes.
Time at the Cortanis’ had previously been a vacation. She escaped the tedium of doing her needlework and practicing music and hid from the dark corners that ruled her home. Now, the dark corners had followed her and no matter where she went, the sunshine had edges. And off of those edges lurked a terror waiting to claim her.
“Daddy, come home,” she whispered. Perhaps he could chase the shadows away during the day as Darith helped to do in the night.
“He won’t. The spiders are gorging on his entrails now,” a shadow between the roses whispered.
Marim glanced up, only to find the leafy outline of the rose bush outlined on the ground.
I can’t do this. Oh gods, how long until they get me?
Farther down the rose path, the countess walked, her arm linked with a well-dressed man. A detective who worked for Marim’s father. Marim frowned, chewing at her lip. Why couldn’t the countess stop this nonsense about locating an heir? Couldn’t she see it was destroying Darith? Didn’t she care?
I can’t stay here.
“The countess is the least of your worries, little girl. The count’s flushed with scotch and his eyes follow you. Don’t you feel it? I think you like it, like the attention… You’re nothing but a dirty whore.”
“Shut up!” Marim slammed her hand into the surface of the pool, creating an arc of water that caught the light, momentarily erasing the shadows from her sight.
“Darith can’t protect you anymore. He can’t sleep outside your room when his father drinks. What happens when they force you back to your own room? You can’t just keep lying on top of the cripple.”
Marim turned her eyes to the blue sky. Anything to hide from the dark web clinging to her mind. The monsters that had stalked her for so long finally had their hold.
Her body reflected the pain and anguish around her and wound itself into knots. Even her monthly woman’s cycle was thrown off. The monsters whispered horrible meanings for her father’s absence and the weight of the Cortanis’ cares weighed her down, threatening to drown her in darkness.
She cast a stone into the glimmering waters and listened, contented to witness its splash. The water rippled out in a pretty pattern, and Marim smiled. Only sunlight danced in the water and the t
roublesome voice seemed to have silenced. As the disturbance died out on the water’s surface, she felt another current cut through the air. Magic. She recognized the pull, though she’d never been sensitive enough to feel it before.
Without a thought to its meaning, Marim jumped to her feet. The writhing force in the air tugged at her.
“Come,” it said in a voice that wasn’t a voice. “Follow.”
She ran back to the house, her skirts above her knees, and her skinny legs revealed past the point of decorum. Magic means that the town’s witch is visiting. Marim came to the courtyard. The witch’s old nag was absent from the hitching post out front, but Marim didn’t stop to wonder. The tug led her, and she dashed through the house. When the trail brought her to Darith’s door, she braced her body against the pull. Could they have called in the old witch for him? There was nothing her meagre powers could do for their heir, and her coming would only infuriate Darith.
Marim opened the door without bothering to signal her intent. Only Darith looked at her. There was no one else there. His skin had a smoky, dark tone she’d never seen in it before, but that concern her less than the way he looked at her. He had been waiting for someone, that was clear by the way his cold eyes latched on the entrance. Marim dropped her skirts and stood in the doorway as a blush etched its way up her cheeks.
“Well?” Darith said. “Either come in or get out.”
Marim stepped inside and closed the door. What was going on? She looked around the room, searching for something, not knowing what. Her hand moved up to hover in the air in front of her as if she beckoned her lost words forth. Darith turned his eyes away from her, and she followed his gaze, hoping for an answer.
Slowly, it occurred to Marim that the magic had come from Darith. Her gaze found no answers in his handsome profile.
“I called you,” Darith said. “I wondered if you would come.”
“But”—Marim gasped—“you’re not even tired!”
Darith laughed and Marim bristled.
“Don’t mock me, Darith. Everyone knows you couldn’t do a spell like that without being tired. Even the old witch breaks a sweat, and she’s—”
“Inept. Nothing,” Darith said, interrupting. “You believe too easily, Marim. What they taught us was a crock. It always has been. They’re afraid of real magic, and so they deny it. No one with any real power dares to use it publicly. This whole planet is afraid of power. Technology. Magic. Anything that doesn’t fall into the tradition we cling to so staunchly.”
“But,” Marim said.
“If you’ve nothing to say, then shut up,” Darith said. Then in a softer voice, he added, “I thought you’d understand. That’s why I called you.”
Marim walked toward him and took his newly-dark hand. Her heart sang at the tenderness in his voice. “I don’t understand, but I’d like to. How is it you can do that?”
“I was taught. I showed a spark for it early, and Father sent me to a teacher. Who knows what Father expected, a son who could light torches or make a light show on holidays? He was disappointed when my teacher told him I’d never go farther than lighting a candle. My teacher told me something entirely different. He explained to me that everything we’re taught was a lie. I studied everything he sent me long after Father took me out of his school. But I was never this good. It was never as easy as it is now.” Darith spoke a word composed of something other than sound and lifted his hand. A pen flew slowly across the room into his outstretched hand. “Useful for a cripple, don’t you think?”
“Oh, don’t say that.” Marim clasped her hands in front of her face.
“What? That is what you were thinking, was it not? I tell you all this, and you’re distressed at the word ‘cripple’?” Darith gave a short, barking laugh. His skin darkened more and his eyes seemed darker. His leg seemed to move under the blanket. “I didn’t know you were so stupid.”
Marim paused as she oscillated between two reactions. Anger at his cruelty and curiosity at the changes in him. Anger served no purpose, so she went with curiosity. “Why did you tell me all this? Something has changed in you.”
“Because we’re connected. And we are connected to something else, like a web… when I touch it, everything is different.”
Marim inclined her head. “Your magic is strong?”
“Not as strong as I mean it to be.”
Marim considered this and Darith lay back against the headboard, his eyes shining as brightly as the pool. The two sat together in silence. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, but she dared not. He was upset so easily, and he was cruel when he was upset.
At last, she stood. “I’ll bring you flowers from the garden. It’s so dreary in here.”
For once, Darith held his tongue, and Marim departed in peace. She held the joy in his eyes close to her, used it as a shield against the evil that scuttled in the shadows.
∆∆∆
Berrick watched the spider siblings board the craft. His eyes didn’t waver off them for a moment. The picture of innocence, Silvia clung to Halis’ hand. Clothed in an old gown of Berrick’s wife’s, she looked respectable. Not a bit like a succubus. Halis wore his own clothes and managed to look a bit less like a dandy with a respectable-looking woman by his side. Just another couple boarding the sky-train. Another hopeful pair, looking for answers that Yahal had denied them on other worlds.
Silvia and Halis were among the first passengers to board. Even after they were out of sight, Berrick watched the craft. Free to go at last, he couldn’t move. He examined the windows, waiting for a splash of blood or a spider to scurry across the glass.
He wouldn’t feel right until they departed. The other passengers filed on, talking and milling. A family followed after Halis, and Berrick stared at the twinkling eyes of the little girl as she twisted to look back at the crowd. But Berrick’s daughter wasn’t on that ship; Marim was safe away from the spider and his mistress. The little girl disappeared into the bowels of the ship, tucked out of sight. Next was a group of well-dressed gentlemen, some with hats and capes. They probably had wives and children at home.
Berrick wanted desperately to turn his eyes away from the steady stream of passengers. To look away from the gleaming mouth of the ship. He shifted uncomfortably on his healing leg. The more weight he put on his cane, the less his thigh ached. Still, he couldn’t make himself do it, standing here in front of all these people.
His fingers fumbled in his pocket but came up empty. He’d given up all right to hold his badge. When had he stopped believing in the law? His life since Polly’s death had carved a hollow inside him and somewhere in there, his faith had slowly bled away. Polly’s crime had been so small—artificial insemination. Only for Marim’s sake had he resisted fighting the whole system when Petyr and Polly were taken. What little faith he had in law and order shook every time he considered what had almost happened to Marim. He’d spent his life making the world safer, given up everything, deprived his family of luxuries and comfort because he’d believed in the law. Believed in its safety.
But he wouldn’t sacrifice Marim to preserve the sanctity of his badge.
Finally, the door swung shut, and the entryway sealed. Hundreds of people locked in the shining monster. Berrick glowered at the sides. How many women and children were shut away in there sipping innocently at tea?
The crowd for the next train already pushed, filling the gaps between the well-wishers waving goodbye. The bustle of people around him pressed in, forcing him to lean on his cane.
Slowly, the ship lifted up into the air, a shining shield flickering up to encase it. Safe inside, that was what that shield meant. Those people were safe inside. Then it was gone.
Would Polly ever have forgiven him for this? Even if she had looked down and judged, she had no right to feel superior. I’d kill those people myself to protect Marim.
Whether for ill or good, they were gone, and he could go safely home.
∆∆∆
Inside the
ship, Silvia and Halis stared out the screens. The landmass fell away until the world was only a dainty toy of green and blue. Silvia’s heart pounded, one hand resting on her chest. Then the planet was just a ball of color surrounded by the deep black of space. Halis smirked, watching the planet recede.
“We’re free,” Silvia said, her smooth, alto voice steady. Her hand sought Halis’ and missed. She tried again, and Halis aided in her clumsy attempt.
“What now?” Halis asked.
Silvia didn’t answer for a moment, and then she turned her inky eyes to him. “Oh, can’t you just let things be?”
Halis squeezed her hand. “There are so many worlds, Silvia. So many options.”
“We’re off Yahal, Halis. Right now, that is all that matters to me. Ymel can’t touch us now.” She turned her face back to the screen. Annoyance thinned Silvia’s mouth. “We’re free. Please, give me a moment just to enjoy that.”
Halis stood silently. No matter. He couldn’t kill the elation that filled her soul.
“I was four years old… a child, when they took us.” Silvia smoothed her hands over the front of the demure gown. “I thought we were saved. Death was everywhere and as far as I knew, that was the last ship off Revia before…”
“More than three billion dead,” Halis said. “You are too soft, Silvia. They destroyed our world and our people. Say it. Remember. We’re better than they are.”
“Yes, I know the story. They feared us. They tried to eradicate us. We remain. They are food.” Her singsong voice repeated the mantra they often whispered in the dark nights. The hate, which was so often with her, was absent. She didn’t hate them. Nothing mattered except that she was finally free.
“No, they’re nothing but nourishment,” said Halis. “They are unevolved animals waiting to be culled. You forget Revia. I remember every moment, every scream, and every curse. I remember our mothers’ brains and skulls splattered on my face. They knew I was one of the monsters that ‘needed to be eliminated’ and they saved me, anyway. Gods. They thought they were gods.”
Spider's Kiss: Book One of the Drambish Chronicles Page 11