Spider's Kiss: Book One of the Drambish Chronicles

by Jesse Sprague

  “I’d kill you if your demise wouldn’t kill Marim.”

  Why not kill her? Slice her open and watch the dark blood pour out? Darith would be free and so would she. But that was letting go of the only unsullied thing that had ever come into his life. If he abandoned her, would that piece of himself that he’d fought so hard to maintain, that crucial piece his mother called a soul, go with her?

  “You’re a contagion, not a person.” Darith stood and took a step back from the bed.

  “One mind. We are remnants—the soul of our people,” the voice said. “You are one of us.”

  His mouth opened to say something else when he realized that he was standing, without even having tried. He felt his legs under him and the dark, deep song of his blood. No magic to hold him aloft, but true sensation and feeling. I walked the darkness. I used it.

  Then he toppled down, legs a useless accessory beneath him. Marim laughed, a cruel maniacal sound that wasn’t composed of her voice. Darith smiled. If he did it once, he could do it again, and he would learn why it only seemed to work when he used the web’s power.

  If I can be cured… He let the thought dangle, not wanting to risk the precious hope to the darkness threaded inside him. He looked at Marim and then hauled himself back into his chair.

  Chapter 5

  Nightclubs & Angels

  Halis prowled the flashing club from the dimly lit edges. Most of the others lining the wall either shot glowing junk into their veins or copulated with an urgency foreign to Halis. He assumed such base animal mounting was linked to their pure mammalian genes. But he gave credence to the possibility that they were simply an inordinately flawed species. Other mammals might be more appealing.

  The interior of the dancefloor pulsed with those who had already polluted their veins and those looking to do so. The most appealing of the lot were the lost souls seeking genuine connections through gyrating hips. All of this in air filled with cheap plastic glitter and flickering near-pornographic images projected over the crowd.

  As hunting grounds, it was abysmally easy. Might as well be a buffet.

  Depressingly dull, but after the first wealthy neighbor had gone missing, Silvia had insisted he couldn’t kill near home. For her sake, because she enjoyed living in this place and walking in daylight, he preyed like a rat confined to the cellars. She deserved a home, and so did the beautiful little boy. For a short while, he would placate her and avoid notice.

  Eventually, oh, eventually, we won’t need to hide. We will crawl from the shadows in renewed numbers and eat their hearts.

  The dim flashy lighting of the place fooled human eyes into glossing over the flaws in both environment and clientele. Halis’ sharp eyes saw every revolting detail: broken needles imbedded in the plaster walls, a pool of piss near a garbage can smeared with white sticky goo, a residue of vomit and booze that had sunk into the cracks of the floor. The combinations made his stomach churn. At least The Brothel had been clean, and the food unspoiled.

  Life was a tradeoff.

  Hunting, truly hunting for his prey, was glorious, and Silvia’s smile as she looked out at the craters and whipping flurries of sand merited braving the acrid taste of drug-ridden blood.

  “Yes, the hunt is good,” the hive voice threaded his mind. It was stronger now, attached to Marim’s life. It thrilled inside him to hear the vigor there and he would feed them.

  The game of the night, a dark-haired thing, painfully naïve in this crowd of wolves and lepers, struggled away from her intoxicated partner. Halis watched her, patiently waiting for the correct moment. All night he’d made sure to meet her gaze, always looking away. Best a girl like that approach him.

  As he offered her a tentative smile, something else caught his eye. A shining white in the filth.

  Like a beam of moonlight, a female entered. White and pure to her core. He wanted to move closer, to smell her and be sure. She decorated the arm of some middling drug dealer and soon disappeared into the crowd. But not before her eyes, a vivid violet, briefly met his.

  She would make a worthwhile hunt. Perhaps even be worth seeding with child.

  “Yes. She’s the one. Born on her, your children will be strong,” the voice said.

  She’d taste like honey and wine. But not tonight. That would spoil the rarity. Best wait.

  Halis grinned at the romantic fool again. This time he didn’t look away. Having extricated herself from her lecherous partner, she was nearly at the bar. The sustained gaze was enough to alter the dark-haired girl’s destination to his side. Yes, I’m harmless.

  Her mouth moved, shouting something over the din. Halis couldn’t understand and shrugged to emphasize his helplessness. Her smell—too much perfume mingled with a tinge of hope—intensified as she leaned closer. No desperation clung to her, and her eyes were unclouded.

  Come, he motioned to her.

  She smiled in return, her hand settled into his, and he led her toward a back door. Out in the night, the stench receded, and the deafening pulse of recorded music quieted. Only a dozen people littered the patch of cement, most blowing puffs of thick, noxious green smoke.

  Halis led the girl off to the side. She was a score. Out in the clearer light, she was still attractive. Dark skin and dark eyes went with her long hair. If it hadn’t been for the pale angel who’d crossed his vision, he would have considered this one to seed with child.

  “Seed them all,” the voice said. “Our numbers are depleted. You can make us strong.”

  No. This time, he didn’t care what the hive thought. Having seen the angel, what did he want with the creature of earth?

  “I’m Talva,” she said in a husky voice.

  “Halis,” he said. He already tasted her.

  ∆∆∆

  The night sky above her spread in every direction, broken by no manmade structure. Sullied by no constraints, just an endless expanse of freedom. Silvia allowed her eyes to drop closed for a moment and let her lips part to permit the grainy wind to coat her tongue.

  Her son’s warmth against her chest brought a feeling with it that didn’t agree with the perfect night. Fear rode her, nibbled at her, and whispered in Darith’s voice, “I’m coming.” Her precious Havoc was so small and blameless.

  The voice of Halis’ people that threaded the web and sang its poison melodies in her mind was silent now. But it was there, waiting, knowing, and finally it would judge who was the strongest of its children.

  A crackle like a vehicle approaching made her look back over her shoulder, but no one approached. Halis was gone. Again. Always gone.

  Her arms tightened around the bundle until Havoc squirmed.

  Halis had been a sullen child, and she’d delighted that his smiles had been reserved for her. Then, at thirteen, he’d transformed for the first time. Silvia shivered, feeling an echo of her terror, hearing her screams reverberating in her ears.

  “Ymel,” she whispered. He knew. He’d always known. She’d seen him that day watching, smiling. Pleased with, not afraid of, the giant spider lumbering toward Silvia.

  Silvia’s eyes closed, and she indulged in remembering.

  The creature that moments before had been Halis clicked slowly across the room toward her. Numerous black eyes all riveted on her and in none of them shone even a trace of her only friend. Its jaws dripped. Silvia’s scream died out as her lungs exhausted their air supply. She stumbled back. The beast advanced, making a clicking sound with its jaws.

  She screamed again. This time, her voice formed the solitary word that meant safety. “HALIS!”

  Only it was Halis. She turned and ran toward the window that divided their room from the viewing chamber on the other side. She slammed her fists against the glass, trying to divert Mr. Ymel’s attention from the spider to her.

  When he did look at her, his smile offered no relief.

  “Dearest Silvia,” he said, “You must calm down, you know. The spider’s a carnivore and partial to human blood for nourishment. Your fear’s exc
iting him.”

  “Help,” she pleaded, flattened against the glass. She spared a glance behind her. The spider wobbled, seeming to have trouble with its new legs, but it continued toward her. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she felt Halis’ voice, but her fear drowned out even this thread of comfort.

  “I cannot aid you. That creature would consume me in moments. You, dear girl, if you calm down, he may view as one of his own. But I’m afraid the screams are riling the beast.”

  Ymel smiled, and Silvia ascertained from the toothy grin and the emotionless voice that Ymel didn’t care one way or the other if she was consumed. The hatred and disgust that welled up in response overtook her. She spat on the glass and spun to face the monster.

  Her shoulders squared, and her black hair cascaded down her back. She met the spider’s eyes. Words slipped past her anger into her mind. Halis spoke in a voice made of congealed blood and the remnants of a thousand screams.

  “Silvia, never, never, Silvia.”

  As she calmed, she stepped forward and offered the spider her trembling white hand. The words in her mind became solid and clear.

  “I’d never hurt you, Silvia. I’ve always been this and always loved you. Please smile, Silvia. This is good. I’m strong. They’re weak. We’re strong.”

  Silvia threw her arms around the spider and sobbed against its side. A bony leg curled up to hold her close. Her fingers dug into the rough hide, trying to find evidence of the boy she loved. There was nothing of the slender youth except the tenderness with which it held her.

  “You were a caterpillar, my love,” she whispered. “And now you’re my butterfly. What of me? I want to be like you.”

  Not like him, she thought, casting a glance at the grinning man behind the glass. He’s a monster.

  “Do you not know what you are, my Silvia? You’re not what I am, but you are a butterfly. No, you’re better—a queen to rule the hive.”

  The next week Silvia transformed, but it wasn’t the same—she chose the form and used her power to achieve it. The form was part of Halis.

  After that first transformation, he smiled for everyone. To Silvia, he confided that he’d never felt at home as a boy, and more and more, he’d chosen to live as a spider. Ymel tainted all her memories of youth. Halis smiled with the other man’s cruelty. She would never be free of him.

  But Ymel would not have her son. They would never have Havoc. Never do to him what they’d done to her, to Halis. She didn’t care if Havoc changed or didn’t change when puberty hit. Except that he was defenseless until then.

  For Havoc’s sake, she did not engage in the game Darith played on the dark web connecting them. Until she knew he wouldn’t lead Ymel to them, she didn’t dare risk Darith locating them. She didn’t press the remnants, which Halis called “the hive,” to test Darith.

  Silvia walked to the edge of the garden so she could look out at the vast vacant moonscape. Havoc’s mind moved, and she smiled at the simplicity of his infantile needs. Warmth, food, and love.

  “Love I have, little one. I love you more than life and will feed you to the void before they’ll have you.” Somehow, in the darkness of the night, Silvia’s black eyes glowed outward. Her human form slipped from her, and she curled on the ground, eight legs wound around the child as she sang a spider’s song.

  She waited another hour in the howling cold before retreating into the house. Halis was still absent. He would come home stinking of blood, content and distant.

  How can he be so careless? We could be a family, but instead, he’s out there drinking skanks. Could it just be hunger? No. He had never been the animal they’d wanted to make of him. She felt it every time she touched his mind. This was revenge. This was the hive’s will and even she couldn’t alter its course for renewal and revenge.

  The humans had burned their world, their people. He wanted to destroy the perpetrators. Just as it had been the first day he’d worn his arachnid form, her safety was the only other thing that mattered. His Spider Queen, now the mother of a new god.

  Chapter 6

  Marim’s Boys

  The space-train was only a few minutes from its destination, and Berrick shuffled the last of his notes and clippings into order. The veiled woman who’d shared his compartment gave him one last suspicious glance before standing. The blue skin of her forehead creased in a frown as she passed Berrick. Since leaving Yahal, he’d gotten those looks every time he’d handled paper—as if him departing from the net-glasses as a means of viewing information was an appalling sign of psychotic behavior.

  It made sense out here. Probably most people only used things like paper or any physical research to hide their actions. After all, anything done on net-glasses could be tracked back to you.

  The upside was no one he traveled with had a clue what he was researching. No one would be able to direct any trackers his way, to this little, mechanized colony at the edge of civilization.

  Just when he’d almost decided to follow Allison, he happened across a news article mentioning a rash of murders—murders that had begun right around the time Silvia and Halis had left and had ended three months ago. They wouldn’t still be on the dinky asteroid colony. Probably, Allison was correct about their current location. But they had detoured to this distant outpost for a reason. He wasn’t going to be caught unprepared a second time. No more surprises. No more rushing in. They had to have a weakness. He’d find it here.

  He was the last passenger off the train onto the slick metal platform. Worse even than the space station, everything here was metal or plastic. The air had a stale recycled quality like someone had opened a freshly minted plastic container. The fumes burned in his lungs. “Contaminant free,” the air processors bragged in giant lettering. I’d take contaminants any day if it meant air that tasted like something other than burned cellophane.

  He couldn’t imagine the elegant Silvia in her gowns and jewels walking these efficient streets. The people were clothed in what appeared to be badly fitted plastic bags. Logical attire that they programmed to heat and cool but lacking the romantic horror of the spiders. No. They hadn’t come here with the hopes of residence. There was another reason.

  “Hotel?” Berrick said to the driverless hover-car that zipped to stop in front of him. Relief flooded him when the door slid open. The vehicle responded to speech commands. He still felt like a crazy person talking to a car, but at least he didn’t garner any more attention from the surrounding people by rambling to an unresponsive machine.

  “Rank.” A mechanical voice addressed him when he sat down.

  My rank or the hotel’s? “Law enforcement global level, on sabbatical. Cheap and central lodging.”

  The vehicle lurched into motion and the metal patchwork city whizzed by. The only variations in color were in gaudy plastic and flashing lights. Berrick closed his eyes and twisted his wedding ring.

  They’d lived in a place like this, him and Polly, before Marim had been conceived. How Polly had wept coming to the neon city. The shock of the college had been extreme for her Yahal-bred sensibilities, but he’d feared the space colony would shred her. She didn’t leave their apartment for two weeks, but after that had squared her shoulders and endured.

  How had things gone so wrong? How happy they’d both been to escape the rampant crime and drug use. Pregnant with Marim, Polly had been prone to nightmares of raising her children in what she’d called a “den of thieves.” She’d clapped her hands for joy when she’d heard they would have a chance to raise their children on Yahal. Peaceful, moral, and safe, it was all they’d wanted. So why had his family fallen so far?

  The vehicle stopped on a crowded downtown block, and Berrick clattered out of the vehicle, unsure how he was supposed to pay, but the car immediately departed. The silver oval faded, becoming just another moving part in the giant machine.

  Colonies like this made him queasy. No real ground beneath him, just layers of metal atop an asteroid, forced into a false orbit by engines. Just space
trash hanging in the void waiting to break and careen off into space until it devolved into no more than a meteor.

  Berrick stepped inside the nearest building and heaved a sigh. Free ride. Worth every penny. This was not a hotel. This was a police station. Berrick rummaged for his badge, his fingers expecting to find it gone. The chunk of metal and leather was a symbol of him as a lawman and now that was a façade. He was a criminal and criminals don’t have badges.

  He’d intended to visit the station; he just thought showering and getting a night’s sleep first was wise. Clearly, the universe had had other plans. He glanced around the room, which appeared to be four solid metal walls with three large input machines. Likely, the wall behind the machines had low-level officers sitting behind it.

  Berrick strode over to the center display and punched in his request for information and his authorization. Then he eyed the wall for lack of anything better to occupy his time. His badge burned in his pocket, but he refused to turn to its comforting familiarity. Five minutes later, a circle cleared in the dark surface.

  A face, not immediately identifiable as male or female, stared out. The person’s bored eyes flicked over Berrick and a plastic gloved hand reached up to touch a plastic helmet.

  “Where you from?” an androgynous voice asked.

  “Yahal. Do you have my authorization code?”

  “Honorary level four clearance for crime reaching from ten months ago to three months ago.”

  “Not just crimes. I need access to records.”

  “It goes hand in hand, sir.”

  Berrick leaned forward. Kids. Bloody kids. No one ever taught them respect out here. “Before you take that tone, consider, you have what? A level one, maybe two clearance? I’m on sabbatical which lowers my clearance, and I still get a level four. Maybe your ‘sir’ should sound a little more respectful.”

  The kid’s face reddened. Berrick felt a twinge of pity for the little punk. But the youth’s discomfort gave Berrick a wonderful opportunity. Before the young official could stumble out a response, Berrick continued.