by Megan Hart
“If we can stop him,” Tovah whispered. “That’s a big if.”
“Do you want to live the rest of your life unable to dream, Tovahleh? Because that’s what’s happening. Maybe not to everyone. But to many. To me.” Henry looked pained and suddenly paler. “To you, no?”
She thought of the last few times she’d gone into the Ephemeros. It had been a while since she’d been able to go to the club or make flowers in her meadow. She missed those simple pleasures that had come to mean so much and had made her waking life bearable. “Yes. To me, too.”
Chapter Thirty
“Do you mean it?” The boy heard hope in his voice and hated himself for trusting.
The witchwoman got to her feet. “You put him down.”
The blood stained her face like war-paint. The dogman pressed against her leg and she reached to bury her hand inside the thick, dank fur of its head. Its hand curled around her ankle. It had not yet decided to go naked, but the boy knew that time was coming. Maybe, too, a time when not only its head would become that of a dog.
“You put my boy down,” the witchwoman said. “He is my boy. I planted him. I watered him. I grew him from a seed. He is my boy, and I shall have the reaping of him, too!”
“Fuck off,” said Edward, and the witchwoman laughed.
“He’s not yours.”
“He’s not yours, either.”
The boy buried his face in Edward’s shoulder. The screams grew louder. Maybe it was the wind. The witchwoman didn’t care. Her fingers curved to slap and scratch. She pushed away the dog’s head from her thigh, where it had been sniffing, and the dogman snarled.
“He’s as much mine as he is anyone’s!”
“And why,” said Edward softly, “is that?”
“Because I am the one who makes him afraid,” said the witchwoman. “I own him. We own him, the dogman and I, and you…you are just—”
“I’m trying to help him!” cried Edward, cradling the boy against him as though he were suddenly afraid he might drop him.
“You are trying,” said the witchwoman, “to help yourself.”
“That doctor man. He’s a friend to you?” Henry lifted his chin toward the door, though Martin had not yet returned.
“Yes. A good one. He brought me here tonight. He helped with my leg.”
She didn’t mention the kiss.
“Do you trust him?”
“I—” Tovah stopped herself. Did she trust Martin? “I have no reason not to trust him. Why? Has he hurt you?”
“Tovahleh, would I know?” Henry spread his hands, the wry grin returning.
“I trust him. He’s been kind to me. And to you, even if you didn’t know it.” Tovah’s left foot twinged suddenly and she automatically used her right to itch it—though it wasn’t really there.
Henry looked down. “Inside, you might not have it, either.”
Tovah looked, too, at the smoothly folded and pinned hem of her soft sleep pants. She hadn’t even changed. “I know. Whoever it is…he’s strong. Or she.”
“Yes.”
“And every time, so far, the leg’s gone when he starts doing his thing. That boy.” She paused. “Who’s not a boy.”
“Will you be all right, though, this time? Knowing what’s going to happen and facing it anyway?”
“I’ll shape harder. Rocket-powered crutches, if I have to.”
“Good girl.” Henry patted her shoulder. “We’ll help you. Ben and me.”
Tovah still had no idea how they were going to make a difference. How they were going to convince this shaper to stop breaking the Ephemeros…or force him to. Henry winced as though something had poked him.
“Henry?”
“She noticed I’m gone.” His hands fell slack from hers, against his thighs. His lips parted with an intake of breath. His gaze swung back to Tovah’s, and it looked a little blank. “We have to hurry, Tovahleh.”
She gripped him, hard. “Who has you? The woman? Henry, look at me!”
Already his muscles were getting rigid under her touch, resisting her.
“Me,” he said. “Me. Me. Me.”
“Shit. Henry. Spider, listen to me! I’ll find you, okay? I’ll find you!”
Henry’s eyes cleared for a moment. He shook his head, just slightly. He licked his lips. “Tovahleh, doll, listen to me.”
She listened, but he did not speak.
After too many seconds, his voice growled from his throat like the sound of rusty gears, like each word cut him. He made the effort, though at what cost Tovah was afraid to ask. His body beneath her hands had gone hard, the muscles like granite.
“Find Ben. You and Ben, find me. And…Tovah…”
“Yes, Henry?” She shook him though she knew it would do no good.
He blinked, hard, and looked at her for the last time. “There’s a good chance, a really good chance…”
She couldn’t ask him to stay with her. He had to go. But not like this, pulled against his will. “What is she doing to you?”
And how? Was this real? Was Tovah awake or asleep? She was finding it hard to tell the difference now.
“I might not…come back…”
Then he was gone. The body remained, but the part of Henry that made him Henry had become Spider and disappeared into sleep.
Henry sat motionless on the bed. His eyes had glazed over. When Tovah lifted his hand it moved without resistance, but hung in the air where she left it. She didn’t waste time with trying to wake him, but put his hand back on his lap. She wanted to lay him down, but couldn’t from her chair.
She looked up at a sound in the doorway. “Martin!”
“What’s going on?” The door banged shut behind him. He was at her side in a moment, doing doctorish things like checking Henry’s pulse and whipping out a pocket flashlight to look at his pupils. He gave Tovah an accusing look. “What happened?”
The look, like he thought she’d done something, set her back a moment. “He’s back under.”
It took her a second to realize that outside, all the noise and commotion had stopped. Martin stood and arranged Henry’s body on the bed. He took his time and care, going so far as to smooth Henry’s hair over his forehead before turning to Tovah.
Henry’s door slammed open hard enough to hit the wall. The orderly standing in the doorway looked surprised, maybe at his own brute strength.
“Sorry. I wanted to tell the doctor that we got everyone settled down now. Just like…they all just stopped.” He shook his head. “They all just stopped and went back to sleep.”
Martin nodded. The orderly went away. Martin returned his attention to Tovah and sat on the edge of Henry’s bed. They stared at each other a moment longer in silence before he spoke.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Tovah?”
She’d heard that tone before, from well-meaning friends and physicians who sought to get her to admit she was having what was euphemistically referred to as “trouble orienting herself.”
“Tovah?” Martin looked into her face but didn’t encroach on her personal space.
Anticipation hung between them. Tension of a different sort. The sensation ran chill fingers over her skin, and Tovah fought a shiver.
“He’s in trouble,” she said at last, knowing how that sounded.
Martin looked at Henry, prone and silent. “Right now?”
“I think so. Yes. I’m almost certain of it.”
“But not positive?”
Tovah thought of the boy, the woman and the dogman, and of a dream lover who’d taught her to climb mountains. Three who would harm a Spider…and one who might save him, if she could convince Edward it was what she needed. “I am sure that if he’s not in trouble at this moment, he will be very soon.”
She watched him carefully for the signs she’d learned to recognize, but Martin didn’t appear to be placating her. He nodded after a second’s hesitation, like what she was saying made sense. He looked again at Henry.
“And
he’s your friend, so you want to help him.”
“Martin.” Tovah reached for his hand to bring his attention back to her. “Yes. I need to help him. It’s important.”
She resisted the melodrama of saying “for the entire world.” That sounded too much like disaster-movie dialogue. She turned Martin’s hand over in hers, so the palm lay face up. She traced one of the long lines.
Martin’s fingers closed over hers. “Tell me what you think you need to do to help him.”
What you think you need to do. He didn’t quite believe her. Tovah couldn’t take the time to care about that, not as long as he was willing to help her.
“I need to get to sleep.”
To give him credit, Martin didn’t immediately look as though he wanted to laugh. He looked from her to Henry, then back again. He studied their joined hands. His thumb passed over her palm. Then he let go of her hand.
“Right here? Now?” He stood.
Tovah nodded. “As soon as possible.”
Martin moved away from the bed and put his hands on his hips. He paced, slowly, paying close attention to the position of his feet on the tiles. “You want me to give you drugs.”
She had never thought he wasn’t smart. “Yes. Please.”
He laughed. Tovah had seen him smile before, had heard a chuckle once or twice, but this was something different and without humor. He looked at her over his shoulder. “How’d I guess?”
It stung, that he thought she might just be pressuring him to get her high. “I can try myself, but I need something that’s going to help me down and help me stay there.”
“Why?” he asked in a low voice that sounded like it wanted to be a shout. “Why sleep? What is going to happen?”
“I can’t tell you. Just please…trust me.”
And though she could tell he didn’t want to, Martin did anyway.
The boy looked at the figure crouched on the ground. A moment ago he’d been a broken spider, jointed legs crushed, furry abdomen oozing from a dozen wounds. Now he wore a pair of faded blue pajamas and dug his fingers into the black sand. His hands and feet were so pale as to be almost translucent, startling against the sand’s inky darkness. The boy couldn’t see his face.
Edward had put him down but held tight to his hand, almost too hard, but the boy didn’t let go. With his friend beside him, the dogman was kept at bay. The witchwoman, though she laughed and circled them, kept her distance, too. Both had taken their turns with the spider, kicking and fighting, biting, until it had become human.
“See, sweetheart, what we do for you?” The witchwoman aimed another kick toward the blue pajamas. It struck solid flesh beneath, but her target didn’t cry out. “We are your friends. We love you.”
“No,” said the boy with a shake of his head. “You don’t.”
“He doesn’t, either.” The witchwoman pointed behind the boy. “He’s only using you. You can take that to the bank.”
His mother had used to say that. Yearning so vast it was like a whirlwind whipped around the boy, and he went to his knees. He let go of his friend’s hand.
He began to cry.
He was, after all, only a boy and a small one at that, no matter what they expected him to do or be or become.
“I w-w-want to go h-home!” The words caught and stuck, hurting his throat, but the boy didn’t care. “I want my mom and dad!”
“Too bad,” said the witchwoman, “that they don’t want you.”
The boy wept, his face in his hands. After a moment he felt the touch of his friend’s hand on his shoulder, but it didn’t help. The witchwoman was right. His mommy and daddy didn’t want him. Why wouldn’t they have come for him, if that was the case? Why had they let him be taken away in the first place?
He remembered now, how it had begun. The blackness as the hood was pulled over his face, the sharp stench of the chemicals they’d used to put him to sleep. The room in the basement where they kept him. The promises, the lies.
The dog.
“You don’t have to listen to them,” whispered a thin voice, low, beneath the sound of the wind. Only the boy could hear it.
“You shut up,” cried the boy. “You want to hurt me!”
“I only want you to stop what you’re doing, son. That’s all. I want to help you.”
The boy got to his feet. “No! No, you don’t! You’re not my friend!”
“Of course he isn’t.” The witchwoman sneered and opened her arms. “Come here, sweetheart. You know I’ll take care of you.”
“No.” The hand on his shoulder kept the boy still. “She’s a liar. You know it.”
It was too much. Too many people claiming to want to help him, but none he could trust. The boy threw out his hands, pushing them away. Pushing it all away. Breaking everything around him until everyone was broken, too.
Chapter Thirty-One
The pills were taking too long to work. Tovah had, with Martin’s help, turned the reclining bedside chair into a makeshift bed complete with Henry’s extra pillow and blanket. Her legs, the sound one and the residual limb, were propped comfortably. She was warm. The room was dim and quiet. And still, she couldn’t fall asleep.
Martin had pulled over the straight-backed chair from the room’s built-in desk to sit beside her. They didn’t speak, nor did she look at him, but Tovah felt his gaze on her. She heard his breath, slow and steady. She waited for him to touch her, but he didn’t.
The pills he’d given her should’ve started working already, but her mind kept racing. What was happening to Henry as Spider? Had he found Ben? What was going on? What—
“Dr. Goodfellow?”
The voice snapped Tovah’s eyes open, and she looked toward the door. The orderly again. He gave her a curious look, but not a very close one. Martin got up.
“Yes?”
“We could use you out here. We’ve got an admission.”
Martin stood. He straightened the rumpled hem of his shirt, tucking it in. Tovah thought of the first time she’d seen him, so clean and pressed and put together. Now he looked like he’d been rode hard and put away wet, as her grandmother would have said. He left the room without a glance at her.
“Tovahleh.”
She turned. “Henry?”
Henry had vanished from the bed beside her.
The boy understood fear. Everyone had to be afraid, sometimes. Without fear to conquer, how would anyone ever grow? Learn? That’s what his daddy had always said, the times he held the boy’s hand over the flame, not quite close enough to burn.
This was different. This was sheer, constant terror. Unrelenting and without end. There was no conquering it. There was nothing to learn from it. Only relief when it passed, but it wasn’t passing, it was getting stronger and stronger, and he wanted to stop it but didn’t know how.
Edward went to the witchwoman first and grabbed her by the throat. “You should leave him alone,” he told her, squeezing.
The witchwoman’s eyes bulged and her tongue popped out, but she managed voice enough to say, “You know we can’t!”
The dogman had stayed away, circling them and whining, but now it lunged. Not at Edward, not to save the witchwoman, but toward the man in blue pajamas who’d begun creeping toward the weeping boy. The dogman locked its jaws on his calf. Blood flew, and the dogman’s victim screamed and kicked it in the face. The dogman, undeterred, bit again.
“Get away from him, you son-of-a-bitch!” A rock flew from nowhere. It struck the dogman in the head, and the creature clapped its hands to the wound and rolled onto its side with a yelp. “C’mon, Spider. Get up!”
The boy knew this man. Ben. He backed away, hands up, pushing as hard as he could at the world knitting and unknitting all around them.
The man on the ground, the one who’d been a spider, got onto his feet with Ben’s help. “She’s coming, Ben. I saw her at the hospital. She’s on her way.”
Edward lost his grip on the witchwoman’s throat at that, and she took the chance to ge
t away. He ignored her for the moment. “Tovah’s coming?”
Spider-who-was-now-a-man looked at him. “She is.”
“Don’t think she’ll be happy to see you,” said the witchwoman in a strangled voice, and Edward backhanded her to the ground, where she lay and laughed at him.
Edward looked at the boy, who’d huddled into himself. “She’s coming to hurt him, too?”
The boy looked up at that. Terror and despair rolled off him in faintly visible waves, making him sick to his stomach.
Ben seemed to be struggling a bit, too. His face had gone white, and he spat to the side as if he wanted to clear his mouth of the taste of something foul. “He’s hurting a lot of people!”
The boy sobbed, trying to tell them it wasn’t his fault. It was the witchwoman’s fault, and the dogman’s. They made him do it. But even as he couldn’t force the blame, he knew it wasn’t true. He knew it was him and had been him, all along.
“He doesn’t mean to!” Edward stepped in front of the boy.
The one they called Spider put his hands out, placating, and took a step toward the boy. “Mean to or not, he’s doing it. And he has to stop. You can help us.”
“Don’t let them hurt me, too!” The boy grabbed tight to Edward’s shins and buried his face against them. “You promised!”
Edward put his hand on the boy’s hair tenderly. “I did. Do what you want to the other two, but leave the boy alone.”
“Don’t you get it?” Ben looked around at the witchwoman and the dogman, both pacing while the world shuddered around them. “You can’t take them and leave him alone. They’re all part of each other!”
The wind, the lightning, the black sky, the sand, the far-off screams…
Everything stopped.
The moment Tovah saw the empty bed, she got to her feet. No hesitation. Utter faith that when she stood she’d be standing on two sound feet…and she was. The room looked the same as it had when she was awake, minus the presence of Henry in the bed. She looked hard for something different. A door, maybe, or a wall made thin. Everything looked the same.