Ralph lowered his eyes and grew quiet. For a few agonizing moments, he just stared into his glass. “When I was a boy, my grandfather told me about the line of Golgotha. About our roots. I don’t know why he did, and to this day I wish he hadn’t but . . . I was always kind of enchanted by the stories. After Spinneretta was born, I got really weird, I think. I started looking into these so-called anomalies that people have found in old NASA pictures of the moon. I started thinking more about the old stories in those days. Y’rokkrem. Something about those stories just fascinated me more and more.” A sad air came over him. “I was thinking about what you said earlier. You don’t realize how important something is until you’ve lost it. I realized a while ago. This is the second time you’ve taught me that.”
The non sequitur startled Mark. “What are you talking about?”
The sadness grew thicker, thick enough to taste. “I almost left May, you know.”
Mark said nothing, and each tick of the clock’s second hand grew to a deafening volume.
Ralph refilled his glass, took a swig, and placed it back on the desk with a soft clack. “It was two, three years after Arthr was born,” he said. “Kara wasn’t a thing yet. I got real depressed, you know. You can’t imagine what it’s like. It’s like, my entire life has been all leading up to becoming a father, right? But then when it finally happens it’s . . . ” He began to laugh, a cynical glint in his heavy eyes. “It’s not what I expected. I kept thinking in those days, why me? What the hell is wrong with me? I just wanted to be a goddamn father, but I could barely even see them as human. Do you know how fucking cold that is? One day I overheard Spinneretta, fucking precious girl, asking May. She asks, why doesn’t Dad love us? From the mouths of babes, as they say. That broke my heart to hear, but it’s the truth, you know? That was the night I decided that I couldn’t stay in this family.
“It didn’t matter how, but somehow I had to get out. I couldn’t handle the alienation. It was like May was blind to the legs. Somehow she didn’t care; she looked past them and saw the beautiful humans they were attached to. I couldn’t yet. I loved May, but I knew she deserved better than a man who couldn’t even love the children he gave her. I thought, hell, if only I’d just given up on her. If I’d just let Kyle have her, she’d’ve been happy.” He took a sip from his glass, again draining the liquor. “You’re the Chosen of Y’rokkrem,” he said. “So surely you must know of the Weeping Man.”
A tick started in the corner of Mark’s lip. “Yes. That old fairy tale.”
“Well, one night, Spinneretta woke up screaming. Bloody fucking murder. May ran to her, and I couldn’t be a father without dragging my feet after her as well, right? So May runs to her and asks what’s wrong. Spinneretta says, Mommy, I died. She denies it, saying, no, you’re fine sweetie. But Spinneretta replies, no, mommy, I died. The smokey man got me. Smokey man. Fuck. There’s only one thing that could be, right? The Weeping Man. Not long after that, I started having these dreams, too. Strange, occult dreams. I felt myself pulled toward Arbordale. My curiosity grew more dangerous, and I started thinking again about Grandpa’s stories. About the Primal Ones and the Weeping Man. For some reason, then, it all seemed to click into place. I felt like, this could be a fresh start, you know? Sounds fucking stupid to say it now, but that’s what it felt like at the time. And so I decided. I moved all my savings into our joint bank account, cashed out all my stock and bonds and shit, and put it all in there for her. I packed a couple bags and left one morning for Arbordale. Never said a word to any of them.
“I wanted to see with my own eyes. I think somehow I had the idea that I’d be able to see the Gate for myself. But I know now that I just wanted to run away. I wanted to wake up.” He paused again to sigh. “I had this crazy delusion, you know. That our kids were the result of that curse. The one our ancestor cast upon those who departed from the seat of the clan. I . . . I lost my siblings to it. And I think I just made the connection that I had to return, to stop it before anything even worse happened. But even then I knew I was just making excuses.” His tone grew more forlorn. “The twelve-year-old girl you’re looking for. This is going to sound crazy, but was her mother’s name Sylvia?”
Still emotionally raw from the night’s reminiscence, Mark gave a weak nod. “That’s correct.”
“Thought so. I remember her. She was the one who received me when I arrived there. Gave me a warm welcome, her and her husband. She seemed almost normal. She was pregnant then, and was so excited when I talked to her about it. Even told me the names she was considering. Ray if it was a boy, and Lily if it was a girl.” After a long pause he looked up at Mark, a distracted look in his dark eyes. “Guess it was Lily, then.”
Mark nodded, this time with a little more vigor. “Lily Warren. She took the clan’s name instead of my uncle’s.”
“Anyway, it was really something else. In a way, I was jealous of her. I remember that feeling now, and it tears me apart knowing I could have envied her when I had two beautiful kids of my own. I’ll never forget the sight at the ritual held the next night. It was you that made me open my eyes. Seeing the blood everywhere, hearing the words of blasphemy coming from the mouth of a child. It terrified me. I knew at that very moment that I had run from one problem right into another. So I did what a coward does best: I ran away again.
“I went home. Got back a few days after I left. I almost kicked in the motherfucking door when I got home. First thing I did was find Spinneretta and give her the biggest hug I’ve ever given anyone in my life. I told her, Daddy loves you more than anything. I lied through my teeth to May. Told her it was an emergency business trip to Denver and I left my phone on my desk at work because, surprise, I’m a fucking moron.
“I had a new perspective on everything after that. I felt like Mr. Scrooge. Selfishness and cowardice were my greed, and you were my Ghost of Christmas Future. The guilt nearly killed me. I almost threw our family away. I realized then that it may not have been the family I had wanted, but I was lucky. I was the only one in the world to have a family as miraculous as this one. I burned all the records I had of the Warren line after that, to make sure I could never make the same mistake again.” He paused, and the weight of the silence punctuated his grief. “I guess I really should have been thanking you all this time. Thank you.” His eyes were lowered in shame, his face redder than the whiskey could have caused on its own. “I’m sorry, what were you asking me again?”
“I forgot,” Mark said, standing up. “In any case, worry not about things you cannot change. Just go to Eugene and get yourself checked out. If I were you, I’d take May with you and enjoy a few days off on your own together. You need it after all this.”
Ralph considered it and nodded. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. What about the kids, though?”
“I’ll watch them for you,” Mark said without a moment’s hesitation. “I’m always here anyway, and it’s the least I can do after you let me stay here all this time.”
Ralph nodded. “Vacation time, huh?” He chuckled again. “Yeah. I should probably start using some of those banked days off. And, I promise, I’ll try harder to polish up my Sight. That’s how I can pay you back for this.”
Mark smiled. “I thank you for your offer, and would much appreciate you doing so. But now you should go to bed. It’s nearly one in the morning, and you’re drunk.”
Spinneretta awoke when a great flood of light banished her dream. Her eyes shot open, and there stood a dark figure by the door. She shrieked and bolted upright. Gripped by sleep-panic, she grabbed her pillow with two plated legs and hurled it at the intruder. The goose-down weapon bounced off of Arthr’s head. It took Spinneretta another third of a second to recognize the partly swollen face of her brother. Her panic gave way to hopeless irritation. She moaned and allowed her spring-loaded appendages to relax. “What the shit are you doing in my room?”
Arthr looked as if he himself did not know. “I just kind of wanted to talk. Do you have a minute?”
“Are you kidding me? It’s three-fifteen in the morning!” she said, glancing at her bedside clock. “What do you need to talk about now?”
He quietly fidgeted, glancing around at nothing in particular. “I just . . . About what happened earlier, I—”
“Ugh, whatever you want to talk about, can’t it wait until tomorrow?” She shifted her body from a defensive crouch to a more comfortable sprawl. “And give me that pillow back.”
“No.”
“You ass.” She closed her eyes and tried to substitute her forearms for the lost pillow.
“Look, please, I haven’t been able to sleep at all. I just keep thinking about it, so please if you could just . . . ” His words came in an erratic stream. He was so out of his element it hurt to listen to.
Spinneretta groaned. There was no chance he was going to let her get back to sleep until she indulged him, unless she beat the tar out of him. Right now, he looked a little too pitiful for that. “Fine, but make it quick,” she said, sitting up again and stretching her sleepy spider legs.
Arthr once again hesitated. “I just really want to say thanks. For saving my ass. If you weren’t there, I would have . . . Well, it would have been a lot worse, you know? So . . . Well, yeah. Thanks, Spins.”
“I don’t accept.”
“W-what?”
“I don’t accept your gratitude,” she said. “If I accept your thank you, your little self-absorbed mind will take it to mean that I forgive you for being an asshole all the time. I’m not going to give you undeserved forgiveness that’s disguised as—”
“I’m sorry.”
Spinneretta’s looming lecture was derailed, and her tongue twisted. She could only stare at him, dumbfounded. “What did you just say?”
“I said I’m sorry.”
She scrutinized his swollen face. “Are you sure Pat didn’t give you brain damage?”
“No, I’m not,” he said with a light chuckle. “But to be honest, back at the fight, even as he was standing over me and the whole world was growing dark, I couldn’t get away from it. I just . . . ” He paused, having trouble expressing himself. “I really thought I was going to die back there, Spins, and one of the last things I remember thinking before I heard your voice was . . . Was thinking that I really made an ass of myself, you know? I thought, if I could go back and change anything about my life, it would be being nicer to Spins instead of being such a tool.”
“You are so full of shit.”
“Alright, alright, look.” He raised his hands, spider legs twitching nervously. “Maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly or whatever, but I really thought I was going to die back there. And, I’ve been thinking since I got back here. Since I woke up again, I mean, and realized that I was really alive. I feel like shit, Spins. I don’t deserve a sister like you. Even though I was such a dick . . . Look, I’m not good at this whole apology thing.”
“It shows.”
“But even if you don’t accept my apology and my thanks, it doesn’t change the fact that I really am sorry. And I really am thankful that you came to pull my irons out of the fire. I guess what I want to say is that I’m glad I have you as a sister,” he said, nervous twitches firing on all cylinders.
She sighed, defeated by his apparent sincerity. “Whatever. I guess I have to accept, then. Are you done?”
“No.”
“Oh, Christ.” The bed came back up to slam into her back, and she covered her eyes with her arms. After a moment of silence, the air shifted as Arthr drew closer. His hand took hold of her wrist, and when she uncovered her eyes she saw a seriousness completely distinct from his previous demeanor.
“What the hell happened to my leg?” he asked.
She stared at his expression for a moment and managed a shrug. “Mark popped your leg back into place. I guess he knows a thing or two about—”
“Don’t fuck with me.” He shook her wrist a little. “It wasn’t just bent out of position, it was demolished.”
“You were probably just in so much pain you couldn’t tell what was going on.”
“Have you ever broken your chitin?” The way he pronounced chitin with a soft ch made Spinneretta cringe.
“No, I’ve never broken my chitin,” she said, emphasizing the hard sound.
“It’s a very interesting feeling. It’s extremely painful and extremely distinctive. Very wet, very raw. I’m not stupid, Spins. I know what happened to my leg, and I also know that there’s no reason that it should be alright.” The leg in question bent and unfurled in demonstration. “What happened to my leg? What did he do?”
She saw the tormented confusion on his face and sighed again, flopping back onto her side. “I forgot.”
He let go of her wrist, turned around and sat at the foot of her bed. “I thought you’d be like that.” He stared off into space and clicked the tips of his spider legs together. “I may have been in a daze, you know, but once I got my senses back I thought it had to have been a dream. It’s the sort of insane thing you only take in stride when you’re asleep, but when you wake up you’re like, wait, what the hell? You know?”
Spinneretta said nothing.
Arthr receded into a thoughtful silence. “Do you remember when we were kids, Spins? I think it was that time we got into Dad’s liquor cabinet and broke one of his bottles. Point is, Dad said something then that I’ve never forgotten. About the sorcerer-boogiemen. The Warrens.” He breathed in, held the breath a moment, and then released it into the still air. “Ever since Mark got here, I’ve been replaying what I remember about that story in my head for some reason. Trying to figure out why Dad would say something like that. Doesn’t make much sense, you know? If you’re going to make up a specter to spook your kids into shape, why would you use your own family?” He narrowed his eyes. “It was . . . all true, wasn’t it?”
She was at a loss for words. Seeing the turbulent disorientation in his eyes, she realized that even if she could lie to him it would be wrong to do so. Swallowing hard, she gave him a slow, grave nod.
Arthr let out the breath he was holding. “Shit. How long have you known?”
“For certain, only since today.” She wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not.
For a few moments, Arthr continued to clack the tips of his spider legs together in thought. Then he smiled. “He really is incredible.”
“Yeah, he’s something, alright.”
Reverence shone in his eyes as he spoke. “To be able to do something like that. Going fucking Jesus Christ on me like that. Fucking nuts.”
“Yeah, but seriously, don’t tell anyone about it. Go telling people that he can use magic and everyone will think you’re nuts.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I wonder how I’ll explain this leg getting healed, though.”
“Tell them he popped it back into place.”
“Maybe.” After an awkward moment, Arthr stood from Spinneretta’s bed and walked a few paces toward the door. “Well, thanks. You’ve put my mind at ease. I guess. Not really, but now I feel better about what happened. Sorry for being a dick and waking you up.”
“Whatever,” she said, flopping over onto her side again. “Just don’t make a habit of it.”
A smile tugged at his lips. He scooped up the fallen pillow with two of his legs before gently tossing it back onto her bed. “Goodnight,” he said, and then extinguished the light before retreating through the door and into the hall.
Spinneretta didn’t know if revealing so much about Mark’s secret was the right thing to do, but at the moment it certainly felt correct. It may have just been the unfinished dreams talking, but for the first time in a while everything felt like it was alright. She let her eyes fall closed again, ghosts of light fulminating from the reborn darkness. Sleep once again drifted over her.
Outside Spinneretta’s room, Arthr wondered how his sister could sleep after having witnessed the feat of a modern messiah. Though he no longer felt the burning question of what had happened, the answer birthed a thousand more que
stions, each nibbling and hungry. It had awakened a new, churning curiosity; it was a childlike wonder that had been forgotten ever since the last of the dragons and elves had died, leaving their memories to the stories of myth and legend.
Spinneretta was awakened once more just after she had fallen back asleep. This time, it was not light that brought her back to reality, but the feeling of something shifting near her. Her eyes cracked open, and she saw a black figure silhouetted against the ambient light from her window. She shrieked. “Kara, what the hell are you doing?”
Kara sat crouched at the end of the bed, her spider legs crossed over her chest like the arms of a contemplative philosopher. She seemed unconcerned with Spinneretta’s distress. “You smell different,” Kara said. “What happened?”
Spinneretta blinked at her sister. “Huh?”
Kara lurched toward her and splayed her folded legs across the bed, moving them to support her body weight until she was just inches from Spinneretta’s face. “You smell different,” she said again, punctuating the last word. “Were you with a boy last night?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?” Spinneretta fell back against her pillow and pushed Kara away with her foot. “You can’t just ask people things like that out of nowhere!”
Kara recovered from the half-hearted leg push. “Huh? What do you mean?”
Spinneretta aborted the short-lived idea of explaining tact to Kara. “Forget it, just try to have some subtlety if you’re going to ask people weird questions, for God’s sake.”
Her sister was quiet for a moment, and then yelped in embarrassment. “Ahh! That’s not what I meant! I just meant that you smell like me. You smell alive.”
The Spider Children (The Warren Brood Book 1) Page 33