Ace of Spiders

by Stefan Mohamed

  ‘I’m not working with them.’

  ‘-or they’re saving you up for something.’ Amused turned to grim. ‘Something . . .’

  ‘Bad.’

  ‘It makes sense,’ said Skank.

  ‘Yeah?’ I said.

  ‘Well,’ said Skank, ‘think about the empowered that you’ve met, that you know. Apart from the Angel Group’s lackey, what’s his name . . .’

  ‘Leon.’

  ‘Yes. Apart from him, there’s you, there’s your cousin, who’s from the same tiny little middle-of-nowhere Twin Peaks-without-the-fun-stuff town as you, and there’s Connor and Sharon, a couple who knew each other well before they met Eddie. I’m no statistics man, but the likelihood of you all being the only empowered out there is slim.’ He lit his joint and smoked thoughtfully. ‘I’ve thought about this before. It’s always bothered me, and I think Nailah could well be right. Maybe they are saving you all up for something.’

  ‘We might just be staying under their radar,’ I said, not feeling particularly inclined to elaborate on our history with the company, not until I was a little more sure about the implications of this conversation. I knew I didn’t sound very convincing, and Nailah’s expression and tone confirmed it.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Maybe. Look . . . did you notice how hardly any mainstream press outlets picked up on that video of you fighting on the bus? Maybe two of them gave it one dismissive paragraph, tucked away on page 94, and they all ran with it as some kind of viral thing, a stunt, but they weren’t even impressed by that. Like, “is that the best you can do now, the special effects aren’t even that convincing, yadda yadda yadda”.’

  ‘You think that the Angel Group is muzzling the press?’

  ‘I think that a corporation doing literal evil would probably be stupid not to,’ said Nailah.

  ‘Then why have they left you alone?’ I asked. ‘You and all the other weirdo blogs that suggested it was someone with powers?’

  ‘’Cos the percentage of people who take us seriously is barely a drop in the ocean,’ said Nailah, as if I were an idiot. ‘We’re not a threat. In fact, I’d say leaving us alone actually strengthens their case. Makes us look more like a bunch of tinfoil-hatted crackpots smoking super-strength skunk and burbling about chemtrails and the Illuminati. Which, to be fair, is what a lot of my contacts do on their evenings off. And during the day. But if it’s not in the broadsheets or the red tops, people en masse don’t want to know, even now.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But maybe they don’t consider us a threat, either.’

  ‘Maybe they don’t,’ said Nailah. ‘But I’d say you’re more of a threat than a bunch of keyboard warriors tearing forums apart arguing over whether 9/11 was perpetrated by superpowered CIA sleeper agents.’

  ‘Are you serious? That’s a thing?’

  ‘I know,’ said Nailah. ‘Telekinesis can’t melt steel beams, right?’ She started to smile, then frowned. ‘Although, actually . . . can it?’

  ‘Honestly, I have no idea.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ She nodded at Skank. ‘You don’t have powers, then, Freaks and Geeks?’

  Skank shook his head. ‘No. I just roll the joints and sign the cheques.’

  Interesting. Pretty sure that’s at least half a lie. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘I appreciate you telling me all this stuff. And it’s cool that you’re being responsible about your reporting now. But I don’t know what you—’

  ‘There’s another one out there,’ said Nailah. ‘Superpowered type. Or empowered, or whatever the word is.’

  I frowned. ‘What? Who? Where?’

  ‘Her name’s Lauren Stone. She lives in London. Hiding. Probably from the Angel Group.’

  ‘Not hiding very well,’ I said, ‘if you managed to find her.’

  ‘I didn’t just find her,’ said Nailah. ‘Not like . . . she wasn’t standing in her front garden levitating things. I have sources. I investigate stuff. Look, it doesn’t matter how I found her. What matters is that she’s out there, and from what I can tell she’s alone . . . but she hasn’t always been.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘There were two,’ said Nailah. ‘Her and her friend. Up until about a year ago.’

  ‘You’ve been keeping tabs for that long?’

  ‘Longer,’ said Nailah. ‘On and off. There’s a whole network of us. We share information, keep our ears to the ground.’

  ‘Oracle?’ said Skank.

  Nailah frowned. ‘Yeah. How do you—’

  ‘Other people know things too,’ said Skank.

  ‘Um, what’s Oracle?’ I said.

  ‘Network of deep web forums,’ said Skank. ‘Constantly ­shifting, moving around. They share bizarre information with one another. I’ve been looking into them recently, trying to find more information about Morter Smith and the Angel Group.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. More on that story later. ‘So Nailah, again . . . why are you telling us this?’

  ‘Seems like you superpowered types should probably stick together,’ said Nailah. ‘Especially if I’m right, and the Angel Group has been snapping you up for something sinister.’

  ‘You don’t know the Angel Group took this other person, though?’

  ‘Look,’ said Nailah, ‘I get that you’re not leaping to trust me. But I’m not running some half-arsed Facebook page. I vet my sources, I double, triple, quadruple check every bit of information. And based on everything I’ve heard, it sounds like Lauren’s friend was taken.’

  ‘But they didn’t take Lauren? Why?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘OK. So . . . what, you want me to bring this Lauren into the fold, even though there isn’t really a fold? And rescue her friend from wherever she’s supposedly being held?’

  ‘I think that would be a good thing to do, yes.’

  ‘You do realise that having superpowers doesn’t automatically make me a resourceful private detective slash secret agent slash commando person, don’t you?’ I said. ‘They don’t just conveniently make everything easier to do.’

  Another shrug.

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Whatever. But . . . look, I’m still confused. What’s in it for you?’ I was pretty sure I did trust her, but I felt as though it made sense not to go all in on being super-best-friends club immediately.

  ‘I want to be a part of what’s happening,’ said Nailah. ‘All the weirdness? Monsters, superpowers, government conspiracies, evil corporations? It’s real. It’s happening. And I don’t think it’s going to stay hidden for long. I want to be involved.’

  ‘Basically,’ I said, ‘when it all blows up, you want a scoop.’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ said Nailah. ‘I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of it. I’d be pretty happy to be the first journalist to print an official interview with a superpowered type.’

  ‘Empowered.’

  ‘I’ve decided I prefer my phrase,’ she said. ‘OK . . . look, I’m giving you this information, and promising not to report on any more of this stuff until . . . I don’t know, until things are more certain. And Damien and the rest of Weird, Sister will stay quiet too. Just . . . keep me in the loop, OK?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Here’s Lauren’s address.’ Nailah handed me a piece of paper. ‘You should find her. Before they do.’

  I nodded and pocketed it.

  ‘It’s got my number on the back too. We should stay in touch. Drop me a text or something so I know how to get hold of you. If I hear anything else, I’ll pass it on.’ Nailah checked her phone. ‘Ah. I’ve got to be somewhere.’ She stood up.

  ‘You’re going? Thought you’d want me to show off my superpowers or something.’

  Nailah raised one eyebrow. ‘What an offer.’ There was something in her voice, and my eyes doubled in size of their own accord.

  ‘Wha
t?’ I said. ‘No! I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Relax, dickhead.’ She rolled her eyes. Girl does a lot of that. ‘That was a joke.’

  ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘You’re painfully obvious.’ She smiled. ‘Although you looked panicked rather than smug, so I’ll let you off.’

  Skank actually stifled a snigger, and I stood up, struggling to regain my composure. ‘Right. Anyway. So . . . yeah. Next time, or something.’

  ‘Next time,’ said Nailah. ‘Or something. Anyway, I’ve seen the video. Pretty cool, admittedly. And maybe we’ll have time for your origin story at some point.’

  ‘Young Welsh lad with superpowers flees his quiet rural town for the bright lights and violence of London, and is taken in by the kindly proprietor of a comic store,’ said Skank. ‘It’s the classic immigrant story, essentially. Like Superman. Or Paddington Bear.’

  Nailah laughed. ‘Great. I’m sure you’ll make a fascinating interviewee. I’ll be in touch. See y’all later.’

  ‘See you,’ I said.

  Skank nodded and got up to let her out, passing me the rest of the joint as he did so. I sat on the sofa and held it, too preoccupied with my thoughts to even consider smoking any. When Skank returned, I passed it back. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think I should probably tell Connor, Sharon and Eddie that you sneaked out of the house for a clandestine meeting,’ said Skank.

  ‘You Lando.’

  He smiled. ‘I won’t, though. I know Eddie wants to keep you safe. They all do. And I hate going behind my friends’ backs. They’ve done more for me than . . . well. They’ve done a lot. But personally, I think this is your battle. The rest of them clearly want nothing to do with it, and I respect that, but I also respect your desire to be involved. It’s unfair for you to be out of the loop. And although it may be extremely unsafe, I think that by the time a superpowered kid turns eighteen, he’s earned the right to unfasten his seatbelt and fly through the windscreen into the real world.’ He shrugged. ‘And the whole thing intrigues me. So if that makes me a Lando . . . so be it. Pass the Colt 45.’

  ‘Cool,’ I said. ‘So if I go and find this Lauren, you won’t rat me out?

  ‘I won’t,’ said Skank. ‘Although I’d suggest you don’t go tonight. I doubt that it’s a trap – Nailah seems trustworthy to me, and I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of such things. But it might be best not to rush in, regardless.’

  ‘Yeah. No news on your front?’

  ‘Nothing about your death threat, I’m afraid,’ said Skank. ‘Although I have met some quite interesting new people in the last week or so. I haven’t told Eddie or the others about them yet, but they may well have information about the Angel Group.’

  ‘Anything to do with this Oracle thing?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Why haven’t you told us about them already? Or about Oracle, for that matter?’

  ‘When it became relevant, I was going to,’ said Skank. ‘And these new people are especially secretive. Some might say paranoid.’

  ‘Are they empowered?’

  ‘I don’t believe so. Just . . . aware. And well-equipped.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘I’m going to organise introductions soon,’ said Skank, ‘but I thought it would be a good idea if everyone met at the same time. You, Eddie, Connor, Sharon, these new folks. Maybe this Lauren, if she’s interested.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘As soon as I get anything concrete about Morter Smith or his plans, you’ll be the first to know,’ said Skank.

  ‘Thanks.’ We sat in silence for a moment, and then I said something that I hadn’t been planning to say. ‘What are you up to now?’

  A tiny wrinkle of surprise registered on Skank’s face. ‘Not much,’ he said. ‘You’re welcome to hang out, if you want. We could watch something.’

  Bizarre, but a better proposition than doing bugger all. ‘Yeah, that’d be cool. Feels like I’ve been stuck inside for months. Just being in a different room is great.’

  Skank nodded. ‘Do you smoke?’

  ‘Um . . . I have done.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘By the way,’ I said. ‘What did you do with Scott Masters?’

  ‘Handed him over to some people,’ said Skank. ‘He was no threat to anyone.’ There was a finality to his tone, so I left it. ‘What do you fancy watching?’ he asked.

  ‘I honestly don’t mind.’

  ‘Some Buffy, perhaps?’

  ‘Good shout.’

  ‘Season?’

  ‘Um . . . what’s your favourite?’

  ‘Depends what day it is.’

  ‘Well, we could each pick a couple of our favourite episodes, or something like that.’

  ‘All right.’

  So for the next few hours I sat with my oddball urban bushman millionaire boss smoking very potent spliffs, drinking tea and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Every now and then we would exchange a few words about a particular character or line or plot arc, but mostly it was silence, broken by the occasional laugh. The last time I’d got stoned I’d ended up taking a talking beagle home with me. This was different. It was normal. It was nice, actually. Eventually, however, I had to try and stand up, and the ceiling rushed down at me, the floor lurching upward to meet it. Woah. ‘Cheers,’ I said, in a slow croak. My mind was full of fumes. ‘And um . . . yeah. Cheers.’

  ‘You’re quite welcome,’ said Skank. ‘How are you going to get home?’

  ‘Fly,’ I said, jokingly. Then I remembered that I actually could fly, and laughed like a twat for about thirty seconds. Skank chuckled drily, which was his version of hysterical laughter. ‘Fly,’ I said again, and left.

  The journey back was intense, and not a little wobbly. I kept getting distracted by oddly-shaped clouds, or the way the moonlight hung in a certain way, or the way that building down there looked slightly like a . . . like a thing.

  Like a what?

  Oh for gawwwd’s sake.

  When I finally managed to float back into my bedroom I banged my head on the window frame and tumbled in, barely managing to avoid knocking my desk over. I bit my lip to avoid swearing loudly and thought the window shut, then climbed out of my clothes, fell into bed and quietly span out.

  Remember the murder threat?

  No.

  And the new empowered person?

  Nope.

  And all the other stuff?

  Noooooooooooooooope . . .

  Chapter Seven

  I WOKE UP AT twelve the next day, body full of wet sand, brain a mess of tangled fuzz, throat arid. The light wandering in through a gap in the curtains was far, far too bright, and I sat up and groggily thought an instruction towards them. But rather than closing the curtains, my careless thought ripped one straight off the rail, flooding the room with light. ‘Bollocks,’ I said. Or at least, a vaguely ‘bollocks’-shaped grunt struggled out of my mouth. I thought the curtain back up, but replacing it properly required a level of dexterity that I simply didn’t possess right at that moment, so I crudely bodged it and sat there with the word ‘monged’ floating above my head in thick green bubble writing.

  Sharon poked her head around the door. ‘Afternoon teenager,’ she said. ‘Mind if I come in?’ Even through my haziness, I could tell something was up.

  She knows.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, sitting up. Sharon came in and sat down at the end of the bed. She raised an eyebrow and sniffed demonstratively. ‘Something smells herbal.’

  ‘Um,’ I said. ‘I kind of . . . well, I had some stuff that was . . . leftover, and it was kind of, and I couldn’t sleep. So I was just . . . I wasn’t smoking inside. I was on the window sill. Outside the window. And . . .’

  Sharon waved her hand. ‘OK, this is pretty torturous, so let’s not, shall we?�
��

  My eyes dropped, ashamed. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I don’t mind about the weed, you idiot,’ said Sharon. ‘You’re eighteen, and it’s not exactly crack. And I’m not your mother. What matters is you sneaking out without telling us.’

  ‘I know. I just . . .’

  ‘I understand,’ said Sharon. ‘You know I do. But we’ve talked about this before. You sneaking out, using your powers. Not only is it dangerous, especially now, but . . . Stanly, we were happy to take you in, give you a place to stay, help you set yourself up. We love having you here.’ Maybe you do. ‘But you have to respect our rules. We’re not your family, but you live under our roof.’ The quiet, matter-of-fact disappointment in her tone made me squirm inside.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, ineffectually.

  ‘I won’t ask where you went,’ said Sharon. ‘I think I can probably guess, anyway, based on the smell. I didn’t tell Connor, and I won’t be telling Eddie. I don’t think either of them would be as understanding as me.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Look,’ said Sharon, ‘I know you want to be out there, getting involved. But the fact is, Connor and I want no part of whatever the Angel Group might or might not be doing. We don’t want to get involved in anything dangerous. We don’t want to be fighting any more monsters. That chaos last year was quite enough. We’ve made a very conscious decision to steer clear of it.’

  It had been on the tip of my tongue to mention Lauren, but after she said that, I realised that it would be both a bad idea and pointless. So I just nodded, staying penitent. ‘I know.’

  ‘OK.’ Sharon smiled. ‘Just about to have a last tea before I head to work. Double shift today, yay. Cuppa?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Thought so. I know stoners have a very close relationship with tea.’ She winked and left the room, adding, ‘Don’t forget to fix the curtain properly.’

  ‘I will,’ I said. ‘I mean . . . I won’t. Forget.’ I sat and tried to force my head to be clearer. I needed to work out what I was going to do. I needed to think things through very logically, and come up with the best possible plan.