Tatters of the King (The Warren Brood Book 3)

by Bartholomew Lander

  “Remember,” Annika called out behind her, “to the ground. Peace out!” The automatic door closed behind them with a harsh squeal, and the woman hopped down the steps at a brisk pace. “Well, I think that went pretty well, all things considered.” She started toward the lightest of the cars in the distance, humming brightly.

  “Did you seriously just threaten a doctor?” Spinneretta said, head still swimming from what she’d witnessed. “Did you really just say that you’d burn a hospital to the ground if they told anyone about Kara’s spider legs?”

  “I can’t imagine you’re asking me seriously,” Annika said in a sugar-sweet tone. “Last I checked, you didn’t take any injuries that would compromise your hearing.”

  Spinneretta clenched her teeth, and she pulled Mark’s jacket tighter around her to fight the chill of the night. “Is there no limit with you? You’d have blown Dad’s head off back there if I didn’t stop you. Now you’re threatening innocent doctors. I’m surprised you didn’t pull your gun on her.”

  “I wouldn’t have pulled my gun because there were no bullets in it. Only an idiot pulls a gun without bullets.”

  “That’s not the point!”

  “See, that’s the thing about this world, min spindeltjej. If you want an omelet, you have to crack some heads. Pragmatism’s a bitch, and if you’re intent on being one too, then you should at least consider tossing a few thank yous my way. You know, for making sure your dear little sister at least gets pain meds. Not to mention getting everyone else out of that place alive after you and Kara ran off after that damn spider cat.”

  Spinneretta growled at her. Talking to the damned detective was pointless. With her will to fight draining, she turned her gaze to the asphalt slipping by under her feet and counted the lines of white paint they walked over.

  “Let us hope they heed your advice and do not call the police,” Mark said in a noncommittal tone.

  “You know what? I don’t really care if they do or not,” Annika said. “If they call the police, it’s Elizabeth Bordon they’ll be coming after. Which is a shame. I rather liked the ring of Elizabeth Bordon. But we’re alive! Isn’t that just so invigorating?” She dipped her chin, and her cheer receded. “Actually, that might make the prescription a bit tricky to get filled. Bah, I’m sure I can get my hands on some codeine somewhere.”

  As they walked through the parking lot, Spinneretta kept casting nervous glances over her shoulder, afraid a fleet of police cruisers would swoop down upon them in the blink of an eye. Or worse, that they would suddenly find themselves surrounded by the three Vant’therax that had survived. The night, however, was quiet, save the gentle moan of the wind whipping across the treetops. Kara seemed oblivious to the tension in the air, and walked with a joyous gait in spite of her wounds. It wrung Spinneretta’s gut to think of her sister’s injury. Had she only been stronger, she could have prevented Kaj from breaking Kara’s ribs like that. But the girl’s smile, even if it was a fragile thing, somehow put that part of Spinneretta’s mind at ease. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  Kara grinned up at her, though the edges looked false. “Better.”

  “Did the doctor wrap you up?”

  “Yeah! It was weird. She had to cut the tape up so my legs could move. You should’ve seen how creeped out she was by them!”

  Spinneretta gave her sister her own hollow smile. She recalled their father’s mumbling on the way to Auburn about the Lethean jail, the information control program that had kept the knowledge of the spider children sealed safely within the boundary of Grantwood. Though she’d been shocked by Kyle’s reaction to seeing her legs for the first time, it was now no wonder Annika had to resort to threats to keep their secret.

  Mark had once asked her why such a miraculous genetic anomaly wasn’t more widely known. And they now knew the answer. Within the Orwellian information prison that NIDUS had constructed around Grantwood, had everyone just gotten used to their queer aspects? Isolated from the rest of the world, unable to spread rumors or images through the internet, had they just come to accept the Warren brood as a part of life?

  “Will you quit acting so glum?” Kara said, breaking her trance. “I’m the one with the broken ribs, you know.”

  “Sorry.” She said it without thinking, for her mind was completely absorbed in the fog. Even if they’d all made it out of those labs alive, and even if Annika’s boasts of their victory over NIDUS filled her with a cautious hope, she could enjoy precisely none of it. Too many daggers sat lodged in her optimism. Her mind kept returning to the bloodlust that had overtaken her and driven her into a ruthless rage. Had it merely been the Instinct? Or did it have something to do with the sound of that other voice from deep in her mind? Even if I didn’t imagine it, she thought, it sure isn’t talking now. And so she just focused on keeping her feet moving as their small group neared Annika’s silver Ford sedan.

  In the back seat of the car, Arthr sat doubled over with his head between his knees. His eyes were pressed shut, and sweat clung to his neck and face. Each hungry breath tasted of pleather. The world spun around him, and his spider legs shuddered with each beat of his heart.

  The gas station breakfast did more harm than good. That’s what he’d tell everyone when they got back and asked why he was huddled over like a victim of appendicitis. Better that than confessing what his nerves were doing to him.

  He could still feel the iron grip of the Vant’therax’s spider-leg-like fingers upon his throat, choking the circulation from his arteries. The revolver’s weight in his hand, too, was distinct and nightmarish. His spiracles were still wet with the taste of the blood from the battle of the Vault. The fear. Annika’s face, twisted in fury as she scolded him for his inaction. Her words seemed to echo from the seats and headrests and windows.

  And just as bad as the acrid sting of his failure was the stark memory of the thing in the Vault. The dreadful beating of that artificial organ filled him with a paralyzing dread, a sense of utter doom. And now, each beat of his own heart sent that image burning across his closed eyelids like a hellish projector. The hand of the Yellow King. The source of the genetic knowledge that led to their miraculous births.

  In the front seat, his father was still muttering to himself. Though Ralph was making sense off and on, right now he seemed to be lost in his own mind. He kept looking suddenly to the left and right, as though awakening in an unfamiliar location, before settling back into that same delirium and rambling softly. Arthr wondered if the things he’d done—the murders he’d committed in his madness—had left irreparable scars in his mind.

  When the car door opened, Arthr jolted upright and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “Alright, kids,” Annika said, “pile in. Are you going to be okay in the back with your ribs, Kara?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Oi, you alive in there, Arthr?”

  He looked out at her, trying to hide his discomfort. “Y-yeah, I’m, uhh . . . ”

  The woman scowled. “Then get out of the damn middle and make room for everyone else! You’re Kara’s car seat this trip.”

  “R-right. Sorry.” He slid into the leftmost seat, and Cinnamon crackled at him as he nearly sat on her. The Leng kitten leapt up onto his legs, and he recoiled so hard the back of his head met glass. A sharp pain wrapped all the way around his skull to his eyes, and he clenched his teeth. The feeling of the monster’s chitin appendages soon left his leg as Cinnamon scurried toward the open door where Kara was boarding.

  “Cinnamon!” Kara cooed. She crawled into the car, scooped the Leng cat into her arms, and pushed herself unceremoniously onto Arthr’s lap. The sudden weight crushed a half-taken breath from his lungs. “Everything’s okay now, Cinny! Mommy’s here again!”

  Outside the car, Annika chuckled. “How cute. A girl and her monster. Now get in, you two.” Exhibiting a minor reluctance, Spinneretta fell into the middle seat beside Arthr, followed by Mark. When they were all situated, Annika drummed her fingers
on the window of the door. “Keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times.” She shut the door, trapping the four of them plus Cinnamon in the back seat.

  For the first time in his life, Arthr felt claustrophobic. Squeezed between a door and Spins, Kara’s body the only thing protecting him from that crackling thing, he closed his eyes and hoped it would all be over soon. Failing that, perhaps God would have mercy upon him and allow it all to be a coma nightmare from the fight with Pat Rhodes.

  The driver door opened, and Annika dropped into it with an exhilarated sigh. “Welp, back to Marlin, I suppose. You kids alright back there?”

  “Stop calling us kids,” Arthr said with a bitter taste on his tongue. It felt like the comment had been a slight aimed at him.

  The key in the ignition turned, and the engine started. Annika gave a low hum. “Kara patched up. Kids buckled in. Daddy still brain-broken. Everything seems to be in order here.” She shifted into reverse and pulled out of the parking space. “Next stop, Monterey County. Nobody better need to stop at the bathroom.”

  Arthr dug his fingernails into the pleather-covered door handle. The nausea was coming, harder than ever before.

  Nobody spoke as the sedan sped out of the hospital parking lot, leaving the island of illumination for the gulf of night. A few moments passed, and Annika gave an abrupt, panicked screech that made the whole back seat jump. “Shit!”

  “What happened?” Mark asked.

  “I forgot to pay the doctor.”

  The sun was just visible on the horizon when they arrived in Marlin. The grass-sandy hill of Kyle’s property rose above the backdrop of the dark ocean. Overhead, dull clouds spread over the town like a wet blanket. As they approached the house, Annika let up on the gas and coasted to a stop where the grass had been stamped out, worn into a hard, packed walkway.

  As soon as the engine died, the doors sprang open and everyone, except for Ralph, spilled eagerly out of the cramped vehicle. The damp chill of the ocean swept over them, and Spinneretta at once found herself shivering. The rising sun behind them, concealed by the clouds, cast only traces of warmth against their backs. The air tasted of salt and fish; it smelled like a brewing storm.

  Kara cringed as she stretched her arms and spider legs out over her head. Her legs coiled and grasped at her sides, a pained look on her face. She gave Mark and Arthr, who were stretching beside her, a jealous look and crossed her arms over her ribs.

  “Welp, hope you guys enjoyed that,” Annika said. She gave her trunk a rapid twist, and a crisp cracking sound stirred the morning. “Four hours is gonna look mighty comfortable compared to what’s coming up.”

  Arthr looked over at her. “What do you mean?”

  Annika walked around to the passenger-side door and yanked it open. “Come on, Daddy,” she said to Ralph. “Time to try this getting ready thing one more time. A little less suicide this time, if you would, please.”

  “Getting ready?” Arthr repeated. “Wait, you mean we’re still moving?”

  She blinked at him. “What’s that word I’m thinking of? It’s the opposite of no.”

  “But we beat the cult!” he yelled. “We beat the Vant’tha-whatevers. Why do we still have to go?”

  The woman pursed her lips and expelled a razor-thin sigh. “You’re not very good at paying attention, are you?”

  “Uh?”

  She shook her head and made an impatient gesture at Ralph. “C’mon. Out. Your wife is worried sick about you.”

  Gaze distant, Ralph gave her a slow nod. “Right. Sorry.” He climbed out of the car, stumbled a little, and began walking up the gentle slope toward Kyle’s two-story home. They all watched in silence as he made his way up to the house, feet scraping the sand, and let himself inside. Somewhere above them, a gull was crying.

  Kara was the one who broke the embargo on speech. “So we still have to move. To where again?”

  Annika turned about and rested an arm on the roof of the car. “Minnesota. Place I settled on is called Lake Cormorant. Looks pretty.”

  Kara nodded, disappointment emanating from her drooping posture. In her arms, Cinnamon nestled against her chest and made that strange purring sound. The sound was grating; Spinneretta felt her stomach cramping up again.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Arthr said. “What’s the problem? What do we have to be afraid of now that the cult is . . . ?”

  Annika sighed. “Look. Just because NIDUS is a blazing hole in the ground, that doesn’t change anything. That whole raiding the fortress stunt we just pulled? That wasn’t a solution; that was damage control. You can praise your lucky stars we got Ralph out of there without turning him into a spider hive. But thanks to somebody, three Vant’therax still got away. Marky may have taken out their Conduit, but someone took out their previous one, too. Lot of good that did. As long as the Vant’therax are prowling in the shadows, they could just create yet another Conduit, and then where will we be? So all of that means you guys are getting a second chance. Fresh start. Do over. Tabula rasa.”

  “Tabula rasa.” Spinneretta stared at her feet. The air grew heavy around them. Arthr looked over at her, as if expecting her to stand up and oppose Annika’s ruling. But she couldn’t. Annika was right. She turned away from the others and began walking toward the eucalyptus trees that stood on the far side of the hill.

  “H-hey, where are you going?” Arthr called after her.

  “Air.” She felt like she was going to throw up. She just hoped she made it to the other side of the hill before it happened.

  The others watched Spinneretta crest the hill. After Annika was certain the spider-girl was out of earshot, she leaned against the car and grumbled to herself. “Surprise. Spinzie’s going off to brood.” She flashed an open palm at Kara and Arthr. “Anyway, you two’d better go grab your stuff.”

  Kara groaned, arms tight around the placid Leng cat. “You’re really making us leave now?”

  “Minnesota is a long way away. If we drive non-stop, it’ll still probably take two days to get to Lake Cormorant.”

  Kara gave her a doleful look. “Two days?”

  “Let’s see. Should probably have Ralph in the front seat again. If we swap out Mark for your mother, then it’ll be about the same as on the way here. Can at least shuffle you guys around a bit every now and then. I’m sure your ribs would like some space to breathe.”

  Kara didn’t say anything. She just held Cinnamon to her chest and stared at her feet.

  Annika answered her silence with another sigh. “Well, get a move on, you two. I’m sure your mom will be thrilled to see you made it back in one piece.”

  With a heavy frown, Arthr started up toward the house. Kara followed, dragging her feet.

  Annika cracked her neck and turned to Mark. “I’m afraid we don’t have any room for you this time.”

  “I know. I wasn’t counting on it.” He was staring off at the ocean, one hand on his shoulder. Torn fabric and dried blood surrounded a fresh burn scar.

  “You okay with that?”

  His lip twitched. “It does not really matter, does it?”

  A sad smile crossed her lips. “Always a fatalist, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged, paying little attention to her. The entirety of his attention was fixated on the point where the hillside fell away toward the ocean near the eucalyptus trees.

  Annika rapped her fingernails against the roof of her car, wondering if the man was trying to be subtle or not. “Gonna go after her? We both know you want to.”

  After a moment, Mark gave her a noncommittal nod. “I think I will. I’m leaving everything else in your hands, Annika.”

  She snapped to attention with a half-hearted salute. “You know you can count on me, sir.”

  With that, he turned and headed off toward the top of the hill, crunching the dirt and dried grass under his feet. With a small sigh, Annika set her sights upon the house. Better go make sure May hasn’t drunk herself to death. The thought was accompanied by a twinge of ap
prehension.

  Spinneretta sat upon the sloping hillside. Below, the sandy brown grass grew thinner and thinner as it approached the rusted iron fence that encircled Kyle’s hillside property. Beyond the gate, the ground quickly degenerated into unkempt tufts of wild weeds and ice plant. And a short distance beyond that overgrowth, the hill plunged further toward the sea. Though she could not see where the waves broke upon the beach, she could hear the soft rumbling of water rushing over the sand and rocks below. She was choking. The scent of salt in the wind made her dizzy.

  Her spider legs shook a little as the sea breeze swept the hillside. The chill ripped through the gaps in her chitin plating. She was paralyzed by a bout of pain from the crushed segments where her legs joined her back. That pain pulsated through her, but at least it was now dull. She laid her forehead against her knees and closed her eyes. With salt and fish in her spiracles, and a burn in her eyes, she filled her shaking lungs.

  Crunching footsteps approached. She didn’t even bother to look up. She just kept her eyes shut and her head pressed to her legs. Any minute now, she would awake and realize it was all a dream. The footsteps came to a stop, and the sudden silence was jarring.

  “Are you alright?” Mark asked at last.

  “You keep asking me that.”

  He sat down beside her. She could taste him cringing as he moved. “Forgive me,” he said. “I’m simply worried about you.”

  She opened her eyes. The hidden sun left their side of the hill shrouded in shadow. “You’re not coming with us, are you?” Even posing the question drained her.

  For a few moments, silence weighed upon them. Mark tapped his feet against the sand. “I am afraid I cannot.”