Tatters of the King (The Warren Brood Book 3)

by Bartholomew Lander

  “Mmm.”

  “Sorry to bore you with superfluous details.”

  She shook her head, though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Don’t apologize. I’d listen to you talk about nothing for hours.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, hey, wasn’t yesterday the first day of school? How was it?”

  “Bleh.”

  “That bad?”

  “It’s all a blur. Pointless. It’s hard to take any of that crap seriously after going through what we have, you know? Especially since . . . ”

  “Since what?”

  “Well . . . It’s just that it’s not helping the loneliness. I miss my friends from Grantwood. And worse, I know I can’t let anybody close to me again. Friends are out of the question, and so is ever talking to Amanda and Chelsea again.” She groaned again as she flipped over. “Everything just sucks.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He paused. “If you haven’t been making friends, then how have you been passing the time?”

  “Reading.” She looked over at the stack of books on her desk, dominated by the Repton Scriptures. “Perhaps a bit too much.”

  “What about?”

  She swallowed hard. “Magic.”

  An incredulous laugh stuttered through her speaker. “Magic?”

  “Among other things. I’ve been . . . ugh, never mind.”

  “No, tell me. I wish to hear it.”

  Had it been anyone else, she knew they’d have laughed her off, but the kindness in his voice reassured her she wasn’t being ridiculous. “It’s just that after everything that happened, I feel like there are so many things I don’t understand. The portal to the Web, the power of the Chosen . . . I just kinda picked up reading about that stuff. To satisfy my own curiosity. Even if none of it has any real meaning.”

  “I see. Found anything particularly interesting yet?”

  She prodded at her own aura with her mind in reflex, but the air resisted her. “Nothing worth wasting your time with.”

  “I do not mind listening to you talk about nothing.”

  The reversal of her earlier comment warmed her cheeks. “That’s sweet, but I don’t believe you. And anyway, I have homework to do. I just really wanted to hear your voice, is all.”

  “I hope I helped somehow.”

  “Always. Hey, text me tomorrow when you have time or something. I hate going days at a time without hearing from you.”

  A groan. “Very well. I shall attempt to figure that texting thing out again.”

  “Promise me you’ll do it this time.”

  “Fine. I promise. I shall need to find the manual for this thing.”

  She giggled. “Alright. Thanks for entertaining me.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Goodnight, Mark.”

  “Goodnight, Spinny.”

  The call ended with a click. Her spider legs took the phone from her hand and passed it to her nightstand. Everything felt a bit better now. She hated that Mark had that effect on her, but was thankful that not everything was a barren wasteland of emotion. For a few minutes she just lay there in bed, listening to the sound of the cicadas outside. She could have fallen asleep there in her bubble of private, momentary happiness, had she not already reminded herself of her homework.

  Blood runs hot from my shoulder as I push my way through the curtain of leaves and branches. My head swims, and my body aches from overexertion. I cannot think straight. The cries from behind draw nearer without remorse, torchlight searing my wet eyes. The hunters find their prey in me, chasing after the saffron dyes staining my shoulders and back. At last, they have contrived a crime to place upon me. But I shall not be executed for their superstition. I refuse to die.

  When the dead end of the southern cliffs emerge from the copse, it is not fear that builds in my heart, but certainty. If I cannot find peace here among these beasts masquerading as men, then I shall follow the path of my destiny. To where the voice calls me. To the promised land.

  Recalling the sign the voice has revealed unto me, I lay all of my limbs upon the ground and forge my escape.

  Chapter 6

  Silver Lining

  The next day, Spinneretta called Mrs. Wick and hastily accepted her job offer. And as soon as the last bell rang, she headed to the library. The library, built upon a bean-shaped promontory that jutted into the lake, wasn’t far from the small docks that serviced the town’s modest fishing tourism industry.

  Today, the library felt alien. It was as though she were stepping into its air-conditioned lobby for the very first time. There were more people here today; four were sitting in the meager computer lab, which was more than she’d ever seen before. Mrs. Wick stood at reception, and as soon as she saw Spinneretta her face was overtaken by an adoring smile. “Oh, Sarah, welcome!”

  Spinneretta approached the desk, wiping at the sweat clinging to the back of her neck. “Good afternoon.”

  “Excited?”

  “A little bit.” It was a half-truth, but that meant it was only a half-lie.

  “Good. Now, before anything distracts me, I have to remember to give you this.” The woman opened a drawer in her desk, rummaged about for a few moments, and then pulled out something long and black. “Here you are, Sarah.” She placed it on the surface of the desk and slid it across. A laminated name badge on a lanyard.

  Spinneretta examined the badge. Sarah Hallström, it read. Beside the library’s coat-of-arms logo, IT Administrator was written. It was a title altogether too prestigious for a mere part-time job.

  “Make sure you wear that anytime you’re dealing with someone. People won’t respect you if you’re not wearing the badge.” Mrs. Wick tugged her own lanyard in demonstration.

  “Gotcha. Thanks.” Her self-consciousness stopped Spinneretta from immediately slipping it around her neck.

  “Now, I guess I should show you to your area.” Mrs. Wick then took her through the employee-only door behind reception, which led to a quaint set of off-white offices. She led her down a hallway and opened the second mahogany door on the right. A wave of oppressive heat billowed out of the darkness, like sulfur fumes vacating the maw of hell itself. Mrs. Wick flicked a switch and the overhead lights hummed on. The room was small, crowded with boxes of books and stacks of paper. On the far end sat a small desk upon which a chunky laptop lay half-abandoned in cobwebs and dust.

  “Here’s your office, if you’d like to call it that. Sorry it’s so dirty, but it’s been in disuse for a while. It’s where the copy machine lives now.” Mrs. Wick gestured to the machine standing beside the door. “Afraid nobody’s bothered to clean it much since Adrian quit.”

  “Adrian?”

  “He was our last technology person. Just stopped showing up one day a few years ago. He was a sweet boy.”

  Spinneretta walked over to the desk. Behind it, two office chairs were stacked atop one another, one missing its lower half. She blew on the surface of the desk, and a flurry of dust burst into the air. “Ugh. I can see what you mean about not cleaning.”

  “We’ve mostly been using it as an overflow; that is, something between storeroom and trash can. I can have Dan try to do something about it when he comes in on Friday.”

  “Don’t know if I can wait that long. Is there a feather duster somewhere?” A cluster of dust swam up her nose and made her sneeze. “Or a leaf blower?”

  “Should be something in the cleaning closet.”

  “More important question,” Spinneretta said, distracted by the sweat dripping down her brow and back. “Does this room here have air conditioning?”

  Pity pinched Mrs. Wick’s cheeks. “I was going to say, you must be melting in that jacket.”

  Spinneretta wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Yep.”

  “Why don’t you take that thing off?”

  “Skin condition,” she said, feigning embarrassment. “I’d prefer not to let people see.”

  Mrs. Wick frowned. “Oh, you poor thing. Well, the controls for the air conditioning are out here
in the hall. Afraid I don’t really know how to work this one, but you’re welcome to play around and try to get it on. Worst-case scenario, we can ask Dan about it.”

  “Great,” Spinneretta said, eager to be out of the dust furnace. “So what do you want to have me do today?”

  The woman hummed. “Well, you’re the specialist. I suppose the biggest thing is getting those machines out front in some working order. I swear, four times a day the darn things lock up and we have to reset the whole block of ’em, owing to the way the strips are set up. We’ve got some inside system stuff to do as well, but I’m afraid I don’t have the details handy.”

  Spinneretta slipped back into the refreshing hall. She batted at her ponytail with one hand, and the chemical chill of the air conditioner planted frigid kisses upon her neck. “That’s fine. For now, I’ll just get to work on cleaning the computers out front, I guess.”

  “Marvelous. And don’t worry, I’ll get Dan and Charlie to get me the details on everything else we need. Should have it by the end of the week.” She paused in thought as she followed Spinneretta out. “If you have any problems or want some coffee, just let me know. I can show you how to work the machine. We also have a vending machine in the break room. The boys from Duluth restock it on the first Thursday of every month.”

  “I’m fine for now, thanks.” She slipped the lanyard around her neck, and the canvas strap fell alongside the chain of the necklace that had once belonged to Mark’s sister. Even the darkness has a silver lining. She gave the badge another glance as she made her way out of the employee-only section. Sarah Hallström. She was playing a role. Nothing less, nothing more.

  Spinneretta left the library when the sun sank low on the horizon. She stopped for an energy drink at the little corner store down the road before she continued on home. It was a way of treating herself after her first day of work, as well as a countermeasure against the churning heat. As she made her way down the tire-worn dirt path through the woods, her eyes were set upon the cracked ground, where weeds and their flowers sprang forth in tangled clumps. Her whole body was tired, but somehow she felt satisfied. Today, she was at risk of believing that everything really would turn out alright.

  She pulled out her phone and, to her horror, realized she’d left it on silent before she’d gone to the library. But that horror relinquished a smile when she saw the unread message from Mark blinking on her home screen. You remembered, she thought with glee. You remembered this most important of promises. Heart at ease, she opened the sole message in her inbox.

  “Greetings! I hope this message finds you well. I fear I may not have set this up properly. Forgive me for taking so long.”

  Seriously? This is how you text? She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting; it was Mark, after all. That thought became a little sad when she imagined how long it must have taken him to type it all out. She began to enter a response. “Hark! Thou hast kept thine oath! Thine message findeth me well enough, milord. And how farest thou?”

  A couple minutes later, she felt her phone vibrate. A new text from Mark had arrived. “You’re trying to make me self-conscious, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe a little,” she texted back. “Thanks for remembering. I always feel like I’m bothering you when I call, so hopefully this’ll be more convenient for you.”

  “You never bother me, Spinny.”

  She smiled. “Sorry, but I still don’t believe you.”

  As she came out of the woods and into the clearing where the Hallström home stood, she saw the warm glow from within. Beneath the porch light, where a small group of mosquitoes congregated, was Kara. She sat on the edge of the porch’s steps, staring at nothing. The bottle of orange juice sitting beside her was uncapped, half-drunk; all the coolness of the drink now clung to the outside in condensed droplets that shone in the evening light.

  Spinneretta felt her phone vibrate again, but decided to ignore it for the moment. She raised her hand and waved at Kara, but her sister pretended not to see her. Unwilling to accept being ignored, she climbed the three steps to the porch with a smile. “Hey, Kara. Have a good day at school?”

  Kara grunted in reply. Her head rested in one hand. The tips of her spider legs poked out of her jacket, but Spinneretta thought better than to call attention to it now when she was in so clearly a rotten mood.

  Spinneretta dropped down beside her sister and let her feet hang off the edge of the porch. “What’re you up to?”

  Another grunt.

  With a sigh, Spinneretta took a swig of her acidic drink and wiped the sweat from her brow. “Look, Kara. I know you’re in a crappy mood right now. We all are, I think. But you need to do a better job of not being so depressed all the time. I hate to say it, but this is how things are now, so . . . ”

  “Yeah? Well, maybe this is how I am now.”

  Spinneretta bit her lip. The younger girl was just staring off beyond the trees, where the setting sun still glared in defiance. It was hard to see her sister so forlorn. “Tell me how I can help you.”

  “Huh?”

  “I hate seeing you like this. There has to be something I can do to make this easier on you.” A pause. “Come on, stop being so quiet. Let’s talk about something. What’s going on in your mind right now? Right now, at this moment.”

  Kara looked off into the woods again. For a long moment, she was silent. “Mayflies,” she said at last.

  Spinneretta stared at her, confused. “Mayflies?”

  “Mayflies,” she said again, holding her hands up and splaying her fingers. “They look like dragonflies. They have these clear wings and live near fresh water. I saw a show about them on National Geographic last night. Do you know anything about them?”

  No less confused, Spinneretta shook her head.

  “The larvae are aquatic. Like tadpoles. They just float along at the bottom of rivers and lakes, eating algae or whatever they come across. No worries. No responsibilities. Kinda like a dream, you know? They just keep swimming and eating, swimming and eating, for months and months. Then, when it’s time to grow up, they float up to the surface and sprout their wings. They fly away and hide in the trees while they wait for their final molt. After a day or two of hiding, they’re all grown up. But what’s left of them isn’t anything like what they once were.

  “Now that they’re adults, their guts are hollow, filled with air. They don’t have mouths anymore. They can’t eat. The only thing they can do is mate and then die. They don’t live longer than a day after growing up. They just mate and lay their eggs, so their babies can one day follow in their footsteps. So they can repeat the cycle. That’s it. Just mate and die. All for the cycle. Dream in the water. Hide in the trees. Mate before the end. Die for the cycle. Dream. Hide. Mate. Die. Dream. Hide. Mate. Die.”

  Spinneretta felt a shiver from her sister’s frigid words. “And what do mayflies have to do with anything?”

  Kara’s blue eyes were cold and distant. “You’re kidding, right? You realize where we are, don’t you?” When Spinneretta didn’t say anything, she turned back to the forest and gestured all around. “We’re hiding in the trees.”

  “Kara, I—”

  “I don’t know if we’ll grow out of this,” Kara said, voice wavering. “I don’t know if we’ll grow up and mate and start our own families. But if we do, we’ll be nothing like we are now. We won’t be us. We’ll be different. We’ll be changed. Hiding will destroy us. We’re not changing, we’re lying. Lying to buy a few more minutes. Lying ourselves into memory. No matter what happens, we’re going to die. But I’d rather die myself than a mouthless monster.” She put her head to her knees. Her shoulders were shaking; she was struggling not to cry.

  Spinneretta was at a loss for words. She slid closer and put her arms around her. “Kara, it’s alright. You’re being ridiculous.”

  “How do you do it?” she asked with tears stagnant in her eyes.

  “Do what?”

  “None of you care. None of you care about this at a
ll. It doesn’t faze any of you. Why not? How can you just be okay with all this?”

  Spinneretta let out a slow breath. One hand found its way to the chain of her necklace. “Even the darkness has a silver lining.”

  “Silver lining,” Kara scoffed. “What silver lining?”

  “We’re alive. And after everything we went through to get here, I think that’s really something. We’re alive, and more importantly, we’re all together.” At that, she felt Kara’s body tense. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t like this hiding any more than you do. Any more than anyone else. But things could be a lot worse. So what if we have to hide ourselves? It isn’t forever.”

  Kara shook a little. “It isn’t? But, Annika said—”

  “To hell with Annika and what she said. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in this place. Even if it takes a long time, I won’t let it be forever. It’s for now. Until we know for sure that the Vant’therax are history. Until Mom and Dad’s names are cleared, or that bounty shit is forgotten. Whichever comes first. I can’t stand the thought of just living as a prisoner here for the rest of my life. We’ll go home one day. I don’t know when. But we will. That’s a promise.”

  Kara sniffed once and sat back up.

  Spinneretta looked at the sigil engraved in the center of her necklace. “It’s darkest before the dawn. That’s what I choose to believe. That’s how I can deal with this shit. Because I choose to believe it’s just a phase. That it’ll end. And when it does, we can go back home. There are too many things I want to do to not believe that. Laying all of this to rest. Apologizing to Kyle for everything that happened. Seeing Amanda and Chelsea again. Going to college.”

  Kara gave a distant nod. “Yeah. And marrying Mark.”

  Spinneretta started. “Uhh . . . I . . . Okay.”

  But Kara seemed to forget her own non sequitur. She was looking at her hands. Though her eyes were still wet, an eerie calm had come over her. “Do you really promise we’ll be able to go home?”