Spinneretta frowned, an old weight dragging at her heart again. “Mom, we can talk about everything later. All of us. But, before I forget, and before you hear it from someone else, I have some bad news.” Both her parents gave her a concerned look. A deep breath shook her lungs and stomach. “Kyle Rogers is dead.”
The color drained from her mother’s face. A look of doubt, and then horror. She covered her mouth and muffled a hysterical gasp.
“Jesus,” Ralph muttered, looking no less devastated. “How? What happened?”
Spinneretta let her eyes wander to the ferns in the hallway across the room. “I only heard from Chelsea, so I don’t have all the details yet. She said he was helping them. Because he wanted to find us and rebuild his career by proving we existed. So he was drawn to the cult and . . . ”
Her mother choked on a sob. “God, no . . . ”
Ralph exhaled through his teeth and put an arm around May. “Fuck. You’re serious? That’s . . . Jesus Christ. I . . . ” He brought a flannel sleeve across the bridge of his nose. The sheen of tears made the corners of his eyes flicker. “Fuck. I never even got a chance to . . . ”
Spinneretta swallowed hard. Her parents embraced, their sorrow spilling out upon the floor in waves. She’d expected them to take it hard, but not this hard. It was a devastating blow. Maybe they were all closer than I’d thought.
Fighting back a sniffle, her mother wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “Have . . . the police found him, or . . . ?”
“I have no idea. Last I heard, they were checking out the caves, but I don’t know what they’ll find.”
Ralph bared his teeth and clenched his eyes. “God, I just . . . I never got a chance to apologize for everything I did to him. How’s that fair? If anyone deserved to die, it wasn’t him. And for what? For something we took from him?”
“Feeling guilty won’t change anything,” Spinneretta said. It was the last thing she would have expected herself to say, but now that she wasn’t the one on the receiving end it seemed so clear. What was done was done; nothing would bring Kyle back. It wasn’t their fault; when the cult made the announcement, no matter what they did, Kyle would have made the same choice. It was the cult’s fault. Nemo’s fault. And the damn Helixweaver had already paid the price.
To her surprise, her father began to nod numbly. “I . . . You’re right.”
Blinking back tears, her mother looked beyond her and Ralph. And then, a look of quiet confusion and loss came upon her. Spinneretta followed her gaze and swallowed hard. On the TV in the corner of the room, Kara mouthed off in silence, flourishing her seven intact spider legs around her like conductors’ batons. “And now this is happening,” May muttered. “Well, that’s just . . . I don’t even know.”
Spinneretta shivered, once again growing anxious. “It’s all over the local networks. It’s probably going to hit state news tonight if Annika’s right about it all. And after that, who knows what’s going to happen. People can’t cover their eyes and ears anymore.”
Her father’s lips thinned as he looked at the screen. “It’s just one thing after another isn’t it?” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “What now?”
Spinneretta’s mouth was dry. “Now I think you two should go see Arthr.”
May jumped with a small yelp, as though she’d forgotten all about him. “Oh my God, where is he?”
“Ask the nurse at reception,” she said, nodding toward the far end of the waiting room. Her parents stared at her for a moment, so she preempted the question. “This is all my fault. If I show up there, he’s liable to kill himself trying to strangle me.”
Ralph’s eyes fluttered with an angry twitch. “Stay here. When we get back we have a lot to discuss.”
She dropped back into the seat beside Mark. “I know.”
With that, her parents headed across the room and attacked the receptionist with questions.
Spinneretta scooped what remained of her bitter drink from the chair beside her and threw back the last of it. With a sigh, she crumpled her can and again laid her head upon Mark’s shoulder. Her hand found his, and their fingers laced together. For all the shit we’ve put up with . . . I feel like everything’s going to be alright.
“So, what are you going to do now?” Mark asked.
“I don’t know. But we don’t have much choice. We have to adapt to whatever this whole thing turns into. And I think that’s all we can do, come what may. But I can tell you what I’m not going to do.”
“And that is?”
She closed her eyes and slipped an arm around his neck. “Dwell on things I can’t change.”
“Meaning what, precisely?”
“Nothing I ever do can atone for what the King did. And compared to mass genocide, my own sins are pretty meaningless. Knowing that, it would be selfish of me not to make everything in my own life right.”
Mark chuckled. “Are you certain you’re the Yellow King? That’s an awfully noble thing to say.”
The comment slid under her skin like a splinter. “I don’t want to hear that from you, Mister You-Have-No-Magical-Potential-Whatsoever. If you had just told me in the fucking first place that what I had was anti-magic, then maybe this whole thing could’ve been resolved before more innocent people died.”
“Forgive me, for I have still never heard of such a thing as anti-magic.”
“It was all there in the Repton Scriptures. Read the fucking manual next time.”
“Yes, my princess.”
She snickered, her breath hot against his skin. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“What will you do? Seal my magic?”
“It would stop you from trying to take my damn wounds all the time, wouldn’t it?”
He grew quiet. “You know, I figured out what I lost this time.”
“Hmm?”
“What the ascension cost me. Every time I use it, I lose some aspect of my power. The first time, it was the ability to heal without consequence. When I killed Golgotha, it cost me the Sight. And now, it seems I cannot numb my nerves anymore. Everything hurts like it hasn’t in forever. I don’t think I can walk on this damned leg any longer, and it has nothing to do with the exertion.”
A pang of pity hit her in the gut. “You’re serious?”
“Why should I jest?”
She tried to shake away the unwelcome guilt that encroached on her throat. “See a damn doctor, already. We’re at a hospital.”
“Can’t. I don’t have insurance.”
The uneven gravity of the problems fizzled and burst in her stomach. Spinneretta began to laugh, at first low and breathy, and then high and choked. Each laugh hurt her chest and stomach and arms and legs, but the inappropriate laughter just kept flowing. Soon Mark was laughing with her, though why she could not say. Just like when she and Arthr had erupted into humorless chortling in the Web, it was catharsis. But this catharsis wasn’t darkened beneath the shadow of death.
As she shed the ghosts of guilt and despair, the nurse at reception showed them a stern expression which just made her laugh harder. Go fuck yourself, she thought with a snort. We’re alive. And we made it. And we’ll make it through anything else your damned twisted world can throw at us. The Warren brood will survive, come what may. Come what may.
Epilogue
Élan Vital
October always brought rich palettes to the canvas of Placer County. As far as Spinneretta could see, the hills cradling Widow’s Creek shone in gold and green and red, like precious gems in a sultan’s cache. The afternoon was alive with the cries of insects and the birds that hunted them. The smell of dirt, pine needles, and the gentle spray of the eponymous creek that flowed only a dozen feet away. The scents played at the spiracles of her exposed legs, and they shivered in approval. It had been too long since she’d felt so alive. The bittersweet memories of the groves surrounded her, kneaded her from head to toe.
She’d walked all the way out from Grantwood just as soon as they pulled up in the driv
eway. It wasn’t the first time they’d been back, but this time there wasn’t any major work to do on the house. It was filthy but livable, and that meant that, for the first time in a great while, she had the day to herself. How long had it been?
But before she could enjoy the time to herself, there was one thing she needed to do.
After a two-hour trek, the tree-lined path opened. A cul-de-sac appeared, wrapped in the edge of the forest. Her target was the nearest of the homes. Number forty-four. With her breath catching in her throat and her heart hesitating imperceptibly between beats, she walked up to the door. The wind chimes hanging from the eves brought back memories. She took a deep, voluminous breath to calm herself. And then another. And at last, with butterflies holding congressional hearings in her stomach, she rapped upon the door.
A few moments passed in silence. Then, a crack. The door swung open. Against the backdrop of the blackened interior stood a boy as tall as Arthr, wearing khaki shorts and a red T-shirt. His arms gripped a pair of metal crutches that fell alongside his legs.
The boy blinked at her with a bewildered look. His lips shook. “Spins?”
She forced herself to smile and raised a hand in greeting. “Well met, Will.”
A bright smile bloomed over his features. “Oh my God, Spins? Seriously? I can’t believe it’s you! I haven’t seen you since . . . Wow, how’ve you been? What’ve you been up to?”
“I’ve been doing well, I guess.” If she was talking about the last few weeks alone, then it wasn’t a lie. “And, hey, what about you? Last I heard you were in a wheelchair, right? Or was that just some crazy rumor?”
“Oh, you heard? Yeah, I was, for a while. Not that long, but long enough that I pretty much lost my hard-won basketball skills. But that’s whatever. I guess I can’t join the NBA now.” He chuckled. “So, what brings you here?”
Spinneretta swallowed hard. “I just wanted to stop by for a minute. Because I have something to say.” Her lungs tingled. Congressman Anxiety held the floor in her gut, and the rest of the congregation was hurling broken bottles at him. “I came because I wanted to say that I know what you did.”
Will stared at her for a moment, and she felt somehow violated by his inattentive expression. “What?”
“The Helixweaver told me. And Amanda later confirmed it by relaying what you told her when she came here. About how you were a part of the cult back then. A part of NIDUS. And about how you were supposed to induct me, or whatever.”
He frowned but didn’t say anything.
“Maybe in retrospect I should’ve realized how little sense it all made. But instead, I just focused on my own guilt. Fixated on my own unwillingness to face you and apologize. But after Mandy told me the truth, I decided I was going to come here. Finally face you. And tell you to go fuck yourself with all the baggage you left on my shoulders. But when that first emotional response receded and I had time to think about it, I realized I was wrong.”
“Huh?”
Another deep breath to calm herself down. “I realized that if it was true that you were part of the cult, then going against their plans must’ve been . . . I guess what I want to say is, I originally just wanted to apologize. For leaving you there. Then, I wanted to beat your face in for betraying me in the first place. And now I realized that I really just want to say thank you.”
His eyebrows arched. “For what?”
“For what happened six years ago, stupid. Just because you were part of the cult, nothing has changed. You still risked yourself to protect me. And there’s no way I can hold a grudge against someone who did something like that. Even if you were a cultist, you’re still a hero.” The words were embarrassing to speak aloud, but their sound was rejuvenating, necessary.
Will shook his head. “Are you kidding? I . . . There’s nothing to thank me for, and I’m definitely not a hero. I mean, I couldn’t just let them—”
“Please,” Spinneretta said. “Don’t argue with me. Just say you’re welcome.”
Something sparkled in his eyes. His lips thinned to a line. The muscles in his cheeks were trying hard not to let him smile. “Fine. You’re welcome.”
Spinneretta showed him a smile of her own and let out a deep sigh that turned into a giggle. Her spider legs felt a few pounds lighter. “Damn. Feels awesome to get that off my chest after all this time.”
He laughed in response. “I can kinda imagine. So, uhh, are you back in the area now or . . . ?”
“Yeah. We’ve been getting the house fixed up for about a week now. It’s been rough. Tonight’s the first night we’re actually staying there. There’s still a bunch of work to do, but . . . Well, Grantwood’s the only home we’ve ever had.”
“That’s cool.” He scratched the back of his neck with one hand, putting his weight upon the opposite crutch. “So, you have plans for the rest of the day?”
“I’ve got a sleepover to attend. I really just wanted to stop by and clear my conscience, is all.”
“Ahh.” He covered his disappointment in a thin sheet of surprise and ambivalence. “That’s cool. Well, never mind then. I was just going to ask if you wanted to grab a coffee somewhere and catch up a bit. Or something. Just for old time’s sake, you know? Maybe tell me about where you’ve been all this time. If you can really look past the whole cult thing, I mean.”
Spinneretta thought about it. It was still early enough in the day that she wouldn’t keep Amanda and Chelsea waiting. And seeing Will brought back so many warm memories that it was hard to just leave, having vomited what remained of her guilt upon his doorstep. Though she was uncertain to what end she could truly trust somebody who once belonged to NIDUS, she knew she no longer had anything to fear. “You know what?” she said. “Yeah. Let’s do that. I’m buying.”
Evening fell over the Warren home. The hustle of endless chores yet undone clattered through the walls. Even up in Spinneretta’s room, the occasional curse from her father flitted unimpeded to her ears. On the TV, the first of four movies Chelsea had brought was playing, though it had already been muted. Fiction, it turned out, scratched no itches anymore.
“And when we got to the Vault,” Arthr said, sitting cross-legged on the thrice-vacuumed but still-mildewy carpet, “the Vants showed up. Like, immediately. There must’ve been two dozen of them, each uglier than the last.”
“Jesus,” Amanda muttered from Spinneretta’s bed. “And I thought one was bad enough.”
Chelsea, who had at some point slipped from the bed and now sat on the floor, leaned forward with wide eyes and rapt attention. “And? What happened then?” Spinneretta found the doey look about her endearing. It had been so damn long since she’d seen it.
Arthr’s gaze flicked up to Spinneretta’s. A hesitance solidified in his neck. “Everything went crazy. Those banana-coats opened fire. Annika started shooting with her venom bullets. The Vants moved like clouds of smoke. And then, one came right for me.”
Spinneretta closed her eyes in an attempt not to roll them. It seemed Arthr was back to his showboating self.
Chelsea leaned yet further forward. “What did you do?”
Again Arthr glanced up at Spinneretta. Sheepish shadows formed beneath his eyes. His features softened. His five chitin legs hovered timidly about his chest. “Nothing. I froze. Even though I had the gun in my hands, I was too scared to do anything. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground and the bastard was strangling me. I’d have been killed if Annika wasn’t there.”
Spinneretta sighed to herself, a mote of pride blooming in her chest. “I’m impressed, you know. I thought for sure you were going to boast that you killed them all yourself.”
He showed her a weak smile. “Come on, Spins. Give me some credit.” His legs snapped into sharp angles around him. “Besides, I’m only five eighths the liar I used to be.”
“That wasn’t even a pun. You’re getting lazy.”
He frowned. “Sorry. You’re right. I guess that one will be a blemish on my leg-acy.”
Spi
nneretta cringed. “Eat popcorn, slime.” She flung a single flake from the bowl at him. It bounced off his nose, and he recoiled with an incredulous half-laugh that took him into a reclined posture.
Amanda reached over into the bowl, a grimace tugging at her lips. “Please don’t waste popcorn.”
“In any case,” Arthr said, looking at the carpet, “I couldn’t do anything. It was just about then that I realized it. Even if they were monsters, something wouldn’t let me kill them. I think I was afraid. Afraid that pulling the trigger would bring me to their level, maybe lower. I had no other way to interpret it. And to think that between living a monster and dying I’d choose death . . . I was really stupid. And that really sat on my mind for a long time after that.”
Chelsea’s eyes seemed to glisten. She was leaning so far toward Arthr she was practically crawling. Her previous vocal complaints about the carpet were now distant memories. “Did it hurt? When the monster attacked you?”
The air seemed to grow heavy. The lingering smell of new paint receded beneath something heavier. Hesitation, from both Chelsea and Arthr. Apprehension. Spinneretta swallowed hard. “Hey, Mandy,” she said, slipping off the bed. “Come help me order some pizza.”
“Help?”
“Yeah. There should be some coupons hiding in the mess in the kitchen.”
Amanda nodded and stood up. One hand shifted to her side, and she hobbled out the door behind her.
Spinneretta shut the door softly with one of her appendages. “Full disclosure: this is a ruse.”
“I figured you just wanted to give them some privacy.”
“Want is a strong word. It’s just that if things get sticky, I don’t want to see it.”
The walls of the upstairs hallway ran with dark stains that dripped from somewhere further up. The floorboards bowed and bent on either side, and a couple rust-eaten nails had come loose. Spinneretta wondered when the proper repairs were going to get up to the second floor.
Tatters of the King (The Warren Brood Book 3) Page 75