The Spider Goddess

by Tara Moss

Oh boy.

  It was time I bolted.

  Fast.

  I sped down Addams Avenue at a half-jog, still expecting to be grabbed by one of Athanasia’s cohorts at any moment. By the time I reached Celia’s penthouse I felt I’d run a marathon. I knocked and then threw myself inside, panting.

  ‘Darling, is everything okay?’ Great-Aunt Celia called out from her chair. Freyja was asleep on the hassock next to her stocking-clad feet. I didn’t pause to say hi.

  ‘Um, excuse me for a moment,’ I replied, and disappeared quickly into my room. I closed the door behind me and leaned back against it. My satchel slid to the hardwood floor at my feet. I’d never felt such profound relief to be safely in my room. Even with all that had happened since I’d moved to Spektor, I’d never really considered returning to my stifling hometown of Gretchenville. And now I wondered – really wondered – if I was up for this strange new life. I was going to have to arm myself with more than garlic bread if I was going to stick around. A wooden stake wouldn’t do either, I’d learned. I’d once staked Athanasia (as I kept being reminded) and Celia had calmly explained that stakes were only utilised to hold vampires still while you performed the rest of the ritual – head removal, stuffing mouth with garlic, et cetera. Yuck. I was no vampire slayer. I couldn’t exactly wander the New York subway system with an axe at the ready.

  Something large – perhaps a bird – flew past my bedroom window, and I shut the curtains. I made a beeline for my ensuite and washed my hands once, twice, three times, until I couldn’t smell the garlic anymore, and the sight of Athanasia’s melting face was, for the moment, out of my mind. I pushed my hair off my face and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were large and a little terrified. This was becoming a regular look for me.

  I can’t keep doing this.

  I leaned on the sink with my shoulders hunched. Some help talking to Deus had been. I’d just known it would only make matters worse. And what about Athanasia stealing those things from Skye’s office? Was she trying to get me fired? That figured. I’d been the reason she’d lost her job. But it was hardly fair to compare such things when my job was legitimate and hers had involved procuring virgin blood. And virgins.

  ‘Horrible,’ I muttered aloud.

  I hate Sanguine. I hate them!

  ‘Why won’t they all leave me alone!’ I cried in a fit of frustration and leaned my forehead against the cool mirror. Something caught my eye in the reflection, pulling me out of my spasm of self-pity. The wall behind me was turning white. No, it wasn’t the wall . . . it was the air behind me. I felt a cool mist gather at my back.

  ‘Miss Pandora?’ Lieutenant Luke said, even before he’d fully materialised. His handsome face appeared, but he looked disturbingly faint in the mirror reflection. He was a poor, see-through version of himself. I turned around quickly in a panic, but, outside of the mirror, I was relieved to see he looked less amorphous. I hugged him and clung to his chest. He felt solid enough to embrace, and for a while I did exactly that. His chest felt firm under my cheek, his uniform crisp and spotless under my skin. He brought a hand up to gently stroke the back of my hair.

  ‘Miss Pandora, are you okay?’ he asked.

  I slid my arms down around his waist, hands resting against the leather belt that cinched his frockcoat tight.

  ‘Miss Pandora, you aren’t going to leave, are you?’

  I shut my eyes tightly, and warm tears gathered in my lashes. ‘Just hold me,’ I whispered.

  We stood there for a while. I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

  There was a knock on the door of my room.

  I sighed. Celia would be wondering if I was okay. It was unlike me to lock myself in my room. I disengaged from Luke’s comforting hold, and stepped out of the bathroom.

  ‘Celia?’

  ‘Yes, darling, it’s me,’ she said through the door.

  For some reason I was overcome with a guilty urge to hide Lieutenant Luke, as if I were a teenager caught with a boy in my room. But Luke was no boy, and I was the only one who could see him. It was times like these when I felt fresh sadness at Luke’s otherness. He was real to me, yet I knew we lived in very different worlds. I could never do things with him that I could do with a normal, living guy. We could never walk down the street holding hands. We could never go to a movie. I could never introduce him to my friends. (Not that I really had many.) I could never introduce him to Celia. And there were . . . other things, too – other things any normal woman craved. With Luke, those dreams were impossible.

  It would have been nice to have known him as a man.

  Luke materialised at the doorway to the ensuite and we exchanged glances. I arranged myself on the edge of my bed. ‘Please come in,’ I said. I grabbed one of the vintage Vogue magazines Celia had stacked on my bedside table for inspiration, and placed it in my lap as if I’d been reading.

  The door opened. ‘Darling, I can see you are distressed,’ she said. ‘May I sit?’

  I nodded. ‘Of course.’

  My stylish great-aunt had a special glow about her, I noticed. Beneath her omnipresent veil, her pale skin was luminous. She had reapplied her scarlet lipstick and was wearing a pair of fine leather gloves that added an extra layer of glamour to her outfit. Once again, it looked like she was ready for an important night out with the likes of Cary Grant or Humphrey Bogart at some divine house party or cool jazz bar.

  ‘You look lovely,’ I said. I was reluctant to tell her about my problems with Athanasia, in case she spoke to Deus again and things became even worse.

  ‘You have a visitor,’ she told me calmly.

  I have a visitor?

  ‘Deus is here.’

  I got a little chill. Luke frowned and looked at Celia, who naturally did not return his gaze.

  ‘I think you know why,’ she finished.

  The garlic bread incident. Word travels fast.

  ‘It’s important that you sort this out now,’ she said gently.

  I took a sharp intake of breath. I was still too shaken. I wasn’t ready for visitors. I certainly wasn’t ready for the likes of Deus, and his strange, hypnotic face.

  Luke furrowed his brow. He moved close and set a protective hand on my shoulder. My great-aunt could not see him, nor could she hear him say, ‘Are you sure that’s necessary?’

  ‘Um, are you sure that’s necessary?’ I asked Celia, hyper-aware of the strangeness of the moment. She knew I had a ghostly friend, but she didn’t know he was right next to me. Should I tell her, out of courtesy? I wondered.

  ‘I’m afraid it is necessary,’ Celia responded. ‘It’s better to resolve this.’

  I knew there was no point in trying to argue. ‘I’ll need a few minutes to get ready,’ I said.

  ‘Take a little while if you need to, dear. Oh, and tell your friend – he is here, isn’t he? – tell him it would be best if you went in alone.’

  My face went hot so fast it must have turned purple.

  Instinctively, I looked up at Luke. Celia followed my gaze but looked through him to the wardrobe. She’d told me that seeing spirits was not one of her gifts, yet somehow she knew he was there. Perhaps it had been our voices before she knocked. More likely, she’d read my mind.

  Ten minutes later I emerged reasonably composed. I’d cleaned my teeth, run a brush through my long, naturally light brown hair, and taken a few deep breaths. Luke was still in my room, and when I walked out the door I glanced back and noticed that he had started pacing. It was kind of sweet, I thought.

  ‘You are quite fond of your friend, aren’t you?’ Celia said in a low voice as I joined her.

  ‘I am,’ I replied, with a heavy feeling of sadness. I knew Lieutenant Luke was real, or as real as spirits could be, and yet he wasn’t a real man.

  ‘And he has been helpful to you, hasn’t he?’ Celia gently prodded.

  ‘Yes,’ I answered.

  ‘He’s handsome. I know that much,’ she said, and I blushed again. ‘Tell me,
how is he dressed? Is he in uniform?’

  I nodded. ‘He died in the Civil War. He was a second lieutenant in the Lincoln Cavalry. I sometimes think he understands something of what is going on, something of the same things you’ve been telling me.’

  ‘That’s very good,’ she said and fell into a mode of quiet contemplation for a moment. I wished I could read her mind as she seemed able to read mine. She placed her gloved hands on each of my wrists. The slim-fitting leather was soft. ‘We will discuss this later. Deus will see you now.’

  I followed her into the kitchen and she handed me the silver tray, already neatly prepared with all the fixings for tea. I was relieved to see there were three cups this time. She moved down the hall towards her private quarters, and I followed at her heels. She opened the door with her key. The small room was candlelit again, and chairs were set out. Deus was already there, and he rose to greet us. He was again dressed in a suit, and his hair was perfectly coiffured. To my complete and utter horror, however, he was not alone.

  Athanasia.

  No!

  ‘Go on,’ Great-Aunt Celia whispered, and encouraged me forward. Like an automaton I walked down the little stone steps carrying the tray. Celia shut the door behind me, and for a moment I thought I might have a severe attack of claustrophobia – something I’d been feeling a bit lately. The feeling probably had something to do with being locked in a confined space with two vampires; one who was ancient and held some mesmerising power over me, and the other who had very recently tried to rip my throat out. How could my great-aunt do this to me?

  Deus gave me a cordial, cool-skinned handshake, and grinned his eternal Kathakano grin. ‘Pandora, thank you so much for seeing me again. You remember Athanasia.’

  I nodded numbly. Yes, I certainly remembered her.

  ‘Let me take that,’ he said, relieving me of the tray. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ he said, as if it wasn’t Celia who had thought of providing the tea. ‘Please take a seat, if you will.’

  I noticed that the low, circular table between the seats was carved with a pentagram. I took a step and stopped.

  Athanasia’s appearance was quite shocking. Even under the dim illumination of flattering candlelight I could see that one half of her face was terribly scarred and pitted where the garlic bread had made contact. She had her arms tightly crossed, and her legs too. Her jaw was set. Her black eyes were fierce and red-rimmed. I found myself staring at her ruined skin. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

  ‘Please take a seat, Pandora,’ Deus instructed for a second time.

  There was an empty chair close to the door. I bent my knees and sat in it very slowly, instinctively avoiding sudden movements, as if Athanasia were a wild panther or a wolf that might lunge at any moment. I ended up perched on the edge of the cushion. After a moment I automatically patted my pocket for rice, but of course I hadn’t brought any with me. That was an oversight. But how could I have known that my nemesis would be in the room? How did she even get in here? I guessed this chamber wasn’t part of the original penthouse, hence the steps and the stone walls and floor. Was it a kind of antechamber leading between the penthouse and some other area? Had Athanasia come in through the coffin with Deus? Was my great-aunt safe with all these Sanguine crawling around this end of the mansion?

  ‘Now, as you can see, Pandora, Athanasia has sustained an injury to her face,’ Deus began with unnaturally polite charm.

  I looked at her again while she fumed silently. Her scars resembled melted plastic. Or pizza. I wondered how long they might take to heal. Or did Sanguine not heal as quickly as vampires did in the movies? She’d survived my staking rather well, I thought. I was also quite sure it would take her a lot less time to heal from my garlic bread application than it would for me to heal from her lethal fangs.

  ‘Yes,’ I finally replied to Deus, though the word barely came out. ‘I can see that.’

  ‘She tells me you are responsible for this injury.’

  I gaped. ‘Responsible? She tried to kill me tonight when I got off the subway! She came after me with her friends.’

  ‘Is this true?’ Deus asked Athanasia in a level voice.

  ‘We were talking,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘Talking? Sure.’ I shook my head.

  ‘Why were you at the subway station?’ Deus asked her.

  ‘Coincidence. We got on the same train.’

  Oh please.

  ‘I seriously doubt it was coincidence and she certainly wasn’t keen for a simple chat,’ I said. ‘She tried to kill me.’

  It was like being in the school principal’s office. Only the principal was undead, and smiling strangely. He had also probably just risen from the casket in the floor. I hated to think what kind of detention he could give us.

  Athanasia kept her arms crossed and her eyes averted. I knew Deus was very powerful, and if Athanasia was going to listen to anyone it would be him, but the idea that she was going to confess the truth to him seemed surreal. As if Athanasia had one honest bone in her undead body!

  ‘You meant to feed on her?’ he prodded her.

  ‘That wasn’t all,’ I said, interrupting. ‘Not like that would be okay either . . . Athanasia tried to kill me. Simple.’

  ‘Oh please. This is pathetic,’ Athanasia said.

  I crossed my arms. ‘She’s been stealing from my place of work, too. The Chanel jewellery she’s wearing right now, and some fake tattoos I saw on her the other day. She stole them. She wants me to lose my job.’

  At that Athanasia jumped up from her chair and pointed an accusing finger at me.

  I swallowed a scream and almost jumped out of my own chair in fright. She was positively terrifying in close proximity. I wanted to leap up and flee the room.

  ‘She staked me,’ Athanasia yelled. ‘She killed my employer, and she staked me!’

  It was true.

  ‘In self-defence,’ I managed to say. ‘How many times do I have to explain this? Self-defence.’

  I could see she was getting fired up. Her fangs began to show – big, white fangs. But I wasn’t scared now. I wasn’t going to back down. I kept my arms crossed and held her hard gaze.

  ‘We have discussed this, Athanasia,’ Deus said calmly, and her accusing finger closed into her fist. She seemed to deflate under his influence, and eventually she sat down and folded her arms again. Her fangs slipped back beneath her lips.

  There was a stretch of deeply tense silence before Athanasia spoke up again, this time with less vehement certainty. ‘Come on. She can’t be the Seventh,’ she said. ‘Look at her.’ But the words only seemed to deflate her further, or perhaps it was the steady gaze she received from Deus. Finally she slumped in the chair, chastened into silence.

  What did my being the Seventh have to do with this?

  ‘Athanasia will not harm you,’ Deus said, as if the conversation were over.

  ‘Good,’ I replied. ‘I also need her to stop stealing things from my work.’

  He turned to Athanasia, but she said nothing. Her full lips were pulled tight into a grimace.

  ‘And you won’t disfigure her again?’ he said.

  ‘I will defend myself if I’m attacked,’ I replied in a firm tone. ‘But she needs to take off that stolen jewellery she’s wearing right now and give it back.’ I held out my hand.

  At this Athanasia sat up in her chair and raised her eyes to me. A cold, calculating smile pulled her plump lips tight. ‘This isn’t stolen. It’s a gift,’ she replied, touching her manicured hand to the enamel pieces around her throat.

  A gift?

  ‘Whom are you feeding off?’ Deus asked her.

  ‘That’s none of her business.’

  I remembered something. ‘You’re feeding on my boss, aren’t you? You’re feeding on Skye!’

  The scarves Skye kept wearing around her neck every day. Her tardiness coming to work. Her pallor.

  Athanasia was smiling at me. ‘It’s not like I attack her. She comes to me.�
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  My goodness, Skye was the mortal Luke had seen in the building that night. Athanasia must have hypnotised her and turned Skye into her personal meal service!

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ I pulled a face in disgust.

  Deus’s strange, mesmerising smile didn’t falter. He didn’t seem surprised.

  ‘You knew about this?’ I blurted, and then held my tongue. Of course he knows.

  ‘Non-lethal feeding is encouraged,’ he said.

  I blinked. Right. Better than the alternative. I get it.

  I felt my strength rise up. ‘I don’t wish to encourage lethal feeding, far from it, but is there any way you could get her to leave my boss alone? And maybe even leave me alone, while we’re at it?’ I narrowed my eyes at Athanasia. ‘And she’d better not think that is the worst I’m capable of,’ I said, gesturing to her disfigured face. ‘I am the Seventh.’ I’d never said those words aloud, and honestly I didn’t quite know what they meant, but Celia had said it was an important title, and it seemed to have some impact on both of them. They were listening.

  Athanasia’s dark eyes grew wide, and she quickly looked down.

  ‘Athanasia will stop feeding off your boss,’ Deus said.

  ‘Good.’

  The deflated look on Athanasia’s face was priceless. She must have really thought she’d hit the jackpot when she’d sunk her teeth into Skye – a meal service and a direct line to free fashion samples. And Skye couldn’t remember any of it. Terrible. Athanasia might still be a Fledgling, but she appeared to be good at hypnotism.

  I held my hand out. ‘The jewellery.’

  Begrudging every moment, Athanasia undid the strands of Chanel jewellery around her neck and handed them to Deus, who placed them gently in my hand.

  ‘And you promise not to disfigure her again?’ he said.

  Her face really did look rather bad. The misshapen and pitted skin glowed with a painful red hue in the candlelight. ‘Only if she promises not to try to kill me. And if she leaves me and my boss alone.’

  ‘Will you do this, Athanasia?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Then it’s decided.’