False Gods

by Nazri Noor

  “You should know that we still don’t trust you, Sadriel. Not by a long shot.”

  “Understood,” she said, pressing her clipboard to her chest, her expression neutral and unruffled. “In the meantime I shall resolve to avoid antagonizing you further.” She pushed her pen up into her bottom lip, eyes gazing at the sky, then quickly scribbled into her clipboard. “No more attacks, perhaps. That would help. No more threats.” She muttered to herself as she wrote, her pen working so fast that it was a wonder the clipboard didn’t just burst into flames.

  “So,” I said, reaching out to the Vestments, requesting a slender dagger. “If we’re done here?”

  “Yes, yes,” Sadriel said impatiently, her hand now a blur as it took more and more of her copious notes. “Go on with your business, then.”

  “Right,” I said, just as the warm metal of a dagger materialized between my fingers. “Florian, open up one of those fortune cookies, would you?”

  He did as I requested, the plastic rustling as he tore the wrapper open. I didn’t need to tell him to crush the cookie into little shards, to put the mess into the center of the circle.

  “And for reference,” I said, holding the point of the dagger up to my finger, “here’s the last step. The final ingredient.”

  I pushed, inhaling sharply as I felt the prick of the dagger against my skin. Squeezing on the end of my finger, I let the single drop of blood fall into the circle among the broken pieces of fortune cookie. It hissed and smoked as it struck the pavement, the sign that the communion had worked.

  The little octagon glyph painted onto the brick wall shuddered, then rapidly expanded into an oval of shimmering gossamer gray. Whereas the portal to Artemis’s realm was shaped and colored like a leaf, the gate to Arachne’s very much looked like a constantly spinning spider web.

  And it felt like one too, I noticed, just as I stepped in. “Exactly like walking through spider webs,” I told Florian behind me, trying not to get too unsettled by the feeling of sticky, silky threads adhering, then tearing from my skin.

  “Kind of gross,” Florian said, his arms held out to his sides like he was playing at being an airplane. “But kind of cool, too. I’m into it.”

  I chuckled. Florian was into a lot of weird things. I hoped he was ready for whatever we were about to encounter in Arachne’s domicile, though. I hoped we were both ready.

  Spoiler alert: I was not.

  The last traces of Valero’s warmth died from my skin and hair as we stepped into the spider-queen’s home, a cavern lit in odd spots by flames that burned a sickly jade green. The part that bothered me the most, though, wasn’t the pale woman with the lower body and abdomen of a massive spider. It wasn’t the thousands of her arachnid children skittering across the floors and walls, either.

  No, what had the sweat trickling down my back was the enormous web stretched like a lace net across the entirety of the domicile, a silvery-gray canopy over which more of Arachne’s thousand thousand young crawled and frolicked.

  Even Florian’s footsteps felt more hesitant. But if there was one thing I learned from Carver, it was to show a confident face to the entities, even in times of uncertainty or fear. They could smell it on you, he taught me and the others. Weakness. And that was the very last thing you wanted an entity to know about you: that you were vulnerable, or soft, or afraid.

  Arachne’s head, covered in an exquisite veil that trailed to the ground, turned slowly at the sound of our approach.

  “Ah,” she breathed, her voice filling the vastness of her chamber. “Mason Albrecht, the nephilim, and his companion, the alraune, Florian.”

  “Thank you for welcoming us,” I said, inflecting my voice with both strength and reverence, a tough balance to strike when you’re worried about stepping on one of your host’s eight-legged children, or equally as concerning, worried about them crawling up your pants leg.

  “Why, it’s my pleasure.” Arachne tilted her head just enough to let the veils fall partway past her mouth, revealing the glint of greenish light on her wet fangs. “Come into my parlor.”

  22

  We’d caught the spider-queen in the middle of doing – well, I wasn’t sure what, exactly. Her legs were carrying her around the underside of the great web, her head raised as she trailed her fingers along its length. On closer inspection, I could just see filaments of silk dangling from the web, and little spiders hanging from the ends. They were glimmering, too.

  “I hope we haven’t intruded,” I said, careful to be respectful. “It seems that you’re very busy just now.”

  Arachne smiled again, then spun slowly in place, her face turned up to the web above us. “It is no great concern, nephilim, I am merely doing what I always do. A little maintenance, if you will. A woman’s work is never done, or something to that effect, whatever it is you humans like to say.” She paused just then, bringing her hands together, favoring me with an odd grin. “Ah, but I hope you do not take offense to me calling you a human.”

  “None taken,” I said, approaching slowly, the bag of fortune cookies rustling in my hand. “I’ve been human longer than I’ve been an angel, if that makes sense. I’m still figuring out that part of myself.”

  Arachne chuckled, a sound that was both wondrous and frightening. She raised her hand to the strands of dangling silk, collecting one of the sparkling spiders. “Yes, that is true. My children told me that you’d only just learned to fly. What a fascinating gift that must be.”

  My legs almost locked in place, but I pressed on, not wanting to show Arachne that her awareness had caught me off guard. The Fuck-Tons weren’t kidding. The spider-queen had eyes and ears everywhere, even in that distant, unnamed meadow that Raziel had taken me to.

  “I’m not sure it’s for me,” I said, laughing softly. “It might take some getting used to, assuming I ever try again.”

  This time I was just feet away from Arachne, and the closeness really impressed upon me the difference in our size. While her torso was indeed that of a human woman, her spider half was tremendous, each leg as thick and as long as a spear, each ending in a chitinous spike. One of those things through my body and I was a goner, guaranteed.

  “For you, Arachne.” I held out the fortune cookies, lowering my head in reverence as I did. Hey, my momma taught me to be a good boy, but Carver taught me to commune right.

  “How charming the nephilim is,” Arachne said, tittering as she reached out for the bag. “How sweet is the princeling.”

  My skin crawled when she said the word. Arachne really did know everything. She smiled again as she took the bag from me, all eight of her eyes just visible through the gauze of her delicate veils. And up close, I understood why the spiders in the canopy, and the one on her hand, were sparkling. Each had a little gemstone embedded in its back, each a different color of the rainbow.

  “Arachne thanks you.”

  I bowed my head again, backing up, then promptly bumping into the front of Florian’s body. I looked over my shoulder at him, glaring pointedly. “Dude. Come on.”

  “I was curious,” he whispered hurriedly. “Sorry.”

  Arachne laughed. “Approach, Florian. There is nothing to be afraid of. Curiosity never killed anyone.”

  Except the cat, I thought. She really did have this way of leaving out the choicest parts of idioms and proverbs and quotes. Come into my parlor, indeed.

  “Sorry,” Florian said, stepping up to the queen. Again, I’d say something about how he really should be more worried about his ass, but we were way past that now. “Only these little spiders are so pretty. How did you get those jewels into their stomachs?”

  The veils over Arachne’s face rustled as she laughed. “What a wonderful question. It took much experimentation, of course, but these secret-spiders are among the most valuable of my children. Each jewel records pertinent information for me. My offspring, as much as I love them, do still have imperfect memories and limited capacities for communication. This way, the delivery of knowledge is
convenient. Instantaneous.”

  The sapphire in the secret-spider’s back glimmered and shone as it skittered its way up Arachne’s arm, then her neck, finally settling on her earlobe, where it clung with all eight legs like an elegant and truly very odd earring. Arachne lowered her head, as if she was listening.

  “Ah,” she said, smiling. “For example, this little one has just informed me that you desire assistance. You wish to locate the presence of a special sword. A very special sword indeed.”

  I locked eyes with Florian, though the two of us were wearing very different expressions. Mine was filled with alarm and concern. He was just dumbstruck, eyes huge, a dopey smile on his face as he slowly grasped the extent and reach of Arachne’s power.

  “This I won’t deny, Arachne,” I said. “We definitely need your help finding Mistleteinn.”

  Her fingers worked quickly to unwrap, then crack open one of the fortune cookies. “And find it you shall. Allow me to consult the web.” She laughed at her own joke, then reached up to the canopy again, tugging on a nearly invisible strand of silk like she was ringing a dinner bell, though nothing sounded. Then she inspected the slip of paper inside her cookie. “Look at the pointless wisdom contained in these treats. ‘You are capable of great acts of kindness.’ Oh, how simply terrible and untrue!”

  Arachne cackled delightedly before she crammed the broken cookie pieces into her mouth, crunching noisily with her fangs. I wasn’t sure how to fill the silence, though I did notice another glimmering spider descend from the ceiling. This one bore a yellowish-orange jewel, maybe citrine, or amber, Carver’s favorite. The spider did the same as the sapphire one, clambering up to the opposite earlobe to deliver its secrets to its mother.

  “How interesting,” Arachne said. “This one tells me that you will find the blade Mistleteinn in – ah. Yes. This might necessitate a brief journey away from Valero. You must go to Los Angeles.”

  I started. “What? But LA’s massive. Where would we even start looking?”

  Arachne reached into her bag of fortune cookies, retrieved one, apparently at random, then flung it at me. I caught it in one hand, the confusion plain on my face.

  “Open it later,” she said. “You will find the address there.”

  What? I glanced down at the fortune cookie, still entombed in its wrapper, and started to protest. “But – I – how did you even – ”

  Florian’s hand gripped me firmly by the shoulder, reassuring. “I think we should just roll with it, buddy. Best not to question how any of this stuff works.”

  “The alraune speaks the truth.” Arachne turned her back on us, continuing her circuit of the web, reaching out at intervals to collect and deposit secret-spiders in every color of the gemstone spectrum. “Now, if you’re quite satisfied, gentlemen, I must return to my work.”

  I bowed my head briefly, hissing for Florian to do the same. “Thank you for your time and your help, Arachne. You’ve been most gracious.”

  We hadn’t taken three steps towards the gossamer exit from the chamber when Arachne spoke again. “Oh, nephilim, before you go. What have you heard of my sweetling? My beloved Dustin Graves?”

  Ah. I should have expected her to ask about him. Dustin was her favorite, so much that Arachne would infiltrate the dimensional walls of the Boneyard just to talk to him, whether for important matters or just to chitchat.

  “I thought you would know better than I do. I’ve heard nothing. I left the Boneyard after he did what he had to do to save us. He’s gone.”

  She stared at me in silence for some seconds, then nodded. “What a pity. He truly must have thought it necessary to sacrifice himself, then. I do so miss my little sweetling.” Arachne shook her head sadly and smiled, her veils dancing with the rush of her breath. “Do visit when you can. It can be quite lonesome in this place.”

  I smiled at her, feeling a little twist of pity for the strange spider-woman. “We’ll try, Arachne. We definitely will.”

  She smiled back. “One final thing, Mason Albrecht. It is my understanding that you wish to find not only Mistleteinn, but another blade as well. The one called Laevateinn.”

  Again I struggled to maintain my composure. “Yes, actually,” I said. “We need it for – well, that’s not important. It only matters that we find it, too.”

  “In that case,” she said in a sibilant voice, the last half of the sentence missing, as always. There it was. I knew there was a catch.

  I flinched in alarm when her hands landed on the crown of my head, then slid down, fingers splaying across my face, her palm up against my brow. My words came out muffled. “I. Sorry. What’s happening?”

  “A final gift.”

  It was at once the creepiest and the most sensual feeling I’d ever encountered, this sensation of little threads warping and wrapping across my head. They settled there into what felt like the lightest hood, or a shroud. A veil. Arachne removed her hand, and the tickling feel of invisible silks was gone.

  “Okay. What just happened?” I blinked at her. “I’m not sure if anything’s changed.”

  “Call it a boon, nephilim. I’ve given you a small dose of my own magics, a mystic gossamer screen through which you will find the bearer of that most important sword. A Veil of Surveillance, if you will.” She tittered again at her own joke.

  “So this is supposed to help us find Laevateinn?” I said, pressing my fingers against my face, finding nothing but skin.

  “And find it you shall,” Arachne said. “But I would caution you to take care when attempting to retrieve this second sword.”

  I raised one eyebrow, curious. “Why? Is it hidden somewhere dangerous?”

  “Not quite,” Arachne said, steepling her fingers, smiling. “It is hidden by someone dangerous. My children have told me. Quilliam J. Abernathy. Have you heard the name?”

  23

  “Calm down,” Florian said, stumbling after me as I stalked out of the alleyway that contained Arachne’s tether. “Mason? Seriously, slow down at least. You’re scaring me.”

  Night had fallen on Valero, and the air was cooler, crisp, but it did nothing to soothe my flaring temper. Quilliam had a ton of strikes against him now. Attempting to entrap and kidnap me was one thing. But trying to blow me and Florian up, and now taking the sword that would at once put me in a powerful god’s good graces and earn me the cash I needed to go arcane incognito?

  “I’m gonna cave his skull in.” My arms swung like pendulums as I stalked the sidewalk, Little China already desolate except for some stray citizens out in search of dinner. “I’m going to enjoy rearranging that stupid fucking face of his.”

  “Okay, buddy. I’m all down for that, and I’m with you. Quill is a monumental jerk. But shouldn’t we think about this first, settle down a little? We don’t know where the guy is, and there’s really no rush to head all the way out to LA this late at night.”

  I whirled on my heel. Florian almost bumped into me, stopping short as I turned to confront him. He was at least a full head taller than me, but I was as big as skyscrapers when I got pissed. It was clear from the expression on Florian’s face that I looked the part, too, the glow of the glyphs on my skin reflecting in his eyes.

  “No. I’m sick and tired of being a magnetic vortex for all these supernatural idiots. I’ll cut up and smash every single one that comes looking for a fight, but if there’s a way to stop the flow, then I’m going to build the dam, damn it.”

  Florian twiddled his thumbs. “Bunch of mixed metaphors there, buddy.”

  “Shut up. I’m taking the next bus out to LA. Gonna smash some doors in, break some windows, steal Mistleteinn, and then I’m out of there. You can join me, or you can stay here and bite your nails. I don’t care.”

  I made another one-eighty, heading down the sidewalk again, feeling bad about being nasty to the one friend I had left in all of Valero, but I knew I was right. I would never be able to cut off the stream of demons and angels and entities at its source. The best option was to disap
pear outright. And I meant what I said, too. I enjoy making things break and bleed as much as the next battle-crazed nephilim, but I couldn’t hold off heaven and hell forever.

  “Well, I’m coming with.” Florian’s feet stomped after me, like I knew they would. He was a good friend, and I would have to be better at reminding him of that. “I’m not letting you go alone, even if you’re being a jerk. But let’s at least stop somewhere for dinner.”

  My pace slowed to let Florian catch up with me, and I breathed in carefully, knowing I’d been too harsh. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I’m an ass. And dinner sounds great. It’ll have to be someplace cheap. I love everything Priscilla makes for us, but it’s been a good while since I’ve had a nice, classic steak. Seared on the outside, and just all good and bloody.”

  “Mmm. I love bloody.”

  That wasn’t Florian’s voice.

  The leaves above us rustled and I leapt away in time as a blur of something silvery and beetle-black fell from the trees. Dropped out of them, rather, in a deliberate, premeditated way. The thing moved so fast that at first I thought it was a creature with a wet black hide, but my senses caught up long enough to focus on the fact that it was just a man in a leather jacket and pants. A very slender, very pale man, at that.

  Uh-oh. Vampire.

  Florian exploded into a tangle of flying fists and feet as he fought off the vampire, but the creature kept darting around him, moving in a lightning-quick circle as it hissed and snarled. The bastard was hungry, clearly, and it worried me to wonder how much faster it could move if it was fully fed.

  I cupped my hands over my mouth, shouting to make myself heard over the vampire’s unsettling ululations. “Florian, just call on your nature magic and swat the thing out of the way. We don’t have time for this.”