THE BAZAAR (The Devany Miller Series)

by Jen Ponce

  Kill her.

  I jerked. I knew that voice. The spider wasn't dead after all. Fuck.

  It made a noise not unlike the sound of dried insect carcasses blowing across a sidewalk and I realized it was laughing. Oh lord. “Get out of me.”

  The spider shifted and my entire body filled with pressure. I may have squeaked as the pain blinded me with its intensity. Just when I thought I would start screaming the pain eased, leaving me trembling. Can't leave. Will stay and help you, weak creature.

  How the hell had I gotten so lucky?

  Spider laughter filled me once more.

  The woman was carrying her daughter back toward her son, who had his thumb in his mouth and a look on his face that announced his intention to cry very soon. As she got closer, I said, “Is she okay?”

  The woman nodded, her face strained. “I think it was a bee sting. She has a big red welt. We'll get you home and fix you up, Sophie baby.” She herded her son along ahead of her, talking softly to them both the whole way to the car. I admired her calm in the face of chaos.

  The peacefulness of the park ruined, I headed back home. Mrs. Culpepper was still outside and guilt tugged me into asking if she needed help.

  “Thank you, dear, but no. I do this to keep myself from atrophying. Flat butt syndrome,” she said, with a smile. “Are you okay? You look a mite upset.”

  The pressure behind my eyes increased as if my tears had been waiting for permission to spring forth. “Hard day.”

  She nodded as if she'd had a thousand hard days and knew just what I was feeling. “A nice cup of tea. A good book. A good cry. If you need to talk, come on over. It's been a few weeks since we sat down together.”

  “I will.” My throat was closing up. I had to get home before I bawled like a baby. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, sweetheart.”

  I hurried home, the tears wetting my face all over again. I locked myself in and leaned against the door, unwilling to go further inside. Our wedding picture hung further down, the kids' pictures from school. Family pictures.

  God, this sucked. It sucked because the person I would normally go to was Tom. My mom had died several years ago, my dad lived in a cabin in Colorado and my brother Travis was off making his fortune living dangerously in Alaska. I had a few friends but I didn't want to call them about this. What if I had it all wrong? What if I decided to forgive him if I was right? This was awful and embarrassing. If I told anyone, I couldn't take it back and it might push me into making a decision I wasn't sure I wanted to make.

  I finally persuaded myself to move. I walked up the stairs as if I were as old as Margery. Our room wasn't a comfort either; every bit of it jabbed at me. The headboard—Tom and I made it ourselves and it looked it, but we'd had so much fun putting the damned thing together. The dresser from his mother. The antique mirror from mine. Pieces that didn't match but were part of our family's history.

  I crossed to the dresser and lifted the necklace I'd gotten from Marantha. Lover's balm, she'd said, as if she'd known I would need it. I slipped it on and the ache that had been thrumming inside me eased.

  I took a breath without pain.

  How had she known?

  I fell onto the bed and curled around the pillows, staring at the headboard in hurt fascination. How had it come to this? The night he proposed, he promised me he would always be faithful. When had he forgotten that promise?

  Mates only good for two things. Sex. Then food.

  Its chittering sound crawled over my skin like a thousand tiny spiders until I scrambled off the bed, brushing at myself. “Leave me alone.”

  She does not need your help, chythraul.

  “Now you show up. Can't you make her go away or something?”

  I do not think I can.

  Of course not. “Okay, then what was that thing in the park?”

  Her utter fear made my knees weak and I sat on the bed before I fell to the floor. Something worse than Tytan Serce. Something worse by far.

  Oh goody.

  FOUR

  She's an Originator. She made Tytan. I've never seen the like but I've heard about them. Even the Skriven are afraid of them.”

  “What does she want with me?” Because she was interested. I could tell that much. Had it been my vision that caught her attention?

  I do not know the answer to any of those questions. You saw her before?

  “Yeah, though I wish you would stay out of my thoughts, if you can.” Knowing she could read my mind made me worry she could see all the bad things I'd ever done. Damn it.

  My apologies.

  I waved it away. “I saw her after I tried that magic sugar. I was pulling power from her but I was a mosquito to her giant.” I wrapped my arms around my waist and stared out the window. I could see Mrs. Culpepper's house. She was still outside, the lemon yellow of her hat the brightest spot in her yard. My inner companion didn't have any answers so I asked the spider. “You know anything, chythraul?”

  Neutria.

  The spider had a name? All righty. “Neutria?”

  Powerful foe. Good hunting.

  I rolled my eyes. Great. A spider with a name and a big ego. “You think you could take a demon goddess?”

  The spider roared inside me and I clutched my head at the sound. I wasn't sure what was more ridiculous—the idea that a spider could roar or that it thought it could take something akin to a demon god.

  The phone rang. I picked up the handset and sighed, Tom's number on the screen. “Hello?”

  “Devany, please don't hang up on me.”

  I clutched the phone but didn't say anything.

  “I want you to hear me out. Please. For my sake. For Bethy and Liam.”

  I laid my hand on the necklace, forcing my lungs to take in deep, slow breaths of air instead of angry gasps.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” he started and I snorted.

  “No, you never meant to get caught.” The words were out before I could stuff them down. I cursed myself. Control. High road. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

  “I'm so sorry.” His voice caught. Funny thing was I could still hear the roar of the crowd in the background. He was sorry but he was still at the game, not in the car on the way home to beg his forgiveness.

  “I can't do this right now.”

  “I'll come right home and we'll—”

  “No. Please don't. I can't see you right now. Don't come home 'til tomorrow.” I thought if I could get a handle on all this raw emotion running through me, if I had a day to process it, I'd be okay. I know, that wasn't realistic. This wasn't a forgotten birthday or hurt feelings. This was a betrayal of our life together. And fuck it hurt.

  “You won't do something crazy like leave me, will you? I don't think I could live without you, Dev.”

  He was crying now, I heard it in his voice. One part of me wanted to comfort him. A colder part wondered if the woman he was sleeping with would comfort him later. “I don't know what to think or do. I feel like there's an empty spot in my chest where my heart used to be and you're the one who punched the hole.” Crazy as it was, that didn't feel like an exaggeration. “I'm going to go. I don't want to talk to you right now.” I put the phone back on the charger and turned back to the window.

  The day was a long, slow hell. I ate and cried, raged and cried, napped and cried. My face was a swollen, wet mess. It didn't help that the terror of Friday night, especially the pale, fevered faces of the kid and redhead who'd been chained alongside me, kept intruding on the quiet moments when I wasn't thinking about Tom. I'd promised them I would get them out of that awful tent and away from the murderers who wanted them dead. I'd promised them and I'd failed miserably to keep that promise. They were dead and I didn't even know their names, couldn't honor them with anything other than my guilt.

  On Sunday, I cooked all morning, taking out my sorrow on the food, making more than brownies. My creations were cooling on the counter when I heard the van pull up. I leaned against the door jamb, waiting. Liam ha
d his dad's brown hair, but he'd grown it longer than Tom liked and it waved over his forehead in a way I'm sure made the girls in his school smile. He was laughing as he climbed out of the van, hoisting his soccer bag over his shoulder and waving at his friends as they pulled away. I tried to remember if I'd had such cool self-assurance when I was twelve. All I could remember was sending a classmate a perfume soaked Valentine card as a joke, getting caught and trying to pin in on someone else.

  Yeah. I so wasn't cool.

  "Well? How was it?" My hands were dusted with flour so I refrained from grabbing him and hugging the dickens out of him.

  "Good." He gave me a one-armed hug before disappearing into the house.

  Sighing, I followed, trying to forget how he looked as a baby, the cute way he said his sister's name when she was born, his excitement at losing his first tooth. Each year took him a little bit more away from me. "Did you learn anything?"

  "Yup." He plopped his bag on the couch and took a breath. "Wow. What'd you cook?"

  "A little bit of everything."

  His noise of approval made me grin. "Holy cow, Mom." He slid one of the pies closer—rhubarb pie was his favorite—and took a whiff. "Can I have a piece? Two?"

  "One." I ruffled his hair then slid a slice of pie onto a plate. He stuffed bite after bite into his mouth, talking around the food in his mouth as told me about camp. I'd learned you take the information whenever and however it came, spit propelled crumbs and all. He'd become close-lipped lately and I didn't want to cut off the flow.

  After filling me in on the farting contest, the stupid assistant coach who couldn't say the word milk right, and the cool new drills he'd learned, he kissed me, then took the stairs two at a time to his room.

  I leaned an elbow on the counter and checked the clock. Another hour and Bethany would be home. I didn't know when to expect Tom and I wasn't sure what I would do when I saw him. My stomach cramped and I fought to keep my food down. I sank down to the floor and hugged my knees tight to my chest. I'm not sure how long I sat there but it wasn't until I heard the door open that I stood.

  "Mom?"

  I pushed myself off the floor and poked my head into the living room. Beth smiled when she saw me.

  "I take it you had fun?" I held out my arms and she threw herself against me.

  "So much fun. Ellie has a swimming pool. And a trampoline. And an iPod. I want an iPod, Mom. Can I get one? Please?"

  I laughed and squeezed her again. "Slow down, Bethy baby. Come to the kitchen, have a cookie. Or pie. Or brownie." I nudged her in that direction, but her expression was stormy.

  "Mom. I want an iPod. Everyone has one but me. Seriously. I felt like a total dork. Ellie probably thought so."

  "Ellie is your friend. Friends don't think each other are dorks because they don't have an iPod." I sat down on the stool and slid the brownie pan closer.

  "Fine." She dropped her rolling suitcase with a thump on the floor and stomped out without touching the chocolate.

  The best part about kids? Their love, their funny, stupid jokes, the handwritten cards with big, misshapen hearts and carefully printed names.

  The worst part? Puberty. The fact Liam and Bethany could never be happy at the same time anymore. I could count it as a universal truth: if Liam came home happy, Bethany would be pissy. If Liam had a bad day, then Bethany would be giggling over with joy.

  How would they be when I told them about Tom and me? That we were divorcing? It would be hell, that's how it would be.

  A frosty, hard knot of rage settled in my stomach and forced me to move, to walk, to pace, to do something physical so I wouldn't resort to violence. I didn't want to resort to violence. I was a peaceful person. I rarely had violent thoughts … okay, that wasn't truthful. I sometimes had violent thoughts but I'd never acted out on them.

  Fists clenched, I stared out the living room window at the empty space where Tom's car should be. I didn't know if I wanted him home or not. I almost wished he would have an accident.

  I can make that happen.

  I froze, curtains wadded up in my hand.

  Let me out. Give me control.

  “No!”

  “Mom?”

  I whipped my head around.

  Bethany eyed me. “Are you okay?”

  “I'm fine sweetie. Thought I saw a spider.” Or maybe felt one skittering around in my head.

  Her lip curled. “Ew.”

  “I know, right? Whatcha need, baby?”

  She twisted the bottom of her shirt around her finger. “I'm sorry I got mad about the iPod thing."

  "Okay. Thanks for saying sorry."

  She shifted. "I had fun with Ellie."

  "Good."

  She shifted again. "Can I have a brownie?"

  "Not if I get there first."

  Her eyes widened. She dashed for the kitchen, screaming with laughter. She touched the counter only seconds before me so she won a brownie, while I polished off two before I could rein myself in.

  "Geez Mom, eat much?"

  I reached over and gave her a noogie. She jerked away, stole another brownie and ran upstairs. I stuffed one more in my mouth then covered the pan to get it out of my sight. I opened the fridge to grab something else when the front door opened.

  I froze, my heart sinking to my toes.

  "Devany?"

  Shit. I didn't want to talk to him. Not yet. I wasn't ready.

  Eat him. Flesh tastes better than sweet brown dirt.

  "Yeah," I muttered, "so not helpful and so not happening." Again the skitter of the spider's laughter crossed my thoughts.

  Tom appeared in the doorway, his face drawn and lined. “Kids home?”

  I nodded. He started toward me and I held up my hands. “No.”

  He started to say something then his shoulders slumped. His expression hurt my heart and I wanted to comfort him. Which was stupid. Because he hurt me, not the other way around. It made me remember a time when we were in college. He'd gone out with a friend of mine after we'd had our first big fight. When I found out, he'd had that same expression on his face.

  “Who was with you?”

  “It doesn't matter, does it?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. It didn't, except it pissed me off that he was protecting her identity, as if he thought I would hunt her down and kill her or something. “Who?”

  He looked down at his feet. “Anabelle Langford.”

  “Who?” I'd expected him to give me the name of one of the associates at the accounting firm. Then I realized who it was. “The receptionist? Seriously? She's like twelve.”

  “She's twenty-two.”

  Heat flushed my body. “Really? How sweet. She could be your kid.”

  His turn to flush. “I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I told her I couldn't see her anymore. But you have to believe me, we were hanging out as friends. That's all that we did.”

  I did not condone violence. But there were times when it seemed warranted. “Don't lie to me.”

  “I'm not. I swear, honey, I did not sleep with her.”

  The words rang in my head and the soft, romantic side of me wanted to believe him. The part of me that fell in love with him in college wanted to believe him. And it had to be a lie. I shook my head, hurt beyond all reason.

  He tried walking closer and I slipped around to put the counter between us. “Damn it, I'm not going to hurt you.”

  “I'm not afraid of you. I don't want you touching me. Don't you get it?” I grabbed another brownie and took a bite. “You took her on that trip and ended our marriage.”

  “No.”

  The brownie had no taste. It was as if the pain in my chest superseded my taste buds. I set the rest of the dessert back in the pan. Had I just said that? Had I just said our marriage was over? Oh god.

  Tom was crying but he also looked angry. Why was he pissed? “No. No, this isn't ending. We aren't ending. Our marriage is stronger than this.”

  “So what, if I end this because you cheated on m
e then I'm the one giving up on us? Is that what you're saying? Because that's not okay.” I found myself wishing the phone would ring or someone would drop by and relieve the pressure that was continuing to build in the room between us.

  “That's not what I meant. I just don't want this to ruin us. It was stupid. I was stupid.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “She flirted with me constantly. And I liked it. And after I bought the Miata and you reacted so extremely, I asked her out. I'm sorry honey,” he said, seeing my face. “It felt good.”

  The fucking Miata. He hadn't asked me when he bought it, thinking I'd be impressed we owned a car only two of the four people in our family could ride in at a time. Maybe I had reacted extremely. The car was ridiculous, a present to himself for turning forty.

  I wished my mom were alive. I needed her to wrap her arms around me and tell me everything would be okay. “I can't talk about this anymore. Not right now.”

  “I can't let this end. I can't let you go. What about the kids, Dev? Can't you forgive me for them?”

  Eat them after mating. No more troubles.

  It startled laughter out of me. I don't know why, this wasn't funny and yet it certainly was ridiculous. Tom's expression was priceless. “Don't put this on me, please. If you truly love me, please don't do that.”

  “Do what? Ask you to forgive me so we don't tear the kids' lives apart?”

  “Blame me.”

  He wanted to respond. I saw it on his face. I knew if he said one more thing that put the blame on me I would take the kids and walk out now.

  Gunslingers on a dusty street, waiting for the other to blink, to draw. One wrong move, or in this case, one wrong word, and something would die.

  Finally he nodded. Nodded and walked from the room.

  He has surrendered. You won.

  'No,' I thought at the spider, 'nobody wins in this situation.'

  To the victor, the snack.

  I sighed. 'What's with you and eating people? If you want to be helpful, tell me how to go back in time so I can fix things.'