by Nazri Noor
Asher nodded eagerly, and we looked on as the little stenciled sigil in the brick wall that marked Arachne’s gateway began to spin. Within seconds it expanded into a shimmering portal of gossamer and gleaming silver. Herald sucked on his finger, then pushed his fists into his hips, admiring his work.
“Everyone pile in,” he said. “Time to meet Dust’s girlfriend.”
“Oh my God, she’s not my girlfriend.”
“Says you. I felt some resistance while I was incanting, but I casually mentioned that you were coming and the window of opportunity swung wide open.” He waggled his eyebrows. “She likes you, Dust. It’s something to keep in mind. The entities take care of their playthings.”
Playthings, he said. It made my skin crawl, remembering how that seemed to be the very dynamic the Eldest maintained with their servants. Stronger, older, and far more terrible than any of the entities of earth, all I knew of the Eldest was that they were bad, bad news, and that they warped those who served them in their image, like the shrikes, the shrieking, many-tentacled minions that made up their vast cosmic army. Or Thea herself, who grew more alien and insectoid each time I had the misfortune to encounter her.
I was about to enter the portal, this counting as my second official visit to Arachne’s domicile, when Asher skidded right in front of me, practically tangling his feet in his excitement to step through. He vanished among the swirling gossamer mists. I gave Herald a questioning look, but he just shrugged.
“Hey. I won’t fault the kid for his enthusiasm. That’s a good thing. Great foundation to build on for learning magic, and everything else there is to know about the arcane underground.”
“I’m enthusiastic, too.”
He gestured at the portal. “I believe you. Get in.”
I sighed and walked on through, not at all relishing the feeling of the portal somehow sticking to my clothes and hair and skin. The strands of energy made it feel very much like swimming through molasses, and the act of actually moving into the spider-queen’s realm was literally like walking through spiderwebs.
Herald followed not far behind, and Asher was already gawking at the bizarre, jade-green enormity of Arachne’s domicile. Great swathes of what looked like silk draped from the ceilings, moving gently in a light breeze that none of us could feel on our skin or hair.
Braziers of stone pulsed with sickly green light, the only illumination in a dimension so dark that all we could really see were the strange, silken curtains and the great stone dais where Arachne held audience. It looked very much the same as the last time I visited, though that still gave me no comfort. What was different this time was Arachne’s total absence.
I elbowed Herald in the ribs. “Where is she?” I hissed.
“Beats me,” Herald said, looking around cautiously, the ghoulish light reflecting on his glasses. “She responded to my summoning, which means she should be home.”
“This is so cool,” Asher said absently. “I love this place.”
A high, feminine voice tittered from somewhere in the unseeable ceiling far above us. “I am glad to hear it.”
The silks began to shiver, and out of the silence trickled the sound of things skittering, of tiny mouths and pincers chittering in excitement. I balled my fists and stilled myself: they were coming.
Out of the corners and darkest recesses of Arachne’s domicile her children came pouring in their thousands and spindly millions, spiders of every shape and species crawling down the walls, over the dais, descending from the ceiling on fine strands of silk.
Among them was the great, heaving bulk of Arachne’s thorax, lowering from out of the high darkness, legs as thick and long as spears wavering as they negotiated her web. She moved headfirst, her hair and her veils brushing against the ground as she reached the floor and set her body upright. Arachne’s eight legs served as her throne on the dais, the slender and wickedly white pallor of her human torso gleaming an eerie green in her domicile’s jade-light.
“Herald Igarashi of the Lorica,” Arachne said, her head giving the slightest nod. She turned to me, the sharpness of her smile visible under the hem of her veil. “And my sweetling, the boy who walks through shadows.” Arachne tilted her head as she turned her attention towards Asher. “This one I do not know.”
“Asher Mayhew,” he said eagerly, one hand still wrapped around his extra large boba, the other holding out a plastic bag full of fortune cookies. “And here you go, ma’am.” He walked directly for her, approaching the dais without invitation or regard for etiquette. I would have panicked and said something if Arachne hadn’t laughed first.
“This one is so precocious, and trusting. How very sweet.”
Asher beamed widely. The fucker wasn’t afraid in the slightest, not of Arachne, and not of the millions of her young carpeting the walls and the floor. She turned towards me again, her grin a little sharper, a little eviler this time. “Perhaps I have found myself a new sweetling.”
I groaned. “Oh, come on. Not you too.”
Asher cocked his head, alarmed. “Sorry, what was that? What do you mean?”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing,” I said, just as one of Arachne’s legs darted out to collect the plastic bag from Asher’s outstretched hand. The huge bristles and pincer at the end of her legs brushed against Asher’s skin as she took away the cookies. He hardly flinched, still looking at me questioningly. The kid was either really dumb, or really brave, or both.
“It’s his first communion, Arachne,” I said. “We hope you find it acceptable that we’ve brought him along, to learn how to commune by starting with one of the kindest, most gracious entities I know.”
Somewhere behind me I swear Herald snorted. Asher kept slurping his boba. But Arachne smiled. Sometimes, depending on the entity, a different approach was needed to grease the wheels, but with almost all that I’d encountered, flattery was the choicest way to go.
“No harm done, Dustin Graves. And we see that he is indeed very enthusiastic about his learnings in the arcane. You are free to visit Arachne’s domicile whenever you wish, Asher Mayhew.” Her veils and all the silks in the chamber rustled when she tittered again, laughing softly with one hand over her mouth. “He’s certainly dealing with this new reality far better than you did when we first met, sweetling. Do you recall? In the words of your people I believe that you were, oh, how do you say it. Shitting your pants?”
“What?” I blustered, and thanked the light of her domicile for disguising the fact that my cheeks had gone searing red. “That’s ridiculous. I mean I – ”
Arachne held up one hand, the length of her arm glittering with the myriad jewels and trinkets she wore. “Enough pleasantries. Tell me what you need.” With her other hand she was already riffling through the plastic bag, as if to select the best of the fortune cookies out of an assortment that, naturally, all looked exactly the same.
“Information,” Herald said, with a brief bow of his head. “As we all know is your specialty, Arachne.”
She grinned. “How very correct.” She smashed a fortune cookie with one fist, dug out the little slip of paper with the fortune on it, then read it, chuckling. “This says that I will be lucky in love. How droll.” She crammed the entire mess – cookie, wrapper, fortune – in her mouth, chewing aggressively as shards and splinters of the little treat erupted from between her fangs. “And what do you need to know?”
“My father,” I blurted out. Herald fixed me with a look, but said nothing. “I asked you once if you could help me find him.”
“Ah. Of course.”
Arachne probed at the air around her, as if looking for something. Then, pinching at some seemingly invisible object with her thumb and forefinger, she tugged. In the light I could just barely make out the sheen of a strand of spider silk.
There must have been dozens, hundreds around her, each attached to one of the secret-finding spiders she kept under her employ, their tethers hanging around her invisibly until she needed them. She pulled on it again,
like it was the rope of a small, delicate dinner bell. “Give my offspring time. They will come with what we need soon enough.”
“There’s another thing,” Herald said.
“Oh. Is there?”
I nodded. “We have reason to suspect that my old mentor is masquerading as me somehow. Using a glamour, maybe, or one of her enchantments. She was found stealing an artifact.”
Arachne pressed a long, taloned finger against the side of her temple, turning it like a screw. “How curious. Why would that be necessary? Why would she not simply take what she needed?”
Herald lifted a hand in agreement. “See, exactly. That’s why we’re here. We need your wisdom, and access to your network. Tell us what you can find, why this woman is impersonating Dustin. It seems so pointless.”
“Hey.”
“He’s so insignificant.”
“Seriously, Herald.”
“Now this,” Arachne said, a hand on her chin. “This demand is more complex. What would you have to offer in return, I wonder?”
Herald and I watched each other cautiously. “We need her help,” he muttered. “Your friends might have ways, but nothing like what she can do.”
Arachne stretched her neck out and spoke louder. “Is that a ‘Yes,’ sweetling?”
I chewed my lip and eyed her carefully. “What would we have to give in return, Arachne?”
“Oh, such trifling matters can be discussed at a later date.” She grinned widely, her teeth like perfect chips of malachite. “If you had asked for something smaller, I would have continued to offer my aid. But this is quite a demand. For now, consider it my last gift. A final favor. But no more. From this point on, anything you ask of me or my brood will involve payment more expensive than, say, a handful of fortune cookies.”
She laughed again, one hand over her mouth, the other waving dismissively, as if she had practiced this very gesture in the past. It looked like she was pantomiming, trying to be human. Technically, Arachne was human once. Still, it felt too measured, too deliberate. She seemed to be trying to put us at ease, but it only made me that much more apprehensive.
Asher was switching his gaze rapidly between the three of us, the fat, huge straw of his tea drink still stuffed in his maw. He wouldn’t have looked out of place with a bag of popcorn in his hand, really. He might have been new to this, but even he could sense the potential severity of Arachne’s payment.
“Dude,” Herald said softly. “She’s given you enough freebies as it is. This is your investment. Whatever she demands from now on, that’s Future Dustin’s problem. Sure as hell beats being attacked by vampires every night. Do it.”
I stared at Arachne resolutely. This wasn’t about burgers. Someone out there had stolen my identity. Someone was wearing my face. And if it was Thea, then we needed some way to find her, so I could put something sharp into her heart and stop her fucking our lives up, once and for all.
I nodded.
Arachne clapped her hands together and squealed. She was far, far too happy about this. “Excellent, sweetling.” She raised her head, then cooed. “And what timing, too. Here comes my offspring to deliver what she’s discovered of your father.”
One of Arachne’s secret-spiders descended from the ceiling, its strand of web so fine that it looked like it was floating towards me. On its back was a bright blue gem. Through some form of magic, these bejeweled spiders were connected to Arachne with bonds even stronger than her regular children, making it so they could flawlessly store and convey information to their many-legged mother. It made her a fantastic resource for intelligence, and possibly a very terrible enemy to have.
I held out my hand as the spider descended, and when it was only feet away I noticed that it had its legs wrapped around something glimmering. A gem? What the – no. It was the plastic wrapper of a fortune cookie, the same brand that we always brought Arachne.
The spider landed gently in my palm, deposited the fortune cookie, then ascended into the ceiling once again, the sapphire on its back turning into a bright blue speck as it disappeared into the darkness.
“A cookie?” I said, hoping that my confused expression wouldn’t offend Arachne.
“With information on your father,” she said, her head raised with confidence and, I thought, what looked like triumph.
I knew these entities were crazy. Who knew why these gods and demons and mythological creatures wanted to be so obtuse about everything, but hey, they came from a different time. There was no sudoku to pass the time and shit, no porn, so it was all about the riddles.
This all grumbled inside of my head as I unwrapped the fortune cookie, then split it in half. I pulled out the tiny scroll of paper, unfurled it, and read the words printed there. I couldn’t help myself. My mouth fell open.
“What is it?” Asher asked, his mouth a perfect, dumbstruck mirror of my own.
“An address. It’s my dad’s address.”
Chapter 4
Herald’s face scrunched with every passing second, driven slowly to annoyance and insanity by every tiny slurping sound.
“Asher. Seriously. Aren’t you done with that stupid thing?”
Asher stopped chewing, swallowed thickly, then gave him a wide-eyed look. “I wouldn’t want to waste it. Come on, dude. Lemme finish my drink.”
Herald bared his teeth. It was kind of amusing seeing him get so worked up over something so dumb, but that was part of being friends with Igarashi. He was so chill, and calm, and level-headed, until he wasn’t.
“They’re tapioca balls, for God’s sake. Just throw the damn thing out. Surely that lich boss of yours pays you enough that you don’t have to scrimp and save on every little thing.”
I chuckled. “Let him be, Herald. You try being locked up in a room for years. Everything’s new to him, so it’s a fun experience. Right, Asher?”
Grateful, I suppose, for the little defense, Asher gave me a small smile. I was the one who suggested we try out some boba – which he clearly loved, quite unlike kombucha, which he spat out on first contact. We were on a park bench not far from the alley where Arachne’s sigil was tethered. She’d let us go after handing me my father’s actual, physical new home address inside of a fortune cookie.
We were in Heinsite Park, specifically. It was the same place I’d been abducted for my ritual murder, the same place I first met Sterling and Gil the night they tried to kidnap me, and the same place I discovered that I could finally cast a spell by lighting a vampire on fire. Good times, good memories.
Asher had been sucking on his boba tea the entire time, astoundingly unbothered as he was by both Arachne’s appearance and that of her offspring, something which was clearly driving Herald to the brink of madness. With a last, exaggerated slurp, Asher hoovered up the rest of the tapioca balls, crumpled up his empty cup, then tossed it in the garbage.
“There. I’m done. No need to be so pissy about it.”
Herald gritted his teeth. Asher reached his hand out towards me, palm open, and I handed him the little slip of paper with the address on it. He clearly didn’t know enough of the outside world to do anything with that information, but his specific portfolio of arcane power meant that he had a way of sniffing out life energy.
It was extremely limited in range, a severely watered-down version of what the Lorica’s Eyes could do with their scrying, but the extent of his ability was really all I needed. I just wanted him to reach out and sense if my dad was okay.
Asher closed his fingers around the fortune, his eyes shutting gently. A faint mantle of green energy began to pulse around his closed fist. The fact that he needed to actually handle the slip of paper told me that he had, in addition to the strange range of abilities necromancers possessed, access to a kind of psychometry. He required an object attached to the person in question, and the rest, pardon the expression, was magic.
The green light cloaking his hand faded, and he opened his eyes. “He’s alive.”
My heart leapt.
“But
not necessarily well.”
My heart pounded. “What do you mean? Is he sick? Is he dying?”
Asher deposited the slip of paper in my hand, then leaned back on the bench. “Not exactly, but there’s something off about his register. His aura felt dark, troubled.”
I bit my lip. “That makes sense. He’s been depressed since my mom died, and he’s been doing a lot of drinking. Well, more than he’s used to.”
“That must be it. Whatever it is, it’s taking its toll on his mind, his body, his spirit.”
I stared at the piece of paper in my hand, then looked up piteously at Herald.
“No,” Herald said, frowning. “Absolutely not. You’re thinking of seeing him, aren’t you?”
I barely had a chance to open my mouth when Herald cut in again.
“You’re forgetting the part where you’re supposed to be dead. Well and truly dead, as far as the normals are concerned. What about the Veil, Dustin?”
“Fuck the Veil,” I spat.
The Lorica was so keen to keep up appearances, to ensure that the rest of Valero, no, that the rest of the human world didn’t know about the arcane underground that coexisted in the same layer of reality as the regular world.
The Veil was the pact we mages held to keep regular humans – the normals – from learning about the supernatural. But the city had already been invaded by shrikes once, and its botanical gardens grown over with a hell-plant the size of a skyscraper.
How often could the Lorica send out its Mouths to erase the normals’ memories, to make them forget what they saw? And what did that grand scale of destruction and fuckery matter in the end if it meant that I didn’t have the chance to patch things up with my father? That was all I wanted. I’d fight to protect Valero, and I’d fight to stop Thea, but reconnecting with my dad? Didn’t I deserve that one little thing?
But before I could put any of that into words, a motorcycle revved its engine, pulling up angrily, it felt like, to the sidewalk. It was the kind of noise that belonged to a machine that belonged to a man who loved nothing more than the adoration and attention of the general public.