by Hazel Hunter
“Oh? What do you have?” asked the Spider King casually. “Do tell us all about it.”
“I saw a red room with a woman in it,” she said. “She was having limbs welded to her legs. This wrench was used to tighten them. Dear god, she screamed.”
“It was painful.” Gillian turned to see Knacker staring at the floor. “The worst thing I’ve ever felt, but it worked. He gave me my legs. I can walk.”
“You’ve proven yourself,” said the Spider King smoothly to Gillian. “And you have also seen that I keep my word.”
“Bastard,” Shayne muttered, as Gillian clung to him.
The Spider King laughed.
“As you will. The statue I’m considering is located on Palmer Street, to the west of the docks. Niasis is looking to sell it to me, and I want to make sure it’s the relic I’ve been told it is. Look for a narrow house with red glass windows. Tell her I sent you.”
Though Gillian had been pulling on her gloves with shaking hands, she paused.
“What is the statue?” she asked.
“That’s your job,” said the Spider King. “Get going.”
CHAPTER NINE
AS GILLIAN AND Shayne made their way out of the Spider King’s house, she noted that the front door was off its hinges. The guardsman who had taunted her flinched away, keeping his eyes down.
When they reached the street, Gillian paused to take in a few deep breaths. Only now did she realize that being in the Spider King’s abode had made her feel as if she’d been trapped. When she felt steady enough, she started off in the direction she thought Palmer Street would be.
Shayne took her arm, and dragged her around to look at him.
“Where the hell have you been?” he said, fuming. “I wake up this morning, you’re gone, and I hear from the bartender that you sneaked out hours ago. Vlasti knew something, but it took me an hour to track you here. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? You could have been hurt. You could have been killed.”
“Yes,” she hissed. “And if I stayed where I was, I would have been kidnapped.”
He looked at her, his eyes wide. She was grimly satisfied that she had stunned him into silence.
“You heard that.”
“Yes, I heard that. I went down because, stupid me, I thought it was unfair that you’ve been paying for everything. I came downstairs, and I heard it all. You were negotiating with some woman to get me dragged on to a ship! You were going to wreck everything that I’ve ever worked for, and you were going to do it without even consulting me!”
Shayne looked slightly abashed, but he rallied quickly.
“But I was right,” he snapped. “Here you are, negotiating for something so dangerous that even people here want no part of it. Now you’re dealing with a man who seems equal parts mob boss and deadly insect, and we’re going off to do god knows what.”
“We’re going to do what I know how to do best,” Gillian said bitterly. “I couldn’t pay my way with the Baltus Institute’s money. I knew that, somewhere in the back of my head, I knew that. So now I’m going to pay my way with the only thing I’ve got.”
That made Shayne go still. When Gillian glanced up at his face, he was pale.
“Gillian, what happened before I got there? Your neck. It’s bleeding. Did he hurt you?”
Gillian’s hand flew to the small wound. She’d forgotten about the hair. She scowled at him.
“He didn’t hurt me,” she said. “The hair I gave to Knacker for getting me there in the first place.” Shayne searched her face, then glanced at her neck. “I’m fine,” she said, slightly more calm.
Shayne took her by the shoulders.
Suddenly, she felt very tired. Able to relax for the first time in hours, still troubled by her reading of the wrench, she wanted nothing more than to just lie down.
As if sensing her weariness, Shayne pulled her to a narrow alley. As the anger and fear drained from her, she sagged against the brick. Though she put her face in her hands, she didn’t cry. She didn’t have the energy for it.
“Gillian, I’m sorry,” Shayne said quietly. “I’m sorry I tried to go behind your back and take you against your will.”
She looked up at him, looking into the beautiful blue eye and the soft brown one.
“Sorry only means something if you won’t do it again,” she said. “Can you promise me you won’t?” His silence was the only answer she got. “I see,” she said, hanging her head and hugging herself.
Shayne’s fingertips brushed across the nape of her neck. He gently smoothed away strands of hair.
“That’s a bad scrape,” he said quietly. “It’ll need a bandage.”
Then his gentle fingers massaged the aching muscles of her shoulders. Though she knew she should push him away, she couldn’t manage it. Though she knew he was more of an obstacle than the Spider King, she couldn’t make him stop. Even when she knew he could wound her more deeply than any blade, she could not step away. Instead she stood there, hoping he’d never stop touching her.
“Shayne,” she whispered, wearily. “What have you done to me?”
In answer, he tilted her chin up with one finger.
Worry seemed to furrow his forehead, but as his eyes searched hers, understanding dawned.
“The same thing you’ve done to me,” he whispered, leaning in.
His kiss was feathery light and soft. His lips gently clung to hers. But the kiss had hardly begun before it was over.
“You’re exhausted,” he said. “You should sleep.”
She shook her head, partially to clear it. “I can’t. Not when I’m so close.”
He studied her face and glanced back at the alley entrance. “Then you at least need to eat.” She began to protest, but he put a single finger to her lips. “Or sleep. You choose.”
She sighed. “Then eat,” she said, defeated.
Back on the street, Shayne steered her away from the food stands and settled her in a small teahouse. It was quite normal except for the waitress, who had a pair of twisting ram’s horns growing from her head.
Gillian was so tired she couldn’t do more than note that the horns were lovely. She thought she wouldn’t be able to eat, and then they placed a thick steak sandwich in front of her. She suddenly realized she was starving, and ate as much as she could hold. Shayne grinned as he did the same. And he’d been right. Gillian realized she felt better. She finished the last of her tea and set the cup down.
“Palmer Street,” she said.
“The house with the red windows,” he said, getting up and pulling out her chair.
CHAPTER TEN
NATURALLY THEIR DESTINATION was at the end of what appeared to be a cul-de-sac. The red window panes gave it a foreboding look. Despite that, it was well kept. Gillian was prepared for another haunted house with a guard. When she knocked on the door, however, an older woman with a pleasant smile appeared. She was round and motherly, dressed in a pair of overalls over a loose peasant blouse. She looked like an aging flower child more than a denizen of the dangerous Midnight Market.
“We’re here on behalf of the Spider King,” said Gillian hesitantly. “There’s a statue he wants us to verify for him. He said that Niasis would know what he was talking about. Can you tell him we’re here?”
The woman chuckled. “I am Niasis, and I do know what the old bastard is talking about. Are you his new help then?”
“No,” Shayne said firmly. “She’s strictly freelance.”
“That’s good to hear,” said Niasis approving. “He’s quite a terrible man.”
Gillian realized with a sense of unease that Niasis, for all her friendly looks, might not be any kinder than the Spider King. There was a kind of callousness to her words.
“Let’s see what you can run back and tell him,” Niasis said, leading them into a small, dim room. “Cover your eyes.”
The warning came just in time as Shayne and Gillian each held up a hand. When Niasis flipped a switch, the room was suddenly
flooded with light. When Gillian looked around, she realized that the room was lit so brightly, it looked like daytime. Though she hadn’t been aware she was tense, she relaxed.
Niasis smiled at Gillian’s relieved expression.
“The dark does get wearying after a while, doesn’t it? But here, this is what you’re looking for.”
She gestured to the center of the room. The marble statue that stood there was nearly as tall as Gillian herself, and it depicted a woman standing with her back to them. She was nearly naked. The marble had been cunningly carved to mimic a delicate wisp of fabric draped around her hips. Her hair rippled down her back in such realistic detail that Gillian had to convince herself she couldn’t comb her fingers through it.
“As long as you don’t harm it, you can do whatever you need to do,” Niasis said with a shrug.
“I might fall over or shout if it’s very bad,” Gillian said. “But none of that should hurt her.”
Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to call the statue ‘it.’ She could have stripped off her gloves and touched the statue’s back or shoulders, but somehow that felt disrespectful.
“Something feels strange about this,” murmured Shayne, staring at the statue. “I’m not telling you not to do it, but I will tell you to be careful.”
Gillian risked a small smile at Shayne.
“I will,” she said, a promise she intended to keep.
She circled the statue, slowly pulling off her gloves.
The statue stood with one arm loose at her side. The other was lifting back the curtain of her hair. But when Gillian saw the statue’s face, she felt a bolt of electricity go through her.
“Shayne? Shayne, come look.”
If she had thought the resemblance was in her head, she was quickly disabused of the notion when Shayne sucked in a breath. Though the statue was weathered, particularly around the face, the resemblance was unmistakable. It was Gillian.
“What’s going on here?” Shayne asked, turning to Niasis.
Something in his face must have startled her because she took a step back. Gillian noted that her hand ventured close to the pocket of her overalls. Whatever she pulled out wouldn’t be good.
“Shayne…”
“Gillian, this might be some kind of set up. If it is, this woman is in on it.”
“No set up,” Niasis said coolly. “This is an artifact from an ancient Wiccan city near Alexandria. I acquired it through contacts in Morocco, and their reputation is rock solid. Perhaps she was worshiped as a goddess, or perhaps she was some rich man’s lover. As far as we know, however, there are none others like her. The Spider King wants to be sure of her provenance, and I presume that is where you come in.”
Gillian could hardly believe she didn’t see the resemblance. She looked at the statue again. Then again the face was worn, and Gillian was clothed.
When Shayne still looked dubious, Niasis shrugged.
“Do what you need to do or don’t. There are other buyers out there.”
Gillian pulled Shayne back.
“I have to do this,” she said.
“Remember the Templar,” he retorted.
When they’d been hunted in the forest, she had touched a Templar before he died. Something about her power, or the Templar’s, let his soul get a hold of her.
“I remember.”
Shayne looked unconvinced, but he nodded. “If it looks like something’s wrong, I will pull you away,” he said, a warning tone in his voice. “I still have a job to do.”
Gillian nodded, as she took off a glove. Frankly, that sounded good to her. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the statue’s hand.
Though she had steeled herself, the first images were gentle. She could feel the earth beneath her. There was the faint impact of an ancient chisel on marble, wielded with infinite care and skill. She sensed a dark face, a gentle smile, and the salt wash of tears. Someone was speaking in a language she didn’t know. She sensed a courtyard surrounded by fragrant fruit trees.
Gillian didn’t know if that was enough for the Spider King, but then she felt a more ancient history. She realized with a shock that she was being pulled deeper into the statue somehow, that she was being brought to another time.
No, I can’t, she thought, but she didn’t have a choice.
Light, there was beautiful light. All around her head, the glimmering points of light danced in the air. The people reverently touched her marble feet. Their adoration and awe buoyed her spirit. It was right that they–
Glass shattered against her stone face. A young woman shrieked at her. Two men were toppling her, while another took a club to her head. There was anger in their hands. There was murder. The knives came out of nowhere.
Everywhere people cried.
She died, she died.
Gillian screamed. Searing pain went straight through her, through her hands, through her heart. It hurt in a way that she’d never known, but she didn’t want it to end, because if it did, it would all be over. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready for it to be over. But the world was tilting.
Gillian tumbled backward into Shayne’s arms. Gasping for breath, she grabbed at stab wounds that weren’t there. She couldn’t get enough air.
“Gillian,” Shayne said, his face hovering over hers.
“Get me out of here,” she breathed. “Please, get me out of here.”
He lifted her in his arms and took her out of the room.
Niasis guided them to a small sitting room where Shayne laid her on a love seat. For several minutes, eyes squeezed shut, it was all she could do to breathe.
“Slow down,” Shayne said quietly. “You’re hyperventilating. Try to slow down.”
Images of the knives flashed in her vision. Her eyes popped open. Shayne’s hands were at the sides of her face.
“Gillian? Can you hear me?” She blinked and then nodded, struggling to control the rasping breaths. “Good. Breathe normally. In and out through your nose.”
She closed her mouth and did as he said. Niasis returned with a small cloth and handed it to Shayne. He gently daubed her tear-streaked face. She’d been crying? She tried to sit up.
“Take it easy,” Shayne said, taking her shoulder. She grasped his arm and slowly pulled herself upright. “Are you all right?”
The first word that came to mind was ‘no.’ There was no way to be all right, not after what she had seen, what she had felt. She took a deep breath and swallowed. But at least she was herself.
“I…I just need a few minutes.”
“What did you see?” Niasis asked.
Gillian didn’t know how she could possibly convey it. Shayne must have seen her hesitate.
“I think that’s for the Spider King to know,” he said.
Niasis looked irritated, but she shrugged. “The price is what it is. You tell him that.”
When Gillian felt as if she could move without shaking, she stood.
“I will,” she said.
Shayne put an arm around her waist and guided her to the door. As they passed the room with the statue, she pointedly looked in the other direction.
“I can always find another buyer,” Niasis said from the doorway. “You tell him that.”
The door slammed behind them.
For several minutes, Shayne supported her weight as they made their way slowly up Palmer Street. Gradually her strength came back, and she was acutely aware of Shayne’s watchful eye.
“I’m okay,” she said, though she still leaned on him.
His look said he wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t say it. Instead they kept up their slow pace.
“She died, she died,” Gillian sang quietly to herself.
She barely knew she had spoken out loud when Shayne pulled her to a dead stop.
“Good god, Gillian, he said, his voice strained. “What did you see?”
“Lives,” she said simply. “Like when I touched the Templar.”
They came to a small square with a fountain at t
he center of it. Shayne guided her over and they sat at the edge.
“There’s more to this than just Tenebris,” he said.
“Yes, there are Templars, spider kings, sirens, selkies…”
“Stop it,” he snapped. “Gods, why did I let you do it?” He took both her gloved hands in his. “It’s you,” he said. “You’re at the center of all this. You always have been.” He stared at the splashing water for a moment. “Why did I not see that until now? It’s my job to protect you.”
“I’m not going back to the Baltus Institute,” Gillian said.
“I’m not asking you to,” he retorted. “But you saw that statue. It was you.”
“What do you expect me to do about it, Shayne?” she asked angrily. “It’s not like I knew that’s what we’d find.”
He shook his head.
“I believe you,” he said. She hadn’t realized that was even an issue. “But no more leaving me out of the loop.”
“Then how about no more kidnapping?”
Shayne winced. “And I swear I won’t do things without consulting you. How’s that?”
“Fine.”
Gillian wanted very much for this to be over. She wanted the Sirena to come back and sail them away. She wanted the Midnight Market to fade behind them. But there was only one way to do that. She breathed a heavy sigh.
“Let’s go,” she said, standing up. “I need to see a man about a statue.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE SPIDER KING’S guard let them in without a word. Once again, Gillian found herself in front of the black door with the white spider. When they entered, the Spider King looked as if he hadn’t moved.
“What do you have for me, little treasure dog?” he asked pleasantly.
Gillian wanted nothing more than to slap him.
“It’s a statue from an ancient place. It was carved in a courtyard surrounded by an orchard. I can draw it for you if you want, and perhaps from that you can find out who did the carving. That’s what I know about the statue, but I know that’s not what you sent me to find.”