The Spider Queen

by Emma Slate

  “Tired,” I admitted. “Groggy.” I ran my tongue along the roof of my mouth. I wanted to scrub my body from the inside out, get rid of the crazy, get rid of the sick. Start over.

  “I didn’t know,” I said. “About you and Dad.”

  She smiled sadly. “Of course you didn’t. You weren’t meant to. You were fourteen.”

  “Why did you ask him to leave?” My voice sounded small. I was afraid of the answer, but I was more afraid of never learning the truth.

  “Marriage is hard,” she began.

  “Don’t, Mom. Don’t sugarcoat anything. I can handle it.”

  She pointedly looked around the hospital room and then at my tied wrists. They made her flinch ever so slightly. “You sure about that?”

  I didn’t reply.

  Mom nodded. “My illness…well, you know. You grew up watching it. The cycles…it was destroying your father, Poppy. Each time a med failed me or I spiraled out of control, it ate away at him a little bit more.”

  “It ate away at you too, Mom. And me.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “But our marriage had become about him taking care of me. Instead of us taking care of each other.”

  “So you let him go.”

  “I let him go. I loved your father very much. I loved him enough that I wanted him to find happiness with someone who didn’t need…what I needed.”

  I took in her words, rolled them around in my head. “You let me think he abandoned us. Why? And why didn’t you insist that I live with him?”

  She sighed, finally looking as tired as I felt. “I did suggest that. But he was afraid that I—without you—wouldn’t have an incentive to get well.”

  “Was he right?” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. Sadness for the misunderstandings, for the years I’d lost staying angry at my father.

  “I don’t know, Poppy. Those years…I didn’t see them clearly when they were happening. And now, after all this time has passed, they feel even more like a dream.”

  I’d kept myself so closed off, worried about being hurt, being left. All this time, I thought I knew what had happened, I thought I’d known the truth. But I’d known nothing.

  “We’ll get you well, Poppy,” Mom said, her own green eyes glassy. “Whatever it takes. The three of us will get you well.”

  My sickness had brought our family back together, in a way I never could’ve anticipated.

  In a way I never wanted.

  Chapter 29

  My mom left me alone to rest, telling me she’d come back in an hour or so. But how was I supposed to do that? My wrists were tied, so I couldn’t move. I wondered how long they were going to keep me in the hospital.

  Everyone around me had me believing I was crazy. Was I? For weeks I’d been warring with myself. Was it time to give in? Get the help it seemed I needed.

  The deck was stacked against me. Yet for some reason, there was a small kernel of hope that refused to die. There had to be another explanation for all of this. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I wished for any explanation that made a shred of sense.

  I faded in an out of sleep, my body attempting to expel the drugs from my system. When the door opened again, I cracked an eyelid, trying to see through the darkness.

  “Mom?” I rasped.

  There was no response as the shadow moved closer. A head bent and then I felt hands sliding down my arms and then settle on my wrists. Suddenly I was free and being pressed against a solid chest.

  I let out a sigh of relief when I breathed in Hunter’s familiar scent. He held me to him, whispering words into my ear.

  “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I tried to get here sooner—”

  “I’m not crazy,” I stated, but my voice wavered. “I mean maybe I am, but—”

  “You’re not.” He glanced at the door. “We don’t have a lot of time.” He removed the backpack he was wearing and unzipped it. He pulled out a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a shirt.

  I tried to hurry, but my movements were sluggish. I stumbled when I lifted my leg to put on my pants.

  “They gave me something. Don’t know what. I guess it’s still in my system.”

  “Pricks,” Hunter cursed, helping me into my clothes. “Drugging you like a feral animal.”

  “You don’t happen to have any deodorant in there?” I asked, ignoring his rage. I ran my tongue across my fuzzy teeth. “Or a toothbrush?”

  “Nope. Necessities only. I do have a piece of gum.”

  “Gimme.”

  “When we’re in the car,” he promised as he stuffed a pillow underneath the covers down the center of the bed to mimic a body.

  A smile bloomed across my face. “You know that never works, right?”

  “You have any better ideas?”

  “No.”

  “All right then.” He looked at me. “Why are you smiling?”

  “Because you came to rescue me.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Hunter shoved my hospital gown under the bed and then picked up the backpack. His fingers laced through mine, and then we were heading for the door. Opening it a crack, he peered out into the hallway.

  “It’s clear,” he said. “If we see anyone, act like you’re here visiting a family member.”

  We tried to hurry toward the elevator, but my body wasn’t cooperating. Hunter hauled me into his side and helped me stay upright as we glided down the hallway. I hoped my parents and Anita were in the cafeteria. I didn’t want to run from them, see the terror on their faces when I disappeared into the world.

  They thought I was broken. Maybe I was free.

  The nurses’ station came into view, and the doctor who’d examined me was standing at the counter talking to the brunette nurse.

  I buried my head into Hunter’s side, commanded my steps not to falter, and hoped like hell she wouldn’t recognize me.

  “Sir?” the nurse called out. “Is everything okay? Is she—”

  “Fine,” Hunter yelled back. “Hospitals make my girlfriend anxious. And nauseous. She’s about to—we’re just gonna—”

  “Call security,” the doctor shouted at the nurse. “She’s under a psychiatric hold!”

  “Run!” Hunter shouted at me, gripping my hand.

  We shot toward the elevator, but it wasn’t like it was in the movies, and the doors didn’t magically open to give us an escape. Hunter twisted, hauling me behind him. I stumbled, and he righted me before pushing open the stairwell door, urging me in ahead of him.

  He slammed the door shut and leaned his body against it. Hunter reached into his dark jeans pocket and pulled out his car keys. He tossed them at me, but I missed them, and they sailed down the stairs.

  “Take my car.”

  “Where did you park—”

  “Garage. First floor.”

  “I don’t have a cell—”

  “Spare in my glove box. Drive north. I’ll call you and we’ll pick a place and meet there.”

  I frowned. “Why do you have—”

  “Later! I’ll tell you everything later.” The door attempted to open, but Hunter shoved his body back against it, his face pleading. “Go, Poppy. Now!”

  Chapter 30

  I found Hunter’s black Subaru in the corner of the parking garage. After unlocking the car, I wrenched open the door and then collapsed into the driver’s seat, woozy, wondering how the hell I was supposed to drive when I could barely even stand or catch my breath.

  But I had to keep it together and focus. There wasn’t a lot of time, so I jammed the key into the ignition and then guided the car out of the parking spot.

  It was an hour past sunset and traffic was light. I kept my hands locked on the steering wheel and tried to piece the last few days together.

  But how could I process what had occurred?

  There was a huge gap in my memory. My cousin had had me committed because she thought I was a danger to myself—and probably to others. And then my parents…they’d ba
nded together, changing my perception of them and their divorce.

  Hunter had come for me.

  And now I was running like a fugitive.

  A wave of hunger hit me low and fast. I sucked in a breath of air, looked in my rearview mirror, and changed lanes so I could get off at the next exit.

  I parked in a fast food joint parking lot, but I didn’t have any money. I didn’t even have an ID on me, I realized. What happened if a cop stopped me?

  This was all so fucked up.

  Leaning my head against the steering wheel, I tried to breathe through the hunger. When was the last time I’d had solid food?

  A shrill ring from the confines of the glove compartment had me shooting out of my seat. I got the latch open and reached inside to pull out a cell phone.

  “Hello? Hunter?” I asked.

  “Poppy!” His voice was filled with relief. “Where are you?”

  I told him.

  “Stay put, I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

  He hung up before I could ask him any questions.

  I set the phone aside and pressed the overhead light so I could see what else was in the glove box. Maybe some cash to hit the drive-thru. I was pretty sure my stomach was eating itself.

  There was five or six hundred dollars in cash and two passports.

  One was Hunter’s.

  One was mine.

  Why the fuck did he have our passports?

  I shoved the passports back into the glove box, grabbed two twenties, and shut the latch. Putting the car into gear, I looked in the rearview mirror and then reversed out of the spot and into the drive-thru lane.

  I ordered enough food for three people and ate in the car. I’d just put away my sixth chicken nugget when there was a rap on the passenger window. The sound startled me into spilling the chocolate shake all over the front of my shirt and chin.

  I pressed the unlock button and then went for the napkins. Hunter climbed into the car and shut the door.

  “You scared me,” I said, dabbing at my face.

  “Sorry. How much food did you order?” he teased.

  “Shut up,” I snapped. “I don’t know if they fed me at the hospital.”

  My statement sobered him. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

  “You’re anything but insensitive,” I muttered. “Mind telling me why our passports are in the glove box?”

  He sighed and pointed to a wrapped cheeseburger. “Can I have that? I’m starving.”

  I handed it to him and then ate the rest of my fries. We munched away in silence until all the food was gone. I was feeling full and safe, now that Hunter was with me. Adrenaline had kept me going, but now it was leaking out of me, leaving me exhausted and muddle-headed.

  “So about the passports—”

  “You know what?” I interrupted. “I don’t care right now. I’m exhausted. And disgusting. All I want is a shower and a good night’s sleep.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I can make that happen.”

  “Thank you,” I said in relief. “You can tell me things tomorrow. If it’ll keep?”

  He paused, thinking for a moment. Crumbling up the remains of the fast-food wrapper, he finally nodded. His cell phone rang—not the one I’d found in the glove box. He reached into his pocket and looked at the screen.

  “It’s Jonah,” he stated.

  “Which means it’s really Anita—and my parents. They must be terrified.”

  “Probably.”

  He silenced the call and put the phone down. The cell quieted and went dark. A moment later, the ringing started again.

  “Turn it off,” I suggested. “They’re just gonna keep calling.”

  “Let’s get to a motel for the night,” Hunter said after powering down his phone. His hand reached out to touch my lank and greasy hair, but I didn’t shy away. Instead, I leaned into his touch.

  “Will you drive?” I asked. “I don’t even know how I made it this far.”

  His jaw clenched. “Yeah, I’ll drive.”

  We got out of the car and changed seats. I sagged into the passenger side, feeling a weariness that went beyond bone deep.

  “I won’t bother you with anything tonight,” Hunter said. “I won’t explain or share, but there’s one thing I want you to know right fucking now, Poppy.”

  I struggled to keep my eyes open. “What’s that?”

  “You’re not crazy. And I won’t let them take you back.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered in relief.

  “Just rest. I’ve got you.”

  As I dozed, the dream I’d had about the golden mechanical wasps and black onyx spiders came back to me.

  This isn’t a dream, Poppy, came Thane’s voice. It isn’t a dream at all.

  My hand reached out for the side of the car as my eyes shot open. “What the—”

  “Sorry,” Hunter muttered. “Fucking road kill in the middle of the highway. Didn’t know it was there until I was going over it.”

  I blinked until the bright spots dancing in front of my eyes faded. It was dark out, the clouds in the sky shielding most of the moon and the stars.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “A little after eleven.”

  “I thought we were going to stop at a motel.”

  “I wanted to get us out of Charleston.” Hunter looked in the rearview mirror and then settled back down.

  “Why?”

  “Harder for them to track us. Another few hours we’ll be in Nashville.”

  “What’s in Nashville?”

  “An airport.”

  My heart rate kicked up a notch. “What’s going on, Hunter?”

  He took one hand off the steering wheel and reached into the front console. “Turn it on. And then look at the most recent photos.”

  Inhaling a sharp breath, I turned the phone on, willing it to boot up faster. “Oh God,” I whispered when I opened the photos app.

  There, on the walls of the living room of the apartment I shared with Anita, were depictions of the dream I’d had about the wasps and the spiders.

  “You weren’t answering your phone,” he mumbled. “So Anita and Jonah came back from Connecticut early. They found you on the couch, singing in your sleep. They couldn’t wake you up. And then they saw your paintings.”

  “How do you—” I held up the phone, “—have these?”

  His jaw clenched as his eyes remained on the road. “Jonah sent them to me. It’s what brought me back from North Carolina.”

  I took a moment to study his face. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Poppy—”

  “Don’t. No more secrets. Not between us. What aren’t you telling me, Hunter?”

  Chapter 31

  He was silent for so long I thought he’d forgotten the question. “Tell me about Thane,” he said after a few miles of quiet.

  I felt light-headed. “Thane?”

  “Who is he, Poppy? You are the one that doesn’t want secrets between us. So tell me. Who is he?”

  “Why do you know that name?”

  He sighed again. “Because you called me Thane the night I carried you out of the bar.”

  “Why do you have a spare cell phone in your glove compartment? Are you—are you a drug dealer?” I shot back.

  A bark of laughter filled the air. “No. God, no. That would be such an easier explanation.” He switched lanes. “Are you hungry again?”

  “I could eat,” I admitted. I still needed a shower and a toothbrush. Guess those things were going to have to wait.

  While he exited the highway, I checked out my appearance in the visor mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight. My tangled hair was oily and in need of a thorough wash but I had no hair tie to throw it back. With the chocolate shake stain on the front of my shirt, I looked like a teenage runaway. There wasn’t anything I could do about it at the moment, so I quit worrying.

  Fifteen tense minutes later, we were at a Waffle House. It was fairly quiet; those at the counter app
eared to be truckers in need of a quick bite to fuel them up so they could get back on the road. They were in rougher shape than we were, and so no one paid any attention to my appearance. We were nothing out of the ordinary there.

  We slid into a free booth in the back corner. The waitress, who seemed like she’d been working for the last sixteen hours, was on us before I could even open a menu. She took our drink orders and then left. I grabbed a menu, flipped it open, and quickly decided what I wanted to eat. The exhausted woman came back, dropped our drinks, and demanded our food orders.

  I fiddled with the straw in my Coke and waited for Hunter to talk. He looked nervous as he raked a hand through his messy, blond hair. There were so many questions between us that had gone unanswered. I’d stored them up, waiting for a moment to unleash them. Not that I expected truth—maybe levels of truth but not all of it. Lately, the people in my life chose what to share with me, and I didn’t think Hunter was any different.

  Unable to stand the silence any longer, I asked, “If you saw the paintings on the wall and heard I’d been singing in some weird nonsense language, totally out of it, why did you spring me from the hospital? Why didn’t you leave me there?”

  “Because you would’ve died there.”

  I blinked rapidly.

  Out of all the answers I could’ve expected, that hadn’t been one of them. “What do you mean by that?”

  He sighed and then looked to the ceiling. After a moment, he dragged his eyes back to mine. “There are things we haven’t yet told each other, Poppy.”

  “Yeah,” I said slowly. “That’s true. I guess we haven’t been completely honest with each other, have we?”

  “Who is Thane?” he asked again.

  If I told him…what was the worst he could think? He’d already seen the drawings I’d done in my sleep and busted me out of a psych ward. Something was going on that was much bigger than I could put together, so I went for it.

  “Thane is a spider,” I whispered. “The spider in the glass cube I found the night you took me to—”

  “You named the spider?”

  I shook my head and pulled my legs up to my chest as if that could somehow stop me from spilling the darkest secret I had ever carried.