The Spider Queen

by Emma Slate

  Is all of Purgatory like that?

  No. Only here. The Desert of the Forgotten follows its own rules.

  The desert was once a sea. Well, that made sense. There were parts of the Earth that were the same.

  You said this place was stagnant. But that’s not really true, is it?

  Oh, things change here. Just at the slowest rate incomprehensible by humans.

  I’m not human. Not anymore.

  Thane’s connection abruptly closed off, shielding me from his thoughts. I thought about poking him into replying, but I hadn’t been lying when I said I didn’t begrudge him his safe space.

  I thought by removing half your heart, you’d cease to be human. I’m not sure that’s entirely the case.

  Care to explain that logic?

  No.

  I liked to think I knew Thane enough by now to read his nuances. This was the Thane of old, the one who retreated, the one who thought I wasn’t ready to hear whatever it was he wanted to tell me.

  Don’t probe. I beg you, please, don’t.

  Grief and sadness I didn’t expect to feel blasted through our connection.

  I didn’t ask.

  But I wanted to know… Was I still partly human? And if that was the case, how was that possible when I’d had the human part of my heart removed?

  I absently touched my chest and rubbed it.

  How could it all turn so somber? For a moment, there had been nothing but the two of us, on the back of an iridescent scorpion, traveling across the desert.

  And now…

  Now, there was a wall between us, and Thane had put it there.

  Is this your insanity coming back?

  “Can we talk? I need to hear your voice.”

  “Thane,” I whispered. “What happened just now?”

  His arms around me tightened. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  I touched his right hand. His skin was painted with plum moonbeams, but when it was daylight, he was golden.

  I swallowed.

  “It’s not the insanity,” Thane said softly. “It’s the stark realization that this could be the end.”

  “Didn’t we know this was pretty much a suicide mission?”

  “How can you be so calm about the idea of death? Of such finality?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I could rage against it, I guess. But that would be such a useless emotion. What happened to your hope? That was your thing, remember?”

  He fell silent.

  “Well, then it’s up to me to have some hope. For the both of us.”

  Thane paused. “Maybe that’s enough.”

  Chapter 31

  By dawn the next morning, the iron ship in the distance was once again buried. The desert scorpion we rode wasn’t nearly as subdued as I’d hoped it would be. I still detected bitter resentment that we treated it like a pack mule.

  When the sun was halfway through the sky, we stopped to stretch our legs.

  “I hope I never see so much sand ever again,” I said. I still spoke like we had a future, that there would be a time when Thane and I walked hand in hand, and he showed me his domain.

  Thane didn’t reply. He leaned against the purplish-black body of the scorpion and removed a boot. Sand rained down.

  Last night, he’d fallen silent, locked away in the corners of his mind. Whatever internal battle he was warring, he chose not to share with me. He withdrew completely, and if I hadn’t felt his body pressed against mine as we rode the desert scorpion, then I would’ve thought I’d imagined him.

  So I’d been left to my own thoughts. And they were terrifying. I pictured beasts, demons and angels, winged monsters, cloven animals, all fighting and clashing. Who knew if it was my imagination, or if it was a vision of the future? Or maybe it was a vision of the present.

  “This place,” I muttered, placing a hand to my forehead.

  “What do you see?” Thane asked. He looked up from tying his boot and removed his glasses.

  His eyes were dark with shadows creeping across black ebony.

  Shiny marbles full of mysteries.

  I hesitated and then told him. I didn’t want to keep secrets from Thane, even though he was concealing things from me, things he didn’t think I could handle.

  “We should keep moving,” Thane said, gesturing to the scorpion.

  I nodded.

  Thane helped me get settled on the scorpion, and then made a move to swing up behind me, but he suddenly stopped. His head swiveled, his eyes behind his aviators taking in the expansive landscape.

  “Thane?”

  He craned his neck to look up at me. “Nothing.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” He swung up. Taking the reins, he got himself sorted. He gently clipped the scorpion with his ankles.

  The scorpion hissed, but damn if it didn’t start trekking forward.

  “Have you tried talking to it?” I asked, attempting to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.

  “Have you?”

  “Valid point. I have stretched my mind toward it, but it—well—seemed rather primitive.”

  The scorpion reared up and bucked us off its back. We hit the sand hard, and the angry beast scurried away, faster than it had ever moved while carrying us.

  Thane shot me a look, his dark brows rising over his sunglasses.

  “Should we call it back?” I asked in dry amusement.

  “No. Let it go.”

  The purplish-black arachnid was now a dot in the distance. How it had managed to get away so fast, I’d never know.

  Now we are on our own. Again.

  “We were always on our own, Poppy,” Thane said softly. “Virbius, the scorpion, they’re just illusions of aid. But it will always be you and me. Together.”

  I wasn’t prepared for Thane’s intensity, but when he stalked toward me, took me into his arms, and kissed the breath out of me, I held on. I took it, welcomed it, gave it back to him.

  We clawed at one another, desperation coating every kiss, every touch.

  It would never be enough. Even if we managed to save the world, and we had time to grow with each other, it would never be enough.

  Aching sadness permeated my heart. Coldness seeped into me, like when I’d fallen into the ice swamp.

  “I want you,” I breathed.

  “I want you too. But we have no shelter, no blanket, nothing.”

  Scorching heat radiated through my arms and legs. It might’ve been desire, or the sun baking me from the inside out.

  I was suddenly weeping, and I had no idea why. Our desire cooled, and Thane took me into his arms and held me as I cried against him.

  “I told you,” he muttered. “This place. It chews you up and spits you out.”

  “We have to get out of here.” I lifted my sunglasses to wipe the tears from my face. “I miss bathing. I miss bedding.”

  “And me? Do you miss me?”

  I looked up at him. Thane’s hands cradled my cheeks, and he pressed his lips softly to mine.

  “I miss you the most,” I admitted.

  With a shaky sigh, I peered at our surroundings. Sand dunes. Everywhere.

  Air teased the back of my hair.

  I frowned. “Did you feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  “Wind. Well, not wind. More like a warm breeze.”

  “You felt a warm breeze?”

  I nodded. “I thought the air was stagnant here.”

  He inhaled slowly.

  “Thane? What is it you’re not telling me?”

  “A breeze means a rainstorm is coming.”

  I smiled. “Hallelujah! Rain? I might dance naked in it and call it a shower.” When it was obvious Thane didn’t share my enthusiasm, my smile slipped.

  “This is not a summer rain to cool down the heat. This is—” He glanced up and then so did I.

  Black clouds that looked like coal smoke billowed through the blue sky, blotting out the sun. It was like night had fallen i
n the span of a few seconds.

  Pat, pat, pat!

  Like the black clouds, the rain came out of nowhere. Thick, fat drops hit the sand. Taupe dirt turned to—

  The din of the rainstorm thundered in my ears. Luckily, my hat and body suit kept me well protected.

  “Why is the ground red?” I yelled.

  “It’s not water!” Thane shouted back. “It’s blood!”

  Chapter 32

  Revulsion coiled through me. “Blood? Blood from what?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “No.”

  A drop of blood hit the back of my hand and then dribbled down my wrist, into my body suit.

  I choked down bile.

  “How long will this last?” I asked, trying to keep my emotions under control.

  “I don’t know. The storms can last anywhere from a few minutes to a few days.”

  “Days?” I cried. “Of raining blood?” I tucked my hands into my armpits, not wanting any blood to touch my bare skin again.

  A tremor pulsed inside of me. I grinned and asked my spiders for what I needed.

  My sunglasses and hat disappeared, and I held out my hand to grip the handle of the massive golf umbrella.

  I shot a smile at Thane who laughed—and then he hurried underneath. He took the umbrella from me since he was taller, and with his free hand, he wrapped his arm around me.

  “Let’s sit,” he suggested.

  Looking down at the ground, I wrinkled my nose. “On bloody sand?”

  “Do you have any better ideas? There’s no point in walking.”

  “Explain something to me,” I said when we were both nestled against each other, the umbrella shielding us from the blood drops. “Are we even in the middle of the desert? I mean, this obviously goes on for miles and miles.”

  “It does. And I don’t know if we’re in the middle of the desert, per se.”

  “Then why keep walking at all? Why not sit in one spot and wait for the Ebony moon to rise?”

  “The Desert of the Forgotten does something to you, remember? It makes you crazy; it magnifies your doubts and fears. What do you think would happen if you, too, decided to stay in one place, choosing to be stagnant? Moving keeps the insanity at bay.”

  “You know a lot about a lot of things,” I said with a sigh. “You should go on Purgatory Jeopardy!”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You’ll know things, too. In time. It takes time.”

  We don’t have time. I may never get that time.

  Let’s play a game.

  I’m not in the mood.

  You just said you thought I should go on a game show. Come on. Thane chuckled. It’s not really a game. Remember when you showed me Charleston?

  You mean, do I remember you hitching a ride on my backpack when you were in spider form, and I showed you Charleston?

  Did I ever tell you how much I enjoy your snarkiness?

  I smiled.

  Do you remember that day? he asked again.

  Yes.

  Do you remember showing me the quaint carriage house you hoped to move into? You showed me a vision of what the house looked like, the gray cat curled up in the sun… I didn’t have the heart to tell you that you’d never live that life. I didn’t have the heart to tell you that all your human wishes and dreams wouldn’t be possible, and that in time, you would no longer even yearn for them.

  I thought about the moment he was describing. How innocent I’d been. Naive. Kept in the dark about everything that was happening to me. My cousin had had me committed. She’d witnessed some terrifying, inexplicable behavior.

  I’d forgotten that day. I remember it now. You’re right, though—about how I don’t wish for those things anymore. They’re so incredibly…human.

  Human. Yes. It would make sense that you’d want those things, those dreams. What do you want now? Now that you can have anything and everything? Immortality brings so many choices, Poppy. What do you want?

  I’d like to succeed in our quest.

  That’s a given. Let’s say we succeed. Let’s say we stop Lucifer and Xan from getting into Heaven, we stop them from fighting a war on Earth. What do you want then, Poppy?

  You’re giving me emotional whiplash.

  Let me tell you what I see.

  The vision he sent me was vivid and full of yearning. Thane had sent me many images of us together, fantasies, sexual promises yet to be fulfilled. But this was different.

  A gaggle of children of indiscriminate ages, dark-haired, long-limbed, their laughter ringing through the trees as we chased after them. A picnic at the edge of a magical lake where nymphs swam to the surface, begging us to join them.

  More laughter, happiness as bright as sunshine and full of love.

  The dream cleared, but the warmth remained, our tethered connection pulsing gently with it.

  I never had that kind of hope, Poppy. I never let myself wish. Not like this. Not with the others.

  The others. He meant the other women who’d tried to free him—and failed.

  I wasn’t meant to have that life with them. But when it was you, that dream is what stopped me from tumbling back into despair and insanity. So share that dream with me, Poppy. Hold on to that. And when the last flame of hope is about to be extinguished, picture us. Together. Our family. Because that is worth the fight.

  Chapter 33

  The sky was ominously dark for what seemed like hours, though I had no idea how much time had passed. Neither sun nor moons peered through the black clouds. We sat in darkness, talking through our bond. But finally, the blood rain ceased, and the haze evaporated.

  It was nighttime, and the Ebony moon was now the fullest moon in the sky. It didn’t radiate moonbeams. Instead, it cast an all-engulfing shadow. But with the aid of the other two moons and the twinkling stars, I was still able to see shapes and forms.

  “Thane,” I croaked.

  It was the first word I had uttered out loud in a good amount of time. My throat hurt from lack of use. After the sound of incessant drops hitting sand, my ears didn’t know what to do with the sudden silence and they were ringing.

  Thane stood and closed the umbrella. When he realized what he’d done, he laughed and then tossed it aside. He reached down to help me stand.

  We’d made it this far, I realized. We hadn’t given up. We hadn’t succumbed. We’d battled monsters, terrain, insanity. We still had a long way to go, and we had no idea if the walls of Heaven stood.

  For all we knew, there could be a battle on Earth happening at this very moment.

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “The Ebony moon is at the highest point, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe. Or it may only look like it’s at its highest point.” He shrugged, not appearing concerned.

  It had been too many days since I’d bathed or brushed my teeth. My hair was in desperate need of a wash, but I hadn’t thought to ask my spiders for anything so trivial. I grabbed the strands of my greasy hair and braided them. When I realized I didn’t have a hair tie, I sent up a silent curse. Suddenly, my hair was tied at the end, courtesy of shimmery white spider silk.

  Now if I could only do something about my breath…

  My mouth filled with leaves.

  Trust us…they said. They spoke as one, but I could hear them now. Maybe that meant my own powers were growing.

  I chewed the leaves, releasing a strong mint flavor.

  Thane was running a comb through his hair and scrubbing at his stubble. He looked at me and grinned.

  I shook my head. Despite the turmoil and the state of the world, I’d gladly spare five minutes for a quick shower.

  “Not having any trouble seeing in the dark now, are you?” he asked.

  “No. I can see fine, now that you mention it.” I paused. “How much magic do you think it would take to get clean?”

  “Hmmm. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “I kind of
noticed.”

  “Our spiders are good for little things—stop gaps, really. But they’re warriors. They protect and come when called. They’re not mages. They don’t have the power to create huge somethings from nothing.”

  “Are they a part of us? Or are they their own entity?”

  “Both and neither. They serve us because I am the rightful Guardian of the Bridge, and you are my mate.”

  “Can you not call me that?” I asked. “I really hate that term.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It just sounds so…basic? Weird? Spidery?”

  I could see Thane’s smile in the dark. “What would you want me to call you?”

  “Girlfriend?”

  He snorted. “You mean a bit more to me than that.”

  “Right, right. So I guess fiancée is out, too.”

  “Stop trying to use human words to describe what we are, Poppy. Humans don’t have a word for what we are.”

  “Mate it is, I guess,” I said with a sigh. “You’re not going to want to…”

  “What?”

  “Do it in spider form?”

  He snorted. “No. We’re not wolf shifters. Besides, if we do it in our animal forms, you might bite off my head. I’d rather keep my head where it is.”

  “Wolf shifters? This turned into a really weird conversation.”

  Thane laughed.

  “I haven’t tried to shift into my spider form,” I said. “Not consciously, anyway. Am I even capable of it?”

  “Try. Though I have to warn you, it’s completely jarring the first few times. And you don’t have as much control as you think you do.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean, it takes time for your brain and body to align. When you take spider form the first few times, you feel out of place in both body and mind.”

  I thought about when I’d shifted the first and only time. I’d glanced down, saw eight legs, and freaked the hell out. I’d tried to scream, but I could only hear the sound in my head. I’d had human emotions inside an animal body.

  “I think I understand what you’re saying.”

  “It’s kind of like being a newly changed vampire. All they want to do is feed, but it takes years to tamp that part down, and let the rational side be front and center.”