by R. R. Virdi
“I’m not that great for eating. Seriously, I’ll give you indigestion. It’s not worth it. Have you considered the oatmeal I told you about?”
It…chortled, I think. “Lyshae did well bringing you to us. An amusing meal indeed.”
Heat enveloped my frozen body. “Yeah? Well, she screwed me. She gave me her word!” I howled past the overgrown spider, hoping the foxy bitch heard me.
“Did she?” The freak blinked all it eyes. “You valued her word?” It laughed.
Okay, that one was on me. But still, I’d dealt with Gnosis and it turned out well, sort of. She’d just thrown me into the lion’s den—spider’s den—spider’s hole? Whatever. She played me.
“So, since she broke her word, guess I’m free to go, right?”
It covered the remaining distance between us in a fraction of a second. “No.” Viscous trails of fluid fell from its mandibles. I shuddered.
Where was Samwise Gamgee when I needed him?
Clacking mandibles drew me back to the hungry monster. Streams of saliva hung from its mouth. A fist-sized globule broke free and fell to the dirt. Disgusting.
“Eat, eat, eat, eat!” rasped the multitude of voices around me. Guess the jury had decided.
Mandibles snapped together in anticipation of a long awaited meal. All seven of the creature’s working eyes trained on me. I didn’t know if spiders could smile, but there was enough of a glint in its eyes to let me know it was happy. I wasn’t.
Cold adrenaline rushed through me and I moved. My body hit the ground as I tumbled beneath the oncoming freak, hoping it wouldn’t trample me with its many legs. I bent my knees, tucking them up to my chest. The spider’s legs hammered the ground around me.
The second it passed over me, I bolted. Terror drove me toward the extinguished campfire. I kept my gaze fixed ahead and not on the giant arachnid behind me. Masses bristled within the trees. About a hundred eyes peered through the dark, illuminated by the pale glow of the moon.
“No!” ordered the chief creepy-crawly. “Mine!” it hissed, followed by another series of clacks.
Talk about being greedy.
I covered the remaining distance to the smoldering fire with a dive, arm outstretched to the point where it strained. My ribs took the brunt of the landing but I managed to grab what I wanted. Rolling over, I hurled chunk after chunk of firewood toward the oncoming predator. The creature’s movement ceased as a forearm-sized piece of firewood struck the smallest of its fangs. A shrill sound, like a whistle, pierced the night. I didn’t know spiders could scream in pain. It must’ve been like getting punched in the teeth. A pair of furry arms near the front of its mouth pawed at the injured fang in frustration.
In its pained moment of self-coddling, I groped for another piece of wood. It was rough, not having burnt completely. The thing was hefty at one end too. Good. It was club like. I was more interested in the bottom half. Nothing close to a dagger, but it was jagged and fire hardened. It would have to do.
My hand sank, then rose up, sending the piece of wood into the air. It smacked into my palm with a comforting weight.
The spider recovered. Rapid clacks filled my ears while its eyes screamed murder. It charged. I snarled in defiance. “Bring it, Shelob!”
Pincers snapped with the intent of decapitating me. I bobbed my head out of the way. I wouldn’t be much use to people without a head.
Darting to the side, I raised the makeshift club overhead, intending to send it crashing down on a massive leg. The air rushed out of me as one of its limbs barreled into me, batting me aside like I was a joke. Dirt washed over me as I rolled on the ground. My hand still maintained a death grip on the firewood. The spider hopped—hopped—toward me!
You’ve got to hate jumping spiders. As if they weren’t creepy enough.
I scrambled to all fours, clawing up fistfuls of dirt as I crawled away. The spider landed mere feet behind me, and I silently gave thanks that it wasn’t using the metric system to move. Bark tickled the soft skin of my palm as I spun the firewood in my hand. I gripped the makeshift stake tight. Spider-douche raced forward, fangs moving with ravenous purpose. Globs of spittle fell from them.
My legs pounded against dirt as I moved to meet it. I exerted as much force as I could into my jump. We collided. My chest informed me that I was an idiot as a dull pain filled it. I slammed into the spider’s beach ball sized skull—fortunately—above the pincers.
The bristle-like hairs caused my hands to itch like I’d run them through poison ivy. Gritting through the discomfort, I clawed at the creature’s body, fighting to keep my grip on it. Spasms shot through my torso as I swayed. The spider flailed its head, trying to shake me. I slid ever closer to its unfriendly chompers. Its eyes trained on me as I moved closer to becoming dinner. I released one of my hands and swung the improvised stake. It connected, driving through bulbous tissue with a sickening squelch.
The spider bucked and I was thrown clear. My grip on the stake was so tight that the muscles in my hand spasmed from fatigue. Air escaped me, leaving me to wheeze, as I lay immobile. Fangzilla stomped around in pained fury. Minute forearms, or whatever they’re called on a spider, rubbed its face to assuage the damage and pain. Not like it would help. There’s only so much you can do when you’ve been stabbed in the eye. One blinded, one now missing—not too shabby.
I found some relief in its anguished wailing. I’m not the kind of guy that gets a kick out of pulling wings off bugs. Unless they’re trying to eat me, then I lose my cheery demeanor. I rolled to my side, pushing myself to a wobbly stand while the spider flailed.
“Lyshae!” I screamed, struggling with what little breath I had. “If I get out of this, I’m gonna kill you!”
“Is that any way to treat someone who’s helping you?” Her voice echoed back from wherever the hell she was.
I blinked… I wasn’t aware she could hear me. I was venting in frustration. I rubbernecked as I tried to pinpoint the location of her voice. I turned just in time to see arachnosaurus bustling toward me. The remaining six eyes blazed with an insane light. I think it was pissed at losing an eye. Some things just take stuff too personally. I mean, it was trying to eat me! And it was mad?
The stake whirled in my grip, now hefted like a poor club. My knees groaned as I sank to a fast crouch. Jaws clacked above me, striking empty air. Rocketing to my feet, I twisted my body, sending the club upwards in a double-handed swing. I ached to the marrow. A jarring force went through my arms as the blow landed. The club struck one of the large mandibles with a crack like lightning hitting an old tree. Another cry from the spider as its pincer fractured, not completely separated from its mouth, but rendered useless.
Deuces, bitch! One eye, one fang.
The beast stumbled backward in another fit of agony.
“Lyshae! Is this what you call helping? I am not spider bait!”
“I. Am. Negotiating. You Neanderthal!” Her voice had an amphitheater-like effect.
Neanderthal—me? I frowned, looking at the club, and grunted. I was not!
Spider-boy skittered toward me and I sighed. It was really keen on eating me. The club blurred into motion as I waved it in a wild pattern, hoping to keep the spider at bay. It didn’t work. The spider pressed on, advancing, albeit warily. Guess it didn’t want another chipped tooth. That’s what happens when you play with your food.
“Lyshae?” I howled in panic. “How’s that negotiating going?”
My response came in the form of a burst of light and warmth. The campfire crackled to life. The piece of wood in my hand erupted into flames as well.
I fumbled with the weapon as the broad club-like end became wreathed in flames. The fire’s warmth was a small comfort. Its light was helpful, but I was gladdened by something else. Like animals, many of the paranormal creepies don’t like fire. If you’re an oversized spider, chances are you’ll hate it all the more.
The flaming club whirred into a dizzying array of lights as I cast it into wide arcs. The
spider gave up ground with every wave. Leaping forward, I jabbed the weapon toward its face. It shrieked and bounded over me. I followed suit. I jumped behind it and swung, managing to strike its butt…abdomen? Whatever. I hit its spidery ass with fire! The arachnid ignited.
My ears were assaulted by an agonized keen. The spider writhed and stomped. Just as quickly as it had been turned into a giant fireball, it was snuffed out. Its body twitched. Mandibles clicked.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” I sighed, my shoulders sinking. I raised the club overhead and charged. Thrashing, bustling and all manner of noises sounded off as the entire army of spiders left the trees. I stopped so fast that I almost face planted. I was fully encircled by the freaks. One fiery club was not going to help me out of this.
They rushed past me—toward their fallen comrade. They crawled over him, strands of silk like material trailing behind them. Soon, it was fully cocooned and a pair of spiders took the initiative to haul him off. Its body still squirmed a bit. It was still alive. I shuddered.
“Sucks to be him,” I murmured. My mistake. The remaining spiders turned to face me. I wondered if my escalating heartbeat was audible over the otherwise crypt-like silence.
“Stop!” the voice snapped with utter and unquestioning authority. The spiders froze in place. Lyshae stood there, posture straight, calm and undisturbed by the vast number of spiders around us.
One of them reared its ugly head. “Do not presume to—”
I never figured out what it was going to say next. Lyshae’s hand cut through the air. An orb of fire appeared from nowhere. The spiders head was engulfed in flames. Its legs beat in panic before Lyshae motioned again. The fire extinguished and the creature fell to the ground, jerking. Its cries stopped. A repeat performance ensued. The spiders eyed Lyshae warily and scuttled over to their buddy. Seconds later, it too was wrapped in webbing and hauled off. A few arachnids hung back, eyes fixed on Lyshae and myself. A ball of fire appeared in her hands. They left.
I breathed in relief.
“Now, Vincent, that wasn’t too bad, was it?”
I crossed the distance and took Lyshae in my grip. My thumb and fingers dug into the tissue around her windpipe. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing into dangerous slits. “What are you…” She trailed off as I squeezed harder.
“You screwed me.” My chest heaved, matching my rapid breathing.
She sputtered something. I didn’t care. I’m not so nice a guy that I wouldn’t kill a pretty fox spirit. Lyshae may have had a bit of supernatural strength, but I had her by the throat. And her throat would crush just like anyone else’s.
“Please,” she managed to say.
I let her go. Lyshae crumpled into a heap. I didn’t kneel to pick her up. I don’t like it when someone plays me and leaves me to become spider chow. Sue me.
She rose a minute later, smoothing the rumpled pearlescent fabric of her shift. “Well, that was terribly rude of you. I should slap you again.” She smiled.
I growled.
“Would you like me to share what I discovered?”
I didn’t think she actually did her job. My look must’ve shown it.
“Please, do you honestly think I would’ve betrayed you? After I’d given my word? That would be bad for business.”
“Yeah, you know what else is bad for business? Leaving me to be eaten by spiders!”
Lyshae’s eyes did a lazy somersault, like what I had gone through was no big deal. “Hardly a trial. Besides, I helped you, didn’t I?”
I remembered the spontaneous combustion of the campfire and club. Not to mention the fireball she had conjured. I eyed her askance. “That was you?”
“Who else?”
“Except you can’t sling fire around,” I said, my voice tense.
“Of course not, but illusions serve just as well,” Lyshae punctuated the statement with a small laugh.
“Illusions?” I sputtered. “Lyshae, I felt the heat from those things. Hell, I saw what they did….” I trailed off as the realization hit me. Lyshae was well over a thousand years old. Her illusions were practically an art form. They were powerful enough to be felt. Well, powerful enough that you imagined you felt them. “So those spiders weren’t burned. They imagined it?”
“Pain is in the mind, is it not, Vincent?”
I blinked. The spiders were fine; well, not counting the one who had lost an eye. They were alive when their “buddies” dragged them off. Alive and going to be eaten. I shivered. “Um, thanks, I think.”
She gave a slight inclination of her head, about the closest thing to a bow I’d get from her.
“Before you spill everything you learned, mind telling me why I had to go through that? If you weren’t planning on screwing me, I’d like an answer, Lyshae.”
“It was her price.” I assumed her meant Lyshae’s boss, the Mother of Spiders.
“What in the hell?”
“A bit of entertainment, while the grown-ups discussed things.” A fox-like grin spread over her face. “While you were busy doing what you’re so good at—wielding a cudgel and causing havoc—I was speaking to my lady.” She said it so nonchalantly. That is not frickin’ normal!
“Entertainment? What if I’d been eaten?”
“Entertainment and a meal.” She grinned. “Either would have sufficed.” It’s never okay to be so calm and collected when talking about someone almost being eaten by spiders.
“Lyshae,” I breathed, “I think I hate you.”
She chuckled.
“Before I have a stroke, can you please tell me what you learned?”
“The shadows aren’t shadows, not truly. Neither are they illusions. They are real, wholly so.”
“So, what, they just pass as shadows—look like them? They can definitely move like shadows,” I said. “What exactly are they doing here?”
“Doing what scavengers do.” Her beautiful features twisted in disgust. “Vultures,” she spat.
Vultures don’t kill. They feed off whatever scraps are left after something bigger is done with a kill. That meant something bigger was here…something more dangerous than them. I swallowed.
“The shadows aren’t killing the patients, are they?”
She shook her head.
“What are they doing here? What are they feeding on?”
“Why, the remains of the patients obviously.”
Their remains…but Ortiz inspected the young woman’s body. It was in the morgue. I raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Not their physical remains, Vincent. What happens when someone dies the way they have? In pain and confusion—issues unresolved?”
Oh, crap. This was getting worse by the second. Ghosts. She was talking about flippin’ ghosts! It wasn’t bad enough that something was murdering people. Now there was a group of supernatural scavengers picking off their ghosts!
Charles—Lizzie! Charles was a ghost now. He would be an easy target for these things, and Lizzie had seen him—spoken to him. What if she got roped into this? Things were getting out of hand, and fast. There were too many variables. It’s not my job to save ghosts, but I wasn’t going to leave them at the mercy of those freaks.
“Lyshae, what about the creature, the one responsible for the killings?” I blurted.
She shrugged. “I do not know, not at the moment at least.”
“What? I went through all that, and you don’t know!” I felt like my hand was going to reach back up and encircle her windpipe.
“There’s only so much I glean from my lady, and let’s not forget that you did not specify how or when you wanted the information. The rest will take time.” She wore a smug expression.
A deep, audible burble formed in my throat.
“Also, I am not overly fond of being choked, Vincent Graves.” Her smug smile vanished. A hand flicked through the night and a silvery gleam caught my eye. I turned to look at it, she had opened a door out of the Neravene. I shifted and saw a flash of movement
. A wide smile played across Lyshae’s face. My gut cried as a petite foot lashed out and the air was knocked from my lungs. “Goodbye for now, Vincent,” she said as I tumbled through the doorway.
I landed hard, staring up at a different sort of dark from that of the Neravene. No disorienting balls of colored light, just the faint and distant glow of stars peppering the sky. Cool air drifted over me as I pushed myself to all fours. My hands dug into the asylum’s grass. “Lyshae, you bitch!” I tore tufts of ground and sent them into the air. My forearm tingled.
I hadn’t been in the Neravene for more than an hour or two. The Neravene didn’t care for my deadline however. I had lost nine whole hours.
Thirty left.
Chapter Twelve
It was past midnight, my body ached, and my mind begged for a few hours’ rest. Except rest wasn’t part of the job. I hobbled back to my room, taking care to go unnoticed. The second my body touched the mattress, overwhelming temptation came over me. My body sunk into the soft bed. Its contours shifted, welcoming me with an inviting hug. All I had to do was curl up and throw the blanket over myself. I’d only lose six to eight hours. Maybe a person would die in that time, maybe not. Maybe I’d have pleasant dreams.
I groaned, wondering if Church was ever going to give me a case where I could sleep. Crablike, I sent my hand scuttling beneath the pillows, sliding around aimlessly in an attempt to locate my journal. I batted the cover with an upturned hand and let it open to a random page. Sighing, I dug through it, hoping that I’d find something, and soon.
Another hour passed. Twenty-nine left. But a bit of luck broke my way. I wouldn’t say it was lucky exactly, but I knew what the shadowy creatures were. I wasn’t overly fond of the idea of dealing with them though. My eyes adopted a new level of focus as I scoured the pages.
These things were smart, possessing startling speeds and, worst of all, a pack mentality. An unknown quantity of monsters were darting around the place, and somewhere along with them, was their big dog. If I wanted to stop these things, I had to gun for their leader.