Spider's Kiss

by Jesse Sprague

  “And we’d make a beautiful sideshow.”

  “They were right. We did, but they’re not gods.” Halis grinned and kissed Silvia’s forehead.

  “Do you hate them?”

  “No. I understand. If anything, we’re gods, Silvia. Free of shackles and hungry.” Halis paused. “Ymel will chase us. We need to be prepared.”

  Silvia nibbled her lip. “Tell me about Revia. Not the mantra, the truth. What are we?”

  “You know what you need. Revia’s past holds nothing for us.”

  “If you won’t tell me, then take me to Revia.”

  “It’s gone.”

  “The wreckage remains. Take me. You have memories. I’ve nothing of my past.”

  “One place is as good as another.” Halis shrugged.

  Click. Silvia looked over her shoulder at the young couple who’d entered the compartment behind them. They clung to each other, hardly even seeing the two occupants already in the small chamber. Such innocence and simplicity. There was a strange rough beauty in their embrace, unlike the expensive trappings and companions that had filled her life thus far.

  “You have eaten, Halis. Let’s make friends.”

  “With… that?”

  “Hmm, perhaps not. Something more refined. Walk with me?”

  Taking Halis’ arm, Silvia left the compartment to the other couple. They tainted the air with perspiration and their clothes stank of chemicals straight from the store. New outfits and new lives. How dare such inferior creatures believe in their own fresh start? This was not their moment. It was hers.

  Chapter 13

  Love

  The sun shone over the Cortanis estate, dispelling all traces of shadows. Berrick approached this vision slowly, afraid his presence would cause the peace to crumble. He wanted to believe in the tranquil picture before his eyes, but he could still feel the spiders’ touch on him. Even though they were gone, he feared the webs they left behind.

  For this reason, he approached the house of his old friend with both trepidation and joy. Marim, his precious child, was safe inside the mansion. That alone was worth the sharp ache in his leg and the knowledge that somewhere out there, he had unleashed horror on someone else.

  I protected my family. Let others worry about their families. I’m done with that life. Never got me anywhere.

  Encased in this world of sunshine where no shadow lurked, she was safe from monsters. He wouldn’t watch her lowered into worm-ridden soil. She was all that mattered now, not law, not tradition… nothing.

  Across the grass, Marim dashed. As if to drive even the murky doubts Berrick tried to hold at bay, her smile blazed. Even from a great distance, she was marked by her hair, which caught the sunshine and cradled the glow close. She ran with the freedom and carelessness of childhood, but a new grace flowed in her movements.

  The vision of her in the sunlight, so like and so unalike her mother, stopped Berrick entirely. He simply watched her move. He could almost see Polly and Petyr carved in the beams encasing her.

  His joy was short-lived. As soon as Marim stopped in front of him, her face glowing and coated in sunshine, he realized. Perhaps it was something to do with the flickering shadows that played over her, but on nothing else. Or her hand, which hovered unconsciously, where it never had before.

  Berrick knew without a doubt and with no proof that Marim was with child.

  “Hello, Father,” Marim said. Her voice was liquid sunshine, and it rolled off of him.

  Questions formed on his lips, alongside accusations of hate for the cursed spiders. It took all his strength not to ask her. Not to demand if the suspected pregnancy was, in fact, true. Not to ask if the father was the spider. She didn’t know. Could not have been so happy if she had known. She would be ashamed as any girl of good family would be found in her condition out of wedlock. She would doubt her reception even with him. He did not want to shatter what little peace she had left. For there could be no hurried marriage, no covering this up.

  The father had left the world already, and even had he been present and willingly asked for her, Berrick would not have let Marim wed Halis.

  I could take care of it. The herbs aren’t hard to come by. Marim never even has to know. The weight of infanticide was one she wouldn’t have to bear; he would carry it for her. This he was certain was an act Polly would never forgive him for, the killing of an infant. He would take her blame. She’d made her choices in spite of him.

  “Father?” Marim cocked her head. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” He reached out and brushed her cheek.

  “You were gone so long.”

  “It’s over now.”

  “They’re free then,” Marim said. “Come inside.”

  Berrick followed her with leaden footsteps. How much did she remember of that night?

  “Please, speak to the count. Darith”—she looked back over her shoulder at the word, her face suffused with love—“should see you as well. He’ll want to know how your travels went.”

  “Will he know already?”

  “As I do? Bits and pieces only.” She turned and brushed her lips over his cheek. “It is all right, Father. Memories fade and grow soft with time. Soon they’ll be far away, and we can all forget them.”

  Marim’s hand trembled, and she clutched at her dress to hide her fear. Despite her words, she knew as well as he that not all memories faded. She clung to his arm, glancing at an empty corner, terror making her grip too tightly.

  Inside the house, the halls had livened up since the last time Berrick had arrived. The servants bustled about. The only banners that hung were of the family crest. Waiting there near the door, alerted by Marim, stood the count and the countess. They had improved, just as their house had. Even so, there was a vague medicated look about their eyes.

  Berrick clenched his fist. Something, anything to strike would have been appreciated.

  Marim set her soft hand over his fist. Would the spider baby hold on even if he offered a remedy? Would it cling like a parasite to her insides?

  He barely heard the halfhearted greetings of his old friends. He certainly did not hear his own answers until they said something that mattered.

  “Did you find your revenge?” the count said.

  “Darith’s revenge,” the countess said. Her lips were a hard line even as she spoke. “Our revenge.”

  “Father sent the culprits far away,” said Marim. “We need never worry about them.”

  How strange that somewhere during this whole process Marim had learned to dissemble. Her half-lie was meant to placate and protect. Only Berrick didn’t want her fragile protection. He wanted to suffer because he had failed her. He had failed them all.

  “They live,” he said.

  The countess glared. Without a further word, she ascended the stairs. She turned to the left. Darith’s new quarters were to the right. Marim’s shoulders stiffened and Berrick wondered if she noted the direction as well. The countess’ anger was over a son she no longer had, not for a son harmed.

  “Darith will want to know,” the count said. There was no anger in him, at least not for his friend. Count Cortanis had never wanted revenge. He wanted to forget.

  The count motioned with his hand. Marim and Berrick ascended the stairs alone.

  “The countess will warm to Darith soon,” Marim said. “It’s hard for him being alone. They’ll see that soon.”

  The countess warm? Berrick doubted that. He recalled the first time he’d met the woman. He’d invited the couple over to Polly’s and his home just outside the college grounds. They’d shown, the count as jovial as ever, and settled right into a conversation with Polly about which of the off-Yahal conveniences they would miss when they returned home. The countess, however, had sat stiffly in her chair. She was a lovely woman, but the air had seemed chillier near her and her voice had been a cold snap.

  Still, it was she who had found a way for Polly and Berrick to return to Yahal. He’d despaired of it when job
offers had come in. Nothing had been available on Yahal. But with the pull of a few strings, the countess had made room for her husband’s college friend. And he and Polly had happily said goodbye to the off-world conveniences.

  It wasn’t until later that Polly began to resent the restrictions.

  Berrick clenched his jaw as well as his fist. These were things Marim should never need to know. How could any mother care more for a line of descent than her child? Only, had he been any better? He’d run off for revenge rather than staying with Marim. It hurt to see your child in pain. He understood better than he’d like why Darith’s parents wouldn’t visit their son, and Berrick doubted if they would change.

  Marim opened Darith’s door and slid inside. Berrick followed with a sinking heart. He didn’t want to meet with the sullen teen. Another pair of eyes that knew what they should not was hardly what his guilty conscience desired.

  Darith sat up in his bed. Somehow despite being bed-bound, he was the same prideful, angry youth he’d always been. Where Berrick expected wreckage, he saw strength. Good. Here, at least, was something that had survived the spiders.

  “Marim, will you be good enough to leave your father to me?” Darith asked.

  Berrick almost smiled, a warmth pervading the concrete sinking inside him since seeing Marim. In all the years of watching Darith grow, Berrick had never heard Darith speak so softly or respectfully to a woman. He had finally found something he cared about as much as himself. Berrick was happy for them for a moment. Then he remembered what their lives were to be. Darith was a cripple and would never properly take a wife. Marim was cursed by the spiders’ touch, and unless Berrick could find the strength to do a dreadful, unforgivable thing, she would never be anyone’s wife.

  His unformed smile left his lips by the time Marim left the room. The two men regarded each other across the lavishly furnished room. Slightly wilted flowers swayed in the breeze from the open window and the tissuey drapes billowed, making soft, flapping sounds. Berrick did not know how to judge the man-child in this nest. Whatever Darith saw, he must have found satisfactory because he nodded and then said the last thing Berrick had expected.

  “Don’t worry about her. I’ll take care of her.”

  “Marim.”

  “Who else? We are, neither of us, fools, so let’s not play games.”

  “How can you take care of Marim?”

  The words were cruel, but Darith did not flinch. Instead, he smiled, the smile one would award a slow child.

  “You know that already.”

  And Berrick did know. Darith saw the same thing growing inside Marim that Berrick did. In a way, Berrick had been blind too. The solution to both Darith’s and Marim’s problems rested with each other. All he needed to do was guard them and see them safely through it.

  “Yes. You have my blessing.”

  Not exactly the way a father dreams of betrothing his daughter, but better than the alternatives.

  ∆∆∆

  The direct sunlight, even coupled with a chill wind, lifted Darith’s spirits. Other than the whistling air and Gretta’s crunching footfall behind his wheelchair on the path, nothing disturbed his thoughts. This was the first time he’d dared to leave his room and the fact that the world remained as he’d known it reassured him.

  Gretta swept up beside him, her parasol shading both of them as she twirled it.

  Darith glanced back at the house. What was Berrick saying to Marim? How was she taking it? Doubts clouded his mind. Was he doing the right thing? Maybe even pregnant, she could find a better husband than a cripple… and he might have convinced himself if he hadn’t seen how she glanced at the shadows and the tendrils of black that sometimes flooded her eyes.

  Will I even get to see her before Berrick takes her home?

  How will I sleep with her gone?

  The garden had thinned with autumn, but the line of shrubs they passed was still plush and green. Gretta swung her curls over one shoulder and ran her free hand over the foliage.

  “Didn’t expect to hear from you,” Gretta said.

  The cover of green grew taller, obscuring the mansion so that Darith could almost believe himself in private with her.

  “I’ve had time to think and my situation has altered.” He halted next to a garden bench and waited for Gretta to sit.

  “Your situation seems the same to me.” She closed her parasol and leaned it against the bench before selecting a spot on the bench to sink onto. “You mean ye changed yer mind about it.”

  “No.” Darith glared at her.

  Gretta pursed her lips and motioned for him to continue.

  “I mean it has changed. Does your offer to help me stand? My request is not a small one.”

  Chapter 14

  Aftermath

  “’Course my offer stands, Darith,” Gretta said. Her back stiffened where it pressed into the garden bench. “I want to help ye where I can. Else why’d I have come? Get on with it. Some of us have to work fer a living. I should be back at the shop with Papa.”

  “I’ve agreed to wed Marim.”

  Gretta arched a brow and fingered the end of her parasol. “And she consented?”

  “Her father did.”

  “Are ye really going to tell me ye didn’t ask her yourself?”

  “Her father will broach the subject with her, as custom dictates.” Could Gretta never stay on topic? The woman was a ball of emotions. This was not the point at all. Darith opened his mouth to tell her so.

  Gretta spoke up first. “Stupid noble tradition. Ask her—”

  “I didn’t ask you here to argue the point. In two months, we will be wed and by then her pregnancy will show.”

  “Oh.” Gretta clapped her hands over her mouth. “The poor thing. I didn’t know…” Then Gretta’s eyes got colder, and her lips tightened. Her gaze bore into him.

  “I didn’t impregnate her, Gretta.” Darith rubbed at his temples. “But you’re the only one who needs to know that.”

  “Why would ye tell me? Certainly not to spare my feelings.”

  “Because I need you to take care of her. The baby… well, it’s affecting her mind. She talks to creatures that aren’t there, and at night, nightmares hound her. She’s leaving here tonight. Her father will never let me stay with her before the wedding, but she needs someone to care for her, to sleep at her side, and hold her when the demons inside her won’t rest. The endpoint is, she’ll be in no shape to be countess unless she gets better. I need someone to oversee my household. She doesn’t have the strength. You do.”

  “What are ye saying?”

  “Physically, I’m limited, and I need someone to do what I can’t. The first of those things is to look after Marim until she has the baby—maybe even longer. The second is…” Darith drew out an envelope and extended his arm to her. “Do you know what a Timmy is?”

  Gretta’s nose scrunched, demonstrating she did and though her hand lifted, she didn’t take the envelope. She eyed it, suspicious of both the paper and him.

  “Every month, I need this amount to go to Timmy.”

  Gretta leaned away from him, condemnation in her brown eyes.

  “No,” Darith said. “Don’t worry. I never need to visit the boy. I’ve never used a Timmy’s services, but events in my life have led to me feeling indebted. I need to help him. An account in your name is established already. It will provide money for you and him on a monthly basis—for you, an equivalent amount as would be provided to keep a mistress. There’s also a hunting cabin just outside of town that I will sign over to you. This should allow you to have independence.”

  “Independence as long as I watch yer household matters.”

  “This is a trust set up for life. Just take care of Marim as long as she needs it. See that the current Timmy has a shot at a future outside of The Brothels, and your life is your own. You could choose a pauper to wed if you wished.”

  “That’s a lot just fer watching a girl and dropping an envelope.”

&n
bsp; “And for your silence. You’ll see things with Marim that cannot be explained.”

  “I’ll do it fer you, though I don’t understand. You’ve gotta do something fer me.”

  “The money is sufficient.”

  “I can get up and walk away.” Gretta grinned.

  “Fine.” Darith’s finger’s pressed into his legs. No sensation traveled into the dead appendages. But at night when he touched the web inside, he could feel again.

  “Ask that poor girl to marry you. Do it yourself. Sounds like she’s getting a raw deal from life. You’re good at doing the right thing, but not so good at doing the kind thing.”

  Darith nodded and dropped the envelope in her lap. She was right. He had no expertise in keeping a woman happy.

  Gretta folded the paper and tucked it in the pocket of her full skirt. She then smoothed out the wrinkles and stood, retrieving her parasol.

  “I suppose,” she said, “I ought to learn where to find Timmy.”

  “There is a map in the envelope. You have no need to search the net.”

  “Good.” Gretta nodded and then took a step away, pausing once more to speak. “Looks like I’m yer mistress, after all, Darith Cortanis. Next, ye’ll be having me run yer estate.”

  “Father’s still alive.” Regrettably.

  She chuckled, and with that, she bustled off down the dirt path.

  Darith remained by the bench as long as he could bear being out under the cold sky. The spider’s call inside him was quieter in the sun and the truth was he missed its song. When his fingers numbed from the cold he wheeled around and headed to the garden entrance of his room.

  Lost in thoughts of the future, he didn’t notice Marim until he was reaching for the handle of the sliding glass door to his room. She sat on the edge of his bed, her fingers picking one petal at a time from daisies in a vase.

  Darith heaved a sigh and entered, leaving the door ajar behind him. The wind whistled its cursed secrets through the gap.