Spider's Kiss: Book One of the Drambish Chronicles

by Jesse Sprague

  A burst of red shot from the left side of Halis’ chest. The scream that ripped from Halis began as a throaty human wail but transformed with him into a shrill screech.

  Before Berrick could fire again, tiny spiders burst from the cracks of the house, from the trees and bushes, running onto the path at Berrick’s feet. The swarm of black drove him back a step before his resolve hardened. Only one spider mattered.

  Dripping blood, the giant black Drambish had stopped screaming. The noise it made now was more of a hiss. It launched itself into the air.

  Berrick fired.

  A shower of hot, sticky liquid shot into Berrick’s face. Blinded, Berrick could only feel the spider’s weight as it landed on him. Pain shot up his side as something pierced into him.

  Thousands of pinpoints of pain covered him as the smaller spiders swarmed over his legs, arms, and torso.

  Fumbling at his belt, Berrick searched for another weapon. His fingers crawled with arachnids as he crushed their small bodies in his search.

  Halis reared up. Crimson coated his widened maw, but the liquid that dripped from his fangs was not blood. A drop fell to Berrick’s shoulder, burning like acid.

  Berrick pulled a second, smaller firearm from his belt. His eyelids batted against the red film blinding him.

  The spider dove down, black eyes hungry.

  Chapter 17

  Little Girl Lost

  Berrick pressed the gun against the giant spider’s thick hide and fired. And fired again. Teeth clamped spasmodically, the smooth surface pressed into Berrick’s neck. A line of poison burned against his collarbone. He fired a third, fourth, and fifth shot.

  The weight fell from him and Berrick lifted an arm to wipe his eyes. He kicked off the remaining legs of the spider and shoved himself back over the ash-strewn garden.

  The Drambish looked pitiful, dripping red, scrawny legs thrown akimbo. Several of its beady eyes were reduced to pulp in its wrinkled face. Berrick shot one more time, dead center in its head.

  His breath wheezed, and he sat frozen in shock, his gun still held aloft—until his fingers refused to hold the metal and let it clatter to the ground. Now only his arm held out toward the corpse. Could it really be done?

  The pain in his shoulder brought him sharply back. Though it looked nasty, the wound wasn’t deep. He tested his arm and found it moved. After fighting his way to his feet, Berrick grabbed a random item of clothing, which had been set beside the fire as tinder, and bound his side.

  Get out, whispered the voice of reason in his head, before Silvia returns. He was several steps back around the corner of the house when he turned back. Was that movement? He’d seen the same thing before, a blur of white. Something or someone in the house.

  Run. Run! He didn’t.

  He approached the window. Inside, facing him but seeing nothing, stood Allison. Her single remaining eye was as black as the night sky.

  Run, the voice screamed. You can’t save her. She’s gone.

  He couldn’t leave her. Not again.

  Going against the screaming warnings of his own mind, Berrick walked over to the patio door and walked inside the house. His boots crunched against the marble-tiled courtyard. Spiders scurried beneath his feet, a thick carpet of black. In his wake, a trail of footprints composed of tiny black bodies extended.

  Allison didn’t turn but remained facing outside. Berrick went to her, keeping his footsteps slow and his movements non-threatening.

  “Allison?”

  “There is no apple and I’ll eat nothing,” Allison said.

  “Allison, come with me. We have to get out of here.”

  “Red, red, blood and love. I’ll take the knife.”

  Berrick set his hand on her shoulder. “We don’t have time. Silvia’ll come back.”

  “The curtains aren’t red.”

  Screw this. Berrick grabbed hold of her and tossed her over his non-injured shoulder. A bolt screamed through him at her weight. His knees threatened to cave and with her added weight, the room spun in front of him. The fall was slow, and he kept her perched safely even as he reached to support himself on the wall. Kneeling now, Berrick tried to regain his feet. Sweat from the exertion broke out on his brow, but the agony ripping through his side every time he tried to lift himself to his feet conquered him at every attempt.

  Lowering her again, Berrick stared at the ragged hole where Allison’s second eye had been. Nothing in the documents explained that. Whatever the original test subjects had been—hungry, out-of-control, deadly—there was no indication that they had been intentionally cruel.

  We created Halis and Silvia, not just with that damn compound. The government, The Brothel, and all of us like me who simply stood by, we did this. We created them by killing their entire race and then enslaving them. Had they watched as their race had been hunted down, slain and then, at last, the entire planet gassed? Where had the two surviving Drambish been when the planet had been bombed? How old would they have been, five, six, maybe ten? Children. Children watching everything they’d known and cared for wiped out in one careless strike.

  The wreck of Allison’s beautiful face brought back the feeling of regret that had momentarily kept him from firing at Silvia. As gently as he could, Berrick touched the side of Allison’s face.

  “I’d kill you again,” Allison said, black swirling in her eye.

  Berrick understood the spider’s hatred, but it didn’t matter who’d made the beast rabid. They still needed to be put down. But this girl? Like Marim, she was infected and like Marim, she was innocent of any crime perpetrated in the name of the Drambish. He couldn’t kill her, and he couldn’t leave her to them.

  Allison giggled; her ragged, torn fingernails scratched against his neck.

  The High Council had deemed those like Allison an extreme threat. The people he’d worked for his entire life would have him put her down, but wouldn’t their judgment be the same for Darith? Marim? And what had their judgment ever given him but a dead family?

  His hand fumbled at his pocket and came out with a flask. The liquid inside sloshed with the trembling of his hand and Berrick took a long drag. A burn slid down his throat and he focused on the bright, sharp flavor. There was no purpose to these thoughts.

  Not for the first time, he recited the things that mattered. The things that must be done. The list could force away the litany of things that tempted him with their confusing spiral into ambiguity.

  The spiders must die. The spider babies must die. Marim must be avenged. Nothing else mattered, nothing.

  Still, he grabbed Allison under the arms and pulled her away from the window toward the front door. Get her out of here and then come back for Silvia.

  The front door was in sight when Berrick heard the vehicle in the drive. Silvia hadn’t left in a car. Didn’t matter. He had to get out of sight. Car doors slammed.

  Chapter 18

  Silvia

  The diner came into view, and Silvia smiled as the few scattered people on the street crossed away from her. Their fear petted the air around her, and she took a deep breath, letting the terror stroke her throat. There was no darker energy than fear and in front of her Havoc laughed, his bright, beautiful infant laugh, delighted with the dark wiggling around him.

  Silvia could have found Darith with her eyes closed. He existed in a bright space absent of emotion. But she didn’t deny herself the vision of the boy, sitting in front of the diner at a rust-tinted table. From the first moment she’d seen the boy, she’d known he was special. Even then, his energy had had a lack of emotion, a selfish darkness that complemented his pristine beauty.

  He has met his potential. And he wants me dead. Just look at that hate. But something else burned in Darith’s eyes. For the moment, she was safe. That look screamed need, and people don’t kill those they require.

  “Silvia,” he said. His eyes flicked over Havoc in his stroller, but he made no comment.

  “Boy,” she said.

  “I should sl
it your pretty throat.”

  Silvia sat down in front of him. The rickety table rocked, the cold metal of the chair reaching her through the thin silk of her black dress. Havoc had fallen asleep in the stroller and Silvia let him remain. It would be better to focus on just Darith.

  “You won’t,” she said. “Because you’ve thought it through. You can’t get to Marim on your own, and you begin to feel the crunch of time. How long will finding your answers take on your own? Every moment you delay, Marim remains in The Brothel’s hands.”

  “None of that matters if you can’t help me.”

  Silvia reached across the table and touched Darith’s neck, right on the soft skin where she’d bitten him over a year ago. “We are distinct, Darith, in our abilities. Our magic mingled with the dark web makes us something different. Halis tells me no other before me could use the blackness as a venom. That is my trick, boy, and being the only one with the venom makes me the closest thing to an expert you have.”

  “Why would you help me, knowing I mean to cure myself and kill you?”

  “For the fun of it? Out of familial love? Because I want Annabelle, and you can’t cure her? Maybe I don’t need a reason…and maybe I think I can change your mind.” Maybe I’m not at all sure anymore that I am in the right. That I don’t need to be put down like a rabid dog. I helped hurt Marim, the least I can do is help fix her.

  Then the thoughts boiled out of her mind.

  Darith’s mouth moved, but the sound was lost in a sudden flare inside Silvia’s mind. The web burned, and like an eclipse, the world went dark. The diner disappeared, the chairs and the sky faded to nothing. Only Darith remained against the flaming black.

  Blood everywhere. Gunshots rang and blistering pain tore through her. The flame faded to a shower of dark blood. And then there was a hole, a crippling vacancy at the core of her being. The essence of him disappeared, smudged out, lost in a sea of bodies she couldn’t recall. But she felt them, millions of still-cold legs, glazed spider eyes staring into a flare of agony.

  Silvia screamed, unable to contain the suffering of the Drambish.

  They wanted to walk.

  They wanted their revenge.

  ∆∆∆

  “…and maybe, I think I can change your mind.”

  “You help me save Marim, I’ll give you a chance to run. I’ll give you a head start,” Darith said.

  Her eyes were black, and for an instant, a color like the flame of a dying sun rolled over them. Darith sank back and touched the web. Halis. Berrick must have found Halis.

  Even as Silvia’s mouth opened, Darith lifted his hands, pulling at the energy around himself and around the baby. He braced.

  When her voice tore through the air, the shell of light around him shivered. Faces, black wisps of terror and pain, billowed against the shield. Individual faces looked at him, snarled at him. Many of them had spider fangs dripping venom. Then finding they could not reach him, they hurtled elsewhere. Each hateful wisp bit into his shelter, spider fangs and human teeth alike.

  Several screams cut the air from the street. The shadows breaking out of Silvia seemed to seek bodies and bury themselves inside when they found them.

  Darith shoved his hand forward, meeting the ghostly eyes as they faded or chased away from him. The street filled with Silvia’s cry and Darith watched as an elderly man crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from his ears and red tears streaming from his eyes.

  And then Silvia fell from her chair. Darith dropped his hand and dared a glance at the street. The old man was not the only form twitching on the ground. Inside the diner, the waitress screamed and pulled herself across the floor, blood dripped from her pores like sweat on a hot day. Farther up the street, a man howled, his hands pressed to his face.

  For the first time since he’d been contaminated, the voice of the hive was silent. It felt empty and torn.

  The baby’s high infant wail rose and fell like a siren.

  “Halis,” Silvia whispered.

  The vulnerability in her voice made it nearly unrecognizable. And looking at the sorceress spider sprawled on the pavement, Darith would not have known her if not for having seen her seated in front of him moments before. Her face was the sickly gray of death, the black drained from her eyes leaving them a clear icy blue, and her hair, toppling around her shoulders, shone a pale strawberry blonde.

  Was this Silvia without the spider?

  Tears streamed from her eyes and trembling fingers reached out toward him.

  If it was Silvia without the spider… that meant she knew how to get rid of the spider. She wasn’t lying or misleading him.

  Darith threw himself beside the beautiful woman as her eyes fluttered shut. Her skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Her pulse was faint, hardly detectable. She would die without the black. If she died, how would he save Marim? Darith pulled her limp form against him and leaned down to her ear.

  “Pull it back to you. Your son needs a mother.”

  A slight nod of her head was all the acknowledgment that Darith got. No, no, she can’t die.

  “Take us too, Halis? Please,” Silvia said.

  Darith lifted her and, with difficulty, carried her and guided the stroller to his hired car. If it was Berrick, he would be smart enough to leave the house, right? He’d assume Silvia would come for him.

  No time to worry about it.

  He laid Silvia across the backseat of the car. Some slight color had returned to her skin. Darith closed the door, a tight feeling in his chest looking at the bright blonde hair fanning out across the seat, and the long lashes, the color of fire that touched her cheek.

  The stroller folded in, allowing it to rest perfectly in the front passenger seat. The black-eyed baby within sobbed, but the sound made no impact on Darith’s heart.

  Darith slid into the driver’s seat and glanced over his shoulder at the woman and baby in the back.

  Who is Silvia? Up until seeing her lying on the pavement, he’d thought he’d known, but did he? The words from the man on the shuttle, Mr. Red, returned. Am I acting with wisdom? I thought I understood…

  He pushed aside the thoughts and drove up the hill to the house. There was no car parked in front. That was a good sign, though it was possible the killer wasn’t Berrick or that he hadn’t come in a car.

  Darith parked and stepped out of the car. Behind him, the back door opened, Darith’s head wouldn’t turn. Which version of the Spider Queen would step out of the back? Did it even matter?

  Silvia walked past him, leaving her baby in the car as if forgotten. Her hair was still the color of a pale sunrise, but for a few shots of darkness. Darith followed her into the house. Silvia dashed directly out back, but Darith moved more slowly. Blood marked the floor inside the house. There had been none outside. Or had he missed it?

  Slowly, Darith followed Silvia out onto the patio and looked down, a grin spreading over his face at the corpse of the spider.

  ∆∆∆

  Allison curled on Berrick’s feet; she might have been asleep for all the movement she made. He looked out the crack in the closet door, trying to make sense of the snippets of color and movement. Silvia’s black dress and someone else, a man. Another of Silvia’s little slaves? Like my brother?

  When both forms had gone outside, Berrick opened the door and crept forward. He needn’t have been so careful. The woman on the patio made no note of anything. For a moment, he wasn’t sure it was Silvia. Hair like springtime sun streamed down her back, and her posture was soft. Not at all the sorceress who’d left the house shortly before. But the face remained the same, the full lips, the high cheekbones, and the necklace that fell from her neck… by the gods, that was Allison’s eye.

  Berrick lifted his gun and aimed at the woman cradling the spider’s mutilated head.

  “Don’t you dare shoot her,” came a voice Berrick knew.

  The boy stepped closer to the sorceress. Again, it took Berrick a moment to recognize the person he faced. Darith. Des
pite the lack of a wheelchair, the darkened skin, the black eyes, there was no doubt that the man next to Silvia was Darith.

  “Move away,” Berrick said. His eyes returned to Silvia. She had not acknowledged either of them.

  “I can’t let you kill her,” said Darith.

  Berrick’s finger squeezed the trigger. A blast of air struck his arm, knocking him a step to the side. The bullet flew wide, lodging in a tree. Still, Silvia did not respond.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Darith said.

  The boy’s hand was lifted, empty, with his fingers spread. Was Darith’s desire to keep Silvia alive the effect of the secretions? There was no other explanation. Berrick had to kill Silvia. Nothing else mattered.

  The gun pointed back at Silvia. He aimed carefully this time, centering on the eye hanging over her heart.

  Before he could fire, Darith’s fist closed. A cold, hard nothing squeezed around Berrick’s throat and his feet lifted from the ground. Berrick fired.

  Red spread out across Silvia’s shoulder. This got a response from her. She gave a short, startled scream and looked back at Berrick with blinding blue eyes.

  Fire again.

  His chest burned. The pressure around his neck tightened and his vision contorted with red flashes of agony.

  “Drop the damn gun, Berrick,” Darith said.

  Berrick pressed down again on the trigger.

  Pain overtook everything and a loud snap traveled from his neck to every extremity. His body hit the ground, and he struggled to move his arms. The ceiling faded from white to gray, his airless lungs screamed, and up the back of his neck into the base of his brain, waves of all-encompassing shocks blotted out all else.

  A face entered his vision. Darith’s black eyes stared down at him.

  “Sorry, old man.”

  The face came closer. Berrick could barely see it. Only shadows of light remained.

  “I’ll protect Marim, don’t worry, and when this is done, I’ll kill the bitch.”