Tatters of the King (The Warren Brood Book 3)

by Bartholomew Lander

  Spinneretta gave her a reassuring smile. “I promise. Uhh, but don’t tell anyone else I did. I’m not sure they’d be too thrilled about it.”

  Kara didn’t seem to be listening. She nodded, her gaze still on her hands.

  “Spins, are you there?” came her mother’s voice from inside.

  “Ahh, yeah, I’m here,” she called back. She stood up, steadying herself against the patio’s wooden railing. Out of muscle memory, the spider legs beneath her jacket tried to spread to balance her ascent, but they just struggled ineffectually against her outerwear.

  “Come help me with dinner, then!” May said. “I need someone to chop these onions!”

  Spinneretta grumbled to herself a little. She hated chopping onions, and the more her mom praised her skill at it the more it felt like a malicious ruse. Before she went inside, she put her hand on Kara’s shoulder. “Even the darkness has a silver lining. Darkest before the dawn. When you feel crappy, just remember those cliches. They’re cliches for a reason.”

  “Come on!” May sang from the kitchen. “Chop-chop!”

  “Coming!” Spinneretta opened the screen door and stepped inside. She gave Kara one last glance before dipping into the swamp-cooled interior.

  On Friday, August thirtieth, Spinneretta left school early with a hand-penned note from her mother. She’d already informed Mrs. Wick she wouldn’t be in until the next day, owing to her sororal responsibilities. And so she was able to dedicate her entire battery of creative energy to making this birthday the best Kara could ask for under the circumstances.

  Spinneretta arrived at Lake Cormorant Middle School just after three. It was a fair distance from Badwalsh High, though the thick vegetation surrounding its grounds made it look quite similar. On one side of the gate, a majestic bronze sculpture of a cormorant stood with wings outstretched. Upon its base was an inscription: Education is the wind that lets us soar.

  She waited outside the gates of the school for ten minutes, at which point the shrill bleat of an alarm—identical to the one at her own school—rang out. Crowds of eager children emerged from the classrooms. She waited as the herd marched out and began dispersing down the various paths branching from the clearing. Several of the children wandering past her gave her confused glances. What’s the matter? she thought at them. Never seen someone with a jacket in hundred-degree heat before? She ignored their stares, hating the forming beads of sweat on her neck. A few minutes later, the stream of exodusing kids slowed to a trickle, and then the light pink jacket she was waiting for appeared. Spinneretta raised her hand to catch her sister’s attention. Kara drifted over, a lightly surprised look on her face. “What’re you doing here?” the younger girl said.

  “Call it a birthday surprise,” Spinneretta answered with a smile. “Come on, I’m taking you to the bookstore.”

  “Bookstore?”

  “Yeah. We never go out anywhere, so I thought it would be nice to take you somewhere special.”

  “A bookstore is special?”

  “When it’s been this long it is. Especially when a good one is so hard to come by.” She wiped the back of her neck. “Don’t know if you’ve been there yet, but Wendelson’s Books in town really sucks.”

  Kara nodded. “Okay. Then where are we going?” She seemed numb, which was a marked improvement over the festering discontent of the previous weeks.

  “We’re going to the Superior Mall. In Duluth. Their bookstore is huge. Come on, I’ll treat you to some ice cream on the way.”

  Kara’s eyes glimmered with something distantly familiar. Was it excitement? It couldn’t have been. But perhaps it really was a hint of the old Kara shining through. Then, to Spinneretta’s astonishment, the girl smiled. “Okay,” Kara said. “Let’s go.”

  The muggy heat had half-transmuted Kara’s ice cream cone into its raw liquid form by the time they reached the bus stop between Troy’s Eatery and the local post office. She had given up on finishing the cone; there was a grainy quality to the ice cream she wasn’t a fan of, and she was starting to wonder if she didn’t like French vanilla anymore. As they sat upon the black mesh bench, Kara realized she was looking forward to something for the first time in months. It had been a long time since she and Spins had gone out anywhere together.

  Beside her, Spinneretta giggled. “Haven’t heard you hum in a while. I’ll take it you’re feeling a little better.” The smile on her sister’s face made her self-conscious.

  Kara looked down the road, toward the lake. The trees on the far side glimmered like emeralds in a furnace. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, is all. About having things to look forward to. Dreams, or whatever.”

  “Yeah? Did you think of something?”

  Kara refused to meet Spinneretta’s gaze. Her fingers tugged at her ponytail. “It’s embarrassing.”

  Spinneretta smiled warmly at her. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

  The edge of her shoe brushed the dirt, and she watched the breath of dust rising from the earth. “I think I want to be a doctor.”

  Her sister’s smile widened. “I knew it.”

  “Just, you know. Because it’s fun, okay? I like helping people.”

  “And it’s not like you have no experience.”

  She thought about how she’d splinted Annika’s arm after their fight with Gauge, and how she’d treated Spinneretta’s leg after she’d kicked in the coffee table at Kyle’s. “I think . . . I don’t know for sure, but I think my web could really help people. Like, it could be a new kind of bandage or something. ’Cuz it’s anti-sispetic.”

  Spinneretta’s expression shifted. She looked out across the lake. “The word’s antiseptic. And I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”

  Kara stared at the globules of off-white cream dripping over the rim of her cone. “I don’t mean now. I mean in the future. When we go home. And when the rest of the world knows about us already.”

  Her sister was quiet for a moment, as though in deep thought. “But if we’ve made it this far in obscurity, do we really want everyone to know about us?” Then she gave an abrupt chuckle, and her smile returned. “I think you’d make a great doctor one way or another, though.”

  Embarrassment curled Kara’s lips into a frown. “Thanks.” She took a last big lick of her melty cone before dropping it in the nearby garbage receptacle and wiping her hands off. She craned her head skyward and squinted, wishing death upon the infernal sun. Her spider legs, wrapped in her jacket, were suffocating. It was just like any other day, except that she didn’t feel quite as dead inside. Maybe she really could believe that things would work out. After all, Spins had promised her they would go home. And she was going to hold her to it.

  Badwalsh Bus Services ran every two hours between Lake Cormorant, the neighboring towns of Cloquet and Himelsfeld, and the city of Duluth. Though Spinneretta doubted the utility of keeping the buses running through the dead hours of the night, she was thankful the service existed; it meant decent shopping was possible on the rare occasion she desired it.

  The bookstore was situated in the spacious two-story annex of Superior Mall, not far from where the Badwalsh bus had dropped them. As soon as the automatic doors opened, a wave of refreshing air washed over Spinneretta and Kara, dispelling the blanket of clingy heat. It was like walking into a refrigerator, and Spinneretta’s whole body was ashiver with delight. The chill raced along her skin and into her spiracles. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kara shudder as well.

  The golden light reflecting off the polished tile floors gave the bookstore a regal aspect. The main display area was wide, filled with tables stacked high with new releases. The neat aisles radiating from the central area were tall, wide, and labeled with warm, attractive signage. In the center of the store, a pair of escalators flanking a flight of stairs led up to the second floor.

  Kara was visibly impressed by the scale of the establishment. She looked back and forth, from the high shelves packed with neat rows of books to the elaborate full-
wall murals indicating which section stood before them. “Wow.”

  Spinneretta grinned at her. “Told you it was big. Well, I’ll let you explore a bit.” She gestured toward the back of the store, to an L-shaped section presided over by a great mural of a flying saucer—the paranormal section. “If you need me, I’ll be in the back there.”

  Kara nodded and rushed off toward the fantasy section, which was ruled by a mural of King Arthur clashing swords with the bastard Mordred. Spinneretta watched her go, feeling at ease. Damn, she thought. All she needed was a bit of a pep talk? How did it take so long to get it sorted out, then? She was hesitant to admit the reason. It had taken her quite a while to pull herself out of her own morass of dark thoughts. She’d been in no position to give that pep talk a couple weeks ago. With a content sigh, she headed toward the paranormal aisle.

  This was the third time Spinneretta had made the journey to this bookstore, and both times before she’d been the only person in this particular section. Today, however, a young man had beaten her to it. He was tall and unshaven, with long hair pulled back into a greasy ponytail. A black trench coat flowed from his shoulders, and chains dribbled from his pockets. He looked like the type of person who would self-identify as a vampire.

  She felt his eyes dart over her as she walked past him, and that solidified her decision to check the books around the bend, out of line of sight. As luck had it, that was the area she found the most compelling. There were books on spirit animals, totems, and dreamscrying. There were great dictionaries of arcane terminology, encyclopedias on astral projection, primers on aura-reading aimed at the beginner. The breadth and scope of the parascientific topics were staggering, as was the challenge of weeding out the idealistic junk from those holding even a hint of substance. She began to sift through the seemingly unsorted titles for something to pique her interest, and soon her aimless browsing led her to the farthest edge of the aisle. If the paranormal department could be measured on a scale with UFOs and the Bermuda Triangle at one end, and Lucifer himself at the other, this section easily rated six hundred and sixty-six.

  Even passing her eyes over the titles at the end of the aisle filled Spinneretta with a pervasive malaise. The Book of Thoth. De Vermis Mysteriis. The Lesser Key of Solomon. Initiation Into Hermetics. Divinations of Baphomet. The Am-Khent Manuscripts: A Modern Interpretation. Eschatonic Cabals. A bit further away from the grimoire section, she saw the name Isaiah Thorn written upon a spine. She pulled the book from the shelf. Portal Mechanics: Astral and Physical. She began flipping through it, only to be inundated by complicated theorems and academic proofs that went far above her head. Unsatisfied, she slipped it back into its crevice and picked up another: Nikolas Popolski’s On the Origin and My Astral Travels There.

  As Spinneretta started to absentmindedly read the stilted English inside, she felt a vibration from her pocket. She extracted her phone with a smile, eagerly hoping to find Mark’s name. She wasn’t disappointed. “Are you at work right now?” the message read.

  Her thumb automatically dialed a response as she inspected the volume in her hand. “I’m with Kara at the bookstore. Shopping for her birthday!” She neglected to mention that she was looking at books on magic again.

  A minute of book inspection passed before a response arrived. “Wow, time certainly flies. Do me a favor and wish her a happy birthday for me.”

  The response seemed oddly final. “What? Was that all you wanted?”

  “I merely felt like bothering you. If you are busy, I shall leave you alone, however.”

  The stiffness of his language still made her giggle. “HOWEVER, I’m not so busy that I don’t want to be bothered by you.” She appended a playful smiley face to the message and hit Send.

  Before the next reply could come, Spinneretta saw a pink blur on the other end of the aisle. Kara flashed a broad smile as she drew near. In her hands, she held a dark, hardcover book. “I think I might get this,” she said, looking a little uncertain of herself. “If it’s alright.”

  “What’ve you got there?”

  “Unicorns.” She offered her the book, and Spinneretta took it to inspect.

  The dust jacket was dark purple and bore no illustrations. Whispering Unicorns: Return of the Extinctionist, it read in a vaguely sinister typeface. Somehow it didn’t seem as cute as she remembered the pastel colors of the first few books being. She decided not to ask Kara if she wasn’t getting too old for the series, and instead gave a thumbs up as she handed it back. “Fine by me. You can get something else if you want, too.”

  Kara’s eyes lit up. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. It’s your birthday, silly.”

  With an excitement in her step that Spinneretta hadn’t seen in ages, Kara started toward the back wall, holding her unicorn book to her chest. “Alright!”

  “I think I’m going to check out the cookbooks,” Spinneretta hollered after her. She was thinking about nettle soup again. “When you’re ready, just head toward the big donut.”

  “’Kay!”

  Seeing Kara without the persistent gloom was exhilarating. With just that small change, it felt like the whole world was right again. Loath though she was to admit it, Spinneretta worried about what would happen if her hopes of returning to Grantwood never panned out. For now, however, that possibility didn’t matter. Kara appeared to be well on her way to normal again. At the moment, the future was on hold.

  But as Spinneretta exited the paranormal section into the main display area, bound for the culinary aisle, something on the nearest table of new releases caught her eye. What was at first a mote of surprise blossomed into horror as her eyes deciphered the cover of the book just under the This Just In sign. In a trance, she wandered over to the table. Disbelief mounting, she forced herself to reach out and pick up a copy of the cream-colored hardcover, as though to verify that it was not a dreamborn phantasm. She was unable to suppress a terrified whimper as she confirmed its tangibility. For a moment, her paralyzed lungs would not take in air. The weight of the book, the texture of the jacket, was real.

  “Kara!” she yelled, momentarily forgetting their name-masquerade. Some of the other patrons gave her confused looks, but she didn’t care.

  “What?” came the reply from the aisle behind her. When Spinneretta didn’t say anything further, the younger girl sighed and emerged. “What, what?”

  Muscles rigid, Spinneretta turned and gave the girl a grave look. She held the cover of the book toward her. At once, Kara froze. An older woman whose path she’d stopped in fumbled to navigate around her. But Kara didn’t notice. She was absorbed by the title and author of the book: The NIDUS Report by Harold Wiser.

  Chapter 7

  The NIDUS Report

  When Spinneretta and Kara arrived home, the cheers of birthday surprise were short-lived. Celebration was no longer on the table. The handmade banner hanging over the hallway, reading Happy 11th Kara, went unnoticed by the birthday girl as Spinneretta demanded the attention of her family. “Look at this,” she said, holding the copy of The NIDUS Report out for all to see. The words printed on the cover spread a tense silence over the room.

  After a moment, her mother began to shake her head in disbelief. “Oh, no.” She put her head in her hands. “You have to be kidding me.”

  Her dad gave her a befuddled look and then clucked once. “NIDUS. That’s those Golmont fuckers, right? I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s probably just somebody trying to make a penny off the company’s mysterious end. I wouldn’t take it so—”

  “Look who wrote it,” Spinneretta said. “Harold Wiser. That’s the scientist we saved from the labs down in those damn tunnels!”

  Ralph clicked his tongue. He sank into the couch as he acquiesced to the development. “Well, shit.”

  “In this exposé,” she read aloud from the blurb on the back, “a scientist reveals the dark secrets that drove the research and development of a top secret project in the Sierra Nevada foothills. In a tale straight out of
the science fiction section, he expounds upon the forbidden research and the human-spider hybrids they created. Not since Bob Lazar has a broken vow of silence meant so much for mankind, and not since the Renaissance has anything of this importance been discovered.” With a huff, she hurled the book across the room and into the couch, right next to her father. “There are pictures in there. Pictures of the Leng-cat-things they made in that damn lab.” Sweat dripped from her forehead, and it wasn’t from the heat anymore. She rubbed her face with the back of her hand, trying to calm herself down.

  Kara looked up from where she sat, a dull pallor in her cheeks. “I guess we should’ve killed him when we had the chance.”

  Ralph’s eyes darted to her. “Killed him?”

  The girl gave a half-hearted shrug and looked away. Spinneretta shot her an incredulous glance but didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to open that Pandora’s box right now. “I only skimmed some of that book,” Spinneretta said in an effort to change the subject, “and it’s not good news. There’s a bunch of stuff in there, including stuff about the Fifth Project—about us.”

  Ralph picked the book up from where it had landed and opened it to an arbitrary page. He began to read while May and Arthr watched him nervously.

  Spinneretta began pacing a tight course around the ever-tainted carpet. “If this book gets any publicity at all, then this is going to change everything. People will know all about what was really going on there. They’ll know about us, and then we’re going to really be in trouble.”

  “Spins, calm down,” May said in a reassuring tone.

  “How can I be calm? If this gets out, then people are going to know. They’ll be able to figure it out. They’ll figure out that we’ve disappeared from Grantwood, and then, then people will start thinking twice about the timing! If they put two and two together that we disappeared from there and appeared here so suddenly . . . ” She shook her head and continued pacing, dread clawing at her peace of mind. “And, once people figure out who we really are—”