Helixweaver (The Warren Brood Book 2)

by Bartholomew Lander

  “That’s what I said. You said something bad is going to happen if you don’t find this person. If it’s so important, then I’ll give you a ride to where you’re going.”

  He shook his head. “I thank you for the offer, but this does not involve you. The last thing I want to do is drag you into my problems.”

  Annika leaned out the window as he made to walk away from her. “Hey, newsflash, kid, I’m already involved. Considering what we just went through, I at least deserve an involvement credit.” The false cheer she dribbled over her voice blunted the pain of speaking the truth aloud.

  The boy stood there a moment, as though unsure what to do.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t trust me.”

  He looked as though he wanted to protest, but at last he shrugged. He walked around the back, tossed his heavy bags into the bed of the truck, and opened the passenger door. As soon as the door clanged shut behind him, Annika put the truck into gear and started rolling down the misty lane once more.

  After a short silence, Annika broke the tension. “So, where are we going?”

  “I am afraid I do not know. We should head south, in the direction of civilization, and see where that leads us.”

  “I don’t really know the geography of this place that well.”

  “Then that makes two of us. Just keep going this way.”

  She didn’t argue. When they came upon a brief break in the fog, she let her focus float toward the daybreak. There were dark smudges across the otherwise picturesque morning sky—smoke. She thought about the chapel consumed in the flames conjured by the boy sitting beside her, who was currently lost in his own thoughts. Of the other pillars of smoke, she could only assume he was the cause as well. “You know, I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. You’re Mark, right?” she said, recalling the name used by the cultists.

  “Aye. Mark Warren. And you would be?”

  Hearing that question, a crazy thought hit her. She’d always hated that she’d been given her mother’s surname. The man who she’d admired above all others, the hero who had given her unconditional love and guidance, had left nobody to carry on his name. He had no legacy. And here, at this crossroads, she knew she could right that wrong. Her thoughts flashed to the memento box in her own bag, and the badge tucked within it. Her birthright. If she was to begin a new life, she was going to make it a life her father would have been proud of; she had to live for the both of them.

  “I’m Annika,” she said with a faint smile. “Annika Crane.”

  Chapter 23

  A Thin Line

  There was a prolonged silence as Annika finished her story. Though her drink had long ago been finished, she clinked the melted fragments of ice together and sipped at the watered-down dregs of the whiskey. “And there you have it. That’s what Mark never told you.”

  Spinneretta could hardly find a voice to speak with. “I . . . Annika, I’m so sorry. I had no idea that you . . . ”

  Annika made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Sorry? There’s no room for sorry anywhere in this equation. And in any case, it’s Mark you should be apologizing to.”

  “I . . . but, why didn’t he tell me? Why was he so secretive about it all this time?”

  Annika sighed. “Turns out Mark has something of a promise fetish. Don’t know what made him that way, but a promise to him is sacred. And at some point, once it was clear we were going to be sticking together for a while, he promised he would not speak of where I came from. Would’ve created issues, you see, with the fact that an entire town had just burned to the motherfucking ground. Never thought he’d take that promise to the extreme he did.”

  A few moments passed, and Spinneretta once again found herself growing uncomfortable. There was something else she had to ask before her momentary courage dissipated. “So, uhh . . . ”

  Annika chuckled. “Mm? Something on your mind?”

  Her spider legs fidgeted; she must’ve looked like a nervous wreck after all this. “That’s how you two met. So, what happened between the two of you since then?”

  Annika gave a sharp laugh. “You think you’re being subtle, but you’re not.”

  Spinneretta started. “I just—just wanted to know. Like, you know . . . I bet you probably have a bunch of stories, or . . . ”

  Annika gave her a knowing smile and rolled her neck. “You don’t care about stories. To answer your real question, we’ve always just been friends.” She leaned her cheek against her shoulder and slumped in her seat, one ankle resting on her knee. “He was always so distant in those days. At the time I think I just wanted to be a sister to him.” She knocked back her glass and took the two diminished ice cubes into her mouth. “Well, anyway, there you have it. Now if you can get it out of your head that I’m somehow your rival, then we’ll have an easier time from here on out.”

  Spinneretta said nothing.

  The woman snorted. “What? You’re not going to freak out that I cracked your little secret?”

  “Secret is a pretty generous word at this point.”

  “You’re not even going to deny it?” She scoffed. “Jesus, you really are no fun.” She sank further into the chair and settled her head in against her arm. “Want to hear what I have to say about it?”

  Spinneretta scowled and looked away. “No. I have a pretty good idea what you’d—”

  “Go for it.”

  Spinneretta jumped. “H-huh?”

  “No matter how many times I asked him about his past. About where he came from. About his family. He never told me a damn thing. That he was willing to open up to you about it . . . I feel like that can only be good for him. He deserves to be happy after how long he’s spent blaming himself for everything. Although . . . ” Her serious tone again evaporated into a playful smirk. “You may want to lower your expectations if you’re serious about him. He doesn’t exactly have a lot of experience with relationships. To put that another way, if you were expecting him to show you the way, so to speak, then I’ve got some bad news for ya, min spindeltjej.”

  The uninvited advice went right to Spinneretta’s cheeks. She crossed her arms and turned away again in an effort to hide her embarrassment. “That . . . Wh-whatever.”

  “I’m talking about sex, by the way.”

  “I know what you’re talking about!”

  Annika began to laugh again; the hard edge of her laughter seemed to melt a little, perhaps due to the whiskey. “Well, I’m beat. Thank you so much for entertaining me.”

  With her spider legs, Spinneretta felt the woman stand up and begin to move, but she kept staring at the bookshelf. That is, until Annika’s presence came to hover just above her.

  The woman crouched, bringing her gaze level with Spinneretta’s. “Spinzie. Look at me.”

  Spinneretta tried to ignore her, but after a few seconds conceded that it was useless. She turned and found a pair of chocolate eyes staring back at her. Annika leaned in, and before Spinneretta could react the woman’s lips were on her own. At once, the hot taste of whiskey invaded Spinneretta’s mouth. In shock, she tried to pull away, but Annika pursued and trapped her against the back of the chair. Annika’s other hand slid up her neck and grabbed at the hair at her nape, sending shivers dancing down her back. And then, just as suddenly as it began, Annika broke away.

  Embraced by freedom again, Spinneretta doubled over and began to cough. The taste and moisture of the event lingered even as she dry spat to the tune of Annika’s crazed laughter. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Her eyes teared up from the taste of alcohol.

  “There,” Annika said. “Now even if you make up with Mark and have a fantastic, wild time with him, you’ll always know that your first kiss wasn’t with him. It was with me.” She turned to leave, chuckling to herself. “Consider it my revenge for making me relive that particular chapter of my life.” She stumbled a little as she reached the door. “Next time you should drink with me. You’ll live longer if you lighten up every now and then, min spindeltjej.
” The last two silken words rolled off her tongue with a deliberate seductive flourish. She vanished through the door, giggling the whole while, leaving Spinneretta feeling confused and violated.

  Her heart thundered a mile a minute. She’d felt something behind that kiss that she hadn’t been able to identify. But after hearing Annika’s explanation, she thought that it may have been malice. There was a certain roughness to it, and the idea that it really was some bizarre form of revenge struck her as distinctly Annika-esque. What the fuck was with this woman and sexual assault? She shivered a little, but could find little resentment to direct toward Annika. Right now, her emotional budget was stretched thin. If Mark really hadn’t told her, and if it was true that he had opened up to her alone . . . no, that hope could wait. What was important now was to apologize for acting like a clingy lunatic.

  Before she got up, however, her eye again caught the glass of caramel-colored liquor in the glass beside her. Her stomach rolled, and she hesitated. On a turbulent whim, she grabbed the glass and threw back a large sip of the bourbon. The smoky taste of burning oak kicked her in the mouth, and she could barely swallow before a coughing fit attacked. When she regained control over her lungs, she took the remainder of the drink in a single gulp that knocked her back down. The hot taste rolled down her throat, leaving a trail of fire behind and lighting her face with a violent heat. For a few moments, she was paralyzed by the alcohol’s sharp flavor. When she recovered enough to move again, she stood up. Her mind began to turn with an impassioned resolve. I have to apologize, she thought, wiping bourbon tears from her eyes. I have to apologize.

  Night had fallen ferociously upon Kyle’s house. The whole dwelling was dark and dead when Spinneretta emerged from the study. She lingered in the threshold for some minutes, waiting, listening to the distant running of water and the footsteps that followed. When the door of one of the bedrooms shut softly, she knew that Annika had seen herself off to bed. Which meant this was her chance. Mark wouldn’t be sleeping; he only seemed to sleep when magical exertion assailed him, and he’d mostly recovered the day after their arrival at Kyle’s. Spinneretta’s search did not last long, for as soon as she descended the staircase she found him sitting alone in the darkened living room, upon the couch that faced the largest of the windows overlooking the hillside. The infusion of alcohol in her veins had melted away the ego; she was ready.

  She walked toward the couch, making no effort to mask her footsteps. As she approached, he made no movement to acknowledge her. Even when she crossed in front of the couch and into his field of vision, he just sat there, pale eyes illuminated by moonlight and the distant sparkle of town. Spinneretta drew in a deep breath in an attempt to keep her extremities from shaking. “Mark.”

  Slowly, he turned toward her. “Spinneretta?”

  Her spider legs tried to unfurl, but instead found themselves clasped tight around her bosom. “Do you mind if I sit here for a bit?”

  He averted his gaze. “Be my guest.”

  She took a seat beside him, her breath shallow. The broken-in cushioning sank beneath her slight bodyweight. She was briefly distracted by the inviting upholstery. It wasn’t the most comfortable couch for sleeping, but for sitting it was incredible. And for a moment she just sat there, quiet, before willing her mind to return from all the distractions that attacked her. The couch, the darkness of Annika’s story, the word Starblooded. There was only one thing that was important right now. “Mark?”

  “Mm?”

  She could feel the distance in his vocalization. Her spider legs twitched. The air was stale in her spiracles. “If it’s alright . . . I’d like a moment.”

  “You are speaking to me again?” He turned toward her, and his illuminated eyes shone with surprise. For a brief moment she saw vulnerability, and then it was gone, replaced by distance, by the cold. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  “No.” She shook her head. Her stomach was filled with butterflies. Or, more likely, angry hornets. “I have something I need to say to you, though.” She cleared her throat, and the sound degraded into a hacking cough she summoned in a vain attempt to salvage the tatters of her pride. “I’m sorry.”

  Mark raised his eyebrows. “What?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m sorry for freaking out at you before. I’m sorry for accusing you of lying. I’m sorry for being such a bitch since then and . . . I mean, I guess I’m sorry for not putting it all together myself, is all. I’m sorry, Mark, alright? Can you forgive me?”

  His eyebrows sank again, and his nostrils twitched. “Spinneretta, have you . . . have you been drinking?”

  “Wha? N-no.” She coughed once. “I mean, just one glass of bourbon is all.”

  He blinked at her. “Bourbon? You drink bourbon?”

  “Not normally, no. But I just . . . it was there, and I thought I might need it for this. For saying sorry, I mean.”

  Mark began to nod. “I see. So Annika told you, then, did she?” There was a concealed anger in his tone that permeated the growing sense of oneness that unraveled before her spider legs.

  “Don’t change the subject,” she said. Her heart was beating faster, her breathing growing shallower. “This isn’t about Annika. This is about you and me, okay? Don’t ignore my apology, Mark, because this is important to me. When I say I’m sorry, I’m not saying it as some part of some self-serving recovery plan. I’m saying it because I understand. I understand how wrong I was and how stupid I’ve been. I’m saying it because I want you to know that I really feel shitty about how I acted, okay?”

  “Very well,” he said without hesitation. “I forgive you.”

  But his forgiveness weighed upon her heart for only a moment before she discarded it. “No. I’m not happy with that.”

  Mark’s expression returned one of surprise. “What?”

  “I . . . that was too easy. I don’t want that kind of forgiveness. I’m not after a token. I want the real thing.”

  “What are you—”

  “Shut up a damn minute and listen,” she said, whole body in the midst of nervous collapse. “I could easily blame this whole thing on the stress, you know. I could blame it on being trapped in the Web and almost dying a handful of times since you came here. Blame it on what’s happening in Grantwood, on the fact that NIDUS is still out to get us and doing everything they can to make it happen.” A deep breath, frost in her lungs. “But I can’t. Because that’s not honest. Even if I want to point the finger, the fact is it’s because of me.”

  Another deep breath. Ice. Glaciers at the end of the world. “I can’t blame what I said on any of those things. Because the truth is, I was just being stupid. Shallow. Judgmental. I freaked out because I felt betrayed.” She paused for breath, and even her spiracles stung with the chill. “Because I was jealous, alright? I . . . I know it’s petty as fuck, but there it is, okay? I was jealous.”

  Mark’s expression grew even more perplexed. “Jealous? Of what?”

  “Of . . . ” She stopped herself. This conversation was dangerous. She’d just intended to get it all off her chest and go back to how things were before. And yet the heat that ran through her veins, the expanding horizons of her perception, were not satisfied. Before she could talk herself out of it, she jumped off the edge and blurted out the truth. “I was jealous of Annika. Or so I thought.”

  The incredulity carved in his face softened into a deep but no less exposing confusion. “But . . . I do not understand. Why should you of all people be jealous of Annika?”

  Two doors. One to the past, one to the future. The traces of Instinct dispersing into her bloodstream made the choice for her. No breath this time. She just spat it out. “Because I’m in love with you, stupid.”

  Silence. Her heartbeat grew heavy. Her skin began to burn. That damned Instinct. But why should she be surprised? It was the most natural thing in the world. Her appendages unraveled from around her shoulders and hips, extending to taste the air. To taste her Mark. There he sat,
staring at her. She could hear his breath, strained, as though afraid too much oxygen would trigger the monster before him. A moment of cold silence stabbed her right in the stomach.

  “I know it’s stupid,” she said. “I know it’s not the time for falling in love, with NIDUS and everything. And I know it’s because of that feeling that we’re all in this mess now. I know that. I . . . I know it’s selfish, I know it’s pointless. But goddammit, I didn’t choose this, okay?” It felt like such a damned excuse, such a cliche, like something in one of Chelsea’s rom-coms. But she’d exposed herself this much; there was no longer anything to hide.

  “Forgive me,” Mark said after a long moment. “But I haven’t a clue what I should say in a situation such as this.” His tone was tepid, distant, yet polite. Earnest in the worst way possible.

  Spinneretta’s heart sank. “Then just be honest with me. Tell me that I’m alone in feeling this way. That you don’t feel the same. That way there’s no what if.” She felt a purposeful hesitation from the man seated beside her. She could taste his unwillingness to speak. “It’s okay,” she breathed, trying to fight her growing disappointment. “I’m a big girl now. I can take it.”

  “Spinneretta . . . ?”

  Her teeth chattered despite herself. She’d never felt so weak, so powerless as now. She’d never let a guy affect her so deeply before, and if it was going to end in pain she wanted it over with. Rip the bandage off, goddammit. The skin will grow back. “Just say it. Tell me the truth. And that’ll be it. I know that I’m not exactly a . . . I mean, I’m no Annika, okay? I know you’ve only known me for a few months or whatever. So it’s only natural. So just say it. Say it and I’ll give up. And we can go back to just being friends.”

  Mark swallowed hard. The tension thickened in the air. “I . . . I am deeply sorry, Spinneretta. But I feel nothing for you.”

  Though she’d expected as much, her heart still sank further. Even though she’d prepared herself for inevitable rejection, it winded her. It took away all the vigor that had driven her this far in vain hope. And yet as the blow sank into her gut, a shiver raced through the joints of her spider legs. The scent of blood in the air had changed. Her mouth cotton-dry, she stared into Mark’s pale eyes. “Say that again.”