Helixweaver (The Warren Brood Book 2)

by Bartholomew Lander

  Annika threw a glance over her shoulder toward the last survivor of the skeleton crew. “Yeah. I lied.”

  Edgar took a few deep breaths, and a harsh coughing fit sent a stream of fresh blood pouring down upon his stained coat.“Fuckin’ bitch . . . ”

  “If you find your gun, you can try to get revenge on me,” she said, turning her focus back to the enigmatic control panel. “I don’t recommend it, though.”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t fuckin’ matter.” He coughed again and took a coarse breath. Arthr thought he could hear the torn sections of his lungs flapping in the breeze. “Those fuckin’ bugs are dead. That’s revenge enough.”

  “Uh-huh. Hey, Ed. Got any clue what any of this shit is? How do I open the tube?”

  He groaned and shrugged, though the motion resembled little more than a helpless flail. “Been in here only once before.” He paused. “Should be a lever or something.”

  “Lever or something. You don’t say.”

  He gave another weak shrug and let his head hang. “Just hurry up and kill me.”

  Annika squinted at the various controls. “I believe the spider-boy should have the honors.”

  Arthr started. “Me?”

  “You’re the one who’s got a beef with him. Be a dear and kill the man, sweetie.”

  Arthr gulped. He pushed himself up from his corner and stepped over to the control panel. He hesitated, and then picked up the reloaded revolver that lay near the edge. Taking a deep breath, he dropped over the catwalk’s edge and made his way toward the man. The goddamn man. The bastard who had once taken Kara from him and left him drenched and aghast at his own weakness. Trying desperately to control his breathing, Arthr raised the Rhino and pointed it at Edgar’s hunched form.

  And then he hesitated once more.

  “Come on, kid,” Edgar said through his teeth. “Can’t you do anything? Just pull the trigger.”

  Arthr swallowed hard. “I . . . I can’t.” He let his arm fall to the side. “I can’t do anything. I’m nothing but a failure.” He took a hot breath. “But I can at least be a failure without a dirty conscience. Killing you won’t fix anything.”

  “It’ll put me out of my misery, you piece of shit.”

  “Besides,” Arthr continued, finding a seed of calm in the swirling chaos in his stomach, “you did what you had to do. You had no choice in it. I think I understand that now.”

  Edgar shook his head. “Kid, this isn’t the time for gettin’ fuckin’ religious. No forgiveness. Just do it.”

  “Containment field?” Annika shouted. “Resonance stabilizer? What is this shit?”

  “Your injuries look pretty bad,” Arthr said, ignoring the woman’s outburst, “but you can still get help. You can still get medical attention. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to walk out of here when all this is done.”

  Edgar chuckled a wet sound. “Walk out of here. After living under their thumb for fifteen years? And do what, exactly? I leave this place, I leave it with nothing. I can’t face up to the things I’ve done. There’s no future for me outside this place, kid.”

  “That may be so,” Arthr said, “but that has nothing to do with me. You wanna die, just grab that pistol and do it yourself.”

  Edgar cringed at the pain from his injuries. “If I could reach my gun I’d shoot you for being such a piece of shit.”

  There then came a sharp mechanical grinding sound. “Hey, I think I got it!”

  Arthr turned to look. The great metal cylinder began to open vertically from the center. Beyond the metal shell, the glint of a glass surface came into view. As the gulf between the two halves of the cylinder grew wider, the thing within appeared. He gasped when he saw the thing inside the glass. “Oh my God,” he said, gripped by a pernicious omen. At first, the very surrealism of the sight made processing it a fool’s errand. But as he ran his eyes over the construct within, the reality and horror of its form solidified in his mind.

  Suspended in the glass chamber was a system of tubes drawing in chemicals from the large tanks outside the cylinder. All the tubes fed into a central pulsating device that appeared to be made out of a thick, industrial rubber. The rhythm of the black device’s beats and the sick thumping sound that reverberated through the floor left no question about its purpose. Attached to that artificial heart there extended a black, shriveled mass of flesh. The resemblance between those black ridges and the chitin of the Vant’therax was impossible to ignore. At the end of the black mass, five twisted fingers extended in a partially curled fist. Each beat of the heart caused the fingers to twitch as though they yet lived. From the lowest edge of the hand’s flesh, there grew a number of limp tendrils that hung down around the pulsating device like the branchlets of a weeping willow.

  Arthr’s dry mouth hung open. “What the hell is that?”

  Annika considered the object. “No idea. If I had to guess based on what else I know about this cult family of yours,” she said, “I’d wager that it’s the hand of the Yellow King.”

  Arthr stared at the tangled mess of tubes leading to the hand and its throbbing core. A twisting network of synthetic veins trailed down from the heart to a large cistern built into the floor of the cylinder. Those tubes, along with the contents of the cistern, were blood-red. How long had this terrible thing been suspended in this tube beneath this god-forsaken land, cursed by the god of spiders to hold its glory?

  “Quit your daydreaming,” Annika said from beside him. “We’ve come this far. The only thing left to do is put an end to it.”

  “End to . . . ”

  She cracked her knuckles and began to reload her Ruger. “If Marky’s right, once this thing’s dead NIDUS is as good as buried. Even if three Vant’therax escaped, they have no Conduit, and without their King’s blood they’ll have nothing left with which to create monstrosities.” She pulled back the hammer and began to fire.

  Bullets cut through the glass cylinder and pierced the man-made organ. Shreds of rubber whipped back and forth. At once, a thick orange fluid began to spray from the opened holes, and a baleful screeching grated against his ears. The black hand reached and thrashed in desperation, and the hanging tendrils flailed about, lashing at the glass in an attempt to break free. The thing’s sick beating accelerated to a rapid clip, though the rubber that composed it had been wrecked. The fluid continued to drain from it until the screeching faded into a mechanical whirring, and the beating slowed and then finally stopped. The hand of the King seized up one final time before stiffening. A small quantity of thick, black sludge dripped from the heart’s openings, splattering against the grated floor.

  Arthr drew and expelled deep breaths, trying to calm himself. “Is it dead?”

  Annika reholstered her Ruger and walked over to Ralph’s backpack, which she’d dropped by the entrance to the Vault. “We can’t take any chances.” She unzipped the pack and rummaged for a moment before pulling out a tall bottle with a rag feeding into its mouth. “Guess your daddy’s good for something, eh? Waste of rum, if you ask me, though.” She produced a square lighter from her pocket as she hopped back down to the floor, flicked it open, and touched a sputtering flame to the end of the rag. The flame took, and the violent grin she was so fond of returned once more. “We’ve buried their ambition. Now let’s set fire to its grave!”

  With a running step, she hurled the bottle into the mangled thing in the center of the tube. An orange eruption blinded Arthr. Burning oil and gasoline wrapped around the rubber and the blackened flesh. A sizzling sound whispered to them as the dancing tendrils of light began to march up the life-giving tubes that once fed the moribund organ. The sizzling grew louder. The chemical tubes caught the infectious flame. Arthr watched, mesmerized, as the black hand in the center of the organ began to melt, and liquescent chunks of plated flesh slid free into the fire.

  Annika dusted her hands off and smirked at Arthr. He could barely force himself to look away from the brilliance of the eroding relic. “It’s done,” she sa
id. “Now let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 42

  Arachne Weaves Her Thread

  Something throbbed in the dark.

  Dark. Blackness. Paralysis. And that beating, now louder than ever. Now loud enough to be gunshots beside Spinneretta’s temples. Deep, lurching, groaning. Mesmerizing, lulling, nauseating. It beat through her. With each throb, alien thoughts and images flowed like blood through her head. The sky. The sands. The water. Black water, befitting a darkness so deep. She placed her hand within it, but the ripples were dry against her hand, heavy, lifeless.

  Abruptly, a sharp pain ripped through her heart. Her breath stuttered, and her fingers clasped at her chest. A second pain came, and then a third and a fourth and a fifth. She gasped, her whole body contorting. Every muscle tightened. She couldn’t breathe, and the throbbing that resonated in the abyss grew louder, faster, more desperate. Each lungful of air cut on the way down, and even the slightest contraction of her diaphragm sent blades stabbing into her chest. Her breaths became shallower, more rapid, until, just as abruptly as it had come upon her, the pain vanished.

  The beating stopped.

  The silence of that ominous mind-scraping noise left an abyss light-years across. Spinneretta began to panic. Her hands clawed at the darkness around her, searching for something, anything. She cried out, hoping to be heard, hoping that the horrid beating would come again. But she was alone. Utterly alone.

  But you were never alone.

  Spinneretta started at the thought. It had originated within her own head, her own mind; it had been her own voice, and yet she had made no effort to think it. Her whole body began to shake with fear.

  Can you hear me now?

  A deep breath as the alien thought-voice came again. Hello? she thought back.

  Oh, good. It’s about time you answered. You cannot imagine how long I’ve been waiting.

  The voice stirred all the scattered motes of uncertainty into a whirlwind within her. Below, the dark faded into a greater clarity. A reflection—hers—and then it was a skull gazing into her soul with two blackened sockets. Dark, rippling water, but then it became teal, an ocean crashing upon a broken shore.

  Who are you? Spinneretta thought at the voice.

  I am you.

  Oh, great, so I’ve suffered brain damage. What a way to go.

  There are more important things for you to worry about now.

  A piercing shriek ripped through the darkness. Her struggle against the helpless abyss reignited. A single thought raced through her mind: Kara! The scream came again, and she felt a flash of her previous anger resurface. Though the darkness lingered, the feeling began to return. Only when she felt the cold metal of the floor against her front did she realize how numb she’d been.

  Get up, her other voice said. We will lose everything again if you do not move, now.

  She strained her muscles. They were like slabs of meat in cryostasis that had only just begun to thaw. She moved her fingers, and the electric pain shooting through her wrist stabbed at her mind.

  You want to protect her, don’t you?

  She gritted her teeth. Of course, I do. But how am I supposed to fight that thing? The Instinct wasn’t enough.

  Why do you hold back? You are capable of so much more. If only you let go. Remember. Try to remember.

  Kara’s scream was still ringing in her ears. The Instinct was flowing, cutting back at the haze in her mind. But I haven’t . . . what are you talking about?

  You are afraid to embrace your true strength. And so you cling to your humanity like a lifeboat. But you will never see the depths that await you until you cut loose. Come. Sink with me. All the way to the bottom. Perhaps then you will remember who you are.

  Another scream came, this one feeble and strained. Her whole body tensed. Kara! Goddammit, I won’t let him hurt her! A burn stabbed at the base of her spine and began to spread like venom through her blood.

  Seems you are beginning to recall what it feels like. But you are still holding back. Here. Allow me to help you.

  All at once, the burn in her spine blossomed into a searing agony. She tried to scream, but all that came out was an airy hiss. Viscous magma flowed up and down her back, curving and meandering toward her heart, slow and thick. A moment of dread and apprehension pushed back at that pain, but a flash of lucidity shattered her defenses. And as soon as the burn hit her heart, it began to spread with her accelerated pulse. Every muscle trembled as the fire soaked into her tissue. The pain grew in intensity until her overloaded nerves could no longer feel it at all. Her scream of pain morphed into a predatory howl. The dark receded, and at last her muscles yielded to her commands.

  Good, her other voice said. Now, what is it that you want?

  The blurred world came back into focus, and both aspects of her mind echoed a single hate-filled word: Blood.

  Spinneretta lurched to her feet, her arms pendulous and inert. Blood ran from the corner of her lip, ice-cold against her superheated skin. Before her stood the yellow robe. And under its booted foot, Kara writhed in pain. The sight stoked the fire in Spinneretta’s heart. Rage frothed forth in a vicious snarl through clenched teeth.

  Kaj looked at her, eyes wide. “Good,” he said. “Just in time. The situation has changed, Arachne. I heard that you once opened a portal to the World on the Web to escape Dwyre’s men. Now I need you to do it again.” He exhaled once, an uneven and desperate sound. “Hurry. We haven’t much time.”

  Her fingernails cut into her palms. Her spider legs jerked and writhed of their own accord. Arctic air filled her lungs with each seething breath. She took a single unsteady step forward. Each minute motion bristled with an impossible strength. Her muscles felt like they were on the verge of ripping, of snapping her bones.

  “What are you doing?” Kaj spat. “Open the portal for me. Quickly now. Or else I’ll . . . ” The realization twisted his face into a hideous mask of inhumanity. “You still wish to fight?”

  She forced herself to take another measured step forward. “Let her go,” she breathed. “Or I’ll rip you to shreds.”

  Kaj’s eyes bulged. “Do not be stupid, girl!” He rolled Kara over with his foot and planted his boot on her side. Kara gave a small yip of pain. “Don’t you care about your beloved sister? Make another move and I’ll send her rib right through her heart.”

  Spinneretta’s legs extended, and she sank to her haunches. She glared into Kaj’s soulless eyes. “Try it.”

  Her spider legs surged with primal strength. She pounced. The whole world smeared, and she closed the distance in a fraction of a second. The speed of the impact sent Kaj reeling backward off of Kara. Spinneretta’s feet and hands and hind-appendages grappled, steadying herself upon his upper torso. One leg gouged an eye, and three others ripped into the flesh of his cheeks and forehead, scraping bone and teeth. Kaj gave a surprised shout and twisted, flailing his arm at her. Spinneretta rode the strength in the attack and rappelled off it. She rolled in the air, balancing her spin with her legs, and landed on all eight beside Kara.

  “What is the meaning of this!” Blood ran from the opened wounds in Kaj’s face and skull. It smelled foul, tepid, diseased. He staggered back a step, eying her cautiously.

  Her legs drummed at the ground, clattering. “You should never have crossed my path.” She darted to one side and then cut sharply to the other. She redirected her momentum and sprang into the air again, legs poised to strike.

  “I’m done playing around!” Kaj shouted. In a blur, he contorted and threw a massive punch toward her.

  Spinneretta saw the counterattack. She twisted in the air, adjusting her trajectory, and unfurled her legs. The punch sped right beside her. Like a forest of scythes, her leg-tips found the flesh of his arm. The opposing velocities turned her legs to vorpal razors. His veins opened. She landed just as a fountain of blood erupted from his split arm. With a shout, he wheeled on her, prepared to crush her with another strike.

  Mental muscle memory, s
purred by her other voice. Relishing the taste on her leg-tips, Spinneretta beckoned the air to grow heavy between her appendages. An unseen gravity ground at her chitin. The air around her became dense, heavy, moist, like a psychic mist that rolled at her will. Howling a primal war cry, she swept her spider legs and sent the tendrils of her body’s energy field into him. And then there came a clear crackling, as of some electrical discharge flowing, sparking through the air and the Vant’therax’s body.

  Kaj recoiled, his whole body seizing. His eyes bulged, and his mouth twisted agape. An ear-piercing scream of pain followed as he clutched his split arm and bloodied face. “Arachne!” he shrieked. “What did you do!?”

  The heavy air flowed around her in discrete streams, pulling at the joints in her spider legs, forcing the plating to shift and creak. It was somehow addictive, though not nearly as addictive as the Vant’therax’s cries. “Seems you can feel it now,” she hissed, rising to her feet. “Good. It’s no fun if it doesn’t hurt.”

  Clenched muscles twitched in Kaj’s face and arm. He groaned and hissed and gnashed his teeth. But the pain only seemed to make him angrier. “Arachne!”

  He flew toward her in a flash, and she sprang backward even faster. A huge punch whistled by her head, and then another fell into the floor beside her. The blood was thick in the air now. It made her muscles shiver, her skin burn and tingle all at once. She leapt back and flourished her appendages, dodging a third strike. A hungry smile crowned her lips. Kaj surged forward with another blow, a maniacal scream booming from his mouth. Spinneretta pivoted to one side. Two of her appendages arced in opposite directions and pierced his arm through the elbow. She felt his whole body seize with autonomous shudders. His screams tickled up and down her spine. When she crushed the joint between her appendages the sensation nearly sent her over the edge.

  Kaj fell to his knees, writhing. Spinneretta could feel his biceps and triceps flexing in defense against the invading limbs. But it would do him no good. She tightened her grip on his arm and spun about. The strength in her limbs translated to rotational velocity, and she hurled him across the room. His body flew into one of the tanks, and an explosion of glass shards sparkled in the overhead lights. Kaj floundered, groping blindly for purchase. Standing spikes of glass shredded his robe and hands as he tried to pull himself free.