This could not be possible.
She gripped fistfuls of her own hair in knots, willing the images before her to be disappear.
“No!” Charlotte howled until her chest felt like it would explode into a thousand glass shards. “Valek! It’s a trap!”
The woman heard her. Gripping onto Valek’s chest, she craned her head around, revealing herself to be none other than…Andela.
But that was impossible.
Charlotte gasped and fell back a step.
“The entire universe is wrapped around your finger,” she said.
Charlotte winced. “What?”
“The stars align in your hands.”
“What are you talking about? Andela, we thought you were dead….”
Next second, right before Charlotte’s eyes…Andela’s milky body dissolved to ash. Charlotte felt like she might be sick as she bent double, however, still unable to pull her eyes away. Even more horrifying, was that Valek followed in kind, skin turning gray before flaking and crumpling into the bed sheets, gray powder drifting up into the air. Gone.
“NO! NOOO!”
“Charlotte?” A familiar voice echoed to her. It wasn’t Valek’s. “Charlotte, open your eyes.”
A warm hand gripped her wrist, tugging her around to face the hallway again. Her gaze met with a tall silhouette. It loomed over her, one distinct pointed ear poking out from feathery auburn hair.
A new, more horrible, scream rolled up from her depths. He tugged at her and she felt herself flying forward, being ripped through time and space. Everything around her went dark, until at last, she felt herself rocking gently from side to side—floating—drifting. . .
“Charlotte, wake up!”
Gasping, her eyelids snapped open to the weird stillness of the ruddy dirt-packed ceiling of Mr. Třínožka’s burrow.
Her throat was raw. She lied face-up, tears streaming, seeping down into her hairline. Her focus flickered across the spider’s eclectic junk collection; the many brass pans, a few clock gears, and about a dozen or so silver teapots.
“Th-Th-Third night in a r-r-row,” another voice fumbled near her ear.
Her senses warmed with the smells and sounds of wood smoldering in the clay hearth. Cinnamon. Then came the whine of a kettle on a stove top.
When she tried to move her arms, she found she couldn’t, spun tightly in a quilt as one of Mr. Třínožka’s eight, long arms cradled her.
“I’m s-sorry,” she panted, finding it painful to speak.
Had she really been screaming… out loud? Her face flushed. Her throat felt ravaged.
“T’was nuttin’ but a nightmare, girly.” The spider’s normally gruff voice lifted a few octaves higher with his concern.
“I fell asleep?” She frowned, struggling to remember how she’d gotten there.
“All night an’ all day,” the great spider-man explained, setting her down in an upright position over one of his squashy web sacks, large enough to be considered furniture.
“Well, don ya remember? We arrived home affer the store openin’ an yer scar there gave ya a nasty thrashin’. Right blacked out, ya did.”
“You’ve b-been asleep for the l-l-last day and a h-half,” explained Edwin, plucking a chipped teacup from a shelf on the wall.
From the shiny, new teapot he’d given the spider for Yule, he poured some steaming water over tea leaves, filling the burrow with an earthly scent. Lavender and chamomile.
At last, she wriggled her arms free from the crochet entrapment.
A day and a half? That couldn’t be right. She clutched the sides of her head and shut her eyes, temples still pounding.
“What time is it?” she groaned.
Mr. Třínožka yanked his goggles off his forehead, and with another one of his free hands, unwrapped the mustard-colored scarf from his neck. His beetle black eyes glanced up at one of the dozen cuckoo clocks on the wall. They always made quite the racket upon the hour.
“Damn near six.”
“Six?”
“In the evening,” he grumbled concernedly, raising his frosted eyebrows at her.
“I’ve been asleep for seventeen hours?” she shrieked, kicking the rest of her way out of the blanket.
“Well, ya weren’t feelin’ well…”
“Where’s Valek?”
She stood too quickly. The burrow tilted in one direction, then the other, and she pressed her palms against the hollows of her eyes, waiting for the teetering to stop. It was the most horrible dream she’d ever had, but she wanted to remember every detail of it.
“Now, now, ya jus ‘ave a seat, girly. Valek aint home from huntin’ yet and you’ve gotta give yerself a minute ta get right.”
With one of his index fingers, Mr. Třínožka prodded her on the forehead. She collapsed back into one of his webby chairs again, plumes of dust curling up into the air.
“Hunting?” she whimpered. She couldn’t put her finger on why jealousy twanged so sourly in her chest.
“Here, Charlotte. H-have some t-t-tea with us.”
The scarecrow boy placed a cup and saucer for her over the crooked end table, plopping two cubes of sugar into the murky brown liquid. She quietly muttered her, “thank you.”
His button eyes shimmered in the warm light. It was difficult to tell, but she was sure she saw some amount of worry within them.
“Valek’s n-n-not too happy…”
“Oh tosh!” Mr. Třínožka shook his head. “Don’t be worryin’ her with all that. ‘Sgot nuttin’ ta do wit her.” He wagged one of his fingers toward her cup before he tossed another hunk of wood into the fireplace with a different hand. “Drink yer tea, there, Charlotte, an’ don’ be worryin’ so much.”
Her stomach sloshed. She didn’t feel much like tea. Taking it in her lap, she grimaced down at it, noting the sinking feeling in her gut. Even though it was comfortable there in Mr. Třínožka’s underground home, a chill lingered within her bones.
She recalled Valek’s fury over the mysterious note and the book on the mantel. Valek’s not too happy. Guilt flared in her chest.
“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret, you know?” she whispered at no one.
“He knows that! Course he does. He jus wants ta keep ya safe affer all that happened. Can’t blame ‘em. Stupid thing leavin’ the Price family alive, I think.”
Charlotte met the Spider’s eyes then, finding they were narrowed under his cavernous wrinkles.
“I’m inclined to agree with you, but…” She fidgeted with her next thought. “At the same time, we don’t want to solve all our problems by destroying things—by harming people. It would make us no better than them.”
“’Stupid,” Mr. Třínožka muttered in an undertone, looking away.
Her heart clenched again. Just because she didn’t want to kill them herself didn’t mean she wouldn’t spit on their corpses if somebody else did the job first.
A smile cracked Mr. Třínožka’s sun-worn face under his sprawling mustache. “Sagely little thing ya are…”
Just then, a cracking sound came from above—the tumbling of dirt. The three looked up in time to watch clods of it roll down through the heavy curtains of the burrow’s entrance. At once, the entire wall of cuckoo clocks erupted, each of them blaring, gears and bells clanging, creating an uproar of clashing notes about the den.
“At l-l-least we know wh-what time it is,” Edwin called with his hands pressed to his ears.
There was a string of oaths grumbled then by a musical, little voice followed by the fumbling of feet until eventually, Sarah tripped halfway into the den, her face and arms smudged with soil.
One by one, the cuckoo clocks lulled back to their usual, quiet ticking.
“Could do with an easier way to get down here,” the Witch wheezed, frustrated, as she smeared the back of her hand across her cheek, only spreading the grime more.
“Six on the nose. Right on schedule. Tea, Sarah?” The spider offered, holding up the silver pot.
/> Charlotte didn’t miss the way Edwin scuttled off into Mr. Třínožka’s kitchen, looking nervous, scratching at the back of his head and even twitching a bit.
“None for me, thanks.” Her lavender eyes flicked to Charlotte. “I just came to see if you were awake yet. We’ve all been so worried sick about you. I was about to slip you a fly agaric potion, but Valek seemed to think you only needed your rest.”
She flounced over to another sack nearest Charlotte and plopped into it, tucking her hands under her knees.
“Poor thing. How’s your—”
Charlotte caught Sarah’s hand before her fingers could graze the side of her neck. Trying her best to muster up a convincing smile, she laced her fingers between her friend’s dainty ones and said, “Please don’t worry for me.” She turned up to Mr. Třínožka. “Any of you. I promise. I’ll be fine.”
Sarah and the spider exchanged a weighty glance before Edwin waddled back in, his hands filled with a platter of thickly-sliced bread, each piece slathered with butter, mustard, and dotted with chopped green chives.
“B-baked it myself,” he offered nervously. “Nothing like f-f-fresh b-bread to anchor the n-n-n-n-n-nerves.” In quivering hands, he nearly dropped it all, though luckily, it landed on a cockeyed coffee table with a loud clatter instead of on the floor.
“Taking up baking, are we, Edwin?” Sarah asked, sounding impressed. She took a slice to try.
“W-well…uh…y-yes. I find it r-r-r-r-relaxing.” He adjusted his spectacles.
“I could use some help in the kitchen, you know?” she said over her mouthful, but Edwin was too overcome to respond.
He was the strangest of boys, made up of nothing but enchanted, shabby burlap, yarn, and buttons. Charlotte was never certain about what kind of creature he was exactly. Something like an animated scarecrow, or a life-sized rag doll. Mr. Třínožka invited him to come live in his warren upon their return from the Regime Palace, and sadly, upon finding Horris, Mr. Třínožka’s old roommate, gone.
Sarah giggled which seemed to ruffle Edwin even more, his stuttering coming out worse than usual: “M-m-m-m-must be h-h-hungry Charlotte….”
But hunger was her furthest concern. Everything inside her felt heavy. She thought about fainting during Yule...then the uproar in the town square.
“I’m ruining the everything.” She didn’t mean to say it out loud, but the thought tumbled from her lips down into her teacup.
“What are you talking about, Charlotte?” asked Sarah quietly.
“Yule. The store opening. Everything. I’m sorry.”
They all rushed to ease her guilt with overlapping, “No! No…” and “Don’t be s-silly—” and “It was splendid! No big racket!” Though, each of their faces remained pinched with worry.
“We’ll have you right as ribbons in no time,” Sarah added warmly, smoothing the material of Charlotte’s dress at her shoulder. It was one Sarah fabricated with her enchanted sewing needle out of old scraps of black velvet. “I’ve already come up with a few healing ideas for when it happens again.”
Charlotte’s eyes watered, the panic threatening to roll down her face. She sat up straighter.
“Do you think it will? Do you think the book was right, Sarah? Fixation? The curse? Do you think it will keep happening?”
Rubbing at the side of her neck, Charlotte recalled the first time she’d felt such pain. Sarah had found some answers in Francis’ copy of The Anatomy of Vampires: Volume One. Charlotte wondered if there was any more about it in the new, mysterious volume Valek stole from her.
“Balderdash.” Sarah shook her nose in the air. “Such archaic information. I’d prefer to do some research on my own. Give it time. But for now…” She lifted her finger as if touching it to the point she was about to make. “No. More.”
Charlotte knew what she meant. “But we haven’t—” She stopped talking, her entire face searing horribly.
Details of what she and Valek used to do when they were alone together were far too intimate to discuss in front of the spider and the doll boy who were both leaning forward with lifted eyebrows.
“All right,” Charlotte sighed.
She meant to say there hadn’t been any bloodshed since they’d been home, except for the incident in the square. It seemed Valek planned on keeping his distance anyway.
Pulling her sewing needle from her skirts, Sarah gave a wave toward Horris’ piano. The keys started to plunk some merry notes, but the sound made Charlotte’s eyes sting. She wondered what happened to the caterpillar Shape-Shifter. Without him there, the music sounded eerie.
At last, Charlotte took a sip of her tea and chose a slice of bread from the platter. Sarah bit off a huge chunk of her own. Edwin beamed at her, leaning more forward still, his hands on his knees…anticipating.
“Delicious!” she announced.
Edwin sat back again, looking quite pleased and even a bit relieved. Charlotte understood why. Nobody baked like Sarah. And beyond that, Charlotte noticed the particular way Edwin looked at the Witch, his button eyes lingering a little too long.
“Have you been awake long, Charlotte?” Sarah continued.
“Woke up minutes ‘fore ya rolled in, Witchy,” answered Mr. Třínožka.
“Valek said she n-needed rest, but it didn’t s-s-seem like she had a very good t-time of it,” explained Edwin.
“What do you mean?” Sarah cast her concern to Charlotte then.
“My dream—it was awful,” Charlotte explained. “I was in the square. There were so many faces… I searched, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.” The dark images were still so fresh. So real.
“Hush!” Mr. Třínožka’s gruff voice shattered the reverie as he held one of his hands out to her. “Mustn’t speak of nightmares here, girly. Evil feeds on ‘em, don’ ya know? You’ll bring about bad luck. If ya speak of it aloud…well…it might come true!”
The giant Shifter with a grandfatherly face and the lower half of an arachnid retracted his hand, replacing it instead with the one holding the teakettle. He refilled her now half-empty cup.
Strangely, he preferred to remain between his two forms—not all man—not all spider.
Charlotte considered what he said, sipping once more at her tea, keeping quiet.
“It’s like me ol’ man use ta tell me….” He replaced the grim lines in his face with a soft smile. “If yer dreamin in that dark abyss…and those waters get rough…don’ ya ferget…yer captain o’ that ship.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” she whispered. It didn’t feel like she had any control over her dream. But it was a nice sentiment to put in her pocket for later.
After the four of them finished off the bread and tea, Mr. Třínožka stretched his two front arms wide, signaling his own exhaustion.
“Gotta big tomorrow! Gettin’ up bright and early to open the store.”
Charlotte and Sarah bid the boys their “good-nights” before starting back up the dirt tunnel just as the spider curled up into a great web-spun hammock in the corner of the den, Edwin sprawling out over one of the tufty web sacks.
“Think he likes you,” Charlotte giggled once she and Sarah made it up into the forest of fading twilight.
“Who?”
“Don’t play innocent….”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Sarah huffed, though sounding a touch amused and Charlotte was sure she saw her lavender eyes glint in the pink light of dusk.
Upon entering, she could see the house was still dressed in whimsical festivity. Both Valek and Jorge stood toe-to-toe against the library door frame, their arms folded. Valek’s back was to her, but the look on Jorge’s face was anxious. Charlotte guessed they’d been having some bout of intense mental discourse because it took Valek a moment to notice they were there.
“Lottie,” he breathed. He swept her up in his arms, pressing her so tightly to his chest it pushed the air from her lungs. “Are you all right?” he whispered into her hair.
“You’re…not angry?” she asked when his grip lessened.
“Angry?” He pulled away from her, his eyebrows furrowing. “Lottie, I’ve been so worried! Sarah, did you—”
“She was already awake when I arrived,” the Witch admitted, both her hands raised near her head.
“So…you are feeling better?” There was some amount of alleviation as the crease between his eyebrows melted. He ran the back of his knuckles across her cheek.
She nodded. Wrapping her fingers around his wrist, she asked, “Where’s the book? Please, Valek.”
It contained answers she needed. She knew it did. But she didn’t want to admit that out loud.
Every muscle in his jaw clenched. His nostrils flared. “You’re not to touch it. I meant what I said the other night.”
“What about the note? Who is ‘C.D.’?” she pressed.
Valek gave a quick glance over his shoulder at Jorge before muttering, “Let’s…discuss it later.”
Anxiety knotted in her center but she sighed, too tired to argue. Pressing herself up on her toes, she pushed her mouth toward his, but nearly fell forward when he pulled away from her. She frowned at him and her heart sank miserably. She wasn’t sure why she even tried. Humiliated, her cheeks seared.
“S-sorry….” He shot a nervous glance at Sarah. “You should…go upstairs. Get a change of clothes.”
Charlotte lowered herself to her heels, crestfallen. “Oh.”
“Well, I am as filthy as a toad!” she sang, attempting to shift the energy in the room, no doubt. “Think I’ll run a bath.”
Untying her muddied apron from her hips, she folded it over her arm. Before heading upstairs, she leered at Valek while pointing at Charlotte.
“Remember what I said. No more. I mean it.”
“Right. Thank you, Sarah.” Valek grumbled.
Charlotte burned from her scalp to the tops of her shoulders.
“And leave that dress in the bathroom when you’re done with it, Charlotte. I’ll fix it up with a spell.”
It was still caked with dried blood near the neckline and layered with dirt from having spent such a long time in the borough.
Before Charlotte could ask any more questions, Sarah retreated up the stairs, her footsteps slight but determined.
Of Blood and Magic Page 13
