by Nyna Queen
“I have a horanium iactari.” Josy reached into her neckline and held up a translucent blue crystal sphere, dangling from a delicate silver chain. It was framed in silver, with glowing white veins rhythmically swirling inside.
A time pendant. Just as well.
“Right. Listen, if I don’t wake up by myself, you must wake me. At the latest in,” she calculated again, “four hours.” That should be enough. Had to be enough.
“Understood?”
More solemn nods.
“Repeat it, then.”
Josy gave her a long look. “Don’t go outside,” she finally said.
“Don’t touch any breakable stuff,” Max added.
“Wake you in four hours,” the girl finished.
“Good,” Alex said—or rather, intended to say. But her lips had gotten numb and the words came out distorted. The room was starting to spin around her in slow sickening waves. She made another staggering step toward the corner
Josy leaned forward, her eyes narrowing in concern. “Are you okay?”
Her pretty face bloated, nose shrinking, brown eyes growing, turning her into a grotesque nightmarish version of herself. Alex blinked her eyes, trying to refocus.
“M’ fine,” she mumbled, not sure the words left her mouth at all. It felt as if it was filled with stale honey. “Jus’ don’ lemme sleep t’ lon …”
Alarm flashed in Josy’s eyes. Alex raised her hand to indicate she was okay when suddenly her legs gave out. The room careened, bending sideways and spiraling into a long dark tunnel. The ringing in her ears amounted to the shrill scream of a tea-kettle.
Oh, you damn stupiiiiid—
The ground punched her in the side. The last thing she saw was a thin crack in the white arched ceiling above her, that grew and widened and raced toward her before it swallowed her whole and everything went black.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ALEX woke with a throbbing head and a stale taste on her tongue. The room around her was dipped in a deep, dusty gloom, but through the slits in the moth-eaten curtains, she could see thin slivers of light sneaking in, turning dust motes into tiny glittering insects. The incidence of the light told her shaper senses that it must already be way past noon.
Great! So much for just a few hours!
She closed her eyes again and suppressed a groan. Rely on kids to do as they are told, and you’re doomed!
Worst of all, she didn’t even feel well rested, despite the good six or seven hours of sleep. Exhaustion still smothered her body like a heavy wet blanket, dripping weariness into her bones.
Well, she was awake. That was something.
When she raised her arms to prop herself up, she realized that somebody had draped a woolen blanket over her. She froze and stared at it, baffled. Slowly, almost hesitantly her fingers reached out and touched the thick, rough material. Real.
A strange feeling that she wasn’t quite able to decipher stirred in her stomach. Looking around, she quickly spotted two body-hills on the sofa corner at the other end of the room. The pieces of furniture had been stripped of their white sheet coverings and Josy lay stretched out on the couch under a similar blanket, while Max was curled up in an armchair, sunken together as though he’d been sitting, trying to stay awake, but finally lost the day and dozed off.
Despite being annoyed about their disobedience, Alex couldn’t help grinning a little. Not tired at all, huh? So much for that.
She watched them for a moment. It occurred to her that she’d never consciously watched a sleeping child before. They looked … peaceful somehow, not like they were running from life-threatening danger. If only she was able to block out her troubles as easily.
A sudden sound made her stiffen. She tensed, the shaper in her snapping to attention.
There, again! Not quite a noise, but—vibration, yes. The softest vibration, rippling through the ground, impossible for a normal human to feel, tugging at the sensitive chords of her inner web.
She realized this was what must have woken her up in the first place, alerting that instinctual, vigilant part of her soul that barely slept, always unconsciously scanning her surroundings for possible signs of threat. Something was moving downstairs.
The blanket slid off her, as she soundlessly rolled up into a crouch, suddenly wide awake. Her sensory threads unfurled from her slowly, drowsily, still wrapped in the after effects of sleep. But at least they followed her summons.
Alex listened intently.
Yep, definitely, someone lurking around the front door. Adrenaline shredded the last threads of tiredness that still clung to her and the spider drew up to its full height, rubbing against the inside of her human skin. Her mind went into overdrive, sorting through possible explanations. Hoping that this was just some hobo looking for a place to crash would be beyond naive. No, not here, in the middle of nowhere. Also, this manor hadn’t been tended to in months, how likely was it that someone came in just this day when they were bunking down here? She never was that lucky. No, there was just one logical explanation: they had been tracked down.
Shit!
In the blink of an eye, Alex materialized beside the couch where Josy was fast asleep. Leaning over, she put her hand over Josy’s mouth, who woke instantly with a muffled shriek. The girl thrashed in panic for a second until her eyes found Alex’s face and she froze, her wild heartbeat pumping against Alex’s fingertips.
Alex raised a quick finger to her lips and bend forward until her mouth almost brushed Josy’s ear.
“There’s someone in the house.”
Josy’s eyes widened, her pulse speeding up even more, like a frightened little bird fluttering its wings.
“Wake your brother,” Alex whispered. “Stay put but be prepared to run. I’ll go downstairs and check things out. If you hear anything suspicious or if I call for you to scram, I want you to take the back door.” She inclined her chin toward the balcony. “No lingering. No dilly-dallying. Just get out. Run into the woods.” She put steel into those last words.
Josy stared at her, eyes huge and fearful, and finally nodded.
Right.
Slowly, Alex pulled her hand away and pointed her toward Max’s sleeping form. She herself slunk over to the door on soft paws, nothing but the shadow of a spider at the wall.
Shifting her center of gravity, she reached for the door frame and slipped up to the ceiling.
Startled gasps.
Alex went rigid. Glanced down in alarm. Josy and Max were both gaping up at her as if she’d just sprouted a second head—since she’d just gone spider on them, she supposed it was, in a way, true.
Damn it sugar, just because they’ve seen you shape, doesn’t mean they’re used to your little spider stunts!
Alex firmly motioned for them to be quiet and glided through the door into the hall. The ceiling stretched in front of her, slightly domed toward its middle. Beneath her, the double-winged staircase joined into some sort of balcony with a balustrade that blocked the view to the ground floor from her current vantage point. She crawled along the ceiling like a lizard, quick and liquid, allowing the spider to rise until her true skin shone through her human shell.
The person downstairs was slowly moving through the room; she could feel the soft quakes of footsteps vibrating through the mansion’s foundation. Someone who knew how to step lightly.
Well, not lightly enough for a spider, she thought maliciously.
She paused. There was something strangely familiar to the vibrational pattern of those steps. She was almost sure she’d felt it before, yet she couldn’t quite put a face to it. Perhaps one of the men from the bridge, that Cutter guy or his crony?
The edge of the balcony loomed before her, and she inched forward, more cautiously. Just a bit more. Just a liiiittle bit.
The balcony ended abruptly, plunging down at least ten feet toward the bottom floor.
A man was moving in the glum half-dark of the hall. Alex’s world jerked to a screeching halt.
Him!
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The shock punched her so hard in the guts she momentarily slipped control of the spider and nearly dropped off the ceiling. Instinctively her claws dug deeper into the painted plaster, holding her in place as she stared down at the black-clad shadow, moving with the distinct grace of a predator.
Her hackles rose to the ceiling and the spider snarled with canine rage.
No! Impossible! Him? How could it be him?
In the light of the recent events she’d almost forgotten about him, but here he was—the trueborn forfeit from the bar in all his dark glory. He looked exactly like she remembered: shockingly attractive in that roguish way, topped off with all layers of male arrogance. Too good for the dusty ground to touch his feet. His magic swirled around him, licking at the surroundings, translucent black whispers of darkness that poured out of him and turned the room into an even more perilous gloom.
What in the Jester’s name was he doing here?
Then something clicked in her head. The children! Of course! Her heart made a double flip. There had to be some sort of connection. Why hadn’t it occurred to her before? Two incidents of trueborns appearing in the Jester’s Inn, and within such a short period of time? How could that possibly be a coincidence? And yet she’d blissfully ignored that obvious link.
Sloppy, Alex, sloppy, sloppy.
The trueborn paused in the middle of the room and knelt at a spot that looked like one of the footprints they’d left in the dust. A ripple of gold flashed in the dark, as he pulled off one of his black gloves. Holding it in his other hand, he stretched out his bare hand toward the floor. A soft tingle of magic nipped at her, teasingly, as he slowly moved his hand above the ground, probing. The slightly burned scent of static electricity filled her nostrils.
A twinge of panic prickled along Alex’s spine. Whatever the connection to the children was, nothing good was bound to come from it.
Shit. Shit. Double shit! When she’d promised to help the kids, she hadn’t signed up to matching herself with one of Death’s Servants. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she could match him.
The memory of his glowing red eyes, burning with unrestrained blood lust, flashed in front of her mind’s eye. Fear gripped her heart with wispy spider fingers woven from darkness and the shaper in her balled itself together, a threatened beast in front of a hunting spear, spitting defiance, but really just wanting to bolt. The instinctual response was so strong she almost lost it and took a running jump.
Alex locked her teeth together and fought against the rising blind panic. Calm down, sugar. Think, damn you. Think!
She fixed the kneeling shadow below. Right now, he was distracted. Might be the only chance she’d get. Inching forward another bit, she measured the distance. Twenty feet, give or take. It was a spider’s preferred way to strike: from ambush like a quick, lethal blade. A slow smile tugged on her lips. Piece of cake! He’d never know what hit him.
She gathered herself.
A clonk from upstairs. Muffled voices. A hiss and a yelp.
Alex closed her eyes for an instant and cursed inwardly, wanting to hit her head against the wall.
One thing! She’d asked one fucking thing of them!
The trueborn’s head jerked up, eyes flaring like two blood-red moons in the gloomy darkness of the hall.
He surged to his feet like liquid metal and slid toward the stairs with the determination of a panther scenting prey: cautious but without fear, black coat flowing around his muscled frame like a piece of material cut from the night. His dark eyes scanned the shadows left and right of him with sharp intensity. Luckily the ceiling wasn’t exactly the first place where people expected an attacker to wait. Still, Alex quickly slipped back into the shadows, her threads of darkness weaving around her.
Curse those children! Curse them to the bowels of hell!
The moment the trueborn sat his foot on the first step, she felt his wicked magic brush against her: a wild fiery river that pulled at her, cocooning her in a veil of dark, liquid fire. She barely managed to stifle a gasp. The physical effect was less intense than last time, but it still grated along her nerves, sticky, hot and unforgiving, threatening to drown her in its wild currents, trying to solidify her muscles and block her breath—yet this time she was prepared for it and she fought against it like a person holding a stand against a breaking wave.
When she finally managed to shake it off, shivering so hard she could barely hold on to the ceiling, he was already halfway up the stairs.
The spider ripped on its leash, howling and clawing like a crazed beast. The instinctual urge to flee became nearly overwhelming. But then she thought about the kids cowering upstairs, trusting her to protect them. Only a couple of steps and a slim wall separated them from a deadly predator.
Well, that—and a very pissed spider.
A sharp smile parted her lips as her true teeth silently slid out of their canals and venom aggregated in the sacks beneath them. The spider relaxed, turning attentive and focused. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to beat the trueborn, but she could at least startle him enough to buy the kids some more time for their retreat before hightailing it out of here herself.
For a blink, Alex thought about giving Max and Josy a warning call but quickly dismissed the idea. She might only get one shot at him and she had to make it count. Giving herself away didn’t really seem like the best course of action there.
Her body tensed. Each of his steps sent a soft echo through the room, a soft echo over her skin. The spider became a raging ball of fury inside her, wanting to break free, wanting to taste flesh, to taste blood, but she held it back.
No, not yet. Not yet. She was as taut as a coiled spring. Not yet!
He was almost at the top landing. It was now or never.
Alex pushed herself off the ceiling and dove, rocketing toward the trueborn like a living missile. His head jerked up the moment before she hit him, and their eyes met for a split second: bright blue on blazing red, a clashing of ice and fire.
He moved with inhuman speed, shifting slightly to the right in a ripple of muscle and instead of hitting him head-on with her full weight, Alex merely slammed into his side, sending them both crashing through the banister to the floor below. Wood burst with a loud crack, showering the air with splinters.
They hit the ground, hard, in a tangle of entwined limbs, sending up a cloud of dust. The impact knocked the air out of Alex’s lungs, rendering her momentarily dizzy. A sharp pain pierced her left shoulder where she’d landed on a piece of rubble and the scent of fresh blood whipped the spider into a wild, uncontrollable frenzy.
Beside her, the trueborn stirred. With a snarl, Alex shook off the dizziness and launched herself at him, claws outstretched in front of her. Somehow, he managed to catch her wrists before she could tear into him.
Alex growled and strained against him, her teeth rending the air inches from his face. Muscles bulged on his arms and shoulders, stretching the fabric of his coat, as he fought to keep her at bay. Alex hissed like an angry cat and pushed harder, her true eyes flashing ebony.
But instead of gaining on him, she was losing—inch by little inch.
No! This was impossible. He wasn’t a shaper. Muscle or not, he couldn’t be stronger than she was, even in her current state. It just wasn’t possible.
His face twisted, and she felt him strain under her, and suddenly she was lifted into the air as if she weighed next to nothing. Her back slapped the ground with a thud and before she knew what was happening, he was straddling her, his hands pinning her arms down beside her head.
Alex thrashed around, but his fingers circled her wrists like iron cuffs, firmly locking her in place.
He leaned forward until his face was so close that she could feel the burning heat of his skin. For a moment she stopped struggling, distracted by his eyes. From this close, she could see that they were actually brown, like a hot, delicious cup of mocha. Yet right now there was nothing inviting in them. Right now, they were absolutely deadly.
; “The children,” his voice was a deep, ragged growl that sounded barely human. “Where are they?”
Alex snapped for his throat. He leaned out of reach, avoiding her easily—sweet Jester, that man was fast—and his fingers painfully dug into her wrists as he raised her a little off the ground and then slammed her back into it. The back of her head whacked the floorboards. Pain exploded in her skull, sending little stars dancing in front of her eyes. Blood filled her mouth; she had bitten the inside of her lip.
“Where?” His whole body shook with ill-concealed fury.
Alex bared her teeth in a bloody smile. “If you really think I’d give them up so easily you’re even more of a fool than you look.”
He snarled, and his eyes blazed with demonic fire. The darkness solidified around him. His magic shot from him like translucent black wings, hovering above him like the shade of death itself. Fear speared Alex and she flailed, but the trueborn could have been made from stone for all he budged.
He smiled. It was a cold, cruel smile that sent her hackles up. The magic wound from him, advancing on her, enveloping her in wisps of black mist. Heat licked at her skin, teasing first, like a lover’s tongue, nibbling and sucking on her with a thousand hot mouths, and Alex gasped, shuddering at the unexpected rush of pleasure.
But the caress quickly reached the point where it turned into pain. The moan of pleasure that had been building inside her turned into a whimper. The gauze veil of lust ripped, and she stared into the Jester’s mocking eyes.
The stroking fingers turned into tipped claws, the lips into fiery teeth. Alex screamed as they tried to chew their way through her skin. She reared up, throwing all her shaper strength into it, but instead of breaking his grip, his hands just tightened on her wrists holding her down with frightening ease. As if every passing second was making him stronger and stronger.
No, she realized with sharp, painful clarity, she was becoming weaker. Her limbs felt as if they were filling up with lead. Every movement was turning into a terrible ordeal.
Oh, sweet Jester, he was draining her!
