“Asher Mayhew,” he said eagerly, one hand still wrapped around his extra large boba, the other holding out a plastic bag full of fortune cookies. “And here you go, ma’am.” He walked directly for her, approaching the dais without invitation or regard for etiquette. I would have panicked and said something if Arachne hadn’t laughed first.
“This one is so precocious, and trusting. How very sweet.”
Asher beamed widely. The fucker wasn’t afraid in the slightest, not of Arachne, and not of the millions of her young carpeting the walls and the floor. She turned towards me again, her grin a little sharper, a little eviler this time. “Perhaps I have found myself a new sweetling.”
I groaned. “Oh, come on. Not you too.”
Asher cocked his head, alarmed. “Sorry, what was that? What do you mean?”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing,” I said, just as one of Arachne’s legs darted out to collect the plastic bag from Asher’s outstretched hand. The huge bristles and pincer at the end of her legs brushed against Asher’s skin as she took away the cookies. He hardly flinched, still looking at me questioningly. The kid was either really dumb, or really brave, or both.
“It’s his first communion, Arachne,” I said. “We hope you find it acceptable that we’ve brought him along, to learn how to commune by starting with one of the kindest, most gracious entities I know.”
Somewhere behind me I swear Herald snorted. Asher kept slurping his boba. But Arachne smiled. Sometimes, depending on the entity, a different approach was needed to grease the wheels, but with almost all that I’d encountered, flattery was the choicest way to go.
“No harm done, Dustin Graves. And we see that he is indeed very enthusiastic about his learnings in the arcane. You are free to visit Arachne’s domicile whenever you wish, Asher Mayhew.” Her veils and all the silks in the chamber rustled when she tittered again, laughing softly with one hand over her mouth. “He’s certainly dealing with this new reality far better than you did when we first met, sweetling. Do you recall? In the words of your people I believe that you were, oh, how do you say it. Shitting your pants?”
“What?” I blustered, and thanked the light of her domicile for disguising the fact that my cheeks had gone searing red. “That’s ridiculous. I mean I – ”
Arachne held up one hand, the length of her arm glittering with the myriad jewels and trinkets she wore. “Enough pleasantries. Tell me what you need.” With her other hand she was already riffling through the plastic bag, as if to select the best of the fortune cookies out of an assortment that, naturally, all looked exactly the same.
“Information,” Herald said, with a brief bow of his head. “As we all know is your specialty, Arachne.”
She grinned. “How very correct.” She smashed a fortune cookie with one fist, dug out the little slip of paper with the fortune on it, then read it, chuckling. “This says that I will be lucky in love. How droll.” She crammed the entire mess – cookie, wrapper, fortune – in her mouth, chewing aggressively as shards and splinters of the little treat erupted from between her fangs. “And what do you need to know?”
“My father,” I blurted out. Herald fixed me with a look, but said nothing. “I asked you once if you could help me find him.”
“Ah. Of course.”
Arachne probed at the air around her, as if looking for something. Then, pinching at some seemingly invisible object with her thumb and forefinger, she tugged. In the light I could just barely make out the sheen of a strand of spider silk.
There must have been dozens, hundreds around her, each attached to one of the secret-finding spiders she kept under her employ, their tethers hanging around her invisibly until she needed them. She pulled on it again,
like it was the rope of a small, delicate dinner bell. “Give my offspring time. They will come with what we need soon enough.”
“There’s another thing,” Herald said.
“Oh. Is there?”
I nodded. “We have reason to suspect that my old mentor is masquerading as me somehow. Using a glamour, maybe, or one of her enchantments. She was found stealing an artifact.”
Arachne pressed a long, taloned finger against the side of her temple, turning it like a screw. “How curious. Why would that be necessary? Why would she not simply take what she needed?”
Herald lifted a hand in agreement. “See, exactly. That’s why we’re here. We need your wisdom, and access to your network. Tell us what you can find, why this woman is impersonating Dustin. It seems so pointless.”
“Hey.”
“He’s so insignificant.”
“Seriously, Herald.”
“Now this,” Arachne said, a hand on her chin. “This demand is more complex. What would you have to offer in return, I wonder?”
Herald and I watched each other cautiously. “We need her help,” he muttered. “Your friends might have ways, but nothing like what she can do.”
Arachne stretched her neck out and spoke louder. “Is that a ‘Yes,’ sweetling?”
I chewed my lip and eyed her carefully. “What would we have to give in return, Arachne?”