Shadow Magic (Darkling Mage 1)

And for a third time, the spider woman squealed. In a blur of black bristles and talons, one leg shot out, swiping at the cookie closest to my feet. I hardened my muscles, not daring to flinch, to even show discomfort. Arachne hummed pleasantly as the plastic fell away, and she broke the cookie apart in her human hands. It was odd to acknowledge that she functionally had ten limbs. I had so many questions, none of which I was allowed to ask. I stepped back to join Thea at her side. She nodded at me, and gave the smallest smile.

“You will soon embark on a business venture,” Arachne pronounced, reading slowly and savoring each mouthful with ringing pride, like a child at a spelling bee. “Oh, how vague and clever and utterly pointless! Do your kind truly believe such drivel? Such whimsy in these little scrolls. You chose well, sweetling.”

She secreted the fortune somewhere on her person, then crammed the broken cookies into her mouth, her fangs crushing them into dust. Arachne chewed noisily, shards of cookie flying past her lips as she spoke again. “Ask, then. Why have you come?”

“You know why.” Thea clasped her hands together and lowered her head. “It is a grave matter. Someone is killing your kind.”

“So I have heard.”

Arachne sent out one hand, tugging at something invisible, until I saw that it was a gossamer strand, attached to the webs high in the ceiling. The faint chittering, the same sound we heard when we stepped into the portal started up again. I squeezed my fists, bit my tongue, and focused on the pain of my nails digging into my palms as tens, scores, then hundreds of spiders descended from the ceiling. I didn’t dare steal a glance at Thea and only looked straight ahead, waiting with mounting panic as I saw that the spiders were pouring in from all corners of the room.

Some of the spiders swept across the fortune cookies still on the ground, snaring them with fine silks of their own before dragging them away into the darkness under Arachne’s heaving thorax. I meditated on that spot of shadow, wishing I could just step in and whisk myself away.

“Someone has dared to kill an entity. That is what my children tell me.”

Her children – hundreds of them – crawled up her arms, and for a moment it looked as if they had come bearing jewels. But I noticed that some of them did indeed have gemstones embedded in their backs. These rarer ones, the gilded spiders, crept closest to Arachne’s ear, sitting quietly on her shoulder or draping themselves across her neck, each one its own link in a chain of gems. One dangled from her ear, a perfect, arachnid earring. She bent lower, as if to listen.

“They bring news to me. And much of it is ill.”

“That’s why we’ve come to you,” Thea said, her voice steelier than before. I could tell she was pouring more conviction into it. Couldn’t blame her. Arachne’s children were still swarming around her, a huge, coalescing mass. One word from her and Thea and I would be as good as dead.

“This is a larger request than you thought, friend.” Arachne held the silence, stretching it for emphasis. “I demand one of your baubles in exchange for my knowledge.”

Her jewels. Thea wore so many of them that I knew she had enough to spare, but I also knew that her jewelry was precious to her. She had crafted and imbued each piece with arcane power herself. Like the opal I wore, nearly each one had its own enchantment, its own purpose. Thea nodded at me, selecting one of her larger rings. It didn’t look any different than the others, but I had a suspicion that she had prepared for just such an occasion. This was probably a decoy, unensorcelled, just a mundane gift.

“Very well, Arachne.” Thea worked the ring slowly off

her finger, twisting it begrudgingly, making a great show of hesitation. “It pains me to do this, but I grant you one of my most precious stones.”

And Arachne didn’t squeal this time, but I could feel the delight emanating from her in waves. Even her children seemed more placid, less threatening than before.

No ceremony this time, no playful ploy to get Thea’s protege to deliver the goods. A large spider descended on a single strand of web, collecting the ring from Thea’s outstretched hand. She hardly seemed perturbed. The spider scuttled across the ground, then threw a line up to its mistress. Arachne received her emissary with gentle fingers, cradling it in both hands. She wore the ring on her left hand, turning her head this way and that, admiring it in the light.

“You already know that the manner of slaughter was magical,” she said, her voice deeper, and taut. “That much would be clear, even to one as unlearned as your apprentice.” Her unseen eyes glanced in my direction, and the smile she favored me with was oddly warm. “What I do know is that the murder was committed with the intent to siphon Resheph’s power. Whether the murderer did so to add to his own strength, or to gain control over Resheph’s dominion, I cannot say.”

“Dominion? You mean rats?” Thea frowned. “Who needs rats?”

Arachne hissed, her legs adjusting, scraping against the stone floor as she reared herself up to her full, terrifying height. The spider half of her being was coming to fore. The green light of the chamber flickered, then everything seemed darker. The chittering of the spiders grew in volume and frequency, and all around us the silks in the hallway quavered as more, impossibly more spiders poured out of the darkness.

“Who needs rats?” Arachne said mockingly, her voice sing-song and high. “Some might say that my children are just like rats. Skulking in darkness, in the corners and the in-betweens. Vermin they may be, yes, but you belittle my brethren’s children, even as you come to trade for the secrets that my offspring bring me.”

“That wasn’t our intention,” Thea said. This time, despite her unwavering stance and her gaze, I knew that she was overcompensating.

“And yet you move to offend me,” Arachne spat. “I should kill you where you stand. I should feed you to my young, have the millions of them rend the flesh from your bone.”

Arachne skittered forward, the forbidding bulk of her body clearing the room in the blink of an eye. Her children moved with her, a carpet of spiders following wherever their queen led. Arachne’s teeth were bared, and it wasn’t the green light’s doing anymore. Something viscous, the color of jade, was dripping down her teeth, past the corner of her mouth.

I don’t know what came over me then. Blind idiocy, bravado, or madness, or maybe an innate desire to show my boss that I could perform in a real world, high-stress occupational situation. I stepped between Thea and the hulking mass of Arachne’s body, mindful that each of her legs was the size and thickness of a spear, with the honed, pointed sharpness to match.

“Please,” I started. “We didn’t mean to anger you. We only came to receive your wisdom. I beg your forgiveness for us both. Don’t let this ruin your temper, or tarnish your beauty.”

Anticipation burned like fire under my skin as Arachne craned her head in my direction, but I knew I had hit my mark. The faintest hint of a smile crept into the corner of her lips, then faded just as suddenly.

“You are fortunate that you have brought this one to whisper sweet words to me, Thea. No blood shall be spilled today, but neither shall I tell you more. If I should learn anything else, I may deign to relay it to your apprentice.”

She lowered herself gently, graceful in spite of the bulk of her thorax, then pressed her lips against my forehead. Her kiss was moist, and while the sensation of it burned on my skin, I knew she meant me no harm. And I could finally see her up close, and decipher what hid behind the veil across her face. All eight of her eyes focused on me as she smiled. Three of them winked.

“Now that you are marked, my brood can more easily find you,” Arachne said. “Tell your master here of anything that my children whisper in your ears.” She retreated slowly, her gaze alternating between the two of us. “You may leave with your lives.”