“It’s not something to worry about, Dustin. If you run into an avatar of the Eldest, it’s already far, far too late. The mere sight of some of them would drive you utterly insane.” Carver adjusted his tie, stood erect, then smiled congenially, as if his last words hadn’t just filled my entire body with freezing dread, as if this entire conversation hadn’t irreparably blown my mind. “Shall we break for lunch?”
Chapter 14
Mama Rosa had prepared one of her signature dishes for lunch – sinigang, a sour Filipino stew filled with vegetables, flavored with tamarind, and starring some kind of meat, anything from fish to chicken or pork. Today’s sinigang featured succulent prawns, which was perfect. Sweet, crisp seafood went well with the tangy soup.
Gil, who I’d learned normally only ate raw meat when he needed to speed up his recovery process, partook of the sinigang, along with a hefty serving of rice. Carver poured boiling cupfuls down his throat, relishing how we weren’t in public, where he would have to pretend to be a little more human by acknowledging mundane concerns such as the temperature of liquids. Asher relished every spoonful, his face screwing up each time he sipped.
“This is incredible. Better than my mom’s.”
I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Mama Rosa was reacting to what he’d said. Parts of her face, I realized, were attempting to rearrange themselves into something resembling a smile. I swear I could hear the stone of her face cracking in the attempt. It was terrifying. Asher smiled back.
We were having lunch inside of the Boneyard, at the makeshift kitchen that Carver had generously prepared for us humans. Sterling had no need for sustenance, but vampires could eat for enjoyment, and the absence of sunlight in the domicile meant that he could join us for lunch. He was mostly quiet, and honestly, quite friendly by his standards. Lunch was nice, really, even pleasant.
But nobody would deny that there was a sort of tension in the air, the awful knowing that we were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. There had been three doppelganger attacks so close together already, and that was discounting the ones we didn’t know about.
It was possible that the Lorica was receiving reports on them, too, which meant that it was only a matter of time until they came down on my ass. I chewed, fresh prawn turning into rubber in my mouth, and raised my head as I swallowed, resigned to once again being marked as a fugitive by the Lorica. That was when I spotted the glimmer in the corner of the kitchen cabinets.
This had happened once before, and I knew better about what to anticipate. The sparkle came from a little blue gem that was moving, primarily because the spider in which it was embedded was also moving, sliding down a thread of silk that it was forming into a particularly complicated web.
It was one of Arachne’s secret-spiders, probably come to report its findings. If this was going to go as it went the last time, it meant that the spider was going to weave the arcane equivalent of a flatscreen TV. I thought it best to warn the others.
“Guys,” I said, pointing up at the ceiling.
Asher knitted his eyebrows. “The hell is that?”
The telltale amber glow coming from the end of our table told me that Carver was preparing a spell. Even worse was Mama Rosa rushing to one of the cabinets in the kitchen, rummaging quickly, then raising her arm triumphantly when she found what she was looking for: a can of bug spray.
“No no no,” I cried out. Why the hell was everyone in the Boneyard so damn bloodthirsty, even Rosa? “It’s a friend. It’s one of Arachne’s spiders. She must have information for us about the doppelgangers.”
Carver stared at me momentarily, but he lowered his hand and nodded. Mama Rosa didn’t move, but she held the bug spray close to her chest, wielding it like a sacred weapon. Asher shoved another spoonful of rice in his mouth, then slurped more of his soup.
The spider completed its web and settled into the center. Light radiated from its back, spreading across the web until it created the same flickering screen Arachne had once used to communicate with me in my bedroom.
“How is this happening?” Carver asked, more out of interest than indignation. It was a fair question. The Boneyard was supposed to be magically warded, after all. It was the main reason we’d never been found or raided by the Lorica.
The silhouette of Arachne’s face blurred, then finally came into focus on the web-screen. “One wonders indeed. But Arachne has her ways, and my offspring have theirs. No place or person in this known world can hide its secrets from us.”
“But of course,” Carver said, his voice more amiable. “Welcome to our home, Arachne.”
“And I thank you for your welcome, sorcerer.” She angled her head, peering out of her screen, then grinned. “Ah, so many more sweetlings here today. It is good to see you again, Dustin Graves. And Asher Mayhew, too.”
Asher paused from decimating his food long enough to lift a hand. “Sup.”
“I won’t tarry,” Arachne said. “I bring word of what I’ve learned of the meat sacks that have dared to assume my precious sweetling’s form. It appears that they are attracted to magical items, no matter how small or insignificant. Like magpies, they are, looking for treasures, for anything pretty and shiny.”
“Yeah,” Gil said. “We kind of figured that out.”
“Ah, excellent. But have you discovered that they all come from the same source?”
“I think that should be obvious,” Sterling said, in a snooty enough tone that I thought I had reason to worry about Arachne’s reaction. But she only tilted her head and grinned. “The same pattern of attack, the same creature, clearly they all come from the same place.”
“That much is transparent, blood-cursed. But that is not what I meant. What I wonder is whether you’ve realized that these creatures are created from the same stock.”
I blinked. Somewhere along my spine, something cold and uncomfortable began to build. “Created? Sorry. I would have thought that this was a race of shapeshifters, or copycats wearing some really good glamours. Something like that.”
“Yes,” Carver said, rubbing his chin. “The phial of blood Sterling returned to me corroborates what Arachne is suggesting. These creatures are not from a different species. Their source is human in nature.” He glanced at me, studying my face, but said nothing more.
Sterling’s chair