Tatters of the King (The Warren Brood Book 3) Page 17

  Kara must have read the determination in her posture, for her expression grew somber. “You’ve already decided.”

  Spinneretta nodded.

  The younger girl’s lips thinned. “Then so have I. I’m going with you.”

  “No,” Spinneretta said at once. “I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger. This is my burden.”

  “Like hell it is! You think just because you’re the one that killed Isabella you have some holy mission to make everything right? We’re both children of the King, Spins. I’m as much a part of this as you are.”

  “No. Not happening. I’m not letting you—”

  Kara took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening with tears. “I’m not going to let you go by yourself,” she choked. “You’re my damned sister. And for better or worse, we’re in this together!”

  Spinneretta froze when she heard her own words being used against her.

  Kara must have seen the surprise on her face, for she wiped her eyes and repeated herself. “In this together, for better or worse. And someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.” She gave a childlike smile. “Besides, we’ve both killed Vants before, right? That makes us double trouble for the King.”

  Spinneretta recovered just enough to shake her head. “Kara, I’m sorry, but no. This is something that I have to do by my—”

  Kara bared her teeth and glared. “Let me come, or I’ll wake everyone up and tell them where you’re going.”

  “What? Kara, you wouldn’t—”

  “Yes, I would! Either we both go, or nobody goes. We’re family. Family’s family, and nobody messes with a Warren and gets away with it.” She crossed her arms and flourished her spider legs, showing off her stoic resolve. “Well?”

  Spinneretta chewed her lip. “Please don’t do this, Kara.” When Kara only stared at her with that same immovable expression, Spinneretta sighed in defeat. “You’re really giving me no choice, huh?”

  The girl’s eyes lit up. “So you’ll take me?”

  Spinneretta grumbled to herself. She hadn’t planned for this. Taking Kara was stupid, irresponsible, and yet . . . If Kara blew her cover, she may never get another chance to slip away. Especially if she was delayed until Mark could arrive to talk sense into her. This was a bad idea in every sense, but if it was the only way to ensure she could carry out her mission . . . She sighed and let her shoulders slump, gaze falling to her shoes. “Fine. You can come. You’re right. We’re in this together.” She looked up and found an unreasonably excited look on Kara’s face. “Go pack yourself a bag. And be quiet about it.”

  After Kara packed, it was not long before they were on their way. In the dead of night, half-swimming through the humidity, the two spider children departed.

  “Come on, hurry up,” Spinneretta called over her shoulder when the pines began to thin on either side of them. “We need to get out of the state before sunup.”

  Kara stomped after her, backpack over one shoulder and a large duffel bag over the other. “I’m trying! Just wait up!”

  The almost-full moon illuminated the wooded path, tinting the dirt and foliage blue. Up ahead, the still surface of the lake peeked out between the copses of pines and spruce, gleaming with starfields of reflected light. They were eight minutes from the post office at this rate, and they’d be lucky to catch the bi-hourly bus. If they missed it, it would be four in the morning before the next one came.

  “Where are we going, anyway?” Kara asked, lugging her bag with each step.

  “Badwalsh Bus to Duluth. From there we only have to wait twenty minutes before a Wayfarer leaves for Las Vegas. That’ll get us most of the way there.”

  Kara hastened her steps to keep pace with Spinneretta. “How long is it going to take?”

  “Four days.”

  “Four days!? Why is it so slow?”

  “You don’t get to be picky when you’re traveling on a budget.” She shook her head, trying to get some air to the back of her neck. “I’d be taking the day-and-a-half express route, but I don’t have enough for two sets of tickets.” Kara groaned, and a lethargy slipped into her step. Spinneretta had no patience for it. She wheeled about and grabbed the girl by the arm harder than she meant to.

  “Oww!” Kara yelled. “What are you doing?”

  “Hurry up! We’re going to miss the damn bus if you keep trudging like this!” She tugged on her arm, and nearly pulled her off her feet.

  “Hey, leave me alone! This is heavy!”

  “When I said to pack a bag, I meant one bag! The hell are you even . . . ” Her question succumbed to déjà vu. As she eyed the bag, a barely-audible staccato crepitation confirmed her newfound suspicion.

  No, Spinneretta thought, you’re shitting me. Kara saw the look on her face and raised her hands to try to calm her. But Spinneretta ignored the protest. She grabbed the zipper of the duffel bag and drew it halfway. The gleam of four red eyes peered out at her. She stumbled back and buried her face in her hands. “You brought Cinnamon!? What’s the matter with you!”

  Kara scowled at her, at once defensive. “She’s my friend! I’m not just going to leave her at home! She’s part of this whole thing, too!”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind!? How are we supposed to go unnoticed with a spider-hound at our heels?” But when she saw the sad, defeated look that came to her sister’s face, Spinneretta sputtered and turned back around. She pulled Mark’s jacket tighter around her and took a deep breath. “Zip it up,” she said calmly.

  “H-huh?”

  The humid air formed a swamp in her lungs. It bubbled with ominous tidings. She knew she was making yet another mistake, but had little choice now. Besides, what was one more at this point? “Zip the bag up. We have to hurry.”

  “You mean . . . I can bring her?”

  “We don’t have time to do anything else with her,” Spinneretta said over her shoulder as she started down the road again. “Zip it up and let’s go. If anyone finds out about her it’s on you.”

  “Okay!” She zipped the bag up once more, and her footfalls followed Spinneretta’s with a renewed vigor.

  I have found my first subjects. Down upon the plains, I have discovered wild beasts descended from our common ancestors. They are small, mole-like. They possess the legs of the spider and little else. Tiny and majestic, they dig their city-burrows in the loam and hold their primitive courts. At times I find myself watching as they peek out from their tunnels and scan the horizon for the lumbering things that hunt them.

  Though they are small and primitive, they are noble creatures with the proud decorum of the Overspider chiseled into their forms. They are intelligent, for only their communal sagacity has allowed them to survive and carve their niche from the wastes that disgorged them.

  If there was ever a beast worthy of being shaped and sculpted into the guardians of this new land, it is these quolls of Raxxinoth. I shall use the power imparted to me by magic and by the artifacts, and I shall make them kings among the beasts.

  Chapter 12

  Birds of a Feather

  It was early afternoon, and Annika was already exhausted. Though it was only Wednesday, she would have killed for the weekend. She’d never put as much of herself into a case as she had that week, and now the stack of paperwork just sat in front of her, proud and confident. Isn’t this what the idiots down the hall are paid to do? she thought. Well, whatever. Her schedule was clear for the rest of the day, and that meant she just had to get those waivers and reports finished by five. And drink coffee. She was looking forward to that part.

  She yawned and stretched, the muted browns of her office mixing into a beige blur. Before she finished her yawn, the phone on her desk started ringing. She huffed and threw her gaze to the door. That bastard Finch had better not be heaping anything else on me. Her fingers slipped about the receiver before tugging it free and lifting it to her ear. “This is Annika.”

  “Hey, hey, Ann-i-ka!” the voice on the phone sang.

  Her teeth settled into
a tight grimace. “G’day, Finch.”

  “Glad you’re back, I wanted to talk to you personally.”

  “Then you’d better get down here before I blow my brains out over this paperwork. I reckon you’ve got about thirteen seconds and counting.”

  Finch laughed. “Be right there.”

  The line clicked, and she dropped the phone back to its cradle. Her stomach groaned. She wanted a sandwich. Wonder if I can bat my eyelashes at Finch and get a second lunch. She rapped her fingernails across her mahogany desk, fantasizing about strolling to Subway. A moment later, an abrupt knocking came to her open door.

  “Ann-i-ka, so good to see you back,” Finch said from the doorway.

  She looked up and made a conscious effort to show him a bright smile. “Ahoy.”

  The middle-aged man poked his head into her office. “Just wanted to say, you did great on the Jenkins case. Never seen anyone be so damn thorough so damn quick.”

  “You know, I seem to recall telling you I’d get it done in a week. Think that means you owe me a drink.”

  He crossed his arms, exposing sharp creases in his suit jacket. “Don’t think that bet was official, to be honest.”

  She leaned across her desk and mounted her cheek upon her palm. “You used the word wager. That makes it a verbal contract. So make with the drink or go to jail.”

  He chuckled and kicked at a bit of string that had come loose from the carpet. “Alright. You win. I’ll make good on my word.”

  Annika smiled playfully and then forced herself to look busy by signing her name on the top sheet of her stack. “Now that’s more like it.”

  “You free tonight?”

  She wrapped her lips about a deliberately sensual grin. “For drinking? You know I am.”

  Finch laughed again. “Alright. Then it’s a date.”

  “Not if you use the D-word it’s not.”

  With an embarrassed smirk, he averted his gaze. “Well, better get out of your hair while I’m ahead. You can get that report to me by the end of the day, can’t you?”

  “If I could catch that Jenkins asshole red-handed, I think I can handle a glorified word search.”

  He nodded, dusting nothing off his brown suit. It blended perfectly with the color of the office. “Alright, take it easy.”

  She nodded amicably as he saw himself out. Finch was so easy to play with. He was the type who was never satisfied, even with a wife and a pair of mistresses young enough to be his granddaughters. When he’d vanished, Annika sighed and dropped her head into the desk. Fuck me, she thought. Forgot to ask about my damn sandwich. Ahh, to hell with it. I deserve a second lunch after that case, and Finch can go to hell if he doesn’t like it.

  With an ignoble stumble, she was on her feet. Half out of habit, she reached for her cellphone, wondering if Subway delivered. It would be faster that way, and then she could finish her paperwork over an olive-filled BLT. But when she glanced at her phone, she found a missed call and a voice message waiting for her. Not bothering to check the sender, she started the message playing. She half-expected it to be an old update from Finch giving her not-so-breaking details on the case. Instead, a panicked woman’s voice came to the speaker.

  “Annika! Shit, it’s May. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry to call, it’s just . . . Spinneretta and Kara are missing. They ran away last night, and, and I don’t know what to do. They didn’t leave anything or . . . Shit, you’ve gotta help us, Annika. I’m afraid to even go to the police here, and I . . . Call me back. Please, I’m at the end of my rope. I’ve gotta go. Call me. Please.”

  The message, along with Annika’s thoughts, went silent. The robotic operator asked her if she wanted to replay the recording. In a numb daze, her gaze floated to the documents on the desk. Missing. They’re missing. Great. Perfect. That’s a great way to start a sandwich break. Missing. She exhaled a quivering chestful and cleared her mind. Calm, Annie. Calm.

  All at once, her anger hit the ignition point. “Missing! Fucking missing!” A furious shout burst from her lungs. With a single violent motion, she hurled her foot into the front of her desk. The desk heaved and lurched four feet across the carpet. The floor shook as inertia ran empty. Papers flew into the air. A loud crash broke against the walls as her computer and monitor toppled to the floor. The half-full coffee cup shattered where gravity cast it, spraying black droplets in all directions.

  “Annika, what the hell’s wrong?” Finch shouted, rushing back to the door.

  Her fingers shook. It felt like she was going to crush her phone to bits. “Get out of my way!”

  Finch backed up a step, but it wasn’t enough. She shoved her way past him and headed down the hall. Her fingers panic-dialed May’s number. A dull ring droned against her ear as it tried to connect. You have to be shitting me. Nobody could be that stupid. I refuse to believe this. I absolutely fucking refuse!

  “Annika, what are you doing?” Finch called from behind.

  But Annika ignored him. She swept out of the set of offices and into the reception area, eyes dead set on the battery of elevators. Then, the ringing in her ear cracked open, and a trembling voice fluttered out.

  “H-hello?”

  “May? Tell me they’ve turned up, right now.”

  A pause, and then a sniffle. “No.”

  “God-fucking-dammit!” She jabbed the down arrow of the elevator, and the door dinged open without the usual two-minute delay. The first good thing to happen today. “You haven’t done anything stupid, have you? You haven’t told the police, have you?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Well don’t. Stop panicking and sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Whatever you do, don’t touch anything in either of their rooms, got that? And you only mentioned two names. Is Arthr still there?” It took all of her will to avoid punching the Lobby button and breaking her fingers.

  “Yeah, he’s here.”

  Annika scoffed. “Don’t know why I asked, that doesn’t help us. Any idea where they went?”

  “N-no. Please, you have to find them. Our family has already lost so much from all this—”

  “Annika!” Finch hollered as the doors began to close. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  She glared at him through the narrowing cracks. “Vacation!” The light of the hall vanished. The floor heaved and the elevator began its descent. “Don’t worry, May,” Annika said, with all the calmness of a category five hurricane. “I’m going to find them. Just relax, sit tight, and pray. I’ll be there soon. I’m going to drop by my apartment, grab some things, and then I’ll drive straight there, alright? Should be there by midday tomorrow. Just relax. Okay? You relaxing?”

  A sob crackled in the speaker. “No.”

  “Try harder, then. If anything changes, ring me, alright? Annika out.”

  She hung up and shoved her phone back into her pocket. When the doors slid open on the ground floor, she marched out the front of the Cybex Industries building and made her way to her silver Ford sedan. She threw the door open and slid into the seat. Her keys were in the ignition before the door had closed. The transmission hit drive, and the engine roared to life. For a moment she sat there, drawing deep breaths from the chemically tainted air-conditioner. Then, she pulled out of her parking spot, fury igniting her blood.

  This is just like you, isn’t it? It’s just like you to fuck with me like this, you goddamned spider-wench. Think I’m going to let you get away with this?

  As soon as she got on the on-ramp leading home, she grabbed her phone again. Her fingers recited the tactile song that was Mark’s number. It began to ring. Clenching her teeth, she roared past some grandma in the fast lane. Four long rings later, there at last came a click.

  “Hello?”

  “What are you so calm about?” she spat into the phone. “The fuck are you doing!?”

  Mark was quiet for a beat. “Annika?”

  “Who were you expecting, the queen of France? Let me ask you again, the fuck are you doing!?�
��

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your idiot girlfriend is missing, and you pick up with hello? Fucking, hello!?”

  He drew in a sharp breath. “Wait, Spinneretta’s—?”

  “Gone, kaput, vanished, dust in the wind!”

  “Shit, when did this happen?”

  “Like, last night or something. Point being, why didn’t you know about this? Why are we just finding out now?”

  “But I spoke to her last night. I called her a second time, but she didn’t pick up. I thought she was just upset about . . . ”

  “Upset about what? What did you do?”

  Mark sputtered. “Not me, the Yellow Dawn!”

  She shook her head as she veered around a puke-colored fartmobile. “The shit are you on about?”

  “It matters not. We need to find her.”

  “And just what the hell do you think I’m doing? I’m on the way to Lake Cormorant now.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “What can I do?”

  “You tell me. You know your hocus-pocus better than I do.”

  A tortured silence unfolded before he began to speak again. “I’ll try to figure something out. Call me the instant something changes.”

  “Ahoy. Annika out.” She hung up and dropped her phone in the cup holder as she screamed into the turn-off lane. Getting to Minnesota would take long enough that a quick stop at home wasn’t going to make or break anything. She needed a shower, and it would be better to get it now than after a straight day of road rage. Besides, she was missing a crucial part of her investigative toolbox: her Ruger SP-101. She had the unshakable feeling she would need it.

  When the sun rose over Grantwood on Thursday morning, Amanda was already awake. Since her return to school, she’d been forced to limit her research to before and after class. This morning, she was poring over the hard copy of Kyle Rogers’s In Defense of Harold Wiser and The NIDUS Report she’d printed out. Though she’d gone over it a dozen times, she still couldn’t believe it existed. Amidst the storm of ridicule created by The NIDUS Report, Rogers’s article was a brilliant, shining gem of validation. More importantly, it was a lead.