Darkness Unmasked

Which didn’t mean there weren’t any in the bedroom.



The bedroom door was closed, and there was no way in hell I was going to slip underneath it until I knew for sure what waited on the other side. I shifted back to flesh form, then flexed my fingers and made my feet move forward. As I gripped the door handle, I closed my eyes and sent a brief prayer to whatever gods might be listening that there wouldn’t be anything untoward waiting beyond this door.



But, as usual, they had the IGNORE button pressed when it came to me.



What lay inside wasn’t only the biggest damn spiderweb I’d ever seen, but a goddamn army of little black crawly things.



I jumped back, a squeak of fear escaping my lips, and hit Azriel so hard that I actually forced him back a step before his hands gripped my arms and he steadied us both.



“Her nest,” he said, rather unnecessarily. “But I suspect it is not her only one.”



I swallowed heavily, my gaze on the ceiling and all the critters up there. There was no way in hell I was getting any closer to that room. They didn’t appear to have noticed me, and I had no inclination to change that situation. “What makes you say that?”



“These spiders are larger than the ones who attacked us and therefore more likely to be older.”



That a dark spirit was capable of having more than one cache of babies was something I did not want to think about. I forced my gaze from the creepy-crawlies and studied the body on the bed—although to call it a body was something of a misnomer. The other victims we’d seen might have been little more than preserved skin, but there wasn’t even that much left of Summer. Just some dark hair on the pillow and a few bits of what looked like nails and bone remnants.



A shudder ran through me. Azriel rubbed my arms, but the heat of his touch did little to combat the chill.



“Why would she have more than one lot of babies?” I asked. “And if she does, why the hell aren’t we overrun with spiderlike dark spirits here on earth?”



“I would suggest the reason is because they’re cannibalistic.”



“What?”



“Look at the carpet. It is littered with carcasses.”



He was right. It was. In fact, the remnants of little black bodies were so thick that the gray carpet looked like patchwork. “So she kills the victims to feed her young, but when the young get old enough, they feed on one another? How does that make sense?”



“It would ensure only the strongest of them survive. It is not unusual behavior.”



“Maybe in your world, but not in mine,” I muttered. I knew that there were some animal species where the young did eat one another, but only if there wasn’t another food source, and it was generally rare.



“Children are not as common in my world as yours and therefore somewhat revered.” His voice held a hint of censure. “We certainly would not allow them to harm one another in any way.”



Which wasn’t what I meant and he knew it. But I let it slide and glanced up at him. “I thought reapers lived in big family groups?”



“We do.”



“Then why would children be rare? Do you suffer the same sort of problem that has killed off most of the Aedh?”



“No. Aedh breed only when their death is imminent, which kept their numbers stable for millennia. No one can say what changed, but we think the Raziq had a lot to do with it.”



That raised my eyebrows. “They killed off their own kind?”



“They believe in their cause and would certainly be capable of wiping out all opposition. In this case, that would mean those who tended and believed in the current viability of the gates.”



“All of which doesn’t explain why reapers don’t breed willy-nilly.”



He hesitated. “It is a combination of our long life spans and the fact that our recharge partners aren’t always our Caomhs.”



“Can you have both?”



“Rarely. And if a reaper only ever finds his recharge companion, he will not be blessed with children.”



“And have you any children?” I asked, curious and perhaps a little . . . afraid. Because if he had children, that would mean he’d met his Caomh, which in turn meant there was never any hope for us.



Not that there ever really was.



His expression closed over. “I am not the Aedh, Risa. I do not want or need multiple partners. If I had a Caomh waiting in the fields for me, I would not be with you.”



Summarily—though gently—chastised, I pulled my gaze from his and stepped back onto safer ground. “So what do you suggest we do about these spiders? Do we leave them, keep watch on the apartment, or what?”



“You do not wish to call your uncle?”



I hesitated. “How likely are the spiders to attack anyone who enters that room?”



“Very. Their hunger stings the air.”



“So why aren’t they attacking us?”



“Because we have not entered their lair.”



And I had no fucking intention of doing so. “Can they be destroyed by something like pest spray, guns, or even fire?”



“Not ordinary fire. Though they wear flesh, they are spirit in design. Witches would more than likely be capable of destroying them, but not someone like your uncle.”



Which meant I either had to ring Rhoan and warn him—and get the shit blasted out of me for interfering in his case again—or get rid of the damn things myself. Great. Just fucking great.



Can kill, Amaya said with an eagerness that had me shaking my head. Will enjoy.



No doubt. I glanced up at Azriel again, and he nodded a confirmation. “It will not draw our dark spirit to us, though. She obviously does not look after her young any more than the initial feeding.”



“So how come we were attacked at the club? She wouldn’t have had time to lay her eggs, let alone for the things to hatch. She was only the fill-in entertainer.”



“She may have been carrying some young on her. Do not some spiders do that?”



“None that I want to meet,” I replied, with another shudder. I drew Amaya and held her in front of me. Lilac fire raced down her sides, and her eagerness ran through the back of my mind. “Go for it.”



She did. Fire exploded from her tip and spread out in a deadly wash that consumed all that stood in front of it without actually burning the walls or ceiling. The fire alarms went off regardless, but their strident ringing was almost lost to the roar of Amaya’s flames. The thick web shriveled against the onslaught of heat, dripping in silver globules onto the carpet. The spiders tried to flee, attacking one another as they scrambled to seek refuge from the flames. Only there was no refuge—Amaya devoured everything. Web, spiders, furniture. Even Summer’s few remains fell victim to her hunger.



Soon there was nothing left. Nothing but scorched plaster and melted carpet. Amaya’s flames retreated back to the steel, and her roar became little more than a contented hum. If she’d been a cat, I suspected she would have been purring. Loudly.



I sheathed her, then rubbed my arms. It didn’t do a lot against the chill still invading my limbs. “Would she have felt the death of her young?”



“I do not know enough about her kind to say for sure, but it is a possibility.”



“Meaning she might not turn up for her performance tonight.”



“If she has more young to feed, she might have no choice.”



“Meaning it would be helpful if we knew more about the breeding habits of the Jorõgumo—if that’s what this thing is.” I bit my bottom lip for a moment. “I wonder if the Brindle witches can tell us anything about them.”



“Given they are the keepers of all witch knowledge, it is more than likely they could.”



“Then that’s where we’ll go next.” My phone rang, the abrupt noise making me jump. I took a calming breath, then hit the ANSWER button and said, “Mirri, what can I do for you?”



“You haven’t heard from Ilianna, have you?”



I frowned. “No. I thought she was supposed to be meeting you. Didn’t you have that date with Carwyn tonight?”



“That’s the thing—she hasn’t turned up.”



My heart began to beat a whole lot faster. “What do you mean? Has she backed out again?”



“No. At least, I don’t think so. She was pretty determined to hash everything out with Carwyn tonight.” She paused, and even through the phone’s tiny screen, her worry was evident. “Risa, I think something has happened to her.”



Chapter 9



For a second I swear my heart stopped. Just thinking that something had happened to Ilianna made my stomach churn so badly, it felt like I was about to vomit. Damn it. I couldn’t lose Ilianna. Not when there was a very real possibility we would lose Tao.



Panic surged, thick with fear, but I somehow reined it in and said, “Have you tried calling her?”



“Of course—”



“What about Tao? Or her parents?”



“Yes and yes. No one’s heard from her, Risa. She’s just gone. Completely and utterly disappeared.”



No, I thought, swallowing heavily against the bile rising up my throat. She hadn’t disappeared. She was somewhere. It was just somewhere Mirri couldn’t find.



“What about the hospitals?” As much as I hoped she hadn’t been hurt, it was always a possibility, and certainly one we had to consider before we pressed the panic button too far.



“Also checked. Nothing.”



At least that was something. I took a quivering breath and released it slowly. “I’ll find her, Mirri.” I hesitated. “What about Carwyn?”



“He’s here with me at the restaurant. He’s got a friend in the police force he’s going to hit up for any information that might come through official lines.”



If it came through police sources, then it wouldn’t be good. But Mirri knew that just as well as I did. “I’ve got to go across to the Brindle, so I’ll talk to Ilianna’s mom. Maybe she can scry for her or something.”