The Lie Spinners (The Deception Dance) (45 page)

“
Earthquake?”
I whisper to Stephen, but I already know that the ground is not
quaking and hasn’t quaked.

“
What
are you doing, demon?” says The Spider, drawing my attention to
the dais.

Chauncey
pauses halfway down the stair, her expression glazed but intently on
me; like an exhausted soldier getting her first sight of home. She
takes another step toward me.

“
Get
away from me,” I whisper at her, voice raspy.

She
takes another step, obviously not completely responsive, staring down
at my stomach, then up at my face. “Where is it now...?”
She asks, absently.

I
make myself roll away from Stephen and get into a defensive position,
“Back off!” I rasp at Chauncey. “Or better yet,
come attack me, I dare you.”

That
wakes her. She shakes her head sending blonde ringlets bouncing.
“Nice try, birdie.”

I
shudder hearing Linnie’s pet-name for me coming out of her
demonic mouth. Chauncey turns on her stilettos and ascends back up
the stairs. She goes to lean against The Spider’s throne to
gaze down at me, her expression disinterested; but I know better,
whatever I did drew her like a tom to catnip.

The
Spider also gazes down at me, but his expression is intent. The rest
of the dais stares up at the still rippling canopy, bucking in a
nonexistent wind.

“
What
is happening?” he asks, anger barely contained on his features.

I
look up into the web, searching for the white sacks. The moment I
find one, my fears are confirmed. The white cocoon-like-thingy
writhes as if it’s over-stuffed with snakes.

“
You
shouldn’t have put those sunglasses on me,” I say, “I
think they’re awake now. All of them...”

“
How
do you know about them? Kasem!” The Spider jumps from his seat,
screaming Thai words. The crowd of web-tattooed cronies and harem on
the stage scatters, swinging up onto the web and climbing. In double,
triple jointed movements they crawl, exposing how sickeningly inhuman
these unnatural magicians have made themselves. I examine the darting
shapes as they scale the shifting web, and find her, May. Unlike the
others who climb with jerky spider-like scurrying, May scales the web
with more lithe grace as she disappears into the expanse.

When
I yank my focus down from the web I see Stephen step between me and
The Spider, who approaches.

The
Spider walks with spasmodic furious motions to where Kasem lies prone
on the floor. Though Kasem’s large body expands with breath he
shows no other signs of life. Holding up his hand, The Spider’s
fingers stretch, lengthening and sharpening, growing into long ridged
pincers. With his pincers, The Spider reaches down and in one fast
snapping motion; he yanks white sinew off of Kasem’s
unconscious body.

Kasem
grunts out a quiet sound of pain and I think The Spider must be
pulling off Kasem’s skin but it’s not skin... With
another sharp tug The Spider yanks the blue and white web off of
Kasem’s body leaving him groaning in pain and bronze skin
web-less.

The
Spider offers one pincer to the little black spider that still
scurries across Kasem’s skin. The little spider crawls off
Kasem, up the pincer for the first time taking three-dimensional
form, and then merges back into The Spider’s skin to join the
crowd of spiders scurrying around.

The
Spider grips Kasem’s stolen web and leaps onto the web,
scurrying up the shuddering canopy. Both of The Spider’s hands
mutate into those hideous pincers; he weaves the blue and white web
into the canopy with blurring fast motions.

“
We
need to get out of here,” Stephen whispers as he grabs me by my
arm.

I
glance over. “What about Kasem?” I ask.

“
I
don’t think The Spider is going to let Kasem leave here alive,
he thinks he stole back his spider.”

“
What?
That’s what this is about? That doesn’t make any sense...
Kasem hasn’t left my—”

“
The
Spider wasn’t in the mood to listen to sense,” Stephen
says, meeting my frantic gaze with a dark look. “He was on the
brink of attacking when you collapsed and drew his attention.”
Stephen all but drags me in the opposite direction from the dais.

“
We
can’t just leave him here to die,” I whisper.

“
Yes
we can,” Stephen says, “I am sorry, Raven; but you are my
only priority.”

As
Stephen urges me forward, we see other web-tattooed people; they seem
to be attaching themselves into the web canopy, some of the more
webbed scurry up, others just seem to merge into it.

A
loud
Wham!
sound
goes off behind us. I can’t help it, I glance back.

One
of the giant white sacks lies on the reflective floor. Its end
exploded out, probably from the impact.

“
Linnie!”
I scream.

Stephen
grabs me before I can run back.

“
Not
Linnie, Raven, not Linnie!” He grabs me, hauling me toward the
staircase. But I can’t go, it could be her.

“
Linnie!”
I scream again, voice hoarse.

But
Stephen is right; the creature that explodes out of the white sack is
not my sister. A large man, who looks closer to Santa Clause than a
demon, shucks off a piece of the white Sack as he gets to his feet.
He might look like a burly Thai Santa Claus but he wears tattered
rags.
Scratch
Santa Claus, more like King Triton
,
I think as he raises up a wickedly sharp looking pitchfork.

“
Furcas,”
Stephen says.

“
The
knight,”
I whisper, remembering the one and only Knight of Hell. As if he
heard me, Furcas snaps his gaze to mine, pinning me with his neon
yellow eyes. He pulls back his arm; with one thrust the pitchfork
flies.

“
Down!”
Stephen says; his accompanying shove unnecessary because I’m
already diving for the floor.

I
roll, and then I’m back to my feet.
Just
like practice…e
xcept
without the floor mats... or weapons.

Though
I’m quick enough to my feet, Furcas has crossed almost half the
distance; eyes glowing, spittle flying, charging like a rabid
silverback.

I’m
what stands in the way of a demon apocalypse and their dominion; I
can’t believe that it didn’t occur to me, if these
greater demons get free, they’ll all come straight for me.

Stephen
jumps in front of me. “Run!” he shouts. The idiot. He
doesn’t have any weapons either.

“
Only
if you run with me!” I shout back grabbing him and yanking. “To
the web?”

“
No!
We’d just be stuck!”

Three
gun shots sound in rapid succession. Almost to us, Furcas jolts, then
wheels around, his back bloody with a triangle of bullet holes.

On
the ground beyond Furcas, Kasem’s gun hand droops, the pistol
almost dropping from limp fingers; he forces it up again, shooting
Furcas twice more. The gun clatters to the ground as Kasem’s
hand drops and eyes close; and God, I hope that he died; because
within thirty seconds Furcas leaps onto Kasem’s limp form. As
Furcas makes one savage pull, I turn away.

“
Now!
Run!” Stephen shouts.

I
didn’t even notice that Stephen was shoving me back; pushing me
toward the other side of the web. But there’s no way that we
can outrun Furcas.

As
I run for the other side of the pavilion a
whoosh
sound yanks my attention upward. The spider’s grotesque body
flies at me from the top of the canopy. Belaying down on a thick cord
of web with unbelievable speed, his pincer hands grab for me.

I
scream and throw my hands over my head, seeing only sharp talons.

“
If
you protect her our deal is broken!” Chauncey’s voice
booms across the pavilion. “You already selected her two
allotted protectors, and they are the only ones you can choose,
Mængmum!”

The
Spider snaps his fangs at the demon, now lounging across his throne,
filing her nails.

As
I drag my gaze from Chauncey to look at where I’m running, I
try my hardest not to look at the remains of my other allotted
protector.

I
do.

I
stumble.

The
Demon looks up from what looks like a killing frenzy and raises his
blood stained face to look at us.

We’re
still only halfway through the giant pavilion when Furcas tears away
from Kasem’s remains and on all fours scuttles at us.

Stephen
must realize what I already have, that we’re not going to make
it.

The
Spider, now dangling suspended by a cord of web halfway between us
and the demon, throws down two swords. I instantly recognize them as
the long curved krabi for krabi-krabong—the Thai double
sword-staff fighting style (which I never learned. But I watched it
on television with Albert). I guess this help was acceptable because
Chauncey says nothing. With rapid motions The Spider ascends the cord
of web that he repelled down and out of sight.

Stephen
dives for the swords then runs back. He doesn’t even hesitate
to hand one of the swords over to me.

“
I’m
not that good at this!” I shout.

Suddenly,
he sounds and looks almost calm. He gives me a smile and a wink. “If
I go down, take off his head.”

We
have no more time for instructions as about ten feet from us, Furcas
leaps.

Diving
out of the way, I catch Stephen stepping aside and bringing his blade
down on the humongous body hurdling past him.

“
Give
me that,” says an impatient female voice. I look up from where
I landed to see May standing over me with her hand outstretched to
me. “Your Krabi, please.”

Chauncey
yells, “You cannot—”

“
I
am not here to protect her!” May yells back. “I am here
to kill him!”

Smart
woman
.

I
hand her my krabi. The moment the sword touches her fingers it
ignites into a curved-blade of fire.

A
loud smacking sound snatches my attention back to Stephen’s
fight. The demon slides across the floor, arm dripping a viscous red
blood. Furcas rolls to all fours and turning to May with her fire
sword bellows out a screechy sound. May takes wide strides toward the
demon, sometimes kicking up a knee, while her blade never stops
moving. I think she might be doing the fluid wide arm forms of
krabi-krabong but much, much faster than I saw on television.

May
and Stephen circle the demon, May switching, kicking up her feet,
every time the demon makes one of his wide swipes.

The
demon tenses to leap at May but Stephen brings his sword hard against
the demon’s back.

When
he wheels on Stephen, May carves up his back with eight quick
slashes. But the demon learned his lesson; he throws a punch at
Stephen that I bet could level a building.

Stephen
dodges but not quite fast enough, the glancing blow sends Stephen and
his sword flying. The sword clatters to the floor but Stephen flies
directly into the web. He sticks, suspended about ten feet from the
ground.