A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2 Read online

“They must have bought them from a northland breeder. No southlander could—” Howling, this time much closer, cut Pascale short. Fresh snow had camouflaged a hole, and her foot wrung it. We tumbled down an embankment, landed in a snowdrift as deep as my calves, and we stuck.

  Pascale lay sprawled on her back, gasping where the wind had been knocked out of her.

  “Get. Moving.” I grabbed her arm and dragged her. “Is that…the canis?”

  Their hunting song filled the woods around us, beautiful and fearsome. It terrified me.

  “I can’t.” She panted, rolling into a sitting position and tugging on her ankles. “I’m caught. There’s something under the snow, a root or buried tree limb.”

  “What’s caught?” I spun around, searching, frantic. “Both your legs are clear.”

  “Elder Jean’s parting gift, a pair of custom shackles.” She plucked a nigh-transparent thread with her finger. “They’re made from Araneidae silk. I know the maker, and his work is flawless.”

  The threads were finer than a single strand of my hair, and I hadn’t spotted them against all the white. Now I saw the thin, silvery anklets she wore and the chain spanning between her legs.

  An odd calm settled about me. “Where’s your blade?”

  “It won’t help.” She grunted as she struggled. “I stole it from Bram. It’s not mine.”

  Snatching the blade from her thigh, I tucked it into my satchel. “Can nothing else cut it?”

  She showed me her teeth. “Just these and I’m not that flexible.”

  Her teeth could cut the thread? And I thought Vaughn’s teeth were dangerous…

  A flurry of movement snapped my head up and to the right. Several yards away, hip braced on a tree, the same shade watched our struggles with the patient impassivity learned after death.

  “Who are you?” I staggered between him and Pascale. “Tell me what you want.”

  He shook his head and pointed at Pascale, then cupped his ear. More canis songs sang of the hunt. He shoved from the tree and straightened his coat, turning his back on me, facing the pack.

  “I don’t have time for this,” I muttered. Kneeling, I tugged on Pascale’s feet, but the silk was tangled in a root. “What sort of fool sends a prisoner in shackles into a possible confrontation?”

  “Elder Jean is no fool.” Her lips twisted into an ugly smile. “That I promise you.”

  “Run.” A chill wind tickled my ears. “Run. Now.”

  “I’m not leaving without her.” I dug out the root and wrapped my hands around it.

  “Who are you talking to?” Pascale grasped my wrists.

  “Let go and pull.” I threw my weight into ripping the roots from the ground. Once I earned a bit of slack, I unsheathed her knife and hacked the root to pieces. “Get up. On your feet. Run.”

  She did, and we did, until the forest was a wintry blur about us.

  “Come on.” Pascale’s voice rose. “It’s not much farther now.”

  I crushed the kernel of hope warming my chest. “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a hatch, there.” She pointed as we ran. “See that fat birch tree? Aim for it.”

  Legs pumping, I did as she asked. The tree was round and bare and so far away from here. I despaired of us reaching it before the canis reached us, but their pants and yips spurred me faster.

  Don’t panic and don’t look back. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Quickly.

  I was afraid to measure the distance ahead of us. “Exactly how many hatches are there?”

  “Enough so no Araneidae is ever left in the cold,” she said. “Not on the main roads at least.”

  Now Vaughn’s insistence we keep to the main road made more sense. Vaughn. I quashed the fear making my heart knock against my ribs. Pascale was right. We ran now for a chance to save them later. Vaughn was a warrior. I had to trust him to fend for himself as we had been left to do.

  Legs quivering worse than unset pudding, I collided with Pascale when she skidded to a halt. She knelt at the base of the old-growth tree and scooped snow in heaping handfuls. With a grunt, I sank beside her, and we labored to uncover the hatch. After some unladylike swears, we cracked open the hideaway, and she shoved me inside. She followed, slamming the hatch shut behind us.

  “That ought to keep them out.” When she tested the lock, she elbowed me. “Sorry.”

  “No.” I glanced around the tiny nook. “I’m actually relieved to see that not all of your hidey-holes are as lavish as the last one.” This one was little more than a hole in the ground. “I like it.”

  She leaned her head back and exhaled. For a long while, the only sound was our panting.

  “The first was special.” When she spoke, her voice held a brittle edge. “It was intended for our clan heads to use in times of need… It was meant as a hideaway for my…father and mother.”

  Unsure what to say given the fact her shackles were borne of her involvement in their deaths, I fumbled for a less painful topic of conversation and came up empty. “It did appear well-used.”

  “He was a great archer. He loved to hunt. He and Lourdes…” She waved in dismissal. “That shelter became his favorite retreat for winter hunting. That’s why it’s so large and well-stocked.”

  I patted the nearest wall, an arm’s length away. “So this is what the other hatches are like?”

  “For the most part, yes, they become more utilitarian the farther from the city limits you go.”

  I dusted my hands clean. “That makes sense.”

  Reduced to small talk, we elected to sit and gather our wits, but the silence gnawed on me.

  When my eyes shut, I saw Vaughn used as a pincushion for Theridiidae arrows. My stomach roiled. Leaving him had been an act of cowardice. I should have stayed and helped…somehow.

  When a loud thump rang through the hatch, I pitched, grateful for the distraction.

  “What do we do?” I braced on the wall and listened. “Our plan has a rather obvious flaw.”

  “Without establishing a code,” she agreed, “there’s no way to know who’s out there.”

  Muffled voices and pounding fists set my teeth on edge. Every moment that passed made me more certain whoever stood outside the hatch, it wasn’t Vaughn. He wasn’t loud or forceful. He was quiet, clever. Ridiculous to think so, but I believe I would have known if he waited out there.

  Meditation here was too risky. Nerves shot my focus. I couldn’t read their auras to be sure.

  “Then we wait.” I made myself as comfortable as possible.

  She nodded. “We wait.”

  Outside, the pounding ceased and the yells quieted. We had been run to ground with no way to cover our tracks. We were caught well and good with no hope of escape unless it was allowed.

  Scraping sounds filtered through the tree trunk. Pascale and I turned our heads and followed the odd scratching noise as it circled us twice more. Laughter came next. Pascale shifted closer. I rubbed her back and murmured reassurances for us both. Our confinement stretched past infinity.

  I began to sweat. “I guess these shelters weren’t meant for two.”

  “No.” She was staring far above our heads, well up into the trunk of the hollow tree. “There are air holes carved into the sides to keep the air fresh and allow for small fires if necessary. This is something else.” Her eyes widened. “Something is wrong. Do you hear—? What is that noise?”

  “It sounds like a roar.” I pressed my ear to the wall, but wood dampened the sound.

  “You don’t think the ursus…?” She paled. “They wouldn’t…”

  I had no idea to what lengths the Theridiidae would go to in order to attain their revenge. All I knew was if they had our ursus, then they had our party, and that meant they must have Vaughn too. My throat tightened, and I coughed. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. My eyes began watering.

  “Are you all right?” Pascale braced on the hatch and gave me room to breathe. “Gods damn it all.” She flung her hand
and hissed. “The bloody hatch is hot. My palm’s covered in blisters.”

  Hot air heavy with smoke filled my lungs.

  “Fire,” I said, panic pushing me onto my knees. “They’re trying to burn us out.”

  Pascale lunged for the lever, screaming as her flesh singed and the hatch fell open. Past the door, through a wall of flames, males leered at us, laughing as flames licked along the entryway.

  My heart constricted. My worst fear was realized. The Theridiidae had won the day.

  I flinched when something pinched my neck. Reaching up, I traced the blunt shaft of a dart with feathers at its end. Theridiidae venom. I was already dead. My body just didn’t know it yet.

  Chattering teeth woke me. Mine. This bleak landscape belonged to the Second World, not the spiritlands. I’m alive. My face was numb, but I think I lost skin when my cheek peeled from the ice below it. With effort, I rolled onto my back, my mind sloshing with the sick dregs of a milder poison than the one I had anticipated. So they wanted us alive. Pascale, of course, had value, but I was no one to their clan. I grimaced through the certainty my stay of execution was conditional.

  “Mana.”

  My heart skittered at the sound of that voice. Shifting onto my side, toward the sound, I saw Vaughn. Scrambling onto my hands and knees, I crawled to him as the world lurched around me. His handsome face was battered. One eye was swollen shut. Blood smeared his mouth, his lips.

  I made it to his side before realizing his arms were bound behind his back. I sat beside him, my hands running over his chest and sides, searching for wounds, seeking other hurts invisible to the eye. I found him whole and thanked the two gods for showing him mercy. “Where is Pascale?”

  “Torrance, the emissary, has her.” His expression was grim. “I will get her back.”

  “I’ll help you.” I reached behind him, remembering my satchel and the blade I hid within it.

  He must have read my intentions. “They have your satchel, the short sword, all of it.”

  I sank back onto my heels. “What do we do, then?”

  His eyes narrowed on a point beyond me. “You keep quiet and let me speak for you.”

  “Well, she did live.” Torrance sounded displeased. When I glanced over my shoulder, he hit my jaw hard enough to send me sprawling. “I can’t have you healing the prisoners, now can I?”

  “Is that what we are?” I spat blood onto the ground. “We are your prisoners?”

  His gaze heated as he skimmed me from head to toe. “Your status has yet to be determined. Vaughn here is heir to the Mimetidae clan. His mother would pay dearly to have him returned to her unharmed, for the most part. Pascale, well, you know what she did. There’s no hope for that one no matter how high a ransom her sister would pay. Bram is one of ours. He goes to face our maven’s judgment. And then we have you.” He smirked. “Vaughn convinced me to let you live. Now I want to know why that was.” He glanced between us as he unsheathed his sword. “Well?”

  “Remove your shirt, Mana.” Vaughn sounded hoarse. “Please.”

  I glanced at him, met that cold gaze of his and saw fear. With trembling fingers, I shrugged out of my coat and tugged my shirt overhead so that I sat before Torrance wearing only my vest.

  His eyes widened. “That’s Maven Lourdes’s personal armor. I recognize her crest.”

  My head swung toward Vaughn, and his lips curved at one corner. I smoothed a hand down my stomach. Lourdes had given me her armor, and Vaughn had kept that knowledge to himself.

  “It is,” he said. “I think even you realize what that means. Mana is the beloved cousin of the new Araneidae paladin. She is respected by the Araneidae…” I stifled a snort at that, “…and the maven herself owes Mana a life debt. You said yourself that Pascale would bring a hefty ransom. Since that can’t happen, consider Mana her replacement. Not equal in blood, but equal in worth.”

  Torrance’s appraisal cooled into calculation I found even less comforting. “All right.” He snapped his fingers, and a male crested a small hill before jogging toward us. “Tie her up. Spread the word this female isn’t to be harmed.” He slapped the male’s back. “She’ll serve her purpose.”

  I struggled when he captured my wrists, but it was a wasted effort.

  “Let her dress,” Vaughn said. “You heard Torrance. He plans to ransom her. Maven Lourdes won’t pay full price if Mana is missing appendages or becomes ill because of your negligence.”

  The male scowled at Vaughn, then back at me. “Hurry up then. I have more important things to do than tend an Araneidae pet.” He scooped up my clothes, which were damp with slush, and threw them.

  They hit the ground at my feet, and I yanked them on before he changed his mind. This time I didn’t fight him as he restrained me. There was nowhere to go. I needed to conserve my energy. Vaughn’s sly negotiations had made it clear our escape required more than swift feet, it required careful planning. When the male shoved me down, I tumbled, letting him enjoy his thrill.

  Once he left, I righted myself and sidled up to Vaughn. I was shaking from exposure, and the wet clothes weren’t helping matters. Chills dappled my skin, and my breathing had turned ragged.

  “Get closer,” Vaughn said. “Body heat will take the edge off if you lay against me.”

  I did as he asked, sitting hip to hip with him and leaning my head on his chest. His thick coat insulated him too well. No warmth escaped to thaw me. Breathing his scent heated my blood. I glanced up to find him staring down at me, that same soft look in his eyes. There was no firelight to blame now. Nuzzling him, I buried my ice-cold nose against his throat, and he jumped.

  Gooseflesh textured his skin. “How can the nose of one little mouse be so cold?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” I sighed. “No one else has since I was a child.”

  “I knew the child.” His lips brushed my temple. “The female has eluded me.”

  “This female was where she always has been—in Beltania—at home.”

  “I sometimes wonder…would she have welcomed a visit from me?” His voice dipped. “As I recall, she leapt into the arms of her cousin, but his brother…he never received such a welcome.”

  I reared back to stare into his face. “You aren’t serious.”

  “You never seemed to believe I was.”

  I licked my lips. “I had nothing—I have nothing—to offer you, or your clan.”

  He was Mimetidae, heir to a mercenary clan that lived by their swords. I was Salticidae, heir to no one. I was a healer who hailed from a clan of agriculturists. Vaughn’s mother, Isolde, was a shrewd female. The maven wouldn’t sell her heir short, and any price she set was too tall for me.

  “You had a smile that warmed me from across the council fire and arms opened to any who dared accept the comfort you offered.” He chuckled. “You can’t know how tempted I was to—”

  “All right you two, get on your feet.” The guard had returned. “I said, on your feet.”

  He let Vaughn kneel before kicking him with rib-cracking force. He landed on his back with a snarl, but one fluid wave of his body propelled himself onto his feet. The guard stumbled back.

  When he glanced toward me, Vaughn stepped between us and shielded me as I stood.

  “Thank you,” I whispered to him.

  He gave me a curt nod as the guard circled us.

  “Enough of that, now, they’ll be no talking among prisoners.” He caught my arm and hurled me to the ground. My teeth jarred on impact. “Let’s see how you manage without his help, eh?”

  Cold wind blew hair from my eyes. I startled to find the shade squatting at my feet. Eerily solid hands pulled me into a sitting position. I dug in my heels to give him leverage.

  Both the guard and Vaughn stared as I seemed to float to my feet.

  Vaughn’s jaw was tight when he said, “I think she managed fine on her own.”

  “How did you—? You’re that spirit walker Torrance mentioned. I didn’t think you could…” He rubbe
d a hand down his face. “It was a trick. It must be.” He stabbed the air in my direction, eyes gone hard and voice cracking. “No more tricks. Walker or not, you’ll die just the same if we leave you here.” He jerked his chin. “Get on with it. The others are waiting right over that hill.”

  I got the impression he was shoring his confidence and not warning us. From the edge of my vision, the shade smiled. His face blurred, but his fangs were prominent and his amusement was evident.

  Vaughn bumped into my shoulder. “You’ll have to teach me that trick one day.”

  “I’ll do that.” Once I figured out why a spirit intent on harming me had begun helping me. After we crested the hill, I stopped short. “I don’t understand.”

  Bram and Lleu clutched their stomachs, their faces paler than the shade’s. Pascale sat with her back against a tree. Her eyes were wide, dilated. Six bodies littered the ground. Four were males from our party. Another five huddled, seemingly unharmed, as they spoke with our captors.

  “Your heart is too soft.” Vaughn took the first step toward them. “They’re traitors, the lot of them.” His tone held no anger, but his voice was loud enough they all heard. “As Colleen will have her justice, so will I. Punishment for betrayal is death, and I am a practiced executioner.”

  Mad laughter shattered the quiet.

  “You hear that?” Lleu cackled. “Your graves are marked. Do us a favor and climb in them.”

  A swift kick to his jaw by a Theridiidae silenced him. Lleu’s grin was fiercer when painted with blood. The same foolish male grasped Lleu by the jaw. His thumb dug into the left side of Lleu’s face while his fingers shoved Lleu’s right cheek upward and distorted his expression.

  “You’re only alive until we determine who your sire is and whether he will pay to have your worthless hide returned to him intact.” As he shook Lleu’s head from side to side, his hand slid higher, until the webbing between his thumb and finger brushed Lleu’s lips.

  “Don’t put your hand so close to his—” The warning from Torrance came too late.

  With a roar, Lleu snapped at the hand covering his mouth. The Theridiidae screamed and yanked, but Lleu’s teeth sank deeper. Blood trickled down Lleu’s chin, and when the male stumbled back, he was missing a mouthful of flesh, which Lleu chewed with relish. When he swallowed, audibly, my stomach rebelled. Thank the gods it was empty.