The next day—three days after going out on patrol—was a Friday. For most of the past year and change, that would have been a good thing, since it would have meant that I'd be getting a couple days free of the Trio. Now, it was a problem, because it meant that I would have to find an excuse to get near Emma over the weekend if nothing happened today.

Friday meant that Emma had Gym for first period. At least, this Friday did, since it was an odd day.

And that meant that the most logical thing for her to do was to swing by her locker, and drop off her bookbag before heading for the girls locker room.

So that made right by her locker the easiest place to get one of my mice in place to keep an eye on her. All I had to do, was get the mouse into her locker, without her seeing it, before she locked it up with her books and bookbag inside. Then I could get my mouse into her bookbag at my leisure, without having to worry about her noticing it, and hide it away someplace safe where she'd never look.

Easier said than done, I know. But, still, I had a plan. It might even be a good plan. We'd see.

The ceilings of Winslow, like practically every commercial building in the world, were panel ceilings, hung from a collection of guy wires from the actual ceiling, which was about two or three feet above it. I don't know why builders feel the need to do this. You'd think that having the ceilings two feet lower would make for a cheaper building, and solve problems all around. But no. That's not how things are done.

Regardless, what this means is that the ceilings of Winslow are, in essence, the perfect highway for my minions. And the fact that I could arrive early, and control them from two blocks away, meant that I could pre-position them to be over Emma's locker with ease.

Okay, so there might have been a few false starts, where my minions prized up the ceiling panels, and found themselves above the wrong locker. But that's what getting there early is for. That and having a rat scurry along the ground underneath the mice I was positioning, to make sure we got the location on the ground correct. I, of course, already knew where Emma's locker was. I'd memorized the location early in my freshman year, in hopes that Emma would stop her teasing, and want to be friends again. Needless to say, I had been bitterly disappointed then, and I wasn't really holding out that much hope for now. But...I had to do this. If only to make Ms. Liberty happy, I had to do it.

It wasn't until my mice were over her actual locker, and prising the ceiling panel up to let them get a good look at said locker, that I realized that my chosen infiltrator was wearing what looked to be a bright orange jumpsuit. With a little piece of metal on a scarf over its forehead, like some kind of weird demented helmet.

Now, it has to be said that Winslow had a problem with mice. They were everywhere. And the few times an exterminator had been called...well, the exterminators hadn't really addressed the problem, let's say. They'd caught a few, and the rest had stayed out of sight for a bit, and then things had gone back to normal. If the school really wanted to take care of the problem, they'd have to do something like fixing the holes in the walls, or dealing with the ancient pipes that had broken off under the building, or fix the windows that didn't close just right, or find a way to close up all the vents in the roof that weren't really weather-tight, or...well, you get the picture. Let's just say that it would probably have taken a complete rebuild, and leave it at that.

Like I said, the school had a rodent problem. And, since the school faculty, particularly the lunch ladies, actively tried to keep the cafeteria clean and sanitized despite this, and were often surprisingly creative in how they went about it, there was no small degree of evolutionary pressure on the local mice to become just that little bit smarter and to adapt just that little bit faster than other mice.

But even with that taken into account, there was absolutely no reason in the world why the mouse I'd chosen for this mission to have dressed up in an orange jumpsuit, like he was some kind of weird ninja from one of those shows I never really bothered to watch, but I'd seen references to on the internet. I swore, if he started making...yep, there went the paw-seals, just as Emma came walking up the hall, and stopped in front of her locker.

Two halls over, I had a strong urge to drop my head into my hands and just cry, as the mouse in question got into position above her, waited for just the right moment...and jumped.

Direct hit on her backpack.

Now my rodent spy had to avoid getting noticed. With a bright orange jumpsuit, and a metal headband with a stylized leaf engraved upon it. Against a dark blue backpack. Yeah. Good luck with that.

And yet, somehow, by some miracle the nature of which I could not quite fathom, not even with the bullshittery of powers, or the extra-super-bullshittery of magic, my mouse had managed to scurry down, and hang onto the bottom of the bookbag as Emma slung it off her shoulders, and then scurry up the rear as she slung it into her locker, and slammed the door, narrowly avoiding getting squished by umpty-nine pounds of heavy textbooks.

All without being spotted. Somehow.

It was times like this when I really wished I was old enough to drink. Because something like that? That needed alcohol to make sense.

As it was, the only thought going through my head while all this was going on was that, 'you know what, I don't care anymore. If I see one more mouse show up dressed like some other famous ninja, that's it. I quit. I just...I can't deal with that. I'm just gonna quit right then and there, and leave the rats and the mice to somebody else, who can handle their insanity.'

Given the state of Winslow, it's not that unexpected, but my mouse spent much of first period telling me that it smelled something...odd.

Like, really, really odd.

Neither my mouse, nor I, could quite figure out what he was smelling. It was sort of like a spider...and sort of like charcoal...and sort of like a human. But at the same time, it wasn't even vaguely like any of the the above.

Like I said, we couldn't figure it out.

It wasn't until Emma returned from her gym class, grabbed her books for the next period (and, somehow, the mouse that had hidden in her binder), and slammed the locker door, that we realized what it was. Because once the mouse had managed to get close to her, and work its way up her clothes, to a place where it could sort of hide under her hair, it could see the source of that weird smell quite clearly.

Emma had a spider on her.

And not just any spider. A weird spider.

Really, really weird.

And not just weird. It was intelligent, too. Intelligent, and doing things that spiders shouldn't be able to do. For one thing, it was very carefully hiding in her hair, burying itself among the strands so that it couldn't be seen by casual passersby, even though, from its location by her ear, it could clearly see and hear everything that was happening. And I was pretty sure it could see, which spiders shouldn't be able to, because of the other bit of proof that it was intelligent.

Namely, it was talking.

Which was...well, it was weird.

Mind you, it wasn't talking much. And while class was going on, it was leaving her pretty much completely alone, perching just above her ear, and staying silent throughout. It wasn't until she got up to leave that it began to speak. Giving her...giving her orders, it sounded like. You know. Go here. Do this. Take that. Swap out these two things. Spill your drink on that boy's homework. Where's Taylor? You were supposed to be doing this to her. There she is. Go talk to her. Tell her about her mother. Make it hurt. Try to make her cry. What do you mean, she's gone? Where did she go. You were told to follow her. Find her. Find her now!

And every time she was too slow to carry out those orders, my mouse could see the spider's fangs prick her ear. We couldn't tell if it was actually biting her, or just threatening to, but whatever it was doing, Emma was clearly terrified. She was hiding it, and hiding it well, so well that when I saw her face, I couldn't tell that she was feeling anything other than the cruel satisfaction she projected to the rest of the school. But the mouse could hear her heartbeat, and smell her scent, and he swore that he was smelling fear. Both old, and new.

Which was...interesting. I wasn't sure how it was relevant, but it was...interesting.

Sadly for Emma, I'd learned how to lose her in the lunchtime crowd a long time ago, and it wasn't long before I managed to duck into one of the restrooms, and let her hurry by. It was in a much more thoughtful and contemplative mood that I emerged from the restroom's depths to peruse and digest my lunch.

Clearly, Tattletale had been right. Something weird was going on. As to what, I couldn't tell.

But one thing I did know: I was worried. I mean, I didn't want to be. I still hated her. But I was definitely feeling some concern.

"By a spider?" Tattletale said over the telephone. "Are you sure about that?"

I sighed, and leaned back against the wall. It was after school, now, and I'd detoured from my normal route home to slouch into the back wall of a bus stop a block and a half from Emma's house.

"Pretty sure," I said. "That's what it looked like, anyway."

There was a long pause.

"That's...kind of weird," she said. "I've never heard of a spider that could talk before."

"You think it's some kind of Master construct?" I asked her, frowning. The other option was that it was from...well, from my side of the field. But there was no way that Ms. Liberty was going to send me after something like this when I was just a very junior apprentice. Right?

I hoped that was right.

"Hmmm," came Tattletale's reply. "It could be. I've heard of stranger things. But...I have to admit, I've never heard of anything like that before. And...huh. I'm looking on the net, and it seems that there's a legend about this."

"A legend?"

"Yeah. Something about a spider-demon. A spider demoness? Hang on, let me check this out."

I could hear her tapping away at her keyboard, and waited for her to finish. Then, abruptly, she spoke.

"Whoa!" she said.

"What is it?"

"I got two things here," she told me. "First of all, the Native Americans out in the Midwest used to believe in spiders that could talk. Got legends of the same from Africa, and...from other places. Lots of other places. Apparently, the idea of talking spiders isn't all that rare."

I frowned.

"Talking evil spiders?" I said. "Really?"

"Not...as such," she said, slowly. "Apparently, usually talking spiders are kind of benign. Either that, or pretty neutral. Not evil, is what I"m getting at. But according to Wikipedia, there is a legend about something called a jorogumo. Er...it says that translates to 'whore-spider'. It's supposed to be very evil, and to enjoy eating young men. Apparently it leaves young women alone. Or alive, at any rate. And, get this: it's supposed to be able to control other spiders. Including fire-breathing spiders, which it can use to burn people's houses down if it wants to."

"I...uh...okay, that sounds bad," I said. "But that's not...I mean, I know I'm weird, but...why look for something like that? Wouldn't a parahuman make more sense?"

"It would," she said. "If you knew of any that could spit lightning, and control rats. Just for example."

"Well-" I began, but she cut me off.

"I meant, as part of their parahuman powers," she said, her voice testy.

"Oh. Well, if you're going to be picky..."

"I will, thank you," was her response. "Anyway, the thing is, I can't find anything...I've never heard of somebody being able to control insects to the point of being able to see through their eyes, or hear through their...ears. Whatever. And yes, I know spiders aren't insects, but the point still stands. That's some really impressive control, and I can't imagine anybody being able to get that kind of control without years of practice. Especially given that bug senses are so radically different from our own."

Then she paused, and continued in a much more thoughtful tone.

"That," she went on, "and I can't imagine any parahuman who could do that being able to stay under the radar, and not, for instance, trying to rob banks, or take over the city, or something like that. I mean, that's some serious power, there. Even just in terms of being able to coerce people, that kind of power is scary. Especially if the controller isn't in the school building when she's controlling your friend."

"I don't have to be in the school building," I pointed out.

"No," she said, her tone distant again. "And that's more than a little frightening. But you can't threaten people with invisible spider bites, either. And your rats are cuter than spiders are."

"Yes, but my rats can use power tools," I pointed out.

The other end of the line went silent.

"I didn't need to know that," Tattletale finally said. "Power tools? Really?"

I shrugged.

"They can't exert a ton of force," I told her. "But yeah, if I get a team of them together, they can use most power tools. So long as it's not a question of raw muscle, they're good."

"Huh. That sounds...kind of scary. I think I'm going to have a little more trouble sleeping, tonight, so...thanks. Anyway, we'll talk about that later. For now, let's talk about this spider your friend is wearing as a fashion accessory. Namely, what do you want to do about it?"

I frowned.

"I don't know what to do," I said. "This sounds like something I need to talk to somebody else about. Especially if it really is a jorogumo-whatsit like you were talking about. I don't think I'm ready to handle a spider-demon yet."

"No, probably not," Tattletale agreed. "Tell you what. If you can find her, I think I can convince the rest of us to give you a hand when you face her down. So that should make things easier for you. Whether that will be enough, I can't say."

"Hmm," I said. "Let me make some calls, and tell you what I can muster."

With Tattletale already checking the internet, I figured the next call I made should probably be to somebody who might know a little bit more about the subject.

Thinking about this, I mentally resolved to make sure I got Ms. Liberty's number for the next time this came up, because, honestly? Being able to call her and ask her questions about this would have been a big relief. In the meantime, though, I called Assault.

I mean, who knows? He might know about this. Right?

"A talking spider, you say," he said, when I'd finished explaining what I'd found. "That's...that's not good."

"Do you know what it is?" I asked him, my voice hesitant.

"Not off the top of my head, but...given the city's large Asian population? The first thing I'd think of when I thought of an unusual spider in a city with a large Asian population would be either a Japanese spider demon, or a very sadistic parahuman. And the only parahuman I know of who could control a spider like that, and see through its eyes, and make it talk, is maybe Bonesaw. And I'm pretty damn sure that she's not anywhere near Brockton Bay.

"How sure?"

"The last reported location of the Nine was in Seattle, headed south along the coast. Since they can't take the airlines, that's over a week's travel, and that report is less than three days old."

"So either we've got something completely mythical, or we've got a competitor for Bonesaw. Great."

"Yeah, pretty much. Good news is, I don't even pretend to have a full knowledge of the supernatural world. Bad news is, that means I'm not going to be much help."

He frowned.

"If you can get a picture of the thing, I can at least tell you if it's a spider-demon like the ones I've seen, or not. And if it is, I'm pretty sure I can shake some PRT assets loose to give you a hand."

I sighed.

"I'll see what I can do," I told him.

"Keep me updated, okay?" he said.

"I'll do my best," I promised him.

Well, I thought, as I put the phone in my lap, that was useless.

Actually, no, it probably wasn't. Combined with what Tattletale told me, I was willing to move the likelihood of it being a Japanese spider demon from "medium" to "high". But that still didn't tell me how to kill one, if I found it. Or how to find it in the first place.

Especially since, last I checked, silk was immune was immune to electricity. Or it blocked electricity...whatever. It wasn't a good conductor, is the main thing.

Of course, this was still all just speculation. But...hm.

Just in case, I decided, it might be wise to send a couple more mice into Emma's house, just to check the place out, and see if there were any other spiders in her house.

There were.

According to the mice, there were at least half a dozen inside the house. At least, half a dozen that I was pretty sure shouldn't be there. Not the normal ones, who spin cobwebs in the corner, but big, golden ones, that were placed such that they could carefully follow the house's inhabitants without Emma's family being aware of it.

I frowned, at that, and then, once I'd realized why they might be doing that, I scowled.

They were spies. Spies, and threats. If Emma tried to rebel, it wouldn't just be her that died. It would be her mom and dad, too.

I'll be real honest. I've never much liked bullies, even before I found my own personal trio of demons tormenting me. Having been on the receiving end, I liked it even less. My immediate urge was to wipe these spiders out, before they could be a danger. Mice eat spiders, after all, so I was pretty sure that these would just be another snack to my rodents.

But I was also pretty sure that doing so would alert whomever it was that we were coming. Because after seeing this? Oh, yeah. We were definitely coming.

And, depending on where Emma went, once she left to meet her controller, I might not have the range to neutralize the spiders before they bit her parents. And, judging by Emma's reaction to the little fake bites at school, I was pretty sure that would be a really, really bad thing.

Shit.

Now I was really going to need some help.