THE CHILDREN OF THE SPIDER, Part 8

"His name is Ed," Jonah told me. He seemed to be somewhere between amused and resigned. As he spoke, Jonah reached out and affectionately smoothed back some ruffled fur just above the beast's shoulder.

The huge Lockjaw bounced slightly at the mention of his name and gave us a thunderously eager bark. I hesitantly put a hand on the side of his head. When he didn't bite my arm off, I began scratching him behind one of his huge floppy ears.

Ed's stub of a tail wagged furiously.

"Good boy," I told him as I felt a smile slowly appear on my face. Really, what the blazes else was I supposed to say?

"We have to go to Nyack," I told Ed slowly and clearly. I really wasn't sure how this worked.

"Is this what I'm supposed to do?" I asked Jonah.

Jonah shrugged. "More or less. Brace yourself."

There was a sudden prickling sensation in my head - the sign of a not-very-sophisticated telepathic intrusion. Then the odd tuning-fork protrubence on Ed's forehead began to glow. Blue and white energy materialized around us in a soft boom. My ears popped and I felt the breath rush out of my lungs...

And then we were in Nyack. And we were precisely where I wanted to be.

Which was a big problem.

We'd materialized in one of the most sacred places of the Spider-Folk.

In my vision at the shrine of the Old One, the First Spider took me to the highest landing of the great Empire tower. That's a holy place sworn to the First Spider. It's tended by venerated priestesses, guarded by hand-picked Spider guardsmen, and considered so sacred that a typical Spider could only hope to actually visit it once or twice in his entire life. Any visit is strictly controlled, usually being a matter of the most important life-rituals.

Ed, Jonah, and I had appeared right on the landing, without permission. We weren't just trespassing. We were arguably committing blasphemy.

It was after dusk, a starry night sky loomed above us, and the landing was illuminated by lanterns. By teleporting eastward, we'd fled from the waning sun and into night.

There was a brisk wind, which wasn't unusual on the tall towers. All around us, the ancient spires of Nyack loomed, dimly illuminated by occasional lights. Below us, the city was mostly dark, but there were still pinpricks of white and yellow that, on the major roads, sometimes became dense enough to form bands of light. When we arrived, two priestesses, clad in wind-swept red and black robes, were finishing a ritual that signaled the end of the day.

Under my feet, I something crunch. Looking down, I was standing on a carved wooden spider effigy. I winced. That was yet another act of impiety to add to our steadily growing list. To many of the faithful, it wouldn't help that our actions were involuntary.

The two priestesses were staring at us in complete surprise. One opened her mouth to call for help, but Ed took that moment to calmly step forward and lick her. Overbalanced by Ed's enthusiasm, the priestess fell on her ass, an utterly revolted look on her now drool-covered face. She began spitting to clear her mouth.

Jonah and I glanced at each other. "Shit," we whispered in unison.

The drooled-upon priestess snarled in anger, scrambled to her feet, grabbed Ed by his forelegs, and then swung him around in a broad arc and pitched him off the landing. Ed sailed out into space, hundreds of feet above the ground. As he tumbled away into the dark, I could see a look on Ed's face that I can only describe as 'startled'. Then, in mid-fall, Ed vanished in a characteristic burst of swirling blue and white.

"Stop! Wait!" Jonah called out frantically, holding his hands up in an effort to keep the peace.

It was far too late.

The younger and un-drooled priestess made a serious effort to kick my head right off of my body. I barely managed to lean back and avoid the blow. The young priestess responded by converting her momentum into a midair flip. She landed in a crouch, her bare feet widely spaced in a broad and stable fighting stance. A thick blonde braid had been thrown from underneath her robe and now dangled behind her, tossed back-and-forth by the wind.

Then, just before attacking again, she suddenly paused.

"Ben?" she gasped out.

She'd finally recognized me. Oh, yes, I knew her. In fact, I knew her very well. It was turning into a simply wonderful evening.

"What are you doing here?" the younger priestess yelled. Her face was turning dangerously red.

"Guards! Intruders! GUARDS!" howled the older priestess as she lithely sprang onto the wall, just above the bas-relief of the First Spider. She effortlessly adhered to the wall.

"Hi, Gwen, how's it going?" I asked the younger priestess as steadily as possible. At the same time, I was trying to keeping a wary eye on the older priestess.

Gwen didn't seem to know how to respond to my question.

Then two guardsmen burst out of the main door that led to the landing. Both were carrying long-swords.

"Oh, dammit," I muttered as I eyed the newcomers.

Jonah said something much stronger. Then, in one smooth motion, he drew his short-swords, swung into a spinning leap at the guardsmen, parried the first guardsman's attack, and slammed a knee into his opponent's chest. The guardsman flew backwards and crashed into his partner. Jonah landed on the balls of his feet, bounded upward, and unleashed a round-house kick at the two entangled guardsmen. They tumbled back through the landing entrance. Jonah followed, holding his weapons in a guard position. Through the entrance, I could hear someone shouting for help.

"I'm here for the Dark," I told Gwen weakly. I simply couldn't think of anything else to say. By then, what I was saying sounded crazy even to my ears.

Gwen blinked in confusion. "You can't have it. You need permission," she told me very reasonably.

Then the older priestess dropped between Gwen and I and decked me with a well-delivered right-cross. I'd let Gwen distract me from the usual warning of impending danger.

Although, to be fair, my sense of danger had been screaming ever since we'd arrived on the landing.

I was laying flat on my back, looking up at an early-night sky in which the first few stars now seemed to wobble back and forth. For a lady who looked to be well into her second century, the older priestess was fast and packed a considerable wallop.

"Milady, please stop..." I said hazily.

Her response was to try and stomp my head flat, but I managed to roll out of the way. The stone floor cracked under the impact of her bare foot. There was a spray of rock and dust, and a chip of stone glanced off my cheek, leaving a stinging cut.

In response, I performed a hurried leg-sweep on the priestess, knocking her off her feet. Then I tangled her up in a complex leg and arm lock. I really didn't want to hurt her.

That eminent and vicious bitch bit me. I yelped in surprise.

"Benjamin Steven Parker!" Gwen snarled at me, "stop what you are doing this instant! Let the high-priestess go!"

Once a big sister, always a big sister. And my sister was angry. Whenever Gwen uses my full name, that means I'm in trouble.

Also, I was apparently man-handling the high-priestess herself.

Damn it.

The high-priestess broke out of my hold, bounced to her feet, and kicked me. However, she wasn't able to get her full strength behind it. I rolled away from the worst of the impact and ended up in a crouch, at the foot of the First Spider's carved image.

Ed reappeared on the landing in his usual burst of mottled light. He glared at the high-priestess. Then he charged into her, attempting to knock her down with a head-butt. The high-priestess sensed his approach and leaped up and away, but for at least a moment she was occupied with something other than trying to kill me.

At that point, another pair of guardsman climbed onto the landing from the exterior of the tower itself. Apparently Jonah was keeping the other guardsmen inside the landing's anteroom so tangled up that reinforcements were being forced to use alternative paths to get up to the landing.

Gwen, trying to calm things down, held a hand up and transfixed the guardsmen with a glare. The two guardsmen paused at the stone lip of the landing, frozen by her unspoken command.

There was absolutely no time for subtlety or delay. I pivoted and slammed the side of my fist into the chest of the First Spider's image. The small chamber concealed there popped open and I snatched up what was inside.

"Dammit, Benjie!" my sister yelled at me. She's the only person in the entire world who calls me that.

Ed dashed to my side - just ahead of the guardsmen - and we both vanished in a burst of blue and white. A split-second later, we were in the anteroom. Jonah was battling three guardsmen and we almost materialized right in middle of that melee. I yanked a surprised guardsman away and pitched him against a wall. Then I grabbed Jonah by the collar of his armored jacket, and pulled him next to Ed and I.

Ed took us away.

We were in a bar down on Yance Street. Instead of ale, they serve a beer that was cheap, but of reasonable quality. The bar itself was filled with an eclectic mix of customers - Blood, Folk, Scatter, Wilder, and a few who didn't fit into even those basic categories. In one corner, two Atlantean merchants were hopefully chatting up a pair of blonde and well-built girls who I assumed were part-Asgardian. At a nearby table, some diminutive molemen in the yellow canvas overalls of sewer-workers were quietly getting drunk. On the far end of the bar, a couple of students from the Drumm college were arguing about the ascension of Illyana to the position of Sorceress Supreme. One of the mages-in-training had rough, bark-like, skin and a set of ram's horns on either side of his head.

Not surprisingly, Jonah was covered in gashes and bruises. A particularly powerful sword cut had split open the studded leather armor covering his right shoulder and left a bloody wound. A fur-covered Wilder barmaid with a concerned look on her tiger-striped face was dabbing at his facial injuries with a whiskey-soaked cloth. She'd already roughly bandaged Jonah's shoulder.

I was on my third beer and my second bowl of the salty fried-potato snacks that the bartender kept putting in front of me. None of the barmaids had offered to tend to my cuts and bruises, but it was fair to note that Jonah was both younger and handsomer. Also, Jonah seemed to know the girl who was helping him.

Ed was laying at our feet... well, that's not really an accurate way to put it. Actually, Ed was a mountainously looming pile of flesh and fur on the floor next to us. He was contentedly gnawing on a big beef bone. There was a half-empty bucket of water nearby.

"We can't stay here," Jonah told me.

I nodded towards Ed. "We can always get away if we have to."

Having a Lockjaw on your side was actually pretty handy.

"Ed works for your father, remember?" Jonah reminded me. He can sometimes be a killjoy.

"We're waiting for somebody," I told Jonah.

"Who?"

"Your Aunt Gwen. This is where she'll look for me."

Jonah winced at that. "She's gonna tear our heads off."

I considered that. "No. No. Actually that would be way too quick and clean. Gwen has a mean streak. And embarrassing her at work is probably a good way to bring it out."

"Time to pay me for all of my hard work," the barmaid said to Jonah. She'd finished with her ministrations and there was a predatory smile on her face. She had some good-sized fangs.

Jonah reached for a coin, but it turned out that wasn't what the barmaid had in mind. Her lips collided with his.

"I get off work in an hour," she told Jonah afterwards, her aquamarine feline eyes filled with invitation. She had an eager hand in Jonah's lap.

"I'll be gentle with you," the barmaid added.

Jonah smiled. He was about to say something when the First Spider warned us both of danger.

It wasn't the authorities. It was something far worse.

My sister had just walked in the door. And she was looking at us.

Beside me, I heard Jonah gulp.

Gwen is tall for a woman and moves with a grace that's notable even for our people. She has blonde hair that she wears all the way down to her lower back - usually hiding the full length within her clothing or by coiling it into a braided bun. Her eyes are blue-grey and have a tendency to always seem stern. She's been described as a beauty, but some also say she's much too severe for that.

At the moment, Gwen was in the same priestly robes she'd been wearing on the tower landing. Startled customers respectfully got out of her way as she advanced toward us.

The barmaid was still tangled up in Jonah. She hurriedly straightened up and gave a quick bow.

"Miladay, it's a honor," she said hastily. "What can I..."

Gwen interrupted coldly. "If I see your tongue in my nephew's mouth again, I'll rip it out of your head and keep it as a rag for cleaning my feet. Go away."

The barmaid vanished without another word.

"Hello, Aunt Gwen," Jonah said with an unconvincingly charming smile.

Gwen looked deep into Jonah's eyes. He froze.

"I'll deal with you later," Gwen said bleakly. "Now get lost. And don't you dare take up with the cheap Tigrene harlot. Oh... and I might be beating you to death later on, so stay where I can find you."

Jonah let out a shaky breath. "Yes, ma'am," he said. Then he picked up his beer and walked away.

Gwen stepped around Ed, sat on the barstool Jonah had just vacated, and gave the bartender an interrogative look.

"Hi, Sam," she said.

"Good to see you again, milady," Sam replied as he half-bowed. He's Folk and his family has owned the bar for generations. There was a time when Gwen and I were regulars in his establishment.

"It's been a while," Sam added. "Do you still drink whiskey?"

Gwen nodded as she examined the shelves behind the bar. "I'll have a Walker. Neat."

I shuddered. "I can't believe you drink that stuff."

"People who are on the run from the religious authority of the Spider-Folk don't get to criticize my taste in hard liquor," Gwen told me very evenly.

"So you're here to hang me and then, while I'm dangling and still twitching, splash me with pitch and set me on fire?"

That was one fairly well-known way that Spider-Priestesses use to let it be known that they were unhappy with you.

The whisky appeared in front of Gwen. Sam had even given her a clean shot glass, but then again he'd always liked her. Gwen downed the whiskey in one gulp, turned in her chair to face me, and then kicked off a gold-threaded sandal and used her toes to scratch Ed behind one ear. Ed rumbled in pleasure.

"Benjie... what are you doing?" Gwen asked me plaintively.

"Right now? I'm pissing off the religious authority of the Spider-Folk. And soon, I'm going to do worse. A lot worse."

Gwen let out a long breath, put down her glass, took my head in her hands, and leaned her forehead against mine.

It occurred to me that with a sudden twitch of her wrists, Gwen could break my neck. When my sister decided to pursue a religious calling, the Spider Legion lost a phenomenally dangerous warrior.

Ed, obviously bothered by the stir of painful emotions in Gwen, comfortingly rubbed the massive side of his head against her leg.

"Why are you doing this?" Gwen asked helplessly.

I took a moment to consider my words before answering.

"Part of it is because if I don't do something drastic, a lot of people I care about will be hurt."

Gwen didn't say anything. She was still holding me.

I let out a long sigh. "But mostly I just can't let that monster we call a grandfather keep on brutalizing, torturing, and killing anyone who gets in his way. He's already put a stain on our family name that will last generations. It has to stop before it gets even worse."

There was a long pause before Gwen spoke.

"I knew this would happen someday," Gwen eventually said quietly to me, her forehead still against mine. "And I knew it would be you. You're the one who asks questions, has inappropriate love affairs, argues with his superior officers, mouths off to father and grandfather, and disobeys grandma. I always knew it would be you."

Gwen wasn't trying to insult me, but there's an old saying that the truth hurts.

"Take care of Faye," I said. "There'll be a reckoning for what I'm going to do. If I die, do what you can to keep her out of this."

Gwen let go of me, leaned back in her seat, and nodded. There were tears in her eyes. Without another word, she put a coin on the bar to pay for her drink, and then got up and left the bar.

Ed anxiously watched her leave. Then he gave me a worried look and let out a whine.

"It's okay," I told him. Which really wasn't the truth.

From inside my chainmail shirt, I pulled out the ancient crystal and brass cylinder that I'd taken from the carving of the First Spider. Then I put it on the bar in front of me. Inside was what looked like a dark and thick liquid. Ed lifted his head from the floor and growled at it.

It was interesting that Gwen hadn't demanded it back.

Well... it was mine, after all.

Standing on the other side of the bar, Sam gave the cylinder a curious glance, but didn't say anything.

*Hhheeelloooo,* a voice whispered in my head. Inside the cylinder, the black and oily liquid seemingly shifted of its own accord.

I didn't respond. Instead, I pushed my mug towards Sam. He picked it up and went to get me a refill.

Gwen thinks I'm a natural-born rebel. Maybe there's something to that, but it's not like I didn't serve Lord Ashe loyally and well, only leaving when events forced me to go.

Actually, my problem with my family and my people was in the cylinder sitting on the bar in front of me. Everyone told me it was an honor and a privilege when they made me the one-and-only Dark Warrior of both House Parker and the Spider-Folk. They lied to me. Maybe they didn't realize it was a lie. Maybe they were just fooling themselves, but still...

*Ittt's tiiime?* the voice continued eagerly. *Tiiime for uuus?*

"Shut up, Venom," I snarled at it.