If I was dealing with werewolves, I was in my comfort zone. Witches, yes. Even poltergeists were something I could handle.
Spiders? No. Why did McCallum even have a giant spider?
I asked that aloud, and King shot me a look. “It’s certainly cheaper than a guard dog. And he can leave it here as long as he needs.”
“Because it can go back to eating flies, or even an occasional rat,” I said, realization striking me. “And, what, we’re just… extra-large rats?”
I twisted, following King’s movements as we avoided another string of spider silk. They were getting denser as we approached the entryway, and I saw flashes of green in the distance.
“Is that your magic?” I jerked my chin towards the strobe lighting, unwilling to make any move that might jostle the web.
King’s back had gone straight, as though he was about to be inspected by a drill sergeant. Standing next to him was like standing next to a movie star; he was so attractive that evenbeing in his proximity made me feel awkward. After our kiss, my lips still tingled when I looked at him.
“Yeah,” he said. “If the circle is going off like that, the spider is trying to break in and get to Smith.”
I wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was definitely late. We were well past midnight and approaching the time of night that always felt endless, the stretch of hours when your body knew you should be asleep, but your brain was very much awake.
I probably looked as half dead as I felt and hated that King looked just as attractive as I remembered.
King wore his suit with confidence, as though he was used to them. The last time I had seen him, he had been in a beat cop’s uniform. He’d looked great in that as well, but I could already tell him in this suit was going to be featuring in some fantasies of mine.
If we survived this whole experience. I wasn’t putting our odds very high, because ninety percent of the time when I saw a spider in my apartment, I screamed as loud as I could until the thing scuttled under some furniture.
Spider – one
Parker – zero
In fact, if we were playing a game, I would have to start with a pretty high handicap. Because up until now, the only spider I had managed to squash had been out of surprise when I had been attempting to flee.
In the massive entryway, the spider had spun its web.
If I was the kind of guy who watched nature documentaries, I probably could have determined what kind of web it was, and thus what kind of enormous spider we were dealing with. Instead, my brain had shorted out and all I could think was I had to act like the rodeo clown with this thing while King got the easy job of bringing down a massive chandelier. I mean, if an Andrew Lloyd Webber hero could do it, surely it couldn’t bethathard.
King was right, the spider was attempting to eat his partner, but luckily was impeded by the magic that King had left behind. The spider circled Smith, walking along its webbing. Smith was still hovering in the middle of the room, where King had lowered him from the ceiling. The hovering body confused the spider, who kept shooting webbing at Smith to reattach him to the ceiling, where, I assumed, the spider was going to take its meal.
“So I get it down, and you kill it,” I said. “If this works, how do you feel about becoming my live-in spider killer?”
“Well, I’ve heard worse propositions,” King said. “At least you’re being honest about your needs.”
I let my eyes trail down his suit, where the fabric clung to his ass. “If I’m being honest, there might be other requirements for the job.”
King shot me an amused look. “We need to clear this webbing.”
Agreeing, I reached in my bag and took out a handful of flour. Closing my eyes, I began murmuring the spell.
My mind raced; I’d never done a spell like this before. I could practically hear my foster mom’s voice in my head reminding me that it was jazz. If I thought it sounded good, it was probably fine. The basics of kitchen witchcraft were baked into my bones. I could do this.
The ache of missing her distracted me for a half moment, but then I was back to the spell.
Unlike fae magic, witchcraft has different ways to achieve the same goal. The seeming randomness, the fact that there wasn’t one way to do anything meant I often found myself stymied in any attempt to do even the most basic magic.
If my sister Laurel had been at the house, she could have made quick work of the spider on her own. Her murdered rats still haunted me. As I didn’t have her brutal improvisation skills, I was going to need every bit of help that King could give me.
With my eyes closed, I focused on weighing down the flour, emphasizing how heavy it was. When my arm ached, I tossed it at the webbing. Everywhere the flour hit, the webbing came down, slamming into the floor with a loud slapping sound. I hadn’t thrown enough to take down the entire thing, but half of its web disappearing definitely got the spider’s attention.
Darting into the empty space, I pulled out my chalk. I wasn’t sure what spell I’d draw yet, but I knew I had to be ready.
King, meanwhile, had activated a circle, and tossed it onto the remaining webbing where it caught on the sticky substance — a fly the spider did not want to catch. The webbing burnt up, like hair touching a birthday candle. The spider swung its gaze to him, and I got a glimpse of those infinitely black eyes again.
