Page 56 of Magic for Nothing

“Like Dad,” said Sam.

“—and since her boyfriend was her first victim, there might be an egg sac in there.” I shook my head. “You said Umeko was with you for years, seeming totally human the entire time. So maybe Jorōgumo have babies the human way. But they could just as easily hatch, and I’d rather we found that out now, instead of hearing the babies start to scream when we set the RV on fire.”

“Who said anything about setting the RV on fire?” asked Emery.

“Do you have a better way to get rid of a dead spider-woman? We can’t bury her. Not after Savannah. Digging a big hole would be deeply suspicious. A small burn, on the other hand, if we wait to do it until we’ve moved on, and we control it properly, looks like an accident. Spread out the trauma. Save some for the next town.”

“I really wish that didn’t make sense,” said Emery.

“Believe me, so do I,” I said. “Do you have a pair of shoes I can borrow?”

“My shoes wouldn’t fit you,” she said. “Sam, can you please take Annie back to her own room so that she can get some clothes?”

“Sure, Grandma,” said Sam, and crossed the room to where I was standing, and picked me up. My size didn’t seem to be a problem for him: he just hooked an arm under my knees and hoisted me high.

“I can walk!” I protested.

“But you won’t,” he said, and walked out of the room.

Sam and Emery lived in a large enough RV to give them each a private bedroom, which meant it also had a living room larger than the entire available living space in my RV. Sam carried me past the couch and dining table before using his tail to open the door, stepping through and into the bone yard. The sun was up. People were moving around. If any of them were surprised by the appearance of a six-foot-tall monkey man with an armful of pajama-clad human female, they didn’t show it; a few of them even waved. Sam was apparently a common sight around here.

Which meant . . . “Were you so snappy with me when I showed up because I meant you had to stay human-looking?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Sam. He hopped down from the steps, absorbing the three-foot drop easily. He crouched. “Hold on tight.”

“Hold on tight for—ahhh!”

Being a monkey person didn’t just make Sam faster and a little bit taller: it apparently also converted his legs to some sort of piston system, granting him the ability to leap tall buildings in a single bound. In one jump, we were on top of the RV. In another, we were on the next RV over, moving fast enough that it took my breath away—at least at first.

By the third jump, I was starting to enjoy myself.

By the fourth jump I was thinking about what he could do in a more urban setting, or a proper jungle, or really anywhere that would have things for him to grab and swing from, rather than leapfrogging across a relatively horizontal plane. He was getting some serious air on his jumps. He could have done a lot more with mechanical assistance.

“You okay?” he asked, after I’d been silent for a few seconds.

“Whee!” I replied.

Sam blinked. “Okay, holy shit, you’re weird.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” I said blithely.

Sam hit the roof of a large RV before hopping down to ground level and gesturing grandly with his tail to the door of my room. “You are delivered. Mostly. I’ll carry you in. I don’t want you telling my grandmother I didn’t get you all the way home.”

“That’s very sporting of you.”

“You haven’t seen my grandmother mad yet.” Sam walked up the steps to my RV, again opening the door with his tail. It was a neat trick, and neatly enough performed that I didn’t think to warn him about what he was walking into.

The mice were well-trained. Mindy and I had spoken at length about why it was important for her to stay concealed from the Covenant, and Mork came from a colony that wasn’t as accustomed to being seen as the home colony. But that didn’t mean they’d be able to resist one of the Priestesses being carried in by a man who clearly wasn’t human. There was no reason for stealth in that situation. And in fact . . .

“HAIL!” shouted the mice, as soon as the door was open. What they lacked in numbers, they made up for with enthusiasm. “HAIL THE RETURN OF THE PRECISE PRIESTESS! HAIL THE COMING OF THE VERY LARGE MONKEY!”

Sam stopped. Sam blinked. Sam said the only thing that made any sense under the circumstances: “What the fuck?”

Mork and Mindy had continued to refine their little house, decking it out with pennants made from ride tickets and bits of text torn from carnival posters. It was a tiny work of art, and more than suitable for two Aeslin mice. They had also, it was clear, gone scavenging when I didn’t make it home the night before. The counter around their house was covered with popcorn, wads of cotton candy, and half-eaten hot dogs. By any rodent standards, they were going to be eating like kings.

“Aeslin mice. They’re pathologically religious,” I explained. “Put me down.”

Sam put me down. “I knew they talked. I didn’t know they, uh, did that.”