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I frowned. “I thought you said malevolent spirits were of this world rather than from hell?”
“They are.”
“Then why would the opening of the first gate affect them in any way?”
“Because the dark path is a place filled with dark emotions and, with the first gate open, these emotions have begun to filter into this reality.”
“Meaning what?”
I slowed as I neared the living area and trepidation flared, though I still had no idea what I feared. Maybe it was simply death itself. Or maybe it was just a hangover from the hell of the last few weeks. Between escapee demons, malevolent spirits, and psycho astral travelers, I’d certainly been kept on my toes.
Or flat on my back, bleeding all over the pavement, as was generally the case.
“Meaning,” Azriel said softly, “that it feeds the darker souls, be they human or spirit.”
“So, basically, it’s the beginning of hell on earth?” Two steps and I’d be in the living room. My stomach began twisting into knots. I flexed my fingers and forced reluctant feet forward.
“Basically, yes.”
“Great.” As if the weight on my shoulders wasn’t already enough, I now had the sanity of the masses to worry about.
I entered the living room and saw the body.
Or rather, the body-shaped parcel.
Because Hunter had left out one very important fact when she’d described Wolfgang’s death.
Not only had he been sucked as dry as a fly caught by a spider, but he’d been entangled in the biggest damn spiderweb I’d ever seen.
Chapter 2
“Oh god,” I said, and immediately backed away. Unfortunately, I couldn’t retreat far, because Azriel was right behind me. I might as well have backed into a concrete wall. “She could have mentioned some kind of spider got him. I hate spiders.”
“Whatever was responsible for this death was something more than just a spider,” he commented, a slight trace of amusement in his voice.
I scowled up at him. “You think?”
He obviously didn’t catch the sarcasm, because he added, “Either that, or this was the work of a multitude of spiders, and the pristine nature of this house precludes that possibility.”
A multitude of spiders . . . A shudder went through me at the thought. I rubbed my arms and forced my feet forward again. Wolfgang had died lounging comfortably on the well-padded leather sofa that wrapped around the corner of the room. He was fully clothed, though his shirt was undone to his belly button, and his tie and shoes lay on the floor near the coffee table. His feet were crossed at the ankles, and there was a dreamy, relaxed expression frozen on the remains of his face. He’d obviously died totally unaware that anything untoward was happening.
The web that encased him was anchored to the floor near his feet, then spun up his legs and along the entire length of his torso, enclosing his arms and his body in a fine, transparent filament. Two tears on either side of his belly button indicated the puncture site and, if the size of those wounds was anything to go by, we were dealing with a damn big spider.
Another shudder ran through me. I took a deep breath that did little to ease the growing sense of horror, then stopped near his feet and flared my nostrils, drawing in the air and sorting through the scents. That odd, alien aroma was stronger here, but it didn’t appear to be coming from the body itself but rather the surrounding air. It was as if the scent of the creature had so heavily perfumed the room that it lingered long after it had gone.
I hesitated, then tentatively prodded the silvery casing with a stiffened finger. It wasn’t sticky as I’d expected, and felt a little like plastic—almost as if it had hardened in the air. I leaned a little closer to inspect the wounds. Other than a slight discoloring around the edges of the punctures, there was little blood, but the wounds themselves suggested the creature’s fangs were at least as thick as my fist.
It was going to take more than one can of fly spray to get rid of this damn spider.
I closed my eyes, took another deep, shuddering breath, then said, “What do you know about spiderlike spirits or demons?”
“I believe there is a spirit known as the Jorõgumo, but I know nothing about them.” Azriel moved around the coffee table, then stopped opposite me, his eyes slightly narrowed as he studied Wolfgang’s remains. Power shimmered through the air, sharp and almost bitter in the stillness. It died just as quickly, and his gaze met mine. “There is no brain left in this body, so I cannot read what memories might have remained.”
“Hunter did say everything had been sucked away.” My gaze rose to Wolfgang’s face, which was free of the transparent net. “Is there any way you can find out more about Jorõgumos? I mean, I can Google them, but I can’t imagine Google being a reliable source of information when it comes to facts about spirits.”
“I can ask, but Mijai fight demons, not spirits.”
Meaning I’d probably have to rely on earthbound resources. Perhaps the Brindle witches could help. I frowned. “Why hasn’t his body collapsed in on itself?”
