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“Jesse.” I grabbed his arm, trying to slow him. “The Drone…”
He ran faster, burst into the clearing, and smacked into a maze of spider webs. Right on his tail, Roark, Shea, and I didn’t see it until we were tangled amid the sticky strands.
I swung my arms, wiping at my face and clothes in a frantic attempt to shake free, but the strands clung to me like double-sided tape. The creepy-crawling sensation itched over my skin, and I continued to paw at it as I peeled my eyes for spiders.
The webs were normal-looking, but my association with them was tainted by memories of the Drone in Iceland, his naked body pulsating beneath thousands of squirming spots. The abscesses bubbling over his abdomen, festering and erupting with gossamer strings. The sticky threads clutching my shoulders and jerking me backward.
I shivered, relaxing a little when I didn’t spot any spiders. Didn’t sense the Drone or any sign of life for that matter. This place felt like an abandoned graveyard.
“Sweet fecking hell,” Roark choked beside me, the sound of his gagging almost as bad as the smell itself.
I searched for the source of the stench, my gaze landing on funnels of silk, which burrowed off in multiple directions, creating holes large enough for a man to walk through.
A ring of stones sat at the center of the clearing, filled with ashes and dust. An old campfire? A network of silk draped over it, as well as the ground, the surrounding trees, and…
“No,” Jesse croaked. “Oh God, no.”
He sprinted after Darwin, toward an embankment on the far side. Dropping his bow on the ground, he shoved his hands through his hair and stared at three human-sized, silk-wrapped sacs hanging between the trees.
My stomach twisted, taking my heart with it as I ran to his side. Together, we ripped away layers of gossamer, starting at the top and working downward until…
Three bloodless faces stared back at us, frozen in death. Paper-thin skin stuck to pronounced cheekbones. Long hair matted human skulls, the strands hanging over hollowed-out eye sockets and jaws stretched in horror. Black hair. Gray hair.
Naalnish. Badger. Akicita.
No Elaine.
A low, pained cry ripped from Jesse’s throat. Or maybe it was me. I inwardly prodded myself, unable to feel my legs, my fingertips, or my heart.
Jesse stumbled backward, his expression tightening, his hands curling into fists. I watched numbly, coldly, as he plowed into the nearest tree, punching it, over and over.
Roark tackled him from behind and slammed him into the ground, speaking into his ear. I looked away, unable to swallow, finding it goddamned difficult to breathe.
A gentle hand rested on my shoulder. “These were your friends?” Shea whispered. “The Lakota?”
I nodded. At least I think I did.
“And the woman who was with them?” Shea’s touch slid down my arm. “Where’s she?”
My hand went to my mouth to hide my trembling chin. How did the Drone find Elaine? Was Michio involved? Maybe he rescued Elaine from the Drone? Or maybe he’d led the Drone to Elaine?
No. I gritted my teeth. Michio wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t betray me. I was the one who could communicate with the Drone through shared dreams. I must’ve accidentally given away the Lakota’s location. Or perhaps the Drone had known it all along.
I waited for my eyes to burn and well with tears, but they never did. Instead, an icy self-hatred trickled in. It snarled things through my mind like I led the Drone to them and It’s my fault they’re dead and They died because they loved me. The self-hatred wanted me to curl up and close my eyes and never open them again.
The Lakota had represented so many things for us. They were our friends, our refuge waiting in the mountains, and the final connection Jesse had to his past. With the entire world dead and dying, Jesse had clung to something few could claim. He’d had family, and they’d been ripped away from him.
Shea’s hand fell away, and my gaze followed her retreating form. She sat beside Darwin and moved his head to her lap. They were both listless, unwell, and likely seconds from passing out.
A few feet away, Roark knelt over Jesse’s slumped body, his hands cupping Jesse’s head, speaking at a volume too low for my ears. Hopefully, Roark knew what to say to take that stricken look off Jesse’s face, because I was at a complete and total loss.
I was prayerless.
Hopeless.
Numb.
Leaves and twigs swirled around my legs, the water sun-warmed yet refreshingly cool against my calves as it rippled by. The stream was wide enough to offer protection against aphids but shallow and calm enough to stand in. Though it was probably too late to wonder if the boots I’d borrowed from Shea were waterproof.
I blew a clump of sticky hair from my face and concentrated on the angle of my elbows and the placement of the arrow. My biceps burned and my fingers cramped around the bow, but I’d grown used to the discomfort over the past couple weeks.
