Page 189 of The Games Gods Play
My heart rate kicks up, adrenaline hitting my blood, and I have to control my breathing because they’re on my face. I back away faster.
I’m still trying not to act aggressively toward them, but another bite, and I know that’s not working. So I cross my hand over my chest and, in a violent swipe, throw as many off my arms as I can. At the same time, I turn and run, flinching and twitching and slapping at myself all the way.
Back into sunlight, past it, and into the darkness on the other side. Not quite as bad, though. At least I can see where I’m going.
The squeaking and clacks of the spiders’ fangs and skittering of their feet on the glass behind me is the creepiest fucking sound. I don’t stop running, even as two more bite me on the legs. The little yelping noises I’m making bounce off the glass. Hands flying, I knock more spiders off as I sprint down hallways, not caring where. Turn after turn. And they’re still following.
This isn’t working.
Yanking back my sleeve, I awaken the fox and panther, who leap from my flesh, becoming real to run with me. “Help!”
That’s when the tarantula does something that feels like she’s crawling under my very flesh, which, given what I’m dealing with, almost makes me lose my shit. But I look down instead to find her waving frantically at me.
She wants to be released. Of course—how could I forget Aphrodite’s challenge?
I touch her, and she springs from my body. Only this time, she grows beyond the normal size of her species. The skittering behind me stops dead, the silence palpable. Enough that I stumble to a halt and turn to watch as my tarantula, now big enough to fill most of the tunnel, faces down at least thirty spiders of varying sizes, from my fist to that of a large dog. They aren’t on the walls of the tunnel, just the floor, but they cover it in a moving, wriggling sea of blacks and browns, with their eyes—all those eyes—trained on my tarantula.
She moves the smaller appendages near her mouth and vibrates. A few of the other spiders move as well, like they’re waving at each other. Some scrape appendages together, making a scratchy noise. Others clack or squeak, and there is a vibration in the air that I can feel. It slithers over my body in invisible waves.
They are communicating.
I have no idea what my tarantula says to them, but eventually, they scurry away in the other direction. She shrinks a little so she can turn in the tunnel to face me.
“I have promised them that you will not kill any spiders in this maze.” Her voice is bizarre, like scratches and hums at the same time, but I can understand her. “In exchange, the spiders will not attack you.”
I am still smarting and bleeding in a few spots, and I’ll probably start itching and swelling, given the size of the bites. I nod. “You have my word.”
“The other bugs down here, I cannot help with.”
“Thank you.” I offer my arm, and she returns.
Now I have to figure out what’s next. Hopefully, my unaimed running didn’t get me lost or send me deeper into the tunnels.
“Please, help me find the way out,” I say to the fox and panther. “Watch out for more bugs.”
They don’t hesitate, loping off down the tunnel. I follow at a jog. We hit a T in the maze fairly quickly.
“Go.” I point in opposite directions.
Then I wait there. I close my eyes to force my racing heart and thoughts to slow down and focus. To center on my senses. To ignore my spider bites. The air to the right is cooler and a little sweeter. Barely.
A clattering of legs coming toward me stands the hair up on my neck, and I spin around just as a bullet ant lunges.
93
Crystal Labyrinth
With a snarl, the panther leaps over my head, just avoiding the glass ceiling, and comes down on top of the bullet ant. The cat’s powerful jaws sink into the back of its armored skull with a sickening crunch.
Axe in hand, I drop my arms to my sides in a sort of anticlimactic realization. My animals can fight for me as well as direct me? Hades didn’t say anything about that, but I should have guessed. Very handy.
My panther comes away with greenish goo around her muzzle, which she proceeds to spit out, pawing at her own face.
Above me, Samuel runs by, looking closely at a copper disc of some kind in his hands. Hades said he won Hephaestus’ Labor. The prize was a compass that always points the way to go. A lot like Meike’s mirror.
With a chuff, my panther runs past me in the direction the fox went.
I follow, axe in hand.
