Page 52 of The Gathering
She slowly walked up to him until he was looking down at her. “No, he wouldn’t kill my body. He’s not that kind of man. He’s the kind that would kill everything inside then bury me alive.” She pushed him again. “And even still, I would neverharm a hair on his head or touch his heart. Because I’m not made like that. I don’t return evil for evil, I only ever return good because there ain’t no other way to be, not to me.” She aimed her finger up at him. “That’s why I havenothingto do with your get-a-body-decision.”
We kind of still need you, Kitten.
Cat stilled for a second. “I know you still need me and you got me. For that. I will make damn sure you get a body if that’s what you want. Nobody will stop that, not if I can help it,” she swore. “So… go ahead,” she said to Omnis. “Wake our beloved giga-chad up. We have work to do. He’s shirked his duties long enough.”
Mayhem Whisperer
Sinrik followed the little swamp birdie as she made her way through the marsh carrying a long stick out before her. A white, horseless knight bouncing merrily into early morning battles. Her voice rose and fell like an orchestra of wind and peeps, singing all about the swamp’s business—which were its people according to her.
He took notes as she sang, discovering two remarkable gifts. A little brain capable of processing and storing endless data—ninety percent useless—and the ability to givethatmuch of a fuck about all of it. It wasn’t normal. And he was exhausted on her behalf.
“Oh!”
She dropped her stick and ran right for him, eyes big as she grabbed hold of his coat and hid behind him.
He searched for the threat, his muscles forming a shield for whatever had spooked her.
“There’s a spider! A big one, right in the path!” she gasped, her words muffled in his coat.
He moved to go see and she yanked him back. “Leave it! We’ll go around.”
Around? For a spider? “How big?”
“So big!”
“I’ll kill it.”
“No!”
He turned and she still hid close to him. He stared down at the white head. “Why not?”
“Because,” she whispered, peeking around him. “He has to do his job there. God gave him that job to do.”
Her answer didn’t compute. “And yet… you hate it.”
“I don’t hate the job he has to do I just… I have a severe aversion to spiders.”
Sinrik again looked down at the tiny white head. He could easily go the rest of his life not knowing why. “Explain,” he said, instead.
“I… I just did explain.”
“Whydo you have such a severe aversion to spiders. The little girl that wages war against principalities in places she has no business.”
She stepped back a little and he angled his head, regarded the offended look on her face. “Well, I may be little,” she said at this top offense, “but I’m a full-grown adult. And my aversion stems from a child-hood trauma I would prefer not to talk about with you. But I have confronted it with a therapist, and he said it was perfectly fine to have an aversion to things I dislike, everybody does.”
He looked around the gloomy woods. “How far is the routearoundyour aversion?”
“Not far at all,” she assured.
“Say that while looking at me,” he said, hearing the lie in her voice. “And remember you’re a nun.”
Her gaze meandered up, making it as far as his mouth. “Maybe… a mile farther.”
“Amile. Over a spider.”
“A verybigspider.”
Uh-huh. “That you havesevereaversions to.”
