Page 31 of Devoured

Tiny snowflakes dance and sway on a gentle breeze, separated only by that strange gate. They blanket the other side of the meadow, soft gray piles of cold as far as I can see. Gray and gray and—

Blue.

Just beyond the entrance, seven sapphire petals poke through the frozen earth. A glimmer of bright, effervescent blue amidst the cold.

I rush closer to the gate, and the pain in my lungs, in my head, begins to recede. I frown at that. At the candy-sweet air spilling from the gate’s entrance. Snowflakes catch on my lashes and in my hair, melting almost instantly as I raise a finger to touch them.

Cold awareness shoots through me. Something is wrong.

My heart thunders. My fangs grow in long and sharp bursts from my incisors, and I growl, sensing there is something more, something dangerous, lurking near the ghostbane. My bones shift, crack and break and—

Out of the entrance comes a spider the size of a house cat.

It creeps around the wrought iron and over the ivy on a shimmering silver thread of spider silk, four pairs of gleaming emerald eyes staring up at me, heedless, as it continues to weave a delicate web. My entire body tenses, torn between panic and disbelief. I blink rapidly. If not for its enormous size, it would look almost cute. Covered in dove-white hair, its eight long legs twitching, it skitters higher up the gate.

I exhale softly, my fangs retracting as my muscles relax. “Thank god.” It’s just a spider. Even if it’s venomous, I can avoid it or kill it if necessary.

It’s just a spider, and I am a werewolf. I have nothing to fear.

Returning my attention to the task at hand, stepping through the gate, I begin to make my way toward the ghostbane, but my steps falter when I hear a sinister hiss too close to my ear. “You should know better than to thank your gods.” A guttural, bone-chilling voice. “Most are no longer here to protect you.”

I stand and turn slowly.

The forest remains empty. There is only me and the spider. The hairs on my arms rise, one by one, as dread prickles up my spine. “Did you just—”

“Talk?” It flexes a pedipalp toward my chin. “Yes. It is something I often do, of course, so you might as well shut your mouth and stop acting so surprised.”

With a muffled yelp, I stagger backward. “This isn’t—isn’t happening.” There’s no way; this is impossible. Spiders can’t talk.

Although they shouldn’t be the size of house cats either. Sweat slicks my palms again, even as snowflakes continue to dust my hair. I shake my head harder this time. “You’re a hallucination. You’re another hallucination, and you don’t exist.”

“Oh, I’m very real,” it purrs. “Are you impressed?”

The spider descends from its web, from the gate, at a leisurely pace, but its eyes sharpen on my face until my reflection splinters in each of its pupils.

Until my reflection changes in its gaze.

Suddenly, there are hundreds of me in its pupils, each one more broken than the last. Broken and bleeding, gnarled bones and tears dripping down my cheeks. I am dead. In the spider’s gaze, I am either dead or dying. My stomach turns over, and a wave of vomit rushes up my throat. I clutch my belly and gag against it.

“I am as old as the woods, as the wind, as the earth beneath your feet,” the spider coos. “There is no one quite so real as I.”

I can feel it. A whimper rises in my chest as furry legs skitter through my brain, under my skin. I’m—I’m crawling with spiders. Distantly, I hear a scream. I almost register it as my own, but I can’t hear properly anymore. I can only feel those awful spiders all over me. I can’t see them. Why can’t I see them?

My claws break loose, and I rake them over my arms. Oh god, they hurt. Like little needles, drawing blood. I scratch harder. Again and again until I’m bleeding. I know I’m bleeding. But I can’t—I can’t stop scratching.

“Wh-what’s wrong with m-me?” I just need the ghostbane. That’s it.

But the spider locks its gaze on mine, and it won’t let me go. “Littlest Vanessa. Aren’t you just adorable?”

“P-please…” I beg, tears dripping over my cheeks. When did I start crying? “What’s happening?”

“You don’t even realize why you’re special, do you? You can’t even understand the magnitude of the lies surrounding you. No matter. I have tasted blood like yours before, but it has been such a long time.” It creeps forward, stretching those legs toward me. Its mouth opens, and two sharp fangs glint like knives beneath those fathomless eyes. “Have you come to feed me, Vanessa? Will you be a good girl and die easily?”

I’m still scratching, writhing, stumbling over my feet, unable to look away from the horrid beast. And that’s what the spider is. The primal part of me recognizes its otherworldly scent. Ethereal and dark and unlike anything I’ve smelled before. It won’t let me look away. It won’t let me go. Helpless, I jerk and knock into the gate and fall on my ass in the snow. But—

I stare down in horror.

It’s not snow.