Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet) (19 page)

Then they began to bite.

The first sting came from my right thigh. The venom hurt so badly, I curled my body up. My arms cramped when I tried to remove it, stopping me.

The bite was a precursor to the real terror. Even with the searing sensation burning through my quadriceps, I could feel each individual leg crawling across my skin. The horror escalated. The spider burrowed into my flesh, traveling beneath my dermis in a ripple. Powerless, I could only watch. It moved towards my stomach, its legs casting a dull ache as they passed.

I had a moment of panic. Then, another searing bite forced a harsh breath from my body as a second spider dug into my flesh. Then a third. Then a fourth.

Agonized, my body contorted, my teeth gritting together. I cried out roughly. I looked to the corner, wondering why Glenn hadn’t noticed that it was raining spiders— horrible, flesh-dwelling spiders.

I could feel them— ten, twenty, fifty, hundreds— crawling inside of me, burrowing into my stomach and feet and hands. The first one to bite my face nearly took my breath away. An explosion of pain made my vision swim. I shook violently, hoping to throw off as many of them as I could, but they smothered me. The spiders writhed and stung, crawling from the outside in, the inside out.

I took a deep breath, preparing to scream. They climbed into my open mouth, down my throat, up my nose. I thought I would suffocate. Their legs felt like needles pressing against my esophagus.

Slowly, slowly, the spiders’ numbers on my body thinned. It would have been comforting, but I could see the ripples beneath my skin. I could feel them individually as they twitched inside of me.

I wanted to cry, to sob, but I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t say anything without tremendous pain. It was hard to breathe, to
think
.

I grappled for something sharp, watching the arachnids writhe beneath my skin. I needed to get them out of me.

There was nothing on the top of the night stand, but as I dug through the drawers I finally found an option— a letter opener shoved in the back near some stationary.

I could see one rippling on my bicep now. I gagged, feeling tickling legs in the back of my throat. I stabbed at my arm, drawing blood but pulling the skewered black spider from my body.

I smeared it on the bed sheet for one second before I jabbed my crude weapon into my thigh, my foot, and my stomach.

The stabbing hurt, but it was therapeutic, helpful. It felt better to extract the itching, crawling, burning, and burrowing spiders, than it did to leave them inside my body to wreak havoc.

I reached up to stab again, but something awful happened.

My hands stopped their arc mid-air, paralyzed— no, I could feel them, I just couldn’t move them. I tried to push hard enough to continue removing the spiders, but it felt like I was being held down. My eyes began to tear up.

I had to dig them out. I needed to relieve this agony.

I fell back into the bed. It felt like there was a weight on my chest, my wrists, and my legs. I cried, hopeless.

My stomach turned as a tear slid down my cheek. Sharp legs pulled from the corner of my eyeball, crawling in a line across the orb before burrowing back into my tear duct.

A new pain struck me hard across my face. Everything snapped into focus: the world was still.

My skin felt like it was on fire, but the horrible, digging, writhing sensations had stopped. My nerves tingled like I’d been shocked. Glenn was an inch from my face, pinning me to the bed. His hands held mine down, and he straddled me by the waist.

“Glenn?!” I whispered harshly.

“Good. You’re back,” he said. Digging quickly into his belt, he pulled out a small black crushed powder. “Under your tongue, quick!” he said.

I popped my mouth open obligingly. He pinched a tiny bit of the powder and tucked it into my mouth. It was gritty, sharp, and unpleasant beneath my tongue. It tasted like dirt and dust. I felt my brows furrow, “What was that?”

“Jet— witches’ amber.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. My eyes streamed tears, “What
was
that?”

Glenn sighed, moving himself smoothly from me. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Someone took advantage of you. You were in flux. The time before you’ve fallen asleep, but you’re not awake, either.”

“It wasn’t real?” I said in relief. I felt terrible, aching, and I glanced down at my body. I had bloody jabs everywhere. “What—”

“You did that yourself,” he explained. “Whatever they did to you, they convinced you to harm yourself.” He rubbed his forehead wearily, “What did you see?”

“Spiders,” I said, “in my skin, spiders—”

He closed his eyes, his hands clasped into fists, taking a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I should have thought about something like this. Especially after a party, when you’re more susceptible. I’ll ask Marin to commission a jet charm for your bed, to help prevent this in the future.” He shook his head, looking angry, “For now, let’s patch you up, get you some tea.”

“Tea!?” I asked, bewildered. My right hand still clasped the bloodied letter opener. The room felt cooler now, drier. I wished that I could feel safe and sound, but this attack was just as bad— maybe worse— than the blood wraith had been. I wondered if I’d ever feel safe again. Between attempted rape, and some sort of psychic assault, the night had shaped up to be pretty terrible.

Glenn eyed the blood trickling from my wounds. He stood, saying, “I think I’ll draw you a bath instead. Your nerves look shot.”

He walked to the bathroom, leaving me alone. I muttered, “Lights,” squeezing my eyes shut for a few moments to give them time to adjust.

I glanced at the clock: 3:36 a.m.

I pushed myself out of the bed, my arms and legs stiff and sore. I winced moving, but the truth was that a hot soak sounded like it would do wonders on my aching body and fried nerves.

I limped to the bathroom.

Glenn was rinsing out a washcloth, muttering to himself under his breath and shaking his head. He looked almost bitter. It was probably because I was turning into a chore. Two attacks within a week seemed like a lot, at least to me.

I wondered for the millionth time who exactly wanted me gone, and why. It didn’t make any sense— pretty much all my power was symbolic at this point. I was the last of my kind, and personally hadn’t done anything to another extra. Every bit of guilt I had in life was tied around my foster parents. Marin had made it clear to me that what happened wasn’t a big deal in the extras’ world.

Glenn turned to me and gripped my wrist, gently washing out the first gouge in my bicep. It hurt worse than I’d expected. The ache burned from the center of the muscle, spreading like a cramp to the attachments at my elbow and shoulder. The hole was a clean slice, though deep. I’d survive. I was probably lucky that none of the stabs had punctured anything vital.

“Thank you for—” I narrowed my eyes, “how
did
you snap me out of it?”

He stared at the ground, “I— I slapped you. I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “it was the only thing I could think of to—”

I wrapped my arms around him, and his body went rigid. “Thank you,” I said, “I’m glad you did it. The pain of the slap was so much better than—” I squeezed him tightly. “Just… thank you.”

He pushed away from me, “You’re welcome.” He hesitated. “You don’t need any help, do you?” he asked, looking supremely uncomfortable at the suggestion.

I smiled and shook my head. Glenn nodded, exiting the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

I stripped out of my bloody pajamas and eased into the tub. I washed the dried blood from my arms, my legs, and my torso, carefully cleaning each cut. I wrapped what I could in bandages and gauze, precisely securing them. I took inventory of myself. I’d managed to successfully jab myself eight times before Glenn had pinned me down.

After the bath, I pulled on some fresh pj’s and my robe. I made my way back to the room. Glancing at the bed, I noticed the sheets were stained crimson with my blood. Glenn was seated in his nook with his hands on his head, his eyes fixed on the carpet. He turned his gaze to me when I entered.

“I already requested fresh linens,” he said quietly, “but it might be a few minutes.” He turned to the table and handed me a cup of tea.

I raised my brows, “You weren’t kidding before?”

He laughed, “Passion flower, lavender, and chamomile, with a bit of jet for good measure. It’ll calm your mind, calm your nerves. Best thing after an attack in flux.”

I sipped at it. It was a little floral, but good, and I couldn’t taste the ashy dirt flavor of the jet which made me happy. It did help calm me. I closed my eyes, leaning against the doorway. I was exhausted, and my nerves were shot. When was the last time I felt safe?

At Will’s, I realized. I felt safe when I was tucked in his bed.

That was probably the drug haze, though.

I blinked, and the door swung open. A maid bustled in with fresh sheets and a new down comforter. She made quick work of it, stripping the bloodied linens before wordlessly remaking the bed.

I downed the rest of my tea, staring up at Glenn, “Will it happen again?” I asked him nervously, “Is it safe for me to sleep?”

Glenn nodded, “Yes. You should be fine tonight, and I’ll be sure you’re protected from here on out.”

I peeled the comforter back, sliding into the sheets. The humidity and heat of the room had dissipated, leaving behind a cool chill that made me shiver. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Glenn?” I asked softly.

“Yes?”

I felt a little ridiculous asking, but didn’t think I’d be able to fall asleep otherwise. “Will you… will you sit on the other side of the bed tonight? Just in case?”

He smiled, “Of course, Sarah. Of course.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

That Guy

On Monday, I sat in history class, tapping a pen on my desk. I fiddled with my itching bandages. Glenn had offered to use his herbs to speed the healing process. However, my wounds were not magical in nature, so I opted to save his supplies. I covered my arms with long sleeves instead.

I felt like I looked a little paler, a little different, and I was nervous for what would greet me in school today. I knew I’d be the target of vicious rumors that I’d slept with Will, despite knowing him for less than a week.

I groaned, slumping forward into my arms. I didn’t want the chore of setting the record straight— with compulsion or without.

“Bad day?” I heard a cheerful voice ask next to me.

I pulled my head up, finding myself once again looking at Will’s handsome face. He was smiling, his eyes dull but merry, and I sighed. “I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop,” I admitted.

He sat in the desk next to mine, legs sprawled out in front of him with his ankles crossed. “Well, what’s bothering you? You look a little pale,” he observed. “Are you feeling okay?”

He sounded genuinely concerned. For a fleeting moment, I was flattered. Then I remembered he
had
to like me, had no choice but to want to make me happy. I shrugged, “Never mind… I’m fine, I guess.”

Will leaned forward, his hands clasped loosely. “Speaking of shoes, you forgot yours at my house,” he said quietly.

“Oh,” I said. I knew I had, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing. I flushed, quickly scanning the room to see if anyone had overheard. The students who’d drifted in before class were all quiet and chattering amongst themselves… in fact, they seemed less interested in me than they normally did.

Maybe it was finally sinking in that I didn’t want the attention.

“So, at first,” he continued, “I thought I should bring them to you at school. You know, be a gentleman and never speak of it again…”

“Oh, thanks,” I said quietly. “Where are they?”

He grinned, “At
first
I thought that. Then I realized, I could hold them for ransom back at my house so you’ll have to come see me.” He tapped the side of his head, “And thinking about it, I liked that option better. So what do you say? You want to meet me at my house after school today, collect your poor hostage shoes?”

I blushed, and Glenn said, “She can’t.”

I whipped my head towards him. He was scowling openly at Will. I glared at Glenn. I didn’t even have a chance to decide if I wanted to go or not, and he was speaking for me?

Will’s brows raised, and he looked at me, “Really, Sarah?”

I shrugged. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea for me to do anything tonight. The last time I’d spent with Will was terrible all around… well,
almost
all around. I bit my lip, “Yeah, actually. Not today.”

Will nodded, “Okay,” but he seemed surprised, and a little hurt. “Then… tomorrow?”

“I don’t think—” started Glenn, but I interrupted him.

“Yeah. Tomorrow probably would be fine.”

Glenn frowned sharply, “Except you’ve got school tomorrow.”

“She has school
today,
” Will argued.

“
Extra
lessons.”

I knew what he meant. I’d finished both of Aldan’s books. I’d been planning on returning them tomorrow, though I could have turned them in today. I thought I deserved a night off, under the circumstances.

Will turned to me, “Is that so?”

I shrugged, “Just some extra work, to help pull up a few grades.” I wondered if Will would find that ridiculous or think less of me for it. To be honest, I probably could use a tutor in a few classes, particularly Algebra. I was practically failing that one. “But,” I said, considering it, “maybe afterward? It usually doesn’t last much longer than an hour. I could meet you at your house by five?”

Glenn was practically fuming next to me, but he didn’t say anything.

Will broke into a wide grin, “Well, tomorrow it is…” He laughed, “I guess your shoes shall live, then.” He walked away from the desk, sinking into his own behind me.

Glenn gripped my forearm, hard, and I winced. I had a cut there, and he knew it. His eyes were apologetic for a moment. “What are you doing, Sarah?” he demanded, “I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to be dating that human.”