“Matt!” Carly screams. The team backs up into a loose, jumbled circle and Matt falls to the floor.
18
“Until lions have their historians, tales of the hunt shall always glorify the hunters.”
~African Proverb
Luke shoves through the players and draws me with him toward the inner circle, refusing to leave me behind. His broad shoulders are stiff, powerful, parting the sea of shocked kids. Matt thrashes on the floor before us.
“God, Matt!” Carly yells.
“What's happening?” I ask in the eerie quiet of the hushed gym.
Matt paws at his helmet. “Get it off me!” His voice is twisted with panic and pain. Luke releases my wrist and grabs Matt's helmet.
“Everybody back!” Carly's dad commands and tries to yank Luke away from Matt by pulling against Luke's shoulder. Richard Ashe's efforts are as effective as a housefly pulling at a mountain. Luke ignores him and tugs the helmet off Matt's head.
“Shit! Look at that!” one of the players yells and jumps back into the crowd. A black spider scuttless along Matt's cheek. Its bulbous body sits perched on eight spindly legs that end in sharp-looking points. Even without seeing the infamous red hourglass underneath, it is obvious that the huge spider is a black widow, one of the deadliest spiders in the United States. The kids stumble back, pushing into the crowd that's formed around us. Matt yells and Luke swats the spider off of Matt's face, crushing it under his heel on the gym floor. I can see a path of twin fang marks along Matt's neck and cheek. The spider must have bitten him five or more times.
Matt grabs his face, where the skin is red and already swelling. He groans as his arms start to twitch.
“Oh, God, Matt,” Carly leans over him, Taylin on the other side. “Someone call 911.” Cell phones pop out everywhere.
Some of the other players are staring into their helmets. “How the hell did it get in his helmet?” another player asks.
Taylin looks at me and then meets Carly's eyes. Taylin's gaze tightens into an unspoken blast of blame. Matt groans, bringing their gazes back to him. He grabs at his shoulder. Luke yanks Matt's jersey over his head and rips the pads off. No more spiders, but Matt's writhing in pain.
Carly shakes her head. “This is way too fast,” she whispers and her eyes go to mine. “Black widow venom should take twenty minutes to reach his nervous system.” Matt's legs twist and twitch like he's having a seizure.
“It's been revved up,” Taylin says. “With magic.”
The paramedics arrive minutes later. Matt continues to thrash, a cold sweat over his body. Luke is the only one who can hold him down; after a few ridiculous attempts, his teammates and Coach Ashe let him. Luke holds Matt so the EMTs can inject antivenin.
Luke follows the gurney to the ambulance. Every few seconds his eyes track my position, as if he's waiting for someone to jump out and carry me away during the commotion. But no more Ashes enter the gym. Just Carly and her dad.
Luke's eyes are stony. They shift to Carly's dad, as if trying to read his loud, worried reaction over his star quarterback. Is it genuine, or just an impressive subterfuge? Richard Ashe would have had ample opportunity to put the spider in his player's helmet. But he wouldn't have had time to cut the ropes on the chandelier with his coaching duties before the pep rally. Could Eric and his dad be working together? I look at Carly. Tears well in her eyes as she walks with the gurney toward the ambulance. It's pretty apparent that she's going with it even if she has to jump on top of Matt.
Luke glances across the space and then back. Follow his brother or stay with me? I shoo him with my hand but he turns toward me. “I'm not letting you out of my sight.” I thrill at the words that sound more like an oath than a statement of intent, but guilt heats my face.
“They won't let more than one ride with him, anyway,” Taylin says. Her words turn bitter. “And it looks like a guardian's sister is getting that prime opportunity.”
“Carly's completely safe,” I hiss in defense. Luke's arm circles my waist as he tugs me gently to follow the paramedics. I turn my face to Luke's. “But if you want to go with him, I'll get Carly. I'll be safe. We'll follow right behind.” I lower my voice. “I would never make you choose between us.”
I watch Luke's eyes swirl with that cursed internal oil. “I love you, Jule. My choice is made. I will stay with you forever.” They are his words, his voice, just barely roughened by the curse. But are the sentiments real? I swallow down my worry and nod as we follow Taylin to her car.
The antivenin halts the progress of the spider venom, but Matt's system is poisoned and weak. It takes two hours to stabilize him and a herd of doctors walk in and out, shaking their heads at the rapid effects. “Allergic reaction” is tossed about. “Perhaps a previous bite.”
His parents are allowed in immediately, but the rest of us pace the hallway. Carly's dad shows up, but she convinces him to go home after an hour. Luckily, Eric stays away. I don't think Luke could control himself if he showed his face. Carly tries to call her brother, but he doesn't answer.
“Eric,” she says after the beep, “you are wrong. Stop whatever it is you are doing. Talk to me. I have information.” Long pause. “Love you.” And she hangs up without looking at any of us.
The doctors are still in the room when they finally let us see him. They use words that are beyond my eleventh-grade knowledge of biology.
“He's not allergic to horses,” Luke speaks up out of the blue as the doctors talk quietly at the foot of the bed. “The serum shouldn't affect him like this.” He looks at my questioning face. “The antivenin is produced in horses.”
“And you know this how?” I ask.
Carly glances up from her spot near Matt's head. Luke shrugs. Taylin huffs. “He's had medical training.” She lowers her voice with a glance at the doctors still talking in the corner. “Although, things may have changed some since 1966.”
Carly moves closer to us and looks at Taylin. “Is there anything you can do to counter the spell that revved the venom?”
“I can try,” she says, her face scrunched.
“The antivenin worked,” Luke offers as he stares at his unconscious brother. “The symptoms shouldn't get worse, just the pain, which they have under control with morphine. It will probably take five days or so for it to leave his system.”
“Five days?” Carly murmurs. “That's a long time.” She looks at us. “Isn't it?”
Luke speaks so low to Taylin that I can hardly hear him. “Make a dilution tincture. I'll get it into him somehow.” Taylin nods and leaves after one last look at Matt. The remaining doctors follow.
Luke looks at me, his eyes unreadable, then glances at Carly. “We need to talk to Eric. He is at the center of things, and he needs to know the whole truth of what we are so he can decide his position.”
“What if he decides you're still a threat?” Carly whispers.
“Then he'd be right,” Luke states simply. His eyes burn as he stares into me. He blinks once, a long, tired blink, and turns to Carly. “But hopefully he'll decide to wait until we're past hope of breaking the curse, when I become too dangerous to Jule.
Then
he can kill me.” My stomach twists sharply around his words. “Until then, he needs to pull back.” Luke looks at his brother lying still under the starched sheet. “We need all our powers at full strength to fight this if we're to have any chance.”
Carly nods. “If we could just explain.”
“Let's go to your house, Carly,” I say. “He seems to always show up when I'm there.”
“If I needed to protect you all the time, I'd have a tracking device somewhere planted on you, or in something that you take everywhere,” Luke says.
A chill flutters across my back like a splash of ice water. I'm fairly sure that I don't have anything imbedded under my skin. Wouldn't there be a bump or something? So, what do I always carry with me? My purse? Phone? Keys?
“My dad will still be at the game and my mom has some meeting tonight. There's probably no one home,” Carly says.
“I'm coming,” Luke suggests.
Carly and I shake our heads together. “Not a good idea.” I place my hand on his warm chest. I feel his strong heart thudding against my palm as if trying to break through to me. He's so full of life. I can't imagine that powerful spirit still, dissolved into death, his chest cold and silent. “If Eric's there, he might try to kill you. If he's a guardian, he's supposed to protect me.”
Luke stares. His eyes burn with worry and some other emotion. “I will be nearby, even if you don't see me,” he swears.
I give him a little grin with my nod. “Good. I feel safe when you're near.”
He closes his eyes and huffs out a little laugh. “You, Jule, are complete irony molded into a gorgeous,” he opens his eyes and runs his hands down the sides of my hair, “passionate spirit.” I thrill at the intensity of his words and try to remind myself that the curse rules Luke's thoughts and emotions. He swallows and lowers his voice. “I will die before I let anything happen to you.” His face tightens. “You
will
be safe.” His thumb traces my cheekbone to rub over my parted lips. “I swear it, Jule.” He leans in, only closing his eyes at the last second, and kisses me slowly, softly, with such tenderness I can't possibly believe he is the same Luke who almost attacked me last night. He pulls back and kisses my forehead. “I love you.”
I peek up at his eyes. His irises swirl with black as his gaze tightens into iron. But he releases me and steps back, his hands fisted at his sides.
“Come on, Jule,” Carly tugs my arm and I follow.
The sunny yellow Ashe home looks vacant as we pull up. No red Camry, at least. “If he's tracking you,” Carly says, “he might show up.”
“Can you show me the secret alcove you found?” I've been dying to get a glimpse of what my mom saw. We walk through the kitchen, with its cheerful yellow and blue walls and white granite countertops. A plate of chocolate chip cookies sits under glass in the center of the spotless counter. A prickle of unease teases my neck. Amazing how looks can be so deceiving. This had always seemed like such a perfect home to me, yet here in the middle of it lives a potential killer. Justifications or not, Eric is still completely wrong to try to kill Taylin and Matt.
I follow Carly into the den. Everything is in its place as usual, not a speck of dust. Carly walks to the far bookshelf that sits on a wall without windows. I glance around. “I wonder if there's a nanny cam filming us.”
Carly pulls the book down. “Doesn't matter. Eric must know we're on to him.” Determination hardens her voice. The bookcase moves inward on a silent hinge. No squeak or sliding sound. The moment hangs. A threshold between before and after. Before I knew and then after I had proof that everything I thought was safe was a lie.
I step closer and peek around the wooden edge into a small room. The walls are brick and tall, reminding me of a large chimney. I glance back out at the full, but neat room. Maybe this had been a fireplace at one time. I take a breath and allow my eyes to focus on the pictures grouped on the walls.
They are of me, and my mom, and my grandmother. I see older pictures, too, all women. Carly and I step into the alcove. I feel a sizzle of awareness pass through me, but shake it off. If it's some sort of trigger to let Eric know we've breached his hideout, fine. We want him here anyway, so we can talk.
“Look,” Carly says and traces her finger up a tree. “Here I am, and Eric. We run up through the Bingingham side of the family. Wow,” she whispers and runs her finger all the way up through the branches until she reaches a name at the top. “William Finnigan.” She squints at the paper and then turns her face to me. “Was he one of the original guardians?”
I shrug. “Makes sense.”
“I hope he's not the one who stabbed Taylin,” Carly whispers more to herself than me. “I don't think she'd ever forgive us, then.”
But my focus becomes quickly centered on my own family tree. My mother has been researching it for several years but has only ascended three levels. The levels before that were lost in history's mix, or so she thought. But Eric has it here laid out in plain black ink.
I hold my breath as I trace the lines up, starting with me. My pointer finger shakes as I climb the names. The lines branch inward from woman to woman in our family. A date is scratched next to each one, except for my name. Death dates? No, because my mother has one. January of last year. I don't know what the significance is. I trace until the very top, where my finger falls. My breath catches somewhere between my lungs and my mouth. I trace the name, a lone woman at the top linked to her mate. “Deidre,” I whisper. My gaze reads the name next to her but I can't say it.
“What?” Carly asks and moves over in the cramped space that is now closing in on me. I try to breathe smoothly, in and out. “Oh, God, Jule.” She runs her own finger up the lines from my name all the way up to Deidre and⦠Maximillian.
“Not only am I a Siren,” I say as stars blink and flicker at the edge of my sight, “I'm the last descendant of Maximillian.” I look at Carly. “The last of his blood.”
Carly shakes her head. “It's not your fault that you're related to a madman. Although that pretty much nixes you being best buds with Taylin.”
I turn all the way to her. “No,” I shake my head. She doesn't get it. “That's not it.” My eyes close and I lean back against the old bricks, wishing they could swallow me, choose for me whether I live or die. “If I die, if the last of Maximillian's blood is spilled, the curse will be broken.”
“I know that,” Carly says.
“No, not just for Luke.” I open my eyes. “For all three of them.”
Carly and I stare at one another for a full minute stretched into almost forever. I'm caught somewhere between fast-forward, as my brain whirls with details, and a numb kind of stasis that refuses to look down from the ledge on which I'm balanced. But even if I don't look down, I know it's there, I know that I'm the key, that my death will free the three of them, will right the horrific wrong done to so many people. Not just Luke, Matt, and Taylin, but to Oscar and Carolyn Whitmore, to Taylin's dad who keeps saving her bitter life, to all their parents for eleven lives. The curse will break, and Maximillian's terror will end. By spilling my blood, he will be stopped. After all, I'm his descendant. Descendant of a madman.