Page 199 of Anathema

I spun on my heel and dashed down the hallway toward the staircase. As I clutched the rail, I looked back and wheezed a breath on seeing hundreds of spiders scuttling toward me. I jogged up the staircase, slamming the door shut behind me.

Backing away, I took long, heaving breaths, and to my horror, the spiders slipped beneath the crack of the door.

“No!” Sapped of energy, I raced out of the house, into the darkness, but managed only a few short feet before I felt something crawl up the hem of my skirt and across my ankle.

A scream ripped out of me, and I stomped the ground and lifted my skirt to swat the spider off of me. Eyes wide, I nearly choked when a glance upward showed hundreds more scampering toward me in a horde of black against the white snow. Before I could so much raise my hand for the aeryz glyph, they leapt onto my dress, skittering up to my bodice. Through hoarse screams, I swatted and flailed, feeling their tiny legs and bulbous bodies scuttling across my skin.

“Maevyth!” the voice inside my head called out, but it was futile. Any glyph I might’ve used in defense was smothered by the cluster of spiders that scurried up my arms.

At the first prod of a spider leg against my lips, I clamped my mouth shut, as my body erupted into a wild frenzy. I swatted at my face and arms, and fell to the ground, kicking and rolling. The more I fought to dislodge them, the more they swarmed me.

So lost in panic, I didn’t even notice the moment that they’d finally stopped moving.

Not until every one of the spiders shot upward, into the air and I stilled, gasping for breath when they no longer covered my face. My head fought to make sense of what I was seeing.

Above me loomed a hideous cloud of black carapaces, as if suspended by an invisible force. I didn’t bother to investigate why, or how, but just scrambled to my feet and blindly ran in the opposite direction. When I glanced back, I plowed into something hard and unyielding.

A scream rattled out of me, and on instinct, I pounded my fists against the wall of a body. “Let me go! Let me go!” I looked up to see Zevander staring down at me, and in that instant, my muscles sagged in relief. A heavy sob wracked my body, and I wrapped my arms around him. It only lasted a moment, though, before another wave of panic washed over me.

Before I even spoke a word of the ensuing spiders, a blast of heat warmed my back, and I turned in time to see Zevander send a torrent of black flames over the floating cluster of arachnids, which he must’ve been holding suspended the whole time.

They let out a hiss as their bodies burned, and he directed the flame onto the cottage, which caught like dried kindling.

As I watched, the home I’d grown up in blazed in flickering waves of black and violet, a mesmerizing pyre that turned it into crumbling ash as it devoured the structure in seconds.

“Are you hurt, at all?” His question prompted me to focus on any part of my body that the spiders might’ve bitten. All I could feel was a numbing cold that spread across my limbs and into my chest.

Seeming to sense my distress, he ran his hands over my exposed skin, purposely palpating, as if for any sign of injury. As he checked me over, he paused on a cut I’d sustained when Uncle Felix had dragged me out of the ice box.

I could feel the faint burn on my scalp where my uncle had pulled my hair and the bruising on my thighs where he’d pried them open. Scratches on my back flared with the memory of struggling to fight him off with the gritty floor tearing across my skin. Wincing, I forced those thoughts away by focusing on the gentle sweep of Zevander’s palms.

Once finished, he hooked my chin with his finger, drawing my eyes to his, and as if he could see right through the shadows of my thoughts, he asked, “Maevyth, are you okay?”

Emotions snapped inside of me when I nodded, and choked back a sob, while my head tormented me with visuals of those spiders swarming me, ready to finish me off. Strong arms enveloped me, and I melted into the warmth and safety of his embrace. Fighting to calm my breaths, I trembled against him, clutching him so tightly, I refused to let go. “I was so scared.”

He removed his cloak, wrapping it around my shivering body, and the comfort of his scent radiated a calming balm to my fear. “Come on. Let’s go back.”

I wanted to. Every part of me wanted to return to Eidolon with him, but I shook my head and stepped back. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to find her, Zevander. She’s here. I can feel it.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Perhaps he thought I’d lost my senses to cling so tightly to the belief that I’d see her again, but I didn’t care. All I could imagine was Aleysia in the same place I’d been moments before, but without the power to fight back. “I’m sorry. I know you must think I’m … ridiculous for such a thing.”

He pushed a wavy strand of hair behind my ear. “I think you’re the bravest mortal I’ve ever met. And perhaps the most fucking stubborn, as well.” His comment brought a tearful smile to my face. “Regardless, I’ll stay and help you find her.”

The relief of his words left me weak in the knees, but through a mist of tears, I shook my head. “I can’t ask you to do that. Not when Rykaia needs you.”

“Rykaia will always need me.” He rubbed his thumb across my cheek, capturing the fallen tear. “This is about you.”

The unspoken words lingered between us, and something electric moved through me when he removed his mask and lowered his face to mine. Butterflies took flight in my stomach as his hands gripped either side of my face, and he paused a moment, as if to ask permission.

I tilted my head back, and a flickering in my periphery caught my eye. Distracted, I turned away from him, focusing on the wavering light from the cottage across the field and puffs of white smoke drifting upward from the chimney. “The Crone Witch,” I whispered, instantly regretting the diversion when he released me and stepped back.

Turning toward the cottage, he nodded. “We’ll need shelter for the night.”

Disappointment filled the cold space between us, but he jerked his head and took the lead toward the cottage.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

MAEVYTH

Arms wrapped around my body to stave off the cold, I followed Zevander toward The Crone Witch’s cottage, gaze trailing over the empty pen that had once housed a number of animals. We padded quietly toward the front door, not wanting to startle her, if she happened to be inside. Zevander peered through the windows, at the darker end of the cabin, while I looked in on the hearth that blazed a glowing orange. The mere sight of it casted a shiver down my spine, my toes numb and throbbing in my meager shoes. No one seemed to be inside, at all, though.

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