Page 14 of All Out of Flux
She bared her teeth, her veils rustling when she hissed. “He has no right to enter my spider holes. Those who cease to worship me are no longer permitted access to any pockets of my territory. The Jade Spider — Vera Loong — she is among the brightest of my stars. She may do with my lairs as she pleases.”
Phew. For a minute there I thought we’d gotten Vera into trouble.
“But Brendan Shum was barred entry and stripped of his privileges when he spurned me. Time magic? Pah. And you say he filled the space with water?”
That part seemed to offend her most of all. Leon’s head bobbled as he nodded, eyes wide, a schoolboy telling on his bully.
“He could’ve ruined the flooring,” Leon said. “Or damaged something, all that damp. Imagine mold on the premises. Terrible for any real estate, ethereal or otherwise.”
“Mold.” Arachne growled. She stamped four of her eight feet. “I hate mold.”
I held back my laughter. This was why I loved working with Leon. Neither of us had asked a question, only offering Arachne more information, but she was providing answers all the same, egged on by Leon’s narrative.
The entities were so bonded to their primal nature, this one in particular favoring the corners and shadows, places where she could hear the plumpest and juiciest of secrets. Whispers. Gossip. Information. Arachne craved it, yet couldn’t help dispensing it herself.
“So he’s left your service,” I ventured, having settled on the right question to ask. “And he’s no longer a worshipper. But he placed his feet on sacred ground — one of your pocket dimensions — and soiled it with seawater.”
“Seawater.” Arachne clenched her fists and cried out. “Sacrilege! Desecration!”
“Help us help you, Arachne. The Quartz Spider has wreaked havoc upon your territory, and he continues to do harm out on Earth. Lives are at stake. Help us stop Brendan Shum. How do we find him?”
She clasped her hands, taking in a long, slow breath. “My two-legged children act as envoys out in your reality. Within these dark walls, I am queen. But out on Earth, you will find no better helpers than my bejeweled brood.”
Arachne lifted her veils. I held my breath. All eight of her eyes blinked at once.
“Seek the Amethyst Spider.”
7
LEON
Ihugged my elbows as Max and I stood in line outside the club. Pulse-pounding electronic music thumped within its four walls, deadened only by the heavy doors. In front of them stood an equally heavy man, built with so much thick muscle that he could probably function quite well as a door himself.
That’s what bouncers were, in a sense. With his shiny head and shiny mustache, the jacked man in the tight black T-shirt was the beast that guarded the gates. No clipboard necessary. Habibi seemed like the kind of place where they only let someone in if they liked their face.
Okay, and their body. And butt. And maybe the bulge.
It was a gay club, okay? One of the most popular in Dos Lunas, according to Max, my friendly local tour guide. I hadn’t been myself, but the way Max nodded at the bouncer suggested that he’d visited once or twice. Either that or he had enough burning, quiet confidence and charisma to sail us right through.
No exception on the cover charge, unfortunately. Max peeled a couple of bills out of his wallet. I looked away innocently, pretending that he was going to add it to my running tab. Westepped into the club. The sounds of the city streets disappeared, drowned out by all the rhythmic banging.
And I didn’t just mean all the cute guys fucking.
Only joking! Mostly. I wasn’t going to check the bathrooms to confirm. But Habibi was packed full of beautiful boys with beautiful bodies in all shapes and sizes. Twinks, twunks, bears, otters, daddies, and more. Every species fully represented. A bestiary of boys. An actual men-agerie, if you will.
Habibi meant “beloved” in Arabic, and it certainly lived up to its name. So beloved by the local queer community, but also a place for lonely singles to find their beloved, even if only for a single night. It also happened to be home turf to one of Vera Loong’s peers. Or competition, really, depending on who you asked.
And there he was in the VIP section, behind a single velvet rope guarded by another musclebound bouncer. The Amethyst Spider was fittingly stretched out on a bank of rich purple sofas, so very, very important and exclusive that he sat alone.
We stepped up to the bouncer. Max nodded toward the sofas and the man hogging all of them, like a singular gemstone sitting pretty on its velvet display pillow. A single beckoning finger from the Amethyst Spider and we were in, allowed through the second layer of Habibi’s social defenses.
Max gave the Amethyst Spider a firm nod. “Been a long time. It’s good to see you again, Faizan.”
“And the same to you, Maximilian Drake.”
The man called Faizan trailed his eyes down and up the entire length of Max’s body, then repeated the same with me. Head to toe, assessing, absorbing. I had to admit, I was doing very much the same. The Amethyst Spider was a fairly attractive man.
Scratch that. He was stunning. His glossy black curls fell in ringlets over his eyes, eyes that were rimmed with kohl, madeeven more smoldering and intense with a practiced hand and just the right amount of makeup. Dark stubble accentuated his strong jawline, the kind of jaw that told you everything below it would be just as nice to look at.
