Page 45 of Taurus's Quest
“More like your arrogance will be your downfall.”
“Then a good thing I’ve got you in my life now to keep me from being too cocky.”
Silence. He glanced back to see her looking contemplative. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Let’s get this done.” She advanced to the edge of the section he’d cleared.
He forged ahead, the webbing not diminishing despite how much he hacked, but odder, no sign of the spider. Maybe it croaked and they were the first to cut a path through the mess left behind.
Another cocoon appeared, shorter and squat, obviously not of a full-sized adult. Given Circe’s reaction to the last body, he left it alone and stepped past it.
Only a prickling at his nape gave warning. He whirled in time to see the spider emerging from the nest made to look like a prey’s cocoon. Its forelegs jabbed forward to stab. Taurus’ quick reflexes had him severing a limb, which led to an atrocious squeal and a squirt of foul-smelling ichor.
“Oh. My. God,” Circe huffed, her eyes wide. She stood taller than the squat spider and had her light shining on its bulbous body. His own head gear refracted off the arachnid’s multi-faceted gaze.
“Should have had Tower pack some Raid,” he joked.
Mandibles clacked as the spider feinted in his direction. Taurus leaned away, but before he could swipe his blade, the arachnid spat out webbing, and he barely managed to block the glob from hitting him in the face.
Fast fucker. Taurus partially crouched and watched the spider stand on its seven legs, its clackers opening and shutting as it decided its next move.
“Kill it,” Circe whispered.
He planned to, what he didn’t count on was a second one dropping suddenly from the ceiling.
It landed on his head and wrapped legs across his face and eyes.
Circe screamed, “Taurus!”
Oh, how sweet, she was worried. She shouldn’t be, though, because he grabbed hold and easily yanked it from his noggin and flung it.
Unfortunately, that turned out to be in Circe’s direction. She shrieked as it landed and scrambled to its eight hairy legs. Taurus didn’t have time to dodge to her rescue since the seven-legged arachnid went on the attack.
Circe held off her own spider by swinging her pack, screaming. So long as she made noise, she was fine. He had to deal with his problem first.
Slash. Cut. Swipe. It hit the floor in pieces in time for him to whirl and handle the pair that raced at him from behind. As the two spiders launched their attack, rustling of the webbing indicated they’d brought friends. How many were there?
Cut. Stab. He retreated as he fought the wave of arachnids. If they swarmed him, he might survive, but Circe wouldn’t.
Time for a new plan.
He whirled and sprinted for Circe, yelling, “Retreat.”
She stopped bashing the very dead spider and, without a word, spun and ran. An arachnid went scuttling past him overhead, and when it launched itself at her back, Taurus threw a knife, spearing it in the bulbous belly. It hit the floor with a splat just as Circe went past the slight bend, putting her out of sight.
With her safe—he hoped—he turned to face the arachnid wave with their clacking mandibles.
Only one thing to do with that kind of infestation.
He pulled out his Zippo, struck it, and lit the nearest dangling cobweb. It ignited immediately, and even better, the fire he started hungrily began spreading. The flames raced up the walls and ceiling, and as the heat began to build, along with smoke, the spiders hissed and squealed, trying to escape the inferno. They might have succeeded had they come to where he stood in the hallway, a section free of flammable webs, but instead, they retreated into their sticky and flammable burrow.
Taurus was whistling—to give warning of his approach—as he rounded the bend to find Circe crouched with the knife he’d given her held out in front. Wide-eyed, but unharmed.
“Problem taken care of,” he stated.
“I smell smoke.”
He jerked his thumb. “Because I lit the arachnid nest on fire.”
