The Adventure of Immanuel

harm you. I will kill anyone who tries, even them.}

  I order you not to!

  {I cannot obey that order, if it places you in peril. I am the only other person present, and I will whisper it to them so no one else hears.}

  I...I can't, it's too...embarrassing.

  {Master, please. You should not be ashamed of anything. You are stronger than that, and the opinion of others should not matter a particle to you.}

  Despite what was at stake, she couldn't do it.

  "Well?"

  "She said it was too embarrassing to reveal."

  Aelfraed raised an eyebrow again, but he didn't look convinced. "That's true, but you could have guessed that from Mr. Holt's description. If you cannot provide an answer, I'm afraid I will have to allow the nurse to give her the injection."

  Vlad grinned in a wolfish manner. "I will not release her."

  "Very well. Then I will give it myself." He stepped towards the IV.

  "Touch it, and you die."

  Holt raised the pistol as Aelfraed paused and glanced at the Vampire. "Do your worst, sir." And he reached out for the syringe.

  From "A fidus Aranea"

  Wendy thought doing magic was supposed to be difficult. From the way her Uncle Timothy had described it, it sounded like it took years of study and practice to get even simple spells right. But she did one right the first time without knowing anything about it. All she had to do was draw the web-design on the cement floor of the basement, stand in the open center, and repeat the simple phrase, "Fun-gluey miggle-naffle Atlash-Nacha Voormit-adret wagga-naggle fatagen!" And the next thing she knew, she was standing on a ledge overlooking a huge, bottomless chasm.

  She wasn't scared, not exactly; after all, she was eight going on nine, a very brave age. But she was a bit cold (all she had on was her nightie, and a cool breeze was blowing) and she felt anxious. Luckily she had had the foresight to bring her best friend with her for comfort and support, and she hugged Sheba Cat closer to her chest.

  It was very dark, so dark she couldn't see more than a dozen feet around her. It was enough, however, for her to see the abyss yawning in front of her, and the rock wall behind her stretching off into the air above her. And there was something else, something away in the distance, something that glowed and glittered like a bridge covered in Christmas tree lights. She stood admiring it for some minutes, until her curiosity overcame her anxiety and she started towards it.

  How long she walked she couldn't be sure, but it seemed like a long time. Eventually, however, she got close enough to see that the bridge stretched across the chasm and was made from a huge spider web, except that it was unlike any sort of web she had ever seen. The strands looked like they were made of glass, and they glowed with an inner light like a weak light bulb. Though the main structure was still some ways off, support struts had been secured to the ledge and the wall very close by, and she reached out and touched one of them. It felt smooth and hard, just like a metal tube, and surprisingly warm. Yet it also swayed slightly in the breeze that blew through the chasm.

  Even as she turned back towards the bridge, she became aware of an approaching presence. Soon it emerged from the gloom ahead. It looked like a spider, but it was gargantuan; its head alone was as big around as she was tall, while its bloated, sack-like body was larger than several trucks. It was covered front to back with red, black, and purple horny plates, so it appeared to be like an armored tank on stilts, yet the legs seemed almost too thin to support its massive bulk, and they ended in tiny, delicate-looking feet made of a pad surrounded by finger-like claws. But the head was the most intriguing part of the whole being. It wasn't part of the thorax as in regular spiders, but was attached to it by a short, thick neck. It was block-shaped, but somewhat rounded, and the points were drawn out so they looked like horns. And it had a man-like face, with two huge, forward-staring eyes with pupils, two miniscule nostrils below them on a short ridge, and a wide, lipless mouth from which protruded numerous fangs.

  She stood very still as it approached, more fascinated than afraid. For its part, the spider came right up to her until its massive head was no more than a couple of feet away. Its eyes were fixed on her, as if it too were fascinated. But it suddenly stopped. It closed its eyes and shook its head, as if it had a very painful headache. Then it backed up a step or two before opening its eyes again.

  "Are you okay?"

  When it spoke, the spider's voice was very deep and it echoed like thunder. "Who are you?"

  "My name's Wendy; are you Mr. Atlach-Nacha?"

  "I am he whom men have named Atlach-Nacha. Why have you come to me?"

  "My Uncle Timothy said that you could help me."

  "Who is this 'Uncle Timothy' who sent you?"

  "Timothy Stroud, my father's brother."

  Atlach-Nacha seemed to recognize the name. It also managed to look very confused. "He sent you to me, his own brother's daughter?"

  "No, sir, I came on my own. I need your help, Mr. Nacha. I'm afraid for my Mom."

  "How did you come to me?"

  "I used one of his spells, that I found in his book."

  "He told you to use it?"

  She blushed, chagrined. "No, Mr. Nacha, he told me never to touch his book."

  "Then why did you disobey him?"

  "He was going to ask your help to protect me and Mom from Eric, but he got hurt and sent to the hospital before he could. So I took his book from his room and found the spell which would send me to you."

  "You have been very foolish; it could have been your doom."

  "Huh?" She did not understand.

  But it refused to answer her implied question. "Are you not afraid of me?"

  Now she felt confused. "Gosh no, Mr. Nacha. Uncle Timothy said you could help us, so why would I be afraid of you?"

  "Why indeed. What of other things you might have encountered?"

  "Oh, I've got my good-luck charm for that."

  It tilted its head in curiosity. "A charm, you say?"

  "Well, yah, my Uncle gave it to me. He said it would bring me luck. Do you want to see it?"

  "Yes, indeed."

  Placing Sheba Cat under her left arm, she reached under her nightie and pulled out a small medallion on a chain. Engrave on it was a curious design, which looked like a stick with many branches coming off it.

  When it saw it, Atlach-Nacha jump back a short distance (which was no mean feat considering its huge bulk), a look of abject fear on its face.

  "Oh, no, Mr. Nacha, don't be afraid; it won't hurt you. It's for protection against bad things, not good things like you!"

  It came closer once she replaced the medallion under her nightie. "The true Elder Sign is a most potent charm; you are indeed well protected. Still, does not my form frighten you?"

  She felt bewildered. "Gosh, no Mr. Nacha. Uncle Timothy told me you looked like a spider, and I like spiders, always have. They're fun to watch, and really cool looking, and they eat flies and bugs and such, so they help people."

  "You are a very brave girl." The spider lord's voice was grave.

  She blushed. "I'm not all that brave. I wouldn't have come if I didn't have Sheba Cat with me."

  Again the spider lord tilted its head. "Is that another charm?"

  "Heck no, she's my friend." And she held up a small stuffed toy cat covered in a plush satiny material. It looked exactly like a Siamese, except its head was round instead of triangular.

  "A loyal friend indeed, to brave the unknown for your sake."

  But she hugged the toy to her breast and softly cried. Atlach-Nacha hunkered down so that its gigantic face was level with hers.

  From "Sacrificial Offering"

  In all her travels throughout the world, Medb hErenn had often encountered strange peasant rituals that mystified her, but the sight that greeted her as she approached the edge of the forest was one of the most unusual she had ever encountered. A baker's dozen of people stood just in front of a pair of short, fat obelisks that framed an opening in th
e trees. All save one were dressed in the rough and homely garb of people who lived off the fruits of the earth; the odd one, a young woman, wore a sleeveless shift of white, translucent, silky material that only came down to mid-thigh, and a crown of flowers on her head. She was also different in that the people who were with her were all short and squat, and as homely as their clothing, with dusky skin and black hair, whereas she was tall and slender, with a petite figure, flawless milk-white complexion, and blonde hair so light it looked like silvered bronze. She had an ethereal beauty that made her appear more like a work of art than a living person.

  At first glance, it seemed to her that the people were gathered for a wedding, with the beauty being the bride. However, she perceived two things that contradicted that impression: there was no groom, and the assembled people were wailing as if in mourning. She had known cultures that treated marriage as a very solemn affair, but they seemed to be taking solemnity much too far. Ordinarily, she would not have interfered, but the whole tableau seemed so bizarre that she suspected something more sinister was behind it all, so she approached the small group to find out what was going on.

  Among those in attendance was an elderly man who stood off to one side. He too wept, and as he did so he fingered a metallic ornament suspended from a necklace of wooden beads. She thought it best to speak to him first, so as not to disturb the ceremony. As such, she walked up beside