Arachne nodded.

  “I will,” she said.

  “Good,” Kaye said, an eager gleam in her eye. She pulled a length of rope from one of her skirt’s many pockets, and tossed it onto the table, making Sparky jump. He tilted his head, and Arache froze, her only movement the slow scrawl of her pen on the piece of paper. “Now tie the fiend up. I need you back in the store. I have more preparations to make, and you need to be out there in case Granger or one of her allies arrives with the piece of Herne that I requested.”

  “And, um, if Ivy stops by with the ingredient…this piece of Herne, should I bring it to you in the kitchen?” Arachne asked. “Or will you be leaving the Emporium for your spell prep?”

  “Of course I will be in my kitchen, foolish girl,” she said with a quick snort. “Where do you think I would be preparing the binding spell, out in the city streets? I have enough meddlesome interruptions without making a spectacle for the rest of the idiot humans and fae. No, I’ll have my revenge soon enough. Those barghests will wish they never entered my city when I’m through with them.”

  “A-a-and Sparky?” Arachne asked. “He’ll be fine after the spell, right?”

  “Don’t be daft,” Kaye said. Shadows seemed to gather around Kaye as she drew herself upright, spine rigid, and she fixed Arachne with a piercing, black-eyed stare. “We’ll bleed them all dry, starting with the demons and the hounds. Then I’ll do what should have been done years ago.”

  Kaye spun on her heel, and whirled toward the stockroom door. Arachne’s hand shook as she continued to trace her name with the blood-soaked pen, but her voice barely quivered as she asked her final question.

  “What should have been done?” she asked. “What work will you have me assist you with next?”

  “Isn’t it obvious, girl?” Kaye asked, spittle forming at the corner of her mouth as a frenzied smile curled her lips. “I will bind all of the vampires, faeries, and other unnatural creatures who’ve dared to enter my city and I’ll march them all to the painful death they so justly deserve.”

  “E-e-even Marvin and H-h-hob?” Arachne asked, flinching as Kaye leaned toward her.

  “Of course,” she said, eyes gleaming and a sickly line of tattoos pulsing along her brow. “We’ll finally rid our city of those vermin once and for all.”

  Chapter 25

  I gasped, gulping air into my lungs. I’d maintained my sense of self throughout the vision, but that didn’t mean it was a fun or easy experience. My head was pounding, and my throat felt raw as I struggled to drag a ragged breath deep into my lungs.

  Visions are often like drowning. Thankfully, this particular vision had been well worth the discomfort.

  I’d learned the full extent of Kaye’s madness. As difficult as it was to believe, the witch blamed supernaturals for all of this city’s problems and intended to rid Harborsmouth of every demon, vampire, and faerie—including those she’d until recently considered her friends and family. Thank Mab I’d sent Marvin and Hob away to the suburbs.

  As far as I knew, Kaye hadn’t killed anyone yet. I just hoped I could rescue Sparky in time to keep him from becoming her first victim. I also needed to get Arachne out of Kaye’s clutches before the kid was forced to do and see things she might not recover from. Even Humphrey was at risk.

  My head spun, and a cold sweat trickled down my spine.

  “Going to live, Princess?” Torn asked, a bemused grin tugging at his lips.

  His face loomed above me, and I let out an annoyed growl. It was meant to be intimidating, but the effect was ruined when something caught in my throat. I rolled to my knees and hacked, trying to dislodge the object.

  My eyes bulged, tears streaming down my cheeks, as the object scraped the inside of my throat. What the hell had I swallowed? If I hadn’t known better, I’d say there was something crawling inside me—something with multiple spiny legs, and hooked claws.

  That thought finally pushed my gag reflex over the edge, and with a shuddering gasp and an involuntary spasm, I retched painfully, bringing up my breakfast. The motion also dislodged the spiny thing from my throat.

  A hard object about the circumference of a half dollar hit the wet pavement, and scuttled toward the shadows. I barely had time to shudder before Torn used his catlike reflexes to trap the creature beneath the half moon of a crystal bowl. I ignored the fact that the bowl looked suspiciously like the ones we’d had in the wisp court, and turned my attention to the thing trying to climb the sides of the curved surface of its prison.

  “Neat trick, Princess,” Torn said, eyes locked on the creature as it flipped onto its back in an unsuccessful attempt to escape.

  “Is that a beetle?” I asked.

  “Scarabaeus sacer,” Father Michael said, rubbing dry hands together. “Commonly known as the scarab beetle. They were revered by the ancient Egyptians, who worshiped the sun and sky gods. It was most often used as a symbolic representation of Khepri, the morning manifestation of the sun god Ra. The scarab beetle would roll its dung across the sand just as Khepri rolled the sun across the sky.”

  “You mean the princess swallowed a dung beetle?” Torn asked, eyes going wide. “That thing rolls around balls of poop?”

  Mab’s bones, I’d never live this down. Too bad I could do nothing to come to my own defense. I was too busy gagging, and spitting up bile.

  If there was dung in my throat, I wanted it out, now.

  “I h-h-hate you,” I said, scowling at Torn as I pulled out a tissue and wiped my mouth.

  “Why, Princess?” he asked. “It’s not like I put that thing in your throat.”

  “You know I’m vulnerable during a vision,” I said, coming to my feet with a shaky breath. “The least you could have done was to make sure that random beetles didn’t go flying into my mouth.”

  “Perhaps it crawled there…” Father Michael said. I’m sure he was just trying to help, but I held up a hand, and shuddered.

  “Sorry, Padre,” I said. “But I’d rather not know how it got there.”

  “Um, Princess,” Torn said, frowning at the shop receipt he now held in his hand. “Does that mean you don’t want to see this?”

  “What?” I asked, tugging on my gloves. The sooner I got my hands covered, the better. I’d had enough of psychic visions for one day. “Did you find something?”

  “Those loops there,” he said, extending one sharp claw to trace the loops and whorls of Arachne’s signature. “Anything about these lines look familiar?”

  I wiped away the tears still clinging to my eyelashes, and squinted at the receipt.

  “Now that you mention it,” I said, flashing him a frown.

  “Scarabaeus sacer,” Father Michael said, awed voice barely a whisper.

  “Well I’ll be a bugbear’s uncle,” Torn said. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  As much I hated to admit it, he was right, but I had no idea what to make of it. I tried to think of everything we knew about that receipt. Arachne had hidden a doodle of a scarab beetle in the swirling loops of her signature, a signature written in blood.

  Arachne was Kaye’s apprentice, and now the senior witch was exhibiting uncharacteristically unstable, and dare I say flat out evil, behavior. There had been hints of instability, signs that Kaye was having difficulty adjusting to her newfound power, but I’d brushed it off.

  Aside from an instinctual wariness, I’d tried to pretend that what my friend was going through was the normal growing pains associated with a physical and magical transition. I hadn’t wanted to admit that she’d gone completely off the rails. The why of that reasoning was like a punch in the gut.

  If a physical and magical transition could make someone with Kaye’s many years of experience become a danger to her friends and allies, then what had my own transformation done to me?

  “Princess?” Torn asked.

  I shook off memories of my uncle, and the blood, sweat, and burned flesh that characterized our training sessions. I’d have plenty of time to brood over t
hose memories later, so long as we survived the night. And if not, well you can’t worry about the past when you’re dead.

  I grimaced, and turned my thoughts back to Arachne and the curious sales receipt.

  “Yeah, it looks like a scarab,” I said.

  I refused to call the thing a dung beetle. The very thought made bile rise to burn the many tiny lacerations inside throat.

  I may not be a big fan of the method used, but I had to give Arachne kudos for creativity. She’d risked Kaye’s wrath sneaking me that message. Even now, Kaye would be in her kitchen preparing her binding spell, readying for the moment when I delivered the final ingredient, a piece of Herne. At any moment, she would call for Arachne to bring her Sparky so that she could add his blood to the spell.

  I swallowed hard, a searing pain making my eyes water as bile rose in my throat.

  I think in Kaye’s broken mind, she was doing the right thing by finally seeking revenge for the death of her friends so many years ago. I’d bet she even thought she was still protecting this city. Arachne was Kaye’s apprentice, which meant Arachne wasn’t much more than a servant to do her bidding, one more tool to be used to rebuild a Harborsmouth free of us pesky supernaturals.

  The kid was between a rock and a hard place.

  Rock and a hard place. Normally, that line of thought would have me chuckling and making a mental note to share the story with Humphrey. He always tolerates my poor attempts at gargoyle humor. But Humphrey’s situation was no less desirable than Arachne’s. They were both ensnared by Kaye, a powerful witch whose powers had recently been unnaturally amplified by yours truly.

  Both kids were trapped, and Sparky had been kidnapped, and it was my fault. I’d gotten us all into this mess, and no matter what it took, I was going make things right.

  “So what do we do now?” Torn asked.

  “We go rescue my kids,” I said.

  “Even if that means battling an all-powerful witch?” he asked.

  I palmed my blades, and locked eyes with Torn.

  “Whatever it takes.”

  Chapter 26

  “What do you think the scarab means, Padre?” I asked, glancing at the priest from the corner of my eye as we walked.

  As much as I’d like to forget about that damn beetle, I was sure its appearance was significant. I didn’t believe in coincidence.

  When you’re a P.I., you realize early on that coincidence is a handy word for laziness. There’s always a connection. If something seems like a coincidence, you just haven’t figured out how all the clues are related yet.

  But figuring out the meaning of the beetle wasn’t my biggest reason for keeping the priest talking. He’d refused to return to the loft apartment, or the safety of Sacred Heart Church, and I’d had to admit we might need his help in freeing Sparky, Arachne, and Humphrey from Kaye’s clutches. But the man was a priest, a scholar. He was a human civilian about to enter a powerful, mentally unstable, vengeful witch’s domain.

  Keeping his mind busy would keep him from thinking too much about the dangers we were about to face. Or, maybe, I was just trying to comfort myself. There was only so much a girl can take, and I still had a demigod and his pack of bloodthirsty hounds to battle before this night was over.

  I just hoped that our knowledge of Herne was correct, and he wouldn’t launch that fight before sunset. I knew that magic operated by its own rules, and that those rules were often governed by things like the ebb and flow of the sun, moon, and tides. That didn’t keep me from scanning the sky for oversized owls, looking over my shoulder for a mounted rider, or listening for the howling cry of Herne’s hounds.

  “I believe that you may have been hexed,” Father Michael said.

  “Wait, what?” I asked, stopping dead in my tracks.

  I blinked trying to make sense of what he’d said. Maybe I’d heard him wrong.

  “The sudden manifestation of the scarab beetle so soon after your vision, and the drawing that was left for you in the young witch’s blood, all point to a hex,” he said. “It is the logical conclusion.”

  You know your life is weird when a hex that causes a freaking beetle to claw its way out of your throat is the logical conclusion, and that the person who laid that hex is a friend who you’re on the way to rescue.

  “Arachne is just a kid, and she was trying to help us,” I said. “Why would she put a hex on me?” It makes no sense.”

  “Actually, Princess,” Torn said, with an apologetic shrug. “It does make sense if Arachne was trying to send you a message.”

  “You mean the beetle is a clue?” I asked.

  “I agree with Sir Torn,” Father Michael said, head bobbing. “I believe that the young witch used what tools she had at her disposal. She reached out to you with a vision, but added the hex spell in the event you missed a clue that was integral to her plan.”

  “You’re assuming Arachne has a plan,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck with a gloved hand. “She managed to get us a message about Sparky’s capture, but she’s just a kid.”

  “A kid who has been apprenticing under a powerful witch,” Father Michael said.

  “But why a hex?” I asked. “Why curse me, and make me puke up a beetle? I can’t believe Arachne would do that to me, or to anyone.”

  I folded my arms across my chest, and dug in my heels. Arachne had made mistakes, but she was a good kid. I couldn’t believe that she’d be involved in dark magic spells against me.

  “Look at it this way, Princess,” Torn said. “What other choice did she have?”

  I thought over the events of the past few months, and the impact of those events on the inhabitants of the Emporium. Kaye had regained the magic of an all-powerful witch, but at an age when such power could corrupt, decay, and destroy. Humphrey had been at her beck and call, and Arachne was her loyal assistant. Even if they’d begun to suspect Kaye of wrongdoing, what could they possibly do to stand against her?

  If, like me, they’d waited for concrete proof, then we’d all postponed the inevitable, and given Kaye the opportunity she needed to gain a stranglehold on us all.

  “Kaye never taught Arachne any truly powerful magic,” I said, thinking aloud. “Not before, when she was in her right mind.”

  “But after?” Torn asked. “I’m with the priest on this. We’ve all seen what Kaye is capable of, and I’ve no doubt that Arachne’s been exposed to dark magic these past few weeks.”

  “That is precisely my thinking,” Father Michael said, hand fluttering to his chest. “That poor child.”

  The priest was greedy for all knowledge of magic, dark or light, but he drew the line at the use and abuse of children. It was why he’d insisted on joining us in our impromptu rescue mission. There were some things worth dying for. Rescuing those kids was one of those things.

  “So you think Arachne learned hexes, and used one on me to send me a message?” I asked.

  Father Michael nodded.

  I chewed on my lip, mulling over what we knew. There were still too many questions.

  “But what does the beetle mean?” I asked.

  “Well, Princess,” Torn said. “Beetles roll feces.”

  “Not helping, Torn,” I grumbled.

  “Scarab beetles are associated with the sun and the sky,” Father Michael said, eyes flitting nervously to the lengthening shadows that surrounded us.

  We were running out of time before Herne launched his attack. We needed to rescue Sparky and Arachne before that happened.

  I shook off the sickly squirming in my gut, and focused on the details of my vision. Arachne had shown me a storeroom inside the Emporium where she was keeping Sparky safe until Kaye began her binding spell. There was the paper receipt, the blood filled pen, the cookies on the cardboard box table, and…a ceiling broken only by a large skylight.

  “The skylight,” I said, voice barely a whisper.

  “What, Princess?” Torn asked.

  “Scarab beetles are symbolic of the sun and the sky,” I said,
looking up to meet his questioning gaze. “There was a skylight in the storage room where Arachne was keeping Sparky. It must be why she hexed me. It has to be the message she was trying to send.”

  “A skylight?” Father Michael asked.

  The priest frowned, but Torn licked his lips and grinned from ear to ear. Cat sidhe were spies and thieves. He recognized what I was saying, and nodded, claws flexing.

  “It’s more than a skylight, Padre,” I said. “Right, Torn?”

  Torn’s cat eyes gleamed as he waved his arm dramatically, gaining the priest’s full attention. Not that I could blame him. Arachne had given us exactly what we were looking for.

  “Thanks to the witch, we have exactly what we need,” he said.

  “A way in.”

  Chapter 27

  My revelation of the skylight located in the ceiling of the Emporium’s storeroom led to a frenzied line of questioning from the priest and Torn. Apparently, amidst my beetle retching and vision induced nausea, I’d forgotten to mention a few details from my vision.

  While I could understand their need for information, I was growing weary of their questions. I was also painfully aware of the lowering sun. If we were going to attempt this rescue mission, we needed to act now.

  “Enough talking,” I said, hitting send on a final text to Ceff.

  I’d sent messages to Jinx, Forneus, and Ceff providing updates on our current situation, and the potential consequences of angering our powerful witch ally. So far, I’d only heard back from Jinx. Ceff was busy rallying the water fae, and Forneus was likely out of cell phone range, deep beneath the city on his mission to destroy Yue Fei and the rogue vampires who threatened the city’s human population.

  I’d clued everyone in on our current situation—everyone except for Kaye’s old friend Master Janus. The two had been allies for a long time, and I had no idea just how far the witch’s madness would truly take things, but I couldn’t risk Janus trying to stop me from doing what needed to be done.

  I also couldn’t risk distracting our Guild allies from the looming battle with the Wild Hunt. Herne was a powerful adversary, a pawn of the Queen of Air and Darkness. Mab had sent the Wild Hunt to take us down and make Harborsmouth the first in a long line of cities to fall to the most bloodthirsty of the fae and undead. That was a fight we had to win. Hence my impatience.