Jory Strong: Spider-Touched

“And you didn’t think to turn him over to the Church or the authorities?” the stranger whose smooth, powerful voice had insisted on Tir’s not seeing them asked.

“I’ve got expenses, and a man’s entitled to profit from his labors. Either can have him if they’ll meet my price.”

“I’ve yet to see a demonstration that his blood is truly capable of doing what Tomás believes he witnessed when he was here last.”

“I need to cut one of you. Which one will it be?” There was relish in the trapper’s voice, not only at the possibility of inflicting pain but at the prospect of making money.

“I’ll do it,” Tomás volunteered.

“No,” the smooth-voiced one said. “I don’t recognize any of the tattoos on his arms as those of a lawbreaker, which leads me to believe they might well be marks to hold a demon here. I’ll need to study them further before there can be any contemplation of presenting him to your great-grandfather. Until we know what we’re dealing with here, it would be unwise for you to mingle his blood with yours. Our host can provide a demonstration to satisfy us or we can turn our attention to the lion and start our trip back to Oakland. I want to be home before the sun sets.”

“Get in here, bitch,” Hyde said, greed winning out over the pleasure of tormenting his visitors.

Tir heard her low whimpers as she shuffled in to join the group. Her cry merged into sobbing as it had on other occasions, the child in her arms adding his sounds of distress to hers.

In that moment, Tir was glad for the burlap sack that would hide his agony from the humans. He braced himself, not for the pain that came when the blade of the knife slashed across his arm and cut to the bone, but for the noise assaulting his mind as her wound was pressed to his.

A thousand discordant notes thrust together in a stabbing cacophony, almost making him wish for a death more permanent than any he had known. It lasted only until her skin was made smooth, her veins healed to prevent her life from bleeding out—but it seemed like an eternity.

“Impressive,” the powerful-voiced one said, directing his comment at his companions. “Worth an investment, though again, it’s important we take precautions at this stage and not proceed until we know more about the prisoner. Have him delivered to the house in the red zone we spoke about on our way here. It wouldn’t do for too many people to know about him. And with the guard involved in a power struggle, it’d be unwise for us to transport anything besides the lion.”

“I’ll give you twenty-five percent of your asking price,” the stranger Tomás called Papa said. “The balance when you make delivery in Oakland.”

“If I make a special trip just for him, I’ll have to go by boat,” Hyde countered. “There are cameras now, and extra patrols. I’ll be stopped as soon as I set foot in the city.”

“Take him by truck,” the one who seemed in control said. “We’re well aware of your dealings with the maze owner and Farold. Do you think we can’t guess where the hyenas and the abomination are heading?”

There was the jingle of coin, the sound of it being counted out. Tomás’s father said, “I am willing to offer a bonus to cover the cost of delivery, if he’s in Oakland by tomorrow at sunset.”

“Where do you want him taken?”

“Tomás will remain here. When you get to the red zone, he’ll guide you to the house. Do we have a deal?”

“And if we get caught?”

“I would suggest you don’t,” came the smooth voice. “The politics in Oakland are unsettled at the moment.”

“I’ll be there by tomorrow night,” the trapper said, the words resonating in Tir strangely, as if this moment was preordained, the strands of destiny woven together by an unseen hand.

“Good.” There was the sound of money changing hands, followed by footsteps and then the slide of metal against metal, the banging of cage bars as the lion was driven outside and the partition lowered again, trapping him there.

Tir waited, half-expecting to be left in the chair. But as soon as the three strangers left the building, the woman was ordered back into his cell and told to free him.

She did as she was told, scuttling in and undoing the bindings holding him in the prison of the chair, rushing away, gone from the cell before he bent over and pulled the burlap sack from his head.

Peace, of a sort, descended with the closing of the building door and the diversion of the trapper’s attention to supervising the loading of the lion into the truck that would take it to Oakland.

Oakland, Tir mused, settling on a bed of straw and raking through his memories as he idly studied the intricate spiderweb in the upper corner of his cell. He found nothing to distinguish this city from all the others he’d heard about. Nothing to explain the sense of anticipation, exhilaration—hope—that filled him, leaving him unconcerned, uncaring he’d been sold like an animal.

The rumble of an engine nudged his thoughts to the three visitors. Outside, the truck was allowed into the compound and brought alongside the building. There were shouts and the sound of metal striking metal as the lion was driven from one enclosure to another.

Tir visualized Tomás from his previous visit. The boy—though the humans would consider him a man—was only a few years older than Raoul. But there any similarity ended.

Even dressed in traveling clothes it had been easy to see Tomás came from a background of wealth. Perhaps he’d be softer as a result, more careless. His companions wouldn’t leave him unarmed. Not in this place. Not with a man like Hyde.

All it would take was an error in judgment, a moment of inattention…

Tir closed his eyes and savored dreams of freedom and vengeance, until hours later the sound of footsteps signaled someone’s approach.

The hyenas moved to the front of their cage as if scenting death and the possibility of a meal, while the wereman’s distorted limbs and half-furred body remained curled into a ball.

Raoul entered the building, the corpse of the man who’d been called Rudy slung over his shoulder. He stopped in front of the cages containing the dragon lizards, and with a shrug, the body dropped to the floor.

He kicked an arm aside then moved to the wall crank and began to raise the heavy canvas curtain hiding the dragon lizards. By the time it was halfway to the ceiling, the trapper returned, his wife behind him, arms crossed in front of her body as if to hold in what courage she possessed.

The dragon lizards stood in anticipation of a feast; the yellow-eyed female lashed her tail as the orange-eyed male moved to the front of the cage and flicked his black tongue out to touch the dead man’s face. They were huge, deadly, the male easily weighing three hundred pounds, the female two hundred.

Tir didn’t know the truth of their origins. He’d heard it claimed their existence was proof of evolution reversing itself after the near destruction of the planet. But he thought it just as likely they were the result of man’s biological weapons, either created accidentally, or a calculated adaptation of the Komodo dragons.

They possessed a chameleon’s ability to blend and could survive a wide range of temperatures. During the years of war and plague, they’d thrived on humans, feasting on corpses as well as live prey, until now the fear of them seemed genetically encoded in mankind.

Eventually order grew out of chaos and the creatures were systematically slaughtered. But it was too late by then to completely eradicate them.

Once the heavy tarp was rolled into place against the ceiling, Raoul slung the corpse over his shoulder. He climbed the metal ladder welded to the front of the cage, its rungs far enough away for him to avoid being bitten.