Chapter 1
Chapter
One
Kainda
I followed behind the terrified little nurse to a man named Elijah Henry’s room. In the two years I’d hunted this demon, Mr. Henry was the first and only slip up she’d made. Mr. Henry didn’t know it yet, but he’s the missing key to finding her. It was unfortunate he’d fallen victim to her, but fortuitous for me all the same. He was going to lead me straight to Uttu, the spider demoness and a former goddess of Mesopotamian mythology. Not that it was truly mythology; the gods and goddesses were real, though most no longer lived in this realm.
The nurse, Helen, trembled as she stood in front of the nondescript door with ‘I8’ stenciled on it in black paint. She took a deep breath before she gave a soft knock, then unlocked the door. Helen stepped to the side, giving him a fake smile which fooled exactly no one.
He sat on his bed staring at the far wall, his back to us. His dark brown hair curled against the collar of his hospital issued shirt. Hunched over, I couldn’t gauge his height, but his broad shoulders looked out of place on his thin frame. This man even without seeing his face didn’t look like the man I’d seen in the pictures from his missing person’s report. The damage the demoness had inflicted on him was severe and lingered.
I’d read in his file he’d nearly starved to death, but even after nearly a year in the hospital, it didn’t appear he’d gained any of his weight back. The file thankfully didn't contain any pictures after his rescue. Seeing one of her victims in person proved harder than I’d anticipated. Having seen her deceased victims, this shouldn’t be so hard to witness, but I realized it was easier to see the dead because their suffering was over. Mr. Elijah Henry’s suffering was far from over.
“Elijah, this is Ms. Kainda Lane. She would like to speak with you for a bit, if you don’t mind.”
The hospital bed creaked as he turned to face us. If it weren’t for the lack of dirt, I’d have sworn he was a shell-shocked victim in a war zone by the look on his face and in his eyes. Bloodshot, dark gray eyes with drooping lids, made darker by the black circles under them. So pale, like he’d never seen the sun. Scars marred his cheeks and peeked out from under his collar, even the hands resting in his lap had them. His strong jaw was clean-shaven, surprised me since he’d been in isolation where razors weren’t allowed.
His voice croaked and cracked, I wasn’t sure if it was due to injuries from the attack or disuse. “I’m not sure why she’d want to, but alright.”
I gave him a smile I hoped was sweet and reassuring and not gleeful and anxious. It probably ended up looking slightly manic if the look Helen gave me was any indication.
“Come on, Elijah, you’ll have to talk in the visitors’ area where the guards can see you. I’ll get you something to drink since you sound hoarse,” she said, waving him over.
Well, that answered the question, not injury. He moved like his feet weighed ten thousand pounds. The movements looked painful to tell the truth. Helen led us back down the hallway and down another wing to the common room. A security guard was stationed at the door already and two orderlies acted as if they were cleaning, but in reality they lurked, in the room. Once we were seated, Helen scurried off, relieved.
“Mr. Henry, thank you for speaking with me. I’ll try to make this conversation as painless as possible. As Helen said earlier, my name is Kainda Lane. This isn’t formal, so just call me Kainda.”
I paused when an orderly appeared with a cardboard cup of water for Elijah. My subject appeared about as interested in this conversation as I’d be in a lecture on lint. He picked up the cup, sipping as he waited for me to continue. The next phase of this conversation called for some privacy.
I glanced around, making sure the orderlies had their backs to us, then darted my gaze to the surveillance camera in the corner. Holding my index and middle finger together, I flicked them to the side, and the camera followed the motion until it faced the wall. I took a deep breath, then using my index finger, I waved a circle in the air over our heads, blowing out the breath in rotation with the movement. Once the circle was complete I quietly spoke the words of the mirror spell then lifting both my hands palms facing me fingers closed tips of both hands touching drew them down in front of me. The spell closed, and the illusion fell in place, now we had some privacy.
To anyone looking, we appeared to be sitting at a table discussing his hospital stay. If someone got close enough to hear what we were discussing, they’d hear our voices carrying on a fake conversation. What I was about to bring up with Mr. Henry was not something for the general public’s ears, and Mr. Henry would undoubtedly be skeptical.
He looked at me, eyebrow cocked, eyes narrowed. I had his attention. It was progress. I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but about halfway through the expression, I changed my mind. This wasn’t the time to coddle him, and it sure wasn’t my job.
“Let’s not beat around the bush. Mr. Henry, I’m here to talk to you about the demon you encountered in the woods.”
I waited for him to freak out to lob questions at me to give me any kind of response, but I got nothing. It was shocking, this nonreaction.
“I believe you encountered Uttu, the Spider Demoness.”
He didn’t even twitch at the word demoness. Whatever meds they had this man on were some of the good stuff. When he didn’t say anything after another awkward moment of silence, I continued.
“Don’t know how much you know about Mesopotamian mythology. Anyway, most of the written lore is garbage, not to be believed. Her story is actually kind of twistedly tragic.” It was strange to feel bad for what happened to her thousands of years ago, but to hate her to the point I wanted to gut her like a pig and watch her bleed out in the very next breath. Despite the conflicted feelings, I would still end her existence in this realm, so I continued with my story.
“Uttu was the beautiful, shapely goddess weaver and the daughter of the god Enki. Her father— like many of the ancient gods— decided he was entitled to have whoever he wanted, and he wanted her. Uttu, having received warning of his plans, encased herself in her web. Enki made promises to marry her and lavish her with all the luxuries of the time to get her to come out of her web. After days of repeated visits and numerous promises, she allowed him entrance into her web. He tricks Uttu by giving her beer, and he rapes her.” I’m sitting here talking about gods and goddess and rape, for the Lady’s sake, and he still doesn’t seem to even notice I’m here. More awkward silence ensues before I give up on him speaking to me.
“Something broke in the core of her being and her magic became dark. She killed Enki and vowed vengeance on men who stumbled into her web. She retreated to what passed for a forest in Mesopotamia, where she commanded spiders. Any man to venture into her web was viciously murdered. The number of men she killed is unknown, but if the real tales of her life are to be believed, it was countless.”
This time, when I paused to catch my breath, I assessed him. His facial features appeared set in stone. If his eyes weren’t open, I’d have sworn he was sleeping, his breathing was so even. Over the years in my profession I’d had to reveal the reality of the things that go bump in the night to civilians and never once have I gotten this blank face, calm waters run deep, silence. I was half tempted to snap my fingers in front of his face or set off a magical explosion next to his ear to see if anything phased the man.
“Mr. Henry, are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
Elijah looked from my shoulder where his eyes had been trained for the entirety of the conversation thus far to my face. He blinked at me slowly, like he was trying to bring me into focus. His pain filled eyes studied me closely for a moment before his gaze dropped away again as he nodded in a way of answering my question.
I rolled my eyes as frustration began to build in my jaw. If he didn’t give me something more than some soul-searching facial examination and a nod, soon I was likely to fling myself across the table and strangle the man. Not that such a maneuver would get me anything, either. The man can’t exactly talk to me if I’m cutting off his air supply and crushing his throat. I was just going to have to resort to my least favorite tactic— thankfully it was one I almost never had to deploy— begging.