Page 98 of Craving Carla

“Die, witch!” they shout, the words becoming a chant that rises into the darkness.

An arrow flies from the crowd, striking past-Carla directly. Present-day Carla gasps beside me, her free hand flying to her torso as if feeling the phantom pain. Past-Carla’s eyes widen in shock. She drops to her knees, then collapses fully to the ground, her eyes open but unseeing, blood spreading across her gown like a blooming flower.

The humans cheer, celebrating their victory, unaware of the vengeance about to descend upon them. The children surge forward, a wave of many-legged fury, swarming over the humans. Their screams cut short as they’re torn apart, reducedto nothing in minutes. The forest falls silent again, save for the soft sound of spider legs against the earth as they return to their mother’s body.

They surround past-Carla, removing the arrow from her chest with care, their movements heavy with unspoken grief. Together, they drag her lifeless body back into the cave, a funeral procession of unnatural devotion.

Night falls in the vision, stars appearing one by one in a clearing sky. A figure approaches the cave—a woman in a long, hooded cloak, making her way steadily through the forest. She holds something in her hand that glimmers in the darkness—a key.

“It’s Tabatha,” I say, recognition dawning. “I know her. She’s a Blackwood witch.”

Carla looks at me, surprise evident on her face. “You know her?”

Before I can answer, the scene shifts again, and we’re inside the cave. Tabatha stands before Carla’s lifeless form, surrounded by hissing, defensive spiders. She pulls back her hood, revealing her face.

Tabatha is striking—deep brown skin that seems to absorb and reflect the meager light simultaneously, blue eyes so vivid they almost glow, black hair twisted into elaborate braids with golden threads woven throughout. Tiny points of light adorn her ears, pulsing softly in rhythm with her breathing, as if responding to some hidden starfire within.

“When my sisters prayed to Fate and offered themselves for a savior, this is not what we had in mind,” Tabatha says, her voice melodic yet sharp with irony. “A Mother of Spiders.” She holds up the key, which floats above her palm, suspended by unseen magic.

“Your Mommy is not gone,” she tells the gathered arachnids. “She’s stuck in limbo. Limbo is a place where unwanted soulsrest. But I can see where you would become useful. Fate made you for a reason. To create balance. That’s what Mother Fate always does. Create balance between the realms.”

She paces around Carla’s body, the key floating alongside her. “And Aya Bailey’s curse has disrupted even limbo. I’m going to bring your Mommy back, but under one condition. You must always put Mommy first, even if it means keeping her in darkness.”

Tabatha’s voice hardens, her eyes flashing with urgency. “What I’m about to do is dangerous for all realms. Your mother will become the bridge between two realms. This one, and the afterlife—a doorway. And when humanity discovers this, and they will—they will try to take this power from her. It’s your job to make sure they don’t. That is the deal. Will you protect limbo, and your mother, no matter the circumstances?”

The spiders tap their legs in agreement, sending images of loyalty and devotion. Tabatha smiles, satisfaction evident in her expression.

“Your Mommy is a Blackwood witch. There are enemies that want to see her dead. You have the power to make her undetectable. Don’t uncloak her until you are certain she is safe. She will face many heartbreaks. Her own kind, other Blackwood witches will shun her to keep her safe. She has a bigger purpose, I just don’t know what it is yet.”

She kneels beside Carla’s body, the key floating lower, hovering near the wound. “The power I’m about to bestow upon you will make her a guardian. And I pray to Fate...” her voice drops to a growl, “...that her purpose is to guard our answered prayer. Because the Blackwoods are dying. Being hunted by an ancient evil. We are the second coming, the new leaders of this Earth.”

Tabatha’s eyes soften as she looks at Carla’s face. “Your mother has a kind, pure heart. A rarity in witches, but humanityhas the power to take that kindness away. Do not, under any circumstances, let her. Pledge your allegiance to the cause.”

The spiders nod in unison, their bodies swaying with quiet understanding.

The key floats from Tabatha’s hand and explodes, creating a cloud of pink magical dust. It settles over the spiders, coating them in a glowing layer that seems to sink into their bodies. Tabatha flicks her wrist, sending what remains of the dust into past-Carla’s corpse.

Past-Carla’s body jolts, her back arching as she draws in a gasping breath. Her hands fly to the place where the wound had been, searching for damage that’s no longer there. A spider—one that looks strikingly like Moria—crawls into the spot where she was impaled and settles there, as if taking up residence deep within her.

Carla looks down, wrapping her arms around Moria, then turns her attention to her children, eyes wide with wonder. “You brought me back,” she murmurs.

Tabatha disappears as Carla begins looking around, fading into shadow without a sound. The spiders surround past-Carla, circling her with increasing speed. A pink, magical web begins to form around her, enveloping her entire body except for the small space where Moria rests against her heart.

The images blur once more, and suddenly we’re back in the forest clearing with Tofi and the other children, the vision-memory fading away. Carla looks at me, her eyes filled with understanding and sadness.

“They’re simply doing their duty,” she says softly, pulling her hand away from mine. “Protecting me. My heart isn’t hidden. And that’s why I keep getting into trouble—because I’m always searching for acceptance.” She looks down, placing a hand over the place where it beats. “They left it unguarded so I could find you one day.”

She looks up at me, her face a mask of sorrow and realization. “I’m a doorway to limbo. And I just gave humanity my blood and two of my children.” Her voice breaks on the last words. “Because I wanted to feel.”

I pull Carla into my arms, burying my face in her hair, breathing in her peach scent like it’s the only thing keeping me anchored to this world. Everything makes terrible sense now. It’s not supernaturals we need to be worried about. It’s humanity—always humanity, with their insatiable greed and fear of what they don’t understand.

And I haven’t given her children a reason to trust me enough to lift the veil. I’ve allowed two of her children to be killed, along with her blood to be syphoned by humans.

Because I wanted to feel.My philandering ways were always me searching to relieve the ache in my now-beating heart that was once dead, but I never found that relief, not until Carla.

Fuck.

I’ve got a lot of work to do.

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