Page 73 of Damned and Broken Gods
“Yes. Humans and a tribe of water djinn living in harmony.”
“If it’s dangerous, then why let ’em live there?”
She frowns at me. “You do ask a lot of questions.”
“Yeah, but ya still adore me.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You made me a fuckin’ apron.” I pinch the corner of the apron with the tiny pockets, the softest thing I own. Me first outfit. Bhoomy is making me more, some pants, a shirt, she’s a dab hand with the needle. “So?”
“So what?” she asks, perplexed.
“Why they got people livin’ there?”
Bhoomika sighs. “I have no idea why. It is the way that it is.”
“Cop-out answer if ya ask me. Aren’t you meant to be the keeper of knowledge an all that?”
She sets her quill thingy down and fixes me with a stern look. “Aren’tyoumeant to be cleaning?”
“Spoilsport.” I get back to work, but I can’t stop finkin ’bout that island and how dumb it is to ’ave civilians livin’ there if it’s so dangerous. Why ’ave humans living in domes and stuff on the mainland to protect them, and then leave other humans on an island surrounded by sea monsters? S’pose it’s okay. Sea monsters can’t go onto the land so?—”
“Oh, for goodness sakes, Blue,” Bhoomika snaps. “Can you please stop muttering?”
“Eh?” I look over at ’er, and she’s all bright-eyed with annoyance. “Sorry, chick.”
She sighs and pushes back her chair. “How about I make us some tea?”
My ears perk up. “You got any more of that cake from the other day?”
She cracks a smile, cos heck, how can she stay pissed at me? “I do. I’ll be right back.”
She leaves, and I get back to work, scampering onto the shelves behind the crate of scrolls so I can dust the back. If I’m gonna do this, it’s gonna be done well. Gotta admit, I got a cushy deal here. Cake and tea, and Bhoomika ain’t bad company. Not Leela level company, no one beats that, but she’s all right.
I scamper higher to get to the scrolls at the top. The books ’ere are old and dusty. I’ll need to give them a brush-off too. It’s like no one’s cleaned ’ere for ever. Urgh, I take a breath, and dust shoots up me nose. I sneeze, and sneeze, and sneeze, so focused on clearing me nasal passages that I barely register the shift in the air until a shadow falls over me. Me fur stands on end, me muscles tense, and I look up, real slow. Up into a million dark eyes that hold me face.
Madame Spider stares back at me.
I want to speak, to say sumthin remind ’er I’m not on the menu, and then her voice fills my head—soft and sibilant.
It’s waiting for you.
She lunges, and I do the only fing I can. I fall. Into the fucking crate. Deep into the scrolls.
It’s waiting…’Er voice drifts away.For you…
The alarm bells ease off. Not on the menu, then. Not today. My head feels odd, like she’s still inside it. Urgh. I shake it. Fucking hell. It’s pitch-black in here. Papery and dark. Got ta find me feet. Get out.
I meke to move, an’ somefin’ catches me eye. A glow? Down ’ere? What is that? Instead of climbing out, I burrow deeper. Toward the glow. What is it? A small scroll. Tiny, in fact. It could have been tucked inside a larger one. Looks like one of them message things you send by carrier pigeon. The scroll glows from inside, like it’s holding a light. I can’t ’elp but touch it. The glow intensifies, and I’m not sure why, but it feels like this scroll is for me.
It’s waiting for you.
I ’ave ta take it.
I do.
I take it and tuck it inta the pocket of me apron.
