Page 2 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
I stumble away, revulsion souring my stomach. Whirling, I race in the other direction with no clue where I’m heading. A nearly invisible rope of some sort pulls taut in front of me, catching me at knee height. The ground comes up fast and furious as I tumble down. It’s so damn hard to see. I reach up, gripping onto the nearest plant for balance,and rise. My knees are pounding where my collision with the forest floor has left my skin torn and bloodied. Cracked ribs, bloody lungs, poisoned fingernail, busted knees. What else can I damage in this horrible place?
Whatever I’m holding onto is sticky. I try to open my palm but can’t. I’m stuck. My fingers are clenched tightly around the…rope? White, sticky rope? A vibration thrums through the strands reaching me from somewhere above. I lift my eyes and feel the blood drain from my face. It’s not a rope.It’s a web.
There must be thousands of strands of thick white webbing laced together in intricate patterns that weave between the trees and to the uppermost part of the canopy. A new terror as cold as ice drops into my veins.There are bodies in the web. At least sixthat I can count at first glance. Men and women lie splayed out across the massive structure. Some sob, others are catatonic.
A burly man with curly brown hair and an unkempt beard flicks his gaze to the tops of the trees and screams. I follow his stare. Descending ever so slowly is the biggest spider I’ve ever laid eyes on. It must be larger than the royal carriage and its horses combined. The paleness of its body is so light, it’s nearly translucent. Eight legs bend and flex as it lowers itself toward the man. The body of the creature is horrifically humanoid. Its upper torso houses four spindly arms. The neck of the arachnid monster is far too long and leads to a rounded, eyeless head. A lipless mouth sits fully open in the center of its grotesque face.
The screeching, rattling scream the arachnid releases causes me to freeze. The noise vibrates out of the monster’s chest, then from farther away several similar sounds answer in return. There are more of those things out there…
The bearded man thrashes against his restraints. I notice he’s missing his right hand and the lower half of his left leg. The spider drops below him and scurries to hover just above the man’s already-mutilated lower body. The monster unhinges its jaw, opening that gaping fang-riddled mouth even wider, and slides it over the man’s other leg, reaching all the way up to his hip. A metallic grinding reminiscent of the mill hits my ears. The man screams and screams.
The spider heaves twice, twisting its overlong neck, and swallows the appendage. I can make out the full outline of the man’s muscular leg as it slides down the creature’s throat, passing into its rounded abdomen. A bloody, ragged stump is all that’s left behind. Blood gushes from the open wound. With quick fingers, the spider uses its webbing to tie a tourniquet, stanching the blood loss. Upon further inspection, every person caught in the web is missing limbs.It’s slowly eating them alive.
A yell of pure terror bursts from my gaping mouth. Hell. I’ve ended up in hell.
The creature’s eyeless face snaps toward me. I bury my fingernails into the webbing that’s stuck to my palm, tearing at it with animalistic panic. I slash at it over and over, pulling so hard I fear my shoulder will leave its socket. My hand pops loose, dislocating several fingers in the process. Pain momentarily dulls my senses. I clutch at my mangled hand, squeezing until I snap back to the present. My boots crunch along the forest floor as I shuffle backward. I’m not letting that hellish arachnid grab hold of me.
I spin, racing away from the web of nightmares, heading deeper into the woods. My hand is bent into several unnatural angles, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. A good hand is no use to me if I’m being consumed by a giant spider.
Survive this, find a way out of the forest, then find a healer.
The trees are more densely packed here. They reach for me, gripping my arms, hair, face. I flail, fighting off the thorny fingers as I thread my body through the tangled mess of branches and bramble that weave the mass of trees together. Blood weeps from the dozens of scratches that now cover my skin. But I can’t stop.
That nightmarish rattling screech reaches my ears.It’s following me. Fear assaults my burning heart. I cough again and again, letting the blood spill from my lips as I fight my way through the cursed thicket. Victory races through me as I leap into a clearing. I break into a run but am immediately dragged to the ground. My head smacks hard onto a jutting rock, sending stars across my vision. Something constricts around my ankle, dragging me back into the dense woods and closer to the howls of that grotesque spider and its wailing victims.
I fight the creeping blackness devouring my vision, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. All I can do is pray that when Iopen my eyes next, it’s beneath the silver gaze and icy blond hair of the man who’s become my only hope.
As my world fades completely, I whisper his name, “Harrow.”
A hollow growl sounds from above me, and the next time I speak it, it’s on a scream of pure, bloodcurdling terror. “Harrow!”
Please, God, let him find me in time.
Chapter 2
Harrow
The Previous Winter
How foolish mortals are to believe they can cheat death. Their blood and bones are as temporary and frail as the wafer-thin corpses of the dead and dying leaves that crumble soundlessly beneath my boots. Every part of them is fleeting. Radiant smiles that sit forever embedded in a hollow skull. Nothing more than a lipless set of emotionless, enamel-hardened pieces in the dirt of the damned, brainless long before the worms and decay devour their tissues and contemplations, that empty and thoughtless chamber carrying over from their monotonous lives and into their soon-forgotten tombs. It’s all fuel to my world of death and despair, though I do ache for a more complex creature to fill the walls of my forever. Such a pity that their simplicity is so endlessly immutable.
The hidden teeth in my shadows chatter in anticipation. Prowling, stalking, weaving forward as silent as the grave. They twist and writhe, eager to taste the demise of the wicked soul we are long since owed. My hunger, that bottomless clawing need, heightens within. It’s nearly time. The scent of an overripe soul is close. The supple fragrance is tinged by the dark magic that has concealed its presence from me these past six years.
No longer. And now that I’ve found him, his fate will be so much worse than the natural death that was planned for him.
An unfathomable darkness wraps around me. It cloaks my near-human form, allowing me to blend seamlessly into the starless night itself. For even the stars tremble and hide when the harrowing is afoot.
The amulet that rests upon my sternum grows hot against my skin. The burning green crystal that sits nestled within the twisted metal cage glows brightly, pulsing in short waves of vibrant light before dimming completely.He’s here. I don’t always reap souls in person. It is the only job of my many spirit workers from the shadow realm. My precious pets ferry the dead to my domain on shining wings. Most have chosen to take the form of a raven.
Those who die will inevitably find their way to my kingdom. But when I have been wronged by the living, I make it my personal responsibility to ensure their unimpeded arrival. We can’t have them skipping out on the endless torment and suffering that awaits them in the particularly nightmarish corner of the Underworld that’s set aside for those of the most violent and vicious natures.
My trek tonight leads me deep within the walls of a still and stony castle. Life pulses from all around me. It’s a pity this monster has chosen such a beautiful place to hide. But where he is a monster in soul and symbolism, I am a true monster. For vilehuman actions, there are very real repercussions. My victim is about to learn this firsthand.
The muffled cries of an unfortunate woman lead me straight to the door I seek. My shadows tip the knob, allowing the door to swing inward. My prize stands above a broken woman, meaty fist raised high in the air.
“Frederic Bellingham.” The words hiss out from between my clenched jaws. Frederic freezes, split knuckles halting mere inches from the woman’s battered face. His thick, stubble-lined neck twists my way. My insides glow with giddy delight as the color drains from his horrified face. He can see me, of course. Those nearest to death always can. I thoroughly enjoy the part where they begin to understand just what a grand mistake they’ve made.
My excitement falters as I take in his unusual aura. The blinding white light that should be surrounding someone on the verge of their natural demise has been tainted. Instead of a starry luminescence, inky tendrils of garish black and sickly green swirl around his physical form. Residual effects of the spell that has kept him hidden from me all this time.
