Page 22 of The Catacomb King
“Wait, no —"
Hades went out again. He shut the door and deadbolted it.
Motherfucker. “What’d you kidnap me for if you’re just going to ditch me in here?” I hollered, but obviously he was already gone.
I spread-eagled on the bed. (It was anamazinglysoft.) Then I sat up, astounded. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I had just caught sight of my spear, still in the corner where Hades had thrown it.
They’d really left me with a weapon? How had no one bothered to confiscate it while I was gone?
I looked again at the messy weave of the carpet, the poor construction of the furniture. They really did not have their act together down here. Hell, even their kidnapping had been late.
Maybethatwas why they had taken me instead of Josie. Because they were so late they were panicking.
Late for what, though? And what had the Vizeking meant when he’d suggested, snidely, that Hades should edify me?
Well, no one had eaten me yet. No one had hurt me at all, actually. I’d practically dared Hades to and he hadn’t even bothered. It was getting hard to maintain the appropriate level of blind fear. And speaking of eating…
My stomach grumbled.
As if on cue, the door creaked open. Hades? I didn’t have time to reach my spear. I put my fists up warily, my fingers loosely curled so I could be prepared to scratch. But it was only the bug-lady, Elke, and now that I was getting used to the shock of seeing her enormous spider body, I could see clearly fromthe expression on her round human face that she was way more scared of me than I was of her.
I had to admit I kind of enjoyed that.
“Well, come on in,” I said to her. “My spear’s over there. I couldn’t get to it in time to stab you even if I wanted to.”
She blanched. But she entered. In her front two legs — she didn’t have opposable thumbs, but she had a masterful trick of balancing items — she held a metal platter. Atop the platter was some kind of whole roasted fish.
The fish had too many eyeballs. But its light, meaty scent drifted over to me. My mouth watered. I smelled the char from the fire, the sharp tang of some strange spice.
Through the haze of hunger, I tried to calculate. How long had I been down here? Surely no more than a few hours. Surely I was nowhere near starving to death, no matter how hungry I felt.
I put my nose in the air like I’d seen the rich girls do in the village and I said, “You’ll have to try harder than that.”
Then my stomach rumbled like an earthquake.
I winced.
Elke blinked at the sound and held the platter out. “The Prince has ordered me to feed you,” she said uncertainly.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me to be grateful he’s not forcing it down my throat.”
“Oh, no,” she said, shocked. “He would never.”
It was pretty clear that he would never, but I wasn’t about to tell Elke that. I scoffed. “He keeps throwing me around like I’m a sack of apples from the market.”
Weakly, Elke said, “I’m sure he only ever throws you on something soft.”
That was true, actually. I crossed my arms. “Well, he’s going tohaveto force-feed me if he wants me to eat your underworld food. Tell him that, why don’t you.”
Elke cowered. “I will tell him,” she squeaked.
I almost laughed. “Elke, you don’t have to be afraid of me. Look at me. Look at you. Look how sharp your legs are! You have a carapace, for gods’ sake.” She did, a spider’s carapace, like armor. “I’m so soft and squishy.”
“I am not trained in fighting.”
“So what? You think I am?”
“The Prince takes you seriously.”
