Page 51 of Spiders in the Grove

“He’s dead,” I said; I raised my eyes. “I killed him, Victor.”

He reached out and lifted me into his arms.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he told me.

Holding me close to his chest, he carried me out of the house, never stopping to check Javier’s or even Samantha’s pulses. He had fallen for it. Victor Faust had truly been compromised. By me.

Victor

Weaving my way between buildings in the darkness, gun in-hand, my shoes moving quietly over the concrete, I follow the shadow out ahead. The sound of rushing water is getting closer as I near the bridge.

I stop at the corner of a brick building, concealed by the shadows, when Apollo slows his pace. He slides his hands down into his pockets, and then slips into the darkness cast by the bridge above.

I wait thirty seconds, and then continue to follow, keeping to the shadows and out of sight. Until I lose him.

How could I have lost him so quickly? And then it hits me—he must know.

Pressing my back against the rock wall, I stand perfectly still and silent. And I wait. I have been following Apollo for three hours since I filled his head full of lies and then let him go, so he would lead me right to Artemis.

But something changed in that three hours, and I think he knows that I have been following him. Perhaps it was when he stopped at the twenty-four-hour coffee shop and spent fifteen minutes inside. On the phone. With Artemis, I am certain. I watched him from across the street; he had borrowed an employee’s cell phone. The moment he left the coffee shop, Apollo did seem a bit more alert to his surroundings, casually glancing over his shoulder every once in a while.

Apollo emerges from an alcove within the rock wall out ahead, and I hold my breath and my body stiffens hoping he does not see me. His hands move around at his midsection—ah, I see: he was only relieving himself. Perhaps I have just been paranoid.

I continue to follow him, past the bridge, and toward the park near the river; I keep a safe distance so he cannot hear my footfalls behind him. But where is he going? If I am fortunate, it is to meet Artemis somewhere; I may have been wrong about him knowing he is being followed, but I cannot be wrong about Artemis being the person he called in the coffee shop. I am absolutely certain it was her.

Apollo sits down on top of a stone picnic table near a parking lot, his legs dangling over the side. Retrieving something from his pocket, I see that it is a cell phone once the screen lights up in his hand—he likely stole it from the employee. He puts the phone to his ear, motions his free hand around as he speaks. I wish I could hear what he is saying.

But then my own phone vibrates inside my pocket—and it will not stop. Against my urge to check and see who it is, I let it go to voicemail twice, but whoever is calling me, I know it must be important. This is the worst possible moment to have to answer a call, but I do it anyway, because it could be about Izabel.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the phone and my heart begins to race when I see the code name for my contact in Mexico blazing on the screen at me like a fire that needs to be put out.

“What is it?” I ask quickly, my voice a whisper. “Is she all right?”

“Niet, she not,” he says. “She in serrrious trrrouble. Zey know who she is, and zey’ve taken her. Vy didn’t you tell me Javier RRRuiz vas still alive?”

I stop breathing…

It takes me longer than it should to get my thoughts together.

“Can you do anything?” I ask.

“Niet. I trrried to buy her but she not forrr sale. Zerrre is nothing else I can do. I must go. I have business.”

Just as I move the phone from my ear, crushing it within my fist, I smell her perfume around me, and then I hear the gunshot, thunderous at first, until it deafens me. I feel the bullet as it slices through my midsection, but strangely, no pain; just the warmth of blood as it pours from the wound and pools within my clothing. I sit slumped on the ground, and I cannot even recall how I got here, or when my gun fell from my hand, or when Artemis managed to take it into hers.

My vision is spotty at best; for a moment I see two of her, standing tall over me, until two merges into one. Her lips are moving, but I can barely make out the words. Am I even breathing? I press my hand to my chest, searching for a heartbeat, and my other hand navigates through the gushing blood. With what little strength I have left, I try to put pressure on the wound.

Artemis smiles, although it is not filled with malice, as I would have expected it to be.

Finally, my hearing comes back to me, and her voice slowly produces sound.

“My brother may’ve fallen for your lies,” she says as she crouches in front of me, “but I learned a long time ago never to trust you, Victor.”

I sense Apollo approaching, but I cannot move my head to follow; his shadow precedes him, covering the ground in front of me.

“I wish it were true,” Artemis goes on; she reaches out and touches my face. “I wanted it to be true when he first told me—I started to believe it; y’know, that naïve woman in me who loved you a long time ago, who would’ve done anything for you.” She sighs. “But I’m not that woman anymore, and…well, I see you’re definitely not that man anymore, either.” Her words are laced with consolation and disappointment.

She stands, and Apollo moves to stand beside her.

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