Just A Kiss | BOOK 2 The Night Lords Series

3. A Spider In Waiting

Cassius

"I wasted time, and now doth time waste me." Shakespeare's quote slips from between my teeth as the Consultant's words sink in. The Shadow had kept me captive within his little dungeon of darkness for a week. That's seven days of doing nothing while the rest of the Reverend, those greedy bastards, chased after my mate. I bristled, my rage as sharp as the teeth of winter as it sank into every living thing around us, killing all the warm tones of the earth and replacing it with a frigid white. The only thing to break it were the bits of land and trees that have become the onyx strokes of a painter's hand against a blank canvas. Winter had come, swift and merciless, and because of this I could only imagine there being no possible way of me tracking Isabelle down.

"Where are we?" I ask as I look about. The land was barren save for the copse of trees to the east and a small cabin to our left. The horizon held a strip of mountains, the peaks shrouded in a smog too thick to see through.

Five Consultants were my only company, just as the Shadow had promised. They stood about the cabin, save for the one at my side, motionless and mute. Instead of answering my question, the Consultant next to me moves to the front door of the cabin where he opens it without a word, expecting me to follow. Swallowing my irritation, I head inside. None of the other Consultants follow.

"Please close the door." The Consultant's voice was smooth, soft, yet oddly cold, a strangely emotional tone for a Consultant. I close the door and move to stand in the middle of the empty space. There were no seats in here. It's as if the previous owner had up and vanished along with anything that might've suggested this place had been someone's home. No matter, with one simple wave of his hand, the Consultant produces two chairs and a low table, a goblet of blood presenting itself on my side. We sit and I drank deeply, silently appreciative of the small gesture but I make no move to thank him. This was but another step in the Shadow's game. Whatever niceties offered were no better than poisoned fruit, their sweet flavor masking the bitter core of deception within.

Then, the Consultant does something I don't expect. With one hand and a whispered incantation, he removes his mask to reveal a face that belonged to a mere boy. I'd guess he was seventeen or eighteen at the time of his death, however, one may describe how the Shadow creates his puppets. What shocked me most, though, was his startling resemblance to my Isabelle. Perhaps a bit paler and with black eyes, the touch of immortality giving him an aura of supernatural, but still, nearly identical.

"You're alive," I state, no need to ask pointless questions. It was clear he was related, or was, and most likely aware of his connection to my mate. Yet another odd move for the Shadow to make. Normally, once the Shadow created a Consultant, all memories of who they were and what they knew of themselves would be stripped from their minds, creating the perfect puppet, their heads only filled with the Shadow's words.

The Consultant remains expressionless but his eyes say different.

I smirk. "I've always found you to be the spirited one amongst your kind. Now, I see why."

He glares, and I can't help but compare him to how Isabelle would glare at me. Then, his face melts back into that passive mask, black eyes glittering with an acute light.

"Do you know of the African Funnel-web Spider?"

The question stops me short, confusion written on my face. Annoyance is quick to take its place though and I sit forward, my claws digging into the table as I grip it. "What does that have to do with finding my mate?"

The Consultant ignores my hostile demeanor. "I've read that this particular spider creates a hole in the ground, the entrance surrounded by this silk funnel, hence the name, and it lies in wait for whatever prey might be unfortunate enough to stumble across its trap." With his hands, he splays them in the air to mimic his vision. "The web is like fabric, thin and hardly visible, yet when brushed by an outside force, can send a clear message to the inhabitant of where that force may be. Once triggered, the spider darts from its home to capture the passing force, injecting it with venom before dragging it back into the hole to be devoured."