Mother of the Spiders: Octagon

14. Loomridge Haven (Thread Two)

[Each chapter of Octagon corresponds to a song that inspired the shape of the character arc and/or story arc. You can listen to each chapter's "song" to gain further insight into the world-building of Gossamer Loom and the people who live there. I definitely had fun listening to these songs while I was writing the novel. Chapter 14's "Formation Song" is "Over at the Frankenstein Place"  from The Rocky Horror Show.]

Jane stood in the front sitting room of Loomridge Haven. A creepy old room in a creepy old house. But God did she love it there...

...usually.

Tonight, she was pissed off. Her arms were crossed as she faced Eli and Josiah's parents. Jane had never been one to back down, especially not now. But dealing with Joseph Loomridge made her want to rip her thinning little old trampy hairs out of her goddamned scalp.

"You have to let us stay," Jane said, her voice steady, though her patience was wearing thin. "For as long as it takes."

Lydia Loomridge, Joseph's wife, sat freaking out on the edge of an ornate chair, wringing her hands, her gaze flitting between Jane and her husband. He stood tall by the fireplace. Disapproval vibrated off of him. Jane could almost smell the man's superiority complex wafting toward her like the wafting smell of an apple pie after it has spent 50 minutes or so in the oven. But this waft wasn't festive or delicious.

It was repugnant.

Lydia spoke first, her uncertain voice irritating. "I understand why you've come. But this is our home, not a refuge..."

"We need to put an end to this talk," Joseph interrupted. "This house is not some sanctuary for people to hide in. We have lives, Jane!"

He had always looked down his nose at Jane like she was some kind of filthy cur off the street. But this was too important for her to care about his posturing now.

"This isn't about hiding," Jane shot back, her tone sharp. "This is about surviving. You know damn well what's happening out there, Joseph. Old Sam is closing in on the Johnson girl. We can't turn our backs on her. It'll be the death of your children!"

Joseph's lip curled in disdain. He stepped forward, his presence towering as he looked down at her. "What makes you think keeping you and the rest of them here is going to do anything but paint a target on this house and put my children in even more danger? We answer to Jesus Christ in my home, not some insufferable little witch at her weaving loom. And besides, this isn't some halfway home for—"

"Don't be an idiot. Your father was a devout man of the cloth and he still respected spirits like the Weaver. You know how the Octagon works. Eight separate lives, resigned to one shared fate. This house," Jane paused, then continued with a rising volume, "is one of the last safe places left for us now. If anything happens to that girl... to any of us before we've done our part to protect her... your sons will meet a grisly end. And you sit here in your enormous, gaping mansion and you think... what? Pretending this isn't happening is going to protect your family? This place, with its history, its connection to the Loomridge name—it's the only chance we've got to keep ourselves alive."

Lydia looked anxiously between them, her eyes flicking to Joseph, as if searching for his approval. "Joseph, what if Jane's right?" she asked softly. "What if sending them away makes it worse?"

"It will make it worse, dipshits" Jane muttered spitefully, stepping closer to Joseph. "Running from the Octagon only makes it stronger. You both know that as well as I do. And you call yourselves Loomridge."