When he reached out to pet the leg of the biggest one, I realized the latter was true.
I remembered him mentioning the spiders didn’t like Abraxas, but I hadn’t inferred that his abilities let him speak to them.
“You scared of spiders?” he asked.
Falling back on my heels, I shrugged. “No. Unless there’s a whole horde of giant ones looking like they want to climb all over me, like there was just now.”
“If you think these babies are giant, you clearly haven’t seen a proper arachzen. They did want to climb all over you, because they love tasting the skin of new people. Nothing really changes around here.”
Tasting the skin? How could he say that without being horrified while they climbed all over him?
“Do you talk to them?” I asked.
“Yeah. They listen to me. It’s one of my abilities. Perk of being a freak of a halfbreed. Pixies have bonds with animals, but demons are full of darkness. I can only control and talk to critters most people think of as pests or nuisances.”
“So you don’t conjure them, you just… talk to them?”
“They came here all on their own.”
I couldn’t stop picturing Waylon as a warped version of a widow. Widows were rare demons, and we’d learned little about them over the years. What we did know was they kept spiders within their bodies, freeing the creatures through every orifice possible when they were enraged or needed to protect themselves.
“If you’re done panicking, we have to go a few more metres until we’re at our destination.”
I wasn’t sure if Iwasdone panicking, but I would crawl again. I’d be casting furtive glances into the shadows while I did, of course, but hopefully Waylon’s warning had stuck. They wouldn’t attack me unless he wanted them to.
Come to think of it, how many times had I died from a sharp pinch to a fleshy part of my body, followed by wooziness and passing out? Venomous spider bites explained a lot. Waylon had definitely killed me and I couldn’t say I was surprised. He was stronger than he looked, but I doubted he could throw the spears that had killed me on plenty of other occasions, confirming my suspicion that more than one of them was out to get me.
If only I could figure out why.
Crawling along a little while longer, light filled the space when we came upon a cozy nook. Boxes had been pushed out of the way to create a boxed-in hang out area, complete with relatively dust-free cushions and blankets. A battery-run lamp illuminated everything.
Waylon was the perfect height to stretch out from end to end, and he did. I followed suit, laying beside him. My legs had to bend, though, my body not quite small enough. “This is cute,” I said, watching the spiders flee when he shooed them away.
“It’s private,” he said.
“Yeah, I can imagine none of the others would want to be up here. They’re all too big.”
Abraxas and Kirin wouldn’t fit at all, and Bennett would have to crunch up tightly to avoid hitting the beams. Zan could visit even easier than Waylon, so I wondered if they spent time together up here. Waylon smirked. “Zan is freaked out by all the spiders, worse than you were, so he doesn’t come up here.”
He’d read my thoughts. The pixie was too insightful, and far too sneaky. “Why do you need to come up here to spend time alone?”
“If I’m in my room, it’s an invitation for Bennett to fuck me.”
His grin was wide, like he thought I’d be shocked. I wasn’t. Considering their dynamic, Waylon’s ass being a free for all made sense. But no one wanted to live like that all the time, so he came up here to escape. Why the heck was he sharing this insight with me? Had I looked that lost and alone while wandering the house? Waylon was the last one to feel sympathy toward me.
“Coming up here must be nice for you,” I said, not showing any form of surprise.
He pouted. “Yeah.”
“What’s in all these boxes?”
“No idea. A bunch of old papers and stuff from fifty years ago. I’ve never gone through it.”
I sat up, and idea rattling around in my mind. Uncle Felix would have fit up here as well as Waylon. There could be a clue hidden among all this junk, and this might be my best bet. Ixaris knew I’d gone over the rest of the house with a fine-tooth comb. “Do you mind if I rifle through some boxes?”
“Go ahead, but I’m not helping. And the spiders might be mad if you disturb their homes.”
“Can you tell them not to bite me?”
