Capitulum XII

R igel was still utilizing his compassionate leave from classes, so I was free from his prying throughout the day while I tried to plan the best course of action for the following night.

To call him unpredictable would be an understatement at best, so I was content to follow through with the spider woman's plans to leave him out of it. I wasn't sure it was smart to run off without any indication of where I was headed.

Inspiration struck halfway through Transformation.

Professor Faun stood before us. "This week, we will be starting a new exercise. I want you all to select something, any animal or object your heart desires, to be your sole focus of study for the next week of classes. During every class period, we will have you demonstrate your chosen animal or object and receive feedback from the rest of the class and me. I'd recommend choosing something relatively simple. There is no point in trying to show off."

He paused, eyes landing on Rigel's empty chair. "This is not about how well you do but how effectively you apply your feedback. Now, take a few minutes to decide and then we will begin alphabetically."

Groans poured out from my fellow A names, but I instantly knew what to choose.

Being second in line, I had little time to overthink the choice. There was a chance that he would intervene if it were too obvious. But hopefully, he would just view it as vengeful unless I disappeared. Then, at least, I might have put the idea in his mind.

Abigail, the only person ahead of me, took to the front of the room and attempted to become a loafer. She shrank, though not quite enough to resemble a shoe not intended to be worn by a clown. She curled into an ovular shape, and with her skin darkened to a smokey grey, she mostly resembled a rain cloud.

Then it was my turn. I limped slowly to the head of the room and leaned my cane against the desk.

"What will you be attempting this week?" Professor Faun asked me, eyes dancing around the room as if afraid to alight on me.

"A spider," I said, watching his posture pull taut like the word was a corset ribbon.

His hand paused, pen hovering over paper momentarily before his eyes flicked to me. "Go on."

I immediately focused on unfolding six new legs from my abdomen. The sudden shift of my weight had me falling forward, my new limbs barely catching me as I tried my hardest to make them resemble those of the spider woman.

People exchanged looks, as I was sure I hardly resembled any kind of spider.

"Finished?" Professor Faun asked, expression tense.

I nodded.

He cleared his throat. "Does anyone have any recommendations?"

Most who spoke up stated the obvious. I was much too large and still resembled a human for the most part, etcetera. But my attention was mainly on Professor Faun, who'd gone green.

"What do you think, Professor?" I asked, cocking a brow.

He cleared his throat, tugging the ribbon around his neck.

"I concur with the feedback you've received from your classmates." He paused just long enough to finally grant me his chilly eye. "You have plenty of room for improvement."

~

Once night fell, I slipped out of my room, invisible. While the school had tried to keep everything normal to maintain student morale, they still had extra patrols at night. So, I had to take the long way to get to the library and slip inside.

I'd accounted for having to use the mouse tracking method to get down there this time, so I hadn't bothered to go until midnight loomed close.

Once the little creatures swarmed, I pulled out my eyebrow hair and offered it up to the current of tiny bodies, but none of them paid me any mind.

At first, I was confused, but then a solitary mouse standing on its haunches was waiting patiently for me down the tunnel.

Clearly, I was expected.

I followed the creature down, feeling my heart rate climb with every turn. At the shelf that acted as the entrance to the room, I pulled the books out haphazardly and descended the spiraling steps. The glowing well awaited in the middle of the floor, through which I could hear those familiar, haunting whispers.

Climbing down, I was surprised to see the spider woman milling about among the web-swaddled desks. She was standing next to a beheaded student, who was writing furiously, seemingly unaware of her proximity. She glanced over her shoulder, shooting me a grin before returning her attention to the headless body.

"Hello again," she said, her voice humming from the glowing room around us.

I watched as her arachnid limb reached up between her legs, drawing out a ribbon of luminescent white silk, which she plucked free with her human fingers.

With one hand, she gripped the student's sagging arm and pressed it hard in the proper spot. The other hand stuck the end of the silk to the sleeve and drew more out of herself to wind around what was left of the young man.

"What's that?" I asked.

"A little maintenance."

I grimaced, which made her chuckle as she wound the silk around his chest and then his bicep to keep the limb in place as it continued to work.

She tugged surprisingly hard, and I felt a shock of sympathy pain for the pinch of the ribbon cutting into his skin.

"Does that not hurt them?"

That caused her to laugh, which echoed harshly around the room several times. "It's a moot point. I don't allow for unionization."

Seemingly satisfied with her work, she tore the silk ribbon with her teeth and smoothed it down against the rest of the binding. The hum of scratching pens, flicks of paper, and murmuring voices dipped in unison as if a dial had been turned, and suddenly, it was quiet. Thus, when she finally faced me, I got the sense I finally had her full attention.

"I must say, I was taken aback by your note," she mused. "My curiosity is beyond tethering. What could have possibly prompted you to believe me the prime suspect?"

Her hairy spider legs tickled the ground in a slow, unsettling way as she shifted her body weight forward. Her eyes studied me as if trying to discern precisely how frightened I was.

"You're the only thing we know who has a tendency to"—I looked around, trying to think of the least insulting descriptor—" collect students."

"And you think I need to put on a bloody show to do that?" she purred with laughter. "Oh, no, I have very particular tastes."

"Which are?"

She shifted again, her legs clicking against the stone floor hidden beneath the luminescent, cottony webbing.

"I need them to be proud. They need to seek knowledge that they think they're owed. That's why I only care for the students who find their way to me."

I laughed. "I'm surprised you didn't keep Rigel, then. He's as prideful as they come."

She offered me a sad smile, jarringly human for a flash. "The pride that he wears is a fa?ade. His motivations are much more complicated and boring by my measure. But I think you probably knew that on some level already."

"And Lindy? Me?"

"Pride, self-involvement, and recklessness are all very different things."

"Which one am I, then?"

"Take your pick."

I narrowed my eyes. "Funny."

She lifted a fuzzy leg and gestured behind her. "If you're not satisfied, you are welcome to look around. But, no. Like I said, I don't make a point of snatching students from the surface."

"Do you know where Lindy is?"

She paused. "The last time I saw her, she was asking me to destroy her history."

"She was here?"

"Nearly a week ago, yes."

"How did she even get here?"

"She said the tall one gave her directions, probably hoping she would help him look for her history."

"I don't understand why she would do that."

"It's a mystery to me as well." Her hand came down on a history, holding it aloft. "It's a rare request."

"It seemed you didn't grant it," I said, nodding to Lindy's embossed name on the cover. "Did she say why? Is that the reason you haven't done it?"

She chuckled. "You think that's why I haven't destroyed this? Did it not occur to you that I don't exist to indulge the impulsive whims of mortals?"

I shrugged, trying not to seem shaken by her cutting eyes.

"Honestly, I thought they were indestructible."

She grinned.

"Only for you mortals."

As if to demonstrate, she opened the history and gripped a random page, tearing it free from the binding and shoving it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, mouth open, the silky page liquefying between her teeth.

"Seems easy enough," I said, trying not to seem too disgusted. "Why not finish it off?"

"She didn't give me the reason she wanted to be ‘deleted from the record,' as they say." She grinned. "And I like to understand why someone might want such an outcome for themselves."

Something in her tone told me that being deleted from the record meant something very permanent, more so than even going through the black door.

"I thought you didn't care what happened to us lowly mortals?"

"Curiosity is a powerful emotion, for me more so than most."

"She didn't mention anything? Any reason she might want to disappear or maybe hide from something?"

"No," she said, looking almost amused. "But it appears that whatever she was afraid of has transpired."

A cold chill ran down my spine.

Her head perked up, eyes darting to the well entrance above my head, and I followed her gaze. "Fascinating. Someone has followed you."

"What? Who?"

Her face spread into a warm smile as movement shuffled at the top of the well. I stepped away from the steps just as Professor Faun climbed down. His movements were sure, but noticeably stiff, strung tight like he was prepared to lash out at any moment.

His eyes slid past me, settling on the spider as she shifted excitedly. If she had any qualms with the hatred in his eyes, she didn't let on.

"Hello, boy. How have you been faring above?" she asked with a grin. "I still see you in my dreams."

He didn't acknowledge her words. "I am here to fetch my wayward student."

"How respectable of you, Faun. I've always admired your dedication to your teaching role."

He cleared his throat, and his hand twitched at his side, as if he were stopping himself from fiddling with his ribbon.

"Don't be dramatic, dear. We were just catching up." Her eyes flicked between us, and she grinned knowingly. "Go on, then. I have no intention of keeping either of you."

He eyed her suspiciously, then grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the ladder. "Go."

The spider woman nodded in a silent goodbye, and I turned to climb out of the well.

We were quiet until we finally made it up into the tunnels. He stopped to push the books back into place, and I began the walk back without him. The verbal lashing he was undoubtedly about to unleash was as unwelcome as it was pointless.

"You seem angry for someone who explicitly told me their plan before executing it," he finally said, walking behind me.

"It was a contingency plan."

He ground his teeth so hard I was sure they creaked. "Perhaps the need for such actions should have clued you in to the pointlessness of doing this."

"Oh, please." I turned, shooting him a sly grin. "It's not like she would have taken me, my handwriting is shit."

His face remained still. Unamused.

"So, egging me on to follow you was, what, revenge?"

"Revenge for what?" I asked, pretending to be aghast. "Maybe I just wanted to test your resolve."

"Resolve against the one entity I'm truly terrified of?"

Surprising both of us, I extended my cane, forcing him to stop next to me so he had no choice but to meet my eyes. They were still cold and distant, but the more I looked, the more forced the expression felt.

"Being alone with me."

I let the words settle on his skin.

His lips parted only slightly, the way they form around a kiss as opposed to a word.

When he didn't speak, I withdrew my cane and turned to face forward once more.

"But don't worry, you've proven yourself thoroughly disinterested. How... admirable."

I turned to continue walking when, suddenly, his arm came around my waist and jerked me to a stop.

"You grievously underestimate exactly how much effort is required to keep from ripping your clothes off at any given moment." He breathed the words against my neck, making all the hairs on my body perk up. "The urge is strong, even with everything I did to cleanse myself of you. I sorely wish it had worked."

I found myself tempted to believe him, if only for the way his hands hungrily slid over my body like he couldn't help himself.

"You're doing a terrible job right now."

One of his hands went to my belt, pulling the leather strap free until it hung limply from its loops.

"Forgive me." He groaned, pinching the button of my pants open and diving below my waistband.

I sucked air through my teeth as his warm palm trailed down my lower belly, fingers slipping into my panties.

His breath was hot against my neck, and when his middle finger finally dipped into me, he let out a groan that danced across my collarbones.

The press of his fingers against my clit sent a zing down the inside of my thighs, making my legs weak. I steadied myself on the bookcase, as he dipped back in. His finger curled inside me, making me whimper, then pulled free and spread my wetness across my clit.

His other hand came up, gripping my breast and squeezing hard. The burn of his fingers through my sweater made me grind into him, feeling his excitement digging into the small of my back.

"Don't," he whispered, not relenting.

"Come on," I whined, pressing into him even harder. "Please."

He groaned again but kept me firmly in place against his chest, fingers not letting up, dipping in and out of me.

"Don't stop," I breathed.

The hand in my pants sped up while the other kneaded greedily, sending me toppling over the edge. I had to bite back a cry as my legs buckled. His hands quickly came around to support me.

He pulled his hand from my waistband and released me, making me feel suddenly cold.

"Start walking."

I straightened my clothes and picked up my cane, still unsure how to feel about the whole ordeal.

He didn't look particularly pleased with himself. In fact, when I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, I found him downright guilty.

"I am sorry," I said quietly, hoping to keep his mind on us and not the other potential reason I'd come down there.

"Don't." He raised his hand. "Your story didn't fool me. I know this wasn't about me."

Dammit.

"Professor—"

"I highly doubt anything we say could be terribly productive past this point."

I snorted.

"The summer really has changed you if you find physical indulgence more productive than simple words."

"That was a moment of weakness."

"Yes, let the self-flagellation begin," I grumbled. "Right on schedule."

He ignored my barb, saying, "You clearly have no interest in listening to my suggestions that you utilize your intelligence instead of your savior complex or maybe impulse control. I honestly can't tell which is stronger."

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, so we do have something to say."

"It's not like it matters. It seems my appeals to your interest in my emotions have failed. So, perhaps a little harsh honesty really is in order."

"You have yet to tell me anything I'm unaware of."

"Then, how's your read on your own stupidity?—because I fear it's fallen through the cracks of your supposedly watertight self-awareness."

"I've got it under control."

"You have no idea what you're doing." He laughed, the sound coming out as a dry croak. "You don't know anything."

"I'm not stupid."

"Then, act like it."

"Go to hell."

"I love you."

I stopped in my tracks, and so did he.

"What?"

I could only mouth the word.

"Does that even matter? Does that change anything for you?"

Without meaning to, I leaned back, spine pressing into the bookcase.

Something inside of me felt like both healing and loss—like my heart had swelled so fast it cracked under the pressure.

I wanted to tell him it was enough—or, rather, it could be enough if it could change who we were and where we were.

"It changes nothing about our situation."

He wiped his hand across his mouth. "I suppose you're right. How foolish of me."

Exhaling, I tried desperately to dispel the painful tightness behind my sternum. Stepping forward, I gently palmed the sides of his face and brought it down to mine, kissing him lightly on the lips.

"You should go," he whispered when I pulled away.

"You're staying down here?"

"I just need a minute." He cleared his throat. "Please go."