Chapter 65

65

MINA

Not long after that, we were all settled into some sort of battle-van, which the Arachnaea only barely fit into the back of, while Sirena and I—now wearing bulletproof vests—were squished into tiny jump-seats, and Royce and Omara were up front.

I took out Ella's pot of Perfect Blue Pigment from my purse, and drew aggressive streaks of it beneath both my eyes.

"Can you give us any more details on what we're going up against?" Royce asked.

"They're all dudes. I haven't seen them use weapons so far, and"—I preemptively winced—"they're all going to be really lucky."

"They cannot be that lucky, if we are going to attack them," the spider-monster pointed out.

"You have a point. I'm Mina," I said, sticking out a hand.

"Nine," he said, taking it.

"I, uh, saw your documentary. "

The Arachnaea didn't say anything to that—he just let out a long-suffering sigh.

"And the layout of the grounds?" Royce pressed.

I thought back to the night when I'd seen the cabin last, beneath an almost full moon. My heart swam into my throat at the memories, and when Sirena caught my hand to squeeze it, I realized she was probably able to see everything that'd happened to me in my mind.

"I'm sorry," I said, ducking my head down in shame.

"Don't be," she said, letting go of my hand with a pat, and then tucking both of her thumbs into the armpits of her vest, looking incredibly official, though her long blonde hair, now braided up in a ponytail, made her look like Commando Barbie. "This is what we're here for."

I gave a stiff nod, then continued. "It's an old two-story cabin, with a pretty wide fire break all around it—but the whole thing's deep in the woods. Heavy forests, with old trails. And they've got magical tripwires and probably some plain cameras, so they'll know we're coming."

Royce grumbled, then hit some buttons on his center console.

"What're you doing?" Omara asked.

"Summoning reinforcements. Just in case."

"You don't think I can take on a contingent of human men?" she teased, and he picked up her hand to kiss it.

"I don't want you to break a nail, handling the bodies," he said.

Omara gave him an indulgent smile and Sirena snickered.

The road we were on started being flanked by parked cars—BMWs, Mercedes, and Teslas—until we reached a gate that was blocking the road.

"Nine?" Royce asked, and the massive spider let himself out instantly—making the back of the van spring up several inches without his weight. He walked up to the gate slowly, probably investigating it with his spider's senses—and then someone took a pot shot at him.

After that he leapt into the trees, leaving a row of shaking green branches behind him.

"Boy, did they just come at the wrong guy," Royce muttered. Then the spider reappeared, bounding from the sky down to the road in front of us, holding up a middle-aged man, fully trussed.

"Darling?" Royce said to Omara.

"There's only a hundred of them," Omara said with a frown. "They've been waiting for us, but someone else beat us here—there's a ceremony going on—and he knows he's not allowed to touch you," she said, twisting back to eye me, before cocking an eyebrow.

That had Sylas's thumbprint all over it.

"Also he feels bizarrely safe right now, for someone wrapped in webbing," Omara said, making a face.

"It's the luck thing—I told you," I said, and overhead clouds rolled in, even though it'd previously been a sunny day. "See?"

"Are we allowed to kill them?" Nine asked of Royce.

"I'd prefer that we don't," he said. "Too much paperwork. "

"Well, that should be fine," Omara said, striding forward, one hand outstretched. I felt her mind brush mine, but knew it was going after fraternity member's thoughts with intent—then she stumbled, and cursed. "What the—" she gasped, twisting sideways. One of her heels had snapped, and she'd twisted her ankle. "Stupid legs!" she shouted, staring down at her own in frustration.

"Come here," Royce said, moving behind her to easily pick her up.

She looped her arms around his neck and glared outwards. "We can walk in now. I'll get the ones on the left—Sirena, you take the ones on the right."

"On it, Mom!" Sirena said.

"And I'll take point," I said, trotting up to do so, as Nine followed me.

"I'm supposed to be protecting you," he complained.

"Yeah, but they're gonna take the not-hurting-me thing very seriously."

"Nevertheless," he said, and created a Y-shaped netting to hold the man he'd trussed in front of me, suspended from his two front legs, angled out, as he walked with his other six. The man was still squirming around, and in between the weave of Nine's web on him, I got a glimpse of a Rolex watch. "He can be your shield."

It didn't seem worth fighting. "Okay—let's go around back."

Our small group angled down the road that led to the cabin, and found a wall of alumni there, all studiously not paying attention to us, which I assumed had something to do with Omara and Sirena's telepathic abilities—I would've found it more impressive, if I didn't know what Sylas could do with time.

And lo and behold, when we made it to the back of the cabin—where most of the men were—the entrance to the cellar door was also there. One wide wooden door was open and the other was closed, with Trent standing on top of it.

"Let me talk to him," I told Omara, brushing the hanging Rho Rho Phi guy out of the way to step forward.

"That monster said you would come for him—and to not to let you through," Trent said. There was a bloodstain on his jeans, but I couldn't imagine Sylas letting Trent hurt him. "How's it feel to know that no man left on earth wants to touch you?"

"Fuck you, Trent—where is he?"

Trent shook his head. "Mina—just turn around now. While you still can. Before we hurt your friends. Ella's free, you've killed the rest of my crew—we're fucking even, all right?"

I didn't kill Braden, so I chalked that up to Sylas. "Fucking even?" I repeated with a laugh. "While the man I love is trapped below?"

Trent continued, undeterred. "We won't have to sacrifice anyone anywhere, ever again, Mina," he said, like that was a sensible statement to make. "Things'll just keep working out for us. Like they've always done. Like they're supposed to." He hopped off of the cellar door and took a step toward me. "Come on—you and I used to get along. Be reasonable, just this once."

"No fucking way," I said, shaking my head, and Trent lifted a cupped hand to his mouth...to howl.

And all of the men that'd seemed so preoccupied moments ago, because of Omara and Sirena's telepathy, turned to look at us, brandishing weapons.

"We knew what you wanted," Trent said, pulling a knife out from his pocket, and tapping its bloody tip against his temple. "But our magic's stronger than yours now. Just remember, you had your chance to save them." This last was directed at me. "No guns!" Trent shouted. "Don't hit the brunette! But everyone else is fair game!" he said, before diving into the cellar and slamming the door shut behind him. I heard him pulling a latch into place on its far side.

Nine swung his abdomen to block Royce and the other women, while unholstering several weapons from his bag—while I ran out front, prepared to use myself as a human shield.

"What're you doing?" Nine said, sweeping me away. He threw the member he'd trussed, sending a group of the RRP sailing—their luck was good, but it wasn't perfect.

Then a brave cluster of them ran forward, with bladed weapons out—pretentious shit, like swords they bought at the mall—but I had no doubt they'd manage to be lucky with them.

"Excuse me, dear," Royce said, setting Omara on the ground, so he could unholster the rifle at his back. "Nine, from here on out—fuck the paperwork." He balanced his rifle on Nine's back to snipe at one of the men—and his rifle jammed.

"No," he growled. "You've got to be kidding."

"How far out are the reinforcements, Daddy?" Sirena asked.

"Close, baby, close," Royce said, although I had the feeling it was a lie, as he pulled a grenade from his kit, and sent it sailing into the oncoming RRP.

Somehow, someway, all of the alumni dodged it—and after that, they believed in their own powers.

Ones at the front gave a howling battle cry and tried to swarm us. Nine picked up members and threw them bodily, swinging his bulk to crush others, and Royce had pulled out a bladed weapon of his own, putting his trust in his own skills over any projectiles. Omara cursed and had Sirena wedged behind herself, I could sense her mind surging forward, only to be pushed back by the collective luck of the Rho Rho Phi...who were currently being enabled by my boyfriend.

My baby daddy.

And I was going to get them all killed.

"Stop!" I shouted, with my full chest, in horror at my realization. "Just STOP!"

And . . . they did.

All of them were frozen.

"What is happening?" Nine asked, whipping his head in my direction—as did Omara.

"How did you do that?" she demanded.

"I just told them to stop," I said softly.

And for the first time ever, it'd worked.

After all the gaslighting and cruelty, the RRP had finally been forced to listen to me.

I put a palm across my belly and sobbed, as Sirena set a kind hand on my back. "Keep it together for a little longer, Mina."

I nodded, wiping my nose with one hand. "I've gotta get down there," I said, rapping on Nine's thick shell with the other. "Help me to get the door open?"

He cast a glance back at the frozen men, then grunted, reaching down with his hands and front set of legs.

"Please back up," he warned, and then wrenched the cellar door out of the earth and threw it aside like a discus—where it hit several RRP members and crushed them. He chuffed at that. "Spiders have always been lucky," he explained, as I hopped into the open stairwell .

"I don't know how long that's going to last," I said waving back, "but I can't promise it'll be any safer with me."

"We'll take our chances down there till help arrives," Royce said, deciding for everyone, and hopping down, to catch Omara when she dropped.

"Okay, but stay back, just in case," I said, as Sirena joined us, and Nine started sealing the entrance back up with silk.

I turned on the shoulder light that came with my vest, and started racing down the stairs.