Tangled Webs

If not…” He shrugged. “Their choice.”
    She hadn’t expected Rainier to draw such an unyielding line. Of course, he wouldn’t have been that unyielding if the children had disobeyed him rather than her. But the Blood males in Kaeleer—especially the Warlord Princes—drew a hard line when it came to disobeying a witch unless she was asking for something they considered unreasonable.
    “They’re children,” she argued, knowing it was pointless to argue. “We invited them to join us.”
    “We made it easy for someone, but I think those children would have been part of this sick game regardless. How did they know this would be the night the Blood would be coming here?”
    “No sign of workmen?” Surreal paused. Would there have been workmen? Or just the Black Widows? Would children just wait around an old house after dark unless someone had given them a hint that they would see something of interest? She wouldn’t have—unless she was meeting someone in order to kill him.
    “All right,” she said. “Let’s see if we can find anything useful in here. A market basket, carry sack. Anything we can use to haul around what we find.”
    She walked over to the sink. Water would be good. She had a jug of fresh water stored in her “personal cupboard,” a place created by Craft and power that allowed the Blood to carry things without being physically burdened with them. At least Lucivar couldn’t chew on her about not having supplies, and Rainier probably had a jug of water as well. Maybe even some food. But they’d have to use Craft to call in things from those personal cupboards, and she’d rather wait until there wasn’t a choice before doing something that would close another exit.
    She turned both taps and waited. The water pipes clanked and gurgled—and finally produced a gush-and-trickle rhythm of rusty water that stank. Letting it run in the hope that she’d eventually get clear water, she started to turn away to help Rainier check drawers and cupboards. Then…
    Plink-plink. Plink-plink-plink.
    Tiny white nuggets fell from the tap along with the water, plink ing into the sink. Minerals in the pipes, knocked loose when she turned on the water?
    Instead of being washed down the drain, the nuggets shifted and began to form a pattern. Began to form a tiny hand.
    “Well, there was a carry basket here,” Rainier said as he closed a lower cupboard door and stood up. “But it looks like mice have been nesting in here for some time.”
    Not mineral nuggets coming out of the faucet. She was looking at tiny bones. But how could mice get into water pipes?
    Same way anything else could. They had help.
    Maybe the main water supply wasn’t contaminated. Maybe it was just the kitchen pipes. Rainier had said mice had been nesting in one of the cupboards. If there was a bathroom in another part of the house, they might be able to get fresh water from there.
    “No water we can use here,” Surreal said, moving away from the sink.
    “All right,” Rainier replied as he opened a drawer. “We can—”
    She yelped and leaped back, banging into the sink as large, hairy-legged spiders poured out of the drawer Rainier had just opened. He danced back, swearing, as spiders fell to the floor and ran in all directions. And as the spiders ran, they…giggled.
    Surreal stomped on the one closest to her—and felt nothing under her boot. Saw nothing on the floor when she raised her foot.
    Illusions that disappeared within moments of leaving the drawer. Just enough time to scare the shit out of anyone in the room.
    She felt as if she’d been slammed against a wall. In a way, she had been. Under other circumstances, she would have created a protective shield around herself and known she was safe from the spiders. The tight muscles came from denying instincts and training by not creating a shield.
    “You all right?” Rainier asked, his voice sounding sharp.
    “Yeah.” No. The damn things giggled. “Is that all of them?”
    Rainier approached the drawer and bent just enough to look inside. Then he took one of the pokers from the kitchen table and used it to push the drawer closed. “There’s one left in the back. Since it’s dining on a mouse, I think it’s the real one.” He looked around the kitchen and blew out a breath that might have been a softly muttered curse. “What in the name of Hell…?”
    «It’s Tersa,» Surreal said. They were alone, so she wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to say the