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Every day, McBrid postponed this task until the last possible moment, even though she’d be waiting. He wiped his hands on his pants, wishing the guilt could be cleared away as easily, before opening the door. He strode into the room, plastering a smile on his face.
“Fersia, I have a present for you.”
The large Aranea hung upside down on the ceiling of her cage. Her four hairy legs clasped around the bars as her eight eyes watched him. She dropped to the floor, twisting her body to land on her feet as he approached.
He stopped at the red line painted on the tile several yards from her enclosure. They were friends of a sort. He’d given her the opportunity to kill him a long time ago. She’d chosen to let him live, but he didn’t fully trust her. She may decide to amend her mistake one day. He deserved nothing more.
He held up the pad of paper he carried. “This is for you.” He bent and put it on the floor, shoving it toward her.
Her long, hairy leg stopped the notebook as it slid into her cage. She opened it and flipped page after page. She glanced up at him, her black eyes showing no emotion but he was pretty sure there was a hint of moisture in them.
Now for the bad news. “It’s from the new Servant. The one who’ll be your mate.”
She shoved the book toward the back of her cage and grabbed the bar to the left of the door.
“I’m sorry, but I have to do it.” He stopped himself from stepping toward her. “Conguise will kill me if I don’t.”
She chittered at him, a high-pitched screeching sound.
“He’s already suspicious. He caught sight of the last one. I told him the new serum made them look older but I don’t think he believed me.”
She clacked her large fangs and grabbed the left bar over and over—her way of communicating with him, her way of telling him no.
“Please, Fersia. You’re sad. You’re lonely. This Servant is young and nice.”
She screeched.
“It’s not like that.” He covered his ears, but the sound still made his bladder clench and the hair on his body stand on end. “He’s sick. He’s dying. This is the only chance he has to live.”
She quieted.
He dropped his hands. “I told him what he’d become. I gave him a choice.” Unlike her. The guilt hit him again and he wanted to drink himself into unconsciousness. “He still want to do it.”
Her leg slid off the bar.
“You should give him a chance. I told him about you.”
She tapped the left pole.
“I did. I think he’s already a little in love with you.”
She backed away, her leg flailing about.
“I told him how you loved books and reading and you were so smart.” He inched closer, glancing down to ensure he was still behind the line. “He’s not educated. He’s a little rough. He was a stray his whole life but he’s smart and funny and kind.” He took a deep breath. “I like him.”
She hissed, snapping her fangs together and racing toward the front of the cage. She reached for McBrid, her hairy leg waving inches from his face.
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t do this to him if I had another choice or”—he gently ran his finger over the wiry looking bristles of her limb, once again amazed at how soft it was—“if he had another choice. I swear, Fersia, without these shots he’ll die. He has leukemia.” He dipped his head, letting her leg dance over his face. “I’d never do what I did to you to anyone else. I promise. This is the only way he lives. Please, give him a chance. Get to know him. I told him you’d been locked up a long time and that you liked the forest. He drew those pictures for you. He thought you might want to see the outside again. He grew up near the Lake of Sins. It’s a beautiful area.”
Charlie’s faint scream drifted into the room. He straightened and she dropped her leg. They looked at each other both quite aware of whose voice that was.
He raced for the door, stepping over the red line and into her territory, but Fersia didn’t grab him. Charlie was her friend too.