managed to get her down from the web. After she’d stopped struggling, he’d managed to use the thorn he’d broken off earlier to saw through the thick cord holding her immobile.
“So it bit you,” Rachel repeated slowly. “Then it just dropped dead.”
“Looks like.”
They stared at one another across the length of the spider before Chris’s eyes narrowed in thought.
“So…just how hungry are you?”
“No.”
“I bet she tastes like chicken.”
“Is that supposed to be cute?”
“Rachel.” His gaze was intent, his voice solemn. “You have to eat. Even if I bring the rain, it won’t do you much good if we’re stuck here for too long.”
She frowned at his wording.
“Don’t you have to eat too?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Not necessarily. I think it’s the curse. It makes things like hunger and thirst almost…obsolete.”
“But why?”
He smiled sardonically and finally replied, “Because she wouldn’t want her pet dying of starvation before she could show him off at parties.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Rachel demanded, coming around the spider to stand at his side. “Who is ‘she’?”
“Nobody,” he said, turning away.
“Chris-?”
“She’s nobody!” he roared, turning on her in a fury. With his chest heaving, his face flushed with color, and his eyes overly bright, he was more frightening than the spider had been, and Rachel found herself taking a stumbling step back. At the look on her face, his eyes widened and he paled. Shaking his head, he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.
“How many legs did you want?”
She blinked. “One should do it.”
He nodded, and grabbing the all too handy thorn, he began to cut.
***
They settled down for a few hours to make a fire and cook the meat Chris had carved up. They couldn’t use all of it, and since they weren’t sure when they’d next run across food, Rachel ate her fill. She was pretty traumatized about chowing down on Little Miss Muffet, but couldn’t see any help for it.
Surprisingly enough, it did taste like chicken.
“So what’s her name?” she asked, in between enthusiastic bites of thorax. She knew she’d won when he sat the leg he’d been chewing on down very carefully and folded his hands in his lap.
“Danielle.”
“Huh,” Rachel said musingly. “That’s the name of my friend’s mom.” She swallowed and wiped her mouth on the back of her arm. Hard to be dainty when she was currently sitting on the skull of a giant insect. “Is she the one who cursed you?”
He frowned. “Your friend’s mother?”
“No. This Danielle chick.”
“Oh. Yes.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why did she curse you? There must have been a reason.”
“If there is one, I wish I knew what it was.” He looked so sad that she wanted to reach out and touch him. “Sometimes I think I would have been better off if she had just killed me.”
She hadn’t wanted to say anything aloud, but she’d been thinking the same thing. Why curse someone to a lifetime of this unless you were sick in the head? What sort of spiteful, crazy, she-bitch from hell would…
“What’s your last name again?” she asked suddenly. It was ridiculous, but she only knew one woman named Danielle who would have done something like this. She’d had both the power and the lack of conscious to do the same to Rachel after all. But what were the odds that they were the same wom—
“ Greyson,” he said, looking both confused and alarmed by her rising color. “Christopher Greyson. Why?”
“So Danielle is your mother?” She already knew the answer, but she needed to confirm it while the bombs were busy going off in her head.
“Stepmother,” he said automatically, as if used to making the distinction. “How did you know?”
Rachel started to laugh. This was just too good to be true. She wondered if they would classify as The View material because of the long lost sibling factor, or if the pure bitchiness of
“So it bit you,” Rachel repeated slowly. “Then it just dropped dead.”
“Looks like.”
They stared at one another across the length of the spider before Chris’s eyes narrowed in thought.
“So…just how hungry are you?”
“No.”
“I bet she tastes like chicken.”
“Is that supposed to be cute?”
“Rachel.” His gaze was intent, his voice solemn. “You have to eat. Even if I bring the rain, it won’t do you much good if we’re stuck here for too long.”
She frowned at his wording.
“Don’t you have to eat too?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Not necessarily. I think it’s the curse. It makes things like hunger and thirst almost…obsolete.”
“But why?”
He smiled sardonically and finally replied, “Because she wouldn’t want her pet dying of starvation before she could show him off at parties.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Rachel demanded, coming around the spider to stand at his side. “Who is ‘she’?”
“Nobody,” he said, turning away.
“Chris-?”
“She’s nobody!” he roared, turning on her in a fury. With his chest heaving, his face flushed with color, and his eyes overly bright, he was more frightening than the spider had been, and Rachel found herself taking a stumbling step back. At the look on her face, his eyes widened and he paled. Shaking his head, he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.
“How many legs did you want?”
She blinked. “One should do it.”
He nodded, and grabbing the all too handy thorn, he began to cut.
***
They settled down for a few hours to make a fire and cook the meat Chris had carved up. They couldn’t use all of it, and since they weren’t sure when they’d next run across food, Rachel ate her fill. She was pretty traumatized about chowing down on Little Miss Muffet, but couldn’t see any help for it.
Surprisingly enough, it did taste like chicken.
“So what’s her name?” she asked, in between enthusiastic bites of thorax. She knew she’d won when he sat the leg he’d been chewing on down very carefully and folded his hands in his lap.
“Danielle.”
“Huh,” Rachel said musingly. “That’s the name of my friend’s mom.” She swallowed and wiped her mouth on the back of her arm. Hard to be dainty when she was currently sitting on the skull of a giant insect. “Is she the one who cursed you?”
He frowned. “Your friend’s mother?”
“No. This Danielle chick.”
“Oh. Yes.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why did she curse you? There must have been a reason.”
“If there is one, I wish I knew what it was.” He looked so sad that she wanted to reach out and touch him. “Sometimes I think I would have been better off if she had just killed me.”
She hadn’t wanted to say anything aloud, but she’d been thinking the same thing. Why curse someone to a lifetime of this unless you were sick in the head? What sort of spiteful, crazy, she-bitch from hell would…
“What’s your last name again?” she asked suddenly. It was ridiculous, but she only knew one woman named Danielle who would have done something like this. She’d had both the power and the lack of conscious to do the same to Rachel after all. But what were the odds that they were the same wom—
“ Greyson,” he said, looking both confused and alarmed by her rising color. “Christopher Greyson. Why?”
“So Danielle is your mother?” She already knew the answer, but she needed to confirm it while the bombs were busy going off in her head.
“Stepmother,” he said automatically, as if used to making the distinction. “How did you know?”
Rachel started to laugh. This was just too good to be true. She wondered if they would classify as The View material because of the long lost sibling factor, or if the pure bitchiness of
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