Shea swung her leg over and dismounted beforeleading her and Eamon’s horses back the way they’d come. Shetethered them close to the mouth of the canyon where there weren’tas many webs. Hopefully, they’d be safe here. At least until Eamonand Shea returned.
“Ready?” Eamon asked.
Shea blew out a breath. No, but that hadn’tstopped her before.
They moved quickly and quietly down thecanyon, taking turns watching the cliffs for signs of spinners.Unlike the shadow beetle, spinners didn’t have the ability tocompletely blend in with their surroundings.
Would their quarry really have come this way?Especially in the day when the webs would be much easier tosee?
Eamon held up a fist, his entire body goingstill as he scanned the night. Shea braced, planting her feet whileher senses tuned to any sound or movement.
Eamon looked over his shoulder to make sureshe was paying attention and pointed off to the right. Sheasquinted but couldn’t see what had sent him into high alert.
The spinner webs were thicker here withentire sections of the canyon wall hidden by thick ropes ofwhite.
Finally she heard what Eamon must have as aguttural groan reached her ears. She tapped him on the shoulder toindicate she heard, and together they crept across the groundstrewn with huge boulders towering above their heads. Shea’s skincrawled just thinking of a spinner sitting unseen on top of one asthey lay in wait for unsuspecting prey.
The fourth time she stole a glance at theshadowy heights, she stumbled nearly knocking Eamon down in theprocess. Hitting the ground with a loud thump, she cringed,silently mouthing several choice words. When nothing happened, shereleased a breath and heaved herself to her feet, brushing the dirtfrom her stinging hands. She must have scraped them when shefell.
Eamon waited, his silent presence stillmanaging to radiate disbelief and humor despite being cast inshadow.
They made their way to where the webs werethickest, following the indistinct groaning.
So far no sign of spinners. Shea hoped itstayed that way.
The two split up to investigate the area.Eamon headed deeper into the canyon while Shea moved along thewebs.
She stopped near where she thought the soundsoriginated and peered closer at the way the webs strandscrisscrossed in an intricate pattern that might have been beautifulif it hadn’t been so damn scary.
Seeing the dim shadow of a figure, shestepped closer and was able to make out an arm that led to aslumped man, only the strands holding him upright. His head lolledmaking it impossible to see his face.
“Eamon.” Shea’s excited whisper sounded likea shout after the tension filled quiet. “I found something.”
He moved back to her as Shea tried to find away to the man without disturbing any of the spinner strands. Theslightest brush would alert their makers, much like a flystruggling in a spider’s web would the spider. That or she mightbecome entangled and find it impossible to escape.
As she slipped closer, she made out theslouched figures of two others in addition to the man she’dfound.
“Shane,” Eamon said in a low voice, tensionthreading into it. “I’m not sure you should get any closer.”
Shea dipped beneath another complicated setof threads and straightened in front of her man.
“Is that them?” Eamon asked.
“Not sure, but who else could it be?” Sheawhispered back.
The man groaned again, and Shea took a chancethat he was conscious enough to understand her.
“Try to stay still,” Shea warned. “Thestrands have a hallucinogenic that will get stronger the more youstruggle.”
She needed him semi-conscious so he could runwhen they freed him.
“Who’re you?” the man asked, his voice hoarsewith pain.
“Shane.” As she tried to get closer to seesome of the others, she kept talking trying to keep him calm andawake. “I’m a scout. What’s your name?”
“Fallon.”
Son of a bitch.
