Ladybug could not breathe. She knew he spoke of Willow, and even though this was a time from before she was even born, this, too, felt as if she were watching it through the windows of a dollhouse, watching them act out the past as clearly as if they really were in a movie.
“I recognized her blood and I heard it calling to me.Mywitch was calling me home. I followed the sound of her voice and it brought me to this place, and the dark mother was here. Our triple goddess in all of her aspects — maiden, mother, crone, living together here beneath this roof. And they did suchamazingmagic together here.”
His green feline eyes met hers, a buzz against her skin, the fruit bowl shaking on the table before her.
“And that is why I am back, Araneaen. I have promises to keep. The day is coming when I shall likely be cast back through the flames, back to my own realm, but it will not matter. For I have known what true magic is. I have known the power of the coven, and I shall see it again. I have known my dark mother. They call herwitch, and I will stay at her side until I am called home.”
The silence after his dramatic monologue seemed to ring. The seconds ticked. Anzan stood slack-jawed as Holt crossed back to counter, hopping up again lightly.
“I also have a shop in Bridegton,” the familiar went on conversationally, completely breaking his dramatic moment. “Ritual tools and candles, and curiosities for the average consumer. And of course there’s mydirty black market dealings, of which our little Ladybug is so fond.“ He smiled beatifically and Ladybug glared. “So that’s my story, spider boy. What’s yours?”
Ladybug did not miss the challenge there, and she knew Anzan would also hear it for what it was.
“How did you wind up so far from home, all the way to sleepy little Cambric Creek and our Ladybug’s door?”
Anzan took his time, making a show of restoring his coffee maker to its proper home, keeping Holt waiting as he ground some fresh beans, measuring and pouring water as Ladybug watched with a smile. Holt tapped his black lacquered claws on the counter, unimpressed with the prioritization of caffeine.
“I come from a place called Maranok,” Anzan began suddenly, over the grinding of the machine. “A place of dense jungles and white rock beaches. The community I was born into was one of wealth and prosperity, ruled over by a vicious queen.” He grinned down at the grinder with tight lips. “Is that not always the way of it? A wicked queen and those desperate for her favor? In our case, the wealth and prosperity of our community trickled down to her favorite clans, those related to her by both blood and marriage. To have been from a family favored by the queen was to live an easy life, full of choices.”
The machine gurgled and hissed, the familiar fragrance of the Beanery’s bourbon barrel-aged beans filling the kitchen. Ladybug sighed in contentment. The smell of his coffee had seeped into her daily routine over the last year, becoming part of the olfactory tapestry of this kitchen, as integral as the steam from her cauldron, as much a part of this room as she was herself. She never wanted the smell of his presence to go missing again.
“Unsurprisingly, that was a privilege for very few. As for the rest of us, you were either the family’s fortune, or the family’s bane. A bride or a palp. Daughter’s fortune or son’s despair.” Anzan turned back to the coffee machine, taking his time pulling one of his favorite mugs from the wire rack on the wall behind it. “To be born female in my culture,” he continued, his back to Holt, “was a gift of prosperity for the entire clan. A bride’s price only increases as she grows older, as she grows beautiful and more deadly, so most families seek to broker marriage contracts while young Araneaens are in infancy.” He turned back to face them once more. “There is no greater shame for a clan than to have a son reach mating age with no marriage contract.”
“I take it you did not leave behind some jilted spider bride?”
Anzan gave Holt another stony smile, ignoring the familiar’s bait. “Ours is a culture of favors and fighting. I cannot say that the reputation of my people is unearned. Competing families would lavish a potential bride and her clan with gifts of meat and mead, money and precious gems, and other valuables for up to a year before a bargain was struck, all the while doing what they could to sabotage the other competing clans. To be passed over was a sign of low standing in the community. If a family could not afford to win a marriage contract for their son, it was not something they could hide. Everyone in the village would know they had failed.”
“How is it that those documentaries only ever manage to capture the bloodsport?” Holt mused. “I daresay you’d not be so unwelcome if they showed the basket weaving and bartering in the markets. There would be a run on Araneaen-woven goods, the retail markup would be substantial.”
Ladybug frowned, able to see the devious wheels in Holt’s head already turning. Anzan only shrugged.
“Because the documentaries are human-produced. They know to come during the mating season, when they can capture the most sensationalistic footage. Basket weaving doesn’t make for compelling at-home viewing.”
Crossing to where Ladybug sat at the table, he gave her a soft smile, selecting a plump clementine from the bowl, stroking her cheek gently before moving back to his coffee. She watched as he stuck the tip of one claw into the small citrus, rotating the fruit against his nail, the peel coming off in a long spiral.
“My parents had begun preparing for my elder brother’s dower before he was even born, as a precaution. They had saved money from our mother’s bride dowery, and worked hard to amass a collection of suitable gifts. They were able to secure his contract when he was only a few years old, a proud moment for the family.” Another smile, this one with a bit of sharp-edged fang. “And then, regrettably, I was born.”
“I do not like the way you tell this story,” Ladybug interrupted, frowning at his self-deprecating characterization of his own birth, of his own existence!
“Shhhhhhhh.“ Holt glared at her from his perch on the counter. “For pity’s sake, let him speak. If we decide we want to hear the sad tale of Ladybug and her dial-up internet, you can tell yours next.”
She huffed when Anzan chuckled. No, she did not like the idea of them being allies, not one bit.Should have kept your mouth shut. Should have let him stay in the attic.
“The risk of having two sons is not one most clans are willing to chance. This is why most Araneaen couples have one child, and only one. The fate of the second son is known to everyone from the time of birth, and it is best avoided . . . but sometimes that is not the way the winds blows. Your Fates at work, yes?”
“Exactly this,” Holt agreed. “We are as we were meant to be.”
Anzan nodded, sipping his coffee. It was another long moment before he spoke again. “You must understand, little bug, it is not that my parents were cruel or unloving. I know that is what you must assume, and I understand. Sending younglings out into the world alone is not the way of most species. My people are often painted as emotionless and violent, but that is typically not the case, and it is only ever true within our species. We prefer to stay away from most outsiders. They fear our speed and strength, and they are not interested in learning more of our culture. As I said earlier, to be born female is a gift. To be born male is a great expense for a clan. Two sons is ruinous. But we are not cut off as children. If nothing else, I think perhaps sometimes those unlucky second sons are given more of their parents’ attention and effort than the firstborn. That was the case in our household.”
Another soft smile for her. Ladybug nodded encouragingly, offering a tentative smile of her own. She could not deny that it broke her heart to think of him cast off, abandoned by his family, discarded by his community as an unwanted spare.But this is his story to tell, not yours.
“In that again, we are alike, my little bug. My family made sure I had a trade, did research on in-demand industries beyond our small home, ensuring I was well educated in computers and electronics. My father and uncle saw to it that I knew how to build, my mother and grandmother ensured I knew how to hunt. I do not think they sent me away without heaviness in their hearts. It was a choice beyond their control.”
“And why was it necessary?” Holt asked. “I think I’m still missing a vital piece of this puzzle.”
“Soyouare allowed to interrupt —“
Holt hissed at her, and she huffed again.
