I put the jar of honey in the center of the triangle and filled in the details. On one point, I defined what the honey was. On the second, I defined the properties I wanted to use from it. The third was just me saying what I wanted it to do.
When it looked good enough, I closed my eyes. My magic was still red-tinged, but the spellwork wouldn’t care. In fact, I had a feeling that the anger in my magic would make it more efficient at killing spiders.
I fed my magic into the spellwork, watching the triangle blaze red. When I couldn’t add any more magic, I closed off the magical spigot and watched the glowing fade like embers in the fire.
Carefully, I removed the honey from the triangle.
“Honey?” King said, squinting at it.
“Honey,” I confirmed, a nasty grin on my face. “Give me your pants leg.”
Grabbing a butter knife from a drawer, I waited for King to prop his leg up next to me. He balanced easily, and for a second, I admired the feeling of being trapped by his body. His leg on one side, his body close. I could smell him, and although we had experienced the same terror, he smelled clean and spicy with that cologne he used.
I was pretty sure that I just smelled like sweat and adrenaline.
“No complaining. You asked for witchcraft.”
I spread the honey over his shoe and the cuff of his pants. The honey glowed red as it went on, and it sealed the cuff of his pants to his shoe, leaving a thick, solid residue behind.
“What?” King leaned forward to examine where it looked like his shoe and pants had become one. “Is that reversible?”
“No.” I spread some more honey up the leg of his pants just to be sure. Then I gestured for him to lift his other leg.
His expression was something between annoyed and resigned. “This was a really nice suit.”
“Boo-hoo,” I said, spreading more honey when he switched legs. “You can either have your nice suit, and accept that you’re going to be crawling with spiders, or you can buy yourself a new suit and not worry about what a thousand spider bites are going to do to you.”
“What does the honey do?” he asked.
“Nowyou’re curious?” I waited for the spell to set and then indicated he could lower his leg. I crouched to do my own pants and shoes. When it looked good, I stood and answered him. “The honey seals your pants to your shoes so the spiders can’t get in, but I also made it extra sticky and glued it to wherever I put it.”
“So, a flytrap?” he clarified.
“Give the man a prize.” I debated for a moment what to do with the leftover honey, and then tucked it in my bag. It might come in useful later.
“Why do you get the extra?” King sounded almost petulant. His eyes focused on the door, where something had moved aside the towel.
We both froze. Was it the army of small black spiders? Or was it one big spider? Either way, I didn’t want to see what was on the other side of the door.
I could hear King’s pen scratching the paper of his notepad as he wrote. When I looked over, he was inscribing circle after circle.
“Are any of those going to be useful?” I asked.
“You said you wanted fire.” King continued drawing.
“What if the spider already got to your partner?” I turned away to ransack McCallum’s kitchen, looking for anything else I could use. There were canisters of flour and salt, and I took both. Olive oil got tucked into my bag and a small lighter went in my pocket.
“Then we run,” King said. “But the spells I used should be hard to break through. He should be safe for a while.”
“This feels a little familiar,” I said. “You know, if you wanted to date without a chaperone, you just had to ask.”
“That easy?” he asked.
“Yeah. You wouldn’t even have to buy me dinner.” The look I sent him was suggestive, and he laughed. “In all seriousness, we have to stop meeting like this. It’s not good for my heart.”
“I have to admit, giant spiders are a first for me.” King sketched one last circle and nodded his head as he mouthed the words, going over the pages that he had used.
The spiders finally moved aside the twitching towel and black bodies poured under the door. There were more than before, thousands upon thousands of them.
