When she first morphed into a dazzlingly huge spider, it nearly scared him to death. And then she rapidly became at one with her new self, and Voland grew used to her coughing silk from time to time, the occasional and uncontrolled shape-shifting. Even stranger, he felt a strong attraction towards her, partly a parental emotion due to the effort he had put into creating her new form, but something more. A bond. A genuine person existed beyond her unique exterior. She cared for him, too, perhaps out of a debt of gratitude but he didn't care. Normal rules for attraction did not apply here. A new psychology emerged from this relationship.
Did he feel as though he owned her? Wasn't that what many people incorrectly felt in their relationships? He did not. He loved her as his equal. She was not a form of capital to him, not merely some proof of his skills. His greatest fear had been that she might not mentally accept her physical state, but she assured him she was not scarred at all, had not been vitiated, and never for one moment considered things that way. No, she was a rebuild, a new woman. Her expression softened when she discussed how proud she was of her present form. She said she adored her new abilities, adored Voland for giving them to her. Her kisses peppered his cheeks. Her old life was immolated so as to allow her to love herself fully.
She might not be all woman – but she was no freak either. She insisted she was more content with who she was now, much more than ever before. So Voland had slept well thereafter, knowing his work was complete.
*
Nanzi entered the bedroom wearing a towel around her waist. It haeen a long night and she now awaited Voland's attention. He looked up from having thrown two extra logs on the fire, in the hope of injecting some more heat into the cold stone walls.
'My dear…' Voland took her hands in his. She was beautiful, this slender young woman, with her black hair shiny from dampness. Her breasts were small and delicate, the firelight making something defined from the neat angles of her face. 'That was quite a catch you made tonight. You are certainly a wondrous young lady.'
Nanzi always seemed to like such words, some extra confirmation from him, never really tiring of his compliments. Hands clutching his wrists, she led him to the bed and began to undress him, first his shirt, then his breeches falling to the floor. They kissed eagerly while she stroked his beetle-foot.
A flick of his hand removed her towel, and her modifications were now revealed: two long spider legs attached by fibrous tissue buried deep in her waist. He looked at her lustfully.
He lay down on the sheets as she kissed his chest, her emotions exposed raw in the air, her passions focused solely on his pleasure. His penis stiffened and she took him in her mouth, then, after a while, moved forwards to straddle him, with those two great black legs manoeuvring her torso with stunning flexibility. The hairs on her limbs were sparse, tough as a brush, as he glided his hands up them. She took him inside, naturally now, though it had been surprising the first time – surprising that there was anywhere in which to be taken, after the complications of the surgery. The stickiness enhanced his pleasure, she could tell, but it was Nanzi who came very quickly, a shuddering internal reaction, as silk leaked out of her. He didn't last any longer, releasing himself into her with short gasps.
Their fluids coalesced, which often made a mess. He reached down to pick up her fallen towel to clean them up.
A tender smile crossed her face, as she crawled up next to him, hand resting on his stomach. They lay there, in the warmth of the fire, their intimacy growing even in such silences. Unspoken conversations. He was vaguely aware that female spiders in their natural habitats were known to kill the male after mating, but fortunately she had not yet shown any sign of such intent.
Still, if I must die some way…
Tomorrow he would see to the corpses she had brought him. For now, he lit himself a cigarillo, and enquired further about her day.
'Fine,' she said. 'That investigator, he amuses me. He always wants to lecture me, but it isn't arrogant. It's rather endearing in fact.'
'You choose not to kill him then?' Voland tapped his cigarillo into an ashtray resting on the side table, while nearby the fire crackled, wood splitting under the flames.
'No, I believe he knows little about the missing persons. I suppose I could kill him but…' There was tension in her voice. 'But I really think he's of some use, for the moment. All the same, one of the bodies I fetched in a while ago was a soldier, which may have raised a few questions.'
She looked at him again, clearly suspecting that he was unhappy with this selection, fearing it would draw unwarranted attention.
'It's quite all right.' Voland was indeed a little concerned, but didn't want her to know that. 'Please, go on.'
'Well, his commander, a Night Guard from Villjamur, has asked Investigator Jeryd to investigate. I feel if I remain close to him, I can keep an eye on things. Several eyes in fact.'
A smile each, a shared joke.
'I can also gain information of military movements and Imperial missives,' she said, 'if it would prove useful. If there is a war about to begin, I may know about it early. I doubt I will have such access if the investigator is dead.'
'Is there any further news on the military front, incidentally?' He wanted to be informed as soon as any combat began, then they might have to take their leave of the city.
'No. The soldiers have occupied much of Port Nostalgia and Althing, so they'll have a front line for defence of the Citadel. All those who've been displaced were moved to apartments further back along the Wastelands. They're requesting citizens to fight, too, so more and more are joining up every day. Still not the street gangs, though, which worries them – they need experienced fighters. This is the sort of information I can get – so maintaining the access really is useful.'
'Are you sure, my love, that you're not simply looking for reasons to keep him alive?' Voland asked. Inhaling from his cigarillo, he got up and put on his dressing gown – the one she had made him from her very own gossamer – and peeled back the curtains to gaze out at the city. A shaft of moonlight sliced across his face. He turned to face her continuing silence.
Nanzi's expression was filled with woe. 'He is rather endearing, I will admit. He actually wants to do good – and there are too few people within the Inquisition, too few people in this entire city, who want to put some good back into things.' She spoke with a keenness, a fresh energy. 'Because of who he is, he can allow me into very privileged places. Besides, I can follow his investigations closely, and I will know the instant things turn sour.'
'All these extra soldiers pulled in means', he announced in a measured tone, 'that there are many more mouths to feed.'
'You wish for me to go out again tonight? I was beginning to think that the presence of so many soldiers might make things more awkward.'
'To obviate any risks, why not fly over to Scarhouse and Shanties, to see if there are any… strays like there were the other night. But that can wait; the wind is too strong tonight, and we are settled here nicely.'
'And about Jeryd?'
'Do not dispose of him just yet, not if he still offers us access to information. I'd much rather a chap like that is kept alive, where he can be of use to us – but I'd advise you stay very close to him, and continue to shadow what he does. That way, he'll suspect you less…' He came back into the bed.
'I understand.' Nanzi snuggled up against his chest, the warmth of the fire adding to another perfect moment between them. He could feel her spider-hairs bristling against his legs.
'I love the smell of tobacco on your moustache. I feel strangely safe right here.'
Voland smiled and breathed deeply. How lucky he was to be in love with a woman like Nanzi. So caring and delicate and smart. He would do absolutely anything for her.
*
The next morning, Nanzi left him again for a day's work with the Inquisition. Voland didn't mind her choice of career, realizing she wanted to do her bit for the greater good. He could understand her motivation – here was a young lady who saw the bigger picture, and there was something to be said for that. It was why she so clearly understood that keeping the city fed was essential – also part of the bigger picture. How many people had they kept alive by now? Hundreds at least would have starved if it wasn't for her nocturnal activities.
Garbed in his long-sleeved undershirt, a white shirt, black breeches, and a leather apron, Voland strolled down to his abattoir, lighting wall-mounted flambeaus along the way. There could be no heating system here like in
