“But how are they doing it?” I asked again, needing to understand.
“I don’t know where they learned how to do it, but the ritual rips demons from the underworld. It happens against their will, as much as it was against yours. Most of the demons that come out are lesser demons. They’re always creatures of some sort, and they’d never survive topside on their own. Spector somehow found a way to call them up and force supes to be possessed by them. It enables them to survive up here, while making us stronger.”
The memory of the spider sinking into my body left me feeling cold. The idea of Spector having control over so many of us made the whole thing feel hopeless.
“So, now that I told you all of that, are you going to tell me what kind of spider you are?” he asked while giving me an assessing look, like he was trying to figure me out. “I’ve been here long enough to learn a few things. Maybe I can help with whatever struggles you have with your demon.”
I knew I couldn’t help my nature—that I didn’t decide this life for myself, but I was still embarrassed. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “I’m a black widow.”
His eyes widened in shock, but he quickly schooled his expression. “Interesting.”
“What is?”
Tomb looked me up and down, as if trying to figure out the right words to say. “Possessions are forced, yes, but you only join with the demon most compatible with you. Think of it as merging with a similar kin already there.”
My frown deepened. “That’s not true. I’m not a fucking psychotic sex cannibal who likes to steal people’s life essence!” I blurted out. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt humiliated.
Still, I didn’t like what he was implying—that the spider had chosen me as a host because I had that same dark nature already inside of me.
Tomb shook his head. “I didn’t mean to imply that,” he told me, his gravelly voice low. “The black widow could have seen your independence, your strength, your…”—he coughed uncomfortably—“sensual nature. Those could’ve been the things she felt a kinship to.”
I blushed at his words. He wasn’t wrong. I was all of those things, and sex had always made me feel powerful in ways I’d never been able to articulate.
“For example,” he continued. “My earth ability as an elemental means I could already control things like rocks and stones. But even more, I’ve always been a natural protector. I raised my younger half-brother until he died. Gargoyles are ancient demon soldiers created to defend,” he explained. “I sometimes wonder what humans would think if they knew they’ve been posting sculptures of demons at their church doors.”
I snorted at the thought, temporarily placated with the knowledge that I wasn’t chosen by the black widow because of some serial killer tendencies I knew nothing about.
“You should rest,” Tomb said, resting his head against the wall. “Sleep makes the time go by faster.”
I watched him for a few moments before I curled up on the floor, propping my head up on my arm and closing my eyes. Time in the tank wasn’t so bad with Tomb here with me. He knew what I was, and he didn’t look at me with fear or repulsion. That knowledge made a soft smile spread across my face as I closed my eyes. I could get through this. I just needed to make sure I didn’t get hungry.
Days passed.
It was fucking boring.
No one ever brought us food to eat, but twice a day, someone would come by and shove water bottles through a slot in the door. The toilet in our confinement was true prison style, but I’d erected webbed walls to give us both some privacy. Tomb had smirked at that, but I wasn’t about to just do my business in front of the hot gargoyle. I did have some dignity left despite my rough appearance.
We mostly talked or slept, coming up with stupid games to play and pass the time. His favorite was tossing the ball of web I’d made him back and forth. Mine was asking him twenty questions.
Still, every day that they left us in here was another day that the hunger inside of me grew. My vampiric body needed blood, my human parts needed food, and my demon self needed life.
I was feeling the hunger riding me harder and harder, which was why every time I awoke, I was careful to keep myself busy. That was how I’d ended up making socks out of webs. They were surprisingly soft and comfortable too. I even made Tomb a pair of boxers, which he had just laughed about.
When I realized I could make those things, I started making other things too. My favorite was the hanging hammocks I’d constructed. The thick ropes of webs stretched from wall to wall so we could sleep more comfortably in them. It sure beat the hard floor. All in all, I was learning that this ability as a spider was actually really awesome.
But today, I woke up twitchy. My demon was agitated. She needed essence. I needed blood and food. I was a trio of hangry.
Tomb seemed unflappable though, like having no food didn’t bother him at all.
“Sit down, Motley,” he said from his hammock. “Pacing will only drain your energy faster.”
“How can you be so calm?” I snapped. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but I needed to get out of here soon. Fear was tormenting me almost as much as hunger was.
“I’ve been through this a few times,” he answered.
“Yeah, well, this is my first, and it sucks ass,” I said, licking the tips of my fangs that wouldn’t stop throbbing.
“Come here.”
His order had me stopping to look over at him. “What?”
“I forgot. It’s been a while since I’ve been around a vampire, so you’ll
