Will you Walk into my Parlour?

The officer taking their statements wasn’t terribly thorough, but Jon was far too tired to question it. Tim still wasn’t talking, leaned up against his shoulder. There was a shock blanket wrapped around him, although Tim hardly seemed to notice.

“Your friend alright?”

No. “Yes. I think he’s just in shock right now.”

Georgie nodded her agreement, and the officer didn’t push any further. All told, his interviews of both Jon and Georgie were barely fifteen minutes total. Immediately after, the officer gruffly told them to go home.

Georgie thought for a long time before she spoke. “Your friend is definitely not okay.”

“No.”

“My place is close to here, it might help to have an extra set of eyes watching your friend and… I don’t think it’s wise to be alone when Melanie comes back. Just in case.”

Jon looked up at Georgie, she was always taller than him. I’ve missed you, he wanted to say. It’s been a long time, I should have reached out. I hope we’re still friends. He didn’t say any of that. There would be plenty of time, he reasoned. Not now. Jon didn’t think he could handle any sort of emotional conversation at the moment, not after everything that had happened.

Jon looped one of Tim’s arms over his shoulder while Georgie did the same. Together they walked to Georgie’s flat. Neither spoke of the real reasons they had chosen this of all options- that they missed each other. They cared for one another not in any romantic sense any longer, but the way that old friends do. They had spent years of their lives together, knew the secrets that they would tell no one else, their fears, the little things that made the other one laugh. It felt strange to rekindle their old connections in a circumstance such as this one, but neither was willing to let the opportunity pass.

I miss you , they both thought, but they were stubborn at heart. And so, they said nothing at all.

…

The Thing beamed at Daisy, a smile so kind you could almost forget he’d just hijacked someone’s body and forced two people to sleep with nothing more than a word.

Daisy’s hand was at her hilt, but she didn’t dare to draw a weapon just yet. She was not the only predator in the room anymore.

“It would be nice to make this a proper statement,” the Thing said. His eyes were cobwebbed over. “But I’m afraid I can’t allow my Jon to remember this.”

His left pinky finger twitched, almost imperceptible. A large wolf spider, the size of his palm, to meet him.

Daisy’s teeth were oh so very sharp when she spoke “You’re one of those… spider people I take it?”

There was a small vial on the tarantula’s back. Inside it sloshed a dark liquid that hurt to look at.

“Something like that.”

He uncorked the vial just as Daisy drew her gun and the room filled with a vicious black smoke.

Daisy heard the distinct sound of a bullet piercing drywall. A miss. 

This darkness was familiar in a way Daisy despised. It reminded her of the Callum Brodie case, the one that shook Basira so badly she nearly quit the force. She was still somewhat bitter she hadn’t been the one to kill Rayner, but at least she helped to bury him in the usual spot.

“I thought you were a spider,” Daisy growled.

“I called in some favors.”

“If you think I won’t be able to kill you in the darkness you’re sorely mistaken.” Daisy’s aim was true. It might take longer than usual, but Daisy enjoyed a good chase. It had been too long since she had a proper challenge.

“You can certainly try,” the Spider cood, “but you know very well it’s not for your sake.”

His voice came from the right. If she could just get close enough to touch it wouldn’t matter how blind they both were. She didn’t need to see to slit his throat. Besides, she preferred a knife to a gun anyway. It was far more… intimate.

“What do you care if they see or not? Besides, you put them to sleep.”

The Spider ignored her. “You were going to make him dig his own grave,” his voice is the definition of politeness despite his words. “Were you going to at least shoot him first or just bury him alive?”

Daisy stalked towards him slowly, silent as a tiger in the grass.

Another sound rose to join the Spider’s voice, one that made Daisy falter in her steps. It was the sound of a thousand chittering spiders. It rose in volume until the room swelled with it, until Daisy could almost make out words. Her head ached, and her limbs felt heavy, as though there was nothing but strings to hold her aloft. She was rooted to the spot, forced to hear that horrible sound as pinpricks spread across her body. Was that a spider crawling up her leg or was that just her own imagination? There was a melody to the sound, a gruesome and hideous orchestra, the sound of a camera whirring, the clack of knitting needles as an old woman sits in a chair by the fire. There were words there, she could almost make out the words-

It stopped.

The room was bright again and Daisy was alone. Well nearly alone. There was a coffin in the middle of the floor and the door was wide open.

Daisy laughed. Did he honestly expect her to climb into a coffin labeled “DO NOT OPEN?” It would be foolish to do so. Except- maybe that was the point. Spider’s were a tricky sort, even just the husks. He might be counting on her going with the obvious answer. Or- he might just be counting on her to think he was trying to trick her.

The door was wide open, she could leave very easily except maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe even if the door wasn’t a trap she would still be doing exactly what he wanted, following the strands of silver thread. Was it better to climb into the coffin then?

Or was that what he wanted her to do?

Daisy slumped to the ground. A choice. She had to make her choice.

Daisy sat there for a very long time, weighing each option. Maybe this was what he wanted, to paralyze her with indecision. That didn’t make any sense did it? Maybe it did.

The door was wide open, she could leave at any time if it wasn’t a trick. It could be a trick. It was such a simple problem, two choices she could make. So why was this so hard?

What Daisy did was simpler than this. She chased and then she killed and then it was over. She didn’t do these sort of mind games. Daisy wished she’d killed him the moment those eyes turned, then maybe she wouldn’t be sitting here on the floor next to a coffin.

A literal fucking coffin . Where did he even get that? Why? She scowled at the ground.

Choices ugh. There was a reason Daisy always let Basira choose the restaurant.

Daisy stood up. This was useless. She’d just pick one and get it over with.

Daisy looked to the door. She looked to the coffin.

Maybe the decision didn’t come down to what was smart or a trick, or some kind of mind game. Spider thought she was stupid didn’t he? That she would go with the obvious choice and walk right to her doom.

 Daisy growled, she couldn’t wait to tear that Spider to shreds.

She looked to the coffin, then to the door, then back to the coffin.

“DO NOT OPEN” it read.

Daisy refused to fall for the Spider’s tricks. She was smarter than that, an apex predator, the top of the food chain.

She climbed into the coffin.

…

Jon’s phone was ringing

He fumbled for it in the dark, too sleep-addled to check caller ID “Uh, hello?”

“Hi, Jon,” Basira said. There was a note of panic in his voice. “Do you know anything about a coffin?”

“Um,” Jon rubbed his eyes. “Sorry what? Wait, Basira? How do you even have my-“

“Found your number in Daisy’s notes. Not important. There’s a coffin. In my living room? I tried to move it, get the it the hell out of my apartment but then I heard scratching-“

“Oh!” Jon sat up quickly in bed. “That’s the um, Giles no, Gillespie case? Big scary coffin, ‘Do Not Open’ in all caps?”

“That’s the one.”

“Right. Put the key in a bowl of water and freeze it.”

“What?”

“The key, stick it in the freezer. That worked for Joshua Gillespie. The coffin wants to be opened, I don’t know why, but it can’t be good. So, freezer.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

“Well… Thanks?” Basira paused for a long time. “I quit the force.”

Basira heard shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Good for you?”

“Right.”

“Right.”

There was a long pause. An awkward feeling hung in the air. There was so much to say and yet nothing at all. They had experienced so much side by side, but not together. No, when the dust settled the two were nothing but strangers.

Basira swallowed and hung up the phone without saying goodbye. She did her best not to look at the coffin as she plucked the key off it. It felt absurd, standing in her kitchen after midnight filling the designated vomit bowl up with tap water. She had to take out some frozen dinners to make room for it in her freezer.

Basira hoped Daisy was okay, wherever she was. In the meantime she’d have to figure out what to do with the coffin in their living room.

Her phone pinged. There was a text from Jon.

Basira,

If you want to meet me at the institute on Monday,

I think cleanup will be done by then.

I can show you Joshua Gillespie’s statement.

He was the last one to have the coffin before you.

Jon’s texts were oddly formal. Somehow that suited him. She texted back.

Alright. See you Monday

…

Dig.

Dig.

Dig .

Joshua Gillespies hands shook as he gripped the shovel. From atop a squad car Annabelle Cane peered down at him. There was a cop dead at her feet, choked out by his own hands with nothing more than a twitch of Annabelle’s fingers.

Joshua took a moment’s pause to wipe his brow. “

“I don’t like getting my hands dirty.”

“You just killed a man,” he huffed.

Annabelle held out her gloves to the sky, pristine white, with threads that glinted in the moonlight. The lace was beautifully woven and seemed to disappear into her dark skin. He wondered if it was a glove at all, if those woven threads were no less a part of her than the careful webs that held her skull together.

“And?” Annabelle spoke. “My hands are perfectly clean aren’t they?”

Joshua laughed despite himself and turned back to his task. The dirt turned over easily. It had been recently dug. She was a terrifying woman, Annabelle, but she shined with all the grace and poise of an old Hollywood star. Not that it mattered to Joshua. He was here for the money and nothing more, with all the self preservation instincts as he’d had the last time. That was to say, rent was due and Ms. Annabelle Cane was offering him quite a bit of money. This time at least, the rules were clear. There was no mysterious coffin, just a shovel and dirt to fill it with.

“I’m surprised you haven’t become an avatar by now,” Annabelle hummed from atop her perch.

“A what?” Joshua readjusted his grip on the shovel.

“Right, you wouldn’t know about that would you?”

“I make it my business to know as little about these things as possible.”

She laughed. “That’s awfully wise.”

“I’ve lasted this long haven’t I?”

The dirt came just up to his knees now, far too low for a grave, but then Annabelle had told him it would be shallow. The officer, whoever he was, had been in the rush. Joshua didn’t stop to wonder why. Questioning things too hard in his experience was a dangerous thing, better to not acknowledge its strangeness. Human beings are remarkable at acclimating to new environments after all, and Joshua was nothing if not good at adapting

All this talk of gods and avatars, why bother? Oh the fear was real, Joshua couldn’t ignore that much, but none of it erased the grind and toil of life itself. All the creepy coffins and Spider ladies with terrifying smiles and gnawing dread in the world didn’t change the fact that rent was due.

Joshua’s shovel hit something that wasn’t dirt. A bag tore open, and he saw a hand. Joshua pretended he hadn’t seen it. He tossed the shovel to the side. The thing in the bag was terribly heavy and it took a great deal of effort to lift it up and out of the hole.

He looked up at Annabelle, pieces of what he assumed to be a body at his feet. “I’m guessing this is what you wanted?”

“Yes.” Annabelle grinned from ear to ear. Joshua repressed a shiver. “Don’t you want to know what’s in there?”

Joshua caught her predatory gaze. He was no fool. “Better not.”

“Hmm,” her voice was soft, “You’re terribly smart. You’d make a wonderful Spider you know.”

Joshua had no idea what that meant and wasn’t keen on finding out. “I’m going to fill the hole back in now. Do you want me to throw him in before?” He thumbed at the officer still lying in the dirt.

“You might as well. And think about it, would you? The offer’s open.”

“No thanks,” Joshua said gruffly as he picked up the officer by the arm and dragged him towards the shallow grave. “And the money?”

“Already transferred,” she answered. “I added a tip for being such a gentleman.”

He really hoped the tip wasn’t a severed hand or something along those lines. Or god forbid another coffin. Joshua didn’t think he could handle another coffin.

Anabelle smiled. “Now, help me carry my brother to the car would you?”