SAID THE SPIDER by Denada Rule

Sensation struck without warning. Loneliness, raw and bitter. A lost soul, bleeding where its roots were torn away. He rolled the feeling over in his mind. A woman. Indulging himself for a moment, he savored the fullness of her anguish. A sharp bouquet of pain. Prey, warm and ripe. Close by. Smiling, he followed the echo back to its source.

He walked, playing hot and cold with his talent, the singular gift that led him from one meal to the next. For centuries, the sheer weight of agony in the world had come close to crushing him. Now he bore it, that same misery succoring the darkness within.

There, just beyond the door of a seedy tavern. He could almost taste her. Taking a deep breath, he let his features settle into an expression of weary simplicity. The timeworn ploy had always worked for him. Pushing open the door, he slowly scanned the room. Ah. Behind the bar. She was exquisite--blonde and delicate, frail containment for a wealth of pain.

She watched as he sat down in front of her. Her blue eyes seemed bottomless, clear pools begging for oblivion. Despite the pain he knew she felt, she smiled. Pale hair formed a honeyed halo around an angular face, lending her an ethereal air. Absolutely lovely.

"Welcome to my parlor." Her voice was soft and silky, enveloping him in warmth.

Despite himself, he returned her smile. "I don't see any webs."

"Ah, well. You'd be surprised." She grinned; actually pleased he'd caught the trivial reference. "What'll you have?"

"Gin and tonic."

He ached with hunger, with the need to tangle his fingers roughly in the fine cloud of her hair. By the time he'd finished his drink, his quiet manner had worked its usual magic. They would watch the sun come up over the bay.

The first wan hint of amber gilded the horizon as she turned in his arms to watch. Still basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, he stroked her flaxen hair and smiled. She would be worth the time this had taken--truly a soul to remember when she was gone.

'Remember this!'

His heart lurched in his chest. The thought that sliced razor-sharp through his mind was not his own.

Her hair drifted on the breeze, clinging like cobwebs to his face. It wrapped around his throat, tightening with a life of its own. He swatted and clawed at it to no avail. The gossamer strands spun outward from her faster than he could destroy them. Everywhere they touched, they burned like acid on his skin.

Her eyes glittered like faceted sapphires as she watched in silence. Through a haze of pain, he saw her reach toward the sky with one clawed hand. It scythed through the air, severing the tenuous cord that bound him to the world.