The Nine Read online

  An abdomen. Like the hind-end of an insect.

  Perry stared at it, trying to make sense of what he saw. Because the rest of the stranger looked like a man—albiet a very ugly one. The abdomen protruding from his lower back had to be some sort of biomechanical attachment. Right?

  Except for the pulsing.

  Steady. Rhythmic.

  In time to the stranger’s breathing.

  Gods, it’s a part of him.

  Staring at the pointed tip of the abdomen, Perry was certain of one thing: That’s what had hit him in the darkness. That’s what had paralyzed him.

  He stung me. Like a wasp stings and paralyzes a spider.

  The stranger—or Wasp-Man, perhaps—grappled with Perry’s limp body, clinging to the cliff face with one hand and one leg. Using the tip of his abdomen to brace himself, he shoved Perry into a crack in the cliff.

  Perry felt rock scrap across his elbows and knees as he was jammed into the cleft. The Wasp-Man repositioned himself, a note of concern flashing across his strange, angular features. He let go of Perry, and Perry remained securely wedged in the crack.

  “Good enough,” the Wasp-Man intoned. “Good enough for now.” He turned his head to look above, and started to reach for another handhold, but then stopped and looked back at Perry. His nub-like teeth flashed in the gloom. “Don’t go anywhere on me now.” He waggled a finger at Perry. “I know you can’t move, but you know, sometimes the venom wears off a little quicker than others, but guess what? You start wiggling around in there and—” he made a wet popping noise with his mouth. “—then you might just pop yourself loose, and—” He drew a line through the air. The tip of his finger made a long, slow arc down towards the ground, and his mouth made a low whistling sound. “Splat. And that wouldn’t be good for anyone, would it?”

  The Wasp-Man chuckled at his own humor, and then shrugged, as though his point had been made, and began to climb again.

  Perry couldn’t tilt his head to follow the creature’s progress. All he could do was stare at the blank face of rock where the Wasp-Man had been, moments ago.

  He stung me. I’ve been stung.

  This played on a loop in Perry’s mind, insistent and obsessive, for several revolutions, until a new thought managed to break through.

  What does the wasp do to the spider after it paralyzes it?

  Perry searched himself. The Wasp-Man had said that sometimes the venom wears off. Maybe he was just screwing with Perry’s head, but it was the only hope that he had at that moment. He tried to move his fingers. His toes. Anything.

  All sorts of signals went firing out of his brain. And then fell on the deaf ears of his uncooperative extensions.

  You can’t do anything. You can’t even move. And you can’t access your shield. You’re fucked!

  His eyes moved to the side—as far to the left as he could make them go, causing them to ache with the strain. But he could see out. In the distance, the tiny twinkle of a campfire. Did his friends still lay around it, sleeping peacefully? Would they notice that he was gone?

  Help! He thought it, screamed it in his head. Hell, at this point, he was willing to believe in telepathy. But really, he was trying to make his mouth and lungs and voice box all work in that magical conjunction called speaking.

  What he issued was a thin sigh of air, no louder than the wind across the cliffs.

  His heart jumped. Not because it was any great victory, but because, godsdammit, it was progress! He’d at least been able to press some air out of his lungs through the force of his will.

  He tried again. Over and over.

  Each time, the air came out of him, but each time it came without force, and without voice.

  Shit, shit, shit. It wasn’t going to work. He heard scrabbling and mumbling from above the crack in the cliff. The Wasp-Man was coming back for him.

  He had to try something else. Maybe something else would be easier.

  He dove for the river in him. He knew that it was inextricably linked to fear. When fear came down on him, the river dried up and it was nearly impossible to use the god tech. But if he could calm himself, if he could put his mind in a serene place, then the river was there for him.

  Control your fear. You have nothing to fear. You have the blood of gods in your veins.

  Somewhere the river flowed. But he couldn’t touch it.

  Not yet.

  But he had to keep trying.

  Time and practice. That’s what Stuber always said. Time and practice.

  The Wasp-Man swooped down in front of the cliff and eyed Perry in that queer way of his that Perry now recognized as insectile.

  He seemed satisfied. The nubs of teeth again in that hideous grin. “It’s time, Hombre. She’s waiting.”

  Then he snatched up Perry’s wrist again, and wrenched him from the crack in the cliff.

  Perry was surprised when they suddenly changed directions. Surprised, and unnerved, and maybe a little relieved. Unnerved, because now he was in total darkness—the Wasp-Man had pulled him through a hole in the face of the rock, and was not dragging him straight up, but at an angle. Relief, because at least Perry’s feet weren’t dangling out over open air.

  Perry’s heels scraped along what felt like rock. Around him, the shuffling noise of his captor and the slide of his own boots made tiny echoes in the passage, and though Perry could see nothing, he got the sense of a tight space. A tunnel up through the cliff face.

  It also meant that they were closer than ever to their destination.

  To see her, whatever the hell that meant.

  Perry’s mind was on fire with thought, as though all the energy that might’ve been expended on movement was now being put into his brain. He kept picturing that abdomen protruding from the man’s lower back, the way it pulsed with his breathing. The pointed end.

  He tried to focus on The Calm. That was what he called the river of red in his mind since he’d discovered it as a kid. Because when he was in it, nothing could touch him, and everything flowed easily. The world made sense to him when he was in that place.

  Was it just hopeful imagination, or did it seem closer?

  Always remember that your mind is your greatest weapon.

  Perry’s mind was his greatest weapon.

  If only he could get his godsdamned mind to work like it was supposed to.

  The ground underneath Perry’s heels changed. It no longer felt like stone, and the dragging sound of his body no longer sounded like stone either. More like…mudbrick?

  He realized he could see around him now. Something gave a low illumination to the tunnel. A light up ahead.

  You don’t have more time, Perry shouted at himself, and strangely, in his head, it almost sounded like Stuber. Stop being a fucking peon and get a hold of yourself. You’ve got one chance and one chance only to get out of this. And that’s to calm down.

  Butt heads though they might, what Perry wouldn’t give to have the big ex-legionnaire with him right at that moment. Preferably with his Roq-11. But Perry would take anything he could get at this point.

  Shit, he’d even take Sagum. That’s how desperate he was.

  No one is coming. It’s up to you.

  The light grew stronger. Perry could see the wall of the tunnel sliding by over his head. It had the same texture as mudbrick, except that it wasn’t bricks. It was one big, smooth surface of compacted, dried mud. It smelled dank and earthy.

  It smelled like insects.

  Perry fought for control of his lungs, and got some small measure of satisfaction when he was able to draw a deliberate breath, deeper than before. He eased it out through slack lips.

  It’s wearing off. I can control more now.

  The Wasp-Man jerked to a halt. There was a sudden, violent shuffling. The Wasp-Man thrust his head in front of Perry’s face, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “What was that?” the Wasp-Man hissed.

  Obviously, Perry couldn’t answer. He dared not attempt to control his breathing. Had
the Wasp-Man noticed that one little change? Had he heard that single, controlled breath?

  The Wasp-Man leaned very close, so that the tip of his nose touched the side of Perry’s face. It was cold. Wet. He snuffled. Then leaned back again, still staring into Perry’s eyes, intimately close.

  “No. It hasn’t been long enough.” The Wasp-Man skittered back around and started dragging Perry along again. “Not long enough. Especially for how small your body is. And my juice doesn’t come for free, you know. Can’t have it liquefying your insides. Not just yet. Not until the little ones get to feed.”

  He knows. Or suspects.

  Perry decided not to attempt any more calming breaths.

  He would have to defeat his fear the good old fashioned way: By getting pissed.

  Unfortunately he wasn’t given the time to get good and angry. Above him, the dried-mud wall suddenly opened, and the light grew stronger. He was no longer being dragged upwards at an angle, but was now on level ground.

  The Wasp-Man released him and Perry slumped to the ground. The dried-mud ceiling was a perfect dome over his head. He was close to one of the curving walls on his left. But when he pressed his eyes as far as he could to the right, he saw two figures, illuminated by some sort of lantern that burned with a soft, orange glow.

  One of those figures was the Wasp-Man.

  The other figure was…something else entirely.

  Part of it looked like a human female, albeit with the strange, angular features that Perry had seen in the Wasp-Man. The human part was as skin-and-bones as the Wasp-Man himself. The other part was a massive, distended abdomen, so large and heavy that the female looked unable to move.

  Lank, black hair hung in front of the woman’s gaunt face. Eyes that burned with a feverish mania fixed on Perry. Her thin lips pulled back and she let out a low groan that built into a shriek.

  “You worthless piece of shit!” the female hissed. “I’ve got your brood bursting in my belly and you bring me this? He’s too small! He won’t feed them all!”

  The madness in those eyes seemed to pull Perry in, and he couldn’t allow it. He clamped his eyes shut against them. He was powerless anyways. He didn’t need to see what was going on around him. He needed to focus and get to The Calm.

  Get to The Calm. Don’t let this bitch do…

  Oh gods, what is she going to do?

  NO! Don’t think about that! Think about dipping into the red, thinking about the clasp, think about the energy shield! Think about turning these fucks into piles of scorched meat!

  The inner pep talk didn’t really help. Even to himself it sounded too desperate.

  “There are more!” The Wasp-Man interrupted the female in the midst of another tirade. “I’m going to bring you more! See, I spied them, with my keen eyes I spied them from atop the cliffs, out across the plains, I saw their fire and I thought to myself, ‘Yes, this will make the perfect gift for my beloved—’”

  A screech cut him off. “No more! I have no time for your foolishness!”

  Focus, Perry. Dive down. Go deep.

  He was closer. Whatever the poison was, it wouldn’t be able to contain his mind much longer.

  A heavy, shifting noise tore his attention from his thoughts and Perry opened his eyes out of pure reflex.

  The female was on all fours, crabbing towards him, the ponderous abdomen dragging behind her. Her teeth bared with the effort.

  Perry could not help himself. His mind blanked, going white-hot with the panicked desire to retreat from her.

  No, don’t lose it!

  Too late.

  All he saw was her face, looming closer, sweating profusely, the engorged abdomen pulsing rapidly.

  She stopped, still in her crablike posture. She hovered over him, her angular face traversing the plane of his pronate body, her nostrils twitching. Her face spasmed.

  “How did you get him?” the female demanded.

  “I took him by surprise, I did.” Pride in the Wasp-Man’s voice. A bit of pomp.

  The female turned her head. She seemed able to rotate it completely around to look at the Wasp-Man where he stood. Her neck seemed longer than normal. “Is he dangerous?”

  “My darling, please. Would I bring you something dangerous? Would I expose you and our little ones to that? Of course I wouldn’t. Not I.”

  She turned back to Perry. Her breathing was quick. He felt it on the side of his face, and was surprised that it didn’t stink. It smelled milky. Almost sweet. Crazy eyes darted around Perry’s flesh, not seeing a person, but a sack of meat.

  Almost hesitantly, she extended her tongue and placed the tip of it against the side of his neck, over his carotid artery, as though tasting his pulse. Which, unfortunately, was in the process of skyrocketing.

  If she noticed the accelerated pulse and how that might pertain to whatever kept him paralyzed, she didn’t say anything about it. Her eyes now seemed to be in a state of some passion. She traced her tongue down his neck and when it met the collar of his filthy shirt, she gave no flash of disgust. Her hands came up, long fingers undoing the button of his shirt, then peeling it away, exposing his bare chest.

  Her tongue never left his skin. It continued on. Down the center of his chest, leaving a streak of warmth that quickly turned cold.

  He couldn’t see her face anymore. Only her bulging, pulsing abdomen.

  The Wasp-Man hovered there, at the corner of Perry’s sight.

  What the hell was happening? What was she doing to him? Tasting him? Was this some sort of mating dance? Was he involved in some sort of unwilling sex act? He couldn’t even guess as to what was about to happen to him.

  Except for the thing about the wasp and the spider.

  Somewhere right around his navel, she withdrew her tongue and reared up again, her eyes half-lidded in ecstasy. Like the relief of a driving, primal need, finally met. “He’ll do,” she murmured, her voice husky and thick.

  “Yeah, I told ya!” the Wasp-Man declared, triumphant.

  The female whirled on him. “Go! You sack of shit! I need more. I need the others.”

  “But I wanted—”

  “I don’t have much time!” her voice grated. “Bring me more! More!”

  The Wasp-Man growled something else, but Perry didn’t hear it. It was drowned out by the scuttling of the female’s hands and feet across the ground, rapid now, desperate. She pulled the gigantic weight of her abdomen around, letting out small cries as she did.

  Perry saw the dark, segmented abdomen coming around, the end of it now pointing right at him. Something protruded from it. Stiff, and dripping mucus. It inched out with every ragged breath she took, sleek and black along the shaft, but the tip of it like a hideous, puckered mouth.

  It wavered in the air as it grew in length. The puckered end of it pulsed open by fractions, like a relaxing sphincter. It began to seek him out, as though it had a mind of its own. Inching towards Perry. Inching towards his bare chest.

  “Yes,” the female squalled between breaths. “Yes. Come to me.”

  The mouth touched Perry’s skin, right at the tip of his rib cage. Warm and slick and wet. It searched across his skin.

  Perry’s heart was apparently no longer under the control of the paralyzing agent. It ran at top speed, making his whole, limp body jerk with every rapid pulse.

  The undulating abdomen stilled. Clenched. Pushing at something. A bulge appeared at the base of the long, black shaft, pushing through it, towards the mouth, towards Perry’s chest.

  This is how it ends? His mind railed, accusing himself. Laying on the floor, unable to lift a finger to save yourself? You stupid, fucking peon! I can’t believe you let this happen to yourself!

  If he could’ve screamed at himself, he would have. If he could have gripped his idiot face in his hands, his fingernails would have left permanent marks.

  He was so engulfed in his moment of self-anger, he didn’t even noticed that his mind had dipped into the flowing river of red. The anger supplante
d the fear just long enough for his mind to get a hold of itself, and for that aspect of himself—the only thing his biological father had ever given him—to come to life.

  There was a sound like someone had plunged a red-hot piece of metal into water.

  The air around Perry shimmered.

  Gouts of steam and smoke exploded.

  The female’s half-lidded eyes rocketed open, staring down at herself, and her mouth shot wide and issued a scream that clawed its way down Perry’s spine.

  The sucking mouth remained attached to Perry’s stomach, but the rest of it hit the floor in a slop of liquids that swirled with different colors—milky white, and stark red, and a faint, purplish ichor, all bubbling and steaming along the line of air that had become Perry’s energy shield.

  The female recoiled in horror. Her severed abdomen curled up on itself, writhing, spitting those same colored liquids out of its bisected end. Things fell out of her. Fleshy, white ovals, about the size of Perry’s forearm. They plopped onto the hard mud floor and began to squirm in every direction at once, as though rooting about blindly for something.

  The female’s stick-thin arms scrabbled at her abdomen, though she strained to reach the severed end of it, and it seemed like she was trying to keep those white pods inside of her. They squirted past her fingers and kept falling to the floor—a dozen of them, now more then twenty, now more than thirty.

  “My babies!” she shrieked, her face speckled and splashed with purple and white and red, as ribbons of fluids spurted out of her.

  Some part of Perry stared into her animal eyes and felt horrified, but another part of him was determined not to let anything take away what he had just managed to regain—not to let that shield dissipate. If he managed nothing else, if he had to squash his soul to do it, he had to stay connected to the clasp.

  And then he felt something press at his side.

  With a jolt, he let out a grunt that would have been a shouted curse if he’d had full control of his faculties, and he strained with everything in his being, managing to turn his head, this time looking down the length of his body so that he could see…

  They were inside the shield with him.

  The sucker on the end of the shaft had detached itself from him, dead, but still twitching. But a large section of that abdomen had been cut off inside the shield with him, and whatever those squirming white things were, there were several trapped in there with him.