Chapter 5: Chiming In

Eulalie sat in her web hammock, her attention firmly focused on one of the monitors as she typed lines of code into a text editor with one hand. The other hand casually flicked at a fidget spinner that was held in place by the paw of her fourth leg which she had curled upward. In truth, she could have written code solely by sound if she wanted. Her hearing was sensitive enough that she could now recognize the distinct sound of every stroke on her keyboard. Still, being able to triple check for errors now was far preferable to potential hours searching for her mistake later.

That, and then she wouldn’t be able to listen to the satisfying buzz of ball bearings as her fidget spinner whirled. It sang to her as she flicked it again, then she flexed her paw so that the spinner was balanced in the center much like a juggler might spin a plate.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to shift her attention to a rat carrying a strand of fiber optic cable. The creature came to a stop beneath her, its whiskers twitching with anxiety as it held the cable up for her inspection.

“We lost another connection,” it said. Eulalie studied the rat for the span of a breath to identify it. Her senses dug through all the markers: fur, scent, pheromone, the way the rat held its tail aloft when he walked on two paws, the small clip in his left ear. This was Basil, who belonged to a family of rats who had taken their names from the contents of a spice rack once upon a time. Basil was technically a legacy name. Right now, Basil Sr. was in charge of organizing incoming cookbooks for the Library, but not because he was named for a spice. The whole family knew how to read and understand food labels, which was definitely a niche skill set for rodents.

“Tell me more, Basil.” She leaned over and took the cable from Basil and held it up to get a better look at it. Sure enough, the cable was neatly severed by a collapsing portal. There was a bit of an art form to the magical portals the rats made. When they fell apart, anything caught in the portal was simply detached at a molecular level. There were likely some interesting applications of this process, but the Arachne had plenty of other things on her plate.

“This one came from the server room in the Computer Sciences Department at MIT.” Basil cleaned his face nervously. “It was spotted by the intern.”

“The intern?” Eulalie’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean Carl?”

Basil nodded. Carl the intern was a new student in the Computer Sciences Department. For whatever reason, he had been put in charge of the server room maintenance, and had become the bane of Eulalie’s existence on the MIT campus.

Server rooms were easy to infiltrate once you bypassed external security. Unless there were problems with the server, nobody paid much attention to what was going on with the hardware itself. It was easy enough to plug a direct line into a server and maintain a continuous connection. In fact, Eulalie often did maintenance of her own to ensure nobody looked twice. There were over a dozen college campuses right now that were running at peak performance due to her interventions.

However, Carl was either some sort of cable savant or a bored nerd. This was the third time this month the man had discovered one of her cables. The rats monitored stuff like this for her, and protocol upon discovery was to immediately shut down any portals to that location. This meant that Carl had likely discovered what appeared to be a cut cable attached to nothing, or perhaps even a hole that went a few inches into the wall and terminated abruptly.

Now that was something she wished she could see. She fiddled with the cable for a moment, wondering if it would be worth installing another one sometime just to see how fast Carl would find it. However, if this guy was half as good as she thought he was, there was a chance he was doing diagnostics on that particular server already. He would see that information had been going both ways through that port, which meant problems for Eulalie. The safety of her niece and the house came first and always. Sighing, she handed the cable remnant to Basil.

“Go ahead and pull any other connections from MIT,” she said with remorse. She hated losing a direct server connection because it would be that much harder to dig through data flowing through the school. MIT had some cutting edge research, along with top secret government programs that she had been eagerly watching. The Arachne turned her attention to another screen and set a reminder to check on Carl’s enrollment at MIT every six months. The guy was due to graduate in two years, and she didn’t want to forget to go back later. Someone like Carl was good to know about, and maybe even hire someday.

Ignoring the rat, she opened a command console window and quickly set up a search program that would dig through forums, message boards, and anywhere else a server junky may go. If Carl started asking around about mysterious cables that disappeared into walls, she wanted to know right away.

When she turned her attention back to Basil, she was happy to see that he had at least relaxed a little. The rats trusted her, but they got very anxious whenever failing a task, even if it wasn’t their fault. Reggie’s predecessor was largely at fault for this. That rat had been a real bastard.

“Dismissed,” she said as she leaned back into her webs. “And thank you.”

Basil bowed low, then scampered off with the cable in tow. She watched him vanish into one of the tunnels carved in the wall, then reached out and flicked her spinner again. It practically hummed while spinning, and she tossed it in the air with her paw only to catch it on the end of another leg. Grinning, she looked back at the code she had been working on.

The flow of air shifted slightly in the room and was accompanied by the sound of sliding fabric. Eulalie frantically typed in an attempt to finish one last bit of code just as Sofia entered the room. She hit enter and leaned back so far in her hammock that she was now looking at the cyclops upside down.

“Ugh, I hate when you do that.” The cyclops shivered, then continued into the corner of the room where a small table and chairs had been placed for visitors. Earlier, the rats had set up a small plate of cheese and fruit. Eulalie had wondered who was coming to visit her.

The Arachne tumbled backward out of her web, the fidget spinner precariously balanced on one foot. She wondered how long she could make it spin. Her personal record was almost two hours. How long had it been spinning already? It didn’t really matter. She could just start the timer now.

Walking across the room, she studied Sofia. For the first time in a few days, the cyclops didn’t smell of alcohol, which was a pleasant surprise. She did, however, have a large bag under her eye from lack of sleep. It was almost painful to look at, and made Eulalie think of a double chin. Every time the cyclops blinked, it wobbled. Arachnes didn’t really get bags under their eyes. It didn’t serve any evolutionary advantage. In fact, she wasn’t entirely certain what purpose they were meant to serve. Of what use was advertising to the world that your sleep habits were trash?

Then again, maybe it was meant to be a physiological warning sign. One look in the mirror and you knew you weren’t at your best. How much sleep had Eulalie been getting lately? She did some quick math in her head and frowned. If she remembered correctly, she was averaging around five hours of sleep a night. That was definitely sub-optimal. She couldn’t even blame an MMO this time.

Gods, that little eyelid chin just kept jiggling. The eye itself narrowed and Eulalie realized she had been staring for a few seconds.

“Good...” Eulalie checked a nearby monitor for the time. “Morning!”

Sofia sighed. “Did I come at a bad time?”

The Arachne shook her head. “Lily and Dana aren’t currently murdering anyone ... I think. No, this is fine. Is something up? Is this about all those books I ordered? That’s just blatant market manipulation and I did it on my own account. Or maybe you heard about MIT?”

“MI ... no, I’m not here to talk about whatever is going on outside the Library.” Sofia took a deep breath and looked away. This was a sign that whatever she had to say was difficult for her. Eulalie hated conversations like this. They made her itchy. “I wanted to talk about what happened yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Eulalie winced. She could still picture that bubbling wraith as it twisted away from her, like hot tar with an attitude. The thing had been nearly as quick as she was, only slipping free of her grip due to its amorphic body. Dealing with any creature that could out maneuver her was always unsettling.

“Yes.” The Head Librarian sat up straight in her seat, which put her at eye level with Eulalie. “You broke protocol. Severely.”

Eulalie immediately stopped the fidget spinner and slipped it into her pocket. She dropped her other hand to her spinnerets and pulled out a small length of webbing, which she immediately pulled into a loop. This activity was far quieter than the fidget spinner and less likely to annoy the cyclops.

“Yeah, about that.” The Arachne studied Sofia, uncertain where to begin. “I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry? That’s it?” Sofia’s tone was like ice. “You accidentally freed a malevolent entity and you’re ... sorry?”

“I guess I’m not sure what else you want me to say.” This was why she hated confrontations that weren’t through a keyboard. She screwed up and had apologized. What more was there? “So yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough, Eulalie.” Sofia stood now, her fists balled up. “Do you have any idea what you almost did?”

“I mean...” Eulalie dropped her gaze to the webbing in her hand. She had already converted the cat’s cradle into a Jacob’s ladder. “Yeah, that thing almost hurt everyone.”

“That thing killed one of your rats and almost killed me.” Sofia’s voice was little more than a whisper.

“No, it didn’t.” Eulalie tilted her head to one side. “Not the rat part, that was very regrettable. I mean the latter half. You can see your own future if it involves getting hurt or dying. That thing wasn’t actually going to hurt you.”

“You’re wrong, Eulalie. I saw that thing kill me, over and over again. But do you know what? When it came at me that very last time, I saw my death. I amended every possible outcome I could, and nothing changed at all. In those two seconds, I died over a dozen times, and there was nothing I could do. Nothing at all!” The cyclops was grinding her teeth, Eulalie could hear them. “If Mike hadn’t stepped in, I would be dead right now!”

“Oh.” Well, that was quite the revelation. How was she supposed to parse that nugget of information? “Um ... well ... I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Gods, you don’t even see it, do you? What would have happened if I died?” Sofia ran a hand through her hair so roughly that some of it pulled free from the braid. “Well, to start with, you would be responsible for my death. Can you even comprehend what that’s like? To fuck up so badly that somebody you know dies in front of you?”

“Uh...” This conversation was already difficult, and Eulalie was now in uncharted territory. What could you say to someone you almost killed due to carelessness?

“How would you have lived with yourself? Do you know what it’s like to get somebody killed and constantly see shadows of them?” Sofia’s features were bright red now, and Eulalie half wondered if the cyclops might take a swing at her. “What if Mike hadn’t been there, hmm? What if that thing had gotten away and killed Tink? When you have to sit down with Grace and tell her that you accidentally killed her primary mother figure, would you just say ‘Sorry’?!?”

The webbing in Eulalie’s hands snapped. The cyclops now had her full attention.

“Don’t bring Grace into this,” she whispered. Eulalie loved her niece more than anything, and maybe that was part of the problem. She had never planned on becoming a mother. Honestly, neither had Velvet. Years ago, they had resigned themselves to the idea that the two of them would be the last of their species.

But now, the future of their species was in the hands of a little girl who still ate crayons. Eulalie sometimes wished more than anything that she could set aside her asexuality and take that burden, to mate and produce offspring of her own. But Arachne biology demanded compatibility. Even if she tried to inseminate herself with a turkey baster (per Lily’s suggestion), it would do nothing.

Was Grace destined to feel the burden of their species? Or was she loved enough that she would never crave the companionship of her own kind?

“But she’s a part of this, no matter what you want.” Sofia looked down at Eulalie over her nose. “Every person is a member of her family. She still carries around that bear of hers, and she only knew Cyrus for a few months.”

“Don’t ... don’t talk about him, either.” The room felt like it was spinning under her feet. “He’s off limits, too.”

“You don’t get to duck out of an adult conversation just because it’s hard. For fucks’ sake, Eulalie. I’m the one who almost died because of you! You couldn’t follow the rules! Fuck!” The cyclops slammed her fist against the wall, which startled a few rats who had been trying to covertly conduct their business through the room. “Once I’m gone, that’s it! You’re the Head Librarian. Then it’s your turn to be miserable and remember those who came before you, wandering the stacks and wondering what you could have done differently. Do you think I want that for you?”

“I ... um...” The Arachne was so off balance, she wasn’t sure where to begin.

“You’re nowhere near ready for the responsibility.” Sofia crossed her arms. “If you ever hope to become the Head Librarian, you need to find a way to properly own up to mistakes like this.”

Aha! That was something Eulalie could finally latch onto! Should she beat around the bush a bit? Some people preferred that. Then again, Sofia looked tired and would probably just be annoyed.

“Except I don’t want to be the Head Librarian.”

“What?” It was like the breath had been knocked out of the cyclops.

Eulalie shrugged. “I like helping you and being part of the Library, but I’ve never wanted to be in charge. I’m not really a people person. My skill set is very different from yours. I would be a terrible Head Librarian.” She jerked a thumb at the rats. “And it’s not like that lot can be in charge. They’re happy to have a purpose, but this place needs someone like you who can restore it to its former glory.”

“You ... don’t ... want...” Sofia’s mouth opened and closed much like a fish out of water.

“Not in the slightest.” The Arachne gestured at the bank of monitors. “I’m already caught up in so many other things, and that doesn’t include being the Rat Queen. The Head Librarian isn’t just a title. It comes with so many duties that I wouldn’t know where to begin. I always figured we’d just work together until we had a few more librarians and that maybe you’d choose one of them.”

The cyclops had gone pale and was breathing fast. She mumbled something under her breath that even Eulalie couldn’t make out, then stood and walked briskly out the exit. The Arachne stared at the archway as she pulled another bit of thread from her spinnerets.

“Well ... fuck,” she muttered. She was fairly certain that conversation had gone better for her than Sofia. Tapping a finger on her chin, she sighed and turned her attention back toward the computer.

Doing computer stuff was always easier than dealing with people.

Mike looked down at the table and frowned. He contemplated the playing card with a picture of a hobo spider on it, his left hand hovering over the face-down cards spread across the table. Opposite from him, Grace stared through his soul, somehow looking back in time to his childhood and judging him even there.

“Blink, honey.” Yuki ruffled Grace’s hair. The Arachne blinked exactly once, her gaze never leaving her father’s face. Squatting next to the little girl was Abella. The gargoyle had positioned her hands beneath her chin as if in deep contemplation. In front of her was a pair of cards she had already matched in the memory game.

Mike sighed. He had no idea which card he needed and it was time to commit. Fuck it, he thought and chose at random.

He flipped over one of the other cards. It was, in fact, not a hobo spider. The jumping spider looked friendly enough, but his failure to match cards meant that his turn was over and the game had now circled back to his daughter.

“You’re up, kid.” He leaned back and groaned inwardly. Grace stared at him as she flipped over the hobo spider once more and then turned over its match, which had been revealed by Abella on her turn. The jumping spider was next, and its match was exactly where Reggie had found it three minutes ago.

“Bugs,” muttered the Rat King. He had three matches in front of him, his tail twitching in irritation. One by one, Grace went through the cards and matched all of them until there were four cards left. At no point did she ever look away from Mike as she promptly stomped on everyone who was playing. However, she did pause to contemplate the final cards, none of which had been flipped yet. She took a chance and failed to match the crab spider with its mate.

Reggie sighed. He flipped over one of the remaining cards, then swept the table. He held up his matched cards. He had five matches to Grace’s eight.

“I’m starting to think she may be unstoppable,” he said.

“We can blame that on Jenny,” said Mike. Now that Grace was old enough for certain games, she played with Reggie and Jenny all the time. The doll was usually cheating somehow, but Grace’s intense focus often meant she was able to bypass the doll’s exploit. Poor Reggie was usually caught in the crossfire of the battle of the titans, and Mike wondered if the extra gray hairs on the rat’s snout had come from playing with them.

“You can blame most of that on her heritage,” said Yuki as she stroked the little girl’s hair. Grace hissed with pleasure at the compliment, then picked up all the cards and started to shuffle them.

“I don’t think so,” said Reggie. “I’m fairly certain she can track them by feel.”

“Is that true, Grace?” Mike cocked his head at his daughter. In response, she pulled two cards seemingly at random and handed them over. It was a pair of jumping spiders.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself.

“I’m out,” said Reggie. “I haven’t had this much abuse since the time I got trapped in a pantry by a cat.”

“When was this?” asked Mike.

“My younger days.” Reggie smirked. “I had several adventures of my own before becoming royalty, you know.” The Rat King chuckled to himself and hopped off the table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a warm bed and some kingly duties to attend to. Maybe I’ll sire a child who can keep up with your children, Caretaker. The numbers are in my favor, after all.”

“It’s good to be the king,” muttered Mike as he watched Reggie leave. Once the rat had gone, he looked at his daughter and laughed. Yuki had taken the cards and spread them out. Grace had already matched over half of them. “Not much of a game, now is it?”

Grace shrugged, then scooped the cards up and set them in the middle of the table. She reached up to pat Mike on the head just as Death stepped out of the office.

“It is officially eleven in the morning,” said Death as he put on a pair of safety glasses. “Which means it is time for us to show up to work.”

“What exactly are you two doing out there?” asked Mike as Grace slipped on her own glasses. Over in the corner, the lamp threw itself behind the couch and transformed into a tool chest, which rolled out into the open. “Sorry, the three of you.”

“Mostly standing around,” said Death as he walked to the front door. “Oh, wait!” The Reaper ran into the office and returned with a thermos. “Don’t want to forget my soup,” he said as Grace opened the front door and held it for Tick Tock. Once the trio was through, the door clicked shut.

“They’re up to something,” said Yuki. “I’d bet one of my tails on it.”

“They’re going to hang some chimes,” said Abella with a grin. “Death and Grace picked out some spots to hang them. Her job is to string up the chimes themselves with her webs. I think it’s a good idea. It’ll keep Grace busy while Tink is out.”

Mike sighed. He was happy that the Reaper had taken it upon himself to keep Grace’s hours occupied, but how long would he have to do so?

“Enough of that.” Yuki picked up a card and tossed it playfully at him. “Doom and gloom looks awful on you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He picked up the card and set it back on the pile.

“Do you think Sofia has read that journal yet?” Abella looked at him hungrily. “Because if she’s not going to be by until later, I can think of a fun way to occupy—”

There was a clunking sound, followed by a book being set on a wooden shelf. Sofia walked out of the office. Mike noticed immediately how tired she looked, and how red her eye was. Had she been crying?

“Looks like my date is here,” he said. When he rose, Abella playfully clutched at his hand, as if trying to hold him down.

“Call me,” she whispered with a wink. The gargoyle stood and walked slowly toward the front door of the house, careful not to destroy the floorboards. The door opened as if by magic, allowing Abella to step outside. Cecilia briefly appeared, then gave the door a gentle push shut before fading from sight.

“So did you get a chance to...” Mike’s voice trailed off as Sofia ignored him to walk through the dining room and into the kitchen.

“Looks like somebody is still struggling.” Yuki rose and adjusted her kimono. “Maybe I should give her my therapist’s number.”

“Perhaps, but...” Mike winced when he heard a cabinet door in the kitchen slam. “Do it tactfully?”

Yuki laughed. “I don’t want cyclops spit in my food.” She headed for the stairs. “Send me a text if our little construction worker circles back around.”

Mike nodded, then headed for the kitchen. He stepped inside to the rhythmic sound of a knife’s edge knocking against the wooden grain of a cutting board. Sofia had already pulled several vegetables from the fridge and pantry and was frantically chopping them. Knowing better than to startle a woman holding a knife, he stepped up beside her to make his presence known before speaking.

“Hey,” he said. Sofia grunted in response, but said nothing else. The late morning sunlight occasionally glinted off the edge of the knife as she chopped, creating a hypnotic pattern.

Mike debated asking her what was up, or if she wanted to talk about it. However, it was obviously related to whatever issue was constantly plaguing her. Talking about it clearly hadn’t helped the cyclops. He wasn’t often at a loss for words with his various housemates, but the cyclops was different. Sofia didn’t technically live with them, despite her constant presence in the kitchen. Maybe part of the issue was neglect? Did she feel taken advantage of? Or was it a Library problem? If he didn’t know better, he was starting to think Sofia was on the edge of a mid-life crisis, one that couldn’t be fixed with the purchase of a new sports car.

“Would you like some help?” he asked. Sofia actually paused for a moment, then nodded and slid a beet toward him.

“You can peel that,” she said.

“Sure thing.” He picked up the beet and paused. “Wait, is this the one I should wear gloves for?”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “But it will turn your hands red.”

Mike chuckled as he opened a drawer to reveal boxes of nitrile gloves. Available in all sizes, he pulled some large ones from the box and slid them onto his hands.

“You seem overly pleased,” Sofia muttered.

“That’s because I look like a professional now.” Mike flexed his hands inside the gloves. “All I need is a chef jacket and toque and people will think I know what I’m doing.”

Sofia scoffed, but the corner of her mouth briefly lifted.

“So what are we making?” Mike pulled a peeler from the drawer. “I remember you once made a summer salad that was quite delightful.”

“That would be the one that Grace fed to the rats under the table.” Sofia smirked again. “However, I remember Callisto eating thirds.”

“Centaurs love their veggies.” Mike laughed. “Though he still gets pissed if you offer him a carrot.” He had learned the hard way that centaurs could offer other centaurs carrots, but when he did it, it was considered extremely offensive. Human and centaur cultures rarely overlapped while the centaurs had been on Earth, but mankind had been very efficient at being maximum assholes while it occurred.

“We’re making borscht.” Sofia looked at him as she expertly chopped an onion. Her eye flickered more than once, causing her to change the angle of her knife at the last second. “The nights are getting cooler. I thought soup would be nice.”

“Soup is always good,” Mike said. “Vastly underrated. A good soup fills you up physically and spiritually. That’s why restaurants charge so much for it. They’d rather feed you the cheap crap that makes you miserable.”

“Are you buttering me up?” Sofia glared at him.

“I’m just being honest,” Mike protested. “But if that happens to butter your roll, well ... then I guess I’m guilty.”

Sofia snorted, then scooped her chopped onion into a bowl. “As long as you aren’t trying to make me feel better, I’ll give you a pass.”

Mike took a deep breath, then let it out. It was clear that Sofia would bring up today’s issue when she was ready. “So what are we making with borscht?”

“Bread,” she replied. “Well, not us. There’s a wonderful bakery in France that makes a delightful black bread that will pair nicely with this.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Mike concentrated on peeling the beet. While his own danger sense might prevent him from slicing his hands, he definitely didn’t have Sofia’s precision or culinary technique. That, and slicing the tip of his finger off wasn’t exactly life threatening. The two of them became quiet as they peeled and chopped veggies, then tossed them into a large pot. It was almost an hour of reserved silence, but he could feel Sofia relax as she did it.

They were near the end of their meal prep when Sofia turned toward him. “So I read through the journal last night,” she said.

“And?” Mike looked at her expectantly. “What are we dealing with?

Sofia sighed. “I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. “There was no smoking gun, not that I noticed, anyway. Charles Allen Moore was part of one of the wealthier families that moved to London from France, so a bunch of what was in there was just the ramblings of a man in his twenties.”

“Damn. So he wasn’t part of a cult or anything?”

“He was not. But...” Sofia paused and set aside her knife. “There was quite the obsession with a young man who lived nearby. Charles grew up with him and his sister, Eloise. The three of them were rather inseparable.”

“Hmm.” Mike peeled off his gloves and tossed them in the trash. “I hardly feel like that justifies attaching a malevolent entity to the journal to kill anyone before they could read it.”

Sofia shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone got murdered in order to hide the perpetrator’s sexuality.”

“Noted.”

“I did, however, look up Charles’ history. Turns out he didn’t really do anything. Grew older, got married, then failed to father any children before dying. His spouse had a minor scandal involving a younger man, but that was it. The contents of the book were hardly salacious.”

“So, you don’t think he’s the one who stuck the wraith to it.” Mike leaned against the counter. “Then who did it and why? On a whim?”

Sofia smiled. “You would think so, but I need you to remember that this book got sorted because it met our search criteria. Specifically, the mention of prolonging life.”

Mike perked up. “And?”

Sofia tossed the last of the veggies into the pot. “Okay, let me give you some background. Charles was infatuated with Gerard, and Eloise was Gerard’s twin. As they grew older, Eloise fell victim to a rare debilitating blood disorder. It sounds like Gerard became obsessed with pursuing treatment.”

“So a quest not unlike my own.”

“Correct. Unlike our issue, Eloise was very sickly throughout her childhood and early teens. However, during the summer of this journal’s creation, suddenly Eloise became healthier, unexpectedly so. Charles was thrilled. Not only did this mean Gerard had more time for Charles, but the sister was now spending more time with both of them as well. Charles even fantasized about marrying Eloise and starting a secret relationship with her brother, if possible.”

“Was Gerard even interested in Charles?”

Sofia shrugged. “Charles seems to think so, but he is not a reliable narrator. Anyway, the focus of the story changes rapidly right around the fall. The year was 1888.”

Sofia stared at Mike knowingly. He just sat and waited, completely oblivious to what should have been a grand revelation.

“Really, Mike? Don’t they teach you anything in those schools of yours?”