Arachne's Hotel: A Devilish Angelic Guest

This short story is a prequel set in the storyverse of Midlife Supernaturals and The Oracle Chronicles series. It is before the events of Eastside Hedge Witch and Westside Oracle, but doesn’t spoil the plot.

My name is Arachne. I once was such a talented weaver that I’d out wove Athena herself, but these days I knitted or crocheted. Everyone thought that was what got me banned from Olympus. Only Athena, I, and the gorgon I had fed to my children knew the truth. Anyway, here I was at my hotel, behind a desk, surrounded by Afghans and doilies galore. The knitting and crocheting kept the mind as well as the hands busy.

The hotel was not quite on Earth, but in an in between place that is accessible to anyone with supernatural blood. It’s best I stayed off that world anyway. My imprisonment/job was easy, if not boring as heck—the crocheting helped with that, too. If the mundanes saw me, they’d figure out I wasn’t one of them with a single gander at my bottom half.

Oh, sure. I had a head, torso, and arms like any human granny, but from my hips down, I was all spider, eight legs and all. In Olympus, that was no biggie, but mundanes didn’t know that I even existed outside of the horrible myth about me, so it was for the best.

Speaking of spiders, a black one, the size of a small dog skittered in from the doggy door. By the way he scurried, something had him all in a huff.

“What did you see, Greg?”

He spun in a circle clockwise three times and then counterclockwise. Tapped his front legs in a sort of morse code that my children spoke to me in. We had new guests, and they wanted to see me outside rather than coming in.

I set my busywork aside and rounded the front desk. My pink and yellow muumuu swished with my movements. I patted matching cap over my curlers as if it was hair and pushed my cat-eye frame glasses up the bridge of my nose. I didn’t need them to see regular things, but I could see magical auras, or rather, the color of the light of the beings that came to stay at my hotel. It came in handy to know what the supernatural was packing, so to speak.

The bell on the front door chimed as I exited. Outside, a figure stood at about six and half feet tall. My glasses allowed me to see the outline of wings and the white light burning within the supernatural, the distinct color of angelic magic.

My blood ran cold. Not because I feared the angelic anocracy. They governed Heaven and most of Earth, but not me. This was neutral territory. What had my panties all in a bunch was the gorgeous creature with the angel. Her hair was dark and wild. She was in fighting leather but tattered as if she’d worn the same armor for a long time—I guessed at least a few hundred Earth years. Her light burned green, marking her as a fae, but it was dull, not the brilliant green of the fae who passed through here, escaping the Fae and Angelic war.

The fury in her brown eyes burned with a rage that could set a world on fire. I knew that kind of impotent anger. The rage of someone unjustly imprisoned was a terrible burden to bear.

I wasn’t afraid of her or her rage either. Fae had long been my guests and I was happy to have them. They were nasty for sure, but as long as I wasn’t rude and gave them a place to stay, they were bound by their own rules of hospitality and manners to treat me like gold. Truth be told, I’d be nasty, too, if I was bound to be nice to someone I didn’t like or to never lie.

What chilled me was the circlet around her neck and the chain that led to the angel’s hand. He held it tight. The throat collar and leash weren’t made of cold iron—which would have put her in pain, might have even killed her—but glowed with magical markings I didn’t understand. However, I understood that they bound her light.

I cursed my curse to welcome all who came here. “What can I do you for?”

The angel sneered. “Do not speak to me as a sphinx. I care not for riddles.”

I’d be offended, but all angels took that imperious tone and condescending manner of speech. Thanks to offing most of the competition for belief, they’d grown in power. Even Zeus had a treaty with the angels, fearing they’d do to Olympus what they’d done to faeries.

Nasty and cruel as nature itself, the fae weren’t heroes by any standard. That said, I respected the fae for fighting for their right to be gods over mundanes, but that war had cost them. Their numbers were few. What I didn’t understand was why an angel would have one prisoner.

“Would you like two rooms then?”

The angel cleared up both the question in my mind and the one I asked out loud for me by running a finger along the elegant lines of the fae’s cheekbone and jawline. “My pet and I will have one room. Make it the best. I think you have what is called a honeymoon suite.”

The indignation in the fae’s eyes, as she kept the rest of her face a neutral mask, squashed my fear of the light inhibiting chain and collar. In its stead, a new emotion bubbled up. While the angel continued his sickening tracing of the lines of her face, I gave her a warm smile that I knew didn’t reach the eyes. There, I let her see what burned inside of me. Wrath didn’t feel like strong enough of a word, but it would do.

Hope flickered in her eyes. Probably for the first time in centuries, she had an ally. A chance to escape this twisted being that defiled everything he was supposed to represent.

“Sure thing.”

All the rooms in my hotel looked the same, but I had some fae associates, who leased to me a spell that could change up a room to appear any way a guest thought it should. It cost a fortune in favors—fae didn’t care about money because they had gold out the wazzoo—but it was worth the little tasks the fae who I bargained with asked of me or my children.

I gestured to the nearest vacant room. “Go ahead. Room 104 is open and ready.”

The angel gave the door a dubious glance. “Are you sure that is the best room in your establishment.”

With a forced smile, I replied, “When you open the door, picture the most luxurious accommodations you can imagine. The room will match, or maybe even surpass, your wildest dreams.”

The angel sighed heavily and muttered something about only Heaven had such accommodations, but he’d made his choice. His gaze was on the fae, who he made retrieve two suitcases from the trunk of a car, as he’d grumbled. Between the muttering and the luggage, he clued me into something he hadn’t meant to. He wasn’t having a little twisted fun as he transported a prisoner, who’d broken treaty after the Fae Angelic War. This sick bastard was doing much worse than locking her up in the prison the angels called The Vault. He’d kept her as he’d called her, his pet, since a war that had ended over a thousand Earth years ago.

I’d intended to report him to the anocracy and have a seraph come kick his butt, but this matter, this crime against the laws of all supes, would be tried and executed by me.

He opened the door and let out another type of sigh. One of satisfaction. It would be the last moment of contentment in his long, long life.

 

After the door closed behind the angel and the fae prisoner, I gathered my children in my office. They crowded the floor, walls, and ceiling, creating a sea of writhing black.

“Children, we have been forbidden from feasting on the flesh of intelligent beings.”

The chittered in spun in circles. Some annoyed with this predicament. Some in agreement that we shouldn’t. They’d gotten used to the taste of forest creatures. The older ones and I remembered ne’er do wells we’d dined upon in the past. Exacting vengeance on a horrible being spiced their flesh with the most delectable flavor that innocent game could never match.

“Therefore, Athena will no doubt disapprove of what I am about to ask you to do and will also no doubt ask Zeus to extend our banishment from Olympus, if not call for our execution. So, if you’d like to plead innocence, I ask you to go hunt elsewhere for the night.”

The churning sea of black parted to make way for the few, who were heading toward the doggy door.

I extended my hand. “Wait, before you go, let me tell you who our current guests are and what one of them has done.”

I’d raised them right. By the time I finished, none of my children wanted to leave—my sweet, hungry vigilantes.

Not much later, I took out a vial from my pocket. I’d bartered for this potion with the most powerful of the witches. I poured it into a bottle of wine, stuffed the cork back in place so I wouldn’t touch the liquid and shook it. Then I poured the wine into a crystal decanter and one glass. I’d already poured untainted wine in another glass on a silver tray.

“Open the door for me, will ya?”

Greg spurred into action. The rest of my children poured out the door and quietly clambered the exterior of the hotel out of view of the guests’ windows.

The angel answered by the third knock. He was disheveled but not yet undressed. I couldn’t say the same for the fae. Masking my fury, I smiled sweetly and held out the glass I’d poured for the fae.

“For your bride.”

He furrowed his pretty brow, then understanding limned his features. He swiped the glass from my hand. He sniffed it and took a sip.

“It’s surprisingly good.”  He then handed the glass to the fae. “Try it, my dear.”

The fae, not embarrassed by her nakedness, took the offered wine and drank it down. Perhaps she thought this was my only act of empathy. While his ostensible bride drank, the angel took the tray with the decanter and other glass, closing the door.

Moments later, I heard the expected thud. The door swung open. The fae grinned. “How long have you spared me of his horrid company?”

“Forever, my friend.”  I snapped my fingers.

If my army of spider children the size of bowling balls frightened or even surprised her, it didn’t show on the fae’s face. The grin on her face spread to malevolent delight as she witnessed the feast.

“If you don’t mind. I’m famished,” I said, unhinging my jaw and joining my children.

The fae clapped with delight as we enjoyed our spicy, flavorful dinner.

After dinner, I brought the fae some clothes left behind by former guests and offered to contact the fae I’d bargained with to remove her collar and take her home.

A wistful expression crossed her pretty features, before she replied, “I cannot bear to be among my people. I’ve been dead so long…best I stay in the Summerlands in their minds. Might I stay here awhile before I go on my way? I’m not afraid of working for my room and board.”

I placed a gentle hand on hers. “The angel might have gone rogue, but the angels will eventually come looking for their missing brother. Also, they pass through here often as do their Guardians. It’s best you leave as soon as possible to avoid trouble. My acquaintance lives in a faerie night market called Bizarre Bazaar. It’s a crossroads realm like this one.”

She touched the collar at her throat and her lip curled in a sneer. “I’ve been there—I escaped him once, you see. The two fae who rule that faerie were the only ones strong enough to do it and their price was too high.”

“Let me summon someone.”

 

A while later, three witches sat at a table across from me and the fae, who wouldn’t tell any of us her name. She simply said, “That is between me and sweet Danu. Call me what you like.”

The witches examined the collar and chain, then conferred in Kairska, the language from their former world. The eldest of the three turned to us.

“We can break the spell, but it will take time.”

The fae shook her head. “That’s not a luxury I have.” She glanced at me. I nodded for her to continue. “I’ve been imprisoned by a rogue angel since the war. The anocracy is likely searching for us both.”

Thankfully, the witches didn’t probe further into that. Instead, the three debated again for a while. The eldest spoke again, “You may stay with us until we break the spell.”

The middle-aged one added, “We will have to tell the others that you’re a witch. Can you glamour yourself to appear as one of us? Normally, we don’t take in outsiders, but we can adjust your story to an angel kidnapped you from your coven and took your memories.”

The fae blinked and her sharp, elegant features softened. Her hair that was so dark blue it almost seemed black turned brown. Even the faeness of her faded. The collar binding her magic disappeared, too. “I cannot lie to them, but I’ll play along to whatever story you need to feed them. I’ll also trade a bit of my knowledge for what you do for me.”

All three witches shook their heads. “As long as you’re with us, you must live as a witch.”

 

Many years later…

 

I sat behind my desk, knitting a sweater. Greg burst through the dog door, startling me.  Before had the time to signal what he had to say, the full door swung open. The bell chimed with the movement, announcing a guest.

I recognized the fae. What baffled me is that she still wore a glamour, and her light was dim.

“Well, I’ll be…didn’t they get that collar off you?”

The fae put a finger to her lips. “Come, Rhiannon. I want to introduce you to a very special friend of mine.”

A little girl of about two or three years old skipped in. She was human in appearance, but with my glasses, I could see both green fae light and amber witch light dancing within the child. She gaped at all the doilies. Then she saw Greg and smiled. “Doggy!”

Greg forgave the offense as the girl hugged him.

The fae came to the desk and said in a low voice. “I can’t stay long, but I wanted to thank you. The Baba Yaga placed me with a coven, and I’ve made a life there. The collar is gone, but I must play the role they gave me.”

A shudder passed through me, but I nodded and smiled. “No thanks necessary. I’m glad to see you’re fine.”

“Better than fine,” the fae replied. “My little girl is going to take down the entire Angelic Anocracy. No one will suffer them again.”

“All by herself?”

The fae shook her head. “No. She’ll have help.”

I felt my shoulders slump a little as they went. I could only hope the little girl would have some say in this.


For more Arachne: https://tammydeschamps.com/products/westside-oracle-midlife-olympians-the-oracle-chronicles-1

For Rhiannon's destiny:  https://tammydeschamps.com/products/eastside-hedge-witch-midlife-supernaturals-1