The Weavers Web Book II: Chapter One

Dad was quiet until we got home. Then he took a deep breath. “Taylor… why didn’t you tell me?”

I had my answer ready, and it was a true one. “At first? I didn’t want to involve you. I felt that only I could handle things. Later, I became concerned with what I might bring down on your head, legally or otherwise. After all, you could always state you knew nothing.”

“And you join up with an attack on the Empire?” he took a deep breath. “They won’t forget.”

“No.” I nodded. “But they may be more concerned with Orb Weaver, not The Investigator. Orb Weaver is quite protective of their assets.”

“Are you? An asset, I mean.”

I met Dad’s eyes. “My relationship with Orb Weaver is… Complex.” I relaxed and dropped The Investigator’s mannerisms. “Dad, I really didn’t have a choice. Not after I triggered. I can’t… run away from this world. It’ll follow me.”

“And you don’t want to become a Ward.”

“No. At least not yet.” And not ever, if I have anything to say about it. “Like I told you, I’m not interested in big cape fights.” True, in both cases. “But I can help this city. Orb Weaver told me about Maria. But I can help make the city less corrupt.”

“You don’t need capes coming after you to be in danger,” Dad said. “Just angry men with guns.”

“I know.” We walked into the living room, and I took in the shabby carpets, the lack of changes.

Sometimes, depression can manifest in the surroundings. Neglect, or focusing on keeping things in stasis.

Mom’s desk was still there, and if the top was clean, her forever ungraded papers were in the drawers.

I’d been studying those books to figure out how best to deal with criminals. I hadn’t expected it to hit me in the face at home.

Other signs can be a persistent refusal to confront issues…

I shook my head, glancing at Dad. He’d been active before Mom had died. She’d had the garden, he’d been the tinkerer. Since then… When was the last time he’d used his tools?

I…

I didn’t actually know what to say, not right now. I needed to think about this, and I could get back to it later.

“I’ll make dinner, okay?”

“Thanks Taylor…and I… if you want to talk?”

“Maybe later.” Later would be better. I had things to worry about right now.

And the biggest one involved Orb Weaver and the Investigator.

My power had a major downside. I could give insects orders, and they would follow them, but I could not control them or sense through them beyond my range.

And even I could write an app that would keep track of The Investigator’s and Orb Weaver’s appearances, and if Orb Weaver was never more than a few blocks away….

The simplest solution was to just never appear at the same time. But the two identities were already associated, so a sufficiently paranoid individual might draw conclusions.

What I needed was a way for Orb Weaver to be seen—at the same time as the Investigator, further away than any previously observed master power allowed.

Well, I could discount some. I doubt anyone would be assuming I was in the Fairy Queen’s league.

But… how. I had no way of faking The Investigator’s presence so…

I glanced to where Dad was in the living room, sitting. I couldn’t see him, not directly but my bugs could sense him.

He was looking at Mom’s desk.

For a moment, I thought… No. I had to get this done.

I couldn’t leave any real signs behind, not in the long term. After all, the PRT might investigate the region but…

Designs took form in my mind and then on the computer screen in front of me. I was no tinker, but I had ideas and my bugs…

Well, I’d done a lot of research.

And I had the plan. The PRT and Protectorate almost certainly knew that Orb Weaver had some influence over insects and other vermin. But not what type…

And I could order insects to stay and breed in a certain region.

Yes. Yes, this would work. It was simple, really. I could gather the right pheromones in order to cause my chosen insects to gather in a swarm. Not poisonous ones, more likely moths or other harmless insects. Put the chemicals in a dispenser, and I could summon a swarm when I needed it, and by shutting off the generator and adding an ultrasonic emitter… Drive them away… almost like the spirit animating them had gone elsewhere.

Yes. To an outside observer, it would look like Orb Weaver doing something, especially in the dark when the mass of insects would be indistinct, especially since they wouldn’t be in position to get close.

But how to talk… I could use burner phones, hooked up to speakers and receivers scattered through the area, put down and covered with dust and spiderwebs on a previous walk.

I couldn’t help but smile as I got to work. There were some bits I needed help on, but my research bugs were good for that. I would get some burner phones, cameras, and then set up my little show in a part of town where crime would, not might, but would, be a host to crime.

Of course the people I’d be going after wouldn’t be the kind to call the PRT. Oh no. I had no intention of trying this anywhere near Armsmaster and his sensor-laden helmet. But the PRT would hear the rumors, and would know, for certain where The Investigator was.

And I would be completely clueless, of course. No sign that I even knew what Orb Weaver was doing.

I leaned back, checking off what I’d need to do with this and how long it’d take.

I’d have it by the end of the week.

It was amazing, how much my power let me do. I’d wondered what insects could do for me, and it turned out, as useful as they were, in some respects, they were the least of what my power could do for me…

*****

The next morning was school at Winslow, and I was called into the Principal’s office.

Did the Protectorate out me? No. Why would they?

I got up and walked to the office, and the secretary waved me in. Thomas looked at me and then put a little metal object on the desk and touched it.

I’d never seen one in person, but I’d researched tinkertech, and this looked like a toybox jammer.

Thomas didn’t beat around the bush. “Aisha Laborn was attacked by the Empire. She’s going to be out of Arcadia for the next week.”

“I see.”

“I also have friends in the PD. Really lucky you managed to get to her in time.”

I went still, the insects in the walls freezing.

“What did your friends say?”

“Oh, that someone went to the PRT, came out with her dad. Someone was associated with a Scary Ass Cape… someone who went through a trigger event, and then someone who has her build and a pair of fake boobs starts walking around the boardwalk.”

“I’m not a cape!” I said. It wasn’t all an act. I’d known that I was sacrificing the Investigator to the PRT, but…

Ran with Marquis. High up in his organization and likely did planning and intelligence.

“Well, I don’t have a lie detector .So I’ll take you at your word, and a warning. I’ve spoken to Orb Weaver. He’s a crusader, if I ever heard one. So be careful. The Empire might not be able to find him, but if say, they were looking for a cape associated with him… They might make the same mistake I just did.” When he said mistake, he’d made quotation marks with his hand—where nobody could see them but me.

“So, what does this mean for me?” I asked.

He tossed some papers. “Congrats, you’re now among the high-class students of Arcadia.”

I blinked. “But I didn’t…”

“You’ve taken Aisha Laborn from almost flunking out to a solid C average.” Thomas tilted his head. “And the Arcadia admin is willing to accept that in lieu of grades, especially given your performance in tutoring…” He paused. “And if Ms. Laborn comes back, you’re actually one of her closer associates. And she was just the object of an Empire hit. So she’ll need friends.”

You have no idea. Or maybe he did. Marquis also had sources in the PRT.

“Does the fact that Arcadia is where the Wards go have anything to do with it?”

“No. I mean, if we were speaking of a hypothetical cape, there might be more security in case the Empire gets stupid.”

“Ah.”

“Now, I’ll leave you for the rest of the day—you’ll be heading to Arcadia tomorrow, and the bus schedule and everything will be waiting for you… unless you want to stay?”

“No, sir.”

“I didn’t think so. Now I have to speak to Mr. Veder.”

“What about him?” Greg? What did he do?

“According to a certain Tin Mother, he posted images on one of the conspiracy boards of Faultline having a meeting with someone. I’m going to have a short, sharp conversation about why I want my students to live to graduate, and how poking their noses into someone making an arrangement with Accord is not a life-extending strategy.”

Greg, you moron. Maybe Orb Weaver needed to drop by after a decent interval to reinforce the lesson.

“Ouch.”

“Ouch indeed.”

With that I left the office. It was odd…

I’d always expected that leaving Winslow would be a triumph, me marching out to cheers, or a defeat, me running away, to just drop out of school.

I never expected it to be so… anticlimactic.