Warden (Book 2: Lure of the Lamia) by Kevin Hardman Read Free Book Online

as he touched it, a jolt shot through him – a sensation of strength, vigor, and confidence. The Widow’s eyes went wide when she saw the blade.
    “That dagger,” she said. “Where did you get it?”
    Errol didn’t deign to answer the question, just turned and walked towards the back wall. He didn’t even spare the Widow, who flinched as he walked past her, a glance. He stopped next to the webbed man, then slid the dagger vertically down the webs holding him. The strands parted like water, and the man fell forward, causing Errol to perform an impromptu juggling act: he simultaneously dropped the arrow and sheathed his dagger before reaching out lightning-quick to catch the man before he hit the floor.
    Errol lowered the man to the ground, noting that he wore nothing but a ragged pair of pants. Like his head, the rest of the man was emaciated beyond belief. He was so light that Errol barely felt his weight at all, and his ribs protruded prominently – all of his bones did, in fact. In truth, the only part of him that didn’t appear to be completely skeletal was his stomach, which actually stuck out in a round little mound that seemed to move, shifting around like a couple of children playing under a blanket.
    Oh no…
    The man grimaced in pain as the activity in his stomach seemed to reach a fever pitch. The man arched his back, gave an anguished cry of pain, and then was still. At the same time, his stomach extended farther and farther out until it split like a seam, starting at his navel.
    Already knowing what was happening, Errol retrieved his arrow and stepped back. At the same time, the Widow came over and stood next to him. A look of rapture was on her face as she watched the first of her new brood – another human-headed spider creature, covered in blood and entrails – climb from the man’s belly. The Widow bent down and picked it up lovingly, kissing it. Errol felt like he was going to be sick.
    All in all, six of the hideous little monsters came out of the man’s corpse, scuttling around and mewling like hungry kittens. By the time the last one was out, Errol was at the door, eager to depart. His hand on the door handle, he turned back towards the Widow, who was busy coddling her new set of young.
    “One thing before I go,” he said. “The pact is altered now. You will eat no more humans, nor use them for propagation. And Wardens are free to enter and leave your cabin in safety.”
    She seemed on the verge of protesting, but then cast a glance at her two dead children.
    “So be it,” she said with a nod.
    Errol exited the cabin, closing the door behind him. As he headed to his horse, it occurred to him that the admonition against entering the Widow’s cabin was less about protecting one’s life and more about preserving one’s sanity.

 
    Chapter 7
     
    Errol’s journey back home took the better part of a week. Along the way, he stopped at the Pierce farm to present them with the amarok hide. It was little solace to them; old Benton had died of his wounds. They thanked him, but told him he could keep the pelt. (He was silently grateful that no one had had the poor manners to mention the dogs. The fact that he’d come back without them was explanation enough.)
    It was night when he finally arrived home at the Warden Station – five days after leaving the White Widow’s cabin. Counting the time spent hunting the amarok and dealing with the basilisk, he had been gone something like ten days – a lifetime when you spent every spare moment battling living nightmares.
    The Warden Station was a modest outpost that consisted of the Station House, a barn, and a few other buildings. Errol had lived here his entire life, so it was the only home he knew. In fact, as the job of Warden tended to be handed down from father to son, numerous generations of the Magnus family had lived here. That said, the family actually owned a modest parcel of farmland not too far away. Although he and Tom had regularly