NOTE: This is a continuation of the "Web Of Deception" round-robin story. If you're late to the party, please start with Chapter 1 on Ben's site and go from there. You can also follow the RSS feed hosted at http://www.andthentheboilerburst.com/WebOfDeception.rss.

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A huge boar came running out of the forest, his hooves thundering over the ground. He snorted, flattening the grass around him with his steaming breath, and then tossed his long, razor sharp tusks high into the air.

He glowered wild-eyed at Callie and JC and charged across the field, his fur jutting up from his back in thick tufts like unkempt, gigantic thorns.

"Hold still," said JC. "If you run, we're both done for."

But the boar was not what astonished Callie. It was the woman who rode him.

The woman sat lightly on the boar, completely unperturbed by his violence. Her long, epigamic blonde hair was wrapped in braids, hanging down past her waist, touching the boar's sides. She wore an ornate jeweled necklace, a cape made of feathers, and that was all.

The woman's skin radiated a subtle golden light. She was vibrantly alive, smiling knowingly and joyfully at the trees, the grass, the flowers, the birds, the sky, and, well, everything.

Callie was as comfortable in her body as any woman she'd ever known. But the way this woman carried herself made Callie blush.

The boar crossed the field, running at full speed, and stopped just short of Callie. The woman riding him smiled brightly as they all stood face to face.

Callie held her ground and remained silent as the boar blew hot steam in her general direction. She thought, "I... I think... I'll let the cat do the talking."

"Queen Freya, how may I be of service?" asked JC. Callie noted the sarcasm in his voice, but she wasn't sure if it was because he was still stuck to her shoulder, or because he'd been tricked into pulling Freya's carriage, and wasn't pleased about it. "Probably both," she thought.

"JC, where have you been?" asked Freya. "We've missed you at Sessrumnir."

"Surely my queen, you are aware, I have been here, in this little town, on urgent business of the Vanir."

Freya surveyed him coolly from her perch on the boar.

"You know, Freya. Project Amulet."

"Ah. And, JC, how exactly did you become involved in that?"

"I've the sharpest claws known to catdom, or so they tell me, my Queen."

Callie couldn't help staring at Freya. In fact, her whole body reacted to her in some strange way. She couldn't tell if she was aroused, or coming down with a cold, or beginning a psychotic break. "Possibly all three," she thought. What was this? Then it hit her.

"Oh!" she said out loud, before she could stop herself. Callie realized she had an odd and extremely powerful desire to get pregnant, as soon as possible. She started thinking about Mike.

"Yes," said the golden woman on the boar. "I get that a lot." She smiled her knowing smile. "Here. Take this."

Freya handed Callie a small bottle. It was transparent and filled with a golden liquid.

"As long as you use this on someone you love, it will never run out."

Callie took the bottle, instinctively putting it in her pocket. She was speechless. She tried to say thank you, but somehow her mouth wasn't quite working.

"You will want to get home right away," said Freya.

Callie flushed. She thought about Mike, at home, waiting for her. She thought about how he was always teasing her, putting his hands on her, lifting her into the air. She could feel him all around her.

"Mike is going to need your help."

Callie seemed to find her feet. "What do you mean?" She felt embarrassed, confused. What was it she had just been thinking?

"Why does Mike need help?"

"You need to hurry," said Freya. "Take this."

Freya stripped the cape of feathers off of her back. She slid from the back of the boar.

"Take off your sweater," said Freya.

JC leapt off and disappeared into the bushes. Callie took off the sweater. Freya walked around behind her. The blades of grass turned toward Freya as she circled Callie, soaking up Freya's radiance, visibly growing taller around Callie's ankles. Goosebumps ran up Callie's spine and down her arms and legs. She was paralyzed with excitement, unable to move. Freya gently put the feathered cape on Callie's back, spreading it over her shoulders. Callie's arms lengthened. She was growing... lighter, softer. Her feet shifted into talons. She was a bird! She lifted herself into the air, beating her wings.

Freya called out, "Home! Fly home, Callie!"

As Callie flew off, she noticed a large number of cats streaming into the field. Her hawk eyes picked them out as they moved in the grass. They were forming a circle around Freya, and they seemed to be conferring with JC, who stood next to the goddess. Callie didn't have time to think about it, she had to fly!



Tom Dufay was putting some boxes of baking soda on a shelf when he heard a sound in the back of the store. He walked to the rear and entered the store room. A single light bulb dimly illuminated boxes piled on wooden pallets. Shelves held crates full of medicines, gallon jugs full of chemicals, glass bottles filled with liquids of various colors and all sorts of odds and ends, much of it covered in cobwebs and dust. Tom heard a door creak shut, and shuffling footsteps dragging over the floor. He had a visitor.

"Who's there?" he called into the dim light.

There was no answer. The sound of someone sitting on a crate came from the back of the room. Tom walked toward the back door and saw an old man hunched there, sitting still. He wasn't breathing. His skin was taut and dry, pulled tightly over his bones. A thick layer of dust lay in the cracks of his skin, on his clothes, his boots, and his hair. His eyes were open, and like the rest of him, completely covered over in a thick film of dust.

A gleam came from his left hand – the glint of a wedding ring. His right hand held a tuft of braided, silky black wool, finely combed and shiny, as though oiled. It was tied together with red twine woven around tiny pieces of white bone.

"Ah. Mr. Hodges."

The corpse of Rudolph Hodges opened its mouth, lips stretching dryly over a set of broken teeth. He made a sound like the creak of an old floorboard squeaking in the middle of the night. Finally he whispered, "Betsy."

"Rudy? Is that you?"

The corpse nodded its head.

Tom sighed. "Yes, Rudy. Betsy. What about Betsy?"

"In the cave. With the rrrest," Rudolph whispered like a snake's rattle.

"That's right, Rudy. Betsy is in the cave, with the rest. I asked them to go, just as I asked you to come up out of that shallow grave," said Tom. "What else would you like to know?"

Rudolph's face turned up toward Tom, his dusty, sunken, blank eyes staring blindly at Tom's face.

"Cat got your tongue, Rudy?"

The body of Rudolph Hodges stood up and slowly turned toward the back door. Tom could hear his bones creaking and his skin crackling as he moved.

"Now Rudy, we can't have you walking around in broad daylight," said Tom. "You're going to scare someone. They don't understand that kind of thing around here."

Tom walked up to Rudy and pulled the black tuft out of his hand. His body stopped moving, and then fell backwards. Tom caught him and lowered him gently to the floor.

"Got to take care of your body, Tom. Got to be more careful. I've still got a few things for you to do. But we can't have you walking around inside it."

Tom held the black thing up to his mouth and spoke to it in a low whisper:

"Web of darkness
Void bound in blood
With bones digested
In spidery cud
Braided black web
Spun slow underground
Imbue this shade,
Death's hallowed ground
With my will unafraid
My desire unbound!"

Tom put the black thing back in Rudolph's right hand. The corpse sat up.

Slowly and carefully Tom said, "Wait until it is dark outside.  Go to the Hodges house. When you see the man inside, kill him without the woman seeing you.  Then, bring his body to the cave.  Leave the woman alone unless she sees you.  If she does see you, kill the woman and bring her body to the cave as well."

The corpse nodded once and leaned back against the storeroom wall. Tom stood up and smiled proudly and kindly, as though he'd just rescued a lost puppy or pulled a scared cat out of a tree. Tom walked out into the store and continued stocking the shelves.



Mike woke up and looked at his leg. The deep scratches were still there. He noticed for the first time that they were carved into his skin in a pattern, circles connecting to circles. It was actually beautiful, and more than a little creepy. The skin looked a little dry, but it was better than before. At least it didn't hurt. He felt sorry for his leg, all carved up like that, and sorrier for himself, because he owned a leg like that. Mike wondered if it would heal. Those scars looked permanent. He decided he'd try and stand up. That was when he noticed the cats. There were two or three at each window, and all of them were staring in at him.

"Oh. Shit."

The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. "Just like a cat," he thought. Something wasn't right. He went around to the kitchen. The back door was open. One of the cats was on the kitchen table.

"Little varmint," he said. He reached toward the cat to push it off the table, and then thought better of it.

"Where's that shotgun?"

He walked slowly backward, turned, and saw another cat sitting in on the floor. The cat leapt toward his chest. He saw its claws extend toward him in slow motion. He realized, he had no shirt on.

"Damn," was all he could get out. He hit the floor, landing in a cloud of yowling, clawing cats, and promptly passed out. He woke up a few minutes later. His clothes were gone, laying in thin shreds all around his naked body. He was carved from head to toe in beautifully woven, bloody circles. He was afraid to touch his face. He never knew this kind of pain could ever be. He held up his hands. He was marked everywhere he looked, his fingers, his palms, his forearms. He sat up, looked down at his manhood. Everything was intact, but the scars ran pretty close. He cried a little then, and looked at the cat sitting in between his feet. "Thanks for leaving that alone," he said.

The cat regarded him indifferently. It licked its paw, and looked for all the world like it might lay down and take a nap. "You've been given an amulet. You're going to need it. Trust me on that one."

"An amulet? You, you can talk? Yeah, of course you can talk. You and your... evil little friends... carve me up like a Halloween pumpkin, and THEN," he began to giggle, a little unsteadily, "you wanna talk about jewelry?"

He laughed a little harder, and the tears started coming again. "Oh I'm losing it all right. No way, no way this is happening. No no no no nooooo waaay." He held up his hand again, looking at it curiously. For some reason it reminded him of a red yoyo he'd had when he was a kid. He waved it down, then up, then down again. Finally he let it rest on the floor.

The cat looked at him patiently, as though he were the stupidest, sorriest human child ever conceived. "Your skin is an amulet now. It will protect you. It will protect your family. It will protect anyone you love, as long as you are touching them."

Mike stared at the cat. Clearly he'd lost his mind. No, it wasn't that, he was dreaming! That's all! Callie had gone out, and he'd fallen asleep, and soon she'd be back, and he'd wake up, and all of this will have been a bad dream. His head fell back and smacked the floor with a bloody thunk. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he was gone.

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The story has been continued by Steve McDonagh, who kindly included the word triskaidekaphobia in the story (lol!). nice job steve!