Free Black Widow Demon by Paula Altenburg

terrors and what the night might bring.
    She turned her head to the side and concentrated on identifying her surroundings. She was no longer on the narrow ledge of the mesa. Rough desert terrain bounded her now, and she was grateful Blade had at least taken the time to hide her in a dense thicket of brush. Wind rattled sand through the dry yucca leaves while the smell of sage and the faint, bitter aroma of creosote filled her nose and lungs. The fabric swatch in her mouth tasted faintly of dust, juniper, and a hint of rose oil. She knew immediately that he had bound her with strips from her dress.
    A sharp rock dug into the flat plane of her back, and she shifted position by pushing at the ground with her bound feet. Her small pack of food, and her bow and quiver of arrows, lay nearby.
    Assuming she could rely on her senses, the world around her was reassuringly real.
    Although it would not be for much longer.
    The sun dangled dangerously close to the red-and-indigo-hued horizon, and at the sight of it, Raven’s heart started to pound. Fine tremors seeped through her body, gaining momentum like water trickling down a steep hill. Already, her world was shimmering and shifting.
    She shuddered. She did not want to open her eyes next time to darkness.
    “Here.”
    The sound of a voice, unexpectedly close to her, made her turn her head too sharply, and the ache behind her eyes threatened to crack open her skull.
    The gag in her mouth was removed, and a cool, firm hand cupped the back of her head, lifting it, pressing a canteen of warm water to her dry lips.
    “Drink this. Just a little.”
    She sipped greedily, wanting more, but the canteen was withdrawn too soon. A boy, perhaps eighteen, crouched at her side with distress in his kind, coffee-colored eyes. His blond hair, dirtied to a ditchwater brown, touched his shoulders, and the plain laborer’s clothing covering his thin frame was badly in need of laundering. He looked half-starved.
    Raven, however, was in no position to criticize the physical appearance of another. Almost as much as she wanted more water to drink, she longed to bathe and change her clothes.
    “Are you real?” she whispered to him, the words causing her throat to ache even worse than her head. She remembered the flesh-eating fire ants and suspected her sore throat came from screaming.
    The thought unnerved her.
    He hesitated. “I didn’t want you to think you were alone.”
    Her gaze sharpened. He had not answered her question. She could find out whether or not he was real. “Untie me.”
    He shook his head in refusal, embarrassment staining his cheeks. His eyes slid from hers. “You were bitten by a goldthief. Until the hallucinations pass, or your friend returns, it’s perhaps best if you remain bound. I’m no safer from you than any other male would be. If it became necessary, I could never restrain you.” His voice, while gentle, held rueful humor as he scrubbed his brow with the rough of his thumb. “Your friend seems better able than most at protecting himself from you.”
    By “friend,” she assumed he was referring to Blade. She did not bother to correct him. That man was not a friend. But he was not an enemy either.
    The colors haloing the air around the boy signaled that the hallucinations were not far off. Dissecting his words gave her something to concentrate on in an effort to keep them at bay.
    “How did you know I was bitten by a snake?” she managed to rasp.
    “I’ve been following you. I felt your distress a few days ago and knew right away what you were, but it took me a few days to find you. By the time I did, your big friend had already decided to help you.” He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and balanced his torso more securely over his heels. “He can do more for you than I can right now, at least until I find the others.”
    She did not understand. She had been so careful. How could this boy have followed her without being seen?
    And who were the others he