Are you one of hers? I asked the spider.
Are you kidding me? it replied. You mistake me for one of those idiots?
I looked closer, not at the wrinkled carapace or the kinked legs. I looked at the mouth, and I recognized her.
What––? —? How—?
This is what happens when you go through the digestive system of a goddamn cat wrapped in spider-thread, she said, and you should be damned lucky I don’t hold grudges or you and your little feline friend would both have died with your mouths and noses sewn shut. Just sayin’.
Are you a ghost? Is that what this is? Am I dead?
Another voice from behind me. You should be so lucky, human, said Tig’s discorporate self, flat as a light beam, as she squeezed through between the door and its frame.
Tig popped free and re-inflated. A long thin strand linke
