Jake wanted to scream but his chest was too tight with terror.
The giant scorpion tilted further and suddenly dove straight at Jake. He reacted on instinct, drawing upon a lesson his mother had taught him about how cannibals in Papua New Guinea trapped their victims in snares.
As the monstrous beast dive-bombed toward him, Jake bunched his legs and arms, then shoved and kicked his blanket straight into the air like a net. The blanket fell over the scorpion, tangled around it, and knocked it to the floor. Jake rolled out of bed in his bare feet, dressed only in his boxers. He had no weapon.
The creature fell between him and the door. It thrashed and writhed under the blanket. He would have to jump over it. Then one black claw cut through and waved wildly. It was almost free. Jake backed up a step and bumped the bedside table, causing the lamp to bobble.
The lamp!
He reached behind him and grabbed it up.
The scorpion wiggled through the hole in the blanket. Jake jumped forward with the lamp over his head and swung it down hard. Something crunched, and liquid shot out and sprayed his bare foot.
Disgust froze him for a fraction of a second too long.
The blanket ripped, and the barbed tail struck out, lancing straight for Jake’s calf. He swung the lamp and knocked it aside. The barb only grazed his right leg and struck the stone floor. Poison splattered from its tip.
Still, a line of fiery pain ignited where the barb had scratched him.
The tail lifted again.
Jake did not hesitate and hammered the lamp into the blanket, again and again, as if trying to drive a tent stake into frozen ground. Black liquid oozed from under the blanket. He kept pounding until nothing moved.
Then he dropped the lamp and stumbled back.
His right leg burned like a flaming torch, but he hobbled to the door, opened it, and yelled. “Help!” It came out more as a gasp. But his pounding must have already woken Marika and her father.
Both of their doors flew open. Marika wore a long sleeping gown. Her father came out in an ankle-length robe. Balam signaled Marika to stay back and rushed over to Jake’s side.
Jake tried to explain, but he was still shell-shocked. He pointed an arm into the bedroom, toward the ruin on the floor.
Balam peeked under the blanket. “A stingtail!” He swung to Jake and grabbed him by the shoulders. He stared up and down his body. “Did it bite you?”
“Nicked me.” Jake pointed to his right calf.
Only a trickle of blood flowed, but already the skin around the scratch had turned bright red. He felt woozy. If Balam hadn’t been holding his shoulders, he might have fallen over.
Balam called over to Marika. “Grab a blanket! Then help me get him downstairs.”
Jake waved for them not to bother. He could walk on his own. Then the world went all tilt-awhirl, and he fell into darkness.
“He’s waking up,” a voice whispered, sounding faint and far away, like a radio station that wasn’t quite dialed in.
Jake groaned as darkness fell away and brightness swirled around him. He took a couple deep shuddering breaths, fighting off motion sickness. Then his vision settled.
“Help me get him up,” a voice said in his ear. It was Marika’s father. He had an arm under Jake’s shoulder.
As Jake steadied himself, he was lifted up into a sitting position. He saw that he was in the common room, on the table, wrapped in a blanket. Marika stood a few steps away. One hand covered her mouth with worry. Magisters Oswin and Zahur were also here. The round-bellied Magister wore a striped nightshirt that reached to his toes and a matching peaked hat. He looked like a blown-up version of one of Snow White’s dwarfs. Plainly he had come here straight from his bed.
Zahur had grown dark circles under his eyes. He crouched at the edge of the table and had a grip on Jake’s ankle.
Balam kept hold of Jake’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
Jake’s mouth was dry. He could hardly nod.
Fingers squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “You are a lucky boy, Jacob Ransom. Few survive the bite of a stingtail. If that cut had been any deeper…”
Jake knew the man was trying to comfort him, but he was not doing a very good job of it.
Zahur still held his ankle. Around his calf was wrapped a thick brown bandage that looked damp. Maybe some sort of poultice to draw off any poison from the scrape.
Then the bandage moved. Jake felt it squeeze a little tighter to his calf, then loosen again.
“The mud leech grows restless,” Zahur said. “A sure sign that the blood is clear of poison.”
He reached and peeled the meaty body from around Jake’s calf. A large sucker at one end required a tug. It came off with a wet pop. Jake shivered as the leech writhed in Zahur’s hand. The Magister dropped it into a jar of murky water. The leech continued to churn and wiggle.
Jake’s stomach did the same.
But Jake’s leg looked fine, except for the large sucker mark near the scratch. The redness was gone, and Jake felt no stinging burn.
“He should be fine,” Zahur said. “Let him rest into the morning, and all will be well.”
Magister Oswin shifted his trunklike feet. “Which only leaves the question of how the stingtail ended up in the boy’s room.”
Balam helped Jake off the table and into a chair. Marika came over and put a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. Jake’s fingers wrapped around it, appreciating the warmth. He sipped it—and had never tasted anything better.
Oswin crossed his arms. “I checked his room upstairs. The shutters were tightly closed.”
“But it could have gotten through the window earlier in the day,” Balam said. “Perhaps it sought to escape the heat of the day for the cool shadows of the room…and once night fell, it came out of hiding. From under the bed, behind the wardrobe.”
Jake tightened his fingers on his mug. He would make certain he checked every corner of the room in the future.
Balam turned to Jake. “Did you leave your windows open during the day?”
Jake thought back for a moment. He remembered opening them in the morning, after his bad dream. He slowly nodded. “I think I did.”
Balam nodded, as if that settled the matter.
Oswin’s eyes narrowed, plainly not satisfied. “It’s still strange to find a stingtail so far from the jungle.”
“They do sometimes fly into town,” Balam said.
Zahur spoke up as he stood. “I fear I may be to blame. When I heard of what attacked the boy, I checked my cages. I keep six stingtails down there to aid in my study of their poisons. I found one of the cages empty, the door hanging open. I don’t know how long it might have been gone. I’ve been very busy with the care of Huntress Livia.”