Something brushed Hicks's hand where it lay on the seat's vinyl. He had hardly turned his head to glance down when he felt a slight prick. With a scream, he leaped up out of the booth, banging one knee on the underside of the table. He fell over on the carpet and a tumbler of water spilled on his legs and feet. Pain shot up his leg and he held his knee with both hands, grimacing.

Three other patrons and two waitresses gathered around him as his vision cleared. Sharp warmth moved rapidly up his arm, into his neck, his face, his scalp. The pain subsided. He pulled his lips back and shook his head: so stupid.

"Are you all right?" a man asked, bending over him.

"I'm fine," Hicks said. He searched rapidly for an explanation. "Bit my tongue. Very painful. I'm fine."

He got up on an elbow and examined his hand. There was a tiny red spot on his thumb. It stung me.

Reuben was not in the booth. The man helped Hicks to his feet and he brushed himself off, thanking the others and apologizing profusely for creating a fuss. His hand touched an egg-sized lump in his coat pocket. "There was a young man with me. Did you see where he went?" He glanced nervously at the floor and the booth seat, looking for the spider. But it's in my pocket, he reminded himself.

"There's somebody leaving now," a waitress said. She pointed.

In the archway to the cafeteria, Reuben glanced over his shoulder at Hicks and smiled.

The boy walked briskly into the lobby, turned, and vanished. There was no need to follow him, so Hicks picked up the check and paid the waitress. He was shaking all over and wanted to cry, but didn't know whether it was British reserve or the instructions flowing through him that helped him maintain.

Doesn't feel bad, actually. Of course, I'm not in control. . .

He returned to his room, lay back in the bed, and closed his eyes. His shaking subsided and his breathing became steady. He rolled over on his side. The spider climbed out of his pocket and attached itself to the base of his neck.

What Reuben had tried to explain, then, unfolded before him in much more detail. An hour later, he wondered why he had even thought of resisting.

Sometime in the evening, the spider released his neck and crawled across the bed, dropping to the floor. He watched with less than half his attention; information was still flowing into him, and while some of it was incomprehensible, within a few minutes the flow would change, and he could understand more.