“Snatched it in the middle of his story,” she said. “Can’t believe he didn’t notice it, nor Drusilla Fey either. Marina must have been working some powerful magic on them.”

“Or you’re just the best pickpocket in the whole durn swamp,” I said.

“That too,” said Tally, smiling. “I guess this just about makes it official, don’t it?” She held the card up, the bright and hideous Red Bride bent on eternal revenge. “I ought to frame this, I should. Hang it up somewhere nice.”

“You could keep it here, if you want,” said Marina. “It’ll be the only Parsnit card I allow in this place.”

“Fine with me,” said Tally, all bashful-like. “Miss Marina, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Maybe,” said Marina. “Depends on what you’re asking.”

“Well, can you get rid of the spider-folk in me?” said Tally. “Or at least maybe shut it down a little bit? This other witch lady said she could put it in a box and hide it deep down in my brain where it wouldn’t bother me anymore.”

“Did she, now?” said Marina. “Well, you want my opinion on the matter? Spider-folk is who you are. It’s a gift, a rare and beautiful one at that. I certainly can quiet it down in you, but I’m not sure I like the idea of it.”

“You haven’t had to grow up like I did,” said Tally. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“That’s true,” said Marina. “Can’t much argue with that. Still . . .”

Marina sat there a minute, deep in thought, and if you’ve ever seen a witch mulling something over, you know you can’t help but watch and wonder what’s coming next.

“How about this?” said Marina, after a minute or so. “How about you hang around here awhile, maybe learn a thing or two from me. You got magic in that spider-blood of yours, and that’s a fact. Maybe if you learned more about your gift and how to control it, being spider-folk wouldn’t be such a bother to you. You’d have to earn your keep, of course, and I’d work you pretty hard. But you’d have a roof over your head and three meals a day, and the swamp would be as good as your own. We got a lot of work to do down here in the coming months, and I’d be grateful for the help. After a couple months, you still want your fangs clipped, so to speak—I’ll do what I can.”

“That sounds okay to me,” said Tally.

“Okay?” I said.

“Fine, fine,” said Tally. “Sounds pretty great, if you want me to be honest about it.”

I stood there, watching Tally, the best and only friend I ever had, master pickpocket, genius pal, genuine lifesaver, maybe my favorite person I ever met in my whole life. She seemed happy, she did. For the first time since I’d met her, she seemed like a person who was looking forward to what came next, spider fangs and all.