“See?” she said. “You’re already feeling better.”

Tally pulled a canteen of water from around her neck and offered me some. It tasted good, better than I ever thought water could taste. My head didn’t hurt so bad, and I felt like some of my wits were coming back. I wasn’t gonna die after all, and I was awful glad of it.

I peered at Tally closer now, her fangs, her furry arms. Nope, down deep, she was still the same Tally I first met. The same hustler, the same genius pickpocket, a low-down kid like me. What I’m trying to say is that I still liked her, despite everything. But I didn’t quite trust her, and nobody can blame me for that.

“Why are you helping me?” I said.

“Because I can’t stay here in Gentlesburg,” she said. “Not anymore. Not with Granddad like he is. He’s gotten worse, see? He used to just lock me in the wardrobe when I messed up, or maybe throw a plate at me. He never bit me with his fangs before.” For a second I thought she was going to cry, if spider-folk can cry. But then she shook it off. “Time to hit the river.”

“So you’re gonna come help me find my daddy?” I said.

“Nope,” she said. “But I am gonna hitch a ride into the swamp, see if I can’t find me a cure.”

“A cure?” I said. “Can you cure the spider out of you?”

“To be honest, I don’t got a clue,” she said. “But I’ve heard tell of mighty witches who can hex folks into dogs, or who can turn people into part fishes, with gills and everything, so they can swim underwater. Any witch strong enough to do that can surely find a fix for what’s wrong with me.”

I wanted to say something nice to Tally right about then, something comforting, but I was scared if I opened my mouth I was gonna puke right there in this boat.

Tally sighed.

“I’m sick of picking pockets, Buddy. I’m sick of my granddad, and I’m sick of this dingy spider-life in wretched old Gentlesburg. I want to be cured, Buddy. I don’t want to be hexed anymore.”

That I could understand perfectly, yes sir. I’d realized I must’ve been hexed my whole life and I hadn’t hardly known it. That’s why nothing had ever gone right with me. That’s why I was friendless and alone, that’s why Mom’s bakery had burned itself down. Still, that didn’t mean I needed a companion for this trip. I was hunting Pop, I was, and it was dangerous business.

“What if I say you can’t come?” I croaked.

“I say you’re not well enough to tell me one thing or the other,” she said.

The girl had a point.

“But I thought you said you cured me.”

“You ain’t cured yet. I got to give you the remedy at least two more times, and that’s a fact. Unless you want your arm swelling up like a bullfrog.”