Spider's Cat by Kristin Orloff

Do you love stories that keep you guessing until the very last page?

Books where nothing is quite what it seems, and every character has a secret?

Spider’s Cat is a contemporary thriller with a twist of mysticism—where the veil between the natural and the supernatural thins, and answers hide in shadows. If you’re drawn to books with unforgettable characters, mysterious happenings, this story will not disappoint.

Spider’s Cat invites you into a story layered with emotion, mystery, and subtle magic. Prepare to question everything—and everyone.

Perfect for fans of atmospheric thrillers, stories with a spiritual edge, and book clubs that love a good twist.

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Prologue

“Ethan’s Journal”

Probably my last entry: Not scared of death. Cuz it’s true. We all have to die. I’m kinda lucky. I get to prepare. And I’m tired of fighting it. Tired of seeing mom crying. And dad hounding the doctors and nurses. C’mon dad. They’re doing everything.

I’m giving my journal to Tabby. When she comes today. Then she’ll know all the secrets that I discovered. The witchcraft. The mystics. The see-ers and sorcerers. The windows to the afterlife. She’ll know all of it. And then we can stay in touch.

Part 1 

Chapter 1

Lucy | December 25th, 2024 | 3am

From the mangled corpse, a single drop of blood oozes. It bleeds into the rain-birthed current snaking along edges cut into Laguna Beach’s deserted highway. In defiance, it floats apart from mud and muck. As it weaves through the last stretch of its journey, the crimson droplet chooses an unnatural turn.

Banished behind black storm clouds, the midnight moon would not bear witness as the blood surges toward its destination. For murdered blood creeps not. Seeps not. It claws and screams. It rages and burns.

As the ember-red droplet soaks slowly into Lucy’s garden, Lucy sits upright in bed. Her flesh tingles and her bones shiver. Instinctively, her hand grasps for Spider. His side of their bed: cold.

She steps outside her bedroom and glances at Tabby’s door. The belt tied to lock her in remains untouched.

Lucy’s bare feet patter across the wood floorboards into their tiny living room. Outside their home, the crazed storm conjures madness from her beloved Pacific Ocean. Angry sheets of rain threaten to shatter the delicate glass panes.

Tightening her silk robe against her trembling body, she walks with measured steps toward the round table draped in raven-black cloth beneath their storm-battered windows. The skull-sized crystal centered on the shimmering black surface seems to hover.

Lucy stops before the jagged amethyst. Its center–a deep aubergine. Its edges–both sharp and ghostly. Now, pulsing with violent shards of violet light, it hisses and beacons to be held. She struggles not to reach to it. Instead, she centers her shaking hands mimicking a prayer: if only she could pray.

Sensing a being behind her, Lucy turns and whispers. “You knew.”