William dusted the fireplace over which his Master hung. Cobwebs clung to him, but they always seemed to, no matter how much William brushed them away. Perhaps they gathered to the painting — which contained a figure with fangs, thick hair, and too many legs.
Before his Master was suspended in his painting, he hadn’t been akin to an arachnid. Not visually, at least. Perhaps the artist had uncovered some truth about the man that William himself had not known. He knew it now.
“William,” his Master said, rousing the servant from his thoughts. “Is it ready?”
His Master released a sound that began as a sigh and ended as a hiss. “How many more decades will you leave me in wait of a vessel?”
“It will take time.” William was patient with his Master’s anger. It was an impotent rage that would pass.
“You speak to me as if I were a fool!”
“You’re wise beyond reckoning.”
“I will level the earth!”
“None will stand against you.”
“I will be free!”
He wondered if his Master would ever figure out that the vessel had been awaiting preparation for years. For now, it amused William to trick the monster into believing his jailer was his employee.