by Todd Miller
Chapter 9
The house was quiet, except for the low sizzling sound of a pair of hot dogs in a frying pan. Somewhere, a clock chimed three times. I was cooking dinner. Or maybe it was breakfast. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure I could stay awake to eat.
Kristin was sitting at the kitchen table, freshly scrubbed and wearing a bathrobe that Victoria gave her. The old lady had given me a shirt and a pair of trousers that belonged to her late husband. I felt kind of weird wearing a dead man’s clothes.
Consuela had bugged out right after the whole incident in the bathroom, and Victoria was trying to reach her on her cell phone. But Consuela wasn’t picking up.
Kristin was rubbing her neck, the wound now closed, the only trace of it a long, pink scar.
“How is this possible?” she asked.
“Dark magic,” said Victoria. “My sister learned a great many things while trying to break her curse.”
“Will you help us?” I asked.
“Yes,” said the old woman. “I know a way to remove Elvira’s spirit from your friend’s body, but—it won’t be easy.”
“What do we have to do?”
“There is a spell,” said the old woman. “Don’t look so surprised. I’ve picked up a thing or two in my time studying magic as well.”
“Is it dangerous?” asked Kristin.
“Very,” said Victoria. “All magic is. There is a terrible cost. Magic will twist your brain and corrupt your very soul. Many a foolish dabbler has died, thrashing in his straitjacket and screaming incoherent nonsense in some forgotten lunatic asylum. However, I have walked the Grey Path and my mental faculties remain as strong as ever. And that is despite the constant attacks of the shadow people, the ones who send their spectral servants into my home, into my walls, my washing machine, even under the floorboards; All night long they whisper, always whispering, whispering and scratching at the ceiling with their long, sharp fingernails and singing their little whispering songs.”
Victoria put her finger to her lips and cocked her head to the side, like a dog.
“Can you hear them?” she said.
The hot dogs sizzled in the pan.
I shook my head, no. Kristin did the same.
“Maybe—maybe they’re not here right now,” I said.
Victoria shot me a stern look. Then she pulled out a little silver bell on a string tied around her waist and rang it three times.
“Discredo malum phasmatis!”
The house was silent for a few moments.
Victoria smiled.
“Can we cast the spell tonight?” asked Kristin. ‘To get rid of Elvira?”
“I’m afraid we can’t,” said Victoria. “Not yet. I need to do a great deal of preparation, if the spell’s going to work.”
“How can we help?” I asked.
“I’ll let you know, when the time comes,” she said. “And now, children, I suggest you go to bed and get some sleep. You look simply exhausted and you’re going to need all your strength tomorrow for the ritual.”
“We can’t take a nap now, not when Kristin is in danger,” I said.
“I understand you’re anxious, but believe me, you can’t just wing this sort of thing and hope for the best. One day is all I need. By midnight tomorrow, we’ll be ready.”
“What if the Spider Lady comes back?” said Kristin. “In my head?”
“I have just the thing for you, dear” said Victoria, pulling out another small silver bell, tied to a thin strap of leather.
“Do you remember the incantation I said before?” she asked. “Discredo malum phasmatis!”
She rang the little bell and quickly handed it to Kristin.
“Ouch” said Kristin, sounding surprised. “It hurts.”
“That means it’s working,” said Victoria. “Now, you say the words.”
Kristin nodded.
“Discredo…mal…? Malum…Phasmatis,” she said.
“And remember,” said Victoria, pointing to her forehead. “This is your property. You must defend it. Defend it at all costs!”
Then Victoria said goodnight and wheeled out of the kitchen. A few moments later we heard the low buzzing sound of her motorized chair as it ferried her up the stairs.
“Do you even want one of these?” I said, pointing to the hot dogs.
She shook her head, no.
I stabbed one with a fork and took a bite. It was burnt and tasted like metal.
“I’m really freaking tired,” she said.
“Come on,” I said. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
Kristin smiled weakly and I shut off the kitchen lights. We stumbled in the pitch darkness of the house, making our way slowly upstairs to her bedroom.
We stood outside her door for a moment, and I felt this urge to hug her good night, but I didn’t. She was looking down at her bare feet.
“Awesome shirt,” she finally said with a smirk, touching one of the buttons.
“I feel like a grandpa in this thing.”
“It does make you look like a grown-up,” she said.
“All I need is a bowtie.”
She stuck out her tongue and I smiled.
“Charlie,” she said, her voice going low. “I know this sounds totally stupid, but, could you—could you watch over me tonight…in my room? In case…something happens.”
I hesitated for a moment, feeling light-headed.
“For real?” I said.
Kristin smirked again.
“Don’t get any ideas, Lancelot.”
“Okay,” I said, looking down.
She opened the door and I followed her inside. It was a tidy little guest room, with a four-post bed, dresser and armchair. There was even a little desk with a neat pile of fresh stationary placed on top.
I sat down and fiddled with an old-fashioned quill pen. Nearby was a bottle of ink, so I pulled out the stopper and peered inside. The ink was still good.
“Oh, man,” said Kristin. “Even my bones are tired.”
I dipped the quill in the ink and began to doodle on the top piece of paper. A thin black line here, a thicker black line there.
“Do you think Victoria is insane?” asked Kristin, with a yawn. “Like, really insane?”
“I don’t know,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Do you hear any whispering in the walls?”
“Be serious,” she said.
“I hope she’s not.”
“Okay, now, what were those words again?”
“Klato…Verata…Nikto!” I said, grinning.
“Ugh!” she said, throwing a pillow at me.
“It’s discredo something,” I said.
“Discredo malum phasmatis!”
And she rang the bell.
“Well,” said Kristin, “I hope that worked…”
I went back to doodling, drew a few more lines, and a woman began to take shape on the paper. Her features were vague, a few scratchy pen strokes suggesting her eyes, nose and lips.
Who are you? I wondered, as I looked down at what I had drawn.
“Hey, Kristin,” I said. “Want to play Exquisite Corpse? Kristin?”
I looked over and she was already asleep. She didn’t even bother to get under the covers. I stood up and went over to the bed.
“Kristin?”
She lay there like she was dead. Beautiful and dead.
Gingerly I pulled the blanket out from under her body and put it over her. Then I turned down the lights real low and took a seat in the armchair. I couldn’t stop yawing as my weary brain tried to think of ways to stay awake.
First I sang Ninety-nine Bottles of Bear on the Wall. But quietly, in my head.
Then I wondered if Kristin was wearing anything under her bathrobe. Probably underwear. But maybe not.
After that, I tried chewing on my fingernails, but they had ink on them and were kind of disgusting.
The room was cold.
I shivered and rubbed my arms.
Outside, there was no moon and the stars were t
iny, cold dots.
And then Spider Lady was sitting across from me. We were back in the Stone Tower. The place wasn’t a wreck any more. There were candles everywhere, flickering away in gnarled candlesticks. The furniture was intact again, everything that had been in pieces when I saw it before. There were several cabinets crammed full of books.
Kristin was standing nearby, next to a table on which rested the strange mask, wooden doll, and carved stick. She looked upset, but said nothing.
The Spider Lady was younger now, and no longer deformed. In fact, she looked very lovely, just like she did in that old photograph I saw of her back in the library, in what felt like a lifetime ago.
She fixed me with her red eyes and spoke. Her voice was soft and beguiling
“Be a good boy, Charlie, and leave her to me.”
I trembled and tried to look away.
“No,” I said.
“My power over Kristin grows stronger every day. You will not be able to help her.”
I wanted to cover my eyes, but my arms wouldn’t move. I could feel her gaze piercing my brain, messing around with all thoughts inside.
“Really, Charlie, your silly, little crush on this girl has made you quite disobedient.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.
“Soon we’ll be together again. In the flesh. My lips to your ear. My hand on your head. You know this is what your heart truly desires.”
“What’s that stuff on the table,” I said. “That African junk?”
She looked at it quickly, darting her eyes.
“None of your concern,” she said.
“Leave her alone,” I said.
“So stubborn.”
“Leave both of us alone.”
“Or what?”
“I’m going to stop you. I know how you did this. I’m going to figure out how to break your spell and then you’ll be gone.”
“Must you, Charlie?”
I gave her a cold, hard look. She sighed.
“Listen to me, Charlie. Listen to the sound of my voice. It hurts me to do this, but you leave me no choice. So listen carefully. When you wake up, you’re going to take a short walk down to the railroad tracks. Go south, they’re easy to find. Then you’re going to hide in the bushes and wait until you hear a train coming. Don’t speak to anyone, is that clear? Good boy. Then, when the train is close, coming down the tracks, you’re going to jump in front of it and die. Do you understand, Charlie?”
I nodded my head, yes.
“Good. Now, wake up, Charlie. Wake up.”
The sun was just beginning to come up and the room was still cold. I rubbed my arms, tasted the inside of my mouth, which tasted like dirt. I got up out of the armchair very quietly and tiptoed out of the room because I didn’t want to wake up Kristin.
She really needed her rest.
I padded down the stairs as softly as I could, found my sneakers and put them on. Then I opened the front door and said hello to a bright, sunny day.
A red day.
Everything red like a photograph printed in blood.
The air was cool, the town quiet. I saw the mini-van with the shattered window across the street and briefly wondered if Curtis was okay.
I’m sure he was fine.
The railroad tracks weren’t very hard to find; I found a crossing gate where they intersected the road pretty easily enough. Walking away from the gate, I went on for a bit until I was sure nobody waiting in their car would be able to see me from the road.
Then I crouched down in some brambles and waited.
My head kind of throbbed, but I knew that soon the pain would be over.
I can’t say that I thought of anything in particular. But it was nice not to be worried for a change. I smiled and admired the puffy, red clouds as they floated on by.
It occurred to me that when I was hit by the train, my body would be obliterated, my limbs flying in every direction, and this did bother me, but only for an instant.
And then I heard the train coming. The rails were humming and vibrating, setting off all the little hammers in my skull. I stood up and looked down the tracks, shielding my eyes from the sun. The engine was approaching quickly, a massive, ugly thing, all steel and speed.
I wanted to get my timing right, make sure the engineer or whoever wouldn’t be able to stop the train from hitting me. Then I stepped over the rail and stood right between the tracks, facing the oncoming train.
I thought about closing my eyes, but really, what difference did it make?
The train blew its whistle, loud, angry, long.
Suddenly there were hands on me, strong hands, pulling me off the tracks. I thrashed and kicked, someone cursed, and then I was tossed to the ground like a child. Somebody was holding me down and when I stopped fighting to look it I saw it was Curtis. Kristin was standing behind him, her hair whipping around in the wind.
“Let go of me!” I said.
“No!” said Kristin.
“I have to jump in front of the train!”
She shouted something but I couldn’t hear because at that moment the freight train came roaring past like thunder on wheels. The ground shook, and I felt my teeth clacking together. Curtis was strong and still, like a statue holding me down.
“I have to jump!” I shouted again.
Kristin bent down and yelled in my ear.
“Fight her, Charlie!”
I shook my head, no.
“Let go of me!”
Kristin slapped my face. It stung, but I didn’t care. I tried to kick Curtis off me, but he was too heavy. So I squirmed as hard as I could, trying to break free.
Kristin slapped me again, and then a third time.
I looked at her with hate in my eyes, hating her for her interference.
She grabbed my face in her hands and kissed me, hard, on the mouth, and all my strength slipped away. Her fingers were warm against my cheeks and her mouth burned.
I returned her kiss, and we stayed that way for a few moments, on our knees in the dirt and the stones, holding each other for dear life, the sound of the rumbling train in our ears.
The red haze was gone. My headache disappeared.
“How—how did you know?” I asked.
“I was there, remember? In your dream. I saw everything that happened.”
I looked up at Curtis, but he was already staring into space.
“Thanks for pulling me off the tracks,” I said.
But Curtis said nothing.
We stood up and started walking back to the crossing gate. Her hand was in mine, gripping tight, like maybe she thought I would run off again.
“My mom jumped in front of train,” I said. “When I was a kid.”
“Oh, Charlie,” said Kristin.
“She tried to make me go out like my mom!”
My fists clenched and I started to shake.
“You’re okay, now, Charlie.”
“At the funeral, the casket was closed because the mortician…didn’t have enough of her to put back together. There were only bits and pieces inside the coffin. That’s all they could find. Bits and pieces. Her legs and one arm and her head. I wanted to open the lid and see her face one last time...but I couldn’t. They wouldn’t let me. I never got to see her face again before they buried her.”
Kristin, gave my hand a squeeze.
“That really sucks,” she said.
“Yeah…”
I looked at her, studied her face, the same way I studied it a hundred times before, and she let me. Then she smiled, just a little bit.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get back. Victoria probably thinks we’ve been kidnapped by the Oompa-Loompas and turned into giant blueberries.”
I nodded and we walked slowly back to the mini-van, holding hands.
“Curtis,” said Kristin. “You’re going to have to go back in the car for a little while longer, okay?”
“Eggrolls,” he
said.
“Soon. I promise.”
I slid open the mini-van door and Curtis shambled back inside.
“Eggrolls!”
“You bet,” she said. “Coming up soon.”
I closed the mini-van door and shot Kristin a look.
“Do you really think Victoria can help him?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Charlie…half his head is missing. How do you recover from that?”
I shrugged and said nothing.
Back at the house Victoria was mangling a couple of eggs for breakfast. When we walked into the kitchen she took one look at our faces and frowned.
“What happened to you two?”
“Elvira got inside my head. She hypnotized me. Made me try to kill myself.”
“Dear boy, why aren’t you wearing the talisman I sent you?”
“I lost it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“It was me,” said Kristin. “I flushed it down the toilet when we were at that truck stop. I…I didn’t like it. It burned my hand when I touched it.”
“She made you do it,” I said. “The Spider Lady.”
Victoria sniffed and hacked at the omelet sticking to the pan.
“Well, there’s no time to make you another one, now. You’ll just have to be on your guard at all times, Charles.”
“Let’s just zap this witch already,” I said.
“Patience, my boy. Everything will be in order by tonight for the spell.”
“So…what’s going to happen to Elvira?” asked Kristin. “After you…remove her?”
Victoria turned to look at her, and hesitated.
“Her spirit should move on, but...I can’t be entirely sure of that.”
“Move on where?” I asked.
“I suppose that’s up to what you believe.”
“What if she doesn’t move on?” asked Kristin. “Where would she go then?”
Victoria shoveled the omelets out of the pan and onto our plates.
“Well, her spirit could linger as a sort of ghost, or, she could attempt to find another host, by force if necessary.”
“We can’t allow that to happen,” I said.
“Can’t we now?” asked Victoria, her eyebrows raising.
“She likes to hurt people, she likes to kill—”
“Elvira wasn’t always that way,” said Victoria. “Imagine what she must have felt. Changed forever because of the actions of our father. Slowly transforming into something monstrous, her body changing in ways beyond her control. The feelings of helplessness she experienced must have been overwhelming.”
“She was cursed because of your dad?” asked Kristin.
“Yes. My father took the family on a trip through Africa, to pursue his various collecting passions. This all happened several years before I was born, understand. My brother Robert told me the story later when I was a young woman. Well, father’s passions certainly got the best of him and there was an...inappropriate incident...involving one of the daughters of a powerful shaman.”
“What kind of incident?” I asked.
Victoria said nothing, but Kristin shot me a dirty look.
“Oh,” I said.
“But then why did the shaman curse Elvira instead of your dad?” asked Kristin.
“Revenge,” Victoria said. “A daughter for a daughter.”
“Well, so what?” I said. “That’s all back in the day. Elvira’s evil now. End of story.”
“I suppose so,” said Victoria.
“Is there a way to destroy her spirit?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Victoria. “But I’m not going to go there.”
“What about...imprisoning it somehow?”
The old woman took a bite of her eggs and chewed, thoughtfully.
“Yes, there are ways to do that, as well. A person’s spirit can be trapped in a special vessel, like a large gemstone or bronze lamp.”
“Like a genie?” said Kristin.
“In a way, yes.”
“What about a doll, like a wooden doll from Africa?” I asked.
“Do you happen to have one of those?”
“We got the one we found in Elvira’s trunk,” I said. “With all her books. A mask and a weird kind of stick, too.”
“It’s a wonder she kept them...” said Victoria.
Looking at our puzzled faces, she spoke again.
“My sister and I went back to Africa, to search for the shaman who cursed her. But unfortunately, he had been killed by a lion. A man-eater, it had already devoured fourteen other people. Many of the locals thought the lion was really an angry demon, sent to punish them for cooperating with the British, who were there at the time.”
“So...was it a demon?” asked Kristin.
“Who knows?” said Victoria. “The point is, the man was dead. We had to figure out how to break the curse by convincing the natives to help us. Most of them did not. Finally, we tracked down one of the nephews of the shaman and he agreed to show us the way, but he wanted an awful lot of money, which we paid. He gave us the mask, the stick and the idol, and talked us through the spell. The ritual was supposed to transfer the curse from Elvira to the idol. We tried it out that very night, but it didn’t work. Poor Elvira was crushed. I remember, at that point, the spider legs were already growing out of her torso. Eight of them, long, black and covered with sharp, thick hairs. She kept them tied down, but it was very painful, and they would spasm involuntarily all the time. Anyway, the next day, the nephew was gone with our money, and Elvira just wanted to go home.”
“What went wrong?” asked Kristin.
“Magic is a tricky business. An incorrect word or gesture can scuttle the whole operation. Perhaps we made a mistake, but Elvira didn’t think so. She thought the spell was a fake, and would have nothing more to do with it. Not too soon after, she would have nothing more to do with me as well.”
“Are you positive you can transfer Elvira’s spirit to the doll?” asked Kristin.
“Positive? No. But I think I have a pretty good chance. Still, I wonder if this punishment fits the crime. To be trapped forever inside an object—”
“What if you can’t transfer her spirit?” I asked. “What would happen to Kristin then?”
“If Elvira were to stay inside Kristin’s body...she would devour her soul.”
I took Kristin’s hand and squeezed it. She looked terrified.
Victoria looked at us and her expression softened.
“Where is the doll now?” she asked.
“Back in our car,” I said.
“Get it. And hurry. The mask and the stick, too.”
I hustled back outside, my thoughts jumbled but hopeful.
The first thing I noticed when I reached the mini-van was that the right passenger-side door was open. I poked my head inside, but I already knew—Curtis was gone.
A quick glance told me the doll was okay, stashed with the rest of the hocus-pocus stuff in the trunk. The gun was still under the driver’s seat, so I pulled it out and stuck it into my waistband. It had one bullet left. Had to make it count.
But where was Curtis? There weren’t any dead bodies lying around in the street, so I thought that was a good thing. No police cars, no people screaming and running around. There was no sign of him anywhere.
Panic churned my guts.
I had no idea where to start looking for him. Why would he leave the van? Was he hungry? Was he bored? Can zombies get bored? In a sort of daze, I wandered around the mini-van, hoping to find something, any kind of clue that would lead me to Curtis.
On the pavement I saw a small smear of blood, almost like a footprint, the heel of the sole. It was followed by another, and more, crossing the street in a haphazard way.
It had to be Curtis’s footprints. He was decomposing, right? All that goo on the ground, that was pieces of him. I tracked the bloody smears down the street, into a gigantic parking lot and
finally up to the entrance of a large shopping mall.
Still no cops around. No people yelling and screaming.
Oh, man, Curtis, what are you doing in there?
I took a deep breath and pulled open the front door. A blast of cold air struck me in the face. The mall was bright and clean. It hurt my eyes and I couldn’t help but frown.
At least the inside wasn’t too crowded. There were some old people wandering around, a few parents with their kids, groups of roving teenagers. Everybody happy, holding shopping bags, talking on cell phones. Lots of clothing stores, shoes, body lotions, gizmos and pretzels.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone. A boy, maybe twelve, pale, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and baggy jeans, and staring at me with glinting eyes. It was Jason. He looked exactly like he did that day he climbed into the Spider Lady’s tower.
My fingers twitched. I turned to get a better look and he was gone. I forced myself to walk over to the spot where I thought he was, but there was no sign of him.
Okay, I thought. Must have been some other kid.
I’m stressed out, tired. My brain is playing tricks on me.
My nose caught the scent of fried food. Maybe Curtis was in the food court, eating something. Hopefully not a person. I followed the signs, walking slowly and poking my head into other stores I thought might interest him. The Game Stop. Victoria’s Secret.
Near the soda machines I saw a little girl wearing a witch mask. She stood there, completely still, only turning her head slightly to watch me as I walked past.
The skin on my neck got cold, but I turned back and walked toward her. No one else seemed to be paying any attention to us at all. There was a roaring sound in my ears and the world got small.
“Are you...are you Susan Taylor?” I asked.
She nodded her head, slowly, yes.
“What are you doing here?”
“I have a message for you, Charlie Berger,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Everyday she grows more powerful. You will not be able to stop her. Soon, the girl will belong to the Spider Lady. And then you will die. She will drink your blood. You will offer it to her willingly. You will beg for death, like all her children.”
“Children? What are you talking about?”
“Soon you will join us.”
Trembling, I reached out toward her mask.
“Cold and pain and death—”
In one quick motion I pulled off her mask and screamed. There was a writhing mass of spiders where her face should have been. Spiders for hair, spiders for lips, spiders for eyes, leaping toward me, furry feet touching my skin—I covered my face with my hands and fell screaming to the floor.
I curled up into a ball and tried to swat them away.
“What’s the matter with that guy?”
“Dude’s freaking out!”
“Is that a gun?”
“Somebody call the cops!”
No spiders. There were no spiders on me. I looked around, shaking, and saw I was surrounded by a crowd of people. My knees trembled as I stood up, waving away this guy coming to help me.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Sorry.”
“You need an ambulance?”
“Somebody should call the police.”
“It’s okay,” I said again, breaking through the crowd. “Really. Too much Red Bull. It’s no big deal.”
I headed toward the food court at a jog, didn’t turn around, ignored the voices calling me to stop. Ahead of me were neon signs, every fast-food joint imaginable, dozens of small tables, people everywhere. I scanned the area frantically, looking for Curtis, hoping someone hadn’t already called the cops.
There was a large group of empty tables, kind of strange since it must have been lunch time. But there he was, Curtis, sitting in the center of all those tables. I guess the stench coming off him must have driven everyone else away. At least he remembered to wear his baseball cap.
“Curtis,” I said, when I reached him. “We gotta go, man.”
Curtis pointed down to his tray. There was a Styrofoam plate there, piled high with a dozen eggrolls. Next to them, a can of Mountain Dew.
“You can eat those in the car,” I said.
“No,” he said.
People were pointing at us.
“Curtis, please, now is not the time.”
He turned slowly to look at me, as if the very act of turning his head took great effort.
“No,” he said again.
I leaned in close and whispered in what was left of his ear.
“Look, man, I know you’re mad at me, okay? And I know why, and that’s cool. But we got to get out of here. I can’t get arrested by the cops. I’ve got to help Kristin break the Spider Lady’s curse. We’ve got to help her. Do you understand? Think about Kristin. She’s your friend, too, right? And who knows? Maybe if we break the curse, you’ll be free. No more pain, right? And, you know, if it doesn’t work, if we can’t break the curse…then you can kill me. Okay? Deal?”
Curtis looked at me.
“Deal,” he said.
I helped him quickly wrap up his eggrolls and then we got the hell out of there.
On the walk home, I couldn’t help thinking about those ghosts I saw at the mall. Were they even real? Could the Spider Lady mess with my mind even when I was awake?
But what bugged me the most was what the little girl said—that I would beg for death, like all of Elvira’s children.
Jason, Susan, David and me…were we all conceived with the help of witchcraft?
Maybe the Spider Lady wasn’t our biological mother, but in spirit—we belonged to her.
Didn’t we?
I put Curtis in the backseat of the mini-van and left him munching on his eggrolls. He seemed content for now. I grabbed the doll, stick and mask out of the trunk and headed back inside the house.
In the kitchen I found Kristin and Victoria seated at the table, carefully examining the inside of a teacup.
“You see?” said Victoria, pointing into the cup. “Here are the letters C, E and K. Pretty obvious who they are, hmm? There’s a snake and a bear. Danger and enemies surround you, girl. And see here, a leaf, the possibility of a new life.”
“A good life, or a bad one?” asked Kristin.
“Tough to say. The rest of these formations in the tea leaves are...difficult to interpret.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Trouble?” asked Victoria, turning to look at me.
“No,” I said.
She gave me a look, but I ignored her.
Kristin looked at me, too, with concern in her eyes. She knew I had been gone way too long, but I just shook my head, no, ever so slightly.
“Here’s the stuff,” I said, handing Victoria the African artifacts.
“Wonderful,” she said. “This will help a great deal. There is power in these objects. Can you feel it?”
She looked at us expectantly.
Kristin shook her head, yes.
“Old magic. The best kind. Very strong.”
“Are there…a lot of people out there…who can do magic?” asked Kristin.
“There are sorcerers and witches everywhere,” said Victoria. “But most of them are blundering, delusional idiots. Oh, there are a few with power. Real power. But they are just a handful. A very dark and dangerous handful. In fact…I believe that some of them are watching us right now…from somewhere up there, watching and waiting for a moment of weakness…waiting to strike…”
She cocked her head to the side again and listened. Then she gestured toward the ceiling with one bony finger, while she held the other to her lips.
Quickly, she rang her little bell three times.
“So, uh, could one of these other sorcerers help us, if, you know, if this thing doesn’t work out?” I said.
“Charlie!” hissed Kristin.
“I’m just trying to cover all our bases,” I said.
>
Victoria grinned, her teeth large and strangely white.
“If this doesn’t work out we’ll probably all be dead,” she said, pleasantly.
Then she gathered up all the artifacts and clutched them to her chest.
“You kids might as well enjoy a few quiet moments while you can,” she said. “Why don’t you go down to the garden and bask in the sunshine for awhile, hmm? A little fresh air is good for the soul.”
“When will you be ready?” I asked.
“Midnight,” she said. “Midnight is always the hour for magic.”
“Are you sure there isn’t anything we can do to help?” asked Kristin.
“I’ll let you know when you are needed,” said Victoria.
She squeezed Kristin’s hand and patted me on the arm. Then she wheeled herself out of the kitchen and into the hall, out of sight.
I opened the fridge and grabbed a couple of cans of Cherry Coke. I offered one to Kristin and as I popped the tab on my own, something caught my eye. It was a key kitty, a piece of wood made up to look like a cat with a bunch of little hooks all over it. Naturally, on each hook was a key. Including a set of car keys.
“What kind of car do you suppose she drives?” I asked. “A flying Cadillac?”
“Ha, ha,” said Kristin.
We sat in silence for a few moments, sipping our sodas.
“Do you really think this is going to work?” asked Kristin.
I shrugged.
“Want to go outside?” I asked.
We left the kitchen through the back door and found ourselves in the old woman’s garden. It was a lush place, full of green and strong fragrances. I led Kristin to a wrought-iron bench parked between a row of tall, blooming rose bushes. The gravel crunched under our feet as we sat down.
“It’s pretty,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said.
I had the urge to say something else, but held it down.
“So?” she asked.
“What?”
Kristin looked away.
“Do you think she’s in there calling the police?”
“No, she could have done that earlier, but she didn’t,” I said.
“What about the other lady?”
“Consuela? I don’t know. Hopefully not.”
We let that thought linger for a moment.
“Is Curtis okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, we had a little trouble, but everything’s cool now.”
An image flashed in my mind of Curtis choking the life out of me, his cold hands around my neck, grinning his stupid, lop-sided grin.
“I suppose things couldn’t get much worse,” she said, smiling.
“Not much,” I said.
She was quiet then, and out there in the garden, in the sunshine, with the birds chirping and the wind blowing a little breeze, everything seemed almost normal again.
“Do you think they’re talking about us in school today?” she asked.
“I hope so,” I said, smiling. “Charlie and Kristin, sitting in a tree…”
Kristin smirked.
I pulled a peach-colored rose off one of the bushes and handed it to her.
“Here,” I said. “Watch out for the thorns.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said.
She took it and smiled, twirling the rose around and around in her fingers, the petals spinning wildly, like a peach explosion.
“So that kiss before?” I said. “You just did that to keep me from jumping in front of a train, right?”
“Absolutely,” she said, her eyes at half-mast.
Our bodies got a little closer and then I leaned toward her and we were kissing.
“I’m sorry,” I said, breaking away. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
She put her arms around me again and we held each other close, almost too tightly, like we were making sure the other wouldn’t slip away.
Her body was warm. Her lips were electric.
And then suddenly she dug her fingernails into my back. It caught me off-guard, but I was glad she was excited. I held her closer, trying to ignore the weird taste of her tongue, that gritty, dirty taste from before.
In my mind I kept seeing Curtis, and spiders, and the freaky little girl in the witch mask, so I stop kissing Kristin on the mouth and moved to kissing her neck instead.
“Oh, Charlie,” she said, craning her neck and raking her nails hard down my back.
“Could you not do that?” I asked.
She looked at me, her eyes, glinting, and I suddenly wondered if it was Kristin behind those eyes, or Elvira.
“Be a good boy, Charlie,” she said.
Then she bit me.
She was sucking on my neck, grinding the flesh between her teeth. I honestly couldn’t tell if I was excited or repulsed.
“Don’t move, Charlie,” she whispered between bites. “That’s it.”
Her hand was on my thigh, creeping toward my crotch.
“Kristin, maybe we should stop,” I said.
Her response was to bite me even harder.
“That…that kinda hurts,” I said.
“Listen to my voice, Charlie,” she whispered. “Close your eyes and enjoy yourself. Just let it happen, Charlie, doesn’t it feel good? Yes? That’s right, Charlie, good Charlie.”
“Good,” I said.
“Just let it happen, Charlie. Let me take over this body. It’s me you want, anyway, isn’t it? Kristin is such a boring girl, Charlie. Far too proper. Not like me. The things I could show you. I’m the woman you want, Charlie. The woman you want to kiss, the woman you want to touch. Don’t you want to touch me, Charlie?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Say my name,” she said.
“Yes, Elvira.”
She took my hand and guided it under her shirt. My fingers brushed her stomach. Her skin was burning hot. My eyes fluttered shut, her mouth was hot on my neck, her hand moving further up my thigh, my mind racing, my hand moving up her stomach toward her breasts, everything moving at once, and then I felt it.
Something sticking out of her body.
A little nub. Hard, but bristly.
I wanted to draw my hand back in horror, but I couldn’t resist touching it one more time.
Suddenly Kristin drew back. She pulled up her shirt to reveal the small, black appendage growing out of the side of her body, right under her first rib.
Then she screamed.
I sat on the bench, gazing at the nub, knowing it was the tip of something bigger, a spider leg, the first of many.
Kristin was still screaming. Loud, horrible screams that seem to be coming from the depths of her soul.
I shook off my stupor and got up to help her. That’s when I noticed a sharp pain in my neck. I put my fingers on it, and saw they were covered in blood.
She was drinking my blood.
No, not her. Not Kristin. Elvira.
“Shhh! Shhh!” I said to Kristin. “Quiet!”
She collapsed in my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. I hustled her back into the house as fast as I could. Once we got inside the kitchen, she started screaming again.
“Cut it off! Cut it off!”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea—”
Kristin pulled a big knife out of one of the drawers and waved it in my face.
“Do it, please,” she said.
She held up her shirt, and bent her body to the side, thrusting the little nub at me.
“Hack it off!”
I hesitated for a moment, not sure if cutting off the spider leg was the best idea.
“Please, Charlie,” she said.
“Okay, okay, but not with this,” I said, tossing the knife onto the kitchen counter. Searching through the drawers I quickly found what I was looking for.
“What are those?” asked Kristin.
“Poultry shears. For cutting up chickens, yo
u know? Now, hold still.”
I put one hand on her stomach, and brought the shears up to the nub.
“I don’t know,” I said. “This might hurt or something.”
“Just do it,” she said, turning to look away.
The shears bit deeply into the nub. Kristin screamed in pain.
“Hold still!” I said.
A little more pressure, and there was a snapping sound as the spider leg was finally cut. It fell to the floor with a thump. Dark blood oozed out of the hole, and Kristin grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding.
I stared at the nub on the floor.
“What if...what if it grows back?” I asked.
“Then we cut it off again,” she said.
The nub wiggled.
“Ugh! Did you see that? It moved!”
Kristin ran over and stomped on it. When she lifted her foot the nub was just a black smear on the kitchen floor.
“Oh, man,” she said. “Now my shoe is ruined.”
We looked at the smear on the bottom of her shoe.
“Who—who are you right now?” I asked.
She grabbed a wad of paper towels to scoop off the goo.
“I’m Kristin, you idiot,” she said.