by John Everson
Dedication
For Geri,
and all the spiders I’ve killed in her name.
Acknowledgments
Every novel has its own story behind the story, and the genesis of Violet Eyes goes back five years to 2008, when I was working on ideas for what would become my fourth novel (that ultimately turned out to be Siren). I outlined several book ideas at that time, and while I didn’t end up writing Violet Eyes right away, the idea didn’t back down. A year or so later, I ended up creating a novelette out of the outline’s prologue, which was published as “Violet Lagoon” in my short “buggy” story collection Creeptych. Last year, I got the green light from Samhain to turn that original outline into a novel, and I was finally able to buckle in and let the bugs run wild. And these bugs gestated in some interesting places.
I’ve always tended to do a lot of my writing in pubs, since they get you out of the house and into a booth where there’s a good supply of beer and not much else to do besides … well… write. I also travel quite a bit for my dayjob and hate just sitting in hotel rooms, so finding a friendly Irish Pub to laptop in is now something of a habit. Last year, I logged more miles on business trips than ever before…which means that this novel grew up in a variety of places.
Violet Eyes started in March of 2012, and early chapters were worked on in Fort Worth, TX, Melbourne, FL, Toronto and Vancouver. I also did some work in a couple beer halls in Munich, Germany (my first trip to another continent!) as well as during a vacation along the Gulf of Mexico. For the past few years I’ve gone to an annual meeting at the end of the summer in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and last year (as I did the year prior for NightWhere) I tacked on a vacation day to that trip and wrote nearly 1/10 of the book during an 18-hour marathon at the Cowgirl Café, Marble Brewery’s Tap Room and other favorite haunts. I also spent several evenings here in Naperville, writing (and enjoying the ghost pepper hot wings) at Crossroads Pub, as well as at Quigley’s Irish Pub and occasionally hidden in the carrels at the downtown Nichols Library. The final pages of the first draft were finished on the balcony of the Crescent City Brewhouse in New Orleans in October 2012.
As I was running around the country working (and writing) I had a lot of people pulling for me, promoting my novels and stories on Facebook and Twitter and Amazon and Goodreads. I can’t name them all here, but I truly appreciated every post, share, review and interview invitation. Thanks especially to my long-time crew who always are there for me to bounce things off of – Colum McKnight, Meli Hooker, Peter Schwotzer, Sarah Ham and the Bills – Gagliani and Breedlove – as well as Jim Morey, Chris and Natalie Remington, Tony Tremblay, Cina Pelayo, Lincoln Crisler, Paul Gifford and my loyal tweeters, Jason Darrick, Nerine Dorman, Joe Hempel, Zana, Dustin LaValley, Talia Marie Rosales, Pooble Moo, Axel Howerton, Larry Dwyer, Richard Auffrey, Erin Sweet, Jason Davis, Mr. Frights and Malina Roos.
Thanks also to my friends on the “Chicago horror scene” for all of the opportunities to read and promote, especially Bill Shunn at Tuesday Funk, Marc Ruvolo at Bucket O’ Blood Books & Records, Willy Adkins at Chicago Horror Film Fest, Dan and Amy Royer at DanCon and John at Horrorbles. Thanks also to all my new labelmates who have been so supportive at Samhain (many of whom I got to meet at Horrorfind last fall). You guys are amazing! And of course, thanks to the whole editorial and marketing team at Samhain, especially my editor, Don D’Auria, for championing my work, novel after novel!
Most of all, thanks to my wife, Geri, and my son, Shaun, for reminding me that there is more to life than fiction (I know, it’s hard to believe but…).
I hope you’ll enjoy this journey that was fed by the support of so many people and tempered by so many of my own journeys over the past year. And with that, I can only leave you with one thought before you begin the following pages:
Beware the bite.
Weaving spiders, come not here;
Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence!
Beetles black, approach not near;
Worm nor snail, do no offence.
—William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Prologue
Sheila Key
Saturday, May 3. 6:53 p.m.
Things had pretty much gone south with their vacation for good a couple hours ago when Jess had been making out on the beach with Mark, and had managed at just the wrong moment to slip her hand into a human skull just below the surface of the sand.
A skull still attached to a partially decomposed body.
A skull with a big hole in the back of its head.
That had pretty much popped their sex-on-the-beach balloon.
A few minutes later…the swarm of biting flies had come. Which effectively killed any fun for Billy and Casey, who had been discretely shedding suits in the water, a few dozen yards away.
And now, after hiding out and running through the jungle, Jess, Mark, Billy and Casey had managed to get into the abandoned Quonset hut they’d seen while hiking across this godforsaken Florida Key. Mark had managed to get the door open, and as soon as he did, Billy plowed past him to drop the bags on the floor. He quickly collapsed next to them, gasping frantically for breath.
“Make sure none of those damn things came in with us,” Billy said, after the door had been closed and he’d caught his breath. He dragged his nails up and down against the dozens of hive-size bites along his ankles and legs. Fly bites. The things had swarmed from out of the jungle to corner them on the beach. But it had not been just a handful of creepy bugs. This had been a cloud of biting, fast-moving mouths. Thousands of ’em. A wave of black flies that shimmered with a slash of purple…
Billy’s girlfriend, Casey, kicked her bag a couple times with her foot, hoping to scare off any stowaway bugs, before gingerly unzipping the latch to dig inside for a water bottle. Then she pulled a package of allergy medicine from her overnight bag and knelt next to Billy. She handed him a bottle of water and a couple pills.
“Antihistamine,” she explained. “This should keep the swelling on those bites down.”
He didn’t answer; but he downed the pills in seconds.
She turned back to her bag and began to zip her things back up when Mark asked, “Got any food hidden away in there?”
Casey considered for a second and then reached back into the duffel to withdraw a bag of Doritos. She tossed them to Jess, cautioning, “I don’t know if they qualify as food, but…”
Jess ripped open the bag and downed a handful of the chips before passing them on to Mark, who hungrily did the same. They’d left their tents and supplies on the other side of the island this morning when they’d hiked to this end, but nobody was ready to brave the bugs in the dark to get back there. The abandoned Quonset hut was a good midpoint on the hike back—and a midpoint with a lockable door.
“We need to get settled for the night,” Billy suggested, reaching for the Doritos. “It’s almost dark and we don’t have a flashlight.”
He pushed himself up with a groan, and together, they left the main room of the hut, which was filled with shelves and vials and electronic units that none of them could identify, to explore two rooms that had been walled off from the rest of the structure. Each was just large enough to hold a small bed and a tiny bureau.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I would really just like to lie down,” Billy announced. “So I’m picking this room.” He pointed at the far door.
Mark nodded and moved towards the other bedroom. Jess followed him, holding his hand. “Early to bed, early to rise,” Mark said. “And I don’t really feel like sitting here talking in the dark.”
Their weekend vacation had started out the day before with high hopes; it was a welcome and needed “let off steam” break after semester finals. Billy had borrowed a boat to take
them to a tiny uninhabited Key not far off the Florida coast; the two couples had planned a three-day break from reality. They were all looking forward to “sex on the beach” both in physical and alcoholic form. They’d joked when planning the excursion about the weekend being a chance for a co-ed reenactment of Blue Lagoon, but Jess had taken the joke a step further. She’d given them costumes.
The last one to arrive at the dock, Jess had come running up the boards yelling, “Okay, okay, I’m late! You can make me walk the plank later. But look what I got!”
From a bulging canvas bag, Jess had pulled out a few scraps of tan fabric, cut with irregular triangles. One piece was clearly meant as a loincloth, the other could have been a bikini top. Both looked like stage costumes meant for extremely scantily clad prehistoric island dwellers.
“I am not wearing that,” Billy proclaimed, as her boyfriend Mark reached out an arm and helped her climb into the boat.
“Of course not, silly! That’s for Casey.” She reached into her sack and pulled an almost equally small loincloth and tossed it in his lap. “This one’s for you.”
Mark cocked an eyebrow and looked skeptically at her. “I know we said Blue Lagoon and all, but do you really think we’re all going to parade around in these?”
“Well not here.” She grinned, waving at the dock, crowded with sailboats and speedboats and people milling about. It was a gorgeous summer Friday morning, and plenty of people were playing hooky and heading out to sea. On many of the decks, small groups kicked back in easy chairs, taking in the sun, drinking beer for brunch and talking with friends. “But Billy promised that nobody goes to this island, it’s off the map. Totally empty. So if we’re going to ‘get away from it all’ and play Blue Lagoon for the weekend, let’s do it. We can change once we’re out near the island.”
“I don’t think you girls will stay in those outfits for long, anyway,” Billy said with an evil grin. Then he turned the key in the ignition and the motor sputtered to life. “All hands on deck,” he called, and after releasing the dock ties, they slowly began to move out into the crystal-blue sea.
Things had looked a lot more positive yesterday morning. It had been a beautiful day and an easy trip out to the small island. Once Billy navigated to the small dock and tied the boat up, they all got off and looked at their private beach for the weekend.
Casey surveyed the shore, hands on her hips, the posture making her well-tanned cleavage more than obvious as she slowly turned a three-sixty. “Nice place, Billy,” she finally said.
“That’s what I was thinking,” he answered, his eyes fixed obviously on her breasts.
A tan sliver of fabric hit him in the chest. “Suit up, horndog,” Jess said. She tossed another at Mark.
“You first,” Billy dared, and Jess shrugged. “All talk, no action,” she laughed, and without pause, turned her back to the guys, reached across her shoulder blades and untied the store-bought bikini she’d worn on the boat. She let it drop to the sand and then slipped on the scanty homemade top. Then she dropped her bottoms, giving them all a clear view of the untanned white triangle on her ass, as she pulled up the thin bits of material attached to a leather string. When she tied the bottoms tight, her tan lines were still clearly revealed.
“You’re gonna burn your butt,” Mark warned.
“I brought lotion,” Jess answered. “I might even let you put it on me.”
“I won’t need any,” Casey taunted, and performed the same quick change routine as Jess, her bronze back and ass clearly demonstrating that she spent a lot of time in the sun. And apparently most of it in the nude.
“You ever actually study with a tan like that?” Mark asked.
Jess put a finger to her boyfriend’s chin and pulled, until Mark’s eyes met hers. “Watch this way,” she warned.
“Sure I study,” Casey laughed. “What do you think I do while I’m tanning?”
“Boys’ turn,” Jess announced as Casey turned around, now displaying even more bare skin than her previous skimpy bikini had allowed.
Billy shrugged at Mark and the two turned away from the girls and each other and dropped their shorts, quickly stepping into costume.
“Aw, look, Jess,” Casey taunted. “They’re shy.”
“You two are asking for it,” Mark said, turned back to them. He shifted a little uncomfortably in his new island g-string. It hung loosely between his legs, and didn’t hide the fact that he was more than a little aroused by the situation.
“And they’ll get it,” Billy promised. “They’ll get it plenty. But first we need to pick a camp site and get set up.”
“Let’s stay near the boat,” Casey suggested. “We could put the tents up right over there at the tree line?”
“Works for me,” Billy said, and Mark shrugged acceptance. Jess hopped back into the boat and with a groan tossed her heavy pack over the side to Mark. Billy stepped past her and grabbed a tent bag, and the two walked up the shifting sand to a spot sheltered between two huge palm trees. “Wish I had a hammock,” Mark observed.
They got to work setting up the first tent while the girls brought some of the smaller gear from the boat and piled it nearby.
Mark popped in the main pole at the same moment as Jess screamed.
“What?” he jumped out from the midst of the green fabric to see her standing on one foot just a couple meters away. Her hand massaged the top of one foot while her eyes stared at the beach in horror.
Casey held her shoulder. “Did it bite?”
“Did what bite?” Billy demanded, and Jess pointed at a spot on the sand. Billy knelt in front of her and stared at the thing she pointed at.
“What is it?” Mark asked, joining him.
“A spider of some kind,” Billy answered, leaning closer to stare at its thin but spiny legs, and oval, black back. A slash of violet colored its back half, like a bolt of lightning.
“Looks like a small crab,” Mark said. “Never seen a purple spider.”
Billy shook his head. “You’d think so, but that’s not a shell. Those legs are insect legs, not crab.”
“Is it poisonous?” Jess cried.
“I don’t know,” Billy said. “Did it bite you?”
Jess shook her head. “I was just standing there and I felt something tickle my foot. I looked down and there it was, standing on me. I kicked it off right away.”
Billy stood, and the spider began to run across the sand. But Billy didn’t let it go. He stepped to the left and ground the heel of his sandal on the thing, leaving a glimmering mess of black film and yellowish mush in his wake.
“It won’t bother you again,” he promised.
Jess hugged herself. “I hate spiders,” she said. “And where there’s one, there are always more.”
Jess had had no idea how true that statement was when she’d made it yesterday. Today they had discovered that there were more.
A lot more. And not just spiders…the island was overrun with tiny biting flies. After hiking from one side of the island to the other, the two couples had settled down in the sand and surf this afternoon to act out their private version of Blue Lagoon. Instead, they were interrupted by a swarm of flies that had driven them inland. The swarm had covered them like a cloud.
Since they had run from the beach and closed the door of the hut, the shadows had changed from orange to red to gray. Night was settling upon the island, and without a generator or flashlight, the hut was probably only minutes from pitch-black. Thankfully, it seemed to be free of bugs.
Billy fell asleep almost instantly, despite the cramped bed and stale air of the Quonset hut. Casey dozed for a while, but after a couple hours, she found herself lying awake, staring at the darkness of the round ceiling. Billy’s hand lay warm and limp against her breast. She grinned as she gently slid out from beneath his fingers. He could never seem to keep his hands off her tits, and, well, she loved that actually! It was too cute how he angled and negotiated a way to cop a feel even when they were out in broad dayli
ght in a crowd of people.
But right now, the night hung thick in the tiny room and for a second, aside from the familiar touch of her boyfriend, she was disoriented. Then the events of the day came back to her. The warm joy of Billy’s need for her washed away. She rolled away from him, and realized the reason she’d awoken. A painful pressure ached below her belly.
She needed to pee.
And the one thing this tin-can hut didn’t have was a toilet.
Casey pressed her head back into the pillow and tried to ignore the feeling. Maybe she could just fall back asleep until morning.
Uh-uh.
Minutes later she could almost feel her leg growing wet. She had to go.
Damn it.
When she could ignore it no longer, she slowly disentangled herself from Billy’s arm and slipped out of the bed. She was going to have to step outside the hut and pee outside. It would only take a minute…you didn’t have to be a Boy Scout to pee in the woods, after all.
And bugs…bugs slept at night, right?
Casey let herself out of the hut. Her eyes were already accustomed to the dark, and thanks to the shadows of the moon through the palms, she could see well enough to step around to the side of the metal walls to relieve herself. She didn’t need to leave a puddle where they all would step on their way out the front door.
She tiptoed across the cool sand to the side of the metal shack and squatted to do her business in the shade of a heavy-leafed green bush.
But Casey was not alone in the night. Not by a long shot. She couldn’t see the legs that approached as she released a long, long stream of pent-up piss marinaded by a seriously fucked-up day. But they saw her.
She couldn’t see how the warmth of her release called to a hoard of starving spiders like a brilliant red homing beacon. In seconds, the branches of every bush and shrub around her hung low with the bodies of eight-legged eager mouths, all of them waiting to feed.