 
A Silence of Spiders

By Todd Miller

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 by Todd Miller

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return toSmashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover artwork by Jason Beam

Thanks, Jason!

Chapter 1

Exquisite corpse.

That's what Kristin called it.

She said it was a game invented by a bunch of crazy French art dudes.

You need at least three people to play. People who like to draw.

The object of the game is to draw a body.

What you do is you take a piece of paper and fold it into thirds. The first person draws the head, folds the paper over so nobody can see it, then gives it to the second person, who draws the body. The second person folds the paper over again and hands it to the third, who draws the legs.

When everybody is done, you unfold the drawing and you get some really cool, really strange creature, like with the head of a gorilla, the body of a ballerina and the legs of an octopus.

Something so weird that if it existed in the real world, all the townspeople would have to get together and destroy it.

A monster.

An exquisite corpse.

So me and Kristin and Curtis were fooling around in detention, drawing our corpses, and it was my turn to draw the head.

Dean Carter was supposed to make sure we were doing our homework, but he had his nose buried in a bodybuilding magazine and seemed totally oblivious to our presence.

I wanted to draw something serious this time, no astronauts or dinosaurs or anything wacky like that. I drew a woman, with long black hair and dark, sad eyes. I couldn't quite get her mouth right, I was going for a frown, but it looked more like a snarl. So I erased her lips and drew them over and over again, trying to fix them, to make them like how I remembered.

Kristin leaned over and studied the picture for a moment.

"Is that—is that your mom?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, drawing and erasing, drawing and erasing. "This is what she looked like before, you know, before the thing happened."

I erased so many times, the bottom half of the drawing was turning into one dark smear. The more I erased, the darker it got.

"Just start over, man" said Curtis.

"No," I said.

Draw and erase.

Draw and erase.

Erase, erase.

Tiny, dirty pink eraser shavings all over my desk.

I stared down at the smear and the world disappeared and I had to fix it or make it go away and the eraser wasn't helping and I couldn't stop erasing.

Then Kristin reached out and put her hand over mine. My pencil stopped jerking and was still. It was the first time she ever touched me. Her fingers were like electricity and I felt a jolt go straight to my brain.

"Easy there, Picasso," she said, and smiled.

I looked at her hand on top of mine and nodded. We both sat there for a moment, just looking at our hands touching. It only lasted a moment, but it felt like forever.

"You think about her a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I said.

Her hazel eyes meet mine, and they twinkled like a secret star.

Yeah, that's right. I said they twinkled, okay?

Then her iPhone started to buzz, rattling around on the top of her desk like an angry bug.

"It's Eddie," she said.

Her hand vanished and suddenly she was hunched over the tiny screen, her fingers mashing buttons, a smirk on her lips.

"God, sometimes he is so annoying," she said with a smile.

I looked down at the blurry mess on my paper and crumpled it up. I wanted to swallow it and die.

"Here," said Curtis, handing me another piece of paper. "I drew another head, now you can draw the body."

I started scribbling furiously, unconsciously, a huge dark form taking shape on the page, with a multitude of long, hideous black legs, eight hairy black legs, ready to pounce, ready to maim, ready to kill and kill and kill—

Suddenly there was a snapping sound and I felt a sharp pain on the back of my neck. A rubber band lay on the floor beside my foot. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw John and Troy snickering in their stupid, Elmwood High School varsity football jackets.

They bumped fists and grinned at me.

"What're you looking at?" hissed Troy.

"You want to start something, Berger butt?" asked John.

My face felt hot and when I turned back around I saw Dean Carter looking at me.

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" he asked.

John and Troy were silent.

"No, sir," I said, looking down.

"Then I suggest you all get back to work. We still have five more minutes, people."

He opened his magazine and began to read.

"Five more minutes," he said, to no one in particular.

Chapter 2

It was my idea to go to the tower and get us all killed.

Well, no, that's not totally true.

It was _hers_.

The Spider Lady.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Kristin was obsessed with the Ouija board. We started fooling around with it in her basement. That was the first time I saw one, with the medieval-looking letters and numbers, the Yes and No answers, the moons, stars and wizards in pointy hats. It looked creepy, a thing you didn't want to mess around with, like a loaded gun. Still, they sold it at the toy store, so how bad could it be?

The first time, in her parent's basement, the four of us sat in the dark with just a single black candle to see by. Kristin and Eddie put their fingers on this little wooden triangle, with a bubble of plastic in the center, something the instructions called a planchette. Both of them had painted their fingernails black for the occasion.

I remember wishing it was me doing that, my fingers close to her fingers, but at the same time, I really didn't want to get near that weirdo Ouija board.

"Hear us, o spirits," she said, and Curtis cracked up.

"Shhh!"

Curtis grinned at me, and I smiled back weakly.

"Hear us, o spirits," she said again. "We seek answers to our questions. Is there a spirit here who will communicate with us?"

Eddie was grinning now, too, and Kristin slapped him on the hand.

"Be serious!" she said.

Eddie sucked in his cheeks to keep from laughing. I watched the board, staring at the planchette, afraid that it might move.

"Is there a spirit here who will communicate with us?" she asked again.

The candlelight flickered across her lightning-bolt earrings.

Slowly, very slowly, the planchette moved over to Yes.

"Whoa!" said Curtis. "You're moving it! You're totally moving it!"

"I'm not!" said Eddie, who seemed genuinely surprised.

"Kristin, you're moving that thing," said Curtis.

"Quiet, you guys!" she said. "Somebody ask it a question."

"Does Charlie like Kristin?" asked Eddie.

Kristin giggled and Curtis snorted. I felt my face burn and was grateful for the dark.

In horror I watched as the planchette moved around and around on the board, then back over to Yes.

Everyone laughed but me. I think Kristin shot me a smile, but I was already looking down at my boots.

"I got a question," said Curtis. "Which one of us is going to be the first to die?"

Everyone fell silent.

The planchette moved around and around, finally landing on the letter C. Next the letter U, then over to R...

"Screw you guys!" said Curtis, and he flipped the Ouija board off the table and that was that. The first time.

After that Kristin and Eddie made us take the Ouija board to the pet cemetery, which was totally stupid, and then to a real cemetery. At midnight, of course. We sat in the grass of the old section, among the crumbling, old tombstones. At first, they wanted to put the Ouija board on top of someone's grave, but I convinced them that was a bad idea. So Kristin and Eddie sat on the ground and put the board between their laps.

I noticed that their knees were touching. Some friend Eddie was. Still, if I was too chicken, then maybe I didn't deserve to be with her after all.

She said the same corny mumbo jumbo as before, while I kept looking over my shoulder for a policeman, ready to chase us away.

"Is there a spirit here who will communicate with us?" asked Kristin.

The planchette moved around and around, slowly, carefully. First stopping on S, then P, then I, on to D, then E and finally R. SPIDER.

"Spider?" said Curtis.

The planchette began moving over to L...

Kristin and Eddie freaked, both of them flipping the board off their legs, and then we were all running back to the car as fast as we could. We climbed inside and slammed the doors, peering out the windows for any sign of trouble.

Eddie turned to me.

"Dude, it spelled 'spider'!"

"That was freaking weird," said Curtis.

"You guys! We left my board back there!" said Kristin.

We all looked at each other.

"Eddie, get my board for me? Please?"

"No way," said Eddie.

"I'm not going back out there," said Curtis.

Kristin turned to me. I hesitated.

"I'll get it," I said, and opened the car door.

"So long, Charlie," said Curtis.

"Time to die, bro!" said Eddie.

Kristin smiled at me.

I slammed the car door and walked back into the cemetery. I kept my flashlight pointed to the ground. Its beam was weak, and I couldn't see much beyond a few feet in front of me. But that was okay. There was nothing to be scared of out here. Just a bunch of old trees and old tombstones and old bones buried underground.

As I headed back to the spot where we dropped the Ouija board, I convinced myself that Eddie and Kristin were playing a trick on me. Probably Eddie's idea. The more I got to know him, the more I realized he was kind of a jerk.

I made the mistake of telling them about the Spider Lady the first few months after we became friends. They all knew the basic story; that me and this kid Jason Morgan were fooling around at the tower; that he tried to climb through a window to get inside; that there was horrible accident and he died.

I guess I trusted them, so I told them about my mental breakdown.

See, I was so traumatized by what happened, I convinced myself I saw the Spider Lady in the tower with Jason and that she killed him. I remember thinking I saw her up in the window with blood on her lips and that she whispered something and smiled.

She whispered, Thank you.

For what, I don't know.

Pretty goofy, huh?

The Spider Lady is our own local legend here in Elmwood. Our version of the Jersey Devil, or the Chupacabra. Every time something weird happens around here, somebody blames the Spider Lady.

Like every time some dog or cat goes missing.

Like when that little girl Susan Taylor disappeared three years ago on Halloween after trick-or-treating with her friends.

Or last year when this senior at my high school named David Lopez killed himself with a shotgun in the woods near the tower. In his pocket they even found a crumpled drawing of a spider with a woman's face.

I'm not surprised you haven't heard of her. People around here don't really like to talk about the Spider Lady much, and when they do, it's mostly in whispers and nods.

I guess it's because maybe they're embarrassed?

Who knows?

Anyway, Eddie and Kristin were jerking me around. I was positive of that. It infuriated me. This was my private stuff they were messing with.

I was so angry I hardly realized that I had reached the Ouija board. I snatched it up off the ground and felt something sticky on my fingers. I shined my flashlight on them and saw they were covered with thick, gooey, grayish strands of spider webs. I dropped the board and wiped my hands on my jeans. The webs wouldn't come off.

In the darkness I heard a woman's voice.

"Charlieeeeeee..." she whispered.

Like snow and glass.

I froze. Goosebumps ran up and down my arms.

"I've missed you, Charlie..."

The voice was coming from above me. I lifted up my flashlight and shone it into the trees. Dark leaves stirred in the wind, twisting and turning.

"Come to the Tower, Charlie," said the familiar voice. "And bring me fresh blood."

I heard a branch creaking and turned my flashlight on the source of the noise.

It was her.

She was pale, white, old, wrapped in a battered, faded black cloak, all those black furry limbs sticking out to grip the branch beneath her. She was hideous, and yet, there seemed to be something wrong with her as well, like she was sick. Her bulging red eyes held me in her gaze, and then, an instant later the Spider Lady was gone.

I cringed, expecting to be attacked, bitten, mutilated, but nothing happened. All was quiet except for the loud thumping of my heart. My hands shook. I felt like I was going to swallow my tongue. I took a few steps backward, staring at the branch she had just been perched on.

"Help me..." the Spider Lady whispered.

Then I ran back to the car.

I threw the door open and flung myself onto the seat next to Curtis. He was staring down at his iPod, thumbing through songs, looking sheepish. In the front seat, Eddie and Kristin were kissing. Like, really kissing. With tongues.

They stopped a moment later, Eddie with a stupid grin plastered on his stupid face.

"Uh, hey, Charlie...," said Kristin. "Did you get my Ouija board?"

The air inside the car felt hot and the windows were fogging over. I said nothing.

"Charlie?" she said. She looked at me, made eye contact, then looked quickly away.

"Take me home," I managed to say.

"Dude, we're going to IHOP," said Eddie.

"I thought we were getting eggrolls," said Curtis.

"Just take me home, all right?"

Curtis squirmed, and said nothing.

"Charlie..." said Kristin.

"Did you get her Ouija board or not, retard?" said Eddie.

I opened the car door and climbed out.

"You guys are real jerks, you know that?"

I left the door open and walked away.

"Yo, Charlie," called Curtis. "Come on, don't be like that."

I didn't turn around, but I was fighting the urge to run, to cry, to throw myself on the ground like a little kid and scream my guts out.

"Charlie?" I heard Kristin say.

"Screw him, big baby," said Eddie. "Berger baby!"

I heard the door close behind me, and the car start. And then they drove off without me. To get their precious pancakes.

It was a long walk home, but I don't remember any of it. My thoughts were churning and whirling, the same words repeating themselves in my brain over and over.

The Spider Lady is real.

She's actually real.

I wasn't traumatized. What I saw that day actually happened.

She really did kill Jason.

Suddenly my knees turned to jelly and I stumbled to the pavement.

Who else did she kill?

That little girl? The kid with the shotgun?

Why didn't she kill me back there in the cemetery?

Because she needs my help.

For what?

Fresh blood.

It was odd, but in my imagination I always pictured the Spider Lady as a beautiful woman. But she looked old. Like, really old. And what was she really? A witch? Some kind of mutant?

One thing I knew for sure, I wasn't going to set foot anywhere near that stone tower if my life depended on it.

I was definitely _not_ going to bring her fresh blood.

No way.

At first I wanted to tell my Aunt Rose what I had seen, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized she would never believe me. What proof did I have that the Spider Lady was real?

None.

Aunt Rose would think that I'd gone crazy again and then we'd be packing my bags for the bughouse. More headshrinkers, more pills, more group therapy.

No thanks.

I know what you're thinking. If this was a movie, like, an action movie, I would get a bunch of guns and some grenades and go back to the tower and blow it up. Kill the Spider Lady, save the day.

Well, sorry. But, no. I'm not that guy.

Anyway, after that night at the cemetery, I did my best to ignore Kristin and Eddie, not sitting with them during lunch, or talking to them or whatever. I did hang out with Curtis a few times. Once, we snuck into one of the girl's bathrooms at school and I noticed someone wrote KRISTIN McDERMOTT IS A SLUT on the one of the walls. I crossed it out furiously with my pen, leaving a big, black smudge.

Another time I went over to Curtis's house and up in his room he showed me his grandmother's gun. It was a little handgun, something she kept in her dresser drawer in case the boogeyman showed up.

His grandma was at work, so we set up a bunch of Pepsi cans on a cardboard box in the woods behind his house and took turns shooting at them. We popped them full of holes, and it felt pretty good. Curtis thought it would be funny to take a few shots at the squirrels, so we tried to nail them but they were too fast.

Then he put the gun to his head and pretended to pull the trigger. He grinned his lop-sided grin and I laughed, but it was a fake laugh. Sometimes Curtis freaks me out.

My drawings were all the same. One stone tower after another. Big and small, on my notebooks, in the margins of my homework assignments. Black ink, red ink, blood, no blood, more blood—a woman inside, looking out the window.

Looking at me.

Sometimes I would find myself in the woods behind school, walking toward the tower and I would have no idea how I got there.

My eyes hurt. I got headaches a lot. In school I would stare out the window and think about bringing Kristin to the tower and kissing her.

No, wait...I wasn't going back there. For real.

I had nightmares all the time, the same dream again and again. Jason and I were standing in front of the tower. Only this time, he was nothing but a hideous slab of dried-up skin with empty eye sockets and a gaping mouth. Nearby was a little girl wearing a witch costume, with a black cape and a pointy hat. She looked pale, bloodless. Beside her stood David Lopez, half his face blown off, clutching his shotgun.

"Bring her fresh blood, Charlie," said the thing that was Jason. "Fresh blood."

"I won't."

"More will die," said Jason. "Your friends will die. You will die. Die, Charlie! Die!"

Then they surrounded me, grabbing my arms, my throat, pushing me to the ground, the ground cold and wet, cold and clammy hands crushing my windpipe, everything going black...

And then I woke up.

When I wasn't having a nervous breakdown, I spent most of my time at the Elmwood Public Library, searching through old microfiche for any information on the stone tower and the Spider Lady.

Before my high school existed, all that land belonged to a guy named Lionel Elmwood. He was some 19th century millionaire, made all his money in timber and newspapers. His mansion was located where the track is now. It burned down about sixty years ago.

Elmwood was a world-traveler and a man with interesting hobbies. He liked to collect exotic flowers, masks, tribal artwork, primitive objects of superstition. Apparently, in 1895, he was attacked by a man with a machete in South America while searching for rare orchids. He cited as proof the jagged scar across his right forearm.

The tycoon took his large family on a trip to Africa in 1906, but came home early after his youngest daughter, Elvira, came down with some sort of strange, tropical disease. I found an obituary for her from February, 1907. There was a photograph of her, and I had to admit she was pretty.

Soon after her death, Elmwood reportedly became obsessed with Astronomy, and built the stone tower to be his observatory. He threw a lavish party when its construction was finished, but after that, he continually declined requests for people to come and visit it. It was whispered that he didn't even own a telescope.

Elmwood vanished in Australia in 1911 while investigating some of the native rock formations. His eldest son Robert struggled to keep the various family businesses afloat, but he didn't have the head for it. They lost a great deal of money during the depression, and retreated back into their mansion, seldom to be heard from again.

The fire was in 1949. The cause was undisclosed. The mansion was lost, the ruins unsound and unsalvageable. The family finally sold the entire property to the township in 1954, and Elmwood High School was completed in 1955. The stone tower became a historic landmark, but truth be told no one in the town really cared for it. Over the years they let it fall into decay, citing a lack of funds to pay for the necessary repairs.

The rest of the Elmwoods drifted away, although I heard one of them lives way upstate in Sloatsville. An elderly woman named Victoria Elmwood-Ravensburg. She was described in the newspapers as a bit of an eccentric, with more than a few unconventional ideas about how the world worked.

One day I got up the courage to call Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg on the phone, but her number was unlisted. So, I wrote her a letter instead. It felt kind of goofy, and old-fashioned. Maybe she would appreciate that. Anyway, I kept it real simple; Hello, my name's Charlie Berger, I have some questions about the stone tower, thanks for your time, sincerely, etcetera, and so on.

I'm still waiting for her to reply.

One afternoon I was cutting Chemistry class, hanging out in front of the pizza place at the strip mall near our school, and doodling pictures of girls in my sketchbook. I saw Kristin and Eddie pull up in his car, and with nowhere to run, I stood there waiting for them. Waiting for what they might say. It had better be good.

I could see through the windshield they were arguing. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but their hands were chopping the air between them. Then Kristin got out, her arms folded across her chest, and walked straight toward me.

"Hey, Charlie, can we talk?"

"About what?" I asked.

"Why are you being so mean to me?"

Could she really have no idea, I wondered.

But all I could say was, "I don't know."

"I wasn't faking the Spider Lady thing," she said. "Neither was Eddie. It really happened. We didn't make it up."

"All right," I said.

"Can you believe it?" she said. "It kind of freaks me out."

"Me, too."

Eddie came out of the car and stood next to us.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I replied.

The wind kicked up and Kristin bowed her head. Eddie looked away. I looked at the ground, the worn brown spots on the tops of my Doc Marten's. I could feel another headache coming on, and my eyesight got a little blurry.

"You want a slice?" Eddie asked.

"What?"

"A slice."

"Yeah. Okay."

So we went inside and ate our pizza; Sicilian, pepperoni, black olives. Nobody really said anything for awhile, and Eddie was chewing the ice from his Coke when Kristin finally spoke.

"Check out what I drew in Study Hall today."

She pulled out a piece of notebook paper from her purse and unfolded it on the table, gently smoothing out the wrinkles.

"See, that's me, the princess with the little crown and the pretty dress. And there's you next to me, the knight with the mighty sword and the roaring lion on his shield."

"That supposed to be me?" said Eddie.

He pointed to a vampire skulking behind the princess, with long hair all dressed in black and baring his fangs.

"Looks just like you," I said, which was true more or less.

"What?" said Kristin. "I thought you would like it."

"Hmph," said Eddie.

"What do you think, Charlie?" she asked.

I thought everybody's eyes were too big, but that was probably on purpose like in those weird Japanese comic books. Then I noticed that Curtis was in the drawing too, wearing those crazy Shaolin monk kung fu pajamas and swinging a pair of nunchakus.

"It's awesome," I said. "It's really good."

Kristin smiled.

"You can have it," she said.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. Don't forget to frame it."

I studied the drawing for a few moments, aware that she was watching me.

"So what are we doing here," I said, gesturing to the drawing.

"Oh, we're getting ready to fight the evil, turtle-throwing dragon," said Kristin.

"And do we win?"

"We do, but I'm afraid the noble knight sacrifices himself to save the life of his lady fair."

"Anything for true love," I replied.

There was an awkward pause for a moment, and I wished I hadn't said anything. My headache was getting worse, and I swear it was like everything I saw started turning red.

Then Eddie snorted.

"Don't be such a tool, Berger," he said, grabbing the drawing out of my hands. "This drawing looks like crap. We look like a bunch of freaks!"

Kristin punched him on the arm.

Eddie smiled then, sloshing the melting ice around in his cup.

"Tell him our idea, Kris."

She hesitated for a moment.

"What?" I asked.

"You know what would be really awesome, Charlie?"

Her hazel eyes twinkling.

"What if we brought the Ouija board to that spot down by the railroad tracks where that woman jumped in front of a train, and tried to contact her spirit?"

The pizza turned to rubber in my mouth. I started to feel sick.

She didn't know what really happened. None of them did. I kept that part secret. A secret nobody was supposed to know. I only told the doctors at the mental hospital. Nobody else.

Kristin was just talking. Just stupid talking.

"I heard her body, like, exploded," said Eddie. "Arms and legs in the bushes."

There was a roaring sound in my ears. Puffy red was everywhere.

I took a big gulp of my Dr. Pepper and closed my eyes.

"You know what would be cool?" I said.

Eddie shrugged, but Kristin leaned forward. I could see her neck, her collarbone, all sharp and smooth.

"We should go to the stone tower," I said. "We could contact Jason Morgan's spirit, and that other dead kid, too, the one who shot himself. We could find out what really happened to them. Maybe even talk to the Spider Lady herself."

Eddie crunched his ice, watching me.

"You're crazy," he finally said.

"Fine then," I said, smiling at Kristin. "We'll just go without you."

"Like hell," said Eddie.

"Are you serious, Charlie?" asked Kristin.

I shrugged.

"You know, I heard kids used to do _it_ there," said Eddie.

"God, you are so immature," said Kristin.

But she was trying not to smile when she said it.

"I'll go," said Eddie. "I'm no chicken."

"We should all go," I said. "Curtis, too. As a group. In case something happens."

"Are you sure?" said Kristin, trying not to sound too excited.

A small part of my brain squirmed. Why was I suggesting this? Why couldn't I shut up?

"You bet," I said.

"Aren't you afraid the Spider Lady's gonna get us?" asked Eddie.

I wanted to say yes.

"No," I said. "That's stupid."

Chapter 3

We stumbled through the dark woods to our doom. Curtis and I had flashlights, Eddie and Kristin held hands. Under her arm, the Ouija board. I hadn't figured on them making up so fast, and I stared at their fingers knotted together, gnawing on that image in my mind.

It was close to midnight. We broke off the running trail and entered the woods, keeping our flashlights pointed down. The ground was damp and muddy, alive with insects and moss and moisture. We made a lot of noise on our walk to the tower, stepping on twigs, Eddie and Curtis cracking jokes and snickering. My head was pounding, my feet begged to turn around, but I kept walking.

That small part of my brain was squirming even more.

Tell them to stop, it said.

Tell them to go home.

But I didn't say a word. To be honest, it kind of hurt to talk. And the rest of my head was a red, fuzzy mess. I had to bring my friends to the tower.

I had to bring them further into my web.

I mean, _her_ web.

Eddie took us to the hole in the fence. It was a metal chain-link fence, topped with barbed wire. Someone had clipped a bunch of the links and then peeled the fence back, like peeling a banana. It was a small hole, and I had to crawl on my hands and knees to get through. It felt like I was being swallowed by a pair of metal lips.

On the other side was the stone tower. It looked exactly like I remembered, the same way it always looked in my dreams. It was a creepy place, looming over us like a stone giant, all covered with moss and slime. There was an energy here, I could sense it, some kind of sonic vibration so low it could only be heard by dogs and lunatics. The air was heavy with its power.

Eddie and Curtis stopped laughing, and stared at the tower. Kristin stood at its base, looking small and defeated, like a bug with its wings torn off.

I tried not to look at it, not directly at it anyway, but it was hopeless. The window that Jason had climbed through had been boarded up, but that didn't prevent the shivers from going up and down my spine.

Did I bring him here, too? I couldn't remember. Maybe I did.

Maybe she told me to.

Why was _she_ always picking on me? What made me so special?

There were a couple of broken beer bottles laying around, a few stubbed -out cigarette butts. Somebody had scribbled SATAN RULES on a piece of plywood covering one of the windows. Curtis found an old Judas Priest cassette tape, its guts spilling out like so much black spaghetti.

Eddie took his dad's bolt cutters and went to work on the big, rusted padlock on the front door. Kristin stood beside him, looking up at the tower, fingers tapping the Ouija board.

"Charlie," said Curtis. "Check this out, man."

Curtis lifted his shirt and I saw the handgun tucked into his waistband.

"That Spider Lady messes with me, and I'll blast her ass," he said.

He put the shirt back down quickly and I stared at him, not knowing what to say.

"Cool," I finally said. But inside, my brain screamed.

"You okay, man?" asked Curtis.

I shook my head, no.

"Curtis, I...this is a...this is...dangerous..."

I clenched my teeth.

Curtis took a step away from me.

There was a snapping sound, and then I heard the heavy lock land on the ground with a thud.

"We're in," said Eddie.

He pulled on the door, once, twice, and then it gave, hinges creaking and protesting. Inside the tower was darkness. Eddie and Curtis peered into the pitch-black depths of the tower, and they hesitated.

"When this is done, we're still getting eggrolls, right?" asked Curtis.

Eddie smirked but said nothing as he went inside. Curtis followed him, and seemed to disappear, leaving just me and Kristin outside.

I touched her elbow, trying to lead her inside. But we just stood there.

"I dream about this place," she said.

"Maybe...maybe...we should leave," I said, hot burning red filling my eyes.

"Are you kidding?" She turned to look at me, but I could barely make out her face through the dark and the red and the pain.

Then she sprung through the door and was gone.

Yes.

Now bring them to _her_.

I followed Kristin inside the tower.

Curtis's flashlight was on the ground, its beam illuminating only a small part of the darkness. I could see the floor and the walls were made of stones, blackened, dirty and covered with spindly old webs. There were a few pieces of broken furniture on the ground, and a single, dusty old chair left standing, alone, like a sentry.

I heard Eddie light his Zippo and turned to see him and Curtis sparking up a joint. Eddie inhaled deeply then passed it over to Curtis, who did the same.

"You want some of this?" Curtis asked.

"No, man," I said.

"Kristin?" Curtis asked. "Yo, Kristin?"

There was no answer.

She came skulking into the flashlight beam wearing a strange mask.

"Look what I found, my pretties!" she said.

It was a child's plastic Halloween mask; a witch with a long, cruel nose, a frowning mouth, and an ugly black wart on her chin. The mask was too small for Kristin's face.

"Where's your hat?" asked Eddie.

Kristin took a long drag on the joint.

"Back at Hogwarts," she said, and then exhaled.

I wanted to tell her to take it off, but I didn't. The smoke was aggravating my headache and I backed away from the three of them, trying not to breathe it in. The last thing I wanted was to be stoned in this place.

"Gather 'round, boys and ghouls," said Kristin in a high-pitched, screechy witch voice.

She sat on the ground with Eddie opposite her. They put the Ouija board on their laps like before, back in the cemetery.

"Who's ready for a little ghost gab?" she asked in that same weird voice.

"Could you stop that?" I said.

"Gitchy-gitchy grumpy witchy," she replied.

She put her fingers on the planchette and Eddie did the same. Curtis put out the joint with his fingers and tucked it back into his pocket.

"Hear us, o spirits!" she screeched. "Who among the dead would wish to speak with us?"

Nothing happened.

"Take that stupid mask off," I said, trying not to sound afraid.

"Spirits of the night, speak to us!," said Kristin. "We command you!"

Suddenly the planchette was zipping around the board. It went around and around in angry circles, waiting for our questions.

"What is your name?" asked Kristin.

The planchette moved over to D...then A...V...I...D....

"David Lopez?" I asked.

The planchette moved over to YES. Then it was on the move again, first to R...then U, and finally N...

"Run?" said Eddie.

The planchette flew away from Kristin and Eddie's fingers and skittered across the floor.

"Quit messing with us, you guys," said Curtis.

"We're not messing, dude," said Eddie.

We all looked at the planchette laying on the floor. Nobody moved to get it.

"Maybe we should get out of here," said Curtis.

Then Kristin grabbed the planchette and put it back on the Ouija board.

"Put your fingers on it, Eddie," she said.

Eddie hesitated for a moment, then gingerly placed his fingers on the planchette.

"David Lopez," said Kristin, dropping the witch voice. "Are you still there?"

The planchette did a slow, lazy circle across the board, then landed on NO.

"Who are you?" asked Kristin.

The planchette moved over to R...then O...back around to O a second time, then stopped on the letter F.

"Roof?" asked Kristin.

The planchette didn't move. We watched it in silence, waiting for it to begin its crazy crawl again.

"Nothing's happening," said Eddie.

Kristin wiggled the planchette, but it wouldn't come back to life.

"Guys, there's a staircase over here," said Curtis. "Check it out."

He was shining his flashlight on a stone staircase that hugged the wall and wrapped its way upward to who knows where. Kristin tossed off the mask.

"Let's go," she said.

Eddie, Curtis and I looked at her for a moment. My heart started racing.

"Come on," said Eddie and the two of them began climbing the stairs.

Curtis turned to me with a worried look on his face.

"What do you think, man," he asked.

"I...think we should go," I said.

Curtis was sweating, his eyes glassy.

"None of this is real, right?"

"It is. It is real," I said, grabbing his arm.

"Not funny," he said, yanking himself away.

Curtis stood for a moment, then turned and went up the stairs, taking the only other flashlight with him. The room grew darker and darker as he ascended the stairs, not looking back.

In the shadows, the planchette on the Ouija board seemed to move on its own. I could hear its little plastic feet scratching across the board. Then I bolted up the stairs.

At the top there was an open doorway, and beyond, the night sky. I could see the stars and a fat, droopy three-quarter moon. The beams of my friend's flashlights were bobbing up and down, searching. As I passed through the door my shoulder brushed across a natty tangle of dusty old spider webs, sticking to my shirt.

Eddie, Kristin and Curtis were gathered together in a half-circle, pointing their flashlights at something on the floor. At first I couldn't tell what it was, but then I got closer and I knew— it was the Spider Lady. She was flat on her back, her arms and legs sticking straight up in the air.

"She's dead," said Kristin.

The Spider Lady's eyes were missing, leaving only black, empty sockets. Her face was grey, haggard and stretched, like old paper-mâché. Her clawed hands and feet were bent at funny angles, back down toward her body. Her lips were slightly parted, revealing dirty, pointed teeth.

Underneath her tattered cloak, you could sense that her body was wrong. There were lumps that were most likely extra limbs, at least two or three. I remembered the hairy, black legs I saw that night in the cemetery and shuddered.

She really was dead.

"That's messed up," said Eddie.

We stared at her body in silence.

"Now what?" asked Curtis, to no one in particular.

Kristin bent down over the Spider Lady and moved as if to touch her.

"Don't do that," said Eddie.

Kristin slowly reached her hand out, curious fingers coming closer.

"Yo, Kristin!" said Curtis.

And then she touched the Spider Lady, on her breast-bone, and the old creature's body suddenly exploded, sending papery tatters and dust everywhere. We shouted, Kristin screamed, and from out of the body's empty husk came hundreds of tiny spiders, scurrying everywhere, and crawling all over our bodies.

Everyone panicked, trying to brush the spiders off as quickly as possible. I noticed that Kristin was covered with the grayish-white remains of the Spider Lady; the dust was on her clothes, her face and hair. She was still screaming.

Eddie and Curtis were cursing, jumping up and down, stepping on spiders everywhere. I was on the floor, curled into a ball, my head—my head suddenly feeling a lot better. I opened my eyes and the red haze was gone. I was okay now. Everything was going to be okay.

Then Curtis shouted in pain and collapsed, grabbing his ankle.

"They bit me!" he said. "One of them bit me!"

The spiders were gone, over the edge of the roof and down the stairwell, vanishing almost as fast as they had appeared. Eddie was running his hands through his hair, brushing his arms, stomping up and down. Curtis was holding his ankle and wincing, small tears squeezed from his eyes.

"Oh, man" he said. "It really hurts!"

I took a look at the spider bite. It was right above his ankle, already a golf-ball-sized lump with two angry red dots in the center. The bite marks looked inflamed, white and red, with small drops of blood oozing out of them. And it was still swelling up.

"Oh my God," said Kristin. "This...this stuff is in my mouth!"

I heard her gag and turned to see her throw up. She doubled over and sobbed, retching and wailing.

"Eddie!" I said. "You all right?"

He nodded.

"We need to get out of here," I said.

He nodded again and went to help Kristin. I got Curtis to stand, but already I could tell something was wrong with him. His body jerked and his eyes were rolling back into his head.

"Curtis!" I said. "Hang on!"

Eddie and I dragged our friends down the stairs as fast as we could. I kept a lookout for more spiders, but they seemed to be gone. The flashlight in my hand bobbed up and down as we struggled down into the tower and out the door.

Curtis made weird choking sounds. His head suddenly dropped and lolled to the side.

"Curtis!" I said.

He moaned.

We ran through the woods, and I could feel the stone tower trying to pull us back, suck us up into its terrible darkness like a black hole, and then we were back to the running trail and back to Eddie's car, parked just outside the school grounds. We quickly got inside and slammed the doors.

Curtis wouldn't stop shaking. The bite mark on his leg had swelled up to the size of a tennis ball, and there was blood running from the puncture wounds in little rivers down his ankle.

"Ch-Charlie," said Curtis. "Help me!"

"Do something!" said Kristin.

I put my fingers on the swollen lump and squeezed, hoping maybe some of the spider venom would come out. Curtis's eyes went wide and he howled. Blood and foam came shooting out of his mouth, his arms went rigid, and he slumped over, his head hitting the back of Kristin's seat.

"Oh my God!" said Kristin.

"Is he dead?" asked Eddie.

Suddenly the skin on Curtis's head and face began to bubble. Huge, pulsating bubbles that stretched and distorted his features horribly. Curtis began to wail.

"Wha—what's happening to me?" said Curtis.

"Dude, get him out of my car!" said Eddie.

He was already out and opening the passenger door.

The hideous bubbles on Curtis's face were starting to split with a sickening, popping sound. And emerging from each bubble was a shiny, pulsating eyeball.

He was covered with them.

"Aaaaaahhhggggod it burnssss, Charlie! It burns!" screamed Curtis.

The eyeballs wiggled hideously in every direction.

Eddie yanked Curtis out of the car by his shirt collar and Curtis went tumbling onto the pavement.

"Hhaa–haaaa–help! Hhhelp me, Ch-Charlie!!!" he said

Kristin was screaming.

I looked at Curtis, shaking uncontrollably, his teeth turning into fangs, his bones snapping and breaking, limbs growing in unnatural directions—his whole body mutating right before my eyes, and felt a wave of horror wash over me.

"Charlie, look out!" said Eddie.

Curtis shambled toward me, wailing and grasping, all those eyes jiggling and oozing.

Then I saw the gun, sticking up out of his waistband.

I grabbed it and pointed the gun at Curtis's head.

"Get away from me, Curtis!" I said.

"Ch-Charrrrleeee..." he gurgled.

Foam dribbled from his mouth as he reached out to touch me with long, sharp fingers.

So I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger.

There was an explosion in my ears. Kristin screamed again.

When I opened my eyes, Curtis was on the ground, arms and legs splayed at funny angles, the back of his head completely blown off. A large pool of blood was forming around his body.

"Oh my God!" said Kristin.

"Curtis?" said Eddie. He touched the body with the toe of his sneaker.

"Oh, God..."

Curtis didn't move.

"I think he's dead," said Eddie.

Kristin broke out in sobs. Eddie and I stood in silence for a moment, looking down.

"I...I don't think that was an ordinary spider that bit him," I said.

"No duh," said Eddie.

"How could you?" said Kristin.

"What? I—I thought—did you see what he was turning into? With the eyes and the teeth?"

"You didn't have to shoot him," said Kristin.

"You bet your ass we had to shoot him," said Eddie. "He was going to turn into a monster and eat us!"

"Well, he doesn't look like a monster now!" she said.

Kristin was right. Somehow, while we were arguing, Curtis had transformed back into his regular self. His regular _dead_ self.

"Oh, man...all those freaky spider eyes are gone," said Eddie.

And they were, leaving behind only a few dark, red sores that bubbled and oozed.

"He was our friend," said Kristin.

"Yeah, but...that wasn't Curtis," said Eddie. "Not at the end."

I stood there listening to them argue and I felt sick to my stomach.

Oh, man.

"He was asking for help, Charlie," said Kristin.

"Could you just shut up for a second?" I said. "I'm thinking."

Kristin gave me a hurt look and then she turned away.

There was no way we could have helped him. I grabbed onto that thought and wouldn't let go. He was turning into a monster. Beyond hope. I had to shoot him. It was...it was like a mercy killing.

Almost.

Right?

Eddie suddenly threw up.

"I'm okay," he said, wiping his mouth. "It's cool."

"Now what?" asked Kristin.

"I don't know," I said.

"I think we need to call the police," said Kristin.

I flinched.

"No," said Eddie. "No way. We can't do that. First of all, the cops will figure out pretty fast that we've been smoking dope, and after that they won't believe a word we tell them no matter what. Even if it is the truth. We'll all get busted and sent upstate to Hillbrook."

"I'm not high," I said.

"Yeah," said Eddie. "But everybody thinks you're crazy."

I couldn't argue with that.

In fact, at the moment I felt pretty bughouse crazy, all right.

This was all my fault.

No, wait...it was _hers_.

She made me do it. I couldn't help myself.

Right?

"So what are we supposed to do?" asked Kristin.

I shrugged. There was blood spattered on my arms and my shirt and my jeans. My right hand felt numb, but there were tingling pains in my arm.

"Eddie?" she said.

"Gimme a second!"

Kristin tried to wipe her tears off on the sleeve of her shirt, but they mixed with the grey-white ashes of the Spider Lady and smeared all over her face. It made her look even stranger and more grotesque, like some kind of vampire.

Curtis's eyes were still open, and I figured I should close them but I didn't. I didn't want to touch him again.

"Let's bury the body," said Eddie.

"Do you have a shovel?" I asked.

"No," said Eddie. "We could cover him up with rocks and sticks and leaves."

"What about his grandmother?" asked Kristin.

"Somebody will find the body," I said, ignoring her question. "A jogger with a dog, or some kid from our school. Then we're dead meat."

"We can't just make him disappear," said Kristin.

Then I got a wonderful, terrible idea. Or so I thought at the time.

"We make it look like he killed himself." I said. "With this."

I held out the gun.

"Are you freaking insane?!" asked Kristin. "You can't do that!"

"No, no, he's right," said Eddie. "It's a good idea."

"It's sick!" said Kristin.

"We'll carry him out into the woods, someplace far away, and set the stage," I said.

"No way," said Kristin. "How could you do this to Curtis? He was our friend!"

I didn't know what to say to that. Eddie looked away.

"Let's just do this," I finally said.

"Not me," said Kristin.

"Fine," I said. "Come on, Eddie."

Kristin shot Eddie a look, but he just shrugged.

"This is for the best," I told her.

She looked at me then looked away, pulling a crumpled tissue from her pocket and wiping the ash from her face.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just—I can't——I can't do this. I can't be a part of this."

She put the tissue in the pocket of her sweatshirt and began to walk away.

'Whoa, whoa," said Eddie. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going home, Eddie."

"Wait a second, wait up."

Kristin kept walking, faster now, and Eddie ran to catch up to her. He took her by the wrist and she pulled her hand away. Then Eddie moved very close to her and spoke in a low voice he thought couldn't hear.

"You want to go to jail? Huh? You want Charlie to go back to the nuthouse?"

"Maybe he _should_ go back," she said.

"Look, you don't want me to go to jail, do you? You don't want to ruin my life, right? I know you don't. Right, baby?"

I watched as he gently lifted his hand and touched her face. She didn't pull back this time, so I turned away, and tried not to look at Curtis sprawled out dead on the ground.

Was he really asking for help?

No, don't go there. Not now.

Eddie came back after a few moments.

"Let's go," he said.

I turned and saw Kristin sitting on the ground, staring into the woods and ignoring us.

We struggled to lift Curtis's body. It was heavy, and we lost our grip and dropped him to the pavement. Eddie cursed.

"This is going to suck," he said.

"Wait a sec," I told him.

I pulled Curtis's knapsack out of the car and rifled through it. I found an Algebra test graded a D, then I found a Bic pen and scribbled a drawing of a spider on the back of it. I folded the paper up and stuck it in Curtis's pocket.

"What's that?" asked Eddie.

"Suicide note," I said.

"No, I mean the spider," said Eddie.

"I don't know," I said. "Just a doodle."

Eddie looked at me funny, then grabbed Curtis under the arms, and I grabbed him by the ankles. It was a long walk back down the running trail, then off into the woods, twigs breaking under every step.

We walked in silence for awhile, my brain refusing to process everything that happened, just focusing on putting one step in front of the other and not dropping the body.

"You know," said Eddie. "I used to think you were a real spaz, but you're all right."

I nodded and grunted.

"Do you...do you think all that stuff at the tower was magic?" he asked. "Real magic?"

"Of course it was real," I said.

We walked in silence again for a little while longer.

"It's black magic," he finally said. He sounded like a little kid.

"I saw a real witch once," he continued. "Her name was Mama Juju and she had this little store down the block from my dad's music shop. She would tell fortunes and sell voodoo stuff. There was something really creepy about her, you know? Like she could see into your brain, see what you were thinking. And she smelled. I didn't like her. Anyway, one night my cousin and I snuck out and threw a bunch of rocks at her store and broke all the windows. Smashed them up really good. Here's the weird part, right? The next day, I'm working in my dad's store, moving some equipment around, when I grab this microphone and get electrocuted. And I can't let go. My hand is frozen. I can feel my body trembling and everything burns, like my skin is burning and my bones are burning, my tongue, everything is on fire. I thought I was going to die, man. But my dad found me just in time. I had to go to the Emergency Room. There were third-degree burns all over my hands and fingers. My fingers were black. And you know what? Later my dad told me that microphone wasn't even plugged in."

"That's freaky," I said. "What happened to your cousin?"

"He went out riding his bike the next day and got hit by a truck."

We walked again in silence for a few minutes.

"Right here is good," I told him.

We put Curtis on the ground.

I stared at him, dead on the ground, and could feel myself about to cry. But I held it in. I wasn't going to cry in front of Eddie.

I bent down to put the gun in Curtis's hand.

"Fingerprints," said Eddie.

"Thanks," I said, and did my best to wipe off the gun. I ripped off a piece of my T-shirt and used it to put Curtis's fingers around the grip, his pointer finger on the trigger.

"I'm really sorry, Curtis," I said.

He stared up at me with dead eyes.

My best friend.

I guess.

Some friend I turned out to be.

"Shouldn't we say something?" asked Eddie.

"What?"

"I don't know. Funeral stuff."

"Okay, I guess."

Eddie bowed his head.

"Lord...uh...here's Curtis. He was a good guy."

"A good guy," I said.

"Please, uh...forgive him his sins, and let him go to Heaven."

Eddie paused after that, unsure of what to say next.

"Amen," I said.

We walked back to the car quickly.

"This is some bad stuff, man," said Eddie as we hurried through the woods.

When we got back, Kristin was freaking out inside the car. Eddie tried the passenger door but it was locked. All the car doors were locked.

"Open up!" he said.

"Spiders!" said Kristin.

Her eyes were wide, her body shaking.

"Where?" said Eddie, looking around.

I looked, too, but I didn't see any spiders.

"Kristin, there's no spiders, baby. Unlock the door. Okay? Unlock the car door."

Then Eddie was inside the car, comforting her. I climbed into the backseat.

"It's okay," Eddie said to her. "There's no spiders."

She cried a bit, and put her head on his chest. At that moment, part of me wished that I had shot Eddie out there in the woods, too. It felt like a dirty thought and I pushed it out of my mind.

"What's our story?" I asked.

Eddie and Kristin looked at me.

"Our _alibi_ ," I said.

"We hung out," said Eddie. "Then we dropped Curtis off at home. Say at one o'clock. And that's the last we ever saw of him. You got that?"

"I got it," I said.

"You got that, Kristin?" he said.

"I just want to go home," she said.

"I asked you if you got that?"

"Yes," she said.

"Let's get the hell out of here," said Eddie.

He turned on his car and the radio blasted. It was that old Pearl Jam song, the one where the guy screams he's still alive, still alive, alive.

"Turn that off," I said.

Eddie turned off the radio.

We pulled out and drove away.

"Hey, Kristin," said Eddie. "We left your Ouija board back there."

"Forget it," she said.

Chapter 4

Eddie and Kristin dropped me off at my house. It was almost three in the morning. I opened the door as quietly as I could, then slipped inside. It was only dark for a moment before Aunt Rose turned on the lights. She was wearing her robe, sleepy-eyed, with a look on her face that was both angry and worried.

"Mind telling me where you've been?" she asked.

Then she saw the blood spattered on my clothes.

"What happened?"

"Eddie was on his skateboard," I said, thinking quickly. "He was fooling around and he went down some steps and cut his head."

"Is he okay?"

"Oh, yeah, but he got some blood on me, too."

Aunt Rose looked me over.

"I don't remember Eddie having a skateboard," she said.

"Well, he does," I replied, trying to sound like I wasn't lying.

"Did you take Eddie to the hospital?"

"Kristin's taking him," I said.

"I would appreciate a phone call," she said.

"I know."

"You were out a long time."

"I guess."

"I can't stay up half the night worrying about you."

"Okay," I said.

"That boy Eddie is nothing but trouble. And you know how I feel about that Kristin, too,"

"Yeah, I know," I said, already tired of the conversation.

Aunt Rose folded her arms and gave me a hard look.

"Dean Carter called today. He told me you've been cutting class again and that your grades are slipping. He said you might even fail Trigonometry this semester. What do you have to say about that?"

I looked down and shrugged.

"I'm doing pretty good in Art," I said.

"Art? Do you know what Art gets you? A job at Burger King!"

The blood on my arms was starting to dry. It felt pasty and weird and I shivered.

"Charlie, do you remember we talked about this? If you're feeling too much stress, too much pressure, arrangements can be made. The Dean knows all about your history. You could be moved to a special class."

"I'll—I'll do better," I said. "I promise. Can I go now? There's all this blood on me."

She nodded curtly and I bolted upstairs to the bathroom. I sent Eddie a text message so he could back up my story if Aunt Rose ever asked. Then I threw off my jeans and my shirt and turned on the shower. I checked my boots for blood, checked them real close, but I didn't find any so that was a relief.

The hot water couldn't calm my nerves. My thoughts were a jangled, jumbled mess. She made me lead my friends to the tower. She hypnotized me.

Fresh blood, fresh blood.

For what?

Curtis was dead. She was dead. It didn't make any sense.

We should have left the Spider Lady's body alone. Kristin got that grey ash stuff all over her, she said it was even in her mouth, so that can't be good. And where did all those poisonous little spiders go?

Then I realized that faking Curtis's suicide was actually a really stupid thing to do, but it was too late now, and if I confessed I'd probably go to jail. So it would be my secret, our secret, me, Eddie and Kristin.

I went to bed, and pulled the covers up to my nose. Tears started rolling out of my eyes.

I killed my best friend.

But I had to.

Right?

That night I dreamed I was in Kristin's house, in the hallway upstairs, standing outside her bedroom door. Her house was dark, but there was a faint green light coming from under her door. And there were sounds, too, Kristin moaning and talking softly, saying words I couldn't hear.

I turned the knob, but the door was locked.

I knocked lightly, because I didn't want to wake up her parents.

"Kristin?" I whispered.

I put my ear to the door and listened.

"Please," she said and that was all.

A moment later I felt something crawling up my leg and looked down to see spiders pouring out from under the door, skittering up the wall and down the hall. I grabbed one and held it by the legs between my fingers.

It was black and furry, with little white marks on its back that sort of looked like a face. And then the spider bit me on the thumb.

And I woke up.

Kristin wasn't in school the next day. Eddie came up to me after third period and asked if I had seen her. I said no.

"She call you?" he asked.

"Nah, you?"

He shook his head, no.

"Think she's all right?" I asked.

"I don't know. She was pretty freaked out last night."

I nodded. Eddie looked down for a moment.

"So, uh, maybe I'll try to call her again later," he said.

"Okay."

Nobody noticed that Curtis wasn't in school. Just me. I had to look at his empty desk in Spanish class, and later in Social Studies as well. Nobody suspected he was out there in the woods, dead as can be, and if they did know they probably wouldn't care. Well, that wasn't totally true. It would be an exciting story for awhile, and then everybody would forget.

The Dean came and found me in the cafeteria.

"Mr. Berger, a word in my office, please," he said.

We didn't speak during our little stroll. Dean Carter talked to a few teachers as we passed, told a few kids to quit fooling around and get to class.

We reached his office and he told me to sit down.

"Have you seen Curtis Johnson today?" he asked.

"No."

"His grandmother said he didn't come home last night. Were you with him last night?"

"For awhile. But we dropped him off at his house around one."

"Who's 'we'?" he asked.

"Me and Eddie and Kristin."

"Uh-huh," he said and seemed to chew that over.

"His grandmother's really worried," said the Dean. "You sure you haven't seen him?"

I shook my head, no

"Curtis shows his face around here, you tell him to give her a call, understand?"

I shook my head, yes. And then he let me go.

I bumped into Eddie later, and he told me he talked to Kristin but only for a little bit and that she didn't sound too good. I asked him if he was going to go to her house after school and he said no, he had to go help at his dad's store.

So I skipped eighth period and walked to Kristin's house. I debated calling her first, but I thought maybe she'd like to be surprised. Also, I was afraid she'd tell me not to come, and I really wanted to see how she was doing. I looked around for a flower store, but then I thought flowers might be kind of weird so I picked up a bag of her favorite cookies, Pepperidge Farm Chocolate Raspberry Milanos.

Her parent's cars weren't in the driveway, so that was a good sign. I rang the doorbell a few times, but no one answered, so I went around back and unlocked the gate. I could see through the porch window that Kristin was on the sofa, a blanket pulled over her. Maybe sleeping. Maybe watching television.

I knocked on the window real loud until she got up. She shuffled over and looked at me, a frown forming on her lips.

"Hey," I said. Then I held up the cookies.

She unlocked the back door and let me in. The inside of her house was real dark. All the window shades were down, the lights off. She was wearing sweat pants and a baggy T-shirt. Her hair was all messed up, frazzled black and pink strands going every which way.

I opened up the bag of cookies and handed her one. She waved it off, turned and skulked back into the living room.

"How you feeling?" I asked.

She sat down on the sofa and looked like she was about to cry.

"I had some really weird dreams last night, Charlie," she said.

"Me too."

"You were in them," she said.

"What was I doing?" I asked.

She didn't say anything. I thought about telling her my dream, but realized it might be a bit too creepy.

"Promise you won't get angry?" she asked.

"Okay," I said.

"In my dream you were holding me down on the floor. You were on top of me, grabbing my wrists. Pushing them down. Hard. And then...one of those spiders from last night that...that popped out of that... _thing_...crawled across my body, up the side of my face and jumped into my mouth."

"Ugh," I said.

"I could feel its hairy little feet walking over my tongue, down into my throat. I wanted to throw up but you put your hands over my mouth and made me swallow it."

"I'm sorry," I said. It seemed like the right thing to say.

"A lot of other weird things happened, too," she said. "There was a group of lions, and a man in a spooky mask, like a...like a witch doctor or something."

Something moved around in my brain when she said that, but it was fuzzy and I couldn't get a handle on it. And besides, I had noticed Kristin wasn't wearing a bra. I tried to look away.

"You sure you don't want some of these cookies?" I asked.

She wrinkled her nose.

"Maybe some soup?" I said.

"Soup?"

I shrugged.

"Charlie," she said, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes. "What happened last night?"

"Which part?"

"Everything. It all seems so crazy, but it really happened, didn't it?"

"Yes," I said.

"Poor Curtis," she said, her eyes welling up with tears.

Seeing her about to cry got my own eyes all watery, so I turned away and stared down at the floor. But the floor was an ocean and I was sinking fast.

I sat there wondering if I should tell her it was all my fault, wondering if she would believe me, if she would believe I was hypnotized, when she poked me with her bare foot.

"Do you think the Spider Lady's really dead?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "We saw her body fall apart. There's nothing left."

"What about her ghost?" she asked.

I had no answer for that.

"She's a witch, right?" she asked.

I nodded.

"So maybe she's not really dead. Maybe her spirit is out there, somewhere."

"It's possible," I said.

"And what about all those little spiders?" she asked. "Are they, like, her babies?"

"Maybe," I finally said.

"There must be a thousand of them out there now," she said.

"I guess."

"That can't be good, right?"

"Probably not."

"She told us to go to the roof. With the Ouija board. She wanted us to find her up there."

"I don't know about that," I said.

"The Spider Lady wanted us to die up there," she said. "She wanted her little spider babies to kill us and eat us."

Is that why she had me bring my friends to the tower? To be food for her spider babies?

"Fresh blood," I said.

"What?"

I shook my head.

"Kristin, I...this is...all of this is..."

I felt my eyes tearing up and quickly looked down at the floor.

I couldn't tell her. She would hate me. Hate me forever. And then I'd be all alone...

"Charlie?"

"Never mind," I said. "Forget it."

She looked at me and I turned away.

"I mean...the important thing is...nobody else got bit, so I guess we're okay," I said.

"Do _you_ feel okay?"

I didn't say anything.

"Hand over those cookies," she said.

I gave her the bag and she tore it open. We each took a handful of Milanos.

"These cookies are really girly," I said, half-smiling.

"They're sophisticated," she said, resting her head nonchalantly on my shoulder. "You're just threatened by any cookie that doesn't have a picture of an animal on it."

She looked up at me and grinned. I put my arm around her and felt her hair brushing the skin on my neck, my chin. I did everything I could to resist kissing the top of her head.

We sat there for awhile, not talking, just eating cookies and watching the lights fade as the sun went down. The room grew dimmer and everything got sort of grey and hazy. I could hear Kristin breathing. I checked to see if she fell asleep, but her eyes were open.

"It took forever to get that stuff out of my hair," she finally said.

I turned my head and kissed her. Our lips touched, but her tongue tasted strange, like dirt, or worse, like fur, and it made me a little sick. Then she moved away.

"Stop," she said.

"Sorry," I said. "Sorry."

We looked at each other and she looked away. I stood up and fumbled with the zipper on my jacket.

"I should go," I said.

She didn't say anything.

"See you tomorrow, in school?" I asked.

She shrugged.

"Okay, then," I said. "Bye."

It was a long walk home.

Aunt Rose had picked up some fried chicken, but I wasn't really hungry. We ate together and she asked me the usual stupid questions about my day. I wanted to ask her if she had washed the bloody clothes, but I didn't want to seem too worried about them either, so I kept my mouth shut.

She was talking about some boring thing or another when the phone rang. Aunt Rose got up and answered it.

"Oh, hello Mrs. Carter. No, I haven't seen Curtis. I'm sorry to hear that. Yes, just a moment, hold on..."

Aunt Rose handed me the phone. My stomach clenched.

"Hello, Mrs. Carter," I said.

"Charlie," she said, in her old lady, Southern drawl. "Have you seen Curtis around?"

"We hung out last night," I said. "But we dropped him off at home around one."

"Well, he wasn't here this morning, and they told me he wasn't in school today. He's not answering his cell phone and so I thought maybe he was at your house."

"Sorry, Mrs. Carter," I said. "I haven't seen him all day."

"Now, Charlie, you tell me the truth," she said. "Is Curtis in some kind of trouble?"

"I don't think so."

"He took my gun, Charlie," she said.

"Gun?"

"Don't act so surprised," she said. "I know you two were fooling with it."

"He showed it to me a few times," I said.

"Uh-huh," she said. "Look, you see that boy, you tell him to get himself home in a hurry, understand?"

"Yes," I said.

"You sure he's not in trouble?" she asked, a little more worry in her voice.

"I really don't know," I said.

"Lord, the things that boy puts me through," she said.

I didn't know what to say to that.

"Goodnight, Charlie," she said.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Carter."

I hung up the phone and turned to face Aunt Rose.

"What was all that about?" she asked.

"Curtis didn't come home last night," I said.

I wanted to stop talking about Curtis already.

"What's this I heard about a gun?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," I said. "She had one and Curtis took it."

"Why would he do that?"

I looked down, unable to meet her eyes.

"He's probably just screwing around," I said. "Curtis is a really weird guy."

"Mrs. Carter should call the police," said Aunt Rose.

"I think she already did," I said.

"I feel just terrible for his grandmother," said Aunt Rose. "Can you imagine how worried she must be?"

I nodded, yes.

"Do you know where he is?" she said.

"No."

She looked at me and cocked her head to the side.

"I don't. Really. I mean, I'm worried, too."

"That poor woman," she said.

That night I burned the blood-spattered clothes in the fireplace, after Aunt Rose had gone to bed. As I watched the flames I thought about how it might all go down. The police would be called eventually. Mrs. Carter would file a missing-persons report. How long would it take them to find the body? How long until I got busted, somehow, either through my own stupidity or some microscopic clue I had overlooked?

Then I thought about what Kristin had said earlier, about the Spider Lady's spirit still being out there in the woods. Maybe her spider babies ate Curtis and he would never be found. Or maybe her spirit swallowed his soul. I imagined her ghostly form, mouth open wide, shoving Curtis's spirit down between her pointed teeth and I shuddered.

When the fire had gone out, I scooped up the ashes in a dustpan and flushed them down the toilet. The black ashes swirled around and around, and I couldn't help but think of Kristin's tongue, that weird, funny taste that seemed even more unnatural the more I thought about it. I figured it must have been some faint trace of the grey ashes that got into her mouth when the Spider Lady exploded, and I brushed my teeth about twenty times.

The next day I decided to cut school altogether. There was going to be a test in English, and another in Chemistry that I hadn't bothered to study for, so it seemed better to just skip them. After the bus dropped me off, I wandered down to the running trail, and when I was sure nobody was looking, I slipped off into the woods.

It was a warm day, and the sun was bright. I walked for a long time, being careful to make as little noise as possible. I was going back to where we left Curtis. I wanted to clean the gun off again, really good this time. And I figured there were probably a bunch of other things I had forgotten about that I could deal with now that my head was clear.

The forest was quiet. I didn't hear any birds or squirrels. I came across a spider's spindly web in the crook of an old tree stump, but the spider wasn't home. After that, I made it a point to study the ground as I walked, in case I stumbled upon any more of those weird spiders from the other night. The Spider Lady's babies, as Kristin had called them.

Finally, I reached the spot where Eddie and I had dragged Curtis's body.

It was gone.

There was dried blood and brains on the ground where he was supposed to be.

I cursed. They had found him already. My mind trembled with fear, the fear of getting caught. I couldn't believe it had happened so fast. Did Eddie tell? Or Kristin?

Then I noticed the gun. It was lying on the ground nearby, bright and shiny, plain as day. I struggled to make sense of this. Who would take the body but not the gun? I looked around for other footprints, or signs that someone had dragged Curtis's body away. There were none.

Slowly I picked up the gun. It was cold and wet in my hand. I couldn't tell if it had been fired recently. Really, I had no idea what I was doing. With Curtis gone it seemed dumb to just leave the gun, so I put it in my waistband and tucked my shirt over it. It felt strange there, like a cold fish. So I put the gun in my knapsack instead.

I fought the urge to call Eddie or Kristin and totally freak out. Somebody must have removed the body. I could go home and just wait for the police to knock on my door.

No, not the police. There'd be cops everywhere right now. Lots of yellow tape.

Maybe the spiders did eat him, like Kristin said. But there were no bones, no scraps of clothing, no sneakers. Could the spiders eat those, too? Maybe if they were magic spiders.

Black magic. Bad stuff.

Maybe Curtis got up and walked away. I laughed nervously at that. He wouldn't get too far with a big hole in his head, right? Ha ha.

I looked around, thinking maybe he was hiding behind a tree, waiting to jump out and get me. Rip off my limbs and tear me apart.

"Curtis?" I said.

The forest was quiet.

The little hairs on my arms stood up.

Something was moving on the ground. Black, furry, the size of a squirrel, but not a squirrel. A spider. The white marks on its back. One leg after another, crawling, crawling...

I jumped back. It moved toward me, curious, threatening.

How did it get so big?

Then another spider was crawling towards me, and another, all of them large and purposeful. I could see their eyes, shiny red globes, focused on me. When the first spider got too close I stomped it into a green paste, and I could feel its body reluctantly squashing under my boot, like I was stepping on a tennis ball.

The other spiders came at me and I stomped them all to hell.

My boots were covered with spider guts. I scraped them on the ground, on a rock, dark green goo everywhere. I quickly untied the laces and pulled my boots off. I pulled off my socks, too, and threw them all away.

Then I sprinted back to the running trail.

My mind whirled. Where did Curtis go? Could he really get up and walk? It seemed impossible, but a lot of weird stuff had happened already.

Would Curtis go back to the stone tower and haunt it, like a ghost? Drag little kids there and devour them?

Or would he come over to my house and strangle me in my sleep?

Maybe he would just go home.

Maybe I'm really losing my mind.

I headed over to Central Ave and waited for the bus. The driver wouldn't let me on because of my bare feet and I had to walk back to my house.

Eddie called my cell a few times but I ignored him. I wondered if he knew about my kiss with Kristin. It occurred to me he could be driving around town, right now, looking to kick my butt. I cringed every time I heard a car behind me.

Finally I got up the nerve to call Kristin. Her voice mail picked up.

"Hey, it's me," I said. "So, uh, give me call. Bye."

When I got home I saw there were no cars parked in the driveway and breathed a little easier. Once I got inside, I unzipped my knapsack and pulled out the gun. It still felt cold, and heavy. I put the gun in a plastic zip-lock bag and put the bag inside the toilet tank in the upstairs bathroom. It would have to stay there until I thought of a better hiding place.

Then I went into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife I could find. I checked all the closets, starting with the one in my room and working my way systematically through the house.

They were empty.

So was the attic.

And the basement.

Then sun was setting and Aunt Rose was going to be home any minute.

I checked the garage, but Curtis wasn't hiding in there, either.

I called Kristin again.

"Hey, it's me," I said. "Lock all your doors and windows tonight, okay?"

She'd have to call me back after hearing that message.

Aunt Rose came home and we ate dinner and she said I looked a little sick, so I just nodded. Later I sat in front of the television, but not really watching, staring at the phone in my hand and willing it to ring, willing Kristin to call me back.

I fell asleep on the sofa.

No nightmares, just the usual dreams. I woke up feeling frustrated and tired.

Chapter 5

The next morning I saw Eddie and Kristin talking over by our lockers, but before I could reach them I heard the Dean call my name.

"Mr. Berger," he said. "Come to my office, please."

As he was leading me away I saw them look in my direction. They stared at me, but I couldn't read their expressions. I figured she must have told him about the kiss, and almost welcomed whatever nonsense the Dean had waiting for me.

Except that when I got to his office, Detective Powell was there to greet me.

"Hello, Charlie," he said, grinning. "Long time no see."

I mumbled something and sat down.

"Still drawing all those pictures of monsters?" asked the detective.

I shook my head, no.

"Can I ask you some questions about Curtis Johnson?" he said.

"Okay," I said.

"Have you seen him around lately?"

I shook my head, no.

"Any idea where he might be?"

"No," I said.

"He hasn't called you?"

I shook my head again, no.

"Would you say that he and his grandmother got along?"

"Sometimes," I said.

"Did they argue a lot?"

"I don't know," I said. "He would do something he wasn't supposed to do, and she would yell at him. She got mad at him because of his grades and stuff like that. She would yell, and he would yell and, you know."

The detective chewed on his pen.

"Any arguments between them recently?"

I shrugged.

The detective leaned toward me.

"This is serious business, Charlie. Curtis's grandmother is dead, and we think he's responsible."

My stomach knotted.

"She's dead?" I asked. "How?"

"I'm not going to go into details," said Detective Powell. "But it wasn't pretty."

"Charlie, if you're holding out on us," said the Dean. "Now's the time to talk."

I told Detective Powell everything I had already told the Dean. I added that Curtis's grandmother had called me last night, but left out the part about the gun.

"Are you sure it was Curtis?" I asked.

"A few things point to it being him," said the detective. "Bloody sneaker-prints, no forced entry, plus a neighbor saw someone matching his description hanging around the house earlier. Said he was behaving strangely, ran off when the neighbor called his name."

My guts churned as I imagined Zombie Curtis tearing his grandmother apart. I could hear her screaming, see Curtis's teeth on her throat.

"You okay, son?" asked the Dean. "You want to talk to the counselor?"

"No," I said.

"There's no shame in asking for help. We're all here to listen."

"Oh?" I said. "Nobody listened to me the last time."

The Dean looked at me and blinked. Detective Powell scratched his nose.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked the Dean.

"Last time I talked, you all thought I was crazy," I said.

"You were traumatized," said the Detective. "And you started to hallucinate."

"Maybe I wasn't. Maybe what I saw at the tower was real after all."

The Detective studied me. I figured I should shut up, but all I felt was a strange kind of anger.

"Are you on any medications right now, Charlie?" he asked.

"No."

"So your mental health is good?"

"Yes," I said.

The Detective chewed on his pen.

"I'm not crazy," I said. "And from what I read in the old newspapers, what happened to Jason Morgan's body was not a figment of my imagination, either."

"No," said the detective finally. "It wasn't."

"What happened to his body?" asked the Dean.

"It was completely drained of all its insides. All of his blood, his internal organs, bones. They were all gone. Even his brain was gone."

The Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Is there something else going on here, Charlie?" asked the Detective. He stared at me in silence and I realized I had to leave before I said something stupid, something that would incriminate me and my friends.

"No. Nothing else," I said, looking away. "Can I go now?"

The Dean nodded his head.

"Charlie," said Detective Powell. "Keep all this quiet for right now, understand?"

"Okay," I said.

"You see Curtis Johnson, you contact me right away. Until then—"

The Detective held his finger up to his lips. Shhhh.

I met Eddie and Kristin in the school parking lot after eighth period. We sat in Eddie's car with the radio on low and talked. They had been questioned, too.

"But you stuck to the story?" I asked.

"Yes, quit asking us already," said Eddie.

Kristin only nodded.

I looked at her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. It was hopeless. One good thing: she must not have told Eddie about the kiss, or things would be going a lot differently right now, and Eddie seemed focused on the problem at hand.

"How the hell is Curtis still alive?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said.

"It's the spider venom," said Kristin. "It turned him into a zombie."

We looked at her. It sounded insane, but it also sounded right.

"So why did he kill his grandma?" asked Eddie.

I shrugged. I was wondering why he didn't try to kill me instead.

"Maybe he didn't mean to," said Kristin. "Maybe he went home, and she found him and there was a...misunderstanding..."

"We've got to find him," I said. "We've got to kill him again. For good this time."

Eddie nodded. Kristin looked dubious, but didn't say anything.

"Where do you think he's hiding?" asked Eddie.

"Probably in somebody's garage, or maybe the woods," I said.

"He's hiding in the tower," said Kristin.

"Not that place again," said Eddie.

"How do you know?" I asked her.

She shrugged.

"It seems obvious, doesn't it?"

"I'm not going back there," said Eddie. "No way."

The fear in his voice surprised me.

"Maybe we don't have to go inside the tower," I said. "Maybe we can lure him out somehow."

"Okay," said Eddie. "Let's do that then."

We swung by my house and I picked up the gun. Then we stopped at Eddie's and he picked up a hatchet and a hacksaw. It seemed like a good idea to dismember the corpse this time, and get rid of the pieces separately.

We killed some time at the IHOP, waiting for it to get dark outside. I doodled pictures of guns and spiders on a napkin while Eddie tucked into a big stack of pancakes with a chocolate smiley face on them. Kristin sat with her hands in her lap, staring out the window. An untouched vanilla milkshake slowly melted on the counter before her.

"Any more weird dreams?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

But that was it.

We waited until it got late, then headed back into the forest to the stone tower. We didn't talk much, mumbling a few words here and there, gathering our courage in silence. The moon was out now, fat and full, giving the trees an eerie white glow. Our footsteps made crunching sounds and we shuffled through the undergrowth. I figured Zombie Curtis could probably hear us coming a mile away.

I felt the tower before I saw it. Like electricity. My tongue tingled and it felt like there was sand in my mouth. The tower loomed there, in darkness, and the moonlight wouldn't touch it. I felt like I was being crushed.

The chain-link fence surrounding the tower was covered with spider webs. They looked like thick, white blankets, so dense you couldn't make out the strands. And crawling across the webs were dozens of hideously large spiders, their eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Look at the size of those things!" said Eddie.

"Look at their backs," said Kristin.

We could see now that the white markings on the spider's backs clearly resembled the Spider Lady's evil, grinning face.

"Great!" said Eddie. "That's just great!"

As we watched the spiders going about their business, I noticed a peculiar smell in the air, a stench, really, like old meat left out in the sun.

"What the hell is that?" asked Eddie, covering his nose with his arm.

"It's Curtis," I said. "Decomposing."

The hole in the fence was still there. On the ground I saw bloody footprints, leading up to the hole and through it. The blood was drying, thick, sticky.

I thought about Curtis's grandmother again. This was her blood. I shivered.

Kristin remained strangely calm. She approached the hole in the fence, and it seemed to me as if the spiders moved away to let her through.

"Kristin," said Eddie "Wait."

And then she was gone.

Eddie turned and looked at me. I could see he was afraid and it was freaking me out. Eddie was supposed to be the tough guy. If he couldn't hack it, how could any of us?

"Maybe I should hold the gun," said Eddie.

I looked at him for a moment and then shook my head, no.

"Let's just go" I said.

We marched through the hole in the fence, and I could hear the spiders making strange, wet sounds, like a dog begging for a bone.

Kristin was standing there on the other side, looking at the door. It was open, but there was only darkness inside. Eddie came up and reached for her hand. She pulled it away. We could see the bloody footprints go straight inside the tower.

We stood there for a few moments. Then I pulled out the gun.

"Curtis!" I said. "Come out. It's me. Charlie!"

The air was still. All was quiet. I held my breath.

A bloodless hand appeared from inside the tower, gripping the doorway. Then a figure shambled out into the moonlight, our friend, Curtis. He turned to face us and I nearly lost it.

Kristin gasped.

"Aw, no!" said Eddie.

The top of Curtis's head was missing. In its place, where his brain should have been, sat a bloated spider, its many eyes peeking at us from over the top of Curtis's forehead.

"Shoot him, man!" said Eddie. "Shoot him!"

Curtis took a step toward us. The spider—what the hell was it doing there? It resembled some kind of hellish pilot, driving Curtis around like a big machine.

Curtis came closer to us, his arms raising.

"Charlie, come on!" said Eddie.

I pointed the gun at Curtis's chest and fired.

Nothing happened.

I think I screamed.

Then Curtis was on me, his leathery, ice cold hands around my neck, squeezing the life out of me.

I grabbed his wrists but I couldn't break free. Stars began to explode at the edge of my vision. The two of us fell down, Curtis still on top, crushing my throat.

Kristin was screaming, the fat spider's dumb eyes glinting, and then Eddie swung his hatchet down on Curtis's head and the spider burst like a fat pumpkin, green goo flying everywhere.

I peeled his hands off my neck and scrambled away. Curtis's body slumped to the ground, and the dead spider rolled out of his head.

"Chop up the body," I said. "Hurry."

Eddie looked at Curtis's body, not moving.

I looked at the gun. It was jammed. I had no idea how to fix it.

"Eddie, chop it up already," I said.

Eddie and Kristin were watching another spider make its way over to Curtis's body. It was big, about the size of a softball, and it climbed inside Curtis's skull and hunkered down. A few seconds later, Curtis sat up.

We all backed away. Curtis stood up, clumsily, and approached us. Eddie swung his hatchet back and forth, but the thing kept coming toward us. My gun was jammed, I had no other weapons. I was useless.

"Die, you freak!" said Eddie.

He buried the hatchet in Curtis's shoulder, but couldn't pull it free. Curtis yanked the hatchet out and threw it away. He was almost upon us, hands raised, dead eyes staring at nothing, lips parting to reveal blood-stained teeth...

"Curtis, please!" said Kristin. "Stop!"

Curtis stopped.

And stood there. Waiting.

We all looked at each other, surprised.

"Move back," said Kristin.

And Curtis moved back.

"How are you doing that?" I asked.

"I don't know," said Kristin.

"Tell him to hold still," said Eddie.

Eddie approached Curtis with his hatchet raised.

"No," said Kristin.

Eddie turned to her, a puzzled look on his face.

"We can't do this," said Kristin.

"What are you talking about?" said Eddie.

"We can't chop up our friend," she said.

"That's not Curtis anymore," I said.

"Look around you," she said. "All of this is some kind of magic spell. The Spider Lady was a witch right? Curtis, the giant spiders, everything, this is all her doing. We need to figure out a way to break her spell. That's the only way that Curtis can really die in peace."

Eddie and I looked at her. Curtis didn't speak, but swayed slightly, like a tree in the wind.

"Are you crazy?" said Eddie. "We gotta chop him up. Set the spiders on fire, burn the whole freaking place down."

"That won't break her spell," said Kristin.

"How do you know all this?" I asked her.

She looked away.

"Are you going to help me, or not?" she said.

I had to admit, what Kristin said made sense. But it bothered me that she didn't answer my question.

"Please, Charlie."

Then she stole a glance at me, and my need to know disappeared.

"What do we have to do?"

"Go inside," she said.

"You can't be serious," said Eddie.

"Are you coming?"

Eddie hesitated. I could see the struggle on his face. Kristin watched him, too.

"Maybe you should stand guard out here," I said.

"With this thing?" asked Eddie, motioning to Curtis.

"He won't bite you," said Kristin. "Curtis, don't bite Eddie."

Curtis said nothing.

Eddie looked at Curtis, and then at me and Kristin.

"Hurry up," he said, and turned away from us.

Kristin walked to the door and stepped inside.

I followed her, each step harder to take then the last. My heart thumping in my chest.

"Hey, Charlie!" said Eddie.

I turned and he handed me the hatchet.

"Here, man," he said.

"You sure?" I asked, gesturing toward Curtis.

Eddie nodded. I turned back and went through the door and into the tower.

Inside it was pitch black. Kristin was using her lighter to see, its small circle of illumination barely able to hold back the darkness. I expected the place to be full of spiders, but it was empty.

Suddenly she grabbed my hand.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning in close. Her lips brushed against my ear.

I felt a jolt go through my body.

And then she let go and moved off into the darkness. She walked over to a pile of old, broken furniture, and began searching through it.

"What are we looking for?" I asked.

She ignored me and continued moving the broken furniture around.

"Here it is," she said at last.

It was a large trunk, dirty and dusty with rusted hinges. She tried to open the lid but it wouldn't budge.

"Charlie, use your hatchet," she said. "Hurry!"

I looked at her face in the dim light of her Zippo and something about it bothered me.

"How did you know this was here?" I asked.

She hesitated.

"I dreamed it," she said.

I shivered again.

"Maybe we should leave that trunk alone," I said.

"It's okay, Charlie," she said. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"What's in there?"

"Books," she said. "Magic books. We're going to use them to break the Spider Lady's spell. Now, smash open the lock, quickly."

It suddenly seemed like another really bad idea.

She reached out and took my hand again. Her fingers were warm.

"Go on," she said, the light glinting off her hazel eyes. "Break the lock."

I took a deep breath and brought the hatchet down with all my might on the rusted lock. It snapped in two with a loud clang. Then Kristin was on her knees, opening the lid.

Inside were all kinds of strange-looking books, bound in dark bindings with little symbols stamped on their covers in gold.

Kristin gingerly touched the cover of one of the books, and ran her trembling fingers over the twirling symbols. Then, just as quickly, she jerked her hand back and closed the lid.

"Help me carry this trunk out," she said.

"You dream anything else weird last night?"

She hesitated a moment.

"There was one other thing. I dreamed I was standing over Curtis's body, and...I didn't have my shoes on, I remember that. I was holding a handful of those spiders and whispering strange words to them...that's all. But...when I woke up this morning, there was..."

"What?"

"You're not going to believe me."

"What?"

"There was mud all over my feet."

I swallowed hard and she looked at the ground.

"I don't understand it," she said. "Unless, somehow, her ghost is messing with me."

"Or you're under her spell, too," I said.

Kristin shrugged, and we both fell silent.

"Better get going," she finally said.

We each grabbed a handle on the trunk and lifted. It was heavy, and when we picked it up you could hear the books shifting inside. We carried it slowly out the tower door and into the night. I was glad to set it down once we were outside.

"This guy won't listen to me," said Eddie, gesturing toward Curtis. "I've been telling him to do all kinds of stuff and he just stands there."

"Curtis," said Kristin, "help Charlie carry this trunk to Eddie's car."

Curtis lumbered over and picked up one end of the trunk. Quickly, I helped him lift it off the ground.

"How come he only listens to you?" asked Eddie.

Kristin shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Eddie.

"Let's just go," said Kristin.

We walked back to Eddie's car. Carrying the trunk slowed me and Curtis down; soon Eddie and Kristin were pretty far ahead and I couldn't hear what they were saying exactly, but I could tell they were arguing again.

Good.

I couldn't figure out why she liked him. Other than the obvious stuff. He kind of looked like Keifer Sutherland in that old vampire movie, and I knew girls liked that. Me, I looked like that chubby Hobbit from the _Lord of the Rings_.

And Curtis, he looked like hell.

His eyes were still lolling around in their sockets, his mouth slack, dried blood splattered all over his face, shirt, hands. And that weird spider riding in his skull, somehow controlling his body with dark magic.

"Curtis?" I asked. "Curtis, you still in there?"

He said nothing. I don't think he even heard me.

"I didn't know you were going to become a zombie, man. I'm really sorry. And, um, I was hypnotized, see? I was under the Spider Lady's control."

Curtis said nothing. The spider sitting in his brain stared at me with its many eyes.

When we reached the car, Eddie and Kristin were standing apart, her with her arms folded over her chest, him with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. The trunk of the car was popped open and Curtis and I placed the trunk we were carrying inside. It was too big, and the top wouldn't close.

Eddie didn't have anything to tie it down, but we decided to take our chances and drive it to Kristin's house anyway.

"Tell that thing to go back to the tower," said Eddie.

"No," said Kristin. "He's coming home with me."

"Are you freaking crazy?"

"We can't leave him all alone out there," said Kristin. "He's our friend."

"He's a zombie!" said Eddie.

"Curtis, get in the car," said Kristin.

"No, no freaking way," said Eddie.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked Kristin.

"No," she said. "But we can't leave him out here where he might kill somebody else."

"That thing is not riding in my car," said Eddie.

"Dude," I said.

"He stinks!" said Eddie.

"Kristin's right," I said. "We can't leave a killer zombie running around."

Eddie snorted.

"You would take her side," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I said.

"What do you think?" said Eddie.

I shot a quick glance at Kristin. She was looking away.

"The hell with you, man." said Eddie. "The hell with all of you."

He threw his cigarette on the ground, got into his car, and drove away.

"Hey!" said Kristin. "My books! Eddie!"

Eddie's car continued down the road, turned a corner, and was gone.

"Eddie!" said Kristin.

We stood there for a moment, probably both hoping to see Eddie's car coming back to pick us up, that all was forgiven. A few minutes passed. I could hear the crickets. Curtis swayed unsteadily, like he was drunk.

"I guess we're walking home," I said. "Kristin?"

She was wiping tears from her eyes, trying not to be too obvious about it.

"Guess so," she said, and sniffled. "Come on, Curtis."

The three of us shuffled off down the street. It wasn't a bad walk, and Kristin's house wasn't too far away. We walked in silence for awhile, and then I got up my courage to speak.

"Did you tell him?" I asked.

"No, Charlie," she said, sounding tired.

"Well, so, how does he...?"

"You make it kind of obvious," she said.

"Oh."

"In fact, you should probably just cool it. You know?"

"Okay," I said.

I wanted to die right there on the spot.

Then we heard a police car pull up behind us and tap its siren. Bwoop! And the red lights flashed. Kristin cursed. My heart thumped like crazy and my palms started sweating. Curtis looked over at me, and his eyes met mine, and I watched in horror as his mouth twisted into that old lop-sided grin of his.

The cruiser came up alongside us and the front passenger window rolled down with a whirring sound. I could barely make out the face of the policeman sitting inside.

"Bit late for a school night," said the policeman, almost bored.

"We're going home," I said, trying to sound casual.

"Uh-huh. What are you doing out here?"

"Nothing," I said.

"You got any beer? Pot?"

I shook my head, no.

"You out tagging?"

"No, sir," I said.

"What's the matter with your friend?" he asked, sounding more serious.

"Nothing," I said.

"He's sick," said Kristin, at the same time.

"Which is it?" the policeman asked.

We said nothing.

"I asked you a question," said the policeman.

"He's okay," I said.

I looked at Kristin. There was panic in her eyes.

"Put your hands out where I can see them," said the policeman.

Then he got out of his car with his flashlight and came around to us. He pointed the flashlight at Curtis's face.

"What the hell—" he said.

"Curtis, kill!" said Kristin.

Curtis fell upon the policeman immediately. The cop screamed as Curtis dragged him to the ground. I saw his fingers go into the policeman's neck and then I turned around.

"Don't look, Kristin," I said.

Then I heard the most awful sounds, wet, ripping sounds, and snapping, bones snapping like twigs, and an urgent, terrible gnawing, desperate and vile.

"Stop, Curtis, that's enough," said Kristin.

I chanced a glance. The policeman was on the pavement, a large pool of blood forming around him. The policeman's limbs were all bent. I looked away.

"What the hell did you do that for?" I asked.

"I'm sorry," said Kristin. "I didn't know what to do."

I looked at Curtis. His face was a blank, his eyes looking in two different directions.

"Curtis?" I said.

There was no reply.

"Curtis?" I asked again.

He stood there, swaying, blood dripping off his fingers.

"Oh, man," I said, gesturing toward the policeman. "This is bad. This is really bad."

"I said I was sorry!"

"We need to get out of here," I said. "Curtis, drag the body into the woods."

Curtis didn't move.

"Would you tell him to—"

"Please don't hate me," she said.

"What? No, I—I would never."

There was panic in her eyes. I put my hands on her shoulders and tried to sound calm.

"Look, we're going to figure this out. First thing we got to do is get rid of the body."

Kristin slowly nodded.

A moment later Curtis grabbed the policeman by his ankles and hauled him off the side of the road. I saw the policeman's blood-splattered head, barely attached to his neck, and I looked away.

"Did you see him...kind of smile, when he killed that guy?" I asked.

Kristin nodded.

"I told you," she said. "He's still in there."

I saw the lumbering shadow of my friend through the dark trees and I skin crawled.

Focus, man. Stay on target.

"They have video cameras in these things now," I said, pointing to the police car. "So this was probably all caught on tape."

"Maybe Curtis could drive the car into the reservoir," she said.

"Too risky," I said. "The cops are looking for him, remember? The last thing we want is some kind of zombie car chase."

"A zombie car chase sounds kind of awesome," said Kristin.

"Could you be serious for a moment here?"

"Okay, what?"

I walked over to the driver's side of the police car and looked inside. There was a computer, a CB radio, a notebook on the seat, a cup of coffee. I figured the camera was probably mounted in the dashboard, but I had no idea how to turn it off, or break it.

Then I got an idea. I opened the car door, reached down and popped the trunk. From out of the trunk I pulled a couple of flares.

"Stand back," I said.

I had never used a flare before, but it wasn't too hard to figure out. Once it was lit, I threw it down on the front passenger seat, which pretty much caught fire right away. Soon the whole inside of the car was burning, black smoke billowing out the windows.

Curtis had returned, and we watched the car burn for a few moments.

"Isn't it going to explode?" asked Kristin.

"Nah, not yet," I said. "But we should probably go."

We hurried out of there as fast as we could.

"Hey, Charlie," said Kristin, with a look of surprise on her face. "You have a real talent for mayhem, you know that?"

I sure did. And it felt pretty good.

Chapter 6

We walked to Kristin's house, wrapped up in our own thoughts. That pretty good feeling I had went away in a hurry. I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened, and soon I was shaking all over.

I was in big trouble.

Curtis was trapped inside a zombie, fighting for his soul.

Kristin was having really weird dreams.

Eddie just drove off with all the magic books that could help us.

And we killed a policeman. Sort of.

Kristin wasn't talking much either. Every once in awhile I caught her sniffling and wiping away another tear. She pulled her sleeves over her hands and walked with her head down. Soon we were standing outside her house, and she smiled weakly.

"What are you going to do with him?" I asked, gesturing toward Curtis.

"I'm going to hide him in my closet," she said.

"What about the smell?"

She thought for a moment.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll put an air-freshener around his neck."

"We need to get those books back from Eddie," I said.

"Let him go be a big baby," she said. "He'll come around tomorrow."

"You sure?"

She nodded.

We hugged, awkwardly, and then I shuffled home, exhausted and miserable. Aunt Rose wasn't waiting up for me this time, which was good, but I'd probably catch hell in the morning.

I lay in bed, feeling nervous and afraid. My brain struggled with ways to get the books back from Eddie, some way to make him see reason. He was just mad, that's all. Tomorrow I would go talk to him. And, hopefully, he wouldn't punch me in the face.

Maybe, I thought, I'd better bring the gun.

Just in case.

So I went on the internet and looked up how to clear a jammed gun. It turned out to be not that hard. And I still had a few bullets left. Not that I was going to need them.

Right?

And then I saw myself shooting Curtis again, Curtis begging for me to help him, the gun jerking in my hand, the little popping sound, all the blood. Oh, God, the blood. I never thought so much blood could come out of a human body.

My eyes were starting to tear up and I could feel my heart sinking. Quickly, I reached for my sketchbook and started to draw. Curtis riding a dinosaur. Curtis holding a battle-axe. Curtis with all those eyes bursting out of his skin, little blobs of flesh going everywhere.

I crossed that drawing out.

Then my pencil went back to the page and a familiar shape appeared. I didn't even really think about sketching her, I just did.

The woman with long, black hair and dark, sad eyes. My mother. I stared down at the drawing, the lines and shadows, the smudges and the scribbles; my hands were folded together, my thumbs pressed up against my lips.

It wasn't enough.

And so in a kind of trance I made my way up to the attic, strange shapes dancing in the swirling shadows cast by a single bare bulb, hanging from the ceiling. There was a silence up here, a solid and eerie sense of quiet that reminded me of the cemetery.

I knew right where to go. A box in the corner, hidden behind the old rug and the ancient suitcases. My hands trembled as I opened the dusty cardboard flaps, then reached inside for my secret, forbidden treasure.

It was our family photo album. From before what happened. When we were all still together. There were pictures of everybody. Me, when I was a baby. My mom and dad before I was born.

She always looked happy in the old pictures.

So why did she do it?

Did my dad's drinking problem grind her down? Was she really crazy, like everybody said?

Or was it me?

Was it something I did?

Oh, Mom...why did you have to leave?

I'm in big trouble here.

I could really use your help...

Some of her old clothes were in the box, dresses and things, all neatly folded, so I took them out one by one and I smelled them, hoping for something familiar, some scent I could recognize from better days. Her perfume, shampoo, whatever.

But all they didn't smell like anything at all.

They smelled like air.

As I folded up her clothes and carefully packed them back into the box, something fell out of one of her shirt pockets and made a strange noise when it hit the floor.

It was a little black bag.

About the size of my iPod.

I looked at it on the floor and for a moment I was afraid to pick it up.

It looked like a bug. A soft, velvet bug.

Slowly I reached down and picked up the bag by its drawstring. There was something inside, something that rattled and clicked.

My heart began to beat even faster as I opened the bag and poured its contents into the palm of my hand.

Nine little red beans.

A single white scallop shell.

A dirty, grey rabbit's foot.

A snake rattle.

And a tiny little skull, the size of a golf ball.

It had tiny little teeth. And tiny little eye sockets. It didn't look like an animal skull...

Quickly I shoved it all back into the black bag. I had a terrible urge to throw it away into some dark corner, but instead I shoved the bag in my pocket and finished cleaning up.

When I was done I crept back to my room and crawled under my covers, pulling them up over my head. I lay there in the dark, my body shaking.

Eventually I dozed off and dreamed I was back in Kristin's house, standing outside her bedroom once again. The house was dark, and the strange green light shone from underneath her bedroom door.

I tried the knob, and again the door was locked. I could hear Kristin speaking on the other side of the door in some strange language I had never heard before. It kind of sounded like Latin, or maybe Greek, but really I had no idea. But I could tell she was repeating certain words and phrases over and over, her voice becoming more urgent and anxious.

I became aware of a presence behind me, and I knew it was Curtis. He was close, nearly right on top of me, and I could smell his rotting flesh. Somehow I realized that if I turned around, if I so much as turned my head even just a little bit, he would kill me.

I jiggled the door knob in desperation.

"Kristin!" I said. "Open the door!"

She continued her strange chanting, sometimes shouting and grunting, her voice becoming strained. I looked down at my feet and saw there was blood flowing from under the door and then I felt something cold and soft gently touch the back of my neck—

And then I woke up.

I thought maybe Aunt Rose would leave for work early, but instead she was working on her laptop in the dining room and eating a bowl of cereal. I tried to slip past her into the kitchen, when she called out.

"Charlie. Come here a minute, please."

I shuffled over, trying to look innocent.

"Another late night," she said.

"Uh-huh."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Sorry," I said.

Aunt Rose gave me the look again.

"This came for you yesterday," she said, holding out a thin, white envelope.

Fancy handwriting. Black ink. It was a letter was from Victoria Elmwood-Ravensburg. I was kind of surprised that she actually wrote me back.

"Do you know who this woman is?" said Aunt Rose.

"I guess so. I mean, her family used to own the whole town, right? Her dad built that stone tower out in the woods."

"Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg is a liar and a con artist. In fact, she's dangerous. A very sick woman. And she's mentally disturbed."

"Like my mother?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Can I have my letter now?"

"I'm sorry, no."

"What?"

"I do not want you talking to this woman, Charlie. I'm putting my foot down. No further contact. Do you understand?"

"Not really," I said.

"I'm trying to protect you."

"From what?"

"From the mistake your mother made."

"What kind of mistake?" I said.

Aunt Rose looked at me and was silent.

"Does it have something to do with this?" I said, taking the little black bag out of my pocket.

Aunt Rose jumped out of her chair so fast she knocked over her bowl of Corn Flakes.

"Get that out of my house," she said, stumbling away from me and waving her hands frantically. "Throw it away!"

'What is it?"

"I said throw it away!"

"Is it magic? What is it?"

"Please, Charlie!"

"Can't you just tell me what's going on?" I said.

"Trust me, Charlie," said Aunt Rose. "You really don't want to know. It's so much better this way. You can be a normal boy. You won't have to live the rest of your life in fear!"

I looked at my Aunt Rose, shrinking back from the little bag in my hand. But instead of throwing it away, I stuffed the bag back into my pocket and quickly snatched the letter off the dining-room table. Then I stomped upstairs, pulled the gun out from under my bed and shoved it into my waistband.

Eddie better not mess with me now. I was good and mad.

I made sure the gun was covered up by my shirt. Then I was downstairs in a flash and headed out the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Charlie—"

"Leave me alone."

"Charlie, I know this is difficult—"

"I said leave me the hell alone!"

And then I was gone, slamming the door behind me.

Halfway down the block my cell phone started ringing. It was Aunt Rose. I hit the ignore button and walked on. She kept calling, again and again, leaving one voicemail after another. I ignored them all.

I could feel the blood throbbing in my head. My fists were clenched. I started walking toward Eddie's house, the gun pressed into my ribs. It felt hot and bulky and suddenly I started to regret bringing it along.

Eddie was in his garage, the door open, playing around on his guitar. Neither of his parents' cars were in the driveway, just his battered ride. I saw the old trunk, its lid closed, shoved off to the side. It looked okay.

Eddie saw me walking up, but kept playing anyway. Fast, angry music. When I reached the garage, he put the guitar down and stood up.

"What?" he said.

"Hey, man. Bad night, huh?"

"What do you want, Berger?"

"You, uh, you talk to Kristin?" I asked.

"No."

"Oh, okay."

"You talk to her?"

"Uh-uh, no," I said.

Neither of us said a word then.

"So, look, Eddie, we really need those books."

"No way," he said. "I looked through them the other night, and they're not right. There's something evil about those books and I don't want Kristin getting mixed up with this stuff anymore."

"Evil?"

"Yeah, like, most of them aren't even in English, but the pictures, the pictures are really strange. A bunch of witch stuff. So I'm gonna burn them all."

"Listen," I said, "Kristin is having some really weird dreams and I think she's under some kind of spell, too. We need those books, man. They may be her only chance."

"What kind of dreams?" he asked.

"I don't know exactly, but we have to help her."

"We?"

"Yeah," I said.

Eddie shoved me in the chest.

"Listen up, doofus. You're going to leave Kristin alone, you got that?"

And then he shoved me again, hard, and I stumbled out of the garage.

"You're going to stay away from her from now on. I thought we were friends, but I guess not."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You think I'm stupid?" he said. "You think I can't tell you're trying to steal my girl?"

"I—I'm not trying to steal her."

"All this messed-up stuff that's been happening, it's because of you," he said. "All this business with the Spider Lady, and Curtis, and all this black magic, you started it, man, you!"

"I know," I said. "But—I'm _really_ sorry!"

He punched me in the mouth. I fell to the pavement, seeing stars. My face felt like it was on fire. I put my hand up to my chin and saw blood.

"Kristin doesn't like you, Charlie," he said. "She thinks you're a loser. We make fun of you all the time."

I stood up, and my legs wobbled. I held out my hand, trying to wave Eddie away.

"Don't," I said.

"What was it the kids used to call you?" asked Eddie. "Blubber Berger? Berger Butt?"

"Just give me the books," I said, my voice trembling. "Please."

He grabbed me by the collar and punched me again. There was an explosion in my brain and everything went white, then black, and I found myself on the ground again.

"Get up, spaz. Come on, get up if you want some more."

Every part of my face hurt and I could barely move.

"Stop..." I said.

"That's right," said Eddie. "You stay the hell down, got that?"

I think I nodded, yes, I would stay down. Eddie smiled.

"Good. Now, let's have a barbeque, huh?"

He marched back into the garage and grabbed a bottle of Kingsford charcoal starter fluid.

"You want a dog? Hamburger?"

Eddie began to spray the books in the trunk with the charcoal-starter fluid.

There was blood dripping from a cut on my forehead into my left eye. Slowly I started to stand up.

"How about toasted marshmallows?" he asked. "All fat kids like marshmallows, right?"

"Kirstin is in trouble. Don't you want to help her?"

"I am helping her."

When the bottle was nearly empty Eddie crushed it in his fist and tossed it away.

"Uh-oh," he said. "Forgot my matches."

He headed back into the garage. I could smell the chemical stink of the charcoal-starter fluid as I wiped the blood off my face.

"This is serious, Eddie," I said. "She's your girlfriend."

Eddie found his match box and came out shaking them like a maraca.

"Ah, she's just a tease," he said.

He struck a match and it popped into a bright, orange flame.

"Wait," I said, pulling out my gun.

My hand trembled as I pointed it at him.

"Just stop."

He looked at me for a moment, then frowned.

"You think I'm stupid, Berger?" he said. "That gun is jammed."

He was about to drop the match, or at least...I thought he was about to. I really did.

So I shot him.

The gun made a little pop, like a firecracker.

Eddie fell over backwards, clutching his chest. I was beside him in a second. His eyes were unfocused, staring up at the sky and blood was pouring out of his mouth.

I quickly looked around. Didn't see anybody.

In a frenzied panic I grabbed Eddie by the shoulders and dragged him into the garage, leaving behind a large, bloody smear. I hit the automatic garage door and it seemed like an eternity for the stupid thing to close.

Then I turned and looked at Eddie. His T-shirt was soaked with blood. His face was going white, his eyes wet and glassy.

"Eddie?" I said.

I don't know if he was trying to talk, but when he opened his mouth all that I heard was a terrible, gasping, gagging sound.

I stood in his garage for a minute, completely paralyzed. My brain refused to work. I remember thinking I should do something to help him. Try to stop the bleeding, call an ambulance, something, anything except watch him bleed to death on the floor of his garage.

Bu he was going to burn the books.

He was _really_ going to do it.

And then Kristin would be doomed.

His gasping breaths were getting weaker now.

It was him or her.

I had no choice.

Like with Curtis.

I had to do it.

Now his gasps were soft, almost inaudible.

It was the right thing to do.

I did the right thing.

"Right, Eddie?" I said.

The awful gasping sounds had stopped and there was a large pool of blood slowly forming around his body.

Eddie was dead.

I searched his pockets until I found his car keys. Thankfully the garage also had a side door, and I used that to go back out and start up his car. I looked around again, still nobody in sight.

Back in the garage, I opened the trunk and pulled out an armful of books. It took a few trips, but I was able to toss them all into the backseat of the car. At the bottom of the trunk was a strange mask, a wooden doll, and a carved stick. I had no idea what they were, but I tossed them into the car, too.

I sat in the driver's seat, feeling the fear again, my arms and legs turning to lead. What about the body? My mind raced. Chop it up? No. No, I couldn't do that. I would have to take the body with me somehow.

I ran back into the garage and struggled to put Eddie's body into the old trunk. It wasn't a perfect fit, and I had to sit on the lid a few time to get it to shut. I started laughing at that and I couldn't stop. It took forever to get the trunk into the back of his car, and this time I tied the hatch down with a piece of twine from the garage.

Then I drove to Kristin's house. I rang her doorbell over and over.

Finally, she opened the door a crack, and peeked through.

"Let me in," I said.

"Why are you covered with blood?" she said.

"I'll tell you inside."

She looked over my shoulder and saw Eddie's car.

"Where's Eddie?"

"Open the damn door," I said.

She considered me for a moment. Then she opened the door and I stepped in. Her house smelled like bleach, and something else, something tangy and sour.

Kristin handed me some ice wrapped in a wad of paper towel and I held it to my throbbing, bloody lips.

"Why are you wearing rubber gloves?" I asked her.

"You first. Where's Eddie?"

I noticed here were blood stains all over the carpet and the walls. Kristin stood next to plastic bucket of foamy red water, with a big sponge floating around on top.

"He's dead."

"What?!"

"He wouldn't let me have the books," I said. "He was going to burn them...so...I shot him. I'm sorry."

My body tensed. Her face got red, her eyes shiny.

"You bastard!"

She hit me hard on the chest with both her fists.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked.

"I was trying to shoot him in the leg," I said. "I—I didn't think I was going to kill him!"

Kristin put her hands over her eyes and started to howl.

"Oh my God!" she said.

"Okay, look, I know I messed up," I said. "Just tell me what to do."

"Oh my God," said Kristin. "Oh God, oh, Eddie!"

"I'm—I'm really sorry."

"Shut up!" she said. "Shut up! Shut up!"

She pushed me and then ran out of the room. I could hear her pounding up the stairs, running down the hall to her room, and then slamming the door.

And then I heard her sobbing. Awful, painful sobbing, like her guts were spilling out.

Good job, Charlie.

I looked around and saw Curtis on the sofa watching the Power Rangers. He always loved those guys. Especially the Pink Ranger.

There were bloody handprints on the couch, and bloody footprints all over the rug. Some of them had been scrubbed into big pink splotches.

"Curtis, what happened here, man?"

He slowly turned to look at me with his dead eyes and grinned.

A cold shiver ran up my body and I quickly left the room.

Standing outside the door to Kristin's bedroom, I could still hear her crying, but softer now, more like sniffles with the occasional moan.

It felt weird being outside her door. It was just like all those dreams I had been having, ever since this whole mess began. For a moment I felt this terrifying sense of disorientation. The real world was gone and only nightmares lay ahead.

"Kristin?" I said.

I could hear her sniffling again, but she didn't reply.

"Kristin, I would never hurt you on purpose. I hope you know that. I'm really, really sorry I killed Eddie. I was only trying to help, but, uh, I guess I messed up. As usual."

There was nothing but silence and I couldn't think of anything else to say.

The door opened ever so slightly. I could see half her tear-soaked face, her one eye bright red and puffy.

"You didn't chop up his body, did you?"

"No," I said.

"Why did he want to burn the books?"

"He didn't want you to mess around with any more magic."

She looked at me in silence.

"He said the books were evil."

"But they're okay?"

"Yeah, I got them."

"Where's his body?"

"Out in the car. In the trunk."

"Bring him inside," she said.

"Uh, the trunk is really heavy. Could we get Curtis to do it?"

She nodded and we went back downstairs into the blood-splattered room.

"Curtis," said Kristin, "Go out to the car and get the trunk."

Curtis sat there, ignoring her, and watched his show. The Power Rangers were about to defeat the evil robot.

"Curtis?" she said again.

No reaction.

"Forget it," she said. "I'll help you."

"Wait, wait," I said, pointing to the blood stains on the walls and the floor. "What the heck happened here?"

"There was an accident," she said. "With my mom and dad."

"Is this...are your parents...?" I couldn't finish.

"They're dead. Curtis got to them in the night, while I was sleeping."

"I thought he obeyed your commands?"

"Don't worry, everything's under control," she said.

I felt light-headed.

"Where are they now? Your parents, I mean?"

"I asked Curtis to get rid of the bodies," she said. "So he ate them."

"What?!"

"I know, I know!"

I looked over at Curtis and noticed that his belly was swollen up to about the size of a beach ball. I shuddered to think of what was in there.

"Can he digest them?" I asked.

"I hope so."

"He could eat Eddie's body," I said.

"No," she said. "I know what we're going to do with Eddie's body."

It was a real struggle bringing the trunk around the back of her house to the cellar door, but we managed to carry it down to her basement and set it down next to the washer and dryer.

I opened the lid and there was Eddie, folded up and dead as a doornail. His eyes were still open, staring blankly ahead. There was a lot more blood in the trunk, too.

Kristin bent down and took his hand.

She brushed the hair out of Eddie's eyes.

"We gonna bury him down here?" I asked.

"No," she said. "Help me pull him out."

We yanked Eddie's body from the trunk and laid it down on the basement rug. He was sticky with blood. Then Kristin did a funny thing. She reached over and pulled open his mouth.

"What's that for?" I said.

"Watch," she said.

Kristin began speaking, softly, in some strange, mumbled tongue. It wasn't English, it wasn't any language I had ever heard, just odd, stuttering sounds.

Just like in my dream.

And then a spider emerged from under the washer and began creeping over toward Eddie. It was black, with those strange white marks on its back.

"Kristin!" I said.

"Just watch."

The spider crawled up Eddie's body, and then right into his mouth, where it disappeared.

I cried out in revulsion.

A few moments later, Eddie twitched.

"What are you doing?" I asked, panic in my voice.

"I'm making another zombie," she said. "That way, Eddie won't be gone."

Eddie lurched to his feet, and looked around.

"This is really bad," I said.

Eddie turned at the sound of my voice and looked at me. In his eyes there was recognition.

"Two zombies are better than one," said Kristin.

And then Eddie attacked me. His hands were on my face, his thumbs pressing against my eyes. I struggled to break his grip, but I couldn't pull them away.

Eddie was making a low, strange sound, like a moan or a roar. I was screaming.

"Get off him!" said Kristin. "Now, Eddie! Get off!"

I felt Eddie let go, and I fell back a few steps, grimacing in pain.

"Go upstairs," she said to Eddie. "Now!"

Eddie reluctantly marched up the stairs, one plodding footstep after another.

I turned to Kristin.

"Are you freaking crazy?" I asked.

"You killed him, not me!"

"I said I was sorry!"

"And now I've brought him back to life again," she said. "So everything's okay."

"Everything is not okay," I said. "Everything is really far away from okay right now."

She looked at me, frowning.

"You think I don't know that? You think this is easy for me?"

I had no answer for that, and I looked down at my hands. They were bloody.

Kristin watched me for a moment, then gently took Eddie by the hand and led him back upstairs.

"Watch your step," she said to him.

They disappeared out of view and my heart sank. Kristin was in love with a teenage zombie. It was almost funny. If it didn't suck.

I went upstairs and Eddie was scrubbing the blood stain on the carpet with a big sponge. Kristin was watching him, holding a glass in her hand.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to her glass.

"Rum," she said. "Care for a swig, matey?"

"How did you do that spider thing?" I asked.

She didn't answer.

"You learn how to do that in your dreams?"

She nodded.

"Last night was another strange one," she said. "I was dressed in old-fashioned clothes. Everyone kept calling me by another name, and I had all these brothers and sisters. My dad wasn't my real dad, it was this other guy and...then we were in Africa again, there was chanting and...I was talking to the Spider Lady. Or she was talking to me, and I couldn't look away, her red eyes were burning into my brain...and you were there, right outside the door..."

I felt the hairs on my arms stand up.

Then my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number. I hesitated for a moment then answered it.

"Hello?" I said.

"Charlie, this is Detective Powell. Where are you?"

I hung up the phone immediately. It rang again, so I hit the ignore button.

Kristin saw the look on my face.

"What?" she asked.

"I think the cops are looking for me," I said.

Her face sank. Panic stirred in her eyes.

"What do we do now?" she said.

"We go on the run," I said, almost smiling.

"To where?"

"Mexico, Canada."

"I don't have a passport," she said.

"Okay, then Mexico."

"For real?"

"Sure."

Kristin just looked kind of dazed and started to tremble. I grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye.

"We could go to some sleepy little village and dance around with giant skeleton puppets. We could—we could paint heroic murals on the sides of adobe buildings. Peasants harvesting corn, burros, bearded revolutionaries. Or...or we could join the circus. El Circo! I could fire you out of a giant cannon. Boom!"

"This is insane," she said. "You know that?"

"No more thinking," I said. "Go get your suitcase. Let's go!"

Kristin took a big gulp of rum then headed off to pack her things. I waited for her to go up the stairs and out of sight before I took out my cell phone.

Then I took a deep breath and called home.

"Hello," I said. "Aunt Rose?"

"Charlie? Oh, my God. I've been trying to call you all day. I thought—I don't know what I thought. Where are you?"

"Aunt Rose, can I ask you a question?"

There was a short moment of silence.

"Okay," she said.

"Why did my mom kill herself?"

"Charlie, you know the answer to—"

"I mean, why did she _really_ kill herself?"

"She was mentally ill, Charlie. You know that. We've been over this."

"Is that it?" I said.

"She heard voices. Saw things that weren't there. People. Other things. She became completely paranoid. Convinced herself that someone was watching her."

"Who?" I asked.

There was silence again.

"She tried to give you away, Charlie. Did you know that? Three times. Starting when you were a baby. She tried to give you away to strangers, just, random strangers."

No one had told me that before.

"You said she made a mistake," I said. "What mistake? Am I the mistake?"

"No, Charlie—"

"Just tell me the truth, Aunt Rose."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Please?" I asked.

"Your mother couldn't conceive a child...the doctors told her it was biologically impossible...so, she...she went to someone else for help. A witch."

"A witch?" I said. "Who?"

"It's not important who, Charlie. She never should have involved herself with magic. Your mother didn't realize the danger until it was too late...and then she died."

I suddenly remembered the envelope folded-up in my back pocket.

"Was it Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg? Is that why you don't want me to talk to her?"

"Come home, Charlie. Please. Leave all this alone and come home. You know I love you, I may not say it very often, but it's true. I love you with all my heart...and ...I don't want to see...anything bad happen to you..."

I realized she was crying.

"I'm I'm sorry, Aunt Rose...I think I have to go away for awhile. I have to fix this. I have to fix a lot of stuff. Everything."

"What are you talking about? Fix what?"

"Thanks for taking care of me, Aunt Rose. I—I love you, too. Hopefully, I'll be back soon, huh?"

"Charlie, what are you doing? Charlie—"

I hung up, and quickly turned my phone off.

To my surprise, my eyes were tearing up.

Kristin stumbled back downstairs holding her suitcase.

"Change of plans," I said. "We're not going to Mexico?"

"We're not?"

"We're going to Sloatsville!"

"What's in Sloatsville?" she asked.

"A witch," I said. "A good witch. I think."

"With a big wand and a poufy hat?"

"Sure," I said.

"How do you know she's good?"

"She wrote me a letter," I said, pulling it out from my pocket and unfolding it for Kristin to see.

"What does it say?"

"I don't know. I haven't had time to read it yet. I've been a little busy."

"Shooting people and messing up our lives?"

"Hey, I had help messing up our lives!"

Suddenly the house phone rang.

"Don't answer that," I said.

Kristin picked up the phone.

"Hello," she slurred.

Her eyes went wide and she quickly hung up.

"The police," she said.

"Get the zombies in the car," I said. "Hurry!"

Kristin quickly herded our undead friends out the door. We decided to take her mom's mini-van. Plenty of room for our zombies, I thought, feeling strangely excited. It was a nine hour drive to Sloatsville. By tomorrow, hopefully, the curse would be broken and everything would be back to normal.

"Don't forget the books!" said Kristin.

As I threw the books into the car, I stole a moment to flip through a couple, searching for the images that had so disturbed Eddie. There were a bunch of them, drawings of dismembered bodies, hands with their fingertips on fire; strange floppy things. Many featured engravings of woodland clearings full of cavorting devils and bare-breasted witches, presided over by old Satan himself, a giant man with the head of a goat and a strange-looking scepter.

The drawings were very realistic.

I was starting to have second thoughts about the books, but I beat them down. They had to help us. Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg would help us figure out a way to use them, the proper way, and break whatever curse the Spider Lady had put on us.

Because if I let myself feel hopeless for even a moment, all would be lost.

I volunteered to drive first, mostly so Kristin could sober up a bit. She had been stumbling around for a while now. We put Curtis and Eddie in the back seat. For once, they didn't complain. Kristin sat next to me and I turned the key in the ignition and started the car.

The radio was blasting music. Lots of epic guitar riffs and a man singing about the Devil.

"This song rocks!" said Kristin. "Right, guys?"

Curtis and Eddie grunted in the back.

I held onto the steering wheel for dear life.

Kristin turned up the volume and we were gone.

Chapter 7

We Googled the directions to Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg's house and headed for the interstate. A couple of police cars passed us, going in the opposite direction. No doubt they were on their way to Kristin's house.

How long before they figure out were on the run? Or that we're driving the McDermott family mini-van? A few hours, maybe? Probably less. Pretty soon we'd have the highway patrol out looking for us, too.

Kristin couldn't stop fiddling with the radio. One song quickly blurred into another as she twisted the dial. Eventually she shut it off and raided her mom's CD collection.

"Duran Duran or INXS?" she asked.

"Bleh," I said. "It's like your mom's trapped in 1984."

"Yeah, well. She's dead now," said Kristin. "So cut her some slack."

"Sorry," I said, wishing that I had never opened my mouth. "I'm sorry. I forgot. Well, I didn't forget, but, you know. All this stuff. Um."

"Shut up and drive, Charlie."

"Right," I said. "Maybe, maybe you should put the rum away for awhile."

"Uh-huh," she said, taking another swig.

"Could you read that letter for me now? The one from the good witch?"

I handed her the envelope and she took out the note.

"I don't know," she said. "The words are all kind of blurry."

"Just try."

Kristin sighed, then held the letter up close to her face and read.

"Dear Charles; So good to finally hear from you. I suspect you never did get my many letters. Perhaps your most-sensible aunt tossed them all in the dustbin. I sincerely hope this letter has made it into your hands without any interference.

Your questions are so basic and simple to answer. Yes, the stone tower is a very dangerous place, not the structure itself (although what it looks like today, I have no idea), but rather, who resides inside.

If she still resides inside.

But you already know all this, don't you? The tone of your letter suggests that you've finally figured it all out, that you have seen through the well-meaning but ultimately foolish lies of your family and the townspeople of Elmwood.

Lies do not protect, Charles, they destroy.

You are (and have always been) in great peril, you and so many other young people, for the deals their mothers made with someone who is not to be trusted. Someone with appetites and desires that could hardly be considered civilized.

I think you know who I mean.

There a just a few more dark curtains to part, a handful of secrets to reveal.

But I shudder to put the whole truth down on paper, should this letter fall into the wrong hands. You are a smart boy, a boy who obviously appreciates our fine public libraries. Put together the clues, piece by piece, if you can.

Write to me again if you are able, or better yet, come up for a spell and visit. I simply adore having guests. Whatever you do, do not call me on the telephone. You never know who (or what) may be listening. The Enemy has minions and sycophants everywhere, liars and tin badges and badgers and birds.

In the meantime, be safe. I have enclosed a little something for you. It's not much, but put it on and wear it at all times. This is very important, Charles. At all times.

Sincerely,

Victoria Elmwood-Ravensburg."

Kristin turned to look at me.

"Jesus Christ, Charlie, this old lady is crazy!"

"What did she enclose?" I said.

"Something in the envelope," said Kristin.

She shook it and into the palm of her hand fell something small and metal.

"Ow!" she said.

"What is it?"

She quickly tossed the little object into my lap. I picked it up and held it between my thumb and forefinger.

It was some kind of pin, or button. There was a tiny glass eye in the center.

"What is this?" I said.

"I don't know," said Kristin.

"Is this, like, the Evil Eye or something?"

"It's probably supposed to protect you from the evil eye. From witchcraft, you know?"

"Does it work?

"How should I know?" she said.

"Help me pin this on," I said.

"That's okay. You do it."

She seemed to be shrinking away from me, her eyes glassy and uncertain.

It was tough, but with one hand on the wheel I was still able to fasten the little button to my T-shirt.

"It's kind of cool, huh?" I said.

Kristin said nothing.

"Try to put the Evil Eye on me," I said. "Come on."

Kristin grunted, then frowned.

The smile fell from my face and I just felt kind of stupid.

The CD player cued up one of those gooey songs by the Cure and I decided to ask her something that had been bugging me all day.

"Kristin, do you think I'm a loser?"

She looked at me, made a strange face.

"No," she finally said.

"Okay," I said. But I didn't feel okay. "Eddie said you guys talk about me behind my back."

"No. No way. I would never do that to you."

"Really?"

" _Yes_ , really!"

"Well, but...he said...."

"Could we not have this conversation when I'm kind of drunk?"

"Sometimes...I don't even know where we stand, you know?"

Kristin stared out the window and said nothing.

"Eddie's just jealous of you," she finally said.

"Come on."

"No, really. You're, like, authentic. You can draw...you have this really weird past. You're like a...a wounded bird or something. Do you know what I mean?"

"No."

"You're interesting."

"Interesting? Is that good or bad?

"It is what it is," she said.

"Great," I said. "That's what I strive to be. Interesting."

I guess she didn't know what to say to that, and neither of us spoke again.

"Berger Butt!" screamed Eddie from the back seat.

I nearly jumped out of the car.

Kristin looked at Eddie in astonishment.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Bbbbuuu...bbb...bttt!" said Eddie.

"Eddie, it's me, it's Kristin," she said, taking his hand.

Eddie said nothing.

"Eddie?" asked Kristin, softly. "Say something. It's me."

Eddie stared straight ahead, with his dead, zombie eyes.

"Eddie? Please?"

She leaned in close to him and whispered.

"We're going to fix you up, baby. We're going to get you back to normal somehow."

She kissed him on the cheek and let go of his hand. Then Kirstin began to rummage through the books on the floor and pulled up a fat one, holding up the cover for me to read.

" _African Magic and Superstition_ ," I said. "Sounds great. Are you...are you going to read that right now?"

"Yup," she said, and opened to the first page.

"I thought we were talking," I said.

"We're done now," she said.

"Oh. Okay."

A few moments passed as Kristin became more absorbed in the book.

"Any good?" I asked.

She ignored me, and I stared out the window, watching the lights of the other cars going by, kicking myself for being the biggest idiot in the world.

We drove for miles without saying another word. And each Cure song was more miserable than the last. Eventually Kristin put down the book and curled herself up into a little ball. Moments later, she was sleeping.

The inside of the car was dark and quiet. The cars on the freeway sounded like they were a million miles away. My brain wanted to worry, obsess over all my many mistakes, but my body was so tired I felt my thoughts grow muddy and toothless.

I slowly moved my hand over and took Kristin's hand and squeezed it.

She quickly pulled her hand away.

My guts were boiling and I found myself talking before I could stop.

"Is it so bad," I said, "to like somebody and hope that they like you back?"

I looked at her but she didn't open her eyes.

"Come on, Charlie," she said. "This is not the right time."

"Oh. Okay," I said.

"It's just...I can't think straight right now, you know? So much has happened."

"Uh-huh."

She opened her eyes and looked at me.

"It's not that I don't like you...it's just...I don't like you in that _way_."

"Oh," I said.

"Can we just be friends? Okay? Best friends?"

"Friends," I said.

"I know you're trying to help...that you're doing everything you can to help...in your own, crazy way...and...I thank you...for that."

I nodded.

"But you're still a jerk for killing Eddie."

"Okay," I said.

"Goodnight, Charlie."

She looked at me, sadly, then turned away and crunched herself into a little ball again.

I watched her back for awhile, but I couldn't tell if she was really asleep or just faking.

Crap.

Maybe Kristin was right. This really wasn't the right time to talk about our feelings and stuff. Besides, she didn't feel that _way_ about me.

We were going to be _best friends_.

Could I change her mind?

Maybe.

I mean, my competition is a corpse.

I could do it. Right?

But how?

Step One: Stop killing my friends. Or at least, stop killing their boyfriends. Except, I might have to kill him again if he tries anything funny. Like eating us.

Step Two: Become her Bad-Ass, White Knight from Hell.

Step Three: Save the Day.

Sure. No problem.

The sound of Kristin screaming snapped me out of my head.

Her eyes were shut, but she was howling bloody murder, her hands waving frantically in the air. I called her name and shook her by the shoulder.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she pulled a pen out of the glove compartment and stabbed herself in the arm with it. Then she really screamed.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I said.

She pulled the pen out of her arm and blood starting pouring out of the hole. I grabbed her hand and wrenched the pen out of her grip. It was hard to drive and wrestle Kristin at the same time. The mini-van began to swerve across the road, and I was terrified we were going to crash.

Kristin was shouting and crying, not making any sense, blood running down the sides of her arm and dripping down to the floor.

I quickly took the next exit and in moments we pulled into one of those giant truck-stops, with the gas and the little food court and dozens of rigs lined up like sleeping chess pieces.

"This is really bad!" I said

I pulled off my shirt and held it to the wound.

"It hurts, Charlie..."

"Was it the Spider Lady again?"

She shook her head, no.

"We have to do something about this hole in your arm," I said, watching in horror as my T-shirt turned a dark, sticky red.

The zombies in the back seat started to make sniffing noises.

"Oh, no," I said. "No, no no."

I reached under the seat, picked up my gun and pointed it at Eddie's head.

"Back off, freak!"

He looked at me with his dead eyes and a small smile formed on his lips.

Kristin started cursing.

"Holy Jesus, this really hurts!"

Eddie was shaking and huffing, then he snarled and raised his hands.

I shot him in the throat. He flew back into his seat, and then in an instant was reaching again for my face.

My second shot took his head off.

Some stuff that looked like weird, grey chunks of rotten cabbage flew everywhere. The rear window shattered, and gore splattered all over the seats, the ceiling of the car, my face, hair and hands. Hopefully I killed him again, for real this time. And that damn spider living in his skull, too.

"Eddie!" said Kristin.

She lunged into the back of the car, and seized up Eddie's body in her arms.

"Oh my God...oh my God," she said. "There's nothing left...his head...his head is all gone..."

"Don't—don't touch that gooey stuff," I said.

"Charlie! What the hell is your problem?!"

"He was going to eat us!"

"You didn't have to blow his brains out! I could have stopped him!"

She was right.

"Oh, yeah?" I managed to say. "Like you stopped Curtis from eating your parents?"

Kristin burst into tears.

"You're a real psycho, you know that?"

And then she stalked out of the car.

"Hey!" I said.

"Leave me alone!"

She slammed the door with her knee, and stormed off towards the food court, clutching the bloody T-shirt to her arm.

I quickly hid the gun under the driver's seat and jumped out to follow her.

"Uh...stay, Curtis. Okay? Please?"

Curtis looked at me for a moment, then looked away.

The night air was cool, and I could feel the blood on my skin beginning to dry. There was broken glass from the windshield all over the ground. It crunched when you steeped on it, like walking on a carpet of Cheerios.

I ran quickly through the parking lot and up to the front doors of the truck-stop food court. Kristin was just disappearing into the Ladies Room.

A couple of people looked my way as I ran, bloody and shirtless, into the bathroom after her. The whole place was pink, and yet somehow still grungy.

Thankfully, there was no one else in there. I could hear Kristin sobbing in one of the stalls.

"Kristin? Uh, Kristin? Boy, uh, I sure have a lot to apologize for today, huh?

"Go away."

"I can't just leave."

"You're not supposed to be in here," she said.

"It's okay, I've been inside a girl's bathroom before."

"Pervert."

"Would you come out already?"

"No."

Just then the door opened and in strolled this trucker lady with a mullet and a camouflage vest. She stopped for a moment and stared at me.

"Uh...you okay, buddy?" she said.

"Yeah. Fine."

"You in an accident?"

"Something like that."

"Want me to call the cops?"

"No, thanks. I'm okay, really."

"What are you doing in here?"

"Uh, my friend, she's uh..."

"Ouch," said Kristin.

There was a flushing sound and Kristin stepped out of the stall, clutching the bloody T-shirt to her arm. There was dried blood all over her arms and hands. Her nose was red and her eyes watery.

"Is there something going on here?" asked the trucker lady.

"Everything's cool," I said.

"Don't look cool to me," she said.

"Mind your own business, hillbilly."

"Excuse me?"

And then, without really thinking about it, I reached out and pushed her to the ground. There was a brief moment of shock, as we all realized what had happened, and then Kristin hustled me out of there as fast as she could.

We didn't speak as we crossed the food court, heads turning everywhere. I figured it would only be a couple of minutes before somebody called the police.

"There he is," I heard someone say. "That's the guy."

I turned and saw my trucker friend with some of her buddies. They were following us, and they didn't look too happy. I grabbed Kristin by the arm and pulled her toward the door.

"Let's go."

We sprinted out to the parking lot, the truckers closing in fast.

"Hey, you!" said the trucker lady. "Stop!"

They caught up with us at the mini-van. I couldn't get my keys out quickly enough.

"What's wrong with you kids?" said one of the truckers.

"This boy's got a smart mouth," said my friend.

"Take it easy, Brenda, these kids ain't right."

My trucker friend grabbed me by the wrist and twisted it. I went down to my knees, hard.

"Leave him alone," said Kristin.

"You'll get what's coming to you next, girly," said the trucker lady.

"Aw, Brenda, come on now."

"I want an apology," said my trucker friend.

I called her a lot of bad names. She twisted my wrist even harder and I yelped in pain.

"Listen to me," said Kristin. "You will leave him alone. Now."

The trucker lady stopped twisting my wrist. They all turned to look at Kristin.

Somehow, in the light of the parking lot, her eyes looked red.

"You will all walk away from here," she said. "Right now. Turn around. And walk away."

The trucker let go of me. Then she and her friends all did an about-face and strolled off, some of them in different directions. They didn't say a word to each other.

I watched in silence, clutching my wrist.

Then one of the truckers walked right into an incoming SUV. The car knocked him back twenty feet and he landed with a sickening thud.

There was a lot of commotion.

"Oh my God!" said Kristin.

She was frozen in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth open in horror.

"I didn't mean for _that_ to happen...I didn't!"

"Let's get out of here!" I said.

We ran back into the mini-van. Eddie's body was gone. There was blood everywhere, bits of bone and slime covering the entire backseat and dripping down the windows.

"Where's Eddie?" asked Kristin.

Curtis was gnawing on a pale, severed hand.

"Who's...hand...is that?" she said.

We stared at Curtis for a moment and slowly a lop-sided grin formed on his blood stained lips. And then he started making this sound, this terrible, coughing gurgling noise, all hollow and cold and I realized it was laughter.

It was the worse sound I ever heard.

"Make him stop," said Kristin.

"Curtis, could you, could you put the hand down?"

Curtis continued to chuckle as hit bit into Eddie's hand and tore off the fingers with his teeth. I hesitated for a moment, then reached out to pull the mangled hand away.

He hissed at me.

I quickly pulled my hand away and took a few steps back.

"Okay, uh, maybe we should just let him eat the hand," I said.

"I can't take this anymore, Charlie. This is freaking me out!"

"Could you freak out in the car? Because we really need to get out of here."

We could both hear the sirens now.

"Do you think that man is dead?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "Probably."

A crowd of people had gathered around the trucker on the ground.

"Kristin, how did you do that?"

She looked at me and shook her head.

"Let's just go."

"Seriously. How?"

"I don't know. I just felt like I could...so...I did."

I started the mini-van and we got back onto the highway. In my rearview mirror, I could see the flashing lights of an ambulance approaching the truck stop. I put my foot down hard on the gas, and soon the truck stop was out of sight.

"How's your arm?" I asked.

"Take a look," she said.

She peeled back the sticky, blood-soaked T-shirt and the wound was gone.

I looked at the fresh, pink skin where the hole had been and my tired brain started to squirm.

"That can't be good," I finally said.

"No," she said.

"How did this happen?"

She shrugged.

"Guess I need a new shirt, huh?"

"Guess so."

"Where's the Evil Eye thing?"

"What?"

"The thing, the Evil Eye button?"

I pointed to a tiny hole in my shirt where the pin had been.

"It must have fallen off," she said.

I looked at her for a moment and she looked away. Then she grabbed her sunglasses off the dashboard and put them on, even though it was almost sunset.

"So...why did you stab yourself?"

"I was having another bad dream."

"And?"

"And...I thought there was something...growing out of my arm."

"Hold up. Start from the beginning."

"I was that other girl again. Elvira. I had on this old-fashioned dress. And the Spider Lady was whispering things to me. At one point, I remember I was inside the Stone Tower, and I felt a tingle in my arms, so I looked down and...there were these thick, awful black hairs bursting out of them, sharp, coarse, and then they were bursting out all over my body, and I could feel my body changing and that's when I started screaming..."

"Did you say 'Elvira'?"

"That's the name everybody calls me in my dreams."

"Elvira was the youngest daughter of Lionel Elmwood. The guy who built the Stone Tower. She got real sick on a family trip to Africa, like around 1906, and she died. But...what if she didn't die. What if, somehow...she became the Spider Lady?"

"How?"

I held up the copy of _African Magic and Superstition_.

"She was cursed," said Kristin.

"Exactly."

Kristin stared out the window, thinking.

"Still, you're just guessing."

"Well, that's another question we can ask Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg, if we ever get to her house in one piece."

Kristin said nothing.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't know...I have a bad feeling about her."

"A bad feeling?"

"Forget it."

"No, tell me."

"I can't explain. Forget it, really. It's stupid."

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

"I mean, that letter was really weird, Charlie. Like she's still hiding something, you know?"

"Maybe," I said.

"Like, what's her part in all this, right? How do we know her hands are clean?"

"I guess we don't," I said.

"Promise me you'll be careful."

"Okay," I said.

"Don't believe everything she tells you."

I looked at Kristin and a tiny smile formed on her lips. And for some reason I felt a chill go down my spine.

"That trucker lady almost kicked your ass," she said.

"No."

"She did."

"She didn't, okay? I was just about to get the upper hand."

Kristin frowned and said nothing.

"That, uh, that broken windshield back there is going to be a problem," I said.

Kristin seemed not to have heard me.

"At least it helps with the smell, huh? Or maybe I'm getting used to it."

Kristin said nothing, her gaze focused somewhere else.

"Are you okay?" I said.

"Maybe we should just die, Charlie," she said. "Look at what's happened to us. You've gone insane, and me...I..."

She trailed off, not finishing her sentence.

"I'm not insane," I told her. "Maybe, maybe I've made a few bad decisions, decisions I really regret now, but I am not crazy."

"So many people are dead," she said. "Eddie, my parents...I can't even bury my parents because Curtis ate them. How messed up is that?"

There were little tears flowing out from under the black lenses of her sunglasses. She looked like some kind of giant, weeping insect.

"You could build them a shrine or something," I said.

"A shrine?"

"I don't know! What do you want from me?"

"We're going to go to jail. For the rest of our lives. Maybe get the death penalty. Of course, that would be a relief, compared to what's going to happen..."

"What's going to happen?" I asked.

She wouldn't answer.

"What's going to happen?"

"Look at me, Charlie," she said, taking off her sunglasses.

As she began speaking, her eyes slowly turned from hazel to red.

"Let's just crash into a truck. Let's do it, Charlie. Cross the divider and go headfirst into that truck right there, the red one. Come on, Charlie. Do it."

My head started pounding and I looked back at the road, the red road and the red truck barreling toward us, my red hands gripping the red wheel, yes, turning the red wheel—

Curtis starting laughing.

That rasping, terrible barking sound.

I shook my head and blinked. The red was gone.

"No," I said.

"Hurry, Charlie! Now! Drive into the truck!"

"No! No!"

And then I shoved her away from me, hard, and she burst into tears.

"You listen to me, Kristin, and you listen good," I said, trying hard not to shake. "We are not going to die! We are going to beat this curse! I am going to do everything in my power to help you, do you understand?"

She shook her head, no.

"We going to get rid of this curse, and then, afterwards, If I go to jail or whatever, it won't matter, all that matters in helping you, because, because..."

"Because what?" she asked.

"Because...you know..."

Then I wiped my nose on my hand and stared hard at the road, pretending to be really focused on driving, hoping I could hold it together and not lose my cool completely.

Kristin looked down for a moment, and fiddled with her hands. Then she grinned painfully and punched me on my arm.

"My hero," she said.

"Don't do that again," I said.

"What, this?"

She punched me on the arm again.

"Don't try to hypnotize me into driving into any more trucks, or off a bridge, or anything crazy like that, okay? That's not cool."

"I'm sorry," she said, and looked down. "I'm really sorry. I...I don't know what's happening to me and I'm scared, Charlie. Sometimes I get these thoughts...bad thoughts...and I know they're not mine...but I can't stop them, you know?"

"What kind of thoughts?"

"Little suggestions...urges to hurt people..."

"That's the Spider Lady messing with your brain," I said. "We're going to put an end to all that stuff."

Kristin picked up the bottle of rum from off the floor, and unscrewed the cap.

"Here's to beating the Spider Lady at her own game," she said, and took a big gulp. She offered me the bottle, but I waved her off.

"And here's to designated driving!" she said, and took another gulp.

Then she hit the stereo and cranked another one of her mom's old CDs, the one with the white guy who wears feathers and war paint. We had a good time with that, bouncing up and down in our seats, singing about Ant Music and jukeboxes.

On the outside, I was pretending to be happy, but inside, I was freaking out. She almost killed us. She had magic powers and she was getting closer to the edge every second, cracking up, and I wasn't sure she was going to make it.

"I think we should all wear pantaloons from now on," said Kristin.

I heard the siren before I saw the flashing lights in my rearview mirror. My hands tensed on the steering wheel and I cursed.

"What do we do?" asked Kristin.

"I don't know," I said.

The siren roared, drowning out the music.

"Charlie!

"Give me a second, all right?"

The police car was right behind us now.

"Do you think you can put the whammy on him, make the cop go away?"

Kristin frowned.

"No—I can't."

"It's our only chance," I said.

"Not after what just happened. It makes me feel dirty or something..."

"Just a little whammy? Please? Otherwise we're in big, big trouble."

"I don't know—"

"You don't have to kill him," I said. "Just make him forget he ever saw us."

She thought for a moment, and then nodded. I quickly pulled over onto the shoulder and the police car parked behind me. I saw the officer exit his car and walk toward us with one hand resting on his holster. I rolled down my window and cut the engine.

"Keep your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them," he said.

I did just that.

He came over to the window, but stood a foot or two away, his hand still resting on his holster.

"License and registration, please."

I handed him my license, which he glanced at quickly, then he took another step back from the car.

"Everyone exit the vehicle with their hands in the air, now."

I got out, and Kristin did the same.

"Who's that in the back?" asked the policeman.

"A friend," I said. "He's sick."

The policeman tapped on the window.

"Out of the car, mister. Now."

I watched the other cars zooming past us on the highway, some of them slowing down for a better look.

The policeman tapped the window again. Inside the car, Curtis didn't move. Kristin slowly walked around the mini-van and faced the policeman.

"Excuse me, officer?"

He turned toward her.

"Pull out your gun," said Kristin, her eyes turning red.

The policeman stood listening to her, still as a stone.

"I said, pull out your gun."

I watched the muscles twitch in his cheeks. He seemed to shake a little bit. Then he slowly pulled out his gun.

"Put it to your head, right here," said Kristin, pointing at her temple.

The policeman put the gun up to his temple.

"Kristin," I said. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What's the matter, Charlie? Don't you trust me?"

There was an unpleasant grin on her face.

"Let's just get out of here," I said, tugging her arm.

Kristin watched the policeman and licked her lips.

"Forget this ever happened," she finally said to the policeman. "Go home. Buy your wife some flowers."

I pulled her back into the mini-van, stealing a quick glance at the policeman as he walked back to his patrol car, apparently still hypnotized.

"That was not funny," I said.

The patrol car pulled back onto the highway and drove off.

"Spoilsport," she said.

She pulled out the rum and took another swig.

"Uh-huh," I mumbled, starting up the car.

Something about her face caught my eye.

"Your nose is bleeding," I said.

She held her fingers up to her face and they came away red.

"Pinch it," I said. "Like this."

"It's not stopping," she said.

I grabbed a wad of tissues and handed them to her. She turned her back to me, stuffing the tissues into her nostrils.

"Don't look at me!" she said.

Curtis started sniffing again.

"Oh, no, you don't," I said to him from over my shoulder.

Kristin had blood on her lips, droplets of it on her shirt and jeans. Her eyes welled with tears. She fixed me with a hard, mean stare.

"You think I enjoy this?" she said. "I'm losing my mind to the Spider Lady!"

"I know, but, I'm going to help you—"

"I don't want your help, Charlie! You're a creep and I wish you would just go away and leave me the hell alone!"

My face burned.

"It's going to be okay," I finally said.

"No, it's _not_ , is it?"

She held me with her eyes, blood and tears rolling down her face.

I didn't know what to say.

"I just...I wish this never happened," she said. "I wish we never went into that tower, I wish...I wish my parents were still alive..."

"It's not your fault," I said.

"I know that, Charlie! It was your idea to go to the tower—"

"Because I was hypnotized! Like what you just did. By the Spider Lady. She, she hypnotized me at the cemetery and told me to help her, to bring her fresh blood—"

"So you brought her _us_? What the hell, Charlie?"

"My mind was all mixed up, okay? I was crazy...I didn't want to but, I couldn't stop!"

"Like those truckers in the parking lot?"

"Yeah," I said. "Pretty much."

She looked at me, but said nothing.

"Sometimes I think she's been hypnotizing me my whole life," I said. "Like, maybe even before I was born. You know?"

"I'm sorry," said Kristin.

"For what?"

"For calling you a creep."

"That's all right," I said.

I reached out to touch her, but stopped.

Then the CD changer grunted and cued up another disk. Some British guy began to sing.

"Change the disk," said Kristin.

"Who is this?" I asked. "The Smiths?"

"No, it's just the lead dude by himself. My mom...my mom used to listen to this record all the time when she and my dad were having their...troubles."

"What kind of troubles?"

"You know. Parent troubles."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I nodded my head anyway.

"He would do something stupid," said Kristin. "Then she would overreact. Over and over, lather, rinse and repeat."

"Uh-huh."

"He got me that fancy saltwater aquarium after the last time. We worked on it together, you know, putting in the sand, the corals, filters and stuff. I had this little guy in a diving suit, and little bubbles would come out of his helmet. Then my dad put all these red fish in there, Red Oscars they're called. They look really beautiful, but they fight all the time. Like, nonstop. And they chase the little ones around and bite them. It's kind of sad, really. I suppose with no one around to feed them, they'll all go belly-up now."

"Well," I began, trying to think of the right thing to say. "Fish have really tiny brains."

"So?"

"So, maybe dying's not so bad for them, because they can't even really think about it, right? You know, as a concept?"

She gave me a funny look.

"I'll just shut up now," I said.

"I really miss my dad, Charlie. I miss my mom, too. I never...I never got to say goodbye or anything."

I nodded and gave her hand a little squeeze.

"God, my head is killing me," she said. "Is it all right if we stop talking for awhile?"

"You bet."

She turned her back to me, and curled into herself, staring out the window. I kept quiet, feeling kind of numb all over, and pretty soon Kristin was asleep. Her mouth was open and she made gurgling sounds.

Reaching around on the floor, I found the bottle of rum and tossed it out the window.I figured we'd be at Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg's house in about two or three more hours. Except it would be the middle of the night. And I had no idea what I was going to say to her when we did show up on her doorstep.

I mean, sure, she did invite me to come visit, but...well, for starters, I was shirtless and covered with blood. And I killed somebody. And I was a fugitive. She'd probably take one look at us and called the cops. That's what any sane person would do.

I was trying to come up with our story, what parts to leave out, but my mind wouldn't cooperate. I ended up just driving, letting my thoughts drift and watching the traffic go by. The car was quiet.

"So, Curtis," I finally said. "What's it like being dead?"

I stole a glance over my shoulder. Curtis was gazing blankly into space.

"Or undead, I guess. In your case."

"Pain," he finally said, his voice hollow and slurry.

I felt shivers up my arms, and I didn't ask him any more questions after that.

Chapter 8

When we finally arrived in Sloatsville, I drove slowly through the sleepy little town until I reached Victoria Elmwood-Ravensburg's house. It was a big old sprawling mess, like one of those houses in an old, black-and-white horror movie. It loomed in the back of a large piece of property full of twisted trees and surrounded by a towering, wrought-iron fence.

I circled around her house, looking for a place to park the mini-van. The entrance to her driveway was barred by a tall, metal gate which was padlocked and chained, so I had to park across the street and hope the busted-up mini-van wouldn't draw the attention of the local cops.

Aching all over, I got out and stretched for a few moments. The air was cool and the sky was full of stars. I suddenly remembered that Niagara Falls was around here somewhere; maybe Kristin and I could go see it after all of this was done.

Ha, ha. Good one, Charlie.

I shook Kristin by the shoulder.

"We're here," I said.

She looked at me groggily.

"What time is it?"

"Late," I said. "Come on."

"Already?"

I shook my head, yes.

"Grab some of the books," I said.

She snatched me by the wrist and squeezed.

"Charlie, let's get out of here."

I looked at her, kind of puzzled.

"Forget about this Elmwood-Ravensburg lady. Let's follow the original plan, go to Mexico, someplace safe, maybe an island with a beach, or a sleepy little town by the seaside. We could eat shrimp and drink beer, and, I don't know, look for sunken treasure."

"We can't do that," I said.

She let go of my wrist. I could feel it throbbing.

"Why not?"

"Oh, come on," I said.

"I don't think this lady is going to help us," she said. 'We're wasting our time."

"You're scared, aren't you?"

"No," she said.

"We're in over our heads," I said. "This lady is our only chance. Otherwise...it's over. We're dead. You know that, don't you?"

Kristin looked at me and slowly nodded.

"I know."

She looked away, put her hand over her mouth.

"We've come this far," I said. "We have to try."

She shrunk a little, and I put my hand on her shoulder. She tried to smile, but couldn't do it.

"I guess so," she finally said.

We each took a handful of books. Kristin looked up at the big house and froze, her eyes wide and uncertain.

"Eggrolls," rasped Curtis.

"What?"

"Eggrolls," he said again, pointing outside.

"Another time, buddy. Okay?"

He stared at me, his large zombie eyes looking almost sad.

"Um, you have to stay in the car now, okay, Curtis?"

He said nothing.

I elbowed Kristin in the side, and motioned toward Curtis.

"Please stay, Curtis," she said.

His hand slowly dropped to his lap and his eyes glazed over.

"Hopefully this lady can help you too, okay?" I said.

But Curtis said nothing.

We walked around to the main gate of the estate, which opened for us on groaning hinges. There was a long, winding path up to the front door. It was difficult to tell in the moonlight for sure, but the yard and the gardens seemed to be well kept.

I felt a sudden twinge of nervousness, wondering about our reception. Would she agree to talk to us? Help us? Or would she just call the police?

And in my eagerness to get here, I kind of forgot it was the middle of the night.

Kristin seemed to walk slower with every step, like she was being led to her own execution. On the front porch she froze again.

My hand went to ring the doorbell, then hesitated.

"Charlie," she whispered. "Don't."

I pushed the bell.

For a few moments, nothing happened. You could actually hear the crickets. Then a light went on upstairs, followed soon after by another light in the front hall. Finally, the outside light came on, illuminating us in all our disheveled, blood-soaked glory.

The front door opened a fraction of an inch and half of a woman's face appeared.

"Yes?" she said.

"Hey, uh, my name's Charlie, uh, Charles Berger. And this is Kristin. We, uh, we're expected. I have a letter from Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg. It's more like an invitation, really."

The woman at the door looked us over, her mouth turning to a frown.

"Let me see it," she said.

I handed her the crumpled, blood-stained letter.

"Just a moment," she said, and quickly shut the door.

A few minutes went by.

"We should go," said Kristin.

I didn't say anything, but I smiled weakly. Her eyes shot daggers at me.

"Charles Berger?" said a stern, but quavering voice.

"Yes," I said.

The door opened again. An old woman was there, sitting in a wheelchair. Her hair was completely white, and pulled back into a bun. Her wrinkled, gnarled hands rested in her lap.

"Prove it," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, prove it."

"Well, uh, I gave her a letter. It was from you. You wrote it to me."

The old woman gave her servant a look.

"That all you got?" she said.

'You—you are Victoria Elmwood-Ravensburg, right?"

"Who wants to know?" she said.

My brain locked up and I couldn't figure out if this lady was messing with me or if maybe she really was crazy.

"I have a letter," I said.

"Letters can be intercepted. Forged. Fabricated and unscrambled. Agents are everywhere, trying to discredit me, destroy my reputation and hasten my demise. I will not be bamboozled by the Ragamuffins of the Enemy. You claim to be Charles Berger? Prove it!"

I didn't know what to do. My tongue felt like to was glued to the top of my mouth and the gears in my head struggled to turn, to think of something, anything.

Then I remembered what was in my pocket.

I pulled out the little black bag and held it up for her to see.

"How's this?" I said.

She looked at it for a moment, her eyes narrowing.

"That will do," she said. "Come inside."

The old woman's servant wheeled her out of sight.

"This way, please," she called from the darkness.

We stepped into a mansion. Everything inside looked old-fashioned. Big furniture, painted portraits on the walls, bronze urns, floral wall-paper. I felt like I had stepped back in time. The whole place smelled like Lemon Pledge.

"Come in, come in, sit down," she said.

We followed the sound of her voice into some kind of parlor, full of fancy bookshelves and chairs. There was a little teapot with cups and saucers laid out on a small table.

"Thank you, Consuela, you may go now."

The dark-haired woman lingered for a moment, unsure.

"I will be in the other room, if you need me," she said.

Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg nodded and Consuela left.

"What happened to your clothes?" she asked.

"We, uh, we had some trouble," I said.

"And what about you, hm?" she said to Kristin. "You got a name? Quit lurking in that doorway and come over here so I can get a better look at you."

Kristin reluctantly shuffled over and sat in one of the cushy chairs.

"And you are?" asked Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg.

"Kristin."

The old woman looked her over, her eyes squinting, the wrinkles in her face multiplying a million times over.

"Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg—"

"Please, call me Victoria."

"Okay, uh, Victoria, what exactly is this thing?" I said, holding up the little black bag again.

"That's a conjure bag," she said.

"What does it do?"

"That depends. Some people wear them to bring good luck. Or romance. Fidelity...or fertility."

"Oh," I said.

I stared down at the little black bag and felt a wave of dizziness sweep over me.

"This belonged to my mother," I said.

"I know."

"Did she get it from you?"

Victoria shook her head, no.

"Whose blood is that on you, young man?"

"Just a friend's," I said.

"What kind of trouble did you say you were in again?"

"Spider Lady trouble," I said. "She's your sister, right? Elvira?"

"Clever boy," said Victoria. "Have you seen her lately?"

"Yeah, we, uh...we met her," I said.

The old woman said nothing.

"I saw her a few times, when she was the Spider Lady. And then, uh, we went into her stone tower with some friends a little over a week ago, and they...anyway, she was dead, but she's not really, I think she's haunting my friend somehow."

The old woman looked at us. She rubbed her hands together, but said nothing.

"It's true," Kristin said. "Somehow...she's inside me, in my head, trying to get me to do things, to hurt people..."

"We're not making this up," I said.

"How far gone was she?" asked Victoria.

"Gone what?" I asked.

"You called her the Spider Lady, correct? Well, what was she, when you saw her last? A spider? A lady? Some awful combination of the two?"

"Uh, she had spider legs coming out of her, but, I didn't really look to close."

"She was cursed. By an African shaman."

"Yeah, I kind of guessed."

"We tried for years to break the spell," said the old woman. "But nothing worked. The magic was too strong. Elvira grew frustrated, bitter, angry. And the books she was reading didn't help. Dark magic. She became impossible to be around. We had a falling out. I haven't spoken to her in a long, long time."

I glanced over at Kristin. She was slowly spinning her teacup around in circles.

"But now it seems Elvira did find a way to break the curse," said the old woman. "And a pretty neat trick it is. Cheat the curse, and cheat death, too. At least, for the time being. But a new question arises. Was it her body the shaman had cursed? Or was it her soul? You see the difference, I hope? Who's to say the curse won't begin to affect this body, your friend Kristin here?"

"I don't understand," I said. "What way? What trick? How is the curse going to affect Kristin, too?"

"That book your holding, _Der Hexenhammer_? Did you know it was bound in human skin?"

I looked down at the book and quickly dropped it on the table.

Victoria took the heavy tome and briskly flipped through it until she found what she was looking for.

"Look!" she said, her bony finger jabbing one of the pages.

She pointed to a woodblock illustration of three figures, dressed in medieval-looking clothes . First, an old woman, sitting with her eyes closed, talon-like hands resting in her lap; then, another form floating above her, wispy, but resembling the old woman. Her spirit, I realized; it was attacking the third figure, a young woman, seeping into her mouth, nose and ears. The expression on the young woman's face was one of sheer terror.

Scribbled in the margin were several esoteric symbols, equations and foreign words which I couldn't decipher, and one written in all capitals that I could: TRANSPOSITION.

I held my breath. Kristin gasped.

That was how she did it.

My mind flashed back to that night in the Stone Tower. The grey dust when her body collapsed, all of that dust in the air, going into Kristin's nose, her mouth.

The Spider Lady wasn't just messing with Kristin's thoughts and dreams. She was _inside_ her body, too!

And it was clear that she was taking over.

Kristin stood up and bolted for the door. I ran after her, trying to grab her arms.

"Wait!"

"Get off!"

I tackled her to the ground, pinning her arms.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Just let me go, Charlie!"

Victoria wheeled herself into the front hall. Consuela came running out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.

"It's not Kristin who's running, Mr. Berger, it's her. Elvira."

I looked at Kristin, her eyes full of venom.

"Elvira?" I asked.

"You will all die!" said Kristin. "You will die, the girl, the Mexican bitch, and you, sister, I will kill you all!"

She started to speak in some other language, odd frightening words, over and over.

"Stop her!" said the old woman.

I shoved my fingers into her mouth. She bit them, hard, and I howled.

But at least she couldn't talk anymore.

"Fight her, girl!" said the old woman. "Take control of your mind!"

Kristin beat her fists against the floor, squirming and twitching. Then she growled and threw her head back, banging it hard on the ground.

She went limp, tears pouring out of her eyes. I stood up, glancing at my bloody hand. Kristin got to her feet and ran up the staircase to the second floor. Somewhere, a door slammed.

I looked at Consuela. She looked at Mrs. Elmwood-Ravensburg.

"I'm calling the police," said Consuela.

"No," said the old woman. "Go to her, hurry."

I quickly ran upstairs, poking my head into the many rooms, when I heard Kristin sobbing behind a closed door. I tried the handle. The door was locked.

"Kristin?"

"Go away!"

"It's okay, Kris," I said

"Why is this happening to me?"

"I don't know."

"I'm going crazy! I can't even control my own body anymore!"

"Yes, you can," I said. "Come on, open the door."

"I wish none of this ever happened!"

"Open the door, Kristin."

I heard the sound of cabinets banging, drawers being quickly opened and slammed shut.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

I put my ear to the door. I heard her rummaging around, then nothing. She must have found what she was looking for.

"Open the damn door!" I said.

"Goodbye, Charlie."

And then I heard her gag, heard something metallic clang to the floor.

"Consuela!" I screamed. "Victoria! Help!"

Consuela came charging up the stairs.

"It's locked," I said, gesturing toward the door.

She jiggled the knob, nothing. Then she ran off. I took a step back and kicked the door as hard as I could, once, twice, but it wouldn't budge.

Consuela returned holding the key. Moments later the door popped open.

Kristin was on the floor, blood spurting out of her throat. On the tiles nearby was a pair of bloody scissors.

Consuela screamed.

I grabbed a hand towel and pressed it to Kristin's neck. Her eyes were closed, her face pale.

"Oh, God!" I said. "Kristin! Kristin!"

Her eyes popped open and she grinned, her teeth covered with blood.

"You don't have to be so melodramatic," she said.

Consuela ran out of the bathroom, her hand over her mouth.

The hand towel was turning warm and red.

"It's all right, Charlie," said Kristin. "She won't let me die."

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 tiny, 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, you 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.

Chapter 10

Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed midnight. The living room was full of candles, but somehow, the darkness seemed to be swallowing up their light. Kristin was sitting cross-legged in a pentagram drawn on the floor with white chalk. Next to her was another pentagram with the wooden doll in the center.

Both pentagrams had a metal coin placed at each of the five points. Kristin's coins were all heads, the doll's were tails. Just outside of the pentagrams was Victoria, wearing the African mask and a strange, black robe made of feathers and cloth. She was slashing the air between the two pentagrams with the stick, chanting and wiggling in her wheelchair like a sinister jack-in-the-box.

I had no idea Victoria was capable of this. I mean, the woman was ancient. But here she was, singing in some old forgotten language, trying to send her sister's spirit into the body of a little wooden doll.

Kristin kept her hands clutched together, sometimes watching Victoria, sometimes staring at the floor. The old woman had painted a bunch of elaborate designs on Kristin's face and body. In the flickering light of the candles, the designs seemed to writhe and swirl.

I sat in a cushy chair feeling completely useless. I didn't know magic, I couldn't hold Kristin's hand. So in my head I just kept thinking, Please Work, over and over, as if somehow that would help.

Kristin and I didn't talk about what happened out in the garden, and I thought that was probably for the best.

As Victoria howled and chanted and waved the stick, Kristin began to tremble. She started scratching at her arms, pulling on her hair, and then suddenly she jerked backward and collapsed into a ball.

"Kristin!" I said.

Victoria was chanting louder now, stabbing the air with her stick.

Kristin sat bolt upright, tilted her head back and screamed.

Suddenly this whole magic spell thing seemed like a bad idea. The candles were flickering like crazy, the old woman was possessed, hissing and spitting, and I saw blood running down the sides of Kristin's legs.

From out of her mouth came some sort of white, puffy ooze, floating upward, swirling and growing in size. Kristin's eyes rolled back into her head and she shook as if she was throwing up. The white ooze was beginning to take shape. I could see hands, a woman's torso, a neck.

Then the ooze formed a head, the face blank, slowly becoming defined. It was Elvira. She looked like she did in the old photograph, young and beautiful, but her eyes were cold and full of hate. And then she opened her mouth and screamed.

"Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!"

The candles fluttered like crazy and I swear I felt the house shake. Elvira twisted and turned, being dragged by an unseen force toward the wooden doll in the other pentagram. She howled and raged, and the sound of her screams kept me frozen in terror.

Then I heard a window break, and something hard go bouncing across the floor. I turned to look and saw a tear gas canister spinning around on the ground, and then suddenly there was a popping sound and a thick, greenish smoke came billowing out.

"Look out!" I screamed.

Something battered down the front door, smashing it right off its hinges. A group of SWAT police came storming into the house, wearing gas masks and carrying machine guns. Already I could feel the gas burning my eyes, and I tried to duck down under the fumes but they were everywhere.

I looked over at Kristin and saw the ooze form of Elvira that had been pouring out of her mouth was gone. Kristin was standing now, her eyes red and glinting. Victoria had been thrown from her wheelchair to the floor, and she was not moving. The magic stick was broken in two.

A pair of cops grabbed me roughly by the arms and pushed me down to the floor. I tried to fight them off, but I could barely see and they were grinding my face into the carpet. I could hear the others trying to grab Kristin, shouting and suddenly screaming.

"What the hell is this?" I heard one of them say.

"Get 'em off me! Get 'em off me!" shouted another.

"They're everywhere!"

"My leg!!!"

The hands holding me down let go and I lifted my head off the floor, trying to figure out what was going on. I saw blurry black dots everywhere, some little, some frighteningly big, moving everywhere, swiftly covering the jerking bodies of the SWAT team.

The black dots were spiders.

The policemen were on the floor now, shaking and screaming, swatting their bodies over and over. There were a few larger spiders roaming about, spiders the size of cats, and they would jump on the policemen and bite them.

The room was full of tear gas now, and my throat was swelling shut. I crawled around on all fours, croaking out for Kristin. I found her bare feet, covered with blood and tiny spiders. She loomed above me, her face calm and cold.

"K-Kristin?" I choked.

She shook her head, no.

"Help me," I said.

Kristin slowly smiled. Then she bent down and took my chin in her hands. I looked into her eyes, and I knew Kristin was really gone. Fear stabbed me through the heart.

"I'm going now," she said. "Would you like to come with me, Charlie?"

My body trembled. My throat got tighter and tighter.

"No—no thanks," I finally said.

She frowned for a moment. We looked at each other for what seemed like forever, her eyes searching mine. I wondered if she was going to kill me. But instead she smiled again, and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

The spot where she kissed me tingled.

Then she stood up and seemed to glide across the room, into the green smoky haze, the clouds of tear gas parting for her like waves on the ocean. She floated out the door and I heard more screams and gunshots coming from outside.

There must be an army of police out there. How did they know we were here?

Consuela must have tipped them off.

Didn't matter now. There were spiders crawling over my legs and hands as I crawled on my belly toward Victoria. She wasn't moving at all, not even choking on the tear gas fumes, and I panicked with the thought that she was dead.

"Victoria," I said, shaking her by the shoulder. "We have to get out of here!"

She didn't budge.

I crawled closer, putting my ear down to her mouth, hoping to hear her breathing.

I heard nothing.

Cursing, I starting crawling away toward the kitchen. Then I felt a bony hand grab me by the ankle. I turned to look and it was Victoria, her eyes completely black like tar and her mouth open in a silent scream. Frantically I tried to kick her off, as she clawed her way up my body, shoving her face next to mine.

The air crackled and I saw more of that puffy white ooze come pouring out of her mouth. Then it was going up my nostrils, into my ears and past my lips. The ooze slid through my fingers as I tried to pull it away. I could feel it, cold, wet and slimy, like sour milk sliding down my throat, pushing against my eyes and slithering into my tear ducts, filling me up with her, her spirit.

I fell backward, unable to see, unable to talk, my brain screaming.

No!

Get out! Leave me alone!

My head felt like it was going to explode, the blood pounding in my ears, everything going black—

And then I saw a picture in my mind. It was an old apartment building in Manhattan. The street signs read Thirty-eighth and Eighth Avenue. The number 312 was painted on the front door.

There's a board listing the names of all the tenants and their apartment numbers.

My eyes are drawn to one name in particular.

Joseph Cat. Number sixty-six.

Up the stairs and into a dark, dim hallway. A beige door with a little peephole and the number sixty-six below it. The door opens into an even darker room, a feeble lamp, a well-dressed man sitting behind a desk.

No, not a man, a dwarf. Bald, but with a neatly-trimmed beard. He looks up from some obscure object before him and stares right at me.

The dwarf smiles, I get a glimpse of crooked, yellow teeth.

"I'll be expecting you," he says.

And then everything is rushing away, total blackness at the edges, gasping for breath, balls of light dancing in my eyes, the white ooze flowing out of me and dispersing into the air above me like a floating puddle of spilled milk.

And then Victoria's spirit was gone, dissolving into thin air. I found the little silver bell she wore and rang it three times.

Maybe that was dumb, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Dead policemen were all over the place, spiders covering them with webs. There was a terrible taste in my mouth and I was dying for a drink of water. It was strangely quiet as I stumbled into the kitchen, and grabbed Victoria's car keys off the kitty. Then I slipped into the garden. Through the trees I could see the flashing red lights of squad cars parked just outside the property.

The air outside was clean, the sky full of stars. I staggered over to a rusty tin watering can, and eagerly lifted it to my lips. A small trickle of water went down my throat, and I shook the can for every last drop.

The garden was deserted, except for a little frog, squatting on the bench where Kristin had bit me. It croaked a few times and blinked at me, then hopped off the bench and disappeared.

Suddenly a policeman in a bullet-proof vest came charging out of the bushes pointing a gun at me.

"Don't move, Charlie!" he said.

There was something familiar about his voice.

"Hands up in the air. Knees on the ground, now!"

"I can't," I said.

"Come on, Charlie," he said. "Don't make this difficult, okay?"

Now I recognized the cop. It was Detective Powell.

"I have to go," I said.

"Hands in the air," the detective said.

I glanced at the gun in his hand and took a step backward.

"No funny business," he said. "On your knees."

"But—"

"I want to help you, Charlie," the detective said. "Really, I do. But you got to put your damn hands in the air and get down on the ground right freaking now."

One thing is for sure, the barrel of a gun looks a lot bigger when it's pointed at you. So I did what the man with the gun said and planted my knees down on the ground. Detective Powell quickly put my hands behind my back and slapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists.

Then he frisked me and took my gun away.

"Where's the girl?" he asked.

"What girl?"

"Don't be stupid, Charlie. Kristin McDermott. Where is she?"

"She turned into the Spider Lady and floated out the door."

"How'd she manage to do that?"

"Long story," I said.

"Can you stop her?"

"I...I don't know anymore..."

I could see the wrinkles in his forehead, his eyes squinting, not hard but actually sympathetic.

"You know how hard it is to kill a witch, kid? First, you got to find her. Sneak up on her lair without being detected. Because she can always see you coming in the vapors of her cauldron or whatever, and then she turns into a panther or a cloud of shimmering mist, and flies away. Leaving you with your shorts blowing in the wind. But, if you do manage to catch a witch, you can't just shoot her. No. No, you got to chop off her head, or burn her at the stake, get out the giant dunking stool, whatever, all this crazy medieval stuff. Because that's the rules. I don't make this stuff up. Seriously, it's a drag."

"Detective—are you messing with me?"

"I wish I was, Charlie. But that Elvira Elmwood—the Spider Lady—she's been messing with our town for almost a hundred years. And trying to stop her? It gets tiring. Costs a lot of overtime. A lot of good men dead. And for what? Nothing's changed. Believe me, she doesn't like being hassled either. That's why she agreed to stay in the lines if we threw her a bone every once and awhile."

"A bone?"

"You're one of her kids, right?"

"I guess so."

"See, that kind of voodoo we did not permit. And now, look at the sugar storm we find ourselves in. Unacceptable, Mr. Berger."

"But, you can't just kill her," I said.

"Who said anything about killing her? I'm just here to clean up the mess. Pick up the pieces and make it all disappear. And then everything can go back to normal."

"I don't understand."

"The old spinster dead? Victoria Blah Blah Blah?"

"Yes."

"What about your friends? Edward and Curtis?

"They're dead, too. But, uh, Curtis is a zombie now."

"A zombie, huh? That's too bad. He seemed like a nice kid. Still, a zombie I can kill. Guess that leaves just you, kid."

"Leaves me what?"

The Detective raised his gun and pointed it at my head.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. It's nothing personal. It's just bad luck. Maybe in the next life you can get a rabbit's foot or something."

Suddenly Curtis appeared, snarling, dead eyes focused on Detective Powell and blazing with hate. The spider living in the top of his skull seemed to wobble with glee as he reached out to mangle him.

Detective Powell screamed as he opened fire, blasting Curtis right in the stomach. Curtis grabbed him by the collar of his bullet-proof vest.

"Curtis, no!" I said.

But it was already too late.

Detective Powell started screaming. I saw a huge splash of blood, I saw Curtis holding the detective's severed head in the air, and then he turned toward me and growled.

That's when I took off, sprinting over to the garage. Inside was the old lady's car, a Chevy Malibu. It was fat, big and ugly, painted brown with a pine tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

From the look of the cobwebs and dust on the thing, it hadn't been driven in awhile. I turned around, trying to open the door with my hands still cuffed behind my back.

"Please be open, please be open..."

After a quick struggle, the door slowly popped open and I went to the glove box. It was difficult to search inside, I had to guess what I was going through just by touch since my back was still turned. Felt like papers, mostly, some kind of bag of candy, loose change, pencils.

Then I felt the smooth curves of a hairpin and grinned.

Working as fast as I could, I stuck the hairpin into the tiny lock on the cuffs and wiggled it toward the locking mechanism. Good thing I watched all those escape artist videos on YouTube, huh?

Still, it proved to be trickier than I thought. Finally the cuff on my right wrist popped off, and I brought my hands back out in front of me. My wrists were already kind of numb and bleeding, but I hardly noticed as I stuck the hairpin into the other cuff on my left wrist and picked the lock.

Curtis came charging into the tiny garage, covered in blood.

"Die!" he howled. "Die!!"

There was a shovel nearby and I grabbed it just in time. As Curtis came scrambling toward me I swung as hard as I could. The shovel connected with his head with a loud thwack, and it went flying out of the garage and somewhere into the bushes. Curtis's headless body stumbled around, waving its arms frantically.

"Over here!" shouted Curtis's head.

The body turned toward the sound of its voice, so I banged it on the knee with the shovel and it fell down.

"Here!" shouted Curtis's head.

I found it resting near the rose bushes. He looked up at me, still angry but sort of pathetic. I thought about bringing the shovel down on his head, smashing it into pulp, but I couldn't do it.

"Sorry, Curtis," I said.

"We had a deal!"

"I'm really sorry."

"Kill you!" he said.

His body came crashing out of the garage. Quickly, I kicked his head away, and it went rolling toward the gate. His body went stumbling after it. I watched them for a moment, then got into the car, put the key in the ignition and heard the engine cough in protest. Finally it started, and I rolled the car out of the garage slowly with the lights off, hoping the police wouldn't spot me.

As I went down the driveway I saw a figure running toward me at full speed, waving its fist. It was Curtis, carrying his head under his arm, screaming and shouting. I hesitated for a moment, then stomped on the accelerator and slammed into him doing forty. He bounced off the car and landed several feet away from the driveway.

A quick glance in the rearview showed me the body was beginning to stand up again. I thought for a moment about turning back to run over him again, but I figured he was an indestructible, revenge-driven zombie from Hell and I'd just be wasting my time.

Then I noticed the front gates were padlocked. I had just enough time to put my head down as the car crashed into them, ripping the gates off their hinges and flinging them into the street. There were police cars everywhere, men on the ground, huge freaking spiders all over the place, and then I was gone, racing up the street, trying to remember how to get on the interstate, waiting with my guts churning for the sound of a police siren behind me.

But the only thing pursuing me now was Curtis, getting farther and farther away in the rearview mirror, waving his arm in fury and shouting something I couldn't hear.

The gas tank was only about a third full. I was covered with dirt and blood, my shirt was in tatters. My jeans were ripped open at the knees. Tiny shards of glass were stuck in the soles on my boots. My eyes burned, my throat ached. I was breathing hard and my hands trembled.

And Kristin was gone.

The Spider Lady got her. Elvira. She took over—what? Kristin's mind? Her body? Her soul? She took over everything.

Kristin was gone. Like, dead gone.

Hot tears flowed down my cheeks. This was the bottom of the pit. Everything was dark and I was lost.

I drove and drove until I caught myself falling asleep at the wheel. Would that be such a bad way to die? Probably fast and painful. Probably what I deserved.

But eventually I pulled into a truck stop, and debated for a moment where to the park the car. I should probably hide it, but I didn't care. Let the cops catch me. It's over.

So I sat there, staring out the window at the traffic rushing by. Even at this crazy hour in the night, people were moving around. My stomach grumbled and I searched for that bag of candy in the glove compartment. It turned out to be a half-eaten package of black licorice. I ate a few pieces, but they tasted terrible. Why do old people like such nasty candy?

My eyelids got heavy, and as I drowsed off to sleep, I wondered if it would be the cops waking me up in the morning. Shove a pistol in my face, slap on the handcuffs, and haul me off to jail.

I shoved the black licorice back into the glove compartment and when I looked up there was Kristin standing a few feet away from the car.

She stood perfectly still, her hands clasped together. Her eyes were red with tears. She said something that I couldn't hear. Quickly, I rolled down the car window.

"What?" I said.

"Help me, Charlie," she said.

"You're not dead?"

"Help me," she said again.

And then she vanished, like turning off a light.

I turned around and I was sitting next to Eddie. He was decomposing, all blood, gore, and skull. His teeth were all sharpened into points.

"Berger Butt!" he said.

Then he lunged forward and bit me on the throat.

I woke up screaming.

It was dawn. I had barley slept at all, but I needed to get a move on. At the gas station supermarket I bought a new shirt, sunglasses and a baseball cap. My stomach was really rumbling now, so I splurged on a super-breakfast burrito, hoping it would fill me up all day. That left me only ten bucks to put in the tank, which turned out to be not enough.

I ran out of gas near New Windsor, so I ditched the Malibu and decided to hitch-hike. A couple hours later this big rig pulled up next to me and this trucker guy with a grizzly, white beard and mirrored sunglasses leaned out the window.

"Brother," he said to me. "Do you believe in the Apocalypse?"

"I do if you'll give me a ride to New York," I said.

I guess that answer was good enough for him. He popped open the door and I got inside. The passenger seat of his cab was full of empty soda cans that he brushed onto the floor with one of his meaty hands. Then we were on the road again.

"Apocalypses come in all shapes and sizes, Brother. Not just your average, run-of-the-mill Revelations-Ragnarok-Twilight of the Gods-Mayan Mothership-Nuclear Armageddon-type apocalypses, but personal ones, too. The cancer of evil deeds. I'm talking about the End of the Soul. Can you dig it, brother?"

"I can dig it," I said.

He was hauling a whole trailer full of live chickens, stinking things with their feathers going everywhere. He talked the entire time, and I tried not to fall asleep, part of me feeling like maybe he was saying something important, and part of me thinking he was nuts.

A few hours later we were through the Holland Tunnel and he dropped me off on the corner of Thirty-eighth street and we said goodbye. It was almost midnight.

"This the place you want to be kid?"

I nodded.

"Even if you're thirsty, do not drink from the well of darkness, my friend."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"I think you already know," he said.

And then he drove off, the engine of his truck rumbling and roaring like some gigantic beast.

The city was bright and dirty. Neon lights and people everywhere. Cars honked and tires squealed. The air was hot and sticky, and I could feel myself sweating, drops of sweat rolling down my forehead and into my eyes.

I walked quickly, getting bumped for my efforts by the other pedestrians, until I reached my destination. 312 Thirty-eighth Street. It was a tall, drab building, with a big pile of trash bags out front. The light was out in the foyer, but I could still read the names above the buzzers, and I pushed J. Cat, apartment 66.

A second later the intercom crackled, and I could hear a man's voice, but it was too garbled to understand.

"What?" I shouted into the intercom. "I can't hear you."

It crackled again, and then there was a buzzing sound and the front door unlocked. I pushed it open and stepped inside. Inside the small lobby there was an elevator, and I tapped the UP button a few times, but nothing happened. As I looked up the staircase and saw it wind upwards and beyond, I heard a noise behind me.

Peeking out from behind a door was an old man, his one pale, bright blue eye fixed on me.

"Out of order," he croaked.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"The elevator. Out of order."

"Thanks," I said.

And then the door slammed shut.

I plodded up the steps, slowly, sweating a lot. Some of the lights in the halls were out, others just flickering. The whole place reeked and there was strange graffiti scribbled on the walls, odd phrases scribbled in shaky hands.

ALL OF SATAN'S APPLES HAVE WORMS

And other goofy things like that.

The building was quiet. Sure, I heard the hum of a few televisions, ghostly voices talking about nothing very important. But they sounded far away. Muted. Underwater or underground.

I found apartment 66. It was a beige door with a little peephole and the number 66 below it, just like in my vision at Victoria's house. There was a different smell there, like something burning, but also sweet.

I knocked three times.

The door opened and there before me stood the bald dwarf with the fancy beard.

"Come inside," he said. "Welcome, welcome."

I walked into this apartment and the door closed behind me with a thud. The inside was dark. I saw the same feeble lamp that I had seen in my vision. The desk was there, too, a few plump, drab chairs, and a massive bookcase that took up an entire wall.

There were two other doors, both shut, one I presumed for the bathroom, the other his bedroom. The window was covered with a set of lush, dark red curtains.

"How was your trip?" asked the dwarf.

"Okay," I said.

"Something to drink?" he asked.

I nodded.

The dwarf took a pair of goblets from a small table and poured some water into them from a pitcher. He offered one to me and I took it, staring down into the goblet and imagining that I couldn't see the bottom.

"Interesting goblet, is it not?" asked the dwarf.

I nodded again.

"A family heirloom. From the old country, you might say."

I hesitated for a moment, then took a drink. The water was cold.

"Joseph Cat at your service, young man. Sit down, please. What can I do for you today?"

"I, uh, I don't know where to start," I said.

"Is it love?" asked Joseph Cat, smiling

I was about to answer him when I thought I heard someone softly sob from behind one of the doors. I looked at Joseph and he smiled again, a thin, happy smile.

I listened again but heard no other sound.

"Yeah," I said. "I guess so. That's right."

"With the young people, it is always love," he said.

I explained to Mr. Cat everything that had happened and as I talked, his smile slowly turned into a frown. When I was done, he looked at me for a moment, his eyes glinting.

"This is very bad magic you are mixed up with. Very bad."

I nodded.

"Why don't you leave this girl to her fate? Go, run away. Find another girl and start a new life somewhere else. Mexico, perhaps? Canada is lovely this time of year."

"I can't," I said.

"Why?"

"Well, it's like you said. I love her."

"Of course you do. For now. But sometimes love is a fleeting moment. Tomorrow, you may love someone else."

"No. I love Kristin. I love her and I always will."

"How strong is your love? Hmm? Would you kill for her?"

"I already have," I said.

"And would you kill your Kristin if it was the only way to release her from the spell?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Would you? Would you kill her to set her free?"

"I don't understand," I said.

He turned abruptly and waddled over to the bookcase. Then he quickly scampered up a small ladder on rollers and pulled something down from one of the top shelves.

It was a knife.

A long, gleaming knife, made of silver. The blade was twisted like a corkscrew and the handle was carved to resemble some kind of goat or ram, with a pair of giant horns. He stabbed the knife into his desk and it stood there, leering at me.

"This is the only solution," said Mr. Cat.

"No, I mean, Victoria said we could move Elvira's spirit into the wooden doll—"

"Maybe that would have worked before, but now, the Spider Lady, she is too powerful."

"Well, then we can try to break the curse again."

"Impossible. The curse, it is personal magic. Very strong. The only person who could release the Spider Lady from her curse is dead."

"Maybe we could pull Kristin out of her body...and...and...put her into somebody else."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Anybody."

"Time is not on your side, my friend. A spell like that takes years to learn, longer to master. Trust me, by then your friend will be long gone, her soul devoured."

"You could cast the spell," I said.

"I don't make house calls," said the dwarf, folding his arms.

I thought I heard that weird, soft whimpering in the other room again. I turned to look at the door and it stopped. Then my gaze fell upon the knife.

"How does it work," I asked.

"A very magical knife. One of a kind, you understand. It has the power to cut spells in two, destroying them completely. First, you find the person who is under the spell you wish to break. In this case, your friend Kristin. Then, you stab her in the heart three times. Once for the girl, once for the witch, and one more time for the spider. The knife, it needs blood to work. Lots and lots of blood."

"Then what happens?" I asked.

"The spell is broken, the person is released from its power."

"And the person?"

"They usually die. Not all the times, but most times. Many times," he added, smiling.

"So I stab Kristin with this thing, and the Spider Lady and her curse go away forever."

"Yes," said the dwarf.

"And there's a chance Kristin still might live after...?"

"I suppose there is a slim chance," said Mr. Cat.

I grabbed the knife and tried to pull it out of the table. It wouldn't budge.

"Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?" said Mr. Cat.

"What does it look like?"

"You can't just take the knife, young man. It's not a gift. But I will sell it to you."

"I don't have any money," I said.

"Please, I do not dirty my hands with money," said the dwarf.

"Then what?"

Mr. Cat looked me up and down.

"One-fifth of your soul," he said.

"One-fifth? Why not just the whole thing?"

"Because the rest of it is damaged. Look at you. Oh, yes, I can see all your secrets, Charles Berger. Lust. Jealousy. Murder. My goodness. They have left their mark, oh yes, they have indeed. So you see, I prefer to take the cream off the top. The cat, he always prefers the cream. One-fifth."

"The other four-fifths of my soul are damaged?" I asked.

He nodded, then shrugged.

I felt kind of sick, but also giddy. Was this dwarf for real? Was this some kind of joke?

"Don't I need, you know, all of my soul to stay alive?"

"Oh no, not at all," said Mr. Cat. "You will hardly even notice it's gone."

I imagined Kristin somewhere in a dark room, the claws of the Spider Lady closing in on her. Kristin trembling with fear. Kristin being eaten.

"Let's do it," I said.

Mr. Cat pulled a contract out of his desk drawer and slid it over to me. I read it over and it was very clear. One-fifth of my soul for the magic knife. It should have disturbed me that the contract was already drawn up, but I was too eager to get moving, to rescue my girl.

"I guess I'm supposed to sign in blood?" I asked, kind of grinning.

"No, no, no, we don't do any of that melodramatic stuff here. Ink will be fine, if you please."

He handed me an old-fashioned black pen and I signed my name to the bottom of the document. I was expecting maybe a flash of lightning and a thunderclap, but nothing happened. I didn't even feel any different. The dwarf pulled the knife out of the desk and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I said, taking the knife from him. It felt good in my hand. "What's it called?"

"It's not called anything," said Mr. Cat. "It's just a knife."

"No, no," I said. "All bad things got to have name. Something spooky."

"Very well. What do you want to call it?"

I thought this over for a few moments.

"How about the 'Dagger of Sorrows'?"

"Very appropriate," smiled Mr. Cat. "Are you happy now?"

I nodded.

"Remember," he said. "You must stab her in the heart. Three times."

"Yeah, yeah. Three times," I said.

I put the knife into my waistband and turned to leave.

"No offense, but I hope I never see you again," I said to the little dwarf.

Then I stalked out of the room.

I was going to kill that goddamn Spider Lady and save Kristin, and nobody better get in my way or I would kill them, too.

I could hear the soft whimpering behind me and as I turned to close the door the dwarf waved at me.

"Good luck, my friend," said Mr. Cat, smiling.

"Get bent," I replied.

Chapter 11

I used the last of my money to buy a one-way train ticket home. I kept my baseball hat pulled down low, and tried to blend in as much as possible. The top of the knife poked me in the ribs, the goat-demon's sharp horns rubbing roughly against my skin.

It was the last train back from Grand Central, but there were still a bunch of people on board. I didn't see any cops, but I knew they were probably everywhere, and I wondered if they would be looking for me and Kristin. Or maybe I was being paranoid. My biggest fear was getting caught before I had a chance to kill the Spider Lady. If the police grabbed me, they'd confiscate the knife and I'd never see it again.

And then Kristin would be dead forever.

The train pulled out of the station and a few minutes later the conductor took my ticket, not speaking a word as she punched it twice and stuck it through the little loop on top of the seat in front of me. I pretended to be asleep, and kept my face down. Just then a loud group of kids entered the car, looking for seats. It turned out they were all from my school, a bunch of the beautiful people, including those two jerks John and Troy, the jocks who were always bugging me.

They all filed past, giggling and shouting, and ended up sitting just a few seats down from me. I looked out the window and watched as their reflection walked by. My hands started to sweat. I wasn't sure if they recognized me or not. Probably not. Probably.

But, so what if they did?

For a moment I had this crazy urge to jump up and stab them all in the chest with the magic knife. They all deserved it, I thought. They all deserved to die.

My fingers reached for the knife, brushing the cool handle. Part of my brain was screaming to kill them. But that would be stupid. Reckless. Evil.

I had to shake my head back and forth a few times to clear my thoughts.

The train slowly plodded along, going from one station to the next. The blinding lights of the city faded away and were replaced by quiet backyards and desolate boarding platforms, all smeared with giant advertisements.

Every once and awhile I caught John or Troy looking in my direction.

Then Troy nudged John and pointed at me.

I stood up and bolted for the exit, eyes fixed straight ahead. I had no idea when we'd be stopping for the next station, but I had to get off the train.

I had to get off the train now.

Now.

So I broke into a run.

Heads started turning, curious glances, frowns, people moving out of the way. I ran into the next car, and pulled the emergency brake cord. The train protested and screeched, brakes squealing as it jerked to an abrupt stop.

People were shouting and cursing now. I ran down the length of the car. There was a conductor at the opposite end and I barreled into him as hard as I could, knocking the guy into the laps of a bunch of passengers.

Then somebody grabbed my arm and I slammed my fist into their face. Quickly I opened the door between cars, and stepped out onto the little platform connecting them. It was a short, but dangerous hop over all the cables and wires and then I was stumbling down an embankment and into a chain-link fence. The fence was topped with a row of barbed wire.

People were pointing out the window, and the conductors were shining flashlights into the darkness, searching for me. I could even hear them chattering to one another on their walkie-talkies. I stumbled through old soda cans, broken glass and all kinds of other trash, looking for some way past the fence.

Eventually I realized that I was going to have to climb it. I scrambled up the links as fast as I could, then grabbed the barbed wire and grit my teeth in pain as my palms were torn and shredded. Then I was up and over, but not before another barb ripped my jeans and cut open my leg.

I ran through somebody's backyard, past silent houses on sleepy streets. Blood was oozing down my hands, dribbling off my fingertips. Up ahead I saw a small shopping center. There was a Chinese restaurant, a liquor store, dry cleaner, and a small convenience store. The lights were on inside. I hit the door panting, sweating, freaking out. It jangled and a blast of cool air gave me goose bumps.

There was a man behind the counter, watching a small T.V. One of those tabloid cable news programs, about missing girls and murdered husbands. He quickly glanced at me, then turned his attention back to the screen. I saw the words FATHER OF SUSPECTED KILLER on the television and stopped.

The man on the T.V. looked familiar.

Like somebody in an old photograph.

And then it hit me.

He was my dad.

Older, scraggly, kind of sad and worn-out. But it was him.

"Please, Charlie," he said. "I'm urging you to come forward and turn yourself into the police. Let the madness stop. We all want to help you, son."

I stood transfixed.

"Is there anything else you'd like to add, Mr. Berger, for our viewers at home?" said one of the talking-heads.

"Charlie was always a very good boy," my father said.

I didn't know what to feel, watching him talk about me on national television. Part of me seethed with rage, but there were tears forming in my eyes.

I started laughing, then hugging my sides and shaking all over.

"Can I help you?" a voice said.

It was the man from behind the counter.

"No thanks," I said.

With my gaze broken from the T.V., I searched the aisles for something to stop the bleeding. There were a few boxes of gauze bandages on a dusty shelf, shoved between the foot powder and contact solution. I shoved two in my pockets, then opened a third and began winding the white gauze around my bleeding palms.

"Hey, you can't do that in here. You've got to pay for that."

I looked at him. Middle-aged guy. Kinda fat. Greasy hair.

Kill him, I thought.

It would be so easy.

Cut his throat, take the money and run.

His soft, flabby pink throat

No, forget the money.

Cut him open and decorate the store with his insides.

Blood raining down from the ceiling in tiny red droplets.

"I'm calling the cops," he said.

That snapped me out of it.

"No, no, no," I said. "I can pay you, except, I don't have any money, but, hey, you know what? I'm famous. That's right. I killed a bunch of people. Remember all those kids? I killed them. Me. Right here."

The man was backing away now. It occurred to me he might have a shotgun somewhere behind that counter.

"Wait, wait, it's cool, man. It's cool. How about an autograph? In exchange for the bandages? You could sell it on eBay, see?"

He shook his head, no.

"Lots of people like freaky stuff like that," I said.

Kill him, I thought.

It would be so easy.

No.

I pushed past him and ran for the door. I expected to hear gunshots behind me, but all I heard was the tiny jangle of the door bell.

I ran until my lungs hurt.

What the hell was happening to me? Where were these thoughts coming from? And then I realized. It was because I sold one-fifth of my soul to that bald, little dwarf, Mr. Cat. That was the only good part, he had told me. And now I was stuck with four-fifths of pure rot.

Could that one-fifth maybe grow back? Like a lizard tail or a starfish arm, something like that? Maybe if I did a bunch of good deeds, helped a lot of old people across the street?

Man, I hoped so.

Otherwise it was all over for me.

Eventually I found a street I recognized, and followed it back to my old neighborhood.

Good old Elmwood. One heck of a town.

I spotted up ahead the winding road that led past the high school and into those dark, terrible woods. There were a bunch of police cars there, lights flashing, and barricades blocking the street. But from where I was standing I couldn't see a single policeman.

The CB radio in one of the squad cars suddenly exploded with a burst of static and noise, some garbled voice squawking strange numbers.

And then silence.

As I approached the barricades I saw something on the ground, human-shaped, grey, immobile. It was a body, completely covered in spider webs. There were others, scattered haphazardly around the road. They must all have been cops, I guessed, wrapped up like mummies in thick gooey strands of webbing.

None of them moved. Not even a twitch.

They were all dead.

And crawling all over each one of them were hundreds of tiny spiders. Spinning and weaving. Soon the bodies would be ready to liquefy and eat...

Suddenly the CB radio squealed to life again and I heard a familiar voice.

"Hello, Charlie. I knew you would come back."

It was her.

Kristin.

No, it was Kristin's voice, but it wasn't her.

It was the Spider Lady.

"I'm so anxious to see you, Charlie. Do hurry, won't you? Just follow the yellow light, and soon...we'll be together again."

A faint flicker in the distance caught my eye. It was a weak, pale yellow beacon and I walked toward it, already knowing where I was going.

Back to the tower.

Back to where this nightmare began.

As I walked, it seemed like millions of red eyes of all shapes and sizes gazed upon me. The forest floor was covered with a thick, undulating blanket of spiders and they quickly scurried out of my path. Like I was Moses parting the Red Sea. They were silent as I passed through them, but I could hear the movements of their legs, soft, furry, scuttling sounds.

The tower was glowing the color of sickness, a strange ocher that hurt my eyes. The air surrounding it tasted sour, and smelled like rotten meat. The fence around the tower was completely covered in thick spider webs, and I could see the shapes of various animals wrapped up in their sticky strands.

I saw birds, a raccoon, dogs and cats, a deer, and several that looked human-sized. There were paws poking out through the webs, snouts, hooves and fingers. When I approached, the spiders somehow created an opening for me to climb through, peeling away the webs and whatever had remained of the original fence.

The door to the Tower was open. My heart began to thump in my chest. I pulled out the knife and held it out in front of me.

Kill her, I thought.

No, no.

I'm going to save her.

Standing around outside the tower were her ghosts. Pale, despairing things. The little girl wearing the witch mask. The ghost with half a head. The ghost of Jason Morgan, and all the others, watching me approach the Tower door.

"Join us," they whispered.

"Join your brothers and sisters."

The inside of the Tower was white, like ash, or dead skin. There were bodies all over the floor, stacks and stacks of papery slabs; all of them dried-up human husks, bloodless and boneless with gaping, empty pits for eyes, their mouths open in a terrible, silent scream.

"Welcome home, Charlie."

She descended from a giant web that went from floor to ceiling. I looked up and saw Kristin, but not Kristin. She was horrible and beautiful at the same time. There were extra pairs of eyes popping out of her forehead, and her mouth had grown a pair of hideous, fleshy mandibles. Eight large, hairy black spider legs sprouted from her torso, and she was covered with sharp black hairs.

I wanted to run away, but I couldn't.

"My, my, look at you," she said. "Is there something different about you, Charlie?"

"No," I said.

"You probably noticed there's something different about me. I failed, Charlie. All my magic...useless. I wasn't able to break the curse, and now it's transformed me into this...this hideous...creature..."

"I can help you," I said, raising the knife.

"What is that?"

"The solution to all our problems," I said.

The Spider Lady laughed.

"Oh, Charlie, are you going to stab me with your little knife? I don't think so, dear boy."

Her eyes began to glow red.

"Take the knife and cut your own throat," she said in a deeper voice. "Now. Do as I command."

I felt a slight twinge and then it was gone.

I smiled and took a step toward her.

"Ah, so there is something different about you after all. Yes, I can see it now. Something _is_ missing. Oh, poor boy, you are a fool, do you know that?"

Kill her, I thought.

"What an unusual knife you have. It has power, doesn't it?"

"I want to talk to Kristin," I said.

"Kristin is part of us now," said the Spider Lady. "I am her and she is me and we are all together. We are transformed. The old Kristin is gone."

I flinched. Then I took another step toward her.

The Spider Lady looked at my face.

"I was always fond of you, Charlie. From that first moment I saw you as a baby. When I claimed you as one of my own."

Kill.

"Of course I love all my children, but you were always my favorite, Charlie. You and I have a special bond, yes? Perhaps a mother shouldn't love her son so much. In _that_ way. It isn't natural. More like a dream. We are lovers in a dream, aren't we, Charlie? A dangerous, horrible, wonderful dream."

The Spider Lady was gliding toward me now.

"Come to me, my darling boy. Hold me."

I felt her legs enveloping me, pulling me toward her. She looked so sad. I put my arms around her swollen, furry body and turned my face away from her many eyes, resting my chin on her shoulder. She still smelled a little like Kristin.

"I am the only one who loves you, Charlie. Forever and always."

Her many arms felt strong and comforting.

"Say that you love me, Charlie. Please, say it."

I could feel the knife tingling hot in my hand.

"I—I can't. I'm different now, like you said..."

She frowned sadly.

"Are you...are you my real mother?" I asked.

She brushed the hair back from my forehead and her touch was warm.

"I am the mother of spiders."

She smiled painfully.

"I don't want to be a spider," I said.

"Neither do I, Charlie. I take no pleasure in this form. What good is living forever when you look like this? Monstrous, ugly...and alone. I've been lonely and unhappy for so long, Charlie. All your brothers and sisters...they love me, but they don't understand my suffering. Not like you do, Charlie."

Kill the Spider Lady.

"Honestly, I'm ready for it to end."

Kill her.

"How's it going to end, Charlie?"

She looked at me with her many eyes and I almost couldn't move.

Then I raised my arm up and stabbed her in the heart with the magic knife. Instantly she shrieked and drew back, blood spouting out of the wound in her chest.

I was screaming incoherently as I stabbed her in the heart again. She fell down to her human knees, spider limbs writhing everywhere. I took a step back and looked at her, so unhappy, so pitiful, and I stabbed her for the last time.

There was a bright flash of light and a sound like a thunderclap. I was knocked flat on my back, my eyes blinded. I heard something roaring and when my sight returned, I saw three figures floating before me, twisting in pain.

The first was Kristin, clutching the wound in her chest, gasping for breath. Next to her was Elvira, still young and beautiful, her eyes cast upwards, with the strangest look of profound relief upon her face. And finally, a gigantic, monstrous spider, dark and twisted, all black with white markings and howling with rage.

It clambered toward me in a terrible blur, its phantom fangs biting down into my chest. I felt like I was being electrocuted, and my body shook with terrible spasms. The spider retreated for a moment, then lunged toward me again. This time I raised my knife and slashed at it like a madman, when suddenly it started to break apart and shoot off into the sky.

Elvira was next, spinning and turning like a top through the air, aging faster and faster until she became nothing but a skeleton whose bones were scattered into dust on an angry wind.

The Tower was silent. The strange yellow glow had vanished. I was in the dark, surrounded by dead bodies. I looked at my blood covered hand, the blood covered knife, and I rejoiced.

I did it. I killed her.

And I was going to keep on killing. First, I'd go back to New York City and kill that little dwarf Mr. Cat. Then, I'd kill everybody who ever did me wrong. I'd kill John and Troy, and all those other kids who ever messed with me. Then I'd kill Dean Carter, and all of my teachers, and everyone else at the school, too; the librarian, the lunch ladies, the Chess Club and every single last pom-pom waving cheerleader.

And then I'd kill all the police. And my dad and Aunt Rose. Then I'd kill everybody in the town of Elmwood. The streets would be full of dismembered bodies when I was done, blood and limbs and heads and houses burning in flames and the whole neighborhood on fire with gigantic pillars of smoke licking the sky, forever and ever until I killed everyone on Earth.

"Charlie..." said a voice, weakly.

I looked down. Kristin was watching me with half-lidded eyes.

She was back. She was back to normal.

Except that she was clutching her chest, and there was blood all over her hands and shirt.

"Help me..." she said.

Finish her. Cut off her head.

No.

Stop. Stop!

I threw away the Dagger of Sorrows and it landed somewhere in the Tower with a sharp and angry clang. My hand reached out to touch her, but I pulled it back.

"Kristin," I said.

"Hurry, Charlie," she said, her eyes fluttering.

I picked her up in my arms and staggered out the door. My brain was on fire with terrible thoughts, but I beat them down by repeating her name, over and over again.

Kristin. Kristin. Kristin.

"I love you," I told her.

She was unconscious.

I couldn't let her die. I had to get help. It didn't matter what happened to me now. All that mattered was helping Kristin, helping her live.

The ghosts were gone. The spiders were all dead on the ground, hundreds of them with all their legs stuck in the air. Their webs had sagged and pulled apart, spindly things that would soon disappear forever.

I trudged past them all, through the hole in the fence and into the woods.

Someone was blocking my way.

It was a figure, a body, badly decomposed, clothes hanging off it in rags. Under one of its arms it held its head, like a football.

"Hey, Curtis," I said.

He staggered toward me, raising his arm. I noticed the spider inside his skull was shriveled up and dead. He shouldn't even be moving anymore. But then I figured, he must be operating on pure hate. Hate for me.

"Look, Curtis, I really need to get Kristin to a hospital. See? See the blood? She's going to die if I don't get her to a hospital. So, please, please, let me go. Just this one more time. I promise. And then you can kill me. Really. I want you to kill me. Okay?"

He stood there, looking at us, thinking.

Then he slowly stepped aside and let us pass.

"Thanks," I said.

"Next time," said Curtis's head.

"You bet," I said. "Just wait right here. I'll be right back."

I stumbled past him, struggling to carry Kristin's body. Her shirt was soaked with blood. Big smears of it were all over my arms. Her forehead was covered with little beads of sweat. Her lips were turning white and her eyes had closed.

"I'm going to get help, Kristin, okay? You hear me? I'm going to get help so don't die, you hear me? Everything's okay. You're going to be okay, and I'm going to get you to a hospital. Understand? Kristin?"

She let out a low, small moan.

The woods were never-ending. Kristin was getting heavier, and it was all I could do to shuffle one foot in front of the next. The muscles in my arms ached, my neck hurt, and my knees started to wobble.

Even worse, my chest was beginning to burn where the giant phantom spider had bit me. I could feel the heat spreading painfully out across my body. Finally, I couldn't hold Kristin any longer, and we fell to the ground.

I struggled to lift her up again.

"Don't worry, Kristin. Here we go. Here we go."

I picked her up and staggered a few more steps.

I know this sounds crazy, but as I held her, I tried to will my life into her body. I closed my eyes and imagined a shimmering, electrical mist pouring from my body into hers.

But nothing happened.

"Open your eyes, Kristin, okay? Can you hear me?"

I tried to pretend that she was just sleeping, but then I realized that was stupid. She was covered with blood and she was dead. She didn't look too peaceful, either. Like, they always say you look peaceful after you die, but that was obviously a lie. She just looked kind of sad and surprised.

I had failed her. She could have lived, if I had just—what?

Not stabbed her three times in the heart?

At least Elvira and her spider curse were gone. Kristin was herself again.

For all the good it would do her now.

Hot tears ran down my cheeks.

My girl was dead.

Hell, she probably didn't even like me that much.

What an idiot I was.

Up ahead, I saw people running toward us. The police.

Kill them.

Oh, God—not again!

Kill them all!

No!

"Look, the spiders are all dead."

"What happened?"

"Hey, you! Kid!"

And then they were swarming all around me, dressed in bullet-proof vest and helmets, clutching assault rifles and jabbering all at once.

Blood and flesh and brains and pain—

"You okay, kid?"

"My friend," I said. "Please—please help her."

"Put her down."

"Somebody get a medic!"

"What's your name?"

"Please help my friend," I said.

Pain and murder and death—

"Take it easy, kid."

"She's losing a lot of blood."

"Heartbeat is weak."

Heartbeat...?

"You got a name, kid?"

She's...still alive?

"Kid, who did this to her?"

She's still alive.

"Radio for a medevac, now!"

She's alive!

"Hey, kid, I'm talking to you."

"Try to stabilize her. Stop the bleeding."

"Is she going to make it?" I asked.

"Keep your fingers crossed," the cop said to me.

I stood on my tip-toes to get one last look at Kristin, over the busy shoulders of the paramedics. I could just see her face. Her eyes opened a little.

"Goodbye, Kristin," I said.

And then I quickly turned and ran back into the woods. The cops were shouting something at me, but I kept running. Running and jumping, my feet turning from bricks into wheels of fire.

The darkness was fading now, the sky was turning pink and white, the clouds ringed with gold. Up ahead there was a figure, standing alone, a dark black pillar against the green of the forest and I ran toward it as fast as I could.

"Curtis," I said.

And I reached out to grab his cold, withered hand.

THE END
