"Of course," he said. "I wasn't paying much attention to her when she was on but I don't think anyone could ever forget a creature like that. Those hairy legs: brrrr!"
I opened the door to the closet while he was speaking and got out the cage. His eyes squinted when he saw it, then widened. "That's not what I think it is, is it?" he asked.
"That depends," I said, whipping off the cloth. "If you think it's a deadly performing spider you're right!"
"Oh man!" he gasped, almost falling off the bed in shock. "That's a… she's a… where did… Wow!"
I was delighted with his reaction. I stood over the cage, smiling like a proud father. Madam Octa lay on the floor, quiet as ever, paying no attention to me or Steve.
"She's awesome!" Steve said, crawling closer for a better look. "She looks just the same as the one in the circus. I can't believe you found one that looks so similar. Where'd you get her? A pet shop? From a zoo?"
My smile slipped. "I got her from the Cirque Du Freak, of course," I said uneasily.
"From the freak show?" he asked, face crinkling. "They were selling live spiders? I didn't see any. How much did she cost?"
I shook my head and said: "I didn't buy her, Steve. I… Can't you guess? Don't you understand?"
"Understand what?" he asked.
"That's not a similar spider," I said. "That's the same one. It's Madam Octa."
He stared at me, as though he hadn't heard what I'd said. I was about to repeat it, but he spoke up before I could. "The… same… one?" he asked in a slow, trembling voice.
"Yes, "I said.
"You mean… that's… Madam Octa? The Madam Octa?"
"Yes," I said again, laughing at his shock.
"That's… Mr. Crepsley's spider?"
"Steve, what's wrong? How many times do I have to say it for you to "
"Wait a minute," he snapped, shaking his head. "If this is really Madam Octa, how did you get your hands on her? Did you find her outside? Did they sell her off?"
"Nobody would sell a great spider like this," I said.
"That's what I thought," Steve agreed. "So how did…" He left the question hanging in the air.
"I stole her," I said, puffing up proudly. "I went back to the theater that Tuesday morning, crept in, found where she was, and snuck out with her. I left a note telling Mr. Crepsley not to come looking for her or I'd report his being a vampire to the police."
"You… you…" Steve was gasping. His face had turned white and he looked like he was about to collapse.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
"You… imbecile!" he roared. "You lunatic! You moron!"
"Hey!" I shouted, upset.
"Idiot! Dumbo! Cretin!" he yelled. "Do you realize what you've done? Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you're in?"
"Huh? "I asked, bewildered.
"You stole a vampire's spider!" Steve shouted. "You stole from a member of the undead! What do you think he's going to do when he catches up with you, Darren? Spank your bottom and scold you? Tell your parents and make them ground you? We're talking about a vampire! He'll rip out your throat and feed you to the spider! He'll tear you to pieces and "
"No, he won't," I said calmly.
"Of course he will," Steve replied.
"No," I said, "he won't. Because he won't find me. I stole the spider the Tuesday before last, so he's had nearly two whole weeks to track me down, but there hasn't been a sign of him. He left with the circus and won't ever come back, not if he knows what's good for him."
"I dunno," Steve said. "Vampires have long memories. He might return when you're grown up and have kids of your own."
"I'll worry about that when and if it happens," I said. "I've gotten away with it for the time being. I wasn't sure I would I thought he'd track me down and kill me but I did. So quit with the names, all right?"
"You're something else." He laughed, shaking his head. "I thought / was daring, but stealing a vampire's pet! I never would have thought you had it in you. What made you do it?"
"I had to have her," I told him. "I saw her onstage and knew I'd do anything to get her. Then I discovered Mr. Crepsley was a vampire and realized I could blackmail him. It's wrong, I know, but he's a vampire, so it's not too bad, is it? Stealing from someone bad in a way it's a good thing, right?"
Steve laughed. "I don't know if it's good or bad," he said. "All I know is, if he ever comes looking for her, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes."
He studied the spider again. He stuck his face up close to the cage (but not close enough for her to strike him) and watched her belly bulging in and out.
"Have you let her out of the cage yet?" he asked.
"Every day," I said. I picked up the flute and gave a toot. Madam Octa jumped forward a couple of centimeters. Steve yelped and fell back on his butt. I howled with laughter.
"You can control her?" he gasped.
"I can make her do everything Mr. Crepsley did," I said, trying not to sound boastful. "It's really easy. She's perfectly safe as long as you concentrate. But if you let your thoughts wander for even a second…" I drew a finger across my throat and made a choking noise.
"Have you let her make a web over your lips?" Steve asked. His eyes were shining brightly.
"Not yet," I said. "I'm worried about letting her in my mouth: the thought of her slipping down my throat terrifies me. Besides, I'd need a partner to control her while she spun the web, and so far I've been alone."
"So far." Steve grinned. "But not anymore." He got up and clapped his hands. "Let's do it. Teach me how to use that fancy tin whistle and let me at her. I'm not afraid to let her in my mouth. C'mon, let's go, let's go, let's go go go go GO!"
I couldn't ignore excitement like that. I knew it was unwise to involve Steve with the spider on such short notice I should have made sure he got to know her better but I ignored common sense and gave in to his wishes.
I told him he couldn't play the flute, not until he'd practiced, but he could play with Madam Octa while I was controlling her. I ran him through the tricks we were going to do and made sure he understood everything.
"Being quiet is vital," I said. "Don't say anything.
Don't even whistle loudly. Because if you disturb my attention and I lose control of her…"
"Yeah, yeah," Steve sighed. "I know. Don't worry. I can be quiet as a mouse when I want."
When he was ready, I unlocked Madam Octa's cage and began playing. She moved forward at my order. I could hear Steve drawing in his breath, a little scared now that she was out in the open, but he gave no sign that he wanted to stop, so I went on blowing and started her off on her routine.
I let her do a lot of stuff by herself before allowing her near Steve. We'd developed a great understanding over the last week or so. The spider had grown used to my mind and the way it thought, and had learned to obey my commands almost before I finished sending them. I'd learned that she could work from the shortest of instructions: I only had to use a few words to prompt her into action.
Steve watched the show in total silence. He almost clapped a few times but caught himself before his hands could meet and produce a noise. Instead of clapping, he gave me the thumbs-up sign and mouthed the words "great." "super." "awesome," and so on.
When the time came for Steve to take part in the act, I gave him the nod that we had agreed upon. He gulped, took a deep breath, then nodded back. He rose to his feet and stepped forward, keeping to the side so I wouldn't lose sight of Madam Octa. Then he sank to his knees and waited.
I played a new tune and sent a new set of orders. Madam Octa sat still, listening. When she knew what I wanted, she started creeping toward Steve. I saw him shivering and licking his lips. I was going to cancel the act and send the spider back to her cage, but then he stopped shaking and became calmer, so I continued.
He gave a small shudder when she started crawling up the leg of his pants, but that was a natural response. I still got the shakes sometimes when I felt her hairy legs brushing against my skin.
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I made Madam Octa crawl up the back of his neck and tickle his ears with her legs. He giggled softly and the last traces of his fear vanished. I felt more confident now that he was calmer, so I moved the spider around to the front of his face, where she built small cobwebs over his eyes and slid down his nose and bounced off his lips.
Steve was enjoying it and so was I. There were lots of new things I was able to do now that I had a partner.
She was on his right shoulder, preparing to slide down his arm, when the door opened and Annie walked in.
Normally Annie never enters my room before knocking. She's a great kid, not like other brats her age, and almost always knocks politely and waits for a reply. But that evening, by sheer bad luck, she happened to barge in.
"Hey, Darren, where's my ," she started to say, then stopped. She saw Steve and the monstrous spider on his shoulder, its fangs glinting as though getting ready to bite, and she did the natural thing.
She screamed.
The sound alarmed me. My head turned, the flute slid from my lips, and my concentration snapped. My link to Madam Octa disintegrated. She shook her head, took a couple of quick steps closer to Steve's throat, then bared her fangs and appeared to grin.
Steve roared with fear and surged to his feet. He swiped at the spider, but she ducked and his hand missed. Before he could try again, Madam Octa lowered her head, quick as a snake, and sank her poison-tipped fangs deep into his neck!
STEVE STIFFENED AS SOON as the spider bit him. His yells stopped dead in his throat, his lips turned blue, his eyes snapped wide open. For what seemed an eternity (though it couldn't have been more than three or four seconds), he tottered on his feet. Then he crumpled to the floor like a scarecrow.
The fall saved him. As with the goat at the Cirque Du Freak show, Madam Octa's first bite knocked Steve out, but didn't kill him right away. I saw her moving along his neck before he fell, searching for the right spot, preparing for the second, killer bite.
The fall disturbed her. She slipped from Steve's neck and it took her a few seconds to climb back up.
Those seconds were all I needed.
I was in a state of shock, but the sight of her emerging over his shoulder like some terrible arachnid sunrise spurred me back to life. I stooped for the flute, jammed it almost through the back of my throat, and blew the loudest note of my entire life.
"STOP!" I screamed inside my head, and Madam Octa leaped about two feet into the air.
"Back inside the cage!" I commanded, and she hopped down from Steve's body and sped across the floor. As soon as she passed the bars of the door, I lunged forward and slammed it shut.
With Madam Octa taken care of, my attention turned to Steve. Annie was still screaming but I couldn't worry about her until I'd seen to my poisoned friend.
"Steve?" I asked, crawling close to his ear, praying for an answer. "Are you okay? Steve?" There was no reply. He was breathing, so I knew he was alive, but that was all. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't talk or move his arms. He wasn't even able to blink.
I became aware of Annie standing behind me. She'd stopped screaming but I could feel her shaking.
"Is… is he… dead?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"Of course not!" I snapped. "You can see him breathing, can't you? Look at his belly and chest."
"But… why can't he move?" she asked.
"He's paralyzed," I told her. "The spider injected him with poison that stops his limbs. It's like putting him to sleep, except his brain's still active and he can see and hear everything."
I didn't know if this was true. I hoped it was. If the poison had left the heart and lungs alone, it might also have skipped his brain. But if it had gotten into his skull…
The thought was too terrible to consider.
"Steve, I'm going to help you up," I said. "I think if we move you around, the poison will wear off."
I stuck my arms around Steve's waist and hauled him to his feet. He was heavy but I took no notice of the weight. I dragged him around the room, shaking his arms and legs, talking to him as I went, telling him he was going to be all right, there wasn't enough poison in one bite to kill him, he would recover.
After ten minutes of this, there was no change and I was too tired to carry him any longer. I dropped him on the bed, then carefully arranged his body so he would be comfortable. His eyelids were open. His eyes looked weird and were scaring me, so I closed them, but then he looked like a corpse, so I opened them again.
"Will he be all right?" Annie asked.
"Of course he will," I said, trying to sound positive. "The poison will wear off after a while and he'll be fine. It's only a matter of time."
I don't think she believed me but she said nothing, only sat on the edge of the bed and watched Steve's face like a hawk. I began wondering why Mom hadn't been up to investigate. I crept over to the open door and listened at the top of the stairs. I could hear the washing machine rumbling in the kitchen below. That explained it: our washing machine is old and clunky. You can't hear anything over the noise it makes if you're in the kitchen and it's turned on.
Annie was no longer on the bed when I returned. She was down on the floor, studying Madam Octa.
"It's the spider from the freak show, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yes," I admitted.
"The poisonous one?"
"Yes."
"How did you get it?" she asked.
"That's not important," I said, blushing.
"How did she get loose?" Annie asked.
"I let her out," I said.
"You what?!"
"It wasn't the first time," I told her. "I've had her for almost two weeks. I've played with her lots of times. It's perfectly safe as long as there are no noises. If you hadn't come barging in when you did, she would have been "
"No you don't," she growled. "You aren't laying the blame on me. Why didn't you tell me about her? If I'd known, I wouldn't have come busting in."
"I was going to," I said. "I was waiting until I was sure it was safe. Then Steve came and…"I couldn't continue.
I stuck the cage back in the closet, where I wouldn't have to look at Madam Octa. I joined Annie by the bed and studied Steve's motionless form. We sat silently for almost an hour, just watching.
"I don't think he's going to recover," she finally said.
"Give it more time," I pleaded.
"I don't think time will help," she insisted. "If he was going to recover, he should be moving a little by now."
"What do you know about it?" I asked roughly. "You're a child. You know nothing!"
"That's right," she agreed calmly. "But you don't know any more about it than me, do you?" I shook my head unhappily. "So stop pretending you do," she said.
She laid a hand on my arm and smiled bravely to show she wasn't trying to make me feel bad. "We have to tell Mom," she said. "We have to get her up here. She might know what to do."
"And if she doesn't?" I asked.
"Then we have to take him to a hospital," Annie said.
I knew she was right. I'd known it all along. I just didn't want to admit it.
"Let's give it another fifteen minutes," I said. "If he hasn't moved by then, we call her."
"Fifteen minutes?" she asked uncertainly.
"Not a minute more," I promised.
"Okay," she agreed.
We sat in silence again and watched our friend. I thought about Madam Octa and how I was going to explain this to Mom. To the doctors. To the police! Would they believe me when I told them Mr. Crepsley was a vampire? I doubted it. They'd think I was lying. They might throw me in jail. They might say, since the spider was mine, I was to blame. They might charge me with murder and lock me away!
I checked my watch. Three minutes to go. No change in Steve.
"Annie, I need to ask a favor," I said.
She looked at me suspiciously. "What?"
"I don't want you to mention Madam Octa," I said.
"Are you crazy?"
she shouted. "How else are you going to explain what happened?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "I'll tell them I was out of the room. The bite marks are tiny. They look like small bee stings and are going down all the time. The doctors might not even notice them."
"We can't do that," Annie said. "They might need to examine the spider. They might "
"Annie, if Steve dies, I'll be blamed," I said softly. "There are parts to this I can't tell you, that I can't tell anybody. All I can say is, if the worst happens, I'll be left holding the bag. Do you know what they do to murderers?"
"You're too young to be tried for murder," she said, but sounded uncertain.
"No, I'm not," I told her. "I'm too young to go to a real prison but they have special places for children. They'd hold me in one of those until I turned eighteen and then… Please, Annie." I started to cry. "I don't want to go to jail."
She started crying, too. We held on to each other and sobbed like a couple of babies. "I don't want them to take you away," she wept. "I don't want to lose you."
"Then do you promise not to tell?" I asked. "Will you go back to your bedroom and pretend you saw and heard none of this?"
She nodded sadly. "But not if I think the truth can save him," she added. "If the doctors say they can't save him unless they find what bit him, I'm telling. Okay?"
"Okay," I agreed.
She got to her feet and headed for the door. She stopped in the middle of the room, turned, came back, and kissed me on the forehead. "I love you, Darren," she said, "but you were a fool to bring that spider into this house, and if Steve dies, I think you are the one who should be blamed."
Then she ran from the room, sobbing.
I waited a few minutes, holding Steve's hand, begging him to recover, to show some sign of life. When my prayers weren't answered, I got to my feet, opened the window (to explain how the mystery attacker got in), took a deep breath, and then ran downstairs, screaming for my mother.
THE AMBULANCE ATTENDANTS ASKED MY mother if Steve was diabetic or epileptic. She wasn't sure but didn't think so. They also asked about allergies and everything, but she explained that she wasn't his mother and didn't know.