She was nearing the other end of the yard, which ended at the neighbor’s fence. Felah prepared to vault it, her muscles readying for the jump. Something tripped her up. She never saw what it was, but it banged against her toes. Three of them broke. She felt no pain.
“Not good,” she panted. “Not fucking good at all.”
She pulled herself up. The air was still, the night quiet—though Tone’s dying scream would never leave her head. She looked around, but there was no Arachnid. It was gone.
Then the grass began to rustle.
“No,” she wheezed.
The Arachnid came at her on all eight of its appendages, scrabbling. Fast. Faster. Felah...
Fast.
Faster.
Felah screamed.
No one heard her.
She ran up Ignatius’s porch, not understanding why one of her feet felt numb and tingly. The back door was locked.
The Arachnid’s growling revved.
Closer.
Closer.
She made the classic mistake; she looked over her shoulder.
It was gone.
“Get ahold of yourself.” Felah scolded against the door. Tears streamed down her face. She aimed her wand at the door. Breaking and entering by way of magic was a horrid offense, but dying was worse. She said the spell. A burst of light escaped her wand, aimed at the doorknob. It exploded against the metal, charring it and denting the frame.
Then the roar came.
Slick, hairy legs wrapped around her throat. The wand missed the knob and hit the door instead, creating a charred divot.
Felah tried to scream, but she couldn’t. The legs squeezed tighter and tighter. The night got blacker and blacker.
No one ever listened to a rookie.
Malakai did not crave her blood like the others of his kind. A dead Arachnid had no bodily needs. He only wanted her wand.
He picked it up and wiped the crimson from it on his chest.
With the wand, he could cast his spell. He could change.
Chapter Eight
Maria pedaled to the only place she thought her grandfather could be at that hour. Salem’s Ice Cream Shop.
Gramps spent a lot of his time there. Maria didn’t know why. She pictured him eating ice cream in the throes of another dreadful Ohio winter, and she laughed.
“Should I call the cops?” she asked Sherlock, who was sitting in the basket connected to the handlebars, his mouth open, tongue and ears flapping. Asking a dog for advice, how wonderful, she thought.
No, if you call the cops, they will be killed. You saw what those things are capable of.
Maria nodded. She didn’t want any blood on her hands. But what if it wasn’t a giant walking spider, but a burglar instead? Or even someone in need of help? The cops could surely handle it, couldn’t they?
No, Sherlock said, as if he was reading her mind. We have to get to your grandfather before Malakai does. Pedal faster, Maria! Pedal for your life.
“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Maria said, out of breath. She spoke quietly. “We really oughta cut back on the Purina.”
Are you insinuating that I’m fat? Sherlock asked.
“Let’s just say your glory days are over.”
Maria turned down West Avenue. The streets were empty. She stuck close to the shadows on the sidewalk out of fear the giant spider would see her.
They can probably see in the dark, she thought. They are creatures of the night, aren’t they? At least, on Earth they are.
Still, she didn’t risk it.
When she arrived at Salem’s, seeing the sign wasn’t lit up, her heart sank.
“He’s not here,” Maria said.
I can smell him, Sherlock answered in her head. I smell the cough drops and those terrible vitamins he takes. Keep going.
Maria pedaled.
As she got closer, she was able to make out a faint light in the backroom of the ice cream shop.
The smell is stronger now, Sherlock said.
Maria parked her bike around the back and took Sherlock out of the basket. With the other hand, she cradled the music box to her chest.
“I don’t have a leash, but you’re not going to run away on me, are you, Sherlock? I don’t have time to put up ‘LOST DOG’ posters all over town.”
Maria, I think it’s fair to say my running days are well behind me.
Sherlock walked to the back door. Maria tried to peer in through the window, but the inside was hazy with smoke. Another odd image popped into her mind: her grandfather smoking a joint with a bunch of his friends, reminiscing about the good old days.
Just as she raised her hand to knock, the door opened. Standing in the threshold was Salem Crumpet, manager and owner of Salem’s Ice Cream.
“Oh, howdy, Maria, wasn’t expecting you,” Salem said.
She poked her head in, eyes trying to cut through the smoke. Not marijuana but tobacco smoke coming from old-time Hobbit pipes.
“Is that the pizza guy? If it’s Gary, don’t tip the bastard!” someone said.
“Gramps?” Maria said.
“Maria?”
Sherlock barked.
“Sherlock? What in Oriceran is going on here?” Gramps demanded.
Maria shimmied past Salem and bounded toward her grandfather. She hugged him. “Oh, it was so scary,” she said. “You’re never going to believe what happened to me.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have a hard time believing,” Gramps said. They parted. “Now, speak, child. Tell us what is wrong.”
“Boy troubles?” Salem asked. “If it’s boy troubles, we’ve been known to get rowdy from time to time, and we won’t hesitate to defend your honor, Maria.”
Maria shook her head, smiling. It felt good to have people watching your back.
“No, not boy troubles. Well…”
“School? Job? You tell us,” Gramps said, “and we’ll fix it. You have my word.”
“It’s Oriceran. The giant spider from the Dark Forest. His name is Malakai, and the dead boy named Duke visited me, and I can somehow talk to Sherlock. Not to mention blowing up the clown head at Downview while we were putt-putting—”
“Slow down, child,” Gramps said. He took her hand. “Did you say ‘Malakai’?”
Maria nodded, putting the music box in the middle of the table. The Muffler twins gasped, seemingly coming out of nowhere and spooking Maria.
Gramps patted the empty seat next to them.
“Start from the beginning,” he urged.
Maria did.
“But that’s
