And Crawling Things Lurk

“Oh! Visitors!” Her voice was soft, but clear and mellow. She was small, smaller, even, than Billy. And she was old, too, old and wrinkled just as he knew she would be. “Please, gentlemen, come in.”

She held the door open wider and stepped back out of the threshold. After Turk and Billy were inside, she gently closed the door and turned to them.

“Oh my, I never get visitors. When I heard you, I thought it was finally my nephew. He should have been here ages ago.”

Billy glanced about the entryway hall, at the stairway on the left, and at the half-dozen open doorways down both sides of the hallway beyond it. He said, “Oh, then you’re here alone?”

“Why, yes, I am.” Her answer was so soft they almost had to strain to hear it. “Frederick, that’s my nephew, comes to see me, although, not as frequently as I would like. He’s such a dear boy. He brings me...things that I need.”

“It must be hard for you by yourself,” Billy said. “I mean – blind and all.”

“Oh my, no, I’m not blind.” Her hand touched the glasses, re-settling them to cover most of her face above her nose. “My eyes are sensitive to the light, so I put the glasses on when I open the door or look out the window. Oh, but I can see very well.”

Billy shot a glance at Turk then slid his hand under his jacket. Turk took a step towards Sofia and pulled his hands out of his jacket pockets.

“But just listen to me carrying on.” She turned and walked to the first door on the right where she paused. “Come into my parlor,” she said, smiling. “Would you like some tea? Can I get you something to eat?”

“Yeah,” Turk answered and stepped to the door. He gave Billy a subtle wave of the hand as he went past her. “Yeah, something to eat would be nice.”

“Well, you two just have a seat and make yourselves comfortable.”

She reminded Billy of a lonely and bored child who finally had a chance to play. A tea party for her doll collection. A game of house with a childhood friend.

“I’ll just be a minute.” She turned and was gone down the hallway towards the back of the house.

Responding to the scowl of impatience on Billy’s face, Turk said, “Hey, I’m hungry, okay? If Granny wants to feed us, first – why not? It’s been too long since we’ve had any decent food. Boloney and cheese gets old after awhile.”

“Yeah, but…tea? If she gives me tea in a frilly little cup, I swear I’ll start slicin’ on her right now.”

“Hey, man – easy!” Turk indicated the room furnishings with a wave of his hand. “Take a look. This stuff’s old, probably antique...and expensive. She’s gotta have money and jewels stashed around here somewhere. You kill her now, and she won’t be able to tell us where it is. You want to try and find it on our own? We could search this place for a month and not find it.”

“Okay. All right. But I ain’t drinkin’ no tea. And this place stinks worse’n you.”

“Up yours,” Turk replied and continued to eye the richness of their surroundings. There were intricately carved chairs of rich, exotic woods, with luxurious, padded seats covered with fine, embroidered silks, satins, and velvets. A sofa before the fireplace was upholstered with leather, dark, rich, and glove-leather soft. Matching chairs sat near each end, with all three pieces facing a large coffee table in the middle, and more club chairs, nearby. Fine laces and silken cloths draped miscellaneous small tables. An ornate writing desk sat against the one wall, an upright piano against another, and filled curio cabinets and wall shelves in still other spaces. Numerous candelabras about the room gleamed with the warm patina of fine silver. A large, executive desk in one corner, just as all the other pieces, showed fine workmanship and materials from another time when such treasured skills were handed down from father to son. A thick, Persian rug cushioned each step he took across the floor. Even in the dim lighting from the shuttered windows, it was clear even to him that at one time, apparently a long time ago, a considerable amount had been invested in furnishing the large room. It stood to reason the rest of the house would be the same.

Billy sat on the sofa watching Turk’s meanderings. Slouching back with his feet extended with crossed ankles beneath the coffee table and his arms folded across his chest, he didn’t really care if he looked like a sulky child.

She was gone only for the minute she had promised. She returned to the parlor carrying a filigreed, silver tray loaded down with covered silver bowls and two large goblets. It looked much too heavy for such a frail person to carry, but she seemed to be managing. Billy didn’t care about that, either, and he doubted if Turk was overly bothered. Neither one moved to relieve her of her burden. She set the tray on the coffee table and raised with a gentle smile to face her visitors.

She still wore her glasses, so Billy wondered if maybe she had eyes that went every-which-way and bobbled around like a couple of ping-pong balls. People with eyes like that wore dark glasses so they wouldn’t freak people out. He wished she’d take them off. He could use a good laugh.

“I didn’t think tea would have been all that well received, so I brought something a little, uh, more substantial. Will that be all right?”

“You bet it will,” Turk answered. His grin accompanied a wink at his glum partner.

Sofia went on. “And I brought some of my sweet cakes. I do hope you find them to your liking.”

“Sweet cakes, huh?” Billy, still feeling pouty, arched one eyebrow at Turk.

“Yes. Please, won’t you try one?” She offered Billy a bowl of small, muffin-like cakes.

“Here, I’ll give ’em a try,” Turk said. He reached past Sofia’s shoulder and into the bowl. “You said you had something to drink?”

“Oh, yes.” She set the bowl on the table at the end of the sofa within easy reach of Billy’s still slouching figure. “Here is yours,” she said as she handed a heavy, jewel encrusted golden goblet to Turk. Then she turned back to Billy. “And here is yours, young man. Please, try it.”

Billy accepted the drink, but he delayed drinking until he turned it around to examine the stones and the fine workmanship of the settings.

Turk gulped some of the fiery-sweet contents of his own and gazed at it as well. “Hmm, that’s pretty good. What is it?”

“I’m so happy that you like it,” she said in her soft, sweet voice. “It’s from a very special recipe that just came to me one day a long time ago. The same as the sweet cakes.”

She turned to Billy and again offered the bowl to him. “Please try my cakes, young man. My, you’re so thin. Haven’t you been eating well?”

Billy took a sip of the elixir before accepting a cake. With both eyebrows raised, he said, “That is some pretty good juice. Some kind of expensive liqueur?”

“No, it’s not expensive at all. And, I have lots, so please, drink all you wish. And, as I said, it’s just something I put together long ago.” With one hand over her mouth to muffle a snicker, she added, “You might say I really put myself into it.”

Billy munched down his muffin and reached for another of the dense and chewy but surprisingly tasty morsels. Turk, too, helped himself to more, and soon the bowl was empty. But she lifted the silver dome from the other bowl and revealed more of them. Billy and Turk ate the savory-sweet muffin-cakes and drank elixir from jeweled goblets with such gusto, it might have seemed they had forgotten the purpose of their visit. And their hostess waited on them with zeal, too. It seemed she truly did miss having company. But, finally, the supply of cakes was gone, and they drained the last of the elixir.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed your refreshments,” she said as she stood before them.

“Yeah,” Turk said. “That was all right.” Then he stood and glanced down to make eye contact with Billy.

Billy stood up.

Turk went on, “That was pretty good, and I like your dishes, too.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a gracious smile. “They’ve been in my family for a long time.”

Billy glanced over at Turk before he asked, “Is that the Vasov family? This is the Vasov home, ain’t it?”

“Why, yes, it is. I’m Sofia Vasov.”

“That’s nice. He’s Billy and I’m Turk, and now we’re gonna take it all.” Turk said as he stepped toward her.

She took a moment to respond. “I beg your pardon?”

Sofia sounded confused, but not scared like she should be if she had understood the allusion of Turk’s words. Just like an old woman living alone to be so totally oblivious to the perils of the world. This was a part Billy relished, when understanding finally came to her and she began to realize just how bad things were about to get.

“You heard him.” Billy’s knife came out with a flourish.

“Oh, my!” Sofia’s head moved back and forth as she looked, first at one, then at the other of the two strangers she had invited into her home, and who now suddenly posed a deadly menace to her in her own parlor.

Billy loved it.

Turk’s bulk loomed over her. “First you’re gonna tell us where your money is. And your jewels. The good stuff.”

“Why, uh, I don’t have any money. I have no need for it. I told you, my nephew brings me everything I need. And I have no use for jewelry. I never go out.”

Billy pointed at the table with his knife. “Yeah, right! Like the stones on those fancy glasses are phony, I suppose.”

Turk’s voice was guttural, “You’ll tell us, all right, granny. You’ll beg us to take everything in the house before we’re through.” His ham-sized hands reached out to grasp the front of Sofia’s dress. Spittle ran out the corner of his mouth and dripped from his first chin.

Sofia sidestepped with a quickness that surprised Billy. She flashed her hands at Turk’s hands as though making hex signs. Then she did it again...and again. And again. Over and over.

Turk’s attention focused on his hands that seemed to be covered with something – wrapped with something. He yelled and jerked his arms about, but his hands remained joined. Thin filaments wrapped about his hands and wrists, and the more he tried to pull free, the more entangled they became. He tried to pull the stuff from one hand with the other, and they stuck together even more. The windings were no thicker than strands of fine silk, but combined, they were more than a match for his strength. In his thrashing, he fell back onto the couch, then, after knocking the heavy coffee table over against the fireplace, he wound up on the floor, alternating roars of rage with screams of terror.

Billy watched the panic grip him like steel talons. It was just like when he had walked into that spider web down the hill.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Turk’s voice quavered as he looked up at Billy, his eyes pleading for help.

Billy was so engrossed with watching Turk flailing about that he failed to keep track of Sofia.

With a speed and agility at odds with her aged appearance, she slipped around to Billy’s side and came at him. At the last instant he whipped around and slashed at her with his blade, but she was quicker. She dodged only inches, but it was enough, and her hands danced at him.

He couldn’t see them at first, the bindings. The damned room was too dim. Not until they struck to his clothing, to his hands, his arms, his legs, his face. His knife was still in one hand, but at an odd angle, and he was unable to reposition it to cut through them. They were thin, no thicker than a baby’s hair, but steel-wire strong. They clung together to form a net – a web – each reinforced by dozens of others.

Billy screamed and lurched and spun around the room. He crashed into tables and chairs, and he caromed off Sofia, his bound hands smashing into the side of her head. She went sprawling to the floor while her glasses sailed across the room. But she quickly arose again, apparently unhurt, and faced Billy.

His panic-widened eyes swept across her face, and his gyrations abruptly stopped. His mouth and eyes opened wide. His curse for her died unuttered somewhere in the recesses of his convulsing throat. He stared in uncomprehending awe.

Gazing back at him with cold, dispassionate interest were six small, black beads about the size of peas. They were arranged in two groups of three, each group forming a triangle exactly where her eyes should have been, with two more set just inward and slightly higher on her forehead than the others for a total of eight. She had no brows and no brow ridges—just a smooth, even patch of skin, and those damnable, black...eyes?

Billy’s sudden lack of movement must have caught Turk’s attention, and he looked up. He ceased bellowing and looked from Billy to Sofia and her now exposed eyes. His mouth began working at foul curses and short prayers and more curses mixed with prayers.

Then, with the feel of icy fingers digging into his spine, Billy completely forgot about the oddity of Sofia’s eyes as he tried to absorb her next revelation.

She tilted her head backward and unsheathed from the generous folds of skin that enveloped her neck, two, needle-thin fangs more than two-inches long. Striated and blackened, they looked more like talons than teeth. The slim, downward curved daggers had lain in folds of skin that at first merely appeared to be the results of extremely sagging jowls. The deep creases ran from each end of her thin-lipped mouth, down each side of her chin, and into the many folds of her neck among which these were lost. But, now, as she lowered her head again, the fangs protruded out and down at an angle.

Billy jerked and squirmed as Sofia flung more of the web filaments onto him. With few wasted moves, she reinforced Turk’s arm bindings, then his legs and his head. Then she was back to Billy again...and, again, back to Turk.

Soon, their struggles had wrapped Billy and Turk in snug cocoons. With exhaustion eventually lessening their struggles, they slumped to the parlor floor, wheezing and gasping.

Billy could see through the gauze-like wrappings that encased him, although nothing was clear. It was like peering into a roomful of smoke or steam. He could detect movement, but details were obscured.

He could see Sofia stepping slowly around and between them, inspecting her catches. Apparently satisfied, she bent down to Turk where, with seemingly little effort, she rolled him half-over, and then she drove her fangs into the base of his neck. After a few seconds, she stood and came over to Billy. She leaned down toward his shoulder, bending over his neck. In rising panic, he jerked to a sitting position. Before he could do more, though, he felt Sofia’s hands grasp him and turn him with unnatural strength, and then he felt the stab of twin fangs.

They were thin, narrow stilettos that might have been instantly fatal if they had penetrated the heart or brain. But they were placed...just so, and they went little deeper than an inch, less than two.

Billy lay on his left side and faced Turk who was on his back. He tried to say something – anything – but the words ran together in one long mass and then ended in mid-syllable. The air from that breath was expired. In desperation he tried to gasp another one. He waited. He could feel his lungs expanding, but his diaphragm and chest muscles no longer responded to his will. He could feel his mouth, his lips, his tongue moving, shaping, forming words, but his paralysis began just above his larynx. His vocal cords were useless. He was breathing fine; he just couldn’t make sounds.

Turk still made sounds for another half a minute or so. Some words were recognizable, but mostly they were just sounds, noises made by rising panic and terror. And then, he, too, fell silent.

Billy watched through his mask of silk as Sofia leaned over Turk and rolled him back onto his back. She knelt on the far side of his friend but facing his way. He could see the inhuman gaze of the multiple, black eyes. He could see the long tube extend from her mouth like a tongue, a tube the width of his finger and long enough to have come from deep inside her. As it continued to emerge, she plunged it into Turk’s bulbous belly.

Billy wanted to turn away as horror rushed over him, but his body no longer responded to his command. He was sure he was going to vomit, but Sofia’s cakes and elixir soothed his roiling stomach. No stranger to pain and suffering, he wasn’t above mutilating a screaming victim with his knife or with whatever was at hand, but this – this was different!

She wasn’t human!

And Turk was his friend!

And he was next!

After a long minute, Sofia sat upright again. She stood and slowly stepped around Turk’s now quivering body. She knelt beside Billy.

He tried to prepare for it, but how could he prepare for something like that? He would have closed his eyes, but he couldn’t take his gaze from her and the thing protruding from her mouth. She held him mesmerized like a mouse in the cold stare of a snake. Then it was gone. Just like the fangs that were laid back into their folds. One moment it was ready to plunge into him; the next it was neatly sucked back down her throat. He realized Sofia was talking.

“...are so thin, young man. Why, there’s hardly anything at all to you. But, that’s okay. The cakes and elixir will take care of that. Yes, they should fatten you up nicely in a week or so.”

She had moved over to sit on the end of the sofa. Her feet were together on the floor directly beneath her knees, also together, with her hands folded demurely in her lap. She sat with her back straight and her shoulders back. She wore a pleasant smile, but she hadn’t bothered to put her dark glasses back on.

“I’m just thankful that your friend there is a bit more plump. He should be ready in half an hour or so. Frederick, that’s my nephew, hasn’t been here for weeks and weeks. I hope something hasn’t happened to him. He lives some distance away, you see. I told you he brings me things, didn’t I? Usually little ones, though. I’ve told him animals would do me just fine. It’s been a long time since they were my main source, but they would be okay. Poor Frederick simply can’t abide to be around animals, though. And who can blame him, really? And he isn’t strong, so he has trouble handling a large person. He couldn’t manage your friend, at all. He could probably manage someone your size, but certainly no one bigger. The little ones are best for him.”

With a delicate touch, she reached over and set a cover on its matching container that had held some of her cakes. “Did you enjoy the cakes? Would you believe they’re made from…well, you probably wouldn’t really want to know what they are made from, I suppose. It was something that just came to me some time after I changed. That was such a long time ago, you know, but I remember how I just seemed to know what to do with…what I put into them. Just like with the elixir. Isn’t that odd? It was just something I knew…instinct, I suppose. That’s what Frederick says.”

She reached down to retrieve a goblet lying on its side beneath the coffee table and placed it next to the cakes container.

“I do worry about my Frederick. I wonder what could have prevented him from coming. It certainly isn’t like him to just quit coming. He knows I must have food. Something must have happened to him. …Do you think so? Do you think something may have happened to him?”

She stopped her prattling long enough to step over to Turk and push on his belly with two fingers held together. Apparently satisfied, she returned to the sofa.

“He is such a good boy, always takes care of his Auntie Sofia. He got me the dark glasses to wear when I stand looking out the windows. He said if someone happened to be looking and saw my eyes through the curtains, it could cause problems. He said it would be better if they just thought I was blind. Wasn’t that cleaver of him? And he insulated some of the outer walls so folks over there across the highway can’t hear any screams from here. He even claims someone standing just outside the walls wouldn’t hear them, either, even as loud and you and your friend were. That seems unbelievable, doesn’t it?”

She sat next to Billy again and carried on as though he were a visiting long lost friend that had to be brought up to date on all that made up her life.

“He learned from his uncle Alexander from when he was just a tyke. Alexander raised him, you see, after his parents met their terrible end when he was just a baby, and the poor boy was left an orphan. He very nearly died with them, you know. Although, after the rats got through with him, some said he would have been better off if he had died. Rats can be so vicious, can’t they, especially when it’s someone so young and helpless? It was Alexander that found him just as they were starting on his face. He didn’t lose either one of his eyes, just one ear and some bits from his cheeks and lips and just the tip of his cute little nose. And of course, the fingertips went first.

“I am so glad you and your friend came. I wasn’t going to have to go out for a bit, yet, but it probably wouldn’t be long. Frederick told me I mustn’t ever do that, and I don’t know what he’d say if he were to find out I was naughty.

“It’s been so long, you know, since I’ve had visitors. Why, I remember when young men used to come to court Ariana and me when we were just becoming young ladies, her first, of course, and showing me how, being older. And, she was so pretty. Oh, my, there were hordes of suitors, and all so eager to please us, they were. But, then, that’s about the time that I started to, well... And, of course, the family couldn’t very well let anyone see me after that, could they? I was only allowed to watch from the top windows. They still came to see Ariana, though, strolling with her about the grounds and down to the boathouse while she flirted with each one in their turn. Oh, she was such a tease, and they all loved her, so. She was so sweet. Then, one day she chose her favorite, and they married. She moved away to his family’s ranch way over in the big valley.

“The family did take care of my needs, though. That’s what families do, you know, no matter what. Uncle Khristo always said so.

“Well. It has been so nice to sit and chat like this, even...”

Sofia’s voice, soft and gentle, droned on, but Billy’s attention drifted. He watched Turk’s face partially distorted by the strands that wrapped his head, but also contorted by the unspeakable agony he was forced to endure in silence. And so, unable to turn away, Billy watched Turk’s shuddering body, his muscles alive with spasms as his organs dissolved. Unable to avoid recalling his fascinating read of the nature magazine, Billy pictured his friend’s intestines and his liver and his kidneys, heart and lungs, layer upon layer of fat, and, eventually, along with every pain sensing nerve, every muscle slowly liquefying. At what point, he wondered, would Turk die?

Billy was trapped in a body that wouldn’t move, but it could feel. Pain was not lost to him. When he had fallen, he landed on a pebble or some such item on the floor. Perhaps one of them had tracked in a twig caught on a shoe. Whatever it was, he could feel it, and it hurt. It dug into his side where the cushion of flesh was the least over his ribs. Now, it was only an annoyance. What would it feel like after a week or two? Would it be over in a couple of weeks, or could he be preserved in this state for a month by the magic of Sofia’s recipes? How about two or three months? Six? Turk was pretty big. How long would it take a person – a thing – the size of Sofia to consume his bulk?

The fascination of Billy’s education into the world of arachnids was now an ember to stoke his horror. He had learned just enough to have an idea of what was coming. Until then, he must lie there facing Turk and witness the atrocity, a graphic preview of what was in store for him after he had fattened up. And all the while under the power and at the mercy of an abomination that shouldn’t exist outside of a nightmare.

She was still talking, but he had no idea what she was saying. Small talk. Parlor talk. “Come into my parlor,” she had told them back in the beginning when they still had the opportunity to run for their lives – but didn’t.

How long would she keep him?

Would hunger and thirst add to Billie’s torment? Maybe the elixir would keep him nourished and not wanting until the end. Maybe his body’s functions had been put on hold. Maybe he wouldn’t have to endure the suffering of day after day with no bowel movement and an overextended bladder. Or would he live his last days or weeks lying in his own excrement over which he had no control?

A question kept coming back to him. When his innards were melting, would the agony be enough to break the lock of Sofia’s poison and allow him, finally, to scream?