Here Be Monsters - By M T Murphy Page 0,40

like Hines’ place.”

“Why is that?”

“I have never seen so many spiders in one place in my life. He told me it was a vampire thing. Most of them look like smaller versions of the one you just killed.”

Mickey mumbled something. It sounded profane, but Chad couldn’t understand the language.

As they walked, Chad scanned their surroundings for any chance of escape. The neighborhood was full of warm, inviting houses that looked lived in. It was late, so most of the lights were out. Still, if he screamed, maybe—

“If you’re thinking about screaming or running,” Mickey said, “understand that I’ll just rip out your throat and toss you in the bushes. I already know where to go.” He reached toward Chad’s throat with a clawed hand, but stopped just short. Then he snapped his fingers, drawing a startled yelp from the man. “Keep talking and I might not kill you when we get there. How do you even know this Hines character is a vampire? Is he unnecessarily broody and melancholy? Does he recite poetry for his pet spiders?”

Chad didn’t like the idea that his life depended on the whim of the killer before him, but it seemed unlikely he would get a better offer. “Hines has to be a vampire. He crushed a pool ball with his bare hands and climbed up the side of a building the night we met him. He told Doug to try and stab him and the knife blade bent on his chest without even breaking the skin.”

“Parlor tricks,” grumbled Mickey.

“You don’t understand. He also showed us his fangs.” Chad shook his head, wishing he could forget the image.

“I have fangs. What’s the big deal?”

“Not like Hines’ fangs. He opened his mouth and it stretched out like rubber. These two dripping fangs flipped down. They were the size of bananas.”

“That settles it. I don’t know what your buddy Hines is, but he’s not a vampire. Vampire fangs don’t resemble any fruit I’ve ever seen, nor are they retractable. Sometimes a bloodsucker will mess with your head so you don’t notice the fangs, but they’re always there.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. It seemed to Chad that there were more spiders out than he had ever noticed before. It felt like they were watching them as they walked. It was paranoia. It had to be. Mickey was almost as frightening as Hines, but every time they passed a spider, big or small, Chad could see him cringe.

When they arrived at the house, it hardly seemed fit for the lair of a master vampire. It was nearly identical to the other forty-three red brick garden homes on the street. Mickey pushed Chad forward toward the door. “Open it,” he said.

“Why me?”

Mickey pointed at the top of the door. Five black widows with bodies the size of grapes patrolled a thick web over the threshold. “Because I don’t want to touch it.”

Chad watched the black things crawl slowly around their web. He didn’t know much about spiders, but he knew black widows were not the most poisonous variety. They paid him little mind, so he tried the doorknob. The door opened without a hitch, no key required.

Mickey shoved Chad through, then hustled through himself, slamming the door quickly.

They both surveyed the interior. Webs covered every wall and surface. A single lamp illuminated the room.

Chad felt a light tickling sensation in his hair. “Please tell me that’s you,” he said.

Mickey’s hand collided with the top of his head.

Chad was about to complain, but the muffled sound of something hitting the floor stopped him.

“You’re welcome,” Mickey said.

A brown spider, nearly as big as the one from earlier, flipped itself back upright and scurried away.

In the stillness that followed its departure, Chad became aware of a faint buzzing coming from deep within the house. At first it sounded as though someone had left a faucet on in a distant sink, but after a few moments it had grown in intensity until it sounded like stady rain on the roof.

“Is it raining?” Mickey asked.

“Seems it never rains in southern California,” Chad replied with a weak smile.

“I should kill you just for that.”

“Not a Hammond fan?”

Mickey growled and shoved Chad forward. “Keep walking.”

Chad took two steps, but stopped when the shadows began to crawl.

An army of brown spiders flowed into the room from cracks in the ceiling and holes in baseboards. The patter of their feet grew louder in the darkness as they lined the edge of the room. Most were