I searched for Madam Octa’s cage. I felt sure she wouldn’t be far from her master, and sure enough, there was the cage, on the floor by the head of the coffin, covered by a big red cloth.
I glanced inside to make sure, and there she was, her belly pulsing, her eight legs twitching. She looked horrible and terrifying this close up, and for a second I thought about leaving her. All of a sudden it seemed like a stupid idea, and the thought of touching her hairy legs or letting her anywhere near my face filled me with dread.
But only a true coward would turn back now. So I picked up the cage and laid it in the middle of the cellar. The key was hanging from the lock and one of the flutes was tied to the bars at the side.
I took out the note I had written back home the night before. It was simple, but had taken me forever to write. I read it as I stuck it to the top of the coffin with a piece of gum.
Mr Crepsley,
I know who and what you are. I have taken Madam Octa and am keeping her. Do not come looking for her. Do not come back to this town If you do, I will tell everyone that you are a vampire and you will be hunted down and killed I am not Steve. Steve knows nothing about this I will take good care of the spider.
Of course, I didn’t sign it!
Mentioning Steve probably wasn’t a good idea, but I was sure the vampire would think of him anyway, so it was just as well to clear his name.
With the note stuck in place, it was time to go. I picked up the cage and hurried up the stairs as fast as I could (being as silent as possible). I slipped my shoes back on and found my way out. It was easier than I’d imagined: the halls looked brighter after the dark of the cellar. When I got outside I walked slowly around to the front of the theater, then ran for home, stopping for nothing, leaving the theater and the vampire and my fear far behind. Leaving everything behind except for Madam Octa!
I MADE IT BACK ABOUT twenty minutes before Mom and Dad got up. I hid the spider cage at the back of my closet, under a pile of clothes, leaving enough holes so Madam Octa could breathe. She should be safe there: Mom left cleaning up the room to me, and hardly ever came in snooping around.
I slipped into bed and pretended to be asleep. Dad called me at quarter to eight. I put on my school clothes and walked downstairs, yawning and stretching like I’d just gotten up. I ate breakfast quickly and hurried back upstairs to check on Madam Octa. She hadn’t moved since I’d stolen her. I gave the cage a small shake but she didn’t budge.
I would have liked to have stayed home and kept an eye on her but that was impossible. Mom always knows when I fake being sick. She’s too smart to be fooled.
That day felt like a week. The seconds seemed to drag like hours, and even break and lunchtime went slowly! I tried playing soccer but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t concentrate in class and kept giving stupid answers, even to simple questions.
Finally it ended and I was able to rush home and up to my room.
Madam Octa was in the same spot as earlier. I was half-afraid she was dead, but I could see her breathing. Then it struck me: she was waiting to be fed! I’d seen spiders this way before. They could sit still for hours at a time, waiting for their next meal to come along.
I wasn’t sure what I should feed her, but I guessed it wasn’t too different from what ordinary spiders ate. I hurried out into the garden, pausing only to snatch an empty jelly jar from the kitchen.
It didn’t take long to collect a couple of dead flies, a few bugs, and a long wriggly worm. Then I raced back inside, hiding the jelly jar inside my T-shirt, so Mom couldn’t see it and start asking questions.
I closed my bedroom door and stuck a chair against it so nobody could come in, then placed Madam Octa’s cage on my bed and removed the cloth.
The spider squinted and crouched down lower at the sudden surge of light. I was about to open the door and throw the food in when I remembered I was dealing with a poisonous spider who could kill me with a couple of bites.
I lifted the jar over the cage, picked out one of the live insects, and dropped it. It landed on its back. Its feet twitched in the air and then it managed to roll over onto its belly. It began crawling toward freedom but didn’t get far.
As soon as it moved, Madam Octa pounced. One second she was standing still as a cocoon in the middle of the cage, the next she was over the insect, baring her fangs.
She swallowed the bug down quick. It would have fed a normal spider for a day or two, but to Madam Octa it was no more than a light snack. She made her way back to her original spot and looked at me as if to say, “Okay, that was nice. Now where’s the main course?”
I fed her the entire contents of the jar. The worm put up a good fight, twisting and turning madly, but she got her fangs into it and ripped it in half, then into quarters. She seemed to enjoy the worm the most.