Kate Serine: Along Came a Spider

I bent and picked up the armful of gray fluff and nuzzled against her for a moment. “Hi, baby,” I whispered. “Did you miss me?”

Sasha nuzzled under my chin, assuring me she had. I grinned and let her hop to the floor to lead me into the kitchen for her dinner. Or was it breakfast? The poor thing’s schedule was as screwed up as mine these days. I filled her bowl, then set out some fresh water and gave her a good scratch behind the ears before leaving her to her meal. I was just exiting the kitchen when Sasha suddenly began to growl, her fur standing on end, her head low between her shoulders as she peered around me.

I whipped around, fully expecting to see someone standing there, but the room was empty. “What’s the matter, Sasha?” I asked, frowning at her. Her growl faded a bit but she was still on alert, her eyes never leaving the doorway even as she resumed eating.

A little unnerved by her unusual behavior, I did a quick walk-through, turning on all the lights in my living room and dining area as I went. Finding nothing out of the ordinary was almost as unsettling as if I’d come upon a burglar trying to abscond with my meager possessions. Just to be on the safe side, I walked the perimeter of the apartment, double-checking the locks on the doors and windows and the sliding door that opened onto my balcony.

Satisfied that all was still secure, I headed for the bathroom, slipping out of my button-down as I went and tossing it into the hamper. My khakis were pretty much ruined, the knee of one leg ripped out from my altercation with the vampires, but I tossed them into the hamper anyway. Standing before my bathroom mirror in nothing but my pale blue tank and panties, I met my own gaze, noticing that lack of sleep was already bringing out dark circles under my eyes. I pulled my hands through the curls that came down to just below my chin, then watched them with a sigh as they sprung back into place.

God, no wonder Nicky had called me “doll.” What grown woman had ultrablond freaking ringlets? And there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about them. I’d tried cutting them, coloring them, straightening them. . . . Nothing worked. No matter what I tried, my curls would be back to their ol’ springy selves by morning.

Of course, if my ringlets made me look younger than I was, my eyes made up for it. After all I’d seen over the years, there was an

ancientness to them that was sometimes a little disconcerting even to me. I leaned closer to the mirror, peering deep into the dark green gaze that stared back at me, wondering for probably the trillionth time what I’d see in that person’s soul if I could get a glimpse.

Would it be memories of Make Believe, of family and friends that I’d left behind, or would the horrors I’d witnessed since coming to the Here and Now override those happier images? I’d tried to purge my mind of all the terrifying sights—the memories of the criminally insane, distorted and surreal; the murderous and depraved thoughts of those who were evil at their very core; the innocent driven mad with terror before their final seconds—but I had a feeling they were all there somewhere, haunting the shadowy corners of my brain.

The sudden and completely foreign sound of giggling brought me around with a startled gasp.

What the hell?

My heart pounding, I snatched back the shower curtain, shivering when I found the bathtub empty. Frowning, I opened the bathroom door and poked my head out, taking in the rest of the apartment in a glance. With a shrug, I closed the door again and started the water for a shower. “Just your imagination, Trish,” I muttered. “You’ve been working way too hard.”

A moment later, I stepped into the shower and let the steaming hot water wash over me again. My entire body was beginning to ache from the beating I’d taken from the vampires, and my wrist was still throbbing. I awkwardly managed to wash my hair with one hand while trying to keep the wrapping around my wrist dry, and had just finished rinsing off when I felt an icy blast of wind. I shivered violently at the sudden change in temperature and poked my head out from behind the shower curtain. The door to the bathroom stood wide open.

Huh. I could’ve sworn . . .

“Sasha?” I called, expecting to see the cat tucked into some secret hiding place in the bathroom, but she padded in from the other room at the sound of my voice and offered me a cautious meow as if she was as puzzled as I was by the open door. I shivered again, but shrugged off the creepiness with a forced laugh. “Jeez, Trish, get a grip! You get jumped by a couple of vampires and you suddenly go all paranoid?”

I quickly finished my shower and pulled on my favorite blue and black plaid flannel pajama pants and a black T-shirt with a skull and crossbones blazoned across the chest, then headed back out to the living room to my desk and booted up my computer. Even though I was seriously freaking tired, I wanted to capture the events of the evening along with my impressions of the victim as well as his vampire assailants before I turned in.

Sasha padded over and twisted around my ankles and the legs of the chair in which I sat, the soft drone of her purring so warm and comforting, I felt my lids growing heavy as I typed. I’d only managed to get through my thoughts on the victim when my head dropped suddenly, startling me awake. I glanced around guiltily, my face going warm, embarrassed to be caught dozing. But then I chuckled at my reaction. Why be embarrassed? Who the hell was going to see me? Sasha? Hell, I could drop dead in my apartment and no one would even notice until I didn’t show up for work the next day. And even then they’d probably just think I was out on a case.

My shoulders sagged. God, how depressing was that?

The same feminine giggle brought my head around with a gasp.

“Who’s there?” I demanded.

I scanned the corners of my apartment, looking for signs of a pixie or some other sprite who’d sneaked in to wreak a little havoc on the poor, overworked FMA agent, but even as I glanced around, I heard the floorboards creak near my bedroom. I leaped to my feet, trying to swallow the lump of fear firmly lodged in my throat. My gaze narrowed as I watched the dark doorway to my room, waiting for the shadows to part and reveal my intruder, but although I could hear the footsteps coming closer, I couldn’t see anything—not even a ripple of movement to betray where she was.

“Show yourself,” I ordered, trying to keep my voice from shaking. And failing. “What do you want?”

I heard the footsteps walking the perimeter of the room and slowly turned, tracking their movement and trying to keep my breathing under control, my fear in check. Then the footsteps suddenly stopped. I held my breath, listening intently, my skin prickling with apprehension. I swallowed, waiting. The tick, tick, tick of the clock hanging on the wall seemed amplified in the unnatural silence, becoming a pounding rhythm in my head.

Suddenly, there was a loud thump above my head and a giggle and then the bam, bam, bam of my upstairs neighbor’s headboard banging against the wall. I let out my breath in a gasp and laughed, the sound coming out as a thin, shaky chuckle.

What a dork.

I should’ve known it was all just Tracy the Tramp entertaining her boy-toy du jour. I laughed again, a little louder this time, but my relief was cut short when a horrible coppery taste filled my mouth, jolting me a little. Frowning, I touched my tongue and looked at my fingers, startled to see blood there.

“What the hell?” I hurried into my bathroom and leaned close to the mirror, opening my mouth to get a look, but there was nothing there. No blood. No evidence of injury. Nothing. “Weird . . .”

Behind me, the door slammed shut, startling a scream from me. I whirled around and grabbed the knob to pull the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. I gripped it harder, my knuckles turning white as I strained to turn the knob, but it was like someone was on the other side, holding it shut. I rattled the door, trying to jerk it open. No go. My chest heaved with panicked breaths as the walls in the tiny bathroom seemed to be closing in, slowly squeezing the air out of the room.