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Then it was Monday and time for school. I was nervous going in, not sure what I was going to say to Steve, or what he might say to me. Also, I hadn’t slept much over the weekend (it’s hard to sleep when you’ve seen a real vampire), so I was tired and groggy.
Steve was in the yard when I arrived, which was unusual. I normally got to school before him. He was standing apart from the rest of the kids, waiting for me. I took a deep breath, then walked over and leaned against the wall beside him.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning,” he replied. There were dark circles under his eyes and I bet he’d slept even less than me the last couple of nights. “Where did you get to after the show?” he asked.
“I went home,” I told him.
“Why?” he asked, watching me carefully.
“It was dark outside and I wasn’t looking where I was going. I took a few wrong turns and got lost. By the time I found myself somewhere familiar, I was closer to home than to your house.”
I made the lie sound as convincing as possible, and I could see him trying to figure out if it was the truth or not.
“You must have got into a lot of trouble,” he said.
“Tell me about it!” I groaned. “No pocket money, grounded for a month, and Dad said I’m going to have to do loads of chores. Still,” I said with a grin, “it was worth it, right? I mean, was the Cirque Du Freak superb or what!”
Steve studied me for one more moment, then decided I was telling the truth. “Yeah,” he said, returning my smile. “It was great.”
Tommy and Alan arrived and we had to tell them everything. We were pretty good actors, Steve and me. You’d never have guessed that he had spoken to a vampire on Friday, or that I had seen him.
I could tell, as the day wore on, that things would never be quite the same between me and Steve. Even though he believed what I’d told him, part of him still doubted me. I caught him looking at me oddly from time to time, as though I was someone who had hurt him.
For my part, I didn’t want to get too close to him any longer. It scared me, what he’d said to Mr Crepsley, and what the vampire had said to him. Steve was evil, according to Mr Crepsley. It worried me. After all, Steve was prepared to become a vampire and kill people for their blood. How could I go on being friends with someone like that?
We got chatting about Madam Octa later that afternoon. Steve and me hadn’t said much about Mr Crepsley and his spider. We were afraid to talk about him, in case we let something slip. But Tommy and Alan kept pestering us and eventually we filled them in on the act.
“How do you think he controlled the spider?” Tommy asked.
“Maybe it was a fake spider,” Alan said.
“It wasn’t a fake,” I snorted. “None of the freaks were fake. That was why it was so brilliant. You could tell everything was real.”
“So how did he control it?” Tommy asked again.
“Maybe the flute is magic,” I said, “or else Mr Crepsley knows how to charm spiders, the way Indians can charm snakes.”
“But you said Mr Tall controlled the spider as well,” Alan said, “when Mr Crepsley had Madam Octa in his mouth.”
“Oh. Yes. I forgot,” I said. “Well, I guess that means they must have used magic flutes.”
“They didn’t use magic flutes,” Steve said. He had been quiet most of the day, saying less than me about the show, but Steve never could resist hammering someone with facts.
“So what did they use?” I asked.
“Telepathy,” Steve answered.
“Is that something to do with telephones?” Alan asked.
Steve smiled, and Tommy and me laughed (although I wasn’t entirely sure what “telepathy” meant, and I bet Tommy wasn’t either). “Moron!” Tommy chuckled, and punched Alan playfully.
“Go on, Steve,” I said, “tell him what it means.”
“Telepathy is when you can read somebody else’s mind,” Steve explained, “or send them thoughts without speaking. That’s how they controlled the spider, with their minds.”
“So what’s with the flutes?” I asked.
“Either they’re just for show,” Steve said, “or, more likely, you need them to attract her attention.”
“You mean anyone could control her?” Tommy asked.
“Anyone with a brain, yes,” Steve said. “Which counts you out, Alan,” he added, but smiled to show he didn’t mean it.
“You wouldn’t need magic flutes or special training or anything?” Tommy asked.
“I wouldn’t think so,” Steve answered.
The talk moved on to something else after that – football, I think – but I wasn’t listening. Because all of a sudden there was a new thought running through my mind, setting my brain on fire with ideas. I forgot about Steve and vampires and everything.
“You mean anyone could control her?”
“Anyone with a brain, yes.”
“You wouldn’t need magic flutes or special training or anything?”
“I wouldn’t imagine so.”
Tommy’s and Steve’s words kept bouncing through my mind, over and over, like a stuck CD.
Anyone could control her. That anyone could be me. If I could get my hands on Madam Octa and communicate with her, she could be my pet and I could control her and …
No. It was foolish. Maybe I could control her, but I would never own her. She was Mr Crepsley’s and there was no way in the world that he would part with her, not for money or jewels or..
The answer hit me in a flash. A way to get her off him. A way to make her mine. Blackmail! If I threatened the vampire – I could say I’d set the police onto him – he’d have to let me keep her.
But the thought of going face to face with Mr Crepsley terrified me. I knew I couldn’t do it. That left just one other option: I’d have to steal her!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EARLY MORNING would be the best time to steal the spider. Having performed so late into the night, most members of the Cirque Du Freak would probably sleep in until eight or nine. I’d sneak into camp, find Madam Octa, grab her and run. If that wasn’t possible – if the camp was active – I’d simply return home and forget about it.
The difficult part was picking a day. Wednesday was ideal: the last show would have played the night before, so the circus would in all likelihood have pulled out before midday and moved on to its next venue before the vampire could awake and discover the theft. But what if they left town directly after the show, in the middle of the night? Then I’d miss my big chance.
It had to be tomorrow – Tuesday. That meant Mr Crepsley would have the whole of Tuesday night to search for his spider – for me – but that was a risk I’d just have to take.
I went to bed a bit earlier than usual. I was tired and ready to fall asleep, but was so excited, I thought I wouldn’t be able to. I kissed Mum goodnight and shook Dad’s hand. They thought I was trying to win my pocket money back, but it was in case something happened to me at the theatre and I never saw them again.
I have a radio which is also an alarm clock, and I set the alarm to five o’clock in the morning, then stuck my headphones on and plugged them into the radio. That way, I could wake up nice and early without waking anyone else.
I fell asleep quicker than I expected and slept straight through till morning. If I had any dreams, I can’t remember them.
Next thing I knew, the alarm was sounding. I groaned, turned over, then sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. I wasn’t sure where I was for a few seconds, or why I was awake so early. Then I remembered the spider and the plan, and grinned happily.
The grin didn’t last long, because I realised the alarm wasn’t coming through my headphones. I must have rolled over in my sleep and pulled the cord out! I leapt across my bed and slammed the alarm off, then sat in the early morning darkness, heart pounding, listening for noises.
When I was sure my parents were still asleep, I slid out of bed and got dressed as quietly as I could. I went to the toilet and was about to flush when I thought of the noise it would make. I yanked my hand away from the lever and wiped the sweat from my brow. They would surely have heard that! A narrow escape. I’d have to be more careful when I got to the theatre.
I slipped downstairs and let myself out. The sun was on its way up and it looked like it would be a bright day.
I walked quickly and sang songs to pep me up. I was a bundle of nerves and almost turned back a dozen times. Once I actually did turn and start walking home, but then I remembered the way the spider had hung from Mr Crepsley’s jaws, and the tricks she had performed, and swung around again.
I can’t explain why Madam Octa meant so much to me, or why I was placing my life in such peril to have her. Looking back, I’m no longer sure what drove me on. It was simply a dreadful need I couldn’t ignore.
The crumbling old building looked even creepier by day. I could see cracks running down the front, holes nibbled by rats and mice, spider webs in the windows. I shivered and hurried round to the rear. It was deserted. Empty old houses, junk yards, scrap heaps. There would be people moving about later in the day, but right then it looked like a ghost town. I didn’t even see a cat or a dog.
As I’d thought, there were plenty of ways to get into the theatre. There were two doors and loads of windows to choose from.
Several cars and vans were parked outside the building. I didn’t spot any signs or pictures on them, but I was sure they belonged to the Cirque Du Freak. It suddenly struck me that the freaks most probably slept in the vans. If Mr Crepsley had a home in one of them, my plan was sunk.
I snuck into the theatre, which felt even colder than it had been on Saturday night, and tiptoed down a long corridor, then another, then another! It was like a maze back here and I started worrying about finding my way out. Maybe I should go back and bring a ball of string, so I could mark my way and—
No! It was too late for that. If I left, I’d never have the guts to return. I’d just have to remember my steps as best I could and say a little prayer when it came time to leave.
I saw no sign of any freaks, and began to think I was on a fool’s errand, that they were all in the vans or in nearby hotels. I’d been searching for twenty minutes and my legs felt heavy after so much walking. Maybe I should quit and forget the crazy plan.
I was about to give up when I found a set of stairs leading down to a cellar. I paused at the top for ages, biting my lips, wondering if I should go down. I’d seen enough horror films to know this was the most likely spot for a vampire, but I’d also seen loads where the hero walked down to a similar cellar, only to be attacked, murdered and chopped up into little pieces!
Finally I took a deep breath and started down. My shoes were making too much noise, so I eased them off and padded along in just my socks. I picked up loads of splinters, but was so nervous, I didn’t feel the pain.
There was a huge cage near the bottom of the stairs. I edged over to it and looked through the bars. The Wolf Man was inside, lying on his back, asleep and snoring. He twitched and moaned as I watched. I jumped back from the cage. If he woke, his howls would bring the whole freak show down on me in seconds flat!
As I was stumbling backwards, my foot hit something soft and slimy. I turned my head slowly and saw I was standing over the snake-boy! He was stretched out on the floor, his snake wrapped around him, and his eyes were wide open!
I don’t know how I managed not to scream or faint, but somehow I kept quiet and stayed on my feet, and that saved me. Because, even though the snake-boy’s eyes were open, he was fast asleep. I knew by the way he was breathing: deeply, heavily, in and out.
I tried not to think about what would have happened if I’d fallen on him and the snake and woken them up.
Enough was enough. I gave one last look around the dark cellar, promising myself I’d leave if I didn’t spot the vampire. For a few seconds I saw nothing and got ready to scram, but then I noticed what might have been a large box near one of the walls.
It might have been a large box. But it wasn’t. I knew all too well what it really was. It was a coffin!
I gulped, then walked carefully over to the coffin. It was about two metres long and eighty centimetres wide. The wood was dark and stained. Moss was growing in patches, and I could see a family of cockroaches in one of the corners.
I’d love to say I was brave enough to lift the lid and peek inside, but of course I wasn’t and didn’t. Even the thought of touching the coffin gave me the shivers!
I searched for Madam Octa’s cage. I felt sure she wouldn’t be far from her master, and right 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 ages 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 pinned 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 round to the front of the theatre, then ran for home, stopping for nothing, leaving the theatre and the vampire and my fear far behind. Leaving everything behind – except for Madam Octa!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I MADE it back about twenty minutes before Mum and Dad got up. I hid the spider cage at the back of my wardrobe, under a pile of clothes, leaving enough holes so Madam Octa could breathe. She should be safe there: Mum left the tidying of the room to me, and hardly ever came in rooting around.
I slipped into bed and pretended to be asleep. Dad called me at a quarter to eight. I put on my school clothes and walked downstairs, yawning and stretching as though I’d only just woken. 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 stay home and keep an eye on her but that was impossible. Mum 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 lunch-time went slowly! I tried playing football 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 to what ordinary spiders ate. I hurried out into the garden, pausing only to snatch an empty jam 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 back inside I raced, hiding the jam jar inside my T-shirt, so Mum 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 towards 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, “OK, 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.
I had an idea and fetched my diary from underneath my mattress. My diary is my most prized possession, and it’s because I wrote everything down in it that I’m able to write this book. I remember most of the story anyway, but whenever I get stuck, all I have to do is open the diary and check the facts.
I folded the diary open to the back page, then wrote down all that I knew about Madam Octa: what Mr Crepsley had said about her in the show, the tricks she knew, the food she liked. I put one tick beside food she liked a lot, and two ticks beside food she loved (so far, only the worm). This way I’d be able to work out the best way to feed her, and what to give her as a treat when I wanted her to do a trick.
I brought up some grub from the fridge next: cheese, ham, lettuce and corned beef. She ate just about everything I gave her. It looked like I was going to be kept busy trying to feed this ugly lady!
Tuesday night was horrible. I wondered what Mr Crepsley would think when he woke and found his spider missing and a note in its place. Would he leave like I told him, or would he come looking for his pet? Maybe, since the two of them could speak with each other telepathically, he would be able to trace her here!
I spent hours sitting up in bed, holding a cross to my chest. I wasn’t sure if the cross would work or not. I know they work in the movies but I remembered talking to Steve once and he said a cross was no good by itself. He said they only worked if the person using them was good.
I finally fell asleep about two in the morning. If Mr Crepsley had come, I would have been completely defenceless, but luckily, when I woke in the morning, there was no sign of his having been, and Madam Octa was still resting in the wardrobe.
I felt a lot better that Wednesday, especially when I popped by the old theatre after school and saw the Cirque Du Freak had left. The cars and vans were gone. No trace of the freak show remained.
I’d done it! Madam Octa was mine!
I celebrated by buying a pizza. Ham and pepperoni. Mum and Dad wanted to know what the special occasion was. I said I just felt like something different, offered them – and Annie – a slice, and they left it at that.
I fed the scraps to Madam Octa and she loved them. She ran around the cage licking up every last crumb. I made a note in my diary: “For a special treat, a piece of pizza!”
I spent the next couple of days getting her used to her new home. I didn’t let her out of the cage, but I carried it around the room so she could see every corner and get to know the place. I didn’t want her to be nervous when I finally freed her.
I talked to her all the time, telling her about my life and family and home. I told her how much I admired her and the sort of food I was going to get her and the type of tricks we were going to do. She might not have understood everything I said, but she seemed to.
I went to the library after school on Thursday and Friday and read as much about spiders as I could find. There was all sorts of stuff I hadn’t known. Like they can have up to eight eyes, and the threads of their webs are gluey fluids which harden when they’re let out into the air. But none of the books mentioned performing spiders, or ones with telepathic powers. And I couldn’t find any pictures of spiders like Madam Octa. It looked like none of the people who wrote these books had seen a spider like her. She was unique!
When Saturday came, I decided it was time to let her out of her cage and try a few tricks. I had practised with the flute and could play a few very simple tunes quite well. The hard part was sending thoughts to Madam Octa while playing. It was going to be tricky, but I felt I was up to it.
I closed my door and shut my windows. It was Saturday afternoon. Dad was working and Mum had gone to the shops with Annie. I was all alone, so if anything went wrong, it would be entirely my fault, and I would be the only one to suffer.
I placed the cage in the middle of the floor. I hadn’t fed Madam Octa since last night. I figured she might not want to perform if she was full of food. Animals can be lazy, just like humans.
I removed the cloth, put the flute in my mouth, turned the key and opened the tiny door to the cage. I stepped back and squatted down low, so she could see me.
Madam Octa did nothing for a while. Then she crept to the door, paused and sniffed the air. She looked too fat to squeeze through the gap, and I began to think I must have overfed her. But somehow she managed to suck her sides in and ease out.
She sat on the carpet in front of the cage, her big round belly throbbing. I thought she might walk around the cage, to check the room out, but she didn’t show the faintest sign of having any interest in the room.
Her eyes were glued to me!
I gulped loudly and tried not to let her sense my fear. It was difficult but I managed not to shake or cry. The flute had slipped a couple of centimetres from my lips while I was watching her but I was still holding it. It was time to start playing, so I pressed it back between my lips and prepared to blow.
That was when she made her move. In one giant leap, she sprang across the room. She flew forward, up into the air, jaws open, fangs ready, hairy legs twitching – straight at my unprotected face!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
IF SHE had connected, she would have sunk her fangs into me and I would have died. But luck was on my side, and instead of landing on flesh, she slammed against the end of the flute and went flying off to the side.
She landed in a ball and was dazed for a couple of seconds. Reacting rapidly, aware that my life depended on speed, I stuck the flute between my lips and played like a madman. My mouth was dry but I blew regardless, not daring to lick my lips.
Madam Octa cocked her head when she heard the music. She struggled to her legs and swayed from side to side, as though drunk. I sneaked a quick breath, then started playing a slower tune, which wouldn’t tire my fingers or lungs.
“Hello, Madam Octa,” I said inside my head, shutting my eyes and concentrating. “My name’s Darren Shan. I’ve told you that before but I don’t know if you heard. I’m not even sure if you can hear it now.
“I ’m your new owner. I’m going to treat you real good and feed you loads of insects and meat. But only if you are good and do everything I tell you and don’t attack me again.”