Chapter 13
Billy Parker
Billy woke with a gasp. Mack was going crazy.
He had never heard him bark so ferociously.
A cold rolled over his skin, slunk down to the depths of his bones—he felt like he wasn’t alone.
Slowly, he turned his head to the side and stared at the curtain.
He had a terrible feeling if he pulled it back, the monster would be standing there.
Billy turned away, his fingers tight on the comforter. There was no monster, he told himself, it was probably a cat in the yard. He mumbled a swear word under his breath and rolled to his side, blinking sluggishly, trying to make out the time on his clock. It was two-thirty a.m.
“Billy, I’m scared,” Lottie called out, her voice high-pitched and frayed.
He sighed as he flicked on the lamp then clamored out of bed. The air in the room was ice cold, and his breath curled in front of his lips. He shivered as he snatched a jumper off the floor and pulled it on.
“Billy?” Lottie called again. “Hurry.”
The fear in her voice frayed his nerves, making his heart beat faster. Billy started to feel scared too, but he grunted, “It’s just the dog having a meltdown. Hang on, I’m coming.”
Billy’s breath rattled from his lips as he edged his door open.
Light spilled from his room into the hallway.
He noticed his mother’s room door was still ajar at the same distance as earlier.
He had left the kitchen light on for her, but no noise came from there.
Not that he could hear much above the dog’s racket.
Still, he assumed she wasn’t home, or she’d be shouting and swearing up a storm.
Lottie was sitting bolt upright in bed, her pink teddy clutched in her arms, staring wide-eyed at the window.
“I saw something through the crack in the curtain,” she whispered.
Chills erupted over Billy’s skin as he crept into the room, his eyes strained to see out. The light washed a frail glow over the yard, but all he could make out through the fist-sized crack in the sheets nailed up over the window was the outline of the timber fence.
“What did you see?” he whispered.
Lottie’s eyes were wider than teacups. “I think someone’s out there.”
Billy’s entire body grew colder. His hand shook as he flicked the light on. Lights made everything feel better; monsters didn’t like the light.
Lottie blinked beneath the sudden glare and rubbed her eyes with her fists.
Billy wanted to hide under the comforter with Lottie and wait till whoever it was went away. He tried to sound brave as he said, “I’ll check it out. Stay here.”
Lottie scrambled out of bed, her teddy clutched in one hand, and grabbed his hand with the other. “I don’t want to stay on my own.”
Truth was Billy was glad she was coming with him, but he couldn’t let Lottie know he was scared. He was the big brother, after all, and it was his job to look after her.
They moved cautiously into the hall and turned on the light.
The door creaked as he opened the spare room without turning on the light—he wouldn’t be able to see out into the dark if he did.
But the hallway light lit the floor enough to see.
Garbage bags of stuff his mother hadn’t unpacked since they’d moved here and clothes they’d grown out of were stacked against the wall.
Billy wrinkled his nose. The air in the room was thick and musty.
Letting go of Lottie’s hand, he edged toward the window.
He hovered for a moment, his throat thick, then he took a deep breath, grabbed the corner of the curtain, and peeled it back.
An almost full moon allowed him to see the blur of Mack.
He was by the fence, looking in the direction of their house, bounding back and forth and barking.
Billy’s heart stopped as he caught a glimpse of movement in the backyard, a fast-moving shadow.
He froze but saw nothing now. He cupped his little hands on the windowpane and studied the yard.
Nothing moved, the swing sat still, the ball was on the ground, and his baseball bat was nearby.
But he couldn’t see anyone. It must have been a trick of his eye.
Billy relaxed and pulled the curtain back further. “There’s nothing out there. See, Lottie.”
She peered up at him with her big brown eyes and then looked out of the window hesitantly. She pulled back after a few seconds. “Can I sleep with you?”
Secretly, Billy was glad she wanted to sleep with him. Despite not seeing anything, Mack’s barking made him uneasy. It was probably a cat on the fence, he told himself. His throat was like a desert. “Yeah, I need a drink though. Want one?”
Lottie nodded. Moving to the kitchen, he noticed that someone had turned out the light or maybe it had blown, but the hallway light allowed him to see in. He jumped and let out a cry of surprise.
Seated at the table, her head twisted away, staring out of the window, was their mother. Her blonde hair was neat like it was when she washed it and blow-dried it sometimes.
She turned slowly to look at them. She looked different, somehow.
Beautiful. More beautiful than he had ever seen her.
Her skin was pale, free of the spots she usually had, and the freckles splattered across her nose were gone.
Her skin was flawless, except for the red lipstick smudged around her lips.
Billy had seen that some mornings, when she stumbled out of her bedroom, usually with some strange-looking man staggering behind her.
Her eyes … they were usually brown, but they were as dark as Mack’s fur. Billy should have felt relief, but he didn’t, he felt—
Afraid.
His legs were rooted to the ground, his heart thumped in his chest, and his breath choked in his desert-whipped throat.
She smiled, her teeth white. She had a lovely smile, lovelier than he remembered, but it didn’t reach those dark eyes. Billy wondered if he was dreaming. Yes, that must be it. He must be still asleep.
The dog had stopped barking, at least.
“Mommy,” Lottie said excitedly and tried to let go of his hand to run to their mother.
“Lottie, wait.” Billy was embarrassed that his voice sounded as frail as a fart buried under the covers. He gripped her hand tightly to stop her. She yanked, but he didn’t let go.
Mommy rose fast, too fast.
Billy’s heart beat like horses galloping in his chest. He shook his head—there was something strange about their mother. Something wrong.
Lottie stopped trying to pull away, staring up at their mother, her lips parted. “Mommy?” she squeaked.
“Hello, honey,” their mother said. Even the sound of her voice was different, soft, musical, and yet it sent spiders crawling all over his skin like the egg sac had hatched and baby spiders swarmed everywhere. “Have you been a good girl?” she asked, those dark eyes on Lottie.
Dark and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. Something—
Hungry.
Billy swallowed. His hand felt slippery with sweat, his ears ringing, his face hot. He took a step back, pulling Lottie with him. “We’re going to bed,” he told her.
“Stay up for a while.”
Billy cleared his throat. “No, it’s late, Lottie needs her sleep.”
Those terrible hungry eyes pierced him to the spot. “You always did like to challenge me, didn’t you, Billy?” she said sweetly. “You were always the naughty one. Come here, come to Mommy.” She reached into her pocket and held out a broken chocolate bar. “Look what I got for you.”
Billy eyed the chocolate, hunger cramping his belly.
Even broken chocolate was worth eating. He imagined it melting over his tongue.
He and Lottie could tip it in a bowl, turn on TV and share it while they watched the cop show that was on late at night.
He licked his dry, cracked lips. Go grab the chocolate, it’s just your mother, he told himself.
His eyes told him this woman was his mother; she looked too much like her not to be her, after all.
But eyes must have a way of lying because Billy sensed—knew—not to go closer.
She wasn’t yelling at them for being up, she wasn’t cursing or stumbling around like she usually did.
She wasn’t acting like their mother at all.
He shook his head, and with legs of concrete, took another step back. “No, thanks, I’m not hungry.”
Lottie’s arm slipped out from his wet hand. She looked to Billy, confused, and back to their mother. She took a hesitant step forward, her small hand outstretched for the chocolate.
His mother’s red lips curled in the corner. “Good girl, Lottie,” she sang.
Billy reached up and flicked the light on.
His mother hissed like a furious alley cat and threw her arms up to cover her eyes. “Turn it off, turn it off!” she shrieked.
He knew then, knew for certain, that this wasn’t his mother at all.
Monsters didn’t like the light.
Run, a voice in his head urged. Run.
But Billy didn’t have time to grab Lottie or to run before her arm dropped and she squinted into the light. Her lip curled back and her teeth changed. They were sharp and pointy—fangs.
Lottie froze mid-step. Billy couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. This can’t be real. This can’t be real, it must be a nightmare, was all he could think over and over again.
Lottie screamed, so shrill it pierced his ears. The sound jerked Billy into action. He snatched out a hand, grabbed the back of Lottie’s pink nightie, and yanked her backwards. He slammed the door closed and they ran down the hallway into his bedroom, slamming that door closed behind them.
His fingers shook wildly as he tried to slide the lock into place. They shook so badly he had to try twice to get it in the latch.
“What is it, what is it?” Lottie’s voice was breaking. “What’s wrong with Mommy?”