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.
