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?”
Billy shook his head. Even if he wanted to guess, his voice was jammed in his throat. He backed toward the bed, the sound of his pulse booming in his head. The door handle rattled and began to twist slowly. Red-hot terror flooded his body. Whateverwas on that side of the door looked like his mother but wasn’t his mother, and it was going to eat them with those fangs.
“Let me in, little piggy, let me in,” the mother thing sang. The door rattled again. “Don’t make me break the door, Billy.”
The color drained from Lottie’s face. Clutching her teddy against her chest, she began to cry.
One good kick and the lock would break. Springing onto the bed, he heaved against the wooden window frame. It jerked in grunting movements and finally slid up.
The mother thing started pounding on the door.
Bang, bang, bang.
“Little pig, little pig, let me in.” Her voice turned colder.
It was a story she used to read to them; he used to love the book. Not anymore. Now it was just some fucked-up nursery song, and Billy was terrified. He felt a scream rising up from the bottom of his stomach, lurching into his chest, burning through his lungs. But when Lottie cried out, sobs racking her tiny body, Billy bit the scream back down.
“Lottie, get out,” Billy whispered harshly, yanking at her arm, dragging her toward the window.
“I’m scared.” Her bottom lip trembled, tears rolling down her face as she crawled over the bed painstakingly slowly, the teddy clutched to her chest like it was a buoy thrown out to save her.
“Go, go, go,” he urged.
Bang.The door rattled and the wood splintered.Bang.It cracked as it shook on its hinges.
Billy stared at the door, eyes wide. It wouldn’t take much more.
“Billy,” the monster said. “Open the door,sweetlittle piggy. Don’t be a naughty boy, or I’ll have to eat you all up.”
He shoved a half-clambering Lottie out of the window. Startled, she cried out and landed with a thump on the grass. He heard the lock snap, and when he swung back, long fingernails—no, not fingernails, Billy realized with horror, they were black claws—appeared around the edge of the door. She tapped them on the wood.
Tap, tap, tap.
Billy threw himself out of the window, landing on his stomach onto the grass. It took the wind out of him and scraped his knees, but he had no time to think of that. He leapt to his feet. Lottie stood trembling, immobilized by fear.
Grabbing her hand, heart thumping, bare feet pounding, he pulled her toward Mack. The dog started barking again. Mack would protect them; all they needed to do was get over the fence. He let go of her hand, ready to lift Lottie up. He didn’t see her, he didn’t hear her, but hefelther behind him. He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck rising to the sky. Billy turned around slowly, placing himself between the monster and Lottie as best he could.
The monster mommy was staring at him, but there was no compassion or love in her eyes. The red lipstick smeared around her mouth was wet and glistening. It wasn’t lipstick at all, he realized. It was blood.
Billy knew for sure then what she was. In fact, he considered himself somewhat of an expert on them. He had watchedTwilightandThe Originals, after all. Lottie had watched them too. As if the understanding struck them at the same time, Lottie whimpered.
Billy did the only thing he could think of—he kicked the monster hard in the shin. He heard a crack as a flare of pain shot up his toes, just as another sharp pain exploded in his arm. He cried out and looked down—her hand had seized his arm, her claws sinking into his skin. Resisting was pointless; she would tear him open like a rotten peach.
“Billy, why do you always have to be so fucking naughty,” his vampire mother sighed. She leaned closer, her breath stinking of something sweet and rusty … blood. Her teeth, white andsharp, hung from beneath her lips. Her eyes were as black as train tunnels. Her claws cut into his skin, sharp as razor blades, causing blood to trickle down his arm.
Billy would have screamed then, except terror had stolen his voice. His bottom lip trembled and his eyes burned with tears, but he battled not to let them fall. He knew from the movies that she wouldn’t be able to resist the blood, and he was about to die—horribly. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in his scent. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head to the sky, just like she did when she had her medicine.
He lost the fight, and tears slipping down his face, he whimpered, “No, Mommy.”
Mack pounded on the fence like a rabid dog, so hard a fence paling cracked. The lights from next door came on and washed across the backyard.
Billy sucked in a breath and shouted, “Lottie, run!”
Lottie ran toward the back fence. The wrong fucking fence.
