I closed the door and smiled at Steve. He looked puzzled. “A flute?” he asked. “Your big secret is a flute?”
“That’s part of it,” I said. “Listen, do you remember Madam Octa? Mr Crepsley’s spider?”
“Of course,” he said. “I wasn’t paying much attention to her when she was on but I don’t think anyone could ever forget a creature like that. Those hairy legs: brrrr!”
I opened the door to the wardrobe while he was speaking and got out the cage. His eyes squinted when he saw it, then widened. “That’s not what I think it is, is it?” he asked.
“That depends,” I said, whipping off the cloth. “If you think it’s a deadly performing spider – you’re right!”
“Hell’s bells!” he gasped, almost falling off the bed in shock. “That’s a … she’s a … where did … Wow!”
I was delighted with his reaction. I stood over the cage, smiling like a proud father. Madam Octa lay on the floor, quiet as ever, paying no attention to me or Steve.
“She’s awesome!” Steve said, crawling closer for a better look. “She looks just the same as the one in the circus. I can’t believe you found one that looks so similar. Where’d you get her? A pet shop? From a zoo?”
My smile slipped. “I got her from the Cirque Du Freak, of course,” I said uneasily.
“From the freak show?” he asked, face crinkling. “They were selling live spiders? I didn’t see any. How much did she cost?”
I shook my head and said: “I didn’t buy her, Steve. I … Can’t you guess? Don’t you understand?”
“Understand what?” he asked.
“That’s not a similar spider,” I said. “That’s the same one. It’s Madam Octa.”
He stared at me, as though he hadn’t heard what I’d said. I was about to repeat, it but he spoke up before I could. “The … same … one?” he asked in a slow, trembling voice.
“Yes,” I said.
“You mean … that’s … Madam Octa? The Madam Octa?”
“Yes,” I said again, laughing at his shock.
“That’s … Mr Crepsley’s spider?”
“Steve, what’s wrong? How many times do I have to say it for you to—”
“Wait a minute,” he snapped, shaking his head. “If this is really Madam Octa, how did you get your hands on her? Did you find her outside? Did they sell her off?”
“Nobody would sell a great spider like this,” I said.
“That’s what I thought,” Steve agreed. “So how did … He left the question hanging in the air.
“I stole her,” I said, puffing up proudly. “I went back to the theatre that Tuesday morning, crept in, found where she was and snuck out with her. I left a note telling Mr Crepsley not to come looking for her or I’d report his being a vampire to the police.”
“You … you …” Steve was gasping. His face had turned white and he looked like he was about to collapse.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“You … imbecile!” he roared. “You lunatic! You moron!”
“Hey!” I shouted, upset.
“Idiot! Dumbo! Cretin!” he yelled. “Do you realise what you’ve done? Have you any idea what sort of trouble you’re in?”
“Huh?” I asked, bewildered.
“You stole a vampire’s spider!” Steve shouted. “You stole from a member of the undead! What do you think he’s going to do when he catches up with you, Darren? Spank your bottom and give you fifty lines? Tell your parents and make them ground you? We’re talking about a vampire! He’ll rip out your throat and feed you to the spider! He’ll tear you to pieces and—”
“No, he won’t,” I said calmly.
“Of course he will,” Steve replied.
“No,” I said, “he won’t. Because he won’t find me. I stole the spider the Tuesday before last, so he’s had nearly two whole weeks to track me down, but there hasn’t been a sign of him. He left with the circus and won’t ever come back, not if he knows what’s good for him.”
“I dunno,” Steve said. “Vampires have long memories. He might return when you’re grown up and with kids of your own.”
“I’ll worry about that when and if it happens,” I said. “I’ve got away with it for the time being. I wasn’t sure I would – I thought he’d track me down and kill me – but I did. So quit with the names, all right?”
“You’re something else,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I thought I was daring, but stealing a vampire’s pet! I never would have thought you had it in you. What made you do it?”
“I had to have her,” I told him. “I saw her on stage and knew I’d do anything to get her. Then I discovered Mr Crepsley was a vampire and realised I could blackmail him. It’s wrong, I know, but he’s a vampire, so it’s not too bad, is it? Stealing from someone bad: in a way it’s a good thing, right?”
Steve laughed. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad,” he said. “All I know is, if he ever comes looking for her, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”
He studied the spider again. He stuck his face up close to the cage (but not close enough for her to strike him) and watched her belly bulging in and out.
“Have you let her out of the cage yet?” he asked.
“Every day,” I said. I picked up the flute and gave a toot. Madam Octa jumped forward a couple of centimetres. Steve yelped and fell back on his bum. I howled with laughter.
“You can control her?” he gasped.
“I can make her do everything Mr Crepsley did,” I said, trying not to sound boastful. “It’s quite easy. She’s perfectly safe as long as you concentrate. But if you let your thoughts wander for even a second …” I drew a finger across my throat and made a choking noise.
“Have you let her make a web over your lips?” Steve asked. His eyes were shining brightly.
“Not yet,” I said. “I’m worried about letting her in my mouth: the thought of her slipping down my throat terrifies me. Besides, I’d need a partner to control her while she spun the web, and so far I’ve been alone.”
“So far,” Steve grinned, “but not any more.” He got up and clapped his hands. “Let’s do it. Teach me how to use that fancy tin whistle and let me at her. I’m not afraid to let her in my mouth. C’mon, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go go go go GO!”
I couldn’t ignore excitement like that. I knew it was unwise to involve Steve with the spider on such short notice – I should have made sure he got to know her better – but I ignored common sense and gave in to his wishes.
I told him he couldn’t play the flute, not until he’d practised, but he could play with Madam Octa while I was controlling her. I ran him through the tricks we were going to do and made sure he understood everything.
“Being quiet is vital,” I said. “Don’t say anything. Don’t even whistle loudly. Because if you disturb my attention and I lose control of her …”
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve sighed. “I know. Don’t worry. I can be quiet as a mouse when I want.”
When he was ready, I unlocked Madam Octa’s cage and began playing. She advanced at my order. I could hear