First Bites

by Darren Shan

  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 six feet long and two and a half feet 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 sure 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 forever 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 or 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 stuck 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 around to the front of the theater, then ran for home, stopping for nothing, leaving the theater 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 Mom and Dad got up. I hid the spider cage at the back of my closet, under a pile of clothes, leaving enough holes so Madam Octa could breathe. She should be safe there: Mom left cleaning up the room to me, and hardly ever came in snooping around.

  I slipped into bed and pretended to be asleep. Dad called me at quarter to eight. I put on my school clothes and walked downstairs, yawning and stretching like I’d just gotten up. 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 have stayed home and kept an eye on her but that was impossible. Mom 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 lunchtime went slowly! I tried playing soccer 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 from what ordinary spiders ate. I hurried out into the garden, pausing only to snatch an empty jelly 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 I raced back inside, hiding the jelly jar inside my T-shirt, so Mom 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 toward 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, “Okay, 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 grabbed 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 checkmark beside food she liked a lot, and two checkmarks beside food she loved (so far, only the worm). This way I’d be able to figure 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 roast 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 defenseless, but luckily, when I woke in the morning there was no sign of his having come, and Madam Octa was still resting in the closet.

  I felt a lot better that Wednesday, especially when I popped by the old theater 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. Mom and Dad wanted to know what the special occasion was. I said I just felt like something different and 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 kind 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 that 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 practiced 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 Mom had gone to the mall 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 the night before. 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 about an inch 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.”

  She had stopped swaying and was staring at me. I wasn’t sure if she was listening to my thoughts or planning her next leap.

  “I want you to stand on your back legs now,” I told her. “I want you to stand on your two back legs and take a little bow.”

  For a few seconds she didn’t respond. I went on playing and thinking, asking her to stand, then commanding her, then begging her. Finally, when I was almost out of breath, she raised herself and stood on two legs, the way I wanted. Then she took a little bow and relaxed, awaiting my next order.

  She was obeying me!

  The next order I gave was for her to crawl back into her cage. She did as I told, and this time I only had to think it once. As soon as she was inside, I closed the door and fell back on my butt, letting the flute fall from my mouth.

  The shock I’d gotten when she jumped at me! My heart was beating so fast, I was afraid it was going to run up my neck and leap out of my mouth! I lay on the floor for a long time, staring at the spider, thinking about how close to death I had come.

  That should have been warning enough. Any sensible person would have left the door shut and forgot about playing with such a deadly pet. It was too dangerous. What if she hadn’t hit the flute? What if Mom had come home and found me dead on the floor? What if the spider then attacked her or Dad or Annie? Only the world’s dumbest person would run a risk like that again.

  Step forward—Darren Shan!

  It was crazy, but I couldn’t stop myself. Besides, the way I saw it, there was no point having stolen her if I was going to keep her locked up in a silly old cage.

  I was a little smarter this time. I unlocked the door but didn’t open it. Instead I played the flute and told her to push it open. She did, and when she came out she seemed as harmless as a kitten and did everything I’d communicated.

  I made her do lots of tricks. Made her hop around the room like a kangaroo. Then had her hang from the ceiling and draw pictures with her webs. Next I got her lifting weights (a pen, a box of matches, a marble). After that I told her to sit in one of my remote control cars. I turned it on and it looked like she was driving! I crashed it into a pile of books, but made her jump off at the last moment, so she wasn’t hurt.

  I played with her for about an hour and would have happily continued all afternoon, but I heard Mom arriving home and knew she would think it was strange if I stayed up in my room all day. The last thing I wanted was her or Dad prying into my private affairs.

  So I stuck Madam Octa back in the closet and ran downstairs, trying to look as natural as possible.

  “Were you playing a CD up there?” Mom asked. She had four bags full of clothes and hats, which she and Annie were unpacking on the kitchen table.

  “No,” I said.

  “I thought I heard music,” she said.

  “I was playing a flute,” I told her, trying to sound casual.

  She stopped unpacking. “You?” she asked. “Playing a flute?”

  “I do know how to play one,” I said. “You taught me when I was five years old, remember?”

  “I remember.” She laughed. “I also remember when you were six and told me flutes were for girls. You swore you were never going to look at one again!”

  I shrugged as though it was no big thing. “I changed my mind,” I said. “I found a flute on the way home from school yesterday and got to wondering if I could still play.”

  “Where did you find it?” she asked.

  “On the road.”

  “I hope you washed it out before you put it in your mouth. There’s no telling where it might have been.”

  “I washed it,” I lied.

  “This is a wonderful surprise.” She smiled, then ruffled my hair and gave my cheek a big wet kiss.

  “Hey! Quit it!” I yelled.

  “We’ll make a Mozart out of you yet,” she said. “I can see it now: you playing a piano in a huge concert hall, dressed in a beautiful white suit, your father and I in the front row…”

  “Get real, Mom.” I chuckled. “It’s only a flute.”

  “From small acorns, oak trees grow,” she said.

  “He’s as thick as an oak tree,” Annie said, and giggled.

  I stuck my tongue out at her in response.

  The next few days were great. I played with Madam Octa whenever I could, feeding her every afternoon (she only needed one meal a day, as long as it was a large one). And I didn’t have to worry about locking my
bedroom door because Mom and Dad agreed not to enter when they heard me practicing the flute.

  I considered telling Annie about Madam Octa but decided to wait a while longer. I was getting along well with the spider but could tell she was still uneasy around me. I wouldn’t bring Annie in until I was sure it was completely safe.

  My schoolwork improved during the next week, and so did my goal-scoring. I scored twenty-eight goals between Monday and Friday. Even Mr. Dalton was impressed.

  “With your good grades in class and your prowess on the field,” he said, “you could turn into the world’s first professional soccer player-cum-university professor! A cross between PelÉ and Einstein!”

  I knew he was only pulling my leg, but it was nice of him to say it all the same.

  It took a long time to work up the nerve to let Madam Octa climb up my body and over my face, but I finally tried it on Friday afternoon. I played my best song and didn’t let her start until I’d told her several times what I wanted her to do. When I thought we were ready, I gave her the nod and she began creeping up the leg of my pants.

  It was fine until she reached my neck. The feel of those long thin hairy legs almost caused me to drop the flute. I would have been a dead duck if I had, because she was in the perfect place to sink her fangs. Luckily, my nerve held and I went on playing.

  She crawled over my left ear and up to the top of my head, where she lay down for a rest. My scalp itched beneath her but I had enough sense not to try scratching it. I studied myself in the mirror and grinned. She looked like one of those French hats, a beret.

  I made her slide down my face and dangle from my nose on one of her web-strings. I didn’t let her into my mouth, but I got her to swing from side to side like she’d done with Mr. Crepsley, and had her tickle my chin with her legs.

  I didn’t let her tickle me too much, in case I started laughing and dropped the flute!