Monster in My Closet

by R. L. Naquin

  I tried to keep my disappointment to myself. Obviously, she needed some down time, and she’d been a huge help. “Go. I’ll forward the phones to myself and lock up. Get some rest. You kind of look like ass.”

  She gave me a weak smile. “You’re such a flatterer.”

  “If I say you look pretty, will you go home to bed?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look pretty. Go home to bed.”

  “I’m going.” She grabbed her coat and walked toward the door.

  “Sara?”

  She stopped. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll always have your back, Zo, you know that. As long as we stick together, we can get through anything.”

  My stomach knotted as I watched her walk out the door. There was so much I couldn’t tell her. For the first time in ten years, I didn’t have Sara at my back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  This time there was no lead-up, no nonsense in a tattered black wedding gown, and no trip through the woods. I fell asleep, and there he was.

  “Good evening, Dream Girl. You’re looking lovely.”

  My throat tightened in fear, but I refused to back down. He couldn’t hurt me here. I shouldn’t be afraid. Except, of course, I was.

  “You’re looking tasteless and flamboyant, as usual,” I said. “I admit, I like pirates over ninjas, but I think you’re doing it wrong.”

  He raised an eyebrow in surprise. I wasn’t sure whether it was because I wasn’t showing fear, or because I was making fun of him.

  “You seem different,” he said, after looking me up and down in a way that felt like I was being prodded by a curious monkey.

  “I am different. I’m not taking any more shit from you.”

  He smiled. “Language, my dear. Naughty words tend to reveal a need to cover something up. Are you certain you’re all right?”

  “I’m better than I have been in quite a long time, thank you.”

  “Then why are you shaking?” He took a step forward and grasped my quaking hand. I hadn’t realized it was doing that. That was no good. Hard to show bravery when you look like you’re having a seizure.

  “I’m asleep. Probably, I kicked the covers off and I’m in my bed freezing.”

  “No doubt you’re right. I can’t imagine why you would be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not.” I stuck my chin out in defiance. I figured if I continued to stand by the lie long enough, it would become true.

  “I have a gift for you.” He tugged at my hand. I was surprised the contact didn’t affect me. It was a dream, of course, but still. I would have expected something to happen.

  He turned me around to face the way I had come.

  There hadn’t been time for my sleeping mind to develop any sort of landscape when I first came into the dream. Now he was creating it for me.

  A circus tent was pitched in the middle of a baseball field. Sebastian led me to the entrance, and I let him. Why I allowed it, I don’t know. His lacy sleeve tickled my wrist and brought to mind centipedes crawling on my skin.

  Lest the thought create the bugs themselves, I turned my attention to the tent. It was several stories high and covered in thick black and purple stripes. I stepped through the entrance, and he let go of my hand. I rubbed at my wrist to erase the itchy feeling of skittering insects.

  There was a single ring in the center, a red spotlight shining on it.

  Nothing was in the center for the light to show. I let him guide me to a front-row seat, and I sat on the bench to watch. I knew whatever was going to happen was something I didn’t want to see. I had no control over it. I couldn’t look away.

  A calliope rolled into the arena, a tall, sallow man running his fingers over the keys. The music sounded like a sick merry-go-round. Somehow, the musician made the most cheerful of instruments sound like a dying rhino. A bright orange spotlight followed his progress until he rolled to a stop at the far side of the ring. He continued to play the grating music as six black poodles danced on stage.

  They hauled a sled with a large box covered in black silk. The parade of yapping dogs made a full circuit around the ring before pulling their vehicle to a stop in the center.

  Sebastian stepped out into the light, his tacky red velour jacket a poor substitute for a ringmaster’s coat. The top hat he’d added to his ensemble looked badly fitted, as if it were made for someone with a much smaller head. I snorted. His head was quite large, both literally and figuratively.

  With a flourish, he removed the fabric from the hidden box and stepped aside.

  The box was casket-shaped and made of glass, much like Snow White’s fabled coffin. A woman lay still within the confines of the small space, her hands folded peacefully over her bare breasts.

  Black roses were scattered around her. I didn’t want to look at her face. Honestly, I didn’t want to look anywhere else either, since she was completely naked. My eyes tried to look everywhere, anywhere else, but they were drawn to her face.

  Her black hair puddled around her head. Dark lashes rested against her cheeks, and her black lips formed a peaceful smile.

  I moaned.

  “No, no, no,” I said. Spider opened her eyes from inside the box. She turned her head toward me and licked her lips in a way that made me feel unclean.

  “Leave her alone!” I jumped to my feet and tore across the arena.

  Spider’s eyes rolled back, revealing only the whites. She convulsed, her back arching in agonized pleasure. Her hands slammed against the glass in an effort to find something to grip. The fingers splayed against the sides, sweaty prints marring the surface and leaving behind streaks of residue.

  I reached the center and clawed at the seams of the casket, trying to find a way in. She squirmed and writhed inside, her body wracked in powerful orgasm. The terror in her eyes gave truth to the lie of pleasure. I banged my fists against the cool walls.

  “Open it, you bastard.” I spun and faced the demonic ringmaster. “Leave her alone. Let her out.”

  He smiled, his finger stroking the oiled curl of his beard. “Why? She seems happy enough. Why would you want to interfere?”

  Dream Zoey decided she’d had enough. All the helplessness I’d been feeling, all the times someone had to look after me or pull me out of the situation I’d put myself in piled on top of each other at once. I was tired. And I was pissed.

  I hauled off and kicked him in the nuts.

  Now, I was fully aware that I couldn’t touch him, it was just a dream, and I was not a kick-ass chick with judo skills and a gun. But there’s only so much a girl can put up with before resorting to violence, no matter how impossible or untrained that violence might be.

  When the kick connected, I think he was as surprised as I was.

  He doubled over, clutching his groin. My confidence grew three sizes, and I followed up my kick with another to his head. I’ve never been terribly coordinated, and when the maneuver went straight through as if I were punting a cloud, I fell sideways with the momentum and into the casket.

  The glass shattered, and water spilled out like from a smashed aquarium. A considerably shrunken Spider gave a weak flip of her tail and went still. Her single, visible fisheye, outlined darkly in eyeliner, clouded over in a milky haze.

  “Now you’ve done it, Dream Girl. I wasn’t done eating that.” Sebastian squatted on the ground, regarding me with a critical eye. “I’m still a little hungry, truth be told. What else are you serving up tonight?”

  “Get out.”

  He shrugged. “I go where I like. You give me so many delicious choices. Since I met you, I’ve developed a gourmet appetite. I don’t think I want to give that up.”

  I was so angry, I wanted another go at his testicles. Unfortunately, I knew I’d landed a lucky shot be
cause he hadn’t been expecting it. No way was I going to get away with it a second time.

  My eyes narrowed. “Are you putting on weight, Sebastian? I think maybe you need to go on a diet.”

  His brows rose in surprise. “My dear, that was hurtful. Why do you say such things? You know it’s not true.” He patted his belly anyway, as if checking for excess pounds. He was a vain one.

  It was my dream, I knew that now. I was in control. I closed my eyes for a moment and imagined.

  When I opened my eyes, the circus was gone. In its place was a vast stretch of nothing all around us. In my mind, I created a casket of my own, black and empty.

  Sebastian stared at me with cold, pale eyes. The deep green I’d grown to fear had leeched out to a weak imitation—or maybe this was their real color without the artifice.

  “Sweetheart,” he said, reaching manicured fingers toward me. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

  “I already regret not thinking of it sooner.” I placed my hand on his chest, and without thought of the impossibility of the contact, shoved him backward into the box. I waved my hand, and the lid slammed shut. Sebastian didn’t make a sound, but the last glimpse of his face showed resignation tinged with fear. A satisfying click locked him inside.

  I turned my back and walked away.

  Getting rid of Sebastian had been easier than expected. Waking up was hard. The landscape of the dream filled itself in with every step, as if it were a canvas in mid-paint. I needed help before I lost myself again.

  “Maurice!” I yelled his name repeatedly as I ran through a meadow lined with seashells. If I could make enough noise, he might hear me and wake me up. I leaped over a turtle and kept yelling. “Maurice!”

  And then I was awake, with Maurice by my bed looking down at me.

  “You okay?” he asked. “You kept shouting for me, but you didn’t sound scared like before. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you up.”

  “I’m awesome, actually. I think I got rid of him, at least in my dreams. I doubt he’ll be coming in through that route anymore.”

  Maurice scratched the tip of a pointy ear. “What’d you do? Liquify him with a bucket of water?”

  “Funny. No. I locked him in a casket.” I paused, grinning. “Also, I booted him in the balls. Wish I could do that again, actually. Really satisfying.”

  It was four-thirty in the morning. I was wide awake, so there wasn’t much point in tossing and turning for an hour or two. I’d likely fall asleep in time for the alarm to go off, which would make for a crappy morning. I was better off staying up.

  I had three hours to kill before heading out to work. I showered. Maurice made me a huge breakfast. I went for a walk. I was too agitated to sit still. Spider was most likely dead, another victim I could blame myself for. If Sebastian kept to his pattern, it was too late for her. My priority had to be figuring out a way to keep him from killing anyone else. But I had no clue where he would strike next.

  I used up all the time I could pacing around the house, fiddling with my hair, staring out the window at the swimming pool in the backyard. I kept thinking I saw something out of the corner of my eye, but nothing was there when I looked directly at it. After feeding me breakfast, Maurice had disappeared into his closet with the laptop and my credit card. I thought about knocking on his door to ask him to check the pool, but decided against it.

  I had way too much on my plate for something to have taken up residence in my swimming pool. I didn’t want to know if something was there.

  After puttering around for two and a half hours, I gave up and made the drive to work. The line at the coffee shop was much shorter than usual. Maybe I should go to work early every day.

  I snickered. That would be crazy.

  It was no surprise that I beat Sara into the office that morning. I was early even by her standards. She might even come in late again since she was fighting a bug.

  With my brides dropping like flies, there wasn’t a lot to do. The Dickson-Strauss wedding, with a little over a week left till show time, was ready to go, provided Mama Dickson didn’t throw us any more curveballs. I had an appointment booked with Spider and her mother for the next day, but I had a strong hunch I didn’t need to prepare for that one. Eventually, I’d have to suck it up and find out for sure. I wasn’t ready for that. I’d rather live for a little longer with hope than find out for sure that hope was for chumps. Avoidance never pays off in the end, but like a trooper, I continued to try.

  I went into the back room and examined the birdseed favors for Gail. They hadn’t been moved since I’d finished them. Sifting through the boxes and jars lining the shelves, I pulled out seed beads and pearls, feathers and lace.

  I spent the morning embellishing the bags, making each one a work of art. If I didn’t keep busy, I would lose my mind.

  Sara dragged through the door two hours later, yawning. She dropped her bag on her desk and slumped in her chair.

  “Hey,” I said, sliding a cup of coffee to her. “Still not sleeping?”

  “Bad dreams.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her and sipped my own coffee. “Must’ve been a whopper.”

  “I’ve been having a lot of those lately.”

  “You and me both.”

  She looked exhausted, and her cheeks were a little flushed. I put my palm on her forehead and made a thoughtful face.

  “Am I dying?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

  “Maybe a little warm. Should you be here? I can handle the office. You should’ve stayed home.”

  “Eh. I’m okay. A little run-down. I’ll take some aspirin. Will that make you happy?”

  Sara and I had nursed each other through a number of ailments over the years. Flu, colds, the self-induced results of alcohol over-exuberance. About eight years ago we found out that Sara, who was generally good at everything, was not particularly good at skiing. I spent half a semester in our dorm room fetching things for her while her broken leg healed. She did the same for me when I broke my wrist in a skateboard accident. For the record, I was watching the skaters, not participating. I have a knack for standing in the wrong place.

  “What would make me happy is if you were at home in bed. But since it doesn’t look like I’ll get that right now, I’ll get you some aspirin.”

  As tired as she was, Sara was on top of things when Mrs. Dickson called with a new, self-manufactured problem. The councilwoman’s voice over the phone was loud enough for me to hear across the room.

  I couldn’t make out every word, but it was clear that someone in the string quartet we’d hired had pissed her off.

  “Mrs. Dickson, I’m so sorry to hear you’re unhappy with the cellist. I’m certain she had no intention of cutting in front of you at the grocery store. If you could…” Sara palmed her face in exasperation. “Yes, of course. I understand. I’ll see what I can do to find you a replacement.”

  The rant would likely go on for another ten minutes if allowed, but Sara reined her in, repeated her assurance that we’d straighten it out, and disengaged. She tossed the phone on her desk and moaned.

  “A week and a half from the wedding and the bitch fired the entire quartet. We’ll need a miracle to find a replacement in time.”

  I’d heard enough of the conversation that I already had a list ready. It took less time than I expected for Sara to call the musicians we’d hired and apologize, while I ran down the list until I found someone with an opening to replace them. The Bay Area was full of talented musicians, and September wasn’t prime wedding season. I felt a little guilty that it was so easy.

  “It’s like we’re rewarding her bad behavior,” I said. “If it weren’t for Gail, I’d be inclined to tell her there wasn’t anyone else.”

  “Oh, she’ll suffer,” Sara said. “I’ll see to it she pays for both quartets. Not that she’s
likely to notice when she gets the invoice. She’s a politician. Invoices are beneath her.”

  Sara gave in and went home around lunchtime. I startled her when I grabbed her and gave her a hug.

  “Take care of yourself, okay?” I said.

  She smiled, amused. “It’s just the flu. I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, but, you know.” I brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. “I need you.”

  “Of course you need me. You’re a wreck.” She eyed me up and down. “When I’m feeling better, I’m coming over and throwing away that skirt. And a few other pieces of your wardrobe.”

  I brushed at the bright green sequins striped down my hip. “What? It’s cheery.”

  She shook her head and put on her sweater. “I know the thing with Helen shook you up. But I’m not going anywhere, Zo. Well, except home to bed. Hold down the fort. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She made a show of giving me elaborate, noisy air kisses to make me laugh, then slipped out the door. Nope. Sara never missed anything, even when she was coming down with a bug. I was letting Helen’s death freak me out.

  Which brought me back to Spider. I had to face up to the task I’d been dreading all morning.

  I dialed Spider’s mother, my stomach doing gymnastic flips and leaps. It took several rings before she answered, and when she did, she was so quiet I wasn’t sure I’d heard her.

  “Mrs. Talbot?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Zoey Donovan from Happily Ever After. I’m just calling to confirm we have an appointment with you and Amanda at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh.”

  Oh? What did that mean? I wanted to throw up. I knew what it meant. “Mrs. Talbot?”

  “Yes. No. We…we won’t be able to make it tomorrow.” She didn’t offer me anything more. It was like yanking out my own appendix with salad tongs.

  “I’ll be happy to reschedule. When is a more convenient time?” It was a good thing I’d been doing this job for a while. I took comfort in having something near to a script. I didn’t have to think about what I was saying until I had more information—which I knew would come pouring out any second. There was a long silence on the other end. “Mrs. Talbot?”