Always October (13 page)

W
hen the trail narrowed once more, we were forced to revert to single file, this time with me at the end. We had walked this way for maybe ten minutes when our route was crossed by another of those fascinating paths. I paused to gaze into it.

As I did, I felt my fear melt away.

Without intending to, without realizing what I was doing, I stepped forward. The instant I set foot on the path, I was filled by a desperate need to explore it. What I felt wasn't mere curiosity. Whatever was drawing me on was something deeper, stronger, far more compelling.

I'll only go a little way
, I thought, feeling oddly brave.
I just want to see what's down there
.

That feeling of bravery was delicious in itself. Fear had been so much a part of my life since Dad had disappeared in that cave that to finally be without it was like having a huge weight fall from my shoulders. Though I intended to take just a quick look along the path, then turn back, I wanted this feeling to go on.

As I continued, the path became too fascinating to abandon. I knew if I followed it long enough, I would find the answer to an important question, a question I didn't even realize had been bothering me. Twice I thought,
I really need to go back and catch up with the others!
But each time I actually tried to turn back, my heart ached with a horrible sense of loss.

“Just a little farther,” I told myself both times. “A little farther and
then
I'll turn around.”

Except I knew it wasn't true. Deep inside, I knew I had to discover what was at the
end
of the path.

The farther I went, the stronger grew the feeling that something wonderful, something important, was waiting for me.

It wasn't until the path led me into a large clearing that I realized what a fool I had been.

And by then, of course, it was too late.

Across the center of the clearing stretched a great web. Its silvery strands, thick as yarn and intricately woven, shimmered in the moonlight.

In the center of the web, its reddish-black body divided into two great lobes by an absurdly slender waist, was a spider the size of a coffin. Its eight black legs were thick as a man's forearms where they arched out from its body, but tapered down until they were toothpick thin at the ends. As for the creature's face, though you couldn't actually call it human, neither was it truly spiderlike, since it jutted forward on a solid neck and was framed by oily curls of lavender hair.

Arrayed across the upper part of that face were four enormous eyes. The outer two looked like basketballs made of black glass. The inner two, merely fist sized, had yellow-gold irises and pupils like a cat's.

They were gazing directly at me.

Beneath the eyes gaped two large holes—nostrils, I assumed.

Below the nostrils stretched a mouth so wide, it seemed the creature's head would split in half if it smiled too broadly.

The sight was so terrifying I could hardly breathe.

And that was before the creature
did
smile (the head didn't split, which would have been a relief) and murmured in a low, feminine voice, “Hello, little one. I was hoping you would make it all the way here. It takes a brave boy to do that. I
like
brave boys.”

“Really?” I asked, trying not to stammer.

The spider creature's smile grew broader. “Oh, yes indeed. They're much tastier than the cowardly ones.”

My heart began to hammer, and I knew she was wrong about me being brave. I wanted to turn and run. No, I
ached
to turn and run. The problem was my body had frozen in place, unable to move. As soon as I thought that, I realized it was not actually true; even without trying, I knew I could walk
toward
the spider creature.

“What's your name, boy?” she asked in her dulcet tones.

“J-J-J-Jacob,” I stammered in reply.

“Ah, that's a lovely name. And I am called Octavia. Now tell me, J-J-J-Jacob, what brings you here on this beautiful night?”

“I j-j-j-just wanted to see what was at the end of the path.”

She smiled again. I wished she hadn't.

“I'm so glad you like my path. I worked very hard to make it. I've found that boys, especially, can't resist it.”

“Can I go now?”

Her laugh was low and musical. “You're so sweet! No, I don't think it's time for you to leave. It's been a while since a boy came to visit, and I've been … lonely. Besides, you have something I want.”

I was silent, too terrified to speak.

“Don't you want to know what it is?” she asked, sounding as if my silence had hurt her feelings.

I shook my head.

“Well, I have to tell you anyway. It's one of the rules. Come closer and I'll whisper it in your ear.”

Though everything inside me was screaming that I must turn and run, run now, run fast, my body refused to obey my commands.

I took a step forward.

Then another.

Octavia lifted her first set of legs and placed them gently on my shoulders. I wanted to close my eyes and block out the sight of her. I found that I couldn't. I had no choice but to look at her mouth. It was surrounded by coarse, stiff hairs, each as thick as a pencil. In front glistened a pair of curved black fangs, about a foot long. Attached to the sides of her mouth were two things that looked like small arms.

Pulling me still closer, she said softly, “Even though you wouldn't ask what I want, I'm going to tell you.”

I was surprised I could hear her over the pounding of my heart.

Drawing me so close she could put her mouth to my ear, she whispered, “Your dreams, boy.
I want to eat your dreams!
”

I shuddered, and my mouth went dry with fear.

“Not just your night dreams,” she continued. “I'm going to eat your other dreams, too … your hopes, your goals, your desires, your ambitions.” She sighed, then said softly, “Boy dreams are
so
lovely. They're like green sprouts just unfurling, all tender and delicious!”

She drooled in anticipation, a dark-green trail of saliva that sizzled when it fell to the leaves below.

I flinched away.

“Don't struggle! That will only make it hurt. If you stay still, I won't have to silk you.” She smiled and added, “Of course, we
can
do it that way if you prefer.”

I was too frozen with terror to respond.

Octavia lifted the armlike things that sprouted from the sides of her mouth and placed them against my head.

She inserted the moist, pointy tips into my ears and began probing inward.

I was about to pass out when someone shouted from behind me, “Let the boy go, you monster!”

It was Gnarly!

The Dream Eater screamed in rage, then cried bitterly, “Can't I ever have a meal in peace?”

“Let him go, or I bury this pickax in that fat belly!”

Still clutching me by the arms, the Dream Eater scrambled up her web, moving backward with astonishing agility. Soon my toes were dangling about six feet above the ground.

“Don't think you can get away by doing that,” shouted Gnarly. Pulling a pair of pruning shears from a pocket of his coveralls, he began snipping at the finger-thick strands that anchored the web to the tree at the right side of the clearing.

Octavia squealed with new fury, her green spittle flecking my face. It burned where it touched me.

“Drop him, or this entire web is comin' down!” shouted Gnarly.

“He's mine!” cried the Dream Eater. “He answered my call and followed my path and came to my home, and therefore by right and by rule and by rhyme and by rune he is mine, mine,
mine
!”

Gnarly clipped several more strands. The web sagged. Octavia screamed again, a sound like a handful of broken glass being dragged across a chalkboard. Gnarly grabbed a fallen branch, thrust it into the web, and began to shake it, bellowing, “Let the little idiot go!”

“His dreams belong to me!” shrieked Octavia. “And I am sooooo hungry. It has been too long since I feasted on the brains of a boy.”

“If it's brains you want, you got the wrong kid!” Gnarly's voice was closer now, and I twisted in Octavia's grip to see where it came from. To my astonishment, he had started to climb the tree to which the right side of the web was anchored. He was clipping the silvery strands as he did.

Octavia's web sagged worse than ever.

“Stop!” screeched the spider creature. “Stop!
Stop
!”

“Not until you let the boy go!”

“All right, take him!”

With that, Octavia flung me away. My arm caught in her web, pulling a large section of it with me as I arced through the air. I landed hard, and it knocked the breath from my lungs. I didn't mind. I would have gladly fallen several feet farther—would have leaped from a cliff, actually—to escape Octavia's grip.

Gasping raggedly, I scrambled toward the path, trying to scrape off the clinging webbing.

It wouldn't come.

A cry from behind made me turn back. The Dream Eater had leaped to the ground. She was advancing on Gnarly. The old man held his pickax before him. Swinging it back and forth, he snarled, “Don't make me hurt you!”

Octavia laughed.

I wanted to run, I really did. But I couldn't leave Gnarly to face Octavia on his own.

She continued toward him, waving the armlike things at the sides of her mouth.

Gnarly held his ground. “I swear I don't want to hurt you,” he said, tightening his grip on the pickax. “Jest let me and the boy go, and we'll call it done.”

“He came to me. He answered my call and he came to me and he was mine until
you
interfered. I let him go, as you demanded while you were destroying my beautiful home. But someone has to pay a price for that.
Someone
has to die!”

I knelt behind Gnarly and scrabbled in the dirt. The soil was soft and loose, so it didn't take long before I had a double handful. Darting to Gnarly's right, I flung the dirt at Octavia's eyes—not the black, glassy ones, but the bright yellow ones at the center of her face.

She screamed with pain.

“Now!” I cried. “Kill her now, Gnarly!”

“Don't be stupid!” snapped the old man. “Come on, let's git while we can. Move, boy.
Move!
”

He turned and ran from the clearing, me hot on his heels. I expected that once the Dream Eater had cleared her eyes she would pursue us, and I was gut certain that with those eight legs she could move with terrifying speed. I figured it would be only moments before she was right behind us, so I was surprised when her voice began to fade. However, the last thing I heard chilled my blood. “I cannot leave my lair, but do not think you are safe! Someone must pay for what you've done. Someone must pay!”

Suddenly her voice changed, took on a hollow quality, almost as if she were speaking from a deep well somewhere. Yet despite that it was distinct and clear, terrifyingly so:

Was that just meant to scare us? Or did her words carry truth?

When Octavia's cries seemed sufficiently far behind, Gnarly and I paused, gasping for breath.

“Thank you,” I said when I could speak again.

“Aw, hell, kid. I knew Lily would be upset if you got lost.”

I felt as if I had been slapped. Changing the subject, I said, “Why didn't you kill that monster after I threw dirt in her eyes?”

Gnarly sighed in exasperation. “Don't you know it's bad luck to kill a spider? What in tarnation do they teach you in that school, anyway? And if killin' a regular spider is bad luck, can you imagine the bad luck you'd git for killin' one the size of your sofa?” He shuddered at the thought. “Come on. Lily is waitin' to see if you're alive.”

Blushing with shame over having let myself fall into Octavia's trap, I followed Gnarly back to the others. Neither of us spoke of Octavia's curse, though it continued to ring in my mind.

I would not have felt quite so bad if I had realized that I carried with me an unexpected treasure.