him, he was failing algebra, and the neighbor was threatening him with terminal carpentry. Now this guy was rubbing the nubbins off the girl of his dreams.
The girl of his dreams . . .
He salt bolt upright in his chair. The girl in the window, the girl in Dandrige’s arms . . .
. . . was the girl from his dream.
He looked out the window. Dandrige, one hand still cupping a breast, brushed the girl’s hair away from the slope of her neck with the other. He kissed her neck, rubbing his teeth along the cords of taut muscle. Her eyes glazed over. Her lips moved, imperceptibly whispering, soft as the rustle of dry leaves. Dandrige smiled, showing teeth.
“Oh, no,” Charley whimpered. “Oh, God, no . . .”
Dandrige’s teeth were long and very very sharp. Charley gasped and dropped the binoculars. They hit the floor with a clatter.
Dandrige stopped, teeth poised an inch from her neck. Charley sank further into the darkness of his room, unable to look away. Dandrige seemed to be looking right at him. Right through him.
With eyes that were red as glowing coals.
Charley felt his bowels turn to water. “No . . .” he whispered.
Dandrige smiled. Long, yellow teeth.
He reached up, grasping the shade with long, crooked fingers. Pulled it down slowly, lackadaisically.
And waved bye-bye.
“MOM!!!” Charley bolted down the hall, hitting his mother’s door loud and hard. “MOM!!!”
Judy Brewster was down for the count, lost in a Sominex-induced dreamland. A pink satin sleep mask effectively blotted out the entire upper half of her face. Charley’s dramatic entrance barely served to prod her to consciousness. “Charley?” she asked blearily.
“You gotta wake up, Mom!” He was hysterical, his arms flying wildly around him. “I don’t believe it! Mom! Jesus!”
Judy looked at her son as if he were an emissary from the planet Zontar. “What?” she asked sleepily. “What are you talking about?”
“He has fangs, Mom! The guy who bought the house has fangs!”
“Charley . . .”
“I’m SERIOUS!” His voice squeaked into dog-annoying frequencies. He made an effort to bring it back down. “I saw him through the window with my binoculars, Mom! He’s got fangs, I tell you!”
“Binoculars? Charley, that’s spying! That’s not nice.”
“FANGS, Mother! LONG ones!”
“Oh, Charley.” She yawned heavily and rolled over. “I have to be at work at seven tomorrow.”
Charley stared at his mother, incredulous. He was about to try a more subtle approach, like throttling her, when a car door slammed outside. Leaping to the window, he saw the handyman walking away from a shiny black Cherokee Jeep. Its gate was down, as if in anticipation of a heavy load.
“Argh!” Charley was out of his mother’s bedroom as quickly as he’d entered. Judy sat up in bed.
“Charley?” she said.
Charley slipped out the back door and scuttled across the driveway toward the hedge. The rear door of the Dandrige house was wide open, the porch light providing the only illumination.
His heart was pounding, sending blood surging into his temples. Fatigue, exertion and terror mingled inside him, making him light-headed. He crouched down in the bushes, feeling ill.
The handyman came out the back door, carrying a large bundle wrapped in plastic and trussed with heavy twine. A gaping hole opened in the pit of his stomach as Charley guessed its nature.
The handyman tossed the bag unceremoniously into the cargo hold of the Jeep. He was about to climb in, and Charley was about to get sick, when the flutter of leathery wings froze them both.
Charley looked around, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
The beating wings ended in a flurry of motion to his left. He scanned the darkened façade of the Dandrige house, searching for its source.
Less than ten feet away, the night air seemed to darken, to condense, into the shape of a man. The specter solidified and moved across the lawn. Toward the Jeep.
“Here. You forgot
The girl of his dreams . . .
He salt bolt upright in his chair. The girl in the window, the girl in Dandrige’s arms . . .
. . . was the girl from his dream.
He looked out the window. Dandrige, one hand still cupping a breast, brushed the girl’s hair away from the slope of her neck with the other. He kissed her neck, rubbing his teeth along the cords of taut muscle. Her eyes glazed over. Her lips moved, imperceptibly whispering, soft as the rustle of dry leaves. Dandrige smiled, showing teeth.
“Oh, no,” Charley whimpered. “Oh, God, no . . .”
Dandrige’s teeth were long and very very sharp. Charley gasped and dropped the binoculars. They hit the floor with a clatter.
Dandrige stopped, teeth poised an inch from her neck. Charley sank further into the darkness of his room, unable to look away. Dandrige seemed to be looking right at him. Right through him.
With eyes that were red as glowing coals.
Charley felt his bowels turn to water. “No . . .” he whispered.
Dandrige smiled. Long, yellow teeth.
He reached up, grasping the shade with long, crooked fingers. Pulled it down slowly, lackadaisically.
And waved bye-bye.
“MOM!!!” Charley bolted down the hall, hitting his mother’s door loud and hard. “MOM!!!”
Judy Brewster was down for the count, lost in a Sominex-induced dreamland. A pink satin sleep mask effectively blotted out the entire upper half of her face. Charley’s dramatic entrance barely served to prod her to consciousness. “Charley?” she asked blearily.
“You gotta wake up, Mom!” He was hysterical, his arms flying wildly around him. “I don’t believe it! Mom! Jesus!”
Judy looked at her son as if he were an emissary from the planet Zontar. “What?” she asked sleepily. “What are you talking about?”
“He has fangs, Mom! The guy who bought the house has fangs!”
“Charley . . .”
“I’m SERIOUS!” His voice squeaked into dog-annoying frequencies. He made an effort to bring it back down. “I saw him through the window with my binoculars, Mom! He’s got fangs, I tell you!”
“Binoculars? Charley, that’s spying! That’s not nice.”
“FANGS, Mother! LONG ones!”
“Oh, Charley.” She yawned heavily and rolled over. “I have to be at work at seven tomorrow.”
Charley stared at his mother, incredulous. He was about to try a more subtle approach, like throttling her, when a car door slammed outside. Leaping to the window, he saw the handyman walking away from a shiny black Cherokee Jeep. Its gate was down, as if in anticipation of a heavy load.
“Argh!” Charley was out of his mother’s bedroom as quickly as he’d entered. Judy sat up in bed.
“Charley?” she said.
Charley slipped out the back door and scuttled across the driveway toward the hedge. The rear door of the Dandrige house was wide open, the porch light providing the only illumination.
His heart was pounding, sending blood surging into his temples. Fatigue, exertion and terror mingled inside him, making him light-headed. He crouched down in the bushes, feeling ill.
The handyman came out the back door, carrying a large bundle wrapped in plastic and trussed with heavy twine. A gaping hole opened in the pit of his stomach as Charley guessed its nature.
The handyman tossed the bag unceremoniously into the cargo hold of the Jeep. He was about to climb in, and Charley was about to get sick, when the flutter of leathery wings froze them both.
Charley looked around, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
The beating wings ended in a flurry of motion to his left. He scanned the darkened façade of the Dandrige house, searching for its source.
Less than ten feet away, the night air seemed to darken, to condense, into the shape of a man. The specter solidified and moved across the lawn. Toward the Jeep.
“Here. You forgot
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