“Go!” Charley insisted. “I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t.
Charley’s head was spinning by the time she closed her bedroom door behind her. Her wheelchair felt as if it was made of lead and her strength was failing fast; she barely had the energy to reach the bedside cabinet. She made a fumbling attempt to pour some water to clear her head, but the jug slipped straight through her fingers. The room was a blur. I just need to lie down, she told herself.
She pushed down on the arms of her chair. Shakily she heaved herself upright and tried to shuffle towards the bed. Cold sweat ran down her forehead and another wave of dizziness washed over her.
The bed loomed above her. It was impossibly large, a mountain of eiderdown which she would never be able to climb, not even in a million years. The terrible whirling inside her head grew worse and, just as quickly as it had grown, the bed now seemed to disappear into the distance, until it was a tiny speck on the horizon. Charley swayed. Her head weighed more than her whole body and there was nothing she could do to stop it from dragging her down to the floor.
The pain in her skull was incredible. An awful hammering that screwed her left eye shut with agony. The headache was so sharp it was as if it had been nailed there.
Billy! Help! She was screaming on the inside but wasn’t sure whether the words even made it as far as her lips.
As the headache stabbed again, Charley passed out.
In his bedroom Billy splashed some water on his face and changed into his nightclothes. There was a fire in the grate and he stood in the comforting warmth while he slipped into his nightshirt. He climbed into bed and pulled up the sheet. Billy was dog-tired, having spent most of the previous night fighting the fire at the hotel. He should have fallen asleep instantly but he couldn’t relax in 44 Morningside Place.
Sir Gordon’s weird and wonderful collections were a distraction, a background noise to something bigger and darker and infinitely more powerful…
All of the servants were saying it: This house is cursed.
Billy felt his skin begin to crawl and in spite of the warmth of the fire an icy terror came over him. He suddenly had the most awful feeling that he was not alone in the room.
Tucked up in bed, Billy peered suspiciously into every shadow… Was there someone behind the curtains? Had he left the wardrobe door ajar like that? Could there be something under the bed?
The creeping fear grew worse. Billy could almost feel it making its way up his chest.
That was when he realized the worst. There really was something creeping up his chest.
With trembling fingers, Billy drew back the sheet and saw a huge evil-looking creature scuttling up his body. A scorpion! With pincers raised and poisonous tail coiled to strike!
Billy didn’t dare move. Even breathing seemed risky. He could feel the scratch of the scorpion’s feet through his nightshirt. Its armoured body was golden yellow. Sharp jaws snapped and hissed. The fat bulb of the stinger was poised on the end of the segmented tail, a drop of poison glistening at the tip… One sting was all it would take.
Billy struggled to keep a lid on his fear. Goosebumps rose along his arms. Why did it have to be the deathstalker? Trying to keep his body as still as possible, Billy ran through his options. If he was quick he might be able to sweep the scorpion off, get some space between him and it. But he would have to be very quick… The scorpion advanced further up Billy’s body, almost as if it had realized that a plan was being hatched against it.
Billy stole a glance sideways to see if there was anything on the bedside table that he might be able to use as a weapon. There was a candle, a glass of water and a Bible…a nice, heavy Bible.
Billy quickly ran through the motions in his mind…reach out with his right hand, pick up the book, sweep the scorpion on the floor with a single blow, throw back the bedsheet with his left hand, jump out of bed and find something to finish the horrible thing off before it regained its senses and attacked again…
Billy inched his fingers towards the Bible just as the scorpion raised its claws… Here we go!
He snatched up the book and brought it across his body with every ounce of his strength, sending the scorpion flying. Without even waiting to see where the creature fell, Billy leaped up. He ran to the end of the bed, jumped off and grabbed the iron poker from the fireplace. He felt better now that he had a weapon in his hand, although he was very aware that his bare feet were vulnerable.
The only light in the room came from the flickering embers in the grate. The scorpion was nowhere to be seen. There was a rug in front of the fire, and another small rug beside the bed, but the rest of the floor was naked wooden boards. Billy listened and heard the click click click of eight feet scuttling towards him at incredible speed.
Billy spun around, desperate to see where the deathstalker was coming from. He thought he saw a flicker of movement beside the leg of the bed and he lashed out with the poker, striking the floorboard so hard that the wood splintered. If the scorpion had been there it wasn’t now… He heard the scratching of its feet again and he spun round once more, this time hitting the floor behind him with another deafening crack. Damn, it was quick!
Billy backed away until he was up against the wall. At least that way he couldn’t be sneaked up on from behind.
Footsteps approached from the corridor outside. “Are ye all right?” called a voice.
“Doogie! Get in here quick, I need your help!”
The lad poked his head around the door. He looked even younger dressed in his nightshirt. Billy reached down with his free hand. He grabbed the steel tongs that were used to put coals onto the fire and threw them to Doogie. “Catch.”
“Is there a wee mouse?” asked Doogie.
“Something a bit more vicious than that – look!” He pointed with his poker. “There it is!”
“I hate those beasties!” said Doogie, his face showing more than a flicker of fear.
Nevertheless, both boys launched themselves as one. Billy managed to catch the deathstalker a glancing blow, knocking it over onto its back. Its legs kicked in the air frantically as it tried to right itself again and Doogie moved in with the tongs, grabbing it by the tail and picking it up. The scorpion continued to thrash, its pincers snapping at empty air.
“Whatever you do, don’t let it go!” yelled Billy. Part of him wanted to throw the vicious creature into the fire, but he couldn’t blame an animal for simply following its instinct. “Drop it in the wastepaper basket,” said Billy, bending down to pick up the fallen Bible. “On three. One…two…three.”
Doogie released the tongs and the scorpion fell into the wire cage of the waiting basket. It seemed stunned for a second, and then started to climb up towards freedom with lightning speed. It would have made it too, if Billy hadn’t blocked the way, trapping the deathstalker inside the bin with the heavy book.
They relaxed, both breathing heavily from their efforts.
“It was in my bed,” said Billy.
“It must have escaped from the tank in the conservatory,” said Doogie.
“And if one could get out, then there might be more of them on the loose… Charley!” He was running as he shouted her name.
Billy burst into Charley’s room and found his partner writhing on the floor. He dropped to his knees beside her and cradled her head in his lap. Her face was twisted with pain. Her skin was cold and clammy. “Duchess,” he said anxiously, wiping the sweat from her brow.
Her face was turning blue…