"Would you like some fresh nutmeg on the cappuccino? Or some cinnamon?"

Amanda looked out the window of the coffee shop into the dark night. The City was bustling out there, throbbing and vibrant. She was sure what she needed would be out there somewhere.

"Ma'am?" the barista asked again. "Would you like some nutmeg or cinnamon?"

Amanda came back to attention.

"Oh," she said. "Yes- yes, I'll have both."

"Wonderful."

The barista first ground the nutmeg, then sprinkled the cinnamon onto the foamed milk of the cappuccino, then affixed the plastic lid. He handed the coffee drink to Amanda.

"It's cold out there," the barista said. "The spices will help to warm you up. That's what my grandmother always said."

Amanda smiled, accepting the cup.

"Your grandmother sounds like a smart woman."

She looked out into the dark and busy night of the City. She was about to go out into the cold, amidst the nighttime rush, amongst the early holiday shoppers, the drinkers, the hustlers and crooks. She was looking for something, something very specific, and she hoped she didn't have to look long for it.

Amanda was looking for as close to pure evil as she could find.

She took a sip of the hot coffee, and smiled at the man behind the counter. She looked into his eyes, looking for something in them.

Yes, she knew. His grandmother was still alive.

"Very good," she said. "Call your grandmother soon, OK? Tell her that you love her."

The barista nodded.

Amanda turned and opened the door, and stepped out into the cold night. She was looking for the person in all the City that had the blackest, deadest remnant of where a heart used to be. She was sure she would find it.

******************************

Amanda walked down the streets, the night cold and clear. She sipped at her coffee as she went, walking up and down a popular shopping district, the holiday decorations already starting to go up, earlier and earlier each year. She looked into the windows as she went, idly looking at the mannequins dressed up in finery. Fake people that real people looked up at and wished they could be more like.

She also looked into the people as she walked around, glancing over their thoughts and feelings, probing a little deeper into those that she thought might have something she needed.

But there was nothing all that interesting there, nothing really that couldn't be guessed at by anyone. There were some low levels of fear in some of the passerby, some anxiety, a woman Amanda passed by was fucking a guy that was not her husband. A man was stealing from work. Nothing that needed a second look.

Amanda kept walking.

After an hour, she stopped by a trash can, and put her now empty cup in. She pulled her phone out, and checked for messages.

She smiled. John had sent her one, hoping that she was warm, urging her to be cautious.

I know you can handle yourself, the message read. But there's more evil out there than you probably know. I don't know what I would do if you didn't come back to me. Be careful.

Silly, she thought. I'll come back to you, John.

She walked another couple of blocks, and came to the river. She stood there for a minute, looking at it gently flow by.

So peaceful, she thought.

She shivered. She was dressed lightly, despite the cold. She had dressed for appearance, wearing her boots with the highest heels, making her tall and statuesque. She was simply dressed in skin-tight black leggings, hugging her hips and accentuating every curve. Her blouse was start white and sheer silk, also tight across her breasts. Her nipples were erect in the cold, and free from any bra, pushing hard against the thin fabric. Her hair spilled loose and almost white in the moonlight across her shoulders.

She had dressed for attention. She had been getting it. There hadn't been very many men she'd passed who hadn't noticed her, hadn't considered fucking her on some level. She wanted them to think about it, to want her. She wanted one of them to make a move, to approach her, to hurt her. She needed one of them to want to rape her.

She took a turn at the river, and began walking down the streets toward Grimm Town. The streetlights grew dimmer, more sporadic, as she went. The sidewalks began to reveal fractures, bleeding into cracks, opening up into fissures as the blocks went on.

Amanda walked down a deserted street. She saw light dancing at her feet, and slowed down as a car pulled up next to her at the curb. She stopped, and watched as the passenger side window rolled down. She bent down, and looked into the car.

"How much," the man in the car said quietly, nervously, looking up and down the street.

"What?" she asked him.

"How much to suck my dick," he repeated, his voice tight and hoarse.

Amanda stood up to her full height, squinting down at the man. She looked inside him, and saw fear, and guilt, and felt his cock hard in his pants at the thought of her getting in his car and wrapping her lips around his cock. She could see an image in his mind of him holding her head down tightly on his ejaculating dick, forcing her to gulp down the jets of cum while he called her a bitch, and a whore, demanding that she drink it all. She felt his need, and knew that he was scared of getting robbed, and getting arrested. She knew that he was married, that he would drive home with his limp, spent dick to his family afterwards, as if he was the man they thought he was once again.

She reached out with her mental powers, and gave him a little crack.

He flinched from the pain that whipped across his mind, white hot pain, erupting from his behind his forehead and bursting across his psyche, receding as quickly as it came. His body tensed as if from grabbing a live wire, slumping down into his car seat after the jolt had passed.

His dick withered, softened.

"You don't want to be doing this," she said. "You want to turn your car around, and go home. Go home to your family, and don't come back here."

He nodded at her, his mouth slack and agape, as he fumbled at the keys in his ignition. His eyes never left hers as he cranked the engine to life, and sped off into the darkness.

Amanda watched him drive away, turn the corner.

She kept walking.

******************************

An hour or so later, she felt him. She didn't see him; she didn't know when he had seen her. That was a little surprising. But see her he had, and he was now following her.

She found him in the night with her mind, and looked inside. She was horrified at what she found here. John was right... there certainly was evil that she had never considered before, and this was it, behind her, and stalking her.

Whatever they had called him before was long gone, and what was left of him now was called Little Sammy. Little Sammy had a mind that was like a storm of fire, red slashes of pain and hate across the pure black of something that had long ago lost all ability to care about the hurt it caused.

And cause hurt Little Sammy did. She heard the screams of his victims still reverberating in what was left of his mind, she could feel his excitement at the sight of their blood, taste his mouth as he salivated at the fear and pain he caused them. She saw him take pieces of them, bits of bloodstained clothing and panties, and lengths of hair, and felt his almost sexual excitement as he put those in a secret box. She saw him look at his grotesque human trophies as he readied himself to stalk again.

Now he was somewhere behind her in the night, stalking her.

She kept walking, hearing only the click of her boots reverberating off the brick walls and broken windows. She took a quick left down an alley.

Behind her, Little Sammy reached into his jacket, fingering the cruel knife he had there. He crept along in the darkness, avoiding the few street lights that still worked, silently gliding over the broken pavement as he did most nights. He wasn't always so lucky, he didn't always see such attractive prey so alone and isolated.

Probably a whore, he thought. Although she didn't look quite like one. Little Sammy enjoyed whores, he liked to cut them, liked to leave them bleeding in the cold and the dark.

Little Sammy crept into the alley behind Amanda. He knelt behind a dumpster, and pulled his knife out of his jacket pocket.

His knife was the nicest thing that he'd ever owned, really, the only thing he cared about. It was a long, evil blade, curved in a way that made a wound that would never close up. He liked the blood, he liked the smell of it, the taste of it, liked to rub it on himself.

He wanted to see Amanda's face as she saw her precious, precious blood come pouring out.

Even better, the alley was a dead end. Little Sammy knelt behind Amanda, watched her back as she faced the brick wall. There was nowhere for her to run. No one to hear her scream.

He crept out from behind the dumpster, and took a couple of steps towards her. He was not, no matter what they called him, a small man. But Little Sammy could move very quietly, years of practice had taught him how.

He moved closer to Amanda. He was struck by how pretty she was, maybe not a whore after all, maybe lost or something. It didn't matter. He was almost close enough to slip his knife into her back and open her up once and for all.

But then she turned around, and looked down at him crouching there, at the last second before he was about to leap on her.

"You're what I've been looking for," she said.

He didn't know what that meant and didn't care, leaping silently at her, his blade stretched out, ready to cut her wide open in one quick and cruel slice, as he had so many other times.

A blinding light flashed in the alley, white hot, a little silent explosion. Searing pain split across Little Sammy's mind, and the light flung him backwards from his leap and down into the cold, wet pavement of the alley.

He landed with a grunt. He stayed there, his mind attempting to communicate with his legs, synapses of panic arriving nowhere.

Amanda strode towards him, quickly, almost as if gliding over the pavement. She stood above him, her blonde hair somehow illuminated and radiant in the dark alley, shining like a beacon. She looked down at Little Sammy, his hand a crude claw clutching for his knife, still trying to put his body and mind together as one in order to get up and finish the job of cutting her.

"You really are something awful," she whispered. "So much hurt you've caused."

Little Sammy grunted, and pulled himself up to one knee. He forced his fingers around his knife again.

"You'll never hurt anyone again," Amanda told him. "Your hurting days are over."

Little Sammy grabbed the knife tightly, looking up at Amanda's stomach, readying his unsteady hands to plunge the blade deep into her.

The light flashed again, bursting from Amanda's face, obscuring her. The light lashed across Little Sammy's mind, exploding past his skull, making every nerve ending in his body erupt into agony. An unseen force lifted him up into the air, holding him there, his legs kicking uselessly against the power and the pain as the white light danced around the alley.

He dropped his blade, heard it fell to the ground with a metallic ring.

Amanda kept him there, jerking in the air, searing into his mind with wave after wave of pain. Finally, she lowered him down, his feet unsteady but holding him upright somehow. She regarded him dispassionately, watching his chest heave as his body attempted to regulate his breathing again.

She walked past him wordlessly, towards the mouth of the alley and back out to the street. She didn't look behind her, she didn't have to. She knew that he was following her.

A couple of blocks later, she finally turned around to look at him. His expression was mostly blank, with some elements of confusion and pain still flickering past. But he wasn't a threat to her anymore, and would never be a threat to anyone ever again.

"You'll do just fine," she said. "Do you like scotch?"

Some part of Little Sammy still knew to nod.

***************************

Anna was unloading the dishwasher, a task that she genuinely hated. She wasn't sure why she hated it so much, but for whatever reason it annoyed her. She hadn't liked it a lot when she was living alone, but hadn't noticed it as much then.

Of course, there were a lot less dishes then. When she was out each night as the Spider, there had been mainly take-out food, paper plates, disposable cups.

These days it was her job, the kitchen, cooking the meals, all three of them unless they went out, cleaning up after them as well. It was her job to keep the kitchen stocked, keep the apartment clean.

Anna took a sip of the wine. Sweet. She had another.

She opened the cabinet, and began to put the plates back where they went.

"Sweetheart?"

Anna stopped what she was doing, and went to the doorway of the kitchen.

"Yes, Heather?" she replied.

"Can you bring me some more wine?"

"Of course," Anna said, reaching into the refrigerator for the bottle. She took the bottle into the living room, where Heather sat watching the television. The news was on, and once again the Power was the subject. The Power had been a constant subject of the news almost nightly since she had arrived in the City, a super powerful heroine from who knows where, seemingly unstoppable, unable to be hurt. A day didn't pass that the Power didn't fly in from wherever she was when she wasn't fighting crime, and foil some kind of criminal activity or another. The news media loved her, a strong and powerful crusader determined to singlehandedly wipe out all crime in the City- and possibly capable of it.

Anna stood by Heather, and poured the wine.

"Do you know her?" Heather asked Anna, Heather's eyes never leaving the screen. "From when you were the Spider? Did you ever meet her?"

Anna put the cork back in the bottle.

"No, Mistress," she said. "She had only just gotten into town when I was recovering. I don't know any more about her than what everyone does from the news."

"Oh, OK," Heather said. "I was just curious. I mean, she's fucking strong, isn't she? It doesn't seem like she feels any pain. That motherfucker today clubbed her over the head with a steel pipe, she just took it from him and knocked his ass the fuck out. Like it was nothing. And then she just flew away. How can she do that?"

Anna just shook her head.

"You can't do that, can you? As the Spider? Can you fly?"

"No, Heather," Anna said. "I can't fly."

"And I know you can be hurt," Heather went on. "I taped your broken ribs. If anyone knows you can be hurt, it's me. I didn't like seeing that."

Anna said nothing.

"I'm not sure I want you going back out there like that," Heather continued. "I don't know if I'll let you keep being the Spider. It seems like the world has passed you by out there. You have this flying woman who can stop a speeding car with her bare hands and walk away without a scratch. You have whatever the fuck that Red Eyes is, ripping people apart like a kid would do to cotton candy at the carnival."

Heather sipped her wine, and shook her head.

"I don't know what you would do out there, sweetie. I really don't."

Anna just looked at the floor, holding the wine bottle.

Heather put her wine glass down on the coffee table, and pulled Anna down onto the couch with her. Heather wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, and pulled her in close. She kissed Anna gently on the lips.

"I know you want to go back out there," Heather whispered to her slave. "I told you I'd think about it, and I am."

Heather slipped her hand into Anna's shorts, past the elastic waistband. Anna gave a little moan, and burrowed her face into Heather's neck.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," Heather went on. "I care about you. I want you. I don't want to have to put you back together again."

Heather slid her fingers into Anna's wet little center, pushing past the wet lips there, sliding her finger over Anna's stiffening clitoris.

"I don't want to lose you, Anna. You understand me? You're all I have, and I like what I have, for the first time in a long time."

Anna spread her legs, lifted up her hips. She kissed her Mistress' neck as her pussy burst into pleasure, soft little kisses of supplication.

The doorbell rang. Anna lifted her head from her Mistress' neck, towards the door.

"Should I?"

Heather sighed, and nodded.

"Yeah, go see who it is. Go on."

Anna padded towards the door, and looked out the hole in the door.

James Candy was out there.

Officer James Candy. One of the only people in the world who ever knew that Anna was also the Spider. Had been the Spider.

Although she hadn't wanted to tell him, not at first. James Candy had saved the Spider from being beaten and captured by the Mercenary the first time the Mercenary had tried to capture her. James Candy had picked Anna up, as hurt as she ever had been, and at Anna's direction, taken her home.

For the next couple of months, he had nursed her back to health, becoming a friend, and later a lover. She learned to love him, in her way, his strong and gentle intelligence matching her own, his lithe and powerful body wrapped up around hers in the nights as she healed.

She opened the door.

"James," she said.

"Hi."

"Come in! Come in."

He stepped past her, dressed in his police uniform, his hat held in his hands. He smiled down at Anna.

"How are you?"

"Good," Anna said. "What brings you?"

He would not have come if it wasn't urgent, she knew.

"Are you alone?"

"No," she said. "Come on- come meet Heather."

Anna led Officer Candy into the living room, down the couple of carpeted steps.

"Hello," he said, nodding towards Heather. She nodded back, saying nothing.

Officer Candy turned to Anna.

"Can we talk privately? I'm sorry to barge in on you two like this."

"We can talk here," Anna said. "It's OK. Heather knows about me- knows I'm the Spider. Or I was. She knows everything and there's no need for any secrecy from her."

"Oh," Candy said. He hadn't foreseen this.

He cleared his throat.

"I have to tell you, Anna," he went on. "I hate to tell you. I think you are in great danger. Well, I know you are. I know it."

They both looked at him.

"OK," Anna said. "Would you like some wine, James? A beer, maybe?"

"Well," he said. "I'm working. But fuck it. Do you have anything hard? I don't know what it matters anymore."

"Bourbon?"

"OK. I'll have some bourbon."

"Still neat?"

"Yeah," he said. Anna left to go pour the bourbon.

Officer Candy turned to Heather.

"How long have you and Anna been together?"

"A couple of months now. How long have you been a cop?"

"Oh, about ten- twelve years now?"

"My younger brother was killed by the police. He was guilty of nothing. The cop who killed him later admitted that and threw himself off a bridge. But that doesn't do much about my brother being dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah," Heather stated. "That's what everyone says to me."

Heather and James looked at each other for a moment, neither having any expression on their faces.

Anna came back with the bourbon. James threw half of it back, coughed at the burn.

"What kind of danger, James?"

"I don't exactly know," he admitted. "It's a detective. A person I am sometimes partnered with. I shouldn't be telling you this- shouldn't be talking about other police with you like this."

He had another gulp of bourbon.

"But this Detective- Stern, Detective Stern- is obsessed with the Spider. A lot of cops are. But not like this. There's something... off about him. He's changing."
"Changing?"

"Like... physically. He seems to be growing taller. I can't explain it. Longer, his fingers. Are longer. I don't know. His lips seem different."

Heather and Anna looked at each other.

"But he's very dangerous," James went on. "I've seen him hurt people, a good amount of people. Demanding to know where the Spider is. People that he thinks might know. And it's not like he's punching them or something. It's different... it reminds me of a child pulling the wings off a fly, seeing how he hurts people. It's terrifying."

He drained the last of his bourbon.

"He has no idea that I know who you are, Anna. I don't know what he would do if he did. I don't even know if I would be safe, or if I'd be... another fly."

"What does he want with me?"

"I don't know that, either. But I know that you are all he wants. I don't think he does any other kind of work. I never hear of it. All I know is, each day, he's out there looking for the Spider. Hurting people, and looking."

James put his hat back on, set his glass on the table.

"Thank you. It was... good to see you, Anna. I had to tell you. You don't want to be found by this man, I do know that, even if I don't know what he wants. He's a bad and dangerous man, and I don't know what I could do to help you. What anyone could do to help you."

James Candy turned to leave.

"I know the Spider hasn't been around lately," he said at the stairs. "Maybe you don't do that anymore, I wouldn't blame you. But I'm not sure if he won't find out who you are, where you are in some way. Spider or not. He has a way of... knowing things. I don't know how. But if I was you, and I was hiding from the world?"

James made his way to the door.

"I'd hide deeper. I'd hide very far away from this man. Please don't let this man find you, Anna."

He closed the door behind him.

Anna turned to Heather, her jaw slack.

"This doesn't make me feel any better about letting you out as the Spider, Sweetheart. Not at all."

*****************************

Amanda pulled up to the house, easing the Lexus in to the circular driveway and cutting the power. She looked in the rearview mirror, and saw her passenger sitting there.

Little Sammy was just sitting there, silent. His mouth was slightly open, and a little trail of spit descended from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were blank, unfocused.

She knew that she had done permanent damage to him when she subdued him. She knew that he would never fully recover all of his mental faculties after the flaying she had given him with her newfound mental powers.

She also knew that it didn't matter. This was going to be his last night on earth, if everything went according to plan. And really, the less he comprehended about what was happening, the better. Although there was nothing she could do to kill all the terror that he was about to feel.

Amanda got out, and walked over to the rear of the car. She opened the rear door, and told her passenger to step out.

He did. He stood up to his full height in the driveway, his eyes blinking at the house in front of him, uncomprehending.

"Come on," she said. "Go up there."

He shuffled his way up the stairs and to the door. The door opened.

"Hello," John said, looking up at Little Sammy. Little Sammy said nothing.

John stepped in and kissed Amanda on the lips. He led her into the house. Little Sammy followed.

"He doesn't say much," John said.

"I've been inside his thoughts a little bit," Amanda said. "He wanted to stab me and watch me bleed to death. Rape me while I was bleeding to death, maybe. It's a little unclear. So much hate in there."

John looked at Little Sammy in alarm.

"He's nothing now," Amanda said. "He's pretty much fried. I flayed his mind pretty hard. He made me mad."

John just nodded.

"Are you sure this will work?"

"No," she said. "I'm not. I think it will. I told him you'd give him some scotch."

"All right," John said. He poured a tall glass of scotch, straight, and handed it to Little Sammy.

What was left of the man took the glass, but didn't drink it. Little Sammy just stood there.

John turned to Amanda.

"You might need to work on your powers a little more," he said. "You left Sam here a vegetable."

"He'll be dead soon," she said. "Come on."

Little Sammy followed Amanda down the hall.

She took him to John's bedroom. And pointed to a chair at John's desk.

"Sit down."

Little Sammy sat.

"You'll just sit here. Don't go anywhere."

Whatever was left of him nodded.

"If I were you, I'd drink that scotch."

He lifted the glass to his lips. Drank.

"That's good. Drink all of that, and sit there. It will all be over soon enough."

She turned and left the room.

He drank. He waited.

******************************

Amanda joined John in the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of scotch, and threw a gulp of it back.

"Definitely getting a little too used to the taste of this stuff," she said. "We've got to cut back as soon as this is all over."

"Will it be over?"

She turned and gave John a long look.

"Yes, John," she sighed. "It will all be over, one day. And then we'll be together, and we'll be happy. I promise you."

"I know," he said. He poured himself a glass of the scotch. "And I've been drinking way too much of this stuff myself. But somehow, tonight doesn't seem like the night to be completely sober."

"No."

"So we just wait?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"I don't think it matters. If I'm wrong about this, then we'll all die and I don't think there's anything we can do about it. Where do you want to wait?"

"I guess here is fine. By the bottle."

John sat down at his kitchen table and put the bottle of scotch in front of him.

"It's going to be a long night."

******************************

The two of them sat at the kitchen table for the next hours, the clock crawling past midnight, and further on into morning. The night outside turned dark, then blacker, as clouds laid over the moon and the stars.

Outside, all was quiet. Still.

John gripped his glass tightly.

Amanda smiled at him, trying to encourage him. Trying to let him know with her smile, and her love, that everything would be all right.

He tried to smile back.

They sat in silence. It was best that they didn't talk.

In the bedroom, Little Sammy sat dead still in his chair, his glass of scotch half empty in his hand. His eyes were glazed, focused on nothing.

Time passed. Amanda began to wonder if maybe nothing would happen tonight. She was tired. She wondered if they should sleep. She wasn't sure what to do with Little Sammy if they did, he was harmless and unable to think coherently but she still didn't like him around-

Her eyes flew open wide.

She reached out with her hand, and silently put her hand on John's.

It's here, she said with her eyes. Red Eyes is here.

Johns eyes darted back and forth. For a second, it looked like he might bolt.

Amanda shook her head no. There was nowhere to run to, and it was best to remain perfectly quiet.

He settled back into his chair.

It was all in Amanda's hands now, he knew. She had set the trap, she said that she would probably be able to implant enough of John into a victim that Red Eyes would perceive that person as being John, and go into the bedroom, and rip that person apart.

That's where Little Sammy came in.

She said that she would be able to hide John and herself from Red Eyes with her powers, that Red Eyes would pass right by them, and take no more notice of them than it would the wallpaper.

Of course, she didn't have very good control of her powers. The two of them didn't talk much about that.

The idea was, that while it was ripping apart the bait- Little Sammy- they would be able to lock the monster in the glass lined walls of the bedroom. That it would be trapped in there, unable to get out, same as it had not been able to get in any of the previous nights, when it had clawed its way around the glass, trying to rip it apart.

That was the plan, anyway.

John upended the bottle into his glass.

Empty.

*****************************

They could smell Red Eyes. That surprised them. It was a sickly sweet smell, somewhat burned in nature, like a bit of meat that had fallen through the grill and onto the coals. The second Red Eyes was in John's house, they could smell it.

But they didn't know where it was. They couldn't hear it. The house was still completely silent.

Amanda looked around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She held John's hand in hers.

He bit his lip.

Was it upstairs?

The smell grew stronger, sweeter. The air became thick.

They could hear a low growl from somewhere. The sound of a bit of wood scraping across the floor, like a chair being moved.

The air grew thicker. Somehow, the night got more black.

The creature was getting closer. They could hear the scraping of something sharp dragging along the plaster of the walls now.

The two of them sat at the table, their spines erect, every hair standing at full attention on their arms. Flashes of terror crashed across the two of them, their feet became restless as their bodies prepared them for flight.

A low growl came by the door of the kitchen. It was there.

Dimly, then getting more clear, they could see the blazing red eyes in the creature's skull. They could see he dark, reptilian skin pulled tight over the angular head, see the thin lips pulled back over sharp and jagged teeth.

A long tongue flicked out from its mouth.

It's tasting the air, Amanda realized. It can smell the air with its tongue, like a snake would.

Clawed hands with long fingers gripped both sides of the door, and the creature stooped and crawled into the kitchen. Its wings were flat against its back, its cruel tail flicked back and forth in the air behind it, a wicked sharp barb on the end of it.

It growled again, and looked around the kitchen. A long stream of venomous looking drool feel from its oversized jaws, hitting the wooden floor of the kitchen, steam arising from where it fell.

The forked tongue probed out again, hanging in the air, tasting, smelling. Looking for prey. Looking to kill.

The creature knelt its hips, and a stream of dark and rancid liquid erupted from it, a jet of urine, the smell of acid and vinegar spreading throughout the kitchen.

John's knuckles were milk white as he gripped his empty glass as hard as he could. His breathing was sharp and shallow.

Too loud, Amanda thought. Keep it together, John. Too loud.

Please don't panic. I don't know if I can hide us if you panic.

The creature sniffed the air, and rotated its cruel head back and forth, as if it knew that something was close by. Some kind of prey to catch, and rip apart. Soul

The sound of shattering glass cracked the silence.

Amanda's eyes flew open, looking at John.

No, John! What have you done?

But he was looking at her.

Red Eyes flicked its long tongue out again, tasting the fear in the air. It crawled over towards the bedroom.

The sound had come from the bedroom.

Red Eyes crept out of the kitchen. John and Amanda watched as the cruelly barbed tail flicked as it crept silently towards its prey.

Prey that it thought was John. Or so they hoped. Amanda had the idea that she could imprint the essence of the man she loved onto Little Sammy, and use him as bait.

If it didn't work, though, and Red Eyes knew that it had been tricked, she wasn't sure what would happen next.

******************************

Little Sammy sat in John's chair behind the glass security walls. He looked down at the glass that had held his scotch blankly. It had rolled off the table and broken into dozens of sharp and glistening little pieces.

He tried to make his mind work.

Why did that glass break?

Where am I?

But no answers came.

There was enough of Little Sammy left to look up as Red Eyes crept into the bedroom, though.

He looked up blankly at the creature as it probed the air with its tongue, watched as it gripped both sides of the door and slid into the bedroom. Sammy watched as the creature narrowed its fiery eyes in anticipation, and lowered itself, raising its tail high in the air.

Sammy gazed dimly at the hooked barb on the end of the tail, the creature swaying it back and forth slowly, hypnotically, almost.

This is where a person typically would have tried to run. But there wasn't enough of Little Sammy left to recognize the danger.

There was, however, enough of him left to scream out when the barbed tail lashed out, the sharpened end catching Sammy directly in his sternum, shattering the bone there and impaling him deeply. There was enough of Sammy to kick his legs uselessly as the creature lifted his body into the air.

And then the venom flooded Sammy's veins, and all movement ceased.

All Sammy could do at this point was to look into the creature's evil eyes with his own blank eyes, and he continued looking into them as his blood was drawn from his beating heart into the creature's tail. Red Eyes flicked its forked tongue again, tasting the air, as it drank the blood from the man hanging helplessly before it.

Although it wasn't just taking Sammy's blood. Bit by bit, it was also stealing and eating the very essence of Sammy's soul. The creature began to shake Sammy back and forth like a rag doll, eating and destroying everything that had made Sammy a human being.

At last, it dropped Sammy's lifeless body, and the creature knelt over Sammy, pulling the man's rib cage apart with its clawed hands like a child opening a box of breakfast cereal. The creature shoved its muzzle into Sammy's chest, and began to eat the organs it found there, gulping them down whole, lost in the meal.

The creature screamed as the door slammed shut behind it. It leapt around, waving its hooked tail back and forth in rage at being disturbed, lashing out.

The tail clicked harmlessly into the thick glass door.

Amanda and John flinched regardless.

Without thinking, they found each other's hands outside the glass that had kept John safe for the last weeks.

Red Eyes rushed to the glass, scratched deeply into the surface with its claws, Little Sammy's blood still dripping from its jaws as it screamed and scratched at the door of its prison.

"Can it get out?" Amanda asked.

"I don't know," John said. "It never got it before, but it was never trapped, either. I don't know what it can do."

"We'd better not wait, then," she replied.

But they did wait. The two of them stood there and watched the creature as it lashed its tail wildly, cracking John's chairs into splinters, breaking bed posts. The watched as the animal carved deep gouges into the glass with inhuman claws, they watched the glass turn a mix of milk white and red from the scratches and the blood.

Finally, John pulled her away.

"Right," she said. "Let's do this."

They went to John's garage, and they each got two gasoline cans from there. They spit up, both of them going from room to room, spreading the gasoline around thickly onto the carpets, and the spare bed, the couches and the drapes.

John spread the gasoline extra deep around the glass door of his bedroom. By now the creature had gone eerily silent, the glowing red eyes following John step by step.

John dropped the gasoline can outside the door and looked at the thing now trapped in his bedroom.

"What the fuck are you," he said to Red Eyes. "Why are you after me?"

He didn't get an answer. He didn't expect one.

He turned to get the woman he loved.

They made their way out of the house and to the Lexus, John slipped into the driver's seat and cranked up the engine. Amanda paused in the driveway, looked back at John's house, and narrowed her eyes.

The house burst into flames, thick, oily smoke erupting into the night.

They heard the creature inside scream again, a scream of anger, of rage, and hate. She shuddered for a moment, wondering if they were free, and knowing that they weren't. Whatever had sent that thing to kill John was still out there. They would find no freedom until they knew what, and why, Red Eyes had been sent to kill John and all the others.

The Lexus slipped slowly out of the driveway, and into the dark night.

******************************

Red Eyes heard sirens wailing in the night.

The creature lowered its head to the floor, in an effort to avoid the smoke. It closed its eyes, and waited for death.

All around it the fire raged, black smoke billowing into the night sky. It would not be long until the entire house collapsed all around the glass box, cooking Red Eyes inside of it.

It didn't notice a long, black line appear in the wall next to the bed. Red Eyes didn't see long fingers reach out from the black line, and didn't hear the long fingers begin to pull the line apart like a giant black slit in the wall.

The hands pulled the slit open, and open, until it ran from the floor to the top of the wall. A face emerged from the slit, a long face, with narrow and bloodless lips, skin tight to the skull, black orbs shining where eyes should be.

The Detective slid his way out from the hole in the wall. He rotated his head on a neck longer than a man's should be, his whole body seeming to have stretched out in some way. His hands were too big, too long, hanging down to his knees.

The Detective strode silently through the smoke and the heat, fire burning brightly all around the glass room. He made his way to Red Eyes, and reached out his foot, and nudged the creature.

Red Eyes lifted its head with a start, lashing its tail around violently at the intrusion.

"Up," the Detective said, pointing to the hole in the wall. "Home."

The Detective turned around, and with a few long strides, walked over to the slit. He stepped into it, and out of sight.

Red Eyes followed.

The flames burned higher into the night sky. John's house collapsed into the dirt.