Curse of the Spider King (26 page)

Mrs. Entwhistle and the kitchen cashier emerged from the serving room. “Angus MacBain!” Mrs. Entwhistle chided. “I spent all mornin' makin' that tartar sauce. Now look what yu've gone and done! I'll fetch yu a mop, a rag, and a bucket, and yu can just spend yur lunch cleanin' it all up.”

“Me?” Angus whined. “But Michael helped me!”

“Did he now?” Turning to him. “Well then, Michael can help yu with the mop!” Mrs. Entwhistle looked to Jimmy. “Did that bully make yu spill yur lunch then?” Jimmy nodded sheepishly. “Just come back in here and let me fill yu another tray.”

The events of the morning and the fresh fish and chips were enough to distract Jimmy Gresham from his more serious problems for a while. But those problems did not go away, and the book Miss Finney had given him still waited.

23

Cast into the Night

“MOM? I'M home,” Kiri Lee said as she put her key in her coat pocket, turned the deadbolt, and waited for the bombardment to begin.

No answer. Then she remembered her parents were performing tonight. She plugged her cell phone in to charge, set her violin case down, traded her boots for slippers, and reluctantly began walking the hall to the kitchen. But surprisingly there was a delicious aroma in the air. Kiri Lee wasn't entirely sure what her mother had left her for dinner, but it sure smelled tasty. She poked her head around the corner to find place settings for three on the breakfast table. On the counter sat the classic white to-go containers from any one of a dozen Chinese restaurants. “Mom?”

Born Alyona Mihailov to Russian parents, Kiri Lee's adopted mother married a studious Majesty School graduate, one Myung Yuen. Upon completion of their degrees in music, they had traveled incessantly, taking up residencies with numerous orchestras, never landing the dream jobs they wanted, and thus continually struggling to make ends meet.

They had been unable to have children on their own, but Mrs. Yuen's deep desire for family eventually helped her convince her husband to adopt. When their adoption agency found them a Korean child just a few months later, they couldn't refuse. Though busily immersed in their music careers, neither felt like they could keep up the pace forever. Little did they know that their new baby girl would carry a an aptitude for music that was similar to their own . . . only more so.

Now, looking around the breakfast room, Kiri Lee saw no one. She turned to go toward the den when she heard, “Hello, dear.” Turning around, Kiri Lee saw her mother standing before her. Mrs. Yuen brushed her long brown hair over her shoulder to keep it from dangling in the rice bowl she prepared. She was dressed for an evening orchestra show.

Hello, dear?
Kiri Lee was a bit taken aback. She glanced at the clock, then to her mom. “You're . . . you're not mad?”

“Mad? Whatever for?”

Now Kiri Lee was stumped. Need she point out the obvious? “I'm late, and that's running you late to theatre.”

Mrs. Yuen placed the bowl on the table and turned to look at her daughter. “Not by much. We can't control all the unexpected events that delay us, can we? I'm just glad you're home.”

Not mad for being late?
Something was definitely up here. The last time Kiri Lee had been three minutes late for practice, her mother had made her run through scales an extra hour before bed.

Kiri Lee knew her mother loved her and wanted to do the best by her, but there wasn't a bone in her body that wasn't strict to the core. From practices and timing to schedules and courtesy, Mrs. Yuen was as punctual and meticulous as a Swiss watch. And despite that, they were a close-knit family. Creating a family ensemble, practicing popular tunes together, and always making time to make one another laugh.

And then there was the Chinese food. Kiri Lee stood in the doorway watching as her mother dumped a box of sweet-and-sour chicken onto a plate. In her entire life they had never eaten Chinese food as a family. Kiri Lee's mother and father had always been radically strict about their diet. And while Kiri Lee had secretly enjoyed Chinese food with friends, nothing that even smacked of fast food or MSG ever entered their home kitchen.

“Chinese?”

“But it's your favorite.” Her mom turned. Her eyes were questioning, but her smile was overly sweet and unnatural.

An awkward silence spanned between them until finally Kiri Lee burst out laughing. “That's a good one, Mom!” she roared. “Well, if you're okay with it, I sure am.”

Mrs. Yuen smiled and then continued to empty the containers onto the plates. “Did you see Mrs. Allen today?” she asked.

“Yes,” Kiri Lee answered.

“Did she say when she'd stop by tonight?”

“No.”

“So, it could be . . . late?”

“I suppose.”

“And when would that be?”

“Her usual time,” Kiri Lee said, thinking it odd her mother wouldn't know. Mrs. Allen always stopped by to check on Kiri Lee on her way to her apartment when the Yuens would be late coming back.

Kiri Lee hopped up on one of the tall bar stools along the kitchen counter. A pile of mail sat untouched on the counter by the phone. She started flipping through the stack and mimicked her father saying, “Bills, bills, bills . . .” until she came to an envelope addressed to her . . . from the Edinburgh National Music Festival. In her mother's handwriting across the top was: CONGRATULATIONS! We should be back by breakfast. Love, Mom & Dad.

“Mom!” Kiri Lee held up the envelope. “Why didn't you tell me about this?”

“About what, dear?” Kiri Lee's mom never turned from her work at the table.

“About the music festival's reply to my application! My solo for the royal family this month!”

“Your solo?”

Kiri Lee felt a strange chill, but at the same time, simmering anger. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Her mother looked up dreamily and then back down to the food. Time slowed down. Kiri Lee couldn't believe it. First her mother completely overlooks the fact that she's late, then the Chinese food, now she doesn't even remember the royal invitation to Scotland. Kiri Lee watched her. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, dear?” Her mother flashed that strange smile once more.

“Is something going on? I mean, is everything cool with your orchestra?”

Her mother slammed down the serving spoon. She stared at the kitchen table for several intense seconds. When she looked up, she still had that smile, but the look in her eyes was so menacing that Kiri Lee took a step backward.

“You tell me, Kiri dear, is there something wrong?”

“N-n-no,” Kiri Lee replied as she backed out of the kitchen. “Never mind. Where's Dad?”

“In the den.” Kiri Lee's mom turned her back to her daughter and went to the brown take-out bag on the counter.

“Do not disturb, right?” But her mother didn't reply. “Uh . . . 'kay. That's cool.”

Kiri Lee hurried out of the kitchen, but stopped a few feet from the den.
I must be missing something,
she thought.
Mom's never been
like this. Maybe she and Dad got into a big fight. Maybe she lost her
seat in the orchestra
. And then Kiri Lee thought,
Maybe I should
apologize.

Kiri Lee went back to the kitchen and found her mother still standing at the counter. But before Kiri Lee uttered the first syllable, she froze. Her mom had a red bottle, small, little larger than a tube of lip balm. Kiri Lee watched her mother remove its small stopper and pour several bright red drops into a bowl of won ton soup.

Kiri Lee's heart rate took off. She ducked back into the hall. Feeling tears well up, she raced to the den. “Daddy!” she called.

Her father sat in his antique practice chair, not reading a book, not scoring music . . . but watching television.

Myung Yuen did not often watch television; and when he did, it was concerts he'd recorded or occasionally a family movie. That was it. Now, her father sat watching some mindless French sitcom, and he was chuckling like an adolescent.

“Daddy?”

“Hello, sweetie,” he mumbled.

Sweetie?
He never called her
sweetie
. Her pet name had always been
Lee Lee
.

“Daddy, what are you doing?”

“Just watching TV, sweetie.” He turned and looked at her, his eyes as empty and uncaring as if he were looking at a block of wood. Kiri Lee stumbled back through the door and turned. She bumped into her mother.

“What's wrong, love?” Mrs. Yuen asked.

“What's wrong, love?
What's wrong?
” Kiri Lee looked back and forth incredulously. “All of this is wrong! Dad was watching TV! And you” —she pointed a quivering finger at her mother—“you and your crazy Chinese food! There's nothing wrong with me! It's you! Both of you!”

“Calm down, sweetie,” her father insisted. “Easy.”

“I'm Lee Lee! Remember?”

The three of them stood there between the hall and the den, between rage and regret . . . as silent as death.

Kiri Lee wiped a tear and finally spoke. “Mom, Dad . . . I—”

“To your room. Now!” her father ordered.

“Not just yet,” replied Mrs. Yuen, glaring at her husband. “The girl must eat dinner first.” The two of them seemed to come to an unspoken agreement.

“Yes, sweetie,” he said, “it would be unjust for me to force you to skip your meal.”

“NO!” She cried, much louder than she'd meant to. “I saw you . . .”

“Saw me what?” Mrs. Yuen asked.

Panic bubbled up in Kiri Lee's throat. She blurted out the only thing she could think of: “I saw you plopping that stuff onto the plate. It looked disgusting. Besides, I've lost my appetite.”

Her parents exchanged knowing glances. Kiri Lee didn't wait. She strode down the hall to her room. She quickly slipped inside, closed the door, and leaned against it as it clicked shut.

Kiri Lee's breath escaped in rapid bursts. She walked to her vanity table and sat, looking at herself in the mirror. Her hands were trembling. Her eyes looked huge and fearful. “This is crazy!” she whispered.
Were
they really trying to poison me? It can't be true, but what was the little red
bottle? And why were they so adamant that I eat?
Between the strange, sappy looks and the weird conversations, Kiri Lee's home suddenly felt very foreign, even otherworldly. She glanced at herself in the mirror one more time and released a pained, ironic laugh.

In all the commotion she had forgotten to take off her coat. No matter. Somehow it made her feel safe. Protected. She still held the invitation from Edinburgh in her hand and fumbled with the torn side of the envelope. Performances. She could always rely on them. And this concert, playing for the royal family, was her most prestigious yet. Kiri Lee stuffed the invitation inside her jacket pocket and went to her bed. All her clothes still on, even her slippers, she slid under her covers. She tried to think of ways to explain away all that had happened.
Maybe the red stuff was hot sauce. Maybe they're overstressed. Or
maybe they are getting a divorce.
Kiri Lee started to pray that divorce wasn't the case, but exhaustion claimed her before she could finish it.

That night she dreamed of the coming storm she had seen in her music. Lightning flashed as before, and the rains began to fall. But this time Kiri Lee could see under the clouds. Not much, but enough. The landscape was a tumultuous, heaving region of volcanic mountains, the red glow of fresh lava streaming in the lower valleys. But one specific peak caught her attention: a jagged mountain with a deep crag ripped right through the middle. It was as if a giant axe blade had cut into the ground and cleaved the summit in two, a red flow of lava within flowing like blood.

All at once the vision disappeared, and Kiri Lee woke. Her forehead was moist with perspiration, her pillow soaked through. Thunder rumbled in the distance. She opened her eyes and gazed up at the ceiling. A muted, gray light saturated the room from the window beside her. Her clock read 3:23 a.m. in red digits. She turned over and saw a shadowy figure holding a raised knife.

Kiri Lee screamed.
Robber!
The thought blasted into her mind as she thrust the covers off herself and into her assailant's face. She rolled off the far side of her bed and onto the floor.

A deep voice cut through the darkness, “Come here!”

Kiri Lee crawled toward her window and looked back over the bed. Suddenly, she was aware of another figure in the room, this one more slender.
A woman?

“Stop!” the woman shouted.

“Stay away!” Kiri Lee cried out. “Leave me alone!” She tried to stand up—

Shunck!

A knife drove into the wall beside her head. Kiri Lee screamed and gained her feet. She had to get out. Now. But where?

She spun away from the knife and glanced at the bench and then let her gaze go to the big picture window.