Feral (36 page)

“Mommy!”

“I'm here, Charity.”
 
She pushed into Charity's room, instantly on edge.
 
Something was not right; the room was too dark.

She found the problem almost instantly.
 
One of the bulbs in the overhead fixture had burned out.

“Oh dear,” Shannon sighed.
 
“I'll fix that.”

“Thanks,” Charity smiled, but held her blankets firmly under her chin.
 
She was better, but wouldn't be comfortable until it was fixed.
 
“It must have burnt out while I was asleep.”

A stepladder lay folded against the inner wall of the closet.
 
A carton of new bulbs sat on the shelf above.

It took Shannon several minutes to change the dead bulb.
 
Her balance had gone to shit in the past few months; heights of any kind made her nauseous, but she felt better when it was finished.
 
She stowed the ladder, tossed the dead bulb in the trash bin beneath Charity's desk, and gave her girl a clumsy hug and goodnight kiss.

“'Night, Mom,” Charity said, then pulled her shade over her eyes.

“'Night, girl.
 
Don't let the bedbugs bite.”

“Shut up about the bed bugs, would you.”
 
But she smiled as she said it.

Shannon stood in her doorway and watched until she slept again.
 
As she turned to leave, the nightlight caught her eye.
 
Charity had forgotten to turn it on.

Shannon bent and turned it on, and with a final appraising glance at the room, closet light—check, ceiling lights—check, desk lamp—check, and nightlight.
 
All burned brightly, killing every hint of shadow that might surface in Charity's safe place.
 
She left Charity's bedroom door open, more light from the hall flooded in, and waddled to her own room yawning.

Beside Charity's bed, low to the floor to illuminate the darkness under it, the small nightlight bulb flickered, popped, and went dark.
 
A small tendril of smoke, whisper fine, drifted up and dissipated.

I
n the darkness beneath her bed, something moved.