Warnings: Supporting character death

The next evening Milda watched as the thin, silver crochet hook flashed around and through the net of fine white thread, hooking it into a delicate web. She shook her head. "Nana, you're amazing. Is there anything having to do with handicraft that you can't do?"

"Oh, I only work with the textiles, dear--knitting, needlepoint, tatting, sewing--that sort of thing. I'm completely hopeless at things like decopauge," said the older woman calmly. "Luckily there's a fairly good market for these sort of things, even if they don't pay much for them. There are a couple of stores that will take all that I can make on doilies and handmade socks and sweaters and such." She smiled. "I think that they claim that they're imported from Ireland, or some such." She quickly worked another round on the doily she was making, then said quietly, "Are you going to tell me what's troubling you?"

Milda sighed. "Should I ask how you know that something is wrong?"

Nana shrugged. "I've gotten used to you, dear. You're an easy going little thing, and when you're troubled--it shows. There's no trouble with you and Colin, is there? He was very quiet this morning, too."

"Oh, no! No." She smiled. "Things are wonderful with us."

"I'm glad to hear it. You're both just as sweet as you can be. You deserve each other. But that doesn't answer my question, does it? What's wrong?"

"Someone came to the house while you were gone last night--a man named Carl Bailey." She wrinkled her nose. "He doesn't seem like a very nice man. He made my skin feel crawly."

"He isn't very nice, dear. I'm not at all surprised he made your skin creep. What did he want?"

"He wanted to come back to live here. Collin told me he's a bad guy. He basically told the guy to get stuffed."

Nana laughed. "I like that boy more and more all the time. Though maybe he shouldn't have added the stuffed part. Carl is a far from tolerant man." There was a chorus of peeping mews from the cabinet under the sink. "Milda, check on the kittens and see what's bothering them."

Milda squatted, peering into the little cave-like space. "They're missing their mama. Where's Lulu?"

"She's not there?" Nana frowned. "I know I saw her hanging about when I took the trash out a little while ago."

"She won't have gone far. She's a good mother. Did you remember to latch the door?" Milda checked, then rubbed her nose. "Colin said to be careful about locking the door after us, and to not go around alone for awhile."

"Colin is a wise young man. That's good advice. I really should have had the law down on that Bailey character, but... Well, me and the law..."

Milda nodded. Nana had little use for the police. She'd been labled an 'eccentric' a long time ago, and every local policeman watched her like they expected her to either strip down in public, or spirit away some child to bake into gingerbread. She said slowly, "I talked it over with Acacia and Naresha. We were thinking that they might give up a day or so each at work, so that they could be around at night till we're sure that that Bailey has moved on."

"I don't think that will be necessary, dear. And beside, you girls need your income. Not that I'm worried personally," she said hastily. "You know very well that if you girls ever need to take a little time on the rent, there's no problem, but I know you're trying to save up a little nest egg, and..."

"Don't worry about it, Nana." Milda went over and stirred a large pot on the stove, sniffing the contents. "Mmm, I think this stew is going to turn out excellent. The meat is going to be very tender, even if it was a cheap cut."

"It should--you've been simmering it since noon. Will Colin be back soon?"

"He should--it's already dark out."

There was a plaintive meow outside the kitchen door. Milda frowned. "She must've slipped out when you took out the trash. I guess she's been getting antsy from being cooped up." There was another meow, this one more high-pitched, almost frantic. "Oh, dear! All right, kitty."

As the girl was reaching for the latch, Nana said, "Wait, dear! Colin will be home in a minute, and we can..." The cat suddenly screamed, and Milda scrabbled at the lock. "Wait!"

It was too late. The concerned girl was jerking the door open, calling, "Lulu! Here, kitty..." A speckled bundle of fur streaked past her feet, hissing and spitting. "Lulu! What..." Milda was suddenly knocked back, stumbling, as the door was violently thrust in. Carl Bailey stepped in, moving very quickly for such a bulky man, and slammed the door shut behind him. "Hey! You're not welcome here," said Milda indignantly.

"No shit," said Carl. "This is the most damn inhospitable household I've ever run into, keepin' me standin' on the front porch last night. Your mama didn't raise you right, darlin'." He grinned at Nana, who'd frozen, glaring at him. "Hey, Nana. I'm home."

"You call me Miz Collins, Carl Bailey, and this is not your home--it never was. It was just somewhere for you to hole up and steal whenever you were too lazy to go break into somewhere," she said acidly.

Carl was still smiling, but it was cold. "And you ain't gotten any more pleasant, either, have you?"

Milda was peering under the sink. "What did you do to Lulu? She's holding her paw funny." She turned angry eyes on him. "Did you hurt her?" she asked accusingly.

"Had to get you to open the door somehow, didn't I? I figured if you wouldn't let me in, you'd do it for the furball." He was staring at Milda. "You're kinda pretty. I bet you have a nice body under those big ass rags. You need a man to dress you right."

"I have a man," she said stiffly. "And he has enough sense not to try to dictate to me."

"Yeah, Whitcomb's a simp, all right."

"We're not going to stand here and have a conversation," Nana snapped. "Get out."

"Aw, you don't want me. I'm wounded," he said sarcasticly. "I'll be happy to leave. You just hand over the money from that check I know you cashed today and I'll be on my way." The two women gaped at him. "Don't play stupid, you old broad. I know when your welfare check comes, and you always cash it, regular as clockwork, so let's have it." He looked at Milda. "And I'll have whatever cash you have laying around, too, girly."

Milda was trembling with outrage. "You can just get out of here, right now!" She reached for the phone. "I'm calling the police."

He smirked, and backhanded her, almost casually, then jerked the phone cord out of the wall. "None of that nonsense."

Milda held a hand to her mouth. When she looked down, her fingers were smeared with blood. Her eyes glazed for a moment, and she whispered, "Casey... please..."

Nana jumped to her feet, her handwork falling unnoticed to the floor. "Don't you touch that girl!"

He sighed. "I guess you bitches are gonna make things difficult." He reached into his pocket. There was a snapping sound, and a long, bright knife gleamed in his hand. "Now," he lifted it, pointing it at Milda's face. "Are you two going to be sensible, or do I have to carve my initials in your face?"

"If you hurt her, you won't get a cent," said Nana firmly. "You never could find my hiding place, Bailey, and you know it."

"Don't you give him anything!" Carl didn't recognize the difference in the voice, but Nana did. It had gone hard. The outward appearance might be Milda, but it was Acacia who now occupied the body. "That's your money. Besides," her eyes narrowed, "if he thinks you're weak, he'll keep coming back. His kind feeds on the vulnerable." The girl bared small, sharp teeth in an expression that was at odds with her usual gentleness. "We know his kind."

"We?" He laughed. "What are you--a fuckin' nurse?" He looked at Nana. "I know you're crazy, but don't be stupid, too." He lifted the knife again, the point hovering an inch from the girl's smooth cheek. "Ya know, old Whitcomb probably wouldn't even mind if I made her look like Lady Frankenstien, but I'll make it where everyone else who looks at her wants to puke."

"I'll get the money." Nana turned, standing on tip-toe, and took down the small, crude cuckoo-clock that hung over the table. She opened the back and pried out a wad of bills. "You never had enough sense to notice that this thing doesn't keep time." She held it out to him. "Now get out."

He took the money, examined it with satisfaction, then shoved it into his pocket. Milda was making a low sound in the back of her throat, blue eyes sparking, and he gave her an amused look. "What's with you? You sound like the old bitch's cat did when I grabbed it. Okay, time for you to fork over."

"I don't have any money, you bastard, and I wouldn't give it to you if I did."

He shrugged. "Can't say I'm surprised. You hippie chicks never have any money unless you've been hooking, and Whitcomb is too stupid to put you on the street." He studied her more closely. "Still, that ain't to say you don't have anything I want." He gestured with the knife. "Take 'em off."

"Go fuck yourself." He hit her again.

That was when Colin rushed in. The bus had been running late, and he'd been getting worried as the sky darkened. Bailey's appearance the night before couldn't be good, and he didn't like leaving the women at home alone. He'd known that something was wrong the moment he'd opened the door--there was a man's voice coming from the kitchen. He didn't catch what the guy was saying, but Acacia's voice was clear. Her tone, and the words she spoke, made him hurry. He came in just in time to see Milda fall back against the wall, long red hair whipping from the force of the blow.

Colin Whitcomb was a gentle man, but he was suddenly filled with white-hot, blinding rage. The idea of someone hurting the sweet, gentle woman he'd given his heart to drove all reason from him, and he roared as he sprang at a startled Bailey. He managed to land one good punch before Bailey drove the knife into his belly.

Colin clutched at the wound, feeling the slipperiness of blood as Bailey snarled, "You stupid fuck! I wasn't gonna damage the bitch." The pain was incredible, but it didn't stop Colin. He was fighting for Milda, and Nana, and it would take more than that to stop him. He lunged at Bailey again as Nana screamed and Milda cried out in what sounded like savage encouragement. It didn't sound like her at all, but he didn't have time to consider that.

Colin had never been a fighter, and he didn't have a chance. Bailey stabbed him twice more, swearing at him to "just fuckin' fall, dammit!" The boy finally did, and Bailey panted, "Stupid fuck! All you had to do was just wait a minute and I'd have been gone, and you could have lived happily ever after with your little slut." The redheaded girl was swaying, staring at the boy who was slumped on the floor, making a low, keening sound. "Shut up!"

The shock of seeing what had happened to her lover had brought Milda out again. Now she moaned. "Colin. Casey--Casey, he's hurt bad. What can I do?"

"I said shut up, cunt!"

The girl's voice shifted, becoming rough, "Nothing, little sister. Nothing but stand back and let me do what I'm meant to do."

"You're nuts--everyone in this damn house is nuts but me. Now I'm gonna hafta..."

There was a smash as Nana brought the cuckoo-clock down on the back of Carl's head, screaming in rage and excitement. Carl staggered, shattered bits of wood and drops of blood from his gashed scalp pattering down on his shoulders. He whirled and swung at Nana with the knife, but the old lady was surprisingly agile, and jumped back out of his reach.

His back was turned, and he didn't see the transformation start, but Nana did. She saw the girl sinking into a crouch as the bones in her face shifted, and fine hair flowed out over her skin. There were people who would have gone mad, seeing this, but Nana had walked the fine balance between sane and insane before, and was better suited to accept it than most. She just grinned wildly, and called, "Get him, Casey!"

Carl wasn't really worried about the hippie girl--those peaceniks were never any real threat. He didn't turn back, figuring he'd better get the old lady shut up quickly. Then there'd be time to have a little fun with the redhead. He raised the knife again, choosing his target, deciding that he'd cut the old woman's throat--that would be quickest.

Something large and furry landed on his back, hissing and growling. Something sharp raked across his cheek, and he howled in pain, slamming his fist back. It thudded solidly against the head of whatever it was, and a swatch of long, red hair slithered down to plop beside his feet. What the fuck? The hippie? Yes, the arm clamped around his throat, pressing against his windpipe, was clad in the long sleeves that the girl had been wearing. But that wasn't possible--this had to be some kind of animal.

He struck back with the knife, and managed to catch the creature a glancing slice along its ribs. It fell away with a yowl. "You are a witch!" he screamed at Nana. "Well, I'll kill you and your damn demon!"

The creature on the floor lunged up at him, split-lipped, whiskered mouth spread wide, and closed its jaws around the wrist of the hand holding the knife. She bit down hard, jerking her head, and Carl screamed as flesh and tendons tore, the knife falling from his hand. He beat at the huge cat, the cat tangled awkwardly in the hippie girl's clothes--the cat that was about to tear his hand off.

Then his hair was seized, his head jerked so hard that he was bent backward in a bow. He had an upside-down glimpse of old lady Collins, her gray hair flying everywhere, eyes flashing, teeth bared in a rictus of hate, looking every bit of the witch he had accused her of being. Her free hand was raised high, and there was a flash of something silver clutched in it. He had a split second to wonder how she'd gotten hold of his knife--before her hand drove down and stabbed the crochet hook into his right eye.

The sound he made was indescribable. It can just be noted that he didn't manage to scream. The thin pike of metal plunged deep, popping the eyeball, crunching through a thin skim of bone, and lanced into his brain.

He dropped, jerking the hook out of the woman's hands, and his body began to jitter on the floor. The big cat released its hold on his hand and tore at his throat, clawed feet kicking at his belly and opening rips in his abdomen.

It wasn't necessary--he never could have survived that single stab, but the cat was in a blood frenzy now. The man was mauled before Nana's frantic voice reached into the sentient part of its mind. "Casey! Milda! Girls, please. Colin..."

The cat immediately leaped off the corpse, landing by where the older woman was holding her hands to a gaping wound in the young man's side, trying to staunch the blood. Nana was crying, "I can't stop it! He stabbed him in too many places. Help me!"

The cat made an anguished, mewling sound, and the transformation quickly flowed in reverse, leaving Acacia to drop limply to the floor. None of the girls had ever transformed so abruptly, and it hurt. But she crawled over to the two humans on the floor. "Colin! Colin, don't die, you idiot! Hang on."

The boy was pale, skin clammy. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around, confused. "Milda? Is Milda okay?"

"She's okay, Caveman. You done good. Keep this up and I'll have to admit that not all men are shits."

Colin smiled weakly. "Where is she?"

Nana said, "She's getting an ambulance, dear. She'll be right back."

"Hope she hurries." He shuddered. "Nana, I need to give you some money to fix the furnace. This house is always so cold." His voice was getting fainter. "Wish Milda was here. She's so warm."

Acacia looked around and spotted the wig, laying on the floor. She exchanged a look with Nana, then crawled over to it, getting it and fitting it on her head. Then she closed her eyes and waited. Nothing. She whispered, "Milda, come on." Nothing. Faint sobs echoed in her mind. "Milda, baby," she breathed, "I know you're hurting, but he needs you." Colin moaned. Acacia shuddered, and Milda opened her eyes, turning back to Colin. "Sweetheart?"

Colin opened his eyes again. "Hey, babe. You okay?"

She nodded. "I'm okay, but you..."

He took her hand, and she winced. His hands, the hands that had been so warm and sure on her body, were chilled. "It's all right, as long as you're safe." He kissed her hand.

"Oh, Colin, you're hurt. Why didn't you just go get some help?"

"Couldn't let him hurt my baby," his voice was fading. "Love you so much, Milda."

"I love you, too, Colin." He somehow found the strength to smile again, then his eyes glazed over and his grip went lax. "No!" Her voice rose in a yowling shriek. "No!" She collapsed across the still body, holding it, sobbing quietly.

Nana sat back on her heels, watching in frustrated grief. At last the girl went still, then sat back up, sniffing as she wiped a bloodied hand across her face. She was somehow--darker. "Oh, God--that poor, sweet man. My poor, darling Milda. The one of us who really had a chance of having a relationship that wasn't fucked up--now this."

Nana had no trouble recognizing the girl. She might have Acacia's hair and be dressed in Milda's clothes, but she was obviously Naresha. She watched as the girl got up and laid a vicious kick against Carl Bailey's head. If the body was ever autopsied, they'd have to add a cracked neck to the list of injuries. "Damn it!" She hissed. "If I was a witch I'd resurrect the asshole so I could kill him again." She looked at Nana. "We can't call the police."

Nana shook her head. "Of course not," she agreed. There was the unspoken fact that the girls needed to avoid official attention, and then there was Nana's own situation. It had been justified, but with her history it was unlikely that she'd avoid being committed, given the viciousness of her defense. "But what will we do?"

"We'll bury them," Naresha said shortly. "The back yard is huge, and with all your vegetables and flowers, no one will think anything of more freshly turned earth."

Nana nodded. "Yes, that will work. We should have plenty of time to get it done."

"Yes--the sun won't be up for ages. And they'd have to fly over to see over that hedge around the yard. Where should we put them?"

Nana made a face, stroking Colin's long blond hair. "Can't we bury them separately? I can't stand the thought of Colin having to spend eternity with that piece of shit."

Naresha shrugged. "Colin is gone, Nana, and there's no way Bailey is in the same place as he is, but I agree. Milda is going to want to mourn the boy, and I don't want her memories to be spoiled, knowing that his killer is right there with him." She cocked her head. "Hmm. You've been working on that bed right up against the back of the house, haven't you?"

Nana nodded. "I'm just about ready to set the tulip bulbs."

"And it's just the right size. That will do for Colin. As for that filth..." she toed Carl's body, "I don't want him any closer to the house than is necessary. How about putting a ring of flowers around that elm at the back of the yard?"

Nana frowned. "Well, we could, but it will look funny if we turn up enough ground to bury him."

"We would if we buried him laid out." Naresha's eyes glittered. "However, parts can be arranged in a circle very neatly.

"Oh, my." Nana's voice was soft and admiring. "I never would have thought of that."

Naresha shrugged. "I'm the practical one, dear. It's my job." She looked at Nana. "So, which do you want--digging, or cutting?"

Nana stood up. "Digging. It's not that I couldn't do it--I expect all my experience with disjointing chickens would come in handy. But I have a lot more experience with a spade than you do, dear." She smiled. "And I'm a tough old bird. I can pitch a lot of dirt quickly when I need to."

Naresha clapped her hands briskly. "Okay, let's see... I believe I saw a hatchet in the basement."

"There's also a couple of old rubber sheets down there, left over from when Mama was sick. Those will work well for shrouds. You come down, and help me bring that bed-board up, too."

"Bed-board?"

"Father couldn't sleep on a soft mattress."

"Nana, why would I need that?"

Nana pointed at Bailey. "You're going to roll that onto it while you fix him. I'm not having chunks taken out of my linoleum, young lady."

As she followed Nana into the basement, Naresha gave a feral smile. "Are you sure we aren't related somewhere up the line?"