Vampire Blood Trilogy. Darren Shan

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      STEVE STIFFENED as soon as the spider bit him. His yells stopped dead in his throat, his lips turned blue, his eyes snapped wide open. For what seemed an eternity (though it couldn’t have been more than three or four seconds), he tottered on his feet. Then he crumpled to the floor like a scarecrow.

      The fall saved him. As with the goat at the Cirque Du Freak show, Madam Octa’s first bite knocked Steve out, but didn’t kill him straight off. I saw her moving along his neck before he fell, searching for the right spot, preparing for the second, killer bite.

      The fall disturbed her. She slipped from Steve’s neck and it took her a few seconds to climb back up.

      Those seconds were all I needed.

      I was in a state of shock, but the sight of her emerging over his shoulder like some terrible arachnid sunrise spurred me into life. I stooped for the flute, jammed it almost through the back of my throat, and blew the loudest note of my entire life.

      “STOP!” I screamed inside my head, and Madam Octa leapt about half a metre into the air.

      “Back inside the cage!” I commanded, and she hopped down from Steve’s body and sped across the floor. As soon as she passed the bars of the door, I lunged forward and slammed it shut.

      With Madam Octa taken care of, my attention turned to Steve. Annie was still screaming but I couldn’t worry about her until I’d seen to my poisoned friend.

      “Steve?” I asked, crawling close to his ear, praying for an answer. “Are you OK? Steve?” There was no reply. He was breathing, so I knew he was alive, but that was all. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn’t talk or move his arms. He wasn’t even able to blink.

      I became aware of Annie standing behind me. She’d stopped screaming but I could feel her shaking.

      “Is … is he … dead?” she asked in a tiny voice.

      “Of course not!” I snapped. “You can see him breathing, can’t you? Look at his belly and chest.”

      “But … why can’t he move?” she asked.

      “He’s paralysed,” I told her. “The spider injected him with poison which stops his limbs working. It’s like putting him to sleep, except his brain’s still active and he can see and hear everything.”

      I didn’t know if this was true. I hoped it was. If the poison had left the heart and lungs alone, it might also have skipped his brain. But if it had got into his skull …

      The thought was too terrible to consider.

      “Steve, I’m going to help you up,” I said. “I think if we move you around, the poison will wear off.”