"Would you like a beverage?" Poole asked, as Teddy marveled at a lone spider hanging delicately from the kitchen ceiling. "How rude of me not to ask sooner. You must think me an awful butler, though you must understand now that it wasn't exactly my calling..."
It wasn't the first time Poole offered, and it wasn't the first time he'd apologized for not offering sooner, but before Teddy could answer, Poole was already on his feet. Nervous energy made his hands quiver as he fetched two glass goblets from a high cabinet. Low sunlight washed the room in a gold glow—the conversation following the morning's interview had lasted hours—though Teddy didn't seem to notice. Throughout the meeting, Poole had intermittently offered his guest food, tea, coffee, bathroom breaks. Though Teddy ignored the niceties—she was too enthralled in the discussion to notice her biological needs—Poole had placed a small lunch in front of her, which she picked at.
Teddy stared at the spider—its thick, hairy legs, its round abdomen, its shiny black eyes, tinged with green—as Poole left the kitchen to fetch a bottle from the cellar. She remembered the spiders from her childhood visit, how they should've been—would've been—gross, scary creatures in any other context, in any other house. But here, their strength and size looked oddly beautiful, the way they hung from their thin, silk webs, strangely graceful. It was like they were floating, suspended in midair, suspended in time.
"Here we are," Poole said as he re-entered the kitchen, carrying two ornate bottles. "Do you prefer whiskey or gin?"
When the question registered, it brought Teddy out of her spider-related trance. She shook her head. "What?"
"Whiskey?" Poole lifted one bottle, an amber-colored liquid sloshing inside. "Or gin?" he said, lifting the other bottle.
Teddy laughed and sank back in her chair—she hadn't realized how tense she'd been. "Mr. Poole," she said, the laugh reaching her belly now. "I'm only 18, are you sure you should be serving me?"
Poole stood, still holding out the bottles, a blank expression on his face. "Pardon?"
As Teddy's laugh fizzled away, dissolved in her stomach into a calm warmth, she pondered the thought of having a drink. Unlike most of her peers, Teddy would typically decline any chance to drink alcohol, if the chance ever presented itself. Being the daughter of addicts, she had witnessed the dark side of the stuff one too many times to get excited about getting a little tipsy. This time, however, seemed like an exception. When was the next time she would come across two vintage spirits? Teddy thought, eyeing the ornate bottles. She smiled, well, technically three vintage spirits. She looked up at Poole.
"Nevermind," she said, still smiling. "I prefer whiskey."
The butler returned the smile and poured a bit of the amber liquid into each goblet. Teddy took a sip, felt the cool liquid burn all the way down her throat. She fought the urge to cough, to vomit, and once the whiskey settled in her stomach, a caramel aftertaste exploded on her tongue. She took another sip, much smaller this time.
Poole took his place at the kitchen table across from her.
"Do you drink? I mean, are you able?" Teddy gestured vaguely to the butler's form.
"Oh, yes, of course. I can enjoy any food or drink that feeds the soul," he said with a sly grin.
"You sound like my dad," Teddy said.
She studied his face, marveled at his solid form. From what Poole had explained—which had been, thus far, a frustratingly vague and somewhat confusing explanation—he had separated his body from his soul many, many years ago. While his body lay rotted and decayed in the basement, his soul was free to move about the house.
"How old were you when you died?" Teddy asked.
"Twenty-seven," Poole said, then sipped from his goblet.
"You look older," Teddy said. She was certain it wouldn't offend him.
"Sleepless nights will do that to a man, I suppose," Poole offered.
"So, are you, like... a ghost?" Teddy asked, feeling certain the question would offend him.
"No, not at all," Poole said patiently. "Though I can understand the association. Where I am a fully-intact disembodied soul, a ghost, as you know them, is more of a fragment, or a stain of a soul accidentally left behind."
Teddy nodded, eager to learn more.
"It's quite rare for a human to ever see a ghost, or hear one or interact with one in any way, even though they are quite common. Though it does happen from time to time" Poole continued. "Because they aren't whole souls, they struggle to take form, at least, in any meaningful way. Most ghosts are quite senseless, I believe."
"So... since you're a whole soul," Teddy said, "You can take the form of your former body. Can you take other forms? Can you disappear? Can you walk through walls?"
"Essentially, yes," Poole said. "I cannot take other forms, but I can shed my physical form, which allows me to travel through walls in a gaseous state."
Teddy's brow furrowed. "Then why do you stay here?"
Poole bent down, reached for something from the floor beneath the table. When he sat up again, he held a single spider in the palm of his hand.
"Just as a ghost might be tethered to a home, or a person, or an object," Poole said, stroking the spider with long, delicate fingers, "I am tethered to the spiders."
A chill worked its way up Teddy's spine. She took another sip from her goblet, the fire of the whiskey warmed her.
"How did you do it?" Teddy asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Some study arts, others study science," Poole said, still stroking the spider. "I study magic, which is a little bit of both."
Suddenly, the spider escaped Poole's palm and landed lightly on the tabletop. It looked at Teddy with its many eyes. Teddy marveled at the creature as it skittered toward her, never once breaking eye-contact. She felt strangely as if the spider knew her, as if it were an old friend she bumped into on the street. When Teddy laid her hand on the table, palm up, the creature walked daintily up her fingers and made itself at home.
"It is a strange magic," Poole said, watching the exchange. "I have studied their behavior for centuries, and have never seen one approach a person with such motivation."
"She must like me," Teddy said, smiling.
"That is a dangerous assumption, Theodora," Poole said. "The magic I've unleashed in this house is unpredictable, volatile... there is much even I can't begin to explain or anticipate. It is why I think it best that you leave as soon as possible—"
"Leave?" Teddy said, shifting her gaze from the spider to meet Poole's dark eyes. "With all due respect, Mr. Poole, this house belongs to me..."
The butler's eyes darkened.
"This house hasn't belonged to a mortal in two hundred years—!" Poole said, voice rising. He took a deep breath, as if surprised by his outburst.
Teddy stroked the spider in her hand, a smile came to her lips. She was pleased to have gotten under the butler's skin, she had been getting bored with his excessive propriety. He was guarding the truth behind a wall of decorum, Teddy knew, and she was determined to break him down.
"How did you do it?" Teddy asked for the second time, challenging him.
Poole downed the last of his whiskey, then slammed the goblet down on the table.
"You know too much as it is," he said, his voice stern, his eyes piercing her like dark lasers. "But what you don't know is not your concern. What you don't know, what you don't understand, what I don't even understand... it's dangerous."
"This is my house," Teddy said, anger flaring.
Poole cut her off.
"It was a mistake having you here all those years ago—a mistake your grandmother paid for with her life—and it was a mistake coming back."
"It's not up to you—!" Teddy began, voice rising.
"You will leave if you know what's good for you," Poole said, ignoring her. "If you value your life at all."
With each biting word, anger grew, boiled inside her like an active volcano. Fury climbed through her body, boiled her blood, and stung the backs of her eyes. She stared at Poole with each spitting word, their gazes facing off in their own battle. The standoff continued even after Poole completed his speech—his dark eyes vs. her hazel. Just as Teddy was about the speak, to yell, to scream in his face, Poole's face dropped, crumpled from furious indignation to shock and horror.
Teddy followed his gaze down to her own clenched fist, the legs of the spider twitching between her closed fingers.
"Oh my god..." Teddy said, releasing her hold on the creature. In her fury, she hadn't felt the crunch of the spider when she closed her palm. The spider lay crumpled in her hand, oozing a brown, sticky liquid. "I'm so sorry..."
Her face burned, her eyes stung with tears. While she never particularly enjoyed the act of killing, she wasn't one to get emotional over a squashed bug or a trapped mouse. But this creature, she knew, was different from most, and seeing it lay dead in her palm filled her with a sense of incredible loss. Overwhelming sadness clutched her throat, and when she was finally able to breathe, it came shallow and forced.
Rage burned in the butler's eyes at the sight of the dead spider, and when he met Teddy's tearful gaze, hate and disgust radiated from the black holes at the center of his irises.
"This is why you don't belong here!" Poole roared. "It's not been twelve hours and look what you've done—!"
The butler's volume shocked Teddy out of her doleful trance. She studied the man sitting across from her—the shake of his hands, the tense arch of his shoulders, the thin, flat line of his lips beneath his mustache.
"You're afraid of it, aren't you?" Teddy said, her voice steady despite her own shaking hands. "You created something you can't control..."
Poole stared at her with the same piercing eyes, but she sensed some power behind them had withdrawn. He stood, cleared his throat.
"If you'll excuse me, I must address this immediately," he said.
Before she could ask what it was he needed to address, the butler was already scooping the dead spider into his cold, dry hands. Without a backward glance, Poole left the kitchen through the dark basement door, leaving Teddy alone with a grimy hand and an even stronger resolve to stay at 24 Thornewood Road.