Donn Coburn's rewrite is copyright © 2006 by Donn Coburn.

Return to every woman a koontz.

"Come to me."

He seemed to be speaking not to a vision that only he could see but to Chyna, as if his senses were so acute that he had been able to detect her merely from the movement of the air that she had displaced when she'd stepped soundlessly through the doorway.

Then she saw the spider. It dangled from the ceiling on a gossamer filament a foot above the killer's reaching hands.

"Please."

As if responding to the man's supplications, the spider spun out its thread, descending.

The killer stopped reaching, turned his hand palm-up. "Little one," he breathed. Even in a whisper, his voice was powerful, magnetic.

Fat and black, the obedient spider reeled itself down into the big open palm.

The killer brought his hand to his mouth and tipped his head back slightly. He either crushed the spider and ate it -- or ate it alive.

He stood motionless, savoring. He was a big man – six feet two, maybe more. Muscular. Narrow waist, enormous shoulders. A tautly stretched denim jacket. His fingers, stained with blood, looked crushingly strong. He would be able to choke the life out of her with a single-hand grip.

His hair was thick and brown, neatly barbered against the nape of his bull neck, but Chyna could not see his face. She hoped never to see it.

"Come to me," he murmured again.

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