A steel bit, several coils of yellow rubber tubing, and a pair of safety goggles flew through the portal from the Idaho barn to land on a Persian rug. The chug-chug-chug of a hydraulic compressor wafted the sickly sweet scent of machine lubricant into air already thick with cow manure and Baba Yaga’s designer perfumes.

Mollie lugged the tool into the closet. She donned the goggles, braced herself against the door frame, pressed the bit to the wall, and pulled the release. The bit chewed through the drywall like it was wet toilet paper. But when she hit the first stud, the chugging became a rattle and the faint smell of lubricant suddenly became overpowering.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop. Mollie, stop!”

She killed the cutter and returned to the portal. The hose had ruptured, spewing hydraulic fluid everywhere. Dad and Brent were dripping with it. Wisps of smoke wafted from the compressor; it smelled like ozone and melted plastic.

Mollie swore again. They’d probably blame her for this, too.

A cool breeze slid across Michelle’s body. Next to her, Joey was asleep, tangled up in the sheets, snoring softly. She wanted Joey again, but was loath to wake her up. It wasn’t often Joey looked relaxed. Her normal state was a feral wariness. Michelle liked seeing her face in repose occasionally.

The usual evening street noises floated up. Someone was yelling at someone else about random bullshit. Cabs and cars were honking impatiently, and the farty sound of buses braking was comforting. Michelle slid from the bed, making sure not to wake Joey. She slipped on a robe and walked down the hall to Adesina’s room. There was a slice of pale light spilling from the partially open door. She pushed the door open a little wider, then stepped inside.

The room faced the apartment complex courtyard that dampened most of the street noise. It was quiet here compared to the rest of the apartment. Michelle loved this room. When she looked for a place for the two of them to stay, this room was what sold her. She could see Adesina living in this room.

Normally, Adesina had an odd little wheeze when she slept. But Michelle didn’t hear it now. Cold sliced into her.

“Adesina,” she whispered. “Baby?”

Nothing moved under the covers.

She stepped closer to the bed. “Baby…” There was no response. Michelle snapped on the bedside light, pulled the covers back, then jerked away from what she saw.

In the center of the bed, Adesina was building a cocoon. The lower half of her body was already encased in the fine opaque filament.