Professor Hamilton pressed his back to the sandy wall. Scarab beetles scuttled up his bare legs. He grabbed them. Shovelled them into his mouth. Crunched down to a burst of viscous, rank ooze: shards of chitin in a musty soup. Swallowing grew harder and harder.
He woke sweating, heaving, his stomach convulsing. Every night since Egypt. No pharaoh’s treasure was worth this.
He swept the lank, wet hair from his forehead. His hands were trembling, they were thinner, he was sure. His fair skin looked unhealthy, translucent; something black bulged and crawled beneath it.
He grabbed for his monogrammed letter-opener.
Halloween double bill: She's a lifestyle Vampire.
(Beetles originally written for Lily Childs' Friday Prediction)