Evil Returns (11 page)

“Why are you doing that?” said Trey.

“What?”

“Putting your hand over your mouth like that.”

She had not been aware of doing that.

“Every time you laugh, you cover your mouth,” said Trey. “I mean, what for? Something wrong with your teeth?”

Her laugh was tinged with fear. Did her hand know, as the shadow had known, that Devnee was no longer right? Was the hand trying to cover her up, as the shadow was trying to escape? If she looked in a mirror right now, along with the beauty, would she see long, pointed, dripping—

She laughed. She said, “Silly habit. Now I’ll break it.” She kissed Trey on the cheek.

Trey kissed her back. On the lips. “Keep breaking it,” he said.

They were doing this when William and Victoria waltzed up. They didn’t really waltz, of course; Devnee had never actually seen anybody waltz. But they were so graceful together the only possible dance word was
waltz.

Victoria said, “I was just wondering, Trey. Not to be rude or anything.” She smiled gently at both of them, and then especially at Devnee. “But I phoned Aryssa and couldn’t get much out of her. What exactly is wrong? Why isn’t she coming back to school?”

Trey frowned a confused little-boy frown, as one bewildered by global events beyond control. “I dunno,” he said. Very little boy. Carefully not associating himself with a former girlfriend gone weird.

“Well,” said Victoria, “her spirits are so low these days that the rest of us have done a lot of thinking, and we think that in order to make her feel better, maybe coax her back, get her laughing again, all that—”

What was coming here? Devnee felt terribly threatened. She tried to keep a sweet kindly smile on her face, but she was trembling all over. What had Victoria done?

“—we should elect her Sweetheart even though she’s not at the dance,” said Victoria. “I’ve got enough votes, I think.” Victoria repeated her kindly smile, and Devnee wanted to swat it.

Where did Victoria come off, snatching the Sweetheart crown away from Devnee minutes before she won it? I am the most beautiful here! thought Devnee. And those are the rules.

“That’s a great idea,” said Trey, who clearly could not care less.

“Isn’t it?” said William, who clearly cared a lot. “Victoria thought of it herself.” He stared adoringly at Victoria. Then he turned to Devnee. “Do we have your vote, too, Dev?”

The blackmail of it.

What could she say, here in the middle of the room, with admirers listening?
No, you can’t have my vote! I want me!

“Of course,” said Devnee warmly. “That’s a lovely, lovely idea, Victoria. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.”

Victoria gave Devnee a thorough look. Victoria definitely knew that Devnee would never have thought of it, and if it had been suggested, would have vetoed it with all her power.

And so Aryssa was elected Sweetheart. It was unanimous.

And the night, which had been Devnee’s, became Victoria’s.

Victoria had not even been nominated, and yet she became the dance’s real sweetheart. Because she had one: a truly sweet heart.

Devnee had to stop using the electric blanket because the wiring in the house was so old and faulty it kept failing, and she’d wake up freezing under this paper-thin nothing. Now she had two wool blankets and a thick puff of a comforter. Devnee wrapped up mummy-style.

“Really,” said the vampire mildly, “this is not necessary.”

Devnee simply looked at him. “It’s necessary,” she said.

His cape fluttered around him like pond scum.

“Get out of my room,” said Devnee. “I want to be alone.”

He was amused. “You are never alone now, my dear.”

It was true. She had not been alone in many, many days. He had infected her, and she carried him like a virus in her soul. I wish he would disappear, she thought. Just leave my beauty and disappear. I wish I were as smart as Victoria. I’d think of a way to outwit him.

The vampire’s laugh rattled like hard candy falling on a bare floor. “You have a most interesting mind, my dear. Filled with wishes. You are never satisfied. I like that in a girl. Opens many doors.”

“Get out of my mind!” said Devnee.

The vampire shook his head. His neck did not rotate as human necks did, so that when he shook the head the entire trunk of his body shook with it, giving him a sickening Jell-O effect.

“You let me in,” said the vampire. “You didn’t have to, you know. You had a choice. You could have been satisfied with what you were.”

“I’m satisfied now,” said Devnee sharply. “So leave me alone.

“Are you really satisfied?” said the vampire. “Odd. That’s not the wish path I see emanating from your heart. I see you wanting William now. Because you know the real Trey, and the real Trey is something of a disappointment. The skin-deep variety always is. And William really loves Victoria, whereas Trey loves only a beautiful escort. Victoria, you know, is brilliant. William is one of those rare young men attracted to brains.” The vampire smiled and it lit his eyes, incandescent lights inside his skull.

“Aryssa’s going to be all right now,” said Devnee. “The dance voted her Sweetheart to make her feel better.”

The vampire glowed. “It worked wonderfully, too, my dear. She felt much better.” He studied his fingernails. The flesh on his long thin fingers was pink. Not the darkened patches of fruit going bad. Not spongy as if swollen with rot beneath the skin. But nice, healthy—

“I have just had another excellent meal,” said the vampire.

Devnee’s heart almost stopped. “Another one?”

“Once the path is open, it’s open,” he said. “Naturally I will use all of Aryssa that is available.” He giggled like a little kid who had just TP’d the teacher’s car. Not a vampire. He said, “Of course, there isn’t much left of Aryssa. Still …”

Oh, Aryssa! Devnee was sick with the knowing of it. That he had gone back!

Those fangs—did they?

That cape—did it?

That laugh—that smell—those glittering evil eyes?

“Now, now, we can’t hide from what we’ve done,” said the vampire. “In part, we cannot hide because …”

She forced herself to look at him.

“… because … we’re going to do it again.”

“What are you talking about? I wanted to be beautiful and I am!”

“I thought you wanted it all,” said the vampire. His speech was slippery as silk and cruel as boredom.

All.

Oh, yes.

Oh, how she wanted it all.

She wanted riches, too. And brains. And fame. And talent.

She was weak with all the things she wanted; they turned her knees to jelly and made her heart pound.

She studied her own fingernails, so long and lovely and polished and perfect. I’m beautiful now, she said to herself; that’s enough.

“Enough?” said the vampire. “Is it really enough, my dear?”

She caught her breath.

He said, “Envision, if you will, English class. Envision yourself, if you will, as the sort of person who simply gets A’s, without effort or design.”

There were people like that. Victoria was one.

When asked “Did you study?” Victoria would laughingly reply, “I never study.” It was true. Devnee would sit consumed with envy. Even if she studied for a month, she could not get the grade Victoria got without effort.

“Ah, yes,” said the vampire, “just so.”

She threw a pillow at him but he was not there by the time it passed through the air. In fact, when she turned to look, she could not quite find him. She could sense his darkness and smell his mold, but he was as out of focus as a bad photograph.

Did Aryssa smell that? she thought. When he—when it—when—

She said, “I’m beautiful. That’s enough. Go away.”

“Enough,” whispered the vampire. “Enough. I doubt it, Devnee, my dear.”

She was very still.

“Perhaps …” said the vampire, his voice as level as a lily pad on still water. “Perhaps … you could have Victoria’s brains.”

Victoria, who was nice. Victoria, who was generous. Victoria, who was thoughtful. Victoria, who was loved by William.

She would like to have Victoria’s brains … but the vampire would then have Victoria. And would go to her again and again, as he was going to Aryssa. Victoria would be over.

No, I won’t take Victoria’s brains.

But wouldn’t it be glorious to be brilliant? And witty? And have people stop talking and lean forward to hear what I have to say?

No, I’m beautiful. That was my wish. And that’s fine.

But, oh! To have it all!

The vampire sank, as if he were snorkeling. He slid, and he slithered. He was underwater in some other world. Devnee hung on to the wall, lest he pull her along and drown her.

He said, “You and I, Devnee …”

The air was thick and swampy where he stood.

“We do what is necessary, do we not, Devnee?”

William was an honor student and did things like Model United Nations, and High School Bowl, and French Club, and Chess. He was not an athlete but loved sports, and was the announcer for the basketball season, the manager for the baseball season. In music he was the saxophone player who led the Jazz Band and Pit Band.

Devnee struggled to breathe in the mossy air, the wet drowning air.

Her wish glittered in her head, brilliant and bright and full of knowledge. She tried to grab the wish and break it on the floor, like a piece of glass, but instead it shone like a mirror, and she saw herself reflected in it: brilliant and bright and full of knowledge.

And the wish came out of her mouth, and trembled in the room, and became the possession of the vampire.

“I wish I were smart,”
said Devnee.

But the room was empty.

The vampire had left.

To fulfill the wish.

D
EVNEE NEVER DID PAINT
the tower room. She never did put a carpet on the floor, nor bright curtains over the shutters. Her mother stayed in the kitchen, happily designing shelves into which the coffeepot and the blender would fit perfectly; her father stayed in the workshop, busily making the little nooks and crannies for the kitchen; her brother stayed at school, playing every conceivable ball game and proving that it does not matter how many state lines you cross—the star athlete can still skip homework.

As for Devnee, she, too, could skip homework.

And get an A-plus doing it.

How delightful it was to sit in class, always having the answer, always getting the point, always catching the teacher’s eye and sharing a rueful smile when the other kids were too thick to get the joke.

How strange it was to fill in the blanks without thinking. To write an essay without pondering. To know that your spelling and punctuation were correct. To glance down at the multiple choices and be amused; to spot a little joke on the teacher’s part, a joke observed only by the really bright members of the class. To finish the one-hour test in eighteen minutes and spend the rest of the time looking around.

At first Devnee was careful not to look at Victoria.

Victoria had walked in with long demanding strides, daring you to keep up, and despising you if you fell behind. Victoria no longer had the walk. She was just a female thing who slouched from one desk to another, confused and mumbling.

During quizzes Victoria bent over her desk in that hunched desperate way of people who can’t think of any solution except to get closer to the paper. Victoria clung to her pencil as if the lead itself might know the answers. She had the tense, frightened look of a little kid on a strange doorstep, wondering if a boogeyman will answer the door.

Well, one had.

Devnee was asked to substitute for Victoria on the High School Bowl team.

This was a group she had heard about, but certainly had never seen in action. Devnee had had difficulty following the strategy of a volleyball game, never mind a sort of young person’s
Jeopardy!

Trey and William were on High School Bowl.

She knew William was brilliant, but had never assessed Trey that way. His rough, hard looks and his swaggering possession of the ground almost hid his brains.

Devnee, Trey, and William sat behind one long table while the opposition sat behind another. A nasal-voiced vice principal from a third school—for objectivity—read aloud questions taken moments before from a sealed envelope.

“What are the basic structural units of proteins?” said the vice principal sternly, as if interrogating enemy troops.

“Amino acids,” said Devnee, pushing her buzzer first, and answering instantly.

“Name two types of arthropods.”

Easy, thought Devnee. “Arachnids and crustaceans,” she said, laughing. She poised her finger over the buzzer for the next question.

Of course they slaughtered the other team.

Devnee scored more than twice as high as anybody else, answering things she had no idea that she knew. It was eerie, not to be acquainted with the interior of her own mind.

Because it’s not my mind, thought Devnee. It doesn’t even belong to me. I stole it.

Quickly she thought of it in another light. It’s Victoria’s own fault. I deserved to be Sweetheart at the dance, and if she’d let me be elected, instead of campaigning for Aryssa, who hardly even exists anymore, let alone deserves to be a dance queen, well, I would have let Victoria keep her brains.

She felt almost generous because, after all, Victoria had had a chance to stay brilliant and blown it.

“In what year and in what city was the second Continental Congress?” said the vice principal.

Devnee had to laugh out loud. Baby questions. “1775, Philadelphia,” she said.

How impressed Trey was. “What a dark horse you are, Devnee. I never realized you had such a great background.”

A week ago she would not have known what “dark horse” meant; she would have had to ask or else never known, or even—in her dull moments—never wondered. But tonight she knew, of course, that a dark horse was an unexpected, unknown winner in a race.

How right Trey is, thought Devnee. I am a dark horse.

Following a dark path.

They went out afterward to celebrate, of course. The teacher who supervised High School Bowl was Mrs. Cort. “Oh, Devnee, I’m so excited that you moved to town,” she said. “We need minds like yours.”