Necessary Evil

by Donald Hanley

  “I’m scared, Peter.”

  I turned around in surprise. “What?”

  “I’m scared.” She was looking at me now. Her eyes were dark and worried and half-sunken into her head.

  “We’re all scared,” I told her. “Lilith isn’t going to give up anytime soon.”

  She shook her head firmly this time. “I’m not scared of her,” she said. “I’m scared of me.”

  “You?” I said doubtfully. “What do you mean?”

  Her eyes dropped from my face as she squeezed her pillow hard. For a long while, I thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How old am I?” she asked.

  “Huh?” She waited silently. “Eighteen,” I said carefully. “And four days,” I added, in case that was relevant.

  “You never asked me why.”

  “Why you’re eighteen?”

  “Why I’m eighteen and still in high school.”

  “Oh. Well, I didn’t think it was important. I’m eighteen too, after all,” I reminded her.

  She nodded slowly, staring at the floor again. “I was in the hospital for a long time.”

  “You were?” Another nod. “You were hurt?” A shake of the head. “Sick?” She hesitated and then shook her head again.

  “I was under observation.” At my puzzled look, she added, softly, “Psychiatric observation.” She hunched over her pillow. “I tried to kill myself. Twice.”

  I blinked at her as a thousand thoughts raced through my head. “Why?”

  She finally moved, lying back on her bed and gazing up at the ceiling, still holding her pillow to her chest. “I was probably eight or nine when I realized my parents weren’t like my friends’ parents.” Her voice was flat and dull, like she was reciting a story that happened to someone else. “They did all the things parents do with their kids but they never spent any time together, they never talked or laughed over dinner, and they never bought each other presents or anything. I thought it was normal for parents to sleep in different rooms until I went to my first sleepover.”

  “Your parents are divorced now, right?”

  She nodded, looking bleak. “I eventually figured out that the only reason they were still together was me. When I hit puberty and my hormones started going wild, I decided that it was all my fault and the only way they’d ever be happy again was if I was gone.”

  “Melissa –” She stopped me with a fervent shake of her head.

  “So I took a whole handful of Mother’s prescription meds and ended up in a coma for three days. When I woke up, things were even worse. They blamed each other for what happened and argued all the time, so a month later, I tried again.” She held up her left arm and touched her wrist with a frown. “The scars are gone,” she murmured. “Weird.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathed. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “I lived,” she shrugged, “but it worked that time. They got divorced while I was still locked up. They weren’t any happier,” she said sadly, “but at least they weren’t yelling at each other anymore.” I tried to come up with something to say but my mind was a complete blank. She didn’t seem to notice.

  “I missed too much school by then, so I stayed home the rest of the year on a medical exemption. That’s when I started playing Lorecraft.” She rolled her head to the side to look at her computer desk. “I told my therapist that I was using it to work out my feelings in a safe environment, but I really just wanted to kill things. I got really good at it.” An uneasy expression crossed her face.

  “Anyway, I went back to school the next year but all my old friends were in the next grade and they didn’t want to be around me anymore. They’d always look at me like I was some kind of freak. None of the boys wanted to go out with a crazy chick either. It was pretty lonely,” she said quietly.

  “I’m sorry,” I told her sincerely.

  “Daddy knew I was having problems, so he suggested we move someplace where nobody knew me. He sold his dealership down in Houston a couple of years ago and bought the one up here. We’ve been here ever since.” She shrugged. “So that’s why I’m eighteen.”

  “I never knew any of that. You always seem so – so in control of everything.”

  “My therapist thought I needed to start socializing again so she told me to get out of the house and join a club or something. I just picked the first group on the list at school and ended up on the cheerleading squad. That got the boys interested again,” she noted wryly, “but I just couldn’t bring myself to go out with any of them. I was afraid they’d dump me as soon as they found out about me. Brent kept asking me, though, and I finally said yes.” She shook her head with a sigh. “What a mistake that was.”

  “It wasn’t a complete disaster,” I reminded her. “We wouldn’t have met if it weren’t for him.”

  She snorted derisively. “I’ll be sure to send him a wedding invitation.” She realized belatedly what that implied and she cleared her throat awkwardly. “Anyway, so now I’m a witch fighting demons, thanks to you.”

  “You’re welcome.” A hint of a smile touched her lips, which I counted as a victory. Then I messed it all up. “So why are you scared?”

  Her smile faded away and a haunted look pinched her face. “Because I can do this.” She raised her hand and black flames silently danced around her fingertips. “Because I killed a demon behind the library and drove one off in my back yard and fought another one in a warehouse.”

  “It’s almost over,” I assured her, hoping that was true. “You won’t have to fight them for much longer.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to stop fighting them. I like hurting them. I want to keep hurting them. I want to kill demons until there aren’t any left.” She squeezed her fingers into a fist, extinguishing the flames. “These powers are stronger than I am. I feel my life draining out of me when I use them but I can’t stop. If Susie hadn’t killed that demon when she did –” She took a shaky breath and sat up, setting her pillow aside. She looked very small and vulnerable as she looked up at me.

  “I’m scared, Peter,” she said. “I’m scared that I’ll accidentally kill someone, like I almost killed you last night. I’m scared that I won’t be able to stop in the next battle and I’ll just fall over dead. I’m scared that I’ll turn into a demon myself.”

  “You won’t,” I insisted. “We’ll help you.”

  “How?” she begged me plaintively. “How are you going to stop this?” She held up her hand again and dark shadows almost obscured it from view. “I have to concentrate to keep this from happening all the time. I can barely control it. If I fall asleep –”

  “But you can control it.” I walked over and grabbed her hand, feeling a crawling sensation over my skin before the shadows faded out a moment later. “See? You’re stronger than you think, Melissa,” I told her firmly. “You got through all that other stuff in your life, you’ll get through this too. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said reluctantly. She pulled her hand from mine and looked it over, front and back. The only sign of darkness now was her black nail polish. “I wish Mrs. Kendricks hadn’t given me these powers,” she said miserably.

  “Mrs. Kendricks?”

  “She opened my mind’s eye, remember?” She let a tiny black flame flicker on her fingertip for a moment before smothering it. “I don’t think she realized what would happen.”

  “Oh, um.” I cleared my throat. “That wasn’t her, actually. Well, it was the first time, but not the second.”

  Melissa eyed me doubtfully. “What are you talking about?”

  I looked around carefully but we were the only ones in her room, as far as I could tell. “Can you keep a secret?”

  20

  Swimsuits are a relatively modern invention. Although certain classical societies had swimsuit-like garments, people generally swam in the nude up until the last century or so, even in cultures that we consider prudish today. Of cours
e, men and women used to bathe and swim completely separate from one another, so this wasn’t as much of an issue back then as it is now.

  Clothing actually interferes with the act of swimming. Olympic swimmers have gotten measurably faster over the years, not just due to better training but to improvements in swimwear as well. Modern competitive swimsuits are form-fitting and slick, serving mostly to identify the swimmer’s country more than anything else. Waterproof bodypaint would pretty much accomplish the same thing and would probably bump up the television ratings quite a bit as well.

  The amount of fabric that goes into women’s swimsuits has been steadily shrinking over the years, to the point where a few strategically-placed postage stamps would be more modest. Men’s suits, on the other hand, have remained pretty much the same for decades, for which I’m eternally grateful. I much prefer keeping my appreciation of that nanobikini to myself, thank you very much.

  The pizza arrived an hour later, delivered by a taciturn old man who barely grunted a thanks for the generous tip I gave him. I wondered if Justin got himself fired for running off in the middle of his shift to see Ashley yesterday. Then I wondered if he managed to talk her into doing any of the things on his list. My imagination balked at that but I made a mental note to call him later and make sure everything was okay.

  I woke Susie up from her slumber as I passed the dining room and she stumbled after me into the kitchen, muttering something under her breath. Daraxandriel and Olivia were already there waiting for me, staring in rapt anticipation at the boxes in my hands, and Melissa appeared shortly afterwards, still looking anxious but at least a bit more rested.

  There wasn’t enough room around the kitchen table to fit everyone with all of the boxes and plates so I took my portion outside to the patio. Melissa followed me out, offering me one of the Cokes she brought, and we ate in silence, basking in the warm sunlight. After a while, though, I noticed her looking around warily.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, other than the damaged lawn from our battle with Sadraximbril.

  “Nothing,” she said, but she kept glancing out of the corner of her eye.

  “Are you looking for imps?” Near as I could tell, Lilixandriel’s demonic spies still hadn’t discovered Melissa’s house.

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “What, then?”

  Melissa hesitated and then leaned in close. “Do you think she’s watching us?” she whispered.

  “Who?”

  “You know, her.” She tapped the side of her head.

  Telling Melissa about Amy was supposed to reassure her that she wasn’t going crazy but it seemed to be having the opposite effect. Now she was depressed and paranoid. “If she was here, you wouldn’t know it,” I told her. “Don’t worry about her.”

  “But what if she decides to do something to us?”

  “She already did,” I pointed out.

  “I mean something else, something worse.” She bit her lip as she looked up at the clear blue sky, as if she expected to be hit by a meteor or something.

  “Then there’s probably nothing we can do about it. Look,” I took her hand to get her attention focused on me, “Amy’s our ace in the hole. If she’s as strong as she says, she’ll take out Lilith for us. We just need to hang on until she decides to do it. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly. Susie came out then, gnawing on a slice of double cheese pizza. She walked right past us as if we weren’t there, leaving the door open, and sat on the edge of the pool to dangle her legs in the water while she ate. “She has to be adopted,” Melissa observed doubtfully.

  “That’s my theory,” I sighed.

  Daraxandriel appeared in the doorway, Hawaiian pizza in one hand and her sword in the other. She surveyed the back yard and then joined us at the patio table. She set the blade across the table and proceeded to pick the pineapple bits off one by one, sucking them like candies.

  “Are you expecting trouble?” I asked, giving the sword a pointed glance.

  “Certes,” she replied around a mouthful of pineapple. “Lilixandriel is both canny and vindictive. We must e’er remain alert.”

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?” Melissa cautiously reached out to touch the sword hilt with her finger. “You’re like a ninja or something.”

  “Neen-jah?” Daraxandriel echoed doubtfully.

  “I think you mean samurai,” I told Melissa. “Ninjas aren’t sword fighters.”

  “Oh!” Daraxandriel brightened. “Akin to Lady Tamika?”

  “Who?” Melissa asked.

  “She’s a character in the Sapphire Crown books,” I explained. “She helped Inaki and Tohiro escape from Lord Shingen.”

  “Aye!” Daraxandriel nodded eagerly. “She is kin to –”

  “No, don’t tell me!” Olivia stood behind me with a plate of pepperoni slices in her hands. “I just started reading that series!”

  “’Tis not germane to the tale,” she argued. “Lady Tamika is merely –”

  “No spoilers,” I warned her sternly, pulling out a chair for Olivia to sit. “You didn’t like it when I threatened to tell you.”

  “Thank you.” Olivia carefully nudged the sword over to make room for her plate. “You’re really good with a sword, Dara,” she said. “You were all whoosh whoosh whoosh with it.” She brandished an imaginary blade and nearly knocked over my Coke. “I wish I could do that.”

  “I can give thee instruction,” Daraxandriel offered, “though we needs must acquire a suitable blade for thee.”

  “Really?” Olivia sounded eager and uncertain at the same time. “That would be so cool, except I’d be afraid of hurting someone.”

  “Isn’t that the whole point of doing it?” I observed dryly.

  “Well, yes, I suppose,” she admitted. Daraxandriel’s tail slithered across the tabletop to nudge her pizza with its tip and she pushed it away. “That’s mine,” she chided.

  “Mind thyself,” Daraxandriel told it sternly. “Thou art welcome to share in mine.” She moved the remnants of her slice closer to the edge of the table and her tail inspected it briefly before easing closer to Olivia.

  “Your tail doesn’t like the same kind of pizza you do?” Melissa asked dubiously.

  “It is most particular,” she sighed.

  “But it doesn’t even have a mouth!”

  Daraxandriel gave a What can you do? kind of shrug as Olivia picked up the end of her tail and set it further away from her plate. It immediately moved back and she pointed an admonishing forefinger at it.

  “Stop right there,” she told it firmly. “No begging at the table.” The tail sagged in disappointment and she sighed in resignation. “Maybe you can have some after I’m done.” It immediately perked up again and she patted its spade-shaped head. “That’s a good demon tail.”

  The tail arched and wriggled under Olivia’s touch like a puppy being scratched behind its ears and it pressed itself into her palm when she pulled back. “No, that’s enough for now,” she insisted, pushing it away carefully. “I’m trying to eat.” It nuzzled her hand insistently and she sighed with a shake of her head. “Okay, fine.” She stroked it slowly with one hand while she nibbled on her pizza with the other.

  “Thy touch is soothing in this heat,” Daraxandriel noted with an indulgent smile.

  “You think this is hot?” I asked her doubtfully. “You’re from Hell!”

  “Hell is not the fiery furnace thy tales declaim, Peter Simon Collins,” she retorted haughtily. “Leastwise not the whole of it,” she corrected herself. “The forges would melt the flesh from thy bones.”

  “Sounds like a typical Texas summer,” I said dryly.

  “Verily?” she asked in dismay. “Will thy sun truly burn still hotter than this?”

  “Verily,” I confirmed and Melissa nodded.

  “Such a barbarous place,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I am minded to – oh!” Her eyes opened wide and she str
aightened in her chair abruptly.

  “What’s wrong?” I looked around hurriedly but I didn’t see any demons rushing towards us.

  “Where is my tail?” she asked breathlessly. “What is it doing?”

  “It’s in my lap,” Olivia told her, surprised. “I’m just petting it.”

  “Thou shouldst cease –” Daraxandriel drew in a quick gasp and squirmed in her seat. “Thy ministrations – it is unused to such intimacy.” She closed her eyes with a shuddery sigh.

  “Are you okay, Dara?” I asked uneasily.

  “Aye!” she exclaimed quickly and unconvincingly. She leaned over and grabbed her tail, pulling it back and stuffing it down between her legs. She used both hands to hold it in place as it tried to escape and slowly her breathing returned to normal. It was hard to tell if she was flushed with her skin tone but it certainly seemed like it.

  Melissa leaned close to my ear. “Did Olivia just give Dara a handjob?” she asked incredulously.

  “It sure looked like it,” I whispered back.

  “You didn’t ever do that to her, did you?”

  “Her tail doesn’t like me,” I told her. “It won’t let me anywhere near it.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” Olivia asked worriedly.

  “Nay, nay, all is well,” Daraxandriel assured her, although she wouldn’t look at any of us. She cleared her throat and carefully freed up one hand to finish her pizza. Melissa and I exchanged an embarrassed glance and focused our attention on our plates.

  We ate in silence for a couple of minutes with Olivia eyeing us suspiciously the entire while and then she suddenly sat up with a shocked gasp.

  “Peter!” she exclaimed. “She’s doing it again!”