Devilish

by Maureen Johnson

  “I’m not stupid, Owen,” I said. “No. I didn’t tell them.”

  I brushed past him and threw myself into a chair near the space heater. I stared into the glowing orange coils inside the metal casing. It was like hell was already everywhere.

  “Brother Frank’s out sending a message to the order,” he said briskly. “We need to get to work. We lost time this morning while you were out.”

  He said it in just a slightly accusatory way, as if instead of calling my parents to assure them that I was alive, I’d gone and gotten a manicure.

  “Look, don’t you have a weapon or something?” I asked. “Some kind of magic water or something for fighting demons?”

  “It’s not Lord of the Rings,” he said. “Do you think things really work like that?”

  “Well, I didn’t think there were angels or demon hunters, either,” I said. “So forgive me for thinking you might have something useful, like the pointy stick of righteousness.”

  “The pointy stick probably wouldn’t do much good,” he said. “It’s not like you can kill her.”

  Kill her. Why hadn’t this occurred to me before? Why had it never crossed my mind to just kill her?

  “Why not?” I asked. “Why can’t I just kill her? Why can’t you just kill her?”

  He shook his head.

  “I can’t kill her and she can’t kill me because our sides have an agreement. We never directly get involved with each other. We’re like two countries with a border that we agree on. The battle is all about human souls. They want to consume them. We want to protect them. Those are the rules between us.”

  “But what about me?” I asked. “I don’t have those rules.”

  “You could try to kill her body, but that would be bad.”

  “Why is that bad?” I asked. “Why is killing the demon not something we want to do?”

  Owen shook his head.

  “There’s a demon expression—you go for the pearl, but you get the oyster shell too. The soul is the pearl, and the oyster shell is what it comes in, the body. Lanalee can only have one body at a time, but she can switch as many times as she likes. As long as she’s bought the soul, the body is hers. If you killed Lanalee, she could go right into your body. Up until midnight tonight, she has a valid contract on you. You’d lose instantly. Also, killing is wrong. Even killing demons.”

  “So we’re back to the contract.”

  “Right,” Owen said with a note of disgust. “I can’t believe this ends with kissing. I hate Lanalee … as much as I can hate anybody. Which I can’t, really. Which sucks. She’s doing this to get at me…. I know it.”

  “You think this is about you?” I said irritably.

  “I’m not saying it’s all about me. I’m just saying the kissing part is to get at me. She’s always trying to get at me. What does she mean by kissing?”

  He punched his fist into the air a few times for no clear reason. He looked so bothered by it that I felt sorry for him.

  “I think she means kissing,” I said.

  “But what does that mean? What’s the legal definition?”

  “Is there a legal definition?”

  “Well, it has to vary a little, right?” He ran his hand through his hair. “From culture to culture? Like, there’s French kissing….”

  “She didn’t specify tongue,” I said. “And the physical specifications don’t matter. It’s the motivation, and that we’ll never figure out.”

  “We could dare him,” he said. “Maybe he would do it as a dare.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “I’m just trying to think.”

  “You can talk about it all day, but you’re not Elton, so you don’t know what it would take to want to kiss me.”

  “Are you saying I don’t want to kiss you?” he asked. “I am a guy, no matter what it seems like.”

  “No,” I said. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Yes, you did,” he said plainly. “You wanted me to say that I would know exactly what it would take to want to kiss you. In fact …”

  “In fact, nothing,” I said.

  “I can’t kiss you,” he said.

  “What do you mean, can’t? And I don’t want you to.”

  An icy feeling had come over me. I had wanted him to. I’d wanted him to grab me and start making out with me wildly. I had no idea where the impulse had come from, but I was mortified that he had known it was there.

  “There are rules,” he said. “We can’t get involved.”

  “Owen,” I lied, “I did not want you to kiss me.”

  “Why do you just say the opposite of whatever someone else is saying?” he said. “Do you just have to be difficult?”

  “No. I just want to be clear.” Why was I lying? Why did I feel like I was on the verge of tears? Why was I having this fight when I should have been working feverishly on the problem?

  “You’re lying,” he said. “You can’t lie now, Jane. You have to tell the truth.”

  “I am not lying.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said. “I’m over a hundred years old. I know things.”

  “And stop saying that!” I said. “You don’t know. You’re as clueless as anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “Why won’t you just admit it?” he said.

  “Admit what? That you’re clueless? Fine! You’re clueless. How do I know this? Well, Mr. 116, we’ve been working on this problem for a while now and have come up with nothing. You can’t save me.”

  Owen looked stung.

  “The day’s not over,” he said. “You should get yourself ready. I’ll keep working.”

  thirty-four

  While he was out, Brother Frank had gotten the “black and whites” I needed for the event. He returned to the house with a pair of the most shapeless black pants I’d ever seen, but they fit me. The shirt was oversized and puffed out when I tried to tuck it in, as I was told I had to. The overall effect was a little less dressy, a little more pirate-y than I had hoped for.

  Touchingly, he’d also made an attempt to get me makeup, so I was given a bag of bright red lipsticks, blue eye shadows, an under-eye cover, cotton-candy-pink blush, and what he probably thought was mascara but was actually purple liquid eyeliner. I did the best I could with this, but I just ended up looking like a stripper dressed as a pirate. I washed my face and went back to zero.

  There I was, reflected in all my glory. Short, badly dressed, with a face rubbed half raw. Blond hair looking a bit drier than normal.

  The afternoon at the house was passed in near-total silence. Brother Frank sat on one side of the living room and Owen sat on the other. They occasionally asked each other questions like, “What does act two-twenty say about holy water?” and, “Do you think we could pull the Verona classic?” I was of no use at all.

  When it was time to go, Owen came with me. Brother Frank gave me a tight hug.

  “Keep strong,” he said. “I’m going to meet with other members of the order. We have six hours, Jane. That’s a long time.”

  Lanalee was sitting in the lobby of the Biltmore, looking right at home with the opulent leathers and Oriental rugs. She had perched herself on a fat sofa and was popping candy corns from a bag.

  As I approached, she waved us over.

  “Fantastic outfit, Spike! I adore it. Is it Versace? Stella McCartney? Goodwill? Salvation Army?”

  “It’s called catering,” I said.

  “Good for you. I knew you’d make it. That’s why you’re my champ. Hey, Owen. Can I have a few minutes with Jane?”

  “No way,” he said.

  “I’m not going to do anything to her,” she said. “Maybe we can work something out.”

  He looked at her with unveiled disgust.

  “Not a chance.”

  “Being fourteen and girl-less all these years has made you so uptight.” She sighed. “Didn’t you make any nice nookie with Jane? Oh, guess not. Rules are rules. Sorry I signed such a sexy little mama for my mark. Must have been har
d for you to resist the temptation. I never resist temptation. That’s why I always have such good skin, no matter what body I’m wearing. I’m full of happiness hormones. You must be full of hormones too….”

  “Shut up, Lanalee,” he said stiffly.

  “Nice place, huh?” Lanalee looked around fondly. “I used to come here every once in a while when this place was new. That’s why I suggested it. Actually, during the big stock market crash, you know, 1929, one of my guys jumped off the roof here.”

  “So,” I said, “who’s coming to this? Who was asked?”

  “Lots of people,” she said. “Everyone with potential. I like to start things right. It’s going to be a big party. The start of something big—and it all starts with you.”

  She reached into her purse and removed the heart-shaped perfume bottle.

  “It’ll be fun,” she said. “Think of it this way—it’s like you’re going to be a genie. You just never come out. This is nice perfume, too. There has to be a little still in there. You’ll get to know the smell, I guess.”

  She took off the stopper, sniffed a little, then replaced it and nodded.

  “There’s a little left. I bought this at Macy’s in New York around then. I think 1934. But I’ve got lots of bottles. The oldest is one from when I was little. It’s from 1838. I have a cocktail waitress in there. I made her into a Broadway star. I thought she deserved a special bottle since she was a celebrity. But this one—this was always my favorite. That’s why I kept it for last. See? I really like you!”

  She was obviously doing this I’m-two-hundred-years-old-and-I–keep-people-in-bottles thing to freak me out. To be honest, it was working.

  I steeled myself by staring at the large flat-screen monitor that showed all the flight times in and out of the Providence airport. That was my reality—the one with airplanes and computer screens and things like that. At least it was for five more hours. And then I was going to squeeze into a purple bottle for all eternity.

  “You aren’t going to be so smug later,” Owen said.

  “Oh, shut up.” Lanalee picked through her candy. “You couldn’t make your way out of a locked grocery store, so you’re definitely not going to squeeze out of a binding contract. So spare me the alpha male. You may, however, have a piece of my delicious candy corn. I can’t get enough of this stuff. It’s just sugar and artificial coloring—my favorite foods.”

  Lanalee held out a handful of candy. Owen stiffened a bit at the remark about the grocery store but didn’t budge from his spot on the edge of the carpet.

  “Oh, look!” she cooed. “My favorite girl is here. Now we can really get started.”

  I caught Allison’s reflection in a mirror over the fireplace, and I didn’t really want to turn to get the full effect. But Elton was with her, so I had to show a good face. She looked better than any human outside of a spy film should. Her dress was a flawless black satin, not so much fitted as spun around her—with a fine webbing of black netting around her shoulders. She wore a black velvet choker with a single red stone in the middle. And there was Elton, in a charcoal pin-striped suit and a cream-colored shirt. He nodded to me and looked down at the floor, away from my catering uniform.

  “We should go up,” he said.

  “Go ahead,” Lanalee said. “I’m right behind you!”

  I didn’t so much as get a backward glance.

  “I don’t want to make you late, Jane,” Lanalee said, getting up. “I’m sure you have things to do. Napkins to fold and spoons to polish. Better hurry or they might not let you stay!”

  “Come on,” Owen said. “Don’t let her get to you. She’s just trying to distract you so you can’t think clearly. Ignore her.”

  “She’s hard to ignore.”

  “You learn,” he said. “Over time. You learn.”

  thirty-five

  I arrived upstairs through a series of stark, padded elevators and dim stairwells, finally reaching the very top floor. I managed to check in with Carbo. He was easy enough to find. Joan told me that he was six-foot five and had a shaved head. I was given a water pitcher. Water glass filling was my duty for the night. I set the pitcher down the moment I went through the kitchen doors into the grand ballroom, and I didn’t touch it again.

  It was a remarkable sight. This was the highest floor, overlooking all of Providence. Security was tight, so Owen came up as well but didn’t go into the ballroom. He stayed outside in the hallway. Invitations were scrutinized at the door by a massive woman in a blue sequined gown. She held them up to a candlelight and scratched at them with her nails. A few people tried to get in with fake ones. The woman spotted these instantly and snapped her fingers, two thick guys folded in from either side of the door, and the pretenders scrambled.

  The room was lit entirely by candles, and there was a guy (not a staff member) dressed in an old footman’s outfit with a powdered wig who watched over them with a long snuffer on a pole. Every table was draped in deep maroon cloths, and each place was set with fine, intricately patterned silver. Several dozen flower arrangements were situated around the room—bundles of lilies and silver-white roses. A chef grilled up blood-rare steaks. A massive ice sculpture of a poodle stood in the center of a table heavily laden with hundreds and hundreds of delicately frosted cupcakes.

  Mingling with the group of St. Teresa’s kids and Sebastianites were maybe two dozen other people. I recognized many of them from my strange dream. Here they were, in the flesh, just as languid and gorgeous. His Assyrian Majesty was there, dressed in a long black robe with heavy lapis accessories. He was keeping to himself in the corner, quietly mumbling and poking his ringed finger into his drink. The others were much more social. None of them seemed to find it strange in the least that they were at some kind of high school prom, and they spread themselves through the crowd freely. David, dressed in a red smoking jacket, was poured over three plush chairs, completely prone. Several large poodles had free run of the place but most of the time were napping on massive velvet cushions under the window.

  And, of course, my old friend Mr. Fields was there. He was dressed in a tuxedo with tails, a white tie, and a top hat.

  “Jane!” he said, running up to me. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be getting settled in your room at school. But this can’t really be missed, can it? It’s marvelous, isn’t it? Everyone’s here! And you look wonderful, I might add.”

  An obvious lie, but he seemed to mean it. He was a friendly demon.

  “Claris has been talking about you without pause,” he said. “You must come over and say hello.”

  “Maybe later,” I said. “I’m working.”

  The A3 strutted in side by side, and Lanalee welcomed them with open arms and swiftly guided them to a corner where they were warmly greeted by a group of tall women in red bodysuits who I vaguely recognized as being some English pop group. They seemed utterly at ease with Lanalee, awed by their surroundings.

  It was amazing to me just how little time it took for my classmates to get used to my new role. Few of them even noticed me in my misshapen uniform. I was just there, like the chairs or the wall.

  Well, except for Allison and Owen. They looked at me constantly. Elton didn’t look over at all. It didn’t help that Allison kept dragging him up to do every single dance. She made him dance the time warp. If I didn’t believe the demonic thing before then, I believed it after seeing her prodding Elton to jump to the left and step to the right … the whole thing.

  In my hell, there would be much time warping. We would probably do it before breakfast.

  At eleven, when the dinner had been cleared away, there was a loud popping of corks. Then, with a bang and a loud cheer, a banner was dropped down from the magnificent ceiling that read: YOU HAVE BEEN ASKED. And the person holding the velvet rope that released the sign? Allison—looking magnificent and surrounded by an applauding and approving crowd of both friends and strangers.

  I rejoined Owen in the hallway. He was staring out the window, down the
side of the building, to the street below.

  “Just say it again,” he said, pressing his forehead against the window. “What was the bet?”

  “I’ve told you. She said that Elton has to give me a kiss. It has to be Elton who gives it to me. I can’t jump on him or anything.”

  Many stories below us, costumed adults were making their way to parties in town. “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” came thundering from inside the ballroom.

  “DJs are from the other side,” I said. “Right?”

  “Yeah, a lot of them are,” he said. “Especially the ones who do proms and weddings. How’d you know?”

  “Just a guess. Anyone who tries to force other people into having fun like that … has to be evil.”

  “It’s an entry-level position.”

  I turned to the window and watched the grown-up trick-or-treaters with him. A pack of adults staggered along, all in rabbit costumes.

  “I’ll miss this place,” I said. “I’ll bet people don’t dress like rabbits in hell. Or maybe they do. Maybe we’ll have to.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Let’s just admit it. I lost. Don’t worry about it. You tried.”

  “Stop it. I have to think. I just have to think. I’ll be back.”

  He walked away, gripping his head. I went back inside to circle the room. Lanalee drew herself away from the snacks to join me.

  “It’s pathetic that you’re working here,” she said, offering me a cupcake, which I waved away.

  “We do what we have to.”

  “I know why you’re doing it,” she said. “I just don’t like to see you serving anyone. Let me explain something to you. Some people are strong, and some people are weak. Some people are smart, and some people are stupid. Doesn’t it make sense that the strong and the smart should control the stupid and the weak? The stupid and the weak work and make us things, buy what we sell them, believe the things we tell them. Why shouldn’t it be that way?”

  “You’re saying some people are useless?” I asked.

  “Not useless,” she said. “Usually good for work. But useless for anything else. And don’t give me that crap about everyone being special. Everyone is not special. Special means different, unique, a standout. Allison certainly wasn’t special. She was just sappy and needy. And look what I did for her!”