Revenge of the Evil Librarian

by Michelle Knudsen

  “Well, I’m not. But he’s not like Mr. Gabriel. He’s not a bad guy. And he’s not the enemy.”

  “I know. I do. But I still don’t like him. He’s . . . smarmy.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t believe you just said smarmy. Who even says that?”

  “When the shoe fits . . .”

  “Who says that either? What’s gotten into you lately?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. He puts an arm around me and pulls me in for a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m being an ass. I mean, aside from being legitimately concerned about demons and things, which you have to admit is not unreasonable. But I didn’t mean to blow up at you. I’m just getting anxious about lines and stuff. We’re supposed to be off book in a few days, and I’m nowhere near ready.”

  I make him wait several seconds before I hug him back. “Well . . . stop being an ass and I’ll run lines with you.”

  “Deal.”

  “Good.”

  The next morning at rehearsal, I watch Peter as he inspects the revised sketches I worked on before bed. Ryan’s crazy. Peter likes to flirt, but he likes to flirt with everyone. Boys, girls, counselors, even that asshole Michael. He just likes the attention, I think. He isn’t really interested in anything other than his show and getting the tether broken as soon as he finishes figuring out how. I am a bit surprised that he’s not more eager about that, but I guess there’s really no rush. . . . It’s not like he’s going anywhere until after the show is over. And it doesn’t seem to be affecting anything on my end. I can’t feel it, and the range it lets him get from me is bigger than the boundaries of camp, or close enough.

  I don’t think I can feel it, anyway. I mean other than the corner-of-the-eye thing. Unless . . . unless maybe it’s also the thing that’s making me feel those uncomfortable fluttery feelings when he smiles at me.

  Or is causing the nightmares.

  Suddenly Peter and the tether have my full attention.

  “Is the tether thing having any effect on me?” I ask.

  He looks up. “What do you mean?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. It connects you to me, right? So is it . . . doing anything to me?”

  His mouth tilts up on one side. “Why? Do you feel like it’s doing something to you? Making you want to spend more time around me, perhaps?”

  “Is that going to happen?”

  “Are you sure it’s not happening already?”

  “Peter. Quit it. I’m being serious.”

  He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be aware of it at all. It’s not made of demonic energy — you’d be able to see it like you see halos otherwise. It’s more like . . . well, you saw Aaron summon his demoness, right? Inside a containment diagram?”

  “Yes, although he was a little light on the containment aspect.”

  Peter laughs. “Yeah, that’s Aaron. Anyway, the tether is kind of like a big invisible containment diagram, with you as the focal point. So it moves around with you, and I have to stay within its boundaries wherever it goes.”

  “But there’s a way to break it? You’re sure?”

  “Yes. I just . . . haven’t quite figured it out yet. I arranged things in a bit of a hurry and hadn’t really planned ahead for everything. But I will figure it out, I promise. Before camp is over, for sure.”

  “So at the end of the summer we can go our separate ways? Forever?”

  He looks wounded. “Yes, although I don’t know why you’re quite so eager to be rid of me. We work really well together. We could . . . do it again, you know. I could come to your school, be a transferred senior or whatever . . .”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “We have already had our fill of demons at school, thank you very much.”

  “But I’m not like those other demons. I’m different. You like me.”

  I stare at him. “No I don’t!”

  “You don’t like me?” He flashes me the wounded look again. It is a confusing mix of melodrama and apparent sincerity.

  “I don’t . . . I don’t dislike you. I don’t feel anything for you. I just don’t want any more demons in my life. Surely you can understand that.”

  He looks at me silently for a moment. “But what if I want to be in your life?”

  “Well, we can’t always have what we want, can we? And besides, you don’t like me. You just like messing with me. You like stirring up trouble. But you can find someone else to stir up trouble for. The world is a big place. Lots of options out there.”

  “True. But you . . . you’re special, Cyn. I can’t use my demonic powers on you. But I also don’t have to hide what I am. With anyone else, I’d have to pretend to be human all the time.”

  “You’ll get used to it. Are you done yet? Sketches approved? I would like to get back to work.”

  “It’s great. I love everything,” he says.

  “Good,” I say, reaching for my notebook. He doesn’t let go.

  “Let go,” I say.

  He smiles at me instead. “Make me.”

  “I don’t have time for your nonsense, Peter. Let go.”

  He leans closer. “Or what?”

  “Peter, come on.” We’re alone in the alcove behind the stage. “If you’re trying to use your demony charms on me, it’s pointless, remember? I have natural resistance.”

  “Only to my demon magic. Not to my magical personality.” He takes a step closer.

  I laugh before I can help it. “Trust me. I’m resistant to that, too.”

  His hand creeps forward until it’s touching mine on the edge of the notebook. “Are you sure?”

  I snatch my hand away, but not before I feel a tiny electric shock. “Yes! Ew! Cut it out.”

  He sighs and holds out the book. “Fine. Take your lovely sketches and go.”

  “Thank you.”

  I flee for the workroom, where the rest of my crew is. I can feel his eyes on my back, but I don’t turn around.

  That night, I dream about Peter. Not nightmares, which is a nice change, but . . . not very comfortable dreams, either. In the dreams I find him very attractive. I mean, he is attractive, that’s not really debatable, but in the dreams I feel attracted to him. Very attracted. My brain replays the scene from earlier today, and this time when he touches my hand I don’t pull away. I let him come closer.

  He sets the notebook down and takes hold of my wrists, backing me gently against the wall and coming closer still. I look into his bright-blue eyes, and I don’t want to look away.

  “You do like me,” he says.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  He puts his head next to mine, his breath tickling my neck. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

  “Yes.” The word barely makes a sound. He takes one hand and brushes the hair back from my face, and his fingers deliver tiny electric shocks where they touch my skin.

  “Yes what?” he asks softly, holding my gaze.

  “Yes, I like you.”

  “Do you like when I touch you?” He runs his fingers gently along the edge of my throat.

  “Yes.” Still just a whisper.

  “Do you want me to kiss you?”

  No, Old Cyn says in the back of my brain. No no no! You want Ryan to kiss you. Not Peter! PETER IS NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND!

  I know, I tell her. But . . . I want . . .

  No! she says again.

  “Yes,” I tell Peter.

  He leans toward me, and I close my eyes, and it feels like a small eternity before his lips finally brush mine. The tingly electricity this time shoots all the way down to my toes.

  I jerk awake, eyes flying open, half expecting to find Peter there in my bed with me.

  That was . . . very realistic.

  Also . . . just a dream. Like the nightmares. Also like the nightmares, it does not mean anything. I do not want to kiss Peter. Just like Mr. Gabriel is not really here, back from the dead, to torment me. I have a lot going on, and my subconscious is working through its problems in my sleep
. It’s probably all very healthy for my psyche. Nothing to be concerned about.

  I close my eyes again, but it’s a long while before I can relax enough to fall back to sleep.

  At breakfast I act perfectly normal. Because it was just a dream, and it didn’t mean anything.

  After a while we become aware of some kind of quiet disturbance going on at the end of the dining hall. Steven walks over to where he makes the morning announcements, but something is clearly wrong. He’s usually full of energy and looks like he can’t wait to share whatever tonight’s evening activity is or remind us about care-package rules and regulations, but this morning he just looks tired and a little grim. Conversation dies down as everyone turns to look at him.

  “I have some disappointing news to tell you this morning, campers,” he says, getting right to the point. “Jeremy, who as you all know was directing the Lower Camp production of You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown, was called away from camp suddenly last night and won’t be able to return. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say it won’t be the same around here this summer without him. But assistant director Marlena will be taking over for him, and I know she’ll do a great job.”

  Steven steps away without making any other announcements, and a buzz of reaction begins among the campers. Belinda rushes over and squeezes in beside me at the table.

  “I heard that Jeremy didn’t even tell Steven he was leaving,” she says in the low, excited voice she uses for gossip sharing. “Just left a note. Super not cool. Steven was really pissed about it.”

  “I’ll bet,” Jules says. “That’s so weird, though. I wonder what happened.”

  “Family emergency?” someone suggests.

  Ryan and I lock eyes across the table. There’s no reason to be suspicious, and yet . . . family emergency was how our high school excused the sudden disappearance of Signor De Luca after Mr. Gabriel killed him.

  Jules notices our eye-locking. “Did you guys hear something else? Spill!”

  “No,” Ryan says. “I didn’t know anything about it until just now.”

  “Me neither,” I say. “I don’t think I’ve even seen Jeremy since the show announcements. He was the tall, skinny guy with the receding hairline, right?”

  “Yeah,” Maria says. “That’s him. He’s been working here for years. I can’t imagine he would have just abandoned the show unless something really awful happened.”

  It’s very difficult, but I manage not to look at Ryan again at that. But I’m sure he is also feeling a deep sense of certainty that something awful did happen.

  But I can’t really believe it was Peter. I look around, but I don’t see him anywhere.

  As soon as we can get away without it seeming too weird, Ryan pulls me outside. “You know it was Peter,” he says. “Had to be.”

  “I don’t know any such thing,” I tell him. “And neither do you.”

  He stares at me. “I can’t believe you’re defending him!”

  “Let’s . . . let’s just go talk to him, okay? Maybe there is some perfectly reasonable explanation. Maybe there really was a family emergency! They do happen, you know. That’s why everyone believed it about Signor De Luca.”

  Ryan makes a face, indicating how unlikely he thinks that is, but agrees to go with me.

  We race up to Blake, which seems the most likely place to find him.

  Peter’s smile freezes when he sees that Ryan is with me. “What’s he doing here?”

  “We need to talk,” I say without preamble. “Now.”

  The three of us head out a little ways into the woods. Peter looks back and forth between us. “What’s this about?”

  “I think you know what it’s about,” Ryan says.

  “Stop it, both of you,” I say. I turn to Peter. “What happened to Jeremy?”

  Peter looks blank. “Who’s Jeremy?”

  I give him an impatient glare. “Don’t play dumb. And don’t lie. Jeremy’s the counselor who suddenly and mysteriously disappeared last night.”

  Peter looks . . . not exactly surprised. But not exactly like he knows all about it, either.

  “Huh,” he says. “I — huh.”

  “What does that mean?” Ryan asks.

  A giant shape suddenly emerges from the surrounding trees.

  “Peter? Are they bothering you?”

  Ryan stares up at Hector. “Who the hell are you?”

  I glare at Peter. “What’s he doing here?”

  Ryan whips his head around to stare at me. “You know this . . . guy?”

  Oops. How did I not tell Ryan about Hector?

  “Everything’s fine, Hector,” Peter says. “We’re just talking.”

  “Hector is Peter’s . . . companion,” I tell Ryan apologetically. “I may have forgotten to mention him.”

  Ryan’s expression is not very pleased. “Forgotten to mention him. I see. Anything else you’ve forgotten to mention lately?”

  “Please,” I say. “I really just forgot. He hasn’t been an issue.”

  “He’s a gigantic demon sympathizer who apparently lurks around and watches Peter and anyone who talks to him! How can he not be an issue?”

  “Hector is not the problem!” I snap. Possibly more out of guilt than anger, because Ryan’s anything else comment was a bit too on the mark. But I’m certainly not going to go into the demon-world stuff now. “He just stands around in the shadows most of the time. Well, and he’s working backstage on Brigadoon. But we need to focus on Jeremy, remember?”

  Ryan glares at me a moment longer, then gives me a reluctant angry nod. But it’s clear that we will be continuing the Hector discussion at a later time. Yay.

  We all turn to look at Peter.

  He lets out a long, slow breath before he speaks. “Okay. So, first of all, no, I did not kill Jeremy. But . . .”

  “But you know who did?” Ryan asks.

  “Hush,” I say. “Just let him talk.”

  Peter smiles at me gratefully, which doesn’t help Ryan’s mood. I don’t smile back.

  “I don’t . . . exactly know who did, no. But I’m pretty sure someone did, that he didn’t actually just go home. And the reason I know this is because I have not been entirely one hundred percent honest with you, Cyn.”

  I can feel Ryan’s triumphant glare without even looking at him, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

  “About . . . ?” I prompt Peter instead.

  “The tether,” he says. “I didn’t lie, I just . . . didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

  “That’s still lying,” Ryan says. My heart twinges guiltily.

  “So tell me now,” I say.

  Peter looks around, in that way people do when they are trying to avoid getting to the point even when they know they can’t really avoid it. His eyes finally settle back on mine. “Okay. So, what I said about the tether working like a containment diagram is true. Mostly. I mean totally true, for me.”

  “But you’re the only one it affects. Aren’t you?”

  “Well . . . not exactly. The tether sort of has two parts. One part connects me to you. The other . . . connects me to the demon world. I can’t get all the way free of you or the demon world until we break the tether. And while it’s there . . . it’s . . . theoretically possible that someone else could use it to get from the demon world to this one.”

  I stare at him, unpleasant crampy feelings starting to manifest inside my stomach. “Are you saying there’s another demon tethered to me now?”

  “Well, no. Because that part of the tether really does only affect me. But I think another demon traveled along the first part of the tether and is now, um, here. On the loose. I knew someone was fighting me on the far end, trying to keep the tether in place, but I thought that was just because they didn’t want me to escape. I never thought . . .” He trails off and looks up at me earnestly. “I swear, I never thought there would be any danger to anyone but me.”

  “So basically what you’re saying,” Ryan says slowly, “is that you kind of
left the door open, and someone else came through?”

  “No! Well, okay. Yes. But it’s not like I was careless. I just couldn’t close the door all the way until the tether could be broken. And I can’t break it, not even with Cyn’s help, which is all I thought I’d need, because someone is holding it in place.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I ask.

  He gives me a condescending look. “Oh, because that would have been a good idea. It only would have made you more nervous about me, and about what else might happen. I wanted to just take care of it and not have to mention it at all. It’s not like there was anything you could have done. I thought that once I shook loose whoever was holding on to the other side, we could just, you know, proceed as planned. I was working on it. I just hadn’t exactly figured it out yet.”

  “So who came through?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I take a step closer to him. “Find out,” I say quietly. “Find out and figure out how we can make them go back.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll figure out how to make you go back.”

  “You can’t,” Peter says quickly. But something in his eyes makes me think maybe I can. He looked a little afraid there, just for a second. I store this knowledge away for later use, if needed.

  “Don’t you threaten Peter!” Hector rumbles, stepping closer.

  “Back off!” Ryan tells him, stepping closer, too.

  The woods are starting to feel very crowded.

  “Stop fighting!” I yell at everyone. “We all have the same problem here. We need to get rid of that other demon before it hurts anyone else.” I turn to Peter. “Is there anything else you know about what’s going on that you haven’t told us yet?”

  Peter hesitates, and I grab his shirt. “That’s a yes or no question,” I say, ignoring Hector’s shout of objection behind me. “You should not have to think that hard.”

  I let go before Hector is provoked to make me, but I don’t move away.

  “Okay, okay!” Peter says. “Sorry. I’m not used to full disclosure. It’s . . . not generally how demons operate.”