Revenge of the Evil Librarian

by Michelle Knudsen

  “Ryan, please. Just . . . just let me explain.”

  He shakes his head. “No. I can’t . . . I need some time, Cyn. I just can’t deal with you right now.”

  Then he walks away.

  With Jules.

  They are still holding hands.

  I sit there on the floor, still shaking from the whole demon-portal-struggle-almost-dying thing, looking after them.

  “I . . . possibly owe you an apology,” Peter says.

  I turn my head to look back at him. “What?” I am feeling . . . very confused. And immensely unhappy.

  Peter comes over to sit across from me on the floor.

  I’m still thinking about Ryan. “He didn’t even ask about the demon that came back with me,” I say. “Did you all not see it? Giant spider-bull-bug thing? Hissed at us and ran off into the night?”

  “We saw,” Peter says gently. He reaches out and pats my leg in what I assume is supposed to be a comforting manner. “I think your lover boy was too preoccupied with his other concerns to really take that in, though.”

  “Other concerns?” I feel like my brain is broken. And also my heart.

  “So, I didn’t actually realize that you hadn’t told him about your deal with the demoness.”

  I stare at him mournfully. “You told him? About the two more times?”

  Peter looks uncomfortable. “Well, he came looking for you, asking if I knew where you were. He mentioned Aaron’s visit, and . . . and I said I assumed the demoness must have summoned you back for one of those return visits. It became immediately clear that he had no idea what I was talking about, but he wouldn’t let it go until I explained.”

  “And you couldn’t have made something up?”

  Peter blinks, offended. “Hey, it’s not my fault you lied to him all this time. Besides, it was too late for that. I’d already said enough that he wasn’t going to settle for anything but the truth.”

  “How . . . why were you all here, right here, when I came back? How did you know?”

  “I could feel it, the portal approaching. I sent Hector to get Ryan, figuring he’d want to know, and when he showed up, he had Jules with him. I guess he’d been spilling his heart to her about you or whatever when Hector went to find him.”

  Ow. I look hard at Peter. “Thanks for softening the blow.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t think you two belong together, anyway. He’s too . . . uptight for you. You are not a girl who always plays by the rules. Ryan . . . is like a walking rulebook.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Sure it is. And I’m sure it’s one of the many things you like about him. He’s gorgeous, he’s smart, he’s a good guy. He does the right thing whenever possible. But I’m not sure that’s really what you need.”

  I laugh without any humor whatsoever. “Oh, and I suppose you know what I do need? Is it a deceitful demon who takes advantage of everyone around him?”

  He jerks back. “Hey, where did that come from? I only took advantage of your presence in the demon world. Well, and our theater connection, to follow you to camp. I did what I had to do to get what I want. Same as you. You were willing to do anything to save your friend. No matter the consequences.”

  I flinch at the repetition of Ryan’s phrase from earlier.

  “That’s different. I was trying to save Annie. You’re just trying to be famous.”

  He looks at me. “You know that’s not true. That’s not what it’s about for me.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Cyn, please.” He reaches forward and takes my hand. I feel the demon-spark and try to pull away, but he holds on, staring at me intently. “You’re the only one who can really understand. I know you’re hurt and angry right now. But don’t shut me out. You need me, especially now. And I need you. To finish this show and make it awesome and help me start to prove myself. And I need you to understand, because no one else does. You know it’s not the fame I’m after, although, sure, I’m planning to enjoy that part, too. But it’s the actual work that I want. The doing. The creating and breathing life into stories and working with sets and actors and music and lyrics and everything that makes musical theater the magical thing that it is. I crossed a whole world to find this. It’s what I’m meant for, what I want more than anything. And you know. You know what that’s like.”

  He’s right; I do know. And I do understand. It’s still different from what I was doing, saving my best friend . . . but it’s not superficial. It’s real. It’s what he needs to go after.

  No matter the consequences.

  “But, yeah,” he goes on, “now that you mention it, I do think I know what you need. I think you need someone who understands what it’s like to want something so much that you’ll do anything to get it.”

  “Not anything,” I say. “I have limits.”

  “Fine. Not anything. But anything that doesn’t completely shatter the boundaries of your moral code. And your moral code is . . . pretty flexible, from what I’ve seen so far.”

  I don’t say anything. I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. I should be going after Ryan. Or going after that thing that came back from the demon world with me. Or punching Jules in the face. But I don’t quite feel up to dealing with any of it right now.

  Unfortunately, I don’t think not-dealing is really an available option.

  “We need to do something about that demon,” I tell Peter.

  “Hector’s following it. He’ll let me know if he finds out anything useful. But for now I suspect it will need somewhere to hole up and get settled before it can cause any real trouble. Traveling like that takes a lot out of a demon. Just being here in your world takes a lot out of us at first. It’s going to be weak and want to regain some strength before doing anything, trust me.”

  “Well, so that’s why we should go after it now! While it’s weak!”

  “And what? Kill it? How are we going to do that?”

  I glare at him. “What kind of demon are you? I mean, seriously, don’t you retain any demon knowledge? Don’t you know how to kill another demon? Or at least send him back where he came from? Are you any goddamn use at all?”

  “Well,” Peter says after a moment. “That seemed uncalled for.”

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s entirely called for. You need to start pulling your weight around here. You’re the resident demon expert. You swear that you’re not evil. So prove it. Helps us find the demon that killed Jeremy, and help us send that new demon back where it came from.”

  “Who’s us in this scenario, Cyn? I’m not so sure Ryan is really on your team anymore.”

  “Of course he is,” I say. “He might be pissed at me, but he wouldn’t just turn his back on everything.”

  Peter looks unconvinced, but he doesn’t say so. “Let me think on it. I might have some ideas. But you should know . . . I can’t just go after the other demons and smite them with my awesome demon power.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I don’t have that kind of awesome demon power, Cyn. I’m not physically strong in that way. Not on a demon scale. We’re going to have to find some other way to bring them down.”

  Wonderful.

  “Fine. In the meantime, I’m going to bed. What time is it, anyway?”

  “Late. You should be careful not to get caught if you don’t want to get in trouble for being out after hours.”

  I laugh for real this time. “It’s hard to feel really concerned about that right now.”

  Peter smiles one of his charming smiles back at me. “Understandable.”

  “I asked Aaron about breaking the tether,” I say, abruptly remembering. “He sounded like he was making progress, but then these horrible demons attacked . . .”

  I suddenly remember him putting something in my pocket before I left. I look down and see a small pair of what look like kitchen shears sticking out of my pants. I pull them out.

  “Hey,” Peter says. “Did Aaron give you that?”


  “Yes. He slipped it into my pants right before the demoness sent me back.”

  Peter bites back a laugh, and I roll my eyes. Boys. “Into my pocket, moron. Do you know what it is?”

  “Your pocket?” he asks, still grinning.

  “This,” I say, holding up the shears.

  He gets serious again. “Yes, I think I do, actually.” He reaches out a hand. “May I?”

  I hand him the shears.

  “Huh. Yes . . . I think this is exactly what we need. He’s done something. . . . I should be able to use these to break the tether on both sides, even if someone’s still trying to stop me.” He looks back at me. “Why would he do this? Did you make a deal with him?”

  I think back, suddenly alarmed. Did I? “I’m pretty sure I just asked him if he could help. I didn’t promise anything in return.”

  “Hmm. That’s unlike him. But maybe he figured he’d be able to call in the favor later on. Or maybe he meant to bargain with you and then didn’t get a chance. In any case . . . I’m going to try these out.”

  “Right now?”

  “No time like the present!”

  He stands up and then squints down, looking at something I can’t see. Then, very carefully, he opens the shears and snaps them closed again a few inches from his abdomen. I feel a strange sense of release.

  “You did it,” I say. “That was the tether breaking, wasn’t it?”

  “One side,” he says. “Now for the other . . .”

  He repeats the gesture on the other side of his body. I don’t feel anything this time, but his face relaxes into an expression of pure relief. “It’s done. I’m free. Forever.” He smiles at me again, and this time the smile is so happy and genuine that it’s impossible not to smile back.

  “Well, whatever his reasons were, I’m glad Aaron was able to help,” I say.

  “Me, too,” Peter agrees. “Thank you, Cyn. For asking him.”

  I shrug. “Well, it’s not like I wanted to be stuck with you hanging around for the rest of my life.”

  His smile twists. “Of course not.”

  Then he drops to the ground in front of me. “Let me thank you properly, if you don’t mind.”

  Before I can ask what he’s talking about, he leans forward and kisses me.

  This is not the slow, delicate, delicious first kiss I had with Ryan. This is . . . fast. And determined. And . . . overpowering. I know I should be pulling away — Old Cyn is beside herself with hysterical objections in the back of my brain — but the feelings from my dream have taken over and his mouth is warm and soft and hard and insistent and for at least a few very long seconds I just . . . kiss him back.

  His hand reaches out to touch my face and I feel the tiny shocks of contact along my skin. I catch myself making a small sound of pleasure in response and Peter hears it, too, because suddenly he pulls me even tighter against him, and his hand is gripping my hair and his tongue is in my mouth and he’s right, I do want to kiss him, I do like him, I don’t want to stop, I . . .

  “No,” I say, pulling back. “No, no. We can’t do this. I — I can’t.”

  He stops at once, letting me go, and sits back on the ground. “Okay.”

  We’re both shaking a little from the experience, though. It was . . . intense. On both sides, apparently.

  “Did you make me dream about you?” I ask him after a minute.

  He looks surprised, and I immediately curse myself.

  “You dreamed about me?” he asks, smiling again. “What did we do in this dream?”

  “Never mind. Shut up.”

  He lets it go, but he’s still smiling. I can feel my face flushing uncontrollably.

  “This . . . that . . .” I gesture back and forth between us. “That can’t happen again. Understand? Ryan may hate me right now, but I’m still his girlfriend, and I’m going to fix things between us, and we’re going to be all right. And you are not going to screw that up for me. Got it?”

  He twists his mouth to one side, then nods. “Okay. Until and unless you tell me otherwise.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Fine. But I don’t think you really need my help to screw things up, Cyn. I’m pretty sure that’s happening quite effectively all on its own.”

  “Did you not hear me say shut up?”

  He starts to give me another charming smile, then stops abruptly.

  “Oh,” he says. “That’s not good.”

  “What?” I am instantly on alert.

  “Huh,” he says, looking down at the kitchen shears, which he had placed on the ground beside him sometime during the kissing.

  “So . . . the tether is indeed broken,” he says slowly. “But . . . remember that other demon who used the tether to get here and do bad things?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I . . . I wasn’t thinking. He’s still here. On this side. And now that the tether is broken, there’s no immediate way to send him back.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Peter looks at me, shamefaced.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. I should have waited until we forced him back through to the other side. I was so excited to break it . . .” He swallows anxiously. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  “Okay,” I say, although it’s not, of course. “Okay, well . . . what do we do about it?”

  “I don’t know! I need . . . I need to think. And maybe to consult some friends.”

  This takes me by surprise. “You have friends? I mean besides Hector?”

  “Yes, I have friends,” he says a little defensively. “I mean, not the kind of friends I’m on the phone with every night or having sleepovers with and braiding one another’s hair, but I have certain people I can turn to in an emergency. Some of them may know what we can do.”

  “And what do I do in the meantime?”

  “Get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow, trying to fix your broken relationship, remember?”

  I remember. As Peter starts to leave, I also remember that there’s a huge spider-bull-bug demon running around out there in the night somewhere, and that it’s kind of a long walk back to bunk 6.

  “Hey, Peter, wait! Will you . . . will you walk me back? Big, scary demons out there tonight, you know?”

  He hesitates, and at first I’m afraid he’s going to say no. But then he doesn’t.

  “Sure,” he says. “Come on.”

  We head out of the theater together and into the dark starlit night.

  I know there’s no reason to think being inside my bunk will keep me safe, but I tell myself that the demon will want to remain in hiding and not draw attention by killing me in the middle of a bunkful of girls. Demons, I amend silently. Plural. Why do they always seem to multiply like that?

  There’s a letter waiting for me on my bed, and I can tell it’s from Annie even in the nearly total absence of light (glow-in-the-dark cat stickers), but I decide to save it for the morning. I’m in no mood to appreciate anything right now, not even an Annie letter.

  Unsurprisingly, despite the lateness of the hour, I am not feeling at all sleepy. Exhausted, yes, physically and emotionally, but still too worked up on all levels to feel anywhere close to falling asleep. I should be thinking about the demons, and what to do about them. Instead, I think about Ryan. Ryan, who is really, really mad at me. Who is now aware of the full extent of the lying, and possibly hates me for it, and who has turned to lovely, concerned Jules to comfort him in his hour of need.

  I can’t get the image of them walking off, hand in hand, out of my mind.

  Hypocrite, Old Cyn hisses at me silently.

  Yeah. She’s kind of got me there.

  I kissed Peter. And lying here in the dark, alone with my thoughts, I cannot pretend that I didn’t enjoy it. I did enjoy it. Until the guilt and enough presence of mind to make me stop kicked in, I enjoyed it a whole lot. I suspect this makes me a horrible person. I have a boyfriend, an amazing boyfriend that I love, who has been with me through some of the worst experience
s of my entire life, and instead of running after him to apologize and beg his forgiveness for the lying (about which he is one hundred percent totally justified in feeling angry and betrayed), I stay behind and make out with the demon who started all this trouble in the first place.

  Well . . . I suppose to be fair, Peter didn’t really start all this trouble. Mr. Gabriel started all this trouble. Peter just took advantage of my being in the demon world. But if he hadn’t hitchhiked back with me, the second demon would never have shown up. I guess I can’t blame the third demon on him, though. I don’t know who to blame for that one. I guess me, since I’m the one who made the deal with the demoness to go back again to the demon world two more times. But I had to do that to save Annie. Which I had to do because Mr. Gabriel stole her mind and heart and then her whole physical body.

  I realize that the lyrics to “Your Fault” from Into the Woods are spiraling through my head now, and that is never going to help me get to sleep. And the witch makes a good point in “Last Midnight” (her song in response to the flurry of accusations) about whether figuring out who to blame is really what’s most important in a crisis.

  So, okay. Stop worrying about whose fault everything is and try to use your brainpower for something productive, Cyn. What can you do to fix things? To at least start fixing them, anyway.

  I’m not sure there’s anything I really can do on my own about the demons. I have to rely on Peter to gather information on that front. And if he can’t . . . well, he’s been in contact with Aaron. Maybe he’ll know how we can summon Aaron back here and see whether he or the demoness would be willing to help us somehow.

  Ryan will not be excited about that plan, though. Ryan is already very much not excited about all of this. Not that I can blame him. I would be very happy to listen to alternate ideas regarding our best course of action if he has any, but I doubt he will. I doubt he wants to think about any of this at all.

  I can try to do something about him being mad at me. Ryan is a reasonable person when he’s not in the throes of anger, and tomorrow I will talk to him and try to explain why I didn’t tell him about the extra demon-world trips. I know my excuses are not good ones, but . . . acknowledging that and apologizing should still count for something, shouldn’t it?