Interview with the Vixen

by Rebecca Barrow

  Veronica wants to say a lot of things, most of them involving cursing, but it’s clear to her that she’s beaten. Dilton has no weapon; she’s lost hers. They’re outnumbered, three vampires to her team’s one. And Archie—

  She heard what her dad said, loud and clear.

  Veronica jumps when she feels a pair of hands settle on her shoulders, but it’s her mother. “I suggest you run along now,” she says. “We’ll take good care of Archie, don’t you worry. As long as you stay out of our way, he stays alive. Doesn’t that seem like a reasonable deal?”

  She looks at Archie. “Sorry, Archiekins,” Veronica says softly, and she tries to believe that there’s forgiveness in his eyes, but maybe that’s just her guilt talking.

  She leaves him there, in the grip of her mother, her father, and Theodore, Dilton following, and as the two of them rush from the house, the anger she feels at Theodore Finch hardens into a righteous, burning-hot rage.

  He won this time, but she’ll come back for Archie.

  And next time, she’s not leaving without him.

  Whatever it takes.

  VERONICA IS SILENT on the drive back to Dilton’s.

  Well, silent on the outside. On the inside, her mind is yelling a thousand different things about the events that just took place, about the scene they’re fleeing from.

  So her parents aren’t completely lost to her. That’s a good thing. But they’re also completely in the grasp of a power-hungry ancient vampire.

  That’s pretty not good.

  And now they have Archie, and Veronica doesn’t doubt that Theodore meant exactly what he said. He won’t hesitate to kill Archie—or more accurately, to force her father or her mother into killing Archie. She’s torn, because that’s something she really doesn’t want to happen, but at the same time, she can’t take the risk of following Theodore’s instructions and leaving him there.

  So I either try to rescue him and risk him dying, or I leave him there … and risk him dying.

  Great choices.

  It’s getting dark by the time they pull up in front of Dilton’s house, and only then does Veronica look over at him. “Water gun?” she says.

  “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Dilton says, a little sheepish.

  Veronica cracks a small smile. “It was,” she said. “You just, uh … maybe we need to do a little training on those. Your fight skills leave something to be desired, Dilton.”

  “I’m big enough to admit that’s true.” He clears his throat. “So. Your parents.”

  “Yup,” Veronica says. “Not dead! Extremely not dead!” She pauses. “Okay, well, technically I guess they’re a little dead, being moroi and all. But that’s for sure not what I expected to see when I walked in there.”

  “At least they’re kind of alive, though,” Dilton says. “I mean, that’s a good thing, right? It means they’re not completely lost to you. You can get them back, Veronica.”

  She looks sideways at him. “Can I?” she says. “They’re completely under Theodore’s control. And he’s making them act like … super jerks. I mean, sure, they annoy me sometimes, and me and my dad don’t always get along, but they’re still my parents. Except he’s turning them into monsters, literally and emotionally. And taking Archie hostage? Threatening to kill him—permanently?” She shakes her head. “I just abandoned Archie there, and god, what if I never get to see him again, and I never—” Veronica stops. It feels petty somehow, irrelevant and self-centered, to be thinking about how Archie’s death will affect her. Their romance. How she’ll never get to kiss him ever again, or throw popcorn at him instead of watching a movie, or take him to prom and be crowned king and queen in front of everybody they know.

  But that’s what she’s thinking about. That’s what’s making her heart hurt right this moment, and that’s what will happen if Theodore gets his way.

  Dilton cuts the engine, and the sudden silence seems loud to Veronica. “Hey,” he says quietly. “I know he means a lot to you. I know what’s happening sucks. But I also know that you—we—didn’t leave him there by choice. You didn’t abandon him. And it’s not your fault you couldn’t take the strigoi out. You were outnumbered.”

  Veronica nods, but it still stings. Even after she’d been surprised by her parents, there’d been that moment when she thought she might pull it back. But of course, he’d seen right through her.

  “Theodore,” she says. “The strigoi. His name is Theodore Finch.”

  “And what does he want, exactly?” Dilton raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m assuming he’s following the villain handbook and told you all about his nefarious plot?”

  “Yeah, he villain-splained himself, all right,” Veronica says, rolling her eyes. “He told me he’s going to turn everybody in town so he can rule Riverdale. Well, actually—my mom is the one who said that. And she said that they agreed to this plan before he turned them, while they were still human. But I don’t think I believe that at all. I mean, yeah, they like being powerful, but they essentially run Riverdale already. So—”

  “What?”

  “I feel like that can’t be it,” Veronica says. “Say my parents did agree to this deal. That would mean that they effectively gave up their free will to serve under this guy. For what? So they can live forever?”

  “A lot of people would say yes to that,” Dilton says. “In terms of immortality, I’d say being a vampire ranks up there with finding the holy grail.”

  “And then … there’s me.” Veronica drums on her knees. “I can’t figure it out, Dilton. Why he’d make me a strigoi instead of a moroi. He could have had me under his control, too, but he chose not to. Did he just mess up? Or is there some bigger plan I’m not seeing?”

  Dilton’s quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, it’s thoughtful. “Could be,” he says. “Then again, it could be that there’s some kind of quota he needs to make. You know, gotta create one strigoi for every two moroi, something like that, or he’ll be in trouble with his vampire bosses.”

  It’s not even that funny, but Veronica laughs anyway, because she appreciates that Dilton’s trying to lighten things up a little. “Who knows,” she says when she’s stopped laughing. “But what I do know is that there’s no way we’re leaving Archie there with them.” She turns and grabs Dilton by the shoulders. “Time for a new plan.”

  CHERYL TURNS LEFT, then right, checking her lipstick in the mirror stuck to the inside of her locker. Perfect and pristine, as always.

  “Cheryl?”

  She doesn’t turn away from her reflection, but she doesn’t need to. She can see Betty Cooper’s worried little face over her shoulder in the mirror. “Betty,” she says. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  It’s Monday morning and Cheryl is back on track. Sure, she was feeling mopey on Friday night, but that was an eternity ago. Since then, she’s had a full-body massage, packaged up a bunch of old clothes she sold online, and used the money from the sale to make a not-insignificant donation to GLAAD. Now she’s back in the swing of things—today is tumbling practice, and she’s going to nail her double-full finally; she can feel it. And then the rest of the week, when she’s not back in the gym or scrolling Insta in class, is all about prep for the gala this Friday. She’s picked out a hot dress—red, of course, silk and vintage-inspired with delicate lace around the sharp V of the neckline—and the spiked heels to go with it. On Thursday she has her slot at the salon to get her nails fixed up and her face serumed to perfection, and then she’ll skip school Friday to go over to the hotel and make sure every little detail is perfect. Sure, her parents are technically in charge of the gala opening, but when it comes to décor and finishing touches, they have nothing on Cheryl.

  Back in the corridor, Betty’s still waiting, and Cheryl’s still bored.

  Cheryl stares at Betty in the mirror. “What? Is there something in my hair?”

  Betty shakes her head. “I was wondering—have you heard from Veronica?”

  “Me?” Cheryl fr
owns. “No. Why would I?” She and Veronica aren’t those kind of friends. More like frenemies, really: Cheryl was cheer captain last year, and Veronica won it this year. Veronica was center flier last year, and now Cheryl reigns up in the middle. The Lodges opened a new restaurant in the spring; the Blossoms will have their hotel to overshadow it starting this Friday. It’s just friendly competition, she thinks. Always good to have somebody snapping at your heels to make you want to be the best even more.

  Their frenemy status definitely has nothing to do with the fact that Cheryl is jealous of Betty and Veronica. Just because they’re thick as thieves and go almost everywhere together and do almost every little thing together. Probably tell each other all their secrets and all their dreams, too. Whatever. Doesn’t bother Cheryl at all.

  “It’s just that I last saw her when we left practice on Friday,” Betty’s saying, “and then I haven’t seen her all weekend. I haven’t heard from her at all, actually.”

  “Aw.” Cheryl slams her locker shut and turns finally, pinning Betty with her brown eyes. “Did you and your bestie get into a tiff? Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

  “I’m serious, Cheryl,” Betty says, and she twists her ponytail around her fingers. “It’s not like V to go so long without saying anything at all. I’m starting to worry about her.”

  Cheryl rolls her eyes. “She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. And I don’t know what went down between you two, but with your endless ‘We Love Archie!’ drama, I can’t say I’m surprised.” She brushes past Betty, maybe more of a push with her shoulder than she really meant. (Or maybe not.) “If she wanted to talk to you, then she would. Trust me, Betty. Don’t worry your pretty little head about Veronica Lodge.”

  The bell rings as Cheryl begins to walk away.

  “Fine,” Betty calls. “But I’m telling you, she won’t be at practice later.”

  “Good,” Cheryl calls back. “Then I can take back my rightful place as captain.” And as center of attention, Cheryl thinks, and she smiles.

  HE’S BEEN tracking her.

  Veronica.

  He couldn’t find her for the past couple of days. He even went to the hospital to see if she’d been brought in after the accident, but nothing. And when he went to her house, nobody was there.

  But then he heard her voice. This morning, as he tried to sleep on an uncomfortable bench shielded by a low tree, he could have sworn he heard her voice. And when he sat up and looked through the branches, he caught a glimpse of black hair swinging as she entered the laundromat.

  Now he’s watching from the grungier end of Main Street, the part where it’s not really Main Street at all, where several of the stores stand empty. Only the old faithfuls are hanging on: a pizza place, a shoe repair store, and the laundromat. He hasn’t been home since the other night. He hasn’t known where to go or what to do because he killed that animal and ate it. He did it; he actually did it. And what does that mean?

  The way he feels stronger than ever, but simultaneously ruled by this feeling that comes in knockout waves every few hours, a feeling he’s come to know is hunger.

  And when he got a glimpse of himself in a dark window …

  The fangs. The red eyes.

  He knows what he thinks it means, but what he thinks can’t be real. Can’t be possible.

  So he’s come looking for Ronnie. Maybe she can tell him what’s going on, since she’s the one who left him in the road and she’s the one who hasn’t bothered to come find him and she’s the one who started all this.

  He wouldn’t have gotten into the accident if he hadn’t been on his way to see her. If she hadn’t crashed into him.

  He wouldn’t be … whatever it is that he’s become, now.

  She hasn’t even tried to contact him at all, he’s realized. He’s been running around town trying to find her, worrying about her, but clearly she’s not doing the same for him. Clearly she’s got better things to do than worry about the mess she’s caused.

  Reggie steps up to the window of the laundromat and presses his face to the glass, cupping his hands against it. “Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie,” he says softly. Look at her, sitting there, like nothing at all is wrong.

  Something is wrong with Reggie, and he’s going to get answers.

  VERONICA’S IN THE last place anyone would think to look for her: the musty old laundromat. She could have just hidden out at Dilton’s, but she couldn’t sleep last night for how bad she felt about leaving Archie behind. And when Veronica feels bad, there’s only one thing that makes her feel good again: clothes.

  In the back of her mind, she kept thinking about the dress she’d been wearing on Friday night, the one that was meant for her date with Reggie. After her run-in with Theodore, she left it for dead in the costume closet at school. But this morning, as the sun came up, Veronica kept thinking that if there’s a chance for her parents to come back to life, then maybe there’s a chance for the dress, too. And honestly? She’d just wanted to take a break from thinking about vampires and decapitation and do something familiar. Do something normal.

  So she crept out early from Dilton’s and ran over to the school, sneaking in and out as fast as possible before anyone else got there, and now here she is. Everyone knows that if you bring your clothes in here, old Mr. Gunderson will dry-clean them on the spot with no questions asked. He doesn’t have time for questions, not when he could be watching the English soccer he loves so much.

  Now that her dress is being taken care of, Veronica’s sitting at one of the tables at the back of the store, working on a plan to save Archie back. The only problem is that Veronica’s struggling to think clearly past the rage she’s feeling.

  Except she can’t decide whether she’s angrier at her father or Theodore. Her dad’s the one who threatened Archie’s life—but he only did it under Theodore’s control. So Theodore’s the one she should hate the most. But—

  It’s like Theodore’s seen inside her brain, somehow. He knows just how to make her father act to get under Veronica’s skin the most. The way he’d smiled at her while he talked about killing Archie; the way he’d seemed to take such pleasure in knowing the threat would work on her—

  It’s like Theodore knows every little sore spot I have, she thinks. He knows what will hurt the most and who it’ll hurt coming from. And he thinks I’m weak, like using Archie against me means I’m going to stop coming for him entirely. But I’m not weak just because I have emotions and feelings for my friends.

  She guesses that’s something he and her father have in common—they think the only way to succeed is to be like them, cutting people out and thinking only about themselves. Ruthless, Daddy always calls it, but it’s not. It’s sad, really. Sure, he’s successful, but everything he does seems to hurt somebody along the way. Usually—his own wife and daughter. How is that winning?

  I won’t do that, Veronica thinks. When she’s in charge of the Lodge empire, she’ll rule it her way, not his. They’ll fear her, but they’ll admire her, too. They’ll wonder how she became so calculated yet caring. She’ll remember the names of all her employees’ kids and ask about them between cutting multimillion-dollar deals.

  She sighs. Yeah, right. Her dad’s never going to hand the company over to her, not willingly, at least. And besides, all that is kind of irrelevant right now. That whole issue of her dad being an immortal creature is probably going to get in the way of him passing the torch. You don’t have to give up being the boss if you figure out how to live forever.

  And you certainly don’t give up being the boss if you’re being controlled by an all-powerful vampire beast.

  Theodore’s the real problem now. “So first things first,” Veronica says under her breath. “Take him out.”

  But before she can do that, she and Dilton have to get Archie out of harm’s way. Veronica drums her fingers on the yellowing table, nails clicking on the chipped surface. Her parents are still back at the house, and that’s where they’re keeping A
rchie. If she can get in without them noticing her—if she can slip in undercover and find her way to Archie—then she can release him. But how is she going to get past them?

  Sneaking out of the house without them noticing is a specialty of Veronica’s. But sneaking in?

  She casts her gaze up at the water-stained ceiling. I’m going to need a distraction, she thinks. Something that will—

  A hand claps over her mouth. “Don’t try to struggle.”

  Veronica of course does exactly that, her heart racing, but the hand quickly leaves her and its owner slips into the seat opposite, raking a hand through his floppy dark hair. “What did I say?”

  “Reggie?”

  It all comes back to Veronica in an instant: her car fishtailing across a rain-slicked road, Reggie’s surprised face illuminated by her headlights, the crunch and shatter and grinding of the cars as they collided.

  But then the rest comes back, too: waking up in the woods, finding her way back to the road, the absence of Reggie and his car. She had hit a deer or something, or it was Theodore manipulating her thoughts. The proof is right here: Reggie sitting in front of her now. Not a scratch on his pretty-boy face, so there’s no way that memory is real.

  The relief that floods her slows her heart back down to its normal, steady beat. Okay, okay; everything is okay.

  Act normal. Because for Reggie, everything is normal, and she is the normal Veronica, and that’s how it needs to stay.

  “Reggie,” she says, her voice calmer now. “Cutting school? I thought Coach made a rule about attendance and eligibility to play in football games. What, you don’t want me cheering for you next game?”