Interview with the Vixen

by Rebecca Barrow

  She hears the sweet sound of the lock opening. “See?”

  Veronica pushes the door wide, and there’s Archie, tied to a chair fallen on its side. “Oh, hey,” Archie says, looking up at them. “What are the odds of seeing you two here?”

  Veronica ignores his pathetic attempt at a joke and sets to work untying him. “I know you’re probably wondering what the hell is happening,” she says as she unties his wrists and Dilton works on the ropes around his ankles, “but right now we just need to get you out of here.”

  “No,” Archie says, and he tries to stand but topples sideways. “Damn. I can’t feel my foot.”

  “I’ll carry you,” Veronica says impatiently. “But we have to go, now.”

  Archie looks up from the floor. “We can’t,” he says. “Betty’s here. We need to get her before we can go.”

  “Don’t worry about Betty,” Veronica says. “She’s part of the plan; she’s fine. You, on the other hand, are dead meat if we don’t leave right now.”

  “Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

  At the sound of Betty’s voice, Veronica whips around. “B!” She rushes to her. “What are you doing? Where’s my dad?”

  Betty gives her a sly smile. “Passed out,” she says, and produces an empty vial that Veronica is pretty sure used to be filled with holy water. “I spiked his Scotch.”

  “And it knocked him out?” Dilton shifts, looking intently at the glass tube. “Interesting. Not a result I would have predicted, but then it’s possible that a metabolic reaction follows a different pattern than a—”

  Veronica smacks him. “Science later,” she says. “Escape, now.”

  Together she and Dilton take hold of Archie, and the four of them navigate their way back down through the house. Passing by the study, they hear a groaning noise, and Veronica stops short, leaving Dilton bearing the entirety of Archie’s weight.

  “Whoa,” Dilton says. “A little heads-up, next time.”

  “Go on,” she says. “Get to the car. I’ll be there in a second.”

  Her friends take the last set of stairs down, and Veronica slips into the study.

  Her father’s lying on the floor, and she has a moment of déjà vu. Except the first time she saw him in this position she was heartbroken, numb at the realization that she’d lost both of her parents. And now?

  Veronica walks over to him. He’s semiconscious, drooling as his eyes struggle to focus on her. “Hi, Daddy. Or—should that be ‘Hi, Theodore’?” She’s not sure how it works, exactly, or if Theodore can hear and see and experience everything that her father does, but if not, her dad will at least be able to relay this message to him.

  On the floor her father moans, no real words coming out.

  “Shh,” she says. “Don’t try to talk. I have a message for your master.” She crouches down so she can look at him as close to eye level as possible. “You know, I didn’t plan on Betty poisoning you, but I have to say, it’s a gold-star move. That girl is so smart.” She claps her hands together. “Anyway, I have Archie now, which means you have no leverage, and as such I will be going ahead with the general interference with and destruction of your ‘turning everyone into vampires and taking over the town’ plans. Sound good?” Veronica stands and uses the toe of her boot to push at her father, for once so weak.

  He’d be beyond embarrassed if anyone could see him now. And Veronica is embarrassed for him, too, a little, but also—

  There’s another part of her that kind of enjoys seeing her father like this. Hasn’t she always secretly fantasized about what Hiram Lodge would be like stripped of his strength? When he’s needling her, or belittling her, or undermining her—hasn’t she thought: Take away all your privilege and power and what would be left of you, Daddy? Nothing but a pathetic shadow of yourself, like you always accuse me of being.

  Of course, she never thought those fantasies would be real, but here he is. And here she is, a newborn powerful vampire girl. She’s a strigoi: more powerful than him, and nobody can control her.

  How the balance has shifted.

  She looks down on him and shakes her head, her dark hair swimming in a veil. “You’re pathetic,” she says. “Tell Mom I said hi.”

  BY THE TIME she gets outside, Dilton has Archie in the backseat of Betty’s car and Betty’s behind the wheel.

  Veronica gets in and slams the door, then drums her hands on the dashboard, triumphant. “Gun it, B.”

  “Your wish is my command.” Betty hits the gas and the car squeals off, and Veronica adds her voice to the whine of the wheels. She feels electric. Old Veronica would never have had the guts to tell her father what she thinks of him straight to his face. Old Veronica would never have said You’re pathetic, but New Veronica did. Vampire Veronica looked down at her father and said exactly what she was thinking, and oh, it felt wild. Like the biggest release—like she’d been forcing herself to stay silent for so many years that she hadn’t even realized how much pent-up rage was inside her. Yes, her dad is pathetic and does belittle her, and she does deserve better than that and he will, he will, he will get what’s coming to him. Just like her mom will. Just like Theodore Finch will.

  She flexes her fingers, curling them into fists as Betty whips through the woods. This strength, this newfound fire—

  If this is what being Vampire Veronica is, then maybe I like it, she finds herself thinking. Maybe I don’t—

  Betty lets out a small yelp. “What is that?”

  Veronica snaps back to the moment and looks ahead, where Betty’s wide eyes are focused.

  There’s a figure in the road.

  It’s dusk, the sky growing darker and the trees stretching high around them, and anyone else might think it’s just a shadow, just an illusion, but Veronica remembers.

  Theodore’s eyes in her rearview. Standing behind her, waiting.

  It’s him.

  Veronica feels the car slowing, and she grabs Betty’s elbow. “Don’t slow down,” she says. “Keep going.”

  “But I’m going to—”

  “Yes.” Veronica puts a hand on the wheel now, her fingers curling over Betty’s. “You’re going to hit him.”

  “Have you lost it?” Betty shakes her head. “You want me to—”

  “It’s not a person,” Veronica says. “That’s Theodore.”

  They’re getting closer, and Theodore only waits in the middle of the road, unnaturally still. Veronica can tell it’s him by the lean of him, the energy emanating from his statue pose.

  “That’s him?” Archie leans forward from the backseat. “That’s the guy we’re so afraid of?”

  Veronica holds on to the steering wheel harder. “You might be afraid of him,” she says. “But I’m not. Drive, Betty.”

  Betty squeezes her eyes shut but the car speeds up. Veronica guides them as they race through the bend, and then she’s close enough to lock eyes with Theodore.

  They’re twenty feet away.

  Fifteen.

  Ten.

  “Veronica—”

  She ignores whichever of her friends said her name, keeping everything aimed at Theodore.

  His lips curl into a smile.

  He doesn’t think I’ll do it, she realizes. He doesn’t believe I have the guts.

  “V, please.” Betty’s fingers tremble under hers, and Veronica only clenches tighter.

  Five feet.

  Got you now, Veronica thinks, and she smiles, fangs and all.

  Four—

  Three—

  Two—

  “Veronica.”

  They brace for impact, even Veronica braces for impact—

  —except—

  There’s a long moment of motion, a swooping sensation as Veronica waits for the glorious smash but—nothing comes.

  Veronica blinks and Theodore is gone. That’s it.

  One second he’s right in front of them, and the next, the road is empty and they’re speeding head-on toward the woods. “Betty, brake!”

 
Betty slams on the brakes and Veronica feels the car begin to spin out, barely slowing. There’s a wall of trees waiting for them, and she bites her tongue, hard, as she realizes what she’s just done.

  She meant to kill Theodore, but instead she’s killed them all.

  Sorry, Mrs. Cooper, she thinks. Sorry, Mr. Andrews. Sorry, Dilton’s very nice mom.

  And then the car comes to a shuddering halt right before the tree line.

  There’s only shocked silence for a second, two, three, and then Betty punches Veronica in the arm. “You almost killed us! V! Oh my god!”

  “Ow!” Betty’s punch doesn’t really hurt, but Veronica rubs at the spot where her fist landed anyway, her heart pounding still. “Sorry. It seemed like a good idea, in the moment.”

  “Where did he go?” Archie says, a tremor in his voice. “He was right in front of us, and then he—vanished.”

  “Into thin air,” Dilton says, and he rolls down the back window, sticking his head out of it as if searching for Theodore. “Interesting.”

  Betty puts the car in reverse and eases back onto the road. “Let’s go home,” she says. “Before we almost die another time.”

  They’re almost back in town when Veronica notices it.

  Wheeling in the sky above, but following the same route as them: a jet-black bird, wings wide and sleek.

  It lands on the sign welcoming them to Riverdale, THE TOWN WITH PEP! Floats down on an invisible breeze and perches there, its claws gripping the metal of the sign, and it’s just a bird, but—

  There’s something about the way it moves. As if with purpose, a greater meaning than simply flying and surviving.

  Veronica tries to look away from it, but the way it’s sitting so unnaturally still now keeps her gaze fixed on it.

  And then it looks at her.

  Its head snaps around and its beady eyes meet hers, she could swear it.

  Veronica presses back against the seat, like that’ll make a difference, and then she watches the bird’s eyes track them until they round the bend and are out of its sight.

  She shivers.

  FROM THE BACK of the truck, Reggie has a good vantage point of Moose.

  Moose—one of them now.

  Well—what else was Reggie supposed to do? He couldn’t let Moose walk away after he’d discovered Reggie standing over Jessica’s body yesterday. Especially not when Moose had started freaking out, saying things like he was going to call the cops and that Reggie was a monster.

  Reggie hadn’t meant to kill him, just like he hadn’t meant to kill Jessica.

  It seems like being a vampire comes with a body count.

  Moose had started to run, and Reggie had no choice but to go after him. He’d tackled him halfway across the football field and grappled Moose into a chokehold, one that he only meant to subdue his friend, but maybe he was stronger than he realized now, or maybe he’d just been scared enough that the force he put on Moose’s windpipe was enough to choke him completely.

  It had happened so quickly, and for a moment Reggie had felt a panic threatening to enter him. But then as he looked down at Moose’s unmoving body, his eyes frozen wide open in fear, Reggie had remembered what Veronica had told him:

  There’s a kind called the moroi, and in order for them to change, they have to die first, and then they’re brought back to life by a vampire bite.

  So he did what he had to do. He turned Moose.

  It was easy, really. All Reggie had to do was bite Moose, and for a while he’d thought nothing was happening because Moose was still dead, but soon after that he woke up. Changed. And now it’s like Moose will do whatever he wants. They make a good team—just like they do on the football field.

  Football is part of the reason they’re at the drive-in now. It’s kind of a two-birds-one-stone situation. Moose needs to feed, and Reggie heard that their football rivals were going to be here tonight. That quarterback Blake Elroy is always talking smack about them, playing dirty, and he gets away with it because his dad happens to be the district superintendent.

  After tonight, he won’t be a problem anymore.

  Reggie thinks of last night: him and Moose digging a shallow grave among the trees that border the high school and shoving Jessica’s body into it. He regrets it a little, but only because now that she’s dead, he won’t ever get to taste her blood again.

  Maybe I’ll keep the next one alive, he thinks, but deep down, he knows he won’t. It’s way too hard to stop once you’ve started feeding, once their hot blood is filling you up.

  The drive-in is loud tonight, the Midvale team paying zero attention to the movie—but also zero attention to Moose.

  Reggie watches him now, sneaking through the cars parked erratically across the field. All he has to do is time it right and he’ll be feasting.

  Moose reaches the tall black truck nearest the Midvale team and waits alongside it.

  It doesn’t take long for their target to wander off, separating from his team as he heads toward the snack stand.

  Get him, Moose, Reggie thinks. This will be his true test—can Moose make the kill? If he’s good enough, Reggie’s thinking he’ll get some more of the guys on board. No need to keep all the fun for himself, and besides, no one really likes eating alone.

  At the truck Moose still waits, and Reggie can see the coiled energy within him, waiting for the right moment.

  Then—

  Blake Elroy passes by.

  Moose jumps on him, bringing him down way more easily than he ever has in a game before. For a moment there’s a struggle—Reggie thinks the quarterback might get away—but then Moose rears up and brings his teeth back down into the boy’s neck, a violent tear of the flesh.

  The boy kicks and flails as Moose eats, but he soon stops moving. Moose keeps going, and Reggie can tell it’s happening.

  Moose feels the power flooding through him—the same power Reggie felt when he had drained Jessica.

  Reggie ducks down in the bed of the truck and eyes the shovel he’s stashed in there. Soon they’ll need to find a place to start digging, dispose of the body.

  Reggie sits back. He’ll give Moose some time, though. Won’t interrupt his first blissful meal.

  BETTY PULLS UP in front of her house and parks, her head dropping back against the seat. “Finally,” she says.

  Veronica looks up at the Cooper home, the whole thing so warm and inviting with the glow of lights behind pulled curtains, the autumnal wreath hanging on the front door. They dropped Dilton at his place and took Archie back to his house to recover and explain his absence to his dad—cover story provided by Betty, because who knows what nonsense Archie would have come up with on his own.

  Betty had said—no, insisted—that Veronica stay with her tonight, and Veronica had almost cried in gratitude. Not that she isn’t thankful for all of Dilton’s help and the chance to have somewhere to sleep, but right now, she needs the familiar comfort of Betty’s soft pink bedroom, the scene of so many sleepover crimes.

  “I’m sorry,” she says to Betty again. “I kind of got a little out of control back there.”

  “Stop apologizing.” Betty gives her a tired smile. “I get why you did it. I mean, once you take Theodore out, all of this goes away, right? You get to go back to being human, and your parents will go back to their normal selves, too, and we can go back to focusing on school and the Vixens instead of, like, vampire-killing weaponry.”

  Veronica pushes her hair behind her ear. “B,” she says, “do you really think we can go back to normal after this?”

  “What?” Betty gives her a sharp look. “Of course. Once we stop Theodore and your parents, it’ll be like none of this ever happened. No vampires, no strigoi or moroi, no shape-shifting or mind control or whatever other wacky business is involved.” She tips her head to the side. “What is it, V? You know, no one’s going to see you any differently, if that’s what you’re worrying about. Sure, right now you’re Vampire V, but that’s only for now. We’ll kill Theod
ore and get our regular old human V back and nothing will have changed. I promise you.”

  Veronica looks away, pretends like she’s watching the neighbor taking out their trash cans. Nothing will have changed. That’s what she’s worried about, actually. Not that everyone will see her differently but that they won’t see her differently at all. That they’ll expect the old, perfect Veronica to reappear and everything to return to the way it was pre-strigoi. Except Veronica’s not sure that she can do that, and more important, she’s not sure she wants to.

  “Come on.” Betty taps Veronica on the knee. “You can borrow some pj’s.”

  The idea of curling up to sleep on Betty’s bedroom floor, like they’ve done for years, pulls her back. “The fluffy ones?”

  “Sure,” Betty says with a laugh. “And tomorrow, you can borrow whatever you want, too. Where did you even get that outfit?”

  Veronica pauses, looking down at her short black pinafore dress, under which she’s wearing a black off-the-shoulder top and black fishnets. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” She’d been particularly proud of this look when she put it together this morning; kind of an edgy Brigitte Bardot, if she’d taken a detour through post-punk London.

  “Nothing!” Betty says, maybe too brightly. “I mean, it’s cute, sure, but …” She makes a face, scrunching up her perfect nose. “It’s just not you.”

  Veronica says nothing. Not me, she thinks, anger rising in her. Okay. Well, what is me, then? Prissy pearls and pleated skirts? Am I not allowed to step outside of that for one freaking minute?

  See, this is what she’s worried about. Already Betty wants her to shift back, become somebody she isn’t. Because that isn’t her, not really; not anymore. Old Veronica is gone, but she’s all Betty wants, and she’s going to be all everybody else wants, too. When this is all said and done, she’ll have to go back to pretending to be everything everyone always thinks she is: smart but not too smart, confident but not arrogant, tough but with the edges filed off. Don’t intimidate anybody too much. Don’t ruffle anybody’s feathers.

  That’s the me everybody likes, she thinks. But what about when I’m different? What if I don’t go back to that version of myself? Do people like me or have they only ever liked the version of me that I pretended to be?