“Have you called the police?”
“Yes, we called Scotland Yard. But I’m afraid …”
And then that horrid man took the phone from Anita. “Where are they?” he demanded. And then it was Anita again.
“You idiot!” she exclaimed.
“Anita!”
“Sorry, Cruella.” Oh, she had been talking to Roger. That made me smile. I asked if they would keep me informed about their little drama. “Yes, if there is any news we’ll let you know. Thank you, Cruella.”
Ha! Clearly she thought Roger was an idiot as well. I was happy to see she was on my side.
We were fine. They had no leads. Scotland Yard wouldn’t be bothering me again. Horace and Jasper had nothing to worry about. I had nothing to worry about. Except for one thing: what was I going to do with just fifteen puppies? That wouldn’t even make the muffler Mama was so keen on. I needed more. Many more. And the last thing I needed was to be seen buying up every last puppy in London.
No, I needed those wretched men just a little longer. And I needed more puppies.
Fools that they were, Jasper and Horace managed to buy every Dalmatian puppy they could get their hands on. It took all the money I had. There wasn’t a single puppy left, not in all of London. They were all mine! They called the hotel from the pay phone in the village again as I was heading down to meet my mama in the hotel restaurant. I was ecstatic. One hundred and one Dalmatians! I would be able to make Mama the most marvelous coat imaginable. It would be like the day I gave her Papa’s money. I imagined her smile when she saw it. I imagined her telling me she loved me again. Come to think of it, with so many puppies I’d be able to make one for myself as well. Maybe even one day I could be a fur mogul. I would rule the fashion world! Mama loves fashion. She adores it more than anything. She would be so proud of me. I was proud of myself, too. What started out as a desire to make my mama something she would love turned into something bigger. Much bigger. Something magnificent. I couldn’t wait to share my news with my mama.
She would be so proud that I had finally found a way to distinguish myself.
My dinner with Mama was a disaster. Everything went terribly wrong. It was my fault, really. I should have waited until I had the coat made for her. Perhaps then she would have understood. But as it was, it all went terribly, terribly wrong.
We met at the Criterion, her favorite restaurant, for dinner. It was a place out of antiquity: lavish, beautiful, and everything my mother represented to me, with its gilded rooms and splendid chandeliers. It was so heavenly to be going to such a place again. To be surrounded by beauty and opulence, and not the squalor and decay of Hell Hall. My mother looked beautiful in her lovely gold-beaded dress, and she was covered in diamonds, around her neck, on her wrists, and on many of her fingers. She even had diamond hairpins arranged in her elaborate updo. She was sparkling. I was wearing my signature outfit: my slinky black dress, my jade jewelry, and of course my fur coat. She was already seated when I arrived. All eyes turned to me as I was escorted by the maître d’ to Mama’s table. She looked quite shocked at the sight of me, as did most everyone else in the room. I know I looked stunning that evening, but can’t a woman meet her mother for dinner without people ogling her? I mean, really! I know I was something of an it girl during my days with Jack, but this was really too much.
Finally, I sat down with Mama.
“Cruella! Are you quite well?” she asked.
“Yes, Mama, I am. You look lovely this evening.”
“Thank you, my dear. You look, well … interesting, to say the least.”
“I do hope you think so! I have such wonderful news to share with you. But let’s order before I share my news,” I said.
“Cruella, my dear, I’m not convinced you should be out,” she said, glancing around as the other guests stared and whispered.
“Oh, I’m used to people looking at me, Mama. Everywhere I go people are staring. Jack and I made quite the splash in the papers in our day.”
“Cruella, you are so thin and pale, my darling. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. And your hair, it’s so … wild. You don’t look at all well. I think we’d better go.”
“No, Mama! I have to share my news with you,” I said. “We can’t go, not yet.”
“What’s your news then, darling?” she asked, her eyes shifting from me to the other diners still gawking at us. Well, I had had it. I wasn’t going to let those star chasers ruin my evening. They were making my mama uncomfortable. And I wasn’t going to stand for it any longer. I stood up, raising my hands and voice so everyone would pay attention. “Will you please divert your attention from me and focus on your own meals and conversations?” I said, while Mama protested.
“Cruella, do sit down! You’re making a scene.”
“No, Mama, they’re making a scene!” I said. “They’re all ruining our special evening! This is London for goodness’ sake! It’s not as if they’ve not seen a socialite before! They should behave themselves and try using just a modicum of decorum.” My mama was mortified.
“Cruella, stop this at once,” she said, raising her voice and gripping my arm tightly, forcing me to sit down. “Cruella, stop this! What did you expect, coming out looking the way you do? You look ghastly. I mean, really, Cruella. You’re still wearing that dress! It’s morbid! And look, it’s hanging off of you. You look a fright, like a skeleton in rags. That is why everyone is looking at you. Now, please, let’s leave.”
“But Mama, I want to share my plan. You’re going to be so proud of me. I have the most splendid plan. You remember Perdita, that horrible dog Papa gave me? Well, Mama, she has had puppies! Puppies! Isn’t it a scream? And I remembered your suggestion about using her fur for a muffler, so … well, Mama, I’m going to do just that! I am going to have the most splendid fur coat made for you! Oh, you will love it, Mama! I know you will! And you will be so proud!”
My mother’s voice grew quiet. “Cruella, my dear. Stop this at once. I won’t hear another word.”
“But Mama!” I said, standing up. “I know, I know! I ruined the surprise! I should have waited until the coat was finished. But I swear you will love it. I know you will be so proud of me!” I must have raised my voice more than I realized, because everyone in the room looked mesmerized by me. Even the staff were rushing over to listen to my declaration. Then something shifted in my mama. She seemed to realize how wonderful my idea really was. She spoke to me in the calmest and sweetest voice.
“Yes, Cruella, dear. That is a dazzling idea. I am very proud of you, but we must leave. You’re far too famous to be out in public. We’re causing something of a stir, and I don’t want the local rags to get their hands on your idea before you’re able to execute it.” She looked around the room nervously. Just then a tall man came up with our coats, and he ushered us out of the restaurant and onto the street.
“Your car will be here shortly, Lady De Vil,” he said.
“Please arrange a cab for my daughter,” she said.
“But Mama, I thought I would go back with you to the hotel. Besides, I have my car, I can follow you there.”
“No, my dear. I don’t think you should be driving. Please, let me get you into a cab, and I will arrange to have someone bring your car around to Hell Hall, I mean, De Vil Hall in the morning.”
“What was that, Mama?”
“Nothing, dear,” she said. But I knew she must have heard the rumors about my estate, what they were calling it. “Do as Mama says, and get yourself straight home and into bed. I will pay for the cab. And Cruella, stay at home and rest, won’t you, dear? Don’t go out. Stay put. I will send someone around in a day or two to check on you.”
“Mama, I am fine. Please don’t worry.”
“Cruella, do as I say! Now, I have to go. Don’t disobey me,” she said, blowing me a kiss and getting into her car.
I think she misread my excitement for something else. Something else entirely. And I wasn’t sure she understood my plans. She
was so worried about me getting swarmed by fans, I’m not sure she was listening properly. Well, I would make it up to her. I would have her coat made before she left London. Then she would see. But I was running out of time.
She would only be in London for so long, so I had to do it right then. After she left, I insisted they give me my car, and I drove all the way back to Hell Hall and told Horace and Jasper the police were onto us. It was all lies, of course. I told them the police were everywhere and we had to kill the puppies right away. It was the only way I could get them to do the deed quickly. Simple men that they were, they had no idea how to go about slaughtering a bunch of puppies. I didn’t care how they did it. I just wanted it done. I needed those puppies. I still do.
“Poison them, drown them, bash them in the head! I don’t care how you kill the little beasts. I just want it done. The police are everywhere,” I added for a bit of drama. I needed to get those fools off their bottoms.
They were glued to the television. Transfixed by a show called What’s My Crime? A TV show! A TV show! Bloody fools. I had to slap some sense into them. I needed those puppies murdered. I needed them skinned. I needed to have my mama’s coat made. Oh yes. She would love me again. She would. I was sure of it. “Listen, you idiots. I’ll be back first thing in the morning. The job better be done or I’ll call the police! Do you understand?” I needed to rattle their cages. Of course I wouldn’t call the police. Why would I? But those two were not the brightest. Thank goodness they believed me.
Of course, the job never did get done. It just goes to show you that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.
It all went terribly wrong from there, didn’t it? You know the story. You saw my photo in the paper. And I’m sure you saw Horace and Jasper blab about the entire debacle when they made their appearance on their favorite show, What’s My Crime? Those stupid morons prattled on and on, describing the events in lurid detail. How we chased those puppies on that treacherously winding road; how I gripped the wheel, my eyes blazing with madness as they ran me off the road; and finally, how I crashed my car, letting those wretched dogs escape! The reenactment of me on that damnable TV show in my wrecked car was laughable. It made me out to be some sort of madwoman with wild, swirling eyes. A deranged, screaming lunatic. Well, that’s not the real story, duckies.
That show and those fools made a mockery of me. It might have made for good television, but it didn’t show how I was really feeling. It wasn’t madness that overcame me. It wasn’t even anger. It was heartbreak, disappointment, and loss. It was heartache. As my car careened over that cliff I felt my life crashing down around me. Everything was in ruins. And I was in despair. I thought I had lost my final chance to make my mama love me again. To make her proud of me.
But fear not, adoring readers. As I sit here in Hell Hall, my plan for revenge shines like a star in the darkness. It has become my only solace. My greatest source of hope for happiness, and for reconciliation with Mama.
The Radcliffes haven’t beaten me. No. I have a new plan. A better plan, and it involves all those dogs Anita and Roger are hoarding on that estate they bought with all the money they made on that horrible song about me. Oh, I know you’ve heard it. “Vampire bat” indeed! They think they can make a fool of me? Well, I will show them an “inhuman beast”! And they will see what an “evil thing” I can be! I will have my revenge. Mark my words, darlings. I am Cruella De Vil!
But this time … this time it will be different. I will have to be patient. I will have to wait. No, I can’t rush things. I have to take my time. Anita and Roger have ninety-nine puppies living on their stupid little farm, and of course there are Perdita and Pongo. And I will have those dogs! Just imagine how much more fur I will have after waiting for those puppies to become fully grown. Imagine all the coats I will make, and how happy Mama will be when I give them all to her. Then she will love me again. I am sure of it.
Dear readers,
I thought it would comfort you to know that Anita and Roger, along with Mrs. Baddeley, Perdita, Pongo, and their brood of ninety-nine Dalmatian puppies, are all quite safe. And you can take even further comfort in knowing they are all living happily on the royalties from Roger’s hit song, “Cruella De Vil.” If that isn’t irony, then I don’t know what is.
It has been a most unsettling experience writing Cruella’s memoir. I spent months locked up with her in Hell Hall, taking down her story. I have changed nothing. Everything you read here is what she told me, word for word, night after night. I listened to rants and ravings and suffering through her fits of endless, terrifying laughter.
Hell Hall is a cold, eerie place that lives up to its name. That is where Cruella De Vil now lives, locked away by her mother, who scarcely visits. Lady De Vil’s old head housekeeper, Mrs. Web, watches over her. Cruella’s mother was horrified that fateful night at dinner, when Cruella shared her plans to make a coat out of Dalmatian puppies. But even more terrifying to her mother was the scandal Cruella caused. You might recall that photo in the papers of Cruella with bloodshot eyes full of hate and fury. Her mother felt she brought shame on her family, not to mention her social standing. So her mother had her locked away, with the Spider.
I have often wondered if Cruella really hated Mrs. Web from the moment she met her, like she claims. Somehow I doubt it. Don’t mistake me, Mrs. Web is a cold woman. Cruella’s descriptions of her are not exaggerated. For the record, the woman reminds me, too, of a sinister spider. But I can’t help wondering if Cruella’s current circumstances haven’t clouded her memory of the woman. Still, even the most austere of women eventually reach their breaking point. To quiet her ranting, Mrs. Web felt it would help if Cruella had the opportunity to tell her side of the story. Mrs. Web had read the previous books in my Villains series, and thought I would be the right person to transcribe Cruella’s tale. And so I came to Hell Hall.
It is not my place to tell you what to think of Cruella De Vil and the events that led her to be locked up in Hell Hall. But I can tell you this: I listened to her story. And I felt sorry for her. And for a moment, just a moment, mind you, I finally came to understand why she wanted to kill those puppies. And why she still wants to, to this this day. I’ve spent sleepless nights wondering how things could have gone differently for Cruella. I wonder what would have happened if Cruella’s father hadn’t died, if her mother had never left her. I wonder what would have happened if Anita had agreed to travel the world with her. And I wonder if it would have made a difference if Sir Huntley had managed to talk her into keeping her money. Would she still be locked up today? Would she be plotting the murder of one hundred and one Dalmatians?
And then I wonder if those earrings really are cursed. Perhaps they changed her every time she put them on. Perhaps they didn’t. We will never know. But what I do know is that she won’t take them off. She wears them still, every day, along with that slinky black dress and the jade ring given to her by her beloved Crackerjack.
Whatever caused Cruella’s descent into darkness and delirium, I couldn’t stand the idea of her being locked away in Hell Hall with her most hated childhood servant. Of course I realize the beastly woman can never be released. But does Cruella really deserve to live the rest of her days locked away without a single person who loves or cares for her? Isn’t that how she became the woman she is?
Maybe you won’t agree with me; maybe you won’t think she deserves just a little bit of happiness, but I called Miss Pricket, her old governess. I told her about Cruella’s circumstances, and she graciously agreed to come help care for Cruella. She arrived on my last day in Hell Hall, and she looked exactly as Cruella had described, just a little older. I could tell Miss Pricket still loved her even after everything Cruella had put her through. I could tell she still saw Cruella as a sad lonely little girl, and there is a part of me that does as well.
In the end, everything isn’t always as black-and-white as the markings on a Dalmatian puppy. Even for an evil thing like Cruella De Vil
.
Sincerely,
Serena Valentino
SERENA VALENTINO has been weaving tales that combine mythos and guile for the past decade. She has earned critical acclaim in both the comic and horror domains, where she is known for her unique style of storytelling, bringing her readers into exquisitely frightening worlds filled with terror, beauty, and extraordinary protagonists. The books in her best-selling Villains series are best enjoyed when read in the following order: Fairest of All, The Beast Within, Poor Unfortunate Soul, Mistress of All Evil, Mother Knows Best, The Odd Sisters, and Evil Thing.
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