Curse of the Evil Librarian

by Michelle Knudsen

  “All right,” Annie says reluctantly. Beside her, William looks extremely relieved. “I mean, it’s not, but . . . okay. But tell us the second you get back. The exact second. Promise?”

  “Promise.” I take her hands. “We’ll be okay. And somehow we’ll figure out how to deal with this whole situation and all come out alive on the other side.”

  I give my phone to Annie and ask her to cover for me with my mom if necessary, and Ryan quickly texts Jorge to cover for him as well. (I don’t know what excuse he gives, since Jorge doesn’t know about the demons, but I trust Ryan to manage his own affairs.) Then there are several seconds of hugging and brave faces, and then Peter, Ryan, and I shoo everyone else out of the library. Annie looks back from the doorway, and for a second I’m afraid she’s not going to leave after all, but then she lets William pull her out into the hall, and the door closes behind her.

  Peter begins to construct some new kind of energy shape on the carpet. Luckily it seems to be smaller this time, so we don’t have to move the furniture again.

  “So,” Ryan says to me. “There’s really no plan?”

  “Nope. Not yet, anyway. Think of it as improv.”

  “You refused to take improv with us at camp, remember?”

  “Yeah, but you love it. I’m counting on you to be inspired and brilliant in the moment.”

  Peter finishes drawing and walks over to us. “Ready?”

  “God, no,” I say. “How is this going to work, anyway? Will we have to hold our breath?”

  They both look at me strangely.

  “When I went with Aaron that last time we had to hold our breath!”

  “Uh . . . well, not this time,” Peter says. “But it might get a little cold.”

  I realize we are now, finally, about to depart. The panic beetles surge back with a vengeance. Peter presses a hand against each of our backs and there’s a flash of light and then suddenly it’s as though all the warmth in the universe has evaporated. Ryan grabs on to me and I crush myself against him, trying to protect at least some part of myself from the unbearable cold. Frigid wind tears at us from all directions, seeming to want to rip into our flesh and pull us apart with icy teeth. I keep my eyes tightly closed, my frozen fingertips clenching the fabric of Ryan’s shirt.

  And then all at once the rushing of the wind explodes into a cacophony of horrible sounds at the same instant that the unbearable cold is replaced by unbearable heat. I tear my face away from Ryan’s chest to look around wildly, one arm thrown up in a useless attempt to shield my face from the searing, ash-filled air.

  Everything is on fire.

  Black and orange flames rage through the darkness around us. From varying distances, animal-like howls and violent crashing and breaking sounds cut through the constant roaring and burning. I only have a second to try to take any of this in, however, before Peter shoves me forward. I turn to see him gesturing urgently toward the closest dark alley, which shifts in appearance from a dirty corridor between two gutted buildings, to a large crack in some kind of black rock formation, to what might be the shadowy undergrowth between two impossibly tall trees. Ryan seems too overwhelmed to move on his own. As I watch, Peter grabs him and begins running, half dragging Ryan along beside him. I follow at their heels.

  And then something huge and dark and terrifying suddenly reaches out and snatches Ryan away into the blackness.

  There is a split second where I am frozen in shock and disbelief and then he begins to scream and then his scream is abruptly cut off and by then I am racing into the blackness after him. I barely register Peter’s cry of objection behind me.

  The shadows close in until the light from the fires is strangely muted. I can still see enough, however, to make out the shape of my boyfriend struggling in the clutches of some hideous, giant, twisted thing. My first thought is simply relief that he’s still alive. But that could clearly change at any second.

  I throw myself forward, trying to reach him, cursing my stupid roach-power for not being any good against physical attacks. Ryan is still thrashing in the demon’s grip; slender tendrils of long, flat, tentacle-like appendages are wrapped around him, including one covering his mouth, which explains the cut-off screaming. The demon’s other, much larger appendages are also reaching toward Ryan, seeming to fight with one another to see which is going to be the one to drag him into the gaping open mouth. They don’t bother with me; I guess the demon isn’t especially worried about prey that’s actually trying to get closer. Ryan turns and seems to see me but I’m not sure if he really does — his eyes are so wide and terrified. He might not be altogether aligned with reality right now.

  Scrambling over several of the disgusting, undulating larger demon appendages, I finally get close enough to reach out and grab Ryan’s ankle. I start to pull, but it’s instantly obvious that I’ll never be able to just yank him free. The demon is too strong. It’s got him too tightly wrapped up in itself. I need to get it to let go. But I have no idea how to do that.

  Something grabs my arm. I scream and try to shake it off before I realize that it’s Peter.

  “Help us!” I scream at him.

  He pulls at me, and I have to fight to keep my grip on Ryan. What is he doing?

  He pulls again, and my hand slips from Ryan’s ankle. I twist around to stare at Peter.

  “You can’t save him!” he’s yelling. “You’re just going to get yourself killed!”

  I kick him in the stomach, but he barely seems to feel it. I keep forgetting that even though he’s not a particularly strong demon in the physical sense, he’s still a lot stronger than a human.

  “Let me go!”

  “No!” He pulls at me again, dragging me a few more inches toward him. Away from Ryan.

  “Let me go!” I scream again, and this time before I even know I’m doing it, I punctuate my command with a push of my demon resistance. It’s something like what I did to drive Mr. Gabriel out of William’s body that time at camp.

  Peter stumbles backward, releasing me.

  Before he can regroup I turn and start toward Ryan again. But he’s higher up now; two of the appendages have beaten back the others and are together drawing Ryan closer to the waiting orifice. I start climbing desperately, but I know it’s no use. I’ll never get up there in time. It’s going to eat him. I’m going to have to watch it eat him. He’s screaming and writhing and it’s bringing him closer to its mouth and I don’t — I can’t —

  I hear Peter’s shout somewhere behind and below in the dark and I am filled with murderous rage. His fault. This is his fault. If he’d only tried to help me instead of pulling me away —

  Then I stop, suddenly frozen by a realization. My demon resistance made Peter let go. It might not have done any actual damage, but he felt it. He felt it enough to stumble backward and lose his grip on my arm.

  I slam my hands down against the demon appendage I’m currently straddling and push with my power as hard as I can.

  The demon jerks — in surprise? pain? — and as it does so, it loosens its hold on Ryan. Despite his terror, my boyfriend is still present enough to seize the moment; he twists down and away and suddenly he’s free, scrambling and sliding, racing back to me.

  I grab his hand as soon as he’s close enough and together we start running back toward the light of the fires, back toward where we were before. We pass Peter, who has been standing in apparent indecision or incomprehension or in-something, and we keep running. After a moment, Peter appears running beside us and then ahead of us, and I realize he’s trying to lead us toward that alley he’d first indicated as our destination. We change course to follow.

  Peter darts into the alley and doesn’t stop until we’re far enough in that the noise and heat both die down a little. He rests his hands on his thighs, breathing heavily, as Ryan and I slump against the nearest wall and then all the way down to the ground.

  For a few minutes, no one says anything. We all just try to remember how to breathe, how to have hearts
that beat at something like a normal rhythm, how to not be nearly dead with panic and fear.

  Finally, I’m able to turn my head to look at Ryan. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” he whispers. His voice is hoarse from screaming. “Yeah, I think so. Jesus.” He turns to look at me, eyes still too wide. “I can’t believe you came back to this place voluntarily.”

  I shrug uncomfortably. “Well, to be fair, this visit is starting out a little rockier than the previous ones.”

  Suddenly I remember Peter, and how much I hate him.

  I climb wearily to my feet. “You fucking asshole,” I say, moving toward him. “You absolute piece of —”

  “Cyn,” Peter says, somewhat desperately, “I thought you were throwing your life away. I didn’t know you could do what you did.”

  “I didn’t, either. But that’s no excuse. When people you care about are being attacked by horrible monsters, you fucking try to save them. That’s how it works. You don’t stop to think about it. You certainly don’t try to stop other people from saving them.”

  “That’s exactly what I was doing! Trying to save you!”

  “Well, you can’t do that when it interferes with me trying to save someone else!”

  We are inches apart now, shouting into each other’s faces.

  “Um,” Ryan says, “what are you guys talking about?”

  “Peter,” I say, not turning around, “tried to pull me away when I was trying to help you.”

  There is a brief silence, and then I hear Ryan start to push himself up against the wall. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “Ryan,” Peter says, stepping to the side so he can look past me, “I thought it was a lost cause. I thought Cyn was going to die right along with you. Are you honestly saying that’s what you would have wanted?”

  “Are you sure?” Ryan asks, coming over to stand beside me. “Are you sure you weren’t just seizing the opportunity to get me out of the way so you could have her to yourself?”

  The conversation has suddenly taken a very awkward turn. I don’t think I like where this is going.

  “Guys —”

  Peter throws back his head and laughs. It is a long, deep, scornful laugh.

  “You arrogant little insect,” he says, taking a step toward Ryan now. “Do you really think I need to wait for an opportunity to get you out of the way? I could have made you disappear anytime I wanted. I could have made it look like an accident.”

  “Guys, come on —”

  Peter keeps going, talking over me, still moving forward. Ryan takes an involuntary step back, but his furious eyes are still fixed on Peter’s.

  “Do you think I haven’t thought about how it could be done? I could have arranged so many things, done it so subtly that Cyn would never suspect I had anything to do with it. And who do you think she would turn to in her time of grief? Who do you think would be there to console her, to get her through the long, lonely nights —”

  Ryan’s hand curls into a very capable-looking fist at his side.

  “Guys!” I shout, pushing between them. “Enough!”

  I whirl toward Peter.

  “The only reason I am not trying to scratch your eyes out right now,” I say, pointing at his face, “is because you accidentally helped me figure out how to save Ryan.”

  I whirl back toward Ryan.

  “And while I fully understand your desire to kick his ass — believe me — you need to hold it together. We need his help. We’re not going to make it through this without him.”

  I tactfully leave out the part about how Peter would crush him like a bug if it ever came down to a real fight.

  We all stand there for a moment staring angrily at one another.

  “Fine,” Ryan says. He goes back to his wall and leans defiantly against it.

  Peter composes himself with visible effort and then turns toward me. “Cyn,” he says, “I swear. If I thought anything could have been done to save him, I would have tried.”

  Ryan barks out a humorless laugh, and I can see Peter forcing himself to ignore it. He keeps his eyes on me. “I really was just trying to save your life. I thought — I know how you can get, blinded by your love for your friends. You don’t always seem to be able to see the danger.”

  I shake my head at him, but it’s getting hard to maintain my anger. “I see the danger,” I say quietly. “It just doesn’t matter. That’s the part you don’t understand.”

  But I am having an uncomfortable flashback to how Ryan tried to stop me from going after Annie when Mr. Gabriel stole her down to the demon world on opening night of Sweeney Todd. Ryan was also trying to stop me from saving someone else because he thought I was going to die. And I forgave him for that eventually. Didn’t that mean I had to forgive Peter, too?

  I wonder if Ryan is remembering that night as well. Probably not; boys seem to be very good at selective memory when the occasion suits them.

  I sigh heavily, covering my face with my hands. Again.

  “Let’s — let’s just focus on what we’re supposed to be doing down here, okay?”

  “Okay,” says Peter. “But what did you do, exactly, to that demon? Do you think you could do it again?”

  It’s a good question. I drop my hands, considering.

  “I think so. I did something like it once before — to push Mr. Gabriel out of William. I’d wondered, since then, whether there were other ways I could use my power as a kind of weapon instead of just protection. But I never . . .” Never bothered. Never tried to practice or develop it or anything. Just closed my eyes and tried to pretend we were all going to be fine, forever. “When I realized it had worked to make you let me go, I thought it might work on the other demon, too. I didn’t think I could hurt it, but I thought if I could just distract it . . .”

  Peter nods. “We should experiment. When we, uh, have time. That could be really useful.”

  “Agreed. Assuming we don’t all die in the next half hour or whatever.”

  All the shouting and arguing had temporarily distracted me, but now it was sinking back in that Ryan was almost eaten by a monster within a minute of arriving in the demon world. We really could all possibly die at any second, before we ever even find out what Mr. Gabriel’s demands are.

  This place is the worst. I still can’t really believe I’m back here again.

  At least you’re not alone this time, I remind myself. And you’re not weak. You’ve still got your resistance.

  In fact . . . I seem to have just about all of it.

  My heart starts making little jerky motions inside me. Like maybe it is suddenly full of beetles.

  “Peter? Can my resistance . . . I’d used some of it to protect Annie and the others, but . . .”

  “Oh,” he says. “Oh, man. I didn’t realize . . .” He shakes his head. “I don’t think it can work that way. That’s why the queen needs to bring you down here when she wants to borrow it.”

  Which means I’ve left them all completely unprotected. “What if this was all a ruse to leave Annie vulnerable? What if —” Oh, God. “I have to go back! Peter, take us back!”

  “Cyn, wait,” Ryan says. He still looks ashen and shaky, and avoids looking at Peter, but he comes over to join us. “Think about it. If that’s all Mr. Gabriel wanted, he could have gone for Annie first instead of going for me. He could have gotten to her before you even had a chance to share your protection. Before you even knew anything was wrong.”

  Peter is nodding. “He’s right. I don’t think you need to worry about that. At least . . . not right now.”

  My body is still screaming at me to go back, go back!, but I make myself try to calm down. What Ryan is saying makes sense. It does. I have to assume that Mr. Gabriel lured me down here for some other reason than just to get me temporarily out of the way.

  “Okay,” I say. “Okay. Let’s . . . let’s just get on with it, then. How do we find him?”

  Peter goes very still. “I . . . don’t think that’s going to
be a problem.”

  A very large shadow falls across the alley/crack/undergrowth. Ryan and I turn to look at what Peter apparently noticed a second before.

  It is, of course, another horrible demon.

  Ryan gasps beside me. I don’t blame him; the thing is hideous. It’s too big to fit inside the alley, but it presses its giant face to the opening and stares down at us with bright, crazy eyes. As I take in its enormous red, crunchy-looking limbs and grinning dog-bear head, I realize that I have seen this particular demon before.

  “Hey, I know you,” I say. “You’re . . . what’s-his-name’s even more horrible friend. You tried to kill me the last time I was here.”

  The thing inches closer, looming high above us on its sharp-edged Alaskan king crab legs, smiling even more broadly. I suspect we are all wishing very much right now that Peter had taken us a bit farther down the alley before deciding to stop.

  The demon swivels its head to look at each of us in turn, then begins making odd jolty motions, ducking its head down between its own legs and then twisting back up to smile brightly at us.

  “It’s like . . . it’s like a demented dog-clown on crab stilts,” Ryan whispers, staring helplessly.

  “I think . . . I think it wants us to follow it,” Peter says after a moment.

  The demon slams its smiling face against the alley opening and thrusts one crab leg forward to point at Peter, which I think is supposed to indicate that yes, he has guessed correctly. To his great credit, Peter only flinches slightly before saying, “Well then, lead on, good sir! No reason to keep your master waiting.”

  I can’t quite bring myself to agree. I can think of so many reasons.

  After another head slam that sends a few crumbling bits of brick/stone/bark tumbling down near the alley’s entrance and one more impossible smile expansion that threatens to split its ugly face completely in half, the demon performs a quick but complicated about-face and starts to walk away.

  Ryan looks back and forth between Peter and me. “Are we really going to — ?”

  “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?” Peter asks. Then, before either of us can say anything else, he marches forward and out of the alley. After a second, Ryan and I follow. I grab Ryan’s hand and loop his arm through mine on the way out. Nothing is going to pull him off into the shadows to eat him this time. And then we are all following the shiny red legs of the crab-demon, whom Peter quickly informs us he has decided to call Mr. Crunchy.