Heroine Worship

by Sarah Kuhn

  “Dammit,” I growled. “You mean you can’t get it out of the dresses? Then move to Plan B, let’s get those dresses off of them.”

  “No!” he said. “That won’t do any good. What I’m saying is, the puppy isn’t in the dresses.”

  “What?” I sputtered. “Then where the fuck is it?”

  A smile spread over Evie’s face. It crept across her features, then oozed past the point of being a normal smile, morphing into a creepy rictus grin. The effect was so unsettling, I took an inadvertent step back.

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Annie Chang?” she said.

  “It’s . . .” Scott hesitated. “It’s in them. Somehow it’s moved from the dresses. Into their bodies. And I can’t pull it out.”

  What. The. Fuck.

  “I’m trying to connect with the puppy, to communicate with it,” he continued. “But it’s . . . it’s so entrenched. In this new configuration with Evie and our mystery human. It’s blocking me.”

  “Keep holding them,” I said to Shruti. “We’ll . . . we’ll figure something out.”

  But what? How could we pull this puppy demon bullshit out of actual humans?

  The Evie thing opened her mouth and a ghoulish voice emerged. It was lower than Evie’s natural cadence, and strangely monotone.

  “The old ways,” it said. “The old ways . . .”

  This triggered something in the mass of Bridezillas, and suddenly their faces were arranging themselves into similar rictus grins.

  “The old ways,” they echoed, and the Evie thing’s grin seemed to stretch even wider.

  I heard Shruti next to me, breathing hard, and pain danced around my temples once more. I wasn’t sure how long we could hold on.

  “The old ways,” the Evie thing said.

  “Wisdom can only be attained when the glass is full,” Carol said.

  “There are no shortcuts to any place worth going,” Gwen said.

  “A small frog knows when to leap,” Redhead said.

  Why did all of that sound so familiar . . . and why was the temperature in the air suddenly all over the place, warm, then cold, then freezing cold . . .

  My stomach twisted and bile rose in my throat.

  “Shruti,” I breathed.

  “Fuck,” she spat out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” I said, scanning the crowd wildly and trying to think of how I could tell Lucy to go find the person we needed without letting it be known that we were onto him.

  As it turned out, I didn’t need to worry too much about that. Because he came straight to us.

  “Fortune favors the bold,” Dave said, emerging from the crowd. He gave me a ghoulish grin that matched Evie’s and took his place next to her. “And today, fortune especially favors me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  BEFORE I HAD a chance to process a fraction of the what-the-fuckery going down, Dave turned to Evie and uttered a simple command. “Make them push back.”

  She smiled, nodded, and the Bridezillas stood to attention as one, trained their ghoulish grins on me and Shruti, and I felt a hefty shove against my telekinetic hold. I winced and redoubled my efforts.

  “Shruti . . .” I said.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, her voice strained. “I feel it too. I . . . frak. It hurts.”

  I tried to gather my wits about me as I struggled to maintain my hold. Tried to divert brain power to actual thinking beyond just keep going, just for a little longer.

  But how much longer? Because we’d already ascertained that Plan B was useless. And we didn’t have a Plan C. We were stuck in these positions indefinitely with no way out, no way to save the day, no . . . no . . .

  Focus, Annie Chang. This is just like fifth grade, when you decided you were going to become the only person in your entire class—not the only girl, the only person—to do three whole pull-ups. You had to work up the mental stamina—because at least half of it was mental, not physical—to hold position for those few seconds. It hurt like hell and once you finally accomplished it, you had to ice your limp noodle arms for hours before they stopped hurting. But you still fucking did it.

  I tried to remember that feeling of being poised on the pull-up bar, of yanking myself upward, through the pain.

  So Dave was the human connected to the puppy and now the Bridezilla army. But why? How had he even gotten there? Maybe if we got him talking, it would give us more time to figure out Plan C.

  “Wow, Dave,” I said, struggling to make my tone neutral, even as the Bridezillas shoved back against my mental feathers. “I never pegged you as a Bridezilla whisperer.”

  His ghoulish grin turned into a frown. “Solitude is life’s worst punishment,” he said.

  “Uh, what?” I knew most of my concentration was wrapped up in trying to maintain my telekinetic hold, but I was pretty sure that didn’t make any sense.

  “Wait,” Shruti said. “I think I know what he’s saying.”

  “Because you’re around him so much and you know how to interpret his stoned fortune cookie language?”

  “That and I’ve seen that ‘Darmok’ episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation about a kazillion times,” she said. “The Tamarian captain speaks only in metaphors and Captain Picard has to figure out how to talk to him and—”

  “And please get to how this relates to Dave.” The sweat was pouring down my face and neck, pooling uncomfortably in the small of my back. I cursed the fact that I hadn’t had a chance to rip off any part of my poufy white dress.

  “He’s doing the same thing. In his own way. I think what he just said translates roughly to ‘I was lonely.’”

  “Lonely?” I repeated. That was how the puppy demon had felt, according to Scott.

  “The Sunny Side was his home,” the Evie thing interjected, her voice still flat and strange. “His community. And then it was ripped from him by interlopers. Gentrifiers. By new San Francisco.”

  I flashed to Dave talking to me at Pussy Queen on the day he’d seemed semi-coherent. How he’d talked about taking his café back.

  “So he wanted to go back to the pre-gentrified ‘old ways’?” I guessed. “But how did that turn into drafting a puppy demon and a Bridezilla army into doing his bidding?”

  I was nearly lightheaded from holding the Bridezillas in place and I was sure Shruti wasn’t feeling much better. But we had to keep going. I didn’t know what would happen if I let go, but I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be good.

  “The spirit emerged,” Dave intoned. “From the dark place. And we were one.”

  “The dark place . . .” I murmured, trying to work through the pain stabbing my temples. To drag myself through it, like I had with the pull-up bar.

  “From the portal—the Pussy Queen portal!” Shruti exclaimed. “The puppy demon emerged from there—”

  “Back when it first opened,” Evie finished, giving us another malicious smile. “Back when I saved the day with no help whatsoever—”

  “This egocentric version of you is extremely unappealing,” I retorted.

  “So it emerged when Evie and Aveda defeated Shasta,” Shruti said, trying to get us back on track. “And became one with you, Dave?”

  “It was from the dark place,” he said insistently. “It could not imprint—as some of its forebears could not.”

  “So it was like the previous incorporeal puppies, the ones from those reports Bea was organizing,” I said, putting some of the pieces together. I paused for a minute as a wave of pain shot through me—the Bridezillas pushing back again. “But before, these incorporeal puppies just made people ragey and then went away. How did it merge so fully with you, Dave?”

  “It was lost and alone,” he said. “As was I. So we became one.”

  “That’s the only reason?” Shruti said skeptically. “You were both lonely?”


  “The puppy was super drawn to him,” Evie said, giving Dave an adoring grin. “Love at first sight. Well, not exactly ‘sight’ since the puppy was invisible and all.”

  Dave shrugged modestly. “I sent it on missions. An emissary through time and space. And into the precious babies.”

  “The . . . what, now?” I was totally lost again.

  “Babies!” Shruti exclaimed. “That’s what I call my frock finds. So he somehow sent the puppy into the dresses in my pop-up . . .”

  “I ascended to a higher plane,” Dave said, looking smug.

  “Duh, people, it was his power level-up,” Evie interjected, her voice dripping with disdain. “It finally took hold. He figured out he could send certain supernatural elements through the air while changing the temperature of said air. So he sent little pieces of the puppy out and proceeded to really fuck shit up.” She gave me a ghoulish grin, as if this was a good thing.

  “He sent it into some of Shruti’s dresses,” I said, forcing my brain to work through it. “Definitely that dress Marcus Wong repurposed for the red flower gowns. But . . .” I took in a long breath, trying like mad to focus. “Redhead Bride and Carol . . . they weren’t wearing dresses they bought from Shruti when they experienced those first possessions in the bridal tent and Cake My Day. I remember, the dress Carol was wearing was totally different, and Redhead was wearing something more modern.”

  Dave gave me a benevolent smile. “The truth you seek will be found in the underneath.”

  “Please don’t try to rhyme,” I moaned. “I can’t take it.”

  “Wait!” Shruti gasped. “He’s talking about . . . oh my goodness. It was in the petticoats. From my pop-up. I sold Redhead hers a couple weeks before the tent incident. And Carol . . . she must’ve gotten hers when she bought a dress. Remember how I thought Maisy had charged too much? It’s ’cause Carol wasn’t buying just a dress, she was buying a petticoat, too! And we couldn’t see it in that Polaroid, because she was wearing it underneath!”

  “God.” I gritted my teeth and tried to restrengthen my mental walls. “That’s right, Carol and Gwen were both wearing ridiculously gigantic petticoats at Cake My Day. And I vaguely remember Redhead’s, because it contrasted so much with her modern dress. And I can’t believe petticoats were a major fucking clue here.”

  “My emissary did not find its bearings immediately,” Dave said, suddenly looking perturbed. “It was chaotic. Unpredictable.”

  “Right, the initial possessions were erratic,” I said, remembering. “You and the puppy were still figuring it out. I mean, in some cases it seemed more like it wanted to straight up murder brides—like me and Evie in those Marcus Wongs—than possess them.”

  “Our method had not yet attained perfection,” Dave sniffed.

  “And the puppy was able to escape the dresses whenever it thought it was in danger,” I said. “What we didn’t realize was that it put itself right back into all these Bridezillas’ dresses once it thought the coast was clear. And then—”

  “—it was spread too far, too wide,” Dave said, looking sorrowful.

  “You split it up too much and it was weakened—you were weakened,” I said and was hit by a fresh wave of pain. I redoubled my concentration, trying to stay focused. And upright. Upright would be good. “Which is why you need Evie, but . . .” The pain surged through me again and I gasped.

  “Why did you target brides in the first place?” Shruti said, picking up the thread.

  “The power,” Dave exclaimed, his eyes glowing with excitement. “I witnessed the power of the betrothed!”

  “He saw the video of me at the bridal tent,” Evie said, preening. “You know, the one that went viral? It really conveyed the focus, determination, and zeal of brides-to-be. He knew if he could build a full bridal army, it would be the most powerful force ever!”

  “But the handful of existing engaged women in the city wasn’t enough,” I guessed, thinking back to running into Gwen at Marcus Wong’s shop, how she’d been suddenly and unexpectedly engaged. “So wearing the possessed dresses also made people want to be brides.”

  “Very good,” possessed Evie said, giving me a mocking smile. “See, Aveda Jupiter, you can be borderline smart, when you really put your mind to it. Even if those instances are extremely few and far between.”

  “And wearing any possessed clothing longer—particularly once the puppy lost the ability to escape from the dresses, once it was just stuck in them all the time—meant the brides were more and more affected,” I said, doing my best to ignore her. Between that and trying to keep myself upright and projecting my telekinesis, I was multitasking like crazy. “That they even developed supernatural powers, like we theorized last night?” I thought maybe reminding Evie of this—of our time making battle plans less than twenty-four hours ago—would speak to whatever part of the real her was still in there.

  “Minor powers,” Evie said, with a massive eye-roll. “Like, sometimes they could pass the possession on to other pieces of their clothing or the clothing of good friends and such, meaning brides were added to the posse here and there. But they needed me to co-host the primary puppy power with Dave in order to get that possession passed into their bodies, locked in nice and good, and truly reach top bridal status. Now we’re strong enough to send the possession into so many people.”

  I swallowed hard, feeling numb. I could barely move my head. I knew there were still missing pieces, but I couldn’t think straight enough to put them together. Every ounce of strength I had was going into keeping my hold on the Bridezillas.

  “This brings us back to why, though,” Shruti said. “Why build the bridal army in the first place, Dave? What were you hoping to accomplish?”

  “Solitude is life’s worst punishment,” Dave repeated peevishly, his brow wrinkling again.

  “So all this is because you wanted friends?” I spat out. I was too exhausted to even try to placate him anymore. “Everyone wants friends. I want friends and I want to be a good friend, and you know what? I’m kind of bad at it. I nearly ruined my best friend’s wedding—”

  “Nearly?” mocked Evie.

  “—by not listening to her and bulldozing ahead and thinking I could just will people to do whatever I wanted them to,” I continued. “But at least I know now that’s wrong. And I know that forcing people to be your friends by turning them into zombie bride minions is especially wrong.”

  Dave was shaking his head back and forth like a recalcitrant child. “No,” he said. “No, no, no. I am a lost warrior, wandering the land, encountering so many stones on my path—”

  “So you’re having an identity crisis,” I snapped. “So am I! That doesn’t give you the right to destroy the whole city.”

  “I have my queen now,” he insisted. “I can do anything. She can do anything. She is the key.”

  Evie turned her ghoulish grin on him, beaming. The other Bridezillas mimicked her. I would have shuddered if I wasn’t about ready to collapse from telekinetic exertion. I could really feel the Bridezillas pressing against me now. Spots danced in front of my vision, pain stabbed at my temples, and I struggled to stay upright. Dave’s words pulsed through my brain, an eerie echo: She is the key . . . the key . . . the key . . .

  Evie cocked her head to the side. The Bridezillas mimicked her again. They mimicked her exactly.

  Wait . . .

  “Scott,” I managed to call out, a hunch forming in the back of my stressed-out mind. “If I can get the puppy into the air, do you think you can grab hold and guide it?”

  “I think so,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “But I can’t get a handle on it while it’s still inside of them, it’s too merged.”

  “That’s all right. Just get ready to find it in the air,” I said. My vision swam, and I swallowed hard, trying to regain my concentration. “I have an idea.”

  This time,
I thought firmly, Evie will be grateful for my Idea Face.

  The Evie thing threw her head back and cackled, a bone-chilling sound.

  “You can’t beat me, Aveda Jupiter!” she cried. “I am so much stronger than you.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “You are. Despite what you’ve thought about yourself in the past—despite what I might have thought about you in the past—you are the strongest person I know. And that means I know you can fight this thing.”

  She shook her head at me, rictus grin still firmly in place. My vision swam again.

  “Shruti,” I murmured. “I need you to hold the brides in place by yourself for just a minute.”

  “You got it,” she said, her voice grim.

  I released my telekinetic hold on the Bridezillas. And then I gathered up my mental feathers and flung them at Evie with all my might. I flung them hard, visualizing them plunging into her chest, into her body. Finding her heart. Finding all the important pieces of her that I loved so dearly. I poked around, feeling my way, and then I felt the thing that didn’t belong, the foreign bit of energy. It was sad and scared and practically wailing with hurt, with loneliness. I knew that had to be it. The puppy.

  I didn’t think about how I wasn’t merely grabbing on to something I couldn’t see—I was grabbing on to something inside my friend’s body. I couldn’t think about the fact that I had no idea what the effects of moving it would be. I just tightened my grip, prayed I had it right, and pulled as hard as I could.

  “Get out of my friend, you asshole!” I screamed.

  The effect was immediate and disconcerting. Evie shrieked so loud, I thought the entire rotunda might collapse. Then she and the rest of the Bridezillas fell to their knees in unison, like puppets whose strings had been cut. Dave clamped his hands over his ears and wailed.

  “Scott!” I yelled. “The puppy! It’s outside of them, it’s in the air, it’s—”

  “I got it!” he yelled back.

  I heard the click of the trap, finally imprisoning the puppy for good.

  I sagged to the side: drained, hollowed out.