“Yes.”
“Oh, fine.” He glances away, and I swear he is starting to look the tiniest bit embarrassed. “I don’t really know where to start.”
“Just pick somewhere and start talking.”
He sighs. “Okay. Soooo . . . remember that time you came to the demon world to rescue your friend?”
I’m still so in shock about what’s happening right now, I can’t even muster the scathing response that question deserves. “Uh, yeah.”
“So, I was there, watching the battle. I mean, everyone was there, so maybe that’s obvious.”
“Were you one of the ones who tried to eat me?”
“No!” He actually makes a face, like a three-year-old being ordered to take a bite of some much-hated vegetable. “I told you, that’s not my thing. No, I was rooting for you. It was so exciting! The show, the dramatic rescue, John Gabriel almost killing you at the end there . . . I was riveted.”
“I’m so glad it was entertaining.”
“Anyway, when the new queen sent you and your human friends back through to your own world, I . . . hitched a ride.”
He stops like this is the end of the explanation. We look at each other for a few seconds.
“And then you decided to go to theater camp?” I ask, finally.
“Well, no. Not right away. I didn’t even know there was such a thing! But once I heard about it . . .”
“Where did you hear about it?”
“From Ryan. Same as you.”
My mind spins for a minute as I try to find the sense in what he is saying. “You talked to Ryan?”
He laughs. “No, silly. I was tethered to you, so I was, uh, nearby. When he was telling you about it.”
I decide the time has come to sit down. I lower myself shakily to the floor, my back against the wall. After a second, Peter sits down beside me.
“Please tell me you haven’t been invisibly watching me for the past seven and a half months. Because it kind of sounds like that’s what you’re saying.”
“No, no,” he says reassuringly. “Not the whole time. Just sometimes. It took a while to build up enough strength to regain a full physical form, and then I had to contact Hector . . .”
“Hector?”
“My current, uh, assistant. My contact in the human world. He’s been feeding me musical theater stuff for years. But he doesn’t live anywhere near you, and I couldn’t go outside the tether range . . .”
I hold up a hand to stop him.
“Please explain about the tether.”
He explains. Allegedly, because he wasn’t strong enough to build an actual portal like Mr. Gabriel did into our high school, and because he didn’t want to be tied to a single location, and because he only had a few seconds to make his decision and hitch his ride, Peter had to anchor himself to either me, Annie, or Danielle Hornick as we were sent back home from the demon world. (He chose me.) And then he had to stay within a certain distance of me at all times, because that is the nature of the tether thing, apparently.
“I had to stay pretty close to you at the beginning, but once I gained some strength, I could stretch it out a bit. But the maximum distance is only about 1.63 miles, so I could never go very far.”
“So you just . . . just . . . kind of loitered around the neighborhood?”
“I kept busy!” he says rather defensively. “Trust me, it’s not easy to establish an identity and fill out all the forms for camp and stuff when you don’t have parents or a bank account or an actual address. Hector does his best, but he’s not the sharpest crayon in the box. Loyal to a fault, though, which is ultimately more important in the long run.”
I lean my head back against the wall. Not happening. This. Can. Not. Be. Happening.
“I thought maybe you’d be sympathetic, since your best friend had dated a demon,” he says.
My head stops leaning and whips toward him again. “Annie was not dating a demon! She was coerced into a severely unhealthy relationship by magical means and then abducted in a manner requiring dramatic rescue, remember?”
“Okay. Bad choice of words, sorry. But I thought, somehow . . . you would understand. I mean, sure, mostly I was hoping you just wouldn’t find out until I was ready. But if you did find out, I was hoping you would understand. Plus, we have the whole shared passion for musical theater thing! I know all the demons had been going on about Sweeney Todd, but they only like it because of the killing and cannibalism. I love Sweeney for the music and the drama and everything else. Like you! You were the perfect ally. I was sure of it. And then, later on, I heard Ryan talking about theater camp, and I realized that’s exactly what I wanted. A chance to get my start.”
I am still trying to find the sense. Trying and failing. “Your start in what?”
He looks at me like he can’t understand the question. “In show business! What do you think I’m doing here?”
“I have no idea what you’re doing here! I assume it has something to do with killing people and sucking out their souls and trying to make my life miserable!”
He throws up his hands. “Why aren’t you listening to me? I have no interest in killing people and sucking out their souls! I just want to create quality musical theater!”
I can only stare at him. I may have lost all hope of finding the sense, ever.
“What? Demons aren’t allowed to appreciate the arts?”
“No!”
“That’s . . . that’s racist!”
“It’s not racist. You’re not of a race. You’re not even human!”
“Well, then, it’s just demonist.”
“Exactly!”
He sighs and puts a hand to his forehead like I’m giving him a headache. Like I’m giving him a headache.
“Look,” he says. “For longer than you have been alive, I have lived in the demon world on a secret diet of smuggled-in old-timey ballads and jazz standards and eventually every single bit of musical theater I could get my hands on. I’ve consorted with countless humans who have helped get me in to see everything on and Off and Off-Off and Off-Off-Off Broadway it was possible to see, and I have waited and waited and waited for the right circumstances to occur that would allow me to escape to your world forever so I could become a part of that experience for real. You were a dream come true for me, Cyn. Not only my ticket out but someone else who loved theater like I did! Someone who could maybe help me get on my feet once I got here. But there wasn’t time to discuss it, there wasn’t time to ask your permission, and there certainly wasn’t time to explain. I saw my chance, and I took it.”
“Okay,” I say after a minute. “Okay, fine. You saw your chance, and you took it, and then you spied on me and my boyfriend for a while, and now here you are. Mission accomplished, yeah? So now you can take yourself off into the world and disappear and never make me have to see you again.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. Also, I won’t, but I can’t anyway. I’m still connected to you. I might need your help to break the tether. But I’m also not leaving. I need this chance. This contest gets national attention every year. Producers will see my work. It’s how I’m going to start my Broadway career.”
“But . . . but . . . you’re a demon. You have demony magic and stuff, right? You don’t need this chance. You can just go insert yourself onto Broadway anytime you want, can’t you?”
“I don’t want it that way. I want to make it on my own. And I can! I’m really good! I just need to get my start.”
Another idea occurs to me. “You cheated to get into camp, didn’t you?”
“What? No! Well, okay. Yes. But I would have gotten in anyway. My show was totally better than any of the other submissions. I just had to make sure.”
I push myself back onto my feet.
Peter is up in an instant beside me. “Where are you going?”
“I need . . . I need to think. Somewhere where you are not.”
He nods. “Okay. Okay, sure. Just . . . just don’t do anything hasty, okay? I know i
t doesn’t seem like it now, but this can be a good thing. I promise. I can help you! I know you have to go back to the demon world two more times. . . . I can help you prepare! Give you inside information, whatever you need.”
I am in the process of walking away, but I stop and turn back to face him, shaken. “How do you know about that?” Definitely not from eavesdropping on me and Ryan, since Ryan doesn’t know anything about it.
“Aaron,” he says, shrugging.
“Aaron? Bookstore Aaron? The demon queen’s consort Aaron?”
Fucking Aaron.
Peter nods again. “Oh, my God, that guy’s a talker. He’ll go on and on forever if you let him. But he’s a good source of intel.”
“How — when did you even talk to him? If you left when I did . . .”
“Oh, I’ve known Aaron for a while. We used to talk sometimes before he came down — trading information, shooting the breeze, you know — and he’s the one who told me about you in the first place. Otherwise I’d never have even gone to the arena for the demon-throne battle; it’s not like I have a particular interest in watching other demons rip one another to shreds. But I knew you were helping the demoness, and Aaron had told me all about you and Ryan and Annie, and I had to see what was going to happen. We’ve kept in touch since then, too. I figured he’d have more information about you, and it’s always good to keep a contact back home, just in case.”
I have officially reached my limit.
“Okay. I’m going to walk away now.” I pivot on my heels and resume my away-from-here course.
He waves as I turn away and then talks at my back. “Sure, that’s fine. Take all the time you need. We can talk about set stuff later. Or tomorrow, you know, whenever.”
This time I keep walking. I don’t know if morning rehearsal is technically over, but I don’t care. I need to find Ryan.
I head across campus to the Colosseum. There are a few other campers here and there, so it must at least be close enough to the end of the period that some groups have already been let out. I shouldn’t be too conspicuous in my wandering around.
I can hear voices as I approach, winding my way up the gradual hill to the top of the path. It’s not one of the songs Ryan played for me, but it’s definitely of the same flavor. The Colosseum is an open-sided theater, a big black platform with a roof and some walls around the backstage area but not around the audience, which is filled with long benches instead of individual seats. So I don’t even have to try to sneak inside; it’s easy to just walk up and peer past the outer supports. The principals are sitting onstage in folding chairs (clearly this director doesn’t feel the same need as Michael to keep himself above everyone else). The chorus is in the first few rows of the audience, and I can see other campers moving around at the far edge of the stage, who I assume are the backstage track group. The music stops as I reach the outer rows of benches, and the director starts to talk. It sounds like he’s beginning to wrap things up.
Ryan and Jules are sitting next to each other, and it breaks my heart a little to see the perfect way they coexist up there on the stage. Like they were put there together on purpose for everyone’s aesthetic appreciation. As I watch, the director says something that makes everyone laugh, and Jules leans her head on Ryan’s shoulder for a second while she’s laughing. He pats the top of her head, kind of like I might do if Annie were laughing so hard she had to lean on my shoulder . . . but also not like that at all.
I believe him that they’re just friends. I do.
But.
People start shuffling to their feet. I linger outside, watching campers file past. The director has a few last words with the principals before setting them loose, so they all walk out more or less together. Ryan sees me and flashes me a gorgeous surprised smile.
“Hey, Cyn! What are you doing here? Get out early?” Then he takes in my expression.
“I need to talk to you.” I think it’s clear that I mean just you, but Jules doesn’t seem to take the hint.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I lie, trying not to sound as impatient as I am for her to leave. “I just need to talk to Ryan about something.” So please go away now.
She still doesn’t seem to get it.
“We’ll catch up to you at lunch,” Ryan tells her, which finally gets the message through.
“Oh. Okay, sure. See you in a bit.”
She heads down the path, jogging to catch up with some of the other kids. I think I see her look back once, but I can’t really bring myself to care if her feelings were hurt.
“What’s going on?” Ryan asks. “Did something . . . happen?”
“Yes,” I say simply.
“Crap.” He sits heavily on the edge of the outermost bench. After a second, he looks up at me. “Are you sure?” He is nearly pleading.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.” I sit down next to him and give him the short version. Not that there’s really a long version at this point. “The guy who won the camper writing/composing contest? He’s a demon. He’s able to mask his halo, although not if he forgets to concentrate on it, which is how I found out. He followed me home from the demon world, apparently. To do musical theater.”
Ryan takes this in stride, as much as one can.
“What does he want? Did he . . . did he try to hurt you?”
“No. Nothing like that. And as for what he wants . . .” I let out a long, slow breath. “Well, that’s the thing. He swears he doesn’t want anything. I mean other than to do his show and eventually have some kind of Broadway career. He says he’s not evil.”
“Ha.” There is nothing laughlike about that syllable the way Ryan says it. I feel like he is trying very hard not to freak out right now. His previous run-ins with demons have not been very pleasant. Not that mine have been very pleasant, either, but he doesn’t even have my super-roach thing going on. He is totally vulnerable in every way. As both Mr. Gabriel and the demoness (before our deal) made perfectly clear on a couple of memorable occasions.
His face is grim as he looks at me, not speaking. I wait, letting him have this tiny allotment of time in which to adjust. I hate seeing that expression on his face, though. He doesn’t look scared, although I’m sure he must be, since he’s not an idiot. He just looks really, really unhappy.
“I thought we were done with all this demon stuff,” he says finally.
“Me, too.” Liar, my brain whispers. But I’m not totally a liar. I did think we were done with encountering demons in our own world. And I thought Ryan was done completely. I never intended to involve him in the two future trips when they happened. If they happened. Which maybe they might not, still.
“Okay,” he says, clearly attempting to rally. “The first thing we have to do is get you off that show. There’s got to be some way we can arrange that.” He brightens suddenly. “Maybe you can switch to Scarlet Pimpernel instead! Then we could all be on the same show together! I could talk to Steven, see if there’s anything he can do . . .”
He lost me even before he got to the part about us “all” being together on Pimpernel — as though we are now some kind of trio, him and me and Jules. As soon as he mentioned getting me off Peter’s show, I knew at once that I didn’t want to do that.
“I’m not switching shows.”
“Cyn, come on. You can’t just stay there and work with him!”
“How is switching shows going to make me any safer? He’s still going to be here. He’s still connected to me —”
“He’s connected to you? What does that mean?”
I sigh, exhausted at the idea of trying to explain what I don’t really understand myself. “Something to do with how he hitched a ride with me. He called it a tether. I didn’t really get all the details. I was too busy trying to not lose my mind. But the point is that I’m not going to be helping anything by switching shows. If anything, it makes more sense to stay where I can keep a closer eye on him.”
“It’s not your job to keep an eye on him.
”
“Of course it is. Who else is going to do it?”
“Why does anyone have to do it? He’s not our problem! We’re done!”
“Oh, yeah? Are you ready to ditch camp, then? And leave him here to do who-knows-what to your beloved summer paradise? Anyway, he has to stay within a certain distance of me until I can break this tether thing or whatever it is, and so running away isn’t really an option.”
Ryan stares at me. “How much distance?”
“One point six three miles.”
There is more staring.
“I know. It’s all very random and confusing and upsetting. But . . . well, what if he’s telling the truth? It’s worth at least trying to find that out. If he’s really not evil . . . then maybe there’s nothing we have to do at all.”
Ryan puts a hand to his forehead in the same kind of you’re-giving-me-a-headache way that Peter did. “Do you actually believe him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe. But I do know that switching shows is not the answer. I need to find out what’s really going on.”
We sit there for a few minutes, not talking.
Then he says, quietly, “Why did you even bother to tell me?”
Now I’m the one staring. “What kind of question is that? No more secrets, remember?” I feel like the world’s biggest hypocrite, but I press on. “I thought you’d want to know. And I needed to tell you. Jesus, Ryan, who else am I going to talk to about this? I hadn’t decided anything, I just . . . I just wanted to come find you so we could figure it out together.”
“But apparently there’s nothing to figure out.”
“Yet! I’m just saying we should try to get more information first. I mean, what would we even do? Try to catch him? Banish him back to the demon world?” I try a tiny smile. “Did you even pack a strobe light?”
“Ha.” Still not an actual laughing sound but less like hidden screaming than before. I start to breathe a little easier.
“Okay,” Ryan says after a minute. “I guess that makes sense for now, anyway. Let’s . . . see what happens. If people start acting like zombies or, you know, dying, at least we’ll know who to blame.”
Revenge of the Evil Librarian Page 5
