Interview with the Vixen Page 7

  There’s a second crash, and Veronica doesn’t wait another moment.

  She launches herself at the door to the study, kicking it wide open with one of her stompy boots. “Hey! Time to—”

  Veronica freezes, her mouth still open, and gapes at the scene in front of her. “Mom? Daddy?”

  NO. NO.

  This is not possible.

  It’s maybe the millionth time Veronica has had that thought in the past two days, and shouldn’t she know by now?

  There’s no such thing as impossible, not in this monster-filled world.

  “Mom,” she says again, taking a faltering step forward and sliding the stake back into her jeans. “Daddy?”

  Of all the scenes Veronica had anticipated, this was not one. Her parents’ slowly decaying bodies, still laid out on the floor? Sure.

  But her parents standing together in front of a blazing fireplace?

  Her parents, not dead?

  Her parents watching her with extremely red eyes, and smiling at her with fanged teeth?

  No. None of those scenarios had been on her list.

  “Veronica!” Her father holds his arms out wide. “What took you so long?”

  “Daddy?” Veronica takes a step forward, breathless. She isn’t sure whether to be joyful or terrified. On the one hand, they’re not dead, but on the other—

  Those eyes and fangs say it all. But Veronica remembers how she found them. How they were lifeless, completely lost to her, and that means—

  Dilton’s words from yesterday come back to her. The first one is the moroi. They’re people who’ve died—or been killed, more likely—and then revived with a vampire bite.

  Veronica wants to smack herself for taking so long to put this together. Of course her parents aren’t dead.

  They’re undead.

  “I thought you were gone,” Veronica says now, still a little breathless. “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

  Her mother laughs, but it’s not the sound Veronica had mourned only one day ago. It’s flatter, meaner, altogether colder. “Dead? Oh, sweetie. Did we scare you? I’m sorry!”

  “Come, my love.” Her father holds a hand out to her. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Veronica begins to move toward him, an instinctive response, but something stops her.

  What else was it that Dilton had said? Some of the tales talk about them being more malleable and easily controlled.

  Zombie vamps, Veronica had called them. And about the strigoi Dilton had said, They can control the moroi—make them bend to their will.

  Her parents are watching her, rictus fanged smiles on their faces, but Veronica doesn’t move another inch.

  These aren’t her parents.

  Not really, she thinks. Their bodies, sure, but their minds? She saw it for herself: the two of them killed, but both with bite marks. Who knows how close they’d been to coming back—to transforming—when she’d found them?

  But to be brought back means they’re one of those zombie vamps, and that also means—

  Like her thoughts have summoned him, he melts out of the shadows. “Hello, Veronica. So nice to see you again.”

  Veronica shifts into power stance without even thinking. The strigoi looks just as she remembers: handsome, charming, with a poisonous smile and that singular perfect curl sweeping across his forehead.

  How long does it take to get that in place? Veronica thinks. I wonder if he uses a curling iron or those pink plastic rollers my grandmother used to use.

  She has to stifle a laugh at the thought of this so carefully composed man—no, not man, vampire—sitting in front of a mirror like her old-lady grandma, and suddenly she’s not so afraid of him.

  “Last time we met, I told you to get out of my house,” Veronica says. “Oh, yeah, and I put a knife in your back. Are you here for round two?”

  “Whoa there.” Her father steps in between them, chuckling. “Veronica, my love. Why don’t we all sit down?”

  “Sit down?” Veronica stares at him. “There’s no time for chitchat and cocktails, Daddy. I know how to turn us all back to our regular human selves, okay?”

  Hermione Lodge smooths her perfectly blown-out hair and perches on the edge of the couch. For a woman who died two days ago, I gotta say, she looks pretty good, Veronica thinks. Whatever concealer she’s using is doing the lord’s work. You can barely tell she’d started to decompose!

  Her mother frowns ever so slightly. “Turn back?” she says. “But—why would we want to turn back?”

  Veronica points at the strigoi, calmly standing there rocking on his heels with a smirk that she wants to slap off his face, like he belongs there. Her parents haven’t even reacted to this intruder in their midst. “Because he turned us all into monsters against our will and—”

  Now her father laughs again and takes her hand. “Against our will? Oh, no. You’ve got it all wrong, Veronica. Don’t you remember that important associate I told you I was meeting on Friday?”

  Oh.

  Oh no.

  Veronica takes a step back, uneasy. Suddenly she wishes she hadn’t shut the walkie off; she’s pretty sure she’s about to need Dilton’s backup. “What about him?”

  Her father grins, and with his new fangs protruding it’s profoundly unsettling. He holds a hand out in the strigoi’s direction. “Meet Theodore Finch,” he says. “He and I have some very exciting plans in store for Riverdale.”

  ARCHIE WHISTLES AS he slams his car door shut and straightens out the bunch of flowers he’s brought along.

  Usually he doesn’t feel bad about the little triangle he and Betty and Ronnie have going on. Why would he? The girls never say anything to him about it, and it’s not like they’re serious—he just really does enjoy hanging out with both of them. They’re his friends, and maybe sometimes they go on dates or make out a little, but it’s not a big deal.

  Or at least Archie never thinks of it as a big deal, but he’s starting to think maybe he’s wrong. Ever since Friday night when Betty asked if he thought Ronnie was jealous of them being together, he’s been wondering if maybe things aren’t quite as cool as he’s thought.

  The fact that Veronica hasn’t responded to any of his or Betty’s texts all weekend seems to point that way, at least.

  Maybe she’s with Reggie, he thinks. Not like he’s jealous or anything. Whatever, the two of them can do what they want. It’s just weird that he hasn’t heard from him, either—usually he’d be texting with updates as his night with Veronica went on. Or maybe it didn’t go so well, and he’s too embarrassed to say anything.

  Archie smirks a little as he bends to check his reflection in the wing mirror, fixing his hair. His dad always says to get flowers when you think you might have done something wrong. That way, if you did, then you’re apologizing, and if you didn’t, then you just earned yourself some points for coming home with flowers.

  He straightens up and looks at the imposing mansion before him. If Ronnie is mad at him and Betty, then maybe this will be a good start.

  Archie walks up to the house and goes to ring the bell, but the front door’s already open. Weird. And there’s a car he doesn’t recognize in the driveway.

  “Veronica?” Archie calls, and he steps into the house.

  VERONICA STARES AT her father. “You can’t work with a vampire.” And then she draws her stake again, flips it around, and raises an eyebrow. “Not when I’m here to kill him.”

  The atmosphere changes instantly. It’s that stake in Veronica’s hand; she can feel the energy coming off it, and suddenly everyone’s in attack positions: her father, her mother, and this Theodore Finch.

  “Kill him?” Hiram Lodge narrows his eyes. “I don’t think so.”

  “Yes.” Veronica keeps her voice strong. “That’s how we turn back. And maybe you two agreed to this, for whatever bonkers reason or plan you’ve come up with, but I sure as hell didn’t.” Veronica shifts her weight from side to side. “So yeah, I’m gonna kill him.”


  Her father grins again, rolling up his sleeves. “Well, you’ll have to get through me first.”

  Now, when Veronica walked into the house earlier, did she expect to be faced with fighting her own father? Possibly to the death?

  Abso-freaking-lutely not. But seeing how things have been going lately, this turn of events weirdly makes sense.

  Become a vampire, clear out a paranormal monster hunting store, physically fight my dad, she thinks. Just a regular weekend!

  She eyes her father as they prowl circles around each other. “I’ll try not to hurt you,” Veronica says, and her father snarls.

  “I’ll try not to kill you.”

  Then they’re on each other. Veronica tries not to think about the absurdity of the moment and concentrates on dodging her father’s grabs. He wants the stake, she can tell; disarm her and she’s not a threat anymore, right?

  That’s the problem with her father. He always underestimates her, like how he never lets her sit in on those business meetings, how he tells his associates like Theodore all about her looks and her neat behavior rather than her instinct for problem solving.

  Veronica’s always planned on showing him how wrong he is about her. She just hadn’t planned on doing it quite this way.

  Hiram lunges for Veronica and she dives sideways, rolling as she hits the floor and springing straight up, your basic cheer-dance transition. “Is that all you got, Daddy?” She pulls the walkie from her back pocket and flicks it back on. “Dilton! Time to move in!”

  She flings the walkie to the floor as her dad aims at her again, his fingers grasping her wrist this time.

  Veronica twists, his fingers burning her skin, and sweeps a leg at her father’s feet. He drops but only to one knee, and uses his grip on Veronica to yank her closer.

  “Bad idea,” he growls. “I was going to go easy on you—”

  Veronica doesn’t let him finish. Instead she drives her shoulder into his face, knocking him back and surprising him enough that he releases her wrist, and Veronica flexes. Her heart’s pounding, but it feels good. Adrenaline, like the kind she gets being thrown in the air under the Friday-night lights, or when she found the last pair of limited-edition leopard print Louboutin slingbacks in her size. But there’s something else behind it, too, and as she spins the stake in her hand and drops back into attack position again, she understands.

  She feels strong, and fast. Every blow her father lands on her hurts only as much as a mosquito sinking its little teeth in. Her dad feels like a gnat she can squash with just a flick of her hand.

  I’m enjoying this, she realizes, a glee to the thought. I’m having fun.

  “Come on,” Veronica says, mimicking her father’s grin from before. “You wanna fight? Let’s fight.”

  And then a call comes from outside. “Veronica?”

  Dilton. “In the study!” she calls, and catches her father’s fist on the side of her head.

  Crap.

  It’s dizzying but she’s fine. I’m fine, I’m fine, she thinks as she spins for a second, I’m fine—

  She sees a flash of red hair in her confused eyes. Wait. That’s not Dilton. That’s—

  “Archie!” Veronica throws herself at the door right as Archie comes through, but maybe that hit got her a little harder than she thought, because she falls at his feet. “Get out, now!”

  A look of horror unfolds over Archie’s face. Veronica watches it, and then watches as her father leaps neatly over her and catches Archie in a headlock before anybody else can move.

  “Veronica!” Archie says her name, but it’s strangled, desperate, and he reaches out.

  She gets to her feet and flips the stake so it’s pointing right at her father, but he tuts. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he says, and visibly tightens his hold around Archie’s neck. “You want your friend to live, don’t you?”

  “Daddy.” Veronica stills—the whole room stills, and tension balloons. But Veronica doesn’t put down the stake. “You don’t have to hurt him.”

  “No?” The word comes from behind Veronica, and she spins.

  Theodore leans against the wood-paneled wall, watching with amusement. “No, I suppose he doesn’t have to hurt your friend. But, see, if I decide he should, then he will.”

  Veronica’s stomach sinks. “This is you,” she says, breathless, looking around at her dad holding Archie captive and her mom, motionless on the couch, and this vampire lounging like it’s all so entertaining. “All of it. You’re controlling them.”

  Theodore Finch begins to clap. “Brava! You’ve figured it out,” he says, pushing off the wall. “But have you figured out why?”

  “I don’t care,” Veronica says. “Whatever your little plan is, it doesn’t matter to me at all.”

  “Well, it should.” Theodore comes closer. “Because I’ve got a very important part for you to play, little girl.”

  Veronica pauses and lets her stake hand lower a fraction. Little girl? Jesus, what a dick.

  But she can’t let herself get distracted. She needs to keep herself together—no, actually, what she needs is Dilton to be here so they can commence the pelting-with-garlic part of their backup plan and take this monster out for real.

  There’s no sign of him, though. And Archie’s face is getting redder by the second in her father’s chokehold. Okay, Veronica thinks, calling up all her performance skills. Let’s try something else.

  According to what Theodore said during their first meeting, he thinks she’s a demure, well-mannered girl. So fine. Let him see what he wants to see.

  “Important?” she repeats, making her voice high and full of disbelief, as if she can’t fathom that someone like him would care anything about a stupid small girl like her. “For me?”

  Theodore comes closer still.

  Come into my web, Veronica thinks.

  “Yes,” he says. “See, I think it’s about time Riverdale got some new blood. For too long it’s been the same old people ruling over this town, and they don’t see its true potential. But I do. And I need somebody smart like you on my side. After all, who knows this town and its residents better than the reigning social butterfly of it all?”

  “You think I’m smart?” Veronica says, staring up at Theodore and blinking.

  Theodore brings a hand to her face, stroking a finger down her cheek.

  It takes a mammoth amount of effort for Veronica not to gag. Good lord, men are silly. How is he eating this up so easily? As if Veronica is suddenly going to switch and drop the idea of killing him, abandon the hope of getting her parents back to their human selves, just because he paid her one teeny-tiny compliment that she knows he doesn’t even mean.

  But it really seems to be working.

  “What do you want me to do?” Veronica drops her hand, like she’s dropped the idea of killing him entirely.

  Theodore leans down. “Stop pretending I’m stupid, for a start.”

  “Wha—”

  He has her in a vise grip before she can react, almost a mirror of how her father’s holding Archie. “Please,” he says. “Did you really think I was buying this act?”

  Veronica’s glad she can’t answer, his arm across her throat. She did think she had him, and now—

  Theodore presses his arm tighter across Veronica’s throat. She tries to pry his fingers off her, but it doesn’t seem to make any difference. Theodore ignores her struggling and laughs. “Why don’t you fill her in on how things are going to go, Hermione?”

  Her mother seems to flicker to life then. She rises from the couch and approaches Veronica, struggling in Theodore’s arms. “It’s very simple,” she says. “We’re going to turn everybody who matters in this town. All of our friends. The mayor and the sheriff. Everybody on our level. Then not only will we be among the richest and most important in Riverdale—we’ll be in true control, too.”

  Veronica arches her back, trying to break out of Theodore’s hold, but if anything, it only makes it worse. “You won’t be in
control,” she says to her mother, the words just about rasping out. “He will. He’s controlling you now.”

  Hermione smiles, her red lipstick so perfect and shiny. “Oh, no, my love,” she says. “This is the plan we agreed to before we were reborn. We were aware that Theodore could exercise his powers over us, and we welcome it. This is everything we’ve ever wanted. Don’t you see? We’ll live forever now. The immortal Lodge family, rulers of Riverdale. What more could we possibly want?”

  She keeps on smiling, a rictus grin, and Veronica doesn’t know what to think. It’s possible her mom’s telling the truth, that it’s really her speaking—an agreement with Theodore, in exchange for the power her parents are always chasing? That, Veronica can believe. But she can’t put aside the theory that Theodore might be controlling them in all ways, at all times.

  It could be her dad with his arm pressing against Archie’s windpipe, or it could be Theodore’s influence. Either could be true. “I won’t—let you do this,” Veronica says, fighting to get the words out.

  When Theodore speaks, his silky voice is right in her ear, breath hot on her skin. “I don’t think you’re really in a position to threaten us,” he says.

  And then there’s a spray of water that skims Veronica’s cheek, leaving a stinging pain there. What the—

  Dilton’s in the doorway, holding what looks like a neon water gun. Water gun, she thinks, beginning to smile. Dilton, you genius!

  Theodore yelps and releases Veronica, a hand on his face where Dilton’s blast of holy water hit. His skin’s smoking a little, and it’s all the time Veronica needs to get across the room. “Dilton!” she calls. “My dad!”

  Dilton pivots quick—

  Hermione lunges and knocks the water gun out of Dilton’s hands. “Stop right there.”

  Veronica skids to a halt in front of her father.

  In front of Archie, his face almost as red as his hair while her dad continues to hold tight around his neck.

  Oh, Archie, you really have the worst timing, she thinks.

  Veronica eyes the distance between her and the stake she dropped, her and the walkie she threw across the room. “Don’t even think about it,” her father says, eyes laser-focused on her. “Here’s how it’s going to work. You leave us alone, and we won’t hurt little Archiekins. But if you try to interfere in our plans again, Veronica—” He bares his fangs. “Archie will die.”