Evil Thing (Villains 7)

I parked nearby, around the corner, and made my way to the café on foot. As I rounded the corner, I saw them before they saw me. Perdita was with her, as promised. Anita was in a pretty little sundress, reading her book in the sunshine, sipping away at her coffee, and Perdita was curled up at her feet. She had turned into a beautiful dog with a long, pointed snout and delicate features. She wore a slender blue collar with a gold tag. Anita had been taking good care of her. But I’d never doubted she would. Not for a moment. I stood there for the longest time, just watching them. Envying them their happiness. Just sitting there in the sun. Anita not even looking up from her book or at her watch, curious where I might be. She was carefree and happy. I felt like a monster in comparison. Too tall, too thin, too sad, and too angry to even belong in the same world as them.

I had missed so much time with them both, and there was so much I wanted to say to Anita. So many things to apologize for. Or at least I thought so at the time.

As I approached their table, Perdita opened her eyes, and for a moment I thought she knew me. “Cruella!” Anita stood up to greet me, stepping in front of Perdita and preventing me from reaching down to say hello.

“Hello, Anita,” I said.

Anita looked down at Perdita and tried to coax her to come out from behind her to say hello. “Perdita. You remember Cruella. Say hello.” She slowly moved her head around the right side of Anita’s legs, peering out at me, but wouldn’t come over to greet me. I have to admit I was crushed. I had pinned all my hopes on this meeting with them. “I’m sorry, Cruella. She isn’t usually like this. I’m sure once she gets to know you better she will warm up to you.” Sweet Anita. Always trying to save my feelings. But I thought maybe she was right. Maybe Perdita would remember me.

“Oh, Perdita. It hurts me that you don’t remember me. You know, you were once mine,” I said. Of course the dog didn’t know what I was saying. But maybe it was more for Anita’s benefit anyway.

“Oh, Cruella. Please don’t take it that way,” she said, looking sincerely sad for me. It was that same look they all gave me. I hated that look.

I had been ready to tell Anita everything, my entire story. To tell her she was right about my mama, right about how I had treated my servants, and how very sorry I was for being angry at her for pursuing her own dreams. But something happened as I sat there. I honestly can’t tell you exactly what it was, but something shifted within me. Something sparked. It felt like a current washing over me, a much more intense version of the feeling I’d had when I put on my old trappings, a feeling that grew the closer I got to London. Now, I’m not saying London had some magical effect on me. I don’t believe in such things. But something did happen. I felt an inkling of my transformation the moment I got ready to leave Hell Hall, and it just got stronger and stronger as I made my way to London. I have a theory, but you will probably think I’m mad. I’ll let you make of it what you will. Whatever happened, however it came to be, I am thankful.

As Anita told me about her life, Perdita eyed me fearfully from under Anita’s chair. She prattled on and on about how she and Roger had met in the park, a story I already knew, but I sat there suffering as she gushed, filling in the details. “Cruella, you will simply love Roger. He’s such a talented composer,” she said, smiling at me. “I have to tell you how we met. If you can believe it, I hated him at first. His dog, Pongo, was acting up at the park, trying to get Perdita’s attention, and there was Roger chasing after him like some kind of fool, getting Pongo’s leash tangled in with Perdita’s, making us both fall into the water. It was hilarious.”

“That sounds very romantic,” I said, not meaning a word of it.

“It was. It was like out of one of our stories, Cruella. Remember how Princess Tulip was annoyed by Prince, oh, what was his name again?”

“Prince Popinjay,” I said. “I think that was his name.”

“Yes! Remember how Tulip didn’t like him at first, but after a while they fell in love? Well, it was like that. For both me and Perdita.” All of this was sickening to me. As I was sitting there listening to her story, I found myself more and more distracted by that feeling that was washing over me. “But of course, I am being insensitive. I heard about your Jack. I am so sorry, Cruella,” she said. Instead of warmth and comfort, I just felt cold. Empty.

Somehow, reconnecting with Anita was no longer important. I didn’t understand it at first, how something so important to me could suddenly evaporate. Before I got ready to leave Hell Hall I had been so full of hope for a fresh start with Anita. I had tricked myself into thinking we would easily fall back into friendship again, even sisterhood. I don’t know what possessed me. It was as if I was under the same spell that had overtaken me at Christmastime so many years before, when Anita had bewitched me into thinking my mama was a scheming, evil person. When she convinced me that my servants loved me more than my own dear mama. As I sat there listening to how wonderful Anita’s life was, I became sure I must have temporarily lost my senses when I’d decided to call her. My distaste for her intensified as I sat there listening to her prattle on and on about Roger and Pongo, hardly even acknowledging my loss or even aware that hearing her talk about that fool Roger would make me miss my Jack. And the more she talked, the more I despised her, and her stupid dog. Neither of them loved me anymore. Perdita didn’t even know me. Mama had been right about her. She was simple, common, and unworthy of my friendship.

I wanted to hurt her, like she’d hurt me. I wanted to do something to show I wasn’t someone to be pitied. I wanted to make something of my life, something spectacular, and make my mother proud of me again. It was all I could think about. I was obsessed.

Sitting there with Anita and Perdita was just wasting time. I had to come up with a plan. Some way to distinguish myself the way my mother had always wanted me to. But how? How would I do that?

“Cruella, are you okay? You seem to be lost in thought,” said Anita.

“I’m sorry, Anita, I suppose I’m just a little sad Perdita doesn’t remember me,” I said, grasping at something that sounded believable.

And then the beast growled at me.

“I’m sorry, Cruella. She’s usually very sweet. I don’t know why she’s being this way. Perhaps she’s just feeling particularly vulnerable around strangers because of her condition.”

“What?” I said. “Her condition?”

“The puppies, Cruella. She’s due quite soon, I’m afraid.”

“Perdita is having puppies?” I blinked. And then it came to me. A way to get my revenge. A way to hurt Anita and her stupid dog, Perdita. A way to distinguish myself.

I finally had a way to make my mother proud.

Nothing else mattered now.

I blame Horace and Jasper. My plan would have worked if it weren’t for them. Honestly, I suppose it’s my fault for hiring such simpleminded fools. Next time I’ll know better than to hire shifty-looking men from a back alley. What did I expect? It’s not like you can check references when hiring henchmen, now can you? It’s not as if you can call their

previous employer and ask if they did their misdeeds well. But they really did make a cock-up of everything. Well, my adoring fans know the truth. Even if the newspapers tell another story. Even if they paint me as a maniac in all the rags.

Yes, there was a car crash.

Yes, the puppies got away.

But I have another plan. A better plan. A plan that will work this time. And I will do it without those fool henchmen. I will succeed! It’s an utterly brilliant idea, and the Radcliffes, well, they’re playing right into my hands, aren’t they? Gathering those dogs together all in one place.