Evil Thing (Villains 7)

was so worried about me getting swarmed by fans, I’m not sure she was listening properly. Well, I would make it up to her. I would have her coat made before she left London. Then she would see. But I was running out of time.

She would only be in London for so long, so I had to do it right then. After she left, I insisted they give me my car, and I drove all the way back to Hell Hall and told Horace and Jasper the police were onto us. It was all lies, of course. I told them the police were everywhere and we had to kill the puppies right away. It was the only way I could get them to do the deed quickly. Simple men that they were, they had no idea how to go about slaughtering a bunch of puppies. I didn’t care how they did it. I just wanted it done. I needed those puppies. I still do.

“Poison them, drown them, bash them in the head! I don’t care how you kill the little beasts. I just want it done. The police are everywhere,” I added for a bit of drama. I needed to get those fools off their bottoms.

They were glued to the television. Transfixed by a show called What’s My Crime? A TV show! A TV show! Bloody fools. I had to slap some sense into them. I needed those puppies murdered. I needed them skinned. I needed to have my mama’s coat made. Oh yes. She would love me again. She would. I was sure of it. “Listen, you idiots. I’ll be back first thing in the morning. The job better be done or I’ll call the police! Do you understand?” I needed to rattle their cages. Of course I wouldn’t call the police. Why would I? But those two were not the brightest. Thank goodness they believed me.

Of course, the job never did get done. It just goes to show you that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

It all went terribly wrong from there, didn’t it? You know the story. You saw my photo in the paper. And I’m sure you saw Horace and Jasper blab about the entire debacle when they made their appearance on their favorite show, What’s My Crime? Those stupid morons prattled on and on, describing the events in lurid detail. How we chased those puppies on that treacherously winding road; how I gripped the wheel, my eyes blazing with madness as they ran me off the road; and finally, how I crashed my car, letting those wretched dogs escape! The reenactment of me on that damnable TV show in my wrecked car was laughable. It made me out to be some sort of madwoman with wild, swirling eyes. A deranged, screaming lunatic. Well, that’s not the real story, duckies.

That show and those fools made a mockery of me. It might have made for good television, but it didn’t show how I was really feeling. It wasn’t madness that overcame me. It wasn’t even anger. It was heartbreak, disappointment, and loss. It was heartache. As my car careened over that cliff I felt my life crashing down around me. Everything was in ruins. And I was in despair. I thought I had lost my final chance to make my mama love me again. To make her proud of me.

But fear not, adoring readers. As I sit here in Hell Hall, my plan for revenge shines like a star in the darkness. It has become my only solace. My greatest source of hope for happiness, and for reconciliation with Mama.

The Radcliffes haven’t beaten me. No. I have a new plan. A better plan, and it involves all those dogs Anita and Roger are hoarding on that estate they bought with all the money they made on that horrible song about me. Oh, I know you’ve heard it. “Vampire bat” indeed! They think they can make a fool of me? Well, I will show them an “inhuman beast”! And they will see what an “evil thing” I can be! I will have my revenge. Mark my words, darlings. I am Cruella De Vil!

But this time … this time it will be different. I will have to be patient. I will have to wait. No, I can’t rush things. I have to take my time. Anita and Roger have ninety-nine puppies living on their stupid little farm, and of course there are Perdita and Pongo. And I will have those dogs! Just imagine how much more fur I will have after waiting for those puppies to become fully grown. Imagine all the coats I will make, and how happy Mama will be when I give them all to her. Then she will love me again. I am sure of it.

Dear readers,

I thought it would comfort you to know that Anita and Roger, along with Mrs. Baddeley, Perdita, Pongo, and their brood of ninety-nine Dalmatian puppies, are all quite safe. And you can take even further comfort in knowing they are all living happily on the royalties from Roger’s hit song, “Cruella De Vil.” If that isn’t irony, then I don’t know what is.

It has been a most unsettling experience writing Cruella’s memoir. I spent months locked up with her in Hell Hall, taking down her story. I have changed nothing. Everything you read here is what she told me, word for word, night after night. I listened to rants and ravings and suffering through her fits of endless, terrifying laughter.

Hell Hall is a cold, eerie place that lives up to its name. That is where Cruella De Vil now lives, locked away by her mother, who scarcely visits. Lady De Vil’s old head housekeeper, Mrs. Web, watches over her. Cruella’s mother was horrified that fateful night at dinner, when Cruella shared her plans to make a coat out of Dalmatian puppies. But even more terrifying to her mother was the scandal Cruella caused. You might recall that photo in the papers of Cruella with bloodshot eyes full of hate and fury. Her mother felt she brought shame on her family, not to mention her social standing. So her mother had her locked away, with the Spider.

I have often wondered if Cruella really hated Mrs. Web from the moment she met her, like she claims. Somehow I doubt it. Don’t mistake me, Mrs. Web is a cold woman. Cruella’s descriptions of her are not exaggerated. For the record, the woman reminds me, too, of a sinister spider. But I can’t help wondering if Cruella’s current circumstances haven’t clouded her memory of the woman. Still, even the most austere of women eventually reach their breaking point. To quiet her ranting, Mrs. Web felt it would help if Cruella had the opportunity to tell her side of the story. Mrs. Web had read the previous books in my Villains series, and thought I would be the right person to transcribe Cruella’s tale. And so I came to Hell Hall.

It is not my place to tell you what to think of Cruella De Vil and the events that led her to be locked up in Hell Hall. But I can tell you this: I listened to her story. And I felt sorry for her. And for a moment, just a moment, mind you, I finally came to understand why she wanted to kill those puppies. And why she still wants to, to this this day. I’ve spent sleepless nights wondering how things could have gone differently for Cruella. I wonder what would have happened if Cruella’s father hadn’t died, if her mother had never left her. I wonder what would have happened if Anita had agreed to travel the world with her. And I wonder if it would have made a difference if Sir Huntley had managed to talk her into keeping her money. Would she still be locked up today? Would she be plotting the murder of one hundred and one Dalmatians?

And then I wonder if those earrings really are cursed. Perhaps they changed her every time she put them on. Perhaps they didn’t. We will never know. But what I do know is that she won’t take them off. She wears them still, every day, along with that slinky black dress and the jade ring given to her by her beloved Crackerjack.

Whatever caused Cruella’s descent into darkness and delirium, I couldn’t stand the idea of her being locked away in Hell Hall with her most hated childhood servant. Of course I realize the beastly woman can never be released. But does Cruella really deserve to live the rest of her days locked away without a single person who loves or cares for her? Isn’t that how she became the woman she is?

Maybe you won’t agree with me; maybe you won’t think she deserves just a little bit of happiness, but I called Miss Pricket, her old governess. I told her about Cruella’s circumstances, and she graciously agreed to come help care for Cruella. She arrived on my last day in Hell Hall, and she looked exactly as Cruella had described, just a little older. I could tell Miss Pricket still loved her even after everything Cruella had put her through. I could tell she still saw Cruella as a sad lonely little girl, and there is a part of me that does as well.

In the end, everything isn’t always as black-and-white as the markings on a Dalmatian puppy. Even for an evil thing like Cruella De Vil

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