Teeth_ Vampire Tales - Ellen Datlow [85]
But I knew you loved me since I got you out of that clothes box, and so you did things for me, things that I wanted you to do. Like when Alisha Parrish wrecked my Lovely Locket, and wouldn’t say sorry, and you puked—or whatever that was—all over her sleeping bag! That was choice. Or when I threw Mommy’s car keys down the wishing well in the park, and she told me I couldn’t come home until I found them. She was surprised, wasn’t she, Baby?
I let you do things, too, that you wanted, like when we found that dead raccoon out by the storage shed, remember? Or the time I was so sick with the flu that the fever made me see things, and I let you fly all around the room; you were smiling, Baby, and swimming through the air. I wondered, later, how much the fever had to do with it, and for a long time after I kept watching, to see if you would smile again, or fly. . . . It was kind of like having a pet, a pet who was also a friend.
And a secret, because I knew without even thinking about it that I could never show you to anyone, not sleepover friends or school friends or anyone, that you were only meant for me. You knew it, too. And you were happy, you didn’t need anyone but me anyway.
For sure Mommy’s never seen you—Mommy doesn’t even go into my room—but Roger knew about you, or knew something; remember Roger? With the bald head and mustache? He used to look at me weird, like he was sad or something, and once or twice he asked me if I was okay: You doing all right, Jani? You feeling all right?
I’m fine.
Anything you want to talk about? If you’re not—feeling good, or anything, you can always talk to your mom about it. Roger didn’t know Mommy very well. And he didn’t last very long.
Definitely Flaco knew about you, I don’t know how but he did. He finally caught us in the hallway, in the Pensacola house, when Mommy was at the gym, he popped out of the bathroom like he’d been standing there waiting and So there’s your Santeria toy, he said. Come on, Jani, let’s see it.
He smelled like aftershave, and skunky weed; he was smiling. In the dusty hallway light, you looked yellower than normal; I could feel the heat coming off you, like it does when you’re hungry. I tried to hide you under my arm.
It’s just a doll, I said.
Ah, that ain’t no dolly, girl, come on. That’s a bat boy! A familiar. My uncle Felix had one, he called it Little Felix. We used to say it was the devil’s little brother. Flaco was still smiling; the skunk-weed smell was burning my throat. He bites when you tell him to, don’t he? Does anything you tell him to.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how he knew. “Familiar”? With what? The devil’s little brother. Family. You were squirming under my arm, I couldn’t tell if you were angry or afraid.
They can do some crazy shit, familiars. Come on, I won’t tell your mama. Let me see— And he tried to make a grab for you, he put his hand on you and Stop it! I said.
Let me see, girl!
You stop it, or I’ll tell Mommy you tried to touch me, I’ll say you tried to touch me under my shirt.
I wouldn’t never— That’s a sick kind of lie, Jani! But we both knew that Mommy would believe me, Flaco was pretty much a straight-up man-whore from day one. He let us go then, didn’t he, Baby? And he never said anything about you again, to me or to Mommy, even though I let you do things to him, once or twice—okay, more than that, but whatever, he was passed-out high when you did it, and anyway he deserved it, right? And even though he knew—he had to know—how it happened, those bites, he never said a word.
Flaco moved out that Christmas Eve and took all the presents with him, his and ours: A real class act, Mommy said, and then she threw a big Christmas party to celebrate, and get more presents. Mommy said she was tired of Flaco’s drama anyway, and really