You Let Me In - Camilla Bruce Page 0,15

I loathed her and all she had, and yet … I leaned forth on my branch to get a better view; listened to the happy girls’ chatter that filled the air. “Smile,” my father rumbled as he aimed the camera. Olivia cocked her head and grinned at him, lifted her braids from her shoulders to let them fall down her chest. Wanted them to be visible in her birthday pictures.

It was then that I saw a shadow creeping slowly across the lawn, shaped much like a slug, with a gaping maw and lantern eyes. The sight of it made my entire body go ice-cold. Though I’d already seen a lot in my life, I had never seen something quite so vile. My grip on the tree branch tightened as it slowly moved toward the party, aiming for Olivia’s chair.

“Pepper-Man, what is that?”

I heard him shift above me. “Cousin,” he sighed. “That is a cousin of mine.”

“But what is it doing here?”

Pepper-Man paused before answering. “They do like little girls, especially the happy ones. Happy little girls are like cake to them; like wine and sweet herbs, sugar from a china bowl. It must have heard them laughing in the woods, and now it is here, hunting.”

“That is not good.” I was genuinely concerned all of a sudden. “Can’t you chase them away?”

“It will not listen even if I speak. I would not have either, if someone wanted to keep me from you.”

The girls laughed and hugged each other while grinning at Father’s camera. I shifted uneasy on the branch, could hear the sound of my own heart thumping loudly in my chest.

“Your cousin can find another girl to snack on. One of us sisters being food for faerie is more than enough, don’t you think?”

“Why this sudden need to protect her?” Pepper-Man’s voice was puzzled. “I thought you loathed Olivia and wished for her to share your fate.”

No. “I’d rather she remained her own snotty, happy self.”

“What do you want to do, then?”

“I want her to be unburdened.” The threat to her had awakened something: a strange and unfamiliar need to nurture and protect. “We were friends once. We used to be the same, once upon a time.”

“No.” Pepper-Man spoke in a soft voice. “You never were the same, but I will help you.”

* * *

That was why I was in Olivia’s room that night. In that other white bedroom, a neat and uncluttered twin of mine. That was why I stood there on the white carpet, holding Mother’s scissors in my hands. They were ugly, those scissors, big and shiny. Mother used them to cut fabrics. They were the sharpest ones we had.

Olivia was sleeping soundly, head on a lace-edged pillow. She was full of cake and lemonade, and never expected to be visited in her bed.

I approached as quietly as I could, and silently thanked Mother for the thick white carpet that swallowed all sounds. I listened to Olivia’s sweet breath; the quiet sighs she emitted in her sleep. Wondered what she dreamt of, the tangerine-marzipan girl, who’d so rudely been targeted by a devourer of happiness. Did she have bad dreams, dark and dangerous, or did she still dream about sunshine and strawberry cake?

When I was quite done looking at her, I carefully lifted her braids off the pillow and held them in my hand, silky and red, thick and heavy, then I took Mother’s scissors and snipped them both off. It was very easy; the blades cut through the hair like a silver spade in cake. The braids loosened from her scalp and hung like dead snakes from my palm.

“Come,” Pepper-Man said from the doorway. “Dawn will be here soon. If we are to complete the ritual, we must hurry.”

“Sure,” I whispered and gave Olivia’s sleeping form a last, lingering look. She was still sleeping soundly, hadn’t been disturbed at all. I was good at being stealthy. I still am.

Pepper-Man and I tiptoed down the stairs to the living room, where I disposed of the scissors behind an embroidered pillow on the couch. I got the matches from the mantle above the fireplace and borrowed a crystal bowl from a side table. Then Pepper-Man and I went outside through the patio doors, out into the garden. The table out there was cleared by then, no china plates or silver forks were left. A piece of gift wrapping was the only evidence of the party, clinging to the base of an oak’s wide trunk. I placed the