What Used to be Audrey
              Nina Kiriki Hoffinan
     Nina Kiriki Hoffinan's first short story appeared in the
earlier volume of Tales by Moonlight. Since then she's become a
  regular in Charles Grant's Shadows series, won the Writers of
 the Future Contest promoted by Scientology's late guru (but we
can't hold that against her), and contributed to pulp magazines
 such as Asimov's and Amazing. She's spiced the content of many
    a small magazine also, including Bill Munster's Footsteps,
   Michael Ambrose's Argonaut, my own Fantasy & Terror, and an
   upcoming issue of Alain Everts's Etchings & Odysseys. "What
Used to Be Audrey" was uncovered in Arcane, which seems to have
had but one issue, and then sunk without trace, which is one of
  the less exciting aspects of the little magazines. Nina lives
      presently in Eugene, Oregon, noted for its high-density
    backward hippies (ask any punk bored out of town), science
            fiction authors, and unemployed lumberjacks.

"Go away!" Mom yelled at what used to be Audrey. She had a
knife in one hand, and she waved it under what used to be
Audrey's nose. I would have run the other way, but what used to
be Audrey didn't even blink.
"Squatter's rights," said W.U.T.B.A. It wanted us to call it
Ana -- Ana -- well, something like Anabaptist. Mom called it an
abomination. I called it an abbreviation: Wutba.
"Give me back my daughter," said Mom. Her careful gold curls
had gone frizzy, and the starch had melted out of her blouse.
She had been yelling at Wutba almost since it arrived -- since
she had noticed it was there, anyway. I knew about
Wutba three days before Mom did, when Audrey and I got up one
day and she didn't kick me on the way to grab the bathroom
first. When Wutba offered to help me with my eighth grade
homework and told me all about devil worship among the French
aristocrats before the Revolution, I was sure it wasn't Audrey.
Audrey never helped me. It wore her face differently, too.
Audrey never smiled at me when she could scowl.
Wutba stared at the knife Mom held. The knife turned a dull,
pulsing red and Mom dropped it with a shriek. She ran to the
kitchen sink and turned on the cold water, and then stuck her
hand in the stream. The knife hissed on the floor, burning the
linoleum and raising a stink. "Take warning, woman," said Wutba
in three voices at once. "Threaten me at your peril." Its eyes
had turned from Audrey-green to gold. Audrey's long, oil-black
hair began to lift in the air around Wutba's head.
Mom rushed at me and grabbed my upper arm, and then tried to
drag me out of my chair. I stood up. She pulled me into the
living room of our doublewide house trailer, leaving Wutba
sitting at the table in the dining nook. "Did you see what it
did to me, Sherry?" she asked, stroking my hair, which is long
and straight and pumpkin-colored. "How can we live with this?"
"If you're really upset, I guess you tie it to the bedposts and
go get a priest," I said. Audrey-had made me watch The Exorcist
on the Movie Channel three times, even though she knew it gave
me nightmares. "I don't know, Mom. I think I like Wutba better
than I like Audrey."
Mom stepped away from me, snatching her hand away from my head.
She stared at me, eyes wide, and then turned and ran down the
corridor to the master bedroom. I went back to the kitchen.
"Whatever did happen to Audrey?" I asked Wutba. I put some
water in the teakettle for cocoa and got down two mugs and
chocolate powder.
"She's somewhere inside me," said Wutba. It leaned over and
picked up the knife Mom dropped on the floor. Then it held out
a lock of Audrey's hair and chopped at it. "No edge left," it
said, when the knife didn't even nick Audrey's hair. "The blade
is distempered."
"How come -- how come you came?"
"A way opened," said Wutba. Its face sobered; its eyes were
still gold. "I waited on the other side of shadow until the way
opened." It reached up and touched Audrey's cheeks. It smiled,
and then put its hand over the smile and felt the shape of its
lips. "Your sister made an opening inside her, and I came to
fill it."
"Are you evil?" I said. The water boiled and I poured it on the
instant cocoa in the mugs.
"I don't know. I only know I am addicted to life, little
Sherry." It smiled. It made Audrey's face look beautiful.
I took the cocoa mugs to the table and gave one to Wutba. I sat
down.
Mom came back into the room, holding a large plastic crucifix
with a glow-in-the-dark Jesus. She waved it at Wutba. Wutba
smiled and sipped its cocoa. Mom pressed the cross to Wutba's
forehead, but nothing happened -- no sizzle, no stench of
burned flesh, hot even a cringe from Wutba. Mom dropped the
cross on the table and sat down. She put her elbows on the
table and rested her face on her open hands.
"Want cocoa, Mom?" I asked, pushing back my chair.
"Coffee, please," she said. Her hands formed fists, scrubbed
her eyes, smearing her green eyeshadow. She took a deep breath
and looked at Wutba. "What do you want?"
Wutba laid its left arm on the table, and then stroked its
right hand up and down its arm, very slowly. It closed its
eyes. I could almost hear it purr. "Sensations," it whispered.
Mom leaned forward. "Find an orphan to possess. I want my
daughter. Give me Audrey, abomination."
"Your desire is strong, but so is Sherry's," said Wutba,
opening its eyes.
Mom turned to look at me. I tucked the coffee measuring spoon
under the rubber band around the jar. "Are you responsible for
this?" she asked me.
"I don't know," I said. Had something heard my prayers? I used
to pray a car would hit Audrey or fall over a cliff or get run
down by a buffalo stampede. When she was particularly nasty to
me, I imagined horrible things happening to her: aliens
dissecting her, the kids she baby-sat for tying her up;
sometimes I just dreamed she was smaller and weaker than I was.
But I had never imagined this.
"Why would you -- Sherry -- why?" Mom said.
"Oh, Mom, you don't know what Audrey's like. You don't see what
she does to me. You just see the perfect manners and the good
grades and the way she helps around the house, the smiles she
saves for you. You don't have to live in the same room with
her. She never turns those smiles on me. Living with her is
like -- like living with cancer."
"Oh, Sherry," said Mom. She put her hands on her cheeks. "How
can you talk that way about your own sister? Audrey never --
no." She shook her head. Her eyes looked like wet green stones.
"Audrey was my good girl." She looked at Wutba, who set down
its mug and looked back.
Suddenly she was Audrey again. "Mama!" she wailed. "I'm in a
dark place with things biting! It's soooo cooooold...."
Mom jumped up, her chair crashing to the floor behind her, and
went to Audrey. She put her arms around her. "Oh, baby. Oh,
baby," she said, and Audrey made sobbing noises, but I saw her
green eyes over Mom's shoulder. She was staring at me. She
looked meaner than she had the day she burned the back of my
hand with a cigarette.
I crossed my fingers and closed my eyes and wished Wutba would
come back, wished it so hard I started to see purple stars on
the inside of my eyelids. My hands felt funny, as if something
was pooling in my fingertips. The teakettle screamed. My eyes
jerked open. I looked at Audrey and saw her eyes had gone
golden. She was hugging Mom and grinning. I started breathing
again. I turned and took the kettle off the burner, and then
poured water for Mom's coffee, the warm brown smell from the
instant relaxing me like a promise that things would return to
Wutba-normal.
"I'm so glad you're back, Audrey," said Mom. Then she looked at
Audrey's face and saw Wutba's eyes. She screamed.
"Don't be like that," said Wutba. "I won't hurt you."
"You're torturing my daughter!"
"Nonsense. The girl is made of lies," said Wutba. "She's
perfectly comfortable where she is."
"I don't believe you! She was in pain. I heard her."
Wutba smiled. It made an almost-Audrey sneer. "You begin to
understand me," it said.
"Is Audrey really in pain?" I asked.
"Perhaps," said Wutba.
I-thought about that. I thought about all the times I had
wished Audrey would hurt, and hurt bad. For a little while I
reveled in her predicament.
"Sherry?" said Mom. "Sheryl Elizabeth MacKenzie, if you know
anything you can do to get your sister back, you do it, right
now!"
I looked at Mom, with her curls frizzed out, her eyeshadow
smeared, her cheeks tracked by tears, and her blouse wilted.
She had clenched her hands into tight hard fists. Her green
eyes looked mad. I thought that she had always loved Audrey
more. It wasn't fair that with Audrey gone she still loved me
less. She would hate me if Wutba stayed.
I looked at Wutba. It ran its fingers through Audrey's hair,
and then scratched her nose. It gave me the sort of smile
Audrey only gave to Mom, a warm smile full of friendship. I
thought if it could make a knife hot it could probably do a lot
of things.
"Sherry!"
What if I said there was nothing I could do? Would Mom still
blame me?
"Sherry."
She would never believe me. I licked my lips, squinched my eyes
shut, and crossed my fingers. Then I wished with all my might
Wutba would go away. I heard Mom whispering, "Our Father, who
art in Heaven..." When I opened my eyes, Wutba was gone. But
Audrey never really came back. She knew what I could do to her.
There's someone inside her body, but I don't think it's Audrey.
It doesn't kick me any more.