"Yes, ma'am," they replied. The pair scattered to assist customers, and I slunk back to my companions on the far side of the store.
"Well? Anything juicy?" Stacy wondered.
"Yeah, but I don't think it's good news," I replied. "Those two were talking about a lot of rumors about us getting kicked out of the Hair restaurant, and they talked about that dead Protector we found in Baker's barn." I turned to Luke. "And they called you dog-faced."
Stacy laughed, but Luke frowned. "This must be what Cranston was referring to when he spoke about defacing our character," he mused.
Stacy got control of herself and sighed. "So that's their plan. Humiliating us in public and spreading rumors to back up the public image. That's low."
"But politically wise," Luke argued. "They hardly need to make an effort, and the rumor mills do the rest of the work."
"So what do we do? Tell everyone it's all a bunch of lies?" I asked them.
Luke shook his head. "It won't work. You can't fight rumors with the truth unless you have strong evidence to the contrary. After all, who will they believe more? Our word or the word of a trusted friend or neighbor?"
"So we just stand by and watch Cranston and Lance win the war of words?" I wondered.
"I'm more worried about a real war than one fought by word of mouth," he told me.
"Perhaps this conversation should wait until we get back to the apartment," Stacy spoke up. "We don't want to start any bad rumors about ourselves."
Our elastic clothes were delivered to us, and Stacy guided us outside and back toward the apartment. I looked at the boxes Luke and I carried, and frowned. "What about our costumes for the ball?" I asked Stacy.
"We're getting to that. I know a little place on a side street that will work just fine," she replied.
"How fine?" Luke wondered.
"It's an out-of-the-way place where you won't be stared at and rumors can't fly about us. We might also get some information on Callean's whereabouts," she told him.
19
We entered the dingier part of the city, and Stacy turned into a narrow alley. Tall brick buildings stood on either side of us and created a cavern the full depth of the dark, shadowed block. On the left was a set of stairs with a thin metal railing that led into the basement of one of those tall buildings. A small, weathered wooden sign hung above the top step. Madam Leonor's Antiques and Pickled Frogs.
Stacy strolled down the stairs with Luke close behind, but I paused and looked over the railing. At the bottom of the stairs was a square block of concrete that was the doorstep to a dilapidated wooden door. A small light glowed above the door, and strange smells wafted up from the crack beneath the entrance. Luke glanced up and nodded his head. "Come on, I'm sure this Leonor won't bite."
Stacy chuckled. "That's what you think," she teased.
Luke whipped his head to her. "Should I ask if she has rabies?" he half-jokingly asked her.
She shrugged. "Probably not, but I guess I should warn you she's a little overly dramatic."
"Why's that?" I wondered.
"She used to be an actress and some habits die hard," Stacy replied.
"An actress? Like a movie actress or something?" I guessed.
She smiled and shook her head. "Not quite. She wasn't that-well, refined. Most of her shows took place in rooms with red lights inside and outside the building."
"A male entertainer?" Luke spoke up.
"She prefers the term companion, but she's been called that a lot," Stacy admitted. "But anyway, it's best to keep on her good side. She's rough around the edges, but there's a heart of gold inside that gruff exterior."
Stacy and Luke stepped inside, and I hurried down the stairs after the pair. I pushed into the room and found myself in a different world than the one above us. The shop was a small, cramped square space with a few cobwebbed bulbs hanging from the ceiling so low even I could knock my head on them. The dry, paint-peeled walls were lined with dusty shelves filled with vials of congealed liquid and strange dried plants. There were three narrow, short aisles created by two bookcases that stood in the center of the room. At the back stood a curved desk, and beyond that was a doorway with beads that hung from the top of the frame.
"I thought these places were only in movies," I whispered. In a place this creepy speaking in a normal volume wasn't allowed.
Stacy smiled. "She may not have been in the movies, but she's a big movie fan and created this shop to match the ones she'd seen in those old movies," Stacy replied.
I frowned and picked up a jar of floating eyes. "You mean this is all fake?"
She brushed by me and chuckled. "I didn't say that." I cringed and quickly put the jar back.
Stacy's evil playfulness was interrupted by the sound of the beads rustling. A wizened old woman shuffled out of the back room and stood behind the desk. Her back was bent and her hands were gnarled. She had her silver hair pulled back in a braid that stretched past her waist and wore a shawl over a brightly-colored, flowered dress. She peered at us through a pair of glasses so thick they must have been bullet-proof. "You break it you buy it," she croaked.
Stacy wound her way through the shelves to the desk. "And you'll charge us an outrageous price for the cleanup," she teased.
The old woman frowned, leaned across the desk and adjusted her glasses. Her face lit up in a gummy grin. She had no teeth. "Why, if it isn't little Stazia! Why, I haven't seen you since you were a little one with your father!"
"I came here two weeks ago for some bath salts," Stacy reminded her.
The old woman frowned and tapped her chin with a long, pointed fingernail. "Oh yes, I'd forgotten about that. Thank you for reminding me, Stazia."
Luke and I came and stood behind Stacy. "Stazia?" I wondered.
"A pet name," Stacy told me.
"And what a fine pet you've become! So pretty and elegant, just like your mother!" Leonor applauded.
Stacy smiled. "I'm glad to hear that, Leonor, but we're not here to talk about her. We need some nice costumes for a ball tomorrow night. Think you can scrounge up a couple of good ones from the costume trunk you used to let me play in?"
"Of course! Of course! Anything for my little Stazia! Come this way." She half turned, paused, then looked over her shoulder with a wild eye at us. The change from sweet granny to crazy ax-murderer was frighteningly fast. "Who are these two?" she growled.
"Friends of mine. They need some costumes, too," Stacy explained to her.
Leonor narrowed her eyes and glanced at Luke. She pulled back in fright and her face twisted into disgust. "What's wrong with her face?" she asked Stacy.
Stacy laughed. "The problem is that that's not a her, that's a him," she told the old woman. "Luke, take off your disguise." Luke removed his wig and glasses.
Leonor's face twisted into a grimace. "I see. Stazia did the best she could trying to hide you, but you're just an ugly girl," she commented.
"Thanks," Luke grumbled.
Leonor waved aside his thanks. "No need to thank me. As friends of Stacy you're welcome here, but you break it you buy it."
"We'll be sure not to touch anything," Luke promised.
"Yeah, no problem," I chimed in. I didn't have a ten-foot pole on hand.
"All right, follow me."
Leonor led us through the bead gateway and into another world. This one was oriental in style and smell. The area behind the beads was a small apartment decked out in long, hanging curtains and enough pillows to start a Guinness Records pillow war. To our right was a small kitchen, to our left were two doors, one leading to the bathroom and another to a small bedroom. There were narrow, grimy windows behind the thick curtains that filtered in some natural light, but most was provided by a few spare bulbs. In front of us stood a short table in the center with a steaming cup of tea on the top. "Would you like any tea?" Leonor wondered.
"No thanks," I replied.
Leonor whipped her head around and glared at me. "I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to S
tazia."
"Leonor, these are my friends," Stacy reminded her.
Leonor grumbled, but turned away and shambled over to a trunk on the far side of the table. She unlocked the heavy lock and opened it. "Now what exactly were ya wanting?"
"Three male costumes and two females. Also, did you have any masks to go with them?" Stacy asked her.
"I'm sure I can scrounge some up, but why are you needing them?" Leonor wondered.
Stacy smiled and shrugged. "You know me. If there's a ball I can't resist attending, and there's a masked ball coming up tomorrow that I'm dying to attend."
"I hope that's not the price of admission," I murmured.
Leonor paused and glanced over her shoulder with a look of suspicion. "That masked ball? The one my son's going to?"
"I expect him to be there," Stacy replied with a sly smile.
Leonor tapped her long nails on the edge of the chest. "This doesn't have anything to do with your sneaking around in your silly little Underground, does it?"
"It might," Stacy teased.
Leonor frowned and slammed the lid shut. She locked the trunk and dropped the key into her bra. Nobody would ever want to go scrounging around in there. "I'm not helping you get yourself hurt," she refused. That's when things got ugly. Stacy quivered her lower lip and her eyes took on a shine that warned of an oncoming rush of tears. Leonor cringed. "Now don't go giving me those. I know you've got your mother's and grandmother's talent for acting, and I won't believe a single one of those tears is real."
Stacy stepped toward her and clasped her hands together in front of her. "Please help us with the costumes. We need these costumes to help my father," she pleaded.
The old woman scoffed and her voice took on a flat, indifferent tone. "What do I care about him? Your mother should have married better."
Stacy frowned and put her hands on her hips. "I know you care more about him then you'll admit, and I know you'll help us help him."
"What do I care about him who goes around on his high horse without stepping a foot down and ignores all of us down here. Even my son visits me every now and again," Leonor argued. "He's a lout, but he's a lout I see."
"Leonor, you know my dad has important duties to attend to and can't visit you whenever you like," Stacy shot back.
That ruffled the old goat. "What would I want for him to be visiting me in my old age? When we were such chums as kids and now that he's all high-and-mighty as a lord he doesn't have time to even call."
"Um, if we're intruding on something then we can leave," I spoke up. Stacy shot me such a glare that I squeaked and ducked behind Luke.
Stacy looked back to Leonor and folded her arms. "Leonor Luciana, I can't believe how pigheaded you're being."
"You should. I've been this pigheaded for longer than you've been alive," Leonor growled. I noticed her gummy mouth now had a few sharp, nasty-looking teeth and her eyes had taken on an orange color. Luke stepped back and took me with him.
Stacy straightened, and I noticed her hands were long and ended in sharp nails. "Don't be so stubborn, Leonor. We need those costumes to save my father, and I won't let your strange love-hate for him to get in my way."
"Perhaps we can talk this over outside," Luke suggested. The women whipped their heads over to him and both growled. He grinned and held up his hands. "I only wanted to save the place from damage," he told them.
"Why don't you mind your own business, you cross-dresser!" Leonor snarled.
Luke spun around, grabbed my shoulders, and marched me into the shop. I pulled out of his grasp and faced him. "What are you doing? They're going to kill each other over nothing!" I protested.
He shook his head. "I haven't heard all the details, but I do know some of this Leonor's past history," he admitted to me. "She was a great friend of Stacy's mother, almost like a mother to her. When Stacy's mother passed away Stacy was raised by Leonor while her father took over his position as lord from his father. The Stevens are a long line of lordly idiots."
"So why does Leonor hate Stevens that bad?" I wondered.
"Stevens took Stacy away when she reached maturity and educated her himself. Leonor never quite forgave him for doing that, but she still wanted to remain friends with her adopted daughter's husband. Stevens refused to let Leonor near the house, so Stacy snuck out and visited her. There was a big fight when he found out, and they've never forgiven each other."
At the end of his tale my mouth was open and my head tilted to one side. "What details didn't you learn?" I asked him.
Luke sheepishly shrugged and smiled. "That was pretty detailed, wasn't it?"
"Um, yeah. I don't think the village gossip could have given better detail," I replied. At that moment there was a great crash from the apartment and something went flying over the desk. Luke pushed me to the floor and covered his body with mine as half the merchandise fell on top of us. We whipped our heads over to the crash-landed thing and found it was a wolf in Stacy's clothing. It snarled, dove over the desk and back into the trouble in the back room. "You think maybe this might attract unwanted attention?" I pointed out.
Luke pursed his lips and nodded. "I think you may be right," he agreed. He stood and helped me up, then scurried around the desk and into the apartment. In a moment he returned, but stumbling backwards as though he'd been pushed. His back knocked into the desk and he scowled at the beaded doorway. I hurried over to his side, but didn't see any marks.
"I'm guessing they don't care," I guessed.
"They're working out a lot of pent-up aggression," he replied.
"Is that another way of saying they're really mad at each other?" I mused.
"Yep."
"So what do we do? Wait for them to tear the whole place apart?" I suggested.
"I'd rather not, but two female wolves in blood lust are two too much for me to handle in that packed a room," he told me.
I grinned. "Then what about a female helping you?"
He looked at me and smiled. "That might not be such a bad idea. Get transformed and we'll get in there."
"All right, here goes." I closed my eyes and focused on the picture of me as a werewolf. Those sharp fangs, the long claws, that vicious howl, those damn puffy bits of fur springing from my cheeks. I felt the fur pop out first, followed by the changes I actually wanted. My hands lengthened and my knees turned backwards for ease of traveling on all fours. I stooped over and felt my clothes rip and fall to the floor. I opened my eyes and saw the world with a vision so bright and sharp that I could see the termites climbing the wood walls. "Leonor needs to fumigate this place," I commented. My voice was now a deep growling sound. I looked to Luke and saw that he was transformed beside me.
"We'll have to tell her later. Right now let's get them back to their senses," he advised me.
We dove into the room and found the place a mess. There wasn't a pillow with its stuffing intact, the small table was overturned, and the curtains were pulled down. In the middle stood two full wolves ten yards apart. They snarled at each other and leapt at each other, but Luke jumped forward and slammed his heavier body into their heads. They were shoved into the far wall, but sprang up like indestructible toy clowns, the ones with the rounded bottoms.
Luke sprang at Stacy while I took Leonor. She fought like a wild cat-er, dog, and I got my share of bites and scratches from her. We tumbled head over tail in one corner of the room while Luke wrestled Stacy in the other. Stacy's voice broke through the noise. "What in the world are you doing, Luke? Get the hell off me!" she growled.
"And get off me!" Leonor demanded. Her voice was even, but angry.
Luke and I scuttled back and bumped backs in the center of the room, each looking in confusion at our opponents. "What do you mean what are we doing?" Luke asked her. "We're trying to get you two to stop fighting."
"And destroying the building's foundations," I added.
Stacy and Leonor looked at us with blinking eyes, and then they burst out laughing in a strange, guttural way. Stacy sh
ook her head. "We weren't fighting for real. This is what we always do after we haven't seen each other for a while," she told us. She glanced around the room and sheepishly smiled. "Though I admit sometimes we get carried away with the performance."
Luke and I glanced at each other, then back to Stacy. "Did Luke hit you too hard?" I wondered.
Stacy sat on her hunches and transformed into her human self sans clothing. She grabbed a fallen curtain and wrapped it around herself before Luke celebrated her birthday suit. "I'm fine, and so is Leonor. This is just our way of greeting each other."
"By tearing each other to pieces?" Luke argued.
"By getting a good fight going. It eases the muscles and joints in me," Leonor spoke up. She transformed back and I was forever grateful when I found she was wearing one of those expensive elastic clothes. I wondered if the creepy antique business was really that lucrative. "But now you've ruined it and I don't feel like starting over."
"That's all right, Leonor. I think you nearly bit my ear off," Stacy laughed. "Now about those costumes."
20
Leonor rolled her eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile on her lips. "You're stubborn like your father, you know that?"
"And I'd like to think I'm stubborn like my mother, and you know where she got her stubbornness," Stacy added.
Leonor scoffed. "Probably from that no-good son of mine. He wanted me to go to that ball with him, but I told him he only invited me because it was a masked one and nobody would see my face around his group."
"Who's your son?" I asked her.
Leonor waved off the question. "Just some lout who thinks he's a big shot."
"What did you say when he asked you about going to the ball?" Stacy wondered.
"I said I wouldn't go, but that was before I heard you were going. Now I'll go just to keep you and your friends out of trouble. Especially where my son is concerned."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "What about your son?" he asked her.
Stacy stepped forward and quickly patted Luke on the shoulder. "It's nothing, he's just a little rowdy, that's all." She looked to Leonor. "The costumes?" she pleaded.