Re-Introduction - WENN Fairy Tale Series and Hilary and the Beasts

Hi everyone! "Where the hell have you been?" Well...not writing. I've been trying to find a better job, and I got hit rather hard with a severe case of writer's block. I started a follow up to that original fairy tale I wrote back in 2023, then got stalled and couldn't figure out where to go with it. I started no less than five different Match Game fanfics and stalled on all of them. I considered a Monkees fanfic set in the 80's after re-watching the show last fall, then decided I wasn't that into the fandom anymore.

In early May, I finally got a second job as an assistant at an after-school program...and I loved it. I loved working with the pre-schoolers. It really re-energized me. And though I  ultimately didn't write fanfiction for it, I enjoyed seeing The Monkees again enough to re-watch another favorite sitcom of mine. 

It had been a decade since I last watched the 1996-1998 cult historical comedy-drama Remember WENN straight through. The ongoing saga of a small-time radio station in Pittsburgh in the years leading up to World War II has been my favorite show since 1997, and watching it again reminded me of how brilliant it was and is. It helps that it's now far more available than it was in 2015, too. AMC finally posted it in full on their streaming site AMC Plus in 2022. The first two seasons are free on Plex, and the first three seasons are currently on YouTube and the Internet Archive. 

Among the many fanfic ideas I came up with back in 2015 were a series of fairy tales revolving around a WENN staff member during or after an episode of the series. I got The Little MerBetty, Scott White and the Seven Actors, and the Christmas story Babes In WENNland done before my muse wandered to the Star Wars franchise. Had my muse stayed put, the next story in that series would have been Hilary and the Beasts. I've not only returned to that original idea, but have expanded it tenfold. 

Originally, the "Beasts" were Scott Sherwood and Jeff Singer...but given the 4th season setting, I had to sneak in Maple LaMarsh and Victor Comstock, whom I thought worked well together. Hilary Booth, Betty Roberts, and Maple LaMarsh are quite tired of their beastly men after their dates in "You've Met Your Match" all went off the rails. They wish their men weren't quite so difficult to deal with. Hilary's attempt to re-write the script for the Book at Bedtime version of "Beauty and the Beast" to spotlight her leads to the story of an actress and her two younger sisters who end up dealing with three real beasts of their own after their father steals a rose for the eldest. 

And if you enjoyed this (very long) story, there's a lot more WENN Tales coming! Next up, Maple takes center stage as she dreams of Victor Comstock rescuing her from a tower...and her rescuing him from Pavla Nemcova and his own fractured memory in Maplepunzel. 

Hilary and the Beasts, Prologue

Rating: PG-13 (Violence, language) 
Pairings: Hilary/Jeff, Scott/Betty, Victor/Maple
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rupert Holmes. The show belongs to AMC. 
Prologue and epilogue set directly after the 4th season episode “You’ve Met Your Match.”

Prologue - September 1941

Hilary Booth, the premiere actress at radio station WENN, was seething with fury as she lunged into the writer’s room. “Damn it, Betty Roberts, why in the hell did you flirt with Jeff like that? That’s not like you! You’ve never shown the slightest interest in my Jeffery, let alone make a pass at him!” She glared at her as she grabbed one of the scripts and threw it across the desk. “Bad enough that Czech trollop of a witch Pavla Nemcova went after him! Don’t you start too!”

“Oh, so he’s your Jeffery now?” Betty glared back. Up until today, Hilary admired the girl. She almost thought of her as a sister. Right now, she wanted to take her over her knee and give her a good spanking. “That seems to be what you say at your convenience. Can’t make up your mind whether you want to be married or not today?”

“Don’t blame me for this!” Hilary snapped. “I didn’t divorce him. He married that witch of a Pavla Nemcova!”

Betty’s ferocious glare would have been enough to send anyone who wasn’t Hilary running down Isabella Street. “To save one of his best friends in the interest of national security!”

“What about your conniving rogue of a Sherwood?” Hilary waved a finger in her face. “Betty, I wish you’d face facts. Scott loves you. You should have seen the look on his face when you made goo-goo eyes at my Jeff. He worships the ground you stand on, and you treat him like the dirt under your fingernails!”

Betty made a face. “He’s not my rogue! He’s a con-artist and a liar. He’s embezzled money from this station and…well, he told a whopper to me about how he got his job that really hurt. Who knows what else he’s lied about?” She plopped behind her desk and tapped ferociously at one of the keys of her trusty old typewriter. “Sometimes, I wish he wasn’t able to talk his way out of everything.” 

“Betty,” Hilary slid in next to her, “Scotty’s big mouth drives me crazy, too. Lord knows he’s done everything to my shows short of flat out taking my roles. I still haven’t entirely forgiven him for that time after he switched to acting when he kept inserting politics into every soap opera. I have no idea what got into him there. But,” and her voice softened, “Betty…Scott came back to you when Pruitt threw him out. None of us bought that California story for a minute. He may be too quick with the smart retort, but he’s totally devoted to you. He’s nothing if not loyal. Jeff…”

Betty put her hand gently on Hilary’s when she saw the haunted look in her older friend’s eyes. “Jeff is devoted to you, too, Hilary. He said why he married Pavla. He told me his explanation holds water, and he’s right. He did it for Victor. He loves you. I don’t think Pavla could love anyone but herself.”

“You know that, I know that,” Hilary sighed, “but does he know that?” She tapped her finger on one of Betty’s scripts. “Honestly, that man can be such a…a beast sometimes. I never know what to expect with him, whether I’ll want to kiss him today or kill him tomorrow.”

The smaller woman gave her own sigh. “That makes two beasts.” She rolled her eyes. “My beast smooth talks and lies and cons his way through life like it’s one big game. Sometimes…I wish Scott wasn’t quite so smart.”

Hilary sighed. “And I wish my beast was a lot less likely to jump into things without thinking and would hold his temper every now and then. I’ve been on the receiving end of his little hissy fits more times than I care to remember.”

They heard the door to WENN slam and saw another figure storm into the writer’s room. “Damn it to hell!”  Maple LaMarsh, Hilary’s fellow actress (though she sometimes questioned that description) clomped across the parquet floors in her four-inch black heels. “Damn it! Damn! Damn that…that…oooh!” Maple flung her black coat across one of the many piles of scripts, sending several flying to the floor. “Damn that Victor Comstock!” Her red face nearly matched her flame-orange hair, bright eye shadow, and pearly lipstick. 

Hilary raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow at Maple’s outburst. “I take it your date with Victor didn’t go any better than ours.” 

Betty hurried to retrieve the scripts Maple scattered on the floor. “I thought he was going to take you to O’Malley’s for a beer after the show ended.” 

“He was!” Maple flopped angrily in the chair Betty vacated, nearly knocking it over with her force. “He got a last minute call from Washington! Something about an early train. Another time, Miss LaMarsh. National security calls, Miss LaMarsh. I’ll be gone for three days, Miss LaMarsh. Oh, and Betty, you’re in charge again, an’ Scotty’s helpin’ ya.”

“Victor’s mind must still be in and out if he wants Scott helping me.” Betty dropped her scripts on the table. “It sounds like we have three beasts on our hands.” 

Maple drew a gloved finger across one of the scripts. “I like Victor. He was nothin’ but nice to me. Sure, I didn’t understand half’a what he said, but I ain’t never liked a guy who talked like him, ya know? He was a real sweetie, and not a faker, like that Governor I dated a while back. I thought…well, he kinda seemed to like me during our date.” She sighed and leaned on that gloved hand, her eyes turning wistful. “And he is awfully cute. He has the most adorable little boy smile. He’s sort-a like a great big, handsome eagle.” She made a face. “I just wish this eagle was less involved with Uncle Sam.”

Betty wrinkled her nose. “I agree, Maple. Victor’s barely been here since he’s gotten back. I understand that he went through a great strain and he still has a lot to do with Washington, but…well, he has a station to run. We need him just as much as Washington does.”

“I just…” Maple bit her pearly lip. “It ain’t like I wanna hurt Victor. I just want him to pay attention to me.” Her orange-lashed brown eyes gazed wistfully at the two women who were like sisters to her. “Ok, Betty, so Scott and I did have a relationship at one point. We ain’t got one now. Haven’t in years. It’s you he wants. He told me after he started actin’. And Hilary, Jeff’s crazy about you. Yeah, you have every right to be mad about the Pavla thing. But at least they give you the time of day. They both respect you, treat you like ladies. Victor…all he cares about is his work! He barely pays attention to Betty, let alone me!”

Hilary made a face. “He’s not unlike Jeff in that way. They care so much about what’s going on in the world, they neglect what’s happening in their own backyards.” She chuckled. “Jeff is a looker. I’ll give him that. Tall, commanding, with that curly hair that I want to run my fingers through, and those killer dimples…” She made a face. “And then I remember he isn’t mine anymore.” 

“And sometimes,” Betty grumbled, “I wish Scott cared a little more.” She couldn’t help her own dreamy grin. “He’s…well, he’s like a big, sweet bear, with those muscles and all that silver-black hair. And that smile…and those amber eyes…” Her fingers trailed along the script as her smile fell. “But then, he’ll open his mouth and lie again, and I remember why I keep turning down his dates.” 

Maple smirked. “So, what are we going to do with these guys?” She held up a black gloved fist. “Other than give Victor a shiner to match the other two for runnin’ out, when I can get my hands on him.” 

“How about we just get those beasts on the air?” Betty made a face. “A Book at Bedtime is on as soon as Gertie and Mr. Eldridge finish running those Greek records. We need to rehearse ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ And Maple, you’re going to have to play the organ and act, and I could try to do the sound effects. Mr. Foley and Eugenia are nowhere to be found.” 

Hilary paged through her script. “At least someone had a good time tonight.” She tapped at the first page. “I suppose I’m playing the nasty older sister and evil fairy again, same as the last time this came up in the rotation, and you or Maple will be Beauty.” 

“It’s how the story goes, Hilary.” Betty opened her script. “Eugenia was supposed to be the Beast’s kindly housekeeper, but since she seems to have vanished, I might have to get Gertie away from Mr. Eldridge long enough to do it. Jeff is the Beast and the Prince, and since we’re missing Mr. Foley, he’s going to have to be Beauty’s older brother. Scott is his loyal bear valet and Beauty’s father, and Maple, you’re Beauty, the other mean sister, and the household maid.” 

“You know,” Maple added, “I sorta agree with Hilary. I mean, this is soundin’ too much like ‘Cinderella.’ Why do the sisters and brother all gotta be so mean? Why can’t they all get along an’ try to help their father? Why can’t they all figure out what’s goin’ on with the beast?”

Hilary picked up a pencil. “I’d much rather play a far more sympathetic…and ahem, larger…part. Why can’t there be three Beauties and a brother taking care of that father? Why does the Beast ask for the youngest sister? Why not ask for someone with more experience and presence? After all, everyone at all ages can fall in love.”

“Yeah, look at Gertie n’ Mr. Eldridge.” Maple grinned dreamily. “I think they’re crazy about each other. Only time I ever saw ‘em argue was durin’ that quarantine when we all ended up fightin’ each other.” 

“And that evil fairy…even I think her motive for turning the Prince into a Beast is ridiculous. His parents don’t believe in fairy tales?” Hilary smirked. “What if it’s something simple, like, oh, trying to get out of a marriage contract…and protecting his two closest friends?”

Betty flipped open her script. “Much as I hate last-minute re-writes, Hilary, I think you might actually have something here. What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Hilary leaned on her own gloved hands, “it’s like this. Once upon a time, in a time not all that far removed from ours…say, oh, ten or eleven years ago, when the Stock Market crashed and merchants weren’t the only ones going broke, there was an out-of-work actor with four grown children…and one very beautiful eldest daughter who had come home to lick her wounds after a…slight mishap with her previous husband…”

Hilary and the Beasts, Part 1

January 1930

Hilary Booth-Bloom looked out over her garden and shivered, throwing her arms around herself in the raw Pittsburgh air. Once upon a time, she shared a warm, sunny rooftop garden, filled with brilliant, perfectly-culled roses of every color in the rainbow, on top of the glittering Valiant Journey Apartment Complex in New York with her…with her then-husband and acting partner Jeffrey Singer. She’d had everything - money, glamour, a theatrical career, a husband who adored her.  Now, she barely had two squares of dirt and yellowed weeds in the back of a tattered brownstone built of faded red brick on a quiet residential street in Pittsburgh.

Once, her father Mackie Bloom had a palatial penthouse in New York, her two youngest siblings Betty and C.J attended the finest colleges, she held elegant parties dressed in stunning gowns attended by all of the best people, and her middle sister Maple held court with champagne and dancing the Charleston in scandalously short dresses that shocked their actor father Mackie. Mackie was known for his commanding portrayals of great men in Shakespeare and other classical literature. He built a substantial portfolio…then lost every last bit of it on bad investments when the Stock Market took its dive three months before.

The betrayal happened so fast, she was still taking it all in. The discovery that Jeffery, her beautiful, dashing, elegant, devoted Jeffery, had married another woman. She would be his acting partner now. That..that witch Pavla Nemcova handed her a letter, claiming he approved. He said he could explain, but there was no explanation, not from him or that charlatan of a Sherwood manager or high-minded Comstock secretary. She’d walked away from him, walked away from Victor’s bleating about Europe and Scott’s silver-tongued deceptions, walked away before he could even reveal the palatial home he supposedly bought for her. It wasn’t hers anymore. It was his and that…that Czech trollop’s.

To say their current home was far from her father’s elegant Fifth Avenue address was to say a barn was different from a palace. The sagging black shingle roof leaked. The jagged plaster walls were patched and repatched. No amount of polishing could make the old tile floor in the kitchen sparkle. Yellowed windows showed nothing but dirt and patches of dying grass and broken glass. Hilary had sprayed three times, and she still saw mold in the bathroom and spiders in the kitchen. 

Thank heavens for Betty. Sweet, sensible Betty. She took hold of the household from the moment she stepped over the threshold from Vassar, carrying the one suitcase she brought. If she wasn’t sequestered in her room, writing fantasies and dreams to sell to The New Yorker and plays for local radio stations, she was making sure the laundry got done, the dishes were washed, their beds were made, and their dinner was on the table promptly at 6. And that was when that sweet little lawyer - Doug? - wasn’t trying to take her out again. She kept saying she was too busy, she was needed at home, and yet Doug hovered.

And then, there was Maple. The social butterfly, the lightning in a bottle. The one who had danced until dawn in smoke-filled speakeasies now pounded the boards, desperately looking for any work in a floozy-filled chorus line. It just about killed her. Maple had more class, sparkle, and talent in her little finger than most of those heifers did in their entire souls, and yet all those men saw was her voluptuous body.

Hilary was hovering around the kitchen that morning when Father got the telegram. Mackie gathered them around the breakfast table, his round face pink with pleasure under the glasses and bristling mustache. Even C.J, the sensible apple of his older sisters’ eye, his father’s doted-on only son, wolfed down the slightly burnt porridge with raisins Hilary made earlier as he peered around at the thin paper.

“Kids, this is it!” He slammed his big paw on the telegram. “I’m back on the Boards!”

Hilary leaned over his shoulder, pulling up her shapeless gray sweater. “The Liberty Theater on the other side of Pittsburgh? That old barn? It’s practically falling apart. Father, you can’t be serious.” 

“It’s work, isn’t it?” That roguish chubby-cheeked grin of his was wider than she’d seen it in months. “It’s ‘King Lear” Big part. I certainly know something about having daughters!” He sang what he hoped sounded like a deep, bass aria. She did enjoy hearing her father perform Shakespeare. Her late mother Anna always said he had the soul of a Barrymore in the body of a Victor Moore. 

“We’ll need to work on that, Father.” Betty bustled in, sporting her faded brown sprigged dress with the woolly patch on the hem. “We can’t have you forgetting lines during your big solo!” She leaned over to give him a kiss.

“Betty, my little one,” Mackie patted her hand, “if this works out, you and C.J will be back at Vassar and Carnegie Mellon in time for the spring session.”

“Oh Father, I’m not sure I want to go back.” Betty sliced apples and loaded them into a cracked bowl, then brought it to the table for her siblings. “I’m happy here. I’ve sold three stories to radio stations in the past month! Some of those new stations really like my work.”

“Radio?” Hilary wrinkled her aristocratic nose. “That upstart? Betty, I’ve read your plays. I’ve performed them. They’re worthy of the finest theaters in New York.”

“Maybe someday, I’ll get that far, Hilary.” She set out the salt and pepper before settling at the creaky old table. “Right now, I’m just happy to help put food on the table.”

C.J nodded, his mouth full of apple, cleft chin bobbing. “I don’t want to go back to Carnegie either, Dad. I’m learning more about machinery and wiring working at the Nixon Theater than I ever did sitting behind a desk at school.”

“Nonsense!” Hilary waved her porridge-covered spoon. “I want you both to finish your education. Christopher James, you are a genius with anything electrical. How you got the electricity working in this squalid house is beyond me. And Elizabeth Miranda, you have the makings of another Shakespeare in you. I’ve done readings of your plays. They are brilliant.”

“And you’ll be able to now.” Mackie went to the long black box of a phone. “I’m going to ring the Liberty up right now and tell them I’ll be over there. Where’s your sister, anyway? I told Maple I wanted everyone to hear this!”

“Sorry everyone!” She looked up in time to see a flaming orange whirlwind in a thin green coat dance through the door like an emerald tornado. “I just got back from The Crimson Follies. They’re talkin’ ‘bout usin’ me in their chorus line. The producer says if I’m really good, he’ll even give me a solo part!”

“Or if you show him more than just your legs.” Hilary sighed and pushed the burnished copper curls back from her middle sister’s flushed face, with its strong cheekbones so like their departed mother. “Anna Maple Bloom, you know what we talked about. I want you to marry a man who can take care of you. You’ll never find a wealthy suitor at a place that’s one step up from a flop house.”

Maple planted her long lacquered fingers on her shapely hips and let out that Brooklyn bray she’d somehow picked up from attending finishing school in New York. “I don’t see you lookin’ for work, and you’re the big star. Why are ya sittin’ here? ‘Cause of Jeff? What, are ya scared? That ain’t like you, Hilary.”

Mackie saw Hilary’s face darken into pure red rage and knew when to change the subject. “Maple, I just got a good job on the other side of town. How about you give your old dad a great big kiss and help to see him off?”

“A job?” Maple beamed ear to ear and folded her father in the biggest hug she could manage. “Dad, that’s great! I know you’ve been wanting to get back on the boards. I’m so proud of you! You’ll send us tickets to openin’ night, of course. I could even get my blue beaded dress out of mothballs, the one that sounds like maracas when I walk.” 

“Well,” gasped Mackie under his middle daughter’s crushing arms, “it won’t happen if you don’t let me go!”

“Oooh, sorry Dad!” She almost literally dropped him on the floor. “Sometimes, I forget myself, you know?”

“Yeah.” He gathered his breath, gasping like a beached whale. “Hey,” he added as he finally found words again, “if this works out, I could bring you kids something special after the opening. Something you’ve all been wanting.”

“Tools.” C.J reached for the orange juice. “I need new wire cutters and a screwdriver.” 

“A dress!” Maple twirled in her green wool day outfit. “Maybe one’a them pretty, floaty things with the new long hemlines I saw on a mannequin at the Kauffmann’s window downtown.” 

“Books!” Betty grinned. “I’ve read all the books I own three times, and most of the books in the library down the street.”

Mackie looked up at his eldest daughter as she finished her breakfast. “What about you, Hilary? Dress for you, too? Tickets to a play?”

“Oh Dad, you know I’m against seeing a show I’m not in.” Hilary turned to her bare garden. “Maybe…a rose? I don’t know where you’d find one in this weather, but…I think I just need…something beautiful. Jeff…he used to love roses. We planted them together…”

Mackie reached up and rubbed his oldest daughter’s shaking shoulder. “Sweetheart, I’ll find you the most beautiful, the sweetest, the brightest rose in all of Pittsburgh.” 

She wiped fiercely at the eyes that threatened to spill over, not wanting to hear the teasing from Maple and C.J. “Thank you, Father. Now,” she pushed away from the table, “let’s get these dishes clean, put the food away, and see if we can find something suitable for the grandest King Lear in all of Pittsburgh to reclaim his throne! And for heaven’s sake, C.J, don’t gulp your orange juice like that. You’ll choke!”

Mackie left the next day. Hilary found his only remaining good suit and managed to dredge up enough money to have it pressed. C.J got Mackie’s rustbucket Ford, the only car he’d been able to retain, working, at least long enough to get his father to the theater. Betty gave him sandwiches and tea in a basket for the ride, and Maple smothered him with many hugs and kisses. 

“Hilary, Betty,” he gave them hugs after Maple and C.J let go, “you two are in charge of the household while I’m gone. See if you can head off the bill collectors. Tell ‘em I’ll pay them as soon as this job is over. C.J, I want you to look at the boiler downstairs. It’s been sputtering again. Maple, keep looking for work. You’ll find something. I did!”

They all waved as he climbed into their rusted old Ford. It took almost five minutes for the engine to finally turn over. When it did, it lurched out of sight, leaving the four of them to wave after him.

Hilary and the Beasts, Part 2

The next two days were nothing but quiet. Hilary spent most of them either on the phone, or trying to figure out how to pay the bills with their meager savings. If Father didn’t bring home something soon, she had no idea what would happen. They could barely afford food on C.J’s salary and what Betty’s scripts brought from the radio stations. 

Two days after Father’s departure, she was going over the electrical bill and trying to figure out what they could afford when she heard a knock on the door. “Hello?” 

“Hello, Hilary!” Doug Thompson, with his boyish smile, sweet dimples, sandy hair, and stocky body, stood on the other side of the door, flowers in hand. “Is Betty home?”

“Yes.” She let him in. “She’s working on another script.” Her lips drooped slightly. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Jeff since…since he married her.”

“No.” Doug shook his head. “I’ve tried to track him down, Hilary. Pavla told the press he, Scott, Victor, and their entourage were taking a sabbatical from the theater, but she didn’t say where they went after that.” 

Hilary’s eyes blazed. “Well, what do I care about that little fool anyway? He’s the one who dumped one of the finest women he could ever have for a little Czech vamp, who I will mash into meatloaf if I ever get my hands on her! Or have I said too much?”

Doug raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to assume you still aren’t taking Jeff leaving you well. He did say he had an explanation.” 

“What explanation could he have?” Hilary snapped. “He married her. She said they loved each other! She practically flung it in my face! End of story.” He followed her up the creaky, narrow wooden stairs that might have been painted mud brown once, but were now as chipped and faded as the rest of the house. “Betty!” She knocked on the door of her youngest sister’s room. “Betty, Doug’s here!”

“It’s open, Hilary!”

Betty’s “room” was little more than a broom closet she had repurposed as her workshop. The cracked, whitewashed walls barely had enough room for a bed, her desk and ancient typewriter, two boards and cement blocks used as a nightstand that held a flickering lamp, and one shelf of the only books she’d been able to keep after Father lost his wealth. “Yes?” She barely looked up from her keys going clackety-clack. “Oh, hi Doug. What brings you here?”

“I know it’s a bit chilly out,” Doug began brightly, “but I thought we could go skating this afternoon, maybe get some hot cocoa.”

“I’m sorry, Doug.” She kept typing. “I’m much too busy. These scripts won’t write themselves. Someone has to keep money coming in.” 

“You know,” he went on, “I do have money of my own. I could pay your bills this month…”

“That’s very sweet of you, Doug,” Hilary interjected, “but Father would never approve. He’d rather we kept this in the family. He doesn’t even want to join the breadlines and get the food they’re giving away for free.”

“Doug.” Betty flashed him that stunning smile that made the young man’s heart melt despite the chill in her sanctuary. "As it is, I’m barely going to have time for lunch. Besides, Father called and said he should be back soon. We’ll go out another time.”

He just gave her a shakier smile. “All right, Betty.” Hilary followed him out the door as he sighed. The clacking of her typewriter continued, even as she closed it. “To get to Betty, I suppose I would have to have lived then.”

“When?”

“Another time.”

Hilary patted his shoulder. She had no objection to Betty dating her lawyer. He wasn’t the most exciting young man, but he was steady, kind, and had money of his own. “Come back and ask her out for dinner, Doug. She might be more receptive after she’s knocked back a second or third draft.”

“All right.” He handed Hilary the flowers. “For you, then. You probably need them right now more than Betty anyway.”

“Thank you, Doug.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “If you weren’t my lawyer, I’d have half a mind to date you myself right now.”

Doug turned red all the way down to his blue silk tie. “Thanks, Hilary.”

She saw him out the door, then returned to Betty’s sanctuary and flung herself in without knocking. “You know,” she said pointedly as she sat on Betty’s perfectly made bed, “it wouldn’t kill you to accept one date with Doug. He’s a nice young man, and a good lawyer. He’s been a friend of the family for years.”

“Hilary, I have to get these out.”

She made a face. “You’re not still thinking of Jeff’s manager Scott Sherwood, are you? I didn’t like that man pursuing you. He was a liar and a con-man of the highest magnitude. Lord knows why Jeff hired him. He knew his reputation.” 

Betty just kept typing. She finally stopped briefly as she pulled out the paper. Hilary swore she saw surprising hurt in her sister’s eyes, but her voice was firm. “No, Hilary. I’m not thinking of Scott. All he ever did was feed me lies and pick-up lines. He’s not my type. I just want to focus on my career.”

“There’s more to life than work, dear. Take it from someone who spent a decade focusing on her own career.” She raised an eyebrow as the front door slammed. “I’m going to assume Maple’s home. It is getting late. C.J should be walking in soon too, and Father said he was supposed to be back today. He mentioned he was at some…mansion…when he called yesterday. Didn’t say much else. I certainly want to hear more about it.” 

The two women came downstairs just in time to see Maple throw her green coat aside with such force, it ended up on the floor. “Oooh, why did I think that jerk at the Crimson Follies wanted to hire me?” She kicked the leg of the coffee table. “He just wanted me to put out for him! I told him I wasn’t like that, gave him a knee where it hurts, and left. And I thought I had a job!”

Betty and Hilary sat on either side of her at the table. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Hilary sighed as Betty rubbed her shoulder. “But I did try to tell you about that theater’s reputation.”

“Girls?” C.J came in as Hilary patted her back. “Are you alright? What happened?” He wore the black clothes required of stage hands to blend in with the dark and was brushing snow off his shoulders. “It’s really starting to come down out there. Dad’s supposed to come home soon. I hope he doesn’t get into an accident.”

“Aw, C.J, it’s ok.” Maple waved him off. “I just figured out somethin’ I should have already known. I ain’t never gonna get a job. Producers take one look at me an’ think I’m just a body. They don’t got any respect for me.”

“If it’s any consolation, we respect you, sis.” He pulled up a chair next to them. “We know how smart you are.”

“Yeah,” Maple made a face, “but I wish someone else could figure it out.” She tugged at a thread in the ragged blue striped couch. “There was…a guy…I saw at one’a Hilary’s shows. He was a buddy of Jeff’s. He was real cute, but he was bent over some papers the whole time. I don’t think he even saw me.”

Hilary sighed. “Maple, I’ll find you someone who’ll take care of you and give you everything you want.”

“All I want,” Maple said softly, “is to be seen, ya know?”

Betty nodded. “I do know, Maple.” 

Hilary frowned and looked at the old wooden clock on the mantel. “It’s getting late. Father should be here any minute. We really need to be preparing dinner for him…”

Hilary and the Beasts, Part 3

That was when they heard the Ford sputter into the narrow driveway it barely fit in. Mackie Bloom stumbled into the door, his dark eyes nearly popping out of round spectacles. He clutched a perfect, velvety vermilion rose, swaddled in paper like a newborn child in his trembling fingers. His breathing was hard, labored, and his normally rosy, plump cheeks were whiter than the snow outside. 

“Father?” Hilary hurried to his side, the other three following. “Are you all right?” He thrust the rose into her hands. “It’s beautiful, Father! I’ve never seen such a gorgeous rose, especially in mid-January. Where did you get it?”

“Well,” Mackie panted, “It’s like this, Hilary. You see, I got to the Liberty Theater late two days ago, and…er, it wasn’t there anymore. Turns out they canceled the performance when the theater was declared unfit for human occupancy and condemned.” 

Maple’s face fell. “You didn’t get the job? No dress or books?”

“I think we’re beyond that right now, Maple.” Betty glared at her sister, then rubbed her horrified father on the back. “Go on, Dad.”

“I was driving home in the snow storm last night.” He saw Betty and Hilary’s annoyed looks. “Ok, so I shouldn’t have been driving in a snowstorm. I, well, with all that snow blowing around, I kind of got lost. I thought I’d pull in at the nearest house and ask directions, but I was in one of those swanky parts, with all the really big mansions with the tall round towers like castles they were building fifty or sixty years ago, you know? Anyway, I pulled the Ford up the driveway, and the old gate just…creaked open. No one pulled it open. It just did. Creepy as hell, let me tell you!”

Hilary didn’t like the sound of this at all. “How could it just open by itself?”

“I had no idea, and at that point, I wasn’t exactly asking questions.” Betty went to the kitchen and brought him a glass of orange juice from the icebox. “Thanks, hon.” He gulped it before continuing. “I thought maybe these obviously loaded people could give me somewhere to stay for the night. I wandered around, but…well, I swear I heard voices, but I didn’t see anything.”

“No one?” Hilary raised an eyebrow. “How could you just wander around and see no one?”

Mackie’s eyes were getting bigger by the moment. “I don’t know! I could hear them. I heard voices. I swear, I heard an organ playing somewhere. I thought I heard a cat purr, but when I turned around…nothing.” He shrugged. “Well, to make a long story short, I did stay there for the night. Nice place, for there being no one around. Fed me like a king. Chicken, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans and carrots…I dined like a king and slept in a feather bed with a silk coverlet three times the size of my old one in New York.” 

C.J frowned. “Dad, get to the point. Where did the rose come from? It’s January.”

“Well, I went wandering around the next day after breakfast to find someone I could thank for taking me in. Went out in the garden, and that’s when I found the hot house. They were cultivating roses in that glass mausoleum. He had thousands of them! I didn’t think he’d mind if I picked one for Hilary!”

Hilary raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow. “He?”

“He! It! That…that THING!” Macke waved his arms, his eyes wide with horror. “It just…jumped out at me! Like it came from the corner of my deepest nightmares. It was…slimy and horrible, with horns out to here,” he indicated a long curling line from his balding head, “warts everywhere and this greenish skin, like a troll from those fairy tale books I know Betty reads before bed.” 

“A monster?” Maple was actually grinning. “Wow, a real monster, like in the movies! I didn’t think we had real monsters in Pittsburgh! This is kind of neat!”

“Neat?” Hilary’s eyes widened. “Father, surely you imagined it!"

“Hilary,” Mackie’s voice raised nearly ten octaves, “you think I could IMAGINE something like this? I know what I saw. It was…dripping with…stuff, moss, I don’t know, and the claws…those claws were sharp like razors! It growled and said I was stealing and I had to pay the price. He said he’d call the cops on me for taking his rose! I just…panicked and said I’d send you right over. Anything to get out of there before he sliced me into lunch leftovers!”

“Ok, something is seriously wrong here.” C.J’s own eyebrows were raised even higher. “Monsters like that are only found in Lon Chaney movies and really vivid nightmares.” 

“I agree.” Hilary squared her shoulders. “I’ll go, Father. I asked for the rose. You stole it for me. This is my fault.” 

“Hilary,” Mackie wailed, “I don’t want any of my children anywhere near that..that house of horrors!”

Maple grinned. “Hey, why don’t we all go? Hilary shouldn’t be alone on this! If this monster is really that scary, she might need back-up. Besides, it sounds like a real adventure! Haunted house, monster, voices in the night. It’s better than a mystery on the radio.”

“I don’t think we should all go.” Betty gently took Mackie’s arm. “At least one person should stay with Dad. He’s had a terrible shock.” 

“I’ll do it.” C.J nodded. “I have my electrician job, anyway. I can’t leave it…but I can ask questions. Be discreet. See what people say about a mansion where lights have been flickering, people have been heard, but not seen. Dad, I’ll need the address.”

“I’ll give it to you, if I can remember.” He made a face. “Girls, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

Hilary dropped the rose in a cracked earthenware jug. “Father, it wanted me, whatever it is. It couldn’t hurt to find out what it’s after. C.J’s right. I can feel it in my bones. This ‘monster’ is far from what it seems.” 

“I can’t go, either.” Betty pulled away. “I have scripts to work on.” 

“So you can work on them there.” Maple grabbed Betty’s hand. “Come on, sis! It’ll be fun! Better than the movies. We’ll live our own movie, and you’ll really have something to write about then!” 

There was a clear glint in Betty’s eyes. “Well…I could use some research for my next story…”

“It’s settled, then.” Hilary turned to her father with finality. “The three of us will leave soon as we can pack and catch a cab. We’ll leave you two the Ford to run errands and get C.J to work.”

C.J hugged his sisters in turn. “Be careful, all right? There’s something dangerous here. I just know it.” 

Mackie gave all of his children a group hug. “If you’re determined to do this crazy thing, I can at least give you a good send-off.”

They all laughed and leaned into his arms. Maple giggled, cuddling him. “Oh Dad!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It didn’t take long for them to pack their bags. Betty was perfectly capable of packing on her own, but Hilary did have to supervise Maple. If it was up to her middle sister, she’d bring a pile of movie fanzines and one shoe. She was so eager to see this “movie monster” for herself, it was all Hilary could do to keep her on track. Hilary, of course, needed a…few…boxes. Mackie had to help her carry her bags downstairs.

“What did ya do, bring everything ya own?” Maple raised an eyebrow when she saw the six suitcases and flowered hat boxes piled at her sister’s feet on the stoop. “We’re not exactly going to the Waldorf-Astoria here. We don’t know if this place even has runnin’ water or nothin’.” 

“Even when one is going to a decaying mansion, one should always be prepared for anything.” Hilary dusted off her best dark blue suit and the dashing cloche hat with the feather she bought at that smart little woman’s shop in New York. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be there or what we’ll find. Who knows what we’ll need?”

“Who cares?” Maple dropped her two mismatched flowered suitcases on the front stoop. “I just wanna see the monster.” 

Hilary’s eyes widened at the tight blouse and clingy emerald skirt her sister had on under that green coat. “We don’t need to be giving Lon Chaney an eyeful.” She immediately drew the coat over Maple’s heaving bosom and pulled her green winter hat over her bouncing shoulder-length copper curls. “Where’s Betty? We need to get going.” 

“I’m here!” Betty came out in her old black coat and shapeless gray dress, her short flyaway chestnut curls thrown back with a headband under her gray felt cloche. She carried a worn carpetbag, a battered leather valise, and her beloved typewriter in its carrying case. “I called the cab. They said they’ll be here in five minutes.”

Mackie shivered and sneezed in the cold January air. “I still think you girls are crazy for doing this! This…thing…could kill you!”

“I don’t think it will.” Hilary gave her trembling parent a kiss on the cheek. “Father, there’s a mystery to all of this. Maple and I certainly aren’t doing anything useful. It wouldn’t hurt to find out what this is all about.”

“If it’s that scary,” Betty added, giving him a quick hug, “we’ll turn right around and come home.”

Maple threw her arms around Mackie for a far more crushing hug. “But we won’t be home too fast!”

“I wish,” Mackie gasped under his daughter’s strong affection, “that your brother could have been here, too, but he was called to a tech rehearsal at the Nixon.” 

Hillary looked up as the yellow cab pulled behind the Ford. “That’s our ride, Father.” She leaned over and gave him another kiss. “We’ll call you when we get in and have something to tell you.”

Betty gave him a much smaller hug. “And we’ll make sure to write every day.”

“Good bye, Dad!” Maple hugged him again, then started loading up the suitcases. They had to tie most of Hilary’s on the top of the cab, but they did manage to get everyone in and on their way. Mackie ran past the Ford, waving to his daughters until the cab turned a corner and disappeared down the street.

Hilary, of course, claimed shotgun. Betty and Maple squeezed in with her bags in the back seat. Maple exclaimed over every lavish shop and extravagant mansion on Fifth Avenue and Millionaire's Row. Betty looked out the window, but her face was more pensive, and she clutched her typewriter case like a lifeline.

For her part, Hilary wondered what she was getting herself into. All of this fuss over a rose seemed a bit ridiculous. What in the hell did some…monster…want with her? It wasn’t like she hadn’t dealt with the human variety of beast before. Certainly, she’d met many animals when she was acting in New York who pawed her dresses and panted over her body, before she reminded them who was in charge of the zoo. 

As they continued, twisting and turning past larger and older mansions, the mansions gradually thinned out. Maple oohed as thick, ancient old elms and oaks and sprawling snow-crusted lawns replaced the close-together stone homes. The snow picked up, making navigating the increasingly narrow, rutted roads more difficult. Even Hilary winced as they went over a particularly large pot hole. First thing she needed to do with this…whatever it was…was encourage it to fix the roads outside its home.

Even she drew in her breath when they came to the end of the road and the man turned down a wide, tree-lined drive. The spiked wrought-iron gates that wrapped around the property opened with a slow, menacing creak, with seemingly no one touching them and no electronic box nearby. Even Maple’s continual chatter died to silent admiration as they passed endless snow-frosted gardens, with fountains and bare landscaping. Hilary thought she even got a glimpse of a glass building - likely the hot house that held the rose bushes - through the soft white flakes.

The manor itself took her breath away. This was a true Gothic marvel, with its ivy-covered stone walls, Gothic towers that stabbed the sky, wide shutters framing curving windows, and sweeping staircase leading to a front door wider than the entire front of their current house, even as the tires crunched over the falling snow. The cab driver let them off at the foot of the stairs, helped them get their bags to the door, and beat a hasty retreat the moment Hilary gave him the largest tip she could afford.

“Lady, I hear things about this joint,” was all he’d say, in hush, guttural whispers. “Ghosts. Voices in the night, when there ain’t nobody there. Moans, cryin’ like someone’s heart were breakin’...only there ain’t nobody there. Good luck with this joint, girls!”

“Oooh!” Maple grinned ear to ear. “I always wanted to live in a haunted house!”

Hilary shivered and rubbed her arms. “They could have sent someone around to greet us, or at least help with our bags. Really, this…whatever it is…is very rude.” 

As her sisters gathered their luggage, she leaned on the door bell, hoping someone, anyone would answer. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Giving up, she finally rapped as hard as her wool-gloved hands would allow. “Miss Hilary Booth-Bloom and her sisters Miss Anna Bloom and Miss Elizabeth Bloom have arrived!”

Hilary and the Beasts, Part 4

Hilary was so caught up in admiring the sprawling porch that wrapped around nearly the entire front of the house that she didn’t see what she was knocking on. When she looked up, she realized her hand thumped on a solid chest. “Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to do…” Her eyes widened. She could hear Betty gasp behind her. “That.”

The little creature who faced her was…a rabbit. A rabbit-man. He had the long, loping ears and soft, shining light-brown fur of the carrot-snitching rodents who defaced her garden every summer, but his twitching, bewhiskered nose, large dark eyes, and rakish little mustache were far more human. He even had a tuft of light-brown hair plastered down between his ears and long, sharp buck teeth.

“Well!” She was the first one to regain her composure. “It’s about time. You could have been a bit more responsive.” She dumped a pile of her bags in the bunny’s waiting paws. The stack nearly dwarfed his head. “Please, my good…er…rabbit, take these to our rooms.”

Maple grinned. “Are you the monster? You don’t look like a monster. You’re a cute bunny!” She grabbed his paws. “You even have those little pink bean things!” 

“Maple!” Betty grabbed her hand. “Leave the poor…er, rabbit…alone.”

“I just wanted to see ‘em!” 

“Mr. Rabbit, if you’re not the master of this mausoleum,” Hilary demanded as he led them inside, “could you please find whomever is in charge and tell him that the Booth-Bloom sisters have arrived? We’re famished and half-frozen. We’ll need to see our rooms and for someone to send a change of liniment. Oh, and tell the cook we’ll be needing hot drinks. I’ll have coffee, two and a half lumps of sugar, cream. Maple takes her coffee black, no cream, no sugar. Betty will have chamomile tea with lemon.”

The rabbit didn’t say a word…but then, Hilary didn’t think he would. She never heard those flower-snitching rodents who invaded her gardens make much noise. He merely stumbled inside with that pile of her luggage. She took her remaining suitcases, while the girls took their things. 

The inside was even more imposing than the outside. The rabbit led them through a dimly-lit foyer into a drawing room that was as cavernous as it was beautiful. The sweeping staircase, with its highly polished wood stairs and shining brass candelabras, attached to an upstairs hall that, as far as Hilary could tell, went on for miles. Every expensive antique, every brass candlestick shined within an inch of its life.

“Well,” Hilary admitted as she ran a gloved finger the marble mantelpiece on the enormous fire, with its inviting, crackling flames, “whomever your master is, at least he keeps a neat house. Not a speck of dust anywhere.”

“Hey!” Maple complained as the bunny managed to close the door with one arm, “you’re too cute to be a monster! Dad said there was a monster here. Where’s the monster?”

Hilary looked up from inspecting the beautiful old Chippenware table. “Lurking in corners, no doubt.” 

That was when they all heard the loudest, most heart-pounding, ear-splitting roar that ever shook a chandelier. Every bit of glass in the entire room shook. The chairs trembled. The bunny dropped Hilary’s luggage in sheer terror. Betty leaped back and pulled her typewriter closer to her. Maple jumped a mile. 

“YOU ARE LATE!”

Hilary’s eyes moved to the staircase, and that was when she saw…it. It slammed down the stairs in pure unrestrained fury, its enormous clawed feet making every stair vibrate. “You were supposed to have been here an hour ago!” Warts covering a slime-crusted face, razor-sharp claws on bony fingers, coarse mouse-brown curls flowing over a head far too large for the sharp, bony body, totally lipless and almost noseless except for two flaring warty nostrils. “You could have at least called!”

Hilary stood stock-still and wide-eyed at the…thing…stomping towards them. Betty was the first to scream, still clutching her typewriter. Maple screamed, too, but it was with delight, her wide chocolate eyes shining. 

“Oh my god!” She squealed, jumping up and down in glee. “I’m seeing my first movie monster up close! This is amazing!”

“Lady,” the creature snarled as it made it downstairs, a long, cat-like tail with a curly mouse tuft trailing behind it indignantly, “I am NOT a movie monster!” 

Betty gulped, her face paler than the snow outside. “I’m beginning to question that!” 

Hilary did not appreciate this…thing’s…attitude. She stormed past the frozen Betty and right into its unappealing face.  “I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk to my sister that way!”

“Your sister?” It hissed, showing long, sharp yellow fangs. “What is your sister doing here? I asked for one daughter, not an entire family!”

“I wasn’t coming here on my own, and Maple wanted to see a monster.” She was about ready to knock this…thing’s…block off. “You’re the one who threw a fit over a stupid rose! I only asked for one because it’s January, and nothing is growing in my garden!”

She paused when she finally looked into its eyes. They were beautiful. The only beautiful thing on its otherwise hideous face. They were almond-shaped, dark brown and soulful, holding volumes of pain…and very, very human. She knew those eyes…

“Your father,” the creature snarled as it narrowed those human eyes, “stole MY property from MY hot house! Those roses are mine! I gave him food, shelter, and he STOLE from me!” 

“He was just looking for a place to stay after losing a job, and you threatened to have him arrested!”

“Those roses are MINE!” He turned his glare towards the terrified rabbit, whose pink nose and mustache twitched even faster. “Mr. Rabbit, pick up the lady’s things and call a cab for the other two. Her sisters are going home.” 

“But we just got here!” Maple protested loudly. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Lon Chaney!”

“I am also not Lon Chaney,” the creature growled, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“Then don’t act like him!” Betty managed to call out bravely from behind her. 

Hilary looked up, her own brown eyes widening as the shuffle of an even larger creature carried from a room to their right. “Hey…” a deep, grizzled voice rumbled, “what going on?” 

“You…” Hilary gasped as a hulking figure emerged slowly and timidly from the shadows. “You’re a bear.” 

Hilary and the Beasts, Part 5

It was a black bear, if a bear could walk upright and have legs and arms like a man. Like the troll, it wore a fine white silk shirt and gray wool trousers that barely fit its hulking frame. The rest of it was covered in thick, silky black fur, with silver touching its rounded ears. The long, sharp nose was wet and black, with a muzzle that faded into creamy yellow fur and bristling white whiskers. It, too, had sharp teeth and razor claws on big, brawny paws. 

“Oh wow!” Maple was grinning ear to ear. “This is just getting weirder and weirder! I love it! There’s a whole walkin’ zoo in this house!”

The creature gave the bear a withering glare. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I just…” It closed its wide amber eyes like it was trying to collect its thoughts, before continuing more slowly. “Please. Let let them stay, Master. Let them all stay.” He clutched the creature’s stick-like arm, a marked contrast to his thick, sinewy one. “They do no harm.” His eyes roved to Betty. “I like them here.” 

“Oh, what do you know, you idiot?” He shoved the bear towards the luggage. “Go help Mr. Rabbit with their bags, if they’re going to turn this into a hotel!”

The bear toppled backwards into Hilary’s bags, tripping over her hat box and landing in the pile Mr. Rabbit had dropped. Betty set her typewriter on the table and immediately went to his side. “Are you all right? Did you hurt anything? That was a nasty spill you took!” 

“I’m good!” He let her help him to his lower paws. “I trip a lot. Don’t walk well.” 

“Well,” Hilary glared, “your monster friend didn’t have to push you!” 

“Troll,” the creature snapped. “I am a Troll, and I would appreciate it if you could call me that! You can call me Troll, or Master, like the others.” He glared at Bear when he spent just a beat too long gazing into Betty’s eyes. “Don’t you have something you could be doing?” He turned his snarl to the trembling Mr. Rabbit. “You too. Take the ladies’ things upstairs. We’ll settle all of this in the morning.”

“It’s settled.” Hilary crossed her arms. “I am not staying without my sisters. I want baths drawn for all three of us, hot drinks sent up immediately, and our nightclothes set out.”

“H…here. Let me help.” Bear tried to gather the remaining suitcases into his thick furry arms, but they kept falling between them. 

Hilary made a face at him. “Do you mind? Some of those bags cost me a fortune! Are you always such a clumsy oaf?”

“I’m sorry, miss.” Bear gulped, trembling like a leaf under Hilary’s angry glare. “I try to be better.”

Betty gave Hilary her own withering glance, then put her carpetbag and valise in Bear’s arms. “Here.” She closed the gap between the arms, keeping the bags from falling out. “For what it’s worth,” she added softly, “I don’t think you’re an idiot. Anyone can make a mistake.” 

Bear’s eyes lit up like the marquee at the Nixon. “You don’t?” 

“No, I don’t.” As Betty arranged his arms, she couldn’t help looking past Bear’s chubby cheeks and black nose into his eyes. They were huge pools of molten amber, confused, hopeful, and so, so lost. She’d seen eyes like that before, somewhere, in another time, another place…

“T…thanks,” The Bear managed to stammer. “I’ll find room. We not ready for three pretty girls. One suite ready.” 

Maple took her own suitcases. “I’m fine over here, Mr. Bear!” 

“Bear,” the Troll snapped, “where’s Eagle? I told him we would be having guests! I wish he’d stop spending every last waking moment in his damn office!” 

The Bear stepped back, his thick Adam’s apple bobbing. “I knock on door. Said lady coming. He comes.” 

Maple’s grin nearly split her face as they heard the loud, long squawk. “Is that him? That bird thing on the stairs?” She dropped her suitcases and pointed at a feathered figure perched on the polished banisher, hidden in the shadows of the chandelier. “This is incredible! Three monsters!”

Betty’s eyes widened as she pushed towards Bear, burying into his soft fur. “I don’t believe this!” 

Hilary wasn’t sure she did, either. There was an enormous, lanky bald eagle hanging onto the railings. It wore the same silk shirt and trousers, only in blue and gray rather than the cream and gray on the other two. The thin canary-yellow beak more closely resembled a hooked nose…but his feet were bird’s feet, yellow, long, and clawed, and where arms should have been, wide brown wings stretched out in either direction. Thin peach lips spread across a face covered in stark white feathers. 

The creature let out a screechy squawk that echoed in the room as it soared down to the entrance. “Oh, this is too much!” Maple squealed with absolute glee. “It looks like an American symbol come to life! Like it should be hangin’ out with Uncle Sam.” 

“What took you so long?” The Troll glared at the newcomer. “I told you we had visitors!” 

“Wow!” Maple gasped breathlessly as the Eagle made a perfect landing on the blue Oriental carpet. “You can fly! That is just so…so…amazin’!” She went right up to the Eagle and stroked his silky feathers. “Yeah, these are real, all right! They’re so soft!”

She couldn’t help looking up into his curious dark eyes as he squawked softly and watched her fingers. Those whiskey-brown eyes were deep, soulful, and so very sad…and human. Just as human as the others’. Where had she seen those eyes before? Maybe backstage at one of Hilary’s shows, or at some speakeasy on Isabella Street? 

“Miss,” the Troll snarled, “he’s not your pet. Stop that. Eagle, Bear, take the women upstairs. They can share Miss Booth’s rooms until we can set up something for them. Mr. Rabbit, after you deliver the bags, go get Puppy and have her set up the sofa and fainting couch for the two younger Misses Blooms to sleep on.” 

Hilary nodded. “I would prefer my sisters stayed with me, at least until we can figure out what’s going on here.” 

“There is nothing going on.” The Troll snarled. “Breakfast is at 8 AM sharp in the kitchen, and you are not to be late!”

“8 AM?” Maple made a face. “But I don’t get up until noon!” 

“8 AM!” The Troll growled. “This is MY house, and I make the rules!” 

The Eagle rolled its eyes and let out another squawk, this one purely annoyed. Maple frowned as she watched the wide gestures it made with its wings. 

“Eagle…” the Bear stammered, trying to juggle Betty’s luggage. “Slow down. Bear not know what you say. Wings too fast!”

Betty frowned. “Why doesn’t he say something?”

“For your information,” the Troll grumbled, “he’s a bird. He can’t talk. He doesn’t have the tongue for it.” 

“That’s ok.” Maple shot Eagle her most radiant million-watt smile. “I still think he’s cute.” Eagle only let out an exasperated sigh-squawk. It tried to reach for Maple’s bags, but those feathers just fumbled around the handles. “Oh, that’s ok, birdie.” She grabbed her luggage, even as she fluttered her eyelashes coyly. “I can handle this one myself.” 

The Troll made a face. “Get upstairs. Now. It’s past everyone’s bedtimes. We’ll discuss this in the morning.” He stomped back upstairs before Hilary could argue.

Hilary and the Beasts, Part 6

“Well!” Hillary picked up her hat box as Betty gathered one of Hilary’s remaining bags and her typewriter. “At least some of you…creatures…are pleasant. That so-called “master” of yours is positively rude!”

“He’s angry.” Bear shuffled slowly after Mr. Rabbit up that polished staircase, juggling Betty’s valise and carpetbag. “Don’t blame him. He made,” he gulped, his eyes a little fearful, “her angry.” 

Hilary made a face. “That is not an excuse. He’s the one who threw a fit over a rose!”

Bear’s big lips turned down. “Master loves roses. Make him think of…” He closed his eyes again as the Eagle nudged him with a wing and squawked gently, trying to encourage him to remember, but his lumbering friend only shook his head. “Think of lady.”

“I can’t imagine,” Hilary snorted, “that anyone would go for such a…a grouch!”

Maple’s glare almost matched the Eagle’s narrowed eyes and annoyed squawk. “You’d be surprised, Hilary.”

The hallway seemed to go on for miles. It was as well-kept as the rest of the house, the antique furnishings spotless. The lamps gave the pale blue walls a soft glow. “This…” Bear huffed as they stopped before one of the doors, “is your room, miss. Girls get rooms later.” 

The girls gasped behind her when Hilary opened the door, and even Hilary’s eyes widened. It was the most beautiful bedroom she’d ever seen…and every bit of it was decorated to her tastes. The walls were soft blues, her favorite color, the furniture comfortable and yet aristocratic, strong wood covered in plush blue velvet. The four-poster bed was big enough for all three of them, with a satin coverlet and plump down pillows and an Irish lace canopy. 

Hilary was more surprised to see the very pretty golden dog who covered the soft pale blue couch in a satin sheet. “Oh, hello, Miss!” The dog-girl had the same human arms with fur as Bear, but hers was curly and golden. She was clearly much younger than the others, with her enormous round glasses, guileless blue eyes, and loping, curly gold ears. “I just turned down your beds. Mrs. Fox and I will set up rooms for the other two young ladies tomorrow. For right now, the Master says you can sleep here.”

“I call the couch!” Maple immediately dropped her suitcases on it and settled down next to them. 

“Betty,” Hilary added, ‘take the fainting couch. You’re the smallest. I,” she smirked and settled on the end of the four-poster, “will take this masterpiece. It was made for me, I think.”

“Oh Hilary,” Betty ran her fingers over the headboard, “look at these carved roses! They’re so intricate!”

“The Master thought you’d be happy here.” Puppy beamed under her little black nose and whiskers. “He always did say this room was special. It was originally intended for…” She coughed as the Eagle squawked and glared at her. The Bear just looked confused. “Well, this probably is the nicest room in the house.” 

“There’s even a phone.” Hilary ran her fingers over the ivory and brass telephone stenciled with roses on the rose-carved side table. “Good. I want to call C.J after we have our hot drinks. He said he’d do some research. The rehearsal should be ending soon.”

Betty put an arm around Hilary as she sighed. “You miss it, don’t you? Acting. Especially with, well, Jeff.” 

“Acting, yes. I was born to play roles. I will go back to the boards, after all this is settled.” She sighed. “Jeff…no. He wanted Pavla. End of story.” She ran her fingers over the headboard. “Still…there’s something about all this…”

“Yeah, it’s incredible!” Maple had already flung herself across the couch. “So soft! I might never move.” 

“Miss?” Bear handed Betty her carpetbag and valise after she set up the typewriter on a gleaming dark-wood desk with brass trim. “Here’s the bags.” 

“Thank you.” She gave him a gentle smile. “You know, I don’t think we really introduced ourselves. I’m Betty. Do you have a name, besides Bear?” 

“I…” The wide amber eyes closed…and when they opened again, they were black as tar. “I did…no. Not now. Bear. I am Bear.”

Puppy nodded. “You can call me Puppy or Canine, or something to that persuasion. I don’t mind. It’s fascinating meeting all of you, but I must retrieve those drinks. I do hope the blankets are to your liking. Ring that bell,” she nodded at a small silver bell dangling in a corner, “if you need me.” 

“What about you?” Maple jumped up and took the Eagle’s wing before he could retreat. “Do you have a name?” She flashed him another grin. “They call me Maple, ya know, like the syrup? It’s really my middle name. I like it better’n plain old Anna.” 

“Oh, we just call him ‘Eagle,’ miss.” Puppy nodded at the little man-bunny carefully arranging Hilary’s luggage near the massive walk-in closet. “That’s Mr. Rabbit, Master’s valet.” She leaned over Betty’s shoulder as she pulled out paper and ink spools. “Oh, you’re a writer? I used to write stories in my spare time before...uh, well, I used to.”

“Yes, I do.” She smiled at the girl-dog. “Maybe we can make some together.” 

“When I’m not working,” Puppy added quickly. “Master does like our chores to be done on time.” 

Eagle nodded at a clock on the marble mantelpiece and squawked. “Oh dear, he’s right. It’s getting late. We do need to get those drinks. It’s been so pleasant to meet all of you!” Puppy bounded out, still clutching the remaining linens. 

Betty took Bear’s arm. “Are we going to see you at breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Maple patted Eagle’s wing. “I’m sure it’ll be an… edit-fying…experience.” 

Bear only nodded. “You’ll see us there. Breakfast.” He looked like he was going to say something to Betty, but Eagle finally took his arm through his wing and tugged him out. 

“Well,” Hilary clapped her hands, “I suppose it’s lights out, then. Our drinks should be up soon. If they’re not, I’ll ring the bell.”

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to sleep.” Maple opened one of the suitcases and tossed flimsy silk stockings and two bras on the floor before finally digging out her thin silk nightgown with the filmy lace. “That Eagle…those eyes…” She shook her head as she went behind a polished wooden screen decorated with lacquered roses. “Hey, did you girls get the idea that you’ve seen their eyes before? Eagle…darn it, I’ve seen those eyes somewhere!”

“Now that I think of it,” Betty added as she removed her worn red flannel nightgown from her carpetbag, “the bear is familiar, too. Oh, where have I seen those eyes? You didn’t have any bears in your shows, did you, Hilary?”

Hilary pulled out her own fine blue satin nightgown and feather-trimmed robe before going into the walk-in closet. “The last time I saw a bear was Maple’s old stuffed bear that I know she brought with her.”

“Hey,” Maple waved the old brown teddy in her face as she came out from behind the screen in a peach silk nightgown, “watch what you say about Walter! He’s my buddy!”

Betty came out swaddled in her red nightgown and worn wool robe. “I’m going to write letters to Father and see if I can finish out that play I was working on. After that, Hilary, I swear I’ll go right to bed.”

“Ehh, I think I’m gonna pack it in.” Maple lay down on the couch with Walter and pulled the soft quilt over her. “‘Sides, I know what I’m gonna dream about tonight. Enchanted mansions full’a gorgeous eagles and roarin’ trolls and magic…this is five times better than the movies!”

“This is most definitely not a movie.” Betty signed as she settled down behind her trusty typewriter. “I do know that Maple’s right about one thing. There’s something going on here. Something is very, very wrong. That poor bear can barely get two sentences out. But his eyes…” She closed her own, then shook her head. “I don’t think he’s a bear or a simpleton. Someone did this to him.”

“I agree.” Hilary settled down under the satin quilt on her exquisite bed. “It doesn’t take a genius to realize that eagles and puppies don’t normally walk and talk. And that troll…” She huffed. “I don’t know what got into him, or why he wanted just me in the first place.” She smirked and waved her hand at the lavish room. “Other than he has amazing taste for a disgustingly grotesque creature with an overwhelming need for control and an ego larger than this entire mausoleum. Or have I said too much?” 

“Aw Hilary, pipe down.” Maple slid a pink satin sleep mask over her eyes. “Some of us need our beauty sleep.” 

“Fine, Maple. You sleep.” Hilary took the phone and dialed the operator as Betty clacked away on her typewriter, lost in her own world. “Meanwhile, I’m going to get to the bottom of this mystery.” The moment the operator came on, she directed her to the backstage at the Nixon, then told the stagehand she wanted her brother. 

“Hilary?” C.J’s sensible voice crackled over the line. “Is that you? Are you alright? Dad’s beside himself right now. All he’s been doing is pacing the floor, listening to the radio and worrying about you three.”

“I’m fine. I’m more than fine, C.J.” Hilary couldn’t help her moan as she sank into the thick, downy pillows. “Father wasn’t wrong about the mansion.” She sighed. “Or the monster. There is a monster here, C.J. A whole zoo of them. But…” she closed her eyes, her fingers running on the blue satin. “C.J, something is seriously wrong here. Someone did this, and I need to know who, and why.” 

“So do I.” She could hear the clatter of stage hands moving scenery behind her brother. The sound almost made her blood ache. She missed the stage so much. “Hilary, after you three left, Dad and I made calls. I called Doug Thompson. I’m going to find out who owns that mansion. I think it’s the key to all of this.”

Hilary raised an eyebrow. “The way that…monster…acted, I believe he owns this overgrown museum.” 

“Monsters don’t buy mansions anywhere but old Gothic horror novels.” There was another clatter and the sounds of high-heels clopping…and the voice of a woman Hilary never wanted to hear again. “Oh damn it. It’s her. Hilary, Pavla Nemcova is here.”

“What?!” Hilary’s screech was so loud, it jolted Maple out of slumber and made Betty look up from her typing and turn around in surprise. “That…that…Czechoslovakian puff pastry! I thought she was with Jeff and the Lost Boys club back in Europe!”

“Evidently not.” C.J’s gentle voice dripped with sarcasm. “Hilary, she’s the star of this show. She’s got your role in ‘The Rivals.’ I don’t like it, either. In fact, I hate it. She’s too calculating and frigid for this role. She has all the warmth of a dead fish.”

“Why that…that…” Hilary sputtered. “That BITCH of a trollop already got her hands on my Jeff! Why does she have to take my roles, too?”

Her baby brother’s voice sputtered and crackled on the line. “That’s what I’m going to find out. Hilary, she’s alone. Jeff isn’t with her. Neither are Scott, Victor, or Mr. Foley.” 

Hilary raised an eyebrow. “You’d think she would want to spend time with her dear little trophy husband and his Lost Boys club. He, Sherwood, and Comstock were thick as three thieves. And he never travels without Foley. He’s his valet, for heaven’s sake!” 

“I know.” She could hear footsteps coming closer. “Hilary, she’s coming over here. I have to let you go. I’ll call you later this week when I talk to Doug and get to the library. Dad, Doug, and I are here for you, Hilary. We’ll find out what’s going on.” 

“Thank you, C.J!” Hilary sighed. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.” 

That was when she heard…her voice. The deep, manipulative purr of an Eastern European vamp who stole hearts and men as easily as Hilary could command an audience. “You, boy.” The voice sounded imperious and calculating to Hilary, and she did not like it talking to her brilliant brother like that. “I need that phone. Whatever little romantic tet a’tet you have with girlfriend, you can do it on own time.”

“Yes, Miss Nemcova!” C.J’s voice trilled before he returned to the phone. “Hold tight, Hilary. Dad and Doug and I will get to the bottom of this. I don’t own every Hardy Boys and Tom Swift book for nothing.” 

“Hilary?” Betty frowned as the line crackled one more time and died. “What was that all about?”

“Yeah, Hilary!” Maple lifted the sleep mask, her big brown eyes clearly annoyed. “I was havin’ the best dream!” 

“That…that…” Hilary sputtered, her nostrils flaring, her velvet eyes wide, “that trollop of a Pavla stole my role in ‘The Rivals!’ And she’s alone. C.J says Jeff, Sherwood, Comstock, and his valet aren’t with her.” 

Betty raised an eyebrow. “Hilary, you told me Jeff was close with his staff, especially his secretary and manager. If they’re not with Pavla, where are they? Why would she leave them in Europe?”

“Oooh!” Maple clutched Walter. “This is just gettin’ better and better! A real Nancy Drew mystery!” 

That was when the little rabbit came in, balancing a silver tray with three drinks in porcelain cups covered in roses. “Thank you, Mr. Rabbit. You can put the tray there.” She indicated the coffee table in front of Maple’s couch. 

“Can I touch your ears?” Maple leaned over to stroke the twitching rabbit, but Betty immediately pulled her back when his eyes widened and he jumped back.

“Maple,” she hissed, “rabbits have very sensitive ears! I don’t think you should be playing with them.” 

“Aww, I just wanted to feel them!”

“Girls, please.” Hilary waved her hand at the rabbit. “You’re dismissed. Tell your so-called ‘Master’ and whomever the cook is in this amusement park that I take my bacon crisp and my eggs over easy, Maple will have her waffles with only maple syrup, not that teeth-itching corn syrup, and Betty has oatmeal with whatever fruit is available at this time of year.” 

Betty patted Mr. Rabbit’s thin shoulder. “Thank you for bringing us our drinks! I’m sure they’ll be wonderful.” 

Maple waved at him with her big grin. “Night night, Mr. Bunny!” Mr. Rabbit only rolled his brown eyes and twitched his way out. 

Hilary sipped her coffee. “Ahh. Surprisingly full-bodied and rich for an enchanted mansion. Of course, I’ve never been in one. I don’t know how they usually make coffee.”

“Who cares?” Maple shrugged and gulped hers. “It’s hot, an’ it’s just how I like it.” 

Hilary sighed. “I think it’s time we turned in. We’ll talk to the walking zoo in the morning and start getting to the bottom of this.” 

Betty took her tea to the desk. “I’m going to finish these letters, and then I’m going to bed.”

“I’m done.” Maple settled back down with Walter. “Night, girls!”

“Good night, Maple!” Hilary put the empty cup aside and laid her head on those soft pillows. “Good-night, Betty!” But Betty was too involved in her writing to hear her. 

She couldn’t sleep at first. Her mind was a whirl of roses, monsters, snow storms, and that…that trollop who kept invading her nightmares and kept her from the one man she’d ever truly cared about. “Oh Jeff…” she murmured into her pillow before finally dropping off into a restless satin-smooth dreamland, “where are you?”

Hilary and the Beasts, Part 7

It was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen, but it shouldn’t have existed in its present form at all. Hilary wandered in the garden she’d glimpsed from the cab, brilliant moonlight shining among the shadowy oaks and maples. Woody vines hugged whitewashed wood arches that gleamed overhead. The fountain splashed and tinkled, silver and glittering crystal cascades in the white light. It was warm, far warmer than it should have been in January. Warm like summer, like every summer that had ever existed. 

The scent of thousands of roses was almost overpowering. Every deep-green bush and tangled vine held thousands of perfect roses, each a blooming masterpiece of deep color and softness. Soft breezes rustled the silver-green leaves of trees overhead. Off in the distance, under one of the elms, she thought she saw a sweet, plump woman in pale blue, lavender roses framing her yellow-gray hair, playing a half-remembered song on an organ that carried through the garden.

“Hilary!” Maple almost barreled into her, her chocolate eyes sparkling with pure delight. “Would ya get a load of this place, huh? And look at us! We’re princesses!” She twirled in her clingy emerald green velvet gown, whose plunging ruffled neckline and tight torso revealed every curve. A crown of yellow roses nestled in her bouncing copper curls.

“Oh Hilary, this is incredible!” Betty twirled next to her sister, resplendent in delicate shell pink satin and lace that made her look even more like the sweet ingenue she was at heart, ruffled sleeves capping her delicate shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve had a dress this pretty in, well, ever!” Her short chestnut curls were held back by one perfect pink rose. 

Hilary’s eyes roved down to her own gown. Yellow always did suit her, a pulsing soft yellow frock with the most exquisite rose print that made her look…five years younger, maybe ten. When she touched her own chestnut waves, she took off a topaz and ruby tiara light years more lavish than anything Jeff bought her, trimmed with roses in vibrant, hot crimson.

Maple giggled. “This is too much! Now all we need are a couple’a handsome princes for dates!”

“At this point, Maple,” Hilary gave her vivacious sister a small smile, “it wouldn’t surprise me. I only wish…”

“Hilary.”

That voice. That…she knew that voice. She knew the scent of him, his cologne, the tang of pancake makeup and lip gloss. The gentle, smoky purr that sent her heart racing even when it drove her crazy. 

“Jeff?” She gasped, turning slowly behind her. “Jeff? Where are you?”

“Hilary, I’m here.” It was him, stepping out from the shadows under the thickest arbor. “We’re all here.” Oh god, it was him, tall and gorgeous, in the most expensive tuxedo he owned, the black one with the crisp white shirt and black bow tie that she always thought looked stunning on him. Perfectly tousled black-brown curls framed razor-sharp cheekbones with little-boy dimples. He held a bouquet of scarlet roses, like the ones in her crown. “I told you, my explanation holds water.”

She couldn’t help the tears that came unbidden to her velvet eyes. She could feel her sisters’ hands firmly rub her shoulders. “Jeff, you left me! You married another woman! Do you know how much that hurt? I lost everything, because of that…Czechoslovakian trollop!”

“Mittens,” he nodded to the shadows, “I did it for them…and for you. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. She would have hurt you…and she did hurt them. You don’t know how much I want to go back to you. How much I miss you. We all do.” 

Her sisters gasped behind her as two silhouettes emerged from the shadows just behind Jeff. Moonlight glinted off the black and silver hair of the larger, resplendent in a snow white tuxedo with black tie that was nearly incandescent in the ebony night. Two wide amber eyes glittered mischievously, one winking at Betty as the strong white fingers handed her a perfect bouquet of shell pink roses matching the one in her hair. His roguish grin gleamed almost as much as his suit. 

Her youngest sister blushed prettily and looked up at the white shadow. “Thank you, sir. What I can see of you looks very handsome. That tux suits you. I can’t help thinking I’ve seen you somewhere before. Those eyes…I know them…”

The other silhouette stood tall and ramrod-straight on Jeff’s left. The eyes that glittered were whiskey-brown and far gentler, full of intelligence rather than mischief. His plainer black tux wasn’t nearly so lavish, but it was neatly cut and hung well on his broad shoulders. She could have sworn she saw balding wisps of brown waves and a small, slightly shy peach smile. The long, tapered fingernails quickly and awkwardly thrust a messy bouquet of sun yellow roses into Maple’s arms. 

“Hey, thanks!” Maple’s scarlet grin could have lit up the entire mansion, and probably all of Millionaire's Row. “You know, from what I’m seein’, you’re kinda cute. And you’re a nice guy! These are gorgeous! You’ve sure got good taste. Why don’t we cut out an’ get to know each other better? I saw a bench back there, under the biggest elm. We could talk n’ really heat up this joint?”

Hilary couldn’t help her own chuckle. The taller man’s deep red blush and his amusement at her sister’s prattle was obvious, even in the moonlight. His bigger friend nudged him with a roguish smirk that reminded her entirely too much of her husband’s scoundrel of a manager. 

Jeff, however, was dead serious. Hilary had never seen him look more serious. He thrust his arms in front of the men, putting his hand on the larger one as he reached for Betty. “We can’t. Maple, they can’t talk. It’s part…it’s why we’re here. They can neither speak, nor leave the shadows. They’re bound to them. Their voices were stolen by…by her.” 

“What?!” Maple’s annoyed squawk nearly drowned out the longing organ music. “Hey, that ain’t fair! I just wanted’a talk to that guy! Jeff, what’s goin’ on here?”

“Jeffrey!” Thank heavens she could grab his hands and pull him closer. They were most definitely not shadows. They were real, flesh and blood, warm and real as the heart thumping in her own chest. “What happened? We know you’re not with Pavla. Where are you? You and that Lost Boys tribe of yours, you’ve just…evaporated! Who took their voices, and why?”

“Hilary, please.” Those soul-searing chocolate orbs of his nearly killed her. She could see the love in them…but they were fringed by pure, naked desperation. “Listen to me. For once, god, just listen! Don’t be deceived by appearances! That’s how she’s able to use us. Hilary,” his hand went to her heart, “I’m here. I’ve always been here. You just have to see it.” 

Maple wiped at her eyes. “Aw, this is so sweet!” She finally pushed past Jeff, ducking into the shadows and grabbing the arm of the taller one. “Damn it, pal, you’re so familiar! I wish you could talk to me! Where have I seen you before?” 

Betty stepped into the shadows as the other man enveloped her and her roses in a massive bear hug. “That feels so good.” She looked up, staring at those glittering eyes, now flooded with gentle hope. “I know I’ve seen you before, too. There’s just…something about you. We’ve met before.”

“Jeff,” Hilary clutched his hands like a lifeline as the wind picked up, ruffling her chestnut chignon, “none of this is making sense! Please, just…stay with me. Don’t leave me again!”

“I have to. We have to.” It was getting harder to hear Jeff’s voice over the wind. It tore through the garden, knocking over flower pots and drowning out the organ music. “We don’t have much time. She’s coming, Hilary. She’s coming for us. For me.”

Hilary’s own chocolate eyes flared. “I don’t care if ‘she’ is Eleanor Roosevelt. She can’t have you!” She grasped Jeff with every bit of strength she had. He wrapped his around her, even as the wind battered them. Potts shattered behind them, leaving roses broken and scattered on the path. Lightning crackled and sizzled in the distance. Leave skittered, dry brown skeletons brushing her ruby red heels. 

The shadows seemed to coalesce, to form shapes behind her. Shapes that had fangs and claws, though they walked like men. Shapes that resembled the troll, but…even larger, meaner, snarling and spitting. Hilary clutched Jeff’s arms for all she was worth, but the raging storm threatened to blow them apart.

“Well, what do we have here?” Hilary’s blood froze as the last figure emerged from the shadows. “Is this not cozy?” She knew that voice, that purring Eastern European accent that teased and caressed, even while it tormented. “What do we have here? Looks like someone is in the arms of MY husband.”

“Pavla, no!” Jeff clutched Hilary harder, even as the wind whipped around them. “Don’t do this!”

“You cannot tell me what to do, husband.” She stepped fully into view as the shadows followed her brutes. She too wore a lavish gown, but it was clingy ebony satin embroidered with blood-red roses on a slit skirt that revealed way more than Hilary would have preferred. The beaded bodice plunged even lower than Maple’s, framed by stiff black beaded lace, and an even stiffer black lace collar. The auburn hair was adorned with jet beads and a beaded tiara with black and blood red roses. 

As she glided across the cement path, every rose in the entire garden withered. Even the ones in the ladies’ arms crumbled and turned to dust. The rose bushes turned their faces from her, their blossoms wilting. “These are mine, husband. Your secrets…your two precious companions…all of them are mine.”

“Damn it, Pavla!” Hilary was proud at how her Jeff’s eyes flared. He held up a slightly bony fist. “I told you, leave them alone! We know the truth about you, and we’re going to spread it to the world!”

“Truth?” Betty looked up from the shadow’s arms, her eyebrow raised. “What truth? What’s going on here?”

“Yeah, sista!” Maple made a face at the other buxom redhead in the midst. “Ain’t you got any sens’a romance? We’re busy here!”

Pavla only nodded at the hulking monsters forming in the shadows. “Take them. Get rid of the women, and make sure the men stay in the shadows. I do not want to give away the game so easily.”

The shadows reached for Betty first, snatching her away from the smaller man. She flailed and struggled in their hairy arms. The man in the white tuxedo lunged for her, his wide amber eyes flooded with pure rage. He was about to aim a beefy fist at one of the shadow monsters when the largest and most muscular slammed him hard in the gut. Betty screamed when he doubled over, sinking to the concrete as the breath was knocked out of him in a whoosh. Two of the monsters yanked his arms roughly behind his back and held him to the ground, even as he struggled wildly.  

“No!” Jeff lunged for him next, but two more monsters held him back. He kicked and flailed wildly, trying to get to Pavla. “Let him go! I told you, it’s me you want! I’m the one with the marriage contract! I’m the one who spoke the truth!”

Maple blocked the other man as best she could, slapping at the monsters with the remains of her roses. “Don’cha even think about this one, buddy! Keep your hands off’a us! He’s a real prince, an’ I ain’t gonna let ‘cha touch him!” Those whiskey eyes widened with something between admiration and pure shock. She yelped when she saw the monsters grab her sister. “Betty! Hey!” 

The moment she rushed to Betty’s aid, the other two creatures surrounded the taller man. He aimed a fist at them, only for one of the monsters to grab it and yank it behind his back as well. The other knocked his feet out from under him, leaving him kneeling on the concrete with his gasping dark-haired friend.

“You…you trollop! Let my Jeff go! Let those poor men go!” HIlary grabbed hold of Pavla, hoping to do as much damage as possible. Thank heavens she wasn’t wearing gloves. She managed to scratch those perfect sharp cheekbones with too much dark-red rouge before a monstrous fist slammed over her head. She collapsed as her head and shoulders exploded with pain.

“You…you…” Pavla’s soft hiss somehow managed to drown out her sisters’ screams and Jeff’s furious commands. “You will never find him. That contract is legal and binding. They are mine. Your glamorous career…your pretty prince of a husband…his handsome meddling friends…they are mine now. They belong to me, and you will never see any of it again. It is all MINE!”

“Hilary, NO!” Jeff’s horrified voice cut through the blinding flashes in her brain. “Remember! I’m here! We’re here! Don’t be deceived by appearances! Hilary…” But even his voice was drowned out by the wind that raged around her. That wind was the last thing she heard before blacking out entirely.

Hilary and the Beasts, Part 8

“JEFF!” 

Hilary shot up in bed, his horrified voice echoing in her brain, along with a steady rhythmic tapping. “That…that witch! That…evil…how could she? How could she?”

“How could she what?” Betty was already awake, dressed in her dotted blue wool day dress and shapeless gray sweater. “Hilary, are you all right?” She ran over to her sister, her eyes wide and concerned.

“Oh, Betty.” Hilary rubbed her hands over her throbbing head as the girl settled next to her on the bed. “I had…I had the worst dream. Jeff was there, and all three of us, and two men…they were so familiar, but I couldn’t really see them. They were in the dark. Jeff…he kept saying not to be deceived by appearances…”

Betty’s eyes widened. “Hilary…this sounds like my dream last night. The biggest of the men…” She closed her eyes, trying to hold on to that elusive feeling, the man’s warm, strong arms folding gently around her. “He was so charming…that wink…I’ve seen him before.” Red spots appeared on her cheeks as she remembered how they had gone after her and him. “And Hilary…he was the one Pavla and her monsters attacked first. Him and me. Not Jeff.”

“Probably trying to get his goat.” Hilary made a face. “Jeff always was loyal to his friends. Attack them, and you attack him.” 

Maple continued to snore on the couch, her silk-clad arms clutching Walter. “There has to be a reason you and I had the same dream.” Hilary nodded at her middle sister as her eyes roved to the clock by her bedside. “Much as I hate to disrupt her beauty sleep, it’s almost 8, and we need to talk to her. I have the feeling we had these dreams for a reason.”

“Right, Hilary.” Betty went to Maple and shook her shoulder as Hilary got out of bed and dug into one of her many suitcases. “Maple? Maple, we need to get moving. It’s almost 8 AM.”

“Already?” Maple pushed her sister’s hand off her shoulder. “I’m awake! I ain’t really slept all that much last night anyway. I had the craziest dream last night.” She pulled the sleep mask off, revealing tired eyes under those long, thick lashes. “Hilary was with Jeff, an’ you had a big, cute guy, an’ I…oh, Betty, he had these beautiful brown eyes, an’ the cutest little smile, and he gave me flowers!” She sighed, holding Walter tighter. “Until Pavla and her walking horror show turned up an’ ruined everything! I was so scared. They grabbed him n’ Betty, an’ I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop ‘em. I tried, but I couldn’t.”

“I couldn’t, either.” Betty sighed. “Maple…I had the same dream. So did Hilary.” 

“You did?” One of Maple’s perfectly sculpted copper eyebrows nearly hit her forehead. “How did that happen?”

“That’s what I want to know.” Hilary emerged with her best winter day dress, the red wool with the braided trim. “There is something going on in this house, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

“Hilary, we all will.” Maple’s eyes widened as soft organ music seemed to almost float in the air. “Hey, do you guys hear that?”

Betty nodded. “The music. I think I heard it last night, too, and in the dream.” 

“That’s it.” Hilary stepped behind the changing screen. “We are going to get some answers today, at breakfast. Whether those dreams were just dreams or telling us something, the fact of the matter remains that we are in a very large old house surrounded by walking, talking animals.” 

“Ehh, at this point, all I want is breakfast. Hope they make good waffles.” Maple grabbed a ruffly green plaid dress out of her luggage and very high green heels before heading to the bathroom. 

Hilary had just come out from behind the changing screen when they heard the knock at the door. “Betty, please get that. Tell them we’ll be along in a minute, when Maple finishes dressing.” 

“Yes, Hilary.” Betty opened the door…to discover a slightly doddering old man with white hair, soft white cat’s ears, drooping whiskers, and a fluffy, flickering tail. “Um, hello, Mr…”

“Oh, Mr. Cat is fine, young lady.” He wore a dapper black sweater and shirt with a tie and black trousers. His wrinkled white paw wrapped around a dusty broom. “The Master sent me to bring you to breakfast. Mrs. Fox has already made your requests, and they’re waiting for you on the table in the kitchen.” 

Betty raised an eyebrow and let the old man-cat in. “Um, Hilary, this…er…cat is here to take us to breakfast.”

“Oh, good.” Hilary pulled on her two favorite red and blue celluloid bracelets. “You seem like a sensible, er, cat. Maybe you could give us a hint as to what all of this is about.”

“Well,” the old feline shrugged, “I think it’s about breakfast. That’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”

“No, sir…er, cat.” Betty frowned. “There’s something strange going on here. We want to know the truth.”

“The truth?” The old man-cat shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s something he says you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

Hilary was about to press him when Maple finally emerged, tugging on one green heel. “Sorry I’m late! Sorta had a long night. Hey!” She hurried over to the gentleman with the broom. “You’re a cute old kitty! If I scratch you here, will you purr?” 

“Oh! Well…” Maple scratched him behind his neck. “Oh my, miss, that does feel nice…”

“Maple!” Hilary rolled her eyes. “Could we continue this at another time? We need to get to breakfast and find someone who will tell us just what’s going on around here!”

“Oh, there’s many things going on.” Mr. Cat opened the door for them. “We just can’t talk about it.”

“So we’ve noticed,” Betty said dryly as they followed him out the door. 

Hilary and the Beasts, Part 9

Hilary was very glad they sent a servant to fetch them. She didn’t think they ever would have found their way to the kitchen on their own! That Gothic monstrosity was a maze, with halls upon halls. She’d never seen so many rooms, not even in the massive penthouse in New York she and Jeffrey used to own. They’d talked about getting a place of their own for years, something larger, with a better garden. Something very much like this, though maybe a little less likely to have gargoyles leering at every corner.

They arrived at the kitchen to find a tall, lanky female fox bent over what looked to be a surprisingly modern stove. What did surprise Hilary was how cheerful the kitchen itself was, especially compared to the rest of the house. The walls were a sunny yellow, matching the sunshine flooding into the room through sparkling windows and snowy white lace curtains. 

The table was set for five, round and small and barely able to fit all of them. The requested meals were on the pink flowered tablecloth, along with a pot of coffee and a delicate pink teacup filled with steaming tea for Betty. Roses, probably from the hot house, gave off a sweet scent in a large glass jar. 

“Hi girls!” The Bear beamed under his twitching whiskers. He’d traded the white shirt and gray slacks for a hastily-buttoned plaid flannel shirt and blue woolen pants that barely fit his hulking frame. “Mrs. Fox and I…we set up breakfast…for you.” 

His paws fumbled and nearly knocked the chair over, but he did manage to pull Betty’s out for her. “Thank you, Bear. That was very kind of you.” 

“Here you go, Miss Hilary.” Mr. Cat had an easier time pulling out the chair for her. “Here’s your chair, right where we left it.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Hilary sighed as she attended to her eggs. “Do be careful, Bear. If that is your name. I suspect some of these are antiques.”

“I’m sorry miss.” Bear stumbled back, nearly knocking into a rack of pots. “I am trying. Can’t always control these big paws…”

Betty glared at her sister as she reached for the butter. “Hilary, leave him alone. He can’t help the size of his paws!”

“Don’t you guys worry about me!” Maple grabbed her chair before Bear could. “I can seat myself there, hon.” She gave him her most flirtatious grin. “Aw, Hilary, don’t be a grouch. He’s kinda cute. Like a big ol’ teddy bear. He looks like Walter’s big brother.” 

The Bear blushed, but his big grin looked more like a strangely familiar manager’s smirk. “I do?”

“Oh yeah.” Maple downed her coffee. “I think Walter would like ya.” 

“Here’s your waffles, Maple.” The woman serving Maple’s waffles was a tall, skinny fox with wavy, slightly faded orange-red fur and no-nonsense brown eyes. Her sharp nose and long dark whiskers twitched under flame orange fox ears. “There’s more on the counter, if anyone else wants some.” 

“Thanks, miss!” Maple immediately drowned her waffle in most of the syrup bottle. “Sure smells good!”

“Oh, you can call me Mrs. Fox.” The older woman set a plate of fish and apples in front of Bear. “Here you go. And be careful deboning the fish in front of the ladies. You know that can get messy.”

Bear rolled his eyes. “I a big bear. Not cub. I will be good.” 

“I suppose you’re the cook here.” Hilary cut carefully into her eggs. “A little runny. I prefer mine on the firmer side. And the bacon should be crispier.”

Mrs. Fox rolled her eyes and curtsied, but her brown eyes were mocking. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“Good. At least you’re recognizing your superiors.” Hilary took the milk glass salt shaker and shook it gently over her eggs. “Which reminds me, where are the rest of the…things…who live in this house?” 

Bear gulped as he looked up from cutting into his silvery fish, his eyes suddenly frightened. “Master...Mr. Rabbit is with him. Rabbit always stays with him in the morning.”

“What about the Eagle?” Maple grinned through mouthfuls of waffle. “Ain’t he gonna join us?”

“Eagle catches his own fish. He’s a bird of prey.” Mrs. Fox wiped up the puddles of syrup around Maple’s plate. “He eats in his office. He’ll likely be working there all day.” 

“Maple, please chew with your mouth closed.” Hilary sipped her perfectly roasted coffee. “Mrs. Fox, we need to ask you a few questions.”

The tall housekeeper turned quickly to the stove. “About what?”

“About everything that’s going on in this house.” Betty looked up from her oatmeal. “Mrs. Fox, we had these strange dreams last night. All of us did.”

“Oh yeah.” Maple leaned on the table, ignoring her elbow ending up in another syrup puddle. “I saw the nicest guy in mine. He had this really cute little-boy smile, and gorgeous eyes, an’ he gave me roses. It was like I could smell ‘em!” 

Betty closed her eyes, the dream still lingering in her subconscious. “The bigger one…the one who gave me roses…I know I’ve seen him before. He was so charming! That grin was like Clark Gable’s. And those amber eyes…” She sighed and opened her own amber orbs. “But she hurt him first, let those animals of hers attack him, just because he tried to protect me.” 

Bear gently put his paw on Betty’s hand. “I would pr...protect you.” 

She smiled. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Betty,” Hilary coughed as she moved her hand from Bear’s, “you need to finish your oatmeal. Bear,” she added, “maybe you can give us some answers. I saw my husband…ex-husband in my dream last night. He said something about ‘appearances can be deceiving.” She narrowed her eyes. “Before that traitorous trollop wife of his showed up and said everything of mine belonged to her. You wouldn’t have seen a Jeff Singer in this household? Tall, handsome, dimples, likely to jump into anything without thinking?”

Bear stopped mid-chew on his gutted fish. “I…” He closed his eyes. “I know the name. Iheard it…she…he was…no…” Betty squeezed his paw, making sure to be careful of his claws. When he opened his eyes, they were black and empty again. “I…no. She…” He gulped. “The Master…she hurt him…me…”

“Speaking of,” Hilary added, “where is the so-called ‘Master? I want to have a word with him, or several. Someone needs to start talking and telling me what this is all about!”

Everyone looked up as the Troll’s roar blasted down the hall, nearly knocking the salt and pepper shaker off the table and shattering the vase. “I wish he’d learn to announce himself more quietly!” Mrs. Fox grumbled as she gathered another plate of eggs and bacon. “He breaks half the glass in the household when he roars like that, and guess who has to clean it up?” 

“Mrs. Fox!” Troll stormed into the room, his mass of coarse dark curls flowing behind him like a cape, even under his unflattering dun yellow shirt and brown trousers that just made his wart-crusted skin look greener.  “That had better be my breakfast. And ladies, you are late. I said 8 AM!”

“May I remind you,” Hilary snapped, “that you’re late as well? You need to start following your own rules. Sit down, before you give yourself apoplexy.”

“We haven’t decided what to do about the other women.” Troll leaned his claws on the table, his roar making the entire table shake. “I want them to go. I asked for you.”

Hilary ignored him and concentrated on her eggs. “And I say they stay. You still haven’t told me why you wanted me here, besides a rose that my father took quite innocently.”

The Troll’s non-existent nostrils flared. “He stole my property!” 

“Sit down to breakfast and act whatever your age is. The eggs aren’t great, but they aren’t bad either. He didn’t know he was stealing.”

“Master,” Mrs. Fox delivered him his plate as he yanked the chair next to Hilary so hard, it almost toppled over, “here’s your breakfast. And would you please announce yourself more quietly next time? You keep breaking half the glasses in this household! I’m tired of cleaning up after your mess, because you’re in a bad mood!”

“Your housekeeper is more intelligent than she looks.” Hilary smirked as she tore her bacon into bite-sized bits. “She’s right. You really need to dial down that temper, and this is coming from me.”

“Sir,” Betty went on quickly, before Troll let out another roar, “we really need to ask all of you some questions. There’s something strange going on here.”

“Yeah,” Maple added through the last of her waffles, “can I have more? And where did you get the syrup? This stuff is really good!”

He rolled his eyes at Maple. “The syrup is from a fishing trip in Vermont. And no. No one is eating anything else. You ladies are going home.”

“Aww! I wanna stay!” Maple reached for her coffee. “We haven’t seen the whole house yet! And how come your buddy with the feathers ain’t here?”

The Troll glared. “He takes all his meals in his office. He’s doing important work there.” He awkwardly handled the fork, barely managing to bite into his eggs. “I asked for the eldest daughter. We’ll be having dinner together tonight. Just the two of us. I have something I need to ask her.”

“Whatever you need to say,” Hilary snapped as she finished the last bit of bacon, “can be said in front of my sisters.”

The Troll glared so hard, the Bear gulped and pulled back. “Miss Booth, it’s private.”

Mr. Rabbit immediately fussed around the Troll, bringing him napkins, a mug of coffee, then going back for cream and sugar. “I’ll give you this,” Hilary smirked. “You certainly have your household well-trained. I’ll have sugar and cream as well, Mr. Rabbit.”

Troll glared at her. “Don’t order my servant around.” 

“Well, if I’m going to stay here, that makes him my servant, too.” Hilary patted her lips with the napkin. “Not bad, for an enchanted household. Look, you…whatever you are.”

“I,” the creature growled, “am a troll.” 

“Look,” Hilary continued, “we’ll make a deal. If I eat dinner with you, my sisters stay here. If they go, I go. We’re all in on this together. There’s obviously something going on, and I want to find out what it is.” 

“There is NOTHING going on!” Troll’s roar nearly shattered the glass vase. He shoved the table so hard, the vase toppled over, and the plates almost ended up in everyone’s laps. He turned his glare to the trembling Bear, who was attempting to hide under the table. “Bear, get up and stop acting like a fool. Help Mrs. Fox clean up breakfast, then find rooms for the women, if they must stay.”

“Oh, knock it off.” Hilary stood, brushing off her dress. “Stop scaring the help. Bear isn’t the brightest creature in this household, but he’s been helpful, which is more than I can say for you.” She ignored Troll’s angry sputters and turned to Mr. Cat, who swept up the breakfast mess. “Mr. Cat, is there somewhere I can do some research in this mausoleum?”

“Oh, we have a very good library.” Mr. Cat leaned into his broom thoughtfully. “It’s upstairs, last room at the end of the hall. There’s lots of books there, but I prefer the couches near the window. Wonderful place,” he yawned, “for a cat nap.”

Betty’s eyes lit up like Fourth of July fireworks. “There’s a library?” 

Hilary frowned at her sister. “Don’t you have scripts to work on?”

“Yes, but I’m almost finished.” Betty handed her plate to Mrs. Fox. “I could go there later, after lunch. Where do the rest of us eat meals?”

“You,” Troll snarled, “will eat in the kitchen with Bear and the rest of the help. Lunch is at noon and dinner is at six.”

“What about Eagle?” Maple handed Mrs. Fox her plates and grabbed a napkin to wipe at her sticky elbow. “How come he’s hidin’? What’s he doin’ in those offices?” 

Bear tried to pick up the remains of his fish. “He’s doing…” His dark eyes closed again. When they opened, they were once again blank. “Something big, I think…Europe…”

“Oh, what do you know?” He shoved the Bear at the sink. “Help Mrs. Fox with the dishes, then chop firewood. We’re going to need it, with more bodies in this house.” 

“Bear!” Betty hurried to him as he nearly stumbled over his chair. She gave Troll such a glare, he almost stepped back. “Why did you do that? What did he ever do to you?” 

“Boy, are you in a mood, pal.” Maple made a face. “I’m gonna go explore this place. It’s got more rooms’ the Waldorf Astoria. Anyone want to come with me?”

“You can go anywhere in the house,” Troll grumbled, “but stay away from my rooms.” The twitchy rabbit nodded and wiped up the coffee that spilled around the Troll’s plate. 

“Ok, ok!” Maple made a face. “Sheesh. I can take a hint. How about you, Betty? Up for some explorin’?”

“No,” Betty shook her head. “I need to finish those scripts.” She turned her sweet smile on the trembling Bear. “Maybe you could take Hilary and me to the library after you finish your chores?” 

Bear’s round-cheeked smile nearly made her knees weak. “I’d like that. Later? After lunch?”

Betty rubbed his paw. “It’s a date.” 

His big grin made her feel warm all over. “A date. That good.” 

“Betty!” Hilary did not like an ursine charmer flirting with her brilliant sister. “You have work to do, as does he. Mr. Cat, please lead me to the nearest phone.”

“Oh, I can do that.” Mr. Cat put his broom aside. “It’s right around the corner here. Unless it’s moved. Phones do that, I think.”

As she, Maple, and a reluctant Betty followed him out the door, she swore she heard Mrs. Fox. “You know, Troll, if you want to break the curse, you should treat your wife a little better.”

“Ex-wife, Mrs. Fox. She walked out on me.” 

“No.” Bear’s halting tongue broke through the running water and clattering dishes. “Wife, Troll. She…” there was that blank pause. “Loved you.”

“Oh, damn it!” His roar was tinged with frustration now. “I’ll be in my rooms. I gave you the menu for tonight, Mrs. Fox. I want it followed to the letter. To the letter!”

Maple made a face as he stormed in the opposite direction towards the stairs, nearly running into her. “What got into that jerk?”

“Don’t know.” Hilary rolled her eyes. “Don’t care.” She stopped by the phone in the hall. “I’m going to call records at Pittsburgh City Hall. Someone has to have some idea of who owns this leftover from a bad fantasy film.”

“Ok, Hilary.” Maple waved. “See ya later.” She turned to Mr. Cat, who swept the floor near Hilary. “Hey, you wouldn’t know where the office is, would ya?”

“If you mean Eagle’s office, it’s upstairs.” He pointed to the staircase. “First door on your right, miss.”

“Hey, thanks.” She gave Mr. Cat another scratch on his neck to make him purr before she and Betty took off upstairs.