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.
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