Hilary and the Beasts, Part 24

May 1930

Hilary was bored stiff. It had been raining steadily for three days. She’d called C.J again, but he was in rehearsal. She called Mackie. “Oh honey, I’m so glad to hear from you!” Her father’s normally gentle voice was nearly frantic. “I can’t believe you’re staying there! Are you crazy?”

“No, but I may be going that way, if something doesn’t happen soon.” She sighed. “Dad, you’re worrying over nothing. That…monster…is almost annoyingly protective of his roses and stubborn as a mule, but he hasn’t harmed me. Although,” she added under her breath, “I may harm him if he keeps asking me to marry him at dinner.”

“WHAT?!” Her father’s screech was so loud, she had to hold the phone away from her ear. “That…that…monstrosity…asked you to MARRY him? Please tell me you turned him down!”

“I have, Dad, but…” Hilary frowned as she lay back in her bed. “Dad, there’s something strange about him. It’s like…those eyes of his. Dad, they’re not a monster’s eyes. They’re human, and I know them. I keep trying to figure out where I’ve seen them before.” She rolled her eyes. “And then he opens that canine-filled mouth of his, and I’m ready to throw that dinner right back at him.”

Mackie chuckled. “Sounds like you and Jeff.”

“He’s NOTHING like Jeff!” Hilary growled, before trying to calm down. She didn’t want to frighten her father. “Look, you still have stage connections. I need you to ask those connections about Pavla Nemcova. She’s in MY Rivals. C.J says she has the producer wrapped around her finger and is cold to the cast, either ignoring them or keeping them at a distance. I want to know more about her and what she’s doing to those producers.”

She could almost hear her cowardly father’s hesitation. “Oh, I don’t know about this, Hilary. Shouldn’t she be in Europe with Jeff and the other guys?”

“Yes,” Hilary hissed. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. She should be where Jeff is, and she’s not…and Jeff and the other Lost Boys don’t seem to be anywhere. People do not just disappear without leaving a trace. I think she knows far more than she’s telling. Those producers are likely her next victims.”

Mackie’s gulp was loud enough to be heard in Philadelphia. “V…victims? Hilary, please tell me she’s not a…a vampire, or something! A movie monster is bad enough!” 

“I don’t think she’s that, but I still wouldn’t trust her any further than I could throw her out the window of the Nixon.” Hilary growled. “And I wish I could!” 

He knew better to argue with Hilary when she was using that tone of voice. “Ok, Hilary. Look, I agree with C.J. If anything gets remotely ugly, get on the first bus home. I miss my girls. The house isn’t the same without you lording over everyone and Maple’s laughter and Betty clacking away at that typewriter of hers.”

“I miss you too, Dad.” Hilary chuckled. “Love you! Don’t forget what you have to do!”

Mackie sighed. “I won’t, Hilary. Love you!”

“Love you too, Dad!” Hilary bit her lip as she put down the receiver. She did miss Dad, missed his own laughter and those bad jokes he always told. She missed C.J, too, and her own little garden. Still…she couldn’t drop this now. Certainly, the girls wouldn’t let her. Her own dreams wouldn’t let her. She hadn’t told Dad - he’d have six types of fits if he knew! - about those recurring dreams they kept having. She’d see Jeff, hold him, hear him beg her to find him and those hidden men who seemed to know her sisters so intimately…only for monsters or some dark force to tear them away. 

Maybe it would help to talk to Newspaper before dinner. He might know something about Pavla she could use against her, or how she related to that situation in Europe Eagle was so worried about. And anyway, it was something to do. Something was better than the nothing she was doing now, and that rain wasn’t stopping anytime soon. 

By the time she made it to the library, her thoughts were as stormy as the weather outside. What did that…that Pavla want with her Jeff? Why him? He was an actor, quite handsome, and had money of his own, true, but she’d begun to suspect that wasn’t all of it. 

“Newspaper?” She made her way to the back of the library, where the magazines and newspapers were stacked on the tables. “Newspaper! I need to talk to you…”

She didn’t hear Newspaper. She did hear something snoring like the Dickens. It almost drowned out her dear Betty reading “Snow White and Rose Red,” doing every voice like a one-woman vaudeville. “And the little dwarf said ‘Please don’t eat me, Mr. Bear. Eat those two girls. They’re pretty and plump. They’ll make a nice meal for you.’ The Bear only hit him with his big paw, knocking him over a cliff. Snow White and Rose Red screamed and were about to run away when the Bear’s furry coat fell away, revealing a handsome prince. Now,” she added brightly, “you read it back to me.”

They were sitting together on the couch, their heads almost touching. The Blue Fairy Book was once again open on Bear’s enormous lap. Bear’s clumsy deep mumbles broke through her narration like a bull in a china shop. “It hurts, but I’ll try.” He ran his paw over the words, his voice hesitant and stumbling. “And…the l…little…d..dwarf…said…’P…p…”

“Please,” she prompted softly. 

“P…please don’t…eat…me. Eat…t…” He winced, rubbing his head. “It hurts, Betty. When I try…my head…it hurts so much…”

“I know, Bear.” Betty stroked the back of his head. “I know it hurts. Maybe, if you keep reading, it’ll hurt less. You’ve been doing really well this afternoon. You read almost the entire story.” 

“I did?” Bear’s voice was happier than she’d heard since she came. “I read it?”

“You did.” She leaned into his thick, dark fur under a blue cotton shirt as she came around the corner. “We’re getting there, Bear. We’re going to work our way through whatever this horrible ‘she’ did to you.” Her fingers stroked his fur as Newspaper snored on the couch between them. “Bear, what did she do to you? How did she do this?”

“She…her hands…my head…dark…so much dark…”  His voice caught, coughing, before it flattened into a helpless whimper. “Betty…it hurt…it hurt so much. The dark hurt…” 

“Shh.” She stroked his furry head as he whimpered helplessly. “It’s alright, Bear. I’m here. Newspaper’s here. We won’t let her touch you again.” 

“Betty,” he pleaded, “don’t let her hurt me. I don’t want to be hurt. I’m…scared…of her. I wasn’t, but now I am.” 

Hilary most definitely did not like the way she put her arms around him. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Ahem!” She crossed her arms. “I thought you two were reading to each other.”

“Hilary!” Betty shot out of his arms. He nearly fell off the couch. “Hello! Yes, we are reading. He’s doing very well. He almost has it.”

“I am!” He climbed back on the couch, putting his paw on the open book. “Miss Hilary…I read. I read!” 

“Good. Maybe you’ll start remembering some things. Your friend Eagle insists that you and that monster of a Master helped him with those piles of gibberish cluttering his desk.” She sighed. “We need to get you into his room. Maybe you can make more sense of those papers than me.”

Bear closed his big amber eyes, his round furry cheeks and bristly whiskers drooping. “I could. I knew patterns. They were…I knew…letters…numbers…owww!” His whimpers became a near-growl. When he opened his eyes, they were completely swallowed in black. “I don’t know anymore. It’s…dark…hurts…g…gone…” 

“Betty,” Hilary murmured in concern, “maybe you ought to take him to the kitchen for a snack. Normally, I don’t approve of you two being without a chaperone, but he doesn’t look so good.” 

“I don’t think so, either.” Betty put an arm around him. “Come on, Bear. We’ll let Mrs. Fox get you a bowl of your favorite honey. Maybe that’ll help your head.” 

Those round, dark eyes were pooling with helpless tears as he leaned on her. “All right, Betty.” 

The moment Betty led the poor creature away, Hilary shook Newspaper. “Good lord, for a periodical, you sleep like the dead. Wake up! I need to talk to you!”

“Wha…huh?” Newspaper’s eyes in the black-and-white photo on the cover blinked open. “Aw Miss Hilary, I was taking the nicest nap…”

“There’s no time for that!” Hilary shook him again, glaring at him.. “What can you tell me about this Europe business Eagle’s so obsessed with? If what poor Bear just tried to say is any indication, he, Troll, and Eagle really found something someone doesn’t want broadcasting. Bear said something about patterns…”

The stenorian voice of K.V Katlenborn met her ears. “Eagle’s been doing research on this ever since their first trip to Europe. Flash! He found out the wrong woman belonged to a few groups many Americans don’t like hearing about on the radio. Groups that many people suspect may make the Great War look like a birthday party if they gather enough military support.” 

“I don’t like the sound of that.” She frowned, rubbing at the side of her head. “They must have all been in on it. Bear…that must be what’s in his head they’re suppressing, why Eagle is a bird. Something has been blocked in Bear’s brain, and I suspect it’s the key to all this. That…” Her growl nearly matched Bear’s. “That ‘wrong woman’ did something to poor Bear. She…attacked him. That darkness must be the mental blocks someone won’t let him break through.”

“That it is, ma’am,” drawled the voice of Will Rogers. “I may never have met a man I didn’t like, but I sure wouldn't trust Master’s second wife any further than I could lasso her and throw her out the door of the New Amsterdam.” 

Hilary raised an eyebrow. “His second wife?” Her growl got so loud, Newspaper flinched. “Figures. Probably some gold-digger who wanted to get her hooks into this gorgeous house and use those papers for herself. She probably didn’t want them broadcast to the world or anyone to solve that gibberish. Including bears.”

“No, ma’am, she didn’t.” Newspaper’s voice was softer as it returned to what she suspected was his own. “Ma’am…please, be careful. She’s already hurt half the people in this house. You’re a nice lady. I like Betty, too, and Maple seems nice enough. I don’t want her to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, Newspaper.” She patted his picture. “I can take care of myself, and my sisters.”

“I sure hope so,” Newspaper muttered as she turned to dress for dinner, “I sure hope so.”