“Yeah, that’s pretty bad, but what I’d like to know is why the patrol wanted her bad enough to get her from the Hair and then toss her back out so she can flaunt her money again.”
“Maybe those rumors about the traitors are true,” the tall one suggested.
“What rumors?”
“Oh, just something spread around by the red bands,” her friend offhandedly commented.
The shorter one frowned. “Out with it,” she growled.
The taller one held up her hands. “All right, don’t be pushy. Besides, I don’t know if I believe what they’re saying any more than what I hear from the green bands.”
“But what’d they have to say?” her friend persisted.
“They said something about the High Lord looking for traitors in the regions. He’s been sending out Protectors, and I heard one of them didn’t report back. That one went to Spatia.”
The shorter one snorted. “That would be the problem. He probably got eaten by the hillbilly werewolves up there and they’re snacking on his bones right now.”
The taller one shuddered. “That’s absolutely disgusting.”
“No, what’s disgusting is you two standing around here while customers wait for help,” a voice spoke up. I ducked down when the speaker, a middle-aged woman, stomped toward them. Nothing was more frightening than an angry manager. “Now get back to work or you’re both fired.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they replied. The pair scattered to assist customers, and I slunk back to my companions on the far side of the store.
“Well? Anything juicy?” Stacy wondered.
“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s good news,” I replied. “Those two were talking about a lot of rumors about us getting kicked out of the Hair restaurant, and they talked about that dead Protector we found in Baker’s barn.” I turned to Luke. “And they called you dog-faced.”
Stacy laughed, but Luke frowned. “This must be what Cranston was referring to when he spoke about defacing our character,” he mused.
Stacy got control of herself and sighed. “So that’s their plan. Humiliating us in public and spreading rumors to back up the public image. That’s low.”
“But politically wise,” Luke argued. “They hardly need to make an effort, and the rumor mills do the rest of the work.”
“So what do we do? Tell everyone it’s all a bunch of lies?” I asked them.
Luke shook his head. “It won’t work. You can’t fight rumors with the truth unless you have strong evidence to the contrary. After all, who will they believe more? Our word or the word of a trusted friend or neighbor?”
“So we just stand by and watch Cranston and Lance win the war of words?” I wondered.
“I’m more worried about a real war than one fought by word of mouth,” he told me.
“Perhaps this conversation should wait until we get back to the apartment,” Stacy spoke up. “We don’t want to start any bad rumors about ourselves.”
Our elastic clothes were delivered to us, and Stacy guided us outside and back toward the apartment. I looked at the boxes Luke and I carried, and frowned. “What about our costumes for the ball?” I asked Stacy.
“We’re getting to that. I know a little place on a side street that will work just fine,” she replied.
“How fine?” Luke wondered.
“It’s an out-of-the-way place where you won’t be stared at and rumors can’t fly about us. We might also get some information on Callean’s whereabouts,” she told him.
19
We entered the dingier part of the city, and Stacy turned into a narrow alley. Tall brick buildings stood on either side of us and created a cavern the full depth of the dark, shadowed block. On the left was a set of stairs with a thin metal railing that led into the basement of one of those tall buildings. A small, weathered wooden sign hung above the top step. Madam Leonor’s Antiques and Pickled Frogs.
Stacy strolled down the stairs with Luke close behind, but I paused and looked over the railing. At the bottom of the stairs was a square block of concrete that was the doorstep to a dilapidated wooden door. A small light glowed above the door, and strange smells wafted up from the crack beneath the entrance. Luke glanced up and nodded his head. “Come on, I’m sure this Leonor won’t bite.”
Stacy chuckled. “That’s what you think,” she teased.
Luke whipped his head to her. “Should I ask if she has rabies?” he half-jokingly asked her.
She shrugged. “Probably not, but I guess I should warn you she’s a little overly dramatic.”
“Why’s that?” I wondered.
“She used to be an actress and some habits die hard,” Stacy replied.
“An actress? Like a movie actress or something?” I guessed.
She smiled and shook her head. “Not quite. She wasn’t that-well, refined. Most of her shows took place in rooms with red lights inside and outside the building.”
“A male entertainer?” Luke spoke up.
“She prefers the term companion, but she’s been called that a lot,” Stacy admitted. “But anyway, it’s best to keep on her good side. She’s rough around the edges, but there’s a heart of gold inside that gruff exterior.”
Stacy and Luke stepped inside, and I hurried down the stairs after the pair. I pushed into the room and found myself in a different world than the one above us. The shop was a small, cramped square space with a few cobwebbed bulbs hanging from the ceiling so low even I could knock my head on them. The dry, paint-peeled walls were lined with dusty shelves filled with vials of congealed liquid and strange dried plants. There were three narrow, short aisles created by two bookcases that stood in the center of the room. At the back stood a curved desk, and beyond that was a doorway with beads that hung from the top of the frame.
“I thought these places were only in movies,” I whispered. In a place this creepy speaking in a normal volume wasn’t allowed.
Stacy smiled. “She may not have been in the movies, but she’s a big movie fan and created this shop to match the ones she’d seen in those old movies,” Stacy replied.
I frowned and picked up a jar of floating eyes. “You mean this is all fake?”
She brushed by me and chuckled. “I didn’t say that.” I cringed and quickly put the jar back.
Stacy’s evil playfulness was interrupted by the sound of the beads rustling. A wizened old woman shuffled out of the back room and stood behind the desk. Her back was bent and her hands were gnarled. She had her silver hair pulled back in a braid that stretched past her waist and wore a shawl over a brightly-colored, flowered dress. She peered at us through a pair of glasses so thick they must have been bullet-proof. “You break it you buy it,” she croaked.
Stacy wound her way through the shelves to the desk. “And you’ll charge us an outrageous price for the cleanup,” she teased.
The old woman frowned, leaned across the desk and adjusted her glasses. Her face lit up in a gummy grin. She had no teeth. “Why, if it isn’t little Stazia! Why, I haven’t seen you since you were a little one with your father!”
“I came here two weeks ago for some bath salts,” Stacy reminded her.
The old woman frowned and tapped her chin with a long, pointed fingernail. “Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that. Thank you for reminding me, Stazia.”
Luke and I came and stood behind Stacy. “Stazia?” I wondered.
“A pet name,” Stacy told me.
“And what a fine pet you’ve become! So pretty and elegant, just like your mother!” Leonor applauded.
Stacy smiled. “I’m glad to hear that, Leonor, but we’re not here to talk about her. We need some nice costumes for a ball tomorrow night. Think you can scrounge up a couple of good ones from the costume trunk you used to let me play in?”
“Of course! Of course! Anything for my little Stazia! Come this way.” She half turned, paused, then looked over her shoulder with a wild eye at us. The change from sweet granny to crazy ax-murderer was frighteningly fast. “Who are these two?” she growled.
“Friends of mine. They need some costumes, too,” Stacy explained to her.
Leonor narrowed her eyes and glanced at Luke. She pulled back in fright and her face twisted into disgust. “What’s wrong with her face?” she asked Stacy.
Stacy laughed. “The problem is that that’s not a her, that’s a him,” she told the old woman. “Luke, take off your disguise.” Luke removed his wig and glasses.
Leonor’s face twisted into a grimace. “I see. Stazia did the best she could trying to hide you, but you’re just an ugly girl,” she commented.
“Thanks,” Luke grumbled.
Leonor waved aside his thanks. “No need to thank me. As friends of Stacy you’re welcome here, but you break it you buy it.”
“We’ll be sure not to touch anything,” Luke promised.
“Yeah, no problem,” I chimed in. I didn’t have a ten-foot pole on hand.
“All right, follow me.”
Leonor led us through the bead gateway and into another world. This one was oriental in style and smell. The area behind the beads was a small apartment decked out in long, hanging curtains and enough pillows to start a Guinness Records pillow war. To our right was a small kitchen, to our left were two doors, one leading to the bathroom and another to a small bedroom. There were narrow, grimy windows behind the thick curtains that filtered in some natural light, but most was provided by a few spare bulbs. In front of us stood a short table in the center with a steaming cup of tea on the top. “Would you like any tea?” Leonor wondered.