Angela smiled. She suspected that she was glowing. Bryce was going to Tim’s party, and he was obviously here to take her to it.
Angela stepped back, and Bryce followed her into the condominium. His eyes ran down her figure appreciatively. “You’ve changed costume.”
“Yeah. I decided that sexy Maladora stuff just wasn’t me.” Angela spread out her arms and turned around to show off the dress. “How do you like it?”
“You’re—it’s lovely.” He looked a little stunned. His eyes dropped involuntarily to the tops of her creamy breasts, which looked in danger of popping out at any moment.
Angela smiled, pleased that she had made an impression. “Thank you.”
He seemed unable to pull his eyes away from the white expanse of her chest revealed by the low, square-cut neckline. “Are you supposed to be Elizabeth I?”
Angela shrugged. “No, not especially. Just a generic Elizabethan lady.”
“You don’t look very generic. I’d say you look quite unique.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Is that a euphemism for ‘strange’?”
A smile cracked his usually reserved face. “No. Not at all. A synonym for ‘beautiful,’ perhaps.”
“Oh, my,” Angela teased, “you’re going to ruin your reputation as a dull C.P.A. if you keep making remarks like that.” She paused for a moment, then went on, “What made you change your mind—about the party, I mean?”
“I’m not sure.” His brows knit in a frown. “I think, maybe, I got tired of being me.”
Angela’s eyebrows went up. “What does that mean?”
“Sometimes it gets awfully dull being a stick-in-the-mud.”
Angela turned the full wattage of her smile on him. “Well, I’m glad you decided to get out of the mud tonight.”
Bryce hardly looked like anything dull tonight. He looked hard, perhaps, maybe even a little dangerous, but also dashing and handsome. And he was looking at her in a way that made her feel warm and tingly all over.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes. And you are definitely driving. I doubt very seriously that this dress would fit behind a steering wheel.”
A faint smile warmed Bryce’s lips as he stood aside for her to pass in front of him. “I’d say only a carriage would do for that dress. Or perhaps a sedan chair.”
They stepped out the front door, and Angela locked it behind them. “Oh,” she said, glancing over at the door next to her. “I forgot. I promised Jim I’d show him my costume.”
“Who?”
“My next-door neighbor. He loves stuff like this.” Angela turned, almost knocking a plant off its stand, and went to the next door to knock.
Jim opened the door a moment later. “Oh, my,” he said, his eyes widening. “Queen Elizabeth the First, as I live and breathe. Harbaugh, come look at our girl.”
Harbaugh, taller and younger than Jim, with a muscular build and a serious face, appeared behind Jim in the doorway. He smiled. “You look like you stepped out of a history book.”
“Thank you.” Angela dipped them a little curtsey, then turned toward Bryce. “Jim, Harbaugh, I’d like for you to meet Bryce Richards.”
Bryce came forward to shake hands. Jim’s brows went up and he shot a knowing look toward Angela. Only two days ago Angela had been sitting glumly on his couch and telling him all about her and Bryce’s abortive relationship.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Jim said. “Wouldn’t you two like to come in for a drink?”
“No, we’d better not,” Angela demurred.
Jim leaned in, giving her a hug, and murmured, “Very nice. What happened?”
Angela chuckled and whispered back, “Tell you later.”
“You better.” Jim stepped back, his eyes twinkling. “You kids have fun.”
Bryce drove quickly, competently, following Angela’s directions to Tim’s home in the rolling land north of Raleigh. They crossed the belt line and soon were on a winding road. Trees grew close to the road and whatever houses there were could not be seen.
They turned onto another narrower road and in a moment Angela said, “There it is, straight ahead. See the open gates? Oh, and look!”
Two large men dressed as Moorish warriors stood just inside the gates, and as Bryce’s car turned into the driveway, they raised long spears, crossing them dramatically so that they blocked the driveway.
“Good Lord.” Bryce stopped the car and shot a disbelieving look at Angela, but he pushed the button to open his window as one of the burly men came to ward him, spear in hand.
“He wants this,” Angela told Bryce and handed him the invitation. “People often try to crash Tim’s parties because they’re so famous. Besides, it adds a certain drama.”
“I’ll say,” Bryce commented dryly, holding out the white square to the man.
The robed and turbaned warrior took the invitation and examined it. Angela, watching him, couldn’t suppress a shiver. Even knowing, as she did, that he was a N.C. State football player dressed up in costume, there was something very foreign and menacing about the silent, impassive figure.
With a brusque nod, the guard handed back the invitation and pointed to an area to the left of the driveway, where many cars were already parked. “Leave your car there,” he growled. “Then wait for Andre to drive you to the house.”
Obediently Bryce pulled the car into the nearest available spot, and he and Angela waited beside the driveway. The two guards ignored them, standing stonily in the middle of the gates. The driveway climbed a rise and curved into the unknown, the rest of it blocked by trees and darkness. The pale light of a full moon flooded the landscape, lighting it yet leaving it mysteriously shadowed as well.
“Who’s Andre?” Bryce leaned down and asked Angela in a stage whisper that seemed appropriate to the night and the locale.
Angela shrugged. “I don’t know. But I suspect we’ll know it when we see him.”
Another car turned into the driveway and went through the same routine with the guard. They, too, parked their car and came over to join Bryce and Angela.
The man was dressed as a knight in a suit of silver plastic armor, and the woman was a Gypsy with wildly curling raven hair.
“Hey, Angela,” a distinctive coastal North Carolina accent came out of the knight’s headgear, and the man pushed up the visor with a clumsy, gloved hand to reveal the face of Stephen Jenesky, one of the brains of a local computer company. His face was flushed inside the hot suit, but he was grinning from ear to ear. Stephen was still a kid at heart; like Tim, his study at home was chock full of the latest in computer game gadgetry. He had a sound system attached to his computer that practically rattled the walls when he played a jet simulation game.
“Stephen! And Terri? Is that you?”
Terri giggled delightedly. “I told Stevie that this wig was almost as good a disguise as his helmet!”
Angela introduced the couple to Bryce. Then Bryce, who was standing facing Angela and gazing up the driveway, said dryly, “I believe I see Andre approaching.”
The entire group turned to look. Coming toward them was an old-fashioned carriage. It was painted a shiny black, and a coat of arms was painted in gold on the door. A coachman in red livery and a white wig drove a team of four white horses, and beside him sat another liveried attendant.
“If that isn’t just like Tim,” Stephen commented admiringly. “Where do you suppose he found that?”
“If I know Tim, he’s been searching for it ever since the last party.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Terri agreed. “He always has to top himself.”
The coach turned slowly behind the guards and came back to the group and stopped. The driver said nothing, just stared straight ahead of him. The footman, however, climbed down and came around to open the carriage door for them, bowing with a flourish.
Bryce helped Angela up into the carriage after the other couple, then climbed in beside her. “Tim believes in going all out, do
esn’t he?” he murmured into her ear.
Angela smiled. “Just wait. This is only the beginning.”
The carriage lumbered off, starting up the incline and turning the curve. There, in the middle of the road, stood an enormously tall figure clad in a long dark blue robe decorated with glittering silver quarter moons and stars. A wizard’s cap was on his head, making him loom even taller. From head to foot he looked to be at least eight feet tall.
All four of them stared, agog, out the window. The vision took two long strides forward and spread out his arms. The robe fell like bat wings from his arms, and he was a splendid, imposing picture.
“Who comes here?” His voice was impossibly deep and a little distorted, like a demon in a movie.
“He’s wearing stilts,” Bryce said thoughtfully. “And using one of those electronic devices that disguises your voice.”
“No. Don’t analyze it,” Angela told him. “You’ll ruin it. Just enjoy the experience.”
“We are the Earl of Stansbury’s men,” the coachman answered in an English accent. “And we come to bring his lordship’s guests to the ball.”
“Then you may pass,” the figure said grudgingly. “But, remember that you pass through my enchanted woods as you ride to his castle. Sights such as you have never seen before will pass before your eyes. Adventures untold. But you must not tarry, or you will become lost in the spell of the woods as well.”
He stepped to the side of the road in his odd, jerky way, his robes billowing around him. The coachman cracked his whip, and the carriage rumbled forward.
“Oh, look!” Terri gasped, pointing out her window. Everyone turned to look where she pointed.
There, at some distance from them, a white gauzy figure seemed to float in midair. Then it moved quickly, skimming through the air, at least fifteen feet off the ground.
“What is that?” Bryce asked, leaning out the window to stare at it.
Angela smiled. That was one trick she’d seen before. Most of the things Tim did were new, but some of the really successful ones he often repeated. For this one, she knew, they had strung cables with a pulley from a pole across to an old tree, and the apparition, dressed in white robes and veil, sprinkled with sparkles, was attached to the top cable by a harness he wore beneath the robe. At the appropriate time, he released a catch on the harness that let it slide along the cable, which was slanted slightly downward, until he reached the other end. Once the carriage passed him, he then pulled himself back into place with the lower cable.
“I don’t know,” Angela said mysteriously. “It depends on the viewer. Some people think it’s a ghost, and others are certain it’s an angel.”
“Look over there!” Stephen said in delight, looking out the window on the other side of the carriage.
“Fairies!” Angela exclaimed with glee.
In a clearing, small silvery creatures with wings on their backs danced in a ring, a strategically placed light in a nearby tree casting a glow over them. Bryce grinned, watching them, then looked eagerly ahead for the next vision.
Next they saw two knights fighting each other on foot, and after that, a leprechaun perched on a pot of gold. Then there was a lone Indian, sitting on his horse. After that, inside a ring resembling Stone-henge several women in white were chanting and swaying while a green-clad priest raised his hands to the sky. Right after that they came upon an old crone cavorting in front of a huge caldron. She flung her hands toward it, and the flames soared up around the big pot in shades of blue and green. Finally they passed a seaweed-draped rock on which sat several lovely, long-haired mermaids, holding out their arms and beckoning to them while high, eerie voices sang.
Angela knew that by day, in a car, the drive from the gates up to Tim’s front door took only a brief time and that the wooded landscape was attractive and rural, but rather ordinary. However, at night, with Tim’s array of tricks, it seemed like a magical world unto itself.
When they passed the rock, there was the wizard again, nodding to them from the side of the road, saying in the same strange voice, “You have passed the Woods of Enchantment. Now you are once again in the world.”
All of them relaxed, leaning back against the carriage seats.
“Quite a show,” Stephen said. “Although, you know, I think last year was a little more exciting. That pirate ship and all.”
Just then a dark-clad rider burst out of the trees and came racing toward them. A long black cape flowed behind him, and his lower face was covered by a black scarf. A black tricornered hat sat atop his head. He fired a dueling pistol in the air and shouted, “Stand and deliver!”
Across from them Terri let out a nervous giggle.
“Goodness,” Angela remarked. “A highwayman, yet. I guess the fun isn’t quite over.”
They all peered out the windows to see what would happen. The coach rumbled to a halt. The highwayman waved his pistol toward the coachman and yelled, “Get out, all of you, or ‘twill go the worse for him.”
“I wonder if he realizes that a dueling pistol only carried one shot?” Bryce mused as Stephen reached over and opened the door.
Angela cast him a disgusted look and moved over to the door to climb out. “Don’t bring reality into this.”
Bryce smiled and followed the others out of the carriage.
“Ah,” the highwayman was saying, leering terribly at Terri and Angela. “We have some pretty ones tonight. It’s always nice to get more than money, my ladies.”
“Am I going to have to defend your honor?” Bryce murmured in Angela’s ear.
Just then the blunderbuss thundered above them, making all of them jump. With a cry, the figure on the horse swayed back, clutching his chest. The horse turned and pounded off, the would-be thief, now slumping forward against the horse’s neck.
“There ye go,” the footman cried. “It’s death to any man who attacks his lordship’s coach. Best get back in the vehicle now, ladies, gentlemen. We won’t want to be here if any of his cronies show up.”
They got back into the carriage, exclaiming over the highwayman’s attack, laughing and a little breathless.
“I love Tim’s parties,” Stephen Jenesky said as the carriage pulled up at last in front of Tim’s house.
“They’re great,” Angela agreed.
Bryce said nothing. He was too busy staring in amazement at Tim’s house. It resembled nothing so much as a small castle. Made of dark red-brown brick, it was crammed full of towers, turrets and crenella-tions. There was even a decorative row of cross-shaped arrow slits near the top.
“I’m surprised there isn’t a moat and drawbridge,” Bryce said dryly, and Angela chuckled.
“Tim wanted to, but fortunately Melanie dissuaded him.”
As they got out of the carriage, a chilling moan rent the air, and they looked up to see a white-clad figure walking along the roof, wringing her hands.
“Every castle has to have a ghost,” Stephen Jenesky explained.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so elaborate,” Bryce said as two doormen dressed in Turkish costume silently swung open the double front doors for them. “Not for a party.”
“Tim spends a fortune on it every year. He always has to outdo himself. Are you enjoying yourself so far?”
“You know, I think I am.”
A medieval page came forward and led the other couple down a hallway. As Bryce and Angela started to follow, another page stepped up and motioned to them to stop. Minutes later, he beckoned to them, and they walked down the same hall after him.
“What now?” Bryce asked, looking at Angela with raised brows.
Angela shrugged. “Who knows? He told me he had something different for the party this year.”
The young boy came to a stop in front of a door. “Through this door lies the maze, my lord and lady.”
“A maze?”
“Yes, my lord. ‘Tis a test of skill with riddles. To find your way through it, you must answer the clues.”
“Oh, great,” Bryce said with a mock groan. “You mean we could wind up lost all evening?”
Angela grinned up at him. “Only if we can’t figure out the clues.”
He smiled back at her, his gray eyes suddenly warm. “I can think of worse things than being lost in the dark with you.”
Angela felt heat stealing through her at his words. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was holding Bryce’s hand. When had that happened? Had he taken her hand or had it been the other way around? She thought about pulling it away, but then it occurred to her that that would only make it more obvious. Flustered, she turned away quickly and led him through the door.
Eight
“This is the door to his garage,” Angela explained as they walked through. “I saw a tent in front of his garage, so I guess the maze extends into that.”
They were in a small room with soft walls, and on each side there were flaps that could be lifted and entered. Above one flap was a purple tassel and above the other a red one. A sign hung on the wall in front of them.
Bryce leaned forward to examine the words of the sign. “Mix a crane and the name of our latest hit. Then you’ll know which door to choose.”
“Well, our latest game is Code Blue,” Angela said immediately. “You mix blue with white? Aren’t cranes white? White and blue would make…pale blue?” She looked up at the tassels. “No blue. Well, I guess that’s out.”
Bryce stared at the wall consideringly. Suddenly he grinned. “How about a Crane, capital C. As in Stephen Crane’s The Red Badge of Courage?”
Angela smiled back. “As in red and blue—purple?”
“You got it.”
“Okay, let’s try it.”
He lifted the flap, and Angela stepped through into a narrow corridor. Fog seemed to rise from the floor, and reeds stuck up here and there, as if in a swamp.
Cautiously they made their way along the hallway, expecting at any moment for the floor to give way beneath them. Instead, when they were halfway down the little corridor, a hand, dripping with moss shot up from the floor. Bryce choked back an oath. They skirted the hand, which then slid back down beneath the fog, and arrived at another flap door. Next to Angela, a low tunnel led off. They looked at the flap, then bent to peer into the low, rounded corridor.
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