by Ani Gonzalez
Zach had to agree. Caine's love for his paranormal props was legend, but another music video meant lots of publicity for PRoVE, and that was something the paranormies weren't going to turn down.
Abby paused while taking a picture of the chupacabra statute in front of the window. "Now that is a really long car. Who's the bigwig in the limo?"
Zach walked over and looked out the window. Sure enough, a big white limo was approaching the house.
"Is it the record company people?" he asked.
Abby snorted. "Are you kidding? Those guys wouldn't be caught dead in a limo. Maybe it's your moneybags brother."
"No way. We'd kill him if he got a limo."
The car wasn't Gabe's style or even Salvador's, who preferred his Bentleys. That left...no one. Who the hell would bring a limo to Banshee Creek?
"Maybe one of the costumed attendees is trying to make a grand entrance?" he asked.
"If they are, they're going to get an unpleasant surprise," Abby scoffed. "They're a couple of hours too early."
The limo door opened and Zach stared, expecting one of the outlandish costumes from Elizabeth's presentation. His personal favorite were the armored werewolves. Those guys looked pretty badass.
A slender girl in a black pants and a white blouse got out and held the door for...a dark-haired man in dark slacks and a white dress shirt. Two young men, also in dark pants and white dress shirts exited the vehicle. They shivered in the cold then rushed into the house.
"Someone didn't dress for the Winter of the Century," Abby noted.
No, but Zach would recognize basic caterer's wear anywhere. His servers had closets full of dark pants and white shirts. "I bet that's the fancy Manhattan chef who's setting up in the drawing room."
"Really?" Abby peered at the figures as they ran into the house. "What's his name? Tyler something, right? Was he good-looking? My personal assistant has a humongous crush on him and I promised to get her an autograph."
But the Manhattan chef and his uniformed entourage had disappeared.
Zach and Abby stepped back from the window. Abby raised her phone and resumed her picture-taking.
"I really like this." She got a close-up shot of the newspaper article describing last year's Mothman sighting. "But I thought you were going to do blimps and clockwork innards and whatnot. You know, to jazz the place up?"
Zach looked around the room, thinking about his conversation with Salvador Acosta. "I decided we didn't need any jazzing up. We don't need to borrow stuff from movies or books."
Abby looked at him, confused.
"We're Banshee Creek."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
"THEY SET up a red carpet!" Laurie squealed, pointing out the window.
"Actually," Elizabeth corrected, wincing as Yolanda, the local hairdresser, styled her hair. "It's purple."
They were in one of the Rosemoor's upstairs bedrooms, a small room with a quilt-covered queen bed and cabbage-rose patterned armchairs, getting ready. Well, Elizabeth was getting ready for the party, Laurie and Patricia were just getting their hair styled.
The party was in less than half an hour.
Patricia and Laurie were done, their hair was held back in smooth and glossy ponytails and their chef jackets were clean and wrinkle-free. They were ready to go.
Elizabeth was another story.
Banshee Creek's resident real-estate-agent-cum-B-movie-actress sat in a purple wicker armchair, surrounded by Yolanda's minions. She was dressed in a kimono robe and fluffy slippers and her blonde hair was in curlers, which Yolanda was methodically undoing and brushing. The room was full of makeup cases and hair styling products and Elizabeth's party clothes, still hidden under an opaque plastic wrap, took up most of the space.
"The camera guys should be getting into position," she said. "It's going to be grand. The contestants will walk up the purple carpet and get their pictures taken. Then Cassie will interview them in front of the cameras and ask them about their costumes, what inspired them and how they built them."
"It's really cold outside," Patricia noted.
Elizabeth cast her a withering glance. "The interviews will be performed in the foyer if the contestants so desire." She waved a perfectly manicured hand towards the window. "And, anyway, most of those costumes are heavily insulated, by which I mean hot as hell. The cold is a feature not a bug."
Patricia frowned at her friend's nails, which seemed extremely long and red, blood-red no less. It wasn't Elizabeth's usual style at all.
Elizabeth noticed her glance and quickly hid her hands under the kimono sleeves.
"You two should go downstairs and enjoy the show," she said.
"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Patricia asked, casting a meaningful glance at her friend's fuzzy slippers. "Are you going to be ready on time?"
Elizabeth's smile was sly and secretive. "Oh, I'll be ready. Now go and do...whatever it is that you guys still have to do."
She settled back so Yolanda could finish her hair and Patricia dragged Laurie away from the window and into the hallway.
They dodged a young girl in a pink ball gown with a design embroidered on the side. She was carrying a box full of wigs and was followed by a group of guys carrying what looked like a helium tank. An older gentleman in black clothes leaned out of a doorway and shouted.
"Fifteen minute warning!"
The girl almost dropped her box and the helium tank guys picked up their pace. As the girl ran up the hall, Patricia noticed that her ball gown had a tail, a horse's tail, taped to the back.
"Was that a My Little Pony ball gown?" Patricia asked, as they walked down the stairs.
"I think so," Laurie replied. "The contestants are getting ready in these rooms, so I've seen a lot of people in strange costumes moving in and out. The power went out this morning before you arrived and the electrician said it was because so many people were using hair dryers at the same time."
The word "blackout" made a shiver run down Patricia's spine.
"Well, at least it wasn't the--" she stopped short, almost bumping into a large, red-headed man carrying a digital camera.
It was Caine. She almost didn't recognize him without his biker's vest. The leader of the paranormies was conservatively dressed in black pants and a plain black shirt with a small PRoVE logo on the left side. He looked like a religious proselytizer.
Well, except for the tattoos all over his arms. The sigils on his skin were definitely not religious.
"You mean the ghost?" he asked cheerfully.
"Shhhh," Patricia and Laurie said simultaneously.
Caine rolled his eyes. "What's going on? You two have lived in this town for years." He pointed at Patricia. "You were actually raised here and your brownie is ranked as a high-level critter. Since when are you afraid of a measly level two manifestation like Mrs. Danvers?"
"Since I have two hundred hors d'oeuvres in a portable warming drawer in her kitchen," Patricia replied. "I need electricity."
"Relax," Caine said, smiling. "Elizabeth made us get a couple of generators. We have enough juice to power up this joint for a fortnight."
The tight knot in her stomach relaxed a bit. "Well, that's a--"
She was interrupted by an Arcane Films assistant. "Are you guys in costume?" He looked at them and then looked at his tablet. "I don't have a 'Chefs in Space' entry."
"We're local staff," Caine explained.
The assistant's face lit up. "Good. I need you to pose as fans over there." He pointed to the ballroom. "The contestants will come in, greet their fans and then go to the interview portion. Your camera works well, but," he glanced at Patricia's chef's jacket, "let's have the girls in the back so the costumes aren't so noticeable."
"They're uniforms, not--" Patricia's complaint went unheard as the assistant left to round up some more "fans."
"I told you we shouldn't have let Elizabeth talk us into the sparkly eye shadow," Patricia hissed as Caine led them to the ballroom.
The room was
lovely, large and beautifully decorated with sparkling lights, fake snowbanks and white-draped tables and chairs with shiny silver trim. The staffers had set up outdoor lighting so the room felt part of the snow-covered landscape. Each table had a centerpiece made of pine branches with glittery pinecones and crystal icicles, a few lavender-colored ribbons tied in with the Rosemoor's all-purple, all-the-time theme.
Laurie giggled. "It looks like Narnia. They should have put in a lamp post."
Patricia pointed. "They did!"
They stared at the iron-forged lamp post with a cheerful vintage sign that read "Banshee Creek."
"I should have brought my faun horns," Caine said, joining in the fun.
A staffer led them to a cordoned area next to the entrance. A bunch of PRoVE members stood behind the purple velvet rope, along with members of the contestants' entourages, including the girl in the My Little Pony ball gown, who came with a couple of friends, all dressed in similar attire.
"Five more minutes," she said to a slim young man dressed in a purple tux with an eye drawn on his forehead. "I hope the hoop skirt stays on."
"You're lucky," the young man said. "My female lead broke out in a rash last night. We got this special latex from Germany and, apparently, she's allergic to it."
"Oh, man. So sorry. Did you have to scrap the costume?"
The young man looked horrified. "Are you kidding? No. I maxed out my credit card at the drugstore and practically embalmed her in hydrocortisone cream."
"That sounds...harsh," Laurie commented.
The young man gave an un-apologetic shrug. "It's two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. She can take a little itching."
The girl looked at the chef coats and smiled. "Are you with the space mortuary group? I really liked your costumes. That Hannibal Lecter-meets-Star-Trek look is really inspired."
Patricia gaped, but the young man with the third eye just smiled. "Is that the Pasadena group? The reavers who roam the galaxy looking for spare body parts?"
The girl nodded. "They brought a real morgue trolley and everything."
Laurie turned to whisper in Patricia's ear. "Maybe we should reconsider the white jackets and sparkly eyeshadow."
Patricia opened her mouth to reply, but closed it when the foyer lights dimmed and a trumpet-led overture rang through the foyer, it sounded a bit like Beethoven's "Ode to Joy", if it were played by the band from the Mos Eisley Cantina.
The front door opened and a pair of cameramen walked in, along with a gust of cold air. The Arcane Films assistant hushed the "fans," and the entourage members took out cameras and turned to the open doors.
The music swelled. The show was about to begin.
A dry ice mist rose from...somewhere. Patricia couldn't tell where it came from. She just knew it looked really cool. A spotlight appeared in front of the entrance to the house and the crowd of "fans" held its collective breath, waiting for the first pair of contestants to appear.
A large butterfly flew through the mist. It was shimmery and light and it fluttered under the spotlight, showing off its rainbow-colored wings.
The crowed oohed and aahed as more multicolored butterflies appeared, forming a cloud, as the music reached its crescendo, the butterfly swarm parted to reveal a tall, impossibly slender girl wearing a long, white wig. Her eyelids were made up to look like butterfly wings and they watched, spellbound, as she twirled to reveal a dress made entirely of mechanical butterflies, all flapping their many-colored wings.
"Is she naked under that?" Laurie breathed.
"I sure hope so," Caine replied, camera poised to capture every single bug-laden pirouette.
My Little Pony Girl shook her head. "Full length leotard in her skin tone, probably interlaced with flesh-toned wires. Her battery pack must be under the wig. Look closely and you'll notice that her hair doesn't move."
Patricia peered at the performer, and, sure enough, there was a strange, box-like protuberance on her back. Looking closely, she could see the web of wires to which the butterflies were attached. The performer seemed to be controlling it with her bracelets, but her dancing movements hid the controls from view.
It was all insanely gorgeous.
Her partner was a tall, gangly man in a caterpillar suit. He wore a multi-colored top hat with matching coat and tails. The caterpillar head was zoologically correct and Patricia wondered how he could see through it, but it wasn't nearly as impressive as the butterfly dress.
"This is amazing," Laurie whispered. "I think these guys are going to win."
The crowd seemed to agree, they clapped and hooted loudly.
The My Little Pony Girl snorted in derision. "Wait and see."
The Caterpillar/Butterfly couple fluttered off to do their interview with Cassie and the music changed, taking on a somber tone.
The guy with the third eye cursed under his breath. "We were supposed to bring our own music? I didn't know that."
My Little Pony Girl smiled smugly.
The spotlight dimmed and the ballroom turned dark. The music deepened, turning ominous, and a strange purple glow emanated from the ceiling, making the mist glow.
"Oooh," Caine sighed happily. "That's blacklight. Someone's going to glow in the dark."
Two girls in green face paint and black silk robes entered the room, dancing in tiptoe. The robes were embroidered with arcane symbols that did, indeed, glow in the dark. Their long hair and eye-makeup also lit up under the light.
It was lovely, but, she had to admit, a bit disappointing. Her companions seemed to agree as the clapping was polite, but unenthusiastic.
Then the robes parted, and glowing tentacles slithered out.
The polite clapping turned into screams.
"That is so...cool." Caine was at a loss for words.
"How did they do that?" Laurie asked. "Those robes were pretty tight."
"Backpack with an air canister under the robe," the guy with the third eye murmured. "They opened up the valve and the tentacles inflated."
"I think I see some strings," Patricia added. "She's controlling the tentacles as if they were marionettes."
The music grew louder and the girls spun around, making their appendages wiggle. The clapping grew much louder now, and some of the PRoVE guys were chanting in a language Patricia didn't recognize.
"It's R'lyehian," Caine explained. "Or Cthuvian, if you prefer. H.P Lovecraft invented it."
The dancers seemed to like the chanting and they drew closer to the velvet rope, taunting the audience with their glossy tentacles. Then the music stopped, and the dancers, tentacles retreating into the dark robes, scuttled stealthily into the ballroom.
The parade of costumes continued, Caine's beloved armored werewolves appeared in full wedding regalia, followed by a pair of cyborgs with metallic wings. The girl in the My Little Pony shirt squealed when a pair of centaurs, in intricately carved stilts, showed up, long, beautifully braided manes glowing under the lights. The Space Reavers were every bit as disgusting as advertised, and their costumes did look exactly like the chef's jackets that Laurie and Patricia were wearing.
"We're taking these off, aren't we?" Laurie whispered.
Patricia nodded. She didn't care if they ended up serving food in plain white shirts. The jackets were as good as gone.
The last of the contestants walked off, and the foyer went dark. The music changed, turning into a psychedelic disco beat. Patricia frowned. The tune seemed a bit too cheesy for the drama-loving contestants they'd seen. Who would pick such tacky entrance music?
Flashing spotlights hit the purple carpet, drenching the foyer in a multitude of colors. The audience started clapping in tune. Patricia joined in, quickly catching on to the rhythm. Something about this music seemed oddly familiar.
Her companions started singing. Watch out, here they come, taking over the gaaaaaalaxeeeeee.
Oh, yes, she knew this song. She'd watched this movie a million times. Their bark is way worse than their bite. They're theeeeeeeee....
"Princess Verdala!" the announcer shouted the name. "From Alpha Centauri."
Elizabeth swept into the room wearing sky-high heels, a snake-print metallic dress, and a giant headdress with horn and sparkly fur. The crowd broke into applause.
Patricia clapped as hard as she could. Sure, her friend resembled a cross between a crocodile and a water buffalo, but who cared? She looked fantastic. The dress was stunning, even if it was a bit conservative for a sultry alien ruler. There seemed to be a lot of fabric around Elizabeth's midriff.
Patricia filed that for future reference.
Elizabeth struck a couple of poses for the cameras, then waved good-bye and headed out. The dry ice mist dissipated, and the crowd moved into the ballroom. Laurie and Patricia pushed their way through, trying to reach the conservatory.
"Hold on, folks." The staffer stopped them. "We have one more piece of film to shoot. It's for the sponsor."
The entourage members groaned.
"Now, now, you know the drill. This guy is getting a cooking show, so try to be enthusiastic. Think about food...and sponsor money."
They all resumed their places behind the velvet rope. The lights turned on, brighter than before, and the cameramen stepped closer to the entrance.
A tall, handsome man entered the room and waved at his non-fans. The crowd responded, after some prompting from the frustrated staffer, with fake enthusiasm.
Patricia stared at the familiar face, feeling her stomach churn. The blue eyes, the perfectly coiffed hair, the expensive watch half-hidden under the sleeve of a pristine white chef's jacket.
Trevor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
"THOSE SQUID girls can put away their liquor," Sarah said, putting together another tray of green Chartreuse cocktails. "They've had three Green Ghosts each and they want more."
They were behind a makeshift bar set up in a corner of the library. The space was cramped and the table was a bit wobbly, making the glasses shake. Zach made a mental note. If he won the Rosemoor, he would annex the rooms next to the library and create a dedicated bar area with a sturdy wood top.