Bloomer

13. The Making of an Enemy

The sitting room is packed with people when Ben and I arrive.

Clove and the girls are whispering in front of the bay window, although Clove's voice is loud enough for everyone to get an earful. Bastian and Kitty are on the couch sharing caramels, probably listening to Clove. One of the bodyguard twins, maybe Duncan, is standing in the foyer with his arms crossed. And Miss K is sitting beneath the balcony tucked under her afghan, a pair of fuzzy, pink slippers on her feet. I have to sympathize with Della a little. I wouldn't want to face that crowd either.

Ben hustles over to Miss K and pats his pocket. "I've got the key. Just say the word and I'll snatch her for you."

Miss K raises her finger to shush him. "The girl just needs to be reminded about the meaning of respect." Her chest rises as she takes a deep breath and calls up, "We are still waiting to talk to you, Della. You have had plenty of time to think."

"How do you know how much time I need?" Della yells through the door.

"I know that most of us don't have the luxury of wasting it!" Miss K yells back. "The longer you refuse to speak to us, the harder you make it on yourself."

"I'd listen to Miss K, Della," Ben adds. "Don't wait until the evening meal to come down. Très awkward."

"I'm not hungry!"

Miss K's lips curl and she grabs a handful of afghan. "You'll come down here now, Della Ruth, or Ben is going to bring you down over his shoulder!"

Della Ruth?

Ben pulls the afghan out of Miss K's fist, flattening it across her lap, while I try to work out if I heard Miss K right. Is Della's middle name Ruth? My brain flashes back to Della sitting on the couch telling her tale of woe and scrutinizing me with those brilliant, blue eyes. Was it a black cloak wrapped inside that shoestring at her feet, a cloak with a hood that could hide the ugliness of a magic-stealing hag? A warm sensation fills my legs and travels to my head as if my magic has been restored. Have The Fates decided to dole out a bit more charity?

A faint click interrupts my revelation and Della appears in her doorway, dressed like a widow at a cocktail party. A black, full length dress hugs her hourglass figure, split on both sides so that her legs are the only things I see through the iron banisters. Her stiletto heels add a good four inches to her height, and she floats down the staircase in them like the quintessential vampire. Even her lips are painted blood red, which she curves into a smile as she passes us on her way to Miss K's bedroom. Except for the eyes, she doesn't look anything like the old hag from Bastian's airship. She doesn't even look like the woman who arrived two hours ago. But I can't rule her out. If she is my thief, the extra magic would explain her miraculous recovery.

Ben spins Miss K around and follows Della, while Kitty gathers her caramels and hurries after them. Duncan steps back outside, closing the front door. Then Bastian stands, nods to the room, and slips through the shutters, pulling them shut behind him.

"Well, if that doesn't prove my point, then nothing will." Clove drops onto the couch and gestures me over. "Get used to it, Ivy. No matter how special Miss K thinks you are, you'll never match up to Della." She picks up an empty caramel wrapper from the coffee table and holds it under her nose.

I'm beginning to see why Clove and Della butt heads. They both have hard ones. My desire to find out more about Della trumps all the other questions I have yet to ask, and I sit beside Clove, preparing to get nosy, when the shutters open again. Kitty sticks her face out, looking like she's lost a tooth inside a caramel.

"Ivy, Miss K wants you in here, pronto."

She vanishes back inside and Clove glares at me like I've taken her stash of candy corn. "Ho, ho. This is an interesting turn of events."