"Come on, Peter!" Rabbit groaned, keeping his voice low, but the inflection proved his patience was wearing thin. Halloween season was one of Rabbit's favorites for many reasons. The main one was the most natural. It was the one time of the year he could go out and not have to hide himself. Some of his best memories were of walking with the boys when they were young, trick-or-treating, and having everyone come up and tell him how wonderful his costume was. He also loved spooky stories and decorating the mansion with bats and carved pumpkins and ghosts made of gauze and wire... it was just about the most fun time of year he could imagine.
Peter came down a few moments later and slid into the front seat beside his brother. This was the big night. They had, over the last few days, made quiet inquiries at the Hotel and found out a good deal about Mary. She was a maid, she worked in the main hotel, she kept to herself and never went out to clubs or parties with the other girls. Even so, the general consensus seemed to be that she was frugal and bookish rather than stuck up. She was a hard worker and several of the older ladies who frequented the hotel requested she alone attend their rooms. The most troubling news came from a young maid named Sophie over a soda during her lunchtime break.
"Well, I like her." Sophie had said with the straw poised before her painted lips. "She's the monkey's eyebrows, but I think she's got daddy problems." She chuckled. "He's a real mustard plaster and I'm sure she'd much rather leg it, but nothing doing. Grummy all the time whenever she thinks nobody's peeping it." She dampened her tongue with a long sip of the soda.
Peter's look of confusion brought a grin. "Too fast for you, Father Time?" She sat up with a wriggle, her chin thrust up, her nose held high, a generally aloof sort expression like a spinster librarian might wear. "Our Miss Mary has a man problem. I don't think she likes him at all, but he won't leave her alone. She's sad, but she does a very good job of hiding it when people are looking. Cheerful mask and all. " She wriggled again, as if she were settling into a cushion, her bleached bobbed hair twitching about her ears.
It hadn't thrilled him to think of her with another man of course, but it was harder to hear she was not happy. That this man, whoever he might be, was unwanted and yet continued his pursuit made his hackles rise. He pulled himself back to the here and now, his mood twisted and tangled. Excitement, concern, frustration, anticipation rushing around like socks in a washing machine. He pressed his fingertips into his leg just to give expression to the tension and frustration he felt as they sped across the city.
The evening sun was hanging over the glittering ocean as they crossed toward the Hotel del Coronado, the bright red of the roof catching the light and drawing the eye as they pulled into the parking lot. The four of them walked toward the gaily decorated entrance to the ballroom, the band already in full swing within. Pete presented the invitation to the ladies at the door. They looked at him with wide smiles, thinking that he looked quite the part in his voluminous black robes and hood, admiring aloud the skull mask of paper maché. Peter's bi-corner hat was set firmly upon his head, his unshaven scruff replaced with a dark mustache and small pointed beard on his chin, the poofy shirt left untucked, a crimson sash wound around his slender waist, wide-bladed swords made of tin foil covered wood tucked into it, catching the light from the electric lanterns. The wind rose and sent the black and red striped loose trousers tucked into the knee-high boots to flutter against his legs, making him shiver a bit as he waited to follow Pete in. The Spine, his tall, lanky frame covered by his costume, denim trousers and fuzzy sheepskin chaps, a red bib shirt and white leather gloves with wide cuffs and fringe, a bandanna drawn up over the lower portion of his face, a ten gallon hat pulled low so only a hint of his silvery skin showed.
Humming a merry song in a bright high tone, Rabbit drifted along behind them, the empire waist gown, heavily beaded and multi-layer, glimmering in the light. It had been Iris's most fancy dress, a deep blue with wispy hints of green and black accented in gold. Long black opera gloves covered his arms and his bald head was covered by a wig of soft wheat brown curls accented by a large fascinator of peacock feathers, ribbons and paste gems. His face hidden above by a domino mask of black velvet and beneath by the large peacock feathered fan. Pointing out to Rabbit that he was not a girl had only met with the immediate rebuff that Peter was not a pirate and Spine was not a cowboy either. Such logic could not be denied, and he looked quite smashing. He was simply warned that while it was a good bet no one would call out The Spine to a gunfight, it was very possible that men might think Rabbit was a real lady and react in ways he might not like. If they found out, for example, with a drunken pinch to the backside, that Rabbit not only not a woman, but not a human, it would be a very difficult thing to explain at best. So Rabbit had sworn to keep very close to the rest of the company and not go off on his own no matter how tempted.
The beach-front ballroom was half filled already, but there was no sign of Mary, who their investigation had revealed was attending with a friend. "We should split up." Pete spoke to the closely knotted group around him. "Peter, you should go watch from the bar." He looked up to the high walkway lined in chairs that circled closer to the roof and overlooked the whole room. "Rabbit, The Spine, you go up there and... stand close to one another. If we're lucky people will assume you're together and not ask either of you to dance." The multitude of humorous situations that the whole idea brought to mind was enough to make the Grim Reaper let slip a very out-of-character chortle and Rabbit gave an indignant look before fluttering his fan before his face.
"Just don't think you're getting a goodnight kiss, cowboy." A grin peeking through the feathers as he slid his arm through The Spines and fluttered his eyes. The Spine gave a 'please, just kill me now' look to the two humans then touched the brim of his hat and escorted his 'date' up to the second floor promenade to keep watch.
"What about you, Pete?" Peter asked.
"I'll watch from the dance floor." He did not sound thrilled by the option, but strategically it put him in a position to move about the room fairly easily. He drifted off into the fray toward a group of girls who seemed devoid of other company. The wallflowers would find a fine dancer in Pete, but a very absent one conversationally.
Peter took his brother's advice, taking up a spot near the bar, sipping at soda water and nothing stronger, wishing to be clear-headed when Mary arrived. Two hours passed with no sight of her, the room filling up quickly. Now and again, Pete moved from one area to the other, checking in and passing on information from Peter to the robots and back. The clock's hands were sneaking closer to ten PM when the girl behind him gave a sharp sound of surprise and he turned to look at her, then twisted about to see where she was looking. His own jaw went slack. The whole of the sight was overwhelming. It was Mary, but he'd never seen her looking like that.
Her hair was woven with tiny beads of gold and silver so each turn of her head sent sparkling gleams to frame her face in a halo of light. The gown she wore was of a slinky silk its caress brushing the figure of the woman beneath with shameless familiarity. The hem was a deep green, bleeding upward to greater paleness, as if the earth itself was growing around her feet. Her lily skin smooth and pale, was bared at her arms and shoulders, only thin beaded straps holding it up. Her hand was captured in the black-nailed hand of her escort. He was wide shouldered and dark haired, his brow fitted with a golden crown of sharp spikes that looked at once regal and evil. He wore a long toga of carmine that turned black near the hem and at the ends of each sleeve, his waist marked by a girdle of black leather embroidered with flames in red and gold.
"Ooh, it's Persephone and Hades." The girl whispered behind him to her date.
"Who?" her date muttered distractedly.
"From the ancient Roman mythology. She was the daughter of Demeter, the goddess of the harvest. Hades saw her plucking flowers one day and he kidnapped her to the underworld..."
Peter stopped listening as knew the story well. Even if he had not, his brain could hold only one thought. Ignatius Becile was dancing with his girl!
She walked with her head held aloft, determined that he would not make her cower. She heard the murmurs as she passed, aware the dress was scandalously slinky, her skin prickling with goosebumps from the exposure. She hadn't even been allowed a coat to keep the chill away. Thankfully the dressmaker had pasted down bits of fabric over her breasts to keep her from being indecent completely. She attempted to take her hand back, but his grip tightened and she grimaced faintly. He was lapping up this chance to humiliate her. Lead to the dance floor, he set his palm against her back, her hand still ensnared, and began to lead her in a waltz about the floor.
"I know I have said so already tonight, Mary, but you do look ravishing. I knew you would of course." He looked around them, then down at his partner. "Smile. There. Good girl. Now, I cannot say how thrilling it is to know that every man in this room is just waiting for me to let you out of my arms so they can attempt to take my place, if only for a single dance. " He lowered his head and his voice to speak into her ear. "Of course, every woman here wants to tear out your hair and claw your face to shreds for outshining them."
"That would have to be the reason. It cannot be envy of my partner." Her own eyes fixed to her hand upon his shoulder and stayed there. She had no wish to catch anyone's eye. The warmth of his hand against her lower back, the press of his palm seeking to pull her against him and her own pressure in reverse ensured that tension crackled between them. He had, she was forced to admit, chosen their costumes well. Any dislike that showed in her face, any reticence or attempts to escape him would seem to be only a continuation of character. He was the bestial devil of the underworld, and she was his prisoner. The only difference was the reason. Hades took Persephone for lust or perhaps love. Ignatius had taken her for spite and no other reason.
They danced to the song's end and she was quick to pull her hands from him and applaud softly as it was not the band's fault she was having so terrible a time. The next song was a bit more sprightly and she turned to go only to have him pull her back and swing her into a fast foxtrot. She frowned, knowing that such an enthusiastic dance would hardly be flattering as she was barely wearing anything under the silk. She lifted her chin and grit her teeth, clenching her muscles as much as possible to lessen the jiggling. The effort brought a slight glint of sweat to her brow by the time the quickly-stepped dance ended, and Becile relented, leading her toward the open doors which lead down to the beach in hopes to catch a breeze.
The moment they had entered the floor, Pete gave a curt adieu to his partner and wove through the crowd to snatch hold of Peter before he did something stupid. This seriously put a huge kink in the plans. Dragging him by the arm, he walked him to the stairs and up to the second floor where, while the dancers swirled below, the robots and their human brethren watched from above. The first words out of Peter's mouth weren't words at all but the angry, staccato, syllables of stillborn questions over how and when and what the hell? Eventually they faded and he just seethed silently.
"She's miserable, Peter, just look at her. She looks ready to slug him." Pete pointed out hoping it would help.
"Then why doesn't she just walk away then? Why'd she even come here in the first place? Why, out of all the men in San Diego would she step out with ... with him?"
"Not to mention that dress she's wearing. She's so curvy..." Rabbit looked down at his own flat chest. "I could never pull off anything like that." A pouty tone and flutter of the fan.
"Rabbit, stop looking at Mary's chest." Peter hissed, though as he watched them move across the floor, it proved a difficult task to do himself, but he tore his eyes away and grit his teeth. "Obviously we now have to deal with him as well." The couple began to drift away from the dance floor and walked under them and out. Peter made a move to bolt but felt the restraining grip of his brother on one arm and the gloved hand of The Spine on the other.
"Not without a plan. We need to get him off of her first and the way he was holding her on the dance floor, I don't think it'll be easy." Pete sighed. "But I know something we could try. You'd have to be ready though, Peter.
"What's the plan?" He leaned closer as Pete lowered his voice and explained his idea. It was not without flaws, that was for certain. Grow up the son of a man like Peter Walter the first, you learned quick what a mistake too many moving parts could be. Simplicity was preferred, but in this case, it was something that could not be avoided. More time would likely have given them a better plan than a glorified game of Telephone, but time was something they could not be certain of. Also, a good portion of the plan hinged on Rabbit and trusting him to stay on track was not as big a gamble as it might be with Upgrade or The Jon, but certainly it was risky. In the end, there was little choice. A deep breath taken and the quartet split up, each heading to their own portion of the plan.
~
"No really... I heard Mr. Smith talking about him." Rabbit drawled as he held his brother's arm, walking slowly behind the row of tables where the girls that Pete had been dancing with earlier were still gathered, powdering their noses and throwing looks around the room in hopes of catching someone's eye. They paused though at the possible good gossip drifting along behind them.
"Making another one of those moving pictures here at the hotel. Like when they made Pearl of Paradise."
"Is that so." Her cowboy beau spoke with a low rumbling voice behind his bandanna. "Who's going to star in it?"
"Oh, they have the male lead, that Fairbanks chap, but I hear they're still looking for the lady." Behind his fan, Rabbit could see the group spring up in their seats like a group of prairie dogs. "That's why they sent the talent scout."
Those two words seemed to tip the balance and Rabbit and Spine moved on, taking a seat with their back to the girls. "Are they coming?" Rabbit murmured and The Spine nodded faintly, as the girls had risen and were, seemingly random in their stroll, moving to seats where they could listen in. Rabbit started again "... brazen little hussy really, did you see that dress?" He lowered his voice to a whisper that still carried. "Nothing under it either I wager... " He gave a very feminine huff and stilled the fan, still using it though to obscure his face. "Still she'll get the part and why? " A sneering sort of condemnation. "Because she won't let him even see another girl here. Why, if I were a few years younger, I'd certainly do something about it myself but ... "
Rabbit sighed and fluttered the fan, letting it fall to silence so he could hear the scooting of chairs as the girls all, knowing exactly who they were talking about, headed out to be the first to catch his eye and drag him away from Mary.
"They're all gone." The Spine chuckled and rose, offering his hand. "May I escort you to your car, Mademoiselle." His shoulders shaking with laughter.
Rabbit stood and ran his gloved hands over his skirt, then set his fingers on The Spine's arm. "Just shut up and get me to the car. We've got to be ready to go when the boys arrive." Rabbit rather liked the tickle feeling of the skirt instead of his usual trousers, but he knew he'd face nothing but ribbing from everyone involved if he did it again. Well, maybe someday it would come into fashion and he would get another chance. As for now, their part of the plan was done. All they could do was wait and hope that the Walter brothers' portion of the plan went off equally hitch-free.
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Clockwork Firefly
FanfictionThe true story* of how Peter Walter II met his future bride. A tale involving, but not limited to, musical automatons, voodoo, trains, murder, revenge, bat meat sandwiches, danger, dancing, mistaken identities, and an absolutely to-die-for carrot ca...
