Transformation!

by Martin, Deborah

  He tilted his head to listen for a moment, then grabbed my hand, pulling me along through the crowds as he had earlier in the day. “This way.”

  Putting a couple of bills into the hand of a bouncer at the door of one of the establishments, he took the lead as we made our way up a short flight of stairs. To our left, the bar stretched along one wall and it was three deep in places. Immediately in front of the door was a crowded dance floor with the band playing on a dais to our right. I spied a couple rising from a table in front of the window and, for a change, I was the one doing the dragging as I grabbed Gregory’s hand.

  “Are you leaving?” I yelled. The man nodded his head, so I plunked myself down on one of the chairs and pushed their glasses away. Gregory sat next to me.

  “This was fortuitous,” he said in my ear. “These places are usually standing-room only by this time of night.”

  I nodded as he craned his head, looking for a wait person. Spying someone in a T-shirt with the bar’s logo on it, he raised his hand to catch her attention. She acknowledged his wave and after serving the drinks on her tray, made her way over to us.

  “Tanqueray and tonic with extra limes for the lady; a Heineken for me,” Gregory ordered.

  I punched his shoulder. “How did you know what I wanted to drink?”

  “Isn’t that your usual?”

  “Well, yes, but maybe I wanted a glass of wine instead.”

  “It’s hot. Since you didn’t want coffee I assumed you wanted something cold. Red wine isn’t usually served cold. Was I wrong?”

  “No, but you might have asked.” I was only slightly put out. He was right, as he usually was.

  The band was toe-tapping good, as evidenced by the number of people crowding the dance floor. Gregory’s fingers drummed the table in time to the beat and I found myself chair-dancing. All of a sudden, he stood and held out his hand.

  “May I have this dance, m’lady?” His eyes twinkled and the corners of his mouth twitched into a grin.

  Once again, I sent gratitude to my mother as he pulled me onto the floor and started to jitterbug. Not that we could get very rambunctious with it due to the crowding but nonetheless, my feet moved in a remembered pattern as he swung me around. Like most practiced male dancers, he adroitly avoided crashing into anyone else but unlike anyone else I’d ever danced with, he seemed to have created a cushion of air surrounding us. Anyone who got within a foot gently bounced off the shield in another direction.

  Two songs later, I was out of breath and pulled him back to the table where I finished my drink in a couple of gulps. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid. That was fun,” I told him.

  He was just as flushed as I and drained his beer. “You should do it more often. I think it’s much more fun than the way people dance today – mostly by themselves even if they supposedly have a partner.” He held up two fingers to the waitress as she passed by.

  A couple more drinks and several dances later, I was bushed. Once again, it was approaching midnight and my bed was calling. Well, the hotel bed, anyways.

  Fudge greeted us at the door, winding his way between both our legs. “I am glad you enjoyed yourself. You do not do that often enough.”

  We said our goodnights and I heard the sounds of the sofabed being pulled out as I readied myself for sleep. The reason for our trip crashed its way back into my brain. I wondered how Ev was faring and what the next day would bring, what with the elves being involved and all. Why was Ev missing in the first place? If it was money, cooping him up somewhere wouldn’t loosen the purse strings.

  “Why do you worry so much about something you cannot control? Tomorrow will come and whatever will happen will happen. Go to sleep!”

  The cat had a point. I snuggled down into the oversize bed and felt Fudge make his usual nest in my hair.

  The next thing I knew, the sun was shining through the window. I’d forgotten to pull the drapes closed and it was bright! Looking at the clock, I could see I’d actually slept in because it was 6:30 a.m. The smell of coffee opened my eyes even farther, so I pulled on the fancy robe the hotel provided and made my way into the sitting area.

  The sofabed was already put away and a single cup sat next to the coffeepot. I looked around and found Gregory sitting on the balcony, fully dressed, with a newspaper in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. He obviously heard me stirring because he glanced up and greeted me.

  “I trust you slept well? I did not wake you when I rose, did I?”

  I sipped my coffee. Gregory always traveled with the special roast he got from his Italian friend and I could understand why. It was so much better than what most hotels provided. “I didn’t hear a thing. How long have you been up?”

  “I do not require much sleep. I’ve been up since about five and have gone for a walk to scope things out a little more.”

  “You did? I didn’t even hear the door. So, what did you find out?”

  “Nothing has changed since yesterday afternoon. Ev is still in that building and the wards still surround it. As a matter of fact, there’s another layer that wasn’t there yesterday. Someone, I think, is getting nervous. I’m meeting John at his hotel at nine. Would you care to come with?”

  What else was I going to do? I’d insinuated myself into the trip knowing full well Gregory could probably handle anything that came along. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  “Yes, of course. I’m curious about how all the pieces of the puzzle fit together.”

  “As am I. John knows all the players in this movie and I want to know who they are. From there, I might be able to figure out who’s involved and why Ev has disappeared. You might find this newspaper article interesting. It’s about the movie being shot and some of the things that have happened during the shooting.”

  He passed me the newspaper and pointed to a headline. I quickly scanned the news item. The movie was being shot at one of those antebellum mansions we passed on our tour the previous evening. According to sources, equipment was moved overnight; other equipment shorted out; some of the antiques in the house also moved from one room to another; two cast members said they’d almost been pushed down the stairs; and a host of other “ghost-like” occurrences. New Orleans was used to hauntings (hell, they had tours about them) but this mansion had never exhibited signs before.

  “It’s either a real ghost that doesn’t like the fact that their house has been invaded or someone doesn’t want this movie to be produced,” I commented. “Your thoughts?”

  “The places that are haunted have been that way for years – sometimes a century or more. But given that everything we’ve heard thus far seems to point to a money issue, I suspect the latter. We’ll find out more when we see John.”

  At eight-thirty, we climbed into a cab that took us to an address Gregory gave the driver. After fighting rush hour traffic, we ended up back in the Garden District, stopping in front of another mansion. To all outward appearances, it looked like any other. But if you looked closely, all the windows had been blacked out. “One of three vampire hotels in the city,” Gregory whispered.

  I nodded. Although humans knew vampires existed, they really didn’t want any particulars. It would be difficult for the vamps to stay in a regular hotel so private homes where sunlight could easily be blocked made a lot of sense.

  A human answered the doorbell. Which also made sense. Even with the porch roof, enough sunlight hit the front door that any vampire, even an old one, would start smoking.

  “We’re here to see John Minton,” Gregory told him.

  “Of course. You’re expected. He’ll meet you in the parlor in a few minutes, which is this way. May I offer you coffee, tea, or water?”

  We were escorted into a room that was brightly lit with wall sconces and lamps, heavy velvet drapes were drawn to disguise the blacked-out windows, and it was lavishly decorated with antiques. Or at least really good reproductions. Not that I had a discerning eye, but some of them looked like Louis XIV – all ornately carve
d and gilded. Not my cup of tea but hey. Thinking about it, the furnishings probably were all authentic. Vamps were pretty much immortal and had a long time to collect things.

  Coffee was served from an urn on a butler’s table, in dainty porcelain cups and saucers. I immediately set mine down on a side table, gingerly took a seat in the flimsy-looking chair next to it, then picked up only the cup. I always had a difficult time balancing cups and saucers, and these looked like they’d shatter if you sneezed hard. Give me a sturdy ceramic mug any day!

  John strode into the room with a “Hey, sorry to be delayed.” He shook first Gregory’s hand, then mine, being sure to avoid the bracelet dangling from my wrist. As soon as Ev had filled me in on the paranormal-type people I was most likely to meet working for him, I had my grandmother’s silver cross mounted on a silver chain. John was old enough it wouldn’t kill him, but it hurt. Although I was immune to them thanks to my witchy blood, it kept them all at a safe distance.

  “I haven’t been able to find out much from my end,” he said as he poured himself a cup of coffee then turned and leaned against the table. “What do you know?”

  Gregory filled him in on what we thought was the elves’ involvement, the fact that he thought Ev was being held in one of the warehouses in the French Quarter, and that Nelion had asked us for twenty-four hours. Then he mentioned the newspaper article and asked John’s opinion.

  “I won’t lie. There’s something fishy going on with this movie. Abraham is one of the ones who felt himself nearly pushed down the stairs.” (Abraham was John’s client who had a supporting role in the film. He was also being watched by one of our dwarf guards.)

  “There’s also the financial side of things. I don’t know of any elf involvement but that’s not saying there isn’t. Last I heard, all the strange goings-on were starting to push this thing over budget and the producers are asking the major investors to pony up some more cash.”

  I interrupted. “Why would someone not want this movie made?”

  “I’m not certain,” John told me. “There are some unpleasant undercurrents, though. Nothing I can put my finger on but there seems to be some animosity between the producers and about half of the crew.”

  “How many paras in the crew and what are they?” Gregory asked.

  “Umm…” John turned his eyes to the ceiling as he thought. “Perhaps a half dozen of my kind who, obviously, work only on the night scenes. They’re all either in props or costumes. Another handful of weres working the cameras, all wolves from the local clan; I’ve already told you about the wizard actor; and I think the script girl is a witch but I’m not certain. Probably a few others I’ve not yet run into.”

  “I think we can rule out the actor,” Gregory said. “He has a contract to fulfill and the sooner it’s done, the sooner he can go onto the next project. You’d know if any of the vamps was pulling anything, wouldn’t you?”

  John tapped his chin. “Possibly but perhaps not. The vampire population here is huge, second only to Las Vegas in the States, and more arrive or are made nearly every day. I don’t know any of them personally, but I can certainly ask my hostess here.”

  “Do so, if you would. I’m curious as to who might involve themselves with this Perchaladon chap. He obviously goes outside his species for most anything. I will see if I can get anything out of the local werewolf clan leader, although I’ll have to make a few calls to find out who that is.”

  John smiled. “That’s easy. His name is Vincent [pronounce that with a French accent, if you please] and he’s the key grip for the movie. Been in these parts for over a half century and knows everyone who’s anyone, especially in the film business. But as you know, we and weres don’t get along very well so yes, it’s perhaps best if you speak with him.”

  Gregory rose from the settee. “I will do so immediately if they are filming today. Are they?”

  John nodded. “As far as I know, yes.”

  “I will let you know what I find out. Amy?” Gregory made his way to the door.

  “And I, you,” John said from the safety of the parlor. He would not emerge until the heavy wood front door had been closed again.

  The human butler bade us a good day, closing the door behind us with a solid “thunk.” Gregory stepped to the street, hailing one of the passing cabs.

  “I will take you back to the hotel,” he told me after he’d said “the Omni” to the cabbie. As I opened my mouth to protest, he held up his hand. “You know as well as I that most weres, especially the wolves, look at women as inferior. Since this Vincent doesn’t know either of us, it’s best if I approach him alone at first.

  “I will scope the site out and if I think you can do some good, I will call you. Otherwise, I will see you back at the room in time for a late lunch?”

  I sighed. He was right once again. Tony, my now-deceased werewolf boyfriend, had been an anomaly. He didn’t mind my independence but others I’d encountered had used the epithet “little lady” when speaking to me. It grated. A lot. So, I acquiesced and as I exited the car in front of the hotel, heard Gregory give the driver an address not too far from where we’d just come. I’m sure the guy was more than a little exasperated.

  Once back in the room, I fired up both the coffeepot and the laptop. May as well try to get some work done while I was waiting. I called Sally to check in.

  “I’m so glad you called. I was about to call you,” she told me.

  Huh? Something she couldn’t handle?

  “What’s up?”

  “That damned elf. He left two messages over the weekend and has already been here this morning. I’ll give him something for persistence. He’s unhappy that Ev isn’t available and when I told him you were out, too, he turned on his heel and left without so much as a goodbye. What do you want me to do?”

  Perchaladon was back in the Twin Cities, not here? Things just got even more complicated.

  “Continue just blowing him off. I’m not sure what’s going on with him. Or down here, for that matter. Anything in the weekend reports?”

  We talked business for a while with me telling her to forward certain emails to me so I could deal with them directly. A full page of calls for me to return later, I hung up with a sigh. I couldn’t wait until Ev could return three-quarters of them himself.

  But first, I called Gregory to tell him about the elf. “That’s interesting,” he said when I related Sally’s frustrations. “That complicates things.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. If not him, then who?”

  “I don’t know. I’m meeting with this Vincent (he pronounced it correctly: Veen-sahnt) guy in a couple of minutes then I’ll head back to the hotel. See you soon.”

  I poured a cup of coffee and started returning calls. One of the ones on my list was Marvin, the dwarf following Abraham around.

  “What?” a gravelly voice asked.

  “Marvin, it’s Amy. You called Ev and he’s not available. What’s up?”

  “Oh, man. I can’t guard this guy against unseen things. He damned near fell down the stairs two days ago and it’s all my fault because he was pushed, he says. I was standing out of camera range watching and nobody was behind him but it’s still my fault. He’s not the only one, either. Whaddya want me to do?”

  “I saw the newspaper article,” I replied.

  “You did? You get the Picayune Times up there?”

  “It’s the Times-Picayune,” I corrected, “and I’m in New Orleans. If you’re on set you should be able to see Gregory hanging around there.”

  Silence. I could imagine Marvin craning his head to look around. At slightly under five feet tall, he was shorter even than me but one hell of a body-language reader. Or just body reader. He could tell you just about anything you wanted to know about a person by looking at them from their waist down. I never did figure out how. But as guards, dwarves were awesome. Bad guys never looked down and as a result, usually found themselves on their backs, disarmed if they were carrying anything, with a
n ugly, fierce face staring at them from above. They were about two hundred pounds of pure muscle and I’d seen a dwarf incapacitate a man twice his size.

  “Got him. What’re y’all doing down here? Are you and Gregory an item now?”

  I winced. “Not that it’s any of your business but of course not. As for Abraham’s concerns, remind him you can’t protect him against something neither of you can see. Ask if he wants a wizard. I can always swap you with Mario if he becomes insistent.”

  “Nah, don’t think that’ll be necessary. I think he just wigged out. That vamp agent of his said the same thing. Just thought I’d check to see what Ev wanted but you’ll do.”

  No goodbyes. He just hung up on me. Dwarves weren’t up on social niceties.

  A half-pot of coffee, twenty emails and about the same number of phone calls later, Gregory walked in the door.

  “We have a conundrum,” he pronounced as he poured himself a cup.

  “And that would be?”

  “The wards on that building are elven yet the only elf who’s given Ev difficulties is still back home. Vincent says there’s been one hanging around the set but doesn’t know who he is. And he’s not ours because he’s blond and Vincent says he smells like a local – something of a bayou scent, I gather.”

  He sighed and sat on the sofa. “So, we’re stuck until Nelion gets back to us. And depending on what he says, I may want to take you back to the set this evening. They’re on an extended lunch break now because yet another camera broke. Then they have to set up for a night shoot. There’s more than one witch on set and it’s possible you will be able to get more information than I could.”

  At last, I could do something! My stomach growled so I reached into the refrigerator for the other half of yesterday’s lunch. Gregory held out his hand, so I grabbed his, too. We ate in silence.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Just for grins (and to give myself something to do after lunch), I started googling the major players in this film: producers, director, stars. John was rarely wrong about his feelings, so who had it in for whom?