It had been a long drive from Harmony, New England, and not much talking had been done on the way. Donovan had tried every now and then, but found Prue for the most part a very reticent conversational partner. She’d flipped through a copy of Blush (which Simon had bought for her, on the vague notion that women liked magazines like that) with mild interest and a healthy sarcasm, but she still seemed quite detached. He supposed her self-imposed isolation was to blame, but still. He’d be happy when they got around people again.
“So,” he piped up, turning off the highway and into city traffic for the first time in hours, “...why Harmony?”
“Hmm?” Prue set the magazine down on her lap, looking over at Simon. He repeated his question.
“Why Harmony? As a hiding place, I mean. Interesting choice...”
Prue nodded. “I heard there was some witch activity in Harmony,” she answered, “...a little magic here and there. Thought it might help me blend in, just in case...you know.”
“Uh huh,” Simon muttered, flashing a glance at his map, “...you know, I hear Sunnydale’s good for that.”
That earned a derisive snort. “I was depressed,” Prue replied, “...not suicidal. Are we there yet?”
“Just about,” Simon said, making another turn, “...should be right on time, too.”
“I don’t understand how come we’re driving,” Prue mentioned, stuffing the magazine into Simon’s glove compartment, “...can’t the FBI, or whoever the Hell it is I work for now afford a plane?”
“Haven’t enjoyed the drive?” Simon asked, trying to sound wounded, simultaneously trying to figure out exactly where he was going.
“It’s not that,” Prue said, letting out a sigh, “...I’m just anxious, is all. Nervous. I don’t know WHAT I am. This is pretty new to me.”
“You’ll do fine, Prue. You weren’t picked out of a hat.” Simon paused, adding, “...at least, as far as I know you weren’t.”
“Thanks,” she said with a faint smile, glancing at Simon’s map woes, “...are you sure you know where we’re going?”
“I think so,” Simon muttered, glancing up, then back at the map, then back again, “...think so...”
Prue exhaled loudly. “Would you like me to hold the..”
“Got it!” He shouted, making a final turn onto a small side street, going down it a ways before pulling to a stop along the curbside. He glanced forwards, double checking his address, and smiled. “We’re here.”
Prue stared out the window at their surroundings...it was a pretty typical suburban street scene, no question...except for the one place Simon was staring at. The one house that seemed out of the ordinary...quite exceptionally FAR out of the ordinary. It looked to her like a mausoleum, or a haunted castle, and it made her head hurt to see it wedged into this typical idyllic setting the way it was.
“THAT...is where we’re going?” She asked, staring at a vulture circling over the decrepit three-story house, “...are you sure?”
Simon double checked his notes. “1313 Mockingbird Lane,” he read aloud, “...this is the spot. Grab the wine.”
Simon motioned to a delicately wrapped bottle of French white wine, bearing a label - Chateau Picard - that Prue didn’t recognise, nestled in a box in the back seat. She’d been wondering what it was for.
“We’re bringing presents?” she asked, glancing back at the imposing structure ahead, “...how about a crucifix?”
Simon pondered that. “If my briefing was even remotely accurate, that might not be a terrible suggestion. Come on.”
Simon hopped out of the car and Prue reluctantly followed, wine in hand. There were dozens of other cars lining the street, and 1313's driveway. Some looked normal, while some others...
“Is that a hearse?”
Simon stopped and glanced at the car in question, sizing it up. “Looks like,” he had to admit, “...I’m sure everyone’s fine, though. Still nervous?”
“Oh no. Hearses always calm me RIGHT down.”
Walking up towards the front doors, Donovan motioned for Prue to follow. “We’ll just pick our man up and be off,” he told her, “...kind of behind schedule anyways.”
“The way you drive, I don’t doubt...is that a telephone booth?”
Prue stared for a moment at what seemed to be exactly that, settled awkwardly in the front lawn, but Donovan didn’t answer. After a moment she ran after him and joined him at the imposing main doorway. She wasn’t getting any sinister vibes off of the place, which was a good sign...still. Did her first stop after a year of self-imposed exile HAVE to be in what looked to be an abandoned mausoleum?
Donovan rang the front bell (resulting in what sounded more to Prue like a piercing shriek than a gentle buzz, but she dismissed that as simple nerves on her part) and waited. Prue tried to focus on her objective...her new job. Just find this man, this Doctor they’d been sent for and then...what? She realized she didn’t really have a clue what it was she’d just signed up for. The FBI? Since when was she a federal agent? Okay, she’d dated a cop once, but this...
The front door opened in with a loud groaning creak, interrupting Prue’s introspection. She stiffened and glanced forward...and then upwards, into the daunting face of the eight foot tall butler who was standing in the doorway. The man...if that was a correct description of the gaunt, stone-faced creature before them...emitted a low, tremulous moan as way of greeting, staring straight through Simon and Prue with glazed over eyes. Prue let out an involuntary yelp. Donovan seemed unfazed.
A moment later, the door opened all the way, and a woman appeared beside the monstrosity looming over Simon and Prue. She wore a gorgeous black gown, and had striking dark hair streaked with white. Prue guessed her to be in her forties, and not much of a day person from her complexion. A bat-shaped pendant gleamed around her neck. She smiled graciously, stroking the doorman’s arm lovingly.
“Lurch, dear,” she said, “...you’re a guest! Stop working and go enjoy yourself!”
After a moment of what appeared to be deep and slow thought, the creature nodded gravely, giving Prue and Simon a hideous grin before lumbering slowly off into the house. The woman at the door watched him go, then turned smiling to her guests.
“Lillian Munster?” Simon asked, and the woman brightened.
“Why, yes,” she answered, now looking a touch perplexed. “Are you friends of Eddie’s?” she asked, “...because I’m afraid he’s up at the Lake with Randi and their friends. Their annual to-do fell on our party weekend this year, darn the luck. I’d so been looking forward to having Tommy over, now that he’s in the papers and all. Such a nice boy.”
Prue didn’t have a clue what ‘Lillian’ was talking about, but Simon was taking it all in stride. “No ma’am. My name is Simon Donovan...this is Prudence Halliwell, my associate. I’m afraid we’re actually here on official business.”
That seemed to make Lillian concerned, but Simon countered quickly by raising the wine bottle in offering. “Mister Collins sends his regards,” he added, and the smile returned to Lily’s face.
“Oh! You’re friends of Barnabas!” She smiled wide, taking the wine out of Simon’s hands and appraising it gracefully. “Such a darling. Father was so upset he couldn’t make it down. He shouldn’t keep so busy! He’ll start aging at this rate.”
“He sends his apologies, Ma’am,” Simon said, “...but I’m afraid we’ve been sent to take one of your guests away...nothing untoward, of course. A doctor Jonathon Chase?”
“Jonathon? Yes, he’s about somewhere...oh, what a shame. He has such lovely stories! Well, do come in! Come in!”
Lily stepped back, allowing Prue and Simon to walk inside the gloomily-accoutred main hall of the Munster home. Prue thought she had been bang-on with her ‘mausoleum’ analogy earlier. The place was covered in dust and cobwebs, and stank like a tomb. She thought it would be impolite to say anything, though, and put on a brave face.
“You...you have a lovely home, Mrs. Monster,” she said, forcing a smile. Lillian smiled graciously.
“It’s ‘Munster’, dear, and thank you! Feel free to look around, enjoy the party while you’re here! Surely there’s not TOO great a hurry, is there? You only live twice, after all...”
“Um...well, I’d LOVE to of course, but...”
Prue was interrupted by a column of flame spurting forth from beneath a nearby staircase. She jumped back instinctively, noting that even THIS managed to catch Donovan off guard. Lillian just smiled.
“Excuse me,” she said, turning towards the staircase, “...Spot’s getting a bit testy in his old age. Please...mingle!”
Watching Lillian vanish beneath the staircase, to deal with whatever ‘Spot’ was, Prue turned a shaken, and slightly annoyed face towards Simon.
“Okay...where the HELL are we?”
“Breath, Prue...they’re not as weird as they look. I promise.”
“They CAN’T be as weird as they look! Is this a demon lair of some kind? How worried should I be?”
“It’s a party,” Simon said reassuringly, “...just like the lady said. So let’s mingle, and find our man.”
Prue was about to answer when another pale woman, again dressed head to toe in black, suddenly appeared before them both. She fixed Prue and Simon with a ghostly stare, reaching her hands up and gently stroking each of their cheeks. Prue tried not to recoil, and wondered just how weird was considered acceptable in this crazy house.
“You’re both dead,” the woman muttered dreamily, prompting a worried reaction from both of them. The woman just grinned.
“...I like that,” she finished, letting her hands fall to her sides. “I’m Wednesday. I like to play with dolls.”
Prue stared at the woman, who appeared to be a few years older than her, curiously. “Well...well, that’s just great, Wednesday...say, you wouldn’t know where we could find a Doctor...”
“Wednesday!”
The shout came from a worn sofa across the room, where Prue and Simon could see one of the fattest men they’d ever laid eyes on sprawling over it’s surface. He was a slovenly mess, folds of skin spilling out from his ill-fitting rags of clothing. He was sloppily feeding himself from a bucket of squid to his side. The seemed, from Prue’s vantage point, to still be alive as he tore into them with his blackened teeth.
“Wednesday, come here! Take a sniff! I’ve soiled myself again! HAAA haa ha haa!! Hee hee hee...”
The man on the sofa giggled and spat up deliriously, still-writhing squid spilling over his filthy gut. Prue felt ill. Wednesday stared lovingly.
“Sweet Puggsley,” she said, sighing, “...he gets more handsome every year. Don’t you think?”
Wednesday turned expectantly towards Prue and Simon, and Prue glanced over at Simon. “The sooner we find this guy, the sooner we can leave, right?”
Simon nodded, and Prue did the same. “Let’s get going.”
Prue practically dragged Simon past Wednesday, making it almost out of the living room when a teenage girl met them at the hallway entrance, carrying a tray of cookies. Each cookie was fresh out of the oven...gingerbread men. Prue noted quickly that none of them had heads.
“Hello!” The girl smiled like a good hostess, holding the tray out generously. “I’m Sarah Tucker. Would you like a cookie? Get ‘em quick, before...”
There was a sudden rustling behind Sarah, followed by an inhuman snarling. Down the hallway, Prue could make out a strange creature, vaguely humanoid in appearance, but covered in a mottled mass of blue fur and glaring like a lunatic down their way. It slobbered and shook in a frenzy.
“COOOO-KIEEEEEEE!!”
The dwarfish creature made a furious start for the tray, his huge mouth opened wide. Instinctively, Prue spread her arms out and caught the beast in a telekinetic web, halting his progress. He seemed almost unaware, keeping his obsessed gaze straight ahead, swatting furiously at the air.
“COOO-KIEEE!” it shouted again, drooling considerably. Sarah stared in surprise.
“Golly...how’d you DO that?” She turned to Prue. “Are you a friend of my Mothers?”
Simon edged closer, putting a hand on Prue’s tense shoulder. “Easy, Prue...we’re guests, remember?”
“Are you kidding me?” She fired back, “...that thing is gonna friggin’ EAT us!”
“Oh no,” Sarah said, turning, “...he’s really very friendly! Just has a bit of a sweet tooth, is all. It’s okay.”
The girl grinned, holding up the tray. The creature grew more agitated.
“Just let him go, Prue,” Simon soothed, “...don’t worry.”
Prue hesitated, glancing from the creature writhing in her magical grip, to Sarah’s calm, smiling face. She narrowed her eyes.
“If that thing bites my face off,” she said tersely, “....I quit. Got that?”
“Fair enough.”
Reluctantly, Prue released her hold on the creature, though remained alert as the beast hit the floor running, upending Sarah’s tray and ravenously scarfing down the contents in a frenzy. Simon let out a small ‘eww’, as Sarah threw her hands up playfully.
“Here we go again,” she said, turning back towards the kitchen. “Granny Addams! Grizelda! We need more cookies...”
Sarah walked away towards the kitchen, and Simon moved himself and Prue away from the creature, content gorging itself on it’s cookies. Prue stared at the beast for a second longer before focussing on Simon.
“I think we should split up,” he suggested, “...we’ll cover the ground faster.”
“Are you sure? If there are more things like...THAT around here...”
“Try to think of them as ...eccentric,” Simon said, recalling his briefing on what to expect (an altogether too-short briefing, he was now thinking) here at the Munster household. “You’ll be fine.”
Prue took a deep breath. “You’re right,” she said finally, “...there’s no malice here. Just kinda...creepy, you know? Ooky.”
“We’re Federal agents, Prue. We can handle ooky. You check upstairs,” he said, pointing towards the staircase, “....I’ll look out back. Meet back down here?”
Prue nodded, and the split up, Simon heading carefully past the seemingly-satiated blue creature and out down the hall. Prue turned back to the staircase, ignoring Wednesday and Puggsley on the sofa, and not thinking about the wisp of smoke still filtering out from underneath the ancient steps, and started climbing. This Doctor they’d been sent to retrieve had better be worth the trip, she thought to herself. And hopefully, he wasn’t a blue, cookie-gobbling dwarf, either.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Prue immediately heard voices coming from one of the rooms along the darkened hall. The door was ajar, and she stepped closer to get a better listen. She could make out four...no, five female voices.
She wasn’t looing for a woman, Prue thought with a frown. Still, someone in there might know where to look in this labyrinth of a house.
“Here goes nothing,” Prue breathed, and pushed the door open, walking inside.
Inside was a bedroom, sparsely decorated...a spare room, perhaps. There were five women inside, two on the bed, three in chairs. All were sipping on wine of some kind and seemed quite pleased with themselves. Most of them seemed older than Prue herself, but were all still very striking. A blonde in one of the chairs was leaning forward, grilling a dark-haired, power-suited woman with glee.
“...can’t believe you became a lawyer!” The blonde said with a tipsy giggle, “...isn’t that cheating?”
The suit dismissed the notion with a wave. “You sound like my ex! There is no cheating, Tabby. There’s only winning.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said another blond, wearing a gorgeous blue dress. All the women raised their glasses and drank. As they did so, one of the women noticed Prue and waved her in.
“Hey, come on in honey! Join the party!”
A little awkward under the sudden attention, Prue took a few steps inside. “Uhh...hi,” she said weakly. It had been a long time since she’d socialized, and she felt a little rusty. The blond woman who’d been talking a moment ago looked Prue over.
“You need a drink!” She said, and before Prue could respond the woman scrunched up her face and made an odd, nose-waggling expression. A second later, Prue found a full glass of wine popping into her grip. She stared, astonished.
“You’re...you’re witches?” She asked, stunned, and the blond just shrugged and smiled.
“Not all of us,” the woman in the blue dress added, “...I only dabble, really.”
“And I’ve just got a little something...extra, myself,” the suit said, giggling as she did so. The woman who’d ushered Prue in clapped her on the back.
“We’re all congratulating Sally here on her new job, the little cheat.”
“It’s not cheating!”
“At ease, girlfriend,” the blonde said, raising her glass again, “...to the newest lawyer at McKenzie, Brackman, Morales and McBeal!”
“Cheers!”
And everyone took another drink, although Prue only sipped. Best not get wasted on her first job...or gig, or whatever you called this sort of work. She’d ask later.
“I’m Sally Barton,” the toastee finally said, introducing herself in Prue’s direction, “...nice to meet you.”
“Thanks,” Prue said, waving, “...I’m Prue.”
“Tabitha,” the blonde woman said, smiling Prue’s way.
“Amanda,” the other woman on the bed said, “...Amanda Tucker. Hi!”
“Enchantee,” said a stunningly figured, long-haired woman, rising from her chair to greet Prue. She held out one impossibly thin wrist as greeting. “Morticia Addams. Wonderful to meet you, Prue darling.”
“I’m Marilyn Munster,” the woman in the blue dress said, also rising, “...welcome. Are you a friend of Eddie’s?”
Prue shook her head. “No, actually. I’m here with...well, okay. I don’t know if I can actually tell you who I’m here with...I’m new to this...”
The women stared curiously as Prue fumbled with her story. She should have practiced in the hall, she scolded herself.
“I’m doing this wrong...I’m here for...I hate to say ‘official business’, it’s such a cliche, but...”
Sally suddenly opened her eyes wide in surprise. “You’re with the League,” she blurted out, as if the words weren’t hers, “...you’re here to recruit someone!”
“What?” Prue blanched. “How did you...I’m with the what?”
“Really?” Tabitha leaned forward, very intrigued. “My Mother used to tell me stories all the time! Who are you here for? One of us?”
“Oh, I hope it’s not me,” Amanda said, “...I’m retired!”
“Whoa! Hold on.” Prue glared at Sally. “How did you...nevermind. I’m sorry, I...I’ve been out of the loop for a while, y’know?”
“Now now,” Morticia said, wrapping a mothering arm over Prue’s shoulders and casting a downcast gaze at the group, “...let’s not gang up on the poor thing. It’s not festive.”
Everyone fidgeted guiltily for a moment. “Sorry,” Sally finally said, “...kind of a reflex. Didn’t mean to spill any beans.”
“If there’s anyone in specific you’re looking for, dear, maybe we could help.” Marilyn extended a friendly hand, and Prue smiled. She’d forgotten what it was like to feel like...like you were among friends.
“I’m trying to find a man, a Doctor...Chase? God, I suck with names...”
“Jonathon? Is he here?” Amanda asked aloud, looking about the room. Morticia crinkled her pale, flawless brow.
“I think I saw him earlier...”
“I saw him talking with Kevin earlier,” Tabitha said, looking over at Marilyn, “...Mar, didn’t you date him for a while?”
Marilyn looked wistful. “Jonathon? Oh, once or twice, but...you know how it is. I’ll never hold a man with these looks.”
Prue looked thoughtfully at Marilyn, who despite being probably in her fifties was still quite stunning. Morticia let go of Prue and shook Marilyn’s arm.
“No more of that talk, Marilyn. I keep telling you...personality is everything.”
“He can’t be far,” Sally said, shifting on the bed, “...just ask around. Clings to the shadows, that one, but this IS a party.”
“I could run downstairs, ask Sarah if she’s seen him,” Amanda added, prompting Prue to make the connection in her head.
“Amanda Tucker,” she recalled, “...then...Sarah’s your daughter? I just met her downstairs.”
“Oh? How’s she doing down there?”
Prue nodded. “Good, good...” She paused, reluctantly adding, “...a fuzzy blue monster ate all her cookies, though.”
Amanda just clucked her tongue and grinned ruefully. “Every year,” she said, “...I always say. Cater.”
Simon wandered down the hallway towards what he was pretty sure was the backyard. He passed the kitchen, peering in and seeing young Sarah from earlier, helping out two...Simon hated to use the word ‘hags’, but nothing else really fit. There was a lot of bubbling and boiling going on, and he decided to carry on.
As he walked, he came upon what must be the entrance to the basement. He wondered for a moment if he should go down and take a look...although it really WAS really, really spooky looking down there. He wasn’t telling Prue he thought that.
Before he could decide on an action, a loud thumping, like oversized footsteps, came echoing up the dark staircase. Simon backed up as far as he could as the footsteps grew progressively louder, and soon enough shapes emerged from the darkness. He recognized the one from his briefing, but the picture hadn’t done him justice.
He was nowhere NEAR this scary in the picture.
Herman Munster towered imposingly over Simon Donovan, his oversized arm draped over a smaller, withered looking man in an old-fashioned tuxedo and long, flowing cape. A cloud of smoke seemed to follow them up the stairs. Simon tried his best to remain calm.
“...I just can’t believe it,” the elderly man said, “...Liam ain’t showing again this year?”
“Now, Grampa,” Herman said in an entirely different voice than Simon had envisioned, “...you know he likes to be called ‘Angel’ now.”
“Ahh, I know,” Grampa said testily, “...I just like teasing the little fruitcake is all. HAAAA ha ha!!”
Herman suddenly bellowed with a rasping laugh of his own, causing Simon to tense up. Friendly, he thought, recalling his briefing. He’s very, very friendly.
After several moments of laughter, Herman seemed to finally notice Simon, clinging to the opposite wall. He grinned from ear to ear and waved.
“Well, hello there, fella!” He said loudly, “...welcome to the party! I’m Herman! This’s Grampa,”
The wizened, chalk-faced man bared a toothful grin. His teeth were stained red. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said. Simon swallowed.
“Simon Donovan,” he said, finding his courage at laet, and trying to ignore the powerful stench of rot and decay coming off his two new friends. “Good to meet you both. You really know how to throw a party.”
“You betcha!” Grampa agreed noisily, peering down the hallway, “...now where’s that daughter of mine? I got a good hand waiting down there! Think I finally got Lacroix on the ropes!”
“Just watch out for your brother,” Herman said, “...you know how he likes to count cards. LILY!”
Simon winced as Herman bellowed for his wife, who appeared around the corner, rather indignant, shortly.
“Honestly, Herman, you’ll bring the house down!” Lily said, frowning, until she saw Simon standing there.
“Ahh, you’ve met our guest!” Lily looked over at her father. “Papa, Simon here works for Barnabas!”
“Barney?” Grampa seemed to brighten up (such as he was able) at that mention. “Why, that rascal! I remember one time me, him and Skorzeny were tearing it up in Paris...”
“Lily, have we got some more blood?” Herman asked, interrupting Grampa’s reminiscences, “...they’re getting thirsty down there.”
“I think Frightenstein’s had enough,” Grampa noted, “...keeps moaning about ‘Brucie’ like he’s in love, the poor sap.”
“He’s just homesick, Grampa. How about it, Lily?”
Lily put her hands on her hips. “There’s a fresh cask in the pantry like there always is,” she explained patiently, “...honestly, you boys.”
Herman smiled like a guilty schoolboy, shuffling down the hall past Lily towards the pantry. “Now Papa,” she said sternly to Grampa, remaining behind, “...don’t indulge too much. You know how you can get...”
Grampa barked defensively. “Aaah, you sound like those Mansbridge quacks. I can hold my O-negative!”
“Of course, Papa. I just worry...you’re not 300 anymore, you know...”
“Excuse me,” Simon piped up, wanting to seize the opportunity while he had it. Lily’s eyes sparkled with recognition.
“Oh yes! Papa, Simon here was looking for Jonathon. Have you seen him about?”
“What, Chase? Not fer a while...I remember seein’ him and Gomez yakkin’ a few hours ago, but that’s it.”
“Ah well. And is Gomez behaving himself?”
“I think Elvira’s gonna slap him in a minute,” Herman interjected, stepping forward with a 50 lb. cask slung over his shoulder like it was weightless, “...and I don’t want to miss THAT. C’Mon, Grampa.”
Herman twisted himself and the cask through the doorway to the basement, Grampa following along. “Coming, fella?”
Simon smiled politely. “Maybe later. Thanks anyway.”
“Suit yerself...hey, try the yard. I think I saw Chase headed that way a while ago. Let’s go, Herman. I wanna see the looks on those Brujah clowns faces when I take all their money!”
With that, and some more loud stomping, Herman and Grampa vanished back down into the cellar. Lily turned back towards the kitchen, leaving Simon alone. He didn’t linger long, moving down the hall towards the backyard. He was suddenly anxious for some fresh air...something about the tomb-like quality of the air in the house, he decided.
In a minute Simon emerged into the reasonably fresh air of the backyard, where several partygoers were circulating. There was a huge pool out back...except, Simon immediately took note, there were no walls surrounding it. It was just a huge block of water, existing seemingly of it’s own free will in suburbia. It even had weeds and fish throughout, like someone had dropped a small chunk of the ocean in the backyard. There were several monstrous creatures frolicking about within it’s confines. Hideous, shambling monstrosities with octopoid limbs, they gave Simon chills. But they seemed quite content where they were, playing with a pair of giant alligators, so he opted to ignore them.
He sidestepped the water hole, making his way to a table of revellers, when he spotted something even more wholly bizarre out of the corner of his eye. About three metres above the water two people were...floating, as it were. One was a stout fellow with a ridiculous looking grin on his face. The other was a dazzling blonde in some sort of belly-dancers outfit. They were casting sparkles of light at one another, making the air around them shift and change...looking at them for too long gave Simon a headache. He got so distracted he walked right into a man reclining in a lawn chair.
“Hey! Mind the merchandise!”
“Sorry!” Simon said witha start, cursing his clumsiness, “...pardon me, I’m...I’m...”
“Well?” the man asked, sipping on a cocktail with lips that appeared to Simon to be stuffed with straw, “...out with it, junior!”
“Uh...Donovan. Simon. Pleasure.”
The straw man smiled. “Call me Worzel,” he said, “...some shindig, huh?”
“It definitely is that...say, what’s with those two characters? Just curious...”
Simon motioned towards the floaters, and Worzel cracked another grin. “Who, the genies? They don’t get to cut loose too often. They did the water...now they got a bet goin’ as to which of them can invert the most dimensions around the other. Try not to look directly at them.”
“Gotcha,” Simon replied, figuring that was as good an explanation as any. “Say, do you know where I could find...”
Simon paused again, noticing the table to Worzel’s right. A mess of empty and half empty drink glasses were strewn about, being variously drunk by three quite sauced (and one unconscious) guests. All four of them were on the table as well, and none of them was more than six inches high.
Worzel caught the stare and laughed. “Never mind the midgets,” he said, “...though you gotta envy ‘em. Sure is easy to get a drunk on when yer that small, eh boys?”
Worzel knocked the table with one straw-packed hand, rattling the glasses and toppling one of the drinkers off his ashtray perch.
“Hey, watch it, ya rotten scarecrow!” the man bellowed, shaking a fist. “Pick on s-someone your own size! You’ll wake B.J.”
“Ah, calm down, Frye,” Worzel said, ignoring the little man as he pointed to a sleeping woman curled up beside an empty bottle, “...I’m just havin’ some fun!”
Frye righted himself again, and a black man beside him wobbled unsteadily. “I-I gotta siddown.”
“You...*hic*...you alright, Elvin? You look a little green...”
“AHH, yer both pansies, I tell ya!” A third man, dressed like a leprechaun boasted, dunking his head into a shot glass of whiskey. “I’ll drink the lot of ya right back t’Ireland! I’m aitch-a-double-arr-eye-...URRRP!”
The wee Irish man suddenly fell backwards with a tiny crack, and Worzel roared with laughter. Simon himself was too stunned to find the humour. He wanted to get out of here.
“Anyone here seen a man called Jonathon Chase? It’s rather important.”
None of the miniatures seemed to hear, but Worzel glanced back at Simon with interest. He nodded knowingly.
“Yeah, I seen ‘im. He was talkin’ to hizzoner the mayor about an hour ago. Ask him.”
“Mayor..?”
Simon looked in the direction Worzel was pointing, and saw a tall man in a sleek suit leaning against a tree. He played idly on a flute, and wore a sash around his torso with the word ‘MAYOR’ emblazoned upon it. Simon didn’t know what this guy imagined he was Mayor OF, but didn’t much care at ths point. He thanked Worzel and made his way across the lawn towards the flutist.
“Excuse me,” he said, coming to a halt beside the man, “...umm...mister Mayor?”
The man pulled the flute away from his lips and smiled politely. Simon was not very surprised when the flute kept right on playing by itself.
“Call me James.”
Prue said her goodbyes and left the witch room, having collected several phone numbers and e-mail addresses and made promises to keep in touch. It gave her a flush to have actually bonded with people after all this time...witches, no less. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all...
She started heading back up the hallway, and was immediately confronted by the sight of two men, each decidedly handsome, chatting away not far ahead. One of them had short dark hair, and was speaking in an accent that Prue couldn’t quite place...maybe Scottish. The other was, surprisingly, extremely familiar to her. She felt an odd flutter of schoolgirl glee. What was HE doing here?
“Thought I’d caught up to you during the French Revolution,” the dark-haired man said idly, leaning against a wall, “...but it was just some guy taking inspiration from your stories. I fought for a while with his band, and the Fox and Pimpernel.”
“I think I heard about them,” the other man replied, arms crossed, “...I was travelling with Gulliver at the time. We were charting the ruins of Aperans. Thought for sure he’d retire after that, but instead he heads right into government work.”
“Old Gulliver,” the dark haired man said with a smile, “...born adventurer, that one. I miss him.”
“Me too. I remember once he...”
“Excuse me...”
Both men turned, staring at Prue, who was standing with a silly grin on her face and wringing her hands together. She felt like an idiot.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was just...I mean, are you...”
She paused, trying not to sound TOO stupid. She stared up at the lighter-haired man, who stared back inquisitively.
“...are you Kevin Sorbo?”
“Uhh...”
The question seemed to catch him off guard, and he shared a quick glance with his dark-haired companion. He just shrugged, grinning.
“Well...Yeah, I am, actually...”
“Wow. This is such...it’s an honour, really. My sisters and I all had SUCH crushes on you!”
The dark haired man chuckled, and Kevin reddened slightly. “Well, that’s very kind, miss..?”
“Oh! Sorry. I’m Prue.”
Prue stuck her hand out, and Kevin took it gently. “Pleasure. This is my friend Duncan,” he said, motioning to the man beside him. He gave a small salute.
“How do you do?”
“Great...I’m great...”
Stop being a dork, Prue told herself sternly. No dorky!
“And...are you a guest at the party, Prue..?”
Kevin sounded oddly skeptical, as if he knew that Prue was out of place here. She smiled bashfully. “No, no, actually. I’m kind of here on official business,” Prue said, kicking herself inwardly for resorting to the cliche line, “...I’m looking for someone. A Doctor Chase?”
“Jonathon?” Duncan asked, looking at Kevin, “...he’s here, right?”
Kevin nodded. “Yeah, I just left him upstairs. He’s in the tea room. You should still be able to catch him.”
“Great! Thank you!” Prue gushed, clapping her hands together quickly and darting in between Kevin and Duncan. She turned as she passed them, smiling.
“It was so great meeting you! Thank you so much!”
Prue darted off towards the stairs to the third floor, waving madly as she went. Kevin and Duncan watched her go until she was out of sight.
“Strange girl,” Kevin finally said, leaning back against the wall. Duncan nodded.
“She’s a fan of yours, that goes without saying,” he said grinning, “...guess she hasn’t seen your new show.”
“Shut up. Hey, how’s Amanda doing? I haven’t seen her since I kept her and Savage from stealing Prospero’s books.”
“Oh, she’s keeping busy. Same old Amanda.”
Shaking off her stargazing, Prue bounded onto the third floor of the Munster home, eager now to find her quarry and get on the road again. Being a part of the world again...even this weird part...was feeling strangely right to her. She’d missed it.
Here, Prue thought...this looks like a tea room. She stepped cautiously into the chamber in question, and found a quaintly decorated room, like something out of the Victorian era. Dusty as hell, like the rest of the house, but pretty in it’s way. There were a few antique metal chairs about, around a table with a set of cups upon it. Unfortunately, no one was in the room...just a carpet all rolled up and teetering on one of the chairs.
“Nuts,” Prue muttered, ready to exit and continue looking, when the carpet in the chair suddenly turned, emitting a high-pitched squeaking noise in her direction. She leapt back.
“GAAHHH! What the...?”
The...whatever it was in the chair, apparently not a carpet at all, but still looking like little but a mass of hair clumped together, continued to shrill at Prue, and she slowly calmed herself. Was this thing trying to talk to her?
A Terrible thought occurred to Prue then, and she gritted her teeth and approached the thing in the chair. She forced a smile, and hesitantly asked the question, not really knowing how she would be able to understand the answer.
“Are...are you Doctor Chase..?”
Please say no, please say no, please say no...
A second door swung open just then, and two men walked casually into the tea room, one of them carrying a fresh pot. Prue looked over towards the both of them, both strikingly handsome and immaculately dressed. The one with curlier hair was a little more...eccentricly clad than his dark-suited friend, but still nice. They were heavy into conversation as they entered, and didn’t seem to notice Prue right off. Both spoke with English accents.
“You’re serious?” The man in the dark suit asked, his short, light hair betraying only a small hint of gray around the temples, “...you actually kissed one of your companions?”
“Well, you’ve got to understand, it was a particularly traumatic regeneration that time! I was feeling a touch euphoric. I think I may be getting more passionate in my old age.”
Both men smiled, taking seats on either side of the hair-thing. “So? How was it?”
As he poured fresh cups, the eccentric man narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Quite nice, in fact. Lovely girl, Grace.”
Taking his cup in hand, the dark suited man grinned like a cat. “Well, I told you years ago you should try that with Sarah Jane, didn’t I?”
“And you’ll tell me again,” the other man added, suddenly turning towards Prue and flashing a warm smile. “Hello. Tea?”
Prue had a bit of a start at the sudden query, and tried to keep the shock from her face. She mostly succeeded.
“Oh...no, no thank you.”
The man kept smiling. “Are you a friend of It?”
Prue was lost. “A friend of who?”
“No. It.” the man repeated, nudging his head towards the pile of hair next to him. It squealed playfully.
“OH! It...right. Of course. No, we...we just met, actually. Pleasure’s all mine.”
The man smiled contentedly, sizing Prue up. “No need to be nervous, Prudence,” he said charmingly, “...you’re among friends. I promise.”
Prue froze. “How...how did you know...?”
“Oh, I know lots of things I’m not supposed to,” the man said mysteriously, sipping his tea, “...bothers a great many people, now I think of it. Perhaps I should just keep quiet sometimes.”
“Little chance of that,” the dark suited man said with a grin. The other man had to concur.
“I’m the Doctor,” he said, introducing himself to Prue with flourish. Prue’s eyes widened.
“Doctor..?” she repeated, “...then, I think you may be the man I’m here to find.”
“Really?” The Doctor asked, excited, “...Well, then it’s fortunate I came, isn’t it? Pardon me not offering you a jelly baby, but I’m afraid Puggsley ate the lot when I arrived.”
“That’s all right,” Prue said, not wanting to know what a Jelly Baby was, “...Doctor, I’m here to...”
“I’m sorry, I’m being unconscionably rude, aren’t I?” the Doctor suddenly said, cutting Prue off, “...You’ve already met It, of course. And this is my dear friend...”
“Jonathon Chase?”
Everyone turned, and Prue saw Simon standing at the exit to the hall, staring in. He was looking directly at the dark-suited man. Prue looked at him, and saw him looking back at Simon with intense interest. She started to realize she’d made a bit of a mistake.
“That’s right,” Chase finally answered, setting his cup down on the table, “...have we met?”
Simon strode into the room, coming to a halt beside Prue. He gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. “No sir,” he said earnestly, “...I’m Simon Donovan, a Federal Agent. Director Collins sent me.”
Recognition played for a moment on Chase’s eyes, and he settled down stiffly into his chair. A cold look passed over him. “Did he now?”
Simon nodded. “Yes sir. I’ve been sent to ask you to come with me to Arizona. There’s a situation.”
“There’s always a situation where Collins is involved,” Chase said sharply, “...he’s got a lot of nerve asking for my help again.”
Prue once again let Simon do the talking...she didn’t know much of the story at this point. But it seemed to her that, whoever this Doctor Chase was, he was none too eager to sign up.
“That’s as may be, Doctor, but we’re still asking. We’ve lost a team.”
Chase’s eyes widened, and he gave It a tap on the shoulder, motioning towards the door. The hairy thing got the message, toddling funnily out of the room. The Doctor, however, remained behind, happily sipping his tea.
“What happened?” Chase demanded, rising out of his chair. Prue was surprised at the intensity he could muster.
“I don’t have many details, sir,” Simon admitted, “...but I’ve been told to tell you that Professor Hinkley was the team’s leader.”
“Hinkley?” Chase seemed stunned at that, and seemed almost about to leap out of his skin. He was angry. “That sweet old man? How did that devil manage to..?”
“They must not think I need to know, Doctor.” Was Simon’s simple reply. Chase fumed for a moment, then sat back down in his chair, grumbling under his breath.
“Cold-blooded bastard...”
“Jonathon,” the Doctor suddenly said, reaching over and touching the back of Chase’s hand, “...I think you should consider this lovely offer. Simon and Prue seem like fine, upstanding young people, don’t they?”
“But you know Collins!” Chase countered, “...you can’t trust him as...”
“I SAID,” the Doctor repeated, staring hard at Chase now, “...I think you should consider this lovely offer. I really, really think you should.”
“What are you...?” Chase began to ask, until he looked at the canary-eating grin on his friend’s face. He sighed in defeat.
“You never used to meddle like this, you know,” he said accusingly, and the Doctor just shrugged.
“Like I said,” he told Chase, preparing to take another sip of tea, “...passionate.”
“Doctor!”
A young woman of about 23 years, with short strawberry-blond hair suddenly burst into the room, looking anxious. The Doctor rose, smiling broadly.
“Emma!” The girl ran over to him, and he put an arm about her shoulders. “Simon, Prudence, this is my good friend Emma Green. She’s just celebrated her first birthday.”
Emma smiled shyly at Simon and Prue, who hadn’t a clue what the Doctor meant by ‘first’ birthday, and didn’t ask. Emma glanced at the Doctor.
“Doctor, Vyvyan is fighting with Sigmund,” she told him, annoyed, “...keeps calling him a ‘giant bogie’.”
The Doctor’s face drooped. “Ah yes. Vyvyan.” He glanced back at Chase. “That might have been one of my rasher decisions, I’ll admit. Small wonder the Minbari have a bounty on his head. I’d better collect him before he causes TOO much damage.”
The Doctor and Emma made their way to the door, where he turned back momentarily.
“Lovely time today, thank you all. Simon,”
The Doctor looked into Donovan’s eyes. “You did the right thing turning IMF down. Try again in two years time. Prudence,”
Prue looked back at the Doctor, who seemed to her to have much older eyes than he should have. “...Open your heart. Let yourself trust again. That’s very important. And Jonathon...”
“Would you stop it?” Chase shouted, trying not to laugh, “...meddle, meddle, meddle! Get back to your box, old man.”
The Doctor laughed and gestured flamboyantly, bowing as he took his leave. Prue and Simon watched him go, then turned back towards Chase. He frowned and, noticing that his teacup was empty, turned it upside down on the table.
“Well,” he said with a sigh, glaring at Prue and Simon with hawklike eyes,
“...I guess the party’s over.”
