Notes: Columbia Ghost Story takes place after the events in The Musicians. The first chapter contains the essentials of the backstory for new readers. I also wrote a post for our blog on the status of the key players at the beginning of the story. The post is called "Destination: Columbia Ghost Story." See the notes at the end of the chapter for more information.
Chapter 1: Tangerine Glow
Columbia University. October 27, 2005. Thursday evening.
"What treasure lies below?" Mozzie murmured, tilting the headlamp on his helmet to shine into the dark cavity in front of him.
He'd found the manhole cover concealed behind steam pipes in a restricted area of the tunnels east of Low Library. Would this be the mother lode?
In the year since Neal introduced him to the network of tunnels lying underneath the Columbia University campus, Mozzie had discovered several lost passageways—a remarkable achievement which, if word ever got out, would place him at the pinnacle of the Columbia spelunking hall of fame. But the grand prize had so far proved elusive. He'd yet to find a way to access the point of origin—the Big Bang from which all tunnels derived.
The earliest tunnels were built of brick. They dated back to the years when the Bloomingdale Insane Asylum occupied the land now owned by the university. The asylum opened in 1821. Considered to be one of the most progressive institutions of its kind, it provided a working farm, orchards, and vegetable gardens for its patients. There were separate villas for wealthy residents. The university bought the land in 1892. The only building currently on campus from asylum times—Buell Hall—was one of those villas.
If Mozzie could access the tunnels from the early 1800s what would he discover? Would he be like Howard Carter peering at the priceless artifacts of Tutankhamun's tomb? Then Neal would rue the day he'd declined joining him on the quest.
Except for a few promising lads like Quint from the SETI working group, Mozzie had failed to convert others to his belief that tunnel slime could prove extraterrestrials had visited Earth. The ooze he'd found on the brick walls of old tunnels might even contain alien sleeper cells waiting to be awakened.
Mozzie patted his knapsack to confirm his collection bags were in place, took a deep breath, and dropped down the manhole.
A short iron ladder led to a brick passage. Pulling out his compass, he checked the direction. As expected, it was heading east—straight to Buell Hall. Mozzie had yet to explore the labyrinth under the building. Would it be the mother ship for alien slime?
The brick tunnel appeared to be the oldest he'd ever explored. He took samples of the mortar for future analysis in his bunker. All the other tunnels in the area were hot from uninsulated steam pipes, but not this one. It may have escaped detection for over a hundred years.
Mozzie's breath quickened. If aliens had indeed visited New York in the nineteenth century as he postulated, the evidence could have remained undisturbed on these walls, hidden from the world. He retrieved a flashlight from his knapsack and began a methodical search of the bricks, hoping against hope for the telltale gelatinous remains—
"Shades of Einstein!"
In front of him was the most miraculous tangerine-colored slime he'd ever discovered. And he was convinced he'd studied examples of every known viscous organism. Nothing came close to the DayGlo-orange beauty in front of him.
He shook off his astonishment. Documentation was vital. Who knew what disaster could befall? The wall could crumble away and he'd be left with nothing. He first took out his custom camera and shot several photos from different distances, finishing off with his macro lens. Then it was time for the sampling. His heart raced at a speed which formerly only his girlfriend Janet had caused during intense exchanges of pheromonal bliss. Painstakingly he scraped two, no three teaspoons of slime into the waiting containers. That still left an ample amount undisturbed.
A slight breeze penetrated the passageway. Where was the coolness coming from? Was there an opening to the upper world? He turned around and his mouth dropped. Tangerine-colored gas was seeping from a crack in the wall. He watched spellbound as it coalesced into something roughly his height and assumed the appearance of . . . a man in a frock coat with a bushy beard and mutton chops.
Mozzie swallowed as the figure drew closer. The features were distinct but curiously translucent. This was no man, this was a . . .
With a piercing shriek guaranteed to freeze it in its tracks, Mozzie bolted for the manhole.
WCWCWCWCWCWCWC
"That's right. It was a ghost." Neal paused to enjoy the mixture of amusement, skepticism, and fearful belief on his team members' faces. The moment made it worth being awakened from a sound sleep by a frantic Mozzie babbling about tangerine goo.
When Neal arrived at work the following morning, he convoked an emergency briefing in the breakroom for Diana, Jones, and, of course, their tech and SETI expert Travis. It was truly unfortunate that Peter was in a meeting with Hughes. The silver lining was that after the account Neal had just related to the others, he'd be able to deliver an even more spectacular performance for their commander.
"Did you see the slime?" Diana demanded, always the skeptic.
Neal nodded earnestly. "I'd say the shade is closer to pumpkin than tangerine, but it's definitely spectacular."
"Was it worth the four of you lollygagging while the rest of us work?" Peter asked pointedly, walking up from behind.
"Mozzie found a ghost in the tunnels under Columbia," Jones explained.
"A Victorian ghost, no less," Diana pointed out. "The historical reference is a nice touch."
Neal handed him the drawing. "Mozz insisted I make a sketch from his description."
Peter snorted his disbelief. Diana's reaction had been similar. "Did the ghost chase him? Harm him in any way?"
"He fled before the ghost had a chance," Neal explained. "Under sufficient duress, Mozzie can sprint with the best of them."
"He's pranking you," Peter declared. "This sounds like the time Mozzie dressed up in a Ghostbusters' costume to check out June's closets. The speakeasy party will be this Sunday. He's laying the groundwork."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Travis countered. "He has samples of viscous ooze. He was lucky he wasn't slimed."
"Not our jurisdiction," Peter noted with satisfaction.
"But it is someone else's," Diana pointed out. "Did Mozzie contact the Winchesters?"
"He plans to," Neal confided, happy to provide the evidence Mozzie wasn't joking.
"Are you going to let Henry know?" Jones asked. "He's coming to the party. If Mozzie intends to turn it into a poltergeist bash, he should be warned."
And Henry wasn't the only one sensitive to phantoms. Jones was right there with him.
"There will be no hijacking of this event," Diana said firmly. "This is not a Halloween fright night. We're celebrating the successful takedown of Klaus and Rolf Mansfeld."
"And the contributions your Arkham Files stories made to that success," Peter added.
She nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, boss. Our clothes will be symbolic of the disguises Rolf and Klaus used on us and our successful counterattacks. They are not Halloween costumes."
"You could consider our attire a tribute to the costumes we wore to the gaming convention N-Con last October," Jones said. "That case was when we obtained confirmation of Rolf's malware."
Neal raised his coffee mug to them. "And now, a year later, we can celebrate the demise of Azathoth."
"I've heard that some intend to wear the same outfits they wore to N-Con," Travis said, slanting a glance at Diana.
Mozzie's girlfriend Janet, who was a costume designer, had generously arranged for costumes through a wholesale supplier. For the gaming convention last autumn, the team wore Roman costumes. Diana's Cleopatra look was a particular favorite. Would she resurrect her role? Neal knew better than to tease her about it in advance, but Diana's girlfriend Christie had met her when Diana was wearing the costume. She'd likely insist on an encore.
Peter filled his FBI mug with the team's custom blend of swill. "You have ten minutes, folks, till the morning briefing. I expect your complete focus to be on Bureau cases. I'm sure you remember there's no mention of slime of any color on the agenda."
As the others scattered, Neal lingered to talk with Peter. "The party will prevent you from having your traditional Halloween stargazing weekend at the cabin. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all. As it turns out, Joe asked if he could have it for the weekend."
Last year Peter's brother had proposed to Noelle at the cabin over the Halloween weekend. When Neal, Peter, and El unexpectedly showed up, they'd inadvertently crashed their secret getaway. "They'll appreciate being left in peace this year."
Peter nodded. "Their Halloween getaway has the appearance of a new tradition. I plan to switch the stargazing weekend to the spring."
"A Messier Marathon?"
"You remembered!"
"You told me about it last summer during the astro camp for kids. One night to binge on deep sky objects, as I recall."
Peter nodded. "The weekend of April first is supposed to have excellent viewing. I've already earmarked it on my calendar. Any chance I could persuade you to join us?"
"Count me in. After the previous round of practical jokes on April Fools' Day, Henry might seek a grudge match. The cabin should be far enough away to avoid any retaliation."
"Good thinking. I've already told El to keep her schedule free. She couldn't have gone this weekend because of her community theater production. She won't be able to use that excuse in the spring."
El would make her debut as Gillian the witch in Bell, Book and Candle tomorrow night. Neal, as well as many of the other team members, planned to attend. Because of it, the speakeasy party had been postponed to Sunday.
"Electra wrote that she'll be at the premiere," Peter added. "With her foundation providing the subsidy, the players' nerves are heightened to a fevered pitch."
Electra Stavrou was the owner of the Elysian Bookstore in New Haven and served on the board of her family's foundation. The store was known for having the best collection of art books on the East Coast, and Electra enhanced its reputation by holding monthly soirées for young artists. Her foundation had endeared itself to Columbia University last month when it rescued a marsh next to the university boathouse which had been slated for development.
"El's cheerleaders will be there in force," Neal said. "Mozzie, Janet, Angela, and Michael plan to attend. In addition, I heard from Aidan that he and Keiko will be there."
Peter smiled. "What with the White Collar contingent coming too, we may sell out the playhouse by ourselves."
"Henry's sorry that he won't be back in time, but he and Eric return from Guatemala late that evening."
Peter lowered his voice. "You swear Mozzie's not dreamed up the ghost for Henry's benefit?"
"Positive." Neal paused to check no one was within earshot. "I have a favor to ask."
"What's that?"
"A while back you offered to run interference with any would-be matchmakers. I'd like to take you up on it."
Peter chuckled. "Do you realize how good that sounds? I'll take scheming matchmakers any day over the Mansfelds."
"Me too," Neal agreed. Peter didn't know that Neal and Sara had been secretly dating for two months. Mozzie was the only one privy to their con, and Neal hoped to keep it that way for a few more weeks. Henry had been the driving force behind their subterfuge. For over a year, he'd been scheming to bring them together without ever directly asking them if they were interested in each other. Neal and Sara intended to reciprocate in the best way possible. They intended to plant clues to let him guess their secret but on their own timetable. And the first salvo would be to blow some smoke his way. "Henry's protective instincts are still in overdrive."
Peter smiled. "And you're not interested in his chaperone service, I imagine."
"Exactly. I have a date planned for next Friday and would like to keep it private. I noticed Dark Universe is playing at the Haydn Planetarium. If he asks about me, could you lead him to think that you and I are going to see it on Friday?"
"I'll be happy to, especially if you agree to a raincheck."
"Gladly."
"Good, I'll make sure it doesn't conflict with a date night. El's evenings are taken up by the play. I can tell Henry that the event is to make up for the cancellation of our Halloween stargazing. He just won't know we'll be seeing it at another time." He paused for a moment. "Have you considered Henry may have a partner?"
"Namely your wife? The thought occurred to me, especially with the romantic plot going on in Diana's stories. Henry claims he doesn't read them, but I have a hard time believing that's true."
"I do, too. Since he's not a member of the Arkham Round Table writing group, he'd need to prevail on someone to be an intermediary."
"And El's the logical choice." He was delighted that Peter spotted the conspiracy without being prompted. Neal was tempted to go ahead and tell him about Sara. But if he did, he'd place Peter in the decidedly awkward position of having to keep it a secret from his wife.
"El and Henry have conspired before," Peter noted. "It's only fair for us to reciprocate."
"My sentiments exactly."
"This will be our secret."
WCWCWCWCWCWCWC
When Sam got off the phone, he headed outside in search of his brother. They were spending the day with Bobby in New Jersey. The house was a loaner from a fellow hunter named Rufus who'd accumulated various safe houses throughout the country. The place was nothing to brag about, but it had a well-stocked garage ideal for their purposes. Dean hoped a new fan belt would silence the annoying high-pitched scream the Impala made whenever he slammed on the brake. It sounded eerily like a banshee had hitchhiked a ride.
As expected, Dean and Bobby were performing surgery on the Impala parked on the driveway.
"Mozzie called," Sam told them. "Anyone hear of tangerine ectoplasm?"
"Sure." Dean grunted as he tightened a pulley. "Commonly seen at frat houses during beer parties."
Bobby wiped his hands on a rag. "That don't sound like Mozzie's gig. Where'd he find it?"
"In an old brick tunnel under Columbia University." Sam paused for a moment before mentioning the clincher. "He also claims he saw a ghost."
Dean smiled. "Now it's beginning to sound like Mozzie. Where was it?"
"At the same spot. He saw it emerge from the wall in an orange fog. He didn't linger to see what it'd do next. Luckily, he'd already collected samples, thinking he'd found a new type of slime. When he got home, he used a meter on the goo. Supposedly the EMF reading was off the chart."
"That's no ordinary slime, then." Bobby exhaled noisily. "Orange fog, orange ectoplasm . . . Now where have I read about that? Give me a minute. It'll come to me."
An hour later, helped along by a shot of whiskey, Bobby found the source in an old journal which was all that was left of a German hunter from the nineteenth century.
Dean and Sam pulled up chairs to sit at the battered pine dining table while Bobby searched the contents of the ledger-sized notebook.
"Orange ectoplasm is the sign of an eidolon," Bobby explained.
"Eidolon . . . " Dean repeated slowly, looking thoughtful. "I've heard that word before."
"It's the Greek word for ghost," Sam supplied, "but I don't know if it has any special significance."
Bobby jabbed his finger at the journal. "This hunter found the answer. We've all had to deal with our share of mean spirits who are thirsting for blood, vengeance, or whatever injustice they're bellyaching about. According to this hunter, their home away from home is Oblivion."
"That some kind of underworld?" Dean asked.
Bobby nodded. "It's an ancient concept. Goes back to the Greeks and Romans. Oblivion is the realm of dark spirits—vampires, witches, vengeful spirits. Once you chop off a vampire's head, its spirit—soul or whatever you want to call it—winds up there. Occasionally one of the dark spirits returns to the living world. That's an eidolon. Supposedly eidolons don't necessarily kill, at least not right away. The hunter wrote he came across some victims who looked like they were in a deep sleep. They died two days later."
Dean set down his beer bottle and frowned. "Did the hunter clue us in on how to send them back to Oblivion?"
"Nope." Bobby took a swig of whiskey. "That chore's on us."
Dean grimaced. "Typical."
Bobby turned a page of the journal and pulled out what appeared to be a sheet of vellum.
"What's that?" Sam asked. Anything out of vellum had to be very old and probably valuable.
"That's what I've been asking myself," Bobby said, scowling at it. "It was inserted next to the passage about Oblivion. It's ancient. I can tell you that much. That's fine grade sheepskin like I've seen on some manuscripts of the early Christian era. I think the writing's Coptic. You take a look." He handed it to Sam.
Dean raised a brow. "You're the egghead in the family. What's the verdict?"
"I was studying law at Stanford, not ancient languages."
"Then maybe you should call Maia," Dean suggested. "I knew there was a good reason for you to date a classics scholar."
"Dean's right," Bobby urged. "The Copts were active during the Greco-Roman era. If she can't decipher it, she probably knows someone who can. Maia hobnobs with scholars at Yale and Columbia. Someone must read Coptic."
Bobby didn't need to press. Any excuse to see Maia was fine by Sam. "She mentioned she'll spend Samhain with Chloe in New York. I could take the manuscript to her next week."
Dean chuckled. "This is beginning to smell like a setup. Chloe mentioned the festival to me too. Her Wicca coven is holding a bonfire ceremony in Riverside Park."
"Hey, I didn't invent the orange ectoplasm." Sam said, "but it'd be stupid not to take advantage of it." He turned to Bobby. "If this is a spirit coming out of Oblivion, isn't it our duty to investigate it?"
"Yeah," he rumbled. "He's not popping in to go trick-or-treating I warrant. If this is an eidolon, you'll find out soon enough . . . by the corpses. Stay sharp, boys."
WCWCWCWCWCWCWC
After Mozzie's encounter, there were no additional reports of ghosts at Columbia. Neal was thankful Mozzie had his new buddy Quint to accompany him in his tunnel forays. Neal's calendar was already booked. That Saturday, he and fellow musketeers Richard and Aidan had a fencing competition in the morning. The premiere of El's play was in the evening, and the speakeasy party was scheduled for the next day.
He and Sara didn't attend El's play as a couple, but skilled matchmakers had something to speculate about. Janet had offered the use of a costume supply van to be a bus, with plenty of room not only for him, Sara, and Mozzie, but also for Aidan, Keiko, Angela, and Michael. Did El wonder if all the couples were giving him and Sara ideas? Not that she had time to see them arrive. She was far too busy preparing for her debut performance as Gillian the witch, but Peter likely told her about it afterward.
Of the four couples, only Aidan had popped the question. He and Keiko planned to be married next summer in Japan. Mozzie and Janet had settled into a comfortable groove but neither one showed any signs of wanting to establish a formal bond. Mozzie's views on marriage, as with so much else, were iconoclastic. A formal ceremony would register him into the system, and not even Neal knew what his real name was . . . assuming he had one. As for Neal's cousin Angela, her boyfriend Michael had a firm hand on the wheel of that love boat. He'd already plotted the navigation for the next port of call—the speakeasy party.
The party was open to all who'd worked on the case along with their significant others. Tricia Wiese, Peter's former second-in-command, had served as profiler and was a founding member of the Arkham Round Table writing group. Aidan had designed a program to combat Rolf's malware which was now implemented in most of the art museums throughout the world and had the Interpol stamp of approval. Richard's expertise with prosthetics had been vital in the final showdown with Rolf earlier in the month. Since at one time he'd been targeted for psychological manipulation, it was particularly satisfying that he had a hand in Rolf's capture.
On Sunday afternoon, Aidan, Travis, and Richard arrived early to help with the visual effects, which, just like the op against the Mansfelds, consisted of cons within cons.
"Is Michael coming early?" Aidan asked, unpacking a projector screen for June's music room.
Neal shook his head. "He was worried Angela might suspect something. I've informed the White Collar team to be prepared to have their photos taken. Last fall, Janet photographed everyone in their costumes before the sting at the gaming convention. Since this is being billed as a wrap-up party for the Mansfeld cons, it's natural we'd want permanent mementos."
When Aidan heard about the plan, he suggested flashing suitable backdrops on projection screens. Their task for the afternoon was to convert June's music room into a photography studio. One lucky couple would also be recorded on video.
"Angela usually prefers goth attire," Richard commented. "How'd Michael convince her to wear a Snow White costume?"
"He sold her on the idea of making a children's musical out of the story," Neal said. "She was skeptical at first, but he convinced her that the music could be updated for a modern audience." Angela was pursuing a PhD in ethnomusicology. She specialized in using folk instruments with young learners to jump-start their education.
"Michael's showing a new flair for the devious," Aidan remarked, connecting the projector to his laptop.
"You and Keiko aren't so bad yourselves," Travis said, uncoiling a length of cable. "What costumes are you wearing for the party?"
"We're dressing as Final Fantasy characters." Neal smiled at Aidan's choice. Keiko had been an avid gamer as a child, with Final Fantasy being her favorite. The abundance of swords in the game made it a winning choice for Aidan as well.
"I assume you're going as Spock," Aidan said. Travis had a Star Trek uniform which he'd worn on several occasions.
"Not this time. We decided to pick aliens from Arkham Files."
"I designed a Meropian outfit," Richard said. "Since no one knows what they look like, I could let my imagination run wild."
Neal turned to Travis. "That means you're . . .?"
"You guessed it. A purple people eater." While the others teased Travis about having purple rather than green blood, Neal was glad to hear he was referencing the stories. He and Sara would also wear costumes from Arkham Files.
"Electra Stavrou made quite an impression on Keiko last night," Aidan said.
"It was a mutual admiration society," Richard commented. "She appeared genuinely interested in Keiko's experiments with art glass."
Electra had approached Neal at the after-party, and he'd taken the opportunity to introduce her to his friends. She made quite a hit with them, drawing Aidan, Richard, and Keiko out about their art projects. Keiko had decided to specialize in studio glass this year at Columbia. She'd taken a course in stained glass over the summer which inspired her to work exclusively in the medium. When Keiko heard that Electra had a collection of Pre-Raphaelite stained glass in her house, she asked if she could see it. Neal and his fellow fencers were scheduled to go to Yale for a fencing match the following weekend. Keiko had already planned to go along.
"What do you think about Electra's offer to have us over for dinner?" Aidan asked. "Should we take her up on it?"
Travis shrugged. "Why not? Perhaps someday Electra will want to include you in one of her soirées."
"New Haven has a number of B&Bs," Aidan said. "Chloe used to live in one when she was working on a job there. Keiko's already talked with her about it."
Neal smiled. "Planning a romantic getaway?"
"We probably won't be able to this weekend, but we hope to the next time we compete against Yale. Does it give you ideas for Alicia?"
"Yeah, why don't you invite her?" Richard asked, chiming in. "I'm beginning to wonder if she really exists. You say you're dating her. Isn't it time we met her?"
The thought of him and Sara spending Saturday night in New Haven had a definite appeal. Sara was friends with the group. Was it time for the Three Musketeers to be introduced to Constance? In a sense they were already involved since Mozzie, aka Athos, had discovered Neal and Sara's secret a couple of weeks ago. Richard and Aidan could be helpful in conning Henry. Aidan was finishing up a short feature which starred Henry. Richard and Travis lived close to Henry's loft and frequently met Henry and Eric in the Village at the rock club Riffs.
Having Sara along would serve another purpose. Neal had not been oblivious to the glances Electra tossed his way. During the summer, she'd made a play for him when she visited his art studio. Neal had thought she'd realized then that he wasn't interested in her romantically, but it didn't appear to take. If Sara were along for the weekend, Electra would quickly recognize Neal wasn't available.
WCWCWCWCWCWCWC
Peter pulled into June's driveway, relieved that there was still room. For the speakeasy party, June had invited guests to park there, but it could only accommodate a few cars. "This may be the end of an era—the last of the speakeasy parties."
"You don't think Mozzie will continue the tradition?" El asked, knitting her brows together.
"Does he really intend to assume the writing mantle?"
"It's more a question of whether Diana will agree to hand over the reins. Mozzie claims he'll be able to duplicate Diana's style so seamlessly that no one will suspect someone else is writing them. June is happy to continue serving as beta editor. And speaking for the Arkham Round Table, we've grown very fond of our story-plotting sessions." El paused to smile mischievously. "I doubt New York Neal and Sara will let us stop. They're still sending us ideas."
He turned off the ignition. "Now that the threats are out of Neal's life, I hope he'll feel free to develop a lasting relationship with someone real. Perhaps Alicia will be the one."
"Has he mentioned anything about her to you?" El asked.
"No, but the longer he dates her, the more curious I become." El was worrying her lip. She needed to come to terms that not all matchmaking ended successfully. He leaned over to kiss her. "But I'm much more interested in our romance than Neal's. We have an anniversary coming up—our sixth."
A smile broke out on her face. "You're already planning something?"
"Was there any doubt?"
"Last year's celebration at Donatello's did seem rather like a spur-of-the-moment decision."
More like a Hail Mary. He'd put it off till the last minute then couldn't think of anything. "How about we alternate planning the big event? That makes this year your turn. Is there anything you'd like to do?"
"Actually Keiko gave me an idea. She—"
A tap on the window interrupted her. Peter turned his head to see Quark peering at him through the window. Janet the Dabo girl was standing next to him.
"Suit and Mrs. Suit, do you intend to join the party or should we bring the refreshments out to you?" Mozzie asked.
Peter reached behind the seat for his horned helmet. "Prepare for the Viking invasion!"
WCWCWCWCWCWCWC
Neal was at the front door to greet Henry and Eric. For the party, both men dressed as pirates in a nod to the pirate escapades in the U-boat con as well as their love for the sea. Henry was in a Jack Sparrow costume and Eric was a commanding Captain Hook.
"Who are you supposed to be?" Eric asked.
"James Bond. I celebrated Halloween in Arkham dressed in a tux at Sara's request."
"What did she wear?" Henry asked.
As if he didn't know. Henry still pretended that he didn't read the stories. "A catsuit. She was Emma Peel. Sara told me she's been scrounging the vintage clothing stores to find one for tonight."
An hour into the party, the countdown began. Janet and Mozzie took command of the photo shoot, calling guests in a predefined sequence to have their portraits made. The others gathered in the music room to watch. Neal had asked Mozzie to photograph him and Sara first. For their pose, he opted for a martini rather than a gun while Sara imitated Diana Rigg's trademark smile for the camera. When they stowed their props afterward, she breathed, "Same location?"
A flick of a nod was all he needed to assure her it was on. A few minutes later when a gypsy-costumed June approached him, Sara slipped out of the room.
"Is Michael ready?" June asked.
He nodded. "I slipped it to him five minutes ago."
"Angela doesn't suspect anything?"
He shook his head. ''She thinks the piano was moved to make room for the projection screens. Would you like me to help with the champagne?"
"Thank you, dear. Chef Emil will have his hands full with the cake."
Neal glanced around the room. Hughes and his wife Ilsa were being photographed in their Dumbledore and McGonagall outfits. Henry and Eric's turn was still to come. They were currently talking to Diana and Christie, with Henry's back to Neal. He wouldn't see him leave. And if Henry did notice both Neal and Sara were missing, he wouldn't be able to do anything. Mozzie had promised to take an extra-long time with their photograph.
Neal ducked into the corridor and headed for the kitchen where he found Emil moving the cake onto the trolley. "Reporting for duty," Neal said cheerfully. "We're running a little low on red wine. I'll bring up some bottles from the cellar then help you with the champagne."
Emil waved his thanks while dispatching an assistant to prepare the dining room.
Neal took the stairs down to the basement. The wine cellar was in a small room off the media room. He'd barely entered it when he was greeted by an embrace.
"Clandestine meetings in the wine cellar?" Sara purred. "Why, Mr. Bond, what must you think of me?" He took her face in his hands. That catsuit begged to be unzipped. If only they had a few more minutes.
Sara was running as hot as him as she pressed against his tux. He could easily feel her curves through the slick, tight fabric . . .
When she pulled away, her face was flushed. "Are you sure we don't need to give Henry a clue that we might be attracted to each other, after all?"
"I almost did earlier. Aidan and Richard were teasing me about needing a Constance in my life and I longed to tell them I already had one."
She moaned. "We could have dressed as d'Artagnan and Constance! I would have loved those costumes."
Sara wasn't alone. Neal had to drag his thoughts away from her in a provocative low-cut gown, tightly cinched at the waist. They'd probably already been downstairs too long. "You've got your script ready about Matthew?"
She sighed softly, a hint he wasn't the only one daydreaming? "Alicia can't wait to see him on Friday night." Alicia and Matthew were the names they'd chosen to represent themselves to mislead the matchmakers into thinking they were dating other people.
"Peter knows what to say?" she asked.
"He's ready for Henry. Have you decided how to stage it?"
"I'll stay close to Keiko and Aidan. When Henry's within earshot, I'll ask Keiko for the name of a Japanese restaurant near Columbia and mention Matthew will be in town on Friday night."
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. "Neal, are you there?" Emil called out. "It's time to prepare the champagne."
"Be right with you." Neal smoothed down her hair.
"I'll wait a couple of minutes," she promised.
Neal didn't bother collecting the unneeded red wine but raced back upstairs to help with the champagne, quickly passing a comb through his hair. There were still a few couples left to be photographed before Angela and Michael. No one appeared to have noticed his absence.
Out of the corner of his eye, Neal noticed Sara slip into the room. Later, he spotted Henry and Eric talking with Sara and Keiko. The well was being primed.
Angela and Michael were the last couple to be photographed. By now everyone knew about the surprise except Angela.
When it was time, Sara and Keiko helped arrange a laughing Angela on top of the game table in the music room. She wore a Snow White costume which appeared to be a duplicate of the one in the Walt Disney musical. Scenes from the movie were displayed on the projection screens behind her.
"You know you're supposed to be fast asleep," Sara remarked as she arranged her dress.
"I can't help it," Angela protested. "I have an attack of the giggles. Who wouldn't with those cartoon animals around me?"
"Think about writing your dissertation," Keiko advised. "That would put anyone to sleep."
"Silence!" Mozzie bellowed. "Neal, play something to put Angela in the mood."
Neal just happened to have prepared a medley of soft music from Snow White for the occasion. June took a seat beside him on the piano bench.
Everyone's eyes were on Michael in his sky-blue Prince Charming costume. Riding up on a pretend horse, Michael dismounted and gazed admiringly at the only slightly snickering Snow White.
"Who is this beauty?" he mused aloud. "She is the fairest in all the lands." He leaned down to kiss her on the lips.
She opened her eyes and gazed at him rapturously. "My prince has come for me."
Michael reached inside his military jacket and pulled out a pink rosebud fashioned in colored brass. He placed it on the palm of her hand.
She looked up at him in surprise. "I don't remember this in the movie."
"This is our love story," he said softly. "And I would have you be my princess forever."
Out of the corner of his eye, Neal watched Travis reach inside his pocket. As if by magic, the rose opened to reveal a diamond ring. Michael dropped down on one knee. "Will you make me the happiest prince of any kingdom by consenting to marry me?"
A squeal of joy was an adequate response as Michael scooped her in his arms and June began singing "Some Day My Prince Will Come."
As he accompanied June, Neal gazed around at the room suddenly filled with dewy-eyed romantics. He was right there with them. He also caught Henry shoot him a look. Neal didn't dare gaze at his secret princess but instead exchanged satisfied nods with his cousin. Henry had his arm around Eric's waist, Keiko was sniffling beside Aidan, and El was dabbing her eyes with Peter's handkerchief.
Best Halloween party ever.
Notes: Thanks for reading! Columbia Ghost Story has 4 chapters. I plan to post weekly on Wednesday.
Neal and Sara are taking more risks now that the Mansfelds are no longer a threat. Could that be a subconscious desire to be discovered? They intend to lead Henry to the truth, but that may not be a simple matter. With the fluff of the speakeasy party over, we'll return to more ghostly happenings next week.
A few notes about the references to the earlier stories: The first time El and Henry conspired was in By the Book. The Halloween stargazing weekend Neal mentioned was in The Woman in Blue. That story was also my first one to feature costumes. In Arkham Files, Sara requested Neal dress as James Bond. That was not Diana's first choice, but El persuaded her to include it in the story. The costumes worn at the party all refer to outfits from previous adventures, with one notable exception—Angela and Michael. For trivia buffs, here's the list:
Peter & El: Vikings (The Crypt). Sara & Neal: Emma Peel & James Bond (The Crypt). Henry & Eric: Pirates Jack Sparrow & Captain Hook (Harlequin's Shadow). Travis & Richard: Purple People Eater & Meropian (Arkham Files). Aidan & Keiko: Final Fantasy characters (Nocturne in Black and Gold). Jones & Helen: 2 Klingons (The Mirror). Diana & Christie: Cleopatra & Hippolyta (The Woman in Blue). Mozzie & Janet: Quark & Dabo girl (The Mirror). Tricia & Mitch: Robin Hood & Maid Marion (Night Howls on the Hudson). June – gypsy (The Crypt). Reese & Ilsa Hughes: Dumbledore & McGonagall (Echoes of a Violin).
I wrote about Neal's connections to James Bond in my blog post this week, "Shaken, Not Stirred." Penna's recent posts have been about the process of writing. In her latest post, she lets us peek into the cauldron she's been brewing for her novel, Prime Conditions. The post is called: "Putting it into practice." I'm thrilled to have Penna along in the Impala for Columbia Ghost Story as my beta sidekick. Thank you, Penna!
Background on Crossed Lines for new readers:
In the pre-series Caffrey Conversation AU created by Penna Nomen, FBI Special Agent Peter Burke recruited con artist and expert forger Neal Caffrey in 2003 when he was 24. In exchange for a confession, he was given immunity for past crimes and started working for the FBI as a consultant at the White Collar task force in New York City. Sam and Dean Winchester are demon-hunting brothers. Sam is roughly the same age as Neal. Dean is four years older than Sam. Peter is fifteen years older than Neal. For those familiar with the Supernatural timeline, the action is set early in the second season of Supernatural. The Crossed Lines page on our blog has more background information about the stories.
Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Chapter Visuals and Music: The Columbia Ghost Story board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website.
