Davy opened the door to find Agatha uncomfortably close. The Monkees all seemed to jump three feet in the air. "Don't do that!" they all say simultaneously.

"Are you ready?" asked the raven haired beauty. She seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that her presence on the other side of the door was bizarre. There was also an intensity about her that caused a sense unease; the prolonged, unblinking stares paired with a stiff rigidity in posture and mannerisms.

It took a few moments before anyone could collect their wits again. Mike finally spoke up, "We are, but Peter will not be joining us. He is not feeling well and he needs to rest."

"Well, there is no rest for the wicked, so your friend must be pure of heart," Agatha stated absently. "Come, I'll lead you to the courtyard." She turned with a flourish.

"What do you suppose she meant by that?" Davy whispered to Micky.

"Not sure, but I do know Morticia Addams gives me the creeps," Micky answered with a shudder.


The Monkees (sans Peter) followed Agatha down the corridors back to the place where they had begun. Mike's own sinking feeling returned once back in the halls. Not only was it about the troubling voices that he swear he heard murmuring throughout the space, but also concern about Peter. The concern was not about the illness; Mike had an uneasy feeling about leaving him alone in this foreign place. Peter scared easily and was more fragile than the other three.

"Say Agatha? How late is this party? I don't want to leave Peter alone for too long," Mike inquired.

Their hostess whirled around to and made her way towards Mike becoming unnervingly close once again. "Not to worry. We take care of our guests here," she answered cryptically. "Our establishment has no use for time constraints."

"Does that mean there's no check out time?" Micky teased with a nervous chuckle.

Agatha didn't acknowledge the drummer or even notice that there was anyone else in the hall besides her and Mike. Her emerald eyes were locked with his brown ones, almost as if she was waiting for him to crack first. Clearly, she didn't know who she was dealing with.

"What do you mean by 'we take care of our guests here'? Is that in reference to those attending the party or to Peter?" Mike pressed.

However, before he even finished the question, Agatha was lighting the way down the dark corridors. Mike paused for a moment questioning what just happened and if it was safe to follow along with this temptress' subtle demands. Against his better judgment, Mike caught up behind Davy.

"Man, there is something about her that is off. I don't trust her," Mike whispered.

"You're being paranoid," the Brit replied. "Sure she seems a tad eccentric, but anyone that captivating can't be all bad."

"I should have known that would be your answer," Mike sighed. "Try not to get yourself into a romantic predicament today, I've already got Peter to worry about."

"Who? Me? Never. I do no such thing," Davy responded sounding shocked.

"Fern, Bettina, Lorelei, Colette, Angelita…"

"Okay, you don't have to be a mean old git," Davy said exasperated.

"I don't know what that means, but I'm going to guess it was an insult," Mike disengaged from the conversation. Was it just him or did the voices say 'trust your instincts?'


Agatha led the three man band out to a large outdoor courtyard space. It was lit up by wrought iron torches lining pathways and a cement dance floor. The rest of the space was covered by well-kept rose gardens and topiaries.

"Doesn't it seem hotter out here than it was getting in the desert? I was for sure that it would be freezing by now," Micky noted.

Mike took a moment to focus on the temperature. He hadn't realized at first due to taking in the visual portion of the courtyard, but now that Micky mentioned it, it was about 20 degrees warmer. He noticed the sensation of sweat forming on his forehead threatening to trickle down his temple.

Davy interrupted Mike's thoughts, "Maybe it's the torches; not only do they provide light but also some warmth. What I'm more concerned about is the guest list…"

Mike took that opportunity to observe the partygoers. There were ten people out on the dance floor…no not people men. All the guests were men. The interesting feature of these men were that all of them appeared to be dressed in out of date, old fashioned clothing, like Agatha. None of the men were wearing clothing from the same time period it was all ranging from potentially turn of the century to the 1940s. Not only that, but all of them were standing absently around the dance floor not interacting with each other as if they were waiting for a cue to mingle with one another. And was it Mike's imagination or was no one blinking?

"…I mean all these blokes look wealthy. I can't compete with that. Agatha looks to be a woman of exquisite taste and I won't be able to provide that. Especially with the stiff competition," Davy finished sounding defeated.

"Stiff is right," Micky remarked. "Did you guys notice how out of it they look?"

"Maybe they are just waiting for us to start," Mike answered not sure if he believed himself completely. "And Davy you don't need to worry about pursuing Agatha, because we are out of here in the morning. Try to keep yourself in check until then. Let's liven up this crowd."

It was as if the music was magic, as soon as the band began to play, the zombie like hotel patrons filed out onto the dance floor. The dance moves themselves were as archaic as their fashion sense. The efforts were also extremely rigid as if any sharp, sudden movements would cause injury.

Throughout the six song set that was played, Mike was noting all the odd happenings. After each song, the guests did not clap or make any noise for that matter. When the song ended the men shuffled around, seemingly unsure of what to do with themselves; but once the music started up again they began dancing again like clockwork. There was something not quite right here, and Mike couldn't put his finger on what that was.