-1Black Cats and Voodoo Dolls

Chapter 3: The Cat's in the Bag

Disclaimer: I hate to have to waste space with this stupid disclaimer but anyways: I own nothing belonging to Disney, okay? Nothing! Zero! Zilch! Nada! Nor do I own the name Wolfgang Elias Furlong--that is the property of the wonderful creators of the Haunted Mansion's Ghost Gallery. Someone go and give them a cookie for thinking up of that name! Now!

"I can't believe they dumped the flesh bag on us. Like we're a bloody babysitting duo or something." A male voice complained. The voice was unmistakably British, and sounded as if someone had poured a whole bucket of arrogance over it.

"Jasper, you make it sound like we're dead." A female voice replied.

"We are, aren't we?"

"No, look at yourself. You're not blue, like the rest of the deadies, are you?"

"Well, we're close to being dead. We're, we're--oh, bugger, the flesh bag is awake. I'm going before she starts screaming."

Drew found herself roused by this seemingly age-old argument, along with the massive headache that was forming as she gained consciousness. Could have been from the fact that she was sleeping on the cold stone floor.

"Nghhh..." Drew groaned, her head pounding. "More sleep..." She couldn't really remember what happened; more than likely she had fallen asleep in Nina's kitchen. But when did Nina know someone called Jasper?

"Oh, don't worry Jasper, she isn't waking up anytime soon," said the female voice. It had a Southern drawl to it, and seemed to put emphasis on the second or third syllable of every word. Despite her overwhelming desire to fall asleep again, Drew was compelled to look up. With a slight grunt, Drew got herself into an upright position, turned her head and saw...

...The same scrawny black cat that had been up in the entrance hall, sitting on a kitchen chair. The cat was staring at her with curiosity, and some slight apprehension, too. As all the memories up to passing out in the séance hit her, a panicked expression formed on Drew's face.

"Please don't tell me you can talk," she begged to the cat. The cat made an apologetic shrug, its whole body moving from the motion.

"You're in the Gracey Manor, child," the cat said a little sadly, "What'd you expect?" Drew made a slight, pitiful sound, then put her head on her knees. She felt like sobbing hysterically, but her tear ducts were being unusually rebellious today.

The British voice echoed from down the hall. "Well, is she screaming yet?" The cat closed her eyes in irritation.

"You can't hear anything, can you?" she shouted down the hall. "She isn't screaming, she's ready to cry!"

"Really?" the voice responded with sudden interest. The sound of clicking nails echoed down the hall, and then the form of a massive blood hound came into the room. "This should be good, most of the fleshies just pass out." The blood hound plopped down on the floor. Glaring furiously at the dog, the black cat jumped off of the chair and went over to Drew.

"Now don't you cry, honey," the cat said soothingly to the sniffling Drew, "We don't have any tissues, and I wouldn't want you to ruin your pretty little face with your jacket. It looks like it'd be scratchy."

Drew sniffled. "It's a hoodie, and it's not scratchy," she grumbled. "And I'm not pretty. I'm scrawny, I'm wet and cold, and---and," Suddenly, the tear ducts kicked in.

"I'm going to die!" Drew bawled. Sobbing on near hysteria, Drew put her head on her knees. Sardonic amusement filled the blood hound's eyes, and he began to chuckle.

"Rather optimistic, isn't she?" he said sarcastically. The cat hissed at him.

"Oh, shove it, you mutt," she snarled. "Weren't you the one who ran around screaming like a little girl once you found out?" The dog fell silent almost instantly. With a satisfied look on her face, the cat returned to the task of getting Drew to calm down.

"It's going to be all right, sweetie, don't worry," she assured the sobbing Drew. "You aren't going to die--at least, if you solve the mystery you won't."

"She doesn't have a sodding chance in hell." the blood hound grumbled. Once again, another look from the cat sealed the hound's mouth shut.

Slowly, Drew's sobs were reduced to sniffles. After rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, she looked over at the black cat.

"What are you, anyways?" Drew asked curiously.

"A black cat and a blood hound, what'd you think we were, the ghostly hitchhikers?" asked the blood hound rhetorically.

"Oh, don't play dumb, Jasper," snapped the black cat. "She wants to know who we are and why we're stuck walking on fours." With the ease of an experienced gymnast, the cat made a running leap onto the chair she had been previously sitting on.

"Anyways, sug," the cat said matter-of-factly, "We're what happens when you break the rules of the house."

"The rules?" echoed Drew. The cat and dog nodded simultaneously.

"The rules." repeated the black cat.

"The ever-so wonderful rules," grumbled the blood hound bitterly. "Fat lot of good they've done to anyone."

"There are three main rules when it comes to the Gracey Manor," explained the cat, "Rule Number One: All those who agree to solve the mystery must solve it before the grandfather clock in the main hall strikes 13. Since the clock doesn't start until you meet Madame Leota, you yourself have 13 hours and 30 minutes left. If you fail to solve the mystery, your life will be taken as forfeit, and you shall join the house as a ghost. Rule Number Two: Under no circumstances are you allowed to exit the grounds. If you attempt this, your body and soul will be torn apart from each other, and your soul will be place in the nearest object. You can guess this is what happened to us," added the black cat. Drew nodded. The cat went on.

"And finally, Rule Number Three: Never enter the Gracey mausoleum. You may explore the house from top to bottom, question every ghost in the manor, explore the grounds to their fullest extent, but you are forbidden from entering the mausoleum. Any questions?"

Drew nodded. "I've got a few," she said, "First off, why can't anyone enter--"

"The Gracey mausoleum?" piped up the blood hound. "No one knows. Ever since the first ghost entered the house, however, the mausoleum has been a taboo. We don't mention it or speak of it more than once, and when you try to bring it up in conversation, every ghost will avert their eyes and change the subject. Forget trying to get any more information on it, it's damn near impossible."

Drew nodded, then spoke up again. "And another thing," she asked, "What are your names?"

The black cat looked surprised, but immediately the look passed. "Madeline Devereaux," she replied. "Historian. Became a cat on January 30th, 1962. I had 13 minutes left on the grandfather clock in the hall, so I figured I might as well try and make a break for it an' scale the garden wall. I had almost gotten to the top when--wham! I was in the body of the black cat who had been sitting on the top!" Devereaux shuddered. "Never doubt what they say about the number 13, child."

The blood hound looked up. "Jasper Ramsley," replied the dog. "Head foreman of the Gracey Manor, turned into a dog in the winter of 1876. Never could remember the date," Jasper added. "I had just found the young master Gracey's body up in the attic, and I figured that then was as good a time as ever to leave to house. I had just made it through the cemetery gates with my dog when suddenly, well, you know what happened."

Drew smiled grimly. "Drew Pilgrim, amateur detective. Brought here by the lure of money. Haven't died yet." She gave a sigh. "Man, I'm starved. Do you guys know where the food is?"

Devereaux raised an eyebrow. "This is a kitchen, you know," she pointed out. "The heads of the house normally manage to get some food from the outside world in here." Drew, still sitting on the floor, had been too busy crying to notice that she was in a kitchen, and a very big one at that. The floor was made of slate, and a massive table sat in the middle, probably once used to cut up, garnish, and cool off whatever dish was being served for the Gracey's. An old firewood stove sat in the corner, along with a pile of moldy, moss-covered wood. The room was very sparse--Drew doubted that there was any food in the remaining kitchen cabinets. Drew sighed.

"No way is there going to be any food in here. And if there is, it's probably moldy…" Drew trailed off. Suddenly, a light bulb went off in her head.

"Do you two know where my duffel bag is?" she asked. Jasper gave her a look.

"It's just in front of the kitchen door," he said slowly, "But what do you need--" He was cut short when Drew scurried past him and went out of the kitchen. A few moments later, she returned, toting her dark blue duffel bag. She dropped on the floor with an "oomph", then squatted down and began to search through its contents.

"C'mon, I know I put you in here before I left," Drew muttered. "C'mon…Gotcha!" Drew said happily, pulling out a bag of "fun-size" candy.

"I grabbed some Halloween candy before I left the house," explained Drew. "I've been too busy screaming in terror or crying to remember it until now." Content with her rediscovered bounty, Drew pulled out a candy bar and began to munch on it.

"So," Drew said, most of her unease gone now that she had something to eat, "Do either of you two know where the library is?"

"It's down the hall, up the stairs and to your left," answered Jasper warily. "Why do you want to know?"

Drew, now finished with her candy, crinkled up the wrapper and put it in one of the duffel bag pockets. "Well, there's probably a map of the house, right?" Drew explained, opening up her bag again. "People usually keep stuff like that in a study or a library. I don't want to get lost when we're exploring." After searching through her bag yet again, she pulled out a flash light.

Jasper raised an eyebrow. "We?" he echoed. "What's with the use of 'we'? We're not going with you." Drew put her hands on her hips.

"Oh, yes you are," she said bossily. "There's no way in hell I'm going out there on my own, you two are coming with me!" Drew flicked on her flashlight. "Now, lead the way, Snoopy." Drew began to follow Jasper, but stopped when she realized that Devereaux was still sitting on the chair. She turned around to look at her.

"What's wrong?" Drew asked curiously. Devereaux shifted from paw to paw.

"Well…not that I don't like playing Nancy Drew or anything, but--well, it's just that--" Devereaux stumbled around with her explanation, trying to find the right words. Jasper sighed.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Devvie, it's not that bad…" he groaned. Jasper went on after Drew gave him a puzzled look. "Despite the fact that Dev has been living in the manor for 42 years, she's petrified of the ghosts. She hates leaving the kitchen, it's the only place the ghosts never haunt. It was only chance that you found her up in the entrance hall."

Drew was silent, a thoughtful expression on her face. Then she grinned.

"Devereaux, what if you came with us in my bag?" she asked, placing the bag on the floor and opening it. "You wouldn't have to look at the ghosts, you'd just be inside here." Drew patted the bag. "C'mon, you know you want to go!"

Devereaux looked at bag warily. "I wouldn't see any of the ghosts?" she asked suspiciously. Drew shook her head.

"Nada. None of them would bother you, either. Heck, you could sleep in there if you wanted to." Drew grinned. "C'mon. Please?"

Devereaux sighed. "Oh, all right. But if any ghost pops their blue head in there you take me straight back to the kitchen!" After a moment's hesitation, Devereaux jumped in.

"Don't forget to leave the bag open a little!" Devereaux shouted from inside.

"I won't," Drew replied, zipping the bag up as she did so, leaving six inches unzipped at the end, so Devereaux could still breathe. She picked up the bag, holding the straps instead of pulling it over her shoulder as she normally did.

Jasper, who had all this time been sitting impatiently on the floor, pushed himself up. "Now that you two are finished," he said, "You may now follow me to the library."

---

20 minutes of following a bloodhound with no real sense of direction later…(13: 10)

The hall was dead silent, unlit with the exception of the pale moonlight that shone through the window. Hardly anything stirred, save for the portraits that would occasionally yawn or even change into a decomposed form, just for kicks.

Suddenly, a light clicking noise echoed down the hall, followed by someone gasping for breath and a light that bounced off the walls.

The wheezing became louder. "You…" panted Drew to the dog in front of her, "…lied."

The bloodhound, Jasper, stopped and looked at her incredulously. "Good God, it was only ten minutes!"

Drew look of doubt and outrage increased. "Ten minutes?" she echoed, "Ten? That was not ten minutes! That was…" Drew worked out the calculations in her head. "Twenty!"

Devereaux popped her head out of the bag. "The girl's right, you know," she concurred. "You do take too long in getting to the library. You'd think that after living in the house for 148 years you'd know the layout."

Jasper glared at the two in annoyance. "Master Gracey designed the house so that you could never "know the layout", no matter how long you lived here--there would always be something to surprise you." Jasper began to trot over to a door. "Anyways, this is it," he said, nudging the door open with a paw. "Don't choke on the dust…." The door swung open, and Drew and company walked in.

The library's collection was comparable to that of the Library of Congress. Actually, it put that one to shame, but the L.O.C. was the only library that could just match it. The library had two floors, and almost all the walls were covered with bookshelves. Every type of book imaginable was there, even a Gutenberg Bible was propped up on a stand in the corner. A large oak desk stood at the end of the library, along with a plush armchair. A massive fireplace stood at a 90 degree angle to the desk, with a small fire burning in its hearth.

Drew frowned at the fireplace. "Who started the fire?" she asked curiously. "I thought ghosts couldn't hold stuff."

"No," said Devereaux, wriggling out of the duffel bag, "But corpses can."

"Corpses!" shrieked Drew, dropping the bag. Devereaux let out a startled meow as she tumbled out of the bag. "You mean like that one who tried breaking out of the coffin?"

Devereaux glared at Drew, obviously upset about being dropped. "Yes, child," she replied grumpily. "The dead walk in the Gracey Manor, don't get so wild about it."

"Sorry…" Drew said, her eyes scanning the library. Her eyes rested on a large portrait hanging above the fireplace. "Is that…?"

"William Gracey?" finished Jasper. "Yes." Mr. Gracey was a young-looking gentleman with dark hair and dark eyes. He was dressed in the typical fashion of his time, but that wasn't what drew you to the picture, it was those dark brown eyes of his. They seemed to suck you in, like two large black holes, and followed you throughout the room.

Drew let out a low whistle. "For someone who spent 20 years designing the house, he looks pretty young." Jasper snorted.

"That's not Master Gracey senior, the one who designed this house, that's his son," explained Jasper disdainfully. "Edward Gracey's portrait was moved to the main gallery shortly after his death. William's portrait was then painted and brought here to replace it. Don't they teach you nothing about local history?"

"The French Revolution's a bit more interesting than a local legend, I think," said Drew, smiling, "Even if one of the main characters is pretty cute." Jasper did not seem to find this at all amusing.

"You'd be surprised at the stories these walls could tell you if they could speak," remarked Jasper coldly. "And since people have been boarded up inside them, some of them can."

Drew looked apologetic. "Sorry…" she mumbled. Hastily, she walked over to the desk and rolled up her sleeves.

"Okay," she said, flicking on the flashlight, "Let's find that map!" Drew moved to open one of the cabinets, then jumped back in alarm as a drawer shot out, then quickly closed, as if trying to bite one of Drew's fingers.

Drew looked indignant. "It tried to bite me!" she cried out, looking at the desk warily. Devereaux let out a small chuckle.

"Of course it did, you didn't ask it if you could open it first." explained Devereaux. With a running start, Devereaux leapt onto the desk. Expertly, she rapped on the wood.

"Ned?" Devereaux called out. "Nedry?" A loud creak answered Devereaux. She looked pleased, and continue to talk to Nedry the living desk.

"Nice to hear from you again," Devereaux said nonchalantly. "How's the desk life treating you? No mouse squatters, I hope?" The desk let out a few more creaks. "That's great to hear, babes." The desk creaked again.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," Devereaux went on. "But I need something from you. You wouldn't happen to have a map of the house would you? We've got a human who needs it." Another creak. "Yes, the one who opened your drawers without asking. Go easy on her, she didn't know any better. Anyways, you got the map?" There was another creaking noise, followed by a drawer popping out, revealing a rolled-up crinkled yellow map.

Devereaux grinned. "That's perfect. Thanks, babes, you're an angel." Bending down to get the map, she picked it up with her teeth and jumped off the desk.

"Here you go," she said to a stunned-into-silence Drew, "One map of the Gracey Manor, as promised." Drew picked it up and unfolded it, looking at it's contents. Jasper trotted over to talk to Devereaux.

"Very classy, I must say, picking the dirty map up with your teeth," replied Jasper dryly. "Pretty soon you'll be cleaning your fur with your tongue."

Devereaux glared at Jasper. "Shove it, hound dog," she hissed, "You're one to talk, Mr. I-Chase-My-Tail-Around."

Jasper was about to say something vicious in reply, when Drew suddenly rolled the map up and got up.

"Done!" she sang happily. "We're ready to go!" She began to walk to the door, Jasper and Devereaux trailing behind her.

"May I ask exactly where we are going?" asked Jasper dully. Drew stopped at the door, giving Devereaux enough time to jump back into the duffel back.

"We're going to the séance room, of course," said Drew, working the doorknob. "I want to talk to that lady with her head in a ball."

"You mean Madame Leota?" asked Devereaux, her voice muffled from inside the bag.

"Yep!" confirmed Drew as the door swung open after much doorknob-jiggling. Jasper gave a weary sigh as if hanging around with Drew was about to be longer and a bit more tiring than he had thought.

"Right then, to the séance room," said Jasper following Drew out of the library. "But don't blame me if you lose your head!"

---

Five minutes later, in which Drew gets to the séance room easily than she anticipated, allowing her to brag to Jasper at the end… (13:05)

"Just admit it," sang Drew triumphantly, "I know the house better than you, and you're getting senile in your old doggy years!"

Jasper growled. "I was 8 years old in doggy years when I got stuck in this body, that does not make me senile!" he barked irritably. "And don't be so cocky, you've got a map! That's assistance you know, you probably couldn't get around without it!"

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy!" said Drew cheerily. "And anyways, shut up--we're here."

The door way to the séance room was elegant, and it intimidated you ever so slightly. It had double doors, and at the top, in a large semi-circle, was a stained glass depiction of angels and demons fighting one another. Decorating the archway were wood sculptures of angels on one side, and demons on the other, colliding at the top. The doorknobs were made of tarnished silver, with carvings of griffin heads on them.

Drew eyed the door a little warily. "The griffins won't bite me, will they?" she asked Jasper.

"Of course, not, m'dear," said a voice that sent all of the hairs on Drew's neck on end. "What in heavens name would make you think of a scary old thing like that?"

Drew turned around to see Madame Leota hovering at eye-level with Drew in her crystal ball, grinning wickedly. Jasper growled at the sight of her, and Drew could have sworn she heard Devereaux hiss inside the duffel bag. Obviously, Leota was not loved by the populace of the Gracey Manor, or at least the animal branch of it.

The reactions from the trio only made Madame Leota chuckle. "Oh, what's the fuss all about?" she asked. "You make it sound like you've seen a ghost." Leota laughed.

Drew raised an eyebrow critically at Leota. The woman was frightening, but she told really bad jokes. Talk about two different ends of the spectrum.

"You know," said Drew slowly, afraid that Leota might strike her down on the spot, "That wasn't a very good joke." Madame Leota made a face, part way between a grimace and a snarl.

"I'm over 200 years old, I can't find the rest of my body, and my head's stuck in a glass ball," said Leota dryly. "Have that happen to you and see if you can crack a decent joke, I'll give you a cookie if you do. Now then," continued Madame Leota rather professionally, "You probably came to talk to me, yes? Well then," Leota slowly floated over to the door, "Step into my office." The ornate doors swung open, revealing the séance parlor, and Madame Leota floated on in.

Drew stepped forward, Jasper following behind, then jumped back when Leota popped her head back out and said, "This is just a one-on-one interview, no animals allowed, so the mutt's going to have to wait outside. And leave the bag too, I know that you've got that mangy cat in there." Reluctantly, Drew put down her bag, letting Devereaux come out. Drew bent down to pull a notebook and a pen out of the bag, and also to talk to Jasper.

"Should I go?" she whispered. Something about a "one-on-one interview" with Madame Leota gave Drew the creeps. Jasper nodded.

"You're under contract, no spirit can hurt you until time runs out or you guess wrong," he replied. "Leota's a heinous witch, but she can't hurt you. She knows the rules. Just leave me and Devvie out here, we'll be fine."

Drew nodded, and with a deep breath, Drew walked into the séance parlor, notebook and pencil in hand.

The room had changed drastically from when she had first entered it, but not in design. The mist that had cloaked the floor had vanished, and the room was lit by five well-placed oil lamps, only obvious now because of the change in the room. With the now-lit oil lamps, the parlor looked surprisingly cozy, albeit a little Spartan.

"Funny what light can do to a dark room, isn't it?" said Leota, floating behind Drew. Drew jumped up and let out a little yelp, causing Madame Leota to let out a chuckle.

"You are by far the jumpiest person I have ever met in this century, do you know?" she told Drew. "I only met one other girl who got spooked by me the way you do.." she trailed off, her face becoming pensive and slightly melancholy.

"The poor thing.." she whispered. Drew looked at Leota curiously.

"Who was it?" she asked, stepping closer to Leota. Leota snapped out of her reverie, looking as if someone had snapped their fingers and woken her up from a rather enjoyable slumber.

"Never you mind, I tell you about once we sit down." Madame Leota said crossly, drifting off toward the séance table. Drew followed her, and sat down in the same chair that had previously sent her whizzing around the room. Now that the room was lit, Drew could see that there was an unusual contraption underneath the séance table. It seemed as if Leota had a foot to press a small pedal down, a staff would move up and hit the table, giving the impression that a ghost was contacting the séance members by rapping on the table. Not only that, but in the light, Drew was able to see that the instruments had thin, nearly invisible wires attached to them.

"You're a con woman?" Drew said, more as a statement than a question. Leota nodded as she landed on her spot at the table.

"Was a con woman, and I prefer the term illusionist entrepreneur," answered Leota. "The Graceys loved a good hoax, so they hired me as the permanent entertainer of the household. Wackiest employers I ever had. They made doors to places where there weren't any rooms, did you know that? Crazies, and now I'm stuck with the whole damn clan…" Madame Leota grumbled. She quickly shook her head, as if to shake away the tangent.

"I'm getting off the subject, aren't I? You wanted to talk to me, didn't you? Fire away."

Drew nodded. "Right. So," she said, opening up her notebook and positioning her pen. "You were an employee right up until the death of the bride--"

"Evangeline." said Madame Leota suddenly. Drew looked up from her notebook, slightly puzzled. "The bride. Her name was Evangeline."

The puzzled look faded way on Drew's face, and she went back to writing. "Right. So, as I was saying, you worked here until the bride, Evangeline, died. What happened to you after her death? Did you stay, move on to a new place of residence?"

"Nothing. I died the exact same time as she did." Another puzzled look from Drew made her continue. "When Evangeline's body was found locked up in a trunk in the attic, on the eve of her and Master William's wedding, all hell seemed to break loose. Master William hung himself up on the attic rafters, some idiot cut my head off when I was fixing the mechanisms on the crystal ball--everyone seemed to just drop dead, by their hand or someone else's."

"Nice way to go," murmured Drew as she scribbled down the information. "Okay, so what can you tell me about Evangeline?"

Madame Leota sighed. "What can I say? Evangeline was a lily on a dunghill--beautiful, elegant, but she came from a piss-poor background with no money whatsoever. The only reason why William met her was because she had been sneaking through the courtyard to get to her job on time. I don't think she ever made it to that job.." Leota trailed off, smiling a little at the memory. "She started apologizing to William, he told her it was okay, she should get to work, and the next thing you know, the two got married. Crazy."

"What did William Gracey's family think of Miss Evangeline? I'm guessing they weren't too thrilled?"

Madame Leota scrunched up her face. "Well, Lativia, William's grandmother--his mother had died in childbirth--didn't mind all that much. She had started off as a circus performer, so she had some sort of bond with Evie that way. Plus, Evangeline had lovely manners and this way of talking--it could coax a rabbit out of it's hole, I swear, it was no wonder why William was so charmed with her. Charlotte, William's sister, had a bit of a grudge against her, but she was just over-protective of her baby brother. Phineas, William's uncle, hated her, but he hated everybody so it was all right. But Master Gracey, William's father," Leota shuddered, "He didn't hate that girl, he loathed her."

"What reasons?" asked Drew.

"Master Gracey was like all men of his age and class--a self-righteous snob. He felt that William should have gotten married to a woman of his rank and class, not to some poor girl." Madame Leota frowned. "I doubt he would have killed her, though. Master Gracey had a temper, but he wouldn't kill someone."

"Do you know of anyone who knew Evangeline? Besides William?"

"The heads of the house hardly ever leave the mausoleum, so you can forget ever trying to talk to William and the rest of the immediate Gracey family." Madame Leota knitted her eyebrows as she tried to think of more people. "Well, Evie was pretty close to the organist--you could try him. He's down on the ballroom on the first floor."

"Thanks." Drew closed her notebook and got up from her chair. "It's been nice talking to you, Leota," she called back as she walked out the door.

"Oh, it's no trouble!" Madame Leota shouted to her as the doors creaked shut. A cold, sly smile formed on her lips.

"No trouble at all…" she whispered, as all the lights slowly began to flicker out, their last illumination of a figure standing behind a curtain.

----

"So?" Jasper said, trotting up to Drew as she walked over to the duffel bag. "She toss you around the room some more?"

Drew shook her head as she bent down to put the notebook and the pencil back into the duffel bag. "Not really, I just asked her stuff and she answered," Drew admitted, opening the bag some more so Devereaux could jump in. "Hop in, Dev. She was pretty helpful, actually. She gave me someone to talk to in the ballroom. The organist?"

"Wolfie?" said the muffled voice of Devereaux. "She told you to talk to Wolfie? That isn't going to help you very much…"

"What do you mean?" Drew asked Devereaux inside the duffel bag. Jasper chuckled.

"Let's just say that Wolfgang Elias Furlong is a wee bit depressed. And one coffee bean short of a blend, if you know what I mean."

Drew looked hopeful. "Still, Madame Leota said that he was close to Evangeline, the bride. The sooner we talk to him, the sooner I solve the mystery, the sooner I get out of here alive."

"As I said before, you don't have a chance in hell," remarked Jasper. "But anyways, let's go. The ballroom is just down the stairs…"

------

Back in the séance parlor…

Madame Leota was resting on her perch on the séance table, an irritable expression on her face as she listened to the tense, unintelligible whispers coming from behind the curtain.

"Will you calm down?" Madame Leota snapped, halting the whispers. "So she knows a bit of the truth. Big deal, it's not enough for some wannabe detective to solve the whole mystery with!"

The whispers began again at a faster pace, sounding peevish. Leota gave the sigh that a parent emits when dealing with a maddening child.

"I had to give her someone to talk to! What was I suppose to do? And it's not like Wolfgang will be very helpful anyways--have you ever met the man?" Once again, the whispers began, but more slowly, as if they were a little mollified but still needed some reassuring.

"Relax, will you?" Madame Leota said with a yawn. "So what if she finds out some stuff I didn't tell her? Even with the map she'll get lost somehow and be liberated of her mortal coils, or you'll wind up setting up a trap for her when you get bored. And if that doesn't work," went on Leota, a rather nasty grin forming on her face, "We'll use him. He never fails…"

-fin-

A/N: Wow, this is the longest I've gone with any fan fiction. Go me! Sorry it took so long to update, though--I hope I haven't lost any readers. Please don't let go of this story, it's really good! I just have to fight my writer's block a lot more, that's all! ;

Oh, and pay no attention to that man behind the curtain! Bwahaha! >D Sorry, I had to do that!

Anywho, time to talk to the readers!

Teal-Blu: V! Dude! You finally got a chance to read my story. Too bad you hate me and my mad skillz though, that kind of sucks. But look on the bright side: you will always kill me when it comes to drawing. Seriously!

Aquarian Wolf: What, no encore? Hehe, just kidding! Thanks for the compliments!