Once they made it to the old house, the five comrades observed hidden behind the bushes. Men in long and dark capes made their way slowly in the house by the back door : the renovated one. Some of the visitors seemed out of the dress code, but still made it in.

'We need to join whatever this is' said Porthos.

'You and Aramis can't, they will recognise you and if it's some funny business, they will stop immediately.' said D'Artagnan.

'We will go in. I will try to intrude this meeting and you try the find the young girl to see what's her role into this.' said Athos before heading towards the house.

'What about me? I'm coming with you.' Said Abbygaëlle.

'You've seen yourself that only men are entering. They won't let you in.' declared Athos.

She stripped Aramis of his long black coat, ripped her skirts off and hid her hair under Aramis' hat. She thanked him and swiped a little box from her skirts and pressed two hairy pieces to her eyebrows and patted her jaw line with a small brown sponge. Then, she made a turn on herself and waited for the Musketeers to applause, which they didn't. She did not have her flattening robe nor her shoulder pads, but the costume would do. She had the defined jaw line, the strong brows, and the male clothing: all you could see was Aramis' and her ridding boots could have been for male. Plus, her natural height helped her even more to look like a boy.

'What kind of a person carries fake eyebrows with her?' asked D'Artagnan.

'Don't judge me, farmer boy. I look like I have more facial hair than you do.'

'That was low.' answered D'Artagnan while faking being insulted.

Being the two youngest of the group, they had developed a relationship similar to siblings'.

'Plus, the girl loves me. She is much more likely to tell me what is happening than to any of you. The so called heroes that failed her. I don't mean that, obviously, but the child is naive. She probably does.'

'Fine, you can come.' said Athos.

As they made their way into the house, Abbygaëlle was astonished by it. It had history so vivid; she could almost feel energy exiting the walls. It was definitely haunted, the peasants were right on that, but most of old buildings were. She had spent a year in Russia in a coven that was literally falling apart and it was haunted as well. Nothing bad had happened to her and the vibes of this house made her go back to those days : to the ones she wasn't mademoiselle Abbygaëlle de Renard Davalle, but simply Abby. The lady at the front door dragged her back to earth. There was a 10 livres fee just to get in. Before she could realise, D'Artagnan was gone and Athos and her were pushed to enter some big salon. It was dark and filled with silent people wearing black. They moved around like ghosts. A lady sited Athos and Abbygaëlle to a solitary table lighted by a lonely candle. Once they were installed they had the time to get a good look of their surroundings. Small tables were scattered around the room with some lonely men. Some of them were accompanied by woman. Pretty flirtatious women in revealing clothing... The other men – the caped ones – walked around the room to join long hallways and disappeared into the dark. After a moment, the table near them emptied: a woman showed the way to one of the hallways to the man she was sitting with. The table next to them was hard for Abby to look at without starring: the questionable lady was sitting on the man's lap and sticking her tongue deep in his throat. Before the man's hands could get any busier, the house owner tapped the lady on her back. The couple left through one of the hallways and two men took their place.

'This is a whore's house!'

Abbygaëlle sounded amazed. While Athos perplex: if all the whores were willing, there was no crime in their actions. He could understand why such a business deranged the villagers nearby and why they had to come up with a story to hide their shame.

'You sound almost glad.' said Athos

'I am! This house does look scary. It is haunted, you know. I've seen enough of 100 years old covens to know when a place is haunted.'

'So you are scared of ghosts?' said Athos without quite paying attention: he didn't want to close a case abruptly.

'No, I'm glad that those ladies found something to keep a roof upon their heads and bread in their plates, that's all. Oh, don't give me that look.' she added when Athos finally bothered to look at her.' Being a madame is the best thing to happen to a woman on the streets.'

'Or find a mysterious organisation lead by a certain Beaulieu?' said Athos.

She simply raised a brow at him and before she could answer, the same woman that welcomed them announced that two women were going to be available to them really soon. Abbygaëlle froze immediately. Athos also seemed less comfortable and he looked around for an exit.

'We need to get out of here' said Abbygaëlle.

'We are better to wait for our ladies. Once they bring us to individual chambers and make an unnoticed departure then.'

'What? And how long before they realise that I don't have a...' she stopped, struggling to find an appropriate word. ' manhood!'

To her words, Athos chocked on a laugh. He quickly recomposed himself and placed a finger on his lips.

'Really? Of all the things I have said since we met, this is what makes you laugh?' she asked incredulous. But Athos had his attention elsewhere; he had just seen Rochefort walk into the room. He was carrying a big bag and something that looked like some fine skirts were falling off it. Abby hid as much as she could under her hat, he couldn't see her here: it would ruin her. Rochefort hated her family: they were a living reminder of one of the last great contribution of Richelieu to France before passing away. It was also setting the bar high to what he would have to do in order to take Richelieu's place. If he saw her here he would happily sent her back to Monaco to be the shame of her family. Not that she would mind, but that would mean more covens and solitary confinements, which she hated. He locked eyes with Athos. Her heart was racing, she had to do something. Athos seemed to understand her without having to speak. The lady that was welcoming Rochefort stopped to show him something in the back of the room. He seemed to be a habitué. Abbygaëlle took her chance; she pushed Athos' chair back, removed Aramis' clothing, sat on his lap and pressed her lips against his. He froze at the beginning and gradually gave her her kisses back. He pressed his hands against her lower back to bring her closer to him. Once they felt two people walk by, Abbygaëlle let herself have a look : Rochefort was heading in one of the hallways with a woman under his arm.