171. All Dolled Up
“Tell me about Shannon. What do you know about her?” Amy decides to get straight to the point and asks about her friend. Hopefully Stacy will have some info.
Stacy crosses her arms and pouts. “I hate Shannon. She'll never be my real mom.”
“Mom?” Amy is shocked.
“Yeah, Daddy's got her upstairs and says he's going to marry her, and then we'll all be happy again. But Shannon isn't Mom. And neither were any of Daddy's other wives.”
Amy gulps. “Other wives?”
Shannon relaxes a bit, “Yeah, daddy's married a lot of women 'cause he thought they could replace Mommy. But then they can't and...” Stacy grins, “Well, things don't go so well for them.”
This situation is only getting worse. “When is your dad marrying Shannon?”
“Duh! He's marrying her at dawn! That's why I've been in the powder room all this time getting ready!”
Yikes. “And how long is it usually between the wedding and when things 'don't go so well' for the wives?”
Stacy is clearly growing bored with this conversation. “Oh, I dunno, like, an hour or two? Usually daddy goes to a special room with the wife and then we never see her again.”
Amy decides it's time to be straight with Stacy. “Look, I'm a friend of Shanon's. I don't want anything bad to happen to her, and I really don't want her marrying your dad. I want to do whatever I can to stop the wedding.”
Stacy snorts. “Good luck. You're a normal human. You'll be lucky to survive the night.”
Amy presses on. “Still, you've never been able to stop these weddings before on your own, right? Well, maybe I can.”
Stacy thinks. “I don't know... Is this really a good idea?”
Amy uses her coup de grace: “Helping me involves getting me past Boswell, which will make him look stupid to your dad.”
Stacy grins maliciously. “Awesome, let's do it! I hope Boswell is so ashamed he dies!”
Amy feels nervous about all the death talk. “Yeah... So anyway, I've been thinking. Now, I know this is a touchy subject, but it seems like I look kinda like your mom.”
Stacy leans back and squints. “I gueeeeeesss so.... A little....”
“So I need your help to disguise myself as your mom and get past Boswell.”
Stacy shakes her head. “I dunno, you'd have to have a bunch of my mom's clothes to pull that off, plus you're just a human. Boswell and the rest of us can sense magic, and Mom had some powerful magic.”
Amy grins. “I actually have a pretty much complete outfit of your mother's. Let me go get it.”
Amy hops up and runs out of the powder room to the Grand Hallway, where she gathers together the assembled clothing. She brings it back to Stacy, who looks at the clothes admiringly.
“Mom always had good taste. Now, let's get you into these clothes.” Stacy snaps her finger and Amy feels herself lift of the floor and float about a foot in the air. Her pajamas disappear and Lady Stephenson's clothes begin putting themselves on her. First the garter belt, then the pink silk thong. The stockings elegantly roll themselves up her legs and the snaps on the garter belt click into place. Her boots slide onto her feet and lace themselves up, then the corset wraps itself around her body and laces itself up. It is at this point that Amy learns the lesson that one should put on boots first, then the corset, to ensure one has the flexibility to actually reach the boots. The burgundy dress slides over Amy's head and snuggles gracefully into place. The matching opera gloves roll themselves up her arms, and then the brooch pin affixes itself to her chest. Amy drifts down to the ground, now fully dressed in the garb of the late Lady Stephenson.
“It still needs one more thing,” says Stacy. She runs to a vanity in the corner and pulls out a box, then runs back and opens it. Inside is an ornate silver ring with a large letter S engraved in a circle at the top. “It's mom's signet ring. You'll need it to get past Boswell.”
Amy reaches out her right hand, fingers outstretched, and when her hand is about six inches away the ring shoots out of the jewelry box and affixes itself tightly on Amy's finger, as though it were drawn by some strong magnetic force.
Amy gives Stacy a puzzled look. “Did you do that?”
Stacy returns the look. “No, I think the ring did it on its own.”
Amy feels something strange. It starts in her ring finger, but soon flows through her entire body. She has never felt such a force before, but it feels... good. Suddenly, for the first time all night, for perhaps the first time in her life, Amy feels powerful.
Stacy looks shocked. “You have a magical aura, now. It's all over you. Now you look... exactly like Mom. I mean, like, your magical self looks exactly like mom. I've never seen anything like it.”
Amy doesn't know how to react to this. Could her ties to Claire Stephenson go deeper than a superficial physical resemblance?
Stacy abruptly adopts a cheery mood. “But you still don't look physically like mom! Let's get you made up and see how it goes!”
She gestures to a make-up chair and Amy takes her seat. As she does so, ribbons, powder brushes, eye liner sticks, lipstick tubes, all begin floating and proceed to make Amy up. Her hair is drawn into a bun and tied up with a black ribbon, her glasses are removed, her eyelashes subtly lengthened, a slight dark blue eye-liner applied, foundation is added to make her face more pale, her lips are painted blood red.
As the make-up finishes its job, Amy stands up and admires herself in the mirror. “I must say, Stacy, you did an AMAZING job. If I had magic at my disposal, I'd probably wear make-up more often!”
Amy turns to find that Stacy is staring at her, flabbergasted. “I didn't do that. The make-up did it on its own!”
“So is it magic make-up?”
“No, I think it's you. You did that. Or... Something about you. Maybe there's some force that wants you to be Mom.”
Amy grows concerned. While the initial rush of power felt invigorating, the more she hears the less sure she is that all of this magic is for the best. Amy has the feeling of being drawn into something beyond her control, beyond her comprehension, and she doesn't like it.
Stacy flashes a smile. “Okay, NOW you look exactly like Mom! Now, get upstairs and fool stupid old Boswell. But DON'T tell him I had anything to do with this if you get caught! You're on your own from now on! Now, I think I've been down here long enough. I'm going back to my room.”
Amy starts to thank Stacy, but the supernatural teen has already disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Amy takes one last look at herself in the mirror. She looks the picture of elegance. Even as she walks, she finds that she has lost her habitual slouch and naturally moves with a grace she never possessed before. She imagines she'll have no problem fooling Boswell like this.
Amy's eyes drift over the various powders and unguents on the make-up table. At first she wonders whether she missed something. Then she decides that this is a silly thing to wonder; she knows only the bare minimum about make-up, and whatever supernatural force just made her up clearly knows what it's doing. There's no way her conscious mind could out-do that magical entity, whatever it is.
Then her eyes fall on a strange jar labeled Bone Powder. Amy finds this quite curious. Is this some sort of Victorian type of make-up? A nutritional supplement? A deadly trap? She knows she probably shouldn't touch it, but her curiosity makes her want to take a quick peak...
What should Amy do?