“Someone needs to discreetly look inside and see if Wydowna’s there,” Venus said, looking directly at Rochelle.
“Boo-la-la! Pourquoi moi? Why me?”
“You have sharp claws to cut through the webbing and you don’t steam when you get nervous,” Robecca explained.
“Zut!” Rochelle said as she began to carefully slice through the webs.
Rochelle then crawled through the sheaths, only to quickly retreat back into the stairwell seconds later.
“Wydowna and her fly friend are sleeping in the hammock, but…”
“But what?” Robecca pressed Rochelle eagerly.
“There was the most beautiful jacket I have ever seen just lying on the floor. She clearly does not realize how fangtastique her creations are. The details—”
“Not to be a fashion-pessimista, but it’s after midnight, so what do you say we save the dramatic retelling of her clothes until tomorrow?” Venus said as she started back down the stairs with Chewy in hand.
A couple days later, Robecca, Rochelle, and Venus found themselves seated at the counter in the Stein family kitchen. The stainless-steel room was filled with an array of modern appliances, oddly colored vials, and a professional sewing machine. Yet even with all these contraptions the kitchen somehow still managed to feel both warm and familial.
“Frankie tells me the Creepateria food can get a little repetitive,” Mrs. Stein said as she placed a plate of BLTs—beast, lettuce, and tomato—on the counter.
“Mother, I never said repetitive. I said bland,” Frankie exclaimed, and then turned toward the trio. “It’s like they’ve never even heard of pepper! And pepper is so voltage!”
“I love pepper. Pepper really is the best. Absolutely swell. Say, Frankie, would you care to see my peppercorn collection? I just so happen to have it with me in my school bag,” Robecca babbled clumsily as she stood up.
“Wait, you have a peppercorn collection?” Frankie asked Robecca. “And you carry it around with you?”
“Yes, I do,” Robecca fibbed poorly. “So what do you say? Do you want to see my peppercorn collection or not?”
“I thought we told her to be subtle,” Venus muttered discreetly to Rochelle.
“Clearly subtle is a subjective concept,” Rochelle whispered back to Venus. “As are credible fibs… a peppercorn collection? What was she thinking?”
“You want me to come with you right now? But we’re about to eat,” Frankie explained to Robecca.
“Oh, go on, dear. It sounds like tons of fun,” Mrs. Stein said, winking at her mint-green daughter playfully.
“All right,” Frankie agreed reluctantly, and then stood and followed Robecca out of the room.
Once alone with Frankie’s mother, Rochelle promptly took out Venus’s iCoffin, pulled up the picture of the list, and showed it to Mrs. Stein.
“Pardonnez-moi, Madame Stein. Do you have any idea what this list might mean? Why Headmistress Bloodgood’s and Hexiciah Steam’s names are circled?” Rochelle questioned the woman directly.
“Talk about dying on the vine; do any of my friends know how to be subtle?” Venus moaned to herself as a startled Mrs. Stein took the iCoffin from Rochelle.
After staring at the photographed document for a few seconds, Mrs. Stein turned a pasty shade of white, or more precisely an extremely pale shade of green. Then, as Rochelle and Venus exchanged curious glances, Mrs. Stein quickly dabbed the sweat off her upper lip and tried her best to regain her composure.
“I’m sorry, ghouls, but I haven’t a clue what this list might be,” Mrs. Stein said as she pulled off her apron and placed it on the counter. “Now then, I’m so sorry to run off, but I promised to help Mr. Stein in his laboratory this afternoon, so I really must be going.”
“But…” Venus started to say as Mrs. Stein darted out of the room.
Nearly identical scenes unfolded at Ghoulia’s, Draculaura’s, and Clawdeen’s houses with their parents denying any knowledge of the list. Yet so markedly similar were the reactions that Robecca, Rochelle, and Venus knew they had to be onto something.
“Now remember, Becs, let Rochelle do the talking. I think we can all agree that acting is not your strong suit,” Venus lectured as they mounted the steps to Deuce’s house.
“It’s funny how much I used to swoon at the mere mention of Deuce. And now I consider him no more than a friend. It’s quite surprising. For, when one is in the throes of a crush, it seems utterly impossible that the emotions might change or wane,” Rochelle finished as she rang the doorbell.
Deuce’s mother, Mrs. Gorgon, answered the door in a long green caftan and oversize Croako Chanel sunglasses. Not that anyone noticed, since they were all rather taken aback by her wild head of orange, yellow, and red snakes. Much like a sunset, the snakes’ skins seemed to bleed into one another as they slithered animatedly around her head.
“Hello, young ghouls, may I help you?” Mrs. Gorgon asked in a kind yet formal manner.
“Boo-jour, Mrs. Gorgon, we’re Deuce’s friends Robecca, Rochelle, and Venus.”
“Ah yes, of course, I’ve heard much about you three. Unfortunately, Deuce isn’t home yet, but you’re welcome to come in and wait,” she said with a smile, stepping back and motioning for the trio to enter. “And please call me Medusa.”
Robecca, Rochelle, and Venus were led into a Goreroccan-style living room with arched windows and sumptuous couches covered in red snakeskin.
“Please have a seat,” Medusa said warmly to the ghouls. “May I offer you some English Dreadfast tea?”
“Oh, that would be swell! I can even boil the water if you’d like,” Robecca offered sweetly.
“That’s very kind of you, but you needn’t trouble yourself,” Medusa said as a snake flapped about on her neck. “Snakes can be so unruly,” she said as she swatted at it. “They’re a bit like trolls; they never listen to anyone.”
And with that Mrs. Gorgon sashayed out of the living room.
“She’s trés sophisticated, n’est-ce pas?” Rochelle said to Venus and Robecca.
“Totally,” Venus said as she pulled up the photograph of the list on her iCoffin.
“Heavens to Batsy!” Robecca said with a gulp. “Do you think she made that statue herself?”
Standing next to the fireplace was an intricate and lifelike stone statue of a bat.
“It looks seriously realistic,” Venus commented as she stood to get a closer look.
“Ah, I see you’ve spotted last week’s little mishap,” Medusa said as she entered carrying a tray of tea.
“It’s very becoming to the fireplace.” Rochelle inelegantly attempted to cover up their interest in the statue.
“Sometimes I forget to put my sunglasses on and then things like this happen. But not to worry, he’ll be back to normal in a week or two,” Medusa said as she began to pour Robecca’s tea. “Ghouls, I’m sorry to say that Deuce just texted, and he’s been delayed by Cleo. You know mummies, they’re easy to get wrapped up in.”
“Oh, we understand,” Venus said. “But since we’re here, could we ask you a question?”
“Of course,” she replied as she attempted to calm her snakes with another pat of the hand.
Venus then walked over and placed the iCoffin on the table in front of Mrs. Gorgon, who shortly thereafter inspected the picture.
“Hmmm. How strange that Ramses’s name is missing,” Deuce’s mom muttered almost inaudibly to herself.
“Pardonnez-moi? What was that you said?” Rochelle asked inquisitively, tapping her nails atop the metal coffee table.
“Nothing. I said nothing. Now, ghouls, if you’ll excuse me, I have much work to attend to,” Medusa said as she rose from her seat and handed Venus back her iCoffin.
“But if we could—”
“I’m sorry, but I simply don’t have time for any more questions,” Medusa interrupted Venus harshly.
And with that she rushed Robecca, Rochelle, and Venus back through the house and out the door with
a firm push.
The pink coffin-shaped lockers that lined the halls of Monster High were covered with posters, pictures, and letters pertaining to Headmistress Bloodgood’s kidnapping. It had been more than three weeks since her disappearance, and still no one had a clue where she was or how to stop the “normie wall.” It was a scenario that left the halls of Monster High rife with frustration, gloominess, and fear.
As Rochelle made her way down the main corridor past the sea of Headmistress Bloodgood posters, she heard a familiar voice call out her name.
“Hey, Rochelle, wait up,” Deuce said as he overtook a troop of slow-moving zombies in the corridor.
“Boo-jour, Deuce,” Rochelle offered warmly. “If this is about Trick and Treat, I told them that we wouldn’t be able to start their tutoring again until after Headmistress Bloodgood was found. Although, I must say, I find their sudden interest in studying most surprising, since they hardly listened to a word I said during our lessons.”
“Poor Trick and Treat. They’re taking Headmistress Bloodgood’s disappearance harder than a diamond.”
“The Gargoyle Code of Ethics states that I must correct inaccurate information; therefore I would like to inform you that while diamonds were once considered the hardest stone in the Boo World, that is no longer true. Scientists recently found that lonsdaleite and wurtzite boron nitrade are in fact harder,” Rochelle clarified, prompting Deuce to smile.
“In that case, Trick, Treat, and the other trolls are taking Headmistress Bloodgood’s disappearance harder than lonsdaleite and wurtzite boron nitrade,” Deuce said with a wink. “They feel like they let Headmistress Bloodgood down, that her disappearance is their fault.”
“That is absolutely preposterous. The trolls are essentially hall monitors! Not members of the Creature Intelligence Agency,” Rochelle said, before looking down at her watch. “I loathe to chat and run, but as you know, I take punctuality very seriously.”
“Of course, I just wanted to say sorry I didn’t get home in time to meet you ghouls yesterday—I had to referee a fight between Cleo and Toralei. They were both seething with rage.… It was actually kind of freaky.”
“Well, they have been spending an inordinate amount of time together. Plus, they are both very spirited ghouls.”
“Yeah, especially when they realize they’re wearing the same shirt,” Deuce said as he shook his head.
“I can only imagine,” Rochelle responded. “And you needn’t worry about yesterday. We very much enjoyed having tea with your mother—she’s so stylish and sophisticated.”
“Who’s stylish and sophisticated?” a voice hissed from behind Rochelle.
“Boo-la-la! Where did you come from?”
“You know me, Rochelle. I’m always around,” Miss Flapper replied as she came up behind them and then continued gliding down the hall.
“She’s very strange, n’est-ce pas?” Rochelle mumbled to Deuce.
“Definitely,” Deuce replied. “Speaking of strange, did you say something to my mom?”
“What do you mean?” Rochelle replied as her mouth went as dry as werewolf fur in the summer.
“When I got home she was acting sort of skittish, and then I heard her whispering on the phone.”
“What was she saying?” Rochelle inquired, anxiously tapping her claws against her book bag.
“Something about some society using you, Robecca, and Venus to try and get information out of her,” Deuce finished.
“Ah yes. She must have been referring to my questions about how she decorated her home. I guess she thinks we’re moles for other designers,” Rochelle poorly covered, all the while scratching her claws loudly against her bag.
“You are officially the worst liar in the Boo World, and I do mean worst. Seriously, I’ve seen trolls lie more convincingly than you.”
“S’il ghoul plaît, Deuce, do not tell anyone what you overheard. I can’t explain right now, so you’re just going to have to trust me. Do you think you can do that?”
“I think so,” Deuce said with a smile.
“Wonderful,” Rochelle said as she once again looked at her watch. “Now I really must be going. Mr. Mummy might worry if I’m late to Catacombing.”
Rochelle waved good-bye to Deuce and turned to leave.
“Rochelle?”
“Yes?” the hardheaded ghoul responded.
“Did you forget that I’m in Catacombing class with you?”
“Boo alors! But of course,” Rochelle said with a smile as the two made their way toward the ornate gold elevator to the Catacombs.
So loquacious was Mr. Mummy on this particular day that Rochelle was unable to tell Venus and Robecca about her conversation with Deuce until after the period had ended. As soon as the bell rang, the granite ghoul motioned for her friends to stay behind. And when the last of the students moved out of earshot, Rochelle quickly brought Robecca and Venus up-to-date.
“What society could Medusa be referring to?” Venus asked, seated at a table in a corner of the Catacombs classroom.
The stone-walled room, located within the vast collection of underground tunnels, was surprisingly lively, as it was crammed with colorful furniture crafted out of bones, stones, and twigs.
“You don’t think she meant the Society of Fangs and Fur, do you?” Robecca whispered, and then quickly looked over at Mr. Mummy to make sure he hadn’t overheard.
“Becs, the Society of Fangs and Fur is a beauty salon. It’s not a real society,” Venus explained while shaking her head.
“Well, she certainly didn’t mean the Frightingale Society,” Rochelle added as Mr. Mummy began to eye the trio curiously.
Wrapped in crisp white gauze and wearing a tweed suit, their always-dapper teacher approached the threesome.
“Ghouls, I realize you might be disappointed that you didn’t get to dig today, but believe me, my lecture was very important. And I promise tomorrow you’ll be back up to your elbows in sand.”
“Oh, it’s not that, Mr. Mummy. We just lost track of time, which, of course, I do all the time. Ugh! Why do I keep uttering that dreadful word? I don’t even like hearing the word time, never mind saying it! And yet I just did it again!” Robecca babbled as Venus eyed their teacher.
“Mr. Mummy, you know a great deal about both the Boo World and the Old World, don’t you?” Venus inquired, her vines bristling with curiosity.
Mr. Mummy always loved a compliment, especially concerning his intelligence. And so he lowered his head in false humility and nodded.
“Venus, I may not be a scaraoh, but I have a B.A. from King Tut’s Teachers College, which is one of the finest universities in the world. Gill Baits once went there.…”
“You mean he’s an alumnus?” Rochelle asked, looking for clarification.
“No… he once went there… for a meeting. Or actually I think he might have gotten lost and stopped for directions,” Mr. Mummy clarified quietly.
“I feel like I’m always asking for directions. If only my father had thought to put a GPS system in me,” Robecca muttered to herself.
“Regardless of who attended your college, you know a lot about the world,” Venus again complimented her teacher. “And that’s why I want to ask you a question.”
“Venus, gargoyles consider announcing that you are going to ask a question très redundant,” Rochelle said, prompting her friend to smile.
“Point taken, Rochelle. Now, Mr. Mummy, have you ever heard of a society that might elicit fear in other monsters?” Venus asked.
“And she’s not talking about the Frightingales, even though we all know that Cleo and Toralei have been known to elicit fear in those around them,” Robecca added, shaking her head at the mere thought of the difficult duo.
“Let me think,” Mr. Mummy said as he rubbed his chin. “There was the Society for Furless Werewolves, but it’s been years since anyone’s heard even a growl from them.”
“Furless werewolves?” Rochelle repeated back to Mr. Mummy. “C’est très b
izarre.”
“The Society for Furless Werewolves was formed by a group of aestheticians hoping to make a killing in the hair removal business,” Mr. Mummy explained.
“Anything else?” Venus pressed her teacher. “Maybe something a little more sinister.”
Mr. Mummy paused, swallowed audibly, and then looked around nervously.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Mummy?” Rochelle asked. “Are you worried someone might overhear what you have to say?”
“As a teacher, I do not like to repeat rumors or really anything that has not been proven scientifically. What’s this about anyway?”
“We’re doing a project in Monstory about secret societies,” Venus spouted off quickly.
“In that case, I definitely won’t share this with you. Students should never reference rumors in an academic paper,” Mr. Mummy said, and then turned to leave.
“Wait!” Robecca blurted out in a panic. “You don’t understand. Mr. Mummy, um, we’re supposed to write a made-up story inspired by real events. I suppose it’s what you might call… historical fiction?”
“Well, in that case I guess it’s okay,” Mr. Mummy said before taking a seat at the table. “There have long been rumors in the Old World that there is a secret society whose members believed in a hierarchy of monsters. That some species were more important than others.”
“And have you ever heard rumors about this group in the Boo World?” Rochelle asked as she tapped her sharp claws against the top of the table.
“Not that I know of, but alas, there is much I don’t know.…”
“Yeah, us too,” Venus mumbled.
Robecca, Rochelle, and Venus rode the elevator up from the Catacombs in silence, each mulling over what Mr. Mummy had said. The idea of a creature hierarchy was a hard concept to fathom, as they had been raised to believe that all monsters were created equal. As a matter of fact, outside of Cleo’s mention of her aunt Neferia believing that some monsters were superior to others, the trio had never even heard of such a thing.
“Rochelle, smile! Miss Sue Nami says smile! Now!” Trick grunted angrily at the gargoyle as she stepped off the elevator and into the main corridor.