"Hope, I thought I told you to put the cat down," said Owen as we walked down the street. "It's not yours."

"But he is so cute," I said pressing my face against the cat's fur. It purred and rubbed its fuzzy cheeks against mine. "And besides, Vanessa said he is a stray. So I'm going to take care of him while we are stuck here." Owen rolled his eyes. "I love love cats!"

"Fine," said Owen. "Just keep him away from me."

"Follow closely now you two," said Vanessa twirling on the spot

We spent the next few minutes following Vanessa through town. She made certain to hop joyfully on every stone wall and dance in every doorway. Her commendable energy made me exhausted. Surely no such person could possess such excitement about such unexciting things, but I was proved wrong. Soon we entered the town square. A large stage was being built in the center. The repetitive banging of hammers echoed across the cobblestone courtyard. Vanessa explained the stage was for a last minute addition to the festival, one she was greatly anticipating. She grabbed my sleeve and yanked me down a side street. Owen had trouble keeping up. His attention seemed distracted, and a look of uncertainty filled his gaze.

"Hope," he whispered into my ear as Vanessa swung around a lamp pole. "I've been around these parts many times and never once have I heard or seen this town on any maps. I can't shake this feeling that we are in danger."

"Just relax," I said as Vanessa skipped under a stone archway. "Let's have some fun while we are here. Maybe we can treat ourselves to a nice soft bed and a warm bath. You did say you would do anything for a soft bed."

"If you say so," he said exhaling a deep breath. "But we leave first thing in the morning."

Vanessa pointed to a series of buildings.

"So here is the salon. Maxwell inside does the best hair in town. And over there is the bakery. Their sourdough is to die for. Oh, and there is the pastry and sweet shop. You have got to try their red velvet cake. That home over by the fruit stand is where Lord Reginald Blackwell lives. He's so handsome! He runs the town militia, you know. Since not much crime happens his militia mainly acts as a task force in repairing broken parts of town and setting up for events, such as the Rose Festival. It's why everyone is wearing red today." Sure enough each person we passed had on either a red suit or a red dress or in Vanessa's case, a red hood. "Oh and did I mention he is single!" Vanessa sighed. "Someday, some lucky woman will marry Lord Blackwell. He has never really paid much attention to me, but tonight everything about that will change."

"How so?" I asked petting the cat in my arms.

"He is coming to dinner to discuss the festivities. I am so excited. I'll make my move then. Woo him with my charms. Ah, I can see it now, Mrs. Vanessa Blackwell."

"You keep mentioning the Rose Festival," said Owen as he followed behind Vanessa. "I am afraid I have never heard of such an event."

"That's because you are outsiders," said Vanessa twirling her hands. "It's our town's own tradition. No one else celebrates it. It's an amazing day when everyone dresses their best and tosses rose petals in the air to celebrate peace and beauty. We have fire jugglers and dancers and a glorious feast."

"Do the roses talk?" I asked suddenly. "Because I would not like to pluck a talking rose."

"No, silly," said Vanessa laughing. "Flowers can't talk."

"But Hollyhocks do. They sing and hum. I heard that roses tell only lies."

"Hope, even I know that flowers don't talk." Owen gave me a puzzled look. "You must have imagined it."

"No, I didn't," I barked. "You were passed out when I found them in the desert. They sang a strange song about mirrors that I didn't quite understand."

"Shh," Owen brought his fingers to his lips. He once again leaned over and whispered into my ear. "Careful what you say. We don't want to blow our cover. Flowers do talk sometimes but they are vain and only talk to those they deem worthy. So shush." He straightened up and laughed. "Oh, Sister, you must have been delusional. Flowers talking. Yeah right."

"Yes, of course," I lied giggling nervously. "I must have imagined the whole thing." I smiled.

"Well....anyway," said Vanessa as she bounced on her toes. "You will love the festival. And if you like mirrors, Madame Beatrice, has a beautiful collection. You'll see when we get there."

"What's that place?" I asked changing the subject. "Seems run down." I pointed to a lonely dull business with an empty storefront. It seemed quite out of place for such a lively town filled with color and action to be so lifeless. The letters that once held the shop's name above the windows had begun to peel away. With what little was left the letters read: TAILUK SHOP. "What in the world is a Tailuk shop?"

"The tops of the letters O and R have worn away making them a U and a K. It is supposed to read TAILOR SHOP." Vanessa paused. "A mad man lives there. He hardly ever comes out. No one likes him much. I'd stay away from there if I were you." I jumped with fright as a figure appeared at the window. The man looked mad with his crazy green eyes and tattered coat. The sleeves of which were twice the length of his arms. Colored a dirty green, the strange suit held patches of random designs and colors. The coat fell all the way down to his knees where his equally odd pants seemed to turn into bell-bottoms. Atop his head was a wild tangle of white hair with an open-ended green top hat. I cringed at the man's intensive stare. In his hands he held a long sewing needle which he threaded in and out of his insane coat.

"He does look mad," I said unable to turn away. The mad man's gaze followed us until we were out of sight.

Eventually Vanessa stopped at a large iron gate. A garden of blooming red roses spouted along a brick pathway. Beyond the roses a massive structure lay hidden in the mist. I felt a sense of dread, a feeling of unwelcoming distaste sweep across my spine. I looked over at Owen and noticed he too was feeling it. The cat in my arms hissed at the building. Only Vanessa seemed unaffected by the shared sensation. She opened the creaking gate sending a final chill rippling through my body.

"Madame Beatrice's mansion is just beyond here. We are almost there." Vanessa hopped forward along the pathway vanishing into the mist. Owen and I walked side by side. I reached out and placed his hand in mine. I could feel his heartbeat quicken and his palm begin to sweat. As the building's outline of curved spires and bent sides became clearer, I thought I recognized the facade like something out of a dream, yet with each step my mind grew fuzzier and more forgetful. It felt as if some numbing force was draining my thoughts making it harder to think or even recognize the passage of time.

"Owen," I whispered.

"Yeah," he answered.

"I feel strange."

"Me too," he said. "Something is not right about this place. Stay close to me."

Suddenly the mist swirled around us moving faster and faster, yet I felt no breeze. It surged between our legs, brushed passed our arms, and ran its moist fingers through our hair until in a whoosh and sucking swish it was gone. The air was clear. The fog had lifted.

Vanessa stood patiently on the stone steps. A large smile adorned her face as she tilted her head.

"Is there something the matter?" she questioned. "You both look a fright as if you have seen a ghost."

"No," lied both Owen and I.

"Good because there is something you need to know before we proceed inside." The young girl placed her hand on the door and looked up at the imposing structure. "My mistress is a proud woman of high class. She does not like being spoken to unless she speaks first. Address her only as Mistress or Madame Beatrice. Make full attempt to compliment her beauty when greeting her. And whatever you do, never mention anything as more beautiful than she." Vanessa chuckled. "Other than that she is as nice as can be. Come in and watch your step." Vanessa pushed open the doors and entered into the dark opening. Owen turned to me.

"You going in?"

"After you," I said. The cat leaped out my arms. It stopped, looked back, and flicked its tail before rushing inside. "The cat thinks it's okay."

Owen held onto my hand even as we stepped passed the door. He pulled me close to his chest as the darkness began to swallow us. The door flung shut. In an instant the candles on the chandeliers caught alight bathing the room in a twinkling warm glow. My fear was quickly replaced by awestruck silence. I gasped at the mammoth room around me. On every wall and ceiling filling every empty space hung a different sized and shaped mirror. The dark marbled floor was so polished its surface shimmered like that of the undisturbed pond I remembered from the Loblolly forest. I cried out while yanking Owen's shirt and pointing to the many mirrors on the wall. I didn't have to say a word. The message was crystal clear. Where we both expected to find empty frames, Owen and I cast a reflection in every mirror.