Excerpt: Twelve Silhouettes

Mike looked at the statue. It was white marble, about six feet tall counting its pedestal. It was of a woman with classical features.

“Should I move it?” Mike asked. “Probably. I don't want something this nice getting knocked over during a party. But how? It probably weighs a ton.” He touched the woman's waist. “I wonder who sculpted this. They had a lot of talent.” He looked at the pedestal. There was no inscription. It was just a block of solid stone. He noticed a gold ring on the pedestal. He picked it up. It was a simple gold band, with an intaglio of a circle topped by a half circle. “A crest, maybe?” He slid it on the fourth finger of his right hand. It fit perfectly.

Mike cried out. The ring suddenly felt warm on his finger. He tried to slide it off, but it was stuck. He ran to the bathroom and soaped his finger so the ring would slide off, but to no avail. It was stuck. “Great.”

The ring cooled.

“What the heck happened?” Mike asked, returning to the front hall. He gasped.

The statue was moving. The woman stepped off the pedestal and sank to her knees. As she fell, her stone dress transmuted into...navy blue fabric. Her white face took on a peach skin tone. Her carved hair turned chocolate brown. The woman laid down on the Oriental rug and closed her eyes.

“What the...?” Mike asked. He looked over the seemingly sleeping figure and touched her cheek. It was warm and soft. He touched her hair. It felt like real hair. Her chest rose and fell. “She's...breathing.” He lifted her skirt and peeked. She was wearing frilly white bloomers. “Underpants?” Should I wake her up? He touched one of her black boots. “Real leather?” He poked at the woman's chest. “Hey. Um, nap time is over.”

The woman's eyes opened again. They were green, with long eyelashes. A pink blush settled across her cheeks. She sat up, then rose to her feet. Mike took in her full appearance. Her blue dress reached her calves. She was wearing white pantyhose that hid her legs. Her boots were old-fashioned, with several buttons up the side. He looked at her neck. She wore a rather expensive looking emerald and diamond necklace. Her earrings were dangly, and also sported large emeralds. Her hands were covered in white gloves, and Mike could see a gold ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. A gold bracelet was on her right wrist. Her sleeves were trimmed with black lace, and a pink sash was wrapped around her waist. The dress' neckline went up to her collarbone and was trimmed with more black lace.

Mike took an apprehensive step back.

The woman looked at him, assessing him. And from the anger in her eyes, her assessment didn't seem positive. Her shiny black boots made the wood floor under her creak. She took a step toward him.

Mike saw her raise a gloved hand, but didn't register what she was doing until her hand met his cheek with a sound like a miniature thunderclap. He rubbed his welted cheek. “What was that for?!”

“You touched me without permission,” the woman said angrily. “Men are so vulgar.”