# chapters

path: 11231222212222111221
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Consumed by the Mystery of the Spells.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>With the mask done with the new spell, you go back to the book and use it to reveal the rest of the spell's text on how to use it, even though you think you've figured it out from how all the spells have been going.  Sure enough, it tells you that this mask changes the person when worn, but puts them under the control of the master instead of the wearer.  So obvious now.  Unfortunately, it doesn't help on how to change Cassie back from being a golem, or Lisa, if Blackwell did that to her.  Also, unfortunate, there is no one around for you to use it on and unlock the next page of the book.<br/>
<br/>
It's getting late, and you have to get some sleep before Cassie shows up in the morning for you to switch with her and go to school.  You're tempted to go now to campus as Melody and use the mask on some unsuspecting student as a test.  You know there's always someone wandering the campus and Melody will be at the library as usual until it closes at midnight.  This would also give you a chance to take some of the remaining money you got from Blackwell and deposit it back into Melody's account to start paying her back.  For some reason, both you and Melody have the same commitment to being honest and fair, and that's been making a strong impression on you since you got the money.  You only intended to borrow the money.  Besides you'd be getting more tomorrow evening after cataloging some more for Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
It's almost midnight, and you are on campus waiting for Melody to come down her usual path back to the dorm.  From her memories, you know that there's almost never anyone along here, but it is safe.  It's the perfect place to ambush her and try all the things that the masks are now capable.  You're a bit, well much more than a bit nervous.  In fact you are almost terrified of what could go wrong if someone sees or she escapes and the police or if it doesn't work and the stuff you're carrying and ...<br/>
<br/>
There she comes as you see her through the trees.  The path you're on merges with hers just ahead.  There's no one  in any direction, so you put your plan into action and start for the intersection getting there just ahead of her.  Suddenly your books and bag slip from your arms and spill onto the path a few steps in front of Melody.  You bend down to pick them up, and Melody stops to help.<br/>
<br/>
She is just about to say something when you slap the Melody mask on her face and she passes out.  You look around to be sure there's no one about and you tear the Umeko mask from your face.  Your head swims and you stagger a bit but remain fully conscious.  Your body is getting use to this. The sweat pants and shirt you have on stretch tight, but don't tear with your normal body now in them.  You made sure before you left and also that they fit Umeko's body so anyone could see you were a girl.  Melody has no fear of women at night and is always helping people, so you knew she would stop and you could mask her.<br/>
<br/>
After a minute you know that the mask will have absorbed any new memories, so you put your fingers to her forehead, whisper the phrase and pull the Melody mask off.  Before she can wake, you put the Umeko mask on her and place the Melody one on yourself.  Your mind fills with Melody's past week's happenings without you passing out.<br/>
<br/>
As Melody comes round, she gets a strange look in her eyes or more precisely Umeko's eyes then says, "What's going on, boss? Where the hell are we?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shush! Keep quiet and just come along with me."<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
There's the bright flash and you hope that it doesn't draw any attention and someone comes over to see what you're doing behind your truck.  The flame quickly dies down to the purple glow.  Now all you have to do is wait for about fifteen minutes until it burns out.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you've kidnapped Melody under the mask I'm wearing so you can have a real girl but shaped like the cousin you have the hots for." Umeko said as she cuddled up to you while watching the flame. "I knew you had some kinky ideas, being as I have your memories and urges, but this does seem a little perverted even for ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Quiet."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, right, boss." she breathily says fluttering Umeko's eyes at you.<br/>
<br/>
"And stop that. I've used the Umeko mask to verify it controls humans like a golem and am turning the Melody mask into another so I can control her but she'll still be Melody."<br/>
<br/>
"So, as I said, you want a soft female puppet instead of a cold clay one."<br/>
<br/>
"The way you say that, you'd think you were jealous." you retort.  "I just need to make sure that Melody doesn't give us away accidentally, and this new spell is the perfect opportunity to take control of that."<br/>
<br/>
"OK then. I didn't ever think this Melody was your type, although the way you like to wear her body ..."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't believe that I am that obnoxious." you mutter, really to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Being you in mind, I can truly tell you that you are..."<br/>
<br/>
"Enough! At least we know that Melody hasn't had any contact with Blackwell to screw anything up.  Now we need to make sure it stays that way."<br/>
<br/>
"Say, boss, this is kinda romantic with the fire and all.  Want to make out while we wait? It would look less suspicious, and ..."<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
Everything went off as planned. The Melody-golem mask is now on her with instructions to just be Melody.  You also told the mask that when she went to sleep, to forget about the clubhouse, the masks and the book.  Also anything that went on there, but remember you were her master but didn't know the name Will Prescott.  You hoped that was safe enough without eliminating too much or causing any future problems.<br/>
<br/>
You also found out that she planned to be at the library Wednesday working on a paper all afternoon and evening.  This worked perfectly as you added instructions to meet you at five when you would swap or make another mask of her to use when you went to Blackwell's.<br/>
<br/>
There was just one other thing you had found out from Melody tonight that caused you to be a little concerned.  It seemed that Melody had made a new friend during the past week and they had hit it off really well.  This meant you would have to be more careful since she wasn't just a loner any more and the new friend might notice, or worse.  However, that wasn't what concerned you.  That came from knowing that her new good friend was Umeko.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122221112211
author_id: wordsmitty
title: A new awakening.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>After dropping your truck off around the corner from your house where you had your golem start leaving it ever since you switched, you jog back to the clubhouse to spend the night.  You're sure even if Blackwell or his golem was watching your house, he wouldn't see you borrow the truck.   <br/>
<br/>
The night air is unusually cold, but it feels invigorating. For some reason you feel especially pumped from uncovering and using another spell and are anxious to get back to the book almost as if it is pulling you to it. However, what you had just found out about Melody and Umeko kept playing in your head. <br/>
<br/>
You were damn lucky that Melody didn't recognize you in the Umeko mask before you could put a mask on her. You didn't think about Umeko involved in any of this; but If Blackwell was watching your house, he is bound to see Umeko come and visit.  She's there often enough, and your replacement of a golem would act like you.  That might give Blackwell other ideas, and he might do something to her!<br/>
<br/>
When you get into the school's basement and secure the door from the inside, you are exhausted. Your mind is jumbled with the mess you've created, and.you're barely able to hide the masks and grab the book - cursing it and yourself - before you collapse, immediately drifting off.<br/>
<br/>
A fitful sleep envelopes you.  It may be due to the hard floor, strange sounds of the clubhouse and no covers from the cold night air; or it may be the stress of everything that was going on with the book and masks, your friends and Blackwell; or it may be of the upcoming exams you were about take including the one on medieval history; or it may be that your mind was wrestling with the thoughts and memories of Melody and Cassie as well as your own since you had been wearing their persona masks actually more than being your real self causing conflicts with who you really are.<br/>
<br/>
None of these had you considered before embarking on your crusade to save yourself and family, and it seems now the world from Blackwell.  You are blundering through, reacting more than being proactive, and ricocheting at each encounter like a pinball, ... or a typical teenager.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever it is, bizarre scenes spark in and out of your head as the darkness keeps it grip.  Visions of times way past lift you away.  Soon you are immersed to that point where dream and reality merge and cannot be told apart. Possibly, because they are not separate.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
The heavy smell of candle wax and chemicals mingle with a stench of filth, dampness and sweat.  There is just enough flicker from the candles to see the rough plank table they are on and perceive vague forms between it and the blackness that destroys any light venturing beyond the warmth of the flame. The table contains various jars, jugs, boxes and bowls plus spoons and cups, a balance scale and a stack of small weights.  Papers, or rather heavy parchment or tree bark along with some fragments of tanned skins all with diagrams or symbols drawn on them are scattered among the mess.<br/>
<br/>
A leather bound manuscript sits open in the spot surrounded by the candles.  A old man in a frayed robe sits beside it meticulously writing with a small quill, occasionally dipping it into a bowl of milky liquid. The page though appears as if he has written nothing.<br/>
<br/>
Behind him stands a small boy whose eyes seem to be your entrance into this scene.  You feel his restlessness, his anxiety, and his overwhelming devotion to the old man.<br/>
<br/>
The writer puts down the quill, carefully turns back the pages, stops, and rips out the bottom half of a page.  He takes two other pieces of paper from the table, each with a similar but different scrawl on them - a very intricate sigil - placing one in the book and another he balls up with the page he tore out.  He sprinkles some powder from one of the jars on each; and as he quietly recites an incomprehensible phrase, he takes two candles and touches their flames one to the book and one to the ball.  There a brilliant white flash.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
The boy is running, fast, very fast.  Terror is driving him through a dense forest and a heavy weight is strapped to his back under the old coat he wears.  Behind him, he can hear the faint sounds of destruction or war: shouts, loud crackles of burning wood, and an occasional rumble and boom as if lightening struck. His nostrils still contain the scent of candle wax, and his lungs burn with smoke and the exertion of his fleeing.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
Dawn trickles through rocks, a rough window of jagged stone. A fine table and chair. The air is clean and warm.  Shelves with many books, all hand bound leather of big and very large.  Two almost identical books are on the table.  One of red leather, one of black.  Behind them in a corner is a gray statue with indistinct features, but definitely a boy.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
You start to awake feeling very warm, heart beating fast, and breathing deep. Pleasure is rippling through your body emanating from your morning hard-on.  It is really intense and you sense someone else there.  Opening your eyes to the mostly darkness, you can see Cassie riding you, gasping with her head thrown back and hair and breasts bouncing up and down.  You immediately gasp uncontrollably as your body reacts to the sights, sounds, and contact of the golem.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
"That was great, babe.  I knew that first time you were a bit nervous." she coos then wraps you in a tender, passionate kiss.<br/>
<br/>
"WHAT ... the ... fuck ... are you ... doing?" you growl while catching your breath.<br/>
<br/>
"You looked so ... um, ready when I came in, I just wanted to give you a great wake up." she purrs.  Then rising up on her elbows on your chest and sounding a bit offended, "Wasn't it good, love?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I mean.  Now off!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, excuuuuuuuse me, boss.  I thought you'd be happy.  No wonder you don't have a real girlfriend." the golem retorts and rolls off kneeling next to you.<br/>
<br/>
Upset you rip the mask from the golem and leave the gray clay mass kneeling there while you stare at it then at the mask, considering that you just had one of your fantasies come true, but not how you expected.  You didn't know whether to be thrilled or disgusted.<br/>
<br/>
Putting the mask on seemed easy now with just a bit of dizziness. While you pick up Cassie's clothes and get dressed to go to school, you block out Cassie's most recent memories of here with you and do a quick scan for anything interesting that happened last evening.  She was just at her house with friends in a study session.<br/>
<br/>
 As you take the Umeko mask and turn to apply it, you notice the golem looks a little different in the dim shadows this morning.  You squint, then shiver.  <i>No.  It can't be.</i> You ignore the strange feeling you get as you approach it and slap on the mask.  You think, "I'm just overly concerned thinking everything's Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, boss.  Where are we now?" it asks in Umeko's lyric voice. You ignore it.  "Oh, back at the club," it says as it stands. "But something feels different." You continue to ignore it even though you want to yell at it for the earlier encounter, but you don't knowing it's the Cassie mask, not the golem that wore it.<br/>
<br/>
"Get dressed and finish off the masks and strips while I'm at school today."<br/>
<br/>
"Right boss." it says as it grabs the pile of clothes from a corner. then rambles on but you pay little attention. Your mind considering what you have to do later but also craving to get back to the book and see what's next.<br/>
<br/>
"It feels like this body doesn't want to follow what you tell it. I can make it though.  It's strange, boss, real strange."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry about that. Just work the masks.  I gotta go meet Will before school.  Keep the door shut unless we say the pass phrase.  I'll be back later to fix everything and find a spell in the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. The book is useless."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221222211122111
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Challenges at school.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Skipping down the street towards school, you find being Cassie comes easily today completely taking over all your thoughts and emotions forgetting for the moment your real situation or last night's events or dreams.  Cassie's afterglow is really intense, and the fact that your own experience was quite good only adds to your wonderful mood.  Your mind is only Cassie knowing that Will was just a bit shy the first time you jumped him (the Will golem) and much better than her very first, and only previous time with ... OMG. TMI.  Your mind grabs that and stuffs it far back in a corner of the mind strip, and you hope you never, ever, remember that again.<br/>
<br/>
Cassie soon is again controlling everything, glad of having Will as her boyfriend and considering him her dreamy knight about to ride up and carry you off with him.<br/>
<br/>
 Beep, beep.<br/>
<br/>
The Will-golem pulls up unexpectedly in your/his truck throwing the door open for you.  Before he can say anything, you jump in and crush his face with the sweetest kiss for about a minute.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that for, boss." comes out from the extremely surprised golem.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, ... ah, never mind." You grin and sigh looking out at the sky for a moment until you realize what he said.  Looking back seriously, you direct,  "And don't call me "boss" any more."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, chief."<br/>
<br/>
"Nor chief or anything like that.  I'm Cassie like this, so you will call me that or Cass or babe, or anything endearing."<br/>
<br/>
"OK, ... That." he smirks back.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you're just so sweet." you coo at him as you smack his arm then run your hand under his shirt and tickle him where you have this really sensitive spot.<br/>
<br/>
The Will-golem grimaces and tries to stifle a giggle. It's something you do often to try to control your emotions.  Unfortunately, his face and demeanor are rather silly and stupid, almost repugnant causing you to just now realize how you've looked doing that when Lisa would tease you. As you continue to tickle him, you wonder if that's why she always looked away and avoided much playing with you. You shriek as the truck swerves wildly across the median before making a sharp turn towards school barely avoiding taking out two cars.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
A few minutes later as you're turning into school, you see Lisa walking along, and the Will-golem leans out the window and nicely says "Morning, Lise!"  Cassie's elbow jabs him hard in the ribs without your conscious urging, and the truck veers up over the curb just missing the "Drive Safe. <span style="font-family:comic sans ms, cursive"><span style="text-decoration:line-through">23</span> 7</span> Days without Accidents."<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
Getting out of the truck, you see the queen bees glaring at you and Will from their perch at the top of the side steps, and Lisa is also watching from the front.  Reaching back to pick up your bag off the seat as Will comes round, you give them a show by swinging the bag to hit Will.  Hopefully, this and what follows will keep the cheer buzzards off your case and make Lisa think you're taking her advice.<br/>
<br/>
"What'd I do now?" he pleads stunned.<br/>
<br/>
Since no one else is nearby, you act like you're talking angry but say normally, "Just pretend we had a disagreement.  Go about today as usual as if you don't care about it, but don't get trapped alone with anyone.  Now say something and reach over and give me a kiss."<br/>
<br/>
As he says "Something." (this literal factor with golems is really infuriating) he reaches and leans over just to get a slap across his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Damn, you're really good at bitchy."<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
You relax and let Cassie's persona just take over guiding you in the morning gossip session with Beth and friends through first period.  They all want to know if you broke up with Will, so you just say he did a 'guy thing' that got you upset and you didn't know.  That should fuel the rumor mill some more and keep Chelsea and company away.  The last thing you want is for them to think Cassie needs a little stronger persuasion.<br/>
<br/>
While going to second, Will catches you in the hallway looking concerned, obviously with some new information.  You move aside from the stream, and he whispers to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa wants to meet after school.  She was very insistent even when I said I had to go right home because of the grounding.  She asked to ride along." Then looking away and licking his lips as if he had done something he shouldn't, but really wanted to, adds,  "I couldn't say no."<br/>
<br/>
Cassie's emotions almost make you panic, but you force yourself to take hold. You need more time. You wanted to check Blackwell's library as Melody tonight before trying to unmask him.  But ...<br/>
<br/>
"Tell Caleb to meet you after school at your truck 'cause you want to show him something at your house or any excuse to get them there before Lisa shows up.  That way they can ride with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Great recovery.  I thought I had screwed up, Cass."<br/>
<br/>
You smile at him and agree. "She trapped you.  I hadn't thought of that, but you did the right thing to tell me right away." Cassie's natural compassion makes you thank him by steping up on tip toes and giving him a kiss on the lips.  "See you at lunch."<br/>
<br/>
He slaps you on the butt as you walk away.  You jump and look back but keep going almost running right into Kendra Saunders.  She gives you a nasty look then glances at the Will duplicate walking away down the hall.  Then she shakes her head at you disgusted and briskly marches away.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
Fourth period is the algebra exam, and you're actually excited to go knowing Will will be there next to you.  It's great to really get into character, but you're finding it sometimes hard to control Cassie's strong emotions.  Emotions are something you've always tried to hide, and it's a learning experience letting them out. and finding it isn't a bad thing even for a guy, although you have to be careful about getting overwhelmed and do something stupid like the first time you put her mask on and couldn't help but jump your golem.<br/>
<br/>
When you get to Mr. Kowalski's, Chelsea is just exiting his room and everyone is waiting to get in behind two of her goons.  Chelsea ignores you and everyone else, but Kendra smirks at you as she follows Chelsea away.<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Prescott and Miss Samuels," Kowalski announces. "Please switch seats for the rest of this term.  It's, ah ... time to mix things up a bit."<br/>
<br/>
You share surprised glances with the golem, but then turn and look at Mr. Kowalski.  He smiles and nods at you like he just did you a big favor.  Obviously, Kendra reported your meeting in the hall with Will, and Chelsea convinced Kowalski to separate you two.  You don't know whether to be angered or fearful that she has so much power over teachers as well.  It upsets you so much that during the exam you almost forget to use your own math ability to help Cassie get a really good grade.  It's the least you can do while she's just gray stone under the mask of you sitting, now, across the room.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212222111221111
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Tested and cleaned up.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Lunch passes as usual with Beth spilling more gossip than you think could possibly happen since first period. She then starts about last evening's study session and the games played with the little metal strip on foreheads.  Your eyes flash at that and retrieve those memories that you skipped through so quickly this morning.  <br/>
<br/>
Sure enough, Beth brought a mind strip, and everyone placed it on their foreheads watching it fade in and then back out.  It didn't work on Cassie, though.  It just fell off even when she leaned back. Since she was the last to try, they figured it was broken and no one cared. It must not work on golems or masks.<br/>
<br/>
You change the subject quickly after finding out where Beth got the mind strip: found in an envelope in her locker and put it back there this morning.  She promises to retrieve it and give it to you later.  At least it wouldn't have any of your memories, and those it captured wouldn't include what happened with Cassie since they went before her.<br/>
<br/>
The discussion then turns to spying results, but no one has seen anything unusual with Lisa today. You manage to ramble on about Chelsea getting Kowalski to switch Will's seat. That sends everyone onto the latest about the prima donnas. Chelsea let it be known that those not staying in line will be dealt with severely.  Rumors on who she is out to get focuses mainly on Cindy Vredenburg.  Seems she has been too consumed with grief over her sister's death that she hasn't kept up adequate performance in the cheerleading practice.  There's even a pool on who Chelsea has picked for her replacement.<br/>
<br/>
Cassie's emotions on this are quite strong, and you decide to give some comfort to Cindy.  You are about to go seek her out when Will and Caleb come by.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey. Mind, we join?" the golem tentatively asks.<br/>
<br/>
All the girls look to you figuring it's your call after the scene you did before school.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe.  If you can behave." you reply as firm as you can without emotion even though Cassie's persona really wants him to cuddle up right here and now. <br/>
<br/>
The Will-golem takes the chair next to you, but keeps his distance.  There's a little nervous small talk and eventually you're enjoying conversation with Caleb.  You miss the bantering back and forth you two used to do and almost drop out of character until you realize that you've slid your chair over to Will and are rubbing knees under the table.<br/>
<br/>
<i>If there is only some way you could let Caleb in on this.  It would be like old times and adventures.  If only you are sure it'd be safe.</i><br/>
<br/>
By the time the next-class warning bell rings, you're holding hands with Will, and you both kiss before heading off to the afternoon's classes.<br/>
<br/>
As you go, you see another of Chelsea's spies, Gloria Rea, but figure there's no more classes with Will that they can try to split you up.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
Sixth period is the Phys Ed exam.  Some dipshit school board member pushed through that all kids need exercise and should be tested just like any exam.  Unfortunately, instead of a multiple-choice exam, Westside had decided that it needs to be a real physical exercise test.  Fortunately, they picked something simple: running around the track for time. After the first year, they got chastised for trying to make everyone do it in the same amount of time which wasn't practical. So now everyone is tested at the beginning of the year and just have to be faster for each test.  Even the football linemen are smart enough to lazily jog in September so they don't have to exert themselves for any of these tests.<br/>
<br/>
Cassie, being short, is never happy with this since it normally takes her a while to make it around, but she always puts forth a strong effort.  However, there are some girls that think this should be more like roller derby, pushing and shoving to slow each other down and cause a low grade or force a do-over due to too slow a time.<br/>
<br/>
Today is no different.  You are with a few other smaller girls coming round the last curve when several idiots ahead begin the usual jockeying to slow each other down.  As your group gets closer, more bumping takes place finally forcing you to the side where you trip over the edge, and slid forward into one of the puddles left from the sprinklers.  It almost felt like you are guided there.  By the time you are up, everyone else is finished and into the lockers.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, Cassie, but falling down doesn't excuse you from meeting the test.  The best I can do is let you go again, either now or after school."<br/>
<br/>
You don't have time after school.  You have to get over to the university and switch with Melody after picking up a new mask at the clubhouse.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll go again, now.  I only have study hall last period today." which you hoped would give you more time to prepare. You also had to do it because Cassie's parents would freak if she comes home with a D in anything.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
There is no gym class next period, and the locker room is empty when you come in sweaty, wet and muddy.  Throwing your soiled clothes on the floor by your locker, you head to the showers.  Cassie's fastidiousness was too strong to ignore not cleaning up before dressing and heading out.<br/>
<br/>
Coming out of the shower, you are greeted by the cheerleading thugs and the self-crowned princess herself holding a towel out.  You back up a bit and cover yourself with your hands by Cassie's basic shy instincts.<br/>
<br/>
"I think we need to have another talk about playing, but you should dry off first." Chelsea commands.<br/>
<br/>
Very gingerly you reach for the towel still trying to keep covered and growing more frightened by the second.  Embarrassed you turn your back.  Chelsea just sits and waits while Kendra and Gloria block your way around to your locker and any exit even if you had the courage to run naked out of here. <br/>
<br/>
When Chelsea thinks you had taken long enough, she nods, and the two whip the towel away and hold your arms so you can no longer cover up.  Initially you struggle, but stop as Chelsea speaks.<br/>
<br/>
"It will be a lot easier if you relax. We just brought a few toys here we want to show you." she explains calmly with a real air of superiority and indicates a small duffel bag on the floor.  "Also, there's no need to gag you if you stay quiet, BUT ... we will if needed."<br/>
<br/>
With that Kendra goes over, picks up the duffel, dropping it on the bench in front of you while Gloria holds your arms back.  All of them are much bigger than Cassie, so there is really no hope of escape.  You take a couple deep breaths still feeling warm from the shower, but your emotions have your heart beating fast and your body shivers from not knowing what they are about to do.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
It is a good fifteen minutes before you stop yourself from crying after they left.  Cassie's emotions overwhelmed you when they pulled the first thing out of the duffel.  Her persona took over, and all you could do was be a spectator from inside her head.  Somehow you are saved from anything more than just having her pubics shaved when you ask if they are working for Lisa Yarborough since she was also trying to break you up with Will. They almost froze before hastily grabbing their stuff and leaving. It was just too weird, but relief just left you drained and crying.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, back with some sort of control, you pick up all the hair, every last one, and put them in your purse.  Cassie's all consuming personal hygiene is so different from your own, but it nags at you constantly unless you follow through.  You have no idea why she wants to keep all the hairs instead of throwing them away, but you do it.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
By the time you're composed and dressed, the last bell of the day sounds.  You quickly exit through the outside door and head into the parking lot abutting the locker rooms and where your truck is parked.  You want to meet up with Will, Caleb and Lisa and find out the truth.  After half an hour though, Lisa never shows.  Caleb and your golem are getting restless, and Caleb is getting suspicious.  Maybe it's time to let him in on this, although you don't have much time to get to the clubhouse, explain everything, and make it over to the university to meet Melody.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122221112211111
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Coming out to Caleb
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Let's stop by the little school so we can show Caleb what we've done." you suddenly say as you sit between Will and Caleb in the truck heading away from the school.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, babe.  That sounds cool." Will says as he takes the next turn that way.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean the "clubhouse" we used last summer?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yea.  That one." Will replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Will got this book and has been doing some neat disguise-like stuff.  It's really fab.  So much that you wouldn't even recognize Will if he was sitting next to you." you hint to him.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I'm not really into threesomes. So if you two want to go it alone, I'll just walk home from here." Caleb says waiting back from the door.<br/>
<br/>
"No.  Come on.  You really have to see this to believe it." you say and wrap your hands around his left arm pulling him next to you and towards the door where Will has unlocked it with the key you gave him.<br/>
<br/>
"It's stuck." Will leans his shoulder hard against it. "Caleb, give me a hand."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb also leans hard against the door, but they can't make it open. After they continue to struggle for a while pounding it fairly hard, you remember you told the golem inside to not let anyone in without the pass phrase, so you decide to chide and help them.<br/>
<br/>
"If you can't get it open, the book is useless."<br/>
<br/>
Like the Arabian nights and "open sesame," the door releases and both fall through landing on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, another to add to the group?" Umeko's voice rings out from across the dim room.<br/>
<br/>
"Shush.  He doesn't know anything ... yet." you say as you step around them and into the basement.<br/>
<br/>
"Damn, you got your cousin locked up in the basement!  Dude, you are really fucked up." Caleb exclaims crawling up off the floor while looking around.<br/>
<br/>
"Not really Umeko." you say as you reach up to her face, say the words three times and pull her face off.<br/>
<br/>
A high pitched shriek, not unlike Ned Flanders of the Simpsons, erupts from Caleb after he sees her turn to stone then backs up into Will.  He looks back at Will who just stands there unfazed.<br/>
<br/>
"Is ... Is she some kind of witch?" he asks Will.<br/>
<br/>
"Witch?  Little me?" you say sauntering towards him seductively.<br/>
<br/>
He gazes at you wide-eyed as you stare him down enjoying the moment, perhaps too much, as his eyes fill with fear.<br/>
<br/>
Spinning around and grabbing Will's shoulders with both hands, Caleb starts ranting rapidly, "She's bewitched you, Dude. Snap out of it. We gotta get out of here, man. I knew it couldn't be true.  She's not your type. Oh Mother of Mercy, save our souls!"<br/>
<br/>
He tries to get around Will and back to the door, but you are now standing there ... without the Cassie mask on and buck naked.<br/>
<br/>
Two more shrieks identical to the first erupt from him as he looks from one to the other of you then starts hyperventilating, staggers to the center of the room, and stands frozen considering the pair of you and your clothed twin.<br/>
<br/>
"P...pl...please d-d-d-d-don't ....."<br/>
<br/>
"Get a grip Caleb!" you interrupt. "Just relax and let me explain about this book."<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
It takes some doing, but you finally convince Caleb that you aren't possessed and his life isn't in danger (even though it probably is from Blackwell if he found out, but you conveniently skipped all that part of the story, for now).  You even convince him that you have some work with a professor at the university on this who got you into the book and masks (a little bit of truth).  Caleb finally seems cool with it, even accepting the fact that you are just filling in for Cassie while she is stuck solidly somewhere you can't tell him.  <br/>
<br/>
"Look, I have some things I have to do tonight, but you can hang with my friend Will.  He's really cool.  Just as good as me." you joke pointing to the Will golem who gives Caleb a big grin.  "Just remember, you must...keep...this...to yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"Yo, Dude.  You can always trust me." he states pulling his thumb and index finger across his mouth like a zipper.<br/>
<br/>
He's really interested in trying the masks and doing something with the golem, but there's no way you'll let him get Umeko's nor Cassie's body or get your memories from any of them.  There's two blank masks that the golem completed, and you need one to make a second Melody tonight for you to use at Blackwell's.<br/>
<br/>
You consider making a mask of him - a golem mask to control him so he doesn't tell anyone, even accidentally.  It would be so easy since he is a willing participant. You could tell him the burning with dirt and hair is part of the usual process.  It's not like you would turn him to stone like Cassie.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122221112211112
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Continue without Caleb
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Look, Will.  I don't know why Lisa wanted to see you and I don't care, but  if she's not woman enough to show just 'cause I'm here, then I don't want to ever hear or see you with or about her if we are to stay together. Now let's get going. I gotta be home before my parents do or I'm gonna really be mad at you. ...  See ya Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
You climb into the truck as Will-golem says something to Caleb who stomps off in the other direction.  When he gets into the cab, he looks a little confused and upset, perhaps hurt, and it dawns on you that you just shooed away his best friend that he hasn't had much contact with except at school since <i>the book</i> consumed you.  That makes you start to feel the same.  Maybe you should have brought Caleb in on this.<br/>
<br/>
"It's OK.  As soon as you drop me off, you can call him up and apologize again.  Invite him over and have some fun together,  Just don't talk about the book or anything we've done with it or what it says. Now, to the clubhouse."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, ...That." and he winks at you with a smile.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head but understand he's just being you.<br/>
<br/>
As you ride along you start to consider what you're finding out about yourself from the outside.  Your annoying habits that you never thought were.  Your childish approach to hiding your emotions.  Your often lack of making a smart decision by not considering all the facts.  Even Cassie's mind had qualms about you for certain things you did, but her emotions had lead her on.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Damn.  Is that part of why Lisa had dropped me as a boyfriend but still liked being my friend?</i><br/>
<br/>
Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
You've got to get back to figuring out her and Blackwell. Hopefully, you can get some time to peruse Blackwell's library tonight.  The cataloging is fairly easy for Melody, so she can probably do that in less than the hour he has for her.  That will give you time to check his library, maybe more, although his house really needs an interior makeover.  The gothic look is so out except for those weirdo Goth dressers at school.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Focus, Will, focus.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's hard thinking logically with Cassie wandering through your brain.   Being her is much easier than trying to be yourself in her body.  There's no instruction manual part of the book, and all these things with masks and golems, Blackwell, Lucy, Melody, maybe even Lisa ...<br/>
<br/>
You realize that you don't really understand any of this.  It was just an ego thing to keep the book because you didn't like Blackwell, and then it became a game like WoW.  You start to consider what you've done in this "game" - digging up graveyards and turning someone to stone.<br/>
<br/>
Now your mind is really spinning without any understanding. Your head hurts.<br/>
<br/>
"We’ve arrived at make out central my little squeeze."<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
At the clubhouse, you switch Cassie to the original golem, grab the finished masks and swap your old dirty Will clothes to what Will-golem is wearing.  He can get those washed when he gets home.  You have him drop Cassie (now golem number 1) off at her home and then you at the university library.<br/>
<br/>
You've got about ten minutes until your Melody slave meets you on the third floor where there is several places you and she can be unseen while you check memories in her mask while you make another mask of her to use.  There's a spring to your step as you head into the university library to meet her.  The gloom and confusion in your head appears to be gone as well. You're not wearing a mask now since it's unlikely anyone here will recognize you. You're even looking forward to going to Blackwell's. Well, sort of.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
<i>DAMN!</i> you think as you get the latest memories from the Melody mask you took off her. She's meeting up with Umeko at seven to go see a movie.  You forgot that connection, but it shouldn't cause a problem as long as they stay away from anywhere Blackwell might see them.  Once the Melody-golem mask is back on her, you give her instructions to be discrete when she leaves the library and is out with Umeko.<br/>
<br/>
You take the set of Melody clothes you brought and find another place you won't be observed to use the new Melody mask and change.  Thank goodness for family rest rooms.  It doesn't matter what sex you are to come and go. So in you go, and out comes Melody.<br/>
<br/>
Now you still have a couple hours before you are to be at Blackwell's at eight. You head over to Melody's dorm room to change since you can't wear the same outfit from last week.  You don't want to stay too long since someone may notice your variation from Melody's routine, although the thought crosses your mind that you have time to get to know Melody better. It's only about a thirty minute walk from the other side of campus to Blackwell's.  Maybe forty-five total from the dorm.  That means you have another forty-five free.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221222211122111121
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Discovering Melody.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As you change with Melody standing in her underwear before the closet door mirror, it's the first time you've actually considered her body.  Previously you were just changing into her as a disguise and didn't even pay any attention taking her clothes on and off.  You were just concentrating too much on what you were going to do at Blackwell's office then his home.  Even in the school basement, you were just using her mind to help you think, and that's what you seem to be doing now: analyzing yourself in her body.<br/>
<br/>
She isn't anything like Cassie who is cute, short and well proportioned much more to your teenage craving.  She is very emotional, too, which can quickly drown you in them and are always giving you physical urges.  Her persona is flirtive, talkative (very!), and sociable.  Studying is a dreary burden forced upon her with no real meaning or use.  Some classes may be fun, but she sees to practical use for what she is learning.  It's something to get through so she can attend college to meet people, play and party.<br/>
<br/>
Melody is a loner, deeply consumed by study that she approaches as something that helps her accomplish her goals. She is intelligent and mature, way more mature than the Westside girls you know.  She is consumed with the need to find answers for her questions.  She finds most of her pleasure in her research and is bored with most classes, especially Blackwell's, though very interested in the topics.  She has some friends, but doesn't make them easily. She has urges, but is underwhelmed by them especially compared to how she feels about her search for knowledge.  Her body has all the usual parts though not assembled like the girls you have always desired or been shown as desirable in movies, TV, or porn mags.  It's not that she is UN-attractive. It's just she seems ... well, plain.<br/>
<br/>
Through Melody's mind as well as her eyes, you start to take a tour to the south side, ... of campus that is, in the direction of Blackwell's.  It's the older part of campus with a style matching his house - haughty, gothic, secreted vault of knowledge - at least for Melody. She sees the meaning in each stone, window shape, and arch and doorway position.  You ride her memories and thoughts to find that she has mastered as much as can be learned of the Masons, their history, rites, and secrets.  Not just "National Treasure" cliché, but real facts that border on alchemy and sorcery as well.<br/>
<br/>
She is the perfect match to help you with this book and would be the perfect ally against Blackwell with her knowledge, resourcefulness and dislike of the man himself.  It's his demeanor and pompous lecturing that infuriates her.  He can spew facts but can't draw valid conclusions himself.  Whatever he seems to have done can actually be found in papers prepared by his students that she has researched in the library.  There can even be found Blackwell's research and thesis when he was in school.  All of it lacking.  He seems to use his students as his pawns to solve the unknown while he can just stare at it.<br/>
<br/>
The latter makes you remember his use of Lucy and the golem.  You wonder if he has gone from stealing student intellectual property to stealing intellect including the student.  He may have pawns and golems everywhere.<br/>
<br/>
When you put Melody's mind to consider the info you have on Blackwell and the book, she actually dismisses him as no more than a buffoon who stumbled on something beyond his comprehension and started playing, then exploiting it.  She knows he has no more ability than a teenager would if the book fell into his hands, unless he understood the source of such a book and the times and events that lead to its creation. Without a hidden talent or connection to it, the teen would just fumble through until the consequences devoured him.<br/>
<br/>
These are heavy thoughts that you would not have entertained were you not in Melody's persona. But you are, and all this makes you ponder the depth and seriousness of the situation you are in.  You never believed in magic, nor taken the time to consider the implications of the book and what you are doing.  But Melody is doing just that for you as your mind and body is melded with hers.<br/>
<br/>
It's just a little before eight as you stroll towards Blackwell's eerie mansion.  The sky has already turned dark and stars are just peaking out as if checking whether there is something menacing lurking below them before they fully show themselves.  The mansion itself has a silhouette like a three headed demon formed by its turrets and chimneys.  Even the few lights inside are positioned in windows that form a face with small, close-set eyes and a hideous, toothy smirk.<br/>
<br/>
As you arrive, a very nice car is parked out front.  "Very nice" actually doesn't come close to describing it as you walk slowly by. It's black, and the windows are tinted so you can't look in, but the style radiates several things:  power, sophistication, importance, mystery, and evil.  It makes you, and Melody's persona from the mask, think this is almost the type of car Blackwell would have, <i><u>if</u></i> he was sophisticated or important.<br/>
<br/>
You wonder who the car could belong to as you walk warily through the grotesque forms created by the slight glow from the windows as it tries to avoid falling directly on the bushes and statuary that wander the lawn leading up to the front door.  Before you can knock, you are frightened further by loud voices resounding from inside. One is Blackwell's.  You can't make out the words, but Blackwell seems to be very upset and doing most of the talking, or rather yelling.  The other is just a loud, short response to him.  You knock, and the voices go silent.<br/>
<br/>
About half a minute later, the door opens and Blackwell greets you nervously, ushering you in and pointing you to the library where he says there's a pile of books he just got in.<br/>
<br/>
"I have a ... ah guest right now.  So just go ahead and get started." he tells you. " Once I'm done, I'll be in my study.  When you're finished just knock on the door.  Now hurry along as tonight's pile may take a while.  I'll cover anything over an hour if you can stay and finish." He pushes you down the hall then backs against the study's closed doors and watches you go.<br/>
<br/>
"I need to stop by the little girl's room first, if you don't mind." you say over your shoulder and head to the door across the hall from the library.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Yes.  That will be fine." he quickly repeats grimacing from your use of "little girl's room" as he remains with his hands behind him on the door as he follows your movement.<br/>
<br/>
You wave back and smile as you head into the bathroom and make sure he hears the latch and the click of the lock.  You listen by the door until the sound of the study's pocket door rolling open and closed finishes, then you quietly open the bathroom door and race down the hall to listen through the study's door.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212222111221111211
author_id: wordsmitty
title: A Guest at Backwell's.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"One of your creations?" an unfamiliar voice asks.  It is deep, strong, confident, and the tone is almost humorous with a good bit of evil.<br/>
<br/>
"NO." Blackwell emphatically states.  "Just a student assistant helping catalog my library."<br/>
<br/>
"She knows then?"<br/>
<br/>
"No!   She knows nothing."<br/>
<br/>
"I just figured anyone coming here would be ..."<br/>
<br/>
"I DON'T let others know, ... to be safe." Blackwell emphatically retorts.  <br/>
<br/>
"The other girl then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Purely an unplanned experiment." Blackwell voice trails off as he says this.<br/>
<br/>
"Looked like you could do some pretty interesting exper ..."<br/>
<br/>
"NEVER!" he spits.  Then there was a long pause.  Obviously, the unknown man was waiting for him to explain.<br/>
<br/>
"It was after midterms.  She had come to my office to discuss her work, or rather lack thereof." Blackwell continues, his words coming out a bit agitated, obviously nervous in describing the situation.<br/>
<br/>
"She wanted to know how she could get them up."<br/>
<br/>
"I see.  So you ..."<br/>
<br/>
"NO. and NO again.  I don't do or condone that.  A student must learn and work to learn.  Never a bribe ... of any sort."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yes.  The old true-blue Blackwell.  Honor above all." came out as sarcastic as you've ever heard anything spoken.<br/>
<br/>
"Some of us still have dignity and don't use the world as toilet paper or people as toys."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Touché, professor.</i><br/>
<br/>
After another pause, Blackwell continues, "She began to play with the new mask I had on my desk.  I had brought it to the office to check with some references I had there. When I told her to be careful and tried to get it back, she threatened to drop it then said it would go well with a costume and party, at which time ... she, ... ah ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Put it on."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, and fell unconscious."<br/>
<br/>
"How convenient.  A beautiful woman laying on the floor waiting for you to experiment on."<br/>
<br/>
"Your mind is more full of filth than an overflowing dustbin."<br/>
<br/>
The unknown person chuckles as you wonder what century Blackwell is from.<br/>
<br/>
"Even after I called Ms. Evans, the receptionist, and had her go for some smelling salts, when the girl awoke, her spirit was still intent on getting a passing grade, or else.  I did not want the mask or book to be found out, so I capitulated."<br/>
<br/>
"But you used the mask to be her so as to gratify your decision."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell explodes, "YOU PERVERT! I WOULD NEVER ... NEVER defile a student or any woman or person in that way, even if just in their form."<br/>
<br/>
You are beginning to think that you have Blackwell all wrong. Or maybe he is just a really good actor.<br/>
<br/>
"But you do masquerade as her, and have your golem do the same, ... as well as other errands, ... like ..."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't do anything to harm them."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not." the reply is sarcastic.<br/>
<br/>
"NOT LIKE YOU." Blackwell's voice getting more caustic just as the other remained clam and normal. "YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO ..."<br/>
<br/>
"An accident. even the police report says so."<br/>
<br/>
"I know you killed her no matter what anything says whether you were there or not.  She wouldn't just swerve and crash into a wall for no reason.  What you did WAS MURDER! ... FOR NO REASON. ... MURDER!"<br/>
<br/>
"How was I to know it wasn't you or your golem out to get rid of me?  The car cut me off and almost ran me off the road.  I saw it was the one you'd been using.  What was I to think?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>OMG. It wasn't Blackwell that killed off Lucy.</i> you thought.<br/>
<br/>
"You flatter yourself that I would take such matters to stop your pestering me.  And what if the police found a solid rock statue in the driver's seat? What would they think?  You're reckless and a danger to the everything we've ever worked for!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're the reckless one." the voice is now much more forceful and threatening but still calm and normal volume. "I have worked hard for years, and you shouldn't have played with it but called me immediately. You should give me the book before anything else happens. I'm not responsible if the curse takes its course.  It creates these situations regardless of you or I.  But if I have the book ..."<br/>
<br/>
"IF YOU GET THE BOOK!?" Blackwell pauses and you hear him almost snorting with anger as he seems to be trying to catch his breath or calm himself.  "If you get the book, the world will not be safe."<br/>
<br/>
This time a loud hissing threat, "Give me the book or tell me where the book is."<br/>
<br/>
"I've told you that I don't have it any more.  My last student assistant made off with it without my knowing while cataloging my books.  He's disappeared from school completely.  I even tried to reach his home across the country, but no one seems to have seen him."<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't have the book, I assure you." the voice is now calm again. "No need to try to find him either."<br/>
<br/>
After a short pause, you and Blackwell reach the same understanding but only he speaks. "WHAT!  YOU KILLED HIM, TOO?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you always accuse me of such things?  I heard that he had an accident and ..."<br/>
<br/>
"GET OUT!"  Even if you had been in the library you probably would have heard that. You also took that as your cue to retreat to the library as you heard footsteps coming towards the door.  You made it just in time.  As you pass the threshold, you hear the study door slam into it's pocket followed by very heavy footsteps, much heavier than Blackwell's. You wait and listen.<br/>
<br/>
"AND ..." Blackwell starts loud then almost whispers, barely audible, "don't - come - back."<br/>
<br/>
"Good night then." the voice most cordial as if happily departing a dear friend.  "And say good night to your <i>assistant</i> as well." emphasizing the word.<br/>
<br/>
The way the latter was said makes your whole spine turn icy and starts you shivering even after you hear the front door close.  You go for the window wanting desperately to see the body behind the voice, but Melody's logic turns you back knowing that the light would show her looking out which may put her in evil sights.<br/>
<br/>
Footsteps, obviously Blackwell's, sound as if headed your way, so you quickly sit at the computer entering the first book you see.  The footsteps stop, and you are not sure if he is at the doorway or not, so you continue working without turning around.  As you grab another book, the footsteps retreat  fading completely as you hear the study door close.  You rub your hands and shake yourself to chase away the chills.  The end of the stranger's farewell plays back in your head like a warning, and you aren't sure if you, or actually Melody, had just been targeted.  <br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122221112211112112
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Perusing the Blackwell's Library.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>So as not to think about the earlier conversation nor the eerie environment of the library, you keep yourself busy entering the books.  The two clocks ticking nonsynchronously is distracting at first adding to the bizarre feeling of the whole place, but gradually they became something soothing and relaxing, almost hypnotic, enabling your  concentration.  <br/>
<br/>
It takes little time at all to do most of the books once Melody is let go to do them.  Her mind is like a super computer able to instantly grasp the right info from each book and type it in, never looking at the keyboard and without a mistake.  Be it the mind strip's ability or Melody's, you can remember where each book is to go even after leaving it waiting in the completed pile until you carry a bunch around the room quickly placing where the computer said they are to go without going back to look each up.<br/>
<br/>
It is amazing what you are doing, and you wish you had Melody's intellect to get you through school. That sets you off dreaming again of having multiple masks of yourself with different mind strips from various geniuses.  Or maybe one of the highly talented musical kids that could get you into being a rock star touring the world, new groupies in every town, women throwing themsleves at you, ...<br/>
<br/>
You wild fantasy is interrupted by Melody's conflicting thoughts on how perverted guys always are with just one thing on their minds.  She'd rather have an intelligent conversation and share feelings with another girl.  At least she'd feel respected.  That makes you think how you've considered that also when you weren't horny drooling over some hottie.  You wonder if that's why you've had few girlfriends and not for long.  Lisa is the only one you could ever call a friend that you weren't first going for her pants.<br/>
<br/>
After shelving the latest entries, both her and your curiosity compel you to check out the books Blackwell has laying around open.  Obviously, he is researching something and left them out for a reason.  Hopefully, something to do with the <i>Libras</i> and a way to save Lisa and yourself.<br/>
<br/>
The first several are just old stories about people who seem possessed, bowing to the whims of a mysterious or evil person who they had in the past shunned or even fought against.  Others told of people who would do "not normal" acts for days then return having no memory of any of that. One actually had a  reference to the <i>Libras</i> saying it was supposedly a sorcerer’s guide that was destroyed by a magistrate or noble in the 13th century after a trial and "witch and devil" burning of almost an entire village.  A footnote said the magistrate disappeared shortly afterward along with the transcripts and books of the trail.  It was thought a curse had been placed on him before those condemned by him were executed.<br/>
<br/>
Going back to the computer, you check for programs to search Blackwell's database which you easily find.  In no time you, using Melody's expertise in research, find several references to <i>Libras Personas</i> and go pull them from the shelves quickly scanning to the right page.  It is good that Blackwell had already entered the page number for many, but Melody's ability to speed read pages even in Latin and German is tremendous help.<br/>
<br/>
Although all descriptions or stories are different, they contain the same basic introduction of man's use of masks for ritual to pretend to be something or someone else often to stir a group to battle or to the hunt.  Shaman as well as rulers wear masks to let the spirits of the gods enter their bodies and talk to them to pass word to the people. At some point in ancient history thousands of years ago, either a priest or king commanded that the masks be remade claiming the ones he was given no longer worked.  He did not feel like a god when he put it on and did not get wisdom from it.<br/>
<br/>
When no one at court could construct a mask that worked, an edict went out to every merchant and craftsman to find or build a mask and they would be greatly rewarded. Although many tried and brought forth wondrous masks, heads rolled as all failed to make a mask that was satisfactory.<br/>
<br/>
One day a traveler (sometimes old and ragged, sometimes a fancy mercenary) came to the ruler's court claiming he had a mask that could allow any man to impersonate another man and not be discovered. However, he made no claims to communicate with gods.  He wished to present that mask to claim the king's reward. He was ridiculed, of course, until he either placed a mask upon his face or ripped the face off to reveal a totally different person in face <u>and</u> body (someone had hand underlined that).  Needless to say, the king was impressed, stole the mask and tortured the man until he confessed to getting it from someone way out in the middle of nowhere, etc., etc.<br/>
<br/>
Skipping ahead to get past the rest of the Disney-esque fantasy tale, you came to one source describing ancient magic rites being placed in a book that cannot be opened without spilling blood for it contains the means to capture a person's body <u>and</u> soul (again hand underlined) and place it upon another or on a body of stone carved from the dead of many.  Only a master who is wise and perceptive can resolve the riddles the book contains and not loose his mind to the book itself. With those secrets, he could control not just his destiny, nor just those surrounding him, but that of a kingdom and perhaps the world.  Neither the book itself nor its contents could be copied, although it was rumored that a copy of the book was once made.  Both books have been lost (in a similar story about witch burning) but are believed to still exist in hidden forms or in collections where each is guarded by the master of the book who enjoys the failures and calamities of those who try to unlock the secrets.<br/>
<br/>
You give up on these seemingly irrelevant stories and spend the next ten minutes walking around the library checking out the odd sculptures and freakish creatures that enliven the room like piranhas in a pool. You swear the three-headed beast about the size of a Doberman looked like the silhouette of Blackwell's house with it's towers and chimneys. The left head appeared well worn as if that was the only head one could pet or something. Although with its razor teeth and ferocious grin, you can't see why anyone would pet it even if it isn't alive.  God help anyone if it ever is.  <br/>
<br/>
Finally you go back to the last few books and finish cataloging and putting them away. When placing the very last, you notice the book right next to it that is similar in texture, color and style as the <i>Libras</i>.  You pull it out creating a swirl of dust that gets in your eyes and nose causing you to stagger backwards and sneeze.  After blowing off the rest of the dust - this book must have not been down for years, you open it and flip through the pages. They're old and the writing is similar to the <i>Libras</i>. Skimming a few pages, you find it's in old Latin and reads like poorly constructed warnings on the use of "dark powers" until abruptly the pages are blank as if an unfinished manuscript.  Turning back to the last page with visible writing, the words burn into your mind as Melody roughly translates them.<br/>
<br/>
<span style="font-family:comic sans ms, cursive">"I will not tell you how riddles are made nor riddles are solved.  Those of blood will be given admittance. Those who blunder forth will stop at half. Those who can see will perceive the answers there. Those who experiment will destroy themselves.  Those who mind itself will make whole. Those without character will succumb. Those who succumb will be consumed. Those who succeed will fail.  Those who fail will survive.  Those who survive will die.  Those who die will be forever."</span><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221222211122111121121
author_id: wordsmitty
title: What you see
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><span style="font-family:comic sans ms, cursive">"Those who die will be forever."</span>?? <br/>
<br/>
<i>What the fuck could that mean? Just more weird superstitious, mumbo jumbo.</i> you think and start to close the book, but Melody's mind stops you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Too much coincidence.</i> it screams out.  <i>The binding. The writing. The blank pages. There's got to be a connection!</i><br/>
<br/>
You find a piece of paper and copy those last statements so you can go over them later with the <i>Libras</i>. There's no way you can sneak this book out in the small purse you brought, so you take the book and carefully slip it back in place.<br/>
<br/>
There's little else you can do in the library.  It didn't have any great revelations that you hoped, except for that last book, although you, or rather Melody, needs some time to see if those phrases will really help.  It's been almost two hours here, and you don't want to stay any longer even if Blackwell mentioned the books may take a while. It's creepiness is really getting to you.<br/>
<br/>
You take your purse and head down the hall to the study's doors and rap lightly as Melody's timid self would do.  When there is no answer after ten seconds, you try again a little harder.  You hear the rustle of paper and then a few seconds later Blackwell tells you to come in.<br/>
<br/>
"You were right Professor Blackwell.  That pile did take me a bit longer than I thought." you say softly never making eye contact. Then nervously add, "I did have to do a couple things over, so it really was only an ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Nonsense, Melody.  The time it took, whether corrections or not, is the time I hired you for." his tone is exceptionally friendly as he gets up and comes around his desk. It is so different than any time before, almost like it isn't really him.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
The wad of bills he gives you fills your small purse, so you decide to go by the college bank branch Melody uses and deposit some of them.  That would also help your guilty conscious of the money you "borrowed" from Melody last week to get started.  The bank ATM and night deposit is on your way to the library where you had left your pack in the locker you rented for a dollar.  The college thinks it is a better idea to have those in the lobby so students don't make off with library books and materials hidden in backpacks.<br/>
<br/>
You forget about Blackwell's earlier guest as you walk back to campus thinking more on the cash and what your next steps should be with the new bit of info plus why Chelsea and Lisa are acting so weird.  Blackwell may still be using them to get the book from you.  He seems a lot less scary now and definitely less than ... his guest.  Then you remember and glance around to make sure no one is sneaking up on you. You now start feeling edgy and nervous and wish you didn't have to walk back alone, at night. There is no way you want to be confronted by that person tonight especially being mild, weak Melody right now<br/>
<br/>
There is a bit of traffic along the well lit avenue.  You even pass a few others walking home from the last classes probably going to one of several of the older, large homes closer in that are now boarding houses with rooms rented to students.  Only a few actually remain as a single home like Blackwell's.  They're all just a reminder of Saratoga Falls hey-day.<br/>
<br/>
The shadows grow and shrink as you move between the street lights.  There is a slight breeze putting a chill on the air.  It makes the trees shush with their leaves as if the shadows are trying to tell everything to stay quiet as they watch you pass.  No people or cars are passing by the time you are a block from campus.  The last street light flickers off and then very slowly warms back only to die again.  Each time, the shadows change and move trying to get closer.  You know it's nothing only that you've changed position while the light is out, but you shiver anyway telling yourself it's really from the cool breeze.<br/>
<br/>
As you turn into the campus walk and look back down the street where you just came, you see a car without lights on that is barely moving, about at walking pace, ... following you?  At least that's what shoots into your head when you recognize the dark sedan.  It is the one from earlier in front of Blackwell's.  You pick up your pace as you take the path across the green glad that there are many pedestrian walks separate and away from the roads on campus.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
The student center is still a beehive of activity as you make your way to the bank branch.  You don't even try the ATM card you borrowed from Melody last week.  From her memory you know that she discovered it gone and had it canceled, though she never checked her balance.  You take a deposit slip and envelope and put on the account number from the withdrawal receipt you still have in the purse.  With that done, you head back towards the library to retrieve your pack before taking a cab to the clubhouse.  You don't want to spend another cold night there, but it's too late to switch with any of your golems.<br/>
<br/>
As you stroll around to the library front, you see just off to the side of the entrance ... Melody and Omeko!  You make an immediate U-turn looking around to make sure no one sees, and then you slide between the bushes and find a place well concealed where you can watch.<br/>
<br/>
They are facing each other holding hands as they talk and laugh sometimes swinging their arms together and stepping back and forth.  Suddenly Omeko gives Melody a quick peck on the cheek and then turns and heads towards the parking lot while Melody goes into the library.  You consider whether you should go in and refill your mask of Melody with her evening's adventures with Omeko, but decide it would be too risky.  It's also too risky to go into the lobby now and retrieve your things from the locker since someone might notice two Melody's going through so soon.<br/>
<br/>
It only takes a few minutes until you see Melody come back out carrying her book bag.  Instead of heading off towards her dorm, she just stands there looking around, checks her cell phone, then looks around some more as if waiting.  Sure enough in only a couple minutes, Omeko comes briskly walking up to her carrying a small bag.  Melody points to the path towards her dorm and they head off that way. Just before they disappear around a corner, you see them take each others hand and you recognize the bag Omeko has.  It's the one she used to bring to your house when your aunt and uncle would go out of town and she would stay in your guestroom overnight using the bag for her personal items and change of clothes.<br/>
<br/>
<i>OMG! ... Is she ...? Are they ...?"</i><br/>
<br/>
You search Melody's memories but can find nothing except, ... except ...<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212222111221111211211
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Dreams and another surprise awakening.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's late, and the basement is cold and dark. You pace in circles as this evening's events play over and over in your head.  Nothing is making sense, and you have conflicting ideas of what to do. Melody's mind wants to study the book, sure that the phrases from Blackwell's will solve it.  Your Will side is bewildered and exhausted just wanting to reconcile all the things you've heard and seen tonight.  These are fighting each other as you grab the <i>Libras</i> and sit in a corner on the mat pulling the old blanket around you and holding the flashlight pointed at the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Omeko is a lesbian? No. She's never shown anything like that.  But she went off with Melody who has had ... "girl experiences," and she thinks Omeko is cute for ...</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You push those thoughts out and pick up the paper with the phrases.  A rush takes you over as Melody's mind starts sorting through them even though barely able to make them out in the dim light.  You open the <i>Libras</i> to the title page and see the opening in Latin again.<br/>
<br/>
"Claim me with money; possess me with blood."<br/>
<br/>
"<span style="font-family:comic sans ms, cursive">Those of blood will be given admittance.</span>"<br/>
<br/>
When you put your bloody thumbprint on the book, you were able to open to the first spell: the mask.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Probably coincidence</i>." you think. Your eyes grow heavy straining to read your scribble of the next phrase.<br/>
<br/>
"<span style="font-family:comic sans ms, cursive">Those who blunder forth will stop at half.</span>"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>What does that have to do with the mind strip, combination, or sealing?</i>" you question yourself in your head then thumb through the pages at the other spells. "<i>Nor half a golem.</i>"  You blink to keep your eyes open and awake.  The spells all seem clear, after a little thought, and complete.  You muddled through them without much problem. There's nothing that is half something.<br/>
<br/>
Then you reach as far in the book as you've played with so far.  Here you're stuck, held up from going further because of a missing part of the page before you that is fading in your vision.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
There is but a small point of light in the distance, flickering.  The wall on either side has faces hung against the dark stone, all with eyes closed.  Some seem familiar.  Others threatening. A flicker whisks you forward.<br/>
<br/>
In a cave with a small, low entrance that opens to a "room."  An ancient oil lamp, a flame dances out of the spout, sits in an alcove.  Either side are large, nondescript stone figures with crossed poles (spears?) precluding entrance. Behind, a large book. The <i>Libras</i>.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
Sun is hot.  No shade. No brush. No grass. No wind. No sound.<br/>
<br/>
Two figures on the horizon.  Now they're before you.  Hooded robes obscure features.  One holds a face - a mask - so real. Too real.  It's eyes open, look at you while it's held.  It's mouth opens. No sound. Hood falls back. Blank gray rock. The face now there. The mouth.  No sound. Words in your head.  Gibberish. It's expression, terror.  The other moves.  All now black.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
A parade, single file, passes, looks down at you.  Each is the same.  Never ending.<br/>
<br/>
Distant voices. No. ... Screams. No. ... Laughter. No. ... Maniacal shrieks. Not of the parade.<br/>
<br/>
All stop.  Many faces together look down at you.  You blink, try to move.  They hold you down.  Your hand reaches to a face, touches. Vision swirls.<br/>
<br/>
You look down ... at yourself.  You look around.  All faces now you.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
The hooded figure.  Robe dissolves.  It's skin, red, a sigil, identical to, it is the same, a walking <i>Libras</i>.  It's faceless head opens. It's hand reaches in. Then closes. Hand to sigil on chest. Face appears. Speaks. No sound. Words in your head.<br/>
<br/>
<span style="font-family:comic sans ms, cursive">Those who mind itself will make whole.</span><br/>
<br/>
Figure becomes the <i>Libras</i>. Opens. Grows. Engulfs you. Closes. Dark. Opens.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
Flames chase you.  Your shadow from them rises in front.  Terror. Guilt. Sadness. Concern. More shadows. None move. Silence.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
Everywhere empty. Your house. School. Keyserling College. Blackwell's library. His study. The back hallway.  Statues. No. ... Golems. No. ... Stone faces. Corpse golems. ... Lucy ... Cassie ... Blackwell ... Melody ... Omeko! ... LISA ! !<br/>
<br/>
NOO<font class="size2" style="">OOO</font><font class="size1" style="">OOO<span class="cgrey">ooo.</span></font><br/>
<br/>
You must ... save them. The <i>Libras</i>. Answers?  It must!<br/>
<br/>
Very heavy thumps. A voice - the guest?<br/>
<br/>
"Let me it.  Open the book. It's no good.  The book is useless to you."<br/>
<br/>
Frightened. No. ... Scared. No. ... Terrified.<br/>
<br/>
Run hard, fast. Dark. Breath, short. Tired. The clubhouse.<br/>
<br/>
The <i>Libras</i>.<br/>
<br/>
Open.  Only half page. No help there. Stare at the <i>Libras</i>. Mind swirls. Now inside it. Falling. The <i>Libras</i> floats past. Grab. Outside it, but holding it. Put two together. <i>Libras</i> glows.<br/>
<br/>
Half page turns. Another spell. Not reversal. Depression.<br/>
<br/>
Guest voice, "The book is useless."<br/>
<br/>
More pages. More spells. More puzzles. No time. Cry.<br/>
<br/>
"NO!" Curse the book. Pound the table. Scream.<br/>
<br/>
Frustrated. "It can't be. The book is useless."  Pound table harder.  Again. Continue. Crying, "The book is useless. The book is useless. The book is useless."<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
"OPEN THE DAMN DOOR."<br/>
<br/>
With a jerk, you wake up shaking, hot and sweaty hearing your own voice calling out and almost no light to remind you where you are.<br/>
<br/>
"The book is useless.  The book is useless." your voice is calling from outside, and there's loud banging on a door.<br/>
<br/>
"Just a minute." you holler back as you figure out you're in the basement clubhouse and that's the pass phrase to be used to get in. You grab the flashlight then stagger up and over to pull the bar keeping the door shut. In races the golem with your face looking very upset.<br/>
<br/>
"Big, big trouble last night.  I couldn't get to you, so I, ... I ..." It can't finish and stands there looking surprised and concerned.  "You look like crap."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122221112211112112112
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Go to school as yourself.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As you parked your truck in the school lot, it was like you were returning after a long vacation. Sure you had the memories from the mask the golem wore yesterday when it was here acting as you, but those felt just a bit different somehow. Clear and true, but different.<br/>
<br/>
After the golem had awakened you so early with its story, you knew you'd have to live your own life today. Fortunately, the earliness allowed you to trade places and sneak back home for a shower and shave before heading to school. You had put the Melody mask on the Cassie-golem and left her with its memories of last night, the scribbles from the book at Blackwell's, and the <i>Libras</i> to work on how to get past the torn page. Plus you described your strange dreams in case those might help. You'd really rather be Melody solving the puzzle, but circumstances required you at school today.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Big Boss. Long time no see." Cassie said as she cuddled up against you walking in. "What brings you here ... besides me?" she adds fluttering her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Certain events your counterpart had." joking back knowing even if someone overheard, they'd never understand the real meaning. "Got to be the real Will today."<br/>
<br/>
"I can always go for the real Will. Shall we meet by the ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry. I gotta stay focused and handle this first. See you in class and fill you in after lunch."<br/>
<br/>
Looking a little unsure she replied, "OK, snookems." Then she reached up on tip toes to plant a big kiss on your lips before heading off towards her locker.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
You pulled up to your shared locker to find Caleb already there dragging out his books.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, how's life down under? Haven't seen you much since you took up with little miss jabber blabber."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. How's life with you and Tilley?" you winked.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey! What's that suppose to mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"You two been almost inseparable lately." you offered while searching your half of the locker.<br/>
<br/>
"I ain't no fuckin' faggot just cause I'm not screwin' some girl and spend time with guys."<br/>
<br/>
"OK. OK, then. So, what <i>kind</i> of faggot are you?"<br/>
<br/>
You had missed the old banter. Well, missed it in real time. Your mask on the Cassie-golem had been funning with Caleb and Keith, and it had replayed those memories into you this morning. Somehow, it wasn't quite the same, though. This was real. It was good to have a break and not be practicing witchcraft or alchemy or whatever the damn book was.<br/>
<br/>
You barely got your hand out to miss the door slammed by Caleb. Then you turned to him looking innocent and surprised.<br/>
<br/>
"What'd I do?"<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
School actually seemed fun after the past few days you'd spent working in the basement and behind masks, not to mention your encounter with Melody and Blackwell. You hadn't ever been very committed, or so stubborn, with anything before, not even when you really wanted that X-Box when you were thirteen and had to work to earn enough. Work was much harder than you thought and didn't stay with it very long. If Lisa hadn't asked you about it, you wouldn't have started back after giving up several times.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa had been a good friend for quite a few years even before you went all ga-ga over her. You had shared many a good time as friends and didn't realize you weren't a couple until she went out with others. You felt hurt, then happy for her, then angry when one broke her heart. It was only then you decided to do more than study dates and surprised her after that movie with a kiss, just a quick sort of thing. Probably not enough to show you were really serious. You never told her how you really felt, and acted more silly than serious in those occasions not being sure of yourself. Maybe that's why she broke it off. Although all she really did was accept a date with Mansfield. It wasn't as if you had asked her to go steady or anything.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
As fourth period dragged on, you agonized in the wait, also anxious and apprehensive, for when it was over was lunch. That was why you were here today. You were going to meet with Lisa, alone.<br/>
<br/>
Last evening the golem disguised as you had gotten a call from Lisa. She sounded really upset and wanted to talk about old times then said she needed to talk ... in person ... alone. Your golem had put her off until school - first after school, but then she convinced him to meet at lunch. He had tried not to, but your old feelings got him before he could say no. But the strangest part of this was that she called just a little after eight o'clock, the exact time you were listening to Blackwell talking to his guest!<br/>
<br/>
Obviously, Lisa wasn't Blackwell in a mask, unless he had his golem in a mask of him while he pretended to be Lisa and called you. That seemed too far fetched, or maybe you just wanted to feel that way in hopes that Lisa hadn't been taken over. As the end of fourth period sounded, it was now time to find out.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
You grabbed a quick bite in the cafeteria, kissed Cassie, slapped Caleb and Keith, then excused yourself to use the bathroom. Fortunately, none watched as you went out the side door to meet Lisa by the bleachers. It was private to talk but in plain view of others, so you felt Blackwell wouldn't try anything. That was if Blackwell was Lisa. When you saw her, she wasn't carrying her book bag or a purse, and there wasn't anywhere she could hide a mask. You felt sure it was safe to be alone as long as you didn't walk towards anyplace where she could have hidden a mask to grab quickly and do you in.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221222211122111121121121
author_id: wordsmitty
title: A revealing conversation.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You've been so distant lately, Will. We used to be good friends and talk all the time, but you seem to have moved on and just left me in the dirt."<br/>
<br/>
Lisa's eyes were starting to get red and puffy. You had talked for a while about things you used to do and discuss together until she said this. You knew for sure she would start crying at any second if you didn't do something. She was right, though. You had been avoiding her lately concerned she was Blackwell. Before that, you were upset with the breakup; and when Geoff Mansfield started hanging around her, you felt so low that she and you weren't ... Now even your eyes were getting itchy.<br/>
<br/>
"Lise, puppies don't bark at dog biscuits." you choked out with a smile hoping she would only see the humor of that old story you used to share.<br/>
<br/>
She cheered up with that, but her statement also allowed you to raise the issue of her lies to Cassie and discern if she had done it as a masked impostor.<br/>
<br/>
"So why did you tell Cassie all that stuff about me like I am some kind of pervert?" you asked showing how hurt you felt.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa looked at her feet. You watched her hands to make sure she didn't pull a mask ..., or mind strip! You just realized that that's all Blackwell needed, not a whole mask. She could have one hidden anywhere and whip it to your forehead before you knew it. You'd pass out, and she'd get the strip to use as she left school fetching the book straight to Blackwell's. You eased back a step as your mind began to panic. You were sure you had walked right into a trap and didn't have any defense against ...<br/>
<br/>
"Will? ... WILL!? ... Are you OK?" Lisa asked now looking directly at you. Her brown eyes showing that concern and caring you had seen so many times when you had screwed up, like falling out of a tree on that stupid dare. She was like an angel then looking down at you with your mind dazed, like... like awaking from a mask. <br/>
<br/>
"WILL! Please. You're scaring me."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, Lise. I ... my mind ... remember that dare to climb a tree."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not going stupid on me again like that are you?" she joked smiling at that memory.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Sorry."<br/>
<br/>
There was a long pause as she looked at you then sighed, finally glancing down and away before she began to speak, not looking up until she finished.<br/>
<br/>
"It was just, ... I was stupid, angry, upset. So many things had gone wrong that day, and ... " She paused taking a deep breath to clam herself before she could continue. "I felt so bad and you were so happy. My great aunt had died the day before, Geoff had just dropped me, and it was that time of the month. ... and Chelsea, something Cassie or you did and she asked me to. I just struck out at you, to her, to your happiness. I didn't feel you were there any more and didn't want anyone to be happy. I've regretted it every day. That's why I needed to talk to you, to explain. Will, I ... I ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa, it's OK." you said calming her and holding her hands. "I was feeling very hurt when we broke up, too, and ..."<br/>
<br/>
At this she perked up a bit surprised.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know we broke up. I'm sorry, but I didn't think we were a couple when Geoff asked me out." She smiled after saying this and let go to rub her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, too. I guess ... I thought there was something else ... between us." You then raised your hand to push her hair back.<br/>
<br/>
She smiled even more as she reached up to your head. You panicked again quickly grabbing her hand and pulling it down to look into her palm. Then you realized her other hand was free and grabbed it. Fortunately, Lisa just took this as one of your quirky, awkward actions. That's when you realized that this was your chance to be sure.<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa, can you to trust me a moment to do something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, sure Will. I trust you."<br/>
<br/>
You put your thumb and fingers above her left eye socket, said the words three times and pulled.<br/>
<br/>
"Ow, Will! What was that for?" she yelled and jerked back rubbing her forehead where you'd tried to pull off the non-existent mask.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm very sorry, Lisa. I can explain, but .. ah, just not here. Meet me after school, and I can go show you and explain everything. Please, let me explain. Can you come with me after school?" you pleaded with an uncertain smile. You felt very good. Lisa was safe, and ... <br/>
<br/>
"<i>Did she sort of imply something more? She was jealous. OMG. Could the golem's prediction that that's why she did it be true?</i>"<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212222111221111211211211
author_id: wordsmitty
title: A wild ride before you reveal anything.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As the three of you piled into your truck, Cassie asked, "Is she one of us?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. She's still one of us" you answered.<br/>
<br/>
"Not in the control of the evil puppet master then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Just as normal as me."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not very comforting." Cassie returns a bit sarcastic then babbles on like she does so well. "But then you've always had that peculiar side. Like last year with principal Sagansky. I mean, like, even Kim Walsh was embarrassed. The whole team was ..."<br/>
<br/>
"She's not a threat."<br/>
<br/>
"So, you've told her."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmmm ... not yet."<br/>
<br/>
Frustrated at being in the middle of this conversation and on the seat with her head swinging back and forth during this, Lisa jumped in, "Told me what? What type of game is this?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, Lisa. It's not a game. It's something rather serious actually. Just a bit unusual."<br/>
<br/>
"So you said at lunch after you tried to pull my eyebrow off. You're a good friend, Will, but if you're doing drugs or something illegal, I don't ..."<br/>
<br/>
"It's nothing like that. But I have to show you, and we can't do it here. Just trust me. Please?"<br/>
<br/>
Your voice was amazingly calm considering what you were about to do. Something about Lisa did that to you. You always felt you could trust her and wanted her to be safe and comfortable. And this was a time when you had to show the strong you ... the real you. It felt good. Relief. Finally, someone you could share this all with so you didn't have to hide it all inside. Someone you actually trusted more than Caleb and Keith. Who knows what they might want to do. Capturing cheerleader images for use with a golem or swapping out the basketball team. Maybe even infiltrating Eastman or taking over some rich kid's life. You could have gotten yourself and everything really more screwed up now that you think about it. But Lisa is more down to earth. Someone who you hoped can help you get this straightened out as well<br/>
<br/>
There's a long pause as Lisa stared at you before she answered, "OK, Will. I trust you. We've been friends too long. I know when I can trust you."<br/>
<br/>
In silence you drove on towards the empty school and your basement hideout having no idea how you could break everything that's happened, especially the things you had done to Cassie, or whether Lisa will flip out and expose you, or worse. Your feelings for her were welling up inside again. You wished Cassie wasn't here. Even if she is really a golem under your control, you felt uncomfortable having someone else around when you talk about your feelings for Lisa. You could tell Cassie to stop listening, watching, or even breathing, or just pull the mask, but you couldn't be in a moving vehicle when Lisa found out, or when she realized that you fucked an animated rock, twice, from different sides.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
"Promise again that you will let me explain everything first."<br/>
<br/>
"Relax, Will. This can't be that bad. I can trust you that no matter how weird a thing you've done, and you know what I mean," she winked and smiled, "that there was a reason, and I've always heard you out. OK?"<br/>
<br/>
She was right, about her and about your antics. She's always been a good friend. Unfortunately, you couldn't seem to calm yourself. It was like the first time you asked anyone on a date. You hoped you don't blank out after telling her and miss what she says like that first time asking a date and had to request having the answer repeated.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know." you sighed then explained. "I found this place last year and sorta set it up to hang out. It's better than the tree house." you tried to chuckle nervously then continued after lifting the padlock. "Like I said, at first I thought <i>the book is useless</i>."<br/>
<br/>
You pushed the door open after saying the pass phrase, having not made it obvious still concerned anyone would figure it out. You had already told her it was about an old book with some experimental stuff in it and needed a place where your parents wouldn't find out. You had done some of them with results you'd show her once here. Melody was waiting, and Lisa turned back to look at you as you followed her in giving you that look of "what now?" but remained quiet.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey boss. You adding to the harem again?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's nothing like that!" you blurt out before Lisa can sigh and shake her ahead again.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right." the golem comes to your defense. "We're not doing it. The boss just keeps me locked down here for my mind and physical stuff, that is when he's not being me. But he's never done it then eith ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Enough of that." you interrupted the golem then turned to Lisa. "Sorry, Lisa. Let me explain ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, my. This is THE Lisa? Are you OK, boss? Should I ..." <br/>
<br/>
The golem was moving quickly towards Lisa, and you jumped in front of it before it could get close. You could hear Cassie giggling at all this, and wondered if it could get any worse.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122221112211112112112111
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Revealing the story like no other.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It took over half an hour for you to explain the book and spells. During this, Lisa occasionally looked puzzled, surprised, and (you were sure several times) very amused as you described what the book was about and the things it told you how to make. The two golems had pulled up chairs next to Lisa and also listened as you played professor creating a too surreal scene with the three women in your life. You hadn't even gotten to the Blackwell situation or that the girls now sitting very attentive beside Lisa were not what she thought they were.<br/>
<br/>
But now it was time to prove what you had been saying.<br/>
<br/>
"Cassie, go strip."<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Lisa shouted shocked.<br/>
<br/>
Then you added on second thought, "and cover with the blanket while doing." Turning back to Lisa, you explain, "Please wait. I told you what these things can do. Let me show you that I'm not lying."<br/>
<br/>
Lisa's expression was now very suspicious and even more concerned. You were nervous and excited but brought the <i>Libras</i> over to show Lisa that the book was real and what the spells said. She opened to the title page, then thumbed the edges of the remaining pages.<br/>
<br/>
"So you have an old book with pages glued together."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh!" you grabbed the book back wondering why the pages won't open, but then you started turning them as usual.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa chuckled, "Nice trick, Will. So you've been working on slide-of-hand stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"No. No. I don't know why you couldn't." you mumbled confused.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe only the one who possesses can open to the spells." Melody offered.<br/>
<br/>
"But you open it."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe 'cause I'm part of you or your work."<br/>
<br/>
Handing the book back to Lisa, you watched her turn the pages and stop to read about making a golem.<br/>
<br/>
"Dirt from the ... resting place of ... the dead?" Lisa began reading. Her Latin much better and exact than your own. "Fire of the elements. ... Strand from scalp of possessor. ... Just missing eye of newt and blind-worm's sting."<br/>
<br/>
"All set. Do your magic."<br/>
<br/>
Cassie stood next to you in front of Lisa with the blanket draped around her shoulders so only her head can be seen. Lisa watched carefully as you reached over to Cassie's forehead, said the words, and pulled her face off. Just before it happened, Cassie dropped the blanket for effect so Lisa saw her body shimmer while it's pinkish white color turned to gray and it grew back to the normal size and shape of a golem.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa looked shocked until she recovered enough to ask, "How'd you do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"The mask. It contains the person's form and memories." you walked forward and handed her the mask so she could see "Cassandra Harper" in blue translucent letters inside it. "The golem is what you were reading about with the graveyard dirt and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
She stared at the mask then walked over to the golem touching it slowly before running her hand across to feel the solid rock surface.<br/>
<br/>
"So the masks are used on the golems?"<br/>
<br/>
"Or on a human. It will give the person that form and access to the memories." You were happy with Lisa's interest and even happier that she hadn't completely freaked. Taking her into your confidence felt good as if a large burden was lifted from your mind. Any problems with Blackwell or anyone else for the book was not even registering any more.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa cocked her head with a skeptical expression and quizzed you further. "It can alter a human body? That's not possible ... is it?"<br/>
<br/>
There's only one way to answer that as you sat down, then raised Cassie's mask to your face. The room disappeared and your whole body felt like it was melting and convulsing. There's a rush of thoughts and flashes of images in your head making you groggy and almost pass out. Fortunately, you had gained some degree of resistance to the transformation, so you were only incapacitated for maybe ten seconds until you clearly focused on Lisa and felt your clothes hanging very loosely over Cassie's female curves. Unfortunately, Cassie's most recent memory was watching you explain the book like a real pro, very smart and confident, not to mention how good you looked to her. She was also fairly aroused by taking off her clothes as well. So you instantly felt her hardened nipples and moistness that distracted you from saying anything. Eventually, your own self finally gained enough control to speak.<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa, I'm so glad that you put Deanna Showalter and her gossip in their place during English this afternoon." you started knowing that only Cassie and Lisa would know about that. You just let Cassie go off rambling like she usually does. "I can't stand how she constantly thinks she knows, like, everything about everybody and just has to tell. It's enough that there's all those rumors about the basketball team' but, <i>really</i>, does she have to repeat those every day in every period. It's like a recording gone bonkers. American Idol rewound. We already know who won, so why watch? I mean, do you think any of that stuff ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Cassie? Is that really you?" Lisa finally interrupted.<br/>
<br/>
"No. It's just me, but I have her memories, mannerisms, emotions." you squirmed a bit on the last.<br/>
<br/>
"All her memories? Like what happened on June 12th at the party?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like they're all filed and indexed that I ... can ... just ... Oh, my." You got very warm and knew that you're blushing. You felt yourself - Cassie's body - take off with the memory you just pulled forth. It caused you to squeeze you legs together as you felt you were going to drip out from the excitement that overtook you. Obviously, it was apparent on your face as Lisa began to smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I see you didn't ever look back through her life like a pervert invading privacy or you'd know clearly about that already. Makes me a little more comfortable."<br/>
<br/>
You were hard pressed for control over that memory and Cassie's natural emotions. It was Lisa's next question, though, that pulled your rapidly back to reality and the other things you needed to explain to her.<br/>
<br/>
"So if you're just disguised as Cassie, where is she?"<br/>
<br/>
Your blushing drained instantly pale white as a shiver of cold ran through your body at what you had unknowingly done and now had no way to get out of explaining.<br/>
<br/>
"My turn." Melody chimed in trying to help out again as she walked over loosening her pants and unhooking her bra, the only clothes too small that would rip when she transformed to the Cassie golem.<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa, this is one of the things I didn't mean to do, really." you said as you reached up to Melody's head and pulled off the mask. Within seconds, a gray stone Cassie was revealed within the clothes Melody was wearing.<br/>
<br/>
At that point, you decided to tell all - buying the book, imprinting Omeko accidentally in a mask, meeting Blackwell and his subsequent ransacking your house when you wouldn't sell him the book, capturing Melody on a mask and using it to work for Blackwell, seeing him transform from Lucy Vredenburg and what he said about using the mask on "the boy" and to bring him a girl, testing the spell on Cassie so you could be safe, thinking Lisa was Blackwell and cursing yourself for getting her involved, then hearing the discussion at Blackwell's last evening.<br/>
<br/>
"So, basically you've translated and studied the book and been able to make all these things work, and you turned Cassie to stone and don't have any clue of how to change her back, or if she can be changed back?"<br/>
<br/>
Lisa's question just sat in your gut like a fist that knocked the wind out of you, and having Cassie's mask, form and emotions just made it hurt even more. You didn't want to admit it, but you had probably killed her even though you could see she was still somewhat alive with very shallow breathing. You hadn't ever tried to listen for a heart beat, but that may be possible, too. Now, you just had to explain all this so Lisa wouldn't turn you in or hate you for it.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah. But I didn't know what it was going to do. I didn't mean to hurt her; and as far as I know, she's still alive with the breathing and all. I figure the book must have something later on that would turn her back, but now I'm stuck at that torn page. That's what Melody was working on today. I know we can make this all right again."<br/>
<br/>
"Will, this is a side of you I hadn't really seen. Figuring all this out and confidently moving forward not waiting for someone else to make the first move. And now admitting all this. I'm impressed."<br/>
<br/>
It was that last and the smile in her eyes that warmed you that you weren't a complete screw-up for causing and making this mess worse as you went. You wanted to hug and kiss her tight, but Cassie came through reminding you who you were right now. However, it was Lisa's next words that completely stopped you.<br/>
<br/>
"So, can I try one?"<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221222211122111121121121111
author_id: wordsmitty
title: A new partner ?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>When Lisa asked to try on a mask, you knew you couldn't just say, "No, they're mine?" The problem was that every mask had memories that could scare her away. The Omeko mask had your memories and all your feelings for her. It could be a good way to tell her since you never found the voice to do it yourself, but would that go over well? There's no way she could try your own mask, of course, and Cassie was definitely out for two very obvious reasons. <br/>
<br/>
"I guess. It's just ... they have memories of what I did ... kinda personal .. some anyway. I just don't want you to get upset with them, and ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Will, I'm not going to hold anything against you. I understand that something like this would give you ideas to use and do. We've all got teenage urges, and I doubt you could do anything more awful than I would. Have you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh no, not really." you mumbled remembering your intimate encounters with Cassie. Then realizing you finally had a confidant to share this with, you suggest, "Perhaps Melody here would be the best. She's just a little taller, so you shouldn't have to remove your clothes." You motion Lisa towards the chair. "The first time you use one, it really knocks you out. So just relax. Also, you will get a rush of her personality and need to push it aside so you aren't overwhelmed."<br/>
<br/>
"Does it hurt, and how long will I be out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Feels strange, a bit uncomfortable, but not painful. You could be out for half a minute or a few minutes, though I've never timed it."<br/>
<br/>
You could hear two deep breaths while she gazed into the mask you just handed her before she slowly raised it to her face.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
It was only about a minute so far, but you were already anxious and concerned. You watched her closely after the mask first sank in. She was physically Melody in less than ten seconds filling Lisa's clothes without incident. You waited hoping it wouldn't take much time; but as it did, you started fidgeting and worrying, possibly the effect of still being Cassie and her strong emotions. Soon Cassie's underlying desire for neatness and proper attire also took over and had you get out of Will's disgusting, oversized clothes and start to put on her own. It just went to show how much the mask can affect a person, possibly take control if the person doesn't push their own willpower and control over it. You changed instinctively not realizing it since your focus was fully on Melody slumped in the chair.<br/>
<br/>
When she finally started to move, you rushed to her side with just a bra and panties on squatting to look at rather than down while you kept her from falling out of the chair. Her hands first went to hold her head before she opened her eyes slowly with a blank stare. Seeing you, she looked confused then quietly spoke.<br/>
<br/>
"Where am I, and who are you?"<br/>
<br/>
That threw you completely off wondering if Melody's persona had pushed to the front. You had to do something to get Lisa back in control.<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa. Push those aside and concentrate."<br/>
<br/>
"You're Lisa? Lisa who and push what aside?" She whispered unsure. Her voice and body language indicating Melody's meek demeanor. <br/>
<br/>
A shiver of panic raced across your body figuring Melody's memories must have overtaken her. You had no experience with anyone else in a mask except when you golem'd Melody's mask on her and didn't expect her real personality to come through. You remember the first time you had used a mask and how confused you were and also how Cassie's emotions had overwhelmed you when you first put her on and saw yourself (the Cassie-golem in your mask) half naked.<br/>
<br/>
"No, you're Lisa. I'm Will. You need to concentrate on that." you calmly directed.<br/>
<br/>
"Will? What a strange name for a girl." she replied softly trying to smile. "I'm Melody Weiss. Please only Melody, not Mel." she insisted then continued. "I go to Keyserling College, an Antiquities major." She glanced around and down not moving from the chair or making eye contact, and the <i>Libras</i> caught her attention.<br/>
<br/>
"So this is what it feels like to be a genius college student." she said as she picked up the book with a smile and winked. Then she chuckled.<br/>
<br/>
You didn't think it was funny. She had scared the bejeebers out of you, but you were too relieved to get upset at her little fun.<br/>
<br/>
"It's like speed reviewing a biography but with pictures and sensations. Melody's whole life and family, knowledge, likes and dislikes. Your evening at the professor's and before at the library waiting for a date, a girl!" she said surprised. "Oriental." She paused for a few moments then scanned you up and down ending with a sort of flirty smile before continuing. "Interesting. Very nice." Then turning back to the book. "I know what she was working on before we arrived." She paused again in thought as she turned to the last page that could be opened and asked, "The book is damaged?"<br/>
<br/>
"A page is partly torn. Not sure how to get past it."<br/>
<br/>
"Melody was theorizing from last evening and ... that was some bizarre dream you told her. You sure you weren't <i>doing</i> some stuff last night?"<br/>
<br/>
She smiled a shy Melody thing more than something you had ever seen Lisa. You still weren't completely sure it was Lisa but gave an indignant shake of your head after which made her happily smile and lick her lips before looking you in the eye and moving slowly closer.<br/>
<br/>
"Melody has a couple theories though no exact solution. Are you interested in trying something?" <br/>
<br/>
Very confident and eyes sparkling, Melody seemed as enticing as the prospect of getting to the next spell and through the book.  This had tormented you like no other video game getting to the next level. Cassie's natural overemotional self just reinforced you own desire. The rush you felt made Cassie's body quiver both inside and out, although the later could be the cool basement air.  You really wanted this and urged Melody to continue, forgetting it was Lisa inside her.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm game for trying anything. What have you got in mind?"<br/>
<br/>
Melody's smile seemed deceptive, almost a smirk as she started to explain and again moved in.<br/>
<br/>
"There are similarities in the riddles I read at Blackwell's and with your doings with the <i>Libras</i>. The "blood" and "admittance" equate to the thumbprint in blood to open past the title page. In fact, the whole book, each spell, appears to be a riddle to be solved. So it's probable that they go together."<br/>
<br/>
You found yourself unable to take your eyes from Melody. Although you had used her personality with Blackwell as a timid, unsure student, her presence now speaking what she knew well was confident and inspiring pulling you in with each word. The anticipation also was fueled by Cassie's emotions heightening everything.<br/>
<br/>
"A couple riddles seem to refer to the torn page, stopping those who blunder forth and not seeing the answers. And the ones about character succumbing and consuming may be the golems." She stopped right in front of you as you remained so intent on her.<br/>
<br/>
"Now your dreams also have some interesting points like seeing yourself everywhere controlling others.  One psych class I took had a lot of stuff on dreams, and I wish I had those references or the Internet to research further, but I think the main part of interest is about your encounter with the book. Perhaps your subconscious was playing out an answer.  It was pulling a memory like that June 12th party, but in symbology."<br/>
<br/>
Her last made you reflect on what Cassie had done that evening in June, once again exciting you and augmenting your passion about the book, bringing them together. Your mind was transfixed on Melody looking up into her eyes from Cassie's short stature.<br/>
<br/>
"I think there is already something up here." Melody almost whispers as she pushes against you taking her slender finger and running it across your forehead. "A connection between us and the riddle "Those who mind itself will make whole." and how the book changed like a human.  Within your mind, something hidden but you know. Something you can feel and want to do more than think."<br/>
<br/>
Her voice seemed almost hypnotic, but it may have been your concentration to remember your dream and solve the riddle of the <i>Libras</i>.  You closed your eyes letting your mind float while her hand folded and you felt the back of her knuckles lightly down your forehead and cheek, then her fingers run through your hair and cup the side of your head, and you press against it.<br/>
<br/>
She is silent for some time as your mind drifts away from your dream and to the caressing sensation of Melody's long fingers in your hair. Her other hand ran through your hair on the other side then both pulled back under your jaw lifting as if tenderly holding the book. Warm breath gently sailed across your face in long waves narrowing to just your nose and mouth.  Then something softly presses against your lips.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212222111221111211211211111
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Instant revelation.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>In that moment, your whole life changed. Your mind exploded with more excitement than you had ever felt causing your body to tremble with the sensation. It was as if this had been inside you all along but just needed a spark to ignite. Cassie's easily emotional nature made you even more giddy as you reached your hands against Melody's hips and ran them up her sides.<br/>
<br/>
Pushing yourself back, you screamed, "THAT'S IT! Exactly. A riddle and the book. Thank you, thank you thank you thank you." You squeaked like Cassie and gave Melody a quick Cassie-hug (not something Will would ever do) then grabbed the book from the chair she had set it on.<br/>
<br/>
The torn page's words made sense now. Why you hadn't seen it before you couldn't imagine. It's not a cook book. It's made up of riddles describing a bigger riddle as you went. Leaving the <i>Libras</i> on the table, you dashed over to the shelves where the golem had placed the unfinished mind strips. Back at the table with one, you went to work ignoring all else and inscribing the runes that this riddle eluded to rather than those previously described. It was tricky, but you felt guided by something long lost in your mind as you linked the previous sigils together. In a few minutes you were finished, confident but apprehensive.  Looking back at the page and previous spells, though, did not give you a clue how to use it.<br/>
<br/>
Melody (Lisa in the mask) had been looking over the basement contents specifically the ingredients, other masks, and golems but was now standing next to you looking at the book as well. "Those who mind itself will make whole." she recited quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. A mind. The strip." you whispered as if in reverence to the situation and holding the strip up.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>What is the mind of a book?</i>" you pondered to yourself. You flipped back to the title page. "<i>But it's just a name, an introduction.</i>" Closing it to see the front. "<i>Just the face. Need the head. What in a book connects and controls the pages?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
As if lightening just struck again, your eyes went wide as you hand seemed to move by itself, so quickly you only noticed a sudden glow as the mind strip disappeared into the binding - the spine of the book. You tried to open back to the torn page, but the book was locked shut. Had you just blundered and sealed the book?<br/>
<br/>
Your euphoria began to drain away as you and Melody stared at the <i>Libras</i>, nothing more now than a leather-bound block before you. Your dreams of using the book for ... whatever, were gone. You knew now why Blackwell was willing to offer you so much money and then ransack your house when you refused to sell. However, there now seemed to be more riddles with Blackwell and his mysterious guest that you needed to unravel. But unless there's another riddle that you missed, ...<br/>
<br/>
"The book is useless." you sighed dejectedly.<br/>
<br/>
Just then Melody gasped as the book's spine began to glow and the mind strip fell off it. You picked it up and looked at it, but it appeared no different than when you put it on. Trying the book again, it opened immediately to the last page. It was still damaged.<br/>
<br/>
Cassie's emotions started affecting your thoughts having accelerated back and forth each time something happened. You began to question everything you did and what you should do without clear thought or reason of what the book said. Do you use it yourself and gain the knowledge of the book in your head? Perhaps the torn section was just invisible, and this allowed you to see that. Maybe you should have used it first and then placed it on the book like the bloody thumbprint.<br/>
<br/>
Melody took the strip from your hand as you remained frozen in thought and turned it over in hers repeating the riddle, "Those who mind itself will make whole."<br/>
<br/>
This awakened you to gather logical control again. You read the translation again as Melody ran her finger along the words saying it with you. She lifted her hand at the end and both stood in silence. Taking the strip from her, you looked it over more closely. A small sigil was on one side but almost invisible. You remembered that sigil from before - there, on the damaged edge. As you placed it there, it vanished, shortly followed by the page glowing and dying away to reveal the rest of the text while music played in the background.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
You sent the golems back to be you and Cassie for the evening after Cassie's phone had rung just as the page revealed itself. It was her worried mother. Cassie was suppose to be home early. Fortunately, you gave the right excuse that Cassie's mom believed you had gone to the mall with a friend and forgot, but Cassie had to get right home, right now. You switched the Cassie mask onto the Cassie golem instead of the regular one just to see if there was any difference. There wasn't, so you put your mask on the first golem, and it acted as annoying as ever as well until you instructed it not to.<br/>
<br/>
During all this, you had forgotten about Lisa as Melody until the golem as Will gave you a wink on the way out and wished you luck with your new acquisition. You swung around after that, but didn't see Melody, or Lisa, anywhere. Quickly you ran outside just in time to see your truck drive off with two heads in the cab, Cassie and your alter-body, but no one else was anywhere around. Wandering back in, you scanned the room but only noticed that the <i>Libras</i> had been moved to the end of the table. It was now open to the mask spell, and how to use and remove it.<br/>
<br/>
A shuffling and moaning next got your attention coming from the opposite corner. You scurried over to find Lisa just starting to sit up, the Melody mask on the floor beside her.<br/>
<br/>
“You OK, Lise?” you asked very concerned and a bit guilty as you should have helped her take off the mask.<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, yeah. I think.” she said as she stood then bent back down to pick up the mask. Looking at it, she added, “That was quite something, Will. It was as if there were two people inside my head, and I, … she, … we kept vying for control until that music. I knew that song so well, I was able to get a hold and realize I needed to take this off.”<br/>
<br/>
You took the mask and smiled back at her. “It gets easier with practice, but strong characteristics still have a tendency to push forward even when you think you're in control.”<br/>
<br/>
“So you've sent everyone home?" she asked after looking around.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you do in your little hideout while Will Prescott is out roaming around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, usually I go home as Cassie and leave a golem here to work on things like making mind strips or a mask, or working on translating a spell and preparations unless I need to be somewhere or do something only I can do such as spells."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, like you said being Melody at Blackwell's. Well then, shall we see what the missing page holds?"<br/>
<br/>
You were so wrapped up in managing the masquerade, you forgot that you had unlocked the spell. Maybe it would restore Cassie, although you're not sure how you'd explain to her what had happened since she went under. You had told Lisa everything and were ready to share with her, but Cassie? And Lisa couldn't disappear for the evening without someone getting suspicious especially after seeing the three of you leave school together.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, yeah, but don't you need to be getting home yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably, but I'd hate to miss our next great discovery."<br/>
<br/>
Now you were really torn, and you looked away at the <i>Libras</i> working out what to say. Having Lisa as your partner is going to greatly help, both in your work and, hopefully, in your life. You could offer to wait until tomorrow for her to come back which would give you time to plan and prepare. You didn't want her lateness to cause her, or you, a problem, but the way she said "our" made you feel so good. <br/>
<br/>
"It may take more than a little to translate besides doing whatever it says. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me or have everyone out looking for you. I want you with me, but can you stay now or should I wait until tomorrow when we can have more time together?"<br/>
<br/>
You didn't realize it at the time but this may have been the best thing you could say to Lisa considering its interwoven double meaning of your concern for her, offering to do what will work for her rather than yourself, and acknowledging her being a part of your endeavor with the book as well as to be a part of your life. Plus your decisiveness in handling all this had really impressed her, contrary to your previous actions with her.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa smiled happily then looked very concerned as she spoke. "You're sure there isn't going to be problems? I don't expect to play second to your other girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
Grinning back, you replied honestly, "Merely an arrangement of convenience, I assure you. You're the only real partner, or girlfriend, I want or need."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122221112211112112112111112
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Reflection from a golem.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Hold that that for now," Lisa coyly said. "There's a lotta things to consider here, and I still don't understand much of it. Plus, I don't have a doppelganger I can command that would free me up."<br/>
<br/>
"A golem."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's called a golem. The rock figure, or what Cassie was turned into, or even sealing a mask a certain way can make the mask take over," you explained.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Kay," Lisa slowly spelled, paused a moment then continued. "What I'm saying is that you've got me very interested in this project thing, but I still have a life I have to live, which, by the way, I do have to get home for and can't exactly walk the five miles from here. So is there some magic in there that can teleport me home?"<br/>
<br/>
Damn! You had completely forgotten about that when you sent the troops off.  You don't have any wheels stashed around, and Lisa doesn't live a s close as you do to just skip home.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, Lisa, I can have the golem looking like me come back and drive you home. All I have to do is give him a call," you started, then realized that you don't have a phone here either. "Can I borrow your phone," you asked sheepishly.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," Lisa replied as she pulled the phone from her purse. "Just punch '3' and hit dial."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks." Then you think, "<i>I wonder who are number 1 and 2?"</i><br/>
<br/>
Lisa smiled at you as you hit dial.<br/>
<br/>
"One is mom, and two is dad. You came by to study right after I got it, remember, so being number three isn't that significant."<br/>
<br/>
As you waited for an answer, you could see she was blushing as she turned away and looked at the book again.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
After arguing with the Will golem to come back (you still haven't gotten the knack to right off just command the golems), you handed the phone back telling Lisa that he should be back in about fifteen or twenty minutes.<br/>
<br/>
"So while we wait, how about you teach me the basics, maybe make a mask I can use."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure!" you immediately answered too thrilled to give any thought about why she might want one.  You grabbed the remaining materials you had to make a mask and went over the first spell in the book as you assembled them. After pouring the liquid on the mirror and it hardened, you let Lisa light it up and watched the blue flame until it flickered out after about fifteen minutes.  It would almost have been romantic if the Will golem hadn't arrived at that moment and jiggled the door before saying the pass phrase.<br/>
<br/>
"So, we now have a mask. Now what?" Lisa questioned.<br/>
<br/>
"You give it to one of your golems and have them do all the hard work of polishing it until it's shiny blue," the Will golem retorted sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
You rolled your eyes at the golem as Lisa asked another question, "And how long does that take?"<br/>
<br/>
Before you can answer, the golem replied, "Constant day and night polishing, since we don't need sleep, usually have it done in about a day, unless there are other duties like doing your homework, talking to your family, attending school for ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Usually several days to a week, depending," you cut off the golem and motioned him away. "It's part of the learning process. You might as well take it home and see what you can do."<br/>
<br/>
From the other side of the room, the golem added, "and when you bring it back tired and part done, he'll have one of us finish it for you."<br/>
<br/>
You were really annoyed and about to chew it out when Lisa started giggling and then laughing. You both stared at her until she shook it off and explained.<br/>
<br/>
"It really is you.  Maybe a bit exaggerated, but that's Will Prescott's wit and sarcasm." She looked at you and winked as she said, "It can be a bit annoying."<br/>
<br/>
You started to fume but then burst out laughing yourself realizing the truth in this.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, Will.  Drop me off at my house and then do a drive through so your master here has something to eat," Lisa chuckled as she stuck the mask in her bag while asking, "You don't fix your own here, do you?" Before you could even think of a smart answer, she walked out the door saying, "See you after school tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Do have I have to take orders from this girl?" the golem demanded in his usual pout.<br/>
<br/>
"You damn well do, and you'll be extra nice to her as well," you commanded a little flustered. "Now get your ass going and make sure you get something good I can have in the morning for breakfast as well."<br/>
<br/>
It stomped out the door. You locked it and cleaned up the mask-making things all the while feeling so happy.  Lisa always knew how to make you feel good even when she pointed out a problem.  Yeah.  You could definitely be annoying.  Maybe you could work on that, at least with her.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
The next day passed without incident as you used the Melody mask to help you think and translate the rest of the spell that had appeared when you and Lisa uncovered it yesterday. It turned out to be merely what you did to make the page visible. Obviously, you had cracked a code and probably one you'd have to use on the remaining spells. You turned the page and stare at the next set of an even more cryptic spell.<br/>
<br/>
By mid-afternoon you wished you had had the golem buy you some snacks since your stomach, or actually Melody's is growling and her thoughts were constantly being distracted by it. Finally, you just gave up, took the mask off, and sat in one of the chairs while you closed your eyes to think.</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221222211122111121122
author_id: wordsmitty
title: There's something else in the house.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>While reading the last passage (interesting but less than helpful you think), you sense something fly past the doorway.  Perhaps a shadow or a flicker of light in the hall.  You give it little mind until you hear soft footsteps creaking the old floors fading as they grow distant. Obviously not Blackwell since they were too soft.  Even on tip toe he would sound like a sumo. <br/>
<br/>
Putting the book down and wandering to the doorway, you look both ways.  Nothing is in sight.  The study door is still closed.  You would have heard it anyway. The quietness adds to the creepy decor and grotesque shadows from the one light in the front hallway and that coming from behind you in the library. It's enough to make you think about ghosts, and the ghost is making noises in the rear of the house where a faint glow is now coming as well.<br/>
<br/>
Again curiosity pushes you into the hall and towards the sounds even though you are not sure this is a good idea.  Blackwell could come out at any time even though it is just over an hour since you arrived.  He said to come knock when done and expected it to take well over an hour, so Melody's mind logically concludes there's nothing to worry about, until you hear movement in the study.  You freeze ready to flee back, but the sound stops just as more noise again comes from the back of the house enticing you towards it.<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if it is the golem wandering about or if Blackwell has something else here.  Perhaps a demon guardian that wanders the halls devouring all who are not in their proper spots - safe spots of the house.  Ones with doors closed and locked.  But the library door was open when it went by.  The library then is a protected safe place, but unfortunately you're nowhere near it now. You begin to sweat.  Your mind trembles in what other things Blackwell may be able to do beside the masks and golem. He could be a demon master. You're in exactly the same situation as that movie about ...<br/>
<br/>
<i> Get a grip!</i> Melody's sensible mind throws at you. <i>Quick coloring your fears with B movie impossibilities.  Those sort of things don't exist.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah. Just like body changing masks and golems, huh?</i><br/>
<br/>
You catch yourself in this discussion between you and the mask and shake it off in a nervous, quiet  laugh.  It's a strange effect another's thoughts and emotions can have while wearing a mask.  You've used the memories, but controlling the emotions and thought processes is often difficult. You relax and let Melody drive which she is extremely good at in these situations using mature investigative methods instead of your ... well ... random impulses. <br/>
<br/>
Stalking along the wall, you pass through the large dining room that you think is right out the last Dracula movie. Melody slaps that thought back, and you move forward approaching the doorway to what must be the kitchen.  There is but scant light in it where you see shadows moving about.  A army of demons and ghosts invades your interpretation as Melody pushes your head out to see into the room.<br/>
<br/>
There before you is the silhouette of someone small, perhaps a woman with her back to you.  A glass of something sits half full nearby her, and she is shuffling something around on the counter. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Ingredients for a spell ? !</i> <br/>
<br/>
You feel Melody sigh at that thought and then telling you that whatever it is, it seems harmless, so you move further into the doorway to see if anything else is there.  You are almost holding your breath while your heart is pounding in your ears when, without warning, she abruptly turns around into the light holding a sandwich in her hand as you see her, ... and she sees you.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212223
author_id: seuzz
id: E87P24CRP
title: You or Blackwell?
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Reluctantly, you have to concede that the golem makes a good case. You don't know what the spell will do to a person, so you are reluctant to use it on someone you know. And because you are wearing Melody's mask and know everything she knows, you also know how to get her out to the old school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She has a wary look as she gets out of her car. You feel a sweat break out all over your body as you grin and greet her. "Hey, I'm Will!"<br/>
<br/>
"Nice to meet you, Will," Melody Weiss says. She doesn't smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks for coming out. Um, it's this way." You gesture toward the opposite side of the school.<br/>
<br/>
It's Friday evening, and neither you nor she had any plans, so there was nothing to interfere when you texted her earlier that afternoon with a wild story about finding hieroglyphs and runes on the cornerstone of the old elementary school Acheson. The only reason Melody would have paid any attention was because (a) such things are the sort of stuff she's naturally interested in; and (b) she is becoming increasingly convinced that there is a weird, underground story to be told about Saratoga Falls and its founding, and so is alert to anything that would corroborate, refute, or complicate the hazy thesis that has been forming in her mind.<br/>
<br/>
So here you are now, leading her from the rec center parking lot over to the wing where the basement is. The plastic bag holding the mask jostles your leg as you walk.<br/>
<br/>
"How did you get my contact info?" she asks. In the reply to your text she had only said she would stop by the old school for a few minutes.<br/>
<br/>
"A department secretary," you smoothly reply, having prepared yourself (while in her mask) with a plausible story. "I called up yesterday to ask who I could talk to about some weird, like, carvings and stuff I'd found, and after giving me some professors' names, she gave me yours because she said a student would be more likely to come out and look."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. And who was this secretary you talked to?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't remember her name. She was in the, uh, anthropology department." <br/>
<br/>
"Hmm. Okay, so where—?"<br/>
<br/>
And that's the last thing she ever says. As you round the corner of the school wing, you step behind her and close the mask over her face. Her legs seem to melt out from under her, and you catch the back of her head in your chin as she falls onto you. Almost she drags you to the ground, but after a short, hard fight you manage to get your arms around her torso and drag her over to the steps. There you have to lower her to the ground as you run down to unlock the door. The Umeko-golem, which has been waiting inside, comes up and helps you carry her down.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh Jesus," you mutter as you gape at what's left of Melody Weiss. "What the fuck am I doing?"<br/>
<br/>
It was the mask of Melody Weiss herself that you pressed to the girl's face, gambling that it would knock her out long enough to get her down into the basement and undressed for the spell. That much worked out according to plan. You hauled her up onto the long conference table that you've been using for a work bench, splayed her atop the open pages of the book, piled earth and fuel over her, dropped a few plucked hairs from your scalp onto the mess, and then, after the mask had reappeared on her face, set her on fire.<br/>
<br/>
There were so many ways it could have gone wrong. How it did go wrong was totally unexpected it.<br/>
<br/>
It petrified her.<br/>
<br/>
There seems no other way to describe it. Where the girl had lain before, there is now an exact copy of her, apparently executed in stone, that perfectly replicates her form and features, even down to the tiny hairs on her forearm and the pores on her nose. So lifelike is it that you almost fancy that her breast is rising and falling with breath and a pulse.<br/>
<br/>
And it leads to a terrible question: Is what you've done to Melody Weiss any better than what you fear Aubrey Blackwell could do to you?<br/>
<br/>
The golem seems to read your thoughts. "It's you or him, boss," it tells you grimly. "You gotta do what you gotta do."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," you mutter, and try to thrust the dread and guilt you feel from you. <i>I'll figure out a way to make things right,</i> you swear to yourself, <i>once I've taken care of the professor.</i> "But what am I going to do now? She can't just, you know, disappear! Can she?"<br/>
<br/>
The golem doesn't answer, and for a wild moment you think maybe you could just let Melody Weiss disappear: let her be just another person who vanishes without leaving a trace.<br/>
<br/>
But then you remember the text you sent her. The cops will surely find it while investigating, and then you'll be tied in to it.<br/>
<br/>
"I think you turned her into a kind of golem," your golem says. She tugs the book out from under the stony form, and turns the newly unlocked page. Together you pore over the reverse of the spell, and find that the golem's conjecture is correct. You have done nothing more nor less than craft another magical auto-bot. Once that fact is clear, you and the golem both turn to gaze at the mask of Melody Weiss that sits nearby. No one has to say anything: All you have to do is pop the mask onto this new golem, and something that looks and acts like Melody Weiss will appear.<br/>
<br/>
Better, it will be a Melody Weiss that is your obedient servant.<br/>
<br/>
But then the golem says, with a meaningful look, "You were looking for a place to hide."<br/>
<br/>
And in a flash you see the alternative. You could turn yourself into Melody Weiss and take her place. You have the materials to make another mask-plus-mind combo: if you copied yourself, you could put it onto the new golem and send it home and to school in your place. You would be safe from the professor, and from Melody's dorm room you could plot your next strike against him.<span class="ghfhlgjemh2610"></span></span></div></div>


path: 112312222122231
author_id: seuzz
id: Z8X8PRZQL
title: Armed to Strike from the Shadows
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>It is, you quickly realize, a classic no-brainer. By taking Melody Weiss's place, you will be safely hidden from Professor Blackwell. And it seems hardly likely that he will be able to do anything bad to the magical robot that you leave in your place.<br/>
<br/>
It is then the work of just fifteen minutes to copy yourself into the mask that the golem has recently finished polishing. The metal strip will take longer to complete, so you take it home with you to work on.<br/>
<br/>
As for Melody, you have to leave her behind. She will have no plans for the evening, so there's no reason anyone will miss her before morning.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're up early the next morning, trembling with excitement—almost with a suppressed hysteria—as you prepare for the switch. Though you have impersonated Melody briefly already, today brings something altogether new and different. You will <i>become</i> Melody Weiss, assuming her identity and life in full, and with no obvious end in sight. Only when you have made yourself safe from Professor Blackwell will you be able to contemplate becoming "Will Prescott" again.<br/>
<br/>
By nine o'clock you are at the old school; by nine-fifteen you are staring palely at a teenage boy who looks exactly like you, and who regards you back with the same look of wary fear; and by nine-thirty you are lifting yourself off the table and looking around for the clothes that you pulled off Melody Weiss, so that you can pull them onto your own body.<br/>
<br/>
The first switch was by far the most unnerving. You almost dropped the mask a couple of times as you glued the newly-made metal strip (one now encoded with your memories and personalities) into the mask, and sealed the combo up. Then, dreading the possibility that the figure that awakes would be Melody Weiss, but inhabiting a copy of your body, you set the mask onto the golem that you made yesterday. The white statue vanished in the blink of an eye, and the naked, skinny figure of a teenage boy appeared. He turned his head to blink in puzzlement at you, then reared up in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus," he gasped.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your name?" you croaked at him.<br/>
<br/>
"My name? You know my— Will," he said with a sour grimace. "Will Prescott. Boss."<br/>
<br/>
"You know what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, yeah." He sat up, his expression one of irritation and some little fear. He sighed when you asked him to explain the situation, and told you that he was a golem who was going to take your place while you took the place of Melody Weiss. "I guess she's somewhere under here, huh?" he said as he poked at his narrow chest. He grumbled to himself as, on your orders, he began to dress in the clothes that you pulled off and handed to him.<br/>
<br/>
He seemed so very much up to speed that he had only one question for you after he was dressed. "What do I do about ... that?" He pointed at the other golem, the one that looks exactly like your cousin but acts exactly like you. It had been watching all this while hanging back in a corner.<br/>
<br/>
"Just work with it," you told him. "If I have any work for you guys, I'll let you know. Otherwise, just ... You know. Hang loose, do your job being me. Uh, keep out of trouble—"<br/>
<br/>
"Try not to get killed by a black magician," the other you said sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
"Stay away from other people," you continued. "You know, don't go off with anyone—and I mean <i>anyone</i>—alone. Not even in groups, 'cos, you know, one of them might then try to get you alone."<br/>
<br/>
"No social life," he sighed. "Like that'll be a change. You know, I'm supposed to be your decoy, boss, maybe I should <i>try</i> to draw a little fire— Oh, what am I saying?"<br/>
<br/>
You ended by reiterating that he should do his best to stay safe. For though he isn't you, you have no idea what tricks the professor knows that could draw dangerous information out of your doppelganger.<br/>
<br/>
Then, after dismissing him, you laid out on the table and put Melody's mask on.<br/>
<br/>
Though this was a change more intimate, by comparison with the other it rolled off your back. You have been in the mask before, so it wasn't a great shock. You felt nothing worse, in fact, than a rolling giddiness as you recalled anew that this was going to be <i>you</i> now. <i>I am Melody Weiss,</i> you told yourself as you looked down at your naked body, past the small boobs and flabby tummy to the legs and bare feet. <i>I don't just look like her, I'm going to </i>be<i> her. Wear her clothes, sleep in her bed, take her classes, talk to her friends.<br/>
<br/>
What friends?</i> the mordant reply came back. Melody really only has time and attention for her studies.<br/>
<br/>
"Hold down the fort," you told the remaining golem as you tucked the cotton blouse—a riot of colors and patterns, like a Hawaiian shirt—into the top of your jeans. "Just finish that last mask for now. I'll send, uh, the other guy to check on it in a day or two." The golem nodded and said nothing, even as it looked you up and down.<br/>
<br/>
Then you went out, got in Melody's car, and drove back to campus.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Fuck! Why are you always in the way?" Hailey Green yells as she pushes down the stairs past you. She is taking them two at a time in her rush.<br/>
<br/>
You are almost too shocked to retort. But as Hailey is rounding the landing on the next leg down, you catch her with a yell: "I'm sorry to hear about your friend Lucy!"<br/>
<br/>
Hailey catches herself and looks up sharply at you. Her expression is haggard.<br/>
<br/>
Hailey Green is one of the college cheerleaders, a friend of Lucy Vredenburg's. She has long, soft brown hair, green eyes, and teeth so white against her tanned face that they look fake. Those blinding choppers are showing now as she stares back up at you.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment, she says nothing. Then she looks down, and resumes her descent of the stairs, but now at a more sedate pace. She is quickly out of sight, even as you hear her thumping the rest of the way down the stairwell. You resume your own climb up to the floor where your—Melody's—dorm room is.<br/>
<br/>
It was quick thinking on your part to shout that at her, so quick that you don't even know where it came from. Some combination of your brain with Melody's, probably.<br/>
<br/>
Hailey lives in the same dorm as Melody, and she must be constantly coming and going, for it seems like they are always running into each other in the hallways whenever Melody makes one of her infrequent excursions. Hailey, being pretty and popular and having lots of girlfriends and boyfriends, has never had much time for Melody, but today was the first time that she ever really snapped at her. <i>It's stress,</i> was the charitable thought that instantly came to you. But it was a shot in dark to chalk it up to Lucy's recent death, for though Melody has seen Lucy with Hailey quite often, she didn't know the girl's name and wouldn't have known she had died in a car wreck last Wednesday. You knew it, though, and somehow you put all the pieces together, and shouted the consequence of your deduction, in record time.<br/>
<br/>
Lost in thought about what just happened, you unlock your door and go inside. The place feels musty and unlived in, even after just one night's absence. You take a shower, change into fresh clothes, and push open a window to let in a little air. That's enough, at least, to take the edge off.<br/>
<br/>
Then you sit down with the book.<br/>
<br/>
You brought it with you, of course, not only so you can tackle the next spell, but to keep it close. You grumble after you pore over it and the previous spells, for it turns out that you have all the ingredients that you need for it, but they are all back at the elementary school. So you text your doppelganger with orders to gather up the list of stuff you're sending him, and bring it up to a certain room in Mirren Hall. You fix yourself a little lunch while waiting to hear back from him, and when you get his signal you make the short hike over to where you instructed him to leave it.<br/>
<br/>
Mirren Hall is one of the oldest buildings on campus, with many small nooks and dead ends and passageways that seem like they will lead somewhere interesting before finally looping back to where they started. A year ago Melody found a tiny classroom tucked under a stairwell, which she has made into her own little study corner, as no one ever seems to use it. That is where you sent the golem, and that is where you find the supplies he left, packed in a plastic sack. Thirty minutes later, you have finished the spell—surely some kind of record for you—and have unlocked the next spell. It gives you a shock and the shivers—but also your strongest sense of hope yet—when you read what it does.<br/>
<br/>
It has made a kind of runny paste, like the sealant, which you can apply to the inside of a mask in place of the sealant. But not only will it close up the mask so that it can be worn, if it set on fire inside the mask with a bit of hair, it will cause the wearer of the mask to become enslaved to he whose hair is used in the spell. In this way you can temporarily turn someone else into an obedient golem—moreover, an obedient golem with the form and mind of whomever you have cast inside the mask.<br/>
<br/>
You are all atremble in your room afterward as you think through the possibilities. With a set of such masks, you could make a small army of golems—in any disguise you want—to surround the professor.<br/>
<br/>
You could even transform the professor into an obedient servant of your own.<span class="fmjggefeffek3711"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1123122221222311
author_id: seuzz
id: Z6J5G3JHC
title: The Light of the Planets
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>(based on a chapter originally by imaj)<br/>
<br/>
"Almost done, Melody?" Blackwell asks. He glances up from his desk, which is positioned opposite yours.<br/>
<br/>
It's Saturday night, and you are again at the professor's villa, working in the library. He called you up shortly after you got back to your dorm room, to ask if you could make a special visit tonight.<br/>
<br/>
The request filled you with a sudden dread: Has he been spying on you somehow, and learned of your imposture, and this is a trap to lure you out? Almost you turned him down, but instead cautiously inquired as to why extra work would be needed. <i>Because I will be abroad for a few weeks shortly,</i> he said, <i>and thought you might like to put the work in before I left rather than have it cancelled altogether.</i><br/>
<br/>
An iffy excuse: What kind of professor takes off in the middle of a semester? But you decided to chance it, for you really do not see how he could know who you really are. And though you do not have a mask prepared to use on him—that won't be ready until Wednesday's regular night at his house—you figure you can use tonight to do a little recon.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sorry," you sigh as you quickly close the book you were perusing. Having Melody's memories and instincts, it is very easy to fall into her habit of reading any book that catches her passing interest. "Just got sucked into this one."<br/>
<br/>
"Really." Blackwell smiles: a twist of the lips lacking anything like human warmth. "Which one?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>The Shadow of the Planets.</i> Nikolai Chekov. Is it a translation from Russian?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not an original," he replies, gnomically. "Do help yourself, if you are nearly finished with your other work." He returns to the notes he is making out of his own reading.<br/>
<br/>
Whether the invitation was genuine or not, you decide to take him up on it, and after finishing up the last few books you open the mystery volume again, at random. You read: <br/>
<br/>
<i>To the Babylonians, Viritrilbia was called Nabu. The Greeks named it Hermes and the Romans Mercury. It is no coincidence that these ancients named this wandering star after messengers to the gods, for those whose aspect is shaped by Viritrilbia frequently share the characteristics of these figures. From orators, to silver tongued charmers, to liars, cheats and swindlers, the most common gifts of the Viritrilbiae are tied up in skills with language, communication and speed of thought. The light of their presence goes before them like a lamp.</i><br/>
<br/>
But that is as far as you were allowed to get. "Ah, it's getting late, I see," Blackwell says. "I really should let you go."<br/>
<br/>
He rises from his seat and takes out his wallet, from which he extracts ten crisp ten-dollar bills. "Pray do not tarry, Miss Weiss," he says as he hands you the money and ushers you toward the door, all in one motion. "It threatens to be an unpleasant night, and I would feel better knowing you were safe in bed."<br/>
<br/>
It seems a peculiarly heavy warning, considering that the worst the day has been is overcast and drizzly, but you're not eager to remain behind. Mostly, you are grateful that you got in and got out without him knowing who you are.<br/>
<br/>
He locks the front door with a click directly behind you, leaving you alone on his porch. The night is cold, and heavy clouds hang low in the sky, giving the grounds an especially foreboding feel. You thrust your hands into your thin jacket and hunch your shoulders in an attempt to keep warm.<br/>
<br/>
You resist the urge to glance back as you walk toward the gate. The high walls muffle all outside sounds, leaving you alone with the crunch of gravel beneath your feet. As you close the gate behind you, you allow yourself one last glance at the house. A shadow moves against a lit curtain on the first floor. And then your eye is caught and draw what seems a similar movement on the second floor. A hard chill ripples over you, but not until you are in your car can you understand it: the implication that there was another person in the house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have to park some distance from your dorm—the lots at Keyserling are totally illogical in their placement and layout—and it's a fair walk back to the dorm, which you take at a brisk pace. But though it should be a quick and familiar walk, the visit to Blackwell's library has left you jittery. You can't shake the feeling, ridiculous as it is, that someone is watching you. When you can't take it anymore, you stop and turn around.<br/>
<br/>
But the street and sidewalk are empty, save for the shadows that the street lamps cast. "Is someone there?" you shout, though it feels a little foolish. You resume your walk when there is no reply, until some sixth sense compels you to stop.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment only, you hear heavy footsteps behind you. All the hairs go up on the back of your neck, and you turn again.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you only see shadows, splayed across the sidewalk and against a nearby wall. Yet your imagination cannot help twisting them into horrible, threatening shapes.<br/>
<br/>
And when one of the shadows wavers, you wheel and bolt for home.<br/>
<br/>
You tear across the campus, your heart hammering in your chest and your lungs laboring for breath. You dare not glance behind, and accelerate when your dorm comes into view.<br/>
<br/>
And then, from behind a tree, a figure steps. You bowl into it, and fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs. "Oh, son of a bitch!" someone yells.<br/>
<br/>
And somehow, that very plain curse seems to break whatever spell of fear had gripped you. You are much calmer as you scramble to your feet, to find the person you collided with already on his, and even putting out a hand to help you up.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," he says, and dazzles you with a wide, white smile; his eyes glint with cheerful light from beneath the bangs of a shaggy mop of blonde hair. "I should'a looked both ways before trying to cross the sidewalk. Are you alright?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm fine," you pant, and glance behind you. The sidewalk is clear, even of shadows, the night seems much brighter and clearer than it was only a minute ago. "Are you okay?" you ask your companion when you turn back to him.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever he says, you don't hear it, though, being struck almost deaf and dumb by his startling beauty. He is a boy of about your age, trim and plainly well built. His eyes gleam in an intelligent face. But his two most striking features are his hair and his smile. The former, even in the dim light, seems to glow like a thatch of living gold. The latter radiates confidence, cheer, and friendliness. All the doubts and fears that dogged your steps from the moment you entered Blackwell's villa flee under the light of his countenance.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Joe," he says after you and he have stared deep into each other's eyes for a long moment. He puts out a hand. "That was my fault right then. Make it up to you by buying you a coffee?<span class="fmjggefefl3711"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11231222212223111
author_id: seuzz
id: RKTFY7Z8H
title: Tongues of Fire
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>(based on a chapter originally by imaj)<br/>
<br/>
The Crystal Cave, a trendy coffeeshop directly across the street from the university, in the same building that houses Arnholms' Used Books, would normally be outside Melody's budget. But Joe is buying and this is where he wants to come. The lone barista mopping the floor shoots you both a dirty look but you ignore her.  Joe, meanwhile, seems to have only eyes for you.  <br/>
<br/>
"Melody," he says as you settle at a table. His smile widens. "They say that's what a pretty girl is like."<br/>
<br/>
"Is like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like a Melody. Or was that too cute of a come on?"<br/>
<br/>
If it was a come-on, it baffled you a little. "I don't get it, but it sounded like a compliment."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs with embarrassment, and fiddles with the little metal card holder that stands in the middle of the table. Each of the ten tables has one: a stand with a metal ring, slid inside which is a card with an strange symbol on it. "You wouldn't be a music major, would you?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"No," you reply. "Anthropology for now. I want to be an archaeologist."<br/>
<br/>
His eyebrows go up. "Then you should have got my 'pretty girl is like a melody' reference. It's old enough. My dad's in his sixties," he adds with a wry grimace. "I grew up with a lot of pop culture references that no one gets these days." He shrugs again, and seems even more embarrassed than before.<br/>
<br/>
"It sounded sweet," you repeat.<br/>
<br/>
"You know any languages?" he asks, and relaxes onto the table with his chin propped in his hand. "If you're studying to be an archaeologist, you should."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Ein paar.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" His eyebrows go up again. <i>"Die sprache von dichtern, philosophen, musikern, und wissenschaftlern,"</i> he says with a fluidity so natural it could belong to a native. <i>"Wenn ich das gewusst hatte, hatte ich darin gesprochen, als wir uns das erste mal trafen. Du hattest mich also als das erkannt, as ich bin."</i><br/>
<br/>
This is a little much for, and can only glean that he would have spoken German to you on first meeting, if he knew you knew the language.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Je vais mieux en francais,"</i> you reply.<br/>
<br/>
He looks puckish.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"N'est-ce pas tout le monde,"</i> he replies. <i>"Meme si l'on n'est pas techniquement correct, cela semble mondain et sophistique. Et comme si on faisait l'amour,"</i> he adds with a wicked grin.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Nunc gloriaris."<br/>
<br/>
"Habeo causas bonas."<br/>
<br/>
"Der mewred aan akea chewtewr?"</i><br/>
<br/>
His expression briefly falls. "That's not one of mine," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not really one of mine either," you admit. "But I was getting desperate. What's <i>your</i> major?"<br/>
<br/>
"Undeclared."<br/>
<br/>
"You should do something with languages."<br/>
<br/>
"I should, but I'd have to find something fun to do inside one of them. Besides charming pretty girls. It's Saturday night. Were you going to a party or coming from one?"<br/>
<br/>
"Neither," you confess, and briefly the shadow of your session with Blackwell falls across your spirit. "I was working."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Du bist ein ernstes madchen."<br/>
<br/>
"Nicht wirklich. Nein, ich bin."</i><br/>
<br/>
He reaches out with his free hand to lightly touch the tip of your nose.<br/>
<br/>
"Tout le monde devrait avoir quelqu'un qui leur apporte du plaisir."<br/>
<br/>
"Proposez-vous de faire du benevolat?"<br/>
<br/>
"Je demanderais le poste, et je vous laisserais la decision."<br/>
<br/>
Pourquoi, you would ask, but you are afraid he would read it as reluctance—even a rejection—on your part, and not the prompting of your lack of self-confidence.<br/>
<br/>
"If you want to give it a try," you tell him in a small voice.<br/>
<br/>
His smile widens as though he were trying to embrace the world with it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He was very quick to get you to this point, but now he moves very slowly. For two hours—until the barista shows up to glower down at you—you talk and talk only, of shared interests and unique experiences. He listens with a warm but relaxed interest as you describe your—that is to say, Melody's—interest in early medieval Europe, and he asks intelligent, probing questions about life in post-Roman France and Britain, tentatively offering his own impressions about the time period for you to weigh and correct. But he is also at certain points able to offer direct observations of his own, for (he says) he has been to Germany and Italy more than once, to visit family friends, and describes with a vivid and appreciative vocabulary the sights in Cologne, and Prague, and Florence. You slip in and out of multiple languages as you talk, and he gets to tease you for knowing too little Italian, and no Polish at all—both languages that he is conversant in. When you finally demand to know how he came to know so many tongues, he shrugs and says that his father was a great traveler in his day; that he knew and still knows many interesting people from around the world; that these were constantly trafficking in and out of the house when he was growing up; and that ... well, he's apparently got an underlying talent for them.<br/>
<br/>
Not once, though, does he touch you, until you are resigned (and also relieved) at this being only a "getting to know you" first date. Possibly an only date, for Melody (and you, who have gotten a good look at her from the outside) is realistic about her looks. Her skinny frame, intense gaze, and hawkish nose are far from conventionally attractive. And Joe, you are sure, could have his pick of college girls.<br/>
<br/>
So it's both a surprise and a thrill when, on leaving the coffee shop, he casually slips an arm around your waist and palms the side your hip. It seems a protective gesture, as he wards off an oncoming car with his free hand as he hurries you across the street back to the campus, but he doesn't withdraw his arm after you are safely on the other side.<br/>
<br/>
And when you pass under the shadow of a tall wall, he leans over to quickly kiss you on the side of your neck. Your assumed flesh thrills all over.<br/>
<br/>
For what seems like an hour you linger with him against the wall of your dormitory, in the shadows between two bushes. He keeps you gently pinned there with his body, but touches you with only one hand—placed on the side of your abdomen—as he softly kisses you at the throat and the chin and the cheek, and finally on the mouth. You kiss him back. <i>Oh God, I'm making out with a guy!</i> you exclaim to yourself. But it feels so good that you can't stop yourself, and your guts are soon a maelstrom of ardor. You feel as though you are about to pee—or have already peed—yourself, and you feel little electric shocks all through you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>But how long can this last?</i> you sadly think to yourself. <i>And could I fight him off if he wants to go further?</i> Then: <i>Do I even want to fight him off?<br/>
<br/>
"Je suis vierge,"</i> you confess with tremble.<br/>
<br/>
Without missing a beat, he kisses your ear and replies, <i>Que veux-tu que je fasse a ce sujet?"</i><br/>
<br/>
Your loins quiver harder. <i>"Et si je disais non?"<br/>
<br/>
"Je crois aux invitations,"</i> he murmurs, <i>"pas aux occupations. Aber,"</i> he adds as he puts both hands to the sides of your hips. <i>"Ich plante eine langsame einkriesung, keinen blitzkrieg."</i><br/>
<br/>
But then his right hand drifts over to thrust itself between your thighs, and you nearly jump out of your skin as his forefinger wedges atop your pussy.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Sag mir,"</i> he growls into the side of your throat, where his teeth are lightly playing. <i>"Brennt Paris?"</i><br/>
<br/>
It is, as though the very flesh there had turned molten.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are woken the next morning by the rattle of cups. But you are half asleep at you flop over in bed to see what the noise is, and when you find that you have it all to yourself you are for a heart-stopping moment entirely crushed. <i>He didn't stay!</i><br/>
<br/>
But he did, as you realize after you've got your eyes open and your brain out of first gear. Joe is at the sink, beside the refrigerator, filling two coffee cups.<br/>
<br/>
He is clad only in boxers, but these are so small and tight you can make out almost every curve of his trim, tight buttocks. His thighs are strong and well-shaped, and his torso (as you confirmed last night when he got his shirt off, is smooth and tight and well-muscled all over, from the shapely pecs down to the smooth six-pack.<br/>
<br/>
What you didn't see last night, by the dim table-lamp, is how his skin is an even, golden brown all over, and it glows from beneath with an almost ludicrous health.<br/>
<br/>
"One's black, the other has milk and sugar," he says as he pads the few feet back to the bed. He sits first on the edge, then bumps you over so he can slide on next to you. "I didn't know which way you take it, and I can take it either way. That's what <i>he</i> said," he adds with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Black," you reply as you sit up to take the cup. Once you have it, he slips himself under the sheets with you. "I'm not going to be worth anything today."<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, rough night?" he teases, and kisses the side of your head. "Someone keep you up all night?"<br/>
<br/>
You begin to shiver all over again: It's a thrill at having him touching you again; a fear that he will leave and you'll never see him again; and an underlying horror at making out with a guy all night long. You even cradled his naked balls and helped him to cum!<br/>
<br/>
Your own virginity is still intact, thankfully. He was as good as his word, and though he probed and kissed "the suburbs" as he called them, there was no penetration of any kind. When you fell asleep, it was across his warm, bare chest, with him actually snoring softly into the top of your head.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do today?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Catch up on classes."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you might have to go in to work again. Where do you work?"<span class="gjmnjhm147"></span></span></div></div>


path: 112312222122231112
author_id: seuzz
id: DT9RHRTZW
title: Getting to the Root of Things
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"I don't have a job," you tell Joe.<br/>
<br/>
"When you ran me over last night, you said were on your way home from work."<br/>
<br/>
You give him a quick, dirty look. "I didn't run you over. You jumped out in front of me."<br/>
<br/>
"While you were on your way home from work." He grins.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have a job," you repeat, and bury your nose in the cup as you take a long sip. "I just said that because, you know, I was embarrassed that I didn't have anything to do on a Saturday night."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, at least I fixed that for you." He scoots over and slides his free arm around your waist. "And if your morning and afternoon today are empty—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't <i>you</i> have something to do?" you ask before you can stop yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Oooh!" he says, and withdraws his arm. "Okay, I'll get dressed now."<br/>
<br/>
"Joe, I didn't mean—"<br/>
<br/>
"I can take a hint," he says as he gets up. "You don't have to drop a house on me, I can tell when I'm not wanted."<br/>
<br/>
"I just meant—!"<br/>
<br/>
"If you got a to-go cup, I'll just— No no, I'll just leave it by the sink, it was presumptuous of me to even get into your coffee," he says as he picks up his jeans from off the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want you to go!" you holler. "I just meant, you know— Maybe <i>you</i> have something you have to do today. Don't feel like you have to stay with me."<br/>
<br/>
With a quick grin he sets the coffee on the nightstand and jumps back onto the bed with you. He doesn't climb in, though, he just puts his face into yours.<br/>
<br/>
"I actually do got things to do," he mumbles between the series of quick, hard kisses he gives you. He holds your face in his warm hands. "I just wanted you to beg. A guy wants to be wanted, you know."<br/>
<br/>
Then he bounds back off the bed.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll call or text you later," he says as he scoops his clothes up. "Or you can call or text me. We'll figure out a place and time we can regularly meet, coordinate our schedules. Say, when's your last class of the day?"<br/>
<br/>
"Depends on the day."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's see if we can meet up semi-regularly at least." His chest swells. "I don't want you forgetting about me."<br/>
<br/>
You're not likely to forget the guy—certainly not someone who can casually walk out into the dorm hallway in only his underwear, with his clothes balled up in the crook of his arm.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You text your replacement, asking him to get you word on progress on the mask after he's checked it this afternoon. His reply at two o'clock is that the mask won't be ready until Monday evening at the earliest; you tell him to bring you all the supplies that can be spared and to leave them in the same classroom in Mirren Hall. He texts an hour later to tell you it's done.<br/>
<br/>
It's right about then that you have a moment of intense panic when you can't find the grimoire. In your mind's eye you dropped it on the desk next to the computer, but it's not there, and for a dizzying minute you are gripped by the terror that someone broke in and took it—or even that Joe might have made off with it.<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, it turns out that you had only put it on the floor at some point, and it had gotten kicked under the divan. Still, the episode has left you panicked and paranoid, and when you leave for Mirren Hall to pick up those supplies, you take it with you. Then, after picking up and jamming the bag of supplies into your book bag, you make a special trip to the university library. There is a shelf there where you <i>know</i> you can keep the grimoire safely hidden.<br/>
<br/>
And while you're there, you happen to spot a book that catches your interest.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Say that again."<br/>
<br/>
Your doppelganger pauses in mid-sentence, and glances up. Then he reads the sentence again. "See if you can find that address online," you order. He lays the book aside and picks up his phone. As he searches, you resume your own work—carving runes into the metal band. The Umeko golem has a watchful expression on her face as she continues to polish a mask.<br/>
<br/>
It's Sunday evening, and you are spending it in the basement of the old elementary school. You started out in your dorm room, working to complete the memory strip that the golem had brought up to you, but your eye kept reverting to the book that you found and checked out of the library when you hid the grimoire. So you had put the strip aside to start reading, but then felt yourself distracted by the metal band. The solution you settled on: You met your golem-doppelganger at the basement, so he could read aloud to you as you worked on the runes. Not only is this successful multi-tasking, it is also restful.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God," Will Prescott murmurs as he studies the screen of his phone. He touches it a few times. "It's—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, let me guess," you interrupt. "It's the professor's house, isn't it? Because of course it would be," you add as he nods.<br/>
<br/>
<i>By 1847,</i> he had been reading, <i>the congregations associated with the tabernacle had mostly drifted away, either abandoning the nascent city for new colonies in the west, or joining the mainline Christian churches that were being organized by the newcomers. Hostility by these newcomers toward the sect must have undoubtedly also played a part in the winding down of the Tabernacle of the Knights of Jehovah, and in 1848, the year that the original, religious charter for the city was replaced by a new, secular one, the tents of the tabernacle were finally struck, never to be raised again.<br/>
<br/>
And yet the old site was not forgotten. In 1867, Nicholas Biddle Batcheller, the nephew of Philip Sherman Batcheller who had by then become mayor, built a new and grand house on the grounds where once his uncle had raised his tabernacle and performed its ceremonies. For a hundred years, first in the possession of Nicholas Batcheller and then in the possession of the Keyserling family—who used it as the president's mansion after the founding of the college which was named after them—the house was a centerpiece of social life and prestige in Saratoga Falls. It continues to stand proudly to this day, even if it is safe to say that few who drive past—</i><br/>
<br/>
Here the author had given the address. A sudden chill had jolted you.<br/>
<br/>
And the quick online search had confirmed it: Professor Aubrey Blackwell lives in a house erected on the land where the cultists who founded Saratoga Falls performed their sacred rites.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Okay, it would be too much to call the founders of Saratoga Falls "cultists," or else you'd have to call the founders of Utah "cultists" as well. They all came out of the same hysterical Millenarian stewpot that roiled the United States in the early nineteenth century:<br/>
<br/>
<i>The wagon train that entered Acheson on the morning of June 11, 1825, probably resembled except in size every other wagon train that had passed through the village. But this one was different. Holding the reins that guided the horses was Philip Sherman Batcheller. And holding the reins that guided his hands (so he claimed) was the angel Elochaim.</i><br/>
<br/>
So begins the book your golem is reading to you: <i>Saratoga Falls: The City Founded by an Angel,</i> by Linda Kinney Olsson.<br/>
<br/>
The basics of the history are familiar to you, thanks to Melody's own studies, though her grasp of them is (as she herself would have admitted) facile. The First Synod of the Tabernacle of Jehovah—or, to use their colloquial name, the "Knights of Jehovah"—were a religious movement that sprang up in western New York, out of the same swirling religious maelstrom as brought forth the Mormons, the Jehovah's Witnesses, and other, lesser known movements. This one had money behind it, and in 1825 it sent a few hundred of its members westward to found a colony on the Mohegan River. Rather than build a church, they had raised a great tent on the ground chosen by the angelically inspired leader of the expedition. Tablets inscribed with the teachings of the sect were buried on the site. And later, so the book has now informed you, a house was built there, beneath whose foundations, possibly, the tablets still rest.<br/>
<br/>
It can't help but give you the creeps.<br/>
<br/>
And there was lots of burying of sacred objects in Saratoga Falls, seemingly. This is only the latest that Melody has learned about.<br/>
<br/>
It was the chair of the anthropology department, Dr. Richard Carter, who turned her attention to the history of Saratoga Falls. "There's a lot of esoteric stuff around here," he brayed at her one afternoon a year ago, when she was up in his office. "Whole place was founded by a bunch of Mormon knock-offs. No one's gonna send you to Germany to look up the Rosicrucians, or anybody," he continued, "but if you want an honors thesis topic, look at the stuff around here. It'll be good practice anyway and maybe you'll turn up something interesting. I'd be interested," he'd added, off-handedly.<br/>
<br/>
So she'd done some digging, though there didn't seem to be much in the usual places. Most of what she had learned had come by finding one or two books of local history at Arnholm's, and she hadn't yet cornered anybody at the local historical society before she lost interest. But she learned enough—and seen enough with her own eyes—to figure that there might be a coherent occult theory in back of some of the stories.<br/>
<br/>
Your eye strays to your own phone as your doppelganger resumes reading—now about the history of the post office. You are too shy about all this weirdness to share your troubles with anyone else—to tell them of Blackwell, and of the book, let alone what you have done with it. But you wonder if Joe might be interested in the history of Saratoga Falls. Or if he would at least pretend an interest if you told him that you were interested in it. In that way, you might pick up a kind of ally.<br/>
<br/>
And keep him close.<span class="fngigffkgem3610"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1123122221222311121
author_id: seuzz
id: ECRHPYPMV
title: An Interview Amongst the Antiques
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"You're shitting me," Joe says. "Stuff happened in this town?"<br/>
<br/>
It's Tuesday afternoon, and Joe is riding shotgun in your car. He taps the window arhythmically with a knuckle, as though grooving to music only he can hear, and casts you a bemused, side-long glance.<br/>
<br/>
You had a late class on Monday, and today he wasn't available for anything until after five, so you arranged to pick him for dinner. <i>You mind if we stop and see someone before that?</i> you'd asked, and he said he didn't.<br/>
<br/>
And who is the appointment with? The chairwoman of the city historical society, whom Melody hadn't been able to get in to see before today. It seemed a lucky stroke: You could see Mrs. Grissom while bringing Joe along, and in that way you'd get some more work done and maybe tie Joe a little more tightly to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
It also meant telling him that you're interested in the city's history, because of some interesting doings associated with its founding. Hence, his snort of amused skepticism.<br/>
<br/>
"Stuff happens in every town!" you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Pff, right. Like, a McDonalds opens, or the mall closes. So what happened around here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Here?" you ask, for you are turning onto Grant Avenue, where Mrs. Grissom lives. "This is where all the old, rich folks live."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" He cranes his neck to look out your side of the car, at the immense, gingerbread-and-gables houses that line that side of the street. (The university occupies the other side.) "They keep 'em under glass? These all look like a bunch of museums!"<br/>
<br/>
"Am I going to be able to take you anywhere?" you tease.<br/>
<br/>
He catches your eye, then leans over to kiss you on the side of the neck.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm housebroken," he says. "But that's about all."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Quiet!" You nudge Joe hard in the side of the ribs as the locks in the front door slide back. When you'd pushed the doorbell, he'd replied to the chimes with a surprisingly deep and resonant, <i>You rang?</i> The last thing you need is some goofball pissing off your hostess with a lot of wisecracks about how her house looks like someplace Frankenstein would live.<br/>
<br/>
She's a small woman who answers the door, with a wizened, kittenish face. She peers at you nearsightedly and with a dubious frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Mrs. Grissom?" you say. "I'm Melody Weiss?"<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you a moment. Then her expression clears up.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, my dear!" she exclaims. "Of course! Do come in."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks. Oh, and this is— <i>Hup!</i>" You have to quickly stifle a shriek of surprise as Joe presses up behind you and clasps his palms over the sides of your hips. Attached to you this way, he follows you in, and doesn't let go until you're inside. "My friend Joe," you lamely conclude.<br/>
<br/>
It is, as you'd told Joe, one of the city's grand old houses, one of those erected as a memorial to themselves by the town fathers and bankers and politicians in the 1870s and 1880s, and which have kept up their splendor even as the shadow of age has fallen over them. This is one of the largest, a three-story monster under a large cupola, with two projecting, two-story wings. It swallows up almost its entire lot, so that there is only the most notional of front yards between the iron fence at the sidewalk, and the steep steps leading up to the porch.<br/>
<br/>
Yet its occupant is a tiny woman, and tiny too is the sitting room she leads you into. It is also claustrophobic with furniture and decorative bits: a low settee draped with a vermillion blanket and a white-and-green quilt; a low coffee with a glass top, on which rests a silver tray with a yellow teacup; a tall bookcase with glass doors against one wall, and a tall cabinet, packed with chinaware behind its glass doors, on another. Behind the sofa hangs a large painting that shows a hunting scene in the English countryside: hounds and horses making arcing leaps over the rolling hillsides. Only the large, flatscreen TV that hangs on the wall opposite the settee strikes a modern note.<br/>
<br/>
"Would you like something to drink or eat?" Mrs. Grissom asks as she settles onto the settee, and gestures you and Joe to take a seat in the nearby chairs. "Nothing for now, Zaila," she calls when you politely decline. You glance over your shoulder to see an enormous black woman, with a head the size of a basketball, standing in the doorway. She regards you and her employer with a kind of glum hostility before withdrawing. Joe catches your eye, and briefly waggles his brows at you.<br/>
<br/>
"You told my secretary that you are working on an honors thesis," Mrs. Grissom says. "About the history of the city?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Particularly—"<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate. You don't want to sound like a crank, especially in front of Joe, but if you only say you are studying its founding, you will just get a lot of dates and names. So you plunge on. "Particularly about the Tabernacle of Jehovah. And whatever ceremonies or liturgies they might have performed at its founding."<br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Grissom doesn't react, except that she blinks and her brow lowers into a soft frown. Joe himself only reacts with a polite smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my," Mrs. Grissom says. "That is an obscure subject. May I ask what drew you to it?"<br/>
<br/>
Again, you can't resist a brief glance at Joe. If anything is going to scare him off you as a lunatic, it is what you have to say next.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm studying anthropology and history, and to be frank my main interest is in, um, heterodox Christian sects of the medieval and post-medieval eras. There is a ... possible connection between these and Saratoga Falls."<br/>
<br/>
"Really, in what way?" she asks with a clear-eyed curiosity.<br/>
<br/>
"Via the Tabernacle. Irving Henry—its founder—lived in Europe for a few years before he founded the Tabernacle. He might have met and corresponded with a group there called the Temple of the Rose. They may have been an influence on him and on the Tabernacle's, um, customs and practices."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm afraid those of the Tabernacle didn't leave much behind," Mrs. Grissom says. She picks up her tea cup, finds that it is empty, and puts it down again.<br/>
<br/>
"There are some, um, suggestive traces in some of the civic architecture."<br/>
<br/>
"Really." Her tone and gaze briefly sharpen. "Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"The, um, the pagoda at Stewart's Hole, for one. It's a very early structure—"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a reconstruction," she corrects you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but it's—"<br/>
<br/>
"Can you be sure that its, um, ornamentation is authentically reconstructed?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we know it's not—"<br/>
<br/>
"So there you are!"<br/>
<br/>
"But there are photographs of it before the reconstruction. The layout is the same, and the changes— Well, there are records of some of the changes, and what was there originally."<br/>
<br/>
"I see." Her tone is cool, and you have to wonder that she doesn't know all this herself.<br/>
<br/>
"There's also the medallion in the floor of the gazebo at Potsdam Park—"<br/>
<br/>
"Zailla!" Mrs. Grissom calls. "I'm sorry, my dear," she apologizes. "Do go on."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, the medallion has an inscription that—"<br/>
<br/>
"Zailla, I seem to be having one of my spells." Mrs. Grissom addresses the servant, who has silently appeared in the doorway. "Could you prepare—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you okay, Mrs. Grissom?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Only one of my spells," Mrs. Grissom says. She lays back on her sofa, and rests her head on the cushion. Her eyes flutter shut. "But do go on."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, the upshot is that you excuse yourself and thank her for her time. She accepts your apologies, and suggests vaguely that you might see her some other time.<br/>
<br/>
But Joe, who was silent the entire time, did go and make a scene just before you left her.<br/>
<br/>
"Vampire eyes?" you exclaim when you're on the front porch and stomping for the car. "Why did you have to say—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't you see it?" he says. "That photograph or painting or whatever, in that glass cabinet—"<br/>
<br/>
"But did you have to say he had 'vampire eyes'? You heard her, that was one of her ancestors!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, she only said he was one of the town founders. And she's so old she probably babysat him when he was still a vampire brat."<br/>
<br/>
"But where do you get off with that 'vampire eyes' business?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just said he looked like he had vampire eyes! Can't I say—?"<br/>
<br/>
"He did not! And Joe— you've just gone and ruined any chance of me getting to talk to her again! She almost threw something at you when you said that! 'Who's the dude with the vampire eyes?'"<br/>
<br/>
You reach for the car handle, but he grabs you first, and pulls you close. All the breath explodes from your lungs as he clasps you to him, and gazes down into your face.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need <i>her,</i> Melody," he murmurs. "She wasn't going to tell you anything anyway. She was shutting you down, you could see that. The minute you started asking about occult this and werewolf that, she—"<br/>
<br/>
"I was asking about civic architecture!"<br/>
<br/>
"And she didn't want to tell you anything about it. For <i>reasons,</i> whatever they are."<br/>
<br/>
He squeezes you, and your insides go all squishy under the warmth of his smile.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need her, Melody, not when you got me. This stuff sounds fascinating. Fuck, I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about it! Or," he adds with a wicked grin, "maybe it's you."<br/>
<br/>
You squeal and slap at him. But you can't help melting further into him.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck me,</i> you groan from deep inside Melody's consciousness. <i>If I wind up giving this guy a blow job, I'm gonna have to put a gun in my mouth afterward.</i><span class="felfmnfeflj3710"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1123122221222311122
author_id: seuzz
id: JGK6V9K5V
title: Relics of Saratoga Falls
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"Mrs. Grissom?" you say to the little old woman who has opened the door. "I'm Melody Weiss."<br/>
<br/>
Her wizened, kittenish face, which had been frowning with a wary puzzlement, instantly breaks into a warm smile.<br/>
<br/>
"My dear!" she exclaims. "Do come in!" She stands aside.<br/>
<br/>
It's Tuesday afternoon, and you have three hours off between classes. The last mask is polished, and the completed metal band is attached to it. All you have to do is take it the professor's house tomorrow night, and use it on him.<br/>
<br/>
So why are you so nervous about what's to come? Because that's <i>all</i> you have to do? Or because everything, possibly, depends on you not fucking up?<br/>
<br/>
It's the fear of fucking up that has brought you here, to the home of the chairwoman of the local historical society. You want to learn all you can about Blackwell's house—and everything connected to it—before you step inside it again.<br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Grissom is someone that Melody has been trying to chase down for some time. She was never in her offices when she called, and you only managed to secure this interview by mentioning the magic phrase "honors thesis coming due" to the secretary. That apparently unlocked the file that contained the chairwoman's home address and phone number. You called, and she said she'd be glad to meet you at her home this afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
She looks like a historical relic herself. She is eighty years old if she is a day, and she might be over ninety. She is a tiny woman with wrinkled, baggy skin. Her dark eyes have sunk almost out of sight into their sockets. But her teeth—dentures, obviously—are bright and her smile warm and kindly. She is dressed in a blouse and a long skirt and hose, and drapes a heavy shawl over her shoulders despite the warmth of the house. With tiny footsteps she ushers you through the foyer and into a small sitting room on the other side.<br/>
<br/>
It's one of the city's grand old houses that you are entering, on Grant Avenue, directly across from the university: the houses that the town fathers and bankers and politicians built for themselves in the 1870s and 1890s, and which have kept up their splendor even as the shadow of age has fallen over them. The sitting room of this one is almost claustrophobic with chintz: a low settee draped with a vermillion blanket and a white-and-green quilt; a low coffee with a glass top, on which rests a silver tray with yellow teacup; a tall bookcase with glass doors against one wall, and a tall cabinet, packed with chinaware behind its glass doors, on another. Behind the sofa hangs a large painting that shows a hunting scene in the English countryside: hounds and horses making arcing leaps along the rolling hillsides. Only the large, flatscreen TV that hangs on the wall opposite the settee strikes a modern note. The rest of the room could have been decorated in the 1920s.<br/>
<br/>
Though the sitting room is small, the rest of the house is very large, with two projecting two-story wings from a three-story main house under a cupola. <i>Such a large house for such a small woman,</i> you think. Part of the solution comes at the sound of heavy footsteps, and you look over to see a titanic black woman, with a head the size of a basketball, standing in the doorway. She regards you and her employer with a kind of glum hostility.<br/>
<br/>
"Would you like something to drink or eat, dear?" Mrs. Grissom asks you. "Nothing for now, Zaila," she says when you politely decline. The servant vanishes from the doorway, like the moon going into eclipse.<br/>
<br/>
"You said over the phone that you are working on an honors thesis," Mrs. Grissom says as she settles gently onto the settee, and indicates that you should take a nearby arm chair. "About the history of the city?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Particularly—" You hesitate. You don't want to sound like a crank, but if you say you are studying its founding, you will just get a lot of dates and names. "Particularly about the Tabernacle of Jehovah." You study her closely for a reaction. "And whatever ceremonies or liturgies they might have performed at its founding."<br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Grissom doesn't react, except that she blinks and her brow lowers into a soft frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my," she says. "That is an obscure subject. May I ask what drew you to it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm studying anthropology and history, and to be frank my main interest is in, um, heterodox Christian sects of the medieval and post-medieval eras." This is not strictly true, but you are confident you can bullshit her. "I know that there was some connection, a possible source of transmission, from Europe to the United States, and to Saratoga Falls in particular, via the Tabernacle." You affect a helpless shrug. "I thought it would be fascinating to see if some echoes or reflections of those medieval sects showed up here, at the founding of the city, and to see how they might have evolved."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes are wide now, and clear, with a light of curiosity.<br/>
<br/>
"Why, that sounds fascinating, dear," she says. "Of course, the participation of the, er, Tabernacle is a well-known fact locally. Well, to those of us who know the town's history, it is," she corrects herself. "But I confess I always assumed the whole thing was made up, like Joseph Smith and his golden plates, or John Newbrough and his automatic typewriter. But it can be traced back to Europe?" she asks in some astonishment.<br/>
<br/>
"Possibly. That's one of the things I want to investigate, but the founder—"<br/>
<br/>
"Prophet," Mrs. Grissom murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
The correction catches your attention, and you stare at her. But when she says nothing further, you continue.<br/>
<br/>
"But the, er, prophet, Irving Henry. You know?" You pause. She smiles encouragingly, but says nothing. "He was in Europe just before he started—founded—the Tabernacle. There's some indication that he met and corresponded with a group there called the Temple of the Rose. They may have been an influence on him."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that is certainly news to me," Mrs. Grissom says after you have left her hanging for a moment. She picks up her tea cup, finds that it is empty, and puts it down again. "My own interest has been purely in the early history of the town, not its, well, pre-history, I suppose you could call it. And there is so very little information about the sect still out there. There were so few of them, and they died out so quickly." Her smile turns crooked. "I'm afraid my own forebears had something to do with that."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I don't mean— Well, the poor things were rather swamped as the town began to grow. The city might have started as a religious colony, but it wasn't long before the colonists were outnumbered ten or twenty to one by new arrivals. My own great-grandfather—"<br/>
<br/>
She pauses and gazes past you at the wall behind. You turn to look. On a shelf you hadn't noticed before sits a dozen framed photographs.<br/>
<br/>
"The one at the very left," Mrs. Grissom says. "Silas Winfield Stuart." She pauses as you take in the face. "He was the eighth mayor of the city, moved here with his own father when he was six. His father was one of the ones who got the original charter revoked and the new town charter established. Which was the end of the 'religious colony'."<br/>
<br/>
The picture you are looking at is of the man's son, but if he was anything like his father, you can imagine the father getting the change made. It's heavy-set face, jowly and clean-shaven, set in a firm scowl of determination. The face of a man who could lay a transcontinental railroad, or clear a battlefield of Apaches or Confederates. <br/>
<br/>
"Well," Mrs. Grissom says with a sigh, "have you <i>found</i> any traces in town that still suggest the, erm, presence or activities of the Tabernacle?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But that's what you're unsure of, as you have to confess. The evidence is circumstantial at best, and suggests only either that the Tabernacle (or the other founders of Saratoga Falls) had some very peculiar tastes in civic ornamentation, or that their inheritances from the Temple of the Rose underwent some dramatic evolutions while crossing the Atlantic.<br/>
<br/>
There are only two that you can specifically mention to her: the ornamental temple that stands in the middle of Stewart's Hole—a large pond in a local park—and the decorative medallion at Potsdam Park.<br/>
<br/>
The former is a reconstruction of the original structure, which was erected in the 1830s, during the first decade of the city's existence. In form it resembles a pagoda, except that it is arranged with ten pillars in the pattern of two overlapping, five-sided pentagrams. A historical marker at the site displays a large, fading photograph of the original wooden flooring, which has long since vanished. Onto it was painted an enormous hand, palms up and stretching wide with splayed fingers. The original effect of standing in its center must have been a slightly uncanny experience, akin to standing in the palm of a giant that is about to close his hand on you.<br/>
<br/>
The second is even creepier. The copper medallion, which is about the size of a manhole cover, is planted in the cement floor of the gazebo at Potsdam Park, in the center, and is engraved to depict, in a primitive style, a man's face. Though crowned, his eyes are wide and staring and his mouth crooked into a kind of frown. Despite being designed in a very simple style—only a few rude lines—it is somehow very expressive and even lifelike, and the eyes of the figure seem to lock onto and see into yours. Worst of all is the emotion within them. The fear in his face is all to easy to read: He looks like a man who has realized too late that something supremely awful is about to befall him.<br/>
<br/>
You only mention these to Mrs. Grissom, and say nothing of the emotional effect they give to you. She shakes her head and says that although she knows of them, she knows nothing about them.<br/>
<br/>
Nor, when you come to the point, can she tell you anything about the house that stands now where the Tabernacle once stood.<span class="geifhlfifei3710"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11231222212223111221
author_id: seuzz
id: KCJ38P2WH
title: Joe's Company
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>Round and round you go for a couple of days, trying to settle on whether to ask Joe to go with you out to Blackwell's. You are frightened enough of the professor that you don't want to be alone with him, and figure that a bold and strapping "boyfriend" will discourage the professor from trying anything nasty.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, Joe's presence would probably discourage you from trying to use the mask on the professor. And then what's the point of even going out there?<br/>
<br/>
But you finally settle on taking the chance: Joe's presence could daunt Blackwell, and yet you might still be able to get Blackwell alone there.<br/>
<br/>
It's Wednesday afternoon, though, before you finally decide, so you end up springing the request on Joe at the last minute. And you're eating at McDonalds when you do.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You got ketchup on the corner of your lip," Joe says. He gently wipes the side of your mouth with a French fry, then grins as he pops it into his mouth. "When I run out of fries, I guess I'll just have to start kissing it off."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not that messy!" you protes, but you can't stop yourself from blushing a little.<br/>
<br/>
"I wish you would be." He laughs.<br/>
<br/>
It wasn't your idea to come to McDonalds—it's a little too expensive for Melody's budget—but Joe suggested it, and just as quickly volunteered to pay for it, so here you are. <i>Just because you asked me out in the middle of the week,</i> he'd said when you picked him up, <i>don't think I'm not going to ask you out Friday night.</i> And then he asked you out Friday night, and you accepted.<br/>
<br/>
You are talking lightly and casually now about things you might do on that date—take in a movie, or a nightclub, or go dancing, or just stay in—when you sense a presence at your table, and look up to find that half-a-dozen burly guys in Eastman letterman jackets have materialized at your table.<br/>
<br/>
"Joker!" their leader rumbles down at Joe, and pounds him on the shoulder. "What are you doing here? And who with?" He casts a glinting eye down at you. In fact, all of them—and it gives you a chill to notice this—are giving you quick but searching looks.<br/>
<br/>
"Eating with a girl," Joe says. His grin is easy, but there's an edge in his voice. "What about you? Got any girls with you, or's it gonna be handjobs all around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oooh!" The guys all chortle, and their leader mimes punching Joe in the side of the head. "You must be horny as hell if you can't wait for Friday night and Jessica!" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Who says I'm seeing Jessica Friday night?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought <i>you</i> did," one of the jockstraps says.<br/>
<br/>
"I said I was thinking about it."<br/>
<br/>
"I think Jessica's thinks it's happening."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I think Jessica's got another think coming."<br/>
<br/>
More hoots, and the leader turns to give you a very direct stare. You can see the skepticism in his glance, and you feel yourself ripple with resentment.<br/>
<br/>
"This is Melody," Joe says. "She goes to the college," he adds with some slight emphasis.<br/>
<br/>
"What, are you getting tutored?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm gettin' learned good. Her and me hooked up Saturday night. And here we are again 'cos I can't stop myself being bothered by her. And I'm seeing her Friday night too." His grin widens as he holds the other's eye.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself wanting to sink into the ground as every one of them turns to stare down at you. You duck your head and hunch your shoulders against the weight of their collective gaze.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow," the lead jockstrap says, and claps Joe hard on the back of his shoulder. He turns and pushes the others back and away. You look up at Joe from under a lowered brow, but he is watching the others as they shuffle noisily back into the front section of the restaurant. His expression is stiff, and every trace of friendliness has vanished from it. His eyes, when they lock onto yours, are hard and flinty.<br/>
<br/>
Until he smiles inside of a very broad wince, and ducks his own head.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry about that," he murmurs, and reaches across the table to hover his hand over the fist that you have made. "Those are some guys from the local high school, I hang out with them sometimes, playing basketball and stuff. Met 'em at the start of the semester. I, uh, I'm only a year older than them, so—" He shrugs. "So sometimes it's like I'm still in high school myself."<br/>
<br/>
You return his apologetic smile with a stiff one of your own.<br/>
<br/>
"It's alright," you say. But then, because you are overwhelmed by the sharper parts of Melody's personality, you ask, "So who's 'Jessica'?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe flinches.<br/>
<br/>
"She's a girl at the high school. I've been out with her a couple of times, because, well—" Now he hunches his shoulders and hangs his head. "Because I'm stupid and sometimes can't control myself, even though I should know better." He looks up at you, with eyes wet with worry. "She's a real bubble-brain, and after last Saturday with you, I am suddenly <i>really</i> tired of her." He bites his lower lip shyly.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I forgive you," you say, though you're not sure that you do. "But you have to do me a favor." When he doesn't answer, you say, "You have to come with me tonight when I go in to work."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So that's how you spring it on him, and Joe happily volunteers to "distract you and get you fired." But he also wants to know why you "lied" to him about not having a job. You explain that you didn't lie, that it's not really "work," it's just a once-a-week "work-study" arrangement. <i>Just don't be goofy around the professor,</i> you request. <i>Can I be Donald?</i> he replies in a pitch-perfect imitation of the cartoon duck.<br/>
<br/>
It's a little before eight when you arrive at Blackwell's villa, and find a strange vehicle parked out front: a luxury car of gleaming black with tinted windows. Joe doesn't resist the temptation to run both an admiring glance and an admiring hand over the hood as you pass it.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell is slow to answer your knock, and he looks surprised and discomfited by your appearance.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, Miss Weiss," he stammers, but it's Joe who he's giving a very fishy-eyed glance to. (He has his arm draped casually over your shoulder.) "I'm afraid I, er, neglected to contact you about, erm, cancelling tonight's session. I, em, I have a visitor."<br/>
<br/>
Joe answers for you. "We'll stay out of your way," he says. "It's just library work, from what Melody says. Right?" He smooches you on the cheek.<br/>
<br/>
"I am afraid it will not be possible," Blackwell coldly replies. "I, erm, will have to go out shortly. Will be going out. And it will not be worth anyone's time—"<br/>
<br/>
"Could I use your restroom, at least?" Joe says. "I had a Coke at supper, and it's run right through me."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell doesn't answer right away, but only stares at Joe balefully. Then he says, "I'm afraid not. Good night, Miss Weiss," he says over Joe's protests, and pushes the door shut in your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Joe says brightly. "I guess that's the rest of <i>your</i> night free." He squeezes you about the shoulders and puts his face close to yours. "So what do you want to do now?"<br/>
<br/>
But except for knowing what you don't want to do—which is clearly what he <i>does</i> want to do—you are at a loss. "I guess we can go hang out some place," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell you what," Joe says. He turns you around and steers you down the steps. "You go wait for me in the car. I gotta take care of a little business."<br/>
<br/>
"What business?"<br/>
<br/>
"What I told your professor," he says as he drops his arm from you and hops away. "I gotta take a whiz, so I'm gonna go find a corner—"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe! You can't p-pee in a man's—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure I can!" Joe is already trotting sideways to the corner of the villa. "And if he didn't want me to, he'd'a let me use the facilities like I asked!"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe!"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait for me in the car!" And then he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head in disbelief, and stand where you are, waiting for him to come back. <i>A college freshman,</i> you murmur to yourself. <i>But he acts more like he's a high school freshman!</i><br/>
<br/>
And then one thought will follow on another as you wait, and your memory goes back to that scene in the McDonalds. <i>See you tomorrow,</i> those guys said as they were leaving, as though they expected to see Joe at the high school. <i>Is he really a college student?</i> you wonder.<br/>
<br/>
You also can't forget the way they looked at you, as though they couldn't believe that <i>he</i> would be on a date with someone who looks like <i>you.</i> (Well, like Melody.) It's a doubt you've had before, but now you've got a little extra reason to wonder if he's being completely honest with you.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, you did pick him up at a house in the "student ghetto" portion of town, next to the university. Though that's hardly proof that he really is a college student.<br/>
<br/>
But if he isn't, then what is he? He's too young to be anything but a college student, or a high school student. And why should you be suspicious of a high school student, if that's what he is?<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you're just being paranoid.<br/>
<br/>
But you've got a mask with you, and if you put it on him, you could find out what's going on with him. And then you could put it on the golem, and then you'd have that "strapping boyfriend" you wanted, and without having to fuss with the real Joe.<span class="fnmnmjfjg369"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11231222212223111222
author_id: seuzz
id: A8C79SLJ2
title: Blackwell Has a Visitor
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>(based on a chapter originally by WordSmitty)<br/>
<br/>
You give some vague thought to asking Joe to go with you to the professor's on Wednesday night. You are still frightened enough that you don't want to be alone with him (though nothing happened on Saturday) and figure that a bold and strapping "boyfriend" would discourage the professor from trying anything nasty.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand—and this is very much the determining factor—Joe's presence would probably also discourage you from trying to use the mask on the professor. So you decide to brave the house alone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a little before eight when you arrive at Blackwell's villa. It looks more sinister than ever, brooding in the deepening twilight. The two dimly lit second-story windows, positioned just above and on either side of the front portico, give it a "face": one that is opening its mouth to swallow visitors.<br/>
<br/>
There's a strange vehicle parked out front the gate tonight: a luxury car of gleaming black with tinted windows. It bespeaks power and sophistication and prestige, which are not qualities you associate with Professor Blackwell; but also a kind of malice, which you would.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell is slow to answer your knock, and he looks surprised and discomfited by your appearance.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, Miss Weiss," he stammers, and for a moment you think he's not going to let you in. "I had quite forgotten our appointment. Er—" He hesitates, then jerks the door wide open. "Do come in."<br/>
<br/>
"Is this a bad time?" you ask as you enter. "You look like you've got a visitor."<br/>
<br/>
"Indeed, er, yes. I mean, quite." He swings the door shut. "But that is no reason we may not proceed. That <i>you</i> may not proceed, I mean. You will find quite a bit laid out for you. I was most pleased with your work last time, and have set some difficult puzzles for you tonight. But do take your time. Er." He pauses in the hallway, just in front of the library door. "I do beg your pardon if I seem to lock you in. It is a private matter that my guest I have to discuss, and there is no door on the living room behind which we can hide."<br/>
<br/>
"Do yo mind if I use the, uh, little girls' room first?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What? Oh yes, yes, that will be fine." He remains locked in place as you brush past him down the hall to the restroom.<br/>
<br/>
He is still waiting there, fidgeting, when you emerge a few minutes later. He closes the sliding doors to the library behind you, and locks them with a click. You study them for a moment, then try the handles. They are bolted firmly shut.<br/>
<br/>
But you simply drop your bag onto a desk, ignore the pile of work set for you there, and go out the French doors onto the side patio. From there you go around to the porch again. The front door is unlocked, and it slides open silently as you reenter the house.<br/>
<br/>
The living room is at the end of the long hallway that extends down the length of the house, but you can hear indistinct voices as you slide cautiously over its polished floor. You come to a halt some feet away still, close enough to the restroom door that you can duck inside and hide if someone comes out, but close enough to make out what they are saying.<br/>
<br/>
"—are wondering why you are so careless about opening your house to someone like her, when you won't open it to us," says Blackwell's visitor.<br/>
<br/>
"I think that would be obvious," Blackwell retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"It is still careless. What if she knocks something over?" His voice is deep and rich and smooth and strong, but with a trace of strong acid. If a cup of black coffee could speak, it would sound like this voice. <br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean," says the other, "that you are going to tell me that she is simply a lab assistant. Or the equivalent. But even a good lab assistant can ... knock something over."<br/>
<br/>
"I let her near nothing that could be 'knocked over'," Blackwell says. "You and your colleagues, on the other hand—"<br/>
<br/>
"But it hurts our feelings, so," the other replies in a mocking tone. "It makes you seem unfriendly."<br/>
<br/>
"I am not unfriendly—"<br/>
<br/>
"But you are! You never act the gracious host with <i>us!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell replies, in a sulky voice, "Because I don't feel like counting the spoons after you leave."<br/>
<br/>
There's a brief, deep silence. Then the other looses a deep, rolling, unforced laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"That is quite good," he says. "What it lacks in diplomacy it compensates in wit. But you had to count the spoons after your last assistant left!"<br/>
<br/>
"What is that?" Blackwell asks, sharply.<br/>
<br/>
"I said—"<br/>
<br/>
"I heard what you said. But the allusion escapes me."<br/>
<br/>
"But something else escaped you as well! And it wasn't your assistant, whose vanishing act would have impressed Houdini. And might yet impress the FBI, should they take an interest."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would they?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, because some people know other people, and a word from one to the other—"<br/>
<br/>
"I have nothing to fear from the FBI!"<br/>
<br/>
"But it all rather depends, doesn't it?" the other drawls. "And one wouldn't like to gamble, even if the consequences are only ... embarrassing. But as I was saying, you've lost something else. And I don't mean the assistant that came after <i>him</i>," he adds in a very acidic tone.<br/>
<br/>
There's a long silence. Blackwell's tone is clipped when next he speaks.<br/>
<br/>
"I was perhaps too hasty with my ... assistant. And yes, he mislaid something. It put me into a temper."<br/>
<br/>
The voice turns very deep. "What was it, Aubrey, that he mislaid?"<br/>
<br/>
"An antiquity," he says, and it sounds as if the words are being squeezed and twisted out of him. "A rare book."<br/>
<br/>
"It must have been valuable, if you—"<br/>
<br/>
"I said, he put me into a temper! And I was too hasty! I do regret it, and would not have—"<br/>
<br/>
"What was the book? I ask," he adds when Blackwell doesn't immediately answer, "because we might like to do you a good turn. Something to demonstrate our good will."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of a good turn?" Blackwell asks. His voice is pinched.<br/>
<br/>
"We might replace it, this book that you lost. Present you with another copy. Come, would that not be a neighborly gesture? A friendly gesture, a gesture of good will?"<br/>
<br/>
"It would indeed."<br/>
<br/>
Something in Blackwell's tone seems to knock the other off guard. After a long pause, it says, "Was it that rare?"<br/>
<br/>
"I did not say—"<br/>
<br/>
"Could we replace it, Aubrey? There are few books we could not. But if it was—"<br/>
<br/>
"It was a copy of The Book of the Toad," Blackwell snaps. "A manuscript, actually," he adds. "Sixteenth century."<br/>
<br/>
There's a long pause. Then the other says, "Book of the Toad, manuscript. Well well. That is a rarity."<br/>
<br/>
"So you could hardly—"<br/>
<br/>
"How did you procure a manuscript copy of the The Book of the Toad, Aubrey? That takes skill! All known copies are accounted for."<br/>
<br/>
"A private collector—"<br/>
<br/>
"All known private collections are accounted for as well." The voice has turned dangerous now, like the rippling breeze that goes before a thunderstorm.<br/>
<br/>
"I paid a great price," Blackwell says. "For it."<br/>
<br/>
There is a much lengthier pause.<br/>
<br/>
Then the voice says, "Arnholm's Used Books does not traffic in manuscripts."<br/>
<br/>
There is a much lengthier pause now, one so long that you nervously eye the restroom door, wondering if maybe you should jump behind it lest someone come stalking out of the living room without warning.<br/>
<br/>
But then the visitor says, "Yes, I suppose we have had enough of the topic. Well well, I say again. Something rare and valuable and not to be spoken of is rattling on the loose in Saratoga Falls. We shall certainly keep an eye out for it for you. Even if you won't tell us what it is, we shall certainly know it when we see it. Shan't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"I believe we have exhausted all topics of friendly conversation, yes," Blackwell says stiffly, and even if the other hadn't replied with a deep sigh and a murmur that sounds like, "Yes I should be going," you would have taken the signal. You hurry as silently as you can back down the hall and out the front door. You sprint back around the house to the side patio, and your heart is pounding hard as you duck back into the library.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you stand there, sweating and trembling all over. You are almost paralyzed with fright and indecision.<br/>
<br/>
For now you have two possible targets to use the mask on. Blackwell you might get tonight, and you might get him later, at almost any time.<br/>
<br/>
But his visitor, who haven't so much as glimpsed, sounds like someone you need to beware of as well. And right now, this very moment, is the only chance you will have to capture his mind and memories inside a mask.<span class="fenlefeekl3610"></span></span></div></div>


path: 112312222122231112221
author_id: seuzz
id: CHSKMBZH2
title: An Arresting Development
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span><i>No guts no glory,</i> you tell yourself with a gulp. You yank the blank mask from your bag, and scamper back out the French doors with it.<br/>
<br/>
You expect to hear the front door open at any moment as you dash for the gate, but you make it outside the wall without being seen, and fall against the side of the visitor's car with your lungs and heart bursting in a rush of adrenaline.<br/>
<br/>
For what seems a very long time you lean there, catching your breath, and wondering what you will do when the visitor comes out. Jump him directly? Ask a few friendly questions and then hit him with the mask? Hide and jump out at him? I<br/>
<br/>
Your anxiety about how to catch him fades, though, and is replaced by worry as the minutes pass and he doesn't appear. He said that he had to go, and Blackwell wanted to be rid of him. So where is he? Did they fall into another conversation? How long will he be?<br/>
<br/>
Then a worse worry occurs to you. Perhaps they went looking for you in the library, and found you gone. Perhaps they are looking for you now. If they are together, you will have no hope of using the mask; possibly you will lose it to them and be exposed.<br/>
<br/>
You are soon paralyzed with a wracking indecision. Finally, though, your nerve fails, and you turn to try sneaking back into the house. Perhaps you will see the man leaving as you're going in, and then you can follow—<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit!</i> you realize. <i>I've got the mask out in my hand!</i> If you go back in, and Blackwell catches you with it, it's game over.<br/>
<br/>
In a flash of inspiration—which after you think about it, wasn't inspiration so much as blind panic—you throw the mask into your own car. Then you saunter as nonchalantly as you can back around to the side patio. If anyone catches you and asks what you're doing, you'll tell them you went out for a short walk, and of course had to go out the side entrance because Blackwell locked you in.<br/>
<br/>
You make it back into the library without being seen, and when still no one comes you are soon just as anxious as before. <i>Where the hell is everyone?</i> You fidget by the pile of work Blackwell left for you, but can't summon up the will or the concentration to do anything with it.<br/>
<br/>
At last there comes the sound of footfalls outside the door, and the murmur of voices. They pass.<br/>
<br/>
You are hopping from one foot to the other when with a rattle that puts your heart in your throat, the library doors slide back. Professor Blackwell, looking drained and unhappy, stands there. He doesn't seem to notice that you are not at work.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, Miss Weiss," he mutters. "I am afraid that I must ask you to curtail tonight's session. I am— Unwell."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Okay," you say. For a moment you think, <i>Now's my chance to get the mask on him!</i> But then you remember: <i>I put the mask in my car.</i><br/>
<br/>
Listlessly, the professor pays you a hundred dollars for your time without inquiring as to how much work you got done, and sends you on your way. You are kicking yourself all the way down the sidewalk to your car. <i>What a waste of every possible chance!</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You chew over the night's mistakes on the way back to your dorm, wondering how to recover from them. What if you call Blackwell in the morning, and explain that you actually got no work done, and offer to come out that night to finish with no additional compensation? The worst he could say is "No." On the other hand, he might wonder what you were doing all that time that you got no work done.<br/>
<br/>
You are wondering whether to chance it still when red-and-blue lights flash in your rearview mirror, and with a whoop and a short wail a police cruiser swings in behind you. Your heart slams into your throat, but you edge over to the side of the road. Perhaps he only needs to pass you.<br/>
<br/>
No luck. He pulls up and parks directly behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You barely have time to get your license, registration and insurance out before he is at your door. "Do you know why I pulled you over?" he asks as soon as you have the window down. His face is hidden in the dark night, under the shadow of the brim of his hat, which is pulled down low over his brow.<br/>
<br/>
"N-no," you stammer. "I don't think I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Please get out of the car."<br/>
<br/>
You stare. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Please get out of the car," he repeats.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, this is really janky, but you (and Melody) have been taught all your life to comply with a policeman's orders. "I don't see why," you gabble as you scramble for the door handle. "I'm pretty sure I— I got my license and—"<br/>
<br/>
"Please just get out of the car." His tone is flat and not unfriendly. But you could say the same about a slab of concrete.<br/>
<br/>
"Come with me," he says after you're out, and steps back toward his cruiser, whose lights are still flashing. He stops when you don't move. "Please come—"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I don't understand!" you protest. "I didn't—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Please do not resist arrest," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Arrest?" you exclaim. "I—"<br/>
<br/>
"Ma'am," he says, and now there is steel in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
So you crumple. On quivering legs you shuffle over to the cruiser, surreptitiously glancing at its regalia to confirm that it's an actual police vehicle. It seems to be. But then, you don't get a good look at it—and you're not sure you'd know a fake if you saw one—before you are being ushered into the back seat.<br/>
<br/>
At least he doesn't lay so much as a fingertip on you.<br/>
<br/>
Not that he has to, once you are closed up in the back seat. There are no handles on the doors, and a metal lattice separates the front cabin from your compartment.<br/>
<br/>
He flicks a few switches once he's behind the wheel, and a moment later is speeding smoothly away, leaving your car abandoned on the roadside.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He ignores the few questions you try asking him, and also ignores the occasional squawk on his police radio. He drives north, taking the main boulevards, driving well under the speed limit and stopping at every red light. You pass the mall heading northeast out of town, then exit onto the first of a series of winding roads that take you deeper into the countryside.<br/>
<br/>
At last, you pull through a gateway that pierces a tall hedge, and come to a stop on a circular drive in front of a building. You peer at it apprehensively, for it looks nothing like a police station.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, it looks almost like a motor court. A high-end motor court, but a motor court nonetheless. You are parked under a solid, canopy-like pediment in front of a a couple of glass double-doors. From one side of the building projects a short wing under a gently sloping roof, its walls pierced regularly by a few bland windows. On the other, a metal railing extends down the length of the drive.<br/>
<br/>
The cop continues to be cold and correct as he lets you out of the cruiser, and leads you over to this railing. Behind its gate is a patio enclosing a wooden deck lit by a couple of tiki torches that mutter and gutter in the night breeze, and a large swimming pool whose floor is washed by pink and sea-green and turquoise underwater lamps. A scent of eucalyptus hangs in the air.<br/>
<br/>
The cop leads you past the pool and inside the building through another set of double glass doors. The carpeted hallway beyond is completely dark, and the only illumination comes from an open doorway a little ways down, out of which spills a soft, amethyst-hued light.<br/>
<br/>
The cop points at the doorway, and with a gesture ushers you toward it.<br/>
<br/>
It opens onto a sunken living room, looking like something out of the jet-set early 1960s. Three of the walls are lined with flat stone; the fourth with dark lava rock. In the midst of the room is a five-sided, jointed sofa that encloses a low, pentagonal table; sunken inside the middle of the table burns a small gas fire. The only other light comes from large, shallow-bottomed copper bowls, suspended by chains that hang from the ceiling. These must contain hidden electrical lights, for the ceiling above them glows in the beams of amethyst-colored spotlights that slowly weave and wobble, casting complex patterns of light and shadow on the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
Two men are seated on the sofa, facing the doorway—and you.<br/>
<br/>
The one on the left is enormously fat and you have the impression that he is also very tall. His melon-shaped head that is bald on top, but fringed on the side with dark, gray-streaked hair, and he sports a lush but close-trimmed beard and mustache. He is dressed in dark slacks and a white, long-sleeve dress shirt, and is stitched up tight inside a dark vest. He wears a burgundy tie that is cinched all the way up to his collar.<br/>
<br/>
His companion is similarly dressed, but his tie and shirt are a dark, muted purple, and he wears a jacket that might be brown (it is hard to tell in the dark). But he is skinny and lithe, and the foot that he has crossed over one knee is enclosed in a dress shoe that is very long and pointed and gleaming. His hair—unlike his companion, he has a full head of it—lays flat on his scalp, trailing over his ears and forehead to touch his brows. His face is narrow, almost gaunt, and his eyes are very bright.<br/>
<br/>
And yet it is a handsome face, despite its impression of sickliness and wastedness. And the smile he turns on you gleams with hunger and interest.<span class="fmjggefefki3711"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1123122221222311122211
author_id: seuzz
id: JCFD6LTQD
title: Heart's Blood
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>"Thank you, Richard," the thin one says to the cop. His voice is soft, with a hint of a rasp in it. "You can go back on patrol now."<br/>
<br/>
Your attention is on him, so you only sense, rather than see, the cop exit, closing the door behind him.<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on?" you ask. There's a tremble in your voice, and you steel yourself to make it firmer. "What is this, what do you—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Would you like a little wine?" the thin one says. Suddenly, like it was a conjuring trick, he is holding a wine glass, balancing it on his knee.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I wanna know—! This is false arrest!"<br/>
<br/>
He looks amused.<br/>
<br/>
"That was a real policeman," he says, "so it could hardly be false arrest."<br/>
<br/>
You shiver all over. "What do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"I want to talk to you. Do have some wine." He glances to the side.<br/>
<br/>
Now you notice—it's like the room keeps revealing itself, in spurts—that there is a kitchenette. On the bar between it and the main room sits an open bottle of wine, and a glass like the one he is holding.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me what's going on," you demand in low voice. "Even if that was a real cop—"<br/>
<br/>
"Your name is Melody Weiss?" It's the fat one who spoke. He is regarding you from under lowered brows.<br/>
<br/>
With a shock you recognize the voice—that deep, resonant, acidic voice. It's Blackwell's guest. Your own voice freezes in your throat.<br/>
<br/>
"It's very simple," says the thin one. "Melody— May I call you Melody? You are a work-study student for Professor Aubrey Blackwell. We simply want to know certain ... things ... about him."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?" you croak. Your eyes dart between their faces.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"Trivia," he answers. "What books he has in his library, whether he possesses certain tomes in particular. Whether he has any other students assisting him. Perhaps of certain of his comings and—"<br/>
He lifts his glass and darts a pale, narrow tongue into it, touching the wine. It reminds you, with a shudder, of a proboscis dipping into a water drop.<br/>
<br/>
"Goings," he concludes after lowering the glass.<br/>
<br/>
"Why? Why do you want to know?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"For reasons that seem good to us," the fat one growls.<br/>
<br/>
The other one smiles a wide smile, and waves a palm through the air. He must have activated a sensor, for soft music begins to play: bongo drums, and a low bass guitar. The amethyst lighting fades and deepens in hue.<br/>
<br/>
"If you won't offer us these things for friendship," he says, "will you trade them for money?" He turns to the other. "Let's offer her money," he brightly suggests.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want money," you protest. "I don't want to spy on—! And I don't like people who—!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're already spying on the professor," the fat one says. "Tonight." His brow lowers further. "You were outside in the hallway, listening to us as we talked."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not true," you protest, but you know your face has betrayed you. "I was—"<br/>
<br/>
"Now that's interesting!" exclaims the thin one. "Why would you spy on our friend—your employer!" He leans forward to extend his glass to you. Either his arm is much longer than it should be, or you are in fact standing much closer to him that you realized. For though he doesn't come out of his chair, his hand and the glass he holds hovers just within reach. "Fortify yourself while you meditate on the answer."<br/>
<br/>
And to your own surprise you take the glass, for the temptation to do something—anything!—that would give you time to think, is heavy upon you. The wine is very strong, and the fumes fill your nostrils even before the liquid has touched your lips. It is strong, ripe, fruity, and dark. <i>Like chocolate and cherries,</i> you find yourself thinking. You are shaking as you lower the glass.<br/>
<br/>
And suddenly you are hit by a need for more. You lift the glass to your mouth and drain it to the bottom.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The interrogation that follows is an agony. You fight to keep yourself from revealing anything, but you can't stop from stammering out calamitous confession after calamitous confession. Because you cannot stop your eye from straying to the open bottle of wine breathing on the countertop.<br/>
<br/>
The thirst! The thirst that glass of wine has given you is bottomless! It is like a seam has opened in your soul, and through it is draining your life and will and being! Only by pouring that wine into that seam can you seal the canker that is turning you inside-out! You would bite off the glass neck of the bottle with your teeth and jaw if that was the only way to get at the wine!<br/>
<br/>
But you are daunted by the bright glance of the thin one. Each time you dart a look over at the wine bottle, you feel him drag your attention, by sheerest willpower, back to his face. His eyes shine with a hypnotic fever, and he seems to pull you in with his gaping smile. His own chest heaves, giving you the dreadful impression that he is drinking down your answers with the same thirst that you feel for the wine, and compelling you to pour yourself more deeply into him. His arms fall to his side and he sinks back weakly onto the sofa, and his head lolls on the cushion behind even as his eyes remain locked onto yours.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I've got something Blackwell wants,</i> you began when you first broke and began telling about the professor and the job you took with him. <i>It's a book. He says it's his but I found it. He wanted to give me money for it. I wouldn't give it back. I think he's a bad man, he'll do bad things with it. He broke into my house to get it. He'll hurt my family to get it, he'll hurt my friends, he'll hurt me. I got a job working for him so I could spy on him, maybe stop him. No, he doesn't know it's me. Because I made a disguise!</i> you gasped with the pressure to explain became unendurable. <i>The book taught me how!</i><br/>
<br/>
That is the sum total of what you confessed, and it took a lot of you—and maybe out of them—to get you to share it, for they asked you question after question, over and over, to wean you off the half-hearted and badly thought-out lies you tried throwing in their way. You had thought yourself clever at first, but became more and more desperate as the thirst consumed you, until at the end you were sustained by only the despairing hope that your final, broken-backed honesty would earn you another mouthful of that wine.<br/>
<br/>
But when at the end, when you gasped out the final confession, you only had the strength to keep upright on  your pained and wobbling feet. You could hardly even lift your chin to look over at the wine bottle.<br/>
<br/>
"That is good," the thin one said at last. "Now we understand. At least, we understand well enough. Don't we, Gregory?" he said.<br/>
<br/>
"Do we send Rick to fetch it?" the fat one—Gregory?—replied.<br/>
<br/>
"He's still on duty," the other sighed. "But we've another I think we can send."<br/>
<br/>
Slowly, as though he too was exhausted by the struggle, he levers himself onto his feet, and straightens up to his full height. He is quite short, almost as short as you, with an elfin build. His knees bow and threaten to buckle as he totters over to you. But his eyes, under lids that are heavy, are still bright.<br/>
<br/>
"You fought well," he says in a near whisper. "Almost was I vanquished in the struggle. Then it would have been left to Gregory to break you." He groans—an almost erotic sound. "How we would have regretted had it come to that!"<br/>
<br/>
He closes his eyes and tilts his head, as though he is falling asleep on his feet. His mouth falls open, and his soft breath caresses your face. There is a kind of spice in it, but its body is rancid and foul.<br/>
<br/>
"But now we are in accord. Now I understand you," he says. "Now—" There is a rasping, bubbling sound from the back of his throat as he draws in a deep, guttering breath. "Now we beat with one heart!"<br/>
<br/>
He falls back one, two steps, and lifts his head again. A faint, mocking smile comes to his face as his eyes crack open again.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you thirst?" he says."Would you drain the blood of life to its sweetest, yet also to its foulest, dregs? Would you make your gullet infinitely deep, so that you might drink and drink, and yet never be filled, so you might drink ever more?"<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes dart to the bottle on the counter. You are deeply afraid that you would.<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says. "That is no life for you. That torment I bear myself. I will take that thirst from you, if you will permit, and add it to my own. This mercy will I give you, if you will take it."<br/>
<br/>
With a weak hand, he pushes his tie aside, and fumbles open the buttons of his shirt, exposing a bony and emaciated chest. The nipple there is like a purple wound.<br/>
<br/>
He lifts his empty wine glass and presses its lip to his chest just below the nipple. With his free hand, he presses and pushes at the thin flesh there.<br/>
<br/>
His breath comes in quick little gasps as he works, and his head falls back. He gulps at the air, and one racking shudder after another passes through him. But when he is done, a kind of peace seems to fall over him, and he straightens up with an exhausted but contented smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Drink this, and thirst no more," he says as he holds the glass out to you. It is full almost to the rim with a dark, ruby liquid. "Drink this, and be mine."<br/>
<br/>
You can't stop yourself from taking the glass with both hands, and putting it to your mouth.<span class="fenlefeef3610"></span></span></div></div>


path: 11231222212223111222111
author_id: seuzz
id: N3JMC2BHP
title: For His Love
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span>You could break into song, and would, if you could sing.<br/>
<br/>
It's Thursday, and though you are on your way to class, it is the best and brightest and happiest day ever. Though it is cool and rainy, it is the rain of life falling from clouds of silver. Every step you take threatens to break into a run, for you cannot wait to get through the day and get back to ... <i>him!</i><br/>
<br/>
If you didn't know better, you'd swear you were in love!<br/>
<br/>
How it crushed you to part last night. That second glass of wine vanquished the terrible, soul-searing thirst immediately, and left you ravenous with lust instead: you could hardly restrain yourself from shredding the clothes from his body and tearing at his throat with your open mouth. But he caught you before you could move, and crushed you to his breast, and your heart hammered wildly in your chest as he held you tight, and crooned into your ear.<br/>
<br/>
But he sent you away, finally, with a promise that he would see you again today, if you would just bring him that book you told him about, and if you told him more and all about it.<br/>
<br/>
You hadn't wanted to when you met him. You had tried to hide it from him. You understand why, of course, and your reasons made sense at the time. He was, you even remember, rather cruel about it.<br/>
<br/>
But that's all forgiven now. It's enough to understand that it was merely necessary.<br/>
<br/>
And regrettable. Probably he regrets it. Surely he does regret it.<br/>
<br/>
You pause in mid-stride.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, what does it matter if he regrets it or not?</i> you decide, and leap back into your happy stride. If he doesn't regret it, it's because he knew it was necessary, and if it was necessary, then what has regret to do with it? <i>You</i> don't regret it! You could regret nothing that united you and him!<br/>
<br/>
"Melody!"<br/>
<br/>
You stop and turn as a girl comes dashing up to you. She is hunched up against the light drizzle.<br/>
<br/>
"Where you going in such a hurry?" she asks with a nervous giggle. "I had to yell at you, like, a hundred times!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I was distracted—"<br/>
<br/>
So distracted are you, even as she talks, asking for a copy of your notes from a class you share, that you can hardly place her name, except as a Nicole Somebody. Normally you wouldn't care to share your notes with anyone else—what if they lost them?—but you happily agree now. It doesn't matter, none of it matters! All that matters it that you share with ... <i>him!</i><br/>
<br/>
After your class breaks, you hurry to the library to retrieve the grimoire from its hiding place.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
His name is Aidan Seabury, and he's the artistic director of the local arts council. He gave you his card before you left last night, and after your class ends you pack up everything—grimoire, blank mask, supplies—and race a few blocks over to the old railroad depot, which is where the arts council has its offices.<br/>
<br/>
A scent of creosote pervades the museum—which you have never been in—but it's a pleasant smell, and you snuffle it up as you wait for Aidan's secretary to announce you. <i>This is what it smells like where he works,</i> you think. <i>I'm going to love this scent from now on!</i> "He'll see you now," the secretary surprises you, for you'd lost yourself in anticipations of the meeting to come, and with air under your soles you glide through the door into his office.<br/>
<br/>
He is beautiful in the daylight, though he is thin and looks as though he has never recovered from the ravages of a terrible illness. His smooth, pale skin seems translucent, and his eyes are large and luminous and staring.<br/>
<br/>
"Melody!" he exclaims as he rises, and puts out both his hands. You almost trip as you rush at him. The desk is between you, so you can only clasp his hands clumsily and lean across its surface toward him, to drink in his face.<br/>
<br/>
For a long and ecstatic moment you hang there, then withdraw reluctantly when he does, and sink into a chair opposite his desk. With the grace of a lean panther he curls up into his own chair. You sink adoringly into his smile.<br/>
<br/>
Then his eyes shift, and you become aware that you and he are not alone. There are three others sitting in nearby chairs. It embarrasses you—but only a little!—that you didn't even see them when you came in; and it embarrasses you also a little to see the quick, knowing grins that spreads across the face of one of them.<br/>
<br/>
He is a young, dark-haired man, lean and strong-looking, and he studies you from under smoldering brows with a leering smirk. Next to him sits is a small, neat, short-bearded man, approaching middle-age, with gray lightening his sandy hair. His gaze is very sober behind his eyeglasses, and he reminds you of some of the younger professors at the college. The third is a tall, thin black woman, very stylishly dressed in a suit of imperial purple with a matching, high-crowned hat. Her lips are painted a bright blue.<br/>
<br/>
"Melody Weiss," Aidan murmurs by way of introduction. He leans back and steeples his fingers. "She has brought something for us, I believe?"<br/>
<br/>
With a start you remember your book bag, and you grin shyly as you hurriedly empty it onto his desk.<br/>
<br/>
The great item, of course, is the book. Aidan takes it from you, but only gives it a cursory glance before handing it over to the professorial one, who opens it in his lap and begins to pore carefully over it. Aidan keeps the blank mask, though, and runs his fingers lightly over it, like a cat touching a toy. The other items—spare materials for making masks and other whatnot—remains scattered over the table.<br/>
<br/>
Aidan smiles at you, and asks you tell him and the others all about these things.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They talk about it openly amongst themselves afterward, as though you were not present. They seem impressed, but their interest also seems muted.<br/>
<br/>
That's only the impression you get of their words: you hardly hear what they are saying. You are concentrated on Aidan's face, letting your gaze linger on it even after he has turned his own attention to the others.<br/>
<br/>
Yet even as you lie wrapped in your own adoration of him, there is a niggling dread in the back of your head. <i>This is wrong, I shouldn't be telling them about all this,</i> it whispers to you. <i>I shouldn't be telling anyone, and these are the worst people I could have shared it with.</i> The little voice even dares suggest that Professor Blackwell would have been a safer trustee of the book.<br/>
<br/>
Because though your spirit has forgiven Aidan for last night, and has accepted the horrifying appearance of that second glass of wine—and its hot, sour taste, which you nearly choked on even as you greedily sucked it down—some part of your rationality hasn't. <i>Shut up!</i> you hiss at yourself every time you remember every unnatural thing that happened. <i>Don't let it bother you! It's all okay!</i> But the voice of reason, with the same calm melancholy with which it used to warn that it would be better to get your homework done now rather than later, will go on quietly suggesting that maybe you shouldn't be quite so besotted with Aidan, or so helpful to his friends.<br/>
<br/>
But just as it was always easier (and happier) to smother those prudential prompts under the expedience of the moment—always easier to just keep shooting bad guys on the screen than to crack open the math book—so too now it is much easier (and pleasant!) to do as Aidan asks.<br/>
<br/>
So you are happy to text Will Prescott and give him an address to meet you at; and you are happy to follow Aidan back out to the old, repurposed Masonic lodge where he keeps an apartment. (That is where you met him last night.) You are happy to order Will, who is waiting there, inside, and to order him to disrobe in front of Aidan, and to pull the mask from him. You feel no shame, only a slight embarrassment at your ineptitude with the girl revealed from under the mask, as Aidan with amusement examines the petrified face and form of Melody Weiss, and compares it to your own with both his eyes and his fingertips. (You ripple with pleasure all over as his nails dance over your face and throat.)<br/>
<br/>
And you are pleased to grant him permission when he cocks an eyebrow at you and asks to "try on" the items you took off the golem.<br/>
<br/>
It is not a shock, but you still feel a rush of surprise when twenty minutes later Will Prescott—fully dressed and even hatted—come slithering out of the bedroom into which Aidan withdrew. Of course you know who it really must be. And so although he wears your old face in place of his, your heart beats hard as he drifts up to you, and it beats harder when he pinches your chin and kisses you softly on the mouth with lips that once were yours.<br/>
<br/>
"I need to go out like this for a little while, Melody," he murmurs after he withdraws. "I hope you don't mind if I go out dressed like this."<br/>
<br/>
"No, of course not," you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"So you need to still be Melody for me, for a little while."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure!"<br/>
<br/>
"Not for long," he promises. "Then we'll be together. Young, and together." He breathes in your face. "Always!"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart almost explodes with joy. <br/>
<br/>
He lifts his cap and brushes his fingers through his hair.<br/>
<br/>
"But I do need you tell me a little more about your old self. I don't know why, but your mind isn't coming through to me, not clearly like you said it would, and I need to get through tonight and tomorrow as you."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I need to get into your school." He gently squeezes your elbow. "We must needs raise the Third Pillar of the Tabernacle, and it is difficult for us to access.<br/>
<br/>
"But someone with your face can. Indeed, someone with your face could raise it anytime we need!"<span class="fmjggefefe3711"></span></span></div></div>


path: 112312222122231112223
author_id: seuzz
id: ZFYMRCLP3
title: Stolen Lore
chapter_content:
<div><div style="padding:0px;margin:0px;"></div><div> <span><i>No guts no glory,</i> you tell yourself with a gulp. <br/>
<br/>
But you find you can't move. You are paralyzed with a frightened indecision.<br/>
<br/>
For several very long moments you feel yourself torn first one way, then another, impelled from within to rush out to intercept the departing visitor, yet locked in place by unyielding feet.<br/>
<br/>
But at last the futility of the situation kills whatever quickening ambition you felt, and you fall miserably onto the chair next to the pile of books that Blackwell left you to work on.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You stupid, miserable, cowardly ... cow!</i> you chide yourself, seeking to put as much of the blame as possible onto Melody's feigned persona. And yet, guiltily, you have to acknowledge that you're scared as well.<br/>
<br/>
Spitefully, almost, you pull down the top book from the pile and glance it over. It's a small, fat book, bound in black leather, showing no letter or design upon either its cover or spine. You open and flip through it, and are startled to see that the text is hand-written in a fair and flowing cursive script. A few loose papers have been tucked between its pages in spots, and these too are in the same hand.<br/>
<br/>
As you are studying it, there comes the sound of footfalls outside the door, and the murmur of voices. They pass, and you wait—the book still open in your hand—until the library doors rattle and slide back. Professor Blackwell, looking drained and unhappy, stands in the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, Miss Weiss," he mutters. "I am afraid that I must ask you to curtail tonight's session. I am— Unwell."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. Um, okay," you say. For a moment you think, <i>Now's my chance to get the mask on him!</i> But again, you find yourself too frightened to move, even when he comes over to stand beside you. "Do you want me to finish up this one book?" you ask in a wavering voice. (<i>What if he notices I didn't get any work done?</i> you wonder.)<br/>
<br/>
He twists his head around to look at the book in your hand, then with a frown reaches down to pluck it from you. He blinks once, hard, as he examines it, then says, "No, that's alright, this one is already cataloged. I, er, had it out earlier and must have set it down by mistake." He edges past you, and slips it onto a nearby shelf where there's a gap. "I will of course compensate you for your time." Listlessly, he hands you five twenties, then pads for the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
Then, at the prompting of some irresistible impulse, while his back is turned, you quickly slip the mysterious book from the shelf and shove it into your bag. He turns in the doorway to watch you with a dull but owlish expression as you pack up the few things you had left out, then leads you to the front door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
In a daze of fright, you drive around randomly, as though trying to shake off a pursuit that you fear is upon you, and quite against all reason find yourself up near the municipal airport, on the northwest side of town, before you are able to get a grip upon yourself. You then take the long way back to the college, using the interstate, so that you are ragged with frustration as well as a kind of panic by the time you get back to your dorm. <br/>
<br/>
<i>How the hell am I going to get that book back onto the professor's shelf before he misses it?</i> you wonder to yourself as you take it from your bag. <i>How am I going to explain why I even took it, if he figures out it was me?</i><br/>
<br/>
And why did you even take it?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
For the rest of the evening you put it out of your mind, concentrating instead on readings that you have to do for various classes, and not until you have put those away and have gotten ready for bed do you let your eye wander back over to the bedstead, where the stolen book is sitting. You make a face as you hesitate, then decide that having stolen the thing you might as well have a look at it. You get into bed with it, and after making yourself comfortable sitting up, you open the front cover and prepare to go through it with more care and deliberation than earlier.<br/>
<br/>
Immediately you discover two yellowed sheets of loose paper pressed between the cover and the first page. You gingerly pull them loose—they are lightly stuck to each other and to the page behind—and read them.<br/>
<br/>
The first is written in a slanted hand. It is a letter, but undated:<br/>
<br/>
<i>Dear Mr. Gerrare—<br/>
<br/>
I write you in haste, having only received your letter of the 5th this morning the 29th and being full of misgiving. Something is betwixt us of a nature I dread to speculate. Separately, by the hand of one I trust, I have already dispatched the items and papers of which I told you. May they find you speedily and safely.<br/>
<br/>
A peculiar darkness pervades the house, and I am sensible of being watched. Were it not for the invalid state of my mother I would remove myself to a hotel. Pray for me and mine.</i><br/>
<br/>
It is signed "Julia Devere."<br/>
<br/>
The second is a small sheet seemingly torn from a bookkeeping ledger. Scrawled across it, in thick green ink:<br/>
<br/>
<i>The bearer tarries, the bundle miscarries. A sign is set upon the house.</i><br/>
<br/>
In the bottom-right corner of the ledger-sheet is a smudge that is either the faded imprint of a crushed insect, or the blackened stain left by a small, pressed flower. In either event, it is an ugly shape, like an unwholesome stamp or seal.<br/>
<br/>
You replace these, then turn your attention to the first page of the book itself. It is blank save for a single name, written in an expressively florid hand, in the upper-center of the page: LAURA MAE DEVERE. On the pages that follow the same hand appears, writing in a smaller script. You quickly surmise that it is the journal a girl of seventeen (the book itself, she declares in the first entry, is a birthday present), begun in the year 1892.<br/>
<br/>
It is a puzzlement to you, at first, that the professor should keep such a book in his library, for the first score or so pages—which you scan with a quick and mounting impatience—merely record the scattered thoughts of the author re: her family, her house, her church and school, and a boy who simultaneously vexes and fascinates her. There is no great drama to it. From the entries you glean that her father travels extensively on business for a commercial banker, leaving the care of his sickly wife to the girl Laura and her older sister, Julia. Both Laura and Julia seem to be of an artistic inclination—Laura reports on the books and magazines she reads, and worries over her own attempts at crafting stories, while Julia paints. You wonder that the sister is unmarried, and can only guess that there is a clue in the occasional references to the cane which she requires when mounting and dismounting the staircase to the second floor of their house.<br/>
<br/>
You are on the point of putting the book away and going to sleep when the narrative takes an abrupt turn:<br/>
<br/>
<i>May 5</i> [it begins]<br/>
<br/>
<i>In answer to an advertisement in the Standard, I have interviewed for and been engaged as a personal secretary to Rutherford Keyserling, the president of the new college in Saratoga Falls. He is a fine looking gentlemen—tall, narrow-waisted, with iron-gray at his temples, and a thick, flowing beard—with a very correct manner. Julia is somewhat displeased with me, as the circumstances of my new employment shall compel me to remove myself to Saratoga Falls. But Mr. Keyserling has kindly offered me room and board at his presidential residence, at no additional expense and at no diminishment to the proffered compensation. He explains that he is a bachelor, and that the house is cold and hollow in the evenings, and that my company shall be a compensation to him. I asked (and so informed Julia when she asked me) if there were not servants already at the house, and he allowed as there were, yet they are uneducated creatures with whom he cannot converse. I confess myself flattered that I acquitted myself so well in the interview that he—the president of a college!—should think I can complement him with discourse!</i><br/>
<br/>
You flip back a few pages, scanning entries over which you had only glanced, but can find no mention of whichever town or village the Deveres resided in. But it is apparent that Laura Devere physically removed herself to Saratoga Falls to take the job.<br/>
<br/>
More to the point—and this sends prickles up your spine, for it hints at Professor Blackwell's interest in the journal—you know that the "presidential mansion" where Laura Devere took up residence can only be the villa in which the professor now resides.<br/>
<br/>
You turn again to the front, and the two scraps of paper pressed there. Their meaning is no clearer. But knowing that they are connected in some way to villa makes them read very sinister.<span class="flmgejjfmg369"></span></span></div></div>


path: 1123122222
author_id: imaj
title: Goodbye Will Prescott, Hello Melody Weiss
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There’s no choice, you have to disappear before Blackwell gets to you.  What chance does a high school student have against a college professor, you think.<br/>
<br/>
You turn Melody’s ferocious intelligence to arranging her own kidnapping.<br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
Your first step is to acquire as much of her IDs as possible.  This will get you the money you need to take the real Melody out of the picture.  She usually spends her Saturday afternoons in the campus library at Keyserling.  Consequently you feel pretty confident about pulling this ruse off.  You arrive at the Keyserling dorms dressed in your thrift store outfit from Friday, walk up to the custodian’s office and wait quietly for him to notice you.<br/>
<br/>
He’s an older man, maybe in his 50s with a greying beard and chunky glasses.  His name tag proclaims him to be Carl.  The custodian is engrossed in his newspaper so you cough a little polite cough to catch his attention.<br/>
<br/>
“Howdy there miss,” he drawls.  “Ah didna see ya there.  What can I do for you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hi,” you say nervously.  You’re finding it increasingly fun playing Melody’s personality and fooling people.  “I seem to have lost my keys and can’t get into my room.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not a problem Miss.  If ah can see some ID…”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh drat,” you reply.  “I think I left it inside my room.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well that’s a mighty fine problem Miss, because I can’t be letting just anybody into these rooms.”<br/>
<br/>
“Please,” you say letting what would be a genuine tear if you were genuinely Melody in this situation well up in your eye.  “You must know I live here.  I pass by you every day.  My name’s Melody Weiss and I live in room 211 on the second floor.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, how about I take you up there, and if you can show me where your ID is inside we’ll get you a spare set of keys?”<br/>
<br/>
Of course, thanks to Melody’s memories you know that she keeps her driving license in the top drawer of her bedside cabinet.  You walk out the dorms half an hour later with her credit card, driving license and the spare set of keys to her room in your pocket.  From then, it’s simple enough to get in your truck and drive over Saratoga Falls picking up the hardware you need.  You even find the time to pick up the fuel for the golem spell.<br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
You adjust the now ill fitting thrift store clothes to be more comfortable.  With the mask of Umeko and some creative dishevelment, you think you make for the perfect bait.<br/>
<br/>
You’ve parked your truck on the edge of a section of waste ground next to the Keyserling Campus.  With the hood up it looks like an unfortunate breakdown.  Most people don’t come out this way, but Melody likes to sometimes take a walk out at night to get away from the noise of the dorms.  Especially on a Saturday, when the entire campus becomes party central.<br/>
<br/>
You see a figure moving along the path in the darkness.  <br/>
<br/>
Showtime.<br/>
<br/>
Drama never interested you at school but it’s time for a hell of an act.  With no memory band on the Umeko mask you’re doing everything yourself.  It takes a little effort, but you manage to work yourself up to a gentle sobbing.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you ok,” you hear a familiar voice ask.<br/>
<br/>
“My truck just like totally stopped,” you sniffle, turning round to face Melody.  You keep one hand behind your back, holding the Melody mask ready.<br/>
<br/>
“My god,” she says with concern, walking closer.  “What happened?”<br/>
<br/>
“I was coming to see my bf but I’m totally not from round here,” you add, watching carefully as Melody approaches.  “I must have like taken a wrong turn somewhere.  Then this pile of junk dies on me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Didn’t you phone him,” she asks, almost close enough now.  “Your boyfriend I mean.”<br/>
<br/>
“I tried, but the battery died on me too” you say before bursting into a fresh flood of tears.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok,” she says friendlily.  “Let me get my mobile out.”<br/>
<br/>
Melody looks down as she reaches inside her bag.  You take one step smartly forward, swinging the mask round and onto her face.  Melody simply folds up and collapses to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
Working quickly, you pull out the sedatives you managed to purchase in a somewhat shady part of Saratoga Falls.  You place a couple of pills into Melody’s mouth and hold it shut till she swallows them.  That should keep her unconscious after the mask comes back out.  You lift her unresisting form round to the trunk and dump her inside.  As an added precaution you tie her up at the wrists and ankles with some heavy chain you bought at a hardware store.<br/>
<br/>
You slam down the trunk and the hood.  Climbing in, you put the key in the ignition and turn it.  It starts first time, because really, you take good care of your baby.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You’ve left Melody tied up in a corner of the basement of the old elementary school. Since you’ll have to abandon the truck as part of your ‘disappearance’, you want to get this one last use out of it.  You’ve parked it up by the disused cemetery in Acheson.  They haven’t buried anyone up here for years so figure no one’s going to miss a little earth.<br/>
<br/>
Or a lot of earth, the four hundred pounds you need is really mounting up.  It’s backbreaking labour and awkward in the near pitch dark to boot.  By 4:00am, you’ve moved the earth you need back to the school and left the truck abandoned with the keys in he ignition by a gas station in the village.<br/>
<br/>
You’ve time to check Melody one last time.  She’s still out like a light, so you take the chance to strip her clothes and put on the thrift store ones instead.  As you stand naked, the Melody mask held just in front of your face you reflect on the path that has taken you here.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell has to be stopped.  You’ll release Melody one you’ve stopped him.  Untill then you’ll live her life as she would.  As far as you’re concerned, your conscience is clear.<br/>
<br/>
You traipse back into Melody’s dorm, no correct that, your dorm just as dawn is breaking.  You’re exhausted from all your work.  Your last thought before you fade into a deep sleep is that you’ll return to the school in the afternoon to check on Melody and cast the next spell.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222221
author_id: imaj
title: Return To The School, Cast The Next Spell
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wake up shortly after noon.  For a brief moment your surroundings confuse you, then you remember.  This is where Melody Weiss lives.  A poky little room on campus at Keyserling College with a tired old computer on a worn desk and books piled high on every surface.  A narrow bed, barely big enough to sleep on takes up most of the space and a few hidden cupboards hold most of Melody’s worldly possessions.<br/>
<br/>
And you are Melody Weiss.<br/>
<br/>
At least, you are pretending to be Melody.  Wearing both her face and personality, you are doing a good job too.  It’s a perfect disguise.  No one would suspect that someone who can steal anybody’s face they wanted to would choose this one:  Gawky, flat-chested, dull drab hair and those too intense eyes.<br/>
<br/>
After a cold shower and an unfulfilling breakfast you head back to the old elementary school where you have imprisoned the real Melody Weiss.  She’s quite awake by now and her eyes go wide with terror as she see’s you standing over you.<br/>
<br/>
“Hello there Melody,” you say smirking.  “If I take that gag off, you promise not to scream.  Just nod.”<br/>
<br/>
Melody nods slowly.<br/>
<br/>
“Good,” you say.  “Now I know for a fact you aren’t the screaming type, but I thought we should agree that before I went any further.  I’m sure you realise that we’re quite distant from anyone else down here, so it wouldn’t do you any good.”<br/>
<br/>
You carefully remove the gag from her mouth.<br/>
<br/>
“Who are you,” she asks weekly.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m Melody Weiss,” you reply, matching her tone perfectly.  “I’ll be Melody Weiss for a little while, but you shouldn’t worry.  Once I stop being Melody Weiss you can be you can be her again.  I have to deal with a mutual acquaintance of ours first:  Professor Aubrey Blackwell.”<br/>
<br/>
“Blackwell?”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s kidnapped Lucy Vredenburg,” you continue.  “Classmate of ours, blond, statuesque.  You’ve probably seen her.  May even have killed her.  He wants something of mine.  I don’t want him to have it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why me?”<br/>
<br/>
“Wrong place at the wrong time.  I truly am sorry for that, if you believe me.  I’ve taken the job of his assistant.  Well, you have, but I’ll be doing it.  I’m going to get close, bring him down.”<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you silently.<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t need to believe me.  I know you’re trying to work out how to escape: The thing that makes me look like you – it makes me think like you too.  So I know exactly what you are going to try and I’m ready for it.”<br/>
<br/>
She looks down at the floor disconsolately.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve brought you some food,” you say handing over a sandwich which Melody immediately starts to devour ravenously.  “I’ll bring some more and check on you everyday too.  There’s a potty there for when you need it.”<br/>
<br/>
She starts to waver uncertainly.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh and I put some more sedatives in the sandwich there,” you say as she starts to drop off.  “I don’t want you to see what I’m doing.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You’ve assembled the spell components onto an abandoned desk in the old elementary school basement.  First a complicated sigil had to be drawn, then a mound of the graveyard earth.  A lock of your hair will bind the creation to you.  Finally you poured the oils and fuels onto the mound.  All that remains is to light it.<br/>
<br/>
You stand above the mound, a lit match in your trembling hand.<br/>
<br/>
You cast the match to the mound and for a brief moment a bright purple flare almost blinds you.  As your vision returns you see the fire has settled down to a dull, ghostly purple glow.  No heat comes from the mound and you pass your hand through the fires and feel nothing.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
According to the translation you made earlier, the spell recovers several days to work.  Each time the fire burns out you must relight it.  Only when it fails to catch fire, is the spell complete.<br/>
<br/>
You ease yourself into your new life over the next few days.  Melody’s isolation proves to be a boon.  Apart from a short phone call from her mother, few people talk to you.  College life is almost ideal for your purposes.  Classes are largely optional, giving you the chance to sneak away to check on the real Melody and the progress of the spell frequently.<br/>
<br/>
You still make sure you attend Blackwell’s classes.  Apart from keeping an eye on the creep you find the subject matter much more interesting from Melody’s perspective.  That means you hear the news first hand on Wednesday.<br/>
<br/>
Quite a few of the seats in the lecture hall are empty that day and a few of the other students have obviously been crying.  As Melody, you are distant from it all, but some discrete enquiries reveal the truth:  Lucy Vredenburg died in a car crash on Tuesday evening.<br/>
<br/>
That means Blackwell is now in your Westside High School, impersonating Cindy and looking for you.  In turn, the Blackwell in front of you must be an imposter – the featureless grey humanoid you saw last week.  That’s something you could use to your advantage when you visit his house tonight.  Alternatively, you might want to be careful until you have mastered the spell that created the granite humanoid yourself.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222212
author_id: imaj
title: Working at Blackwell's House
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don’t know enough about the granite creature to risk unmasking it.  Hell, for all you know it could be the real Blackwell at the house and the granite creature is impersonating Cindy.  You decide to play it safe when you go to Blackwell’s House for the job as his assistant.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell’s house, it turns out, is an extensive stone villa on the edge of Saratoga Falls.  He answers the door with an insincere smile and leads you to one of the rooms upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
You don’t think you’ve ever seen so many books together in one place in your life.  Blackwell’s library is huge and every available wall surface is covered in bookcases that reach to the tall ceiling.  The centre of room is taken up by a group of large, ornate desks.  There is a large pile of books on one of the desks and a laptop computer.<br/>
<br/>
“My latest acquisitions from Europe,”  says Blackwell, indicated the pile on the desk.  “Which I would like for you to catalogue onto my database here.  One must move with the times, after all.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell ushers you into a seat by the laptop.  He leans over you, a little too close to comfort, and powers up the machine.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s all terribly simple really,” he explains, gesturing across the screen.  “You fill in the boxes here, here and here.  Oh that has to be filled out in both the language the book is in and the English translation.”<br/>
<br/>
He drones on for another couple of minutes.  Fortunately Melody understands what he is saying, even if you wouldn’t unaided before finally finishing.<br/>
<br/>
“And then the database will tell you where to place the book in the Library.  I myself shall be retiring to my study for an hour.  I shall pay you for your endeavours when I return”<br/>
<br/>
With that, he leaves you alone.<br/>
<br/>
There’s a treasure trove of information here, but only some of it is going to be useful.  You don’t even know where to begin and you’ll have to do some work on the pile at the desk or Blackwell will notice.<br/>
<br/>
There’s one thing that does catch your attention.  An open book on one of the other desks and sidle over to take a look.  It’s in some kind of German, but with Melody’s memories you are able to make a rough guess to its meaning:  The page tells the story of a 16th century witch trial in Saxony in which the accused witch replaced several people of the village she lived in with simulacra.  She then killed the local nobles wife and was caught trying to sneak into his estate.  Before she was burnt at the stake, the witch cursed the Inquisitors who stopped her just short of unlocking the secret of “the absolute power of eternal health and beauty”.  As she burned, the simulacra “shed their false visage and became as the clay of the earth”.<br/>
<br/>
It might be about your book.  Some of it seems to fit, but “absolute power”?  That doesn’t sound good, and certainly not in the hands of someone like Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
An icy chill runs across your back and you shudder involuntarily.  For a moment you thought you saw the door to Blackwell’s study move slightly.  Better get to work before he comes back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You leave Blackwell’s House one hundred dollars richer but with a new set of problems.  It’s getting late but you still have time to drop in at the elementary school to check up on Melody and the spell.  Melody is sleeping soundly when you arrive and a couple of attempts to shake her to wakefulness fail.  Convinced she’s not faking it, you turn your attention to the spell.<br/>
<br/>
The fire has gone out.  When you try to relight it, it stays out.  The solid mass remaining is much reduced from the original pile of graveyard earth, but it’s still pretty bulky.  Luckily, polishing it is much easier than polishing the masks.  It only takes a light dust with the cloth to remove the loose dirt and reveal the grey claylike surface below.<br/>
<br/>
A quick inspection of the book suggests that all that is needed to bring the clay to life is a bonded mask.  You only have one of those – the mask of Melody – and you don’t intend to remove it.  Instead you locate the mask of Umeko and the strip containing your own memories.  They may be a few days out of date, but that shouldn’t be a problem.  Binding the two together takes minutes.<br/>
<br/>
When you drop the completed mask onto the clay, the clay rippled and it sank within.  Seconds later the mass of clay, which the book refers to as a golem, started to glow and shrink into a more recognisably human form.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey Will,” says the apparent Umeko as it stands up in front of you.  “Have you done something with your hair? You look kind of different.”<br/>
<br/>
“<i>What</i>,” you practically choke.  “Look, shut up and don’t use that name.”<br/>
<br/>
The golem nods.<br/>
<br/>
“How the hell can you tell it’s really me?”<br/>
<br/>
The golem rolls its eyes then stares at you for a few seconds.  Finally you click.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, right,” you say quietly.  “Ok, you can talk.  Just do it quietly, and don’t mention that name again.  Hey… Does that mean you have to do everything  say?”<br/>
<br/>
“First question,” replies the golem.  “I just can.  I think I have a piece of you inside me and it links us.  Second question: Yeah, apparently so.  Doesn’t mean I have to like it though, it seems.  What’s with the hush-hush anyway?”<br/>
<br/>
You lead the golem to the corner where the real Melody lies sleeping.<br/>
<br/>
“I think I see the family resemblance,” it says evenly.  “What the <i>fuck</i> are you doing boss, that’s kidnapping!  How long have I been out of the loop.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not so loud,” you hiss at it.<br/>
<br/>
“Right, yeah,” it whispers.  “I’ll be quiet.  I’ll rephrase that:  Would you kindly tell me <i>what the fuck is going on?</i>”<br/>
<br/>
“Things got complicated,” you shrug, leading it away from Melody.  “Blackwell has masks and a golem of his own.  I needed to lay low.”<br/>
<br/>
“You needed to lay low?  How long has it been since you recorded the memories inside me,” ask the golem, pointing at its head.<br/>
<br/>
“About a week.”<br/>
<br/>
“A week,” it asks.  “How did I get to the point of being a kidnapper over the course of a week?  Umeko was right.  This book is bad news.”<br/>
<br/>
“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the right reasons,” you say uncertainly.  “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re the boss,” it says sharply.<br/>
<br/>
“Look,” you say.  “Now that you are here you can look after her.  Make sure she’s well treated.  Make sure she doesn’t run off, because if Blackwell finds out about her, she’s in the firing line too.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t need to convince me,” it says bitterly.  “You can just order me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then I order you,” you reply, picking up the book.  Touching it to the golem causes it to glow, unlocking a new spell.<br/>
<br/>
A brief examination of the new spell shows that it’s similar to the one you just completed.  You could probably translate it before heading back to the dorm.  Alternatively, some new masks would be useful and the golem could start polishing them overnight.<br/>
<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122222121
author_id: imaj
title: The Shadows of the Planets
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The golem stares at you accusingly as you examine the newly unlocked spell.  With access to Melody’s brain it is much easier to decode the doggerel Latin into something more meaningful, even if the bad grammar and misused words leave your head spinning.  You quickly realise that the new spell is superficially similar to the previous one and…<br/>
<br/>
“Stop that,” you say to the golem.<br/>
<br/>
“Stop what,” it responds.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re <i>me</i>,” you reply.  “and you know what I mean:  Stop looking at me like that, it’s making me uncomfortable.”<br/>
<br/>
“Okay, <i>boss</i>,” the golem replies acidly.<br/>
<br/>
You pick up where you left off:  The new spell is superficially similar to the last one.  The materials it requires are the same, although it needs less.  The design in the book is similar too, in fact the only difference is…<br/>
<br/>
“Stop that,” you say again.<br/>
<br/>
“Now what,” asks the golem irritably.<br/>
<br/>
“The malicious humming,” you spit.  “Look, just go stand in a corner and don’t do anything that’s going to disrupt my concentration.”  The golem gives you  dirty look but complies with your order, moving to the opposite corner from where the real Melody is sleeping.  “And face the corner,” you add.<br/>
<br/>
The only difference is one last component which is, and this probably the worst written part of the whole spell so it takes a minute of thought to work out, oh…<br/>
<br/>
A person.<br/>
<br/>
A real, live, human being.  The thought twists in your stomach as you glance at your slumbering twin.  You’ve done some questionable, no – outright bad, things already.  Are you ready to cross another line so soon, to use an untested spell on a living person?  You have only the vaguest idea what it will do, because what little description the book does give seems intentionally vague where it is not rendered unclear by language.<br/>
<br/>
And then, another thought worms its way into your brain:  <i>What would Blackwell do with this spell?</i>  If he had the book, would he hesitate to use it?  Would he use it on you?  Melody is an unlucky bystander – caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Ultimately your decision hangs on one simple thought:  <i>Better her than me</i>.<br/>
<br/>
“You,” you shout at the golem.  “Back over here, I need your help”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“Almost done Melody,” asks Blackwell looking up from his desk, which sits directly opposite yours.<br/>
<br/>
It’s Saturday night and you haven’t returned to the elementary school basement since the new spell turned Melody’s flesh to the cool clammy clay of a golem.  She, it and the other golem wait there for you to find the courage to return and try and put things right.  Instead you’ve been quietly living her life and trying not to dwell on it.  When Blackwell called this afternoon and asked you to come by in the evening to catalogue some more books you readily agreed.  Partially to have another look around his house but mostly because you need the money.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” you sigh, flipping closed the last book.  “I’m sorry professor I was just looking at this last book because, well, it’s in English and I could read it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Really,” smiles Blackwell.  It is a thoroughly unpleasant smile entirely devoid of warmth.  He peers over his half-moon reading glasses at you.  “Which one was that again?”<br/>
<br/>
You lift the book and look at the cover again.  “<i>The Shadows of the Planets</i>,” you read.  “by Nikolai Chekov.  A translation,” you ask.  “Is the original in Russian?”<br/>
<br/>
“Something like that my dear,” replies Blackwell, smiling shark-like again.  “A hurried acquisition, you see.  I had to make do with a copy rather than an earlier imprint.”  Blackwell puts his pen down and folds his arms.  “Why don’t you take a look,” he continues, removing his reading glasses and folding them carefully.  “and tell me what you think.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh I couldn’t professor,” you reply quickly and nervously.  “It’s not what you pay me for.”<br/>
<br/>
“Humour an old man Melody,” says Blackwell.  “You’re my brightest student and I value your opinion,” he continues, oozing insincerity.  You flip the book open at random and read silently:<br/>
<br/>
<div class="bquote">Chapter 3 Viritrilbia<br/>
To the Babylonians, Viritrilbia was called Nabu.  The Greeks named it Hermes and the Romans Mercury.  It is no coincidence that these ancients named this wandering star after messengers to the gods, for those whose aspect is shaped by Viritrilbia frequently share the characteristics of these figures.  From orators, to silver tongued charmers, to liars, cheats and swindlers, the most common gifts of the Viritrilbiae are tied up in skills with language, communication and speed of thought.</div><br/>
<br/>
You close the book and put it down.  Blackwell looks at you expectantly.  “The planets affecting our lives,” you scoff.  “I’ve never believed in horoscopes professor, and I’ve never heard of Viritrilbia.”<br/>
<br/>
“A pity,” replies Blackwell, cleaning his glasses carefully before perching them carefully on his nose again.  “When studying archaeology, one must always be mindful of the belief systems of the civilisation you are considering.  Perhaps if I were to…” he drifts of for a moment, lost in thought.  Blackwell looks at his watch.  “Ah, it’s getting late and I really should let you return to the dorms.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell glances briefly at the stuffed monkey in one of the alcoves before rising from his seat and counting out ten crisp ten dollar bills from his wallet.  You take his money eagerly and let him escort you downstairs and out of his house.<br/>
<br/>
“Do not tarry Miss Weiss,” he says as he closes the heavy wooden door behind you.  “It is an unpleasant night and I would feel better knowing you were safe in bed.”<br/>
<br/>
You here a clicking sound as Blackwell turns the key in the lock.  The night is cold and dark clouds hang low in the sky, giving the grounds of Blackwell’s house an especially foreboding feel.  You thrust your hands into Melody’s thin jacket and hunch your shoulders in an attempt to keep warm.<br/>
<br/>
Resisting the urge to look back as you walk down the drive is easy.  The high walls muffle all sound from the outside and all you can here is the crunching of the gravel under your feet.  The dark shapes of trees loom around you and you find yourself thoroughly relieved when you reach the gate.  You get one last glance at the house as you close the gate behind you and, for a second, you are sure you spot a shadow moving inside the house on the first floor.<br/>
<br/>
A car passes by on the road, a welcome reminder that you are back in the outside world.  With no car of your own now you have to walk all the way back to Keyserling.  It should take about twenty minutes if you are quick, so you square your shoulders and set out at a brisk pace.<br/>
<br/>
You make decent progress towards Melody’s dorm, but the visit to Blackwell’s library has left you feeling uneasy and jittery.  You can’t shake the feeling, ridiculous as it is, that someone is watching you.  As you reach the little patch of waste ground where you kidnapped the real Melody a week earlier your paranoia finally gets the better of you and you stop and turn around.<br/>
<br/>
There is no one there.<br/>
<br/>
The street is empty.  Streetlamps cast shadows on the silent ground around them.  “Is someone there,” you shout, feeling a little foolish.  There is no response and you set off again, taking only a few steps before some sixth sense compels you to stop.<br/>
<br/>
The sound of heavy footstep echoes behind for a couple of seconds.<br/>
<br/>
You turn around again, your gaze roving between the shadows on the sidewalk behind you.  Your imagination runs wild, filling them with twisted horrors that seem reminiscent of stuffed monkey in Blackwell’s library.  Then one of the shadows wavers.<br/>
<br/>
You turn and run.<br/>
<br/>
You tear across the waste ground, covering it with long, leggy strides.  Your heart hammers in your chest and you lungs labour for breath.  You dare not turn round, lest you trip on some unseen hazard in front of you, or worse – spot your pursuer.  The bright lights and loud sounds of Keyserling Campus get closer and closer but you do not let up as you enter the campus grounds proper.  Instead you accelerate, turning a corner round one of the dorm buildings.<br/>
<br/>
You run straight into another student and the pair of you fall to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs.  You roll to the side with a moan and clutch at your side.  The other student seems to have fared a little better and he helps you to your feet.  You find yourself looking up at a handsome looking guy about your own age with shaggy blond hair.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry,” he says with a dazzling smile that seems to make you legs go weak.  Well, it’s his smile or the fall.  “Wasn’t watching where I was going.  I’m Joe by the way,” he says, offering his hand.  You offer your own in return but instead of shaking it, Joe lifts your hand and kisses it.  “Are you alright.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m fine,” you stutter.  Melody isn’t used to having boys treat her this way and, having been so immersed in her persona for the last week, her uncertainty is yours as well.  “A little sore.”<br/>
<br/>
“Let me make it up to you,” says Joe, smiling again.  Against your will, your stomach flutters a little.  “Buy you a coffee?”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222221211
author_id: imaj
title: Shining Bright
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The trendy coffee house opposite Keyserling would normally be outside Melody’s budget, but Joe’s buying and insists on coming here.  The lone barista mopping the floor shoots you both a dirty look but you ignore her.  As for Joe, it seems he only has eyes for you.  You sink into a comfortable sofa opposite him.<br/>
<br/>
“You still haven’t told me your name,” he says, cranking his smile up a notch.<br/>
<br/>
“No, I haven’t,” you smirk faintly.  The walk to the coffee house has given you enough time to settle Melody’s nerves and adopt a more aloof manner.<br/>
<br/>
“Can you tell me your name,” he asks hopefully.  The barista coughs petulantly as she hovers above your table.  She jots down your order on a pad – a plain black coffee for you and some complex chocolate frippery for Joe before skulking off.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, I can,” you state flatly, smirking again.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, well at least I know one thing about you now,” he replies, shrugging expressively.  You raise an eyebrow and give him a withering gaze.  “You’re studying philosophy.”<br/>
<br/>
You almost crack a smile at that.  “Archaeology actually,” you correct Joe, warming to him.  “With a little bit of languages and anthropology.”<br/>
<br/>
“You speak another language then,” he asks, leaning forward.  “<i><span style="font-family:comic sans ms, cursive">I know a few</span></i>,” he adds in French<br/>
<br/>
“<i><span style="font-family:comic sans ms, cursive">Actually, I speak several</span></i>,” you reply in the same language before switching to German:  “<b><span style="font-family:courier new, monospace">Why, how many do you know?</span></b>”<br/>
<br/>
“<b><span style="font-family:courier new, monospace">That’s an easy one</span></b>,” he interrupts in German.  “<span style="font-family:times new roman, serif">Let’s try something more difficult</span>,” he adds in Latin.  “A<span style="font-family:times new roman, serif">re you impressed yet?</span>”<br/>
<br/>
“<span style="font-family:times new roman, serif">Not really, I thought you wanted to try something difficult</span>,” you reply in Latin.  Melody learned the language years ago and it’s hardly a challenge.  “<span style="font-family:impact, fantasy">How about this</span>,” you continue in Persian.<br/>
<br/>
Joe looks crestfallen for a minute.  “I don’t know that one,” he admits in English.<br/>
<br/>
“<span style="font-family:impact, fantasy">Better luck next time</span>,” you say, smiling broadly.<br/>
<br/>
“I<span style="font-family:impact, fantasy">’ll try harder</span>,” he says and your jaw drops in shock.  “<span style="font-family:impact, fantasy">You have lovely smile, you should use it more often</span>.”<br/>
<br/>
“Flatterer,” you murmur, smiling faintly again.<br/>
<br/>
“Is it working,” asks Joe hopefully.  “Will you tell me your name now?”<br/>
<br/>
“You look like a little lost puppy,” you say.  Joe grins.  “Not telling you now would be like kicking you in the teeth:  I’m Melody.”<br/>
<br/>
“Melody,” says Joe, rolling the word around in a sing song voice.  “Melody – a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”  You look at him sceptically.  Melody is realistic about her appearance, she knows her intense eyes and hawk like nose hardly make her a candidate for a pin-up.  “I mean it,” insists Joe sincerely.  “True beauty comes from within – it’s about intent, purpose and intellect.  Those qualities shine from you like a star.”<br/>
<br/>
You blush a little at Joe’s words.  “Even if what you say is true,” you begin, before being interrupted by the arrival of the barista with your drinks.  You turn and thank her politely as she grumpily sets your coffee in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
Joe is gone when you turn back.<br/>
<br/>
You look round to see where he’s gone.  Somehow, quickly and without you noticing, he’s managed to slip round and sit beside you on the sofa.  “How did you…” you start, but you are cut short when Joe leans in and kisses you on the lips.<br/>
<br/>
A little fraction of your mind thinks <i>ugh, kissing another guy, not cool</i>, but it overruled by Melody’s persona.  So deeply have you immersed yourself in being the ungainly college girl over the course of the last week that it is difficult to separate her thoughts from your own.  The thought gives way to one that is purely Melody in its origins:<i> Finally</i>.  Joe is gentle and tender and when the kiss ends it leaves you gasping faintly.<br/>
<br/>
“You like,” he asks, grinning again.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” you stutter, any vestige of Melody’s self assurance long since stripped away.  Joe leans in for the follow up.<br/>
<br/>
Your coffee remains untouched, much to the barista’s chagrin.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry I ran into you,” you say as you walk though the campus with Joe.  Your arm is wrapped around his and you are huddling in close, just to keep the chill night air at bay.  You’ve given up on trying to dampen Melody’s feelings for her new friend.  It’s simpler to go with the flow, and besides, you are finding him amusing and good company.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not,” he says, stopping and turning to face you.  Joe gently brushes a few stray hairs out of your face.  “I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.  Is this your dorm?”<br/>
<br/>
You nod sadly.  “Yes, I guess this is good night…” you tail off.  “Come up to my room,” you add, surprising yourself.  You bite your lip nervously.<br/>
<br/>
Joe says nothing.  He simply takes hold of your hands and gives you a quick peck on the lips before smiling his most dazzling smile yet.<br/>
<br/>
Sneaking past the custodian is easy enough – he’s dozing fitfully in his office.  The dorm is quiet as everyone is either in bed by now or at a party somewhere else.  You lead Joe through the twisting corridors of the building, holding him by his hand and dragging him up one of the back stairways till you reach Melody’s room on the second floor. <br/>
<br/>
The door is open.<br/>
<br/>
You let Joe’s hand slip from yours and walk inside apprehensively.   The poky little room which you’ve lived in for the last week is a mess.  Worn old clothes spill out from half open drawers.  Books have been pulled down from their shelves and now lie splayed across the floor, pages carelessly torn.  In a moment of panic, you check the bedside cabinet where Melody keeps her IDs and other important documents.  Luckily they remain untouched.  You sit down on the edge of the bed, the sheets have been ripped, and start to sob.<br/>
<br/>
Joe enters, closing the door behind him.  He sits beside down next to you and hugs you.  You bury your head in his chest, the tears flowing freely now.  “Hush,” he says quietly into your ear as he rubs your back.  “We can fix it all tomorrow.”  He lifts your head up by the chin and wipes away the tears from your eyes with his free hand.  His expression is warm and benevolent, so much so that you can’t help but smile faintly in return.<br/>
<br/>
Buried in Melody’s feelings, weighed down by the intense disappointment she would feel at having events go from going so well to falling apart in seconds, you are in no position to countermand her instincts.  You dart forward and kiss Joe forcefully, wanting to make the most of it while you can.  Joe reacts quickly, meeting your passion with his own.  The kiss quickly devolves into a series of short bursts as you work to remove each others clothes.  You run your hands across Joe’s torso which is well defined and toned without being overly muscular.  He, in turn, gently manipulates your breasts, sending sharp jolts of pleasure up and down your spine.<br/>
<br/>
Joe lays you down on the ruins of the bedsheets for a moment before fishing through his discarded trousers to pull something out of his wallet.  He fiddles at it for a moment with his back turned to you before crawling back over.  You yelp a little with pain as Joe slides his sheaved member inside you, taking both your and Melody’s virginity.<br/>
<br/>
Joe works at you with a slow and patient rhythm.  Each thrust sends a little shiver up your back where it seems to pool in a mass, like a reservoir behind a dam, waiting to bust.  As Joe starts to pick up the pace, the first wave crashes over drenching you in a flood of body shattering pleasure.  He simply keeping pushing on with greater and greater urgency.<br/>
<br/>
Melody’s first time ends up being everything she hoped it would be, even as it ends up being a dark nightmare for Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You wake up with a shudder the following morning, finally able to put aside Melody’s emotions and take full control of your actions.  Joe is already up, leaning over you and brushing your hair out of your eyes lovingly.<br/>
<br/>
“Morning sleepyhead,” he says lazily.  “Want me to hang around and clean up the mess?”<br/>
<br/>
The mess?  You’d almost forgotten about the break in last night.  You’ll have to put everything back in it’s place for sure, you just can’t understand why someone would break into Melody’s dorm room and leave without taking anything valuable.  Unless what they were looking for wasn’t there.  A sudden horrible thought enters your mind:  The most valuable thing you have is the book, which is still the basement of the old elementary school.  You are filled with a sudden urge to check up on its safety.</span></div></div>


path: 112312222212111
author_id: imaj
title: The Unbearable Weissness of Being
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>To your great relief, the padlock on the basement door at the old elementary school is intact.  You look behind yourself one last time – you’ve been criss-crossing and doubling back on yourself the whole way just to make sure you weren’t being followed – and enter the basement.  The two golems, the doll like one and the one made from the real Melody, remain where you had left them.  You have to spend a few minutes hunting in the corners to find the mask that combines Umeko’s body with your own mind.  You had ripped it off and thrown it to the side in disgust in the aftermath of Melody’s ‘accident’.<br/>
<br/>
You hang the mask on the remains of Melody which ripple into life in the form of your cousin “…and another thing you bastard,” it shouts angrily, wagging its finger before suddenly stopping.  Although the basement is under ground, there’s enough of a change in the ambience that it can spot that it’s now daytime.  “How long,” it asks.<br/>
<br/>
“Four or so days,” you reply quietly.  The golem looks to be working itself up to rage at you again.  “No more arguments about what happened to Melody,” you instruct it firmly.  “You now think that it had to be done in order to stop Blackwell.  You will support and help me as I unlock the book.”  The golem’s eyes look slightly glazed.  Worried you might have pushed a little too far with the orders, you decide to give it a little context:  “You are sad about what happened to Melody,” you explain.  “But I’ve promised that we will try to undo it after we deal with Blackwell.  This has set your mind at ease.”<br/>
<br/>
The golem wavers for a second.  “What was I saying,” it asks uncertainly.<br/>
<br/>
“I was asking you if you could remember anything of being Melody,” you lie.  You never had the chance to put a mask on her remains before you stormed out of the basement and figure it’s probably good idea to check.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry boss,” replies the golem.  “Just me in here.  We will get her back some day, won’t we?”<br/>
<br/>
“Some day,” you reply carefully.  “Maybe we just need to push further into the book.”  The golem makes a vague noise of agreement.  You start removing your clothes and it looks at you quizzically.  “If we’re going to look at the book, someone needs to fill in for me today,” you explain as you remove the last of Melody’s undergarments.  You take a minute to lie on the floor before removing your mask.<br/>
<br/>
The golem swims into focus as you open your eyes.  “Here boss,” it says, reaching down to help you up.  You struggle to your feet and brush off the dust.  The golem holds the mask of Melody, but you wave it away, instead finding some of your old clothes from before you faked your own disappearance.  Only once you are clothed again do you put the Melody mask on the golem.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” it says flatly.  “I can’t believe you did that.  My first time and it’s really just someone else pretending to be me,” it adds sourly.  <br/>
<br/>
“You can remember what happened,” you blurt out.  You hadn’t realised that the mask would keep on storing memories as you wore it.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, well, what happened anyway,” explains the golem.  “I remember doing it. I remember it feeling good.  <i>Very</i> good.  I just don’t remember what I was thinking at the time.”<br/>
<br/>
The Umeko faced golem looks at you askew.  “Boss,” it says in a querying tone.  “What did you do?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing that she wouldn’t have done herself,” you say quickly, perhaps more interested in convincing yourself than anyone else.  The two golems would believe that up was down and black was white if you told them to.  “I got a little lost in being Melody, so I’m taking a break for this afternoon.  It’ll give me time to look up the next spell in the book anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
“So I get to have my life, such as it is, back for a day,” says the Melody golem, its sarcasm plainly evident.  “Yay.”<br/>
<br/>
“Look on the bright side,” you reply.  “You’ll get to meet Joe.  He’s coming to your dorm later on today to help clean up the mess – It was the only way I could get rid of him this morning.  You’ll like him.  I know I did when I was you.”<br/>
<br/>
“The mess,” says the Melody golem, puzzled.  “Wait, my room got burgled,” it asks, evidently considering the memories stored on the mask again.  “Thanks for ruining my life.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s  not ruined:  You’ve got a job and a boyfriend now,” you explain.  “I’ve got a boyfriend now,” you add under your breath.  “Look just get your clothes on and go back and meet him.  Then come back here when you are done.  Make sure no one follows you here though.”<br/>
<br/>
“And someone’s following me as well,” adds the Melody golem.  “Great.”<br/>
<br/>
“No more complaining,” you order.  The golem rolls its eyes but, of course, can’t comment.  It gathers Melody’s clothes and dons them before heading out.  “Now,” you say to the other golem.  “Let’s get to the next spell.  I just need to take that mask off you for a second.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The Melody golem waltzes back into the basement late in the afternoon, just as your frustration with your lack of progress with the new spell is staring to boil over.  You hadn’t realised just how much you had been relying on Melody’s ferocious intelligence to help you.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi,” she says absent-mindedly, with an uncharacteristic smile on her face.  Joe, you realise, is right – Melody’s smile is lovely.  It takes the harsh edge off her features and makes the fire in her eyes seem warm rather than freezing.<br/>
<br/>
“At least someone has had a good afternoon,” you grumble.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” the golem replies with a giggle.  “You were right about Joe.  He is funny, and <i>so</i> clever.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well maybe I should get him to help me with this spell,” you snark back.  “I’ll just have to make do with you instead.  Get over here and take a look at this,” you say, indicating the page of the book you unlocked earlier.<br/>
<br/>
The golem walks over to where you have placed the book and inspects it.  It makes a clucking sound with its tongue as it reads.  “It’s similar to the last two but we use a mask this time,” it explains after several minutes.  “So we only need a small amount of earth and fuel.”<br/>
<br/>
“Just as well,” you mutter.  There is hardly any of those two components left and Melody’s bank balance is too slim to acquire much more.  You give the Umeko faced golem a nudge.  “Get the stuff for a couple more masks together,” you instruct it.  The Melody golem gives you a quizzical look and you explain:  “I’m going to test it on a new mask.  I don’t want another accident.”  The Melody golem grimaces at that comment so you forestall any further argument by pulling away at its face.  It reverts instantly into a featureless grey humanoid shape.  “Just get those masks done while I change,” you instruct the remaining golem.<br/>
<br/>
The Umeko faced golem is hovering above you as you come to again.  “It’s not working,” it says worriedly as you get to your feet.  “I can’t make the masks.”<br/>
<br/>
“Let me see,” you say exasperatedly, a mood that seems to come naturally to Melody.  The golem has set out three proto-masks on top of an old table and you examine each of them in turn.  Everything seems fine so you grab a book of matches and light the first.  Ghostly blue flames dance across it, indicating that the spell has worked.  “It’s working now,” you say angrily.  “Try the others.”<br/>
<br/>
You watch as the Umeko faced golem tries to light the second mask.  It fails to ignite, so you grab the still burning match from it and try yourself.  Immediately the mask flares into life.  “Very interesting,” you mutter to yourself as you light the third mask.<br/>
<br/>
“What the…” stutters the golem.  “Why didn’t it work?”<br/>
<br/>
You aren’t sure yourself, but Melody’s brain provides an idea:  “The main difference between us is that I’m a person.  You aren’t, not really.  Maybe golems can’t cast spells?”<br/>
<br/>
It’s as good an explanation as any.  You’ll definitely have to investigate it more in the future – it could be a way to work out if the Blackwell you are working for is the real one or a substitute.  Right now though, you have to get back to Melody’s life.<br/>
<br/>
“Start polishing those for me,” you instruct the golem.  “I’ll be back for the first one tomorrow.”  The question is who to use it on.  It would be easy to get a copy of one of Melody’s friends and use them to experiment on, but your comment about Joe from earlier floats back into your mind.  The Melody golem found it easier to translate the new spell than you did – Just imagine how much easier it would be with the help of a Joe masked golem.</span></div></div>


path: 1123122222121112
author_id: imaj
title: A Mysterious Stranger
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You arrive for Blackwell’s Monday afternoon lecture with a newly polished mask hidden away at the bottom of your book bag, buried underneath what little remains of your golem making materials and the book itself.  It’s probably a bit risky to carry it around with you, but you want to test the new spell as soon as possible.  As you scan the milling crowd of students making their way into the hall, you spot one of Melody’s friends sitting up near the back.  She gives you a friendly wave as she spots you and you acknowledge it with a wave of your own.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey Mels,” she says as you ease yourself into the seat next to her.  You wince at the use of the familiar version of Melody’s name, which she despises.<br/>
<br/>
“Zoe,” you reply curtly.  You consider telling the plump blonde about Melody’s dislike for the short form of her name, but from her memories you know it wouldn’t make a difference.<br/>
<br/>
“So how was your weekend,” asks Zoe.  You have just enough time to notice she is wearing too much eyeliner.  Again.  “We had a gig on Saturday,” she continues, not giving you enough time to answer.  “Would have been epic if our keyboard player hadn’t bailed on us again last week.”  You smile tightly and nod and Zoe finally seems to remember that she actually asked you a question.  “Oh, yeah, what did you get up to?  Hit the stacks again?”<br/>
<br/>
“Blackwell wanted me to catalogue more of his books,” you explain.<br/>
<br/>
“God, he is such a creep isn’t he,” interrupts Zoe.  “I bet his house is really weird.”<br/>
<br/>
You think back the library, with its strange looking statues, odd geometry and the irregular rhythm of its clocks.  “Yes,” you agree.  One word doesn’t do it justice.  “But the pay is also very good.  I got a hundred dollars for a couple of hours of work.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’d never think he was that rich looking at him,” says Zoe, nodding towards where Blackwell is loading a bunch of slides into an old fashioned carrousel projector.  The cheap slacks and rollneck sweater that clings closely to his bulky stomach suggest she has a point.<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe that’s <i>why </i>he can afford to pay me so much,” you reply.<br/>
<br/>
“Got to wonder why he thinks you are worth so much,” says Zoe.  She recoils as you give her a pointed look.  “Sorry, sorry.  You know what I mean.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why he’s paying so much for something so simple,” you respond.  <i>It is a good question</i> you think.  “Given that he obviously doesn’t like spending money.”<br/>
<br/>
Zoe reaches under the bench for her book bag.  When she pulls out her notepad and pen her goldfish like attention has latched onto something else.  “Oooh, look at tall dark and handsome,” she coos, indicating a student a couple of rows in front of you and to the left.  “Never seen him here before.”<br/>
<br/>
You follow Zoe’s gaze to where a tall student with an unruly mop of dark hair is setting his back down.  A simple white tee hugs his chest, making it clear that he works out.  A lot.  As he looks around, he catches your eyes and stares straight at you, through you.  As your cheeks flush, you suddenly find yourself staring at the ground.  When you look up, he’s sat himself down and is watching Blackwell intently.<br/>
<br/>
“He is cute,” says Zoe softly.<br/>
<br/>
You look at Melody’s friend out of the corner of your eyes.  “You already have a boyfriend Zoe,” you say, channelling Melody’s exasperation with her friend.<br/>
<br/>
“I can still look at other guys,” she protests.  “And he is very cute, isn’t he.  Intense.  Brooding.  You know Mels, I think he might be your type.  We should go speak to him after Blackwell finishes up…”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve got a boyfriend Zoe,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“…because its pretty bad that you have spend your Saturday night working for that fat creep,” she continues.  It takes a few minutes for what you’ve just said to filter through to her mind.  “What?  No way!”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes way,” you reply with more than a touch of sarcasm.  “We met on Saturday.  Uh not at Blackwell’s.”<br/>
<br/>
“Grats Mels,” beams Zoe.  “You want to tell me all about it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Later,” you whisper as Blackwell raises his voice to begin the lecture.  “After the lecture.  Library?”  Zoe nods as she doodles in her notepad.  You listen attentively as Blackwell shows the first of his slides, because no matter how much of a creepy and  utter bastard he is, Blackwell knows his field and Melody cares very much about her education.<br/>
<br/>
In any case, you never get a chance to speak to the mystery student anyway.  He packs up and leaves a few minutes before Blackwell ends the lecture and slinks out the back door with a certain feral grace.  Blackwell himself can’t wait to leave as well.  The second he finishes the last sentence of his talk, he grabs his papers and darts out the front door of the hall, abandoning all his slides.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You make your way through the dense network of bookshelves with Zoe following behind you.  The third floor houses most of the books on archaeology and history.  More importantly, the windows on the east side have a great view of the central courtyard and hardly anyone ever comes up here.  It’s one of Melody’s favourite spots on campus for unwinding, and sometimes her friends come up to it too.<br/>
<br/>
The tangle of bookcases opens up to a small clear area with a handful of desks.  It’s almost empty – another student is sitting at one of the window desks.  She turns as she hears you and Zoe bustles past to give her a frantic wave.<br/>
<br/>
“Zoe,” smiles the other student.  The two hug, and it’s a fascinating contrast because, while both are dressed predominantly in black, Zoe’s friend is very, almost painfully, thin.<br/>
<br/>
“K.C., this is Melody,” says Zoe, turning back towards you.  “Melody, K.C. – she plays the guitar.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hi,” you say with a faint smile and a small wave. You were hoping the library would be abandoned.  That way you could have used your new blank mask on Zoe with no interruptions.  You drop your book back underneath a desk.  “I just need to grab a book,” you say before slipping back into knot of bookcases to think.<br/>
<br/>
You walk through the maze for a minute, trying to think of some way to split Zoe and K.C. up.  You drift to a halt and look around.  Somehow you’ve managed to end up by a shelf full of weighty tomes on 16th century German history.  You browse the shelves, your eyes lingering on a study of the witch hunting craze of the period when something flickers in the corner of your eye.<br/>
<br/>
You turn, just in time to see someone moving past the end of the shelf and out of sight.  Against your better judgement, you walk quickly to the corner.  A long, uneven gap runs past several shelves.  At the far end you can see a young man.  He turns round for a minute and you recognise the mystery student from Blackwell’s lecture.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey,” you call out.  “Hey, wait up.”<br/>
<br/>
The mystery student’s eyes dart around for a second before he ducks behind a shelf.  “Wait,” you say again, running after him.  You reach where he was standing after only a few seconds, turning left and then right to look up and down the narrow corridor.  There is no sign of him.<br/>
<br/>
You make your way back to the desks after a few minutes.  Zoe is sitting alone by one of the windows, although the desk next to her is still covered in books and papers.  “Where did K.C. go,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“She had to freshen up,” replies Zoe with a vague wave of her hand in the direction of the toilets.<br/>
<br/>
Well, that makes things easier for you.  The question is who will you use the mask on:  Will you follow K.C. to the toilets or try to get it on Zoe before K.C. returns?<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222221211122
author_id: imaj
title: Changing Your Initial Plans
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don’t really know K.C. at all, Zoe would have been a better option.  However, with that mysterious student somewhere nearby, you don’t want to risk getting a mask of Zoe in the open.  K.C. is in the one place you can be pretty sure the stranger will not be – the ladies restroom.  You grab your bag, make a vague excuse to Zoe, the actually excuse doesn’t really matter since its unlikely she will be listening, and dive towards the toilets.  As you reach the door, you take one last look around for the mysterious student before pulling the blank mask out from the bottom of your bag.<br/>
<br/>
K.C. is washing her hands when you enter.  She’s not really paying attention, so you easily slip behind her and place the mask over her face.  As expected, K.C. simply topples over unconscious.  You catch her and prop her up in one corner of the room before placing your bag on the counter.  Melody’s reflection stares back at you from the mirror as you pull the spell components from your bag:  A handful of graveyard earth from Acheson Cemetery, the last little drop of fuel and a few other odds and ends.  The last piece is a lock of your own hair that you had the foresight to prepare this morning.<br/>
<br/>
The you kneel beside the recumbent K.C. and wait.  After a few minutes, the mask surfaces from beneath her face in a peculiarly unpleasant looking fashion that leaves you feeling itchy.  You catch it before it falls to the floor and set it on the counter.  There’s no way to tell how long it will be before K.C. wakes up so you move quickly:  A little sealant mixture is smeared onto the inside of the mask before you dump the components for the new spell inside.  When you light the fuel, the inside of the mask burns a fierce purple for a few seconds before fading away, leaving your retinas scorched.<br/>
<br/>
You lift the mask, noting that the interior surface is now the same dull granite grey as a golem.  The name Katarina Charlotta Patrovic hovers above the mind band that you attached yesterday.  No wonder she prefers to go by K.C..  You kneel back down beside her.  Her eyelids are fluttering so you jam the mask on her face – you’ve got a good idea of what it will do now.  Almost immediately K.C.’s eyes snap open.<br/>
<br/>
“Hush now,” you say, holding a finger to your lips.  “You have to do what I say, don’t you?”  K.C., or the <i>golem</i> K.C. you realise, nods unhappily.<br/>
<br/>
The spell must apply a golem layer to the mask, sealing the wearer underneath, you realise after a moments thought.    Of course, a K.C. golem hiding the real K.C. isn’t exactly useful, but at least you can unlock the next spell and you could always use it on Blackwell if you get close enough.<br/>
<br/>
With a whisper, you pull the golem mask away.  There is no visible change in K.C. except her eyes are now shut.  You quickly press the mask against the book.  The next page unlocks with a faint glow.  You don’t have now time to look at it so you quickly stuff both the book and mask back into your bag.<br/>
<br/>
K.C. stirs with a groan as you sit yourself next to her.  “Are you okay Katarina,” you ask as her eyes blink open.  “You just, collapsed I guess.”<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you for a moment, her eyes unfocused, confusion written all over her face.  “I…uh,” she begins, trying to haul herself off the floor.  She slips on the tiled floor of the rest room and slides back down.  “Katarina,” she mutters to herself as you help her up.  “How…”<br/>
<br/>
“Come on K.C.,” say quickly, realising your slip up.  “Let’s get you some fresh air.”  <br/>
<br/>
She leans on you as you help her out of the restroom and back to the desks by the windows.  To your surprise, Joe is sitting on one of the desks chatting amiably with Zoe.<br/>
<br/>
“Joe,” you say.  “What are you doing here?”<br/>
<br/>
“Joe,” says Zoe quietly, the expression of shock plain on her face.  “That’s Joe?”<br/>
<br/>
“I remembered you mentioning that you sometimes came up here yesterday afternoon,” he says, lifting himself off the desk and dropping to the floor.  He walks over and holds your hands as K.C stumbles back to her seat.  “So I thought I’d come here and see if you were around,” he adds after a couple of quick pecks on the lip.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh right,” you reply.  The golem must have mentioned it when you were working on the book in the elementary school basement.  You sink yourself deeply into Melody’s personality to make what you are going to have to do more bearable.  “It’s good to see you again,” you smile before kissing him deeply.  <br/>
<br/>
“Ow,” he says as the kiss ends.  Joe rubs at his left side theatrically.  “Is that a book in your bag or are you just pleased to see me?”<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him levelly.  “Library,” is your dead pan response.<br/>
<br/>
“You aren’t pleased to see me,” he replies quickly, his face a carefully faked picture of injured feelings.<br/>
<br/>
“Not if you are going to make such terrible jokes,” you reply, one hand on your hips and a withering glare in your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“I love it when you play hard to get,” he murmurs and you break out into a wide smile.  “I love it when you smile too.”  You gaze over Joe’s shoulder, where Zoe continues to stare goggle eyed at you and Joe.  K.C. is starting to look more alert and she too seems surprised at the unlikely couple you and Joe present.  “You want to grab a coffee,” he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You ease out of his grasp to get a better view of Zoe and K.C..  “You don’t mind if I disappear with Joe do you?”<br/>
<br/>
Zoe finally manages to get enough control of her face to speak again.  “No, no…  You guys go have a good time,” she replies.<br/>
<br/>
“We’ll be fine,” says K.C., although from the way she looks, she still seems a little confused.<br/>
<br/>
“Shall we then,” you say to Joe, presenting an arm.  He hooks his own arm round it and the two of you walk away from the desks towards the exit.<br/>
<br/>
After a couple of minutes, once Zoe and K.C are out of earshot, Joe whispers quietly in your ear.  “Zoe seems a little…”<br/>
<br/>
“Self absorbed,” you whisper back, nuzzling at him and trying to quiet the protests from the back of your mind.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sure she’s nice when you get to know her,” says Joe quietly.  “Once you get past the self absorption…”<br/>
<br/>
“Then you get to the inner core of disinterest for anyone except herself,” you say wryly.<br/>
<br/>
“She does have some redeeming features, though,” asks Joe.  Before you get the chance to answer, he continues.  “Your bag seems to be ringing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Let me just take this quickly,” you say, opening your bag and pulling Melody’s cell phone out.  “It’s Professor Blackwell,” you say, looking at the display.  Joe’s brow furrows.  “He’s my archaeology lecturer,” you explain.  “I do some library cataloguing for him.”  You jab the phone with a finger and lift it to your ear.  “Hello Professor.”<br/>
<br/>
“Melody, my dear girl,” comes Blackwell’s smugly self satisfied voice through the phone.  “I hope I haven’t caught you at an importune moment but, well… Ah…”  He pauses for a handful of seconds.  “Well, I have something of an emergency at home.  I do so hate to monopolise your time young lady, but I was wondering if you could assist me this evening.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at Joe, who smiles encouragingly at you.  “Actually Professor, I’m…”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll pay you double the usual rate,” he interrupts.  “Two hundred dollars if you can come over right this minute.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well I…” you begin.  You do not get a chance to finish.<br/>
<br/>
“Excellent,” interrupts Blackwell.  “I shall see you shortly.”<br/>
<br/>
You bring the cell phone down from your ear and look at it.  “He hung up,” you say angrily.<br/>
<br/>
“What is it,” asks Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“He wanted me to go help him with some emergency at his house,” you explain.  “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”  Joe frowns again.  “At least he’s going to pay me I guess.  Two hundred dollars,” you sigh.  “I need the money.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve got an idea,” interrupts Joe.  “We’ll get the coffee to go and you can take me with you.  I’ll have a word with him about calling my girlfriend at all hours.”  You blush at the word <i>girlfriend</i>.  “Oh, wow,” continues Joe.  “You look adorable when you blush.”</span></div></div>


path: 112312222212111222
author_id: imaj
title: The Frog and The Unicorn
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The strange ticking of the clocks is particularly pronounced when you arrive, a little while after dropping off Joe at the coffee house and promising to come back later.  It’s not so much that the clocks are out of synch with each other, but that how much they are out of synch changes every minute.  Then there is the nagging feeling that something just in the corner of your eyes is watching you.  You want to spin round and check you aren’t being followed, if only it wouldn’t leave you looking foolish.  Blackwell bids you to sit next to him at one of the desks in his library and, as you take your place, the sense of unease recedes.  Your sense of revulsion at Blackwell, rushes in to take up the vacant space in your emotions.<br/>
<br/>
“What is it you need me to do Professor,” you ask cautiously.  There is no sign of any books on the desk, nor of the computer Blackwell has had you use to catalogue his library.<br/>
<br/>
“I apologise for the deception Melody,” says Blackwell ruefully.  “I had hoped this would be easier, more gentle, but there is no time.”  He looks thoughtfully at the creamy piece of paper sitting on the desk.  “Not time at all,” he adds quietly.<br/>
<br/>
You resist the urge to bolt and run.  Has Blackwell seen past your disguise?  You pray that he hasn’t before you manage to collect your wits and think it through:  If Blackwell realised who you really were, and that the book he wants is sitting in your bag under the desk, he wouldn’t have opened by just talking.  You don’t know much about him, but this library implies he has some kind of power.  You keep quiet and wait to see what he does next.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell reaches for a small, ornate metal box, worked in lead, and opens it.  An elaborate looking fountain pen sits on the dark green velvet cloth interior.  “I want to show you something,” he explains as he takes the cap off.  “It’s the easiest way to convince you.”<br/>
<br/>
You watch as he carefully draws out a shape on the rich paper, all squiggles and curvy lines.  It seems strangely similar to some of the symbols in the book, although you know it does not appear in any of the pages you have revealed so far – Melody’s memory is excellent.  Blackwell holds the pen stiffly and takes great care not to touch the ink on the paper, which glitters with little flecks of metal.  “This sigil combines elements indicative of the animating presence, falsehood and mirrors,” he says as he puts the cap back on the pen and lays it reverentially back in its box.  “Which in conjunction one might read as being ‘a twisted mockery of life’.  The ink does much of the work but is quite damaging if ingested so I must be careful.”<br/>
<br/>
He picks up the paper and starts folding it, again taking care not to touch where the ink has marked the page.  He moves slowly and deliberately, creasing the lines with precision.  After a couple of minutes he sets his work on the desk – an origami frog.  He mutters a few harsh sounding syllables and the frog hops forward untouched.  It takes a few more hops forward unaided before falling over on its side, the edges of the paper burnt.<br/>
<br/>
You guess that you are supposed to be impressed.  It might seem trivial compared to what you have done with the book, but Melody has never seen such magic in action – or at least she shouldn’t have.  “What,” you say, trying to sound stunned.  “How does it…”<br/>
<br/>
“Would you believe magic,” says Blackwell.  “It sound implausible, I’ll admit.  Why don’t you try, if you think I am indulging in charlatanism.”  He places another sheet of paper in front of you and pushes the lead box next to you.  “Remember, do not touch the ink.”<br/>
<br/>
You take the fountain pen from its box and work quickly and accurately.  Your copy of the design is not exactly the same as Blackwell’s, but rather smoother and more fluid.<br/>
<br/>
“Impressive,” he says as you work.  “I had feared it might take you a few attempts to copy the sigil.”<br/>
<br/>
“I have a good memory,” you explain, placing the lid on the pen again.  “Not quite photographic, but very good.”  You fold the paper crisply, placing an origami unicorn on the desk.  After a moments though you carefully rip the horn away with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you remember,” begins Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
“I do,” you interrupt and repeat the same strange syllables Blackwell used.  The little paper homunculi lurches forward, picking up speed as it moves.  It reaches the opposite side of the desk and falls to the floor.  Both you and Blackwell get out of your seats and kneel on the floor.  You watch as your creation, it’s legs in the air, finally slows down.  A little puff of smoke drifts from the stricken figurine.<br/>
<br/>
“Astounding,” says Blackwell as he lifts himself to his feet.  He claps his hands loudly.  “Simply astounding my girl.  I will admit that I hoped you might be capable of learning some craft from me but I never in my wildest dreams dared to think you might have a natural affinity for it.”<br/>
<br/>
“You mean,” you say as you settle back into you chair, affecting puzzlement.  “That I can do magic?”  You chew on your lip nervously for a moment.  “Wait, you said something about there not being enough time.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah,” says Blackwell shiftily.  “Well that is to say…” he tails off, looking thoughtful.  “We both know more than a little of history, what has happened in the past when people have confronted others to whom they attributed supernatural power?”<br/>
<br/>
“Witch hunts,” you blurt, suddenly remembering your encounter with the mysterious student in the library.  From Melody’s memories, you know that 16th century Germany, the shelving section where you saw him, is one of the more notable incidents of a witch hunting in history.  Wait,” you say, raising an eyebrow.  “You’re not telling me that the Inquisition are after you.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell barks a short laugh.  “Something like that,” he replies.  “There are organisations, secret societies if you will pardon my sounding like the plot of a terrible novel, whose remit extends to the suppression of magic.  People like you and me, my dear, are anathema to them.  We simply want to explore our natural talent, maybe use it a little to help ourselves, but these modern day inquisitors would think nothing of killing us out of hand.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re right,” you reply. “It does sound like a bad written story…”  You stop for a second.  “Wait, he was in your lecture this afternoon, wasn’t he?  Dark hair, well muscled?”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell looks shocked for an instant.  “Yes, exactly, how did you know?”<br/>
<br/>
“He was sitting near me,” you explain.  “And then I saw him again later in the library.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then he may already be following you,” interrupts Blackwell melodramatically.  “These people have an almost supernatural ability to sniff practitioners out.  We may both be in danger.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at Blackwell, he is radiating an honest concern.  Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel he is playing some kind of angle here, trying to enact some plan just beyond your understanding.  What you do say is:  “What can we do?”<br/>
<br/>
“Let me teach you,” says Blackwell anxiously.  “We would be stronger together than apart.”<br/>
<br/>
You bite your lip nervously again, sure that Blackwell has something unpleasant planned for you.  The safest option would be to walk out the door – you could discard Melody’s identity and slip out of sight again easily.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, wouldn’t it be good if you could turn whatever he’s planning back on himself?  You could learn everything you can from Blackwell before abandoning him.  Maybe you could even play Blackwell and this mysterious stranger against each other.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122222121112221
author_id: imaj
title: The Girl In The Attic
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You fold your arms and look Blackwell in the eye.  “I want to learn,” you say firmly.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell’s eyes glitter and he grins with something approaching genuine warmth for the first time.  “Excellent,” he says and gestures to a small door at one side of the library.  “Come this way.”  You follow Blackwell with some trepidation through it and into a narrow corridor which ends in a steep stairwell leading upwards.  “We do have one advantage,” he begins to explain as he climbs the stairs.  “A few weeks ago I came into possession of a rather powerful old grimoire, the<i> Libra Personae</i>, principally relating to spells of concealment and hiding.”  He pauses for a moment to catch his breath.  “Or we would do if my previous apprentice had not somehow contrived to sell the tome to an antiquarian book shop.”<br/>
<br/>
“How does that help us then,” you ask, resisting the urge to touch your bag where the book is hidden. <br/>
<br/>
“I have already taken some steps towards recovering it,” continues Blackwell as he starts up the stairs again.  He reaches the top of the stairs and opens the cheap wooden door there.  “The arrival of these hunters forced me to delay my plans,” he explains, turning back to face you.  “With your help they can resume.  Come on,” he says, indicating beyond the door with a nod of his head.<br/>
<br/>
The room is a small, windowless attic space.  Cupboard line the walls and a handful of messy tables sit in its centre.  Odd looking stains cover the tables and the bare wooden floor.  You recognise several components the book requires, including the materials needed to make golems.<br/>
<br/>
You also recognise the girl with the bored looking expression on her face sitting in a bathrobe at one table.<br/>
<br/>
It’s Lisa.  Your sort of ex girlfriend Lisa, although it would accurate to describe her as your ex sort of girlfriend really.  “Who’s this,” you ask, keeping your voice as even as you can make it.  In reality, your heart is beating rapidly.<br/>
<br/>
“She is called Lisa,” explains Blackwell as he walks over to her.  He holds her by her chin and pulls her up and forwards.  Lisa stumbles to her feet, the same bored expression never leaving her face.  “She isn’t a real person,” lies Blackwell. “Just a fake created with the book that I mentioned.  It was stolen by a high school student and Lisa is going to help us recover it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I see,” you say, affecting a lack of conviction.<br/>
<br/>
“No my dear, you don’t,” replies Blackwell.  He whispers something to Lisa.  You can’t hear the words but you can make a guess as to what he is saying.  Blackwell pulls something away from Lisa’s face – a mask of course.  She instantly reverts to the featureless grey of a golem.<br/>
<br/>
You let your jaw drop.<br/>
<br/>
“Impressive, is it not,” asks Blackwell.  He obviously isn’t expecting an answer as he continues immediately.  “Indeed, it makes our homunculi downstairs look like nothing more than a simple child’s trick.  This is why we must recover the book – It will allow us to outfox our hunters and take the fight to them.”<br/>
<br/>
“What is that,” you ask.  You know, of course, but you don’t want Blackwell to know that.<br/>
<br/>
“I suppose the word for it would be <i>golem</i>,” he explains.  “You are familiar with the term, no doubt, Melody.”  You nod.  “It is simply a larger and more complicated version of the paper figurines we created in the library.  It is inanimate until I place one of these upon it,” he says, waving the mask of Lisa.  Blackwell places the mask of Lisa on one of the tables and searches through the debris that has accumulated on it.  “Here,” he continues, handing you another mask.  “Place this on the golem’s face.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at the mask.  Blackwell’s own image is caught in the reflection.  “I can see you on this professor,” you say, trying to sound amazed.  “How can that be?”<br/>
<br/>
“Magic girl,” he replies with a shade of impatience.  “Stop puzzling over <i>how </i>this is happening and start thinking about <i>what </i>we can make happen.”  You gingerly place the mask on the golem.  As expected it swells out to fill the proportions of Blackwell.  You stagger back as if this is a surprise to you.<br/>
<br/>
“So young Melody has decided to join with us,” leers the duplicate Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
“Indeed,” replies the original.  “It will be your job to tutor her in the basics of magic, as well as fill in for me in my absence.”  You idly wonder if Blackwell realises that golems are incapable of magic.  <i>Maybe he knows and simply wants to make sure I learn little, you think.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Of course sir,” says the golem enthusiastically.<br/>
<br/>
“Good, good,” replies the original.  “Now if you could retreat downstairs and clothe yourself.  Wait for us in the library.”  You both watch as the golem pads out of the room.  “It has to do whatever I tell it,” explains Blackwell as he closes the door.  “A very useful tool and decoy.  Of course, it knows everything that I do and will make a more than adequate teacher for you while I am away.”<br/>
<br/>
“Away,” you ask.  “Where are you going?”<br/>
<br/>
“Were you not <i>listening </i>my dear,” says Blackwell, rolling his eyes theatrically.  “I intend to recover the <i>Libra </i>whilst you and my duplicate hold the fort, so to speak, here.”<br/>
<br/>
You frown thoughtfully.  “What about these hunters?  Will they notice that there are two of you running around?”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell laughs.  “I’m so very glad you asked that Melody,” he replies with a shark like grin.  “Allow me to demonstrate the other power inherent in these masks.”  He sits himself carefully on the cheap plastic chair the golem had been using earlier.  “You see,” he explains, taking hold of the Lisa mask.  “They don’t just work on a golem.”  With that he lifts the mask to his face.  His body shrinks in on itself, deflating from Blackwell’s obese form to Lisa’s more youthful one.  The process leaves his clothes hanging loosely from his new body.<br/>
<br/>
He is unconscious of course, slumped back in the seat.  You look around the room, taking in the details again.  Your eyes linger on the spell components on the tables and the glimmer of a plan starts to form in your mind.  No time to expand on it though, because Blackwell starts to stir.<br/>
<br/>
You hold him by one shoulder and shake him gently.  “Professor.  Professor, is that you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” he replies, looking directly at you and smiling.  It is Lisa’s voice, but the smile is pure Blackwell.  “In, shall we say, the flesh.”  He laughs at his own joke.  “You see now why I want to recover the book?  It would be simplicity itself to remove the hunters by approaching them in guise they would never suspect.”<br/>
<br/>
“Or we could just hide,” you reply.<br/>
<br/>
“Perhaps,” shrugs Blackwell.  “But they are relentless and will not give up until either we are dead or they are.”  He looks at your face for a moment.  “I know it seems extreme, but there is no alternative.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at the floor.  “I’m just not sure,” you admit.  You know that it is not what Blackwell wants to hear, but you think it is what he <i>expects</i> to hear from Melody.<br/>
<br/>
“Think of it like this my girl,” he explains.  “You are by some distance the most able of my students, possessed of a fine and inquisitive mind.  Yet look at yourself.”  He gestures at you.  “You practically live in penury, while so many in your class blindly stagger through their college years buoyed by a tide of their parent’s money.  And now?  Now you have discovered that not only are you cleverer than them but you are possessed of a talent that they are incapable of even dreaming of.”<br/>
<br/>
“And,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“And someone wants to kill you because of it,” says Blackwell firmly.  “Is that fair?  Is any of it fair?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you admit.<br/>
<br/>
“No it is not,” thunders Blackwell, or at least as much as Lisa’s voice will allow him.  “So we must do something.  Rectify the situation.”<br/>
<br/>
“I…” you say, still staring at the floor.  You look up, directly into Blackwell’s eyes.  “I understand Professor.”<br/>
<br/>
“Excellent,” he replies.  “Now if you return to the library, my Doppelganger should be clothed by now and we can begin your lessons.  I have to get changed into something a little more appropriate for my new visage.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The Blackwell golem had some reading material for you set out for you when you returned to the library.  You only leafed through it idly.  Nor have you been paying attention to the duplicate’s droning. Instead you’ve been thinking and you have an idea what Blackwell’s angle is:  You’re a decoy.<br/>
<br/>
The thought rankled as you watched the real Blackwell leave the house, disguised as Lisa.  The shift in his demeanour was so perfect, so indistinguishable from the real thing.  You’ve never considered the ease with which you have used Melody’s own persona to hide yourself, only now do you realise how perfect a disguise it is.  Whatever hunters are chasing Blackwell, they would never be able to see past his portrayal of Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell has made one mistake however – he’s left you with the golem.  You are sure that if you applied another golem layer to the mask on the golem, you would gain control of it.  Then you could find out the truth behind what Blackwell has just told you.<br/>
<br/>
Or you could take a trick out his playbook.  Simply leave and hide yourself in another identity.  You still have K.C.’s mask in your bag.  She would be an ideal place to start.</span></div></div>


path: 11231222221211122211
author_id: imaj
title: The Truth
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>With some trepidation, you put the mask of Blackwell back on his golem.  It was simple enough to remove it once the original had left the house in his new guise as Lisa.  You had run out of graveyard earth and fuel of your own, but it was easy  to steal some from Blackwell’s attic laboratory.  You had to take of Melody’s mask to get some hair but it’s back on now.  The spell worked, the inner surface of the mask turned dull grey.  It should give you control, it should.<br/>
<br/>
You just aren’t completely sure.<br/>
<br/>
“What,” says the Blackwell golem, its voice full of puzzlement.  “How did you get over there Melody?”<br/>
<br/>
“It doesn’t matter,” you say.  “Sit down.”  The golem’s leg give way beneath him and he staggers to a chair and sinks into it.  You breathe a sigh of relief.<br/>
<br/>
“How,” it mutters, its brow furrowed.  It sits quietly for a minute, thinking.  “Oh,  I see,” it says.  “Mr Prescott I presume?”  You confirm with a smirk and a nod.  “Oh, well played, very well played.  May I ask how long you’ve been Melody?”<br/>
<br/>
“Since I disappeared,” you answer smugly.  “You…  He…  Whatever.  He never suspected?”  After a seconds thought you add the order:  “Answer all my questions fully and honestly.  You want to be helpful”<br/>
<br/>
“In all honesty?  My most recent memories are from my, his I suppose, Monday afternoon lecture,” replies the golem.  “He did not suspect you to be anything other than the real Melody.  I believe he thinks you to be hidden somewhere at your high school in fact.”<br/>
<br/>
“He’s hiding himself, isn’t he,” you ask.  “I’m supposed to be a decoy for these hunters?”<br/>
<br/>
“I admit that I would do the same thing myself in his place,” states the golem.  “Although the precise details of his motivations are beyond me, I am merely a collection of his memories and personality.”<br/>
<br/>
You think back to the first time you saw Blackwell in the lecture hall.  “Blackwell had one spare blank mask that he was going to use on me.  Does he still have it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t recall it being used,” admits the golem.  “Yet.  I think it more than likely he will use it on another one of your classmates in the next day or two and assume their identity.  If I were in his place I would want to be untraceable.”<br/>
<br/>
“So he’ll try to vanish in a couple of days,” you say to yourself.  “Wait, did he get as far as making golem masks?  How will he get someone to fill in for Lisa?”<br/>
<br/>
“He completed the first four spells of the book before it was lost.  A golem mask you say,” it asks, rubbing its chin.  “No, I do not recall any such thing.  As for your classmate, I do not believe he will get anyone to ‘fill in for her’ as you put it, nor will he command me to release her.  In the case of the former, it would provide a link to his identity for the Stellae to follow.  In the case of the later it would the authorities back to us.”  The golem looks at the ground for a moment.  “He will likely murder the individual he replaces in order to prevent their further interference.  It will not be the first murder he has committed.”<br/>
<br/>
The casual reference to murder leaves you momentarily shocked.  You knew, in a way, already – Lucy Vredenburg’s accident was surely nothing of the sort.  To hear it directly is another matter.<br/>
<br/>
“Wait,” you say after a minute.  “What do you mean ‘release her’?”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah,” says the golem, sounding a little guilty.  “Your classmate Lisa is being held in the basement here, and has been since the real version of me replaced her for the first time.  One of my duties has been to keep her fed.”  The golem looks at you sheepishly.  “If you desire to release her, the secret door is opened by twisting the left head on the statue of Cerberus.  You will require the totem from the lower left hand drawer at this desk to pass the guardian on the stairs.  I assume you will want to do that, I understand you had some sort of relationship.”<br/>
<br/>
“Had,” you say, trying to quell the painful memories.  “Just leave her there for now.”<br/>
<br/>
“My boy,” smiles the golem.  “It seems that you are a little more pragmatic than I had thought.”  The way he stresses the word makes is sound like another way to say ‘evil’.  “Now just what did you do with the real Melody Weiss?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s for own protection,” you insist hotly.  “If she gets out and Blackwell sees her she’s in danger.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, of course,” replies the golem with a smirk.  “And you have no way of hiding her at all, do you…”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up,” you interrupt.  The golem immediately falls silent, but its eyes continue to sparkle with mockery.  “I’m nothing like you.  Don’t say anything like that again,” you shout angrily.<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a minute to calm down, taking deep breaths and easing yourself back into Melody’s persona.  “You can talk again,” you say in a measured tone.  “To answer my questions.”  One last little detail that Blackwell said finally catches in your brain.  “<i>Stellae </i>– Is that the hunters that Blackwell talked about.”<br/>
<br/>
“The <i>Stellae Errante</i>, yes,” replies the golem.  “My original knows a little of them, and fears them greatly.  They are a secret society of magicians, although they abhor the term.  Each member has some sort of spiritual bond or totemic association with the…”<br/>
<br/>
“The planets,” you interrupt, your Melody enhanced intelligence reasoning it out.  The golem gives you an odd look.  “It’s obvious,” you say, drawing on Melody’s memories.  <i>Stellae Errante</i> would be ‘Wandering Stars’ in English, that’s an old term for the planets.  Blackwell had me read a section of one of his books last week too – <i>The Shadows of the Planets</i>.  It seemed to talk about exactly what you are describing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” admits the golem with a shrug.  “I suspect that is why he acquired it, and why he showed it to you – to prime you before taking you into his confidence.”<br/>
<br/>
“These <i>Stellae Errante</i>, are they as bad as Blackwell made out?”<br/>
<br/>
“I have no memories of your discussion with him,” states the golem.  “I told you he was afraid of them.  He knows only the sketchiest of details but he does know this – they seek out dangerous artefacts and put them beyond use.  If they are in Saratoga Falls, then they are here to retrieved the <i>Libra Personae</i>.  My original also believes that the <i>Stellae </i>will put him to death for his use of the <i>Libra</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about me,” you ask anxiously.  The golem says nothing, it simply stares at you with glazed looking eyes.  After a few seconds you realise its meaning – it can’t tell you that you are at risk because that would be comparing you to Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
It is a sobering thought.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve seen one of them already,” you say.  “He was at the afternoon lecture and I saw him again in the library.  Are there any others?”<br/>
<br/>
“As far my memories tell me, there are two of them,” replies the golem.  “They always operate in twos, one to watch the other.”<br/>
<br/>
“Have you seen the other one,” you ask quickly.  “What does he look like?”<br/>
<br/>
The golem describes him.<br/>
<br/>
Tied to Melody’s feeling as you are, the revelation feels like a pit has opened under you feet and swallowed you whole.<br/>
<br/>
The other <i>Stellae </i>is Joe.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You wipe the tears from your eyes as the stream finally slows to a halt.  You’ve spent so much time being Melody that your feelings are sometimes difficult to disentangle from hers.  The relationship with Joe left you, the real you, feeling uncomfortable but the sting of betrayal that Melody feels has hurt you too.<br/>
<br/>
She wants nothing more than to confront him.  To ask him why.  It is tempting to give into those emotions.<br/>
<br/>
At the same time, the golem’s telling silence when you asked if you were in danger yourself.  Perhaps it’s time to start redressing the balance of your life a little by freeing Lisa?</span></div></div>


path: 112312222212111222111
author_id: imaj
title: The Truth, Part 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You find Joe waiting at a table in the coffee house opposite Keyserling.  He’s the only customer left, you took the time to drop the Libra off at the old elementary school so it’s now quite late.  The golem had finished polishing a second mask which now sits inside your bag.  The lone barista, the same one from Saturday night, looks at you unhappily as you walk in and slip into a booth opposite Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“Can I have a black coffee over here please.,” says Joe, raising his voice.  The barista mumbles unhappily as you struggle to hold back Melody’s tears.  Joe turns back to you, finally noticing the expression on your face.  “What’s wrong?”<br/>
<br/>
You left the <i>Libra </i>at the elementary school, but you still have another book in your bag.  You take it out, opening to a page you have marked already and pass it across to Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, that,” he says guiltily.<br/>
<br/>
“That,” you say.  You feel the tears as they run down your cheeks.<br/>
<br/>
“Where did you find a copy of <i>The Shadows</i>,” asks Joe.  He stares at the book, unwilling to meet your gaze.<br/>
<br/>
“I took it from Professor Blackwell’s library,” you explain between sobs.  “He told me all about you.”<br/>
<br/>
“And you believed everything he said,” says Joe, looking up and meeting your eyes.  There’s a fire there that you’ve not seen before.  “He’s using you Melody.”<br/>
<br/>
“And you aren’t,” you retort.  You sniffle and wipe your nose.  “Just tell me if you had any genuine feelings for me.”<br/>
<br/>
The barista deposits your coffee in front of you with a smirk.  It sits cooling in the silence until Joe eventually speaks.<br/>
<br/>
“You had this open at the chapter about Viritrilbia,” he says, picking up the book and leafing backwards through it.  “You’re right. I am a Viritrilbia and I guess I am the silver tongued charmer it mentions.  Did Blackwell tell you about my other <i>ousiarch</i>?”<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head.  “He barely told me anything, I worked out Viritrilbia myself.”  Your anger dims a moment as you consider Joe’s words.  “Other <i>ousiarch</i>?”<br/>
<br/>
Joe passes you back <i>The Shadows of the Planets</i>.  You wipe away the tears and look at the page he’s opened it to.  It’s headed ‘Chapter Two: Arbol’.  You start reading silently as Joe continues.  “We all have two <i>ousiarchs</i>, or planets I guess.  Mine are Viritrilbia and Arbol,” he says quietly, glancing at the barista.  She isn’t paying attention and is mopping the floor.  “Viritrilbia you already know about, Arbol is the sun – knowledge and enlightenment.  Not only am I incredibly good looking but I’m incredibly clever too.”  You stare flatly at him.  “Sorry,” he replies.  “Not the time for jokes.  Yeah, I thought I was clever.  I know it sounds conceited but I’ve not really met many people as intelligent as me:  My Dad, foster Dad really.  The woman that taught me, but she’s old enough to be my mother too.”<br/>
<br/>
You look up from the book for a moment.  Joe is staring at the table again.  “Then I met you, and I find someone my own age that’s just as clever as me,” he says, with a nervousness to his voice that wasn’t there before.  “I like that.  I want you to be a part of my life.”<br/>
<br/>
“But do you have feelings for me,” you ask bitterly.<br/>
<br/>
“I...  I’m not sure he admits.”<br/>
<br/>
“I see,” you reply, turning to face the window.  You stare outside for a few moments as fresh tears gather at your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“For Joe, not being sure is opening himself up to feelings he didn’t know he had,” says a voice behind you.  You turn back and see the mysterious student from Blackwell’s lecture and the library.  <i>The other Stellae</i> you think.  “Do you mind if I join you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Go ahead,” you say coldly.  He sits down beside Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“This is my brother Frank,” says Joe, tapping his fingers on the table.  “Who turns up at the worst moments.”<br/>
<br/>
“I doubt I could make more of a mess of everything than you have,” shoots back Frank in a knowing tone.  “If it’s any consolation I don’t think Joe meant for things to happen this way.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well that makes all the difference,” you interrupt bitterly.<br/>
<br/>
“It does,” continues Frank.  “Because the reason he’s making such a mess of this is because he <i>does </i>have feelings for you, at least a little.”  Joe smile a faint little smile at you.  Despite yourself, you find that you return it.  “Now if you two want to stop making eyes at each other I need to have a word with you about our mutual friend Blackwell.”<br/>
<br/>
“Bite me,” says Joe, a little of his attitude returning.<br/>
<br/>
“You’d love that,” deadpans Frank.  He looks directly at you.  “Blackwell’s talked to you, obviously.  You know who we are.  We don’t know what you <i>think </i>we are, or what Blackwell has told you about us.”<br/>
<br/>
“He said you wanted to kill him for what he was,” you eventually reply.  “Me too.”<br/>
<br/>
“The first part is true,” admits Frank.  “The second part…  Joe?”<br/>
<br/>
“She’s clean,” says Joe quickly.<br/>
<br/>
“Joe, I need you thinking clearly right now,” says Frank.  “With your head.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’d swear it,” replies Joe without a moments thought.<br/>
<br/>
“People like Blackwell, they find things.  Artefacts, objects, things left over that have a little power in them,” explains Frank.  “And you know what they say, power corrupts.  He’s twisted inside, from the items he’s found and used.  He’s not really human anymore, not in the head – he sees himself as above us.  And because of that we will have to kill him, to protect innocent people.”  Frank takes a deep breath.  “The items, the artefacts, we hide them away and make them safe.  Stop them corrupting more people.”<br/>
<br/>
“The Professor mentioned a book,” you interrupt.  “The <i>Libra</i>… uh…  the <i>Libra Personae</i>.”  You wonder for a moment if the book is corrupting you.  “He said something about using it to hide.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, that’s what we’re here for,” admits Frank.  “And when we find it we’re going to lock it up and throw away they key.  You know the end of that Harrison Ford movie, with the Ark of the Covenant?  Like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Rosebud,” moans Joe theatrically.  You smile a little.  “So what Blackwell told you was true, from a certain point of view.”<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks at you directly.  “And knowing what he told you, you still confronted us.  Why?”<br/>
<br/>
You shift uncomfortably in your seat.  “I don’t like him,” you admit.  “Just being near him leaves me feeling uncomfortable.  It sounds terrible when I say it like that, but what he said just seemed wrong.”<br/>
<br/>
Frank and Joe look at each other.  Frank raises an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, Joe in return shrugs slightly.<br/>
<br/>
“Isn’t it obvious, just talking to the Professor,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“To some people,” says Frank.  “I think you’d better tell us everything, starting at the very beginning.” </span></div></div>


path: 1123122222121112221111
author_id: imaj
title: The Truth, Part 3
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You cough nervously and begin.  “It all started when I found the <i>Libra Personae</i> in Arnholm’s Used Books.”<br/>
<br/>
The shock on Frank and Joe’s faces is something that you’ll treasure for the rest of your life, however short it is.  You don’t know what possessed you to tell them that, and you can only imagine how they will react once they find out the whole story.<br/>
<br/>
Frank recovers his composure first.  You feel a greasy pressure building up in the air around you as he makes a couple of weird gestures with his hands.  Then Joe grabs his arm and the pressure subsides.<br/>
<br/>
“If she was going to do something,” says Joe directly to Frank.  “She would have done it and not told us.  I say we hear her out.”<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks at you, staring directly into your eyes.  “I’ll listen to what she has to say,” he says darkly.  You sense that your life is hanging by a thread.<br/>
<br/>
So you tell the truth, all of it, starting with how you first found the <i>Libra </i>in the used book store.  You explain your first experiments with book, how you showed it to your cousin Umeko and how she told you to get rid of it.  Then there was Blackwell; his frantic offers to buy the book off and then the burglary at your family home.  You tell Frank and Joe how you decided that you would use it infiltrate Blackwell’s life to stop him from infiltrating your own.<br/>
<br/>
At this point Joe, who has been sitting raptly, interrupts.  “Melody,  I thought you were from out of state,” he asks.  “How did Blackwell get to your family?”<br/>
<br/>
The moment you’ve been dreading.  You look around, looking for an excuse to delay.  The place is empty and the barista is cleaning the coffee machine.  “I’m not really Melody,” you say in a quiet voice.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t get that,” says Joe, leaning forward.  Frank looks to the side, his face downcast.  “It sounded like you said you weren’t really Melody.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s what I said,” you reply, chewing nervously on your lip.  For a moment it looks like Joe will explode and you see his finger nails digging into the palms of his hands, almost to the point of drawing blood.  Wordlessly, he gets up from his seat and storms out of the coffee house.  The barista casts a sly glance in your direction but Frank glares at her and she looks away quickly.<br/>
<br/>
“I know you’re telling the truth now,” says Frank quietly after a minute.  “Because you wouldn’t tell a lie that alienated the one of us that’s on your side.”<br/>
<br/>
“I guess both of us have made a real mess of this,” you say with a little forced laugh.<br/>
<br/>
“He’ll calm down,” says Frank.  “Eventually.  The question is, if you aren’t Melody Weiss, who are you?”<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath.  “My name is Will Prescott.”  Amazingly, Frank’s face looks even more shocked.  “What is it?  The masks disguise you perfectly.  It shouldn’t be so shocking that I’m really a guy.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not that,” says Frank, his face is almost white.  “It’s your name:  Will <i>Prescott</i>.  Is your dad Harris Prescott?  Of Salopek Aerospace?”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh… yeah,” you reply, not quite understanding why it’s such a big deal.<br/>
<br/>
“Unbelievable,” he mutters to himself.  “How did you end up as Melody?”<br/>
<br/>
You explain how you sneaked into Blackwell lecture and saw a golem for the first time.  How you made a mask of Melody and used it to get a job cataloguing Blackwell’s library.  Haltingly, you describe how you faked your disappearance, kidnapped Melody and took her place before eventually casting the spell that turned her into a golem.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s why I’m telling you this, I guess,” you add, interrupting your tale.  “I’m scared that I might end up just like him.  Twisted on the inside like you said.”  You look at the table guiltily.  “Will you remember that when you decide what to do with me.”<br/>
<br/>
“That you told us the truth will count in your favour, at least,” replies Frank.  “Joe and I are no angels either.  The important thing is wanting to turn around before you lose yourself completely.  Ultimately it’ll be up to our Dad to decide what happens to you.”<br/>
<br/>
“You know most of the rest of it from here,” you continue.  “I kept working for Blackwell, kept working through the <i>Libra </i>and met Joe.  And tonight Blackwell showed me something.”  Frank raises his eyebrow.  “Magic I guess.  I made a little paper horse walk across a desk by itself and suddenly he wants to teach me magic.  That’s the one thing scarier than him killing me:  Being his little mini-me.”<br/>
<br/>
“So you came to us,” says Frank, understanding dawning on his face.<br/>
<br/>
“So I came to you,” you repeat.  “Because I saw what he’s like.  He’s still hunting me, looking for the <i>Libra</i>.  He has a…” you choke a little on the words.  “A friend of mine prisoner.  He’s out pretending to be her and hiding from you guys.”<br/>
<br/>
“How do you know this,” asks Frank suspiciously.  “He showed you?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you squeak nervously.  “He claimed it was just a mask of a made up person, but I recognised her.  He left a golem with a mask of himself on it so you wouldn’t notice he was gone.  There was… uh… a spell, later on in the Libra,” you explain.  “It lets you put a golem like on the inside of a mask.  Once he was gone I took the mask off the golem and used it.  It obeys me now, not Blackwell.”  You pause for a second.  “I made it tell me the truth.”<br/>
<br/>
Frank actually smiles, the first time he’s shown you any real warmth.  “Very clever,” he says.  “If I know Dad, that will count in your favour too.  That’s everything?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“One last thing,” says Frank.  “Where’s the <i>Libra</i>?”<br/>
<br/>
“I kept it all in the basement of an abandoned elementary school in Acheson,” you reply.  “The <i>Libra</i>, the golems – both of them – and all the materials I had.”<br/>
<br/>
Frank pulls out his wallet and throws a couple of bills on the table.  “Come on then,  We’ll grab Joe and go pick it all up.  He should have calmed down by now.”<br/>
<br/>
“I…  uh… what?”<br/>
<br/>
“You want to rescue your friend or not,” asks Frank.  “Get a move on.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The truck ride back to Frank and Joe’s place is awkward.  Frank drives and Joe sits up front, glaring out the window without saying a word.  You sit in the back, yourself again, along with your two golems.  One wears the Melody mask, dressed in the clothes you were wearing a little while ago.  The other golem, the one made from the real Melody wears the mask that combines Umeko’s body and your own mind and Frank’s jacket.  There were no spare clothes for it and even now you can’t help but glance at your cousin’s body.<br/>
<br/>
Frank insisted on taking everything from the basement.  The <i>Libra </i>itself - he treated it as if it were radioactive.  You guess that from his viewpoint it is.  All the materials and components were bagged up and thrown in the trunk.  They even got the golemized mask of K.C., although they didn’t think to check your shoulder bag.  It still has one blank mask and a little sealant inside it, although the Melody golem carries it now.<br/>
<br/>
Frank pulls the truck into the driveway of small house.  “Blackwell’s <i>gwarchadweid </i>is too powerful to deal with right now, so we’ll go in the morning,”  says Frank.  You nod in agreement, even though the word means nothing to you.  “Tell the golems to follow Joe.”<br/>
<br/>
You follow his instruction and troop into the house after Frank.  He leads you up the stairs and into a small bedroom.  The furniture is laid out with near military precision, everything has a place and everything is in it.  You are almost scared to sit down because you’d crease something.<br/>
<br/>
“This is my room,” explains Frank.  “You can sleep here tonight.  We’ll need you tomorrow.”  He shuffles awkwardly.  “Look, Prescott.  I’m impressed with what you’ve done.  It took balls.  All of it.  It took balls, but don’t kid yourself.  You’ve done some bad things and there’s going to have to be a reckoning.”  He stops and looks to the side distractedly.  “Just think about how you can show your good intentions.  The <i>Stellae </i>need people with that kind of bravery and who can think around corners and…”  he tails off, unable to finish the sentence.  “Just think about it,” he says after a minutes silence.<br/>
<br/>
You lie back on the bed as he leaves and think about your situation.  Part of you agrees with him.  You want to be punished for what you’ve done.  Another chafes at the idea – It wasn’t your fault, you were just a victim of circumstance.  If you could somehow get the spare mask from inside the shoulder bag you could disappear into the night and leave everything behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You don’t have any time to consider the idea further because there is a knock at the door.  Joe enters and you prop yourself up on the bed.<br/>
<br/>
“Can we talk,” he asks.</span></div></div>


path: 11231222221211122211111
author_id: imaj
title: Love Hurts
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You give Joe a nod and he comes in.  He looks round the room.  “I don’t know how Frank can live like this,” he says, finding a chair to sit down in.  “It’d drive me mad in minutes.”  He pulls a book out from under his arm and you recognise it as <i>The Shadows of the Planets</i>.  “Can I keep this?  I used to have a copy but I gave it to an old friend a month or two ago.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not mine to give,” you reply.  “It’s Blackwell’s and he’s going to notice if it’s missing.”<br/>
<br/>
“He isn’t going to be around long enough to care,” says Joe.  “So I say it’s yours now.  Unless you want to give it to me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then take it,” you say.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks, I will,” replies Joe.<br/>
<br/>
There is awkward silence.<br/>
<br/>
You sit up on the bed and look at Joe, who is fidgeting nervously.  “You didn’t come in here just to ask for the book, did you?”<br/>
<br/>
“I want the book,” exclaims Joe.  “It’s a good book.  A little old fashioned and maybe out of date in places but it’s the best introduction to the <i>ousiarchs </i>I know of…” he trails off.  “Yeah, I wanted to say I was sorry.  I owe you an apology.”<br/>
<br/>
“<i>You </i>owe <i>me </i>an apology,” you ask incredulously.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah I do,” says Joe sheepishly.  “I lost it back there and I ran out on you when Frank was making ready to chop you in half.  Knowing him, probably literally.  He’s always so angry, and so in control of it.  I’m too easy going.  Whenever I get angry I don’t know how to handle it.”  He gets up from the chair and extends his hand.  “We good?”<br/>
<br/>
“I guess,” you reply, shaking his hand.  His grip is warm and friendly and…  <i>Don’t go there</i>.  “Listen, about Melody,” you say once he has sat down again.  “I never meant for it to happen like that.  When you wear one of those masks it’s easy to get caught up in someone else’s feeling.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t worry about it dude,” says Joe, just a little too quickly and with just a little to much cheerfulness.  He holds the smile for a few seconds before it cracks.  “I’m feeling a little mixed up about it all,” he admits.  “Part of me wants to shake your hand.  My dad, my real dad, was a con man.  He used to run all sorts of scams and I would help him.  I was only a little kid at the time and it was like a game.  That part of me is so impressed.  Me and Frank would never have known if you hadn’t told us and a little voice inside me keeps saying it wishes I had been part of the action.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s an addictive feeling,” you admit.  “Wearing a mask and playing a part.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can imagine,” admits Joe.  “But there’s another part of me that’s been torn apart by the betrayal of it all.  I’ve been with a lot of girls, but I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in love with one.”  He looks at the floor.  “I don’t even understand how I felt about Melody, just that I’d never felt that way before.”  He pulls a golden disc out of his pocket.  “I used this on Melody, you I mean, while you were sleeping that first night.  It’s a sort of magical Geiger counter.  It was just a hunch,” he explains with a shrug.  “I figured Blackwell had to be interested in you for some reason, you see.”<br/>
<br/>
He puts the disc back in his pocket.<br/>
<br/>
“So imagine how I felt.  I’d slept with this incredibly clever girl and it turned out she had the power to get in the <i>Stellae </i>too.  Do you understand what that means?”<br/>
<br/>
“Shit,” is all you can offer in response.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, shit,” echoes Joe.  “We move about a lot.  Never in one place for long, so there’s no time to form lasting relationships except with each other – The whole <i>Stellae </i>is like this big extended family.  So I’d found this girl I had feelings for and she could come with us and we’d be <i>together</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“And it turned out it was me,” you say.<br/>
<br/>
“And it turned out it was you,” echoes Joe bitterly.  “No offence dude but your not exactly what I was looking for.”  You both fall silent for several minutes.  “You know what the worst thing is?”  You shake your head and Joe continues.  “If it was just me, if no-one else knew, I’d be tempted to shove you back in the mask and pretend you were Melody all along.  A fake Melody that could come with me is better than a real Melody I’d have to leave behind.”<br/>
<br/>
“The real Melody is a statue downstairs,” you add.  After a moment you guiltily continue.  “You guys can fix her, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“If anyone can, Dad can.  Mine and Frank’s adoptive dad I mean, I haven’t seen my real dad in years.”<br/>
<br/>
“It would be the right thing to do,” you ask nervously.  “Wouldn’t it?”<br/>
<br/>
“This is the worst thing of all,” says Joe, a single tear streaking down his cheek.  “Frank will want to do the right thing.  Frank always wants to do the right thing.  And because Frank wants to do the right thing, I’m going to do the right thing:  I’m going to save a girl I love who doesn’t even know that I exist and I’ll never see again.”<br/>
<br/>
You sit in stunned silence.  There’s nothing you can say, no platitude that will make it better.  “I’m sorry,” is all you managed to choke out.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you,” says Joe, smiling at you weakly.  Without a further word, he gets up and leaves the room.<br/>
<br/>
You do not sleep well that night.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Frank wakes you up with a holler early the following morning.  You stumble down the stairs to find both brothers bright eyed and alert in the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
“Take this Prescott,” says Frank handing you a glass of fresh orange juice.  “We were just discussing what we were going to do about Blackwell.”<br/>
<br/>
“You were,” you hazard, trying to focus your eyes properly.  “Uh, what time is it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Just after dawn,” answers Joe.  “The <i>gwarchadweid </i>should be weakening rapidly now.  We want to move on it when we can.”<br/>
<br/>
You raise your hand and both Frank and Joe stop and look at you.  “What,” asks Frank.<br/>
<br/>
“What the fuck is a gwarcy… wachie…,” you stutter.  “Uh… one of those things.”<br/>
<br/>
“The <i>gwarchadweid</i>,” says Joe smoothly.  “Is the guardian of Blackwell’s house.  It’s an unpleasant one, tied to darkness and suffering so its power diminishes during daylight.  If we catch it now, it’s bleeding power rapidly and easy to take down.”<br/>
<br/>
“How come I never saw it,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“You probably did,” replies Frank.  “It’s mostly a non-corporeal entity.  It’s something you’d feel rather than see.”<br/>
<br/>
“The library was creepy, I guess,” you explain.  “And then there was that weird stuffed one eyed monkey in it.”<br/>
<br/>
Frank and Joe look at each other.  “That could be it,” says Joe.  “Look, the thing’s dangerous, a major league spirit.  It’s going to be far safer if you stay here.  All we need for you to do is to phone your golem and tell it to co-operate with us.  We’ll do all the badass shit and be back in time for lunch.”<br/>
<br/>
You could just do as you’ve been told but it rankles.  Lisa is prisoner there.  You also feel like you owe something to Joe, to make up for what you’ve done.  Should you insist on coming along?<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122222121112221112
author_id: imaj
title: And Nothing Like The Truth
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You cough nervously.  Melody isn’t a practised liar, nor is it something that has ever come easily to you. “It all started when I took the cataloguing job Professor Blackwell was offering his class,” you say hesitantly, shifting your gaze between Joe, Frank and the table.  Both listen attentively and it occurs to you that they <i>expect </i>you to be nervous.  “I don’t have much of an income or savings.  And it seemed that he wanted to give it to someone able too – one of the best students in his class.  With hindsight I guess he was always going to be looking for someone to take on as an apprentice.”<br/>
<br/>
You pause to take a sip of your coffee. It’s starting to get a little cold.<br/>
<br/>
“All I knew then was that I needed the money, and he was paying well too.  Too well I suppose, but well enough for me to overlook just how creepy his house was,” you explain with a shrug.  “That was what I remember most from the first time I visited, the way the clocks never quite keep in time in the library and the weird stuffed monkey there.”<br/>
<br/>
Joe and Frank’s gazes flicker momentarily from you to each other as you mention this.  It happens so quickly you almost don’t notice it.<br/>
<br/>
“The books he had me look at that night I weren’t so memorable, except for this one in German.  I didn’t realise it then but it was describing how that book the Professor was looking for, the <i>Libra Personae</i>, was used in 16th century Germany.  It’s not a part of history I’ve studied but I think there were a lot of witch trials then.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” interrupts Joe with a goofy grin.  “The <i>Malleus Maleficarum</i> and the Inquisition.  Not the most edifying moment of <i>Stellae </i>history, but that’s when we trace the origin of the Libra too.  What,” he asks as Frank gives him a sharp nudge with his elbow.  “It’s true, I researched it all when Dad sent us out here…  Oh right, yeah…” he trails off.<br/>
<br/>
“The night I read <i>The Shadows of The Planets</i>,” you pick up from where you had left off.  “The Professor actually asked me to read it, asked me what I thought of it.  I told him it was nonsense.  He seemed disappointed but didn’t press the issue.  That was the night I met you,” you say, looking directly at Joe.  “That wasn’t a coincidence was it,” you ask ruefully.<br/>
<br/>
“No,” replies Joe quietly, unable to meet your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“I remember thinking something was following me,” you add.  “Was that Blackwell, or something to do with you two?”<br/>
<br/>
Frank folds his arms and leans on the table, giving you a hard look.  “That was me,” he admits quietly.  “I wanted know why Blackwell was so interested in you.”<br/>
<br/>
A though occurs to you and you give voice to it with every ounce of indignation the Melody persona you are holding onto feels.  “My room.  The break in.  Was that you too?”<br/>
<br/>
Frank does not reply, he simply stares past you with out a word.<br/>
<br/>
“At least we knew you weren’t involved with Blackwell then though,” interrupts Joe with a little forced cheer.  “That was a good thing, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“We didn’t <i>find </i>anything,” says Frank through gritted teeth.  “There’s a difference.”<br/>
<br/>
You tap into Melody’s emotions and let the tears well up again.  “How could you do that?”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t understand,” replies Frank quickly.  “The <i>Libra </i>is bad news.  <i>Blackwell </i>is bad news.  We needed to know where you fitted in.”<br/>
<br/>
The three of you sit in complete silence for minutes on end, unable to think of what to say next.<br/>
<br/>
“What happened next,” Frank eventually asks quietly.  “What happened when you went to his house tonight?”<br/>
<br/>
“He must have thought I was ready,” you say, looking around the coffee house.  The barista is at the far end of the room, mopping the floor.  “Or maybe he was desperate.  Either way, he told me the truth,”  You look directly at Frank for a few moments.  “His truth anyway.   We made, I don’t know what the word for it would be…  He folded up some paper into an animal shape and brought it to life.”<br/>
<br/>
“Homunculus,” interrupts Joe.  “That’s the word.”<br/>
<br/>
“I made one too,” you say, ignoring the interruption.  You continue slowly and deliberately.  “And mine walked too, <i>further </i>than the Professor’s did.”<br/>
<br/>
“I told you,” says Joe to his brother, nudging him excitedly.<br/>
<br/>
“This isn’t the time for that,” hisses Frank back.<br/>
<br/>
“As if it wasn’t enough showing me that magic is real, and that I could do it, he told me about the book you’re looking for,” you add.  “The <i>Libra</i>.  He pulled out this mask, pressed it to his face and… and…”<br/>
<br/>
“He became someone else,” finishes off Frank.  “Melody, this is important.  Who did he become, is he using the mask to hide somewhere?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” you reply hesitantly.  “He’s taken the place of a girl called Lisa Yarborough, at a school in Saratoga Falls called Westside High.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s very specific,” replies Frank suspiciously.  “How did you find all that out?”<br/>
<br/>
“Once he’d become Lisa,” you continue haltingly, hoping that Frank mistakes your hesitancy for nerves rather than spotting that you have no idea what to say next.  “He put another mask on this statue and it came to life… only it looked like Professor Blackwell.  He, I mean the real him, the one that looked like Lisa, said he was going to search for the <i>Libra</i>…”<br/>
<br/>
“He doesn’t have it,” interrupts Frank.<br/>
<br/>
“No, he thinks it’s hidden at Westside.  He told me that he was going to search for it and the fake version of himself, the golem he called it, would teach me more about magic, but…” you tail of for a moment a sudden burst of inspiration strikes.  “I didn’t trust him.  I didn’t trust him so I took the mask off the golem and put it on myself.  If it knew what the Professor knew about magic, it must have known everything else the Professor knew.  I wanted to know what he was hiding from me.”  You stop suddenly.<br/>
<br/>
“What,” asks Joe anxiously.  “What did you learn?”<br/>
<br/>
“It wouldn’t have been good,” says Frank sourly.<br/>
<br/>
“He was lying” you say, and to your surprise you find yourself crying again.  “Oh god he was lying.  He’s killed people.  He’s a murderer and he’s killed people and I could remember every one of them.  One of them was a girl in my class,” you continue, the tears flowing freely now.  “And he’s keeping the real Lisa locked up in his basement.  I put the mask back on the <i>golem </i>and I ran.  I’m so sorry, I just ran and ran.  That’s the real reason I confronted you Joe,” you say with a sniffle.  “However bad Blackwell made you out to be, he’s worse.  I’m so sorry…”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s okay,” says Joes.  He moves round the table to sit next to you.  He hugs you gently and you rest your head on his shoulder, stifling another sob.  “It’s okay, what you did was very brave, and it’s going to help us catch Blackwell.  Isn’t it Frank.”<br/>
<br/>
“I guess,” replies Frank, sounding a little embarrassed.<br/>
<br/>
“Frank, why don’t you go scout out this girl’s house,” says Joe.  “You know where it is Melody, don’t you?”  You nod silently.   “Frank will keep an eye on Blackwell and I’ll take you back to our place.  You don’t mind spending the night there, do you?  So we can keep you safe.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you,” you whisper.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“You can sleep in my room,” says Joe, ushering you in through the door to his bedroom.  It’s a mess, the bed is unmade, clothes are strewn over the floor and there’s a stale musty smell pervading the air.  “I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs,” he continues, looking around the room.  “Uh, maybe I should tidy it up a little?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok Joe,” you say, turning to face him and favouring him with a faint little half smile.  “I’m just tired, and I want to sleep.”  You lean in and peck him on the cheek.  “I want to wake up and this will all be over.”<br/>
<br/>
“It will be soon,” he replies backing out the room, holding the door ready to close behind him.  “If there’s anything you need, just ask.”<br/>
<br/>
“I will,” you say, smiling again.<br/>
<br/>
“Goodnight then,” says Joe.  He makes to shut the door but then stops.  “Just one more question before I go <i>Melody</i>.  Why don’t you tell me who you really are?”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222221211122211121
author_id: imaj
title: An Unlikely Offer
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“What do mean,” you say levelly, struggling to keep your voice from cracking.<br/>
<br/>
“You took the mask off the golem,” replies Joe, taking a step back into the room and closing the door behind him.  “Off the golem.  It can’t be that easy, just knowing there’s a mask and pulling.  You’d need a gesture, or a word, or an effort of will.”<br/>
<br/>
<i>Damn</i>, you think.  “Maybe I know how to do it,” you say, your voice creeping up a little.  “Maybe Blackwell showed me how.”<br/>
<br/>
“That doesn’t fit with what we know about him,” replies Joe, folding his arms.  Somehow he seems taller, more threatening.  “Warlocks like him guard their knowledge closely.  He’d know the mask of himself would hold all his secrets and he would hardly give you the key to finding them all out.”  He takes a couple of steps forward, looming over you.  “If he didn’t tell you, then you must have found out how to elsewhere, and where else is there except for the <i>Libra</i>.  You’re the one with the book, aren’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“If you think that,” you say, stalling for time.  “Why did you let Frank spy on Blackwell?  The <i>Libra </i>is dangerous, so he said.  Why confront me alone.  Assuming you’re right of course”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe I want to give you a chance to explain,” he says.  “Whoever you are.”<br/>
<br/>
Defeated, you hold your hands up.  Joe has it all worked out and there’s no way you can bluff your way out of this one.  “I’ll take the mask off,” you say.  “Just…  Well, just don’t react too badly or anything.”  Joe twitches as you move one hand towards your face.  “I’m not going to try anything,” you say, moving the hand slowly to the side.  “If I was going to try anything I’d have done it a long time ago.”  After a second Joe nods and you bring the hand back up.  Mumbling the right words, you pull away at your face before descending into darkness.<br/>
<br/>
You wake to find the bedclothes draped over you, with no idea of how long you’ve been unconscious.  You lean on your elbows to take a look around.  Joe is leaning against a desk, spinning the mask of Melody around in his hands.  “What happens now,” you ask quietly, turning your eyes away from him.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I don't want to kiss you, dude,” replies Joe with a smile.  “Not anymore anyway.  I think you’d better tell me the whole story.  Again.”  His expression darkens briefly.  “And no lies this time.”<br/>
<br/>
“I will,” you say quickly.  “Tell the truth this time I mean, starting with my name:  Will Prescott”<br/>
<br/>
You begin the tale with Arnholm's and the <i>Libra</i>, and your meeting Blackwell afterward; your fear of him and what he might do; and how you infiltrated his life even as he was trying to infiltrate yours. Joe takes it all in calmly, even as you explain how you turned the real Melody into a nearly lifeless statue.  If he presses you at a couple of points, it's only for clarification.<br/>
<br/>
He's silent when you're done. You're feeling wrung out, and though he has been very gentle you can't help but feel fear. "So," you ask in a hollow voice.  “What are you going to do with me? I mean, this changes everything, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well sure. No way I'm gonna sleep with you now."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, about Melody." You cringe. " I-- Well, I basically killed her."<br/>
<br/>
“Did you,” he asks sharply  “As far as Melody’s friends and family are concerned she’s very much alive.  The only two people that know any different are you and me.”<br/>
<br/>
“And Frank,” you interrupt.  “I mean I’m going to have to explain all this again when he gets back.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I guess,” replies Joe uncertainly, his eyes flicking to the side momentarily.  He pulls a gold disc out from a drawer in the desk.  "Blackwell gave you a magical placement test with those homunculi," he continues. "I've already confirmed that with this. It’s like a kind of magical Geiger detector. I had it with me the night I met you, and on a hunch I turned it on you.”<br/>
<br/>
“What are you saying,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
"And you've already proven by your actions that you've got the moral and ethical compass,” he continues, ignoring you.  “As soon as you found out about Blackwell and what he'd done, you came to us, to put a stop to it.  You’ve got what it takes to be a member of the <i>Stellae</i>. You could join us.”<br/>
<br/>
“Seriously,” you splutter.  “After everything I’ve done?”<br/>
<br/>
Joe stops for a moment to think.  “Sure,” he eventually says.  “None of us are angels.  I was a con artist when the <i>Stellae </i>recruited me.  Seven years old,” he adds with what almost sounds like a touch of pride.  “If anything you’ve also proved you have the wits and skill to work in the field.”<br/>
<br/>
“But it’s Melody you want,” you reply.  I mean you used that thing on me when I was her, and I made the homunculus move when I was her too.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, it was you all along.  Think about it, you made those masks, worked out the spells from the <i>Libra</i>.  It’s hardly <i>Magic for Dummies</i>,” explains Joe. “Possibly Melody didn't even have the stuff I was talking about. You're the one that does. I double checked while you were zonked from taking off the mask. You are the one we'd be interested in."<br/>
<br/>
"Me?" you gasp. "But I'm-- I'm not anybody!"<br/>
<br/>
"On the contrary, you've been two people," he retorts. "Melody Weiss and Will Prescott." He repeats the last name, and rolls it around in his mouth. "What's your dad's name, and where does he work?"<br/>
<br/>
"My dad? Uh, his name is Harris, and he works at Salopek Aerospace. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
He barks out a laugh. "Oh, we definitely want you now. Of course, we can't make anyone do anything. So, when I say that we want you, don't think it's like we want to put you in jail. I mean that we'd really, really like you to join our group, and we'd be heartbroken if you didn't.  How long has it been since you've been home? Your real home?"<br/>
<br/>
"A week or so," you mutter guiltily.<br/>
<br/>
“Sounds to me like you have a choice,” say Joe with a nervous smile.  “You could go home, explain to your family where you’ve been for the last week.  That’s after you’ve explained to Frank why you lied to him.”  Joe shrugs.  “I’ll do my best to keep him from getting to angry.  Or…”  Joe pauses for second, giving you just enough time to dwell on Frank’s likely reaction when he learns the truth.  He puts down the golden disc before passing the mask of Melody to you with an underarm throw.  “Or you could become Melody permanently.”<br/>
<br/>
You almost drop the mask in surprise.  “I don’t understand.  What are you saying?”<br/>
<br/>
“Only two people know the truth about what happened to Melody,” he explains.  “Why tell anyone else?  This way… There’ll be fewer questions asked about you joining the <i>Stellae</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“But,” you respond, your mouth hanging open.  “I thought you had feelings for Melody.”<br/>
<br/>
Joe’s smile wavers.  “I had feelings for the Melody that could have become a <i>Stellae</i>.  Even if we manage to undo what you’ve done to her, I’d probably never see her again.  But if you become Melody…” he tails off.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow nervously as you finger the rim of the mask.  “You’re blackmailing me,” you say with a sudden realisation.  “I thought you were the good guys.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not,” protests Joe hotly.  “I’m just saying this way would be easier, for all of us.  Besides,” he continues, that nervous smile reappearing and becoming more confident.  “Do you remember how it felt?  Didn’t it feel good?”  In the silence that follows you hear a door opening and closing in the distance.  “That sounds like Frank coming back.  Decision time, or do I have to explain to him why I’ve got a guy in my bedroom?  That’ll totally ruin my reputation if word gets out.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at the mask in your hands, the image of Melody clearly visible in it.  Joe is right, it would be easier if Will Prescott disappeared completely.  You bite your lower lip nervously.  Melody’s thoughts and feeling have vanished since you took the mask of, but you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that enjoyed how Joe made her feel.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222212111222111212
author_id: imaj
title: Good Intentions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It will be simpler this way, you think, as you put the mask to your face.  No inconvenient questions about where Will Prescott has been, or where Melody Weiss has gone.  You let the darkness take you as the mask goes on.  In a few minutes you will awake back into your new life.<br/>
<br/>
You stir at the sound of voices.  “So you checked up on Blackwell,” says one.  That’s Joe, you think, stretching a little.<br/>
<br/>
“Both his house and this Lisa girl,” comes the reply.  It must be Frank.  “I couldn’t get close to Blackwell’s house, of course.  The girl’s sleeping now.  No way to verify your girlfriend’s story,” he adds sourly.<br/>
<br/>
“I trust her,” replies Joe mildly.  “She’s telling the truth.  What do you want me to do?  Use the <i>veritas </i>touch on her?”<br/>
<br/>
“Your problem,” snarls Frank.  “Is that you think with your cock.”<br/>
<br/>
“And your problem is that you don’t think at all,” quips Joe in return<br/>
<br/>
“Um, hello,” you interrupt querulously.  You sit up in bed, holding the bedcovers tight around you.  “I’m sitting right here.”  Joe barks a laugh, but Frank flushes red with anger.<br/>
<br/>
“We could sit here and argue all night,” smiles Joe.  “But we’d all rather do something about Blackwell, wouldn’t we?”<br/>
<br/>
“Absolutely,” you agree.  Frank nods his assent.<br/>
<br/>
“But we have a problem because there are two places to cover:  His house and this Lisa.  It’s a simple problem with a simple solution…”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t you dare say ‘we split up’,” interrupts Frank with a growl.<br/>
<br/>
“…we split up,” continues Joe.  Frank plants his palm firmly against his forehead.  “Frank can follow Lisa, to make sure that Blackwell doesn’t pull off a quick switch and disappear while we aren’t looking.  Melody and I will secure his house.”<br/>
<br/>
“Now I know you aren’t thinking straight,” replies Frank without looking up.  “You think you can past the guardian by yourself?  Or with help from that novice?”<br/>
<br/>
“Actually, yeah” says Joe grinning widely.  “Because what <i>you </i>aren’t thinking of is that Blackwell’s given her passage into the house already.  The guardian isn’t going to attack her,” he explains.  “Melody can get inside, send the guardian to sleep and then I go in and clean up.”<br/>
<br/>
“And it all turns out to be an elaborate trap to lure you inside with Melody here betraying you,” says Frank, rolling his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Melody would never betray me,” replies Joe with mock outrage.  “She loves me far too much.”  You stare at Joe levelly and narrow your eyes.  “What’s the matter honeybunch,” he adds.  “Don’t you love me any more?”<br/>
<br/>
“Keep this up and I’ll be betraying you right now,” you deadpan.  Joe bursts into laughter.<br/>
<br/>
Frank, however, does not look so amused.  “The <i>veritas </i>touch,” he says flatly.  “Now.”<br/>
<br/>
Joes sighs and gets up and walks over.  He sits on the edge of the bed and takes you by the hand.  “I’m going to use a little trick,” he explains.  “Which is going to force you to tell the truth.  I don’t like using it much,” he adds, turning to glare at Frank.  “Because it’s downright rude.”<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath.  “I’ve got nothing to hide,” you lie.<br/>
<br/>
You feel a jolt pass up your arm and you almost pull away as if bitten.  “Are you still working with Blackwell,” asks Joe in a serious sounding voice.  He looks directly into your eyes and winks.<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you reply quickly, the word forcing its way out of your mouth with urgency.<br/>
<br/>
“Why not,” asks Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s a monster,” you reply.  “I don’t want to end up like him.”<br/>
<br/>
Joe turns to face Frank, although he still holds onto your hand.  “Satisfied,” he asks.  Frank nods curtly and Joe turns back round.  “Do you love me,” he asks, sending another jolt of power up your arm.<br/>
<br/>
“A little,” you blurt out and Joe grins inanely.  Frank shakes his head and stomps out the room.  “Joe,” you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
After Frank closes the door behind him you continue.  “Do you…” you begin, but Joe puts his finger to your lips and hushes you.  You sit in silence for a minute until you hear the sound of footsteps moving away from outside.  “He seems pretty paranoid,” you eventually say.<br/>
<br/>
“Frank,” replies Joe.  “Nah, Frank’s just cautious.  You haven’t met a proper paranoid until you’ve met Rick Bredon.  Great guy, but a little crazy.”<br/>
<br/>
“And you aren’t,” you pout.  “That was a rotten trick to pull.”<br/>
<br/>
“I just wanted to know for sure,” he replies grinning before leaning in for a kiss.  You rear away.  “What?”<br/>
<br/>
“You still want to,” you ask, leaving the question hanging.  “Even though you know who I really am,” you add in a whisper.<br/>
<br/>
“Who you really are,” replies Joe very quietly.  “Is Melody Weiss, that’s what you decided.  Isn’t it?”  He leans in and tries to kiss you again<br/>
<br/>
“What about the real Melody,” you reply, ducking away and ignoring his question.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, <i>you </i>are the real Melody now,” he replies.  Joe starts rubbing your arm gently with his hand.  You feel your body respond, even as you try to quell it.  You sigh loudly and Joe smiles again.  “We’ll find somewhere to hide the golems, if that’s what you mean.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s easier that way,” you say quietly, trying to convince yourself more than anyone else.  Joe leans in for the kiss again and this time you don’t deny him.  You let yourself luxuriate in Melody’s feelings as Joe tenderly works your adopted form.  If it feels so good, so natural, you think it would be easiest just to go along with it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The bed is empty when you awake the following morning.  An impish little Melody thought occurs to you and you pull one of Joe’s shirts from off the floor.  After a quick sniff to check that it isn’t <i>too </i>dirty you quickly don it.  Melody’s always wanted to do that whole boyfriend’s shirt thing, she’s just never had the chance.  You squash the little spark of guilt about stealing her moment and head down the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
Frank and Joe are in the kitchen, arguing again it seems.  Joe wraps his arm around you as you enter and you snuggle in closer without even thinking about it.  Frank merely glances at you uneasily.<br/>
<br/>
“So who put you in charge,” says Joe defiantly.  They’ve being going at it for a while now, you guess.<br/>
<br/>
“Dad did,” replies Frank, bristling with aggression.  He glares back at Joe, his arms folded and his teeth bared.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s the problem,” you say detaching yourself from Joe.  You falter as Frank turns his gaze on you, as if your legs are getting ready to slide out from under you.<br/>
<br/>
Then Frank’s expression softens and you feel your strength return.  “Sorry,” he mumbles somewhat shamefacedly.  “I just don’t like this idea of splitting up.  We should take down Blackwell and mop up his house later.”  At least he believes you about Lisa now, that’s progress of a sort.<br/>
<br/>
“But we need to hit both at the same time in case there’s any communication between the two,” explains Joe.  Frank nods unhappily.  “Look, Melody knows Blackwell better than either of us,” continues Joe, striking a conciliatory tone.  “Maybe we should ask her.”<br/>
<br/>
Although you dislike being talked about if you aren’t there again, you resist the urge to make another biting comment.  You watch carefully as Frank’s gaze flickers uncertainly between the two of you.  “I guess,” he replies.  He seems unhappy, but not enough so to argue any further.</span></div></div>


path: 1123122222121112221112121
author_id: imaj
title: A Discerning Readership
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“He’s going to make you pay for that later you know,” says Joe.  He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes firmly on the road.  You look up and shrug.  “He likes being in charge.  It’s hard enough when I have to tell him what to do.  He’s going to be unhappy that you knocked back his idea.”<br/>
<br/>
You can’t think of anything to say, so you look out the passenger window.<br/>
<br/>
Joe keeps on driving.  It’s just the pair of you in the boys’ battered old truck, for Frank is tracking the fake Lisa at Westside High School.  “That’s Frank though, always so angry.  He’ll probably phone Dad, just to give him a ‘status update’.”  Joe falls silent for a few moments.  “That’s not going to be a bad thing though.  We could get you into the <i>Stellae</i>, well, you’d have to ask to join.”<br/>
<br/>
You listen to Joe ramble on until something finally catches your attention.  “We aren’t heading for Blackwell’s house,” you observe.<br/>
<br/>
“Nope,” replies Joe.  He offers nothing more on the matter.  You turn round and hit him with one of Melody’s best stares, which only sets him off laughing.  “I thought we’d pay your hideout a visit first.”<br/>
<br/>
It takes a minute for you to work out what he means.  “The elementary school basement,” you ask.  You look out the window and realise it isn’t far.<br/>
<br/>
“I said we’d hide the golems,” grins Joe as he turns the truck into a side street.<br/>
<br/>
“What about Blackwell’s house,” you ask anxiously.<br/>
<br/>
“Relax,” replies Joe.  “We’ll have plenty of time for both.”<br/>
<br/>
That’s the last he has to say on the matter.  When you reach the abandoned school he drives onto the grounds and parks behind the building for some reason.  Then you lead him downstairs to the basement.  <br/>
<br/>
Joe bounds about the room with excited curiosity, starting with the workbench covered in your materials before turning his attention to the golems.  “This them huh,” he says grinning.  “Bit freaky looking at the original.”  He taps at the stone fleshed Melody.<br/>
<br/>
“Joe,” you exclaim, appalled.  “I killed her, more or less.  I don’t feel good about it.”<br/>
<br/>
“She’s not really dead under there,” he replies in a more serious tone.  “You can still see her breathing.  We just need to put her somewhere safe for a while.”  He turns round to face you.  “Any way we can get them mobile.  It’s going to be a huge pain in the ass to carry them up to the truck.”<br/>
<br/>
“We can put masks on them I guess,” you reply, going over to the workbench.  You pick up the two masks there:  The Umeko mask with your own memories attached and the golem mask of K.C..  You give the masks to Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“I just put these on the golems,” he asks, but before you can reply, he goes ahead and places one anyway.  The doll like figure of your original golem melts into K.C.’s lithe frame.  “Wow.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah thanks,” says the K.C. golem sourly.<br/>
<br/>
“This thing has to do what you say,” asks Joe.  “How does that work?”<br/>
<br/>
“Standing right here,” mutters the K.C. golem.<br/>
<br/>
“I had to put some of my hair into the golem when I was making it,” you explain.  “Actually, twice because I had to put some into that mask too.”<br/>
<br/>
“That makes sense,” replies Joe.  “A little bit of <i>essentia </i>acting as anchor to channel your <i>anima</i>.”  He stops for a minute and raises a perfect eyebrow.  “What do you mean ‘put it into the mask too’?”<br/>
<br/>
“That mask acts like a golem as well,” you explain.  “If I put it on you, you’d be K.C. and you’d have to do what I told you too.”<br/>
<br/>
“So why’d you need to do that,” asks Joe, jerking his thumb at Melody.<br/>
<br/>
“Because that was in the book first,” you reply.  “I told you each spell unlocks the next one once you use it.  I couldn’t make a golem mask until I’d made a golem…” you choke a little on the last word.  “A golem person.”<br/>
<br/>
Joe rubs the back of his neck thoughtfully.  “That’s bad news”<br/>
<br/>
“Tell me about it.”<br/>
<br/>
“No I mean it’s bad news that it’s written that way,” he says, gesturing expressively with his hands.  “There’s no reason for the ‘make a golem out of a person’ spell to be there except to see if the reader is the kind of person that would use it.  Whoever wrote this thing wanted to fit the reader to their moral framework.”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t think of it like that,” you say biting nervously at your lip.  You look guiltily at the remains of Melody.  <br/>
<br/>
“I doubt it would have let you,” replies Joe.  “I really need to take a look at this,” he adds.  “Is it here somewhere?”<br/>
<br/>
You pull the book from its hiding place and lay it down on the work bench.  It falls open at the sixth spell in the book.  Joe comes over and reads it carefully.  He snorts derisively.  “Whoever the dude that wrote this was, his Latin sucks.”  He flips idly through the seventh spell and on to the last page.<br/>
<br/>
You suck on your lip for a few moments.  “I sometimes wonder if it isn’t bad on purpose,” your say uncertainly.  “When I was Will it was difficult to understand, but now…  It’s like the mistakes are deliberate, like the author’s laughing at us.”<br/>
<br/>
Joe looks at you and raises an eyebrow.  “This is why I love you, you know,” he grins.  “You’re absolutely right.  It’s kind of frightening.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t see why it should be so frightening that I’m right.  I am cleverer than you,” you interrupt, giving him another Melody glare.<br/>
<br/>
“No, I mean yes you are” he grins again, flipping to the last unlocked page  “And I mean the book.  We’re dealing with a guy that want his readers to turn people to stone and think that punning in Latin is hilarious.”  He looks at the last unlocked page and frowns.  “And likes wordplay puzzles.”<br/>
<br/>
“What is it,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“This last page, did you look at it,” asks Joe.  <br/>
<br/>
You crane your neck to look.  The bottom half of the page is ripped, rendering the spell incomplete.  Try as you might, you can’t make out the letters of the page below, which squirm and writhe as you look at them.  “It’s missing a bit,” you frown.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s what he wants you to think,” replies Joe.  “But you gotta remember our dude likes deliberately bad Latin and wordplay.  It’s a puzzle.”<br/>
<br/>
You read the page again, bearing in mind what Joe just said.  “Oh,” you say.  “<i>Use me to solve me</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.  Author wants his readership to be immoral <i>and </i>clever,” says Joe with uncharacteristic severity.  “That worries me.”<br/>
<br/>
“What do we do,” you ask, your face paling as you realise you might have been flirting with disaster by using the book.<br/>
<br/>
“We should get this into the <i>Stellae </i>archives,” says Joe uncertainly.  “It’s where we lock away all the bad things we find.  I mentioned it last night, but…”<br/>
<br/>
“But,” you ask hesitantly.<br/>
<br/>
“My gut tells me no,” he explains.  “The book found its way to you, and if we lock it up, who’s to say it wouldn’t find its way out to someone else instead.”<br/>
<br/>
“What are you saying,” you ask, but your stomach sinks because you fear you already know the answer.<br/>
<br/>
“You keep a hold of the book,” explains Joe.  “It wants to be with you, I say let it.  At least until we can figure out what to do with it.”</span></div></div>


path: 11231222221211122211121212
author_id: imaj
title: The Guardian and the Golems
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“I really don’t want to hold onto that thing,” you say unhappily, thinking of Blackwell and how easy it would be to end up like him.  You hug yourself tightly.<br/>
<br/>
Joe moves behind you and hugs you too, cradling his head in at your neck.  “It wants to hold onto you though,” he explains.  “I think <i>you </i>would be safer if we got the book to the Stellae archives, but that’s not what worries me.”<br/>
<br/>
You break away and turn to face him.  “It’s other people, isn’t it,” you ask in a small voice.<br/>
<br/>
Joe’s expression is pained for a moment.  “Yeah,” he admits.  “<i>Someone </i>sent the book to your dad but Blackwell stole it.  <i>Somehow </i>it managed to make its way out of his possession and into a bookshop for you to find.  The book making its way to you, guys like Blackwell trying to take it for themselves and innocents caught in the middle.  Not just you either,” he adds.  You sigh heavily.  “Do you know the girl he’s kidnapped, Lisa?”<br/>
<br/>
“You could say that,” you reply with a touch of bitterness.<br/>
<br/>
“Look at what’s happened to her, just because the book is linked to you somehow,” says Joe.  “If we keep it for now, just long enough to study it and disentangle it from you, we can hand it over when it’s safe.”<br/>
<br/>
“You promise,” you ask meekly, aware that you are channelling a little more of Melody’s personality than you feel comfortable with.<br/>
<br/>
“I promise,” smiles Joe, making you feel weak at the knees, Melody’s influence again.  He sweeps you up in another hug that banishes Melody’s lingering fears, even if it doesn’t quite diminish all of your own.<br/>
<br/>
“So what now,” you ask after you break free from Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“We move everything away from here, anyone could come down here and find it” he begins.  His eyes linger on the book again.  “If I’m right about the book, someone <i>will </i>find it.”  He takes the second mask and places it on the golem made from the original Melody.  In an instant the nude form of your cousin Umeko stands in its place.  “Hey ladies,” he leers.  An ugly stab of envy runs through you  “Time to get moving.”<br/>
<br/>
Neither golem moves.  “Who’s this guy boss,” says the Umeko faced golem.  “Is he going to help us fix the girl?”<br/>
<br/>
You glance sideways at Joe.  “Actually, that might be possible,” he says brightly.  You feel the sharp stab of envy again from Melody’s feelings.  She, <i>you</i>, thought Joe wanted you, not the original.  “Right now we have to move you though.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you,” asks the Umeko faced golem.  You nod your agreement.  “If that’s what you want boss.  Uh, you have clothes, right?”<br/>
<br/>
You look around the basement, there is nothing remotely usable except for a couple of old rugs.  “Uh…” you begin.  “Look you can just wrap yourself in the rugs,” you reply to the golem, blushing.  “Don’t you say a word,” you add, pointing an accusing finger at Joe.<br/>
<br/>
“Wasn’t going to,” replies Joe holding his hands up and offering you an easy grin.  You can’t help but narrow your eyes.  He dives in for a quick kiss that the Melody part of you demands that you return with interest.<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and try not to think about the expression on the golem with Umeko’s face and your mind.<br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
Joe pulls the truck to a halt in against the sidewalk a block short of Blackwell’s house.  It’s still just the pair of you because you insisted that the two golems be placed in the trunk with the masks removed.  You told Joe it was because you couldn’t have two naked women riding around in the back, but a little sliver of Melody didn’t want Joe distracted.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re here then,” you say passively, staring out the window.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be nervous,” says Joe.  You realise that he’s holding your hand and you smile a little.  “All you need to do is get the golem to tell you how to put the guardian to sleep.”  He grins at you.  “It’s like your entrance exam for the <i>Stellae</i>, except it’s going to be a cakewalk.”<br/>
<br/>
After a few moments thought he adds in a mock serious tone:  “Don’t mess it up.”  You turn and glare at him, narrowing your eyes.  “God I love it when you do that,” he quips.  This time it is you that moves forward for the kiss, sinking deeply into Melody’s personality to enjoy it all the more.<br/>
<br/>
Your hand lingers in his for a few moments after the kiss stops and then you get out of the truck.  “Call me once you’ve done it,” mouth Joe through the window after you close the door behind you.  You wave coyly and set off down the street.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell’s house looms in the late morning sunshine as you enter the grounds.  An ill-proportioned jumble with no coherent architectural style, it squats in the shade of the tall trees that surround it.  You suppress a shiver as you walk down the drive, the gravel crunching under your feet.<br/>
<br/>
You knock on the door when you arrive, more for the form of it than anything else.  Joe had you phone the golem before you left the boys’ house and it opens the door quickly.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re here it,” it says sourly.  “About time.”<br/>
<br/>
“We had a stop to make on the way,” you explain as you slink past the golem and inside.  It  closes the heavy door behind you with a harrumph.<br/>
<br/>
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit,” it asks, its voice laden with contempt.<br/>
<br/>
“Your original,” you explain.  “Has he contacted you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Lamentably not,” sighs the golem Blackwell.  “Giving me no chance to not inform him of your clever little treachery.”<br/>
<br/>
“Lucky for me I told you to be completely honest with me,” you smile.<br/>
<br/>
“Indeed,” replies the golem.<br/>
<br/>
“Not very helpful though,” you add.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh I am being helpful,” replies the golem through gritted teeth.  “I am being helpful by telling you and I am being helpful by telling you that I would still have tried to find some way to alert my original if the opportunity presented itself.  I am still Aubrey Blackwell after all.”<br/>
<br/>
You stop and think for a moment.  It didn’t occur to you that the golem would still have motivations of its own, and it’s only luck that you haven’t been caught out.  “Don’t help him,” you instruct the golem, any trace of playfulness gone from your voice.  “He’s a monster,” you add with a shudder.<br/>
<br/>
“Very well,” sighs the golem.  “I assume you have other business to transact here?”<br/>
<br/>
“Tell me about the guardian,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“Where to begin,” muses the golem.  “Come with me, it’s far simpler to show you.”  The golem leads you up the stairs and into the library.  <br/>
<br/>
Even with daylight shining in through the great windows at the far end, the library is a deeply unsettling location.  There’s something about the proportions of the room, or maybe it’s the angles.  The two clocks maintain their strangely desynchronised ticking, the interval between them changing with maddening unpredictability.<br/>
<br/>
“The library is the centre of the house, you realise,” explains the golem with theatrical relish.  “Just listen for a moment,” it adds, falling silent.<br/>
<br/>
“I’d rather not,” you reply quickly.<br/>
<br/>
“Unsettling, is it not,” asks the golem.  “There’s not pattern to it that I’ve ever discerned and the interval between each tick of the clock is never constant.  One supposes it could drive a weaker mind mad given enough time, but that’s not what you asked me.”<br/>
<br/>
“No it isn’t,” you glare.<br/>
<br/>
“But it is related to the gwarcheidwad, you see.  You might think the guardian is just its physical form,” explains the golem, gesturing towards the one eyed, hairless stuffed ape that perches in a nearby alcove.  There is the slightest sensation of it watching you with its one glassy eye and you involuntarily shudder.  “But the reality is that its spiritual presence stretches throughout the house and into the grounds.”  Blackwell pauses his lecture to take a step back towards you.  “And it’s all centred here,” he says with quiet certainty.  “In the library.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you saying the gwarcheidwad makes the clocks tick that way,” you ask, the unpronounceable word rolls easily off Melody’s tongue thanks to her gift for languages.<br/>
<br/>
“More that they tick that way because the guardian distends the world around it with its presence,” replies the golem somewhat portentously.  You frown at the golem, but it ignores your expression and continues.  “It is both exceptionally powerful and dangerous and it guards this house zealously.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, but what is it,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“Well it’s a spirit,” begins the Blackwell golem, trying to regain its composure.  “A powerful spirit of darkness...”<br/>
<br/>
“A spirit of darkness,” you parrot.  “What does that mean?  I mean it all sounds very impressive but you don’t really know do you,” you guess.<br/>
<br/>
The golem wavers.  “Ah… That is to say…”  It sighs.  “Curse you and this damnable compulsion for honesty.  The truth is that the guardian was emplaced in the house when I purchased it.  I have learned a very little of it, just enough to control its function.”<br/>
<br/>
“Enough to send it to sleep,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“Indeed, it was in such a state when I first acquired the house,” replies the golem.  “I suppose that a previous occupant had the sense to realist that dead realtors make it somewhat harder to sell a house.  Oh…” it says at it finally realises.  “You want me to send it sleep now?”<br/>
</span></div></div>


