# chapters

path: 1131311211
author_id: rugal
title: The Idyllic Anne Starkey
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Hey, actually before you guys do anything would it be alright if I borrowed Anne for a few minutes?" you joke.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but make sure you don't run off otherwise I'll have to break your legs," comes the reply from Ms. Willett.<br/>
<br/>
With a laugh you grab Anne by the hand and take her out into the hallway and over near the entrance of the G-wing restrooms. Anne eyes you with a smirk that mixes happiness and curiosity. "So what's so important that you had to talk to me all alone," she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, see, it's this thing I picked up at a the antique shop downtown since I know how much you like little tchotchkes and whatnot," you tell her as you reach into your gym bag and pull out the mask.<br/>
<br/>
You offer it and she grabs it with curiosity, "What's this supposed to be?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Just a little make-up gift is all," you reply, "I gave you a hard time yesterday so I figured I should make it up and when I saw that I know it was the kind of oddball thing you'd like."<br/>
<br/>
She looks up at you and her eyes and smile flash warmly. "That's really sweet, Cameron, thank you. But you didn't have to do anything," she replies graciously, "I'm sure it must have cost--"<br/>
<br/>
"Not a lot actually," you interrupt her. Anne can, at times, go into these little "I'm too humble to accept whatever" moods so Cameron has gotten good at anticipating them and placating her. "It was like fifteen bucks, like I said just a little goofy thing but I figured you'd find it neat."<br/>
<br/>
"Well thank you again, I mean it," she beams and gives you a quick peck on the lips. She goes back to eyeing it and Cameron's instincts have a good idea of where it'll go next; in fact you're counting on it. "Wouldn't I just look the weirdest if I decided to actually wear--"<br/>
<br/>
But she's cut off and you quickly catch her as she passes out. Your instincts proved correct and Anne, finding the idea funny, put the mask up to her face all on her own at which point it was absorbed directly into her. You're not sure how long this will take, five to ten minutes maybe, but you pick Anne up and carry her over into one of the restrooms with no regard as to which gender it's supposed to be for and get her into a stall at which point you hold your breath and remove your own mask. You come to and notice Anne still out so thankfully you awoke before she did and quickly you strip out of Cameron's clothes... not hard as they practically fall right off of you.<br/>
<br/>
That out of the way, it's another minute or so before the mask reappears and quickly you dig out the blank mind band and practically smash it on her forehead. You then get to work sealing the mask and, heart thumping, divest Anne of her clothes. You notice that her freckles extend onto her shoulders and upper arms as well as the pink areolas that rest on her fairly round breasts. You also notice the bush that's as fire red as her hair. You fight the urge to do anything--you'll have plenty of time for that later--and once the band reappears you get to work combining it with the mask which is, thankfully, a short and easy process.<br/>
<br/>
All of that completed you then place the mask of Cameron Huber onto Anne and, taking another deep breath, lift Anne's mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Again you're not sure how long you were out exactly but you wake to see a fully-dressed Cameron Huber crouching in the stall with you. "So about making it up to me..." he grins but you push him away.<br/>
<br/>
"Not right now," you say wearily as you gather up your clothes, "What time is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"About quarter 'till," comes the brusque reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," you groan and then cover your mouth. Anne's mind, quickly available to you, tells you that's language she typically tries to shy away from. You rummage through his bag and find what's left of the sealant, then transfer it to your purse before shoving him out of the stall so you can get dressed.<br/>
<br/>
Underwear first, then a pair of black socks stopping just below the knee along with matching heeled black boots. A pleated red skirt goes to just above the knees and a long-sleeved black sweater goes on afterwards that you tuck into the waistband of the skirt. With that you exit the stall. You touch yourself up in the mirror, applying the same makeup the original Anne had before the switch--thankfully not a lot--and give yourself one final appraisal. You're the spitting image of the girl who was, just minutes ago, "your" girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
You do make one quick alteration however and while Anne might not like it you quite like the look of the mane of red hair surrounding your face. It makes you look even more vivacious you think so you decide to try it out for the day.<br/>
<br/>
"How do I look?" you ask turning to dimple at your now boyfriend.<br/>
<br/>
"As beautiful as always."<br/>
<br/>
You giggle at that, the way Anne would, grab his hands and pull yourself into him. "You know," you say looking up at him, "Making it up to you after school..." You pute a little bit of a tease into your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
You then grab behind Cameron's head and pull him into a long, deep, loving kiss. You soften your expression, one more innocent, as you look at him after pulling away. "I think I'm ready," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Ready?" he asks, not quite sure what to make of it, "As in..."<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Yeah, I guess I just needed the... right mindset," you smile, "But I'm ready. At least I think I am. After school."<br/>
<br/>
"Anne...!" Cameron gets an excited look on his face and you can't help but feel excited yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"I know! But... but I want a date first," you state, "A real one. That new superhero movie came out and I heard Danielle saying it was really good." That elicits a look of consternation but you press on, "Oh, Cameron, I know but please. I just want the mood to be right. You don't have to like the movie, just go along with it alright?"<br/>
<br/>
Cameron's expression softens, "Yeah, alright. For your sake."<br/>
<br/>
You practically squeal in delight, "Oh thank you sweetie," you exclaim as you give him a final kiss. "I've gotta get back to Jen and apologize and I'm not gonna be able to see you at lunch so come find me out front when school lets out and we'll head out to the theater."<br/>
<br/>
After exiting the restroom you pull your phone out. Caleb said he was going to be himself and thankfully you've had to call and text him so many times that the number's burned into your brain.<br/>
<br/>
<i>made switch. can u cut 4th?</i><br/>
<br/>
You send the text but the reply isn't immediate so you head back and again apologize profusely to Ms. Willett--to Jen--before the bell rings and help her get things set up for her 3D Art class. Once the bell rings you give your goodbyes and check your phone. One message and it's from Caleb's number.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sure. Meet out by the portables.</i><br/>
<br/>
You giggle a little at that. Caleb's seemingly the only person who actually uses mostly proper grammar when texting.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"I said someone good," Caleb states a bit sourly when you meet him.<br/>
<br/>
"I did," you smile, "You don't think Anne's good?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh Anne's real good," he states, "But that's the problem. By good I meant bad. Someone like Dalton, straighten them up from the inside."<br/>
<br/>
"Well we don't live on Bizarro Earth so how was I supposed to know," you retort. You expect more of a fight but instead Caleb just waves it off.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever," he shrugs, "You better be happy though because you're going to be there for a while. No switching out for, I dunno, a week?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine by me, I'm fine where I am," you reply while hugging yourself tightly, "I've got a nice date with Cameron after school and then..." You stop and feel your cheeks turning red.<br/>
<br/>
For his part, however, Caleb doesn't react much to that. "That's nice but let's talk shop, specifically what I mentioned yesterday." He folds his arms and begins pacing, "It'd be nice to bring some of our friends into this."<br/>
<br/>
"So you said. James and Carson and them."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb nods, "Yeah, definitely, probably Lamont first. He's more trustworthy than Ioegger."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that really a good idea, though?" That causes him to stop pacing and turn back towards you, "This is some powerful stuff, it's nothing we'd want getting out right? Well the more people who know, the more people who <i>can</i> know which means people we don't want knowing can know."<br/>
<br/>
"People like who?" Caleb questions.<br/>
<br/>
"What if you run into someone while you're you and they find it?" You ask in return, "Imagine if Black got wind of it. Or Patterson. Imagine if a psychopath like Chen heard it and decided he wanted the book to himself."<br/>
<br/>
"You make sense, but..." he trails off, "But I still want to do it. I want to make things better and knock those assholes down a peg or two."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said yesterday you didn't want to do it without my permission?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's face scrunches up in frustration, "I did but that's because I thought it'd be a formality." He starts pacing again, "But after having all night to think about it I decided I'm doing it no matter what. I'm expanding the group with or without you."<br/>
<br/>
"So what, I can walk away?" That gets a nod, "So I just go back to being Will then?"<br/>
<br/>
A shake of the head this time. "I said I was going to give you a new life and I meant it. You walk, you don't have to switch back to being Will if you don't want to but that means you're staying right where you are."<br/>
<br/>
Probably he means it as a threat and a part of you is nervous about giving up your old life for a new one on a permanent basis. But you've had time to digest Anne and experiencing her from both the outside and inside... well, she's just great. You love what you've seen on both sides, physical and mental. Would it really be so bad to give up the tempestuous life of Will Prescott for the halcyon one of Anne Starkey?</span></div></div>


path: 11313112112
author_id: rugal
title: Breaking In Your New Life Among Other Things
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Is that really what you want?" Caleb asks and this time you know he's using it as a threat, "There's no going back if you walk away so you'd better be prepared to wave goodbye to Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You have nothing going on in your life and a friend who's becoming increasingly bossy and pushy. You feel partially bad about taking Anne's life but you figure that Caleb's trying to bluff you and that with a bit of time he'll walk back what he said. Once that's done you can switch out of Anne for someone else if you really want to and bring her back... or maybe bring her back under a new identity if you didn't want to give up Anne's life. So you decided to call his bluff, at least for the time being.<br/>
<br/>
"Who's Will Prescott?" you ask with a smile.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb narrows his eyes at you and shakes his head, "I really wanted you involved in this but have it your way." He leans back against one of the portables, "You're fine with where you are?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why wouldn't I be? I've got everything I'd want," you say. A great body, nice friends, actual talent, smarts, a good family, no annoying siblings... yeah, you're not seeing a downside. "Look, I want to get back and enjoy at least a little bit of lunch with my friends so I'm going to head back. I'll talk to you later, alright Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nuh uh," comes the reply, "You're out, you're out. No going back and that includes talking to me since Anne Starkey doesn't talk to Caleb Johansson."<br/>
<br/>
"There's no fast and hard rule that says she can't."<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't a temporary thing, <i>Anne</i>," he stresses your new name, "If you're going to be Anne, be Anne."<br/>
<br/>
Well if that's what he wants... "I am," you shoot back and allow Anne's mind to more fully envelope your own, "But maybe I'd want to talk to Caleb Johansson some time. Maybe I've heard some things from Eva that have caught my interest because he seems like a pretty interesting person."<br/>
<br/>
"We barely even hang out with any of the same people."<br/>
<br/>
He's really going to be pig-headed isn't he? "Just because we don't run in the same social circles now doesn't mean we can't start," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Do whatever you want," he huffs.<br/>
<br/>
"Well right now I want to gossip with Danielle, then I want to..." you stop and then giggle, "Mmm, yeah that's going to be... oh, but gosh I just can't wait!" You then give him a warm smile, "I really would like to hang out with you some time though, Caleb. Maybe not today or tomorrow but soon, 'kay?" With a little wave you head back to join your friends for what little bit of lunch remains.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
The rest of the day goes through fairly uneventfully. Mr. Carr's AP Biology class is something you don't particularly care too much for. That's not to say Anne slacks off in class, far from it she applies herself hard. She's just not overly enthusiastic about the material. Carr himself is almost a non-entity. He's not a hard-ass like Walberg, neither is he regarded as one of the cooler teachers like Hagerman or Jen... he's just kind of there and goes about his lessons as mechanically as possible.<br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Goretsky's class is definitely a much better one and while she has a reputation as a hard-ass among a lot of students she's someone Anne would describe as more "stern but fair". Put in the effort and don't slack and she'll do what she can to accommodate you. The fact that you share the class with many of Anne's--your--friends, people like Danielle, Brent, Deanna Showalter and even Eva to a degree, certainly helps as well and you find the material much more interesting. You're tasked to finish two of what's considered a great book from authors not being covered in class, one for each semester covering earlier works in the first and then later works in the second. Anne had gone with <i>Anabasis</i> first and <i>The Princess of Cleves</i> for second.<br/>
<br/>
You dread seventh period though as you thought you'd be lucky enough to escape Walberg with a new life but, of course, why would you? Thankfully Anne is one of the students Walberg likes, for as much as he's able to like anything, so from your current place you don't get things quite as bad as you would if you were still Will Prescott. But Walberg is still Walberg and whereas Goretsky is stern but fair, Walberg is just flat out stern. Anne's mind finds the material more fascinating than you would, however, so you really allow yourself to sink into her which makes the class less stressful than it'd otherwise be.<br/>
<br/>
Absorbing yourself more into her is something you should be doing full time, not just to mess with Caleb, but in all honesty you're worried if that'd cause you to lose your sense of self so better to just keep her at arm's distance so to speak. Although for the last class of the day you figure it's probably a good idea to keep things going.<br/>
<br/>
Between classes you give a small wave to Jelena Petrovic who you see conversing with some of her other friends. You've seen her band playing around town and while you wouldn't consider her a friend you're on friendly enough terms that you can consider her a casual acquaintance. One of her friends is in another local band and mentally you sigh at how cool that all sounds since you'd never have the guts to go up and do that all yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Still, as you head into the music room and get set up you do feel a level of contentment. You really do love the class and being able to perform and while Mrs. Heinz expects nothing less than the best she doesn't drive her class to an unreasonable degree either. The Will part of your brain emerges briefly as you spot Gary Checn and it's all you can do to stop from shuddering. Even Anne, however, is always a little put off by him as his reputation precedes him although that goes away once the class starts playing as, for whatever other bits of character Chen may lack, he's actually fairly talented with the viola.<br/>
<br/>
You proceed through the rest of class as normal performing small exercises to warm up for the first bit and spending the rest focusing on a specific piece, in this case Vivaldi's La tempesta di mare which excites you as, being a flute concerto, you get to show off a little more. You do well and earn praise from Heinz and your classmates, even Chen gives a brusque "congratulations". By the time the final bell rings to indicate school's done for the day you're practically overflowing with excitement.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
You stand outside the front doors for a few minutes before Cameron finally shows up. You bound over to him, wrap your arms around him and give him a deep kiss.<br/>
<br/>
"Well someone's in a good mood," he states with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Well yeah, why wouldn't I be? Remember?" He eyes you oddly although knowing him it's because he's just messing with you. "The date, remember? We're going to see that new movie and then..." You bite your lip and giggle, "My parents are going to be out tonight with some friends so we can do it at my place."<br/>
<br/>
"Do...? Oh! Right!" He then gets another goofy grin on his face, "How could I forget?"<br/>
<br/>
So he really was messing with you. Well no matter, the two of you get in your cars and head off to the theater making sure to stop at a drug store to get some protection. He seems to still be playing the forgetful boyfriend routine but you pay it no mind as you spend the next couple of hours enjoying the movie and canoodling. Once that's over the pair of you head back out to Anne's place which, while certainly not in the realm of the Blankenships or Ferguson's, is still in the nicer part of town. You head in and do a sweep of the place just to make sure that her parents aren't around and once it's deemed that the coast is all clear you decide to make up a couple of sandwiches since you hadn't ate anything but popcorn at the theater.<br/>
<br/>
Once your small meal is finished you decide to head up to your bedroom and practically push Cameron down onto your bed. There you unzip his pants and pull his cock out. You're still a bit awkward to start--Anne hasn't done it a lot--but once you've got it in your mouth and get to work it's like instinct takes over and it's not long before he manages to blast a load right into your mouth catching you by surprise. You head over to to the vanity to grab some tissues to spit it out in and toss in the small garbage can that sicks next to it.<br/>
<br/>
By the time you come back in Cameron's already got his shirt off and is in the process of removing his pants. You quickly do the same and strip yourself out of your clothes while he grabs a condom. You then express delighted surprise when he picks you up, turns you around and places you onto the bed before lowering himself on top of you. He asks you if you really think you're ready and you respond positively. However you cry out in surprise and a little bit of pain you admit--god his cock is big--as he goes in. This stops him but you insist that you're fine and urge him to continue. He obliges and once he's fully penetrated you he gets to work. His technique is strong and confident and you're sure this isn't his first time; he's had other girlfriends before you so while this time is your first it's likely not his.<br/>
<br/>
When he finally does cum it's like a train rolling through you and moan in both surprise and ecstasy. The two of you lay like that for a moment or two trying to catch your breath. Then you hope up and make sure to clean yourself off. Once you're both dressed you lay back on the bed, give him another kiss and then nuzzle your head against his strong chest.</span></div></div>


path: 113131121121
author_id: rugal
title: Suspicious Minds
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So does that make up for yesterday?" you ask with a contented tone in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"For yesterday?" he asks with a yawn.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, silly, yesterday. Remember?" That gets no response so you continue, "I had to cut out on you to study?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right, right, okay," he says, "It totally does babe."<br/>
<br/>
"Well I'm glad to hear it," you reply. "Anything happen with the team?"<br/>
<br/>
Cameron looks thoughtful for a second, "Uh, same as usual, why?"<br/>
<br/>
"So you didn't follow my advice?" You ask which earns you another bewildered look, "You forgot as soon as we separated didn't you? I told you to just let everything slide. Coach Porter is going to think you're a problem too if you're just getting in fights."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, yeah," he sighs, "But, uh, you know this is a matter of pride. If I don't assert my authority they're going to walk all over me. Even more than they already try to."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but how many times have you gotten into fights with them and what good has it done you?" You ask and at this point you pull yourself up into a sitting position.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a matter of pride," he counters and follows suit by sitting up, "I'll look like a pussy if I don't do anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Where has acting like a caveman ever gotten you, Cameron?" you ask as you fold your arms in a huff. "Do you remember how you were in middle school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well yeah, uh, assertive is how I'd put it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well bully is how I'd put it," you retort. "You were a bully up into tenth grade when you started going after Ben and Brent and what happened then?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's, um," he fumbles a bit, "That's when you got involved and started giving me an earful."<br/>
<br/>
"I did that, yes, but I actually sat and talked about it with you, remember?" You shift a bit as he places his arm around you, "I try not to think overly negative thoughts about anyone but I really hated you when I first stepped in. I hated what you were doing to my friends. You were such a... such a <i>jerk</i>, Cameron, and I just wanted to slap you right across the face. Slap some sense into you, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"You never did though," he says thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right because, really, what was I going to do? Nothing except make you mad and then you'd have gone after my friends even harder." You look up at him pleadingly, "That's what I'm getting at. You have to asert your authority but obviously doing it with fists isn't the answer so try to find some other way and if Coach Porter sees that you're doing things right and they're not then he'll come around to kicking them off, I'm sure of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah..." he trails off. You make an inquisitive noise but he brushes it off, "Oh, nothing. It's just... you've given me a lot to think about."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I hope you do this time," you say with your usual warm expression returning, "You don't have to be such a meathead about everything. Promise me you're not going to go around fighting everyone tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Cross my heart," he replies and leans over to give you a kiss on the forehead.<br/>
<br/>
You stay curled up with him for the next forty-five minutes or so until he realizes that he needs to get home and <i>you</i> realize that your parents are going to be back soon anyway. You tell him again to not act like a caveman and to try and resolve things more diplomatically from now on to which he obliges. Then he's out the door and you're left with nothing but warm memories of earlier, memories which start making other parts of you warm. You reach behind the small pink shorts you'd put on, some of your lounging clothes, and decide to take care of that.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"We're a nation of laws," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "The fact is that we can't just let in everyone who wants to come in."<br/>
<br/>
"But that's needlessly cruel and more than a little racist," replies Lori Sherman.<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing racist about it," you shoot back.<br/>
<br/>
Lori, for her part, just crosses her arms, "Most of them are coming from countries like Mexico or Honduras or other places like that."<br/>
<br/>
"And if they were coming from Canada I'd say the same thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I understand where you're coming from Lori," Danielle Davis jumps into the conversation now, "Ideally you want to help everyone but some times you can't. Let me ask you, do you take in every stray cat that shows up in the neighborhood?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, no," she states rather simply.<br/>
<br/>
"And why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we can't afford it," she replies.<br/>
<br/>
"So think of it that way then," Danielle continues, "You don't take in every stray that wanders into your neighborhood so the same can be applied to our country, right? Other nations aren't going to be as liberal as we are with people who are here illegally. If I was in Japan illegally and loudly demanding that they accomodate me would I be given consideration? They'd put me on the first plane back to the States."<br/>
<br/>
The debate between Danielle and Lori, with you and other students jumping in every so often, continues until it becomes a little too heated and Mr. Santiago decides to step in. His Current Events class runs on debate and heightened emotions but he has the good sense to keep some decorum and never allow it to devolve into mudslinging. That's probably why, when class lets out, Lori comes up to you and Danielle and asks what your plans for the weekend are as if nothing happened.<br/>
<br/>
"Work," you reply a little wearily as Anne's a barista at The Flying Saucer, a small coffee shop near Keyserling where she works Thursdays through Mondays, after school on weekdays, early shift on weekends. It's not that Anne hates the job, it's that some of the students can be a pain to deal with.<br/>
<br/>
"Ditto," Danielle adds, "Well, Friday and Sunday."<br/>
<br/>
"Well hey, my boyfriend's band is going to be playing out at the Warehouse on Saturday night so if you guys want to come..." She flashes you a smile and brushes back a bit of her dark green hair.<br/>
<br/>
Lori's one of the school's biggest bleeding hearts and though politically you and Danielle don't see eye to eye with her you're able to maintain a friendly relationship with each other despite being almost night and day. Anne and Danielle are much more clean cut but Lori, with her dyed hair, rows of piercings in her ears and septum pearing, dark eye shadow and usually torn (tastefully of course) jeans, cannot look any more their opposite. And while a slightly bigger girl, with bigger breasts to match that she emphasizes with tight, low-cut tops, she's by no means an unattractive girl. Tilley once tried, unsuccessfully, to chat her up until he thought he saw Javits out of the corner of his eye and turned into complete chicken shit.<br/>
<br/>
You'd be interested, neither Anne or yourself has ever actually been out to the Warehouse, but Danielle for her part diplomatically denies. "We'll give it some thought," she says roping you into it as well, "Right Anne?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, yeah, we'll--"<br/>
<br/>
You're stopped by what sounds like shouting and when you hear a loud crash you look to see Cameron with Jason Lynch pinned against a locker and James Lamont scurrying in another direction. Danielle and Lori look at each other, then you, and decide to make their exit. "Yeah, so I'll see you at lunch Anne," Danielle states before heading off.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll catch up to you later, I've gotta get to Kohl's class," Lori adds while likewise heading off.<br/>
<br/>
For your part you wait until Cameron releases Lynch and march your way over to him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"I told you not to fight, Cameron," you exclaim in a voice that would tell him you were upset if your face and body language didn't already do that, "You promised me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I saw him picking on one of my buddies and I couldn't just let it go," he replies almost obliviously.<br/>
<br/>
"Your buddy?" you ask incredulously, "Since when was he your buddy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's not," Cameron stammers, "By that I, uh, I mean buddy in a loose sense. Not an ass, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"And what now, Cameron?" you place your hands on your hips and narrow your eyes, "He's going to run to Steve and Gordon. Are you going to fight them too?"<br/>
<br/>
"If I have to," he says in a manner that indicates he's completely serious.<br/>
<br/>
With that you groan, turn on your heel and begin walking to Mr. Muniz's class in C-wing. Cameron reaches out to grab you and calls on you to wait but you loosen out of his grip. "I'm really upset with you right now, Cameron Huber," you declare, "I'll talk to you tomorrow but I don't want to see you for the rest of the day."<br/>
<br/>
As you walk to Muniz's you're struck that something seems off. Something about Cameron yesterday seemed strange and you wonder if it really was an act he was pulling. Caleb had said he'd listen to you as well which meant he probably should've listened when you told him not to fight so why didn't he? Can he listen to Caleb too or was Caleb stringing you along in the hopes you'd go along with him. Maybe you should try and find him and figure out what's going on although the thought does occur to you that you might be overthinking things and working yourself into a paranoid state so maybe you should just not worry about it and let it resolve itself.</span></div></div>


path: 1131311211212
author_id: rugal
title: The Interesting People One Meets
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You decide that you probably are being overly paranoid so it's best to just brush it off and that you'll talk Cameron when you're ready too. That and you don't want to give Caleb the satisfaction of seeming like you're crawling back to him. So you go through the motions in Muniz's class since the math, a subject Anne herself isn't strong in, doesn't give you much trouble. When lunch rolls around you grab a seat with Danielle and Deanna, most of the rest of your friends have other things going on.<br/>
<br/>
"So, are you and Cameron on the outs?" Deanna asks breaking the awkward silence.<br/>
<br/>
This prompts a look of equal parts surprise and condemnation from Danielle. "Deanna," she exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
You wave it off however. "It's not a big deal," you explain, "I'm not going to break up with him or anything. It's just a small little fight."<br/>
<br/>
"You seemed pretty mad," Danielle adds.<br/>
<br/>
"I've calmed down a lot and I think Cameron will actually take what I say to heart now." You give a sly little smile, "But I'm not going to make up with him just yet. I told him I'll see him tomorrow and I'm going to milk every second of that."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're going to make him so desperate that he comes crawling back to you," Lori plops down next to Deanna, "I didn't think you had that in you, Anne."<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think that?" you ask. Lori, in response, makes an exaggerated mockery of your relationship with Cameron causing all of you to laugh, "I could say the same thing about you and Danny," you reply. You're referring to Danny Francis, an Eastman student who fronts a local band called Tiger Driver. "It's always, 'Oh, well my boyfriend's band this or my boyfriend's band that, gosh isn't Danny so great?"<br/>
<br/>
This causes further laughs. "Still," Deanna starts, "you're not worried about that pissing off Cameron?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think it would," Lori replies, "I mean, Cameron's a lummox..."<br/>
<br/>
"But he's <i>my</i> lummox," you finish for her. "Especially after we--" You shut up realizing you've said too much.<br/>
<br/>
"After you what," Lori asks. You say nothing but can feel yourself turning red. "Oh my god, you slept with him!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh god, you did, didn't you?!" Deanna adds before turning to Danielle, "Look at her, she's all read."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just glad I don't do any of this relationship stuff," Danielle replies, "Way too much drama for me to deal with."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh come on, Dani. There's someone you like, isn't there?" Deanna asks.<br/>
<br/>
Danielle just shakes her head, "I've got enough on my plate without adding some bag of testosterone to it."<br/>
<br/>
"Brent's interested in you, you know," Deanna states, "He makes it completely obvious."<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm not interested," Danielle shoots back.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh come on, Danielle, Brent's not a bad guy either in looks or personality," Lori adds.<br/>
<br/>
Danielle crosses her arms defiantly, "Not. Interested."<br/>
<br/>
You're a bit surprised, and a little relieved, as the conversation continues shifting into prodding of Danielle's love life before moving on to Deanna's as well. You decide that Cameron has suffered enough so you'll call him once you're out of work and smooth things over.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
The Flying Saucer is a small coffee shop located just off of the Keyserling campus. Compared to any of the Starbucks around the city its foot traffic is definitely smaller but that's what makes it nice. It never feels too crowded nor do you ever feel too rushed and although some of the college students can be more than a little annoying and some can be exacting in how their coffee is, for the most part everyone is good natured and everything goes smoothly. Which is why two young men whom you've never seen before are causing you a bit of a headache. Well one, the blonde, is as he's much louder and much more animated than his dark-haired friend.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Cecilia, have you ever seen those two guys before?" you ask Cecilia Lane, a junior at the college and the co-worker Anne gets along with best, as she comes back from break.<br/>
<br/>
She takes a look and then groans, "They're <i>still</i> here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Still? How long have they been here?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"At least twenty minutes," Cecilia grumbles, "They haven't even ordered anything. Just a lot of arguing between them."<br/>
<br/>
"Arguing about what?"<br/>
<br/>
"No clue," Cecilia replies, "I can't make out what they're saying, it's like some kind of foreign language so maybe they're exchange students or something."<br/>
<br/>
It's at that point that the blonde looks in your direction and locks eyes with you. You freeze up for a moment after he flashes a gleaming white smile at you. He gets up and heads in your direction. "Uh, I guess he's going to order?" you say nervously.<br/>
<br/>
Cecilia sees this as a chance to take her leave. "Well, I've gotta clean some of the equipment so have fun with him," she states before heading into the back to grab some cleaning supplies.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't scare your friend off did I?" the blonde asks once he's up at the counter.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, y--no. You didn't, it's been slow so she's going to clean a little but I can take your order if you want anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Well how about your number?" he asks flashing another smile.<br/>
<br/>
You recoil a bit at that. "Sorry but, you know, I have a boyfriend and I don't think he'd be too happy with that," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"Aww, c'mon, it's not like he'd have to know," he says as he reaches a hand out towards yours, however you pull your hand back and back up a bit.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I don't know who you are but I told you I have a boyfriend and he'll..." You pause a bit at that. He'll what? He'll kick this guy's ass? Well he would and you think you wouldn't be too unhappy to see that but that'd feel hypocritical after what happened this morning. "Like I said, he wouldn't be too happy."<br/>
<br/>
The blonde's handsome features screw up a bit at the set back, "Well there's nothing to say we can't talk," he finally replies, "Actually I have a few questions I'd like to ask."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I'm not giving you my number!" This time you say it with a bit more excitement in your voice. This guy is really starting to get on your nerves.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I wanted to know if you'd seen anything strange around here, lately?" He asks.<br/>
<br/>
"The only thing strange around here is you, you idiot," the dark-haired young man says, smacking the other upside the head.<br/>
<br/>
"A wise guy, eh?" says the blonde in goofy voice. "Why I oughta..."<br/>
<br/>
"You oughta nothing, we're going," The dark-haired young man replies before turning to you, "I'm sorry, my brother's an idiot. We'll get out of your hair."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh in relief once they're gone. <i>"What a creep,"</i> is all you can think.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
A few minutes after they're gone Cecilia emerges and she too looks relieved once she no longer sees them. Things continue as normal for a while until a man Anne doesn't recognize comes in and orders a simple black coffee. He's older and heavyset, looking quite out of place in what's generally a hang out for younger people. He has a look of grim nervousness on his face and every so often, as you're making the coffee, you notice him glancing towards the door. He also, occasionally, removes a small handkerchief to wipe his brow.<br/>
<br/>
"Here you go sir," you say cheerily as you hand him his coffee. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you decide to press your luck a little, "Are you alright sir? You seem upset."<br/>
<br/>
"It is nothing, young lady, though I appreciate the kind thoughts," he replies and there's a hint of stuffiness in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Well if you need help with anything, even if you just want to vent, I'll be glad to help you."<br/>
<br/>
"Young lady, as I informed you I am quite fine," the man says with an annoyed tone though he quickly tempers it, "I apologize, today has been rather trying so I would just like to enjoy my coffee and then I shall be on my way."<br/>
<br/>
You decide to leave him alone after that and it's not too long before his coffee is finished, though to your annoyance the tip is less than you'd like, and he exits. "Who was that?" you ask Cecilia once he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Who, that old guy? He's like a professor at the school or something, I dunno," she shrugs, "I think Abby's got him for a class so you'd have to ask her. I've never seen him here either."<br/>
<br/>
She's referring to another barista who's not there today so you make a note to do just that and ask her about him next time you see her if you remember to. The rest of the shift goes rather uneventfully. Cecilia's gone by seven and when you leave at nine o'clock you say goodbye to Ben, one of the baristas who works until closing. Once you're on your way to your car you decide to pull out your phone and call Cameron. It eventually goes to voicemail so you give up instead and head home. It's not a big deal, you think. You'll try and find him first thing in the morning so you can properly put this little fight to rest.</span></div></div>


path: 11313112112121
author_id: rugal
title: A Call For Aid
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You arrive to school slightly earlier than normal in the hopes that you're able to see him. However you have no luck and while searching the halls before class starts you continue to have no luck. You do, however, see Caleb removing things from from his locker... and placing things in. Or "thing" to be more precise: the grimoire. Why's he stuffing it in his locker though? Why he's bringing it to school in the first place?<br/>
<br/>
You had told him that Anne might want to try talking to him some time so you decide that, with your interest piqued, this is as good excuse as any to make good on that.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Caleb, long time no see," you state in a rather chirpy tone.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes go wide when he sees you. "Y-You," exclaims in shock.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, me," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want?" The question is nervous and antsy and he begins fidgeting.<br/>
<br/>
"Just wanted to make sure you're not still mad at me," you reply. This earns a shake of the head and an assurance he's not mad so you decide to press on, "That's good because I want to know why you brought the book to school."<br/>
<br/>
"The book," he states more than asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I saw you putting it in your locker," you tell him. "I don't know why you'd want to bring something like that to school. Remember what I told you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I..." he starts, seemingly unable to form words. "Yeah, yeah I remember. That's why I'm making sure it's where nobody can get it."<br/>
<br/>
Your face takes a concerned expression. "Caleb, what's wrong," you ask. "Gordon's not after you, is he?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon," he asks but shakes his head, "No, not him but..." He looks around wearing a paranoid expression. "Hey, uh, do you have a study hall or anything Anne, uh, Will?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Third period, why?"<br/>
<br/>
He leans in close and speaks in a low voice. "Meet me at one of the unused portables then. We need to talk," with that he quickly closes up his locker and heads off before you have a chance to even question him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
You go through the first two periods as normal and for third you make sure to stop by Jen's classroom to apologize to her that you won't be able to talk to her today. It's a concern that she dismisses, however, and like Caleb wanted you to, you meet him at the portables. He messes around with the doors of various ones until he finds one that's unlocked, then opens it, hurries you inside and locks it behind him.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, Caleb, what's going on? You're acting like the spooks are coming to get you."<br/>
<br/>
"I wish it was spooks," he replies nervously, "But this is much, much worse."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not making any sense, Caleb," you say, the concerned tone creeping back into your voice.<br/>
<br/>
Something weird is going on and you don't like it. Caleb has never been this jumpy and horrible thought strikes you: what if this isn't Caleb? Usually these impersonations should be perfect but what if it's someone who's not used to this stuff? What if someone like Patterson found everything and got into a mask of Caleb to try and mess things up for him by acting like a paranoid lunatic? Well if it's a mask there's one way to check. You believe you remember the magic words so you start to say them and reach towards his face.<br/>
<br/>
However, Caleb's too fast and he manages to grab your arms before you reach him. "Will, what are you..." he questions while a brief struggle ensues. He's able to squirm out of your grasp, however and backs up against a wall. "Oh, I get it. You think I'm not me, right? You think I'm someone else under here?" You give a positive response to that. "Well, you'd be right."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm... I'm right," you exclaim in shock. "Then who are you?! Are you Patterson or Lynch or Javits or who?!"<br/>
<br/>
"Quiet down, Will, I'm not one of those knuckle draggers," he says making a motion for you to calm down. "I don't like doing this but since you suspect, I've got no choice. I need your help too much."<br/>
<br/>
"So let's start again. Who are you?"<br/>
<br/>
He takes a deep breath, "My name is Aubrey Blackwell. I'm a professor of Archeology at Keyserling." That earns a quizzical look so he explains further, "I believe we've met already, at the coffee shop? I ordered a black coffee. You seemed quite concerned with me."<br/>
<br/>
It's like a lightbulb going off. "You're the older guy I served after those two jackasses left," you state in a revelatory tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," he exclaims. "Those two... jackasses, as you said, are why I'm here."<br/>
<br/>
That's even more surprising. "Alright, out with it. I want everything," you demand.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb, or Blackwell or whoever he is, sighs. "Fine. As a professor of archeology, my interests are in any old artifacts. Specifically, I personally like to focus on the occult and magic though, of course, this is not a fact I advertise."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, so like Braydon Delp," you state invoking the name of a student who's notorious for his interest in the occult.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell takes a moment and then nods, "You could say that, yes, although as you can see magic is a very real thing and what I deal with is very real as well." He relaxes as a bit, "This is why I need your help. Those two jackasses you mentioned, one was loud and blonde, the other quiet and brunette, am I correct?" You nod so he continues, "They're after me, Will. Well, one of them is, at least."<br/>
<br/>
"After you? Why," you ask. "They just looked like a couple of meatheads."<br/>
<br/>
"But they're not," he explains. "They are, in fact, members of an ancient, secret order. One who likes to hoard magic and magical artifacts for themselves, who seek to dominate the world with magic from behind the scenes."<br/>
<br/>
You should be more skeptical but, well, you've been living the last few days as Anne Starkey thanks to a mask that perfectly captured her appearance and mind so you simply give a small "Alright," and let him continue.<br/>
<br/>
"They're after the book," he states. "A few days ago, after you had shown it to Carson Ioegger, he had contacted me asking for information on it. I offered my services and two days ago he showed up at my home along with two others. James Lamont and," he pauses, "and Caleb Johansson. Somehow, though, the two 'jackasses' had found out about the book around the same time I was originally contacted. They must have gotten into contact with Mr. Ioegger before your friends had come because no sooner had your friend arrived than they attacked."<br/>
<br/>
"Attacked," you gasp in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell nods, "All four of us were captured, locked in my own basement while they ransacked my home. They found the book and decided to get rid of any evidence. Your friends were turned into... into statues by the two."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh god," you mutter and stumble against the wall, "How did... how did you get out?"<br/>
<br/>
"As I mentioned, what I deal with is very real. For protection I care around a bit of magical dust, a knockout powder. When my turn came I was able to blow it into their faces and knock them out," he explains. "These are dangerous people so I grabbed the book and saw how they managed to turn your friends into statues. I used it on one, the blonde, although the dark-haired one started coming to so I very quickly grabbed the book, a mask that had been on the ground and retreated. Once I was away I put it on to find it belonged to Mr. Johansson and when I saw you..." He takes another breath, "I need your help to defeat the other one and help restore your friends."<br/>
<br/>
Again, you want to doubt but with how crazy everything has been, why should you? And again, the vibes you got from those two, especially the blond... "I'll help you, Professor."<br/>
<br/>
"Splendid, thank you," Blackwell exclaims, "Then meet me at... let's say at Besandwiched after school."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
You don't see Cameron at all and the thought occurs to you that one of the three might have been under a mask of him once he went to Blackwell's. That would also explain the strange behavior. At Besandwiched, a small, occult-themed sandwich shop, you sit next to Blackwell who has two small bags with him.<br/>
<br/>
"What's in there," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"A reprieve," he states simply. "If we are to fight back against this... this villain and help your friends we must take new identities. Ones not immediately connected to our current ones as Mr. Lamont was under a mask of the boyfriend of your current identity. It will be the first place that the dark-haired young man will look."<br/>
<br/>
"So who, then?"<br/>
<br/>
The Caleb-disguised-Blackwell motions towards a table on the other side of the shop. There you see Braydon Delp and his girlfriend Gillian Kiefer as well as a third girl you don't recognize, a blonde with a pageboy, frumpy clothes and a prettiness that is hard to make out, almost hazy.<br/>
<br/>
"When you mentioned Braydon Delp it gave me this idea," he explains, "He has no overt connections to you or your friends. Likewise, his occult interest would make a good base, so to speak, for me."<br/>
<br/>
"So where does that leave me."<br/>
<br/>
"There is his girlfriend, of course. That way when we are researching and planning, nothing will look out of the ordinary." He then motions to the other girl who has gotten up and headed to the bathroom. "Caleb's mind does not know her name but has seen her here with these two before so she is a friend. If you are not too keen on Ms. Kiefer, perhaps this other girl is a possibility. I have all the material needed to make the switches. We can start as soon as you've made a choice."<br/>
<br/>
At the same time Braydon excuses himself to the men's room as well leaving Gillian all alone. If you can get her outside you could switch with her although that might prove difficult. The unknown girl would likely prove easier.</span></div></div>


path: 113131122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Crises of Cameron Huber
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Even if you really wanted to switch, Cameron's own personality doesn't want to let you run away from a fight. And he gets reinforcements at lunch, when you finally get together with Anne for a serious amount of time.<br/>
<br/>
"That must've been some kiss you saved up for me last night," she says when your mouths finally part. You're holding her tightly in your arms, and she seems to nestle naturally there, as though you could fold your pecs and shoulders entirely around her. You're very conscious of the erection you've got, and she has to be too, since it is pressing against her as firmly as she is pressing against you.<br/>
<br/>
You peer down at her. She's not small, so you have pull your head back and crane your neck a little. She has a long face, dusted all over with small freckles, and hooded eyes, and a mane of dark red hair that she likes to keep pulled back in a bushy pony tail. "I should take you someplace and give you the other half," you say.<br/>
<br/>
Instead, you go into the cafeteria, arms around each others' waists, and take a couple of trays back over to your usual table. Intramural tensions are such that members of the football team never sit together, and you usually hang out with Anne's friends. <br/>
<br/>
That means you haven't got much to talk about, because her musician-heavy circle (Danielle Davis, Mark Kinley, Ben Kleema, and Brent Pruitt, among others) don't have much to say about sports, and you have little to say about their interests, except when mutual teachers and classes intersect. But that's okay. You've got Anne.<br/>
<br/>
"If he wanted to be any stupider he'd have to take lessons," Brent is saying.<br/>
<br/>
"Hasn't your dad said anything to him?" Danielle asks, her eyes and mouth wide with amazement. "I mean, my dad--"<br/>
<br/>
"I think he has," Brent says. "I think the whole family has. But he won't listen." He rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Is this private gossip?" Anne asks.<br/>
<br/>
"We're talking about Brent's uncle," Ben says. He hides a smile by biting on the knuckles of one hand while stirring his lunchtime mush around with a fork in the other. He shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"My uncle's in love," Brent says.<br/>
<br/>
"How did they meet?" Danielle asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. You see," Brent says, turning to you and Anne with a weak smile. "The girl he's in love with is in jail."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you shitting us?" you gasp. "How do you meet girls in jail? Is he, like, a security guard?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I said I don't know how they met."<br/>
<br/>
"You haven't heard the best parts," Mark says, and tips back a can of juice.<br/>
<br/>
"How can it get better than that?" you laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he wants to marry her."<br/>
<br/>
"In jail? Or when she gets out?"<br/>
<br/>
"It'll have to be in jail," Brent continues. "Because she'll be in there for a while. She's in for attempted murder."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. "Now you <i>are</i> shitting me!" <br/>
<br/>
Brent shakes his head. "Yeah, she hired a hit man. So she's also in jail for embezzlement, because she stole twenty thousand dollars from the state agency where she worked in order to pay him."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't tell us that part!" Danielle exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"The rest was juicy enough," Brent says. <br/>
<br/>
"Where was this?" Mark asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Out west," Brent shrugs. "Montana or someplace."<br/>
<br/>
"So who was she trying to kill?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a pregnant pause around the table. Something plops off the back of your head, but you ignore it.<br/>
<br/>
Brent sucks on his upper lip a moment. "Her husband," he finally says.<br/>
<br/>
It takes a moment for all the gears to spin into place and lock: "Your uncle wants to marry a woman who's in jail for trying to kill her husband?!"<br/>
<br/>
"Shh, Cameron, jeez," Brent says. "You don't have to yell it out."<br/>
<br/>
"What does your family say about this?" Anne gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"That's where you came in," Danielle says. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, I think they've told him it's a bad idea, but--" Brent blinks as he looks at you, then cocks his head. "Hey, I think someone's trying to get your attention."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, what is that?" you mutter. For the third time it's felt like something has hit you in the back of the head. You put your hand there and turn around with a frown.<br/>
<br/>
Three tables away a couple of figures turn swiftly and hunch over their trays. Even at this distance you can see that they are laughing. As you watch, feeling the color rising up your neck, they turn to peer back with mirthful faces. One of them is Dalton Douglas.<br/>
<br/>
You look down at your hand, and at the slimy stain on your fingers. On the floor is green goop--the vegetable puree Douglas was flicking at you. "Cameron," Anne says, putting a hand on your arm, but you ignore her as you rise and stalk over.<br/>
<br/>
You will give Douglas until the count of five to turn around before you grab him, but he looks up almost as soon as you are behind him. "Hey man," he chortles. "You looked extra hungry today, so I thought I'd share some of my shit."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want your shit, so I'll be giving it back along with some extra portions you can choke down." You reach for him.<br/>
<br/>
The tables creak, and Gordon Black and Steve Patterson rise simultaneously. A second later, Jason Lynch jumps up to join them. But they don't scare you, even though the two basketball players are almost half a head taller than you, and solidly built. "Hey, thanks," you smile tightly at them. "But I got this."<br/>
<br/>
"You got discipline problems on your team, that's what you got," Black growls. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and I'm about to exercise a little discipline over the team now."<br/>
<br/>
"You're a shitty captain, Huber, and you got a shitty team. You should talk to <i>me</i> about how to do things before you make things worse for yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"You, Black?" Your eyes flick over to his friend. "Is Patterson going to hold your hand while you, uh, 'teach me' how to run my team?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a hard light in his eyes. "Four fifteen, out on <i>your</i> practice field," he says softly.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be there," you say. "Here's a preview of what I'll be saying." You grasp Dalton's shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Hands off my friend," Gordon says.<br/>
<br/>
"Make me."<br/>
<br/>
The tension is broken by a small voice. "Is there a problem here?" You and Gordon keep staring at each other, until by some unspoken agreement you tear away from each other simultaneously to take in the speaker: Ms. Graham, the creative writing teacher. She is a tiny woman, and she is wearing a terrified smile.<br/>
<br/>
But she's still an authority figure. "Huber is touching my friend," Gordon says.<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes flick over to you. "Please stop touching Gordon's friend," she says in a breathy voice.<br/>
<br/>
It's like fire ants running all up and down inside your blood vessels. But with a jerk you let go of Douglas. Gordon smirks. You clap him on the arm. "See you this afternoon, buddy."<br/>
<br/>
"Looking forward to it," he replies, and claps you back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What has two legs and flies?" you ask Sean as you lean up against the wall next to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Keith Tilley during the summer," Sean replies. "I'd almost forgotten that old joke."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you didn't hang out with Keith much over the summer. Have you seen 'em around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tilley? Yeah, I got him third period."<br/>
<br/>
"I meant us, too. You know." You shrug uncomfortably. "It's kinda weird, isn't it? I mean, I used to think I looked kind of cool in that cap." You resettle the hat you are currently wearing, which fits much more snugly over your tight hair than Prescott's cap fits over that mat of straw that sticks out every which way.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, at least you don't gotta talk to your original. I get to work with mine out at Salopek every afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that where you picked up--" You jerk your chin at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he says. He gets a little bit of a furtive expression on his face. "Guy, uh, was sort of my supervisor. I had that shit out there, you know, the book and my supplies, and he caught me with them."<br/>
<br/>
"So you--" He shrugs, and you drop a subject that he sounds like he wants to avoid. "Okay, so tell me how come I get to be Cameron?" Your eyes narrow. "What did I do to deserve this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you like it? How's Anne?"<br/>
<br/>
"Anne's great. Douglas and Carstairs I like a lot less. Oh, by the way, I got a meeting with Gordon Black after school. He thinks he's got something to teach me."<br/>
<br/>
"Really." His tone is neutral.<br/>
<br/>
"Really. So how about you tell me what this about. Ever since you and Bickelmeier buried the hatchet-- Why were you two always after each other?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean him and Sean? It's complicated. I wasn't so much interested in it, so I smoothed things over when I, uh--." <br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Well, now the problem is that <i>I'm</i> in the middle of a pile of shit."<br/>
<br/>
"And now we start fixing it," he says with a sly smile. He leans forward.<br/>
<br/>
"You and me," he continues. "Like this." He presses his chest lightly. "Add James and Carson and Paul and Keith. Maybe a few others. Get them to be like ... Oh, I dunno who. But get them to be like ... this." Again he touches his chest. "And together we make Douglas and Black and the Molester and Kirkham and all the others go away."</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221
author_id: seuzz
title: James Lamont Joins a Team
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Something explodes out of the back of your throat, and you bend double coughing; Sean slaps you hard on the back. It takes you almost a full minute to recover.<br/>
<br/>
"Did I just hear you say--" You start, and stare. <i>Yes, you did.</i> "Are you serious?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't like it?" His voice is veiled and quizzical.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not that I don't. It's just--" You struggle for words. "It's a pretty big deal you're talking about."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's just a lot of small deals. What I did?" He points to his chest. "Small deal. You and Cameron? Small deal. James and ... whoever? Small deal."<br/>
<br/>
"But the whole idea is ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Is what?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't have an answer, for you've a sudden vision of Gordon Black again, glaring and sneering down at you. Except now it's all for show, just an act for everyone else. He's a sock puppet, with someone inside him the way you're inside Cameron. The two of you carry on your feud in public, but in private you laugh over it and the way you've got everyone fooled ...<br/>
<br/>
Is this what Caleb is talking about? You look over at him through a squint. "So, pitch me this idea of yours again. Details, man."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Can't get past me can't get past me can't get-- Aw, crap!" you cry. James darts to the side, dribbling low and fast, and sweeps around you. He goes up for the basket, but misses. "Alright, how about we take a break?" You mop your face with your shirt: it's an unseasonably hot afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
James Lamont grins and lightly tries again for a basket ... and misses. Misses the third time. You trudge over and bend, lacing your hands together. He puts his foot on them, and you lift him up so he can dunk the ball. You let him drop with a grunt. "Black wouldn't let either of us on his squad, would he?" James laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm built wrong, and you can't shoot for shit," you allow. You slap him on the chest and draw him over to the shady side of the elementary school: the side near the basement door where Caleb introduced you to your double. "I guess we really oughta study for that English test," you grumble. "But that game was fun." James nods and reaches for his school bag. But you continue to muse aloud. "It's funny isn't it? Calling it a game."<br/>
<br/>
"What's funny about calling a basketball game a game?" James is blunt, amused and cynical, even with the football quarterback.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, games are supposed to be fun, right? It's not fun when Black's running things, though."<br/>
<br/>
"He can be kind of an jerk," James says carefully.<br/>
<br/>
"There's no 'kind of' about it. He's a total asshole." James laughs and relaxes. "But that's what I mean. It's no fun when you're trying that hard. It's like you can't be good at it and have fun both at the same time."<br/>
<br/>
"What about the football team?" James asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Case in point," you mutter ruefully. "My guys don't care if they're good, they just wanna have fun. And look what that does for us." You shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what you'd rather do?" James asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno what I'd rather do. Maybe that's how come I got discipline problems." Your mind briefly flashes back to yesterday after school, and the fight with Gordon. It had been a hard, serious, even slow-moving affair as you'd grappled with each other, straining for momentary advantages, unwilling to let go of the animus. It had ended only when Patterson surreptitiously stuck a foot in and tripped you, letting Gordon get atop you. He'd gloated, of course, but you'd let him, though without allowing your own chin to droop. "Know your place, Huber," he'd said as a parting shot. "I know yours," you'd replied.<br/>
<br/>
"People like you," James says, snapping you from your reverie.<br/>
<br/>
"People like me do what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean that people like you, respect you, wanna hang with you," he says. <br/>
<br/>
"Makes it hard to say 'no'," you agree. "What would you do in my place?" He blanches. "Yeah, okay, I dunno either. But what would you do in Gordon's place?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know basketball any better than I know football."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean about letting people have more fun. Relaxing, not being an asshole. If you were Gordon Black what would you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"If I were Gordon Black I'd do what Gordon Black does." You whap him on the side of the head, and he laughs. "Are you asking what I'd do as captain of the team?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm asking what you'd do if you were Gordon Black. Look," you continue. "Suppose I gave you magical shapeshifting powers, and you made yourself up like Gordon Black." He cocks an eyebrow. "And we got rid of the real Gordon Black somehow, so you could take his place. What would you do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Freak out, because I don't know how to act like him."<br/>
<br/>
You chuckle: You like James and his insolent honesty. "So I give you the power to imitate him exactly. Would you try to act just like him? Or would you act a little different?"<br/>
<br/>
James' lips disappear as he sucks on them. "I couldn't change too much or people would notice," he says. He mulls a little more. "I'd probably pick a different set of people to bully." More cynicism, but useful.<br/>
<br/>
"Like who?"<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces. "I'd put fucking Jason Lynch in his place."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?" you grin. "You and Lynch have problems with each other?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm one of his special friends," James says. "Have been since middle school."<br/>
<br/>
"You went to Schuyler?" He nods. "I went to Gates. So, you'd target a different set of victims."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess." He scratches an eyebrow. "Make life easier for guys like me. People do what Gordon tells 'em to." <i>Caleb was right: James has a good head on his shoulders.</i> "Yeah, but it wouldn't be fun," he sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"You'd have Chelsea. Wouldn't it be fun to, uh--" You shove a fat middle finger of one hand into the fist of the other and waggle it around. <br/>
<br/>
He guffaws. "Yeah, that'd be sick, though. Pretending to be her boyfriend." His eyes flick back and forth furtively over his grin. "Fun, but sick."<br/>
<br/>
"So it would be fun to be Gordon Black. Captain of the basketball team, dating the head cheerleader, telling people what to do and how to do it--"<br/>
<br/>
"But he's still basically an asshole. That's what wouldn't be fun."<br/>
<br/>
"So who <i>would</i> you like to be?"<br/>
<br/>
He turns and gives you a penetrating stare. "Why don't I want to be myself? I mean if I change into another person, what happens to my friends and family? I'd have to watch them freak out because I disappeared."<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't disappear. We put in a robot to replace you."<br/>
<br/>
"Magic <i>and</i> robots," he laughs. "You oughta write a story about it." He pushes you.<br/>
<br/>
"You oughta <i>live</i> it," you retort. "So, we give you shapeshifting powers and put in a robot to replace you. You can turn yourself into anyone at school, and we get rid of them--"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't kill anyone, not even Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, we don't kill 'im. We just put him someplace safe."<br/>
<br/>
"Like, lock him in a basement? Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we put him to sleep. A magical coma." He snorts merrily. "So let's say we get rid of all your ethical qualms--"<br/>
<br/>
"The whole thing is an ethical mess!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just play along. Who do you replace?"<br/>
<br/>
He turns a cock-eyed grin at you. "Maybe I replace <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. You're the football quarterback. You're popular. You've got--" He stops short.<br/>
<br/>
"I've got what? Oh!" You grin. "I've got <i>Anne!</i>" He blushes. "Go on, say it. I don't mind." His mouth splits into a gaping grin of embarrassment. "Here, lemme show you something." <br/>
<br/>
You stand and gesture him to follow you to the basement door, the key to which Caleb has lent you. James' eyes go wide as you open the door and pull him in. On the table near the bottom of the steps is the book of magic. You point to it. "Will Prescott showed you this the other day, right?" He nods in puzzlement. "Watch this." You stretch out on the table and put your hand to your face. You murmur the words that Caleb told you would take a mask off. The world goes dark.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Cameron Huber sits cross-legged on the floor, looking a little uncomfortable in James Lamont's clothes; Cameron's own clothes are barely hanging onto your own slim frame. "Think back to yesterday, the talk you had with Sean Mitchell," you urge him. "What were you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
His gaze turns inward and his brow puckers. He gives a little gasp. His eyebrows shoot up. He looks at you. "You guys aren't serious." You turn your hands palm up, as though to say <i>But here we are.</i> "Whoa."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think?" you quietly ask. "You want to be Gordon Black?"<br/>
<br/>
He ponders the offer. "I think I'd still rather be ... Cameron."<br/>
<br/>
"Cameron's got it hard. Think. Remember." <br/>
<br/>
He scratches a hairy knee, and the small muscles in his face work as he seems to relive some of the things that have happened in recent days. "It's a challenge," he says slowly. "But if we do what you and Sean--" He stops and turns a piercing glance at you. "But it's not Sean, not really, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's Caleb Johansson," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"If we do what you and Caleb are thinking of doing ... Cameron's life becomes easier." <br/>
<br/>
You grunt. He's right, and he could do it now: with the blank mask Caleb left, you could take over for him (temporarily). But you and Caleb were really counting on him taking over for Gordon.</span></div></div>


path: 11313112211
author_id: seuzz
title: Live from the Lamont
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb might not like the improvisation, but you think you've got a good excuse: James is ambivalent about Gordon, but interested in Cameron; and he's wearing Cameron's mask right now, which makes him very susceptible to the overall plan.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you take Cameron." James jerks his head in surprise. "Change clothes with me."<br/>
<br/>
He looks around in confusion. "Just like that? What about--?" He frowns and cocks his head. "Okay," he starts slowly. "So we bring the fake Will Prescott over here ... You go back to being yourself ..." He chews his lip. "We make a mask of ... of me and put it on--"<br/>
<br/>
You're impressed by how up to speed he is, even given the advantages bestowed by the mask. But you shake your head. "That won't work. We don't have the special stuff to put inside your mask." He looks puzzled, so you describe the golemizing-seal and how it works. <br/>
<br/>
"So we do the switch later, when you do have that stuff," he suggests.<br/>
<br/>
"It would be easier if-- Well, if <i>I</i> stepped in for you," you say. Suddenly, it seems like a bad idea to suggest this, but it's too late. "The real Cameron stays where he is, under that mask of me. But we make a mask of you, and I go out to be you. Temporarily," you hastily add. "Until we can get Gordon or somebody else."<br/>
<br/>
He licks his lip, and picks a bit of grit off his tongue. "You'd be inside my head."<br/>
<br/>
"I know. But just for a little while, and as part of the job. There'd be another advantage to doing it this way," you add. "If I'm playing you, then I can talk to Carson and Paul about this plan. That would save <i>you</i> the trouble of having to explain things."<br/>
<br/>
"So you guys do want all of us to join."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course. Don't <i>you</i> want Carson and Paul--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, yeah, of course," he agrees. He sinks lower into thought. "Yeah, I guess that would be okay. Don't say anything to Jenny, though," he adds in a sharp tone. "I wanna be the one to--"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "That's fine. Probably I'll play you only long enough to talk to Carson." He nods. "Okay, let's get that face off you, so we can make a copy of <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He gives a little half smile, and doesn't even flinch.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh, come here, buddy." You take two long steps and scoop up Julian, your one-year-old brother, before he can get away. "Who's got a stinky diaper? You do!" you tease the burbling toddler. "And who gets to change it?" you add in a grimmer tone. "<i>I</i> do." You hold him at arm's length and carry him into his room and set him on the changing table. <i>Forty-five minutes into James Lamont's life, and already you've got shit all over your hands.</i><br/>
<br/>
No, it's not bad. The details are different--much different--from your old life, but it's similar in a lot of ways. A mother and father, though in this case it's your mother who is the brilliant one (a professor of mathematics); a younger brother, though much younger than the 13-year-old Robert back at your place; an older sister, who goes to school at Keyserling. The chores are different, and so is the family chemistry. But you feel a lot calmer--and much less persecuted--as James than you did as yourself. No wonder he seemed somewhat skeptical of making a change.<br/>
<br/>
But this moment does test your patience. "Oh, you've been eating pureed Martians again," you groan as you strip the diaper off him. "Why does Dad keep buying that junk? It's junk but you <i>love it</i>, don't you?" You tickle Julian, and he squeals. You pull out a fistful of wipes from under the table; your face contorts as you smear away the mess, then tuck the sheets and the diaper together and drop them into the pail. Talcum. You reach under again, but only pat an empty shelf; holding your brother by his ankles, you bend to peer underneath. "Mom, where's the diapers? Changing table is empty!"<br/>
<br/>
"Look in Julian's closet!" she shouts from two rooms over.<br/>
<br/>
"What is this, a scavenger hunt?" you mutter, and jab the infant in the stomach. "You stay." You dash over to the closet and look quickly around. There's a fresh package on an upper shelf, wedged under some folded sheets ... which tumble all over your head as you pull out the diapers. "You think we could start organizing his closet along Euclidean lines?" you shout to your mom.<br/>
<br/>
"What did you say, honey? They're on the upper shelf, on the left."<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing! Typical, she gives specific coordinates only after I don't need them." You rip open the box and hurriedly tug ... aw, jeez, disposable diapers fly everywhere. You kick them aside and grab Julian, who has turned over and is trying to sit up.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yah!!!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry," your mom says from directly behind you. "Did you try making a math joke?"<br/>
<br/>
"I tried but it came out more as a housekeeping joke."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll finish with him while you pick this stuff up." She presses gently past while kicking a diaper under the playpen. <br/>
<br/>
You kneel and scoop everything up; she moves out of the way so you can neatly stack the diapers under the changing table. You straighten with a sigh just in time for her to pick Julian up. He throws his arms around her and hugs tightly. "So I do the dirty work, and you swoop in to collect all the rewards."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what my adviser told me when I showed him--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you've told it before, how you did your dissertation on a problem that stymied Professor Van Orman for fifteen years." You shove your hands in your back pockets and peer down at Julian. "I think his shinola output is starting to follow the Fibonacci sequence." She gives you a slit-eyed glance, and you suck in your breath. "I have homework, don't I? Good old English lit, where you don't need to do graduate work to know how to execute a pun." You retreat to your bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't immediately get to work; you have to take a potty break first. After you're done you contemplate your reflection in the mirror. Tall, lanky, with dark brown hair in a thick thatch. Strong, regular features, dominated by dark eyes that easily twitch into an amused, skeptical expression. Clothes: basic Levis and tennis shoes; an old blue t-shirt with the Ben &amp; Jerry's logo emblazoned on it; a fleece jacket with the sleeves pushed up past the elbows. James has his dad's frame, but his mother's features are filtered through it. It's a good blend.<br/>
<br/>
You open your books, but you need to call Caleb, so you also take out your cell phone. It rings right as you grasp it: Carson. "Live from the Lamont," you answer.<br/>
<br/>
He chuckles. "How are the comedy routines going over tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a tough crowd. She knows the material better than the comic. What's up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to get together, talk to you. Oh, how did things go with Cameron?"<br/>
<br/>
"He offered me a job as quarterback." Carson laughs. "I'm thinking of taking him up on it."<br/>
<br/>
"Try <i>that</i> joke on your mom," he chortles. "Or doesn't she go for absurdist humor?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you? You think it's absurd?" A little more work, and you could turn this into an authentic segue.<br/>
<br/>
"Hmmmmmm. I don't suppose the phrase 'libra personae' came up as part of this offer, did it?"<br/>
<br/>
You actually grab at the edge of the desk, and it takes you a moment to find your voice. "Okay, that's kind of an absurd twist. Funny, but peculiar, not ha ha."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's get together," he says, and then announces he's on his way over.<br/>
<br/>
You call Caleb, but the Johansson who answers is no help. <i>Sean Mitchell's number?</i> You knew it while you were being Cameron, but it's slipped your memory now. You check your phone log and retrieve Cameron's number, but he doesn't answer. Probably he's with Anne, and threw the phone out the window in a fit of passion. You'll have to go into this meeting blind.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Carson arrives on his bike, and you're waiting outside; together, you sit in the lowering dusk on the edge of the grass by the curb. It's an interesting conversation, though mostly because of what it tells you about Carson. "How long did it take you to ferret this stuff out?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Thirty seconds," he says with some bemusement. "I was bored so I did a little light Googling. Then I went up to the college and talked to a couple of professors. It's not a famous book or anything--pretty obscure--but their descriptions matched what Prescott showed us." He leans in. "It's pretty fucking valuable," he says in a low voice.<br/>
<br/>
"What, you suggesting we steal it from him and sell it?" you ask in shock.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott's an idiot. Ten to one he doesn't know what he's got. We can buy it from him cheap."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes crinkle up in a smile. "And what if it's true," you say with feigned humor. "About making masks of people, and simulacra whatevers."<br/>
<br/>
Carson stares at you with a queer look on his face for a very long time. "You said Huber offered you the quarterback position," he says in a tone that combines skepticism with intense curiosity. "What did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
Well, here it is, the perfect chance to make the reveal and spring Caleb's idea on him. But maybe you should take him to see your friend first. Caleb is already in the dark about the switch you made with James, and you don't like him being so far behind the curve of evolving circumstances.</span></div></div>


path: 113131122111
author_id: seuzz
title: An Unexpected Adventure
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Quarterback? Hell yeah, I said I'd take his position!" You punch Carson lightly in the knee, and get up. "Let's go talk to Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"About selling the book?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, just about the book itself. Let's not mention those professors or anything. You won't want to see the book sold, not after we talk to Caleb." His eyes narrow at your grin.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb seems oddly subdued, considering the speed and ease with which you've brought him a new recruit. "So how's it feel, Carson?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Carson's not here," James Lamont replies. He sucks the inside of his cheek and leans against the wall. He smiles faintly. "Well, he <i>is,</i> but no one would know that, would they?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not if they didn't know better," you agree. James is a little taller than you, so you have to hike up your pants a little as you stand. "Pretty cool, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah." He continues to stare thoughtfully past you. "But we're not gonna just be swapping with each other, right?" Now he looks at Caleb. "The, uh, conversations I remember having earlier--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Caleb says, and shifts in his chair. "We're gonna move in on other people, take their place. Reshape things." His eye briefly meets yours. "We already have Cameron. A couple of others."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll have a team meeting later to talk about it. But you're in, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Definitely." Carson looks at you, then glances down at his own clothes. He tugs at the shirt. He picks his bandana up from the bed and puts it on his head. It fits badly, since James's hair is a lot longer and bushier than Carson's. He pulls it off again. "This is fun, but I guess I should change clothes if I'm gonna go home as James."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb says nothing, but you do: "Who said you were gonna do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I got the mask on, I might as well--"<br/>
<br/>
"And what do I do?"<br/>
<br/>
He blinks. "Can't you go home?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've got a double at home. My dad thinks even one of me is a handful, and my mom doesn't remember giving birth to twins."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you get rid of him?"<br/>
<br/>
You look to Caleb for support, but he just leans forward, resting his arms on the back of his chair. "Um ... I don't know how to do that," you say. "Besides, don't you have to go home?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can always say I'm sleeping over at James's."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb continues to say nothing. You snap your fingers at Carson. "Come on, I should take it back." <br/>
<br/>
He grumbles, but plops onto the bed. "When can I get a mask of my own?"<br/>
<br/>
Your friend stirs. "I dunno. Soon. Maybe tomorrow." He shrugs and avoids Carson's eye. Carson grunts softly, then puts his hand to his face. Since the James mask now carries memories of how to remove a mask, he is able to easily pull it off.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, what is your problem," you ask, rounding on Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have a problem," he says, looking genuinely startled.<br/>
<br/>
"You're just sitting there like a lump, like all this is boring. Or you're pissed off." You look at him closely. "Are you pissed that I switched with James? Or that I told Carson all about this already?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says slowly. "I don't think I am. I'm just thinking, that's all." He sucks on his lower lip. "It's all kind of complicated, you know. I'm just thinking it all through."<br/>
<br/>
Carson, of course, had noticed Caleb's demeanor, and he asks you about it on the drive back. "I think he was just distracted," you assure him, though you hardly feel reassured yourself. "If he was upset we'd have known. It's all kind of complicated, and with you coming in it's gotten more complicated."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't he want me to join?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course he does. He told me to make sure you did. But, uh, it's all complicated." You've nothing but Caleb's own words to fall back on.<br/>
<br/>
Carson is silent for a bit. "Yeah, I guess it would be. That was a pretty thick book. I'm guessing there's a hell of a lot more in it than just making these masks." He doesn't expand on the thought.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have a rendezvous with James's personal bully, Jason Lynch, the next morning, but you're rescued by Cameron Huber. Otherwise, it's a good day, with Caleb back to being his ebullient self. He even passes a mask along to Carson.<br/>
<br/>
Then he calls you at James's house that night: "Carson told me there's a professor who knows something about the book." He pauses. "Let's you and me go talk to him tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not thinking of selling it, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not. But I don't want Carson nosing around. The best way to do that is to beat him to the punch."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll go talk to this prof guy. Then we'll pass that info on to Carson. Scratch his itch for him."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you have work?"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone will cover for me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb is dressed as Sean when he meets you after school, and drives you out to the professor's in Sean's truck. The address is attached to a large stone villa on the outskirts of town. It's very quiet as you approach the door. The lawn is dead and the elaborate flower beds are empty and there is only one tree. Maybe that explains why there are no bird sounds. You and Sean glance at each other when you reach the door: the doorbell sits inside the gaping mouth of a ravening wolf's head. So Sean just raps sharply at the door.<br/>
<br/>
It is opened by an extremely portly gentleman with a moustache-goatee and a bad comb over. "Gentlemen," he greets you an amiable tone. "So pleased to meet you. I'm Professor Aubrey Blackwell." You introduce yourselves; his hand, when you take it, is clammy. "So you and your friends are interested in the <i>Libra Personae</i>," he says as he lets you into the foyer.<br/>
<br/>
Sean nods. "The father of a friend of ours has a book called that," he says. You're prepared, so you don't react to the falsehood. "It looks really old, and we just did a little research on it. I don't think he knows anything about it. We thought it might be a cool surprise, like a birthday present or something, if we found out for him that it's valuable."<br/>
<br/>
"If it is the genuine article it is quite valuable, I assure you," Blackwell says. "How long as he had it?"<br/>
<br/>
"For as long as I can remember," Sean says. Blackwell smiles faintly and makes a "hmm" noise. "So, what's the deal with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Let me get you boys some refreshments," he smiles. "If you'll just go into the library." He points. "Down the hall, first door on the left."<br/>
<br/>
You and Sean exchange a brief glance as Blackwell steps to the side, and go down the hall. You've only taken a few steps before you are overcome by a terrible feeling of drowsiness ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I don't wanna go to school," you mumble at the figure who is shaking you. It slaps you, and the figure comes into focus, finally. It's Sean.<br/>
<br/>
"Get up, Prescott," he snarls. "Come on." Your legs don't want to work, but he roughly pulls you to your feet, and slaps you again. "I let you sleep long enough."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him. He's naked. You glance down. You're naked. You glance over at the third person. She's also naked.<br/>
<br/>
You do a double take and look her over much more slowly. She turns a very crimson color, but you're only able to look away when Sean grabs you by the hair and turns your head forcibly back to his face. He grimaces hard. "First, we get out of here. <i>Then</i> we ogle our friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Where are we? What--" You look around. You're in a long, narrow room with a high ceiling. The floor is bare concrete. The walls are brick. A narrow spiral staircase leads up to a panel high in the wall overhead. There is a single narrow window, but it opens into darkness. The room is illuminated by a bare bulb. "The fuck--?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's that old bastard," Sean spits. "He knows all about the book. He wants it, and he's going to get it for himself."<br/>
<br/>
"How--"<br/>
<br/>
"No time for that, Will. We need to get out of here. Lucy can tell you all about what he's done later." You start to turn to the girl again, but Sean again wrenches your head over. "We can't take the stairs, so we need to go out the window. You're the only one skinny enough." Behind him you see the girl shoot him a dirty look. "So you're elected."<br/>
<br/>
You're still way too confused, but you let him haul you over to the window. A metal cot has been wedged beneath it as a makeshift ladder. "You go up, you go out, you come back into the house and let us out," he says. "Lucy says the door is somewhere in the library." You stare at him. He just pushes you at the cot.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, you're just going to have to wing it the way he wants. The cot wobbles beneath you, but Sean steadies it. At the top you carefully put your hand through the open frame. "Mind the glass," Sean says. "I tried to get it cleaned out as best I could." You grit your teeth and very carefully slip through. Only a few times, and lightly, do you nick yourself.<br/>
<br/>
You look around when you're outside. It's night. Light spills from nearby French windows. You start to step toward them when you hear a sound. Something or someone is shuffling beyond the corner of the house.</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221111
author_id: seuzz
title: An Unexpected Rescue
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're naked and vulnerable, but you're also feeling extremely confused. Probably that's why you do just about the stupidest thing possible and trot lightly past the bright windows to that corner where the noises are coming from. But you're not so stupid that you just step around it.<br/>
<br/>
You don't have to: a tall figure jumps out and grabs at you, and you yelp as he rips out a fistful of your chest hair. You leap back, but he is too quick, and an instant later has you locked in a tight grip. "Shut him up!" a voice hisses by your ear as he puts you in a headlock.<br/>
<br/>
A hand goes over your mouth, and you find yourself staring into the softly illuminated face of a kid who can't be much older or younger than yourself. His eyes are very bright, and his grin is sharp. "Who is it?" the voice by your ear hisses again.<br/>
<br/>
"A naked kid," the guy in front of you replies. "Maybe it's a frat party."<br/>
<br/>
The other one mutters an indistinct word that sounds very foul. From above, you hear a noise like the clink of footsteps on tile. "That's the signal to get out of here," the voice continues. "Cover my back." The kid in front of you disappears to the side, and you feel yourself frog marched quickly along. You trip and stumble, but your assailant keeps hustling you forward. You make the front sidewalk, and then he forces you into a run. Somehow you manage to keep to your feet and are soon out past the gate. It squeals behind, and closes with a hard clinking sound.<br/>
<br/>
The voice mutters again, and the second guy again swims into view. "Hey," he says in a friendly tone entirely at odds with the iron-like grip his friend has on you. "What's your name?"<br/>
<br/>
You gape, and swallow. "Will," you say in a guarded tone. "Will Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"Nice to meet you, Will," he says in the same soft, friendly voice. "Pardon the circumstances. Do you live here?" You shake your head. "Us neither. Is there a party going on in there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe," the other guy says in a warning tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you never know," his friend says. "So if you don't mind me asking, how come you're skulking around Aubrey Blackwell's house without any clothes on?"<br/>
<br/>
You wish Aubrey Blackwell were here so you could ask him the same question. "I'm trying to get out of there," you reply. "He had me and some friends locked up in a basement or something."<br/>
<br/>
Joe's eyes widen, and he lets out a soft whistle. "A black magician <i>and</i> a sex maniac. Two great tastes that taste great together." Your bowels loosen. "Where are your friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"Back inside. Uh ..."<br/>
<br/>
"You were going for help?" Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you say slowly. These guys don't seem like they're part of a rescue party. Maybe they were planning to break in and rob the place. <br/>
<br/>
"I think you can let him go now, Frank," Joe says. Your captor replies in what definitely sounds like a foreign language. Joe shrugs. "You tell him, you think you're so persuasive."<br/>
<br/>
You feel a mouth by your ear. The voice is low and very threatening. "My brother is going to say something. You will repeat what he says exactly." The grip on you tightens.<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't work that way," Joe says crossly. "And now you've spoiled it. Will," he says, looking back at you. "You're telling the truth, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" Fear has begun to recede, and anger to take its place.<br/>
<br/>
"Let him go, Frank," Joe says. "We'll put him in the truck and go get the others."<br/>
<br/>
Frank keeps a firm grip on you. "Blackwell is still inside," he says. "Maybe," he adds in a very heavy tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Then we reconnoiter," Joe says. "How'd you get out of the house?" he asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Through a window," you reply. "There's, like, some French doors or something, by where you grabbed me." You struggle a little, but it's useless. "Down next to them. There's a guy and a girl down in, like, a basement."<br/>
<br/>
Joe's eyes light up. "Is the girl naked too? Is she hot?" Frank mutters another foul-sounding word. "Okay, I guess we'll have to see for ourselves."<br/>
<br/>
Frank pushes you toward a truck; Joe opens the passenger-side door, and Frank thrusts you in. You turn, and find yourself face to face with a tall, dark-haired figure. "You stay here," he says. "Don't touch anything, and don't even <i>think</i> about running off." He gives you a hard glare, and slams the door shut. He and Joe disappear toward the gate.<br/>
<br/>
You look around. It's a big pick-up truck, a lot like the ones you and Sean drive. You peer out the windows. It's the only vehicle in front of the house. What happened to Sean's ride?<br/>
<br/>
You settle back, pulling your legs up to keep warm, and to cover your nakedness as best you can. Your head has begun to hurt. The fuck is going on?<br/>
<br/>
You reflect on the afternoon's and evening's events. You went out with Caleb to see this Blackwell guy. <i>A black magician and a sex maniac,</i> the guy named Joe had said. Well, the last seems plausible, you have to grimly admit: two guys and a girl, stripped of clothes, shoved into a basement. <i>Black magician?</i> You take a deep breath. You and Caleb had gone to the house to ask him about that book of magic you'd found; he'd claimed to know something about it. It suddenly seems like a foolhardy move. If someone knows about the book, then they must know what it is supposedly about. Most people--you, for instance, before you'd found it--would have dismissed the idea of a real book of magic as so much horse puckey. But if someone <i>knew</i> that it was real-- And if they were a "black magician"--<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. And who are these guys you ran into? They look like high school kids. Or maybe college kids, you have to admit. Why are <i>they</i> babbling about "black magicians" and spying on Blackwell?<br/>
<br/>
You're distracted by muffled shouts, and sit up in your seat. The front of the house is dark, and you can barely make out anything; besides, the front wall blocks most of your view. But as you watch, two figures dart out the gate, and the house's porch light springs on. The doors to the truck fly open, and you're squeezed between your rescuers. Frank starts the truck with a roar and peels away from the house. They ignore you, and you shrink down between them. When you're several hundred yards down the road, Frank jerks the truck to a stop. He doesn't turn off the motor, though.<br/>
<br/>
He looks past you at Joe; again, he says something in a foreign language. Joe is grimacing, and when Frank snaps the cab light on you see that he is pale. "I'll be okay," Joe says. "How about you? English, okay?" he adds when Frank replies in that alien tongue.<br/>
<br/>
Frank suffers to give you a quick glance. "Just a bad scare," he says. "You took the brunt of it. What did it do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gave me a bad scare." Joe draws a sharp breath. "I think I landed on my arm wrong."<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme see," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
Joe waves him off. "Will, how are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
You freeze under their direct gaze. "Uh, I'm naked and really freaked out, but-- What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell has a guard dog," Joe says with a tight smile. "We found your friends, but it wasn't a long conversation. You're lucky you ran into us. If the dog didn't get you, Blackwell would've if you'd tried going back in."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to try again," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He turns a satirical eye on you. "We're gonna pretend that's a compliment, aren't we, Frank, and that you're volunteering our services because you like us and trust us."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't mean--" you start to stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"It's only going to get worse out there." That's Frank talking, and you reluctantly turn toward him. His face is also pale, and he's staring at you hard. "Before we try anything again we need to know who you are and what you were doing at that house."<br/>
<br/>
Before you can reply, you feel a hand on the back of your head; you turn, startled, to find Joe gently stroking your hair. "Don't be such a hard ass, Frank. He's been through a lot. He doesn't know what's going on. Do you, Will?" At first you think it's a rhetorical question, but he doesn't continue until you mumble agreement. "You see? Blackwell's up to no good. Like I said, he's obviously a sex maniac and probably worse. Will and his friends were just at the wrong place at the wrong time." His smile is very warm and reassuring, and the only "off" note is the pain reflected in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd still like to know how they managed to get themselves so spectacularly cross-wise with Blackwell," Frank growls.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, who <i>are</i> you guys," you exclaim. You half-expect a curt and ugly reply, but Joe just smiles. <br/>
<br/>
"Would you believe it if we said we're undercover cops investigating a pretty nasty sex abuse ring?" Joe says. You gape. "If you wanna talk about it, we'll have to take you back to our house," he continues. "You in high school or college?"<br/>
<br/>
"High school. Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you stay out till midnight?"</span></div></div>


path: 11313112211111
author_id: seuzz
title: Confessions of a Stooge
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I can stay out as long as I need to," you reply. You want answers too.<br/>
<br/>
They take you to a small house in one of the dowdier subdivisions in town, a few miles from the campus of Keyserling College. They tell you to wait in the truck while they go inside; Frank returns a minute later with some gym shorts and a t-shirt so you can make it to the front door without humiliating yourself further. Inside, you find Joe sitting on the sofa in a small living room. He's cradling his arm in his lap. Frank points at the floor, ordering you to sit, while he crouches in front of Joe and gently examines his arm. "It's broken," he says, and steps from the room. He returns with a long, flexible fabric bandage, which he uses to bind Joe's arm to his torso. <br/>
<br/>
As they work, you study them. Frank is the taller of the two, with dark, thick hair brushed over in loose bangs. He moves brusquely and confidently, and gives the impression of being very strong. Joe is shorter, but more muscular. He is blonde, and his hair is much shaggier, drooping low over his eyebrows and curling off the back of his neck and under his ears. Both are dressed in sleeveless t-shirts and athletic shorts, and wear sneakers.<br/>
<br/>
They murmur to each other in low, indistinct voices, and your attention turns to the house. Through one wide doorway you see the foyer and front door, and the entrance to a hallway; the foyer also opens out into another room that is hidden. Through another doorway you see a dining room table and a door that probably leads to the garage. The living room is sparsely furnished with a TV, an empty bookshelf, the sofa, a coffee table, and an end table with a lamp.<br/>
<br/>
When he's finished with Joe, Frank turns a penetrating stare on you. "Tonight was a real clusterfuck," he says. "But you're our first really solid lead in this case. Be honest with us, if you want to make us happy."<br/>
<br/>
"Can I see your IDs?" you ask in a voice that only slightly trembles.<br/>
<br/>
"Would our driver's licenses work for you?" Joe asks. He's laying back with his head against the wall, eyes closed.<br/>
<br/>
"We caught you running around naked at the house of a highly respected university professor," Frank says. "You're not really in a position to bargain."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd still like to see some IDs."<br/>
<br/>
"IDs can be faked," Joe says quietly as Frank's expression hardens. "So can driver's licenses. I myself am possessed of two fake IDs, against the misfortune that a bouncer confiscates one. Look, if it was just a wild party--"<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't a party!" you snap. Given what happened at Blackwell's, you can probably tell these guys, whoever they are, about it without bringing the masks and stuff into it. "Me and a friend, Sean Mitchell--" <i>Might as well use the name that goes with the face.</i> "We had business out there. Something happened, I don't know what. It was like-- I dunno. Professor Blackwell, he let us inside, and suddenly I just fainted. When I woke up, I was down inside that basement. Sean had broken through the window, and he sent me out to find a way back in, so I could get him and-- There was this girl down there, too."<br/>
<br/>
"She didn't travel out there with you?" Frank asks. You shake your head. "Did you see her there before you had that fainting fit?" <br/>
<br/>
"No. First I saw her was in the basement."<br/>
<br/>
"Naked?" Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Describe her."<br/>
<br/>
"Joe," Frank says in a weary tone. "So you went out through the window. Then?"<br/>
<br/>
"I ran into you guys."<br/>
<br/>
Frank sighs. "Your name is Will Prescott, and you go to Westside? Okay, what business did you have with the professor? University business? Did he call you? Do you know him?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." <i>Okay, now it's going to get a little tricky.</i> You might as well use the story Caleb had invented. "A friend of ours, he, uh, his father has this old book. Like, an old Latin book?" Your heart skips when Joe raises his head and fastens a bright look on you. "Anyway, we were investigating it. You know, because it might be valuable. This other friend of ours--"<br/>
<br/>
"These guys, do they have names?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it was Carson Ioeger who contacted Professor Blackwell, asking if he knew anything about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why Blackwell?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Maybe because he's a professor of archaeology? He said he talked to a couple of professors about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Any other professors know anything about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Blackwell was the only name he gave us."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the name of this book?" Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
Now your heart really does hammer inside your chest. <i>Ah, but what can these guys know?</i> "Something Latin-like. Liber. Liber Person."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Libra Personae?</i>" Joe says in a very fluent accent.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow. "That sounds right."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it doesn't sound right when <i>you</i> say it." Joe smiles, though his face is still pale. "Say it again. Say, 'I'm telling you what I know about the <i>Libra Personae.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
"Say it. Humor me. I'm telling you what--"<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "I'm telling you what I know about the <i>Libra Personae.</i>" You're surprised at the way the hard words slide over your tongue. "Anyway, we went out to Blackwell's to ask about this book, because Caleb--"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's Caleb?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"My other friend. It's his book."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought it was his father's book."<br/>
<br/>
"His dad ran off years ago." You blink; Frank's eyebrow goes up fractionally. "Okay, yeah, the book belongs to Caleb," you hurriedly say. "He wanted to know more about it."<br/>
<br/>
"So he could sell it?" Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, because it's full of magic spells and things." You briefly choke. "He wanted to know more about it," you faintly add.<br/>
<br/>
Your oddball confession doesn't seem to have fazed them. "Has Caleb done anything with those magic spells," Frank asks in a very matter of fact tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he's used them to make a couple of masks." The room begins to spin.<br/>
<br/>
"And he told you and Sean all about these masks?" Frank's voice comes faintly through the roar in your ears.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." The room blurs.<br/>
<br/>
"So why did he want to see Blackwell?"<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath, and the room steadies. "To find out more about the book."<br/>
<br/>
"And what happened when you saw Blackwell?"<br/>
<br/>
You feel much calmer, now that the subject has returned to Blackwell and the evening's events. "Like I said, he let us in, and then I fainted, and then I was in that basement, and then I broke out."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you see anything weird in the house?" Frank asks. "Twins, or people who shouldn't be there?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Just Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
"How did you get to the house?" Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"In Sean's truck."<br/>
<br/>
"There wasn't any truck when <i>we</i> got there," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I noticed that."<br/>
<br/>
Frank and Joe look at each other, and then Joe leans forward, wincing as he does so. "Will," he asks gently. "That is your real name, isn't it?" You nod. "Will, you said you can stay out as long as you need to. Is that because there is someone at your house who looks and acts just like you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," you say, and pitch to the side in a dead faint.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your head is full of cotton when you wake, and you sit up to find yourself on the sofa. You glance back, to see Joe and Frank at the dining room table. They rise and return to the living room. You rear back from them.<br/>
<br/>
Frank stands in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. His expression is grim, but not angry. Joe sits on the sofa's arm and reaches for you. You flinch, but he only caresses the back of your head. "Will," he starts.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, um, all that stuff I was saying earlier," you say in a wild tone. "It was all, like, you know, a practical joke? Because you guys were--"<br/>
<br/>
"If it was a joke it wasn't funny," Frank says. "And it <i>wasn't</i> a joke, was it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to worry, Will," Joe says. He continues to stroke your hair. "You can even start telling lies again, if you want. It was a mean thing we did to you, but you're better off for being honest. You're in a bad place, but you'd be in a worse one if you hadn't run into us."<br/>
<br/>
You just swallow, and look at them fearfully.<br/>
<br/>
"While you were out, we made some phone calls," Frank says. "We called your house. Talked to a kid named Will Prescott. From him we got phone numbers for Caleb Johansson, Sean Mitchell, and Carson Ioeger. We called them."<br/>
<br/>
"And what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"We talked briefly to Caleb Johansson, Sean Mitchell, and Carson Ioeger."<br/>
<br/>
Two of those make sense. "But Sean! He's--"<br/>
<br/>
"He's at home. Says he's been home all evening." <br/>
<br/>
You look wildly between them. "I wasn't lying when--!"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course you weren't," Joe says. "If you were honest about the <i>Libra</i> and the masks and having a double at home, you'd certainly be honest about who was in the basement with you and how you got there. Does Sean have a double of himself?"<br/>
<br/>
You stare. Caleb is in Sean's mask. But the real Sean ... "I don't know," you have to admit.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's call him out here. Find out what's going on," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
You ask if you can use the bathroom first, and they point to a door down the hall. Inside, you splash cold water over your face. As you raise your head, you see the window.</span></div></div>


path: 113131122111112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Missing Mask
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You probably couldn't even get away from these guys if you tried. And where would you go?<br/>
<br/>
You pad back into the living room, feeling more alert but hardly calmer. "You guys aren't undercover cops, are you?" you challenge them.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, we are," Frank says. "Of a sort." He holds out a cell phone and a piece of paper.  "Call Sean and ask him over."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Which is the frying pan and which is the fire,</i> you find yourself wondering as you dial. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, whaddaya want now?" Sean asks in a grumpy tone before you've even said hello.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, I'm over at these guys' house," you say uncertainly. "There's a little party. Wanna come over?" Frank frowns; Joe rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm busy," Sean says brusquely. "You can have fun without me."<br/>
<br/>
Joe tears the phone from your hand. "So are you coming or aren't you?" he says, and his voice sounds very different: flat and croaking. "Well, the thing is, it isn't a <i>party</i> party, it's like a business party. Caleb is here and so is Carson. You don't wanna be left out." He listens, then drops the phone to his side. "Give it here," he says in a loud voice that has again changed. He raises the phone back to his ear. "Yo, come on. Don't be an asshole. This is important." Your jaw drops; he sounds exactly like Caleb. You look at Frank; the latter's lips twitch slightly. Joe gives an address, and brusquely hangs up. He looks at you. "You gotta know how to handle these things."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Maybe it isn't a party, but after that little performance Joe does break out a bag of potato chips and some dip. He gestures you into the dining room, and you're glad to follow, for Frank is pacing up and down, hands on hips, ignoring you while still making you very nervous. Joe pushes the snack at you. "Have you eaten yet?"<br/>
<br/>
You haven't, and the chips aren't much, and they certainly aren't filling, but at least they're something. Joe carefully rests his bad arm on the table. "This thing is really gonna start hurting pretty soon," he says. "I'm gonna have to see a doctor, but I hope we can get all this sorted out first. While we're waiting for Sean, tell me more about what you and your friends have been getting up to." You stop in mid-chew, and look down at the dip. He laughs and tugs an ear lobe. "No, it's not doctored with truth serum. But c'mon. We have to know what we're facing. Where did this book come from?"<br/>
<br/>
You're in this deep, so you tell him about finding it at Arnholm's Used Bookstore and about how you gave it to Caleb; how he showed you the masks--only a few days ago, you realize, though it seems longer--and how you impersonated Cameron. You rush through this latter bit: it sounds impossible, and rather horrible, in fact, but Joe takes it in calmly, and you go on to describe Caleb's plans for recruiting some more people. "What were you guys going to do with these masks?" Joe asks. "Take turns pretending to be each other?"<br/>
<br/>
You become shifty, and are embarrassed to realize it. "'M not sure," you admit. "Caleb was talking about using them to, uh, teach bullies lessons."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullies suck," Joe says sympathetically. "You got a world-class one in Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
"You said something about him being a ... a black magician?"<br/>
<br/>
"Likely that's what he is. We're not sure. He has a bad stink about him, and he wants the <i>Libra</i>." He smiles. "Maybe not to do things to bullies, though. That naked girl sounds interesting."<br/>
<br/>
"And what are you guys, uh--"<br/>
<br/>
"We're going to get rid of the <i>Libra,</i>" he says. "We <i>are</i> undercover cops, of a sort, though we don't work for any government."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you're like those brothers on that TV show?"<br/>
<br/>
He snickers so hard he chokes. "Yeah, like that, I guess. We love that show, the way the guys at NASA love <i>Star Trek.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe," Frank calls from the other room.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I love the show," Joe says as he gets up. "Frank thinks they're a couple of assholes." You watch him go. <i>Frank and Joe?</i> More Hardy Boys than-- Frank calls you, too. You stuff some chips into your mouth and follow Joe into the living room. <br/>
<br/>
The doorbell rings. "Check out the truck through the window," Frank tells you. "Tell me if it's Sean's." <br/>
<br/>
You twitch the curtains aside as he goes to the door. There is a truck parked behind Frank and Joe's, and in the dark-- "Yeah, it looks like his," you say. "I think." Frank shoots Joe a skeptical glance as he opens the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I'm looking for Caleb Johansson and Will Prescott," you hear Sean say. You suddenly shudder. <i>Sean should be in a basement at a house many miles and miles away.</i> But it's Sean Mitchell who steps into the foyer as Frank steps aside. He looks at you with a muted and uncomprehending expression. "Hey Will," he says. "So what the fuck is all this about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will, do you know how to take masks off people," Joe casually asks.<br/>
<br/>
Sean jerks and suddenly goes very stiff. "What the-- Will?" he stammers in a very confused voice.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him. You'd left him in the basement at Blackwell's. But of course, there's another one of <i>you</i> on the loose too. "Will?" Joe asks in a quiet voice. You try to run through the possibilities of who or what might be under a mask. <i>Caleb,</i> Frank said, <i>is at home. So is Carson. The real Cameron is under your mask. James is under Cameron's mask.</i> You realize that Frank is frowning at you, but you have to try getting this figured out first. Still, you raise your hand and advance a step on Sean. <i>James is under Cameron's face. Cameron is under your face. You are here. Carson is still himself, isn't he? Caleb is either at home being himself; or he's here in front of you, pretending to be Sean; or he's under Sean's face, back at Blackwell's. But then who is playing the part of the other two people?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Will," Sean says in a very strong voice. "What is going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm trying to find Sean," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Sean," he replies.<br/>
<br/>
"I want to be sure of that," you say.<br/>
<br/>
You can't believe he doesn't fight back. It looks like he wants to. His face is very red, and veins and tendons bulge from his neck. He grits his teeth, and shakes hard. But his arms remain at his sides. He only pulls his head back as you reach for his face.<br/>
<br/>
You grab his temples and plant a thumb on his cheek. You murmur the words and pull.<br/>
<br/>
Your hand slips off. His face is very slick with sweat.<br/>
<br/>
You try again with the same result.<br/>
<br/>
You take a very firm purchase on his face. "Will," he cries. You repeat the words again, very loudly, enunciating them carefully. You pull very hard. You press firmly against his face. "Will, for fuck's sake, <i>this is my face! I'm Sean!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You fall back, staring hard at him.<br/>
<br/>
"This better not be a trick, Prescott," Frank says in a quiet but menacing voice. He steps around from behind Sean. His hands are clasped, as though preparing to give someone a double-handed blow.<br/>
<br/>
"Look at his face, Frank," Joe says. "That's the not the face of a faker. Will, there's not a mask on him, is there?"<br/>
<br/>
"For fuck's sake, what is going on?" Sean yells.<br/>
<br/>
"How did you get out the basement at the professor's house?" you shout at Sean.<br/>
<br/>
"What professor? What basement?" he cries.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you go out to Professor Blackwell's with me today?" You snap your fingers. "Or was it Caleb? Or someone else?"<br/>
<br/>
His face falls, and he suddenly turns very furtive. He looks around. "Will, who are these guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"I went out to Professor Blackwell's with--" Now it's your turn to freeze. You thought you were going out with Caleb-disguised-as-Sean, but you hadn't mentioned <i>that</i> to Frank and Joe. "I thought it was <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Not me," he snaps back. "I don't know what all this is about."<br/>
<br/>
"That's too bad," Frank says. "Because someone who looks like Sean Mitchell--"<br/>
<br/>
"Mitchell!" Joe suddenly shouts, and runs from the room.<br/>
<br/>
The three of you turn in bemusement, and then turn back to each other. "My brother has these weird fits," Frank says. "What was I saying? Oh yeah, someone who looks like Sean Mitchell is in the basement at Professor Aubrey Blackwell's house. He's naked and at the mercy of a sex maniac. But since he's <i>not</i> Sean Mitchell, because that's who <i>you</i> are, I guess we don't have to worry about him."<br/>
<br/>
You expect <i>that</i> will get Sean to make some kind of confession. If this is Sean--<br/>
<br/>
You blink. <i>Didn't Caleb say that Sean was a "victim" like Cameron? Then what is he doing loose? Did Caleb turn him loose? Or has Sean been some kind of secret partner all this time? Maybe he's a newly inducted member? Maybe Cameron will become a member?</i><br/>
<br/>
Your head is hurting, and the pain isn't improved by what Sean says next. "Beats me who it is," he says calmly. "Must be a case of mistaken identity. Just a guy who kinda looks like me."<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks at you. "Are there such people, Prescott? Who do <i>you</i> think was down there with you?"</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221111121
author_id: seuzz
title: Will the Real Doppelganger Please Stand Up?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I got it!" Joe yells as he strides triumphantly back into the room. He waves a book in the air. "It's brilliant! It's the most brilliant idea I've ever had, and if you know me you know how brilliant <i>that</i> makes it! You know who it is?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's Caleb," you blurt out to your own astonishment. You look between Joe and Frank and Sean. "It's Caleb. It has to be Caleb out at Blackwell's. He's the one I thought I was going out there with. I thought it was Caleb, dressed up like Sean." You point at Mitchell. "So this is Sean ...  I guess. But back in the basement, it's got to be Caleb, still done up like Sean."<br/>
<br/>
They stare at you, and then Joe tosses the book aside with a look of disgust. "It was still a brilliant idea, even if it's wrong," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Johansson's at home," Sean says. <br/>
<br/>
"Yes, someone who looks and talks like him is answering his phone," Frank says coolly.<br/>
<br/>
"It's Johansson," says Mitchell. "Trust me. Whoever you guys are babbling about, in basements and stuff, he's an imposter."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of imposter?" Frank demands.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. A fake."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean a simulacrum," Joe says carelessly.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe," Sean says in a voice that is very pleasant. But as he continues to speak, it begins to crack. "Maybe that's what it is, if you'll tell me what a simu-whatever is, and who you guys are, and what's going on, and <i>why the fuck I can't move my arms and legs!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Frank's hands have been tightly clasped all this time. He flashes a cryptic smile and twitches them. Still stiff as a board, Sean falls flat on his face, then rolls over. His arms still seemed pinned to his sides. Frank plants a foot on Sean's chest. "Okay, I'll let you go," he says in a voice just as pleasant as Sean had started with, but he maintains the tone. "But just remember--" He twitches his still-clasped hands, and Sean's head jerks to the side as though he's been struck. "I can do this and I can do that and I can do worse. And my brother over there? He's the worst kind of pyromaniac there is. One who can set things on fire with the <i>power of his mind</i>." <br/>
<br/>
You look at Joe; he furtively shakes his head, then shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you just promise to be good, okay?" Frank says, and unclasps his hands. Sean instantly goes limp. But he quickly scrambles backward across the floor until he collides with a wall. "So Sean, where is Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes are wide. "I told you, he's at home," he gasps. <br/>
<br/>
"Then who is that in Professor Blackwell's basement?"<br/>
<br/>
"A fake," he says. <br/>
<br/>
"What kind of a fake," Frank asks again, his mouth twisting with frustration.<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on, just start at the beginning," Joe says. "You know anything about this trip Will here took this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean licks his lips, then nods. "He wanted to go see Blackwell, find out stuff about--" He catches himself.<br/>
<br/>
"They know all about the book," you say. "I told them, and I think they already knew about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, yeah," Sean says. "He wanted to find out more about that book."<br/>
<br/>
"So why did Caleb make himself up like you?" Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess he <i>didn't</i>," Sean says. "Because he's--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, you told us, he's at home," Frank says impatiently. "And I'm pretty sure I don't buy it. But what was the plan? Supposedly?"<br/>
<br/>
"Supposedly, the plan was to do himself up like me. He had work, and he couldn't miss. See, we have a mask of Caleb and a mask of me, and we also have a thing, called a golem--"<br/>
<br/>
"A simulacrum," Joe interrupts.<br/>
<br/>
"Gesundheit. Yeah. So he puts the mask of himself on the golem, and does himself up as me, and then he goes out with Will to this professor's house."<br/>
<br/>
"But why did he have to-- Oh, never mind," Joe says. "You guys like playing dress up, is that it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay," Sean says, and squirms a little. "So that was the plan. But I guess he changed after leaving the professor's--"<br/>
<br/>
"He <i>didn't</i> leave the professor's," Frank says sharply. "He and Prescott went in and didn't come out. Well, Prescott got out, and he's freaking lucky he did. But Johansson is still there."<br/>
<br/>
"But he <i>isn't!</i>" Sean insists. "Because I talked to him just a few hours ago."<br/>
<br/>
"But you said there's a fake version of him out there," Frank growls, and he turns red. "A golem with his face on it."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I guess he sent the <i>golem</i> with Prescott out to the professor's, and stayed behind as himself."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you so certain it was Johansson you talked to a little while ago," Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
Sean squirms some more. "Because we make certain when we get together. You know, you wanna be sure."<br/>
<br/>
"You check each other for masks when you get together?" Frank asks quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't have to in this case. Look, you said there's a guy at the professor's, who looks just like, uh, me?" He looks around at the three of you. You nod; Frank grunts. "Well, this is <i>my</i> face," Sean continues, pointing to it. "So whatever is out at the professor's house is just someone or something under a mask. And when I saw--" He takes a deep breath. "When I saw my friend he was looking just like himself. He wasn't in a mask."<br/>
<br/>
The three of you stare at him, and you find yourself wishing that Joe would set him on fire. Because there is no mistaking the expression on his face. Whatever his words, there is something in what Sean says that isn't true.<br/>
<br/>
But when Joe moves, it's to speak. "The most important thing is what is in that basement. We need to get it out of there."<br/>
<br/>
"The most important thing is the <i>Libra,</i>" Frank says. "Where is it, Sean?"<br/>
<br/>
"My house," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Bring it here." <br/>
<br/>
Sean seems to hesitate, and Frank puts his hands on his hips and cocks his head. "Okay," Sean says, and gets slowly to his feet.<br/>
<br/>
"What about Blackwell's," Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to risk another rescue mission just for a fucking simulacrum," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"And if Sean is wrong," Joe asks in a very careful tone. "I'm not calling it a bullshit story--" You can tell that's <i>exactly</i> what he's calling it. "But if he's wrong we don't want to--"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't want to meet that thing again," Frank retorts. "If you break your other arm, who gets to wipe your asshole after you shit? Besides," he adds, "after that ruckus we raised, anything bad that could happen to them will have already happened."<br/>
<br/>
"Some forms of ritual murder require lots of time and elaborate preparation, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
Frank clenches his jaw. "Fuck," he says. "I'll go this far. We go back out there, and from a safe distance we chuck a cell phone in to them. If they don't answer--" He claws at the back of his head. "If they don't answer, then we raise the roof. But don't think I don't know what you're really interested in," he adds in a sharp tone. <br/>
<br/>
"What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"The naked girl."<br/>
<br/>
Joe laughs. "I never lose track of the bonuses, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They start making preparations to leave, even though it's not far past eleven. You stand uncertainly in the living room until Joe summons you into the kitchen. "Frank is reading Sean the riot act," he tells you quietly. "You don't want to hear it. I'm supposed to do the same to you," he adds with a twinkle in his eye. "Look, we can be kinda scary-- Well, Frank can be kind of scary. I'm mostly just cute. But I'm not sure I'd trust your friend in there." He leans in close. "I was watching you, and it seemed to me that a lot of what he was saying came as a surprise to you." You say neither "yea nor nay," but he doesn't seem to expect an answer. "If he tries talking you into doing anything clever, <i>don't</i> go along with it." You just hang your head. "Get the book and come back here. You can also call home and arrange to stay out. And tomorrow everything will start going back to normal." He gives you a reassuring pat on the back.<br/>
<br/>
Mitchell is very muted when he and you leave, at least until he gets in the truck. "I don't like those guys," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think we have a choice," you reply. <br/>
<br/>
He starts up the truck. "How did you get mixed up with them?" You tell about your adventure at the professor's. You express your sense of gratitude to them. "Well, to be honest, I think I trust them about as much as I'd trust that professor," he says. <br/>
<br/>
"If I was being honest, Sean," you start to retort, then stop yourself. You don't like the way he's turned his head toward you; and he's very big. "Well, I didn't know <i>you</i> were on our little team."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm, I didn't like advertising that I was. I like staying in the background." He glances over at you and then does a double take. "Weren't you being James Lamont today?" You nod, and he glances behind him. "Great. You left the mask back at their house."<br/>
<br/>
Except you didn't, it suddenly occurs to you. You never took the mask off; it was off you when you woke up in the basement. How--?<br/>
<br/>
"We have to get away from those guys," Sean says. "We're going to go get Caleb, and then we're going to run far and fast."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think we can hide from them."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure we can. I got four blank masks back at my house. We get ourselves some new faces <i>tonight.</i>"</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Thing Behind the House
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Probably you don't want to meet anyone. You shrink back against the wall, retreating from the windows, then scamper down the other side of the house to the far corner. It's dark, and the rocks on the ground hurt your bare feet.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes are better adjusted to the dark by now. You can make out a wall in front of you, and you trot over to it. If you can get to the top and skirt the outside, back around to the front gate ... But it's too high.<br/>
<br/>
Something heavy drops to the ground behind you, and you spin around. The side of the house is dark, but you think you see something very large crouched on the ground. <i>Shit.</i> If there's a guard dog ... You swallow.<br/>
<br/>
Something pants, loudly. You sidle along the wall. The dark stain by the house moves. You sidle along a few more feet. Dirt scrabbles beneath things that sound like claws. You crouch and stare at the thing. Maybe if you can get a punch in ...<br/>
<br/>
Then something touches your shoulder. You jump, but the thing hangs on, grasping at you. You look down, and in the gloom see a hand on your shoulder. It is very large, and hairy, with long, grasping fingers. Nails dig into your flesh.<br/>
<br/>
You yelp, loudly, and jump away. Claws scrape down your bare back. You sprint along the side of the wall, and a noise like a hundred running feet explodes behind you. You round other corner of the house and run face first into a tree trunk. You reel back. A small, white building looms into view, and you run toward it.<br/>
<br/>
Then the ground vanishes beneath your feet. You pitch forward, falling just long enough to feel yourself tumbling into mid air before you fetch up hard at the bottom on firm ground. Your bones jar and ache.<br/>
<br/>
You scramble uselessly on the dirt, turning over fearfully; sharp stones scratch your hands and shins. You're in a large, deep hole, and the patch of open air above you is only marginally less dark than the walls of the pit.<br/>
<br/>
But as you stare up, gaping and blinking, even the pale darkness above is blotted out. Something snuffles loudly. You shrink back against the ground.<br/>
<br/>
In the darkness above, a small red globe appears. It wanders and revolves and then seems to open, revealing a yellow slit.<br/>
<br/>
It looks like an eye.<br/>
<br/>
Another globe appears, spins, opens. Another eye. Then a third. And a fourth. Your throat tightens, squeezing out something between a whimper and a suppressed shriek. More eyes appear, blinking into existence like infernal stars. A slit opens between and among them. Wider and wider it gapes. It is full of teeth. Rows and rows of fangs seem to recede without end down an infinite gullet.<br/>
<br/>
Something wet and hot and sticky drips onto your upturned face. And then the thing drops onto you, swallowing you whole.<br/>
<br/>
And that's just the start of very bad things. They get worse and worse, and they never end ...</span></div></div>


path: 113131122112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Tree House Conference
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Let's go talk in the tree house," you say, standing up.<br/>
<br/>
It's in the backyard, a ramshackle collection of platforms and boxes that you and Carson cobbled together in elementary school. He takes the rope ladder, while you grasp the lower branches and swing up like a long-limbed gibbon. "Sleeping bags should still be in the chest, if you wanna be comfortable," you suggest, but he just drops onto the dirty flooring with a look of intense curiosity on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Cameron offered me his position on the team," you start. "He offered me his girlfriend, too. The clothes on his back. His friends, enemies and his problems--the team's in shit shape, you know. His mom and his dad." Incredulity creeps over Carson's face. "He offered to let me <i>be</i> him."<br/>
<br/>
"And what did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, first I told him he was crazy. Then he was full of other crazy talk. He said I could be him. He said <i>you</i> could be someone else." You punch him lightly on the knee. "Paul could be a third person."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" Carson says--a noise like a perplexed owl.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess that would be up to you guys. But it's according to a plan. You know how fucked up the school is. Jason Lynch, Dalton Douglas, those guys. Gordon Black at the very top. We'd <i>become</i> some of them, take over their lives. Start changing the school around. Beat up on the other bullies, instead of being bullies ourselves."<br/>
<br/>
Carson stares. "So what happens to those guys? I mean, to Cameron while you're being him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he goes off and bees someone else. But I'm being Cameron, so I'm helping him out. We all are. As for the other guys, well--" You scratch your head. "They kind of go off into the Twilight Zone. They're not dead or anything, but they're out of the way. Oh, also, we get these robot things--those simulacra you were reading about--to take our places, so no one misses us."<br/>
<br/>
"And all this is connected to that book, that <i>Libra Personae</i>?" You nod. "How did Cameron get ahold of it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's more than just Cameron involved. In fact, to be totally honest, Cameron <i>isn't</i> involved. It's Will Prescott and Caleb Johansson. Caleb is the one who's actually in charge."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm totally confused now," Carson says. "And I think you are too. Is Cameron involved or isn't he?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sort of. Actually, he's in that Twilight Zone. So's Sean Mitchell."<br/>
<br/>
"Mitchell?" Carson rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Cameron and Sean are in the Twilight Zone. The Sean and Cameron walking around at school? That's Caleb and Will. The Caleb and Will walking around? Those are simulacra things."<br/>
<br/>
Carson pulls at his mouth and chin. "So I'll ask you one last time. What did you say to all this? Oh, why am I asking? You're the one with that dress-up-as-other-people fetish."<br/>
<br/>
You punch him hard in the shoulder. "Shut up. That wasn't a fetish, that was just-- Oh, alright, it <i>is</i> a fetish. I gave you your stuff back."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you give Jenny her stuff back?"<br/>
<br/>
You thrust both middle digits in his face. "Do you want to hear about this, or do you wanna play Piss-the-Fuck-Out-of-James?"<br/>
<br/>
"Both, if possible. But you told him you'd join their club, right? Oh God, listen to me," he groans. "Treating this like it's on the level."<br/>
<br/>
"It is on the level, and I said I <i>would</i> join."<br/>
<br/>
"So when do you get to be Cameron?"<br/>
<br/>
"I already am," you smile. "I'm over at Cameron's right now. Or maybe I'm on a date with Anne. I haven't been in touch since this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you, hard, for almost a full minute, while you stare back, smiling faintly, without breaking. "Oh, fuck you," he finally cries, and starts to stand. "You got me going."<br/>
<br/>
"I got you fooled," you laugh. "I'm totally James Lamont. You can't tell the difference. I'm totally the guy who's been friends with you since Mrs. Cash's class in the second grade. Remember the time we put Tabasco sauce in her tomato juice?"<br/>
<br/>
"So you're saying you're a fake," he says with a very weary sigh. "You're one of those simulacra. Ooo, creepy!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm telling you--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's almost October, and this is your conceptual Halloween costume! 'I'm James Lamont, and for Halloween I'm going as James Lamont's doppelganger'!" He stops in mid-laugh and cocks his head. "Actually, that's kind of a cool idea."<br/>
<br/>
"What I'm telling you, Carson, is that I'm actually Will Prescott. Watch." You put your hand to your face and pull. It's already very dark up in the tree house, so it only gets a little darker as you topple to the side.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake with a groan and flop over to the side, limbs flailing clumsily. It's still very dark. "Carson," you say muzzily. There's no answer. You blink into the darkness and stare. "Ioeger!" But you're alone. You feel around for the mask, but the floor is bare.<br/>
<br/>
A cold hand grips your heart. <i>Stupid stupid stupid.</i> Carson is totally a chiseller. You were led astray by James' affection for his friend. He's probably made off with the mask and is going to--<br/>
<br/>
Well, what?<br/>
<br/>
The answer comes a minute later, when the branches below creak and a dark figure swings into the tree house. "Oh, you're finally awake," James Lamont says. "You were out cold. So I went in and snagged us some beers." He hands you a can.<br/>
<br/>
"Took the mask, too," you observe as you crack it open.<br/>
<br/>
"I had to try it out. I mean, what the hell. It's totally the bomb, you know. His mom wouldn't let me take the beers unless I picked a number between 1 and 10. 'What base?' I asked, and she got them for me herself." He raises his can in a toast. "Here's to wiping the school of one asshole at a time."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're on board?"<br/>
<br/>
"Absolutely. Oh, since we're teammates now, I should tell you that one of those professors at the university wants to buy the <i>Libra Personae.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, fuck that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, fuck that. So, how about you let me have those clothes?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? You let me have the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"No way. I get to be James tonight if he gets to be Cameron."<br/>
<br/>
"And what about me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you go home?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got a duplicate at home."<br/>
<br/>
"A robot? Get rid of it."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not that simple."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. "So you'll do a sleepover here. I'll tell my mom--"<br/>
<br/>
"James's mom!"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>I'm</i> James at the moment, so--" He pauses. "You know, actually, maybe I'll stay in Carson's clothes. This is kind of a turn on."<br/>
<br/>
"James is going to kill us when he sees us again," you sigh.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you sleep over here," he continues, and traces a finger in the air as though working out a very difficult geometric proof. "That's okay because you've got a double at home. I call Carson's folks and tell them that <i>he's</i> sleeping over ... and that covers us." His smile is so big you can actually see it in the dark.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, take the mask off anyway. You'll have to when you call your folks."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll just call as James and give 'em the message."<br/>
<br/>
"And if they want to talk to you?" He seems awfully unwilling to take the mask off.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll them 'em he's in the bathroom."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fine." You knock back the beer as he fumbles in the dark until the glow of the cell phone illumines his face. <br/>
<br/>
"Hello, Mrs. Ioeger? This is James Lamont. How are you tonight, ma'am?" He grins over at you. "Yes, I know Carson isn't there. He's over here actually, and he'd like to spend the night." He listens. "Well, he's indisposed at the moment. Yes, the facilities." As he listens, his mouth curls. "I'll have him call you back, then. You fucking nosy bitch," he mutters after he's closed the phone. "Shoulda said it to her directly," he adds. "She wants to talk to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Toldja."<br/>
<br/>
He puts his hands to his cheeks, then freezes. "How do you take these things off?"<br/>
<br/>
"Here, lemme show you," you chuckle. You'd been waiting for this moment.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend the night in the tree house, with an electronic lantern, a bug zapper, and some porn. The latter get ignored, though. "So, you're going to become Gordon?" Carson says. He's got James' mask back on.<br/>
<br/>
"That's not been decided yet."<br/>
<br/>
"I get my choice?"<br/>
<br/>
"From a range of possibilities, I guess." It suddenly strikes you that Caleb hustled you into Cameron, who's not really a target that fits in with the plan.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you we have to be guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"You wanna be a girl?" That thought also hadn't occurred to you.<br/>
<br/>
He's silent for a few moments. "Chelsea Cooper," he finally says.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa!" Then you frown. "But then if I'm Gordon--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll totally make it worth your while." He reaches over and strokes your chest. "Oh Gordon," he moans in a falsetto. "Oh my God! Oh! <i>Ohhhhh!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You slap his hand away. "Actually I was thinking it would be kind of creepy. I mean, I'd know what you look like under that thing."<br/>
<br/>
"And I'd know what <i>you</i> look like," he retorts. "<i>And</i> I'd have Gordon's hairy cock up my pussy."<br/>
<br/>
"In your mouth, you mean."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a price I'd pay. Pull your desk back, you loser," he mimics her again in that same falsetto. "I don't want it touching mine.'"<br/>
<br/>
Man has a point, you reflect.</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221122
author_id: seuzz
title: Caleb vs. Carson
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You put Carson off by repeating that Caleb will be making the final decisions. "Why does he get to run things?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"He owns the book and he knows how it works. You saw it. It's all pretty hard."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't be too hard if <i>Johansson</i> can figure it out," Carson grumbles, but doesn't issue any further objections.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He leaves early the next morning after turning James' mask back over to you, and you head for classes early as well. You're just rounding the corner of the gym when something hard moving very fast hits you in the back, knocking you to the ground. As you push yourself up, a foot lands on your back and forces you back to the pavement.  "You been mouthing off about me again, Lamont," a horribly familiar voice says.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Number 349 on the list of sad but true facts: James Lamont attracts a higher class of bully than Will Prescott does.</i> Jason Lynch is an A-lister, not a B-lister like the Molester. "Did I say anything that wasn't true?" you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you said, but I don't like hearing that you're talking about me. Makes me think maybe you're in love with me."<br/>
<br/>
"We always hurt the ones we love. Ow."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause, and then he stomps on you. "Did <i>that</i> hurt?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just a love tap."<br/>
<br/>
The foot comes off, and you brace for worse, but then there's a scrambling and scraping sound. You look around, to find Lynch pinned against the gym wall. Cameron Huber draws a fist back and drives it into the surprised ballplayer's solar plexus. He grimaces, and bends ever so slightly.<br/>
<br/>
A hand grasps you by the elbow and helps you up; you look over into Sean Mitchell's smiling face. "Go on, I'll catch up later," he murmurs with a wink. "Someone's got business he wants to settle." He chucks you on the ass. You murmur a quick acknowledgement, and scuttle away, face turned to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
So, it sounds like James got in touch with Caleb; you won't have to worry about telling him about last night's swap. You go off to find Carson.<br/>
<br/>
When you run him to ground, he's at the cluster of lockers shared by their group, along with Paul Davis and Jenny Ashton. Carson does a double-take and looks at you closely as you open your locker. "Something happen?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ran into an asshole is all," you mutter as you start swapping out books. "Damned embarrassing having to be rescued." Now the others look at you. "Cameron Huber is giving Lynch a taste of his own medicine."<br/>
<br/>
"Cameron?" Jenny gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"I heard him and Gordon had a fight the other day," Paul says. He turns wondering eyes from your face to the others'. <br/>
<br/>
"You saw them in the cafeteria," Jenny says. "They almost had it out in there. But Lynch?" Her eyes dart about thoughtfully. "Sounds like it's more than personal."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, it's personal alright. I'm sure of it," Carson says, catching your eye. "I'm sure Cameron's having a grand time."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he can take over the business from me," you say as you close the locker. "Him and Mitchell both." Carson's eyes gleam at the latter name.<br/>
<br/>
"Sean Mitchell was there too?" Jenny's eyes now go very wide. "Where's Yumi?" She looks around. "This is something for--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you should definitely--" you start, but Jenny has already darted off down the hallway. "Yumi will want to know all about this," you say, more for Paul's benefit than for any other reason.<br/>
<br/>
He hops on the balls of his feet, then runs off after Jenny. You smile to yourself: Paul will be much less interested in gossip than in the chance to be close to his crush.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, now that we got rid of <i>them,</i>" Carson chuckles.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, let's ditch 'em at lunch," you agree. "Go find Caleb. Sean, I mean. And Cameron."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But it's Caleb's face that looms around the corner of the doorway as you and Carson are exiting third period. "Hey James, you busy now," he asks in a voice that signifies that he wants you to say "no." <br/>
<br/>
"Just hanging out with Carson," you reply in a measured tone. "He should come too."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks at you, glances at Carson, and looks back at you. "The more the merrier, I always say," he replies, though there's a shadow behind his smile.<br/>
<br/>
He leads the two of you out behind D wing, and off in a corner by one of the portables, he turns. Before he can speak he has to bat Carson's hand away from his face. "Stop that."<br/>
<br/>
"Just checking," Carson grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Well it's my face," Caleb retorts. "And you need to be careful who you grab that way. You might not like who you find underneath."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" Carson frowns.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you where the originals all go," you say. "So, you know, don't go around pulling on faces."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, gotcha," Carson says. He turns back to Caleb. "But if this is you--" He points. "I thought you were being Sean."<br/>
<br/>
"Usually I am," Caleb says. "But I wanted to talk to you guys, and this is a little more natural way to do it."<br/>
<br/>
"So where's Sean?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's under a mask," Caleb says through gritted teeth. "That's all you need to know."<br/>
<br/>
"How are we going to keep straight where people are? Lotta switching going on." <br/>
<br/>
James' personality is telling you that Carson is pushing Caleb to see how far he can go in taking over some of the management rights; your own personality is telling you that Caleb is pushing back hard. Both personalities watch the two rivals carefully.<br/>
<br/>
"There's not gonna be a lot of switching once we get everything taken care of," Caleb is saying. "Until then, keep in touch with me. I'll act as coordinator." Carson snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"I tried calling you last night--" you start.<br/>
<br/>
"I know all about that," Caleb says dismissively. "I was out with-- Sean's business. We'll do better from now on." He speaks into his fist. "Memo to self: if anyone calls with an update, tell them who to call." He gives you an exasperated look. "There, happy?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Not really. He's being very brusque and impatient.</i> "So, what did you want to talk about?"<br/>
<br/>
"An update on where you are. Is Ioeger the only new recruit?" You nod. "Good. James wants to talk to Jenny himself, and I want you to talk to Keith, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. But you don't want to be the one to--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just keep me informed," Caleb says. "So you and ... Cameron ... switch back sometime today. Go off somewhere--"<br/>
<br/>
"When do <i>I</i> get to be someone?" Carson interrupts.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up." Carson blinks at Caleb's words, and even you suck in a sharp breath. There's a note of command in Caleb's voice that you don't think you've ever heard. "We need to get masks made up before--"<br/>
<br/>
"I want to be Chelsea Cooper," Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stares at him evenly in a way that suggests he's counting to ten ... and beyond. "That could work," he finally says in a carefully neutral tone. "But we need to get our membership lined up. What if James wants to be Gordon and Jenny wants to be Chelsea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, I told you last night--" Carson starts, turning to you, then he shakes his head. "Oh, right. Who am I talking to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't you let Carson take over for Huber," you suggest diplomatically. "I'll go back to being myself. It'd be the best way to approach Keith anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"And who would step in for Ioeger?" Caleb objects.<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. I can disappear for another night," Carson says. "I 'spent the night' at James' house last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay," Caleb says with a grimace. "So, we'll all get together at the elementary school by Prescott's house this afternoon and shift things around. Seven o'clock?" You nod.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There are no more adventures at school, though you do find yourself eyeing Jenny appreciatively--a byproduct of wearing James' psyche. She's a cute thing, a tomboyish thing, a wild thing, and you bet it will be fun to have her in the club. And you wonder if the real James and the real Jenny would object if you struck up a closer friendship with the golem-Jenny after the switches start. But maybe you'll be less interested in her after moving out of James.<br/>
<br/>
You put it out of your mind, though, after meeting Caleb, Carson, and Cameron at the school. Caleb got there early, and tells you that he already got the real Cameron switched out and hidden under Sean's mask. You almost ask him where he put the real Sean, but you're already so confused that you just let it slide. Cameron's face comes off of James and goes onto Carson; as the latter dresses Caleb hands your masks to you and James. "Put these on," he says. "You won't be able to wear them--you can't disguise yourself <i>as</i> yourself--but they'll give you the memories that are in the masks. That way you'll be able to step back into your old lives without fucking things up."<br/>
<br/>
The result is an odd double-vision: two sets of memories of the past few days. Your memories as Cameron and as James, and your memories of being "Will Prescott" during the same time. You give a little start: Lisa came by to see you.<br/>
<br/>
A thought: How come Jenny can join, but Lisa can't? </span></div></div>


path: 11313112211221
author_id: seuzz
title: Trouble Over Girls
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It was just a small thing Lisa had done, but you frown over it as you pull on your old clothes. She had come to you--your replacement, technically--yesterday and asked to borrow the notes from Health class. "Can't you get them from Mansfield," you "remember" having asked in what was probably a sulky tone. She'd frowned. "He was absent, too," she'd said. It's not clear what your duplicate had thought--the mask doesn't seem to have recorded any memories of thoughts or feelings--but he'd pulled out the notes from the different period (but same teacher) and passed them on to her. Now--if not at the time--you shudder a little at the thought of Lisa and Geoff sharing "notes" on that topic.<br/>
<br/>
"How about asking Lisa to join," you bluntly ask Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
He glances up sharply at you. "Yarborough?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, Kudrow," you snap back. "Who else would I be asking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"How come? If James here can ask Jenny--" James looks over at you with a frown. "Well, it's not a guys-only club, now, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure Lisa is the right personality type," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by 'personality type'?" you ask. You feel your face redden as you stare at him. "Oh, are you saying it's not a guys-only club, it's a <i>losers-only</i> club?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's mouth tightens as he looks between you and James. Behind his shoulder, Cameron begins to stir. "Don't be a dickhead, Prescott," Caleb snaps. "You think we're all 'losers'?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you reply, even though that's exactly the implication you've just hurled. "But if James can bring in the girl that <i>he</i> likes--" James stiffens and takes a few steps back. "Well, I thought we were bringing in <i>friends.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb opens his mouth to reply, then seems to think better of what he was going to say as you narrow your eyes and glare at him. "This isn't just about 'friends'," he says quietly but firmly. "This is about personality types."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so how about you explain what you mean by 'personality types'."<br/>
<br/>
His lips twist as though he's bitten down on something very sour. "Well, think about Lisa and Jenny. Think about what they're like. Are they really very similar?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're both girls," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm talking about <i>personality</i>!" he shouts. He looks between you and James, as though trying to figure out which one of you he needs most to not piss off, and even shoots a glance back at Cameron, who is now sitting up with a very confused expression on his face. "Jenny is, well, she's got kind of a mischievous personality. I think she'd love the chance to get inside one of these things and have some fun. She's also like us in that she's--" He hesitates, and his eyes move very fast between you and James. "Well, she's an outsider who gets in trouble with people like Chelsea and Gordon and them. She would be totally on board with taking them down and fixing things in the school. Am I wrong, James?"<br/>
<br/>
Now it's James who looks like he's holding a very hot potato. "Yeah," he stammers. "I think that's fair." He doesn't look at you.<br/>
<br/>
"But Lisa," Caleb says. "Well, you know what she's like." He leans back and puts a hand on his hip in a rather feminine pose and looks coolly down his nose at you. "I like Lisa. She's a great girl. But I don't think she'd be on board with what we're doing. If you even mentioned it to her, I think she'd get offended and think it's--" He abruptly stops.<br/>
<br/>
"She'd think it's <i>what</i>?" you challenge.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, yeah, I think she'd think it's ... ethically sketchy." He looks like he feels trapped by this admission. "And the people she likes to hang around with," he adds quickly. "Like Amanda and Jessica and Eva and them. They don't have the same skin in the game that we do. They don't <i>suffer,</i> so <i>they</i> wouldn't--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're saying she's a snob!" you yell at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," he says very quietly. "That's how come she dumped you, and why she's not good enough for you, Will. Because she's a snob."<br/>
<br/>
Your scalp feels like it's cracking, and you almost expect it to slide off the top of your skull.<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny isn't a snob," Caleb continues. "Yumi isn't either. They're cool, and they would understand. I don't think Lisa would--"<br/>
<br/>
"You think you know everyone, inside and out!" you yell, and your joints tremble. "Well, maybe you don't! If you knew me--!"<br/>
<br/>
Oh, fuck it. You charge past him. He and Cameron both reach out to clutch at you, but you twist away and stomp out of the basement.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're sullen and morose all during dinner, and your dad reprimands you, and you wind up locking yourself in your room, sitting on the bed with your legs tucked up under your chin. Fucking Caleb. He's worn your mask-- He wore it for a whole fucking day, that day at school when you skipped; he sent the golem (playing him) with you out to the Suffolk Wilderness while he went to school as you. He should <i>know</i> how important this is to you, he should have some fucking <i>sympathy!</i> Instead he gets on his high horse and acts like this boss who's got his plan and everyone has to do exactly what he says and--<br/>
<br/>
You fall back onto the bed with a groan. Except he's probably right. <br/>
<br/>
Lisa moves in quite a different social circle. She's cool and graceful--it's what makes her so sexy--and she's confident and she doesn't take any shit from anyone. And if you showed her the masks ... It's not hard to picture the scene. She'd act quietly shocked and tell you that she was very disappointed in you and that she can't believe you are actually thinking of robbing people of their lives, even for only a little while, and that you need to be smart and grown-up and realize that you're only going to be in school, in this hell hole, for only a little while longer, and you need to think about the future, like Geoff, <i>he's</i> thinking about the future--<br/>
<br/>
You roll over so hard you fall off the bed. <i>Fucking Mansfield.</i> Caleb's right. If she's interested in <i>Mansfield</i> it really is because she's a snob. Anyone who is interested in that smug, arrogant, supercilious, cocksucking <i>asshole</i> wouldn't understand what it means to be the kind of guy who gets pushed around by Lester the Molester and dumped by a girl like Lisa Yarborough. You wince: <i>No, to be told by a girl like Lisa Yarborough that she was never even going out with you in the first place.</i><br/>
<br/>
So when Caleb calls a little after nine, you're in a much quieter mood. "I'm sorry about this afternoon," he says in a very subdued tone. "I didn't mean--"<br/>
<br/>
"No, forget about it. I'm sorry. I thought about it, and I see what you mean. It just ... hurts ... is all. I don't have any connection to her, and it seemed like maybe--"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I get it. I should have been clearer about what we're doing."<br/>
<br/>
"What <i>are</i> we doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're changing the tone of the school. We're going to get key people so we can change the tone, make it uncool for the bullies and the assholes. The Lesters and the Lynches and all them. That's another reason not bring Lisa in."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" You're quieter but not necessarily calmer, and you feel yourself start to bridle again.<br/>
<br/>
"Because Lisa is already a good person," he says. "She would be on board with doing <i>that,</i> and she's already in a place where she can help. She doesn't need to replace anyone to help out. She can contribute just by being her own good self."<br/>
<br/>
Put that way, it makes sense, and you let his words mollify you. <br/>
<br/>
"And you know," he continues quietly. "If you're going to be someone new, there's no reason you can't be someone who is close to her. Someone who has a chance with her."<br/>
<br/>
Your cock quickens, even as you quail a little at the implication. You don't want Lisa to love you under false pretenses. You want her to love <i>you</i>--Will Prescott. "I don't think she'd go for Gordon Black," you murmur.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to be Gordon," he says. "Not everyone in her circle is a good guy." Your scalp prickles again. Is he suggesting--? "Mansfield is a jerk, and he could stand to be a better guy. And he could be useful at ... spreading and reinforcing the new attitude."<br/>
<br/>
You let your head fall back against the wall with a clunk. "You there?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm here. Um, I'd want to think about it--"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course. Anyway, James is going to be Gordon. He's going to talk to Yumi and to Jenny. Yumi will probably be the one that gets him into Gordon. You can think about alternatives."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you had a list. I don't want to suggest anyone who doesn't fit into the plan," you say, hoping you don't sound too sarcastic.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but there's lots of choices. If you wanna come over we can talk about them. I have masks for you and Keith. You need to talk to him tomorrow, you know. You should pick up your old mask, so you can show it to him. You, uh, you went off without it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You do go over and you do pick up two masks--the one of yourself and one blank. You do talk about possibilities.<br/>
<br/>
And after you leave you look at the two masks. And you're still fighting with yourself over Lisa. Caleb vetoed her membership. But you're still not reconciled to his decision.</span></div></div>


path: 113131122112212
author_id: seuzz
title: And Keith Makes It Five
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Well, look at it this way, dude," you smile wryly at Keith. "I've heard that some girls really dig guys who go commando."<br/>
<br/>
Keith flips you off hard, then turns to frown back up at his underwear, which is dangling high overhead in the tree in front of the school. "At least there aren't visible skid marks," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
At least once a week he has another run in with Seth Javits, the basketball player who has made the torment of your friend a hobby at least since middle school. Today's exercise in humiliation started before school, in the bathroom, where he forced Keith to strip off his underwear, and ended with him marching the hapless victim out front and making him toss it onto a high branch. And in the annals of Keith's abuse, today's episode will warrant hardly a footnote.<br/>
<br/>
You clasp your hands into the shape of a stirrup. Keith steps onto them, and you strain to lift him. You turn very red as you do so, mostly from the effort, but also from the barks of laughter from the students standing not too far behind. It's even more humiliating that they're all a lot of sophomores. Big sophomores, though--Blacks and Lynches and Javitses in training--so you don't even dare turn around to glare. And you can't get Keith nearly high enough to grasp his tidy whiteys. You drop him with a grunt. "You should work out more," he says peevishly.<br/>
<br/>
"So should you," you retort. "You wouldn't be in this mess if you weren't such a scarecrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Says the twig," a hoarse voice calls behind you. You ignore it.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we'll have a twister," Keith says, glancing up at the sky, which is fairly dark. "Blow the tree down. Fuck, maybe demolish the school."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, maybe blow Javits to Oz," you reply. "You'll have to wait till April for something like that." He grunts. "Or maybe we can do something about it now."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
You clap him on the shoulder and lead him off toward A wing, where you can hide around a corner for the rest of lunch break. "Caleb and me have been talking," you say. "We've come up with the mother of all pranks, we think."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God," Keith groans. "If it involves model rockets or tying a bunch of helium balloons to a lawn chair--" He stops. "Actually, the last could be pretty good, if we could handcuff Javits to the chair. Cut him loose and let him drift over into the Cathcarts."<br/>
<br/>
"And he'd kill you when he got back. But this is a prank that would render you untouchable. All of us untouchable."<br/>
<br/>
His eyebrows twist as he looks at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you hear about that book I found at Arnholm's?" you ask. <br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't a coloring book, was it," he asks. "Because--"<br/>
<br/>
You return the bird he'd given you earlier, with interest. "No, fuckwit, that grimoire. A book of magic. I was showing it to James and Carson and them."<br/>
<br/>
He looks thoughtful a moment. "Yeah, I think I did hear about that."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, keep it where you should be keeping your underwear, because it's on the level. It's a real book of magic."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like <i>you've</i> been keeping it where <i>you</i> keep <i>your</i> underwear," he snorts back. "Shoved up inside your crack."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to pretend that what you said is really funny, even though it isn't," you reply in a very pleasant voice. "Because I'm trying to help you. Here, it's fastest if I just show you." <br/>
<br/>
You look around, confirming that you're alone, then drop to your haunches and unzip your backpack. Keith--who may be a jerk but is also a nosy son of a bitch--drops down to join you. He doesn't react as you pull out the mask Caleb had made of you. You put it on this morning before class, so it is charged with all your memories up to the start of school.<br/>
<br/>
"We can use the book to make these things," you say. "It's a mask." He grunts again. "It's a magical mask, like something out of a role-playing game. It lets you disguise yourself as someone else."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool," he says in a voice that sounds genuinely warm. You look up at him sharply, and then realize he is only voicing his enthusiasm for the concept, not indicating his acceptance of what you're saying.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I thought you'd like it. <i>We</i> thought you'd like it, Caleb and me, so it's not just because you're our friend that we're showing this stuff to you."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought I <i>was</i> your friend," he says, sounding wounded.<br/>
<br/>
You blink. "I just said you <i>were</i>," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but you made it sound like--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. You're so annoying. The point is we've got <i>lots</i> of reasons to show this to you, and it's not <i>just</i> because you're our friend."<br/>
<br/>
"I hope you'd show it to me just because I <i>am</i> your friend."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to smack you in a moment. Jesus!" You give him a hard look; he rolls his eyes. "Okay, look, I'm sick of talking to you about this and we've only been talking for about twenty-three seconds, so--" You jerk the backpack open a little wider. "Can you skip the rest of school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" you mimic back. "Can you skip the rest of school? You don't have any quizzes or tests or a gigantic run of absences that would get you in trouble, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," he says cautiously. He thinks a moment. "No, my schedule is clear."<br/>
<br/>
"Good, because--"<br/>
<br/>
"My conscience wouldn't be, though--" He snaps his mouth shut at the look you've given him.<br/>
<br/>
"Here's a change of clothes," you continue as you pull out pants, shoes, socks, and a t-shirt. "We got about fifteen minutes before class starts again, which should be enough time for you to change."<br/>
<br/>
"How come I need to change?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you'd been listening to yourself for the last few minutes you wouldn't be asking a fool question like that." He frowns, more in puzzlement than anger. "I'm gonna take off, because there can't be two of me at school. I'll come pick you up at three-thirty, though, so be out front here where I can see you."<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck are you babbling about?"<br/>
<br/>
You press a hand to his chest, pushing him back against the wall, as you cradle the mask in your hand. "I'm about to jam this onto your face. When you wake up, you'll spend a few minutes thinking about what I just said, and all will be clear." He gets a look of alarm. "Then you'll look at my clothes here and you'll know why you should change into them. Then you'll go to my classes, but you probably won't pay a lot of attention, because you'll be thinking about all the things that you suddenly know. And then after I pick you up we'll have another talk. Hopefully one that's not nearly as tedious as <i>this</i> one has been."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, I still don't get--"<br/>
<br/>
"You will. Good and hard." You thrust the mask onto his face, and his reflexes are so bad he has no chance of stopping you.<br/>
<br/>
You watch as his form alters into yours. Then you grab up your backpack and quickly jog around the front of the school to the student parking lot, hop in your truck, and drive off. You hope Keith will be a lot smarter once he's inside <i>your</i> brain.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a risky place to visit, for you could be spotted as a truant, but you wind up at the strip center across from Eastman--the city's other high school--where there's a good comic book shop. As you approach from the side parking lot, you slow. There's a high school kid--dark hair, athletic build, wearing a letterman jacket--at the corner of the building, sitting on a garbage can with a cardboard box in his lap. He smiles and jerks his chin in greeting. The can under him suddenly rattles and thumps, and a muffled voice calls from inside. <i>Great,</i> you think. <i>More bullies.</i><br/>
<br/>
As you stare, three other students come out of the center. They stop in front of the guy on the garbage can. "What happened to Joe?" one asks.<br/>
<br/>
"He was mouthing off," the dark-haired kid replies. He taps the trash can lid. It thumps back.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> stuffed <i>him</i> in <i>there?</i>" one of the kids exclaims in an incredulous tone.<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't hard," he replies with a smile. "Watch." <br/>
<br/>
He hops off and lifts the lid. A blonde kid pops from its depths like a jack-in-the-box. "I can't breathe in there!" he gasps. "And it smells like dog doo doo!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's dark in there, too," the other one says. "Did you ever find that Hershey bar I said was in there?"<br/>
<br/>
The blonde one gapes and looks down into the can. He shuffles around, peering intently at his feet. Then he ducks back under its lip. The dark-haired one rolls his eyes, slaps the lid back on, and hops onto it. "Sadly, we could keep this up all day," he sighs as the thumps resume. He pulls a candy bar from his jacket pocket.<br/>
<br/>
Well, it's none of your business, and you leave them for the comic book store. It's empty, except for the clerk. Oh, and--<br/>
<br/>
You can't help staring. It's Lucy Vredenburg. Older sister of Cindy Vredenburg, one of the cheerleaders. A cheerleader at Westside in your own time, when you were a sophomore and totally drooled at her. Now she's in college, which makes her even more daunting--and attractive.<br/>
<br/>
You can't talk to her, but you've got that blank mask in your backpack. As she disappears behind a tall shelf, it occurs to you that you could copy her--and then you could <i>be</i> her, secretly, at home, when no one is looking.</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221122122
author_id: seuzz
title: Revolting Developments
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You come very close to yielding to temptation, but pull back. You don't know how hard it is to make these masks, and Caleb probably wouldn't appreciate having to make another one, even if you showed him Lucy afterward and promised that he could borrow her--<br/>
<br/>
Eesh. If he was pissed he might make you <i>wear</i> her for his own pleasure.<br/>
<br/>
So you slowly wander through the store, trying not to be obvious at the way you're watching her from the corner of your eye, even as you run your unseeing gaze over shelves containing--<br/>
<br/>
What are these things? <br/>
<br/>
Yikes! Girl romance manga! You hop quickly over to a shelf displaying a cover of a big guy with huge muscles who has just disemboweled a zombie with the front wheel of his motorcycle. <br/>
<br/>
Lucy seems to sense your presence and interest too, for without acknowledging it she circles the store in a way that keeps putting her farther and farther away from you. Eventually you wind up in a back corner, watching in despair as she nods vacantly at the clerk and walks out the front door. A long, soul-withering sigh uncoils from your throat. <br/>
<br/>
You wander through the store for another twenty minutes or so, then buy a single book so it won't look like you're just malingering. You drive around town, killing time, and wind up for awhile back at Arnhom's on the very slim chance that they'll have another copy of that magic book, or some others. Of course, you're disappointed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You time your arrival back at Westside for fifteen minutes after the final bell will have rung. You are briefly at a loss, not seeing Tilley, until you are startled by the figure that runs up to the truck. It's yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, dude, this is awesome," he exclaims as he hops into the cab. "Take off before anyone sees us." You peel out of the parking lot with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"So, could anyone tell the difference?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft, no. I even head-faked Caleb," he laughs. "Told him Tilley was being an idiot and I thought we should leave him out of it."<br/>
<br/>
"No! What did he say?"<br/>
<br/>
"He just said to go talk to Sean. I guess that's who he was being today." He drums the dashboard excitedly. "So I did. Told him the same thing. He got kind of pissed, told me it wasn't my call."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you finally tell him who you were," you ask, feeling slightly alarmed.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I told him to stop being gullible. It took him a minute to catch on, and then he was really pissed! So what are we gonna do now? Do I go home as you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm, I'd rather you not. How about you take that thing off, then I'll swing around and drop you off again so you can collect your car."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay. Oh, before I forget, we're supposed to have a team meeting tonight, around seven, out in the school basement." He puts his hand to his face, and pauses fractionally as he searches your memory for the magic word, then pulls the mask off. Losing consciousness, he slithers out of his seat and into the floorboard.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Okay, who's here," Caleb says, looking between his yellow legal pad and the group assembled in the school basement. "Ashton." <br/>
<br/>
"Here," Jenny chirps. Her eyes are gleaming, and she looks around the group with a mad little smile. <br/>
<br/>
"Davis." "Here," Paul says. He is much more subdued than Jenny.<br/>
<br/>
"Huber." "Here." "Ioeger." "Still here," Cameron says. "Johansson? I'm here." Caleb still checks off the name. "Lamont." "Here." "Mitchell." "Yeah." "Prescott." "Yo!" you call. "Tilley." "Woop!" "We can do without the 'woops'," Caleb mildly chides his friend.<br/>
<br/>
You cast a narrow glance at Sean Mitchell. "Are you really Sean?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Wanna pull my face," he replies in a quiet voice.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a golem, Will," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"So how come--?"<br/>
<br/>
"So the mask will be all up to date when I put it back on," Caleb says brusquely. He glances at the legal pad. "Now, Jenny, what is Yumi going to say if we tell her about all this?"<br/>
<br/>
The corner of her mouth curls up slightly. "I think she'd be on board with it," Jenny says. "Especially if it means doing something about Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"We're gonna do something about Chelsea, right?" Cameron (really Carson) says. "I mean, I still want--"<br/>
<br/>
"We know what you want, Ioeger," Caleb says. "And she's on the list." He taps the pad with his pencil tip. "And we're going to need Yumi if we're going to get Chelsea, probably. That's why I want to be sure that she's going to have the right ... attitude." You're not sure, but you think you catch Caleb shooting a glance in your direction.<br/>
<br/>
"Why would her attitude be wrong?" Jenny asks.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shrugs. "You tell me. But we don't want to reveal the existence of these things to anyone who is going to have, um, moral qualms."<br/>
<br/>
The air in the room seems to coagulate, and you join the others in glancing around to gauge the others' reactions. Only Caleb and Sean seem serene (though the latter just seems dead); you particularly catch Paul Davis ducking his head guiltily. <br/>
<br/>
"If I talk to Yumi, and pitch it as taking care of Chelsea, I think she'll be okay with it," Jenny says, but her voice sounds a little pale.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd like to have her on the team," Caleb says. "Because I like her, because she could be useful, and because the more people we have the wider we can spread our net."<br/>
<br/>
"What is this 'net', exactly," James asks. Again, you're not sure, but you think he is watching Paul out of the corner of his eye.<br/>
<br/>
"That's a very fair question," Caleb says. "I had a chance to think about it last night, when someone else challenged me on it." He smiles faintly at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Westside sucks," he says. "We all know that. It sucks because there's a lot of assholes running it. People like Lester Pozniak." He looks at you. "Seth Javits." He looks at Keith. "Jason Lynch." He looks at James and Cameron. "David Kirkham." That name seems to be for Paul, though all of you have had run-ins with him. "Even some of the top jocks have their own 'special friends.' Sean here and Cameron have problems with guys like Dalton Douglas and the Hall brothers. The girls have special tormentors, like Kendra Saunders and Gloria Rea. <br/>
<br/>
"And above all of these, encouraging them and setting the example, are Gordon Black, Steve Patterson, and Chelsea Cooper."<br/>
<br/>
"So we're gonna get rid of them," James says quietly. It's a dull statement of fact, lacking enthusiasm.<br/>
<br/>
"A few," Caleb says. "Mostly, though, we're going to change the tone of the school by making the bullies themselves feel hunted and unpopular. They're already unpopular, but they have a license to be brutal because the people with influence--the Gordons and the Chelseas and the Kelsey Blankenships and the Anthony Kirks--and the Geoff Mansfields--tolerate it. They don't suffer, and they don't care about the rest of us. But if <i>they</i> stood up to it, made it uncool, stiffened <i>everyone</i> at the school into resisting, then we could put an end to it."<br/>
<br/>
He pauses to let that sink in. The room turns thoughtful. Shoulders hunch and hips shift. For a moment it looks as if Caleb will carry the room.<br/>
<br/>
But then Paul speaks, in a small, almost bleating voice. "But they haven't done anything <i>wrong,</i>" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Who hasn't?" Caleb frowns.<br/>
<br/>
"The people you're talking about replacing," Paul says. "You're talking about stealing their lives, but they haven't done anything wrong."<br/>
<br/>
"They tolerate the bullies' bullshit."<br/>
<br/>
"I think what Paul is trying to say," Jenny jumps in, "is that you're targeting the wrong people. Sure, they tolerate it. Actually, they just ignore it. But what you're talking about doing to them, it's, well ..."<br/>
<br/>
"It's disproportionate," James says. "Replace the bullies, and you solve the problem directly, and you also punish the people who are doing it."<br/>
<br/>
"But it doesn't solve anything long term," Caleb says, and his frown is very dark. "When we let them back out, at the end of the year, they won't have learned anything."<br/>
<br/>
"But then school will be over," Cameron says. "For them, for all of us. They go out into the real world, where that kind of thing isn't tolerated."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure it is," Caleb says. "You get it all over."<br/>
<br/>
"Fixing them in Westside isn't going to fix the world," James says.<br/>
<br/>
"No, but--"<br/>
<br/>
The debate continues for almost thirty minutes, and winds down only when a very frustrated Caleb declares, "I am in charge of this organization, and this is the plan." The mood, which has turned dark, turns markedly uglier. There are fierce murmurs from Paul and his friends.<br/>
<br/>
"You can't just run over people, Caleb," you hear yourself say. You've kept quiet, and the room turns to you. "If we're going to participate, we should have a vote."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb turns very red, and for a moment you fear he's going to lose his temper. But then he forces himself back down. "That's fair," he says. "We'll put it to a vote. All in favor of my plan?"<br/>
<br/>
He raises his hand, as do Keith and Sean. "Why does the golem get a vote?" you demand. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm the president, so I get two votes," Caleb says. He and Sean exchange a glance. "And a tie goes to me." There's another brief murmur, but it retreats. "Those in favor of Paul's plan?" Paul, James, Jenny and Cameron raise their hands. "Four to three," Caleb observes. "Will, it comes down to you."</span></div></div>


path: 11313112211221222
author_id: seuzz
title: The List
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a dangerous moment, and you can tell that a simple majority vote is not going to solve the basic problem: that Caleb and the others are each after different things. "Caleb," you say, playing for time and hoping you can discover some kind of compromise. "You said you have a list of people. Who's on it?"<br/>
<br/>
He scratches his cheek and retrieves his legal pad while giving you a sharp look. "Gordon Black," he starts. <br/>
<br/>
"He's an ... ah ... 'influential'?" you ask, using the special term Caleb had used during the debate to denote people who carry influence. Caleb nods. You turn to the others. "Does he count as a bully?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Cameron says, clearly speaking for the group. He digs a finger into his ear.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, then whatever we decide, Gordon is going to get replaced. Put a check mark next to his name," you order Caleb. He stares back, then complies. "Who else?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea Cooper."<br/>
<br/>
"Influential? Bully?" you ask again. Nods, again. "Check mark," you order. "Is Steve Patterson on the list?" Caleb hesitates, then shakes his head. "But he's an influential." He shrugs. "And he's a bully." You turn to the others, and they nod too. "Then add him and put a checkmark. What about Lynch?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb sighs deeply. "I don't have him down. He seems more like one of Black's tagalongs. I figure if we take care of Black, we can neuter Lynch as a dividend."<br/>
<br/>
"But he hangs around with them," James objects. "Him and Patterson and Black. They're like the three evil musketeers, except without goatees."<br/>
<br/>
"Take care of Black and Patterson, and Lynch goes away," Caleb repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, I know all about Lynch," James insists. "He's always with them. He encourages them, they encourage him. They all encourage each other. They all go together."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," Caleb says. "Lynch. Influential. Bully. Checkmark." He scribbles. "Happy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who's next?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Kelsey Blankenship."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>she's</i> not a bully," Jenny says.<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't she?" Caleb demands. "Have you ever watched her? She's the fucking queen bee of the AP girl set. She sets the fashions, decides who's in and who's out in that group, which boys are smart enough and cool enough to hang out with her hive of girls--"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, Caleb, I see what you're doing," Jenny sighs. "Put her down. Bully and influential." Paul and James look at her darkly as Caleb triumphantly plants a big check mark on the page. "He's right," she murmurs to them. "Just because she doesn't go around punching people in the nuts doesn't mean she isn't a bully. She can be really mean." A troubled expression, as of a bad memory, passes over her face.<br/>
<br/>
"So that's how many," you ask Caleb. "Four?"<br/>
<br/>
"Five. And there's gonna be nine of us." He smiles tightly. "I don't think you're going to find four more people who qualify as <i>both,</i> Will."<br/>
<br/>
"So we brainstorm. Who <i>might</i> qualify?"<br/>
<br/>
After a lot of debate, only three more names get agreed to, though one of them (Charles Hartlein) is also unanimously vetoed. But Seth Javits and Amanda Ferguson join the list. That leaves only two more slots that need filling.<br/>
<br/>
It's getting late, and the group is now very grouchy and tired, so you try to wind it up. "Listen, guys," you say to James's group. There's not gonna be enough of us to go around to take out all the bullies." It was a very long list that got put forward by James and his friends, and Caleb was happy to help them compile it. "But the seven names we got are acceptable to you guys, right?" They all nod--even Paul. "Okay, then I'm going to vote with Caleb." You turn toward him. "If he promises that those seven are definitely going on the list." He nods too. "But then the best way to take care of the <i>rest</i> of the bullies is to use the last two spots for his, uh, influentials. Would that be okay?"<br/>
<br/>
They all look at each other. They're tired. But they seem to appreciate how much you've won for them--and that Caleb <i>does</i> have a point. It looks like they are all going to go along with you, but then James raises his hand. "I'd say yes, but I'd like the right to veto some of those choices. You guys can propose names, but we get to block them."<br/>
<br/>
Keith groans loudly, and Caleb climbs to his feet with a towering frown on his face. You jump in.<br/>
<br/>
"Compromise! You <i>each</i>--" You point to the quartet. "And Yumi, you <i>each</i> get one veto. If Caleb proposes a name, James, you can block it. But then, when he proposes another name, you <i>don't</i> get to block it. Someone else has to. And after all five of you have used your vetoes, you don't get to block any more."<br/>
<br/>
James's cheek tightens, but then he glances at Caleb, and relents. "It's a deal." He looks to his friends for confirmation, and they nod. You look back at Caleb, and he also nods. You let out a deep sigh of relief.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The break-up of the conference is very subdued, but it doesn't seem unhappy. Everyone just seems exhausted. When it's over, only you, Caleb, and Sean's golem are left. The latter had been wandering restlessly about the basement all through the discussion, and several times you'd had the impression it was going to jump in. Now it goes outside, leaving you and Caleb alone. "That was hard, dude," he says in a weary voice. "And I came real close a couple of times to punching you. But you did a good job. I think you actually saved us." He licks his lips. "Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"My pleasure," you say, though you're too tired to really mean it. You came close to yelling at him, too.<br/>
<br/>
He tears a sheet out off the legal pad and hands it to you. "To show you how grateful I am, here's the list, including all my 'influentials.' How about you pick out a first choice for yourself. Also, how about you pick out five guys for us to propose to James and them." He chews on the inside of his cheek. "You should put Kim Walsh on it. Make 'em waste a veto." <br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a jerk," you mutter, then sigh. "But she would be a natural choice as an influential. Wouldn't you rather save her for number six?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll probably change your list around anyway. Oh, man, what a night. I hope Yumi doesn't make us go through it all again."<br/>
<br/>
"I think Jenny and them can bring her along. Bully her, if they have to." You smile thinly. "You gonna change into Sean before you go?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't decided," he says evasively. "I'll stay here a bit, though, lock up. I gotta clear my head. You should go home."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It is late, so you follow his suggestion. Your dad gives you a look as you pass through the living room, but doesn't say anything. Robert has loud music playing in his room, and you bang on the wall as you pass. It does no good, and you're too tired to do anything else.<br/>
<br/>
In your room you drop onto the bed with the yellow sheet: "Gordon Black, Chelsea Cooper, Steve Patterson, Jason Lynch, Kelsey Blankenship, Seth Javits, Amanda Ferguson," it says in one column. In another: "Cameron Huber, Ethan Nieves, Laurent Delacroix, Danny Russo, Ricky Golia, Anthony Kirk, Geoff Mansfield, Kim Walsh." You're a little startled to see a third column containing the names "Justin Roth, Tim Gerrard, Adrian Semple, Andrea Varnsworth, Karl Hennepin, and Matt Reston." These are some of the oddball people in the school: musicians, artists, poets and weirdos. What is Caleb thinking about with them?<br/>
<br/>
With a sigh you start jotting down the names of the people who are in the club. James, Jenny, Carson, Paul. You set these down next to the first column, for they will surely be choosing from that list. You smile briefly: between Carson, Jenny and probably Yumi, it will be interesting to see who gets Chelsea. Oh yeah, Yumi. You set her name down too.<br/>
<br/>
You also add Keith: It's a dead certainty he'll want to grab Seth. <i>Fucking Seth; with Keith running his life, it will be a shambles when he returns to it.</i><br/>
<br/>
You pause. <i>That</i> is a point that James and them hadn't seen or objected to: ruining the life of a personal enemy.<br/>
<br/>
You brood a bit on it, but put it out of your head as a worry for tomorrow, if it's a worry at all.<br/>
<br/>
Then there's you and Caleb. It's going to be the two of you to take on the "influentials," probably. The others will have column one covered.<br/>
<br/>
No, wait, there's still a slot, next to Amanda's name. You scribble your own name next to hers, though you're not claiming her. That leaves only Caleb to take on an "influential," which means James and them are really only compromising over one "morally questionable" victim. You did help them to a significant victory.<br/>
<br/>
Except ...<br/>
<br/>
You count the names. Seven victims, and seven people to take them. Caleb makes an eighth. But he said there were going to be nine of you. You rub your temples, count names again, dredge up the faces at tonight's meeting. You haven't forgotten Yumi. There are only eight. Well, Sean would have made it nine, but he's a golem.<br/>
<br/>
Where is Sean? Caleb's got him hidden someplace, like Cameron.<br/>
<br/>
Come to that, where is Cameron now?<br/>
<br/>
You dig the heels of your hand into your eyeballs. Maybe Cameron is under Sean's mask, keeping it mobile while Caleb is out being himself. So where is Sean? <br/>
<br/>
You look at your phone. Easiest way to settle your mind--which is probably just disordered by exhaustion--is to call Caleb and ask him where the real Cameron and Sean are.</span></div></div>


path: 113131122112212222
author_id: seuzz
title: Caleb Pops Some Weird Questions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're too tired to trouble over it. You're too tired to even make up that list like Caleb asked. You waste an hour playing on the computer, and then call it a night.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're glad the next day is Saturday, and wake up hoping that the weekend will bring relief from "team" business. Such hopes are borne out on Saturday, at least, but Caleb calls you before ten on Sunday morning and asks to meet you for lunch. "My treat," he says when you hesitate.<br/>
<br/>
You clear it with your folks, and at around twelve-thirty, after church, you meet with him at Ben's BBQ, a famous local joint downtown across the street from Eastman High. It's next to the strip mall where you briefly hung out Friday, and as you pass it he catches you glancing quizzically at the garbage can where those guys were. "What?" he asks. "Nothing," you reply with an amused snort.<br/>
<br/>
He orders a giant platter of ribs and brisket, which you take as a sign that money won't be an object, and order up a triple helping of brisket, hot links, and chopped beef for yourself. "Trying to bulk up?" he teases.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm thinking of turning into a jock," you say. "Might as well get in practice." He laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"You look over that list," he asks after you've sat a bit and gotten lots of sauce all over your faces.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and I have a few questions," you start.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I have a couple for you, too," he says, and leans close, a rib propped between his fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you know how we put that mask of you under your control?" he says. You nod. "Well, we can do that with more than one mask. You can have more than one mask under your control at a time."<br/>
<br/>
"Really," you guardedly reply, not sure where this is going.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He purses his lips. "When you wound up voting with me last night, was that only because we couldn't get any more names for James and them? Or are you actually, uh, on board with my original idea?"<br/>
<br/>
You chew your food slowly, and swallow slowly. "I see what James and them were saying," you carefully reply. "I understand your point, too." <br/>
<br/>
"Mm," he says. He takes a big bite of his own, and also slowly chews and swallows. "So you see my point, but you think I shouldn't push it."<br/>
<br/>
"It would be bad for the group."<br/>
<br/>
"But what about you?" He looks at you keenly. "Suppose it was just you and me. No James or Paul. No Keith, even. Just the two of us. What would you vote for?"<br/>
<br/>
"When it was just the two of us, you insisted that <i>you</i> were in charge."<br/>
<br/>
He winces. "Okay, suppose it was just <i>you.</i> What would <i>you</i> do?"<br/>
<br/>
You push some baked beans around on your plate. "I might bring Lisa in."<br/>
<br/>
He rubs the side of his temple with a knuckle. "You really don't want to answer the question, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a hard question, dude. James and them have a good point. So do you." You wipe your face with a napkin. "I wasn't just trying to keep peace. I was trying to work out a compromise that <i>I</i> felt comfortable with."<br/>
<br/>
"So you'd like to minimize the number of people who get replaced?"<br/>
<br/>
"The number of innocent people, yeah." You glance around; the place is noisy, so there doesn't seem much chance of being overheard. <br/>
<br/>
He sucks hard on a bit of meat stuck between his teeth. "Yeah, okay," he finally says, and tucks back into his meal.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him. "So is that your question? No follow up? What were you saying about masks and putting more of them under someone's control?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," he says. "Well, something I should have mentioned last night, but I forgot, and it's basically too late now." You sit back, feeling disquiet. Of course you don't understand how the masks work, so you really can't be sure what he was thinking of proposing. He looks up to see you staring at him. "No, really, forget it. If it was something you'd be on board with, we'd mention it to the rest of the group, but if <i>you're</i> not liking it--"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what it is," you say, hoping that you really don't. "How about you tell me and then I decide."<br/>
<br/>
"No, forget it. You've already told me you wouldn't like it."<br/>
<br/>
You look back down at your meal. Three meats with a side of baked beans and potato salad seemed like a nice portion a little while ago. Now it seems at least two meals too much.<br/>
<br/>
"I do have another idea, though," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" You raise your hand to a waitress, and indicate you'd like a refill on your ice tea.<br/>
<br/>
"What about Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
"What about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"What about doing something over there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you nuts?" You almost feel your eyes pop out of your head. "What business is that of ours?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean, what business is that of ours?"<br/>
<br/>
You lean back with a gaping mouth, saying nothing while the waitress refills your glass. When she's gone again you lean back over to him. "Your whole plan, remember, was to fix Westside," you hiss. "What business is it of ours whether we fix Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe Eastman also needs fixing."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe the whole freaking <i>world</i> needs fixing! I can think of a couple politicians--local,  national <i>and</i> international--who could stand to get a makeover, or at least a wedgie!"<br/>
<br/>
"One problem at a time," he says. "But here's the thing. Eastman needs infiltrating, whether it needs fixing or not."<br/>
<br/>
"And how come is that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because we got a guy who wants to get in over at Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" It can't be Keith or James or Carson or Jenny or--<br/>
<br/>
"Scott Bickelmeier."<br/>
<br/>
"Bickelmeier?!"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your voice down! Yeah, him."<br/>
<br/>
You find yourself blinking rapidly, as though your eyelids are trying to semaphore a message to your brain about something that your eyes aren't seeing. "When did he join this team?"<br/>
<br/>
"Quite a while ago," Caleb says. "Before you, in fact. Remember when you were being Cameron?" Actually, the memories of your time as Cameron have faded quite badly, and you say so. "Well, you noticed that him and Sean weren't fighting so much anymore. I told you that I had fixed things up between them after, uh, replacing Sean. That's when things got fixed. Point is, Scott's on the team, and he wants to go back to Eastman. He transferred out to Westside at the start of this school year, he doesn't like it."<br/>
<br/>
"So can't his folks just transfer him back?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's complicated. Basically, he goes back as someone else, or he doesn't go back. And he doesn't want to not go back," he adds, brushing aside the protest you're about to lodge.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so is Scott the 'ninth'?" Now Caleb looks perplexed. "You said last night that we had nine people on the team, but I could only count eight." You rattle off names on your fingers. "So Scott is the ninth?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... Yeah, he's the ninth," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, is he or isn't he? What's this 'uh' business?"<br/>
<br/>
"We might get a tenth. You never know." You drop your fork and rub your temples. "Okay, don't be such a drama queen about it," Caleb says. "You don't have to worry. The stuff with Scott is my business. So you can just forget about it. Unless you want to go out to Eastman with him."<br/>
<br/>
"Why would I want to go out to Eastman with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, maybe you don't. Maybe <i>I</i> want to go to Eastman with him."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd bail on your own Westside project?"<br/>
<br/>
"The other guys have it all mapped out." He grimaces. "It's not even my plan anymore."<br/>
<br/>
"So you'd run away. Just like that."<br/>
<br/>
He purses his lips. "You know, the more I think about it-- Yeah, I think so."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh heavily and deeply. "So maybe we should just cancel the whole Westside thing. Tell James and Carson and them that it's off."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we can't do that. First," he starts, ticking off his fingers in turn. "They already know about the book. If we 'cancel', especially after last night, they'll think something funky is going down. It's not," he hastily adds as your eyes widen in alarm. "But that's one reason we have to let it go forward. Second, Westside really is fucked up, and the plan, even their plan, will help it out a lot. And third--" He frowns. "Now I don't remember the third reason. But those two are enough." He rips the last bit of beef off a bone as you stare at him. "So, the way I look at it, I can go off to Eastman and leave those guys to do what they want over at Westside. They won't need me. They won't miss me. They might be happier without me."<br/>
<br/>
"Considering what they said last night, they're not going to like you going off to Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"Like they can stop me. But we don't even have to tell them. We can leave my golem behind. We'll leave it behind anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"So you really are going off to Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
He sucks thoughtfully on the bare rib for a moment. "Yeah, I think I have," he says with an air of startled discovery. "Are you gonna go with me? With us? Or-- I dunno, if you stay at Westside, you can secretly be in charge."<br/>
<br/>
You look around the restaurant while trying to think. For lack of anything else to say, you ask, "Was that really a golem, or was that Scott under Sean's mask last night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. Uh ... Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
Again with the "uh ..."</span></div></div>


path: 11313112211222
author_id: seuzz
title: Reflections on a Plot Thus Far
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It was just a small thing Lisa had done, but you frown over it as you pull on your old clothes. She had come to you--your replacement, technically--yesterday and asked to borrow the notes from Health class. "Can't you get them from Mansfield," you "remember" having asked in what was probably a sulky tone. She'd frowned. "He was absent, too," she'd said. It's not clear what your duplicate had thought--the mask doesn't seem to have recorded any memories of thoughts or feelings--but he'd pulled out the notes from the different period (but same teacher) and passed them on to her. Now--if not at the time--you shudder a little at the thought of Lisa and Geoff sharing "notes" on that topic.<br/>
<br/>
It's not a matter worth pursuing, you decide as you trudge back to your house, and your initial excitement gradually sours into a resentment that she seemed to be trying to take advantage of the remnants of that special period you'd had together over the summer. Health class is stupid, too, so you decide not to even bother asking her for the notes back.<br/>
<br/>
At home, as you get to the top of the stairs, your brother comes out of the bathroom, bumping into you hard. "Watch where you're going," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
You shove him. "Who shat on <i>your</i> shoes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" You glance back down the stairs to find your dad glaring darkly up at you. You turn away and go to your room. Robert's just probably having "middle school" troubles.<br/>
<br/>
You slouch into your chair, feeling very disoriented. It's like when you go away to camp, and when you get back you feel like you've been away forever but haven't been gone at all. The memories and feelings associated with Cameron and James seem to have vanished, though you remember what you did as them. You look around the bedroom restlessly. This is boring.<br/>
<br/>
With a quick groan you remember that you forgot to mention it to Caleb: that Carson had investigated the book and even talked to some professors about it. Well, maybe it's not important. You and Carson already agreed the book wouldn't get sold, and doubtless Caleb would refuse an offer, even for thousands of dollars; maybe not even for millions, not when you can use such a book to--<br/>
<br/>
You swallow.<br/>
<br/>
Not when you can use it to take over the lives of people who are already millionaires.<br/>
<br/>
You drum your fingers on the desk. Surely the idea has occurred to Caleb if it has occurred to you. Though it didn't occur to you until just now. Would you use it to take over the life of a millionaire? You frown thoughtfully. Well, it would be nice to have all that money ... But there's a lot of work that goes with being the kind of person that has millions, right? Business to look after, money to manage ... Oh, it's gotta be a pain and no fun at all. You tap idly at your computer, flicking from one browser window to another. But what if you took over the life of a kid with millionaire parents? Now you cock your head. Kelsey Blankenship has a rich family. So does Megan Farris. You chuckle grimly: So does Charles Hartlein. <br/>
<br/>
If you're the kid, you'd want to control the parents, too. So: Get masks of yourself, of the kid, of the father and mother. Treat the insides of all the masks (except the one you'd be wearing) with that stuff that puts people to sleep. Put yourself under the kid's mask. Put the kid in the dad's mask; the dad in the mom's mask; the mom in your mask. <i>Huh, that'd work. Has Caleb thought of this?</i> Your mouth twists grimly. <i>Ten to one Carson has.</i><br/>
<br/>
You shift in your seat. That was very nearly a bad scene today between them. They could wind up fighting over control of the group, and maybe even over control of the book. As you've just deduced, control of the book could be very lucrative. It's amazing that it ever got away from--<br/>
<br/>
Now you sit up straight. <i>How the hell </i>did<i> it get out of the hands of whoever had it?</i> You found it in Arnholm's Used Books. Maybe the person who sold it to Arnholm's didn't know what it was; maybe they thought, like you and Ted Arnholm initially did, it was just a fake. But that just invites the further question: How did it get to <i>that</i> person from the last person to know what kind of book it is?<br/>
<br/>
You are seized by a desire to know a lot more about the <i>Libra Personae</i> and its history, so you lean over your laptop and do an internet search on the title. Only a handful of results show up, and a quick perusal shows that only one of them relates to the book--probably it's the site that Carson had found. <br/>
<br/>
It's a post at a blog called "The Precessionary Times-Picayune," and it reads, in its entirety:<br/>
<br/>
<i>Commenters on this site have long impressed me with their wit, their erudition, and their patience with its owner's eccentricities, so this recent dispatch from the world of computer science leaves me serenely confident that I have not set myself up as the idol of androids:<br/>
<br/>
<div class="bquote">Researchers at the University of Birmingham say they are one step closer to inventing a computer capable of thought. <br/>
<br/>
... In their quest to construct a machine capable of passing the "Turing test" by fooling human interlocutors into believing they are talking to a real person, [the team] has written a software program that can emulate posters in internet forums and chat rooms.<br/>
<br/>
... "Programs that mimic the behavior of paranoid schizophrenics have fooled professional therapists when put in a Turing situation," Dr. Barzun says.<br/>
<br/>
... So, working with university psychologists, [the team] fashioned a program that melds many of the characteristics of several mental diseases, and came up with an artificial intelligence capable of writing internet posts that are hostile, abusive and weirdly on-topic while being completely off-point. In a controlled test involving volunteers, the program was quickly identified as a "troll" and treated accordingly.</div><br/>
<br/>
So, when the robots finally arrive, they may turn out to be a lot of jerks? <br/>
<br/>
Actually, Luddites on the internet need not fear that they are about to be rendered redundant; a patent on a mechanical calumniator is unlikely to prove lucrative. Rudeness over the internet is a perquisite that humans will likely preserve jealously for themselves.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~</div><br/>
Speaking of things that are human in only the worst possible ways, moviegoers who remember Alexander Payne's eerily prescient </i>Election<i> may be forgiven for rushing to file for political asylum in Papau New Guinea after viewing the trailer for Payne's forthcoming movie, which the latest issue of </i>Entertainment Weekly<i> summarizes thus: <br/>
<br/>
<div class="bquote">It's Star Wars<i> meets </i>American Pie<i> in next year's </i>The Student Body,<i> when a group of rebel aliens and their pursuers crash in a small town and body-snatch many of the teens at a local high school. <br/>
<br/>
... We not only get an outsider's view of teen life, but a satire on some of its workings. "The student council gets totally taken over by the two different factions," Payne says, "and since they can't fight with ray guns they fight with something even dirtier: politics." So Democrats and Republicans are from outer space? "Yes," Payne grins. And what about the Libertarians? "Not even advanced alien science can explain Libertarians."</i></div><br/>
<br/>
It is, of course, this "student council" angle that leaves me laying awake at night, plotting traffic routes that will not take me past any marquees advertising this nightmare. It's not a new idea that our politics has been hijacked by shapeshifters and things not of this world: the United States has long deserved its characterization as a nation of pious Hindus governed by an elite of atheistical Swedes. Nor is it unique to Americans. In sixteenth century Lower Saxony, we hear, a witch employed the legendary </i>Libra Personae<i> to manufacture "simulacra" of local notables, and herself even impersonated one, in a bid to gain control of a duchy. That witch was routed, but the duke's heirs apparently found it expedient to accept a promotion to the throne of England, where repressed emotions are less likely to be taken as evidence of suppressed humanity.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~</div><br/>
Yes, yes, but what about the zeppelins, I hear you impatiently ask. It is not only for spaceships bearing the next class of House Representatives that we should be fretfully scanning the skies. Lockheed this week unveiled its design for a dirigible with a "sky hook," suitable for moving large, heavy objects over and into inaccessible terrains; the specs suggest its designers sought inspiration in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Horror of the Heights." Let us not fear such things; military pilots, like Doyle's hero, who glimpse these blasphemies will know exactly what to do.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The blog writer--John Reilly--seems to know something about the book. Maybe you should email him for more information. On the other hand, Carson has already made contact with some university professors who claim to know something about it.</span></div></div>


path: 113131122112221
author_id: seuzz
title: A Visit to Professor Blackwell
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Mr. Prescott?" says the man who answers the door. You nod. He beams, steps to one side, and gestures you in.<br/>
<br/>
You hope the inside of the house is friendlier than the outside. Not that it looks especially sinister on its face. It's a large, two-story stone villa, in that spread of town somewhere between the edges of the suburbs and the start of serious farm country. It gleamed whitely in the late afternoon sun as you parked in front of the large wall that runs around it. But the yard was dead and bare, with empty flowerbeds and peculiar stone work. The doorbell sat inside the gaping mouth of a snarling wolf's head, so you had banged on the door. You've read that the more times people knock, the more nervous they are. You'd set up a rat-a-tat-tat that only a man being pursued by mummies would employ.<br/>
<br/>
You now regret coming alone. Carson had wanted to come along when you'd asked him for the professor's name, but you'd brushed off his suggestion that he go too: "It only takes one of us to talk to this guy, and I know more about the book." Besides, you'd reminded him, he was busy being Cameron, and Anne needed keeping company.<br/>
<br/>
You step into the foyer and survey your host: a portly man in grey slacks and a black turtleneck pullover. His moustache and goatee are touched with grey, as are the streaks of hair that he combs over an otherwise bare pate. He looks like a professor, and of the "distinguished" sort who can get away with looking like an unmade bed while still being taken seriously.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm so delighted to have heard from you," he says. "But it was another young man who made inquiries of me."<br/>
<br/>
"That was my friend Carson," you explain. "Yeah, he couldn't make it."<br/>
<br/>
"A pity," says the professor. "It's the <i>Libra Personae</i> you were curious about?" You nod. "Then please, if you will accompany me to the library." He steps aside with a smile and gestures at the hallway leading deeper into the house. <br/>
<br/>
It makes you think of a throat, opening to swallow you. But you're here, and this is why you came. You've only taken a few steps when you are suddenly overcome with drowsiness ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your head feels like it's full of bees. You clench your eyes and try to roll over. <i>You hate school mornings.</i> <br/>
<br/>
You bump into something solid but yielding; you're resting on something very hard and cold and scratchy. Grimacing, you open your eyes and lift your head. There's a face right by yours. You pull back and blink. It's Sean Mitchell, laying on his back, mouth hanging open and his eyes closed. <br/>
<br/>
"Don't bother," says a voice behind you. You yip in surprise and spin around, scraping yourself badly as you do so. <br/>
<br/>
The girl would probably look very pretty if she weren't so dirty. She is sitting on a cot, with her arms and hands folded and her legs drawn up tightly. You have to gape: she is completely naked.<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes narrow. "Don't stare," she snaps. "You're naked too." You look down: so you are. At least you're so cold that the sight of a naked girl hasn't caused your cock to act in the usual manner. Any desire left in you curdles and dies when you look over to see that Sean is also in the altogether.<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck," you mutter as you scramble away.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess the professor finally decided to have some fun," the girl says. "He's been a gentleman, so far." She rolls her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Professor? Where are we?" You look around.<br/>
<br/>
It looks like a basement, albeit one with a very high ceiling. The floor is bare concrete; the walls are brick. There is a spiral staircase leading up to a wooden panel. High up on a far wall is a window through which slants late afternoon sunlight. Aside from the cot on which the girl is sitting the space is completely unfurnished.<br/>
<br/>
She sighs. "You're at Professor Blackwell's. This is a little secret room he has off his library. It's going to be a lot of fun with <i>three</i> of us down here. Assuming he doesn't decide to have a different kind of 'fun' with us."<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell?" Ah yes, that professor. "Who are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"My name is Lucy Vredenburg." You start at the name. "And you are?"<br/>
<br/>
You stammer. "Uh, Will Prescott. Hey, I know you. I go to school with your sister." You don't mention that you also remember Lucy, back from the days when you were a sophomore and she was a senior and the captain of the cheerleading team. She gets a pained look, and says nothing. "What are you doing down here?"<br/>
<br/>
"What does it look like? He's got us prisoners. Maybe you'll get used to it after a few weeks. I have."<br/>
<br/>
You gape. "You've been down here for--? Cindy hasn't said anything about--" <br/>
<br/>
Her face tightens even more. "She doesn't know, I'm sure. <i>Your</i> family won't miss you either. Or his." She nods at Sean.<br/>
<br/>
You turn back to him. He seems to be out cold. You slap him lightly. "Sean," you call. You slap him again. "Hey Sean, buddy!"<br/>
<br/>
"Like I said, don't bother. You were out for hours. He will be too."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>What's going on here?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
She sighs. "I guess I might as well tell you. It'll be less of a shock when you see him. Blackwell was one of my professors, and he invited me out to his house, and he trapped me down here. No one misses me because--" She looks like she's about to burst into tears. "Because he made a-- a duplicate of me! Some kind of a double! It's out there pretending to be me. He's made duplicates of you guys, too." She nods at Sean. "<i>His</i> duplicate brought him down here."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Duplicate?! Like Caleb was making?</i><br/>
<br/>
You groan. You were such an idiot. Blackwell was the professor who knew about the book. Obviously, he would have known what it supposedly could do. But how did--?<br/>
<br/>
You bite your lip. <i>Doubles.</i> Caleb has been pretending to be Sean. Then <i>this</i> is probably Caleb. Caleb had the book. Then that means ...<br/>
<br/>
You have to get him awake. You slap him and slap him and slap him. Lucy just sighs. <br/>
<br/>
After the twelfth blow you decide to change tacks. You grasp Sean's face; maybe Caleb will be easier to wake if he's out of the mask. You mutter the words and pull. Nothing happens. You try again. No result.<br/>
<br/>
You're still staring at him when there's a noise from above. You look up to see that the wooden panel has disappeared. A figure appears at the top of the staircase.<br/>
<br/>
Sean Mitchell. You swallow, hard. He ignores you. "Time for your weekly bath, Ms. Vredenburg," he says. It's Sean's voice, but the intonations are subtly different.<br/>
<br/>
Lucy sighs--is that all she's capable of doing?--and slowly gets to her feet. You force yourself not to stare as she walks past to the staircase. Sean comes halfway down and holds out a hand; in the other, you notice, he holds a large, white object, like a stuffed animal. Lucy struggles slowly up the staircase, until she is within reach of Sean's hand. Slowly she takes it, and he helps her the rest of the way up. They disappear.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever is going on, you need to get your friend awake; you're too frightened and confused to think clearly by yourself. You slap and punch and prod and kick at Sean. He begins to turn purple in spots under your blows. You have to take multiple breaks, and almost give up several times. But at last Sean stirs. He takes a deep breath, and opens his eyes. "Sean! Caleb! Whoever you are," you cry. "You have to get up!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's now dark outside. The sounds from above have ceased. Sean takes a deep breath. "Okay, let's get out of here," he says.<br/>
<br/>
It's the real Sean; well, that's what he says, and there's no mask on him, so you have to believe him. His story is highly disturbing: He got a call from you, asking him to come out to Blackwell's after work, bringing the book. He'd complied, and after suddenly blacking out had found himself down in the basement with you. You're much too confused to press him for more details about what has been going on with him.<br/>
<br/>
Lucy is back as well, looking much cleaner--almost normal, in fact--and dressed in very clean clothes. She seems much more confident (if no happier) for the change: she is acting very imperious, and has refused to help.<br/>
<br/>
There is no way out via the stairs. It's not that the panel above is locked; you haven't even been able to make it to the top of the stairs. Each of you, no matter how you try, cannot will yourself past the center step of the staircase. Whatever is sitting on that step is silent and invisible, but it radiates malice and horror. In fact, you don't even like approaching the staircase.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves the window as the only exit. "It doesn't matter," Lucy keeps saying. "He says he's going to let us go in the morning. He got what he wants, he says. Some book or other."<br/>
<br/>
"And you trust him?" Sean snarls. "We're getting out of here. Now."<br/>
<br/>
He's got the cot wedged length-ways and balanced under the window, like a ladder, and he's already busted out the glass and done his best to clean it out. Lucy refuses to move, which leaves it up to you. "It's too narrow for me," the burly Sean says. "You're going to have to go out. Get away from the house and get some cops."<br/>
<br/>
You look at the window. It looks hardly less dangerous than the basement itself.</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221122211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Raid on Blackwell's
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sean holds the cot steady as you ascend, but it still wobbles under you. He has shoved the cot's mattress through the window, padding it against the few shards of glass still left in the frame. That makes it a very tight fit, and there are still a few unpadded inches you have to squeeze through. Something cuts you as you struggle through, and something warm drips down your side.<br/>
<br/>
And then you're out. It's night, and very quiet. You get cautiously to your feet and look around. The house is entirely dark, so you can barely see. Cautiously you step onto a brick patio at your left and peer in through some French windows, but you can make nothing out. According to Lucy, it should be the library. That means you should keep going, past the windows, to find the front of the house.<br/>
<br/>
Stones bite at your bare feet, and you mutter coarse oaths against Lucy for refusing to part with any of her new clothes. They were very clean, and maybe you shouldn't hold it against her for wanting to be back in something after weeks of being naked.<br/>
<br/>
You come into the front yard. Something rustles behind you as you trot over to the front walk, but you make it out the gate without apparent pursuit. You look back at the house. No lights in the windows, no light over the porch. It appears to be deserted.<br/>
<br/>
So is the front of the house. You drove out in your truck, and Sean said he drove out in his, and there had been a car out front when you'd arrived. Now there is nothing. Did Blackwell move them? Or-- You shudder. Lucy said he could make doubles of people. You don't like thinking about what you would probably find at home.<br/>
<br/>
But you have to get there first. You set off down the road.<br/>
<br/>
You've gone maybe a hundred yards when headlights appear. Briefly you consider ducking to the side and hiding: you are, after all, naked. But you'll be naked no matter who you first meet. You stand out in the middle of the road and flag the headlights down.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart races when you see it's a truck--someone's duplicate, returning?--and you scamper to the side of the road. But when it pulls over and the passenger-side window goes down, it's a blonde kid, looking about your age, who sticks his head out. "Rock on, dude!" he exclaims with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
You hurry over. "Hey, can I get a ride from you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure! Where's the party?"<br/>
<br/>
"I need to get to the police."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that kind of party, huh?" His grin widens.<br/>
<br/>
"Joe!" a curt voice calls from the other side of the cab. You duck your head and peer in. It's another guy behind the wheel, but you can't make him out in the gloom.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a party," you snap. "I've got some friends, over in a house up there." You nod your head. "The owner, he's all whack, got us locked up in a basement. I gotta get 'em out, have the whack-a-doodle arrested."<br/>
<br/>
The blonde kid gapes. "Aubrey Blackwell's house?" he asks, and he suddenly looks very serious.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow. How do they know about Blackwell? "Get in the back," the guy behind the wheel orders.<br/>
<br/>
You draw back nervously at first, then comply, vaulting as best you can into the bed of the truck. The truck growls and leaps ahead. But it doesn't turn around. Instead, in only a minute, you find yourself back in front of the villa.<br/>
<br/>
"Guys, we have to get out of here," you exclaim as they get out of the cab.<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shirt on," the blonde kid says. He does a little double take. "Or your skin. No one wants you losing <i>that.</i> We were coming to check out the professor's house anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"You were <i>what?</i>" You scramble back. "You know him?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like that," says the other. He's a little taller than his friend, and has dark hair. "We only know him by reputation, and it's a bad one. Yeah, finding you like this is a coincidence, but it's not exactly a surprise. Joe, check things out."<br/>
<br/>
"On it," says the other. He turns, and you have the odd impression that he's run off. But after you blink you see that he's still standing by the truck.<br/>
<br/>
"My name's Frank," says the dark-haired one. "The party-hearty dude is my brother, Joe. Who are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will." You lick your lips. "Are you college students?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, high school. We go to Eastman. You?"<br/>
<br/>
"Westside." Your heart falls. It would be just your luck to flag down a couple of thrill-seekers. "Look, we really need to call the cops--"<br/>
<br/>
"We really need to get your friends out of there," Frank retorts. "If the professor gets back and finds you gone before the cops get here--"<br/>
<br/>
"So call them! Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"Watch your language. Joe, what do you make out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck all," Joe replies. "House is dark. There's something on the roof. And the place is stiff with--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's not hard to make out," Frank says. "It practically glows in the dark. Shit. That means we either go in with our cocks flapping, or--"<br/>
<br/>
"Or we raise the roof," Joe chortles. "Hey, if Blackwell wants to make it a party--"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't show our hand yet," Frank says in a firm tone. "Where's that thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"All over." Joe sucks in a sharp breath. "It's a <i>big</i> one."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you guys talking about?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
They ignore you. "Can you distract it?" Frank asks. "Keep it occupied until I make it inside?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme play with it a little," Joe says. "Tease it, get it mad."<br/>
<br/>
"Not too mad."<br/>
<br/>
"No, we <i>want</i> it pissed off. Get it concentrated in one place." He suddenly laughs. "Yeah, try figuring <i>that</i> one out, sucker!" He doesn't appear to be talking to Frank.<br/>
<br/>
They continue to stare at the house, murmuring. Then Joe punches Frank lightly in the arm. "I'm going around the corner, give it <i>two</i> things to worry about."<br/>
<br/>
"Be careful."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going in. I'll just show my head. It can't get out of the yard. I'll give you a beep when I think you've got a shot." He sprints off, practically in a blur.<br/>
<br/>
"Your friends," Frank says when he's gone. "Where are they?"<br/>
<br/>
"In a basement. There's a library," you say. "There's some kind of a door, maybe a hidden panel, over on <i>that</i> wall." You wave your hand, trying to indicate a far wall. "I don't know how you open it."<br/>
<br/>
"Probably a candlestick," Frank mutters. "It's always candlesticks with these guys." He advances on the gate and cautiously pushes it open. "They're old-fashioned that way."<br/>
<br/>
"What way? Who's 'they'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Magicians," Frank replies. "Black, damned, fucking magicians."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him, less because of the imputation of black magic to Aubrey Blackwell--<i>that</i> seems pretty obvious in retrospect--than because of the matter-of-fact way in which this high school student has made it. But before you can question him further something on his person beeps, and he darts into the yard.<br/>
<br/>
You stand up in the truck bed, trying to see what's going on, but it's too dark. You clamber onto the cab and strain to see. You're not sure, but you think you can make out a dark shadow near where the door would be. You blink and stare until spots dance before your eyes, but it doesn't get any clearer.<br/>
<br/>
You drop to your haunches as Joe reappears, seemingly out of nowhere. "Did Frank get inside?" he asks softly.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you admit. "He ran off--" <br/>
<br/>
You stop at the sound of loose stones rattling, and there's a slapping sound, as of something big and wet being thrown against a wall.<br/>
<br/>
Joe chuckles. "Oh, it is <i>so</i> pissed off." He hops up and down, then clambers onto the hood of the truck. He thumbs his nose and blows a raspberry at the house. "Yeah, I'm talkin' 'bout <i>you,</i> cocksucker! Nyah nyah!" There's another explosion of stones, and a small shower of pebbles falls around you. "Shit," Joe gasps. "That's a <i>powerful</i> bad one!"<br/>
<br/>
"What is?" you ask in bewilderment. "What's going on?<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell has a <i>gwarchadweid,</i>" he replies. "You can't see it, but it's glaring at us right now. If it got its claws in us-- Ho boy. It might not give us up for the main course off the table of Thulcandra himself!"<br/>
<br/>
He's not making any sense, and you ask the only question you can. "What's a gwar-chard-what-thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Gwarchadweid,</i>" he says. "Literally it means 'guardian', as in 'one who holds a thing in trust.' Like, an adopted kid has guardians? It's kind of an ironic use of the word in this case. Actually, a better translation would be 'thing that should not be and yet damnably <i>is.</i>'" He hums lightly to himself. "Where are your friends? Upstairs, downstairs, in Maleficent's chamber?"<br/>
<br/>
"In a basement, close to the library. I told your friend--"<br/>
<br/>
"Brother." Again, you have the impression that he's dashed off, even though he remains right next to you. He whistles softly. "That's it, boy. Get the stick! Get the stick! <i>Good</i> Cthulhian hellhound!" He hops off the truck. "I'm going in, try to help out." He turns sharply and jabs at you with a finger. "You. Stay. Put." He disappears, even more quickly than Frank had.<br/>
<br/>
You get back in the truck bed. This is so wild, so confusing. You wish you'd just gone to the cops.<br/>
<br/>
An idea hits you, and you get into the truck cab. Sure enough, the keys are still in the ignition. You could go get the police right now.<br/>
<br/>
You look at the house. But do you really want the cops out here?</span></div></div>


path: 11313112211222112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Spy Is Unmasked
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The police can't do anything against the supernatural, you decide. You get out of the truck, and pace. You stay well away from the wall and gate, though.<br/>
<br/>
It's chilly, and you flap your arms against your torso, trying to keep warm.<br/>
<br/>
It's silent for a very long time.<br/>
<br/>
And then you hear running footsteps, and Lucy, Sean, Joe, and Frank dash through the gate. Frank whips around as he exits, and punches the air. The gate slams shut.<br/>
<br/>
Joe hops up and down. "Boo-yeah! In your face, cocksucker! We are the champions!" he sings.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, Joe," Frank snaps. From the gate comes a horrible snarling sound, but Frank ignores it. "Get in the truck, everyone. Prescott, Mitchell, you're up front with me."<br/>
<br/>
"And I'll get in the bed with the girl," Joe exclaims. "Hey baby, what's your sign? Mine's 'yield'."<br/>
<br/>
"Get bent," Lucy snarls. She stands stiffly and refuses to move.<br/>
<br/>
Frank steps up and glowers into her face. "Get. In. The back." She flinches, and with a muttered oath swings into the back of the truck. "Don't piss her off, Joe,"  Frank says to his brother.<br/>
<br/>
You squeeze into the cab between Frank and Sean. "What happened in there," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"We had a little trouble on the stairs," Frank says as he starts the truck. "You didn't mention that <i>thing.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry. How'd you get past it? What is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind what it is, and we got past it. Joe knows a lot about some damnably queer things. How are you? Cold?" He punches on the heater.<br/>
<br/>
You turn to Sean. "How about you? This wasn't the rescue we'd planned."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but it works. So, are we going to the police now?" he asks Frank<br/>
<br/>
"We're taking you back to our place," Frank says. "We got some questions for you." But he apparently means to save them for later. He says only one other thing during the drive, after Lucy gives a little shriek. "My brother gets horny at the <i>worst</i> times."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They pull up in the driveway of a small house in one of the cheaper parts of town, near the campus of Keyserling College. Joe and Frank lead Lucy into the house while telling you to stay; Joe returns a minute later and hands you and Sean some clothes. "The girl's frightened enough," he says. "She doesn't need <i>you</i> guys walking in like you're late for an all-night sex buffet."<br/>
<br/>
"She's had a hard time," Sean says.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I wasn't <i>that</i> bad with her," Joe says carelessly.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm talking about at that house," Sean yells back hotly. "She was a prisoner for a couple of <i>weeks</i> in there."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude," Joe says, and suddenly sobers up. "I didn't know." He looks at the house. "She seems to be in pretty good shape, considering." <br/>
<br/>
In the house you find Lucy sitting stiffly on the sofa. Frank is standing before her, hands on his hips. He looks over his shoulder as you and Sean and Joe enter. "Well, I hope <i>you</i> guys have a little more to say about what's going on."<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanna call the cops," Sean says.<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine," Joe says. "What are you gonna tell them? You can tell <i>us</i> first. You can <i>practice.</i>" Sean blinks, and looks at you. You look at him. Joe cocks an eyebrow. "Was it a kidnapping, or was it a party?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we should just go home," Sean says.<br/>
<br/>
Now Frank and Joe exchange a glance.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>I'm</i> going home," Lucy says archly, and stands up.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> were in that basement for a couple of weeks," Joe says. "That's what these guys say."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, these guys don't know what they're talking about. I got there this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. "That's not what you told <i>me!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Do I <i>look</i> like I was cooped up in there for a couple of weeks," she says. She tosses her hair back. It is very clean, and falls in platinum sheets. Her skin is smooth, bright, flawless. Her clothes look freshly laundered.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself turning very red. "She was in <i>shit</i> shape when I saw her!" you explode. "Hair all dirty, and she smelled like a goat! "<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Sean says in a warning tone.<br/>
<br/>
"If you just let me call my parents," Lucy says in a serene voice, "I think they'll say that I left the house after lunch to run errands. That included stopping by Professor Blackwell's, where, well ... there was some unpleasantness." She takes a cell phone from her pocket, and smiles.<br/>
<br/>
The smile fades a bit after she finds everyone staring at her. "Did you have that with you the entire time you were down there," Frank asks her quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Red spots show in her cheek. "The battery's dead."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not dead now," Frank observes.<br/>
<br/>
"Whew!" Joe waves his hand in front of his face. "Something stinks, and if it isn't Lucy shitting her panties, it must be her story."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a double," you hear yourself say. You're trembling. "Lucy said--"<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Sean clutches your arm, and his nails dig deeply into your flesh.<br/>
<br/>
"Lucy said that the professor made a duplicate of her!" you continue. You're so angry and scared you don't care. "He took her out of the basement, and when she came back she was all cleaned up. It's a fucking golem!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Sean is sitting cross-legged on the floor. He is bent over with his hands buried between his knees. His head sags.<br/>
<br/>
Frank is standing over him. He cracks his knuckles one at a time, and rolls his shoulders. "That's not a tenth of what I could do, fella," he says. "But I'm worn out from the evening."<br/>
<br/>
Joe is leaning against a doorway, bouncing a small, glowing ball in the palm of his hand. Your eye catches his; he smiles, and squeezes the ball in his fist. When he opens it again, the ball has vanished. He purses his lips, and blows out a long, thick stream of smoke.<br/>
<br/>
You are sitting on the sofa with your knees drawn up. You are trembling lightly. Between watching Frank bat Sean around without laying a finger on him; and watching Joe's little pyrotechnical displays; and Lucy--<br/>
<br/>
You peer up at her, and shudder. She is standing, fully dressed, in the middle of the room. But her skin and hair are greyish white, the hue of a department store mannequin. Even her eyes are opaque. On the coffee table is a blue mask, turned face down. Her name blazes over its inner surface.<br/>
<br/>
You'd pulled it off her face after Frank had caught and held her. Caught and held her without even touching her. And when the mask had come off, <i>that</i> was what had remained.<br/>
<br/>
"And you've no idea how he did it to her?" Joe asks quietly. He's caught you staring at her again.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "It has to be her, though. It looks like her, like when I saw her in the basement. Hair all messed up. That expression--" You lower your head. <i>That expression of dismay and despair.</i><br/>
<br/>
Joe gets on the couch next to you, squatting on his haunches with his feet planted firmly on the cushions. "He'd have done the same to you guys, you know," he says, nodding at you and Sean. "That story about letting you go?" He shrugs. "Yeah, he would've. Wearing masks of yourselves, while looking like <i>that</i> underneath. Nice, pliant little slaves, who would have gone out and gotten the rest of your friends. You'd have taken them back to that house, so he could do the same thing to them."<br/>
<br/>
"But why didn't he do it to her before?" you mutter. "She'd been in there for weeks."<br/>
<br/>
"Probably because he'd just gotten the book from you," Joe says. "There's a spell in there that does stuff like this, isn't there? Mitchell?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
Sean says nothing, until Frank shifts on his feet. "Yes," he says hurriedly. "There's a spell that does stuff like that. It was an accident, I didn't want to do it." He swallows hard. "But it wasn't my decision."<br/>
<br/>
"You did this to someone?" Frank asks. "Who?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean hangs his head. He blinks, hard and rapidly. His mouth opens and closes. He flinches--but not from Frank. He says something you can't catch.<br/>
<br/>
Frank squats and puts his head close to Sean. Your friend murmurs again--long and low. Frank listens. Then he pulls his nose, sniffs, and stands up. "Yeah, okay," he says. He picks the mask up off the coffee table, and regards it thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell thinks he left a spy with you guys, to keep an eye on you until he got back. He's off somewhere being someone else, probably. I don't think he'd be going back to his house, not with that <i>thing</i> prowling the grounds."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?" you ask. But he ignores you.<br/>
<br/>
"He's probably at Mitchell's house, but he might be at Prescott's. A call from his spy will tell us where he is, and the sooner we find out, the sooner we can stop him from doing anything to your other friends."<br/>
<br/>
"I can make the call," Joe says. You rear back: it was Lucy's soft but imperious voice that came from his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"The caller needs to know what she knew," Frank says. "You'll need to put it on."<br/>
<br/>
Joe smiles. "Like I'm not dying to get inside her!"<br/>
<br/>
He puts out his hand, but Frank withdraws the mask. "Maybe someone else should make the call," he says. "Someone who wants to start repairing the damage they've helped cause?"</span></div></div>


path: 113131122112221121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Story of Lucy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll do it," you say. "I've put these things on before." You take the edge of Lucy's mask and glance at Sean. He's rubbing his face in his hands, and looking very tired.<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and raise the mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's like thick, ropy spider webs in your head. You can't see anything. You bat and grapple. The world is black, but it turns grey as you struggle. You feel yourself moan softly, and the real world returns in a rush. You throw your head back, gasp, and exhale.<br/>
<br/>
Joe and Frank are standing before you. Frank is frowning; Joe is grinning. You remember being in the back of the truck with him, and feel your lip curl.<br/>
<br/>
Joe's grin widens; without looking at his brother, Frank jabs him sharply in the ribs, and Joe buries the smile in a secret place. "Who are we talking to," Frank asks quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"It's me. Will," you sigh, and rub your eyes. "But Lucy's here too." You glance down. You have very large, very firm, very inviting breasts. The t-shirt scratches at them. Carefully you adjust the shirt, and shoot a sharp look at Joe. He turns red.<br/>
<br/>
"When you're comfortable--" Franks says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm as comfortable as I'm going to get." Lucy's mind is raging, with anger and confusion and horror. You shake back your hair. "Okay, I can't tell you where Blackwell is, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell us everything you know," Frank says. Joe murmurs something you don't catch. "Everything <i>pertinent,</i>" Frank growls.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, this is Lucy Vredenburg. She's a senior at Keyserling College. Cheerleader. "Blackwell was one of my-- Look, it's going to be easier if I talk like Lucy. It's a little confusing up here." Frank nods. "Blackwell was one of my professors. I didn't want to do any work, so at the start of the semester I went to see him. To, uh, persuade him to give me good grades no matter how I did in his class." You feel yourself turn beet red, even though you are not Lucy. <i>No, you're just a horny teenager trawling the recesses of her mind while trying to ignore the breasts that you're propping up with your forearms as you hug your torso.</i> "He took me out to his house. I blacked out. When I woke up again, I was naked. He was there. He talked to me, told me to go on as though nothing had happened. But I had to do what he said. And I did. I knew I had to.<br/>
<br/>
"So I went home, pretended nothing happened. Just ... carried on. Sometimes he would call me to the house. I'd get undressed and he would ... touch my face. I'd black out and then wake up again. Sometimes he would be gone. Sometimes he'd be there, but then I'd talk to <i>him</i> like he was <i>my</i> servant or slave. I'd get dressed." You draw your legs up and clasp them. "I'd go out and have fun, with all my girlfriends and boyfriends. Find some new friends. Go home with them," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
Joe whistles. "Kinky."<br/>
<br/>
"It would happen a lot. But I'd eventually wind up back at the house, and Blackwell would come back, and I'd go on."<br/>
<br/>
"This afternoon he called me out to the house. He took me upstairs and he took my face off. But when I woke up, I was in a little room. It was a little stone room, and I was laying on a slab. There's a little stone shed or something next to his house, and that's where I was. He told me to get up, and he made me get dressed." You point to the clothed golem.<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, you were never in the basement?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Not before," you say. "But he told me that there were two guys he was holding prisoner in his basement. I was to join them and pretend to be another prisoner, and that I'd been down there with them. I was to pretend like I'd been down there for a couple of weeks. I was to say that he'd taken me upstairs and let me wash and clean myself and get dressed, because he was going to let us all go in the morning."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "So that's what I did. And then ... I ... Will ... escaped, and then you guys came and got us out."<br/>
<br/>
Joe and Frank probe your story a little more. "Okay, so Blackwell already had a fake Lucy running around," Joe concludes. "He calls it out to the house, turns the real Lucy into a Michelangelo, puts the fake Lucy's face onto it. But how was he able to make a double of the real Lucy in the first place?"<br/>
<br/>
"When did Lucy go out to see him, the first time?" Frank asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"First week of school," you reply. "Late August, early September."<br/>
<br/>
Frank turns to Sean. "When did you get ahold of the <i>Libra?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"A couple of weeks ago," he says, and drops his head again.<br/>
<br/>
"More specific, Mitchell."<br/>
<br/>
"I found it in Arnholm's Used Bookstore in the middle of September," you volunteer.<br/>
<br/>
Joe and Frank swivel in surprise. "<i>You</i> found it?" Frank frowns.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't think it was important," you stammer. "Caleb was the guy who was--" You wince; it sounds like you're trying to shift the blame elsewhere. "I found the book at the bookstore. It freaked me out, so, like, the next day I gave it to Caleb. I didn't think about it anymore until, like, a week ago?" Joe nods at you to continue. "I borrowed it from Caleb to show to some other friends, because we were talking about magic? And that book looked like a magic book? So, I borrowed it, and then Caleb told me about it, and ... that's when all this started."<br/>
<br/>
"So, Blackwell must have had the <i>Libra</i> up until the start of September, and then somehow it wound up at this bookstore," Joe says. "Which is where Prescott--" He catches himself, and a gleam comes into his eye. "Which is where Prescott found it. Him and his friends have fun, but they get to wondering about where it came from. They ask around, stumble onto Blackwell. He knows what they're talking about, and grabs them in order to get the book back."<br/>
<br/>
"So how did he lose it to start with?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Find Blackwell and ask him," Joe retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so that's the next step," Frank says. "Lucy--"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," Joe says. "I got just one more question, if you don't mind." He pauses, and his eyes go slightly cross-eyed. "My wife, she's such a huge fan of--" Frank punches him. "Okay, seriously, Will Prescott." He sucks on a tooth. "What's your dad's name?"<br/>
<br/>
"My dad? Harris."<br/>
<br/>
"He work at Salopek Aerospace?" You nod. Frank looks startled. Joe smiles smugly to himself. "Okay, back to finding Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you want to know about my dad," you ask cautiously.<br/>
<br/>
"Just a little detail I was worried about," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, Sean and Caleb work at Salopek too."<br/>
<br/>
Now Joe and Frank <i>both</i> look startled. They turn to look at Sean, who stares back up at them with faint embarrassment on his face. They look back at you. They look at each other. "Yearbook," they say in unison. Joe leaps from the room.<br/>
<br/>
"Sean <i>Mitchell,</i> right?" Frank says to Sean.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." His voice is husky, and he raises his chin. "So what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sew buttons," Joe retorts as he leaps back into the room. He has a glossy book in his hand, and Frank looks over his shoulder as he excitedly pages through it. They mutter to each other. Then they freeze. Joe jabs a finger at the page. "Ha!" he barks.<br/>
<br/>
Sean sucks on the inside of his cheek. "You find something <i>funny</i> in there?" he growls.<br/>
<br/>
The air seems to coagulate. Then Frank speaks. "No, nothing funny at all," he says quietly. "Quite the opposite. We just know who we're talking to now."<br/>
<br/>
Sean stares back, then shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
Joe and Frank return to you. "Okay, let's try Mitchell's house first," Joe says. "Sean, what's the number?" He gives it to you. Then Joe tells you what to say. You make the call.<br/>
<br/>
The conversation is brief, and you hang up with a frown. "He just said he'd call me back," you tell them.<br/>
<br/>
"Bullseye with the first shot," Joe exults. "Let's go."<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," Frank says. "He might try going back out to his house."<br/>
<br/>
"So what if he does? That thing of his will eat him alive."<br/>
<br/>
They argue for a bit, and then your phone rings. You listen briefly to the message, and pass it on after hanging up. "He said not to worry about it. He said the guardian would have got Sean and Will. He asked if I was sure I heard screaming." Joe grins. "And he told me I could go home. The thing wouldn't bother <i>me.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so Lucy goes home," Frank says. He turns to the golem. "But not <i>that</i> Lucy."<br/>
<br/>
"Excellent!" Joe exclaims. "Dibs on the hot college cheerleader."<br/>
<br/>
"What about me?" you ask. "Apparently I'll have a double at home too. Another one of Blackwell's goons."<br/>
<br/>
"We can take care of him." Joe says. "Get it out of the way, and you go home."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not so sure about that, Joe," Frank says slowly. "It would be best if Prescott's double got replaced by one of our own agents."<br/>
<br/>
"So I go as Lucy, and you step in for Prescott," Joe says. "These guys stay here."<br/>
<br/>
"Or I just go home," you insist. The thought of an evil twin at your house fills you with loathing.<br/>
<br/>
"That's too dangerous, Prescott," Frank says. "I'd rather you stay as Lucy. Blackwell's not depending on her. You'd be safe in her place until all this is over. Joe can cover for you, and I'll stay here with Mitchell."<br/>
<br/>
You wince. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll let <i>you</i> make the call," Frank says.</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221122211211
author_id: seuzz
title: An Escape from Certain Doom
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your eye falls on Sean. He's not looking at you, but you feel yourself bridle. You don't want to look like in a coward in front of him.<br/>
<br/>
"I've got a grudge against Blackwell," you say. "I want to help take him down. And I really don't like the idea of an evil version of me living with my family."<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks like he wants to argue, but Joe gives you a subtle thumbs up. Frank sighs. "In that case, let's take care of Blackwell first. We'll get him taken out, and then it'll be safe to get rid of your double. Mitchell, what would be the best way of getting you outside your house at this late hour?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean hesitates, and then lowers his head, thinking. Finally he has to shrug. "I don't know. If it's a fake me, he probably wouldn't want to leave the house anyway, would he?"<br/>
<br/>
Frank paces. There's more argument. Finally, he sighs. "Then we'll have to take him out tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
You do get rid of your evil twin that evening, and at least <i>that</i> goes smoothly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The sight of Sean Mitchell in the hall after first period sends your heart into your throat, and you head the other direction. You bump into Caleb. He does a double take and frowns when he sees the look on your face. "What's up with you?"<br/>
<br/>
Your mind races. You need to warn him, but you need to be careful. "Lotta weird stuff going on," you mutter. "You talk to Sean yet today?"<br/>
<br/>
"Briefly." He looks at you closely. "He said there's some kind of team meeting after school."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you skip?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"School?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, the meeting."<br/>
<br/>
Now his eyes narrow. "How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanna talk to you. Alone. About all this stuff."<br/>
<br/>
He stares, then pulls a book from his bag. "Yeah, well, I got homework." He shoves the book at you. "Do it for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Do your <i>own</i> homework," you snarl back. "This is serious, more serious than Chem."<br/>
<br/>
He glances over his shoulder, and leans in close. "Yeah, okay. What's this about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just skip. Come with me. Don't mention it to Sean, alright?"<br/>
<br/>
He just grunts.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And then when it's time for lunch Caleb comes to find you. "I don't know about skipping the meeting, but I can skip the rest of school. Come on."<br/>
<br/>
"I have a quiz in History--"<br/>
<br/>
"If it's more serious than Chem, then it's more serious than History. Come on, you sound freaked out. Is it that serious?" You nod. "Then let's make time for it."<br/>
<br/>
As you get in his car, you pull out your cell phone. "I gotta call someone," you say. "We need to meet with them."<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell me what this is all about first." He reaches for your phone. You bat at his hand. He frowns. You put it away with a sigh. "Where are we going?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"It's out near Farm Road," you say, deciding that Blackwell's villa is worth showing to him. "There's this big house--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're being really mysterious, Will," he says. "I'm not going anyplace strange. Let's go over to the school by your house. Tell me what's going on."<br/>
<br/>
As he drives, you tell him about your adventure yesterday: Going out to Blackwell's and being trapped with Sean and Lucy; about your escape; about meeting Frank and Joe; about unmasking the fake Lucy and finding Blackwell's hiding place, and how the "Sean" at school isn't the real Sean. He listens quietly, but with increasing consternation, long after you've arrived at the elementary school.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me more about these two guys who rescued you," he says, and you tell more about them, laying particular emphasis on their occult powers. "Are you sure you trust them?"<br/>
<br/>
"They helped me get rid of that double, put me back in my life."<br/>
<br/>
"That's a good point," he says. He unzips his back pack and takes a mask out. You can't help flinching. "Of course, we still have this old mask we made of you."<br/>
<br/>
Before you can react, he claps it onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake with a throbbing head, and it takes you a moment to get a grip on where you are and what must have happened. You groan; you're growing to hate going into and coming out of masks. You sit up.<br/>
<br/>
You're in the elementary school basement, on the filthy floor. "Caleb!" you call. There's no reply. You struggle to your feet and call again. You look around. You seem to be alone. You go to the door and yank at the handle. It doesn't move and you bang on it. Grimly, you conclude that you're locked in. You go one of the windows and peer out. Caleb's car is gone.<br/>
<br/>
You settle back, dumbfounded. You told him all that was going on, and he did <i>this</i> to you? Why? Even if that wasn't the real Caleb, if that was the golem that he and Sean made--<br/>
<br/>
Something horrible clicks in your head. Blackwell got Caleb. That wasn't your friend, that was the magician. Now he's trapped you.<br/>
<br/>
Worse, he has a mask of you--the mask you and Caleb had made. It will have all your most recent memories. He can use it to trick Frank and Joe and Sean.<br/>
<br/>
You fall back on the ground. <i>Some secret agent you turned out to be.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Hours pass. You lay on a table with dreadful fantasies passing through your head. You'll never be able to trust anyone again, even if you get out of this mess. Every face, every smile, every gesture, every invitation ... They will all seem false. Caleb, Sean, Frank, Joe, Keith, Lisa, James, your dad, your mom, your brother, the postman ... Any of them might be a perfect imposter, getting close to you, trying to get you out of the way.<br/>
<br/>
And so time passes, morbidly. And then you hear tires on dirt. You sit up, heart hammering. Through the window you see feet hurrying to the door. You step back, looking for a hiding place, but before you can scramble away the door bursts open. Frank leaps into the room. His eyes freeze when he sees you, and he clasps his fist. Instantly--as you'd seen him do with Sean last night--your arms clap to your side. You are completely immobile. "Joe!" Frank shouts as his brother and two versions of Sean Mitchell pile into the room.<br/>
<br/>
Joe darts to your side in three quick strides and grabs your face. You grit your teeth as he grapples at your features. "Looks like he's clean," Joe says. He looks pale, but he smiles. "We thought we'd lost you."<br/>
<br/>
"How did--" You look him up and down. He's dressed like a cheerleader, complete with stockings and miniskirt.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a long story," Frank says. "But maybe you'd like to check our faces first."<br/>
<br/>
All your morbid fears rush back. He releases you, but your hands still don't want to work. Stiffly you reach for Joe's face. He smiles and relaxes. You grip him. Nothing comes away. You lick your lips and nod at the others. "Vouch for them?" you ask weakly. He nods. "We're all okay then."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not clear yet," Frank says. "Tell us your story, and we'll tell you ours." You relate the day's events, and Joe and Frank nod grimly. "Close to what we'd deduced," Frank says. "Blackwell switched into Caleb's mask last night. When you talked to him today, he figured out something was up. He got you out of the way and switched into a mask of you." He gives you a peevish look. "There are too many of you running around, Prescott." You say nothing, and he continues. "He got Joe to come out to the villa, telling him he'd arranged to meet 'Sean' there. Luckily, he fucked up his play, so we're alright."<br/>
<br/>
"Sort of," Joe mutters.<br/>
<br/>
It's a lot to take in, and you let yourself be distracted by the two Mitchells. "So, Caleb," you say, flicking an amused glance between them. "You were really being Sean this afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
The silence that follows is horribly awkward, and for no reason you can discern. "I'm Sean," says one of the Mitchells. He points to the other one. "This is my brother, Taylor." <br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. Neither one can look you in the face. You can think of nothing to say, except to stammer, "Okay, so where's Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb is the least of your problems, Will," Frank says in a tone that sounds carefully composed. "After he screwed up, Blackwell tried running. He was in your truck, wearing your face, but we'll say it was his driving skills that were to blame. Joe gave chase, and there was an accident."<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment for the implications to sink in. Joe has to spell them out for you: "I saw it happen," he quietly says. "No one was going to walk away from it. The world is going to believe that 'Will Prescott' is dead."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And so it proves: the ID on "Will Prescott" is unequivocal.<br/>
<br/>
Worse follows: Using methods you don't inquire about, Joe and Frank sniff around the morgue and the accident remnants. The investigation bring ghastly news: The <i>Libra</i> was not in the wreck, and they were wrong about who was driving: It was a golem under your mask. Blackwell has gotten away.<br/>
<br/>
It leaves a terrible choice: You can either reappear with no good explanation for how a perfect double of yourself died in a wreck--and it would be almost worse having to explain how it got your truck in the first place--or you can let your erstwhile friends set you up in a new identity. But they are very shy about explaining how the latter would work, and you get the impression you don't want to ask.</span></div></div>


path: 11313112212
author_id: seuzz
title: Keeping Cameron's Commitments
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I can talk to Caleb about it," you say slowly. "But I think he was really counting on you taking over for Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"Are these masks set up so that you can only be certain people?" James asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Or, I dunno. I guess it's complicated." You try to recall what Caleb said about that special sealant he put inside your mask to hide the real Cameron. You're not clear on what exactly put the "Will Prescott" mask under your control. If you put <i>that</i> stuff inside the mask of Cameron, would that put the fake Cameron under your control too? James (who thanks to the Cameron mask knows pretty much all that you do) also seems to be thinking about it. "Yeah, I dunno," you finally admit. "That's another reason I don't wanna improvise something without Caleb's say-so. We might fuck something up."<br/>
<br/>
James nods. "Maybe we should just do what you guys have planned." He chews on the inside of his cheek. "Gordon would be fine."<br/>
<br/>
He puts his hand to his face, and pauses. You smile quietly to yourself, waiting for him to ask how to take the mask off. Then, to your surprise, he mutters the words and pulls at his brow. As he falls backwards he changes back into his own form, and the mask clatters onto the ground.<br/>
<br/>
You blink and pick up the mask with a wry smile. You'd forgotten that "Cameron" knows how to take off his own face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Truth to tell, you're probably more motivated to reclaim Cameron because of the chance to get together with Anne. After James leaves, you call her up. "You promised me we could get together tonight," you remind her.<br/>
<br/>
"You're the one who changed our plans," she says, and she doesn't sound happy.<br/>
<br/>
"I got my business taken care of. Early, too. We got the rest of the night."<br/>
<br/>
"Rest of the <i>evening,</i>" she corrects you. "We could have had longer--"<br/>
<br/>
"So what you're saying is that I should have been over at your house five minutes ago."<br/>
<br/>
"What I'm saying is that you should have been over at my house right after school."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll be over in a few." You hope it's not rude to abruptly hang up. You don't want to put her even deeper into the mood for a fight.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
If she's in a temper, she mostly keeps it hidden, though she does turn her head when you bend to kiss her, so that you only get a taste of her cheek. She also insists on moving into the back yard, where her parents are plainly visible through the big plate-glass window in the living room--and where you're plainly visible to them. You do your best to relax, though, as you sit on the deck at the outdoor table. "How was your day?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It was fine." She eyes you carefully. "You didn't get too bruised."<br/>
<br/>
"I could take my shirt and pants off, let you get a closer look," you tease. She demurs. "I held my own. I made my point. That's all I wanted."<br/>
<br/>
She sighs. "You don't have to make it for <i>me.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I know that." You lean forward. "Forgive me?"<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"For being a fucking Neanderthal? For trying to straighten out Douglas and Black and--"<br/>
<br/>
"There's gotta be another way of taking care of them," she sighs. "I know you're not going to get hurt or anything, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"But what?"<br/>
<br/>
She seems to weigh her words carefully, and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "In some ways you haven't changed that much from middle school. You were always trying to ... to make your point there."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I was a prick. You didn't like me much, did you?" She hesitates, and shakes her head a little. "But that was different. That was me being a prick."<br/>
<br/>
"That was you being a <i>bully.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not arguing. But I said this is different. This is me trying to get <i>other</i> guys not to be pricks and bullies."<br/>
<br/>
"It's still a lot of testosterone, and it's still a lot of guys throwing punches in order to show who the top dog is."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I'm fighting. You know what this was about today, right? Didn't I tell you?" She shakes her head. "Douglas and them got in a fight with Sean and Scott. I had to break it up. I had to punish Douglas and them. I tried doing it your way, the way a team captain should. You know, with laps. What happened at lunch was them showing that it didn't matter."<br/>
<br/>
"So you just got back down in the trenches with them."<br/>
<br/>
"I have to defend my authority, or I lose it." You're feeling your own temper beginning to rise. "Porter and the other teachers, they don't-- Aw, fuck it."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't swear at me," she says, and her own face changes color. "And Ms. Graham stepped in and stopped it without you having to do anything."<br/>
<br/>
"She stepped in and stopped me from <i>stopping</i> it! That's how come I had to--" You sigh and twist in your seat. "That's how come I had to meet Black after school."<br/>
<br/>
"And did <i>that</i> meeting stop it?" You have to hang your head. "It didn't, did it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said I made my point with them," you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I've made my point with you," she says, and reaches for your hand. "Maybe not any more successfully, but I can give you something Gordon wouldn't give you."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
She kisses you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Maybe you should take her wishes more seriously. But you don't hesitate the next morning when you arrive at Westside, and find Jason Lynch in the breezeway beside the gym with his foot planted on James Lamont's back. It would be a bad show after yesterday's meeting with James if you didn't intervene.<br/>
<br/>
Lynch is turned away from you, so he's taken totally by surprise when you push him against the wall, pin him, and punch him hard in the stomach. He's a tough bastard, though, and manages to keep from bending double completely. You grab him by the hair. "Don't fuck around with my friends," you growl at him.<br/>
<br/>
He giggles. "Don't fuck around with mine."<br/>
<br/>
You shove him away. His eyes glint maliciously, but he's too small to take you on, so after a chuckle he just struts away. You help James to his feet. He gives you a wry smile. "Thanks, I guess," he says. "Catch you later?" You nod, and he smiles with anticipation.<br/>
<br/>
All things considered, the morning workout goes smoothly, and though Douglas and the Hall brothers are insolent, they stay well on the safe side of your line. You maneuver things so that you get Sean alone by one of the weight machines. "I talked to James Lamont last night," you say. "He's on board. Carson might be too, if James has talked to him."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool," he says. "I'll hook up with them today some time. Or, actually, set it up so they hook up with Caleb. It won't look as weird that way."<br/>
<br/>
"You got a problem being seen in public with guys like that?" you tease.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just stick to correct role-playing," he murmurs back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But after what you did for James, you don't feel the need to keep Cameron away from their group, so between classes you circle the halls so you can crash the intended meeting, and before lunch you wind up chasing them down by the portables. They've already been talking--Caleb is with James and Carson--and it looks like they've already gotten into an argument.<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna have a look at that thing if I'm gonna get involved," Carson is saying. He does a double-take as you sidle up. <br/>
<br/>
"You already had a look. Prescott showed it to you," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, hey," Carson says to you. Then it's back to Caleb: "But I didn't know what it was. Now I do. I wanna have a closer look."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need a closer look at the book," Caleb says. "Not as long as I'm in charge. Speaking of which," he says, turning to you. "I want you to talk to Keith. I'll have a mask for you this afternoon you can show him." You nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, how about this," Carson says. "Can we get together, like, this afternoon, so I can look through it <i>in your presence?</i> Would <i>that</i> be okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I have work after school," Caleb replies. He and Carson frown belligerently at each other, but Caleb seems to feel the force of the three people staring at him. "Yeah, okay," he mutters. "For thirty minutes. I'll show you what you need to know."<br/>
<br/>
"Best to keep 'em happy," you tell him after Carson and James have gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Best of them to keep <i>me</i> happy," Caleb retorts. "If he's gonna bust my balls--"<br/>
<br/>
"Welcome to Team Management 101," you laugh, and clap him on the arm.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You'd planned on getting together again with Anne, but when classes are over she tells you--to your mutual regret--that her flute teacher has to go out of town and rescheduled her lesson from Friday to today. That leaves you with the afternoon free. <i>Freedom! Horrible, horrible freedom,</i> you mutter satirically to yourself as you trudge out to the parking lot. You're watchful for an interception from Lynch and his friends, but the way is clear, and you make your car without incident.<br/>
<br/>
But what to do with your freedom? You could head over to Salopek, and try finding Caleb over there, pick up Keith's mask. Or you could just goof off.</span></div></div>


path: 113131122122
author_id: seuzz
title: Keith's Bodyguard
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Eh, screw it, you decide. You can just wait for Caleb to get the mask to you in his own good time. You go back to the house, do your homework, and wait for Anne to call. It's after dinner before she does, though, and the evening at her house is short and filled with her own homework.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake early and can't get back to sleep, so you head over to the school for an early morning jog. Erik Carstairs is there, but the two of you pointedly ignore each other, and manage to coordinate your paces so that you're always on opposite sides of the track. It eventually turns into a contest of endurance, which you win: he heads into the gym before you do. You give him plenty of time to shower and change before you go in yourself.<br/>
<br/>
It's still relatively early, and not many students have begun to show up. Unfortunately for one of your friends, early arrivals include Keith Tilley and Seth Javits. As you're heading across the quad you catch sight of Javits--one of the worst bullies on the basketball team--frog-marching Keith across the grass. You'd intervene, but you're too far away, and it looks like whatever is going to happen is going to hit its climax pretty soon. They draw up under one of the big trees in front of the library. Seth says something to Keith, and your friend weakly tosses something white at the tree; it falls to the ground. Seth whaps him so hard on the head he staggers, and he retrieves the white thing. Seth, with his hands on his hips, speaks again, and Keith throws it harder. Whatever it is, it snags on one of the lower branches. The small knot of kids with Seth hoot and clap; as they depart, Keith just stands there, staring dejectedly at the ground.<br/>
<br/>
Now you wish you'd made a greater effort to get out there, and you walk quickly over to Keith before he can make his way back into the school. He looks up briefly as you draw close, and then ducks his head again. His face is so red it is almost purple; clearly he wishes he'd run off before you showed up. <br/>
<br/>
You look up at the tree: a pair of tidy whiteys is hanging there, close enough to be tantalizing but rather too far to snag. <i>Fucking Javits ...</i> "Are those yours," you ask Keith.<br/>
<br/>
His jaw tightens and he bites furiously on his lips. He gives a curt nod.<br/>
<br/>
You clap him on the shoulder; you'd meant it to be reassuring, but he staggers, and his arms fall limply to his side. "Here," you say. You bend over and form your hands into a stirrup. He doesn't move, and you look up at him. "Come on, Tilley. Alley-oop."<br/>
<br/>
Now he looks at you, with a startled expression. You gesture again with your hands, and slowly he puts a foot in them. He gasps a little as you easily hoist him. "Can you get 'em?" you ask. He flails. "Get on my shoulders! Use me like a ladder!" He wobbles in your grasp, and then his free foot plonks onto your right shoulder. You straighten as he wobbles uncertainly on one foot, and then he tumbles off, skidding off your back and pitching you forward. You spin in alarm, but he's folded himself as he's fallen, and rolls across the grass. He stumbles uncertainly to his feet, and shyly brandishes the underwear in his hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Way to go, Tilley!" you cheer him. "That wasn't so bad!" You jerk your chin at the underwear. "Were those extras, or are you going commando now?"<br/>
<br/>
"I should get back into them," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll go with you, keep a watch out." You drape a friendly arm on his shoulder and accompany him to one of the boys' rooms that has a relatively safe reputation. It's empty, but you still guide him toward the stall in the corner. "This is gonna sound like a weird favor," you tell him. "But I'm gonna take the next stall. Would you mind staying in your stall until I come out?"<br/>
<br/>
"How come?" he asks, instantly on his guard again.<br/>
<br/>
"Um ..." You're stuck for a good explanation. "Well, how about let's say that you wanna stick close to me, in case Javits comes back?" He thinks a moment; then, though still reluctant, he agrees.<br/>
<br/>
Inside your stall you wedge yourself between the toilet and the wall. Quickly you pull Cameron's mask off, fighting to stay awake ...<br/>
<br/>
... You fail, but you have the impression you've not been out long. A quick glance shows that Keith's feet are still visible under the partition; he's tapping his toes impatiently. Grinning to yourself, you pull Cameron's pants up around your smaller torso, grab the mask, and step over to Keith's stall. "Can you open up there," you call in a deeper voice than is your wont, and tap on the door. Keith fumbles the door open, and his eyes pop when he sees you grinning back. "Yeah, hey!" You point at the mask in your other hand. "I think this'll help you more than it'll help me." His limbs jerk, but he can't stop you from thrusting it onto his face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Okay, what you need to do now is go find me--the other me--" You snort. "You know, you should be all caught up in there." You frown at Cameron, who is still looking a little green. "Keith, you need to go find the Will Prescott who is not dressed in Keith Tilley's clothes." You point to his shirt, which is now wrapped around your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I got all that," he says, though his eyes are still very wide. In a possibly unconscious mimicry of your own gesture, he pulls at the shirt he is wearing: Cameron's. <br/>
<br/>
"Then go find him," you continue. "Tell him that <i>Will</i> needs the keys to his truck. There can't be <i>two</i> of me at school, so I'm going to take off for the day."<br/>
<br/>
"Why can't you get rid of him and be yourself? I'd kinda like to talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
"You can always talk to Caleb if you have to. You know that." You thwack him on the side of the head.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," he mumbles. "It feels like I've got at least three too many people up here." He thwacks the side of his own head.<br/>
<br/>
"That would be mathematically impossible. There's only two of you in there. Anyway, tell him I'll be back in time to pick him up."<br/>
<br/>
"Who, Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, <i>Will.</i>" You'd hoped Keith would be a little less dense with Cameron's head, but maybe it's left him twice as confused as before.<br/>
<br/>
At any rate, he does manage to get your truck keys to you within ten minutes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You also have Keith's pants, which means you have his wallet, and since you figure he owes you, you treat yourself to a pancake, ham and egg breakfast at Elmer's Diner, near the university. Then you drive around a bit. At lunch time you decide to crash the strip center across from Eastman High, where there's a bakery and a comic book store. It's a bit risky--you might get spotted as a truant--but you gamble that the lunch hour will protect you. Eastman students hit it during the break all the time.<br/>
<br/>
Sure enough, not long after you land at Munson's Bread Shop, you see two heads go by the window: a dark-haired guy and a blonde-haired guy in letterman jackets. They pause, gesticulating as though arguing; then the dark-haired one shoves the blonde one, and they enter the bakery. "It's empty carbs, Joe," the dark-haired one grumbles, and taps his foot impatiently as the other orders a cinnamon roll. But complaints about calories don't stop him from ripping a few bites from it after they sit at the table next to you. They set a cardboard box between them. "We should put it back where we found it," the dark-haired one continues in the same grumbling tone, and slaps the box contemptuously.<br/>
<br/>
"We will, Frank, but we should take a good look at it first," the blonde one ("Joe"?) retorts. From the box he takes an old-fashioned school notebook. He opens it and carefully studies the first page.<br/>
<br/>
"We already looked at it down there. We know what it is," the other one ("Frank"?) says.<br/>
<br/>
"But this is our first really solid lead," Joe replies. "First confirmation we're on the right track. Might even confirm more by pointing to the university. Though we need to pay that guy a visit anyway." His eyes flick in your direction, but if he's noticed that you're eavesdropping, he doesn't seem to mind. "You don't finish a scavenger hunt by ignoring the clues."<br/>
<br/>
Frank's eyes also flick in your direction. "Since when were you ever smart enough to finish a scavenger hunt?"<br/>
<br/>
"Since when were you ever fuck fuck fuck fuck <i>fuck you, Frank, fuck you,</i>" Joe hotly retorts. <br/>
<br/>
Frank slaps Joe on the side of the head. Joe comes half out of his seat with a snarl; Frank cocks a fist, and Joe sits down. He glares at the notebook he's still holding. "Porn," he sneers. "Fucking porn. Hot, steamy, cock-stiffening, mouth-drooling, sends me running home to choke a barnyard of chickens <i>porn!</i> And there's <i>nothing like that</i> in here." He frowns deeply, but continues to stare hard into the notebook.<br/>
<br/>
Frank snorts and pulls something else out of the box. <br/>
<br/>
And you almost choke: It's a mask, like the kind Caleb has been making.<br/>
<br/>
Is Caleb up to something over at Eastman? Is there another club of mask-makers on the loose?<br/>
<br/>
Do you dare introduce yourself to these guys?</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221221
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Unexpected Confessions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Hey." You clear your throat. "Hey?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Frank snarls back with a glare.<br/>
<br/>
This reaction almost causes you to flee, but you've already poked a hole in the ice. "What is that thing?" You point to the mask in his hand.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a fucking mask, asshole," he says. "The fuck does it look like?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe kicks Frank's chair. "I should set you on fire and piss on you to put it out," he growls. "This cocksucker asked you nicely and--" He snaps his mouth shut, closes his eyes, and smiles to himself. When he opens his eyes again, he turns to you with a friendly gaze. "It's a mask," he says in a pleasant tone. "Something we found while snooping around in--"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe!"<br/>
<br/>
He kicks Frank's chair again. "A nudge is as good as a wink for most people," he says through gritted teeth. "Am I gonna have to kick <i>you</i> in the <i>balls</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
Frank stares at him, then shrugs elaborately. "Go ahead, then. Tell him what we were doing, so we can get <i>fucking expelled.</i> You're not learning anything in your classes anyway," he adds in an undertone.<br/>
<br/>
Joe smiles tightly. "I've been memorizing the cheerleaders' cup sizes. That counts for something, I'm sure."<br/>
<br/>
"It'll account for about eighty percent of your brain space, that's--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up." Joe flexes his hand into a fist. "I helped you get rich off the tooth fairy when we were kids, and I can arrange for her to make another deposit under your pillow tonight." He turns back to you with a clear expression, and gestures you to join them. When you hesitate, he yanks the mask from Frank's hand and pulls his chair over to your table. "Yeah, it's a mask," he says, and presses it into your hands. "We found it and that box while snooping around the underground boiler room back at school." He offers a conspiratorial grin.<br/>
<br/>
You look at the mask. Yes, it's definitely the same kind of thing as Caleb has been making: oval, like a tragedian's mask, with ridges corresponding to lips, nose, cheekbones, and brow, but without eyeholes. It's a bright, gleaming blue color. You turn it over, but there is no name floating on its inner surface. <br/>
<br/>
"You know, uh, I've seen things like this before," you say in a halting voice. <br/>
<br/>
"Really," Joe says. "Where?"<br/>
<br/>
You are suddenly seized by second thoughts. "Oh, you know." You avoid his eye. "Like in theaters and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "Hey, I know a really great riddle about a mask. Wanna hear?" He presses on without giving you a chance to answer: "I want to go home but I can't, because a man wearing a mask is waiting for me. The masked man doesn't want to hurt me, and home isn't my house. So what's my problem?"<br/>
<br/>
You stare. "Huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Here, say it with me, so you get it. I want to go home but I can't, because--" You repeat the riddle after him, struggling to get the words right. When you're done, he smiles. "We're playing baseball, I'm on third, and the catcher is waiting for me," he says without giving you a chance to figure it out yourself. "Isn't that great?" he grins.<br/>
<br/>
"It's stupid," you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
He laughs again. "Maybe. But have you ever seen masks like this before?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I got a friend who makes masks like these," you say. You blink: Maybe you're just so offended by that dumb riddle you've lowered your guard. "Yeah," you add. "He's got this book that tells you how to make them."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool!" Joe enthuses. "Is it like an arts and crafts book?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a book of magic," you say, and then gasp to yourself. <br/>
<br/>
"What does your friend do with them?"<br/>
<br/>
"We use them to make copies of people." Your voice comes out as a croak, and you have a feeling like you're going to faint.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your friend's name?" <br/>
<br/>
Joe's voice is almost drowned out by a roaring in your ears. "Caleb Johansson," you say. <br/>
<br/>
You're revived by the touch of his hand as he clasps yours; an electrical thrill seems to run down your arm, and you jerk straight in your chair. "Well, mine's Joe Durras, and Miss Manners at the other table is my brother, Frank. And you are?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott." You're alert again, but your lips feel numb.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Will, it's really awesome to make your acquaintance," Joe says, and his eyes are dancing madly. "Can we go find your friend now?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess, but he's in school. At Westside. I'm skipping."<br/>
<br/>
The light in his eye dims a little. "Well, as one criminal to another, I won't say anything about your little escapade if you don't tell anyone about ours."<br/>
<br/>
You nod dazedly, and look up. Frank is towering behind his brother, and the gleam in his eye is a lot less merry.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They sit at your table, and you continue to babble madly about you and Caleb and the book. Early on you shoot a fearful look at Frank; Joe nudges his brother and tells him to go back to class. "I'm hanging out with Will," he says. "The American constitutional system has gotten along for two hundred and thirty years without me, and it can just trundle along to its doom without me today." Frank jabs Joe in the shoulder, mutters something you can't catch, and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the afternoon is better. Joe buys you treats and coaxes lots more out of you. It becomes easier as it goes along, and you mostly relax. You can't tell if Joe takes you seriously or if he's just entranced by the mad story about you and Caleb and James and Carson and Keith and what you guys have gotten up to and what you're planning to get up to; either way, he doesn't seem to be making any judgments about you. He also clucks sympathetically over various bullying problems and makes his own waspish comments about "dumb jocks." At around two o'clock he has you send a text to Caleb, asking him to hook up with you after school to meet some "guys." "He's got work after school," you say even as you comply.<br/>
<br/>
"Then definitely we should send him a text," Joe says. He sends a quick text of his own. "I'll go with you and have Frank meet us over there."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A little after three-fifteen you pull into the parking lot near Caleb's car. Your friend appears at about the same that Frank walks up. You point Caleb out to them. "Let me do the talking, okay," Joe mutters to Frank.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb eyes you warily as he approaches. "Who are these guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Joe," your new friend says excitedly. "This is Frank, and Will's been telling us all about these masks and shit." <br/>
<br/>
Caleb wheels on you. "Are you <i>crazy?</i> The fuck are you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, we're cool," Joe says. "It sounds like a lot of fun!"<br/>
<br/>
"They had some masks already," you tell Caleb. "That's how I got to talking to them."<br/>
<br/>
"They had ... masks?" Caleb says. Now he really does look wary.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, found 'em over at Eastman," Joe says. "We didn't know what they were. Our dumb luck runnin' into Will here, eh?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb grunts. Then Frank speaks: "We'd really like to take a look at this book Will says you have."<br/>
<br/>
"I have work," Caleb snaps. Then he pauses. "But I can skip. Come on out to the house with me. I'll drive."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll follow," Frank says firmly. "Will, you ride with me and Joe." Caleb seems to seethe.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind up on the outskirts of town, in front of a large stone villa. "This isn't Caleb's house," you tell the brothers as you pull up. <br/>
<br/>
Caleb is already out of his car and has stepped in the front yard; he gestures to you to follow. But Frank and Joe remain by their truck, and Frank plants a firm hand on your shoulder. He and his brother stare long and hard at the house. "Is this your place?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No," Caleb says slowly. "It belongs to a friend of the family. It's a safer place to keep the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's get the owner to come out and invite us in," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"He's not home," Caleb says. "But I have a key. It'll be okay."<br/>
<br/>
"I want an invitation," Frank says. "It's only good manners."<br/>
<br/>
You glance uneasily at Joe--the only guy here you feel comfortable with, for some reason. He's just staring at the house, eyes bright. Curiously, he seems to be following some movement, though the house looks entirely still to your eye.<br/>
<br/>
"Then I guess I can't show you the book," Caleb snaps. "Will, come on, I wanna talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't go in there, Will," Joe says. "I don't like this place."<br/>
<br/>
"It's just a house," Caleb says. "Who the fuck are these guys, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
You have no answer to that. It hits you that you know Joe's name, and Frank's, but that otherwise the day was taken with you answering questions, not getting answers to your own. And now you have more: for Caleb, about this house. It's big and squareish and it gleams whitely in the afternoon sun. But it looks like a façade, and you have the sudden, nightmarish vision of it falling forward, like a piece of stage scenery, and disclosing-- You shudder at you know not what.<br/>
<br/>
"Come <i>on</i>, Will," Caleb says impatiently.</span></div></div>


path: 11313112212212
author_id: seuzz
title: An Unmasking
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You couldn't move if you wanted to. Your feet feel nailed to the ground. You shift back and forth, but even your ankles feel manacled.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb notices your struggle, and his lips peel back as he looks up sharply at Frank. The latter speaks softly: "You could try invoking Thulcandra."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's eyes glitter. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he says. He looks at you, gives an exaggerated shrug, and trots up to the house. He disappears inside.<br/>
<br/>
Your feet turn to pudding, but Joe catches you before you fall. Frank wheels on his brother and says something very quickly in a language you don't understand. "Stealth, not strength," Joe replies. "We don't want the cops." He looks at you, and winks. "And let's not act all mysterious in front of our friend. It's not nice."<br/>
<br/>
"He's in it up to his eyebrows," Frank growls. The gaze he turns on you is very hard. "What can you tell us about this place, and about your friend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing he hasn't already told <i>me,</i> Frank," Joe says. "And we can tell him more. Will," he continues, and he gives your shoulders a squeeze. "You have to trust us. Caleb isn't your friend, not anymore." You start to mumble a protest, but he tuts you quiet. "That isn't <i>Caleb.</i> It's someone in a mask. And he doesn't mean you any good."<br/>
<br/>
You stare back at him dumbly. <i>Someone in a mask?</i> It can't be, Caleb is just--You look at the house. It squats with a foreboding air. What was he doing out here? He's never talked about-- "I don't know what's going on," you plaintively wail.<br/>
<br/>
"But we do," Frank says. "Or, we've got a pretty good idea. Who else is mixed up in this? Any of your other friends? We have to warn them, keep them away from this place and from-- that person."<br/>
<br/>
"James Lamont," Joe says on your behalf. You look at him sharply. "Carson Ioeger, Keith Tilley. Cameron Huber and Sean Mitchell, sort of. If they've been talking to other people--"<br/>
<br/>
"All Westside students?" Frank asks. Joe looks at you. You choke a little, and nod. "Then come on, let's get away from here, then we'll start calling them." He and Joe pull you back to their truck.<br/>
<br/>
You're just out of sight of the house when Joe nudges you and asks for your phone. "If I was the owner of that house back there," he says in a speculative tone, "I'd be calling up those guys already and issuing invitations. What's James's number?"<br/>
<br/>
You fumble at the number pad. "I should be the one calling them--" <br/>
<br/>
But Joe firmly takes it from you. "Let me do the talking, okay? What's the number?" You give it to him, and he dials. "Hey James, this is Will. What's up?" You gasp; Joe's voice has changed entirely. He winks at you. "Yeah, okay, just making sure you got the message. I guess I'll see you out there. Anything I need to know about? You talk to anybody else about, you know? Okay, good. I guess Caleb's gonna have something to say. See you soon." He turns the phone off with a grimace. "Your friend moves fast."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what are you waiting for?" Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"Tsh tsh tsh, let's just give him a few minutes," Joe grins. "Let him get the invitations sent. <i>Then</i> we can have some fun." He laughs. "Hey, where can we meet them, Will? Where's a place where you've had club meetings before?"<br/>
<br/>
"We should send 'em to our place," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, we don't wanna raise suspicions. Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ... There's an old elementary school near my house. I met James over there, in the basement. But Caleb has the key."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds perfect, and don't worry about the key. Oh, hey, does Caleb call you 'Will' or 'Prescott' when he's talking about you behind your back?"<br/>
<br/>
"How the fuck would he know that?" Frank says. The truck hits a pothole in a way that seems to express his frustration. <br/>
<br/>
"Okay, good point. I'll make it work." Joe dials again. And now, when he speaks, it's in a pitch-perfect imitation of Caleb. "Hey, you heading out already? Okay, change in plans. You know the old elementary school out by Prescott's? Yeah, that's where we're gonna meet. Make it fast, alright?" His face is tight and unpleasant until he clicks the phone off, and then he chortles. "I don't get enough chances to do this."<br/>
<br/>
He makes a similar call to Carson. Sean doesn't answer. And Cameron--who has Keith beneath his face--claims not to have gotten an alert for any kind of meeting. The conversation there sounds muddled, and it ends with Joe (still imitating Caleb) telling Keith to "turn his phone off and just have fun." "Sounds like Caleb doesn't know Keith is part of the club," he tells you.<br/>
<br/>
"We did the switch this morning," you say. "Sounds like Keith. He'd have had fun pretending to be Cameron and not telling anyone, even Caleb, about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Lucky him," Frank says brusquely.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You reach the school not long after, and your head is still spinning. Your sense of well-being is not improved when Frank marches up to the basement door, grasps the padlock, and pulls it smartly open without the use of a key. He and Joe turn to look at you. "No," you murmur, and shake your head. "No." You take a step back. "No. No. No."<br/>
<br/>
Joe grasps you by the shoulders. "It's okay, Will," he says. "I know this is freaky, and we've been working fast without explaining things. But when James and Carson get here, we'll explain everything. You guys are in a lot of trouble, but we're going to help."<br/>
<br/>
"But he--" You point to Frank, who is frowning at you. Your finger drifts down to point to the padlock. Then you turn a glazed expression on Joe. "And you--"<br/>
<br/>
He massages your shoulder. "I know, believe me, I know. Frank's a freaky bastard, and I am too. The point is, we knew all about the masks before we met up with you this afternoon. We've been trying to find that book, trying to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. We know everything that is going on. And we're going to help you straighten it all out. Trust us. You'll see."<br/>
<br/>
It's not trust, only inertia and a tottering sense of confusion, that leads you to follow them into the basement. Joe gently presses you onto a desk while he and Frank take up station out of sight by the stairs. They talk quietly--in English, as near as you can tell, though their words are indistinct--and ignore you except for a few small smiles that Joe directs at you. They motion you to be quiet, though, when you hear tires on gravel. A car door opens and shuts. Footsteps. "Hey, down here!" Joe shouts.<br/>
<br/>
The footsteps approach, and Carson appears at the head of the stairs. "So I'm here," he calls. He takes a few steps down and catches sight of you. "Prescott," he nods. "Where's Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"Running late," Joe says. Carson jumps a few inches and spins around. "Hi, I'm Joe and this is Frank. New club members. You must be Carson." He holds out his hand.<br/>
<br/>
Carson takes it slowly. "So what's this meeting about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Some kind of induction ceremony, I think," Joe says. He cocks a head at the sound of more tires. "That must be James. We'll wait for him."<br/>
<br/>
James looks just as confused as Carson when he appears, and both of them look around suspiciously when Joe pulls them into the middle of the room. "We might as well get started before Caleb shows up," he says. "He gave me the club oath, so we should get that out of the way." You look at Frank. He stares back at you evenly, and to your surprise puts a cigarette in his mouth, though he doesn't light it. "Raise your right hand and repeat after me," Joe continues. "I will show my friends no false face."<br/>
<br/>
James and Carson look at each other, and mumble the oath.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Now, I got some questions for you," Joe says. "What did Caleb say when he called you?"<br/>
<br/>
They just stare. "Look, who <i>are</i> you?" Carson asks querulously.<br/>
<br/>
"Just answer my question," Joe says. His tone is suddenly sharp.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Caleb?" James demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Frank!" Joe shouts, and grabs James around the torso. Frank makes a fist and advanced menacingly on Carson, who gasps and goes rigid. "Will! How do you get a mask off someone?"<br/>
<br/>
"What are talking about?" you shout back.<br/>
<br/>
"These guys are fakes! We need to get their masks off!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You grasp your head, moan, and collapse against a table. "Get it together, Prescott," Frank growls. "Look at them."<br/>
<br/>
You raise fearful eyes. It's James and Carson. But it isn't them. It's two perfectly formed statues of them--cold and white and dead looking. Your head lolls, and you stare at the two masks on the table: masks whose interiors are decorated with their names.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a killer," Joe says quietly, and you can't tell if he's talking about the shock or about the person who must have done this to your friends. Maybe he means both. "But at least we can get into the house now."<br/>
<br/>
Frank grunts and starts pulling the clothes off Carson. "Which one do <i>you</i> want?"<br/>
<br/>
"The good-looking one," Joe says. "Unless Will wants him." You blink in confusion.<br/>
<br/>
"It's you and me, Joe," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you guys talking about?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"The masks," Joe says. "They're our tickets into that house." He grins. "Caleb is expecting James and Carson to show up. We don't want to disappoint him." He picks up the two masks, and holds them out to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott stays outside," Frank says.</span></div></div>


path: 113131122122122
author_id: seuzz
title: An Infiltration
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"He needs to see what exactly is going on inside that house," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to go," you say quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"He needs to stay out of the way," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"He needs to know we're on the level with them," Joe retorts. <br/>
<br/>
"I just want to stay here," you say more loudly.<br/>
<br/>
"He's a civilian, and you don't put civilians in harm's way," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"He's already in harm's way, and he'll be safer if he's with one of us!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going with you!" you shout.<br/>
<br/>
They both stare. Then Frank nods curtly. "Good call, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"Pssh!" You turn away, glowering, then turn back to find Joe regarding you with a look of wounded disappointment. "Whatever it is, I don't want to be a part of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want to know what happened to your friends," Joe asks as Frank returns to disrobing the statues.<br/>
<br/>
"I see what happened to them," you reply, and flinch.<br/>
<br/>
"You see what he did to them." Joe holds out one of the masks. "Put one of these on, and you'll see how he did it."<br/>
<br/>
You rear back.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," Joe says quietly. "You will have to go with us, but you can stay--"<br/>
<br/>
He's interrupted by the muffled ring tone. Frank fumbles around the pockets of James's cargo pants; he pulls out a cell phone, which he tosses to Joe. "Yeah?" Joe drawls. "I'm on my way," he replies to whatever has been said, and now he sounds just like James. "I stopped to get Carson-- Well, he was running late too. He was in the bathroom. Okay," he grumbles, and hangs up. "That wasn't even Caleb," he says. "Our villain has apparently unmasked himself."<br/>
<br/>
You stumble back and collapse into a dusty chair.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They take turns changing: Joe into James, and Frank into Carson. The latter, before putting on the mask, speaks gruffly while his brother is unconscious. "Joe's trying to sugarcoat things for you," he says. "I'm a lot more direct." <i>Yeah, you can tell.</i> "You guys have been playing around with black magic, and of course you've managed to run into a black magician." He jerks his head at the pale forms of James and Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"How do I know <i>you're</i> not a black magician," you blurt out before you can stop yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't and you can't," he says. "I'm glad to see you're smart enough to realize <i>that.</i>" He holds your eye. "Don't let Joe's winsome ways fool you. A villain may smile and smile and still be a damned villain." He pauses. "But we're not. We may look like high school kids, but we're experts in this kind of shit. We have a little family business. You're really lucky you ran into us before something happened to you." He glances at James and Carson. "Really lucky. Or--" he adds, and for the first time since you met him a note of doubt creeps into his voice. "Or something." He stares at you hard.<br/>
<br/>
Then it's his turn to change when the new James revives. The latter doesn't speak at first, though, even after Frank has laid back and put Carson's mask on. His eyes wander furtively about the room, even as they are turned inward with thought. "Fuck," he finally murmurs. "Fucking idiot." He slaps the unconscious Carson.<br/>
<br/>
"What?" you ask. You've got yourself pressed up against a bookcase; this was all a lot of fun when it was you and your friends goofing off. To be faced with a fake James--a fake James who is really someone you don't know, and whose brother has confessed that maybe they are themselves magicians-- Well, that is something else.<br/>
<br/>
"This fucking idiot," he repeats. He hops up and starts to dress. "I was--" He catches himself. "James was an idiot, too. Smart, but an idiot."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't--"<br/>
<br/>
"It happened the other night. Well, I guess it goes back." He sighs raggedly, and his face becomes haunted. "Carson did some research on the <i>Libra,</i> on the book, after you showed it to him. He looked up a couple of professors at the university. Aubrey Blackwell was one. That's who owns that house Caleb went into. Frank and me were starting to investigate him. He's a professor of archaeology. Has a bad reputation. Well deserved, it appears."<br/>
<br/>
"Frank said he was a ... a black magician."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you and Frank had a little talk, huh? I hope he didn't scare you too much." He looks you up and down; and if Joe is trying to give you one of his reassuring smiles, it comes out looking sarcastic on James's face. "Well, it doesn't look like you shit yourself, and you're only a little paler than when we met you. But yeah, black magician. Carson went to see him at the university, talked to him about the <i>Libra.</i> Curiosity, meet the cat. I hope you had a full and pleasant life."<br/>
<br/>
"You keep saying 'Libra'. What is--?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Libra Personae.</i> That's the name of the book you found, you guys were playing with. It's an infamous book, at least in the circle of people who've even heard of it. It disappeared for a long time. Turned up recently, though. Me and Frank drew the short straw, got the job of retrieving it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Get it out of circulation."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, but why you? Frank said you guys have a ... family business?"<br/>
<br/>
"Best characterization, I guess, yeah. Secret society kind of a thing."<br/>
<br/>
"You're magicians?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eh, kind of. We can do magic. But we're more like firefighters. And the <i>Libra</i> is a five-alarmer. Six-alarmer, if they have those." He sighs again.<br/>
<br/>
You shift uneasily. "But Caleb, he's--"<br/>
<br/>
"That wasn't Caleb, I told you. Carson met that professor, got his contact information. Two nights ago he got together with James, convinced him they should investigate this book of Caleb's a little more thoroughly. That was the same day that you introduced James to all this. So I guess James was still a little freaked out by it." He rubs his forehead. "I can't really tell what James was thinking, but from the way I, uh, remember him acting-- Yeah, he thought it was a good idea. <br/>
<br/>
"So they went to see Blackwell." He claps his hands sharply, and Carson's eyes spring open. "Blackwell got them. Somehow managed to get masks of them. Next thing I know--" He presses a fingertip to his forehead and concentrates. "Next thing I know I'm wandering around following Carson's orders. Blackwell must have been impersonating Ioeger yesterday. They talked Caleb into going out with them to Blackwell's, taking the book with him." His face draws up in pain. "That's when he got Caleb." He looks at you. "I'm really afraid, Will, that your best friend is also--" He jerks a thumb at what remains of James and Carson.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Neither Frank nor Joe can explain how the originals got turned into statues, and they've got a schedule to keep. Carson (Frank) orders you into the back of James's car, and the three of you set off for Blackwell's again. "He told us to go in through the 'back entrance'," Carson says. "Lucky we know what that is. Joe and me are going to go in--"<br/>
<br/>
"James," the other corrects him. "How often do I get to play under an alias," he says when Carson glares at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Joe and me will go in," Carson resumes. "There will probably be some fireworks on the inside, assuming we can get an explicit 'invite' from him, but either way we'll take him by surprise and take him out. Then we'll bring you in and you can help us start sorting things out."<br/>
<br/>
"I wish I could just go home."<br/>
<br/>
"Waiting at home would be worse," James says. "And besides, don't you have a double at home?"<br/>
<br/>
"Unless Blackwell called <i>it</i> out to the house," Carson says. "Shit, we forgot about that."<br/>
<br/>
You arrive at Blackwell's about fifteen minutes later. You take a side street and find yourselves on the back of the low hill on which the villa sits. There's a truck there. "Whose is that?" Carson asks. You have to admit you don't know.<br/>
<br/>
At the base of the hill is a culvert with a metal gate blocking a tunnel that apparently leads under the villa. "Keep in the car, out of sight, until we come get you," James says. He gives you a soft slap on the side of the head. "It'll be okay. We got the element of surprise on our side." The gate shrieks as they open it, and they vanish into the gloom.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes. You squirm in the car. What's happening in there? Is something wrong? Should you try following them? The sun is low in the sky. From what they said, it should have been over with only a few minutes after they went in.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart leaps as you see the gate shift. But it isn't James or Carson--or Frank or Joe--who comes out. <br/>
<br/>
It's Sean Mitchell.<br/>
<br/>
He has a confused look on his face, and then he sees you gaping at him from the back of the car. He walks over slowly, a haggard expression marring his usually placid features.<br/>
<br/>
This does <i>not</i> seem like it's part of <i>anybody's</i> plan. You check that the keys are still in the ignition of James's car before getting out.<br/>
<br/>
"Will?" Sean says in a dull voice. "Will, you have to help me," he says. His mouth and eyes twist up.<br/>
<br/>
"Sean, what is it? Did you see James and Carson in there? Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will, I--" He puts fumbling hands to his face. "Will, there's someone inside me, and you have to get him out. You have to get him out before--" <br/>
<br/>
He grabs his ear and screams. It looks like he's trying to tear his own face off.</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221221221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Haunted Villa
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You jump in the car, twist the key, jam into reverse, and punch the accelerator. The scream of the wheels drowns out the screams from Sean. As you stare, bug-eyed, he falls to his knees, his face deepening to purple. And then you're away.<br/>
<br/>
You slam the gear into drive and bounce over the rough ground to the side street, and race around the corner. On the main street you press the accelerator to the floor and fly along at a terrible speed. Your hands tremble, and the wheel jerks; the car shudders to one side. A minivan pulls out in front of you. You twist the wheel, and the car rocks violently as you blow past. Another car looms ahead and you jerk the wheel back to the other side. A horn blasts as you pass.<br/>
<br/>
You can't go on this way: you'll kill yourself. You hit the brake, and the car shudders, slamming you against the steering wheel. Your whole body is shaking as you guide the car down a side street and park at a curb. The motor pants and races as you catch your breath.<br/>
<br/>
That house. There is someone or something in that house. Or it is the house itself. Something is swallowing up everyone who goes in, and vomiting back horrors. Sean's face swims across your field of vision, and you retch. Frank and Joe sounded like they knew what they were doing, but--<br/>
<br/>
Your fingers can barely grasp the keys as you turn the motor off. They went in. Why didn't they come out? Why did Sean come out? Something twists inside you: not your stomach or gut or heart, but all of them, all at once. Every part of you wants to go home, to hide, to pretend that nothing happened. To go to school on Monday and find that nothing is wrong--<br/>
<br/>
You shudder. But what if you went back to school and nothing <i>was</i> wrong? What if you went back and you found Caleb and James and Carson and Sean, all their normal selves? You see their faces, their calm and pleasant faces, lined up before you: <i>What's wrong, Will? Why are you looking at us like that? We're your friends. Come with us, Will. There's a house we want you to visit ...</i><br/>
<br/>
You bite down, hard, on the steering wheel, to keep yourself from throwing up. You'll have to go back to that house, you'll have to go inside and explore it for yourself. Better to face the thing in its own form, as itself, than in the form of your friends. Your transformed friends.<br/>
<br/>
But not alone. You call Cameron Huber.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a convenience store not far from where you fetched up, and that's where Cameron finds you. He looks calm and confident but concerned as he walks up to you. You can't help looking at him fearfully. <i>He looks just like you'd imagine him looking if he had been ... transformed.</i> "Hey man," he says. "I didn't tell you thanks today for--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. Get in the car. No, wait. Did Caleb call you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. It was a weird-- What's wrong?" You've drawn away from him, and you feel your lips peel back. "Will, man, come on, you're freaking me out."<br/>
<br/>
"What did he say?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, it was weird. I guess you told him you and me swapped?" You say nothing. "Anyway, it's like he wanted me to come to a meeting, but then he just said to turn my phone off and have fun."<br/>
<br/>
He frowns at your bark of relieved laughter: He's talking about the call that Joe put in to him. <i>Still, it might be a bluff--</i> "Get your car, follow me, there's--" You gasp, and try to swallow the words, but they come out unaltered. "<i>There's a house I want you to visit.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That truck is gone when your two cars pull up in front of the culvert. Cameron frowns at you and at the villa. "What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Listen," you say, for you've been thinking. "Before we go in there, I need to take that mask off you."<br/>
<br/>
"I can take it off myself."<br/>
<br/>
"No, let me do it. I just need to ... check something." He gives you a queer look, and slowly drops to the ground. Holding your breath, you touch his brow, mutter the words, and pull. Cameron Huber's mask comes away in your hand, and Keith Tilley falls backward onto the ground.<br/>
<br/>
That's a huge relief, but-- You grab Keith's face and pull. Nothing happens. Cameron's mask also seems to be unchanged, so you return it to Keith's face and roughly shake him awake. "Christ, Will, what--" he mumbles as he sits up.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen to me, Keith," you say, taking him by the shoulders. "Something very bad is going on. Something in that house. It sounds like someone-- Someone got into our group. Into our club. They trapped Caleb, and they replaced him." Cameron's eyes widen. "Someone made a copy of Caleb, and they trapped him, and they took his place. Like you and Cameron? They're doing that to us. Replacing us. We need to go in there and-- Find out what's going on."<br/>
<br/>
"If someone is replacing us--" he says slowly, and you can see the thought clearly in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"If you want to try taking off my face, you can," you say. You close your eyes--but blink rapidly under your closed lids--as you wait for his touch. <i>What if he does take it off? What if </i>you're<i> one of those white statues underneath?</i> You almost grab his hand as his fingertips touch your skin. His nails dig into your flesh as he mutters the words. His fingers bite and scratch and slide off. You exhale. "There, happy," you ask, and feel calmer for having put yourself in his power. His lower lip protrudes, but he nods. "Weirdly enough, so am I," you have to add. "Come on."<br/>
<br/>
The gate to the culvert is cool to the touch, and squeals loudly as you push it open. "I need you to be Cameron while we're on this adventure," you tell him in a trembling voice. "You know, big, strong, confident, not afraid of any--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I get it," he mutters as your feet slide through the muck. "I'll be your fucking boyfriend." At least you've enough spirit to flip him off. "You have any idea who the boss at the end of this quest hook is?"<br/>
<br/>
"It seems to be a university professor." He snorts. "Yeah, well, you say that now, but I think he took out a couple of Eastman athletes. I was here earlier, and they went in and they didn't come out." You stop and check your phone: <i>Dammit.</i> You were hoping it was off or dead, and that that might explain the silence from Frank and Joe.<br/>
<br/>
It is soon pitch black, and you stumble onto rather than find a flight of brick stairs. You clutch each other by the arm as you mount them. A dim light shines from under a door; the knob easily yields. With hearts hammering, you step through it.<br/>
<br/>
It's a laundry room. Tile, yellow wallpaper, and a very modern washer-dryer combo. <i>They never find </i>that<i> in old Scooby Doo episodes,</i> you think to yourself. <br/>
<br/>
The laundry room opens into a kitchen, which leads to a dining room and then a hallway. You pause at the foot of a wide flight of stairs leading to the second floor. Cameron goes past you toward the front of the house. You're still contemplating the stairs when he calls you sharply. You hurry up.<br/>
<br/>
He's standing at the entrance to a library. It looks westward, and the sun, sitting near the horizon, blazes through tall French windows. Bookcases soar to a high ceiling, so high up that there are ladders to reach the topmost shelves. There are a number of desks on the spacious floor. A terrible, discordant ticking fills the room: it comes from two grandfather clocks in the corner.<br/>
<br/>
But that's not what holds your attention. It's the statues. The cold, dead white statues.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is instantly recognizable, and a low moan escapes your throat. <br/>
<br/>
You have to draw close to the others to make them out. One is a girl; she looks familiar, but it is Cameron who whispers the name first: "Lucy Vredenburg?"<br/>
<br/>
Then there's Sean Mitchell. Wait, there are two statues of him. Your mouth hangs open. How can there be two, looking so identical you can't tell them apart? Hope, so long suppressed, stirs in your chest. If these things are manufactured, if they are not transformations of your friends--<br/>
<br/>
Cameron nudges you, and you follow his glance. Your face falls. Joe Durras, also transformed, lies on the floor next to a desk. You peer around its corner: Frank Durras, also transformed. <i>The disguises didn't work after all--</i><br/>
<br/>
"Will, what the <i>fuck</i> is going on?" Cameron explodes. "What. The. <i>Fu--</i>" <br/>
<br/>
You slam a hand over his mouth. "Will you be quiet? There might be--"<br/>
<br/>
And as if in answer to your unspoken warning of the house still being occupied, you hear a voice. It is strong, but muffled, and as you both listen with staring eyes, it grows even stronger. Pulses race through the floor and send vibrations up through the soles of your feet. It's a voice coming through the walls and through the floor, rising up to grasp and clutch at you ...</span></div></div>


path: 11313112212212212
author_id: seuzz
title: The Return of Cameron Huber
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You start to break for the door, but quickly slide to a stop: Your friend doesn't move, and his steadfast attitude shames you into holding firm. He just looks around with a frown. "There's someone in here." He sidles up to a bookshelf and yells. An answering shout seems to come from the floor. "It's behind here," he says. "Or under here." He drops to the floor and bangs on a shelf. "Yo, can you hear me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," the voice faintly comes back. "I'm down in--" The rest is muffled.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, don't be a pussy," he says to you. "A place like this? There's gotta be a secret door." <br/>
<br/>
His words sting. "You know, if <i>I</i> looked like that--"<br/>
<br/>
"You did, this morning, but you gave it to me. Come on, help out." You join him, dropping down and pressing at shelves and pulling at books. "There's gotta be a catch somewhere. Isn't it always a candlestick or something?" Simultaneously, your eyes latch onto a three-headed monstrosity in a nearby alcove, but Keith reaches it first. He twists one of its heads; there's a click, and a shelf swings loose.<br/>
<br/>
Keith peers around the door; you look around his shoulder. The room beyond sinks far down below the floor; a spiral staircase plunges into its depths. "Who's down there?" Keith calls.<br/>
<br/>
"My name's Cameron Huber," a voice floats back. "Who's up there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus!" You pull your friend back. "He can't see you, not like that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what am I--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Get over there, get the mask off. Christ, it just gets worse and worse."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, what's going on up there," the real Cameron calls.<br/>
<br/>
Keith takes a deep breath and sits in a chair. You step into the secret doorway as he takes the mask off. "Yeah, you're okay now, dude," you shout down to Cameron. "You can come on up." <br/>
<br/>
"Easier said than done," he replies.<br/>
<br/>
You look into the room. It appears to be a basement, bare, with only a single window high up for light. At the far end is a cot, and a naked Cameron stands before it with his hands on his hips. There is nothing between him and the stairs. "What's wrong with the staircase?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," he says. He steps over to it, and starts to mount. But he gets only a few steps up when he slows and stops. He looks up palely through the metal lattice work. "I can't get any further," he says, and his voice is weak.<br/>
<br/>
"Are some of the steps missing?" You start to descend.<br/>
<br/>
"No, you better not--" he starts. But he doesn't have to finish.<br/>
<br/>
Just past the first turning, you stop cold, and a hard sweat breaks out all over your body. There is something on the staircase just a few steps down. It's nothing you can see, but it seems to squat on the stair like a stain. Whatever it is, nothing in the world could get you step onto or over it.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you get out through the window," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It's too high. And, like, broken glass?" He holds out his arms, more fully exposing his nakedness. "Is that Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Hang on." You return to the library and look around. The French windows: they have tall curtains, pulled back, and the cords are of heavy silk. You yank and twist at them until they tumble in a ruin. Without bothering to disentangle them, you drag them to the top of the staircase and tie one end of a cord firmly around a railing, then drop the rest of the mess with a hard clatter onto the floor below. "Think you can use that to climb up?"<br/>
<br/>
Cameron makes a face, but grasps the cord and starts to ascend. Wryly, you think back to all the times you failed the rope climb in gym. He is making it look easy.<br/>
<br/>
Except it isn't. He gets halfway up and goes limp. As he swings in mid-air, he turns a haggard face up at you. "Come on, man, try," you yell. He grits his teeth, raising first one hand, and then the next. His face turns very red. And then he seems to be past it, and quickly whips up the rest of the way. You clasp his hand and draw him up to the top. As you step back, you stumble into Keith, who has come up behind.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, man, thanks," Cameron gasps. He still looks half-sick, but the color is rapidly returning to his face. He looks past you. "Tilley?" Keith gives a guilty jerk of the head.<br/>
<br/>
Cameron steps into the library with a wondering frown. "Where are we? The last thing I remember I was-- I was out at some old school with Mitchell." His eye falls on Keith again. "Hey, are those my clothes?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith turns red. "Yeah, well, Will is wearing mine."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just give him his stuff," you order.<br/>
<br/>
"Only if you--"<br/>
<br/>
"I will. But I have to find <i>my</i> clothes. Actually, we need to get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"Where is <i>here?</i>" Cameron asks again. He frowns at one of the Mitchell statues. "What is this, a freaky wax museum?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a bad place. We'll tell you all about it when we're gone."<br/>
<br/>
"Do we have to?" Keith asks. He is very red. "Because me and Anne, uh--"<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. "You didn't!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, we only rounded second. I think." He frowns. "I never understood that scoring system."<br/>
<br/>
"Anne?" Cameron asks. "My Anne? Is she here?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I hope not. Look, it's a very long story, and we really need to--"<br/>
<br/>
And then you see the masks on a table near the doorway, where you'd missed them. They are lined up neatly in a row. You look back at the statues. <i>If your friends aren't going to just disappear ...</i><br/>
<br/>
With a sigh, you plant a quivering palm on Cameron's massive, hairy chest. "Cameron, let me start off by saying that I'm really sorry. Forgive me? Us?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyebrows shoot up. "For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"For what you're about to learn." You press him, but he is unyielding until you look up with a pleading expression. Then he falls back into a chair.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, dude, this is a really bad idea," Keith pleads, but you snatch up Cameron's mask. Caleb had mentioned something about "recharging memories" from a mask of yourself. <br/>
<br/>
"Cameron, this is going to hurt us more than it is you," you say, and quickly shove it onto his face. His eyes go wide, but he doesn't change as it sinks into his face.<br/>
<br/>
Keith waves a hand before Cameron's unseeing eyes. "Good. With him out we can get a head start for Mexico."<br/>
<br/>
"No, we need him to help us get all this sorted out. Cameron's a good guy. He'll understand, and kill us only a little bit. Now come on, help me see whose masks these are."<br/>
<br/>
You're still jumpy, because you expect someone or something awful to appear at any moment, but you distract yourself by flipping over the masks. "James Lamont. Carson Ioeger. Lucille Vredenburg," you mutter. "I don't understand <i>that.</i> Caleb Johansson. Oh, God, I see I'm here too." You have to smile grimly at the mask that has your name. "Franz--? Bleagh, I'm not gonna try saying <i>that</i> name. Giuseppe Bra-- Giuseppe Spaghetti." You glance behind you. "Must be those two guys." <br/>
<br/>
"Scott Bickelmeier," Keith says, looking up from another mask. "I didn't know <i>he</i> was--"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't either. And I didn't know there were two Sean Mitchells." You look back at the statues.<br/>
<br/>
He follows your gaze. "Yeah, what are those things?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're our friends," you reply with a calm that belies the roiling emotions you feel. Keith stares. "They're our friends, Keith," you repeat. "The guy who owns this house? He caught them, and he turned them into <i>those</i> things." You turn over the last mask. "Aubrey Desmond Blackwell. I think that's the name I heard." You grip the mask. "If nothing else, we're getting away with <i>this</i> one."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As quickly as you can, you try bringing Keith up to speed on all the adventures you've had since leaving him this morning. Before you're done, though, Cameron revives, and lets out a sharp exhalation as the mask tumbles sharp-end first into his crotch. He opens a single eye; you look back hesitantly. "You okay over there, Cameron?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I think," he says. "My head hurts."<br/>
<br/>
"You mind if we stay on this side of the room," Keith asks. You jab him.<br/>
<br/>
Cameron turns a confused expression on you. "I guess. I don't really--" He cocks a head, as though listening. You listen too, but it must be a memory he's recalling.<br/>
<br/>
"Get out of his clothes," you tell Keith.<br/>
<br/>
"Get out of mine."<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't found-- Oh, God." You trot over to the secret door. "They're down there. And they can stay down there." You can feel the malevolence of the thing on the stairs, radiating up.<br/>
<br/>
"So snag some of the clothes off our friends."<br/>
<br/>
"They're going to need them. We're going to put these masks on them and revive them."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be nuts! There's three scared, pissed off people in this room. Do you want more?"<br/>
<br/>
"Those masks!" Cameron roars, and points past you at the desk. "They put people under your control?"<br/>
<br/>
You and Keith exchange a fearful glance. "Are you all caught up, Cameron?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but I'm getting there. Do those things put people under your control?"<br/>
<br/>
You're about to shake your head, but then catch yourself. A long time ago Caleb had said something about golems, and how they would be slaves. What if Blackwell is still out there (he's not here, that you see). What if, in reviving the occupants of this library, you revived an army of his slaves? And two of them were the quasi-magical Frank and Joe Durras?</span></div></div>


path: 113131122122122122
author_id: seuzz
title: Blackwell Speaks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The sun has fallen below the horizon by now, and the shadow of dusk casts a pall over your spirit. "Maybe you're right," you tell Keith. "Maybe everyone can just stay here overnight."<br/>
<br/>
"So how are we going to explain where they are?" he objects.<br/>
<br/>
"Will you stop making trouble," you snap. "You just talked me into doing what you want."<br/>
<br/>
"Just doing my job," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Get out of those clothes. You don't want Cameron being even more pissed at you."<br/>
<br/>
"And <i>you're still in--</i>!"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shirt on," you retort. "I mean, take it off. I'll borrow Caleb's." Keith frowns sourly, and lets the pants drop around his ankles without unbuttoning them.<br/>
<br/>
As you struggle out of Keith's clothes--which by contrast are a little too small for you--your eye falls on Blackwell's mask. You need to get inside his head. You are reaching for the mask when, out of the corner of your eye you see Keith rear back with a look of terror on his face. A hard blow falls across the back of your head, knocking you across the desk and scattering masks. "You scummy sons of bitches!" Cameron roars at you. "Get up so I can knock you down again!"<br/>
<br/>
You turn over with a fearful rictus on your face. "All caught up, huh?" you say weakly.<br/>
<br/>
His face is almost black with rage. "I oughta-- Don't think you're getting out of here alive either, Tilley!" he yells at Keith, who has dived out of the way.<br/>
<br/>
You draw your knees up to your chest in a desperate attempt to shield your most tender and valuable spots. "We didn't screw anything up for you, Cameron," you protest. "Well, <i>I</i> didn't! Keith was the one who--"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't do anything with her!" he squeals. "Nothing <i>you</i> haven't done, Cameron!" You have a quick flashback to at least one of Cameron's dates with Anne; it's not a protest that will save Keith's teeth.<br/>
<br/>
Cameron grasps at you, but there's nothing but unmuscled flesh to grab onto. "Get up!"<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, Cameron, please! We didn't do anything-- We weren't going to do anything bad with you. We just wanted to, uh-- Well, use you to teach Black and them a lesson."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes glitter, but they flick away from your face. "Black, huh?" he says. His voice is still rough, but there's a thoughtfulness in it. "Lynch. <i>Javits.</i>" His eyes dart over to Keith. "You have fun with him?" Keith licks his lips, and nods weakly. Cameron takes a step back. He runs a hand across his brow. Then he turns red again. "It was still a <i>shit</i> thing you did."<br/>
<br/>
"Would it help if we said we learned our lesson?"<br/>
<br/>
His lips split so wide you could probably count all of his teeth if you had time. "Some lessons shouldn't have to be <i>learned!</i>" He glowers. "But okay, I can't actually kill you. And I can't <i>think</i> of anything you did that-- That I wouldn't have done. If it were me." <br/>
<br/>
You stare up at him as emotions work violently across his face. They finally settle into a mask of grim anger. "Alright. As long as we get rid of the--" He wheels around, searching for his mask.<br/>
<br/>
But that same turn of the heel has brought him face to face with the statues. He looks from one to the next. He turns back to you. "You said something about these being ... Being your friends?" You nod. "Jesus!" He stalks up to Mitchell. "It was this cocksucker, wasn't it? His idea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, it was Caleb's. I think he did to Sean what, uh, what he did to you."<br/>
<br/>
He turns sharply. "So what happened to Mitchell? Did Johansson do this to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so."<br/>
<br/>
"And why are there <i>two</i> of him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know that either." You pick up Blackwell's mask. "I think the answer's in here." He jerks his chin in a query. "I think it's a copy of the guy who did all this. The guy who owns this house."<br/>
<br/>
"So I <i>still</i> don't have the whole story?"<br/>
<br/>
"None of us do. That's why I want to--" You swallow. "That's why I want to put this mask on. So I can learn what he was doing."<br/>
<br/>
Cameron and Keith look at you, and look at each other, and then look back at you. Neither one says anything. Neither one has to. You know it's your choice.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Jesus, put it <i>on</i>, already," Keith says. He is staring at you in disgust.<br/>
<br/>
You look down at the red velvet robe that is spread across your enormous gut. The cheeks sag off your face, and you feel your dangling chins touch your neck. "Ah, raided the upstairs wardrobe, I see."<br/>
<br/>
"It was that or stare at your junk," Keith retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"But there are many nicer things you could have stared at in here, Mr. Tilley," you say. <br/>
<br/>
You can't help talking like him, even as you recoil from the feel of his mind. It's like sitting naked inside a nest of restless tarantulas. You shudder as you sit up and draw the robe around your naked body. Cameron doesn't help you to your feet.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm," you say as you look around. "Unfortunately, the memories in this mask are slightly out of date. I think I can, however, infer the fate that has befallen our comrades and acquaintances."<br/>
<br/>
"Stop talking like that," Cameron says. "It's creepy."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll try, dude," you say. It comes out satirical. <br/>
<br/>
They watch as you pad around the library, studying its occupants. Yes, the memories in the mask are only partial; Professor Aubrey Blackwell has been using it to keep his own place in the world occupied while he was disposing of your friends, and he himself has not worn it in nearly two days. But the evidence is plain, and you have your own memories to fill in the gaps.<br/>
<br/>
"Very well," you say, and clasp your hands behind your back in the manner of a lecturer. "To start with, this is Professor Aubrey Blackwell. Biography? Irrelevant. It is enough to say that he is a dabbler in the occult." You glance around the bookshelves. "A very ... learned ... dabbler in the occult. His official position is professor of archaeology at Keyserling College, but his <i>real</i> interests--"<br/>
<br/>
"Get to the point," Cameron growls.<br/>
<br/>
"Last week, I-- Forgive me, I'm going to have to use the first person pronoun in offering these recollections. It is much easier. So, last week I was contacted by Mr. Carson Ioeger of Westside High School. He was looking for information about the <i>Libra Personae.</i> That is the book of magic that ... that Will Prescott found in Arnholm's Used Bookstore and passed on to Caleb Johansson. I was quite interested in Mr. Ioeger's query, for as it happened the book originally belonged to <i>me.</i> Well, it <i>had</i> briefly been in my possession, and I was eager to retrieve it. I gave him my contact information, and waited. On tenterhooks.<br/>
"Two days ago--Wednesday evening--Mr. Ioeger and his friend, Mr. Lamont, called on me. I was prepared. I had two blank masks on hand, remnants of my earlier time with the book, and I copied them. I imprisoned them in the secret cellar. I had a golem. Upon the golem I put the mask of Mr. Lamont. I donned the mask of Mr. Ioeger. I went to Westside, and prevailed upon Mr. Johansson to come with me, with the <i>Libra,</i> to Professor Blackwell's. I trapped Mr. Johansson. He had a blank mask with him. I tried using it to copy him, and discovered that he himself was wearing a mask." You walk up to the Mitchells. "I found one of these fellows beneath it. I imprisoned him as well. From my earlier study of the book I knew how to transform living humans into these golems. One by one, I performed this spell upon my prisoners. Including Ms. Vredenburg."<br/>
<br/>
Keith starts to ask something, but Cameron silences him.<br/>
<br/>
"After that, I placed their masks upon them, and sent them on their way. I went out as Mr. Johansson, after using this mask to disguise my own disappearance." You tug your lip. "About what happens next, I must speculate. It appears that the professor was seriously spooked by the appearance of ... Joe and Frank Durras this afternoon. As well he might have been." You point to them. "Being a naturally suspicious sort, he had laid a trap for them, and caught them, even though they were disguised as Messrs. Lamont and Ioeger. In the meantime, he had summoned the rest of his slaves. Ms. Vredenburg. Mr. Prescott, who was not his slave, but answered the summons from Caleb Johansson." You pause in front of the Mitchells again. "I'm afraid this duplication, though, leaves me at a loss. Whatever is behind it, it is something that happened after the professor last donned this mask."<br/>
<br/>
They ask you to go over the story again, and the three of you examine it from many different angles. But there is one question none of you can answer: Where is the real Blackwell? "When I was here, with ... these two--" You gesture at Frank and Joe, "Sean Mitchell appeared. I can only hazard that it was the disguised professor. But what he did--what he was <i>doing</i>--is not something I feel comfortable speculating on."<br/>
<br/>
By the time you are finished it is past nine. "I'm afraid it is best that we leave the masks off our friends," you say. "It is not safe to make them mobile, not with Blackwell still unaccounted for. You two should go home."<br/>
<br/>
"What about you?" Cameron asks.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know. You could go home too. Or you could stay here and use Blackwell's mask to further puzzle out some answers--and maybe ambush him if he returns.</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221221221221
author_id: seuzz
title: A Night of Frights
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll stay here," you say. "This house bears watching."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'm staying too," Cameron says. Keith looks quickly between you, and also declares his intention to spend the night.<br/>
<br/>
"And how will you explain your absence from home?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll just call and say I'm spending the night with a friend," Cameron says. "Duh."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course," you admit. You look at the masks on the table. "We can use these to place similar calls on behalf of our friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh uh," Cameron says firmly. "You're staying out of their heads." You press, but he is firm, and you give up. "So what are the chances of this cocksucker coming back tonight?" He points at you.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. That's one reason to stay. However--" You look at the clock. "If he doesn't return in the next few hours, he will not return tonight." Cameron asks how you know, but you don't answer right away. You're concentrating on the <i>gwarcheidwad.</i><br/>
<br/>
Its phylactery is sitting in one of the library's alcoves. It takes the form of a stuffed animal, something like a hairless, fanged orangutan with a single eyeball in the center of its forehead. But that is only its physical receptacle.<br/>
<br/>
"This house has a guardian," you say, "and we will have to be very careful tonight. It is watched over by a malevolent spirit. At the moment it is roaming the grounds outside." You glance fearfully at the French windows. "Indeed, it may be too late for us to safely leave this house, or for Blackwell to try entering it. The <i>gwarcheidwad</i>--that's what it is called--does not distinguish between friend and foe, and attacks anything that comes within its reach." Cameron and Keith just stare at you. "You might think of it as a cross between a poltergeist and a Lovecraftian demon."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay, a place like this, I guess I can buy that," Cameron says dubiously.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be flippant. Its power waxes as the night deepens, but until midnight it works by inspiring fear, and it is very good at its job. At midnight, however, it can attain a degree of corporeality that will let it do physical harm to any unfortunates that it catches. Before that time comes, we must repair to one of the bedrooms. Only there will we be safe until morning."<br/>
<br/>
"It can't be any creepier than you're being," Keith says. "Take that mask off."<br/>
<br/>
"In due time. For now, though-- Are we hungry? We should eat while we can."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Keith protests that he doesn't want to touch any food there might be in the house, but he changes his mind. None of you are inclined to sample the food in the refrigerator, but the canned foods in the pantry seem safe enough, and the three of you improvise a kind of picnic. You leave Cameron and Keith in charge of dinner, though, and prowl the library's shelves.<br/>
<br/>
That's another reason to keep Blackwell's mask on: with it, you can puzzle over what might have happened to the magician, and can hazard which of his reference books could help you solve the mystery. You pluck the <i>Libra</i> out from under the transformed Joe, and pull various books from the shelves. When Cameron comes in to tell you that the soup is on, you ask him to take them upstairs and put them in the master bedroom, where he found the robe. You doubt you will be getting any sleep.<br/>
<br/>
When ten-thirty comes you have eaten, and you move into the living room, where the three of you talk in a quiet and desultory fashion about what has happened, what it means, and what you'll have to do about it. Then, as midnight approaches you tell your friends that it is time to go upstairs. "Once I close this door," you say when you are all in the master bedroom, "we must not open it before dawn. There is a special seal around it which will keep us safe. Break the seal, and the <i>gwarcheidwad</i> will be able to get inside, to the despair of us all."<br/>
<br/>
"Can we use the bathroom," Keith asks. You point to the door into the master bath, and nod.<br/>
<br/>
"What about water? Should we get some bottled water from the kitchen?" Cameron suggests.<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't mind going back downstairs. The lights are off." He shifts uneasily, then darts out the door. <br/>
<br/>
"Are you going to take that thing off," Keith says. "You're like someone in a bad horror movie."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd rather keep it on. I haven't told you half of what the house guardian can get up to, and I fear it will be especially restless and malicious after the day's events at this house. I didn't mention them, but I saw some things at the window while we were downstairs. It seems eager to get inside. I'd rather spend the night as Blackwell so that I can ... interpret for us ... anything that happens."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus." Keith shudders elaborately.<br/>
<br/>
When Cameron returns, you shut the door. For the full effect, it should make a sound like a steel door dropping, but it only clicks softly into place. After a moment's thought, you wedge an end table under the doorknob. "Will that help keep it out," Cameron asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. It's to keep one of us from panicking and <i>trying</i> to get out."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You keep the lights on. Cameron and Keith lay on the bed with at least a foot of space between them. You take the deep chair in the corner--after first moving it away from the window--and take up the <i>Libra.</i> From downstairs comes the muffled chime of a clock. <i>One ... two ... three ...</i><br/>
<br/>
On the twelfth stroke a tremendous crash rings downstairs, followed by a sound of bursting glass. Cameron sits up sharply. "It's just a noise," you say quietly. "A manifestation of its entrance. Nothing is broken. But it <i>is</i> now in the house." Without seeming to notice, Cameron and Keith draw closer to each other.<br/>
<br/>
Footfalls sound on the stairs: heavy, like someone dropping cannonballs. <i>Boom ... Boom ... Boom.</i> They thump down the hallway, and stop in front of the door. There's a sharp rapping, then a scraping, as of claws rubbing along the frame. The door groans. There's a wet sound, thick and heavy; you put away the thought that a great tongue is licking up and down the door.<br/>
<br/>
The ceiling shudders, and the light fixture rattles; a bulb goes out. Cameron and Keith look up fearfully, and now they're touching shoulders. It shudders again, as though something is bouncing on the floor of the room above. Something scrabbles across above you, as on claws.<br/>
<br/>
Silence. And then there's a great crash. Doors, multiple doors, slam open and shut in the hall outside: It's in the other bedrooms. Something falls with a booming sound.<br/>
<br/>
Silence, unbearable silence, for an hour or more. Cameron and Keith doze, the latter nestled in the arms of the former. You read the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
At two o'clock the lights dim, and the air thickens. The pressure recedes, then returns. It pulses. There's a gasp, and a swallow. The pulses resume. The room seems to be panting--or it's enclosed by the maw of a panting thing. It continues for a quarter hour, then stops.<br/>
<br/>
You raise your head at one point; you've been dozing. There's a squeak behind you, and you turn. The window, which has been black, is now a livid purple. Something is folded against it. A fold parts, and you glimpse a great fang. The window buckles. You shut the curtain with a trembling hand.<br/>
<br/>
Five o'clock. The room rumbles, and Cameron and Keith bolt upright. Pipes grumble and clack. Something in the bathroom sputters. Quietly, indicating that the others should stay where they are, you step into it. Black, viscous liquid pours from one of the taps. A shadow moves in the mirror over the sink. You keep your eyes firmly off it as you twist the faucet handle. The tap sputters, and the flow ceases. You close the door against the foul odor.<br/>
<br/>
Six-thirty: Light is coming through the curtain, but it will not be safe until dawn actually breaks. Your friends are awake; your eyes are heavy. One of the walls trembles lightly, and there's a deep, distant rumble, as of a locomotive. It grows closer and the floor begins to shake. The bed jerks sideways, and slides across the carpeted floor; Cameron and Keith scramble off it. The rumble turns into a roar. Woodwork groans and shriek. Sharp, popping noises, as of nails bursting loose, echo. The room plunges into darkness, and the air turns greasy. Your eyes strain through the dark, and you hope it is only an illusion that you see: great flaming orbs, like eyeballs, floating before you. A scream rents the air.<br/>
<br/>
And then it's gone.<br/>
<br/>
You twitch the curtain aside. Dawn has broken.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's Saturday, so there is no need to worry about school. Cameron and Keith continue to hang out at the house, though they have to amuse themselves somehow; in the moments when you break from the books, you have to smile to hear them talking in low tones about how to handle girls and bullies.<br/>
<br/>
By lunch, you're confident enough about what you've found out that you call them into the library. "I think we're safe," you say. "It's complicated, but I think we can put the masks back onto our friends and send them home. I think Blackwell has been neutered."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" Cameron asks.<br/>
<br/>
"As I said, it's complicated. The main question, though, is what we do with these two." You point to Joe and Frank. "They are a special case. I would much rather ... impersonate them ... than let them loose."<br/>
<br/>
But Cameron frowns. You haven't given <i>him</i> any reason to change his mind about impersonations.</span></div></div>


path: 11313112212212212211
author_id: seuzz
title: Of Golems and Other Grotesqueries
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Who are these guys," Cameron demands. "You were really unclear when you were talking about them yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"They are a special case," you repeat. "If I'm right, they are also magicians. Though of an atypical sort."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I don't want them coming back," Cameron says. "After last night--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, we don't want to spend another night here. And I would rather not revive them. Aside from the fact that they will be extremely unhappy to find themselves, ah, <i>transformed</i> into copies of themselves-- Well, if I am wrong, and the professor <i>is</i> still on the loose, these would be the <i>last</i> of his slaves we should be reanimating."<br/>
<br/>
Keith, who is looking very exhausted, falls back in a chair. "Would you please stop being so mysterious. Just <i>tell</i> us already."<br/>
<br/>
"Very well. It's these statues." You stand before Caleb, and stroke his cheek regretfully. "They're the key." You struggle, trying to find a place to begin.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a spell in this book," you say, indicating the <i>Libra.</i> "There are two spells, actually. The first allows you to create a golem. Here, let me show you." They follow you out the library and up to one of the bedrooms. All the noise last night notwithstanding, nothing in the house is damaged or out of place, and that includes the thing in the corner of one of the spare bedrooms. <br/>
<br/>
"That is a golem," you say, pointing to it. It's a large, stone-like thing, vaguely man-shaped, with lumps for a head and limbs. "It's a lifeless thing, but you can put a mask on it, and it will take the form of the image in the mask. If we had your mask up here, Mr. Huber, we could put it on this thing, and then there would be two of you."<br/>
<br/>
"Twice the trouble for you," he growls. "He'd hold you down, and I'd beat the shit out of you."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe, but maybe not," you wryly retort. "You see, in making the golem the magician must imbue it with a bit of his <i>essentia,</i> and that--"<br/>
<br/>
"Do what with what?" Keith asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Imbue it with <i>essentia,</i>" you repeat, and sigh. "<i>Essentia</i> is a metaphysical element in a human being. It's like a piece of him. It's part of what makes you into, well, <i>you.</i> It's not something physical, like DNA, but it is unique to each person, like DNA, and there are ways of getting it out of a person and into something else. There are ways of getting <i>essentia</i> out of each of us, and into things like this.<br/>
<br/>
"That's important to the spell, because it means that the golem is the slave of the person whose <i>essentia</i> has been used to execute the spell. It doesn't matter what mask you put on it--" You pause; there are exceptions; but you pass over them as irrelevant for the moment. "It doesn't matter what mask you put on it, the resulting person will be the slave of whoever's <i>essentia</i> was used to make it. This golem is the slave of Aubrey Blackwell. That means, Cameron, that if we put your mask on it, it wouldn't necessarily obey you, or even like you particularly. It might feel toward you as you feel toward <i>it.</i> It might regard you as an imposter, and seek to do away with you. But however it feels, it would have to obey Aubrey Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
"So it would have to obey <i>you?</i>" His eyes narrow in anger and fear.<br/>
<br/>
"No, because I am not Aubrey Blackwell. I am impersonating him at the moment--and I can't wait to end the impersonation," you add, for you can tell Keith is about to renew his demand that you quit the mask. "I am Will Prescott, and it is not <i>my essentia</i> in this golem."<br/>
<br/>
You gesture them to follow you back downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
"These are golems too, of a sort. The golem upstairs requires soil from a graveyard. A great deal of soil. The spell that creates these golems, however, requires a living human body and only a little bit of soil. So, yes, these are transformations of our friends. And because they are golems, they contain some of Blackwell's <i>essentia.</i> That is what would make them his slaves, if we were to set masks on them. Even if we put your mask on Caleb here, creating another Cameron Huber, it would be Blackwell's slave."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Cameron says. "He could make an army. He could replace the school. The whole world."<br/>
<br/>
"No, he couldn't. There is a limit. When you put <i>essentia</i> into a thing, you are putting <i>yourself</i> into it, and there is only so much of any one person to go around. There is no neat formula. It depends upon the person, and the spell, and the circumstances, and even upon unknown and unknowable variables. But beyond a certain point, it will simply break down. The spellcaster <i>himself</i> will shatter, and all the pieces will become independent. Not independent people. Rather, they will be the <i>remnants</i> of a person." They look at you quizzically. "It's like if you drop a glass. It destroys the glass, but the pieces remain. You can't put them together again, but each of the pieces is not itself a glass. There are only pieces left."<br/>
<br/>
Cameron looks from one statue to the next. "Are you saying he broke himself?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think that's exactly what happened." You lean back on the edge of the table. "The man is not an idiot, and he knew what he was doing. But he was desperate. He wanted the book, and he also wanted to be rid of all the witnesses who knew about the book. At first he thought he could kill several birds with one stone. By turning Lucy, and James, and Carson, and Sean into golems, he could build himself a supply of golems while also disposing of witnesses. With four golems, one is safe as houses. With five, there is only a negligible risk of disaster. With six, a much greater risk. With seven, a terrible, terrible risk."<br/>
<br/>
You point at the statues, counting them. "He started with the one upstairs. With Lucy and James and Carson, he had four. After capturing Caleb, he had five. He should have stopped there. I'm sure he meant to. But then these two--" You point to Joe and Frank. "--appeared. They <i>had</i> to be disposed of, and given who they were, he could only be safe by turning them into golems."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll ask again, who <i>are</i> they? Why couldn't he just kill them?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, they are a species of magician, and death for <i>them</i> wouldn't have been as safe."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Keith gasps slowly.<br/>
<br/>
"I almost pity him," you murmur. "The agony it must have been. Knowing he was running such a terrible risk either way. He caught them, rendering them unconscious. He probably pulled out what little remained of his hair--" You tug at the fringe above your ears "--as he tried to think of another way. But then he made the plunge. He transformed this one--" You point to Frank. "And then he transformed this one." You point to Joe. "And that was the fatal stroke. He broke."<br/>
<br/>
The clocks in their corner tick asynchronously, shattering time with each cli-clack.<br/>
<br/>
"I deduce that he was wearing Sean Mitchell's mask as he worked. Sean revived. Or, rather, a thing that thought of itself as Sean revived. He-- It-- Would have been horrified by what it was doing, by what it 'remembered' itself as doing. And it would have known that there was another person beneath him, inside him. The person who had made him do those things." Your face draws up in pain as you remember Sean, stumbling out of the tunnel; Sean, begging for your help; Sean, falling to his knees, screaming to remove a mask that he was powerless to remove. "If we find Sean, then we will find Blackwell. Or what remains of him."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's easy enough to do," Cameron snorts. He pulls out his phone and dials. "But how come there are two of him?" He nods at the twin statues as he waits for Sean to pick up.<br/>
<br/>
"We won't know that until we talk to him." Your eyes flick over to Caleb's mask. "Or until we put on one of <i>those</i> masks."<br/>
<br/>
Sean never answers. Cameron calls another number, and speaks sharply to Keith when he spots him edging over to the masks. Keith looks back guiltily, then makes a face at you. "Okay, you gave your little lecture. <i>Now</i> will you get out of that thing?"<br/>
<br/>
You think a moment. "Yes, I think I will." It's a great relief to stretch onto the floor, and a greater relief to pull at the terrible face of Aubrey Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake with a curse, and put a hand to your stinging cheek. You open your eyes to find Keith staring down with horrified eyes. "You don't have to hit me," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"I think I do." He tucks his hand under his armpit. "I've had to hit you, like, a dozen times to get you to wake up. Cameron's run off."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" You sit up.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he told me to get you woken up and changed and then follow him. It's Sean." Keith swallows heavily. "He killed himself in a car wreck yesterday." You gape, and you don't have to ask him to expand on the news: "Dude, he drove his truck at, like, seventy miles an hour straight into the side of a building!"<br/>
<br/>
You don't answer. Instead, you get up and stride over to the table holding the masks. "We're going undercover, Keith," you say grimly. "This is too much for us."<br/>
<br/>
"But Cameron said--"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck Cameron," you retort. You look at Frank's mask, and at Joe's. "With Caleb gone, I'm in charge."</span></div></div>


path: 113131122122122122111
author_id: seuzz
title: The World of Frank Durras
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Yes, I'm in charge now,</i> you think to yourself. And you're pretty sure that makes Frank Durras the natural choice. You pick up his mask, and hand Joe's to Keith. "Put it on," you say as he draws back. "I hope to God it makes you smarter. It can't make you any dumber."<br/>
<br/>
He takes it in both hands with a worried look. You drop to the floor and plunge yourself into the mind, memories, and body of-- <br/>
<br/>
You still can't pronounce the name that rises to greet you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Memories ...</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"Give it to me," you say. <br/>
<br/>
Umberto glares back, but there's fear in his eyes. "It's mine."<br/>
<br/>
"You've got lots. I don't have any. Give it to me!"<br/>
<br/>
His lip trembles. He doesn't hand it over; he throws it to the ground and runs off. He remembers what you did to him the last time he refused to share his toys.<br/>
<br/>
You pick it up. It's a plastic action figure. Cheap. You cradle it in the palm of your hand. You don't have anything. You don't want anything, but you can't stand it that the other boys at the orphanage have things that you don't.<br/>
<br/>
You break it. Easily. You pull off its limbs and twist them. You tear at the torso, and it splits along a seam. You crush the head in your hand. Trash. You drop it to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
"Giuseppe!" You turn guiltily. Father Mancini towers over you. Did he see what you did? You hope so. You deserve a good striking. But why didn't he stop you from taking Umberto's toy? Maybe it has to do with something you overheard Father Pellegrino saying: "He likes it too much."<br/>
<br/>
But Father Mancini just has you follow him. He leads you to Father Donati's office. Maybe it will be a serious punishment this time. But the office is occupied. There are two men sitting in front of his desk. They turn to look at you, and you hang back at the door until Father Mancini pushes you forward. One of the men--a roly-poly little man with a white beard and twinkle in his eye--smiles widely and exclaims something in English.<br/>
<br/>
Father Donati looks at him in bewilderment. "Signori," he says, and continues in English until the other man--a sandy-haired man with a weather-lined face--interrupts. "Let the boy hear what we have to say," he says in perfect Italian.<br/>
<br/>
Father Donati grimaces. "Yes, he does not speak English. We try to teach him, but he is ... stupid. He is a bad boy, stubborn. You do not want <i>this</i> one."<br/>
<br/>
The sandy-haired one speaks to the bearded one; the latter replies, and the other translates. "He is exactly the one we want. We have a school too. We can teach him."<br/>
<br/>
"But his temper! Discipline!" He waves his hand fruitlessly in the air.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, we can teach him that too!" the other cheerfully replies.<br/>
<br/>
Father Mancini saw what you did with Umberto, and he relates it. Father Donati cries out sharply. "You see!" He strides from his desk and gives you a stinging slap. It's like a relief. "And it makes no difference."<br/>
<br/>
The two visitors murmur to each other. "Oh, we think it does," the sandy-haired man says. They rise. The bearded one takes you by the hand--firmly, but he smiles. "Let's go find that other boy," says the sandy-haired man.<br/>
<br/>
They take you, all four of them, and find Umberto, who is glowering in the dining hall. He glares at you, ignoring the others. The sandy-haired man puts his face next to yours. "Giuseppe," he say softly. "Apologize to Umberto."<br/>
<br/>
You frown, and look in bewilderment at the adults. The fathers frown back. That's enough for you. "I'm sorry," you tell Umberto.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, it's like a dam has burst inside you. "I'm sorry!" you cry again, and throw your arms around the consternated boy. You blubber heavily, and hug him tightly. Even though he doesn't reply, you feel much better.<br/>
<br/>
"I think he is <i>exactly</i> the pupil we have been looking for," the sandy-haired man says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"Giuseppe, this is your new brother," the old man says. He wipes the snow from the cap of the small blonde boy, and closes the door behind him. "Say hello to Franz."<br/>
<br/>
"Hello," you say with quiet gravity. Your new brother nods back. There's an insolent gleam in his eye, and you briefly hesitate over whether to like him or not. But after a year living alone with the old man and Verna, you too much miss the company of other boys. "I'll take him to our room," you say. The boy casts a skeptical eye up at the old man, but allows himself to be led, with one hand in yours and the other clutching a tiny suitcase.<br/>
<br/>
It's a small bedroom--smaller now, since the bunk bed arrived yesterday. "Put that here," you order, then take his suitcase from him and drop it on the lower bunk. "You can have the bottom. Or the top." He says nothing. You're getting nervous now. "All these are mine." The sweep of your hand takes in the contents of the shelves and the toy box. "But they're yours, too."<br/>
<br/>
Franz continues to stare at you with a faint smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you don't speak English," you cautiously suggest.<br/>
<br/>
"A lot better than you, bunkbed boy," he laughs back in flawless English. "Where'd you pick up that accent, from a pizza commercial?"<br/>
<br/>
You gasp, then glare. "I am still learning," you grumble. "I guess you are American."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you guess wrong. I'm German. Cool!" He casts an admiring eye at the bookshelf. "I like to read."<br/>
<br/>
"I like to play. Can you wrestle?" Without waiting for an answer, you have him pinned to the ground in an absurdly short few seconds. But he just gazes impudently up at you. "You are very weak."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm very smart. If I called you a Neanderthal would you even know what I meant?"<br/>
<br/>
"It sounds bad."<br/>
<br/>
"It is. I won't call you one if you get off me."<br/>
<br/>
You help him to his feet. "You can help me learn?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." He grabs one of the books from the shelf. "I've heard of these guys. 'The Tower Treasure.' We can use them to help improve your English."<br/>
<br/>
"But I'm older than you. You must respect me."<br/>
<br/>
"In a pig's eye."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"We have to tell Dad," your brother says. You don't reply. "Frank--"<br/>
<br/>
"He'll kill me, Joe." You rub your eye with the heel of your hand. "Franz" and "Giuseppe" have long since evaporated, along with your accent. "He'll know I was goofing off--"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll tell him you're sorry." He pauses. "You're good at that."<br/>
<br/>
You wheel and thrust an open palm at him. He's six feet away, but he still flies backward and tumbles to the ground. "Sorry," you yell. "<i>Mi dispiace! En maloro!</i> Uh ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Try it in French. I still got enough German in me that <i>that</i> sounds sweet."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up! I know you're trying to be funny, but it doesn't help." You turn back to the ruins of the tree trunk, and a lump forms in your throat. "I killed our tree."<br/>
<br/>
He gets up. "And you'll say you're sorry. Dad'll understand."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll think that's why I did it!" You fall to one knee and put your head in your hand. "Father Ed says I enjoy it too much. Penance."<br/>
<br/>
"Father Ed's an asshole, and I'm not sorry I said it." He shrugs. "So tell Dad you're proud of what you did."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you!"<br/>
<br/>
In the end, you tell Dad, and that you'll be more careful in the future. He has you chop up the remains and distribute it to the neighbors as firewood. It's the worst punishment you've ever endured.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"So who's in charge of the mission?" As you speak, you break the surface of the soup so cleanly with a spoon that there's hardly a ripple.<br/>
<br/>
"You are, Frank." The old man's beard that has whitened and thinned considerably over the last ten years, but his smile is as warm as ever.<br/>
<br/>
You frown. "No, I mean, who--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just you two. It's a small job, smaller than you should have for your debut."<br/>
<br/>
Joe grins at you over the table. "I am going to make your life so miserable, you goose-stepping fascist."<br/>
<br/>
"And which of us looks more like a Nazi?" you quietly reply.<br/>
<br/>
He says something careless, but you're not paying attention. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" you ask, setting down the spoon. "You say it's small, but it sounds very sensitive."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course it's sensitive," the old man replies. "You read Reilly's report. Recovering the <i>Libra</i> is a terribly sensitive mission. But you've acquired a sensitive touch."<br/>
<br/>
"Sensitive like a bulldozer," Joe chortles. <br/>
<br/>
His face falls when you agree. "Joe's right. I'm a mailed fist." You study your hand, and gently flex your fingers. "Someone more ... sensitive ... needs to be guiding me."<br/>
<br/>
The old man flicks at your dark bangs with a fingertip. You flinch a little, but smile at the fond gesture. "You're sensitive up there," he says quietly. "A lot more so than your brother." Joe's expression turns even more sour. "And you're hard <i>there.</i>" He touches your hand. He smiles. "A little discipline. You'll bring them together."<br/>
<br/>
You peer down into the soup, so he won't see as you rapidly blink back tears of gratitude.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You sit up, feeling very alert, and very pissed off. Blackwell's robe falls off one of your shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
Keith is already sitting up. His eyes are bright with worry. "Frank," he says slowly in the language Joe invented for him and his brother. "We are in a <i>shitload</i> of trouble."</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221221221221111
author_id: seuzz
title: Caleb Comes Clean
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Then we better get started cleaning it up," you say. You hop to your feet and stride over to the corner where--<br/>
<br/>
Your throat tightens as you stare down into the white face of Giuseppe Braccioforte. <i>That's you.</i> Except it isn't. It's barely Giuseppe; it's only what's left of him. And you're not him either. You're only a substitute. <br/>
<br/>
Roughly, loathing what you're doing, you pull off the figure's shoes and socks and the rest of his things; Keith does the same to Joe. "You think we have any of their abilities?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be dense." You snap a finger and hold up a thumb. "Show me what you got."<br/>
<br/>
His mouth tightens, and he snaps his fingers. Nothing. He tries again. Still nothing. There should be a small globe of light dancing at the tip of his thumb. "Fuck," he says softly. "You?"<br/>
<br/>
You concentrate and make as though you're closing a fist around him. He flaps his arms like a chicken. "Shit. Masks don't capture everything, do they?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith murmurs to himself as he continues to pull the clothes off the golem. "It's <i>imago,</i>" he finally says. "That's all the masks capture. No <i>anima,</i> no <i>essentia.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll take your word for it." You flap open the cargo shorts and pull them on. "Let's not forget the <i>Libra</i> before we go. At the very least we can secure <i>it.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"We should grab some more books while we're here," Keith says. His face briefly disappears as he pulls the shirt on, and he shakes his golden hair loose. "I'm not sure I totally buy that tale you spun earlier."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I think I picked the wrong mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I'm definitely the smart one now. You sure as fuck had better listen to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't I always?"<br/>
<br/>
"Vera Cruz. Two years ago."<br/>
<br/>
"Will you give that a rest? If you hadn't been watching monster movies--"<br/>
<br/>
"Ka-pchwww!" He mimes a two-handed punch. "The look on that family's face after you knocked down half their house!"<br/>
<br/>
Quick as a flash you have his naked balls in your hand. He gasps. "Yeah," you grin. "Not so fast now, are you, asshole?" You give them a light squeeze. "You wanna be loving any ladies in the near future, you better start talking in a slightly more respectable tone."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm always <i>respectable,</i> Frank," he says. "It's a <i>respectful</i> tone I never give you." Before you can retort, he bends and plants an impudent kiss near your lips. You drop his junk and fly back. He laughs.<br/>
<br/>
You wipe the spot with the back of your hand. "Just get that peashooter of yours tucked away."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm," he says regretfully, and fluffs his cock. "I seem to have shrunk." He puts his head to one side. "But what I've got now is standard size, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I never researched your equipment." You allow yourself a quick glance. "Seems about normal, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit, man," he gasps. "Then that means--" He puts a hand to his face.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just wanna make a quick comparison."<br/>
<br/>
"You can do that later, if you do it at all, and if you do it at all I don't want to hear a report." You hurl underwear into his face. "You wanna sniff your own crotch, have a snootful of those."<br/>
<br/>
"Are we gonna let these guys know what we got up to while we were, uh--" You give him a baleful glance. "I mean, Cameron wound up being pretty cool about it all, but he was--"<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just get things back to a state where we <i>have</i> to worry about whether Frank and Joe are going to kill us."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After getting dressed, you pace the library, thinking hard. "So, do we revive our friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna be sure about Blackwell first," Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"But if we go after Cameron, he's gonna think we revived Frank and Joe, and he'll assume we revived the others."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I can talk our way around him. We oughta head out."<br/>
<br/>
"We should take Prescott with us. Fuck, I shoulda put my most recent memories into that mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Leave him out of it. No revivals. And we don't even have a mask of-- of me."<br/>
<br/>
"We can talk our way around that." You mimic Joe's voice--badly. He smiles sourly. "We'll just tell Cameron we sent Tilley home because he was being a queer and a pussy and an idiot. You know, the truth."<br/>
<br/>
"I never met the guy," Keith says in a careless tone. "But that sounds like <i>jealousy</i> in your voice." His face suddenly falls. "And what <i>are</i> we going to do about the missing Tilley?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like a good excuse for moving Joe's mask onto a golem, so Tilley doesn't disappear." He gives you a warning look. "Okay, you think about it while we talk about other things. You're good at going into fugue states."<br/>
<br/>
"Wow, I'm impressed, Frank. A compliment <i>and</i> an almost correctly deployed technical term employed as a metaphor that encapsulates a double meaning." You blink. "Dur, Frankie by accident say a smart something," he explains.<br/>
<br/>
You plant your hands on his shoulders and force him to his knees, face at your crotch. "Suck it while I think. That'll give you <i>three</i> things to occupy yourself with." He twists away. "Before we go after Cameron, though, I want to hear from Caleb. Find out the deal with these two Mitchell statues."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He looks miserable, as well he should. He is naked and huddled on the sofa in the living room with your knee wedged in his crotch. Your hands are planted on his shoulders. You are pressing your face near his. "I don't have to <i>ask</i>, you know," you tell him in a soft but heavy voice--like a granite slab being dragged across a carpet. "I put that on you, and I'll know everything." You jerk your head at Keith, who holds a mask. He's got it turned so Caleb can't see it's actually Lucy's mask.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb sighs. "It's Taylor Mitchell. Sean's twin brother. He was being Scott Bickelmeier. Usually."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know Sean had a twin."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, he did, and it's complicated."<br/>
<br/>
"Everything about this case is complicated. Lucky I got a partner who can untangle spaghetti with the power of his mind." Keith grins behind you.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb explains, at length. You're rubbing your temples long before he's done, but when you ask him to repeat it, Keith nudges you. "Yo, I got it. It's not hard."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking show-off," you mutter as he reaches past you to twitch Caleb's mask off the golemized Caleb, so that he seems to revert to stone. "Okay, I got that there's a dead twin, and that Caleb turned <i>himself</i> into a golem--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that last is a real pisser, isn't it?" Keith whistles. "It's just been one giant con from the beginning." He laughs. "I most heartily approve."<br/>
<br/>
"Then explain it to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it goes back to that box at Eastman. So, Taylor Mitchell, Scott Bickelmeier, and Sawyer Harrison find a box out at Salopek. It's from the Drennon estate, and it's open. The <i>Libra</i> isn't in it for some reason, but there's lots of other toys. They steal most of 'em, take 'em to Eastman, goof off with 'em. Taylor manages to turn himself into a copy of Scott. Scott turns himself into a copy of Taylor. Sawyer goes sideways." He mimes falling into a faint. "They can't get the masks off. Scott, looking like Taylor, has himself a fatal accident. Taylor, as Scott, moves to Westside. Oh, along with Sean, who was Taylor's twin, and wasn't mixed up in any of this. Yet.<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb gets the <i>Libra</i> from Will." His eyes twinkle. "Why do I get the feeling this all would have been even <i>more</i> fucked up if Prescott had kept it?" You decline to take the bait. "Caleb plays around with it at Salopek. Sean catches him. They go in as partners. They make masks of each other, they make a golem in that old elementary school basement. Then disaster.<br/>
<br/>
"They hit the spell that turns people into golems. Sean wants to stop, but Caleb wants to press on. Caleb volunteers himself. Poof. Caleb's now a golem. Sean uses Caleb's mask to hide the accident. But he keeps playing with masks. He decides to copy Scott, who's been a pest. Lo and behold, he finds his brother under Scott's mask. Probably there's a tender reunion.<br/>
<br/>
"They share masks. Sometimes it's Sean being himself, sometimes he's Caleb, sometimes he's Scott. Same with Taylor, because Taylor can't be himself, being supposedly dead. They use Caleb's golem to keep the third mask mobile. <br/>
<br/>
"Prescott noses around. They decide to expand the club, use Prescott and Lamont and the others as cats paws in taking down bullies. They don't say anything about Caleb being, uh, pfft, because it would be awkward. They pretend it's Caleb really in charge, and pretend that Sean is just another victim. About Taylor and Scott they say nothing. <br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell moves in. He finds Sean under Caleb's mask. He scopes things out, and catches Taylor, who was being Sean at the time. He also pulls in Scott, who had Caleb here under the mask." He points to the golemized Caleb. "And that's how come there are two Mitchells in the library, and how Caleb came to be in the state he's in."<br/>
<br/>
"And you got that from one listening?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, it's not hard. For some of us."<br/>
<br/>
"So what do we do about Sean, who is now also supposedly dead?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm supposed to be the smart one. Am I now also in charge?"</span></div></div>


path: 1131311221222
author_id: seuzz
title: A Shadow Falls
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>This is freaky, you decide, and quickly leave.<br/>
<br/>
You kill more time around town before heading back toward the school; your progress is slowed at one point by what looks like a bad car wreck. Your double is waiting out front when you arrive, and it climbs quickly into the cab. "I hope <i>you</i> had a good day off," it mutters. <br/>
<br/>
You slap it on the head, but then tease and josh with it on the drive to the elementary school, where you half expect to find your teammates. Then your cell phone rings. "It's Lisa," your double says, and you snatch it away before it can answer. <br/>
<br/>
"Will?" she says in a quiet, numb voice. "I tried looking for you after class, but I couldn't find you." <i>Really?</i> Your heart leaps. "Probably you won't care," she says, "but I thought you should know. There, uh, there was an accident after school."<br/>
<br/>
"An accident?" You frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. A really <i>bad</i> one. A car wreck. Cameron Huber and Sean Mitchell were in it." <br/>
<br/>
The phone slips from your fingers.<br/>
<br/>
When you're done talking to her, you try calling Caleb. He doesn't answer.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You pass frantic hours, killing time by rooting out more news, then at around six you drive out to Caleb's, where you turn the wheel over to your duplicate and order it to drive around until you call. You rap sharply on the door, and ring the doorbell frantically. Caleb, a perturbed look on his face, answers. "Dude!" you gasp. To your surprise (and dismay) he just sighs and gestures you to follow him back into the bedroom. Your feet feel numb as you stagger after him. When the door is closed he turns with a snort and reaches for your face. "What are you doing?" you snarl, and slap his hand away.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you need to trust me. It's for the best," he says wearily, and reaches again for your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb, it's me! Will! I'm not wearing a mask!" His eyes freeze. "My mask is still riding around on-- On whatever that thing is. Or person. Driving around, waiting for me!"<br/>
<br/>
He stares, and lunges at your face again. You briefly struggle, then relax and let him grapple at your nose and forehead. If it's the only way to convince him ...<br/>
<br/>
He stumbles back and sits on the foot of his bed with a shocked expression. "Will!" he gasps. "Oh my God! When I heard about the wreck--"<br/>
<br/>
"You heard?! Then why the fuck are you being so calm?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I thought--!" His jaw tightens. Then he jumps up and embraces you. "Because I thought you were <i>in</i> it! I thought you--" He pokes you in the chest. "I thought you were a golem, and why would I be nice to one of them?"<br/>
<br/>
Your arms hang limply. <i>The fuck--?</i> Then it hits you: "You thought I was still wearing Cameron's mask!" He steps back and nods. "Then Tilley didn't tell you--"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me what?" he asks sharply.<br/>
<br/>
"I switched with him this morning. I left school and let him take over for Cameron. He didn't tell you?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shakes his head, and his gaze grows distant. "This is unexpected," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"This is <i>bad!</i> Two of our friends-- Well, one of them-- Wait, what's the deal with Sean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, don't worry about <i>him,</i>" Caleb says impatiently. "There's no problem <i>there.</i> Tilley, though ..." He tugs his lip. "Well, I guess he can just disappear."<br/>
<br/>
"Just disappear?" you gape. "Caleb, he's <i>dead!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shit together. We can get sad and hysterical later. Right now we just need to cover things up."<br/>
<br/>
"Cover ... up ...?" You sag weakly against the door.<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't do anything about your double, right?" he asks sharply. "No change to his mask or who's under there?" You shake your head. "Okay, then at least we know where Cameron is. Except everyone thinks he's dead now." He drums his fingers on his knee. "Well, that's okay, I've got a place I can put him. You can go back to being yourself."<br/>
<br/>
You clutch your head, and haven't the stamina to argue or resist when he tells you to call your replacement and have it come out to the house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>A week passes in a haze.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's as though they fascinate you: The clean, marbled pink headstone, spreading its massive wings. The yawning pit, barely concealed by the polished casket suspended over it. The dark mounds of earth flanking it. <br/>
<br/>
And the small woman, all in black, with a veil over her face. Sitting alone, legs crossed at the ankle, with only the minister near her. No one else.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes ache as, unblinking, you stare at one, stare at the next, stare at the next, and stare at the last before returning to the first. A ticking in your head, as though in tune with--or maybe regulating--the movement of your eyes, becomes first a throbbing and then a cracking. At one point you have to clutch the side of your chair, for you feel like you're going to faint.<br/>
<br/>
And even this picture of perfect morbidity has to suffer a disfiguring scar. You glimpse them from the corner of your eye, and turn slowly to confirm the impression: It's those two Eastman guys ("Frank"? "Joe"?) you saw at the bakery that day. They are wearing dark suits, and their eyes are hidden behind dark shades, and they are standing in the back. But they too are attending Sean Mitchell's funeral. As you stare at them, the blonde one leans in to the other and murmurs something. <br/>
<br/>
Afterward, you sit on the bumper of your truck, trying desperately to drive the image of Sean's mother--looking so utterly bereaved, so utterly forsaken and alone--from your head. But it remains. Worse, the very image throbs.<br/>
<br/>
Someone sits next to you: Caleb. You pull away, and weakly try to shake his hand off your shoulder when he puts it there. "It doesn't have anything to do with us," he says quietly. "It's just a horrible coincidence."<br/>
<br/>
You look up at him with staring eyes. "I didn't think it was anything else," you hear yourself whisper. "Until now."<br/>
<br/>
His face tightens. "Well, forget what I said, then. You think it isn't eating <i>me</i> up? I don't want it eating <i>you</i> up."<br/>
<br/>
"But it is," you groan. "I can't get--" You choke. "I can't stop thinking about--" You can't say it: <i>Sean's mother.</i> "Can't stop."<br/>
<br/>
He squeezes your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"We have to do something about it," you say with a firmness that surprises you. "We have to get him back for her."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Get Sean back. For her."<br/>
<br/>
"We can't get him back, Will," Caleb says quietly. "Um, I don't think the book can raise the dead."<br/>
<br/>
"But we can get the mask back," you say, seizing on a sudden thought. "Get the mask out of the casket. We can make another golem for it!"<br/>
<br/>
"That won't work."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um, embalming?"<br/>
<br/>
"Does it embalm the freaking mask?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"Things that happen to a person wearing a mask I'm pretty sure happen to the image inside the mask," he says. "You'd get a mask of a dead person back."<br/>
<br/>
You grab Caleb's arm. "If it embalms the image, then maybe the person under is okay! Maybe they're still only asleep! Cameron! We could get Keith back from under--!"<br/>
<br/>
"He was in a bad accident." He pries your hand loose. "It's a human body under there. He's got to be dead too."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him, feeling haggard. He carefully squeezes your arm. "You're going to have to make your peace with what's happened, Will. Both of us are."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's dark--very dark, under heavy clouds that have completely veiled the moon and yet which only very faintly reflect back the lights of the city. That's good, since you don't want to be caught as you sneak into the cemetery. It's also bad, for you can barely see anything. Low gravestones rise from the ground like worn teeth, and it takes you only a few minutes to realize that they all look alike in the all-enveloping blackness. You've no idea where you are relative to the Mitchell grave, or where it is relative to the few trees that rise in isolated spots.<br/>
<br/>
You're reduced to marching slowly up and down the rows, flicking your flashlight at any gravestones that look vaguely familiar. You only know it was in the middle of the cemetery, away from the walls, which again is only a mixed blessing: there's no easy landmark like a wall to guide you, but at least you're also far from the surrounding streets, along which headlights occasionally flash. You keep your use of the torch to a minimum.<br/>
<br/>
Thirty discouraging minutes pass. And then a great mass of fresh dirt rises at your feet. You turn the pale circle of light on the headstone: MITCHELL. You swallow in horror. It suddenly hits you what you're going to do. It will be nasty digging, whatever you find, which a good result will only somewhat allay. And if it's a bad result, a stomach-turning result? It was, after all, a closed-casket affair ...<br/>
<br/>
The shovel slides off your shoulder as you groan. It's a broad headstone, and with a sinking heart you realize it encompasses a family gravesite. That wouldn't be a problem, but there are two great piles of earth. You'd assumed at the funeral that one of them was just the earth from Sean's still-open grave. But now there are two of them, and both are covered in flowers. <br/>
<br/>
You'll never find Cameron's grave at the other cemetery. You should just work here. But which grave do you open? The one on the left or the one on the right?</span></div></div>


path: 11313112212221
author_id: seuzz
title: Grave Discoveries
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You slide the shovel into the dirt, push it with your foot, and turn over a spadeful of earth. <i>A six-foot journey begins with a single thrust.</i><br/>
<br/>
Time seems to pass slowly, an effect surely of the weary labor, the loathsomeness of the task, and your reluctance to reach its conclusion. The wind rustles dryly over the grass. The clouds lower. The earth, as you dig deeper, becomes wetter and stickier and clumpier. <br/>
<br/>
And then, what feels like hours later, the blade strikes something solid. You shift and begin clearing out a wide patch.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, the torch discloses that you have the entire top of the casket cleared away. You toss the shovel over the lip of the grave and bend down. You douse the flashlight as you press cold, stiff fingers under the edge of the lid and pry at it. It won't come loose.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit. If you've gone through all this work for nothing ...</i><br/>
<br/>
With a groan you pull yourself from the trench and jog stiffly back to your truck, where you have a crowbar, which you clutch in a clawlike hand on the even more wearying jog back. You slide back into the grave. You lever the crowbar under the edge and worry at it with greater and greater force.<br/>
<br/>
It slips, and you bite back a curse.<br/>
<br/>
More carefully, you reinsert it, putting it firmly in place. You press, putting your weight onto it. With a cracking and splitting, the top of the casket comes loose.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart hammers in your chest as you gingerly tug the top up. You try not to look directly into its contents, but you can't miss the dim outline of a figure. You grapple for the flashlight ...<br/>
<br/>
No, you can't look. You're just going to have to put your hand onto its face.<br/>
<br/>
You hope it's a face and not something horrifying.<br/>
<br/>
Your fingertips run lightly over it: ridges and bumps. It feels like it's in one piece, and with gritted teeth you will yourself into believing that it's only a face that you grasp. It is very cold, and feels like clay to the touch. You grasp at what feels like its brow and nose, murmur, and pull.<br/>
<br/>
<i>!!!</i> Something comes away in your hand.<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw quivers, and you swallow heavily, forcing your heart back down. Your arm jerks as you draw your hand up, and you almost drop whatever it is you're holding. Through narrow eyes you peep at it.<br/>
<br/>
It's a mask, and even in the dark pit of an empty cemetery under a moonless, starless sky, it glows with a faint blue light. You let out an exhalation of relief, and turn it over: SEAN JASON MITCHELL. So at least you know it's the right grave.<br/>
<br/>
You pause. You came out only to get the mask. But what--or who--was it sitting on? Caleb was never very clear about those golem things, or about what happened to Sean. Your heart suddenly skips. You'd speculated that maybe Keith would be alive under Cameron's mask, down in Huber's grave. If Caleb trapped Sean under a mask of himself, the way you had trapped Cameron under a mask of <i>yourself</i> ... And if people (however remote the chance) can survive under a mask ...<br/>
<br/>
You gulp down hard, flick on the flashlight, and turn its beam onto the thing in the casket.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Well, it sounds like it turned him into a golem."<br/>
<br/>
It's Sunday afternoon, and you're over at Caleb's, in his bedroom. He sits at his desk, looking at you with an expression that combines disgust and anger. "How?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me," he says after a pause. "But you said his face was all white?" You nod. "Did you touch him?" Grimly, you nod again. "And he was all cold and stone-like?" Another nod. "Then that's what he is." He shrugs. "A perfect replica of himself, I guess, but turned into a stone-cold golem."<br/>
<br/>
"But how?" you repeat.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Will, and frankly I'd rather not know. I'd really rather that you'd left things alone."<br/>
<br/>
"I had to try," you insist.<br/>
<br/>
"And look at the good it did you." He gives you a sidelong glance. "Did you have nightmares afterward?"<br/>
<br/>
Actually, you haven't slept: there was hardly any night left after you'd put the dirt back and driven home and taken an early shower to get all the sweat and muck and grime off before your dad could catch you. Later that morning, in church, for the first time in your life you'd sent up fervent and sincere prayers. "But how did he turn into a golem?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb sighs. "Well, if I had to speculate--" He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'd say it was a consequence of his being inside the mask when he had the accident. There was a golem shell inside the mask, right?" You shrug; actually, you hadn't looked. "Well, maybe when he died the shell somehow enveloped him, turned him into a golem. That's the only thing that makes sense to me. The book isn't clear on what happens when, you know ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Where is the book?"<br/>
<br/>
He purses his lips. "I got rid of it. It's bad news."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! You said it didn't have anything to do with-- With the accident!"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think it did. I hope not. But I don't wanna take any chances. Do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, no. But what did you do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"The less you know, the better. But I put it where idiots like us won't get ahold of it again."<br/>
<br/>
You sit on the edge of the bed. Getting rid of it is probably for the best. But as for what you do now ... "So Sean was under a mask of himself, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yup."<br/>
<br/>
"But when <i>you</i> were being Sean--"<br/>
<br/>
"I was switching back and forth, like you switched back and forth with Cameron. Sometimes I shoved Sean under <i>my</i> mask. He'd disappear the way Cameron did." He peers at you. "What did you do with the mask after you, uh--"<br/>
<br/>
"I've still got it."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow. "You should give it to me so I can get rid of it."<br/>
<br/>
"But maybe we can use it to--"<br/>
<br/>
"Put that out of your head, Will, the idea of using it to bring Sean back. He had a very public accident, got a very public burial. We'd never be able to explain how he got back. Besides--" He raises his voice over your objection. "Think about it. The mask was sitting on a golem. Was he alive?" You shake your head. "There you go, then. The mask is dead too. If we put it on a golem we'd just get a dead body. We'd look like grave robbers." He smiles sourly. "Not that appearances would be deceiving in your case."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck you. I never should have gotten mixed up in this."<br/>
<br/>
"No you shouldn't," he says to your surprise. "Neither should I. That's why we need to put this behind us, pretend it never happened."<br/>
<br/>
You look down into your hands. <i>Ninety percent of wisdom comes </i>after<i> you've screwed up,</i> your dad has often had occasion to tell you. One of these days maybe you'll have accumulated enough screw ups to realize he's right. "Well, I guess I should go," you say heavily. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Just get that mask to me," Caleb says. He turns back to his computer with a snort.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Actually, Sean's mask is still sitting in your truck; detritus from last night. You examine it after you've slid in. Its inner surface is blue, like its outer surface. The mask Caleb made of you was grey on the inside. You frown, then shake your head. You don't understand these things.<br/>
<br/>
You'd prefer to dispose of it than give it to Caleb, and decide to return it to Sean's grave. But you won't open the pit up again; you can just shove it into the dirt pile. And yet, as you drive toward the cemetery, you find yourself thinking that maybe you should put it on first. There are things going on that you don't understand, and maybe a glimpse into Sean's head will help.<br/>
<br/>
Unless Caleb is right, and it turns you into Sean's corpse. <br/>
<br/>
These thoughts are driven from your head as you enter the graveyard: ahead, next to the Mitchell plot, are three figures: Scott Bickelmeier and those two guys from Eastman. The fuck? You crouch behind a thick tree trunk until the Eastman guys depart, leaving Scott behind.<br/>
<br/>
He nods vacantly as you come up to him. "Sean's popular today, isn't he?" he says satirically.<br/>
<br/>
"Paying your respects too?"<br/>
<br/>
"More like making sure he's gone."<br/>
<br/>
Whoa. That's cold. "I thought you guys were friends."<br/>
<br/>
"I was friends with his brother, Taylor."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know he had a brother."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. That's him laying next to Sean." He indicates the other mound of dirt, and your blood chills. "What are the odds, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Scott's tone isn't brutal, but it seems oddly bright, as though he's discussing  a nifty movie with interesting plot twists. "Doesn't it ... bother you ... that they're both gone?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks over at you, and seems to see you for the first time. A peculiar gleam comes into his eye. "Actually," he says with a soft and malicious grin. "It feels rather ... freeing." <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You leave Scott after that, taking the mask with you. It's sitting on your desk, with Sean's ghostly image gazing blindly back at you, when your cell phone rings.<br/>
<br/>
At least Lisa has been good to you over the past week. She's noticed you've been in a bad state, and has been gentle and comforting. So you're happy to see her number on the caller ID. Unfortunately, she has more bad news. <br/>
<br/>
There's been another car wreck. Fatalities: James Lamont and Carson Ioeger.</span></div></div>


path: 113131122122211
author_id: seuzz
title: Through a Dead Man's Eyes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're in too much of a daze to do more than take it in as a brute fact: Inside of ten days, all your friends who had known about the masks--except for you and Caleb--have suffered fatal accidents. You curl into a fetal position after Lisa has hung up. <br/>
<br/>
It's that book. It has to be the book. There is no other connecting thread. And of course, it's a magic book. It's the kind of book that lets you do awful things-- You groan as you recall the kinds of things that you and Caleb were talking about doing: replacing people, becoming them, stealing their lives, reshaping them to your own purposes. There have to be demons and things lurking around that book, executing the spells for its users; and naturally those things would bite you back.<br/>
<br/>
What did Caleb say when he first introduced you to the masks? Something about how the book didn't like people unless he made an "impression" of you. But wait, that was just a story, wasn't it, an excuse to get a copy of you before telling you about the masks. So this whole thing began badly for you, with a lie. A small lie, maybe, but it still seems like an omen in retrospect. Your stomach, already unsettled, heaves. <i>Bad beginnings make for bad endings:</i> that's another one of your dad's pet phrases.<br/>
<br/>
Your eye keeps flicking back to Sean's mask. Now <i>there</i> was a bad ending. Maybe two of them. Dying <i>and</i> being turned into a golem. Maybe not even in that order.<br/>
<br/>
There might not learn anything by putting the mask on. It might turn you into a corpse. But the lure is powerful. Very powerful.<br/>
<br/>
Too powerful. You pick the mask up.<br/>
<br/>
But you're not so reckless that you just slap it onto your face. If you're going to risk turning yourself into a corpse, you will need to be sure you can get back. You should go do it at Caleb's house, so he can take the mask off you if the worst happens.<br/>
<br/>
No, he probably wouldn't even let you put it on. So, you fish out a piece of paper scribble on it: "CALL CALEB." You look at it, then add "JOHANSSON" and his phone number. There. If anyone finds you and you're frozen in place as a corpse, then Caleb will come out and--<br/>
<br/>
Oh, that won't do. Whoever finds you would probably be so freaked out they'd ignore the note. So on another piece of paper you methodically write: "I AM NOT DEAD. I'M NOT SEAN MITCHELL. I AM WEARING A MASK. TAKE IT OFF OF ME." And then you write out as detailed a set of instructions as you can for how to take a mask off someone.<br/>
<br/>
There. You settle back on the bed, grip the paper in one hand and the mask in the other and--<br/>
<br/>
You don't want your parents to find you like that if something goes wrong. Aside from the shock of finding Sean Mitchell's corpse in your bedroom--<br/>
<br/>
You almost change your mind at this point.<br/>
<br/>
No, you have to do it, but you have to leave your family out of it.<br/>
<br/>
You empty your pockets of anything you don't want to lose--wallet, cash, cell phone--and go downstairs. "I'm going for a drive," you say. <i>Car wrecks. So many car wrecks.</i> You put your keys on the kitchen counter. "I'm going for a bike ride."<br/>
<br/>
"It's almost dark," your mother says.<br/>
<br/>
"I've got reflectors on my bike," you say. "And I'm not going near any busy streets." That's for sure. You'll be sticking to back alleys as much as possible. You leave before she can lodge any further objections.<br/>
<br/>
But where to go?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Maybe it shouldn't have taken you so long to wind up at the cemetery. It really does seem like the only possible spot to do this. It's dark, so no one will see you if this process works. Someone should find you eventually if something goes wrong. If you do it while laying on Sean Mitchell's grave, you won't get tagged as a "mystery corpse."<br/>
<br/>
With a beating heart you lay down on the pile of dirt that has Sean's remains under it, and do your best to settle comfortably back. From the fanny pack you take the mask and the note. The latter you spread and clutch tightly in your left hand. You lay back on the ground with the mask. You take a deep breath, concentrate on the glowing name on its inner surface, and drop it onto your face.<br/>
<br/>
The world goes dark.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your eyes feel like marbles. Heavy marbles made of lead. They feel like they're rolling about in their sockets. They finally roll in the right direction, and stars appear. You feel very heavy, but calm. <br/>
<br/>
You could look at the stars forever.<br/>
<br/>
Where are you? Oh yeah, the cemetery. The dirt is very comfortable. You'd like to nestle down into it. Oh, but you've got things to do. That mask.<br/>
<br/>
You put on the mask, so shouldn't Sean be in here with you? You search in vain for any memory or image or feeling that would say you've got Sean Mitchell's brain inside with you. But there's nothing. Only Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
Well, Will Prescott is here, isn't he? Your father's angry face flashes before your eyes. Okay, good.<br/>
<br/>
You're still feeling very calm. But there's nothing here to learn. If Sean isn't in the mask, even though he should be--<br/>
<br/>
He should be, shouldn't he? His name was in it. Whatever was walking around with this mask was acting like him. At least, you suppose it was. But if Sean isn't here ... Maybe you're not wearing the mask? You raise your hand. <br/>
<br/>
Except you don't. Nothing seems to move.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit!</i><br/>
<br/>
You redouble your efforts, willing your hand to move, but there is no response.<br/>
<br/>
This is bad. It's what you feared. You're locked inside a corpse!<br/>
<br/>
And then you notice a shadow waving around in front of you, eclipsing the stars. You concentrate on it, and it stops. It's arm-shaped, and as you stare at it you begin to make it out better. Yes, dimly illuminated by what little light pollution spills into the cemetery is an arm in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
You will yourself into rising. And though you feel nothing--you might as well be floating on the glassy surface of a perfectly calm pool--the landscape shifts and you find yourself  in what seems to be a "standing" position. Your vision swims, and you have to concentrate to keep any one thing in sight. But that's definitely not your arm. It is much too thick. As for your hands--<br/>
<br/>
Where'd that piece of paper go? You almost topple over as you try look around. On, there it is. You reach out for it, and the ground rises to meet you.<br/>
<br/>
Back on your benumbed feet, you stagger after it. But it skitters away, as though tugged by a spirit. You can't feel the wind, but there must be a breeze. You chase it, stumbling and falling, until you reach the cemetery wall, where the breeze lifts it and carries it high and far away.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, you'll just have to get the mask off yourself. Your hand slams into your face. You try willing your fingers into position. When you think you've got it, you open your mouth to speak the magic words:<br/>
<br/>
<i>Gwaairraggghhhccchhh</i><br/>
<br/>
Again, the ground rises to meet you.<br/>
<br/>
You try again and again and again, but never are you able to form the words. You can barely walk, and your fingers move slowly and without coordination, so how in the hell could you ever get throat and tongue and jaw and lips to coordinate on words that you yourself could barely say properly when you were yourself?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Gwaairraggghhhccchhh,</i> you say again, this time out of frustration.<br/>
<br/>
Forget that piece of paper. You're just going to have to go find Caleb. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You shamble along with the wheels of the bike bumping into your legs. You'd tried riding it--despite the ludicrous image that formed in your head of a zombie on a bicycle--but balance and coordination were entirely beyond you.<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, there's not much traffic out here on the edge of town. Farm Road--the street that edges past the cemetery--runs past a small wood, and you know a spot where you can take a short cut. Before you can get there, though, you see your shadow spreading before you, and hear the whine of tires on gravel. You turn, raising your arm against the glare of headlights. You should be taken in the dark only for a careless pedestrian. <br/>
<br/>
The truck goes past. But then it brakes to a hard stop and spins around. The headlights blind you. <br/>
<br/>
You drop the bike and try to run the other way. But even as you lurch off, you hear the voices of the pursuers: "Unholy fuck, Frank! It's a zombie Mitchell!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know what it is, Joe! Stop it!" The air becomes bright, and when you raise your arms you see flames dancing along your arms. "Not like that, you idiot! Put it out!"<br/>
<br/>
"How?" <br/>
<br/>
You stumble backward, waving your arms, which only makes the flames burn higher. Probably your pursuers are more scared of you than you are of them, but it would be hard. <br/>
<br/>
A figure runs up, arms high over its head. <i>WHANG!</i> You're felled by a hard blow from a shovel. <i>WHANG! WHANG! WHANG!</i> You roll around on the ground. The blows don't seem meant to kill you--could they?--but it's the guy's peculiar method of putting the fire out.<br/>
<br/>
You roll helplessly on the ground, like a beetle on its back, even after the flames are gone. Two figures bend over you. "<i>Gwaairraggghhhccchhh,</i>" you say, hoping to persuade them to leave you alone.<br/>
<br/>
They just bend closer. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Crap.</i> It's those two guys from Eastman.</span></div></div>


