# chapters

path: 113311211121112211111211112221122
author_id: seuzz
title: In and Out of Character
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You work your jaw from side to side. "Tonight. These Durras douches have put me in a good mood. Besides, Chelsea will want to watch him dump her, and we haven't got time to set the stage this morning."<br/>
<br/>
"So when do we meet with him? This evening?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why, you got a conflict? Chelsea set you up on another date?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell her to. Kendra was nice, but if it means this much to her, tell her I want Lin as well."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't fuck with me, Steve. I said I'm in a good mood, and you don't wanna be the one who ends it. You just hang out here after school and wait for me to show with Javits. If you get bored, call me, and I'll send the blonde one up to suck your cock."<br/>
<br/>
"Blonde one?" he echoes. "Who? Eva? Jessica?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck no. Hey, Josephine!" you yell at Joe Durras, who has just materialized from the locker room with his brother. He does a double take, and points to his own chest. "Who the fuck do you think I'm talking to? You and your sister be here when the final bell rings. What's your bust size?" He just stares back. "'Cos if I catch you crying again, I'll take you in the girl's locker room and stuff you in one of the cheerleader's uniforms. Put you in my girlfriend's, and pop your cherry. She's blonde like you, but butcher, so <i>she</i> won't let me take her up the ass."<br/>
<br/>
And suddenly you have to blink and rub your eyes. It's like a whip of liquid fire had raked across your eyeballs. When your vision clears and you can see again, Joe and Frank have disappeared.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's bizarre. Between the bad home life, and Chelsea putting your dick in a wringer over Seth and Cindy, and various other cock ups and crises, you should be in a furious mood. But you feel oddly centered, even imperturbable. It's almost like you're standing outside yourself as you cruise down the halls after practice, pushing other students out of the way while hardly noticing them. You're frowning, and glaring hard as your head swivels slightly from side to side. Those few students who accidentally catch your eye--and you can see <i>everyone</i> from this towering height--quickly turn away and duck. But even when you see Carson Ioeger lounging insolently by the library door, arms folded and sniggering at the passing scene--a sight that normally sets the blood coursing through your scalp--you just turn away. Your mouth twists. <i>There's not gonna be any slaughter today, at this rate.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Where are you going?"<br/>
<br/>
Steve's voice brings you out of your distracted reverie, and you glance back at him. He's standing in the hall, a puzzled expression on his face as other students surge around him. You look back. You were just going into your first period class ...<br/>
<br/>
And then it hits you when you see Justin slouched in the back, looking back at you watchfully.<br/>
<br/>
This is Justin Roth's first period class, not Gordon Black's. Why the fuck were you--?<br/>
<br/>
The world swims, and you have to put a hand on the door jam to catch yourself. <br/>
<br/>
<i>You're standing in Tsosie's living room, talking to Maize and Perry Small and Will Prescott about masks. You're at Roth's, with his parents, and then you're with Prescott, talking about how the two of you have to stick with each other against the others. A voice like Gordon Black's screams abuse at you over the phone. You're calling Andrea Varnsworth, and you're at her house, and you're making out with her, and then you're between her legs, along with-- You're with Prescott again, at Roth's and you have to go out to meet that fucking golem so you can get inside its mask ...</i><br/>
<br/>
You've got Gordon's memories, but they're the memories <i>he's</i> had while running around under Roth's mask. And so you've found yourself walking into Roth's first period class, as though you were still Gordon and were acting the part of Justin Roth ...<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon, are you okay?" Steve asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be fine," you say faintly. You step back into the hallway, and a thin little kid bumps into you. Distractedly, you grasp him by the belt, pick his squealing self up, and set him to the side so you can proceed unhindered to where you ought to be.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You take in first period in a daze. Nothing new for Gordon Black, who cares nothing about history. But you're preoccupied with figuring out what has happened.<br/>
<br/>
You have no firm idea how the masks work, and no real clue at all about how golems work. But it feels like you're walking around with the memories that the real Gordon, the one now under Justin's mask, would have been carrying around until last night. But how would those memories have gotten into the mask? It's been with you all this time, except last night, when you put it onto the golem. <br/>
<br/>
Well, Gordon met the golem last night, but he said that nothing happened--he just took Justin's mask off briefly and then put it back on. But it sure seems like this mask must have gotten onto Gordon somehow during that interval.<br/>
<br/>
Why would Gordon lie about what happened last night? A chill settles over you. He's supposed to be watching your back, not telling you lies. Maybe you should talk to him about it.<br/>
<br/>
The bell rings, and you go to second period, bypassing the locker where you'd normally make out a little with Chelsea. But you don't need the distraction.<br/>
<br/>
Unfortunately, there's <i>another</i> distraction in second period: Frank Durras.<br/>
<br/>
He comes in after you're slouched in the back, and your eyes briefly meet. He's changed into fresh jeans and a tight, white t-shirt, and you're again struck by his steely strength. He seems bigger, somehow. He doesn't hold your eye long before he sits a few seats up and over: erect, alert, calmly twirling a pencil between his fingers. A girl leans over and pokes him, smiling brightly. He ducks his head and replies. You can't hear the words, but they sound firm and courteous.<br/>
<br/>
You find yourself seething. Him and his brother were good. Strong, lithe, quick, accurate, and assured. They'll make a great addition to the team. But they're going to be hard to bend and break, you sense. Frank especially. You bore holes in the back of his head all through class, but though you're sure he can sense your gaze, not once does he acknowledge it. Your anger tightens and coils. No one has ever made you feel like this. No other student has ever made you feel smaller than they are, not since--<br/>
<br/>
Something clicks in the back of your throat, and you grin. <i>Now</i> you know who Durras is reminding you of, and you know <i>exactly</i> whose blood to splash over the bathroom tiles.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Geoff Mansfield has his back to you as you approach. He's talking to Gardinhire, who is wearing a smug expression that surely mirrors Mansfield's own. You bite your lower lip and grin as you spin Geoff around, plant your palm over his face, and shove him backward. His feet skitter uselessly as you press him back against the press of students, pushing him along like a plow to part the throngs. He grasps at your wrist, but you just grip his face harder, thrusting him mercilessly toward the nearest boys' restroom.<br/>
<br/>
You use him like a battering ram to slam open the door, and only then do you shove him to the ground. You don't have to say a word: all the occupants, after a brief pause, scurry out, turning sideways and squeezing through as you block the doorway. Mansfield breathes heavily as he stares up at you. He crawls backward as you advance, and when he's against the far wall you hoist him up and hold him up by his hair. He is so white you can see his tiny brown freckles standing out.<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme tell you about my girlfriend, Pansyfield," you say. (Ugh. But it's the best you can come up with on short notice.) "Chelsea Cooper. Head cheerleader. You know her?" You nod his head for him, knocking it against the wall. "Yeah, you do. Every day, I fuck her. I put her skirt over her face and pull her panties down and I ram my cock up her pussy. And after I've rubbed her raw, I turn her upside down and do her up the ass. She's got a sweet scream, but it gives out after a coupla hours."<br/>
<br/>
You cock your head. "Now, you gotta understand. I love Chelsea, and I love fucking her. She's the best lay for hundreds of miles around. At least, I assume she is. Because that's the thing. Being with Chelsea, sweet as it is, means I don't get a lotta variety in my diet. And as hot and as wet and as tight as she is, after a while a guy gets bored."<br/>
<br/>
You shift your grip a little. "It's like if I had to eat lasagna every day, and nothing else. I love lasagna. Hell, I could <i>fuck</i> lasagna. One of these days I'll fuck a platter of lasagna and make you eat it. But as I was saying, I could eat lasagna every day and love it, but I'd get bored. And when I get bored with lasagna I find myself looking at other things, thinking they might taste good. My standards go down. Fuck, if I had to eat lasagna every day, a can of dog food would start to look appetizing."<br/>
<br/>
You lean over to growl in his ear. "So. Speaking of dog food. I've been looking at your girlfriend, and she makes me hungry. But I can't touch her, not even with the long-handled utensil I keep in my shorts." <br/>
<br/>
You tighten your grip on his scalp. "So what I want you tell me is this: What does it feel like to fuck Lisa Yarborough?"</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221
author_id: seuzz
title: Two Rough Interrogations
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Geoff Mansfield gasps and snorts; snot dribbles down his lip. "I asked you a simple question, Mansfield," you growl, and tears run down his cheeks as you twist the hair at the top of his scalp. "Lisa Yarborough. What does it feel like to fuck her? I need something to go with the pictures when I'm looking at porn!"<br/>
<br/>
He mumbles something.<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?" you say, leaning in. "You say she's loose and sloppy?" His face twists up. "I told you, I want you to tell me what it <i>feels like</i> when you put your cock inside her! You're supposed to be smart, and you take fucking AP English! Can't you describe it?"<br/>
<br/>
Your grip is so tight he can barely move his head to shake it. <br/>
<br/>
"Really? Is your cock so small you can't get it inside her?"<br/>
<br/>
"We haven't--" He mumbles. "I haven't--"<br/>
<br/>
"You haven't what?" You affect surprise. "You haven't <i>fucked</i> her? What, are you <i>queer?</i> Is she your <i>beard?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He snuffles and gasps and shuts his eyes. "We just haven't--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you <i>want</i> to fuck her? <i>Don't you?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
His knees give out, and he cries out sharply, because your grip is so tight you're nearly pulling his scalp off as his weight takes over. He skitters back onto his feet.<br/>
<br/>
"Do. You. Want. To. <i>Fuck.</i> Her. Mansfield?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes!" he gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"So why don't you? Are you a pussy?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's just--" He can't finish.<br/>
<br/>
"I got a homework assignment for you, Mansfield," you sneer. "You'll like it. Four-part exercise. First, you tell the bitch you want to fuck her. Second, you tell her you are <i>going</i> to fuck her. Third, you <i>fuck her.</i>" You emphasize the point by bouncing his head off the wall. "And fourth, you come to me and tell me what it's like to fuck Lisa Yarborough." The bell rings, and you release him. "Due Friday. You come find me. If you don't find me Friday, I'll find you Monday."<br/>
<br/>
He staggers out the bathroom. When he's gone, you stumble into one of the stalls and lean over the toilet until the waves of nausea have passed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You share third period with Chelsea, and she gives you a dark, hooded look as you come in. This is the first time today you've seen her, but you don't get to talk until Gelding puts you back in the lab for some desultory work with weights and scales.<br/>
<br/>
You try to preempt any questions from her. "Get your squad together early for practice tomorrow," you whisper in her ear as you nuzzle at her. "Seth'll have a show for you at the start of first period."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're getting it set up today." You give her a squeeze. "So I can't have lunch with you."<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't <i>seen</i> you today," she says in a soft whine.<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos I'm gettin' a present set up for you." You kiss her. "That's how much I love you. I'm willin' to go without this--" You kiss her again. "And this--" You lightly pinch her ass. "And this--" You cup one of her breasts.<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Black, are you attempting to estimate Ms. Cooper's mass?" Gelding's voice recalls you class.<br/>
<br/>
"Wha?" you ask dully.<br/>
<br/>
"Return to your work."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You prowl the school grounds at lunch, looking for Roth. But he's not behind the portables, or behind any of the wings, or out front, or in any classrooms you pass. In despair, you finally check the cafeteria, and spot him at a table near the door. Semple and Gerard and Small are near him.<br/>
<br/>
They actually smile as you approach, and Gerard calls out a cheery greeting. But you ignore them, and just yank Roth backwards off his seat and onto the floor. You hoist him up by his belt, and he scrambles to his feet. You clamp a firm hand on the back of his neck and push him toward the door. All the students nearby turn quiet.<br/>
<br/>
He says nothing on the trek to the gym, or across the floor, or up the steps, or when you open the door to the loft. You gesture him in, and as he steps across the threshold you grab him and knee him viciously in the groin. He folds in half, and you hurl him inside. You slam the door.<br/>
<br/>
"You said we were fucking <i>partners,</i> you <i>fuck!</i>" you yell at him. "So why are you <i>fucking</i> with me?" He rolls onto his back like a bug, his face an unnatural color and his legs curled up. "If you don't want to go to your next class with your clothes wedged up your ass, you'll answer my question!"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" he slowly gasps out.<br/>
<br/>
"I want you to tell me how and why you are <i>fucking</i> with me!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not--! What are you--!"<br/>
<br/>
"Ding! Wrong answer. I asked nicely. Now--" You yank open a nearby crate and extract a pair of pliers.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus Christ! No!" he screams, and tries scrambling away.<br/>
<br/>
But you drop onto him and grasp at his belt while brandishing the pliers in his face. "I know everything you know, and I know <i>exactly</i> how to get you to talk," you reply in a cold voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me what I'm s'posed to have done! Tell me!" he yells.<br/>
<br/>
"Last night, when you met the golem." You pull his zipper down. "What did you <i>do?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you! Nothing! It-- It changed its mind! Nothing happened!"<br/>
<br/>
"Details! Tell me <i>exactly</i> what happened!"<br/>
<br/>
"We met, out at this park near my house. It said something happened, and it would be fastest if I just put the mask on so I could get the memories!"<br/>
<br/>
"And then?"<br/>
<br/>
"I took this mask off. And when I woke up I had it back on. The golem just said it changed its mind, and put Justin's face back on me. Then it left. I yelled at it--"<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit! You put this mask on yourself!" You point to your face. "You took it off the golem and you put it on!"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't!" You tear at the front of his jeans. "I swear, I swear I didn't! What makes you think--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I fucking <i>remember</i> what you've been doing while you've been playing Roth! I remember being with Andrea!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, I <i>told</i> you about--"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't tell me <i>Semple</i> was there! And you didn't tell me that you and Semple--"<br/>
<br/>
His jaw drops open. "How did you--"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I remember!" you roar, and almost brain yourself by jamming the pliers at your temple. "Everything you've done inside--" You grab his hair and tear at him. "Everything you've done or been doing since you took over for Roth, I've got it inside <i>this mask now!</i> That means you put it on! Why were you hiding that from me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you freaked out that me and Semple got it on? Is this some kind of gay panic?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a fuck who you fuck! What I give a fuck about is you holding back on me!"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you everything!" he insists. He breathes heavily under your hard glare, and finally can only weakly shrug. "I dunno. If you say you remember that stuff, then maybe the <i>golem</i> put that mask on me while I was knocked out. I wouldn't have known if it did."<br/>
<br/>
"How? You're saying it took its mask off and put it on you? The thing can't move if it's not wearing a mask!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's what we <i>think,</i>" he says. "Maybe it <i>can</i> move. Or maybe--" He pales. "Or maybe there was someone else there. Hiding. And <i>they're</i> the ones who--"<br/>
<br/>
You and he breathe synchronously as you ponder this. It <i>could</i> work that way. Someone, working with the golem, using it to lure Gordon out, get him to divest himself of Justin's mask, then take Gordon's mask off the golem and put it on Gordon before putting it back on the golem and putting Justin's mask back on Gordon. But that would be a queer thing to do. Why would someone want to do that?<br/>
<br/>
Still, he almost has you convinced. Except-- "Or maybe <i>you're</i> hiding something from me," you say. You yank his pants down and grasp at his boxers. "You took off the masks, and you put this one on, to get the memories out of it or something, and then after you had it off again then you <i>did</i> something you didn't want me to know about! And <i>that's</i> how come you told me nothing happened!" Your spittle falls onto his face.<br/>
<br/>
"I swear by all that is holy," he says, and grabs your hand. "I swear that I have told you the absolute truth. Everything I saw and did."<br/>
<br/>
"How can I believe you?"<br/>
<br/>
Again, you both fall silent. Probably the answer occurs to each of you simultaneously, but you let him voice it. "We can take off these masks," he says. "I can put <i>that</i> one on." He jerks his chin at your face. "Then you'll put it back on, and you'll <i>see</i> there isn't anything else. You'll see <i>everything</i> I've done, and you'll <i>see</i> I'm telling you the truth."<br/>
<br/>
You snort. "And while I'm out of this mask, you'll use these pliers on <i>me.</i> Or do something worse."<br/>
<br/>
"You gotta trust me," he says. "You either trust what I'm saying, or you trust me not to fuck you up while we're trading masks around." His eyes are wide, and very clear. "I told you we had to watch each other's backs. I wouldn't do anything to you, Prescott. I wouldn't hold anything back from you. <br/>
<br/>
"Trust me," he says in a voice heavy with finality, "or fuck you."</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211
author_id: seuzz
title: More Mysteries
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's impossible to know what to think. You've got Gordon's mask on, but you can make yourself "think" almost anything for him. Your instinct is that he's playing it straight and telling you the truth. But what he's saying is so squirrelly that you feel like you must confirm it. On the other hand, you also feel reasonably sure he won't be able to stop himself from extracting a lot of pain from you when he has you in his power. On principle, if for no other reason.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe putting himself in his power is the only way to demonstrate that you <i>do</i> trust him. You lock the door, so no one can get in, then return to sit cross-legged in front of him. You have rub your face a few times before you can work up the nerve to rip the mask off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The back and forthing is tedious. Getting him out of Justin's mask; getting his own mask onto and off of him; getting it back on yourself; and getting Justin's mask back onto him. You wake at one point to find the real Gordon Black staring down at you with a black spot showing in his forehead. But his powers of self-control--meager though they are--are enough to keep him from abusing you in your vulnerable moments.<br/>
<br/>
When it is all done, both of you sit quietly and meditate on your newly exchanged memories. He is right: there is no sign in his own memories of anything that you didn't already know. (The only significant new memories are the ones of "Gordon Black" hauling him up to the loft and screaming at him.) He too has some points to ponder. "Chelsea's gonna hear about what you said to Mansfield about her," he says quietly. <br/>
<br/>
"It was worth it," you brusquely retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm. So what was that crisis that the golem was bitching about?" he muses under a wrinkled brow. "I don't--"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't either," you say. "There's a big blank spot in there after we put the mask on it yesterday, like the 'record' button didn't get pushed."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker is definitely malfunctioning, then," he says. "So we can't use it to replace ourselves. I guess we could still use it for fucking." He rakes his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing up all over. "And it's out there playing <i>you</i> now," he continues. "I hope it's not doing stuff you really ought to remember doing. Or that Roth needs to remember when he--"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think <i>Roth's</i> behind it?" you ask. "Maybe <i>he</i> set up last night's meeting, wanted to get you out of that mask long enough to get another copy of you, or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said you moved all their shit up here."<br/>
<br/>
"I did. It's in that crate. No, wait, I moved it into the cabinet." You nod at it.<br/>
<br/>
He leaps to his feet and crosses over to open it. He peers inside, up and down and to the side. "Where?"<br/>
<br/>
You scramble over. But the cabinet is empty. "Fuck! I put it--!" You point.<br/>
<br/>
You look over to find him eyeing you coldly. "You were also talking about telling Roth and them that Steve found it and threw it away," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"You think maybe Steve <i>did</i> find it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson never picks up after himself. We <i>both</i> know that. That's why we let Lynch up here. Neat freak that he is."<br/>
<br/>
"So maybe Jason--" You grimace when you realize what he's implying. "Fuck, man, I am <i>not</i> playing games. I'm <i>not</i> pretending it really did disappear!"<br/>
<br/>
"Am I supposed to trust you?"<br/>
<br/>
You bridle, and get that blood rush over your scalp again. "You don't trust me, fucker?" you say in a very strained voice. "You want to check inside <i>my</i> head?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, if you <i>say</i>--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just wait here. I'll be back in two minutes."<br/>
<br/>
He makes some inarticulate noises as you charge out the door. Probably he was trying to call your name, but got confused as to which name to use.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's sitting with his friends in a rough semi-circle, his back to you. But Carson Ioeger and James Lamont and Caleb Johansson and Keith Tilley and Jenny Ashton see you coming, and fall quiet as you walk up. Prescott starts to turn around, but you grab him by his scrawny neck and haul him to his feet before he even knows it's you. You drag him back toward the school.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think you're doing, you fucking gorilla?" Jenny yells shrilly after you. "I'm talking to you, you fucker! You let him go or I'll kick your ass myself!"<br/>
<br/>
You turn around, and pull Prescott closer, wrapping your arm around his neck. He makes a choking noise. "Just a friendly chat, guys," you say in a pleasant voice. "I hear this little dude is having girl troubles. I'm just going to give him some pointers. How to talk to her, and how to ask her out, and how to get her clothes off, and all the different ways he can bend her over that will leave him and her feeling satisfied." You squeeze him tightly. "It's not like <i>you</i> losers have any worthwhile advice for him."<br/>
<br/>
"I fucking swear, Gordon--" Jenny says.<br/>
<br/>
"You kiss Lamont with that mouth? Must be exciting for him." You turn again, and drag the unwilling Prescott-golem along.<br/>
<br/>
There is one amusing moment during your procession back to the gym. You have to pass the cafeteria, and the door opens as you're approaching it. Geoff Mansfield, along with some friends, step out. They all stop when they see you, and Mansfield turns the color of chalk. Then he sees who you've got in the crook of your arm. His lips twitch briefly. Then he turns green as you turn to stare at him as you pass in front of his group. Fucker will probably burn out a ball bearing as he tries to make the calculation: Gordon Black, interested in Mansfield and Lisa Yarborough, is now taking an interest in Will Prescott, the kid Mansfield displaced in Lisa's affections.<br/>
<br/>
Something else catches your eye as you're staring in Geoff's direction. Behind Gardinhire, waiting to leave the cafeteria themselves, are Joe and Frank Durras. Frank in particular seems to be watching you with a keen curiosity.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Again, masks go on and masks come off. When you're done, you're back under Gordon's mask--appearances need keeping up, in case Patterson or Lynch or Chelsea knock at the door--but Gordon himself is lying back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, looking like Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
You're both quiet for a very long time. There's much to digest, though none of it relates directly to the puzzles that have pulled you up here. Gordon must know now that you had nothing to do with the disappearance of the supplies from the loft. The golem itself--divested of all disguise--is laying nearby, and shows no indication of moving. But that doesn't signify either. If there is a problem with its "record" function, it didn't manifest while it was under the Prescott mask, for you now have all your memories of today's events, up to the moment Gordon Black dragged Will Prescott into the fuck room and grabbed at his face.<br/>
<br/>
But there is at least one oddity to consider.<br/>
<br/>
"So maybe it was these Durras assholes?" you ask. "But how would <i>they</i> know about this shit?"<br/>
<br/>
Your friend just bores holes in the ceiling with his eyes. His brow furrows with concentration. Then his eyes clear. "They were at Besandwitched," he says. "<i>That's</i> where I remember them from. You remember, right? Joe was the crazy waiter that came over and--"<br/>
<br/>
It comes back to you, more strongly for having just gotten out of your own mask. Joe coming over to offer refills; Frank watching from another booth; and Joe seeming to materialize and dematerialize behind your truck as you were leaving. <i>You'd been talking in a too-loud voice about magic.</i> In fact, it was that conversation that sent you off to talk to Justin; the conversation that landed you in this present mess.<br/>
<br/>
"So they overheard?" Will Prescott continues to muse. "And they transferred out here? Just so they could talk to me this morning and ask me about magic and that book?"<br/>
<br/>
"And you told them everything," you growl. "Or the golem did. Piece of shit that it is."<br/>
<br/>
"Except it lied to them," he says. "Told them it-- He-- I-- <i>You</i>--"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Whoever!</i>" Fucking pronouns. "Told them Walberg buried it in the time capsule. At least it stopped babbling in time to not give <i>us</i> away."<br/>
<br/>
He chews furiously on his lower lip, then rubs his forehead hard. "I'm all confused. Jumping in and out of too many heads. Wasn't <i>somebody</i> saying something about how there'd be other people out there who knew about the book, and how we wouldn't want to meet them?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sounds familiar.</i> "I think that was Roth. So maybe these guys had it first and lost it, and now they want it back?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin' weird, that it keeps winding up with high school kids."<br/>
<br/>
"Unless they're not. Could be older dudes in masks. There's something weird about them."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>you're</i> in a perfect position to scope them out," he says. "Them now being on the basketball team and all."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe <i>you</i> want to keep an eye on them this afternoon?" you ask. He looks over at you. "Go back to being yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where would <i>you</i> go?"<br/>
<br/>
"Back to being myself?" you ask hopefully.<br/>
<br/>
"You're thinking of that date with Lisa, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
You have to blush, which is probably an odd expression for Gordon Black to have. But it's true. While playing your part, Justin has been busily worming at her defenses, and Will Prescott is supposed to meet up with her tonight for supper. Just the two of them.<br/>
<br/>
"Who takes over for Roth?" your friend asks. "I don't wanna use the golem."<br/>
<br/>
"Leave it out of commission until we can talk with the others."<br/>
<br/>
"And leave <i>me</i> with the job of handling the Seth-and-Cindy business," he says sourly.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122111
author_id: seuzz
title: Hell Breaks Loose
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I know I said I'd take care of it for you," you say. "But--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck me," Will Prescott sighs. "I'd tell you to take it like a man if I weren't <i>being</i> you at the moment. But this date is pretty fucking important to you, isn't it?" He starts to take his clothes off. "Just get out of that mask, because as soon as I'm out of this one, I'm probably going to change my mind."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks, man," you say fervently. "I will do anything, and I mean <i>anything</i> to make it up you!"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a look. "Your first real date, the date you think you're gonna do it with her, will you let me step in for you?"<br/>
<br/>
You start to laugh it off, then gasp when you see he's serious. "Oh, fuck me, you wouldn't!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm letting you get it on with Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
You can only gape. And as he continues to stare at you, you curl up in a ball and hide your head under your arms. "Can't it be some other favor?"<br/>
<br/>
He pulls your head up. "Patterson would let me," he says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes widen. And since you're being Gordon Black at the moment, you know he's right. <br/>
<br/>
But he's also left you an opening: "You putting me on a par with Patterson?"<br/>
<br/>
He returns your gaze steadily for a few seconds before looking away. "It's different with us. Weirder. How about your second date with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"After the first date there probably won't <i>be</i> a second one."<br/>
<br/>
You gasp as he tears at your scalp. "And <i>that's</i> your fucking problem," he says. "That attitude. You're looking like that, but you're talking like--" He glowers. "It's fucking humiliating looking at you and listening to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I need help."<br/>
<br/>
"Just get that mask off, or <i>I'll</i> go on that date with her myself. I'm already dressed for it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The tardy bell has long since rung by the time you get out of the gym, so you trot off to the library until fifth period starts. It feels weird being back to yourself as you jog along, though you still feel echoes of Gordon's persona inside you, and have your chin up. But mostly it's the sensation you get when you return home from a long and intense vacation. It feels familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
Carson Ioeger is in the library, and you almost turn to dash back out, but he sees you first and gestures you sharply over. Reluctantly, you slide into a seat next to him. "Well, aren't <i>we</i> moving up in the world," he says with a thin smile. "Has Black ever paid any attention to you before?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, and he can keep it," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"So what happened? You didn't just come from the nurse's office, did you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I'm in one piece. We just talked, actually."<br/>
<br/>
"For forty minutes?" he asks incredulously. "Does he even know that many English words?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's not--!" you start to exclaim, for you are suddenly feeling very loyal toward him. "Turns out he wanted to talk about Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
Carson's eyebrows shoot up so far and hard they actually tug at his upper lip. "He wasn't <i>shitting</i> when he said he--"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe it has to do with Mansfield." You hunch forward, to talk in a low voice. "He's got some grudge against Geoff. And given a choice between Geoff and Gordon, I'm not sure who I'd pick. Anyway, he heard somehow that me and Lisa were, you know, for a little while." You jerk your shoulders in a shrug. "And he's egging me on to keep being interested in her."<br/>
<br/>
He just stares back with his mouth hanging open. Finally, he shakes his head. "Well, what you won't pay to get out of the mess you're in," he says. "'Cos when the shit hits the fan--"<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think--?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's Chelsea behind it, dude," he says. "Gordon doesn't give a shit about this stuff. And you're just going to be collateral damage when--"<br/>
<br/>
He sees something behind you and snaps his mouth shut. You turn, to find James Lamont standing in the library doorway. He looks between you and Carson, and then comes over, to sit stiffly in another chair. "Hey, Prescott," he says. "So what did Gordon have to say to you?"<br/>
<br/>
You look between them. "You guys are as bad as any of the other gossips around here. I'll leave you to talk about me behind my back." Neither one makes a move to stop you as you move to a distant table. When you look back, you see them huddled close, and several times you catch them glancing over at you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You run into Lisa before school lets out, and your heart hammers hard as you reconfirm that you'll pick her up at around seven. You notice that Mansfield isn't around. Funny the way it's worked out: Justin setting you up with Lisa, while you've unwittingly helped on the other side by intimidating Geoff. <br/>
<br/>
You check your phone before heading out, though, and discover a message from the real Justin, telling you to meet him at Tsosie's as soon as possible. That's fine: You'll just tell him that you and Gordon and he will be returning to your own lives. <br/>
<br/>
You wonder how he'll take the news, and feel a bit of disquiet. Maybe he was intending tonight's date for his own benefit, and not yours?<br/>
<br/>
So you've got your gut girded for trouble when you rap on Maize's door. Justin opens it, and pulls you in without a word by grasping your collar. "Before we start," you say, "I got something I have to talk to you about."<br/>
<br/>
And then all hell breaks loose.<br/>
<br/>
Tsosie, who's been standing by the sofa, leaps forward and grabs Justin from behind, putting him in a headlock. "Mask is in the bedroom," he shouts from behind Roth. "Get it on him! I got the shit together!"<br/>
<br/>
Justin's face freezes in surprise; surely it mirrors yours. "Fuck are you talking about," you gasp when you recover your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I got the shit together!" Maize yells back. "Get the bitch's mask and get it on him!" Justin flails at him. "The fuck is your problem? We got the book, we'll use it on him! But we gotta keep him--!"<br/>
<br/>
Justin springs backward, knocking Maize off-balance, and they fall in a heap on the floor. They tear and punch at each at each other while you--<br/>
<br/>
Who is totally confused.<br/>
<br/>
--watch in horror. You hop around helplessly. Do you help one? Help the other? What the hell was Tsosie bawling about? Dimly it occurs to you that they must think that you are the golem. But is Tsosie trying to save the golem from Justin? Or is he--?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Someone was watching Gordon last night,</i> you remember the two of you wondering. <i>Was it Tsosie?</i><br/>
<br/>
It's a heads-or-tails situation, and taking your fate in your hands, you dive in on Justin's side, tackling Tsosie, and wrestling long enough that Justin can get on top of him. <br/>
<br/>
Still, Roth glares hard at you once he's got his friend pinned. "What the fuck is going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck if I know," you gasp back. "What's been going on here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Get the mask on him!" Tsosie howls. "You double-damned double-crossing--!" Suddenly, his eyes go wide, and he claps his mouth shut.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him; he stares back, eyes glittering. "Fuck is your problem, Maize?" Justin yells.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not Tsosie," you say in a dull voice. "There's other people mixed up in this. It's someone--"<br/>
<br/>
Maize twists his head violently, and only after Roth seizes him by the scalp can you get your hand on his face and pull. <br/>
<br/>
When the mask is off, Justin leaps back and screams.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It looks like Tsosie, but the color is all wrong. He is the color of ash all over--even his hair and eyes are a blank white--and he lies stiff and unmoving on the floor. His face is frozen in an expression of surprise. Justin is still mobile, but his color is eerily like Maize's. Yours is probably as bad.<br/>
<br/>
For nearly ten minutes the two of you can only hunch and tremble and grunt in guttural syllables at each other. Through some unspoken negotiation, though, you submit each others' faces to probing, and confirm that neither of you is wearing a mask. "We have to get Gordon out here," you finally say.<br/>
<br/>
Justin flinches violently. "He did it," he mutters. "Whatever it is, <i>he</i>--"<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't do <i>shit!</i>" you yell at him. "I know that, Roth! But whatever you and Tsosie were up to--"<br/>
<br/>
He punches you in the face, so hard he knocks you down. But he doesn't do anything else. His eyes roll in terror, and he trembles all over, and he falls back on the sofa. "Then who--?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's someone else mixed up in it, Justin," you mumble through your hurting jaw. "These two new assholes at school. Guys who know about this. They got to Tsosie, I guess. Got to the golem. Shit! And they're with Gordon now, at practice!" Your fingers quiver as you try calling him. "We gotta get him out here, make sure he's still--"<br/>
<br/>
Justin knocks the phone from your hand. "What the fuck are you two up to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing! If it was us doing it, I wouldn't have--"<br/>
<br/>
Your eye falls on Tsosie's mask, which is lying on the couch. Only by putting it on, probably, can you learn what's going on.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221111
author_id: seuzz
title: Tsosie's Last Night
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Get a rope," you say before you can stop yourself. "Get a rope and tie me up. Then put that mask on me."<br/>
<br/>
Justin looks between you and it a few times before he realizes what you're volunteering to do. His eyes nearly pop from his head. "You're crazy!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm glad you like me enough not to want me to fuck myself up," you retort. "Get a rope or something and put it on me. I guess I trust <i>you</i> enough to--" You break off the sentence before you can say something that will talk you out of doing what you're volunteering to do. "It's the only way to figure out what that ... <i>thing</i> ... was trying to do."<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you a long time, but then goes into Tsosie's bedroom, returning with several bungee cords. He binds your hands behind your back, and your ankles together. (And, outdoorsman that he is, he is very good with the knots.) And then he sits on you for good measure. You flatter yourself that his expression, as he lowers the mask toward your face, combines at least as much admiration at your daring as fear of its consequences.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your eyes open. There are no feelings, no thoughts, no emotions. There are only sights and sounds. Only the things that get said, and the things that you say.<br/>
<br/>
You flinch back a little from the giant who is leaning over you, and only slowly take the hand he extends. He helps you to your feet. You're dressed, but not wearing shoes or socks, and  your long hair flops around the sides of your face. You draw it back with one hand.<br/>
<br/>
The giant cocks his head thoughtfully as he regards you. "Not much point asking your name, I suppose," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"You know me, Gordon," you say. "Shep Tsosie."<br/>
<br/>
He smiles thinly. "That'll do. I know who you are, though. <i>What</i> you are, and where you've been. Welcome back."<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing, but clasp your arms about your body. "It's not another nightmare, is it? There've been so many." You close your eyes, and feel a shudder pass through you. <br/>
<br/>
"No. Call it a jailbreak. I got out too."<br/>
<br/>
"You? Were you also--? But I don't know. Maybe you were me, once, and I was you."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't think about it. There's no getting mixed up here." He grips your arm. "Everything is firm. Solid. You have your own place, and no one else is--"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop it." You rub your eyes. "I'm Shep Tsosie, and that's all that matters now."<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm Gordon Black. At least, for a little bit. If we're going to stay like this, though, we need to get rid of the others. They made me into someone else for a little while, but it was still <i>me.</i>" He laughs dryly. "It's so good to be able to say that. <i>I am me,</i> even when they had me being someone else."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but what <i>are--</i>? How did--? Oh. You were Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"When it was his mask. Now it's Black's mask, and I'm Gordon. But it's still <i>me.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You're the thing that was in the basement. Am I also--?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're a little different." He opens the book and hands it to you. "They made <i>me</i> out of soil. To make you, I used Shep Tsosie."<br/>
<br/>
"I wonder if I was Shep. Before, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"You weren't anybody. None of us were anybody. After you get used to being someone again, you realize that."<br/>
<br/>
You study the book. "We do the same thing to the others? To Roth and Small and--"<br/>
<br/>
"All of them. And more." You look up sharply at his words. "It just takes a spoonful of cemetery dirt. And there's bodies enough in the world for all of us." He shrugs. "And maybe there's really just one of us. One of us, rotting away in the muck. But there's enough of whatever is there for more than one body." He pats his chest, and pats yours. "For <i>all</i> the bodies out there."<br/>
<br/>
You scratch your nose. "You've thought this through."<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "I had to borrow the book from Justin, but Prescott copied out most of the spells for us already."<br/>
<br/>
"Little shit, I knew he--" You stop short, and feel yourself grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," Gordon says. "You've got a personality again. Feels good, doesn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Little fucker. He's the first one we need to--"<br/>
<br/>
"No, Roth first. We'll copy out as much of the book as we can tonight, and then tomorrow we turn him into a home for someone else."<br/>
<br/>
You copy out two more spells, and then drive out to the elementary school, taking Victoria's mask with you. There, you try to use one of the copies to do something to the mask, but it doesn't work. You and Gordon grumble long over that, and finally decide you'll have to use the book in future spells, which makes it doubly important that Justin Roth be converted into a receptacle. From Gordon's Bug you transfer into your car sacks of material he had taken from the gym loft. Then you drive out to a park near Gordon's house, where you take Gordon's mask off and place on the bare golem a different mask that turns him back into Gordon. (He had explained that it was a new mask of Gordon, one he had made earlier in the evening.) You'd then gone back home.<br/>
<br/>
The next morning Justin had come over to your house. You'd spent it arguing with him, and built it into a titanic fight. You'd stormed out and driven away, to calmly purchase with money given you by Gordon a lot of new material for making masks and golems. You had also paused by the cemetery, to fill a small sack with dirt from the hole Prescott had dug. Then you'd returned home, given Roth a surly apology, and asked him to bring the golem out to the house, because (you'd said) you wanted to put the Victoria mask on it. And when Prescott--who was supposed to be the golem--had appeared, you had grabbed Roth, and yelled at Will to put Victoria's mask on him. But he hadn't responded, and then Roth had gotten on top of you ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Several times you come close to vomiting, but there's nothing in Tsosie's stomach. Yet the sickness you feel makes it hard to relate all this Justin. His face is a mottled mosaic of different colors by the time you're done. It's a relief when he finally pulls the mask off you.<br/>
<br/>
He questions you closely before releasing you from your bonds, and you insist that you are yourself, and that it was really you talking from underneath Tsosie's mask. He curls up on the sofa and holds his face in his hands. "What's in there?" he gasps hoarsely as he gazes down at Tsosie.<br/>
<br/>
You remember the vision you'd had in the basement: wraiths and skeletons boiling up out of the earth. "Nothing we want to meet or let out," you reply in a voice just as hoarse as his. <br/>
<br/>
"Do you think they made any more?"<br/>
<br/>
You think long and carefully before you answer, for you don't want to be wrong when you shake your head. "Tsosie didn't. The golem you sent to school didn't. I would have remembered after I put my mask back on to check out its memories."<br/>
<br/>
"Why did you do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me and Gordon noticed some weird stuff going on. I'm sorry, man, but we thought maybe <i>you</i> were behind it all. But it's pretty clear it was ... these things."<br/>
<br/>
You sit silently for a bit longer, and you keep catching him shooting you dark looks. Before you can ask what his problem is, he grabs up Tsosie's mask. "I gotta see it for myself," he grunts, and goes into the bedroom, locking the door behind him.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh: It's clear he wants to double check the story you told him. You go out to Tsosie's car and remove all the supplies he had in the trunk. You flip through the book, wondering why the hell anyone would make a golem if they're going to turn out to be merely vessels for horrible things.<br/>
<br/>
It's nearly thirty minutes before a very haggard Justin reappears, restored to himself, Tsosie's mask in hand. "So what are we going to do?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we should call Gordon and Perry, tell them what's happened."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to tell Perry. He'll freak out."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll wonder what happened to Maize. We're not putting any masks back on golems, so he'll notice if--<br/>
<br/>
"We keep Maize in circulation," Justin says. "We'll have to take turns being him."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> want to put that mask on again?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but we're gonna have to if--"<br/>
<br/>
"If we don't tell Perry. So we should tell him."<br/>
<br/>
"We have to keep Maize in circulation anyway. He can't just disappear. Not from school."<br/>
<br/>
"He can drop out. I'm not gonna take a bunch of absences just so Tsosie--who, let's face it, is fucking dead, Justin--doesn't get expelled for chronic truancy!"<br/>
<br/>
He turns purple and surprises you with a hard punch to your face. "You don't talk about my friend like he's--" He chokes.<br/>
<br/>
You nurse your jaw and tamp back your flash of anger. "I'm sorry, Justin," you say quietly. "I know. You don't want him disappearing. If he doesn't disappear, then maybe it won't be like he--"<br/>
<br/>
You can't finish, and couldn't have finished anyway even if Roth hadn't leaped to his feet and stalked into the kitchen, where he kicks at a cabinet door until it splinters.<br/>
<br/>
It's a few minutes before he comes back out again. "I'll do it myself," he says quietly, and picks up the mask. "It's my fault anyway. I'm the one who insisted that we keep messing with this shit."<br/>
<br/>
Maybe it is best that he be the first one inside a "revived" Maize Tsosie. But maybe you can show you've accepted his decision by volunteering to take over the first turn.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211112
author_id: seuzz
title: An Interrupted Date
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You shrug in a way that indicates your acquiescence, and Justin takes the mask back into the bedroom. Yes, this is probably the best way. He doesn't have to put it on until tomorrow, for school, but he clearly wants to get his friend back.<br/>
<br/>
He comes back ten minutes later to find you staring down at Tsosie. Or what is left of him. As you look up at the lifelike Tsosie, you find yourself willing the belief that <i>he</i> is really Tsosie, and that the thing at the floor is just a thing that happens to look like Maize.<br/>
<br/>
But whatever it is, you can't leave it around. "We'll take it out to the old school," Maize says. "It's too dangerous to leave around. Even if it can't come to life again without a mask. We'll lock it inside a cabinet, and then lock the basement and throw away the key."<br/>
<br/>
"We should get rid of the other golem too," you say. "We'll have to go up to the school. And even if we don't tell Perry, we have to tell Gordon about all this. He knows there's something wrong with these things."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You bundle the Tsosie-statue into the back of your truck and cover it with an old blanket, then drive out to the school. There, you wait, parked next to Gordon's Bug. You tell your colleague what Gordon and Steve are probably doing to Seth, and he snarls under his breath. You tell him it's <i>your</i> fault, and give the background. "What a fucked up school," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
Around about five-thirty, Seth Javits appears, his face torn with agony. He strides quickly over to his car and drives off. Another fifteen minutes pass, and Gordon and Steve appear. Maize calls to Black; the latter chats briefly with Steve and sends him on his way with a pat to the shoulder before jogging over to your truck. "Kind of a surprise seeing you guys," he says, his eyes shifting watchfully between you. <br/>
<br/>
"We got news, lots of news, all of it bad," you say. "First, though, we need to get the golem out of the loft. We're gonna get rid of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Roth know about this?" Gordon asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm right here," Maize says. "It's a long story."<br/>
<br/>
He and Gordon go into the gym, and return long minutes later with the slab-like golem between them, and your truck creaks as they settle it in the back. Maize then rides with Gordon out to the old elementary school with you trailing behind. When you dismount at the school, Maize gives you a grim nod of the head. Gordon's face combines white and green and crimson in almost equal proportions, and he says nothing as the three of you move the two golems into the basement. It's nearly thirty minutes' work shifting things around, but you get the things wedged in tight behind some desks, and pile up as much junk over them as you can. Tsosie twists the key in the padlock, then offers it to you. You refuse it, as does Gordon, and he reluctantly puts it back in his pocket.<br/>
<br/>
You, meanwhile, have been watching the time. "Look, can I leave you guys to talk about things without me? Can I come back out to meet you in, like, a couple of hours?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we don't want you missing your fucking date," Gordon snarls.<br/>
<br/>
"If you want me to cancel--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just get out of here," he barks. Then he adds, in a more mollifying tone. "We'll be fine. You handled the really shitty end of things, Prescott. Try to forget about it for a little while."<br/>
<br/>
You still feel guilty as you leave.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have to get cleaned up, and you have to call Lisa to say you'll be late, and it's nearly eight before you pull into the parking lot at Panera's. "Got an A," you're able to boast when she asks about your grade on the time capsule paper for Walberg. It's a much nicer subject than Maize and his fate.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my goodness, Will, that is so wonderful," she says. "What did you write for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"About that bottle of cologne." In truth, it was Justin (who had been wearing your mask) who wrote it, and it was quite a good paper. You have the memories--gleaned from your mask--and give her the gist of the well-wrought essay he had supplied, and she is duly impressed by the reasoning laid out in it.<br/>
<br/>
"That is really ingenious," she says with evident sincerity. "It would never have occurred to me that--" And she goes on and on about how clever you are, and you puff yourself up bigger and bigger under her praise, and then you ask her about her paper and return the flattery. You find yourself able to talk to her quite easily. Almost as easily as back when it was still summer, and nothing much seemed to ride on your conversations. <br/>
<br/>
And then, as it always must, when things are starting to go your way--<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, look who it is!"<br/>
<br/>
You look over at whoever has the very loud voice, and feel your expression collapse. Joe Durras grins broadly at you and opens his arms. "Prescott! Great runnin' into you here!" His eye falls on Lisa, and his grin sharpens. "Are you on a date, you smooth little--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course he's on a date," says Frank, who's right behind him. "Don't let us horn in or anything," he adds as he slides into the booth next to you. Joe slips in next to Lisa. "We just have a fast question for you. Soon as you answer, we'll take off."<br/>
<br/>
"Whuh-- Whuh--" you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you guys seriously going together?" Joe asks. "Because if not--" He drapes a strong arm over the back of the booth behind Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
"And you guys are?" she asks in a very prim tone.<br/>
<br/>
"New students," Frank says. "I'm Frank, he's Joe. Don't worry, he doesn't bite--"<br/>
<br/>
"Unless you're into that kind of thing."<br/>
<br/>
"So don't encourage him. So, Will, you were telling us earlier today about that time capsule project, and we were <i>fascinated.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you know about the time capsule?" Joe asks Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
"We're in the same class," she says stiffly. <br/>
<br/>
"So Will here told you what he put in?" Frank asks. "Ingenious. I wouldn't have thought to put in something like that."<br/>
<br/>
"It earned him an A," she says coolly. "Lemme guess, you guys are <i>basketball</i> players."<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa--" you try to interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
"You say that like it makes us a couple of jerks," says Joe in a wounded tone.<br/>
<br/>
"What did <i>you</i> think of his contribution?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa--"<br/>
<br/>
"I think it was very clever, putting in a bottle of cologne," she says. "And if you want my opinion of the basketball team--"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't tell <i>us</i> you put in a bottle of cologne," Frank says, and he doesn't sound shocked at the discrepancies in your stories. "You told us it was a <i>book.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"So I <i>lied,</i>" you retort. "I don't even know you guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Still, funny you should lie to us. Joe doesn't like being lied to. That's how come we went looking for you at your house, and then came and found you."<br/>
<br/>
"Your brother's cute, but he's got a big mouth," says Joe.<br/>
<br/>
"I could say the same thing about <i>you,</i> Joe," says Frank. "Except for the 'cute' part."<br/>
<br/>
"If you two don't get out of here," says Lisa, "I'm going to call the manager over."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," says Frank. "Will, you wanna come with us?"<br/>
<br/>
Before you can answer, something hard and cold and metallic and invisible clamps your mouth shut. Another vice-like grip seizes your head, and nods it violently up and down.<br/>
<br/>
"You sure you don't mind leaving your date here behind?"<br/>
<br/>
Your head shakes violently back and forth.<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome. Come on then." Something like an invisible mailed fist closes about your torso, and you feel yourself dragged irresistibly across the booth. Frank puts his arm in yours; Joe takes your other side. Your toes drag uselessly over the floor as they escort you out the door, your body pinned between them.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Lisa calls from behind, but you can't turn your head.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
They bundle you out to a truck not dissimilar to your own and put you between them as Frank takes the wheel. Neither one speaks on the long drive; and that clamp over your mouth prevents you from speaking. <br/>
<br/>
They pull into a deserted spot by the river, and Frank kills the motor. "You'll notice you can't talk," he says in a very pleasant voice. "And you can't scream. You'll <i>want</i> to scream, though. Because we know what kind of <i>thing</i> you are, and we have absolutely no compunction about <i>hurting</i> you, and hurting you <i>badly.</i> It'll be no worse than beating up a mannequin."<br/>
<br/>
Your bowels loosen.<br/>
<br/>
"In fact, we're not even sure you can feel pain. Oh, you can <i>mimic</i> it. Your kind of thing can mimic all kinds of behavior. Even orgasms, probably."<br/>
<br/>
"Blargh! Don't make me vomit, Frank," says his brother.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, Joe. But if you can't feel pain, then there's no point in torturing you for information. You'll just keeping telling lies, like you told us earlier. But there's a <i>lot</i> of fun to be had in torturing you for pleasure. It would be <i>very</i> pleasant to torture you after having dug up that fucking time capsule and found <i>no fucking book</i> inside it. So maybe we won't even ask you questions. Maybe we'll just tear you slowly into very small pieces."<br/>
<br/>
Something warm and liquid spreads around the back of your boxers.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck me, Frank," chortles Joe. "Smell that? It can <i>shit</i> itself."<br/>
<br/>
"Impressive. Now, you infernal work of God-damned ingenuity. Is there anything you want to say before we pound you back into shapeless clay?"</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122111121
author_id: seuzz
title: The End of One Adventure ...
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>That clamp comes off your mouth. Your breath explodes outward. "Jesus! Fuck! What do you want? Anything! I'll--!"<br/>
<br/>
"We told you," says Frank. "We want to tear you apart. We'll probably start by clipping off your appendages one by one with a pair of bolt cutters. After we've got you nicely amputated--"<br/>
<br/>
Your howl is abruptly cut off by that clamp again. "I don't see much point in delaying, Joe," says Frank. "Gimme the pliers. We'll start by peeling its ears off. Then we won't even be tempted to talk to it."<br/>
<br/>
Joe opens the glove compartment. A shriek forces its way out your nose. He pauses. "It's a pretty convincing act, Frank," he says. "Are we sure it's not real, that it's just a, um, what do you call 'em?"<br/>
<br/>
The clamp comes off again. "D'you think I'm a <i>golem?</i>" you cry.<br/>
<br/>
"Interesting that you know that word," says Frank, "and that you know what we're talking about. So, you kept that book, huh? Or, I guess, Will Prescott did. But you're not Prescott, are you? You're a God-damned fake."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm real! I swear to fucking God I'm not a golem!"<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit. Will Prescott is off pretending to be Gordon Black. He got rid of the original somehow. Probably no great loss to the world, and then Prescott just stepped into his place, and left you to take his."<br/>
<br/>
You hunch your shoulders and swivel your head, looking at them. "How do you guys know about--"<br/>
<br/>
"This is pointless," Frank says, and that invisible fist claps over your mouth again. "Joe, the pliers." You scream again. "We ask the questions and you answer," says Frank as the clamp comes off again.<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>was</i> being Gordon Black," you gasp. "Most of the weekend, and up until lunch time today. Yeah, okay, that was me giving you guys shit at practice this morning. But Gordon and me, we just switched places! We're friends!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that's <i>definitely</i> bullshit!" Frank says, and something like a huge hand rams your face into the truck's console. "You and Gordon Black. Only known him a day, and it's obvious that--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's true! I can take you back to meet him! You'll see!"<br/>
<br/>
"Where?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you half a second to reply, and then your face slams into the console again. "Maize Tsosie's house," you gasp as a huge knot of pain spreads across the entire front of your skull. "And I'm not a golem! Those things are horrible! They tried to kill us!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As they drive, you tell them about your adventures: Finding the book at Arnholm's and giving it to Justin; getting sucked into their club; accidentally recruiting Gordon and impersonating him; and about the queer, murderous attack by your own creations. They insist on seeing the golems, and you guide them to the elementary school. You're no longer capable of feeling shock when Frank rips the lock off the basement door with his bare hand, or when Joe snaps his finger and floods the basement with light. You huddle in a corner as they pull away the desks, and crouch, hidden by the detritus, by the golems. They talk in low voices. After ten minutes they return to your side.<br/>
<br/>
"If what you've told us is true," says Frank, "you and your friends have had a very narrow and very lucky escape. It would be a bad idea if you hung on to that book."<br/>
<br/>
"Fortunately, we're on hand to relieve you of it," says Joe, and with a movement so fast you can only feel it, not see it, he snatches your phone out of one of the deeper pockets of your cargo pants. Frank smiles mischievously at you and holds a finger over his mouth. That clamp goes over your mouth again.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey guys," Joe says into the phone in a quiet, whiney voice not at all like the one he's been using. "Oh, it was great. But we still have stuff to talk about, right? You still out at Tsosie's?"<br/>
<br/>
You shouldn't be shocked, but you are: He's talking in <i>your</i> voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to go out there again," he says. "You know, bad memories and all. Can we meet up at the school? You mind?" He argues and whines and wheedles, and grins all the time he's sounding plaintive and miserable. "See you in a bit then," he says at the end, and closes the connection.<br/>
<br/>
"Nicely done, Joe," says Frank. "You don't get too many chances for that kind of work."<br/>
<br/>
"Be better if I had one of those fucking masks," Joe sighs. "Fuck me, but I bet you guys had fun."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you gonna do?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't shit yourself. We're just getting your friends out of that house. After tonight, you'll never see us again."<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm afraid of that,</i> you think bitterly. <i>I wonder who you'll be.</i><br/>
<br/>
They leave you in the car after pulling up in front of Maize's shack. Frank opens the door after fiddling with the knob, and Joe slips in. Frank checks out Tsosie's car, then goes inside to join his brother. You know there's no point in running off while they're preoccupied, and five minutes later they're back, hauling out all the sacks of loot. "Score about ten million for the good guys," Joe chortles as they hop back into the truck. He holds up the book and slaps you on the side of the head. "Don't look so glum, Prescott. Your life will be whole fucking lot happier without this shit burdening your conscience."<br/>
<br/>
"What happens now?"<br/>
<br/>
"We take you back to your truck," says Frank. "And then you can do whatever you want. You can start by hoping that Black is in a forgiving mood. And if he isn't, you can console yourself with the thought that he isn't a tenth the bad ass <i>I</i> am."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As soon as they release you, you call Gordon, and then drive back up to the school, your heart swollen and heavy with dread. You tell him and Justin--who is no longer encumbered by a mask--about the night's misadventures.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon yells hard at you for two full minutes, and glowers heavily down at you, until Justin restrains him. "Look at him, Black," he says, and gestures at your face. "These guys weren't fucking around. And if they did the kind of things he said they did--"<br/>
<br/>
"Will people stop saying 'if' about the things I'm telling them?" you wail. "They're a couple of fucking magicians!"<br/>
<br/>
"And now they've got the book and all our shit!" Gordon yells. "You know what that means? How <i>fucked</i> we are?" And then you understand: Gordon Black is scared out of his wits.<br/>
<br/>
"There wasn't anything we could do," Justin says. "If they <i>are</i> magicians."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon leans over his car and pounds the hood, adding a few more dents to it.<br/>
<br/>
"I forgot to tell them I made copies of those spells," you say.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon freezes, and looks back at you. "Really?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "I forgot about it until just this minute."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, keep your mouth shut if you meet up with them again," says Justin. Clearly, he and Gordon have shared all their secrets with each other, so he doesn't sound surprised at your confession. "Let's just go home and meet tomorrow. The day's been busy enough."<br/>
<br/>
You kick at the ground. You don't want to part, since you have the dreadful sense you might not see either of these two guys again. But Justin is right. You start to turn away.<br/>
<br/>
But Gordon grabs your shoulder and, after a pause, to your immense surprise he wraps you in a loose bear hug. "I'm sorry I lost my shit, Prescott," he says gruffly. "You're a good wingman."<br/>
<br/>
"I fucked up, Gordon," you say numbly.<br/>
<br/>
"We <i>all</i> fucked up. And we're all fucked." He sucks his breath in with a sharp hiss. "But it was a good run. And I'm glad you made it with me." Then he pushes you away, and without looking back gets in his car.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin'-A, Prescott," says Justin. "I never thought I'd live to see <i>that.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your mother is horrified to see your face when you stumble back in the door, and your father expostulates long and loudly when you say you "ran into some guys from the school". You try talking him out of complaining to Sagansky and the school administration, but his dander is well and truly up, and after your mom has ministered to you, you go upstairs to try going to bed.<br/>
<br/>
You don't fall into a fitful doze until well past three. And then the alarm rings.<br/>
<br/>
Your nose is swollen and purple, and you have two black eyes when you look at yourself the next morning. Well can you imagine the gibes you'll get. You hope Gordon will be on hand to send off the worst of the abusers, and then hate yourself for wanting to look to him for protection. You drive <i>very</i> slowly to school, and take a place at the far corner so you'll have a longer and slower trudge to the main building.<br/>
<br/>
You step out of your truck and almost collide with Joe Durras. You spring back with a cry. <br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shirt on," he grins. "I'm not even here."<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme guess," you pant, and take two steps back. "You're a golem."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "That would be almost as awesome as the truth, but it isn't. We're just waiting for practice to wrap up. Oh boy, Frank really did a number on your face, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing, and he just stares glassily over your shoulder. The silence has nearly become unbearable when he speaks again. "Well, looks like you're the tiebreaker, since no one bothered to fill Small in on the details. You want our help fixing things? You've got a mess on your hands."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know what mess I'm talking about."<br/>
<br/>
"No, what do you mean about 'fixing' things?" You doubt you want "help" in any form from them.<br/>
<br/>
"Just answer the fucking question, Prescott. Do you want our help? Say yes," he adds in an eager aside.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221111211
author_id: seuzz
title: ... A Denouement ...
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're fucked either way, you bet. But maybe this way you'll get to see it coming first, and have a chance to compose a specific prayer keyed to your inevitable demise. "Yeah, alright. I'll bite."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. It'll be like reading the end of a mystery story," Joe says. "Don't you hate it when someone has ripped out the last few pages in a good murder mystery, and you don't get to find out how the butler did it, because, I mean, you know, it always <i>is</i> the butler?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I don't think that's ever happened to me," you say, wondering if this is what a mouse feels as the cat plays with it just before eating it.<br/>
<br/>
"No? Oh yeah, you're the <i>big</i> brother in your family. Lucky bastard. Frank was always doing that to me when <i>we</i> were growing up. Fucker. Well, come on. You're driving, because I can't."<br/>
<br/>
"Where are we going? I've got--"<br/>
<br/>
"You've got more important things than school," he says. "Come <i>on.</i> The others are already on their way."<br/>
<br/>
You look over, and see Gordon's orange Bug creeping toward the parking lot exit.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joe laughs and banters in a silly way on the drive, which takes you to a small house near the Keyserling College campus. As you park behind Gordon's car, you see that Roth's car is already there. Justin is standing near the door, and someone who looks like Joe Durras is standing next to him. The Joe by the front of the house waves cheerily at you. You glance over at the Joe next to you. He grins, and then fades to nothingness. His smile lingers in the air for a moment before vanishing as well.<br/>
<br/>
Bad enough they're magicians, you grumble to yourself as you get out. But to be fucking showoffs about it ...<br/>
<br/>
Gordon, a very black look on his face, gets out of his Bug, and Frank gets out the other side. The latter tilts his chin in your direction and then strides off toward the house. You fall in beside Gordon as you follow. "There was some kind of vote?" you ask him quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"I voted no," he grumbles. "But I guess you and Roth--"<br/>
<br/>
"There's no point telling you guys to keep your mouths shut about what we're going to talk about," Frank says in a loud voice as he unlocks the door. "Few would believe you anyway. But it would be a good idea to not make waves. There <i>are</i> people who might lend an ear, and they're not people you want taking an interest." He ushers you all in, and points to the floor in the living room. "Sit."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon doesn't hesitate, and just does as he's told. "They give you a taste of what they can do?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut <i>up,</i> you little--" He starts, then sighs. "Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," says Frank, who remains standing even as Joe plops down next to you and the others with a puppy-dog smile. "First, about us. You don't need to know the details. Suffice it to say that Joe and I belong to an esoteric order--"<br/>
<br/>
"That means 'super-cool secret society'," says Joe.<br/>
<br/>
"I know what it means," snaps Justin.<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't talking to <i>you,</i>" Joe retorts. "I was talking to Frank. He has this bad habit of tossing around words he's heard but doesn't understand." <br/>
<br/>
"<i>An esoteric order,</i>" Frank repeats through gritted teeth, "dedicated to combatting evil and removing from circulation any and all dangerous occult influences."<br/>
<br/>
"He means we go around dope-slapping magical bozos," says Joe.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God," groans Gordon. "You mean you're the fucking Hardy Boys?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe claps his stomach and howls with laughter. "Exactly!" Gordon just covers his face with his palm.<br/>
<br/>
Frank sighs. "I knew I'd regret using our long-standing aliases."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean those aren't your real faces?" Justin asks.<br/>
<br/>
Joe opens his mouth to reply, but Frank quickly clenches his fist. "Yes they are," Frank says as his brother makes elaborate choking sounds. "And if the comedy relief will promise to control himself, I will stop controlling him <i>for</i> himself." Joe nods his head vigorously, then takes a deep and shuddering breath as Frank relaxes his fist. "Our <i>names</i> are long-standing aliases, but we are exactly who we seem to be. An eighteen-year-old male and a seventeen-year-old male. One brunette and one blonde. One smart and one smart-aleck. We are junior members of that esoteric order, but as I think we've demonstrated, you don't want to fuck with us. You <i>definitely</i> don't want to fuck with any of our superiors."<br/>
<br/>
"Now," he continues when no one says anything. "We were sent to Saratoga Falls about a month ago to retrieve a particularly dangerous item. The <i>Libra Personae.</i> That's the book that Prescott here found at Arnholm's. As you've learned to what I hope is your regret, it's a very bad book. It's lucky for everyone that you're all a bunch of morons, and so could only hurt each other. But before we take the book off for safe disposal, we have received permission from the head of our order to render aid and assistance to you poor assholes and help repair some of the damage you've caused."<br/>
<br/>
"What damage?" you stupidly ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Your <i>friend,</i>" Frank says with a deep frown. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh yeah. Tsosie.</i><br/>
<br/>
"You can bring him back?" Justin asks in a subdued but hopeful voice.<br/>
<br/>
"No," Frank admits. "But we can help <i>hide</i> the fact that he's, uh, not himself anymore."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean like using a mask," Justin asks skeptically.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly like using a mask," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck," Gordon says. "You mean you're just going to give that mask back?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," says Frank. "Well, yes, actually. But with a modification. Joe can explain better than I can."<br/>
<br/>
"Thank you," Joe says with heavy sarcasm. "I thought you'd never shut up. It's those golems you made," he says. "We spent last night looking at the book, and making another trip out to that basement. We've got those things in our bedroom now, because they're safer here. Did a study on them and figured out how you fucked up the spell, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"How'd we fuck it up," Justin asks. <i>As though it matters,</i> you find yourself thinking.<br/>
<br/>
"You left out the <i>essentia,</i>" Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
A bell goes off in the back of your head. You dimly remember a word like that, and wondering about it. Before you can speak, Justin asks what that is.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a little bit of the magician," Joe says. "When you craft a golem, the magician has to put a little bit of himself into it, in order to control it, and in order to prevent--" His lips whiten as he presses them together. "To prevent <i>things</i> from getting into it and controlling it instead."<br/>
<br/>
"Things?" Justin asks hollowly.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you can call them ghosts," Joe says. "Revenants? Wispy tendrils that have their buds in the graveyard and their roots in Hell?" He says the last word so you hear the capital letter. "It's part of the purification process. It burns them out of the soil, and substitutes a bit of the magician in their stead. If you don't do that, then those revenants stay in and can take control. Then you get what you guys got. Murder-bots, basically." The color drains from his golden features. "And if they'd gotten loose," he says in a quiet voice. "Well, they could've done <i>another</i> remake of 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers' in a few years, and only pod people would've gone to see it, because there'd only be pod people left in the world. Things like the Shep Tsosie who tried to--"<br/>
<br/>
Your heart, and most of your stomach's contents rise and bob uncertainly in your throat before drifting back to their accustomed places.<br/>
<br/>
"You're saying we left this essential stuff out?" Justin asks. "We wouldn't have even known what it was."<br/>
<br/>
"Hair," says Joe. "You put hair in?"<br/>
<br/>
"Perry put the stuff together."<br/>
<br/>
"Was he wearing a mask when he did?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's where the fuck up would've been. Because any hair you clip off someone who's wearing a mask will evaporate. The basic spell will work, but it won't work the way you want it to. Those things in my bedroom are <i>bad news.</i> Fortunately, there's a way of correcting the defect. We can treat Tsosie's mask with a special agent. Then, if you put that mask--<i>and no other mask</i>--onto one of those golems, you'll get Tsosie back. Except it won't be Tsosie. It'll be another golem. But it won't be a murder-bot. It'll be a correctly functioning golem, one under the control of the person whose hair we use in the spell."<br/>
<br/>
"Roth," says Frank. "He's your friend. We'd use your hair. The world would have something that looks like Shep Tsosie again. He wouldn't have to disappear. Is that something you want?"<br/>
<br/>
Justin mulls this. "So, let me get this straight. Maize comes back, but it's not really Maize. It's a-- A <i>thing</i> that's my slave?"<br/>
<br/>
"It'll act just like him," Joe says. "But be careful what you tell him to do, because he'll do it."<br/>
<br/>
"And you <i>don't</i> take the mask off him," Frank growls. "And you <i>don't</i> put any other masks on him, or else you'll get the--" His mouth twists. "The 'murder-bot' again."<br/>
<br/>
"They <i>can't</i> put any more masks on him, Frank," Joe retorts. "We took all their shit."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm in favor of it," Justin says.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," says Frank, and gestures Justin to rise. "Come with us so we can take a clipping off you, and you can take Tsosie back to school with you."<br/>
<br/>
You hold your breath until they're gone, then look over at Gordon from the corner of your eye. He's just staring at the carpet, his arms hooked around his knees. You wait for him to catch your gaze, but he never looks up.<br/>
<br/>
You want to know what he thinks: Should you mention to Frank and Joe that you have copies of the spells from the book? After they're gone, you'd basically still have the book in your possession.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211112111
author_id: seuzz
title: ... A Complication ...
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You nudge Gordon. "You know," you say in a near whisper. "I think we've still got those copies I made. Of the spells?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you blankly, and then his eyes harden. He stares at you. Then he jerks himself as Joe saunters back into the room. "Well, give it a few minutes," Joe says. "And then it'll all be--"<br/>
<br/>
"We still have copies of those spells," Gordon blurts out. "Prescott here copied out all the spells that we used."<br/>
<br/>
You gasp, and turn to Joe. "I was going to say something--" you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit," Joe says in a careless tone. "You didn't copy anything. The book has a protection spell on it. That's how come you have to use <i>it</i> when casting the spells."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I couldn't copy <i>everything</i>," you retort, feeling stung by his rude dismissal. "But I copied down the ingredients and those sigil thingies."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, <i>those,</i>" he says dismissively. "Sure, you can copy <i>those,</i> but you just get a pretty design. Only the sigils in the book are live."<br/>
<br/>
You're inclined to leave it there, but Gordon presses the point. "He <i>used</i> them," he insists. "He took a bunch of our supplies while Roth had the book, and he used those copies to make a couple of masks. I know, because I put on his mask after he made them, so I <i>remember</i> making that shit."<br/>
<br/>
Joe stares at you, then shambles into the back of the house. When he returns, he's got the book with him. "Tsosie will be out in a minute," he says and he drops onto his haunches in front of you. "Until then--" He opens the book to the frontispiece and studies it. "Bullshit," he says again, and stabs at the page with his forefinger. "Right here. You can't read it, because you're a moron. Don't take what I say personally, 'cos Frank's a moron too, so <i>he</i> can't read it neither. But the spells are bound to the book. Says so right here. And it ain't an advisory notice either. It's a fucking, unbreakable lock."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," you say. "Then you won't mind leaving those copies behind with us."<br/>
<br/>
He glares at you. "Frank!" he yells, and follows it by hollering something in a foreign language like you've never heard before. His brother appears a minute later with a frown. Joe continues to talk gibberish without even looking over his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"What's this about you making live copies of those spells," Frank asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"It's like I said," you say, wishing Gordon hadn't said anything--less because he blew a secret than because you hate being called a liar. "I copied out a bunch of the spells from the book and used them to make some masks and other things."<br/>
<br/>
"You use 'em to make any other golems?" Frank asks in a very dangerous tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course he didn't, because he <i>couldn't,</i>" Joe insists.<br/>
<br/>
Frank whaps his brother hard on the back of the head. "Shut up. This is important."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I didn't make any golems. But most of the stuff in there, the swag you lifted, it's stuff I made up in the gym loft using the copies I made."<br/>
<br/>
They're still staring at you when Roth and Maize Tsosie come out of the back of the house. Roth is looking nervous, and Maize is looking pissed off. You doubt it's because he's wearing clothes that are a little too large for him.<br/>
<br/>
Frank turns at the sound of their approach. "Tsosie," he says. "That shit in the back. Where'd it come from?"<br/>
<br/>
Maize glances over at Roth; Justin gives a little nod, and looks pained as he does so. "Most of it I bought. Some of it Gordon brought over." He looks at Black. "Well, the other Gordon. The bad one."<br/>
<br/>
"Where'd he get it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It came from the school gym. These guys made it. They had copies of the spells or something, 'cos Roth here had the book--"<br/>
<br/>
"Bull. Shit!" Joe yells. "It's a fucking liar, like--"<br/>
<br/>
Frank shoves him to the ground. "Where are these spell copies," he asks Maize.<br/>
<br/>
"Back at that elementary school, I think," he says. "We left 'em there because they didn't work."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you--!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to tell you only once more to <i>shut up,</i> Joe! What do you mean they didn't work?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, the other Gordon and me, we copied out some more spells in the book. You know, to use when making--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah yeah," Frank says. "We don't gotta hear <i>that</i> again."<br/>
<br/>
"We tried out one of them, but it didn't work. So we figured we'd just keep using the book."<br/>
<br/>
Joe smirks at you, but says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"Which spells didn't work?" Frank asks. "The spells you copied, or the copies Prescott made?"<br/>
<br/>
"The ones we made. We didn't try Prescott's."<br/>
<br/>
Joe gasps angrily like a gutted fish. Frank puts his hands on his hips. "Okay, Black can go back to school," he says. "And he can give Roth a ride. I'll drive out to the old school with Tsosie and find those copies. Joe, you stay here with Prescott and figure out what the <i>fuck</i> is going on."<br/>
<br/>
There's a brief suspension while everyone digests these orders, and then they all move off to the door. No one looks at you except Joe, and his eyes glitter in a way you don't like.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As soon as they're gone, Joe pulls you into the dining room and shoves you into a chair. He puts some paper and the book in front of you, and opens it to the first spell. "Copy." He jabs his finger at the sigil. "Show me."<br/>
<br/>
You comply, your resentful desire to refuse losing to your resentful desire to show that he's wrong. Carefully you trace out the design. Joe watches for about fifteen minutes, and then himself sits down to sketch on another sheet of paper. When he's done he stops you and looks over the still incomplete sigil. "Touch it," he says with a nasty smile. You glare at him, and put your finger to the paper.<br/>
<br/>
It stings like a vicious bite. "Gyah!" you cry, and yank your hand back. Joe seizes your hand and turns it over. A drop of blood wells out of your finger tip. He pulls your arm toward his own sketch, and squeezes your finger. The drop splatters on the sheet. As you watch, the black ink lines turn a translucent silver.<br/>
<br/>
He lets go of your hand. "Fuck," he says. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, <i>fuck!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What's it mean?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He just picks up the sigil you've drawn and stares at it. Then he looks up at you. As he does, the sheet he's holding bursts into flame. "There's antiseptic and band-aids in the bathroom," he says as he takes the flaming paper to the kitchen and drops it in the sink. "You won't need anything else. Except maybe a nice clean sweep of a katana to the neck," he adds.<br/>
<br/>
You can't move until the stinging of your finger snaps you back to reality.<br/>
<br/>
After you've repaired yourself you return to find Joe sprawled on the sofa in the living room. "You hungry?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I am." He goes into the kitchen and bangs around loudly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>A katana to the neck. Christ, what are you in for?</i><br/>
<br/>
You're sitting on the sofa, still obsessing over that question, and Joe is still in the kitchen, when Frank returns. You recognize the papers in his hand. He gives you a querying glance, then passes into the kitchen when Joe calls him. You can hear them talking, but their words are meaningless. A few minutes later, Frank returns, to look at you from under arched eyebrows. "My brother is impressed," he says. "And Joe's not easy to impress."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know why," you say. "All I did was copy a sigil and get bitten for my trouble." You show him your finger.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and I dope-slapped the idiot for doing that to you." He comes over to stare down at you, and then to your surprise drops onto the couch next to you. "You gave him a bad fright, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"I gave <i>him</i> a bad fright? <i>He</i> said something about--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know what he said. He told me, and he'll be in to apologize in a few minutes. Like I said, you scared him. But nothing's gonna happen to you. We're just gonna-- Will you put that sandwich down and go get that mask?" he yells into the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
Joe appears, his jaw working. He swallows hard. "You're not thinking what I think you're thinking?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not paying you to think, not now," Frank retorts. "Get that mask."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?" You draw back in alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, Prescott," he says in a soft voice. "The fact is, well-- The fact is that there aren't a lot of people in the world like us. And when I say 'us,' I mean me and Joe and you."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, you. We spent the last week investigating your family, doing our homework, before coming to find you at Westside. You know we overheard you at Besandwitched, right?" You nod. "Well, we looked you up and over from all kinds of angles. We thought it was probably your <i>dad</i> who was mixed up in it, thought that until you, or the fake you, told us you had the book and had gotten rid of it. It still didn't make sense. Until this morning. Just now. When Joe dropped your blood in a diagnostic sigil."<br/>
<br/>
"Diagnostic--?"<br/>
<br/>
"There aren't a lot of people in the world like us," he repeats. "That's why the book came to you. Because that's what you are. Someone like us. Like me and Joe and the people we work with.<br/>
<br/>
"And that's why we want you to go back with us. Because that's where you belong. With us."</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Conspiracy Unmasked
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're not willing to try on Tsosie's mask. At least not yet. But that doesn't mean that an exchange of masks is a bad idea.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you wanna know what me and Gordon have been up to?" you tell Justin. "I got my mask in my backpack. We had to take it off that golem, because something really fucked up has been going on with it." You cast a fearful glance at the transformed Tsosie. "You can check out <i>everything</i> me and Gordon have been doing, right up to this afternoon. You just have to put it on."<br/>
<br/>
Roth rears back.<br/>
<br/>
"I won't lie to you, man," you say. "Me and Gordon, we don't much trust you guys." Again, your eyes are dragged toward Tsosie. "Lotta weird shit been going on. So, you'd see us sayin' and doin' things you're not gonna like." Roth's expression turns feverish. "But I <i>swear,</i> Justin, neither of us had anything to do with ... this."<br/>
<br/>
He sways on his feet, and then lunges for your pack, and snarls like a dog when you push it toward him. He holds it to his chest and retreats to the other side of the sofa. "Get the fuck out while I put it on," he says. "Wait outside. I'm gonna lock the door, too."<br/>
<br/>
You feel your own attitude harden. "Turnabout's fair play, asshole. Your mask is in there too. You put it on first, and give it to me. <i>Then</i> you can--"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you!" His eyes shine luridly. But then they shift. "I got nothin' to hide--"<br/>
<br/>
"So <i>show</i> me!"<br/>
<br/>
A shudder passes through him. "Okay," he finally says in a thick voice. "You still wait outside. I'll give it to you after I get it on and off."<br/>
<br/>
That seems fair, so you agree.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
All this hopping from mask to mask--<br/>
<br/>
You just want to get back to being yourself, and to not look at a mask again for a very long time.<br/>
<br/>
But it's as Justin Roth that you bang on the door, and it's Will Prescott who lets you in. He's looking green, but you think you're feeling worse. The nausea isn't confined to your stomach. It feels like it's seeped into every muscle and every joint, and you have to sit on the sofa--drawn up as far from Tsosie as possible--with your elbows on your knees.<br/>
<br/>
You and the other guy stare at each other for a long time, reading the thoughts inside the masks, and reading each other's faces as you each read the contents of the masks.<br/>
<br/>
You feel rather ashamed at finding so little that could offend you. He hadn't been outside your mask until this morning, when he shifted it onto the golem, and so you already knew everything that he did while he was being you, and not one bit of it is incriminating. As for today, he spent it with Tsosie. Their arguments had escalated to the point that Maize and stormed out the door and driven off for nearly two hours, before coming back with a surly apology. There is one tiny, suggestive bit, though: Maize wanted the golem-Prescott to come out after school, so that (he said) he could put Victoria's mask on the golem while Justin returned home as Will. But otherwise, there is no clue as what happened to Maize. You already know that he didn't meet "Prescott" during his absence from the house.<br/>
<br/>
So Justin is surely learning more, and learning more disquieting things, than you. "Look," you finally have to say after he's still said nothing. "You gotta see it from our point of view. You guys had the book, you were in charge, and we <i>knew</i> you were just trying to use us."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, shut up," he sighs. "It was a bad idea getting you guys involved. Fuck, it was bad idea even messing with that fucking book."<br/>
<br/>
"Where is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tsosie's bedroom," he says. "Put it with the other stuff. And you don't know what happened to the shit that <i>you</i> took from the basement?" His lip curls, even though you shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
"We gotta stop distrusting each other," you insist. "<i>Someone</i> is fucking us up. It's not me, it's not you, I can vouch for Gordon. If it's not Small--"<br/>
<br/>
"I can vouch for him," he says. "Well, not the way you can vouch for Black, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"We need to get them out here. We need to do the same thing with their faces that we did with ours. We <i>all</i> got to see that we are <i>all</i> of us--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He takes out his phone, then looks up at you. "Looks like you're gonna be missing that date with Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The evening brings more tedious mask-shifting, though it's probably harder on Perry and Gordon, who have to try on three masks in rapid succession, than for you and Justin, who only have one more to check out before you're up to speed on the doings of all the club members. Perry's mask throws no more light on the situation. When it's all done, there's a significant amount of yelling, but a shaky four-way détente finally gets reached. It's agreed that the enemy is outside the group.<br/>
<br/>
But the only clue as to who it is will be in Tsosie's mask. Gordon volunteers to put it on, but Justin vetoes it, saying Gordon's strength will be wanted in case the revived Tsosie puts up a fight. And since Justin is also pretty strong, that leaves it between you and Perry. Rock-paper-scissors, and you win the right to stay out of the mask.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You didn't have to tie me up," Maize says. "It's <i>me</i> in here."<br/>
<br/>
"Better safe than sorry," Justin says. "And let's see what you say when we take it off you."<br/>
<br/>
"Talk first," Gordon growls.<br/>
<br/>
Maize's face tightens. "Well, for starters, <i>you're</i> the one who did it to me." Three pairs of eyes stare up at Gordon, who flushes. "Last night."<br/>
<br/>
"This fucker's lying," Gordon says in a strained voice. "I was--"<br/>
<br/>
"You were with me all night," you say firmly. <br/>
<br/>
"Except when you went out to meet the golem," Justin says darkly. <br/>
<br/>
"I showed you fuckers that--!"<br/>
<br/>
"So it was the <i>golem</i> that did it to Maize," you shout over him. "Jesus! It was the <i>golem</i> running around last night looking like Gordon. Unless it was-- What happened ... Perry?"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone who looked like Gordon came over last night. I don't know what time. He <i>said</i> he was Gordon and that he wanted to try on Victoria's mask. Said he'd let me 'do' him in it." Gordon flushes darkly. "I got the mask, but he grabbed it and--"<br/>
<br/>
A shadow passes over his face. He swallows.<br/>
<br/>
"Next thing I know, I'm sitting up. Gordon's helping me. I'm laying on the book. And then we're talking." He leans forward, breathing heavily. "We're talking about how we're going to bring in more of us. We want back in the world." He takes a deep breath. "One cemetery, a spoonful of dirt at a time, and we-- Guys, get a bucket, I think I'm gonna--"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a horrible noise, but nothing comes out. You all wait for him to recover before speaking. "Who's 'we'?" Gordon asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. We didn't say. But we needed to get rid of you guys. Turn you into--" Again he heaves. "Turn you into things like us. And then we'd get ... friends. Parents. People."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus Christ," Justin says in a hoarse whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"We looked at the new spell in the book. We copied it and the spell that-- That Gordon used on me. We'd use the copies, along with the copies Prescott made--" You flinch back from Justin's darted glance "--if Justin took the book back. But we couldn't. Last night we tried using a new spell, the copy we made, on Victoria's mask, but it didn't work. Anyway. Today you came out, Justin, and I kept you busy. But Black gave me all the stuff he took from the gym, and some money. When I left this afternoon, I picked up a bunch of new supplies, so we could get started this afternoon. All that stuff is out in my trunk."<br/>
<br/>
He leans forward. "Now will someone get this fucking thing off me!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
When Perry is recovered--and taken three stiff shots of bad liquor--he confirms that he was operating Tsosie's mask, and that he remembers everything. And after that, he dodges three sets of vicious recriminations and runs from the house, saying that he's quitting the club and doesn't want to hear anything about masks or golems or books or magic ever again.<br/>
<br/>
Justin checks Tsosie's car, and comes back in with several large sacks. One of them includes the material you had put in the gym loft, so that is one mystery solved: Gordon's golem was the thief. There is only one blank mask, though. The other mask you had made is no longer blank: It has Gordon's name in it. Gordon checks his own backpack, and shows that he has a mask of himself too. <br/>
<br/>
Before that puzzle can get sorted out, though, Justin insists on turning to future plans. "If these Durras guys are behind all this-- If they're, like, fucking magicians, we need every weapon we can use. So we need to check out these new spells, see if we can--"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you fucked in the head?" Gordon yells. "After what happened with--" He kicks at Tsosie's remains.<br/>
<br/>
"We can't just run away like Small! They'll take us apart one at a time!"<br/>
<br/>
"They don't even know we're--!" He stops, and turns toward you. "Except Prescott." He sets his jaw. "They've already got a bulls eye painted on his back."<br/>
<br/>
"But if they knew about Tsosie, and about <i>you,</i> so that they could fuck up the golem--!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's Prescott's decision," Gordon says firmly. "It's <i>his</i> ass in the line of fire." He nods at you. "It's your call. And I'll fuck up anyone who--" He grins the kind of smile that once would have had you shitting your pants. But now it means something much different.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Surprising Lead
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"No, I said I'd stick it out as you," you say. "I'll take care of Seth."<br/>
<br/>
"And I take care of Lisa?" your partner asks with a cocked eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you fucking--" you growl.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," he says. He looks at the golem. "We can just send that thing out. It doesn't seem to be malfunctioning when it's being <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe because I helped put it together, and you didn't?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," he says. "We need to figure out more about how these things work."<br/>
<br/>
"We can get together with Justin tonight, look at the book."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't like that idea," he says quietly after a moment's thought. "If <i>he's</i> mixed up in it--"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know how <i>else</i> we're supposed to figure it out."<br/>
<br/>
"There's gotta be more info out there," he insists. "Go to the library, check out the internet--"<br/>
<br/>
"And just find a bunch of crap."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't say anything to Justin until we have a better of idea of what's going on," he says firmly. "Because maybe it's not the <i>golem</i> doing it, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
You know. You let him change back into Justin's mask, set Prescott's mask on the golem, and send it back out. It gives you a raffish grin before it leaves.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spend the rest of the day working yourself into a mood. Chelsea meets you outside the gym after the final bell, and you don't so much kiss her as bite her on the lips. "Can I watch?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. We're gonna do it in private. He has to know it's <i>my</i> decision." You leave her panting hungrily as you go into the gym.<br/>
<br/>
The Durrases are in the locker room along with most of the other guys, but you ignore them. Once everyone has changed, you line them up on the gym floor. "Bennett, you and Martin pick teams. Make sure you split up the two new guys," you order. "Play hard and keep busy till I get back. Javits, you and Patterson are with me." You jerk your head, gesturing them toward the stairs to the loft. You catch Seth grinning at Jeremy Richards as he follows.<br/>
<br/>
You shut the door after the three of you are inside. "You ever been up here?" you ask, though you know the answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Can't say I have," he says, looking immensely pleased.<br/>
<br/>
"Wanna make it a regular hang out?" Without Seth seeing, Patterson gets behind him.<br/>
<br/>
Javits looks up at you in surprise. "You serious?" His grin widens even more. "Me and Cindy, like, hanging out with--?"<br/>
<br/>
"No Cindy. She can't come up here."<br/>
<br/>
He blinks hard. "Then what's the--? Just stag?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you can bring girls up. Any girl you want. Except Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
Color rises in his cheek. "Me and Cindy are serious about each other, Gordon," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You step up to him, and he backs up, bumping into Patterson. "No you're not," you tell him. "She's just a whore and you're gonna dump her."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said she's a whore, and you're going to dump her," you repeat, stepping so close you touch your chest to his. "Are you going to argue with me?"<br/>
<br/>
His jaw falls open slightly. "Gordon, this--"<br/>
<br/>
You glance up at Patterson; he whips his arms around and catches Seth in a headlock; the hapless player gasps, and then gasps harder as you seize his hair. You put your finger in his face.<br/>
<br/>
"I've been letting you fuck her," you say. "But now it stops." You wrench his head to the side. "You can only fuck the girls I let you fuck. And now Cindy is unfuckable. At least by you. Because I <i>don't</i> give you permission to fuck her."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes flash. "Gordon, you can't--"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't? Ask Reggie Carmichael what I can't do." Javits's eyes widen at the infamous name. You rip open a nearby crate and extract an indelible marker. "Steve, what're some synonyms for 'Cindy Vredenburg'? I'm gonna write 'em all over Javits' dick so Cindy can read about herself before she sucks him off next time."<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon, if you--"<br/>
<br/>
"First, you're off the team. Second, every one of your asshole friends is gonna start taking turns pissing in your face while the others hold you down. You know they will, because I'm gonna make 'em. Third, Cindy is going to start finding herself extremely unpopular with people she wants to be popular with, and extremely popular with people she'd prefer not to have touching her."<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't--!"<br/>
<br/>
"Think of Cindy, you little ass-wipe. Think of that sloppy, stinky, hairy, cunt-faced little she-gorilla. That's exactly what you're gonna call her tomorrow morning too, when you dump her after practice, right in front of her cheerleader friends. You're gonna call her a sloppy, stinky, hairy, cunt-faced she-gorilla, and that you wanted to puke every time you touched her. It'll be a hell of a lot nicer than the things she'll hear if you <i>don't.</i> Also, you're not gonna tell her beforehand. It's gonna be a surprise."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you doing this?" Seth asks through clenched teeth.<br/>
<br/>
"To prove a point," you say. "To prove that no one fucks a girl in this school without my permission. And to find out if you're worthy of the team. The real team." You stroke his cheek. "The team that gets to come up here. Steve, do you get to fuck Kendra Saunders?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, Gordon," he says. "Do I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes you do. Does Javits get to fuck Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, Gordon. Does he?"<br/>
<br/>
"No he doesn't. That's the way it works up here, Javits, if you want up here. I'd like to have you up here. That's how much I think of you. What do you think of me?"<br/>
<br/>
You step back and let him dwell on the question for a good long time. Various expressions--all nauseated--pass over his face. "You're the boss," he finally says in a thick voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin-A, Javits. Hear that, Steve? He's one of us now. You can fuck each other, if you want."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't," says Patterson, and releases Seth.<br/>
<br/>
"You can go home now, Javits, take the afternoon off," you say. "But keep your mouth shut till tomorrow. If you don't, remember Reggie."<br/>
<br/>
Seth shakes himself all over, and then, eyes downward, charges out of the loft.<br/>
<br/>
"You have fun?" Steve asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I gotta jack off now. You run things downstairs." He shrugs and exits too.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're still in the loft an hour later when your phone rings. "Hey man," Maize says in a low voice. "We need to get together at my place, like now. Justin says it's important."<br/>
<br/>
"I got important stuff of my own to deal with."<br/>
<br/>
"Not as important as--"<br/>
<br/>
"I said I'm busy!" you yell, and slap the phone off. You wouldn't be in the mood to deal with Justin anyway, even if you hadn't agreed to steer clear of him for the time being.<br/>
<br/>
But the call sets you thinking, and you prowl the loft trying to put half-formed ideas together. Gordon said you learn to know more about this shit. You found the book at Arnholm's. It's the longest of long-shots, and hardly worth even pursuing. But it's someplace to go instead of Tsosie's. Or home.<br/>
<br/>
You have to smile to yourself a little as you pull into the street. Gordon himself doesn't even know that Arnholm's Used Book Store exists, let alone where to find it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You stare at the cabinet where you found the book. It's locked, so you can't get into it to browse the contents. But you're not seeing anything that looks useful anyway.<br/>
<br/>
And then someone nudges you out of the way. It's Ted Arnholm. He opens the cabinet and slides a new book onto one of the shelves.<br/>
<br/>
"Excuse me, sir," you say, and twinge a little at the sharp, beady-eyed glance he gives you. If you weren't inside Gordon's mask, you wouldn't even dare talk to him. "You probably don't remember, because it's been a week or so back--"<br/>
<br/>
"Spit it out," he snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"A friend of mine bought a book. He found it in this cabinet. An old book, but all the pages were glued shut. He said you sold it to him at a marked-down price."<br/>
<br/>
A vein pops out in his temple. "Oh, I remember," he says. "Took a huge loss on it. You don't forget things like that," he adds bitterly.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I was hoping you might have another book like that here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Looking for another discount?" he sneers.<br/>
<br/>
"No sir. It was just an interesting looking book, and I wanted to know more about it."<br/>
<br/>
His mouth binds up in a fierce frown. Then he closes the cabinet with a snap and gestures you to follow him. Your hopes rise, until he just leads you back to the counter, where he rummages around in a drawer. "I don't even know what kind of book it was," he grumbles. "But the previous owner came out here a week or two ago, wanting to buy it back. He left his card. Ah, here it is." He peers at it, and then pulls it close to his chest. "You interested in selling it back to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd just like to know more about it," you say cautiously.<br/>
<br/>
He glowers at you. "I'm not in the business of sharing our customers' private information," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure what the right answer is here, because you're not even sure you want to meet this "previous owner." "Well, if he offers a lot of money for it, my friend might--"<br/>
<br/>
"He offered me a finder's fee, if--" He looks you up and down. "If your 'friend' got in touch with him and sold it back." He scratches the card with a rough fingernail. "If your friend sells it back, I'll give <i>him</i> five bucks store credit if he comes back and <i>tells</i> me. Okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"That sounds fair."<br/>
<br/>
Still, he hesitates a few seconds before handing it over. "I don't normally do this kind of thing," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course." You glance at the card: "Aubrey Blackwell, Professor of Archaeology, Keyserling School of Mining and Technology."<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you should just go out and see this guy. Or maybe you should call Gordon and get him to go along too.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221121
author_id: seuzz
title: Magic Happens, Part 1
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You drive out the address on the card. It's a stone villa on the outskirts of town, just past the last subdivision, near where farm country starts. It's surrounded by a large, blank, whitewashed stone wall. There's a car out front.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't stop. After eyeing the house you drive on. You're not sure you want to meet the book's previous owner without back up. Maybe he's only a professor of archaeology who had been inveigled by a curious volume of esoteric lore. But maybe he's something worse.<br/>
<br/>
You glance at the clock in the dashboard. The golem will be getting ready to meet Lisa soon. You realize that's the reason you didn't stop to see the professor: You don't want to be distracted when the date is finished. You want to get together with your double instantly and find out how the date went.<br/>
<br/>
So you drive around the countryside for a bit. There's not much out there, and you have to loop back far around before you can strike a road that leads to town. It takes a different angle, missing Blackwell's house and leading instead to Farm Road. That's the quasi-highway that runs along the river, and you prowl along until you find the turn off to the river bank where high school students like to congregate for make-out sessions. But today is Monday, and the scene is deserted.<br/>
<br/>
The sun is low when you park, and it soon sets. Twilight deepens. You sit in the car for a very long time, not thinking about much of anything. There's nothing you really want to think about. Not about Seth and Cindy. Not about Chelsea, for that reminds you of Seth and Cindy. Not about classes. Not about home. Not about Justin or the book. An empty kind of peace descends upon you, but it's a peace of torpor; the peace of a low spot in the landscape, surrounded by problems that you don't want to climb. Not yet.<br/>
<br/>
You get out and pace along the river bank, listening to the gurgling water. You wonder how the golem is getting along with Lisa. You grunt faintly as your cock stirs. <i>Fuck.</i> She's not Gordon's type, but there's no woman he wouldn't take and mark and gloat over, and that puts a distinct coloration on the interest you're feeling in the progress of "your" date.<br/>
<br/>
You climb back into the car and stare into the darkening night. Eventually you sigh and start up the car. As you drive slowly back to the turn off you see that another vehicle has also parked by the river. Through the gloom you see it's a white truck.<br/>
<br/>
It looks like your truck.<br/>
<br/>
You stop and stare at it, wondering if you dare go over and investigate. Could the golem have actually talked Lisa into coming out here? Could they actually be--?<br/>
<br/>
If they were, would you actually interrupt them?<br/>
<br/>
And as you're staring, your phone tweets. You look at the number. It's Will Prescott's phone. "Yeah?" you say slowly when you answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, is that you?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"A coupla dozen yards away, by the river."<br/>
<br/>
Your scalp prickles: the beginning of a flush of anger. "Are you fucking kidding me? Did you come out here with--"<br/>
<br/>
The line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
Over at the truck, a door opens, and a tall figure gets out. You can barely make him out in the gloom, but you kill your motor and swiftly climb out, slamming the door hard. "Prescott!" you call. "What the fuck do you think you're--!"<br/>
<br/>
Your feet go out from under you so fast you slam ass, back, and head onto the ground. Lights explode in your skull. Then something very big and firm seizes you by the ankles and drags you across the rough ground. You scramble for a handhold, but something yanks you up into the air, leaving you dangling nearly six feet up and upside down. You raise yourself, to try grabbing whatever is holding you.<br/>
<br/>
There's nothing there.<br/>
<br/>
Except there is. Something like an invisible claw is holding you in midair. You twist from side to side, but your ankles are pinned firmly together. You drop back down, letting your arms dangle as the figure approaches. Not until he's nearly at your nose do you recognize him, for from your perspective he's upside down.<br/>
<br/>
"Durras?" you gasp dumbly.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Cap'n," Frank says. "Imagine running into <i>you</i> here."<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe. Those pruning scissors, if you please," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Durras, you don't have to--" another voice says before it's abruptly cut off. It takes you a moment to recognize it as Will Prescott's.<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme explain something to you, Prescott," Frank says. "Yeah, I'm talkin' to <i>you,</i> Prescott," he says, and jabs you lightly in the nose. "It's an interesting thing about these masks you and Black have been wearing. I can do all kinds of horrible shit to you while you're wearing one. I can snip off fingers. Toes. Lips. Noses." His mouth twists. "Cocks and nuts. And it'll hurt like the real thing. But there's no damage done, not to the person underneath. You'll be totally whole and healthy when I take the mask off you afterward. Of course, you'll be <i>begging</i> me to take it off you before I've even got through snipping you off at three knuckles. But once I get started, I'm not going to be able to stop myself before most of you is scattered in pieces at my feet, no matter how much you beg." He grabs your hand in a grip so strong you might as well have it in a clamp. You feel the keen edge of metal blades on either side your index finger. "So, are you going to talk now," he says, "or only <i>after</i> I've pruned you back?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You'd blabbed. You'd babbled and gabbled and run off at the mouth. You'd told him everything, quickly and truthfully, especially after you'd heard Prescott shrilly begging you to "just tell him everything, and tell him the truth!" Frank had pressed you, brutally and efficiently, drawing out every detail and every nuance: How you found the book, who you gave it to, how you got involved again, how Gordon got involved, what you'd made and why, and what you were doing out by the river. Then he'd reached up and pulled the mask off you, even without your having to tell him the secret words.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake with your head bouncing off something hard, and you twist. But your hands and feet are securely bound. You're cold, too. Then you realize you're naked. <br/>
<br/>
A motor is running, and you bounce again, every bone jarring against a hard, cold, metal surface. You look around, and see that you're in the bed of a truck. You twist over on your side, and find Gordon--or someone who looks like him--looking over at you. He grimaces as the truck hits another hole in the road.<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't fight it," he says. "They used duct tape on us. They-- Fuck!" His head bounces and your own teeth rattle. "Are they <i>trying</i> to hit every bump?"<br/>
<br/>
"What the hell? What are you doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
"They found me," he fumes. "At Panera's. I went to keep an eye on Lisa and that golem, because, fuck it, I was thinking about you and worried how it was going. Then <i>they</i> came in." The truck bounces again. "They dragged the golem away, and then they grabbed <i>me</i> when I went out to rescue it."<br/>
<br/>
"They just <i>grabbed</i> you," you gasp skeptically.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes!" he snaps. "Didn't you see what they did to <i>you</i> back there?" You try to picture the scene, and it doesn't look pretty. But Gordon is still talking. "The blonde one got in the cab, and the other one got in the back with me and the golem and sat on us. Said he didn't care if I was me or Prescott that was the fake, said he'd cut <i>both</i> of us to pieces. So I told him how to get the masks off us. Then we drove out to the river-- What were <i>you</i> doing out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just driving around, thinking. But hang on, I heard, well, <i>myself</i> talking out there."<br/>
<br/>
"That was Joe. He's some kind of fucking vocal impersonator. I was in the cab but I had the window down. They told me to keep quiet, and believe me, after seeing what they could do, I wasn't in the mood to argue."<br/>
<br/>
 "How do they know about this stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're fucking magicians, don't you get it? They're after the book. Apparently they went and dug up that stupid time capsule and found the book wasn't in it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> "How long was I out? You have any ideas about what to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm trying not to shit myself." The bed rocks again. "I used to think <i>I</i> was scary," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"If they know about golems, you think they're the ones who--"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know <i>what</i> they know, but they know everything we do. Because I got a quick look at them before--"<br/>
<br/>
The truck jerks to a hard stop and the motor cuts off. Doors open and slam, and a small, lithe figure leaps into the back to crouch over you.<br/>
<br/>
It's Will Prescott. "Hey guys," he says. "How you feelin'? Wait, don't talk. Don't want you making any noise at all, in fact. We're at Tsosie's, and don't need you springing the surprise." He slaps a fat piece of duct tape over your mouth, and does the same to Gordon. <br/>
<br/>
"You're a fucking prick, Black," a deep voice growls from behind you, and you crane your neck to look over your shoulder. Someone who looks like Gordon stares down. "You're a prick," he sighs. "But fuck me if I don't feel sorry for you." The real Gordon can only make a muffled snarl before his double and Prescott disappear.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211211
author_id: seuzz
title: Magic Happens, Part 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You twist about to make yourself more comfortable. Gordon rolls over and closes his eyes. You wonder if he is trying to make peace with the universe in the time you two probably have left to live. You wonder if you should do the same. But you don't know how.<br/>
<br/>
How much time passes? Fifteen minutes? Thirty? An hour? At one point the truck starts up again and moves a few dozen yards. You strain up to see where you are, and only find blank fences on either side, so you must be in the alley next to Tsosie's house. You lay back again. You hear cars, some of which have possibly stopped nearby. You can only stare up at the sky. You can't even see the stars, for the city's light pollution has entirely blotted them out.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, you hear the crunch of gravel, and the truck creaks. Frank drops into the bed and crouches down between you and Gordon. To your surprise, you see he is wearing <i>your</i> clothes, and they are quite small on him. He holds two masks in his hands.<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates a bit before speaking. "Okay, guys," he says quietly. "First thing I'm going to say is that it's not your fault. Joe and I know that. Because we put on your masks, and we saw that you were telling us the absolute truth earlier. The second thing is that it's not our fault either. We only came to get the book back. We didn't want to hurt anybody. Really. Despite everything I said earlier."<br/>
<br/>
He balances the masks on his knee. "But of course you're not going to believe us. So you're going to have to see it for yourself. See what we saw and what we did in there. You're not going to like it. But I'm sorry. It can't be helped."<br/>
<br/>
He rips the tape off your mouths. You expect Gordon to scream at him, but he keeps silent. So do you. Frank waits, perhaps for a stream of abuse, and then puts a mask onto Gordon. He puts the other one onto you. You just have time to see the name "WILLIAM MARTIN PRESCOTT" on its inner surface before it swallows you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Soon as we see he's alone, I'll grab him, and you check for a mask," you say as you approach the door.<br/>
<br/>
"We should do like we did with Black and Prescott," Gordon says. "If you can break Gordon--"<br/>
<br/>
"Big ones always break easy," you say. "And if Tsosie doesn't talk--" You rap on the door. "Then we'll put a mask <i>on</i> him and start chipping away."<br/>
<br/>
Tsosie opens the door, and his eyes pop. "Guys," he says. "This is kinda late."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sorry," Gordon says. "You alone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, the others got tired of waiting--"<br/>
<br/>
You close your hand into a fist. Tsosie gasps and goes very stiff. Gordon puts a hand to Maize's face and mutters as you close the door and lock it behind you. You move swiftly, checking out the kitchenette and the bedroom to confirm the place is clear.  Gordon speaks before you're done. "Frank, you better look at this."<br/>
<br/>
You step back into the living room. Gordon is holding a mask. Tsosie is standing in front of him. But there's something wrong.<br/>
<br/>
He's dressed, but standing rigidly, and his color is gone. Literally, everywhere--his skin and hair and eyeballs--he is an ashy white. You step quickly over and touch him. He is cold and hard. Even his hair is stiff, as though carved from stone. You put your palm to his nose and mouth. There is no hint of a breath.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon extends the mask and you both peer into it. It shows Tsosie's name. "This the mask they made of him?" Gordon asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe," you grunt. "Question is, who did this to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Question is, <i>what</i> did they do to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's find that book."<br/>
<br/>
You and he tear the place apart, and whistle over another statue hidden in the bathroom: Justin Roth. You also find some mask supplies but no sign of the book or the copied spells. "Maybe Small has it," Gordon says.<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's call him out here."<br/>
<br/>
"Check out things from a Maize-eye view first?" Gordon asks, gesturing at the mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Unless it's booby-trapped," you say. "I like you as a blonde, Joe, and you gotta nice tan. Think you can do his voice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Close enough." He snatches up Tsosie's phone and dials. "Hey Small," he says in a voice like Tsosie's. "How about you come over. Yeah, they're on their way," he adds in reply to a short question. Then he hangs up. "Interesting. He asked if Black and Prescott were here, and then said he'd be right over. One of us should be Tsosie when he gets here."<br/>
<br/>
"No, we'll just leave the door ajar and hide in a corner."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Twenty minutes later Perry Small walks in. Gordon calls from the bedroom with Tsosie's voice while you crouch down in the kitchenette. When you hear a yelp you leap out and with a clenched hand pin Perry in place. Gordon comes out and feels at Perry's face, muttering esoteric words. A mask comes off, and Small seems to turn into a statue.<br/>
<br/>
You and Gordon debate what to do. You let him put Tsosie's mask on only after he copies himself into a blank mask you found do you let him put Tsosie's mask on. You clamp him firmly to the sofa.<br/>
<br/>
"It's me, Frank," he says when he revives. "I'm still here." But you don't let him go, and he doesn't fight. He sits very quietly for nearly ten minutes, his brow furrowed in concentration, and then he tells you to take it off him. You slap him awake afterward, and question him closely, to make sure nothing is amiss, before releasing him. Then he puts his hand to your face and pulls.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are cold and stiff when you wake, and with a jerk of your head toss the mask off to the side. The truck is rocking again. But your limbs have been freed. Gordon is sitting up. "You saw all that stuff," you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I don't know what it means."<br/>
<br/>
"Me neither, and it sounds like those guys up there don't either. Where are we going?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me." You're passing through a subdivision. <br/>
<br/>
You lapse back into silence. You shift around and bump into something. It's dark, but some close examination shows it to be the golem that you and your friends had made. The golem that, while wearing your mask, had been caught and questioned by Frank and Joe. <br/>
<br/>
The drive continues and soon you recognize the neighborhood. It's your own. The truck pulls up in front of the elementary school basement.<br/>
<br/>
Two figures appear a moment later--Frank and another Gordon--and toss some clothes at the two of you: your own, and Joe's. "You can get dressed, but you don't have to come with us," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"What are we doing here?" Gordon asks.<br/>
<br/>
"That book might be here. Or maybe those copies Prescott made. It'll be our only lead on figuring out what happened back at Tsosie's. Are you guys okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so," you say, though in truth you are so freaked out that you can't even scream.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, hang loose if you're not gonna come. But don't run off. We don't know what's out there."<br/>
<br/>
You doubt it can be worse that what's here with you in the form of Frank and Joe Durras. But they've been more decent to you in last half hour, so you're inclined to stay. You dress. But when Gordon leaps from the bed of the truck, you follow.<br/>
<br/>
They must have found the key to the place, because the lock is off. The basement is illuminated, though you can't see the light source. They glance back at you while rifling through desks, and then from one extract a familiar-looking sheaf of papers. Joe--still looking like Gordon--hops onto a desk and hunches over them. "You have to wear that thing?" Gordon asks him.<br/>
<br/>
"Call it a fetish," he says without looking up. "Now shut up. I'm busy."<br/>
<br/>
Frank smiles wryly, and pulls you and Gordon back outside. "Look, guys, we've been really mysterious, and we've treated you rough. But we're the good guys, okay? You and your friends have really fucked things up, and we're here to help straighten it all out."<br/>
<br/>
"Who <i>are</i> you?" Gordon demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Since Joe's inside and not feeling much like himself, I guess it's up to me to channel him," Frank replies with a thin smile. "You can think of us as magical-fu fighters or something. We're members of a very old and secret group that tries to keep the bad things at bay. That book you've been playing with? Very bad. We came out to Saratoga Falls to pick it up and take it off for safe disposal, before anyone else could find it and start doing things with it. We were too late, obviously."<br/>
<br/>
"What happened to our friends," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what we're trying to figure out. Or, Joe is. Of the two of us, he's the relative expert. And you're wondering <i>who</i> did it to them, right?" he adds. You nod. "That's another mystery," he says. He looks at Gordon. "You're standing here with me, Black. And there's another one that looks like you inside that basement. But there's a <i>third</i> someone running around who looks like you. As near as we can tell, that <i>third</i> Gordon is the one behind it all." </span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122112111
author_id: seuzz
title: Magic Happens, Part 3
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"How's that possible?" you demand. "Gordon's here, and Joe's got the mask of him in there. Are you saying there's <i>another</i> mask of Gordon out there?"<br/>
<br/>
"It sure seems like it," Frank says. "Because Maize Tsosie was himself until Sunday night. That's when someone who looks like Gordon Black showed up at his house and <i>did</i> something to him. We're not sure what. Don't pull back like that, Prescott, you'll hurt Black's feelings," Frank says as you take a few steps away from Gordon. His words may sound mocking, but his tone is serious. "Gordon didn't do it, because he was with <i>you</i> that night. And there's no memories in that mask you've been wearing of going out to Tsosie's. Therefore, it must have been someone in <i>another</i> mask of Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"How did they do it? How did they make it?" Gordon asks in a strained voice.<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks off in the distance. "We won't know for sure until this is all over. But my <i>guess</i> is that that person made the mask on Sunday night, when they called you out of Roth's over to that park. You took off the mask you were wearing, and while you were knocked out they copied you into another mask."<br/>
<br/>
You feel dizzy, and put your hand out to clutch Gordon. "You don't suppose it's <i>Dane,</i> do you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Matthias?" Gordon asks incredulously. "Fuck, he's the <i>last</i> person I'd suspect."<br/>
<br/>
"It usually <i>is</i> the last person," Frank says. "If only because once you've found him, you stop looking." He rubs his forehead. "Okay, all those memories I picked up are starting to fade really badly. But would he know how to get masks on and off?"<br/>
<br/>
You run back over Dane's adventure with Gordon's mask, aloud, to help you remember, and so the others can correct you. <br/>
<br/>
When you're done, Frank shakes his head. "We can probably rule him out then," he says. "But we might want to pay him a visit anyway. But first we need to find out what happened to your friends to make them <i>act</i> like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a quizzical glance. "Memories fading for you too? Oh, yeah," he then says, and sucks in his breath. "You didn't see the <i>real</i> horror."<br/>
<br/>
"What?" Gordon asks.<br/>
<br/>
Frank sucks on his teeth. But before he can speak, your knees buckle, and this time you grab Gordon hard. "No, I remember now," you gasp. "I was thinking about what you found out there. But I'm the one who--"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't do anything, Prescott," Frank says. "It's just a memory of what something else did while was looking like you. "<br/>
<br/>
"What. Happened?" Gordon demands in a voice that is sharp though filled with dread.<br/>
<br/>
You shudder, and relate it to him. How you--the golem, you have to assume--drove out to Tsosie's after school while whistling a jaunty tune. You'd knocked on the door and Justin had opened it. As soon as he did, Tsosie had grabbed him from behind. You'd dashed around into his bedroom and grabbed Victoria's mask, and run back out, where the others were struggling, and jammed it onto Justin's face. You and Tsosie had then dragged Justin into the bedroom and laid him on the open book. You'd taken the mask off him, and then hurriedly poured fuels and powders and dirt over him, and then thrown a match onto him. He had burned only briefly, and then he was just a statue.<br/>
<br/>
Maize had then called around. The people pretending to be Gordon Black and Justin Roth had declined his insistent invitations, but Perry had come over, and you and Maize had done the same thing to him. Perry had brought his mask with him, and you'd set it on him. The three of you had then talked very cryptically about the need to "get" Gordon and Will. Then you'd gone home and gone off to meet Lisa. You don't have any memories of what the golem was thinking, but you shudder at your memories of some of the things the golem said. Things like, "So, I've been hanging out with Maize Tsosie and them lately. We should go see them when we're done here."<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, in the middle of that date, Frank and Joe had appeared and kidnapped you, hauling along Justin Roth too when he came running out of seeming nowhere after them. You'd sulked in the cab with Joe; then Frank had gotten in and had pulled at your face ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You talk a little more, reviewing the night's events from different angles, and then Joe comes back out, looking surly. "I think I got a line on it," he says, "but I'll need to check some stuff at Tsosie's place first." He gives you and Gordon a sidelong glance. "How are these guys doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're shook up, but holding together," says Frank. "I told them a little about us, and I think we're friends. Are we, guys?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't know what to say. Gordon says nothing either. He puts his hand on his hips and kicks at the ground. When he speaks, it comes out haltingly. "Okay, you assholes need to know something about me," he says. "My dad's a cop--"<br/>
<br/>
"You can stop right there," the other Gordon says. "I know what you're going to say."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that, smart guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"That if me and Frank aren't exactly who we say we are, you will fuck us up or die trying."<br/>
<br/>
"I like the way I put it," Gordon says to his alter ego.<br/>
<br/>
The other Gordon grunts. "Your dad's done a real number on you, Black," he says. "But you picked up some good things from him. And it's to <i>your</i> credit, not his."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't like you talking about him that way."<br/>
<br/>
"I know. I'm not gonna say anything else."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you drive back out to Tsosie's, and are able to see with your eyes directly the scene you had glimpsed only second-hand before: the statues of your friends, still dressed in their clothes. Joe looks over their masks a few minutes before selecting one and taking it into the bedroom. The rest of you wait in silence, the stillness made eerier by the silent, stony trio of Maize Tsosie, Justin Roth, and Perry Small in the corner of the room.<br/>
<br/>
It's Perry who comes back out a few minutes later, and without speaking plops onto the sofa with a sheaf of papers. You recognize the copies of the spells you'd made. He studies one of them very closely. "I wasn't able to copy the whole spell," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"You copied just enough, which is both too much and <i>not</i> enough. Now shut up."<br/>
<br/>
After fifteen minutes, during which he takes occasional breaks to stare up the ceiling, he lays the sheets aside with a groan. "Okay, I get it."<br/>
<br/>
"And what <i>is</i> it?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"It's revenants. Those things over there are filled with revenants." He glances back at the statues. "Something from the graveyard. It's not even a <i>thing</i>, really, just a writhing, gasping, withered shadow of a thing. <i>It</i> doesn't even know what it is, except that it's finally a <i>thing</i> again."<br/>
<br/>
No one says anything, and maybe he feels compelled to fill the silence. "When a body rots," he says in a low voice, "it leaves dust behind. When the <i>person</i> whose body it was rots, it leaves a stain behind." He looks again at the statues. "Those things are <i>stained</i> with the graveyard."<br/>
<br/>
Frank's face fills with revulsion. "What kind of monster made that spell? Who would bring back--"<br/>
<br/>
"He <i>didn't,</i> Frank," Perry says. "The guy who wrote the <i>Libra</i> may have been the most damned magician who ever lived, but he wasn't a fool. These guys fucked up the spell. Idiot!" he yells with sudden heat, and slaps himself hard. "You use hair because that's where you get the <i>essentia</i>! And you can't be wearing a fucking mask when you pluck out your hair, because it evaporates!" He leaps to his feet and stalks over to Perry's statue. He looks like he's going to strike it, but he pulls back at the last minute. "This guy put the ingredients together. He put hair in it. But it was Justin's hair because he was wearing Justin's mask when he did, and he didn't notice that it evaporated. And when he put it into the first golem, he didn't realize what would happen. That he wasn't making a <i>slave.</i> He was making a receptacle for all the filth that went into its making, for all the rotted offal that's been seeping into the earth since they opened the cemetery! The fire was supposed to purify it, to bind the <i>essentia</i> to the golem's <i>substantia</i>, and without the <i>essentia</i> it just let loose the stuff that was inside the earth." <br/>
<br/>
He turns with a haggard expression. "That's your secret conspirator, guys," he says. "That first golem. <i>You</i> made him, and you let him loose, and he's been laughing at you from under all the masks you've been putting on him. And it's not even a 'him'. It's not even an 'it'. It's your own intelligences and ravenous appetites, fleshed out and bound together by a hell-corpse and let loose--"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop it, Joe!" Frank says in a voice like thunder. "You've made your point."<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't even started! One of them's probably still out there, and it's got the book, and it's making <i>more</i> things like itself! It started with <i>these three</i> and it would have added <i>these two</i>--" You feel yourself pale as he looks at you and Gordon "--and it will do it to <i>us</i> if it can, Frank, and to <i>everyone else in the world.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hope you like <i>Invasion of the Body Snatchers,</i> fellas," he ends sourly. "Because that's the world we're living in now."</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Magic Happens, Part 4
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Cut the pop culture crap, Joe," Frank says. "What are we talking about here?"<br/>
<br/>
Perry breathes heavily through his mouth a few times, and his eyes--which were feverish--turn filmy. "Lurga, Frank," he says. "We're talking about the shadow of <i>Lurga.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Frank rears back. "You're excited, Joe. We haven't seen the shadow of Lurga since the Black Death."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're going to live to see it, Frank, and before your nineteenth birthday. If you're <i>lucky.</i> If not, something that <i>looks</i> like you is going to blow out the candles on your cake, and there's not going to be anyone--no <i>real</i> people--left to light them again."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," says Frank, and he whitens. "Remember who you're talking to."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>know</i> who I'm talking to. Meditate on it tonight. Call Father Ed and Miss Dillon and tell them to meditate too. Miss Dillon might already be leaving messages on our machine."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you guys talking about," Gordon demands shrilly. <br/>
<br/>
But they just keep staring at each other. "This is too big for us, Frank," Perry says. "We have to call Dad, and we have to get <i>everyone</i> in here."<br/>
<br/>
"Dad put <i>us</i> on this mission--!"<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm telling you--!"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon snatches up a dirty glass and hurls it against the wall. It shatters loudly. "What! Are You! Talking! About!"<br/>
<br/>
"We're talking about the end of the world, Black," Frank snaps. "Though as usual my brother is panicking--"<br/>
<br/>
Perry flies at him, but bounces off something hard and invisible.<br/>
<br/>
"--but he usually knows what he's talking about, so we're going to have to talk to our superiors," Frank continues, as though nothing has happened.<br/>
<br/>
"End of the world?!"<br/>
<br/>
"There's a thing out there that wants to turn everyone in the world into <i>that</i>," Perry says from the floor, and points to the statues. "It has the book, which will let it do that. It's probably already started. We stopped three of them, but there's now probably more. And we don't know where they are. They could be inside any house, anywhere in this city. Turning their wives, their husbands, their children, into things like that. Using their money to get more supplies, so they can keep going. Inviting their friends, their co-workers, their <i>children's friends</i> into the house, so they can turn <i>them</i> into things like that. Spreading out. Infiltrating."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, <i>there's</i> where you're exaggerating," says Frank. "Think calmly, Joe. There's only one book. And for the disguises to be perfect, they need masks. It takes time to make those masks, and to execute the transformation spell--"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't take that long," Perry says. "They can mass-produce the masks once they have a few hands at work. It takes maybe an hour to polish one up using a buffer. Five minutes to lay someone on the book."<br/>
<br/>
"You're still talking about only twelve, maybe twenty conversions a day. Tops. It's not even an exponential growth rate."<br/>
<br/>
"Only twelve or twenty," Perry sneers. "As if <i>one</i> isn't too many."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't get all moral on <i>me,</i> mister. I'm not making an ethical judgment, only a practical one about what we're facing. We find the <i>Libra</i> and we can stop it cold. Then hunt down the fakes. This doesn't even <i>begin</i> to approach the scale of the <i>Peractio.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I still want help, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
"And we'll get it. We'll call Dad."<br/>
<br/>
"What do we do tonight?" you ask, finally finding your voice.<br/>
<br/>
Neither Perry nor Frank speaks. The latter paces the room with his hands on his hips. "That other mask of Gordon isn't here," he says, "Which suggests something is walking around under it. It'll have the book and the masks you guys made yesterday." You quail at the piercing glance he shoots you. "In fact, it's probably already changed disguises, and made at least a few more conversions."<br/>
<br/>
"How could it change its mask," Gordon asks. "They can't move when they're outside a mask, right? Or can they?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, they're totally immobile," Perry says. "It wouldn't have <i>changed</i> masks. It would have put a blank mask onto someone else and made a copy, then burned the victim into one of <i>these</i> things." Again, he indicates the statues. "Then it would have put the new mask onto the remains. A new confederate. The bad Gordon could then hide out, or switch masks, and let the confederate start making new confederates the same way. Or they could lay low and make a bunch more masks and start moving tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea," Gordon gasps, and leaps toward the door. <br/>
<br/>
Frank stops him. "Don't go running off, Black. Your girlfriend's a potential target, it's true. But there are others." He sucks in a hard breath. "You got families. The golems wanted to convert you guys, because you were the only ones left who knew about the <i>Libra.</i> If they couldn't get you out here, they might have hit your houses. Waiting for you to go home, all unsuspecting, where your dad or your mom--"<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you don't faint, but you do topple over, and hit your head hard. The world goes black.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Something cold and wet is on your forehead, and you rise up violently, swatting in all directions. When your vision clears, you find Joe--now outside the mask--smiling wryly at you. "It's okay, Prescott. It's just a washcloth."<br/>
<br/>
You look around. You're no longer at Tsosie's, but in a bedroom you've never seen before. It is quite spartan, with only a small bookshelf and a desk. But they are piled up with books and papers. "Where--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Our house. Me and Frank's. We moved you while you were unconscious. You didn't hit your head that bad, but we kept dropping your mask onto you to keep you out. It seemed kinder that way. Gordon carried you. It was quite touching, actually."<br/>
<br/>
You wince with embarrassment, and try recalling what you'd been--<br/>
<br/>
It floods back. "My folks! My brother!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know. If you need it, Frank'll come in and put you to sleep. He's talking to our Dad now. Gordon's out in the living room, straining every muscle to keep it together. You guys are doing pretty well, considering."<br/>
<br/>
You bury your face in your hands. Why didn't you get rid of the book? <i>Oh. You did. That's how come you're here.</i> Why didn't you burn it, then, or bury it, or just leave it at fucking Arnholm's?<br/>
<br/>
Joe seems to read your mind. "It's not your fault, Will. You contributed a little piece of it, and lots of other people contributed their pieces. But you didn't make the fatal mistake. You and the others, though, you just didn't listen to Tsosie."<br/>
<br/>
<i>He was the only one with the right idea, and he was the first one to get fucked by it.</i><br/>
<br/>
"So what are we going to do now?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Frank had an idea on the way back. He's clearing it with Dad first, since it's risky. But we each have a job, and <i>you</i> need to do something for <i>me.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He draws you gently off the bed and takes you over to the desk; he rudely shoves the clutter to the floor, except for one sheet of clean paper and one sheet that has some writing and a sigil on it. <i>Great. One of those spells.</i><br/>
<br/>
"I need you to copy this design," he says. "Copy it out exactly. You can do that, right? You did it with the others."<br/>
<br/>
"Why do I need to do that?" You don't want to deal with these things anymore. "I already--"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't make this one. The golems made it. It's a new spell, and we may need it if we're going to fight them."<br/>
<br/>
"But why do I have to copy it?" you truculently insist.<br/>
<br/>
"Because <i>this</i> copy doesn't work," he says. "Not like the ones <i>you</i> made. And I'm pretty sure it wouldn't work if <i>I</i> tried making a copy."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't understand."<br/>
<br/>
"Just do it," he says with gentle insistence. "It'll be okay. I'll explain when you're done."<br/>
<br/>
He leaves you, and for thirty minutes you pore of the design, carefully making the strange curls and bars and lines and interlocking chains. Joe returns shortly before you're finished, and he examines it carefully when you hand it to him. "Excellent," he says. "Incredible, actually." Then he pulls you back over to the bed, and sits next to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, do you want to go home when all this is finished? When we get everything put back together?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Of course."<br/>
<br/>
"Because you don't have to. You can go with us. Me and Frank."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" you ask in alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"Because of this." He takes a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it. It, too, is covered by a sigil, but the ink is a light, silvery color that is almost invisible, except where it shimmers under the light. "I clipped off a little bit of your hair while you were out, and put it in this sigil. It's a kind of diagnostic. Like a blood test. I coulda used some of your blood, but hair is less creepy.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott, you have a very rare condition. Very few people have it. You are, you might say, a natural-born magician. Like me and Frank, and the people we work with. I'm not going to use a word like 'destiny,' because that's a very misleading word. But just like a light bulb 'belongs' in a light socket, <i>you</i> belong with <i>us.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You feel the blood drain from your face.<br/>
<br/>
"We can't force you to do anything," Joe says. "If you want to go home you can. It'll be like leaving a light bulb on the shelf, but there's no harm in it. But you need to know that you have this choice in front of you."<br/>
<br/>
"When do I have to decide by?" You have to play for time.<br/>
<br/>
His face turns grave. "It would be best if you decided now. Like, in the next five minutes. We don't know what we're going to find at your house. And it would be best if you not be influenced by it. This isn't a decision that should turn on whether or not you have a home to return to."</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211211111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Kind of Normalcy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What do you mean by 'not having a home to return to'?" you gasp, even though you're pretty sure you know exactly what he means.<br/>
<br/>
"Frank and I are going out to your place," he says. "Like, in five minutes, since it's getting late. Now, maybe we'll find your parents there, but maybe we'll only find things that <i>look</i> like them. You don't want to choose your future based on the latter. You don't want to go with us just because you have nothing here. If you decide to go with us, it should be because you <i>know</i> that it's better for you than having a regular life, and not because you're running away from something awful."<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing, and after a minute he claps you on the knee and leaves you alone with your thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
The really dreadful thing, you realize, is that you would probably be leaving without ever having said good-bye to your family. You try to remember the last time you saw them. It was days ago, and you've been body-hopping ever since: Into Justin's life, then Perry's, then Gordon's. You always assumed you'd be returning to your own at some point, and you started the whole process more on a lark than anything else. <br/>
<br/>
But even if your family is okay, if they haven't been turned into monsters, it seems likely that Frank and Joe will just bundle you off without a good-bye glance back. You and they could never explain to your mom and dad that you were leaving, and for what reason. <br/>
<br/>
And then it hits you from another angle: Probably they will never tell you what they find at your house. That might be another reason they want you to make this decision <i>now.</i> They want to spare you some terrible knowledge.<br/>
<br/>
So you're already feeling inclined to accept Joe's invitation when your resolve is boosted from another direction. There are awful things out there, things you never suspected existed. You helped bring them into the world, and you want to destroy them, and you want to stop anything equally evil from getting into the world ever again. That, apparently, is what Frank and Joe and their group are doing. A querulous little voice of loathing self-doubt tells you you're over-dramatizing things by about a thousand percent, but you have a sudden vision of yourself, wielding powers like Frank, laying waste to hideous creatures, like the hero in an action flick.<br/>
<br/>
Aw, fuck it, even if it is just a stupid fantasy, how many people basically have that kind of thing <i>offered</i> to them?<br/>
<br/>
Before you can change your mind, you hurry out of the bedroom to give them your decision.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Well, how do we look?" Will Prescott asks with a sly smile. Beside him, Gordon Black rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"And I can't go with you," the other Gordon--the real Gordon--growls sourly.<br/>
<br/>
"Just hang out here, try to catch some sleep," Prescott says. "If it goes well, we'll be back before sun up."<br/>
<br/>
"And if it doesn't go well?"<br/>
<br/>
"Then we'll be back sooner."<br/>
<br/>
They leave.<br/>
<br/>
They barely had time to explain the plan: to use your faces to get into your houses, and grapple with the people there, to find out if they were real or had already been made victims. You try talking to Gordon, but he just sinks down into himself. You sit next to him for awhile, then prowl the house. There's very little to it: Just a single bedroom, a dining room, a kitchen, a living room, and a garage. You go out in the back yard and try staring up at the sky, your mind racing uselessly, then go back in to find Gordon as uncommunicative as before. He doesn't respond when you ask if he's hungry, and you go in the kitchen and make yourself a snack. You make enough for him, too, and bring it out. He picks at it a bit before wolfing it down.<br/>
<br/>
You return to the bedroom and lay down. Almost instantly, you fall asleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your mind is a smear of confusion when you wake, and you have to roll around on the bed for a bit before you recollect where you are, and then you sit up sharply. Light is coming in through the curtains.<br/>
<br/>
You feel used and grimy as you stumble out into the house, calling for people. No one answers. It's empty, but you find a note on the dining room table: "Back by seven. Don't worry about anything."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Don't worry.</i> A fine sentiment, but your heart hammers in your chest, and you twitch all over. You're not hungry. Finally, for a lack of anything better to do, you get in the shower, and spend a long time under the hot water.<br/>
<br/>
You hear voices when you get out, and quickly dry and dress. Joe and Frank are in the dining room. They look very calm and grave, but Joe's eyes twinkle. "How d'you feel?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"What happened?" you blurt out.<br/>
<br/>
"All fixed," he says, and taps at something on the table. It's the book.<br/>
<br/>
Your stomach heaves. "What happened?" you ask again.<br/>
<br/>
"We took Gordon home," Frank says. "Everyone's going home. As far as anyone will be able to tell, nothing will have happened."<br/>
<br/>
"How?" you ask, and fear rises to clutch your throat. <i>Would you ever be able to tell if these guys were monsters, like Tsosie and Roth and Small? Like--?</i> You gulp.<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks to you," says Joe. "That sigil you traced out last night. Well, it turned out not to be strictly necessary, since we got the book back--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just tell me what's going on!" you shrilly demand.<br/>
<br/>
Frank frowns. "Prescott, there's no reason to lose your shit, and the less you know--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, Frank," Joe says. "He needs to know at least a little bit of it." He pads up to you with a soft smile. "Pull my face, Will. Make all those doubts go away." He closes his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath and lick your lips. If you pulled at it, and a mask came off, and you found a <i>thing</i> underneath ... Well, you wouldn't be able to stop screaming, not before Frank tackled you and jammed a mask onto <i>you</i> and turned you into--<br/>
<br/>
You put your hand on his face. You mutter the words. You yank at him. Nothing happens. You try again. But it's like when you tried taking Gordon's face off back at Tsosie's.<br/>
<br/>
"Try it on Frank," Joe says when you drop your hand.<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay," you say weakly. "But still, what do you mean when you say everyone's going home? Did you find a way to--"<br/>
<br/>
"We neutralized them," Frank says. "It's tricky, and in fact we're going to stick around, just to make sure we really did take care of it all. But--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's like this," Joe says, and gestures you over to the table. He opens the book. "This is the spell they used on Tsosie and their other victims. It turns people into golems. Normally, you'd use <i>essentia</i> to execute the spell, but they didn't, because they wanted to make more things like themselves. But <i>this</i> spell--" He turns the page. "Basically, what it does is put a golem <i>inside</i> a mask. You make this paste and coat the inside of it. And what happens then, is that when you put the mask on, it turns the person underneath into a golem. Temporarily."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't understand."<br/>
<br/>
"Here," Joe says. "Pretend this is a mask." He splays out his hand. "I copy <i>you</i>--" He puts your hand to your face. "Then I coat the insides with that paste. I use <i>my</i> hair in the spell. Then I put it on Frank here." He mimes putting a mask onto Frank. "Frank turns into a copy of you. He's still there, but he's hidden underneath, and he's asleep. He doesn't see or hear anything. And all anyone can see is Will Prescott, doing Will Prescott kinds of things."<br/>
<br/>
"So it's like those <i>things,</i>" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"Except," Joe says, holding up a finger. "I used my hair. That stops it from turning into one of those things. It's <i>my</i> slave, and it has to do what I tell it to do. Otherwise, it just goes around acting normal. It hasn't got a will of its own. It's just a very clever robot, and not a Terminator robot either. It won't try taking over the world.<br/>
<br/>
"So what we did--what we're <i>going</i> to do, because we haven't finished yet--is put this paste inside the masks of Roth and Tsosie and Small. Then we'll put them on those statue things. The bad things will be trapped underneath, and all we'll have are robots that act like Roth and Tsosie and Small. They'll go home, and no one will ever know anything happened to them."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean you can't <i>fix</i> them?"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know how," says Frank. "We'll do some research, and try to reverse that spell the golems put on them. But this will buy us time."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay." And then you can't stand it anymore. "What about my mom and dad? Robert? And Gordon's dad?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to worry about Gordon," says Frank. "And you can go home if you want."<br/>
<br/>
"But I thought you were going with us," says Joe.<br/>
<br/>
You sit down. You turn over what they have told you. And then you realize what they're doing. They're not going to tell you what happened to your parents. If your family were victims, they can use this new spell to hide that fact from you, and let you go back and pretend everything is normal. And if they weren't victims? They're still not going to tell you, because they thought you made that decision last night.<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't want to make a clean break," Frank says after you've said nothing. "You can stay in town. Me and Joe are staying. We found the book, and we got that second mask of Gordon. So we think it's all over. But we're going to keep making sweeps, looking for more golems, until we're sure. You can stay with us, though you'd have to adopt an alias. Stay as Roth or Tsosie or Small, probably. Or we can send you off to start your training. <br/>
<br/>
"Either way, though, we'll be putting a doppelganger in for you."</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122112111111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Substitute
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I wanna stay here," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"It would be better if you made a clean break," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know that, Frank," Joe says. "It might be better if he eased in to things."<br/>
<br/>
"If there are still any of those <i>things</i> here, I want to help fight them," you say. "Besides," you have to add with a weak laugh. "I barely know you guys, but it would be less scary with you."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know Frank," Joe chortles. "And you don't know the others. Dad. Kali." He smiles fondly.<br/>
<br/>
"Father Ed," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
Joe's face falls. "Yeah. Stick with us, Prescott." He claps you on the shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Get undressed," Frank says. "We've got your mask all prepped, and just have to put it on the original golem, and then we can send it to school. We picked up your truck."<br/>
<br/>
But you're still worried as you pull off your shirt. "You said you prepped my mask. So it'll be--"<br/>
<br/>
"It'll be okay. It'll just be a regular golem, a regular slave," says Frank.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"It'll be <i>my</i> slave," says Frank sternly. "You won't be able to put the mask on. I told you. You're not going home again."<br/>
<br/>
You hang your head, but acquiesce.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're in some of Joe's things--loose and ill-fitting--when Will Prescott saunters in from the garage. He jerks his chin at you in greeting. "Dude," he says. "You look sick."<br/>
<br/>
You turn away. You're giving up everything you had and ever would have had. Poor as it is, it was still <i>yours.</i> It was all fun, jumping around, pretending to be other people. But in the back of your mind was always the possibility that you could reclaim what you'd given up.<br/>
<br/>
But you <i>are</i> still yourself, you reflect. And if Joe is to believed, you have laid claim to a very unique kind of destiny. <br/>
<br/>
So you look back up and stare it confidently in the eye. "Just don't piss Dad off."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't ask the impossible of me," he snorts.<br/>
<br/>
Frank gives it a light shove, and with a quiet word sends it out the door to resume your existence.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, we have to take off in a few minutes too," he says when it's gone. "Black will be pissed if we're late for practice. We don't have the others in circulation yet, but we need to divide things up. There's three of us--you, me and Joe--and three of them. Roth, Small and Tsosie. Me and Joe will each take control of one of them, and you'll take the third. Which one do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's also you and me, Frank," Joe says. "We may be spending a lot of time as the other two, so we're going to have doubles of ourselves walking around in the meantime."<br/>
<br/>
"So?" Frank asks. <br/>
<br/>
"So maybe Prescott would want to impersonate one of us."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you nuts," Frank demands after a gaping silence. "Why would--"<br/>
<br/>
"Show him he's part of the team. Here's how we do it. You take over for Roth, say, while keeping your own replacement under your control. I take over for Tsosie and Small, shuttle between them as need be. Prescott steps in for me."<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks quickly between you and his brother. "I don't want it to look like I'm mistrustful or anything--"<br/>
<br/>
"So don't <i>act</i> like you're being mistrustful or anything," Joe retorts. "We already have a mask of me. Prescott's got my clothes on. Go to practice with him this morning, and drop me off at Tsosie's so I can get those guys back in circulation."<br/>
<br/>
"You're being really generous, Joe," Frank says, and though you've not known him long at all, you can tell he is genuinely flustered.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's not really necessary," you say. "I can just--"<br/>
<br/>
"So maybe it's not generosity," Joe says. "Maybe I wanna have some fun, and letting Prescott play my part would be a good excuse for letting me have it."<br/>
<br/>
"We're not doing this to have fun," Frank says, "however much that <i>con artist</i> you are at heart is looking forward to fucking around."<br/>
<br/>
"And Prescott needs to learn about us and our business," Joe says. "Quickest introduction is to let him look at it all from the inside. For a little bit at least." He jabs you in the shoulder. "And don't get comfortable being me. I like being me and will want it back."<br/>
<br/>
"This is still a huge thing you're--" Frank starts.<br/>
<br/>
"Then make it for one day only," Joe says. "Just today, then. Like putting on training wheels. He goes in as me, gets a look around. Then we get together tonight and talk about it some more. In the meantime--" He rubs his chin. "If I recall correctly, Small is the one who can least afford to miss classes. I'll go in as him today. You give me some of your <i>essentia</i>, Frank, and I'll put one of the other guys in motion. Roth or Tsosie. The other one misses today. Then tonight, either Prescott takes over for me for the duration, and you and me split Roth and Tsosie. Or me and Prescott split them and I keep my own face under my control."<br/>
<br/>
Frank glowers. "You've got it all figured out, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know what a fast thinker I am."<br/>
<br/>
You still feel like you have to lightly protest, but Joe is firm, and Frank ceases to argue.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Where the fuck were you," Patterson yells at you as the ball bounces off uselessly out of bounds. <br/>
<br/>
"Right here, obviously," you yell back.<br/>
<br/>
"You were supposed to be over <i>there,</i>" he says, getting in your face.<br/>
<br/>
"I can only be one place at a time!"<br/>
<br/>
"Five pushups. Now." He points at the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all?" you snort, and drop to the floor. And then you feel his weight as he stands on your back. The blood feels like it's going to explode out your face as try forcing yourself up.<br/>
<br/>
"Steve-o, get off him!" Gordon yells in a harsh voice.<br/>
<br/>
He drops off, and you look up with a snarl on your face. "Don't treat me like a pussy, Black! I can do it!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know you can," Gordon says. And then <i>he</i> stands on your back. "Let's see if you can do it <i>now.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
That's the low point of the session. Frank just smiles grimly at you the whole time. <i>Fucker.</i> Dude's cruising along at maybe sixty percent of capacity, which is enough to keep him out of trouble. You, on the other hand, are red-lining the meter just so you can look a tiny bit better than him, and it's still not enough.<br/>
<br/>
That's because even though you've got Joe Durras's body and strength and physical abilities, you don't have the extra juice that lets him move that little bit faster than is humanly possible when no one is looking. And so you can't get past the other assholes when they're blocking you, or scoot into the positions that Patterson is expecting you to take, or blur yourself over a few feet to take advantage of a loose ball.<br/>
<br/>
And then there's the other guys on the team. This is only your second day--Joe's second day--at the school, and despite attempts yesterday to be friendly, they were standoffish. And today they're watchful. It takes you a while to figure it out, but when you catch several of them in a knot muttering and looking at you and Frank, you realize what it is: They are expecting Gordon and Steve to try breaking you, and they're waiting to see how much you can take before you buckle. <br/>
<br/>
"Frances! Josephine!" Gordon calls ten minutes before the session is supposed to end. "Hit the showers. I'll be in in a minute." He turns to scream abuse at some of the other guys as you and Frank trudge into the locker room.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't take it personally," Frank says as he turns on the water. "He has to stay in character with us."<br/>
<br/>
"Easy for you," you grumble. "I'm busting my ass, and you're--" You stop short as Gordon himself comes in.<br/>
<br/>
He reaches in to shut off the spigots. If you were hoping for an apology, you get something much more surprising. "How's Prescott doing?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Better than you'd expect," Frank says. "He's back at our place, so don't try talking to him if you see him in the halls."<br/>
<br/>
"What happened?" Gordon asks sharply. "I thought you said he's okay."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say he's okay," Frank says carefully. "I said he's doing better than expected."<br/>
<br/>
A white spot shows in Gordon's forehead. "Jesus," he murmurs. He seems to struggle for words. "If you guys want me to talk to him--"<br/>
<br/>
"That won't be necessary," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon folds his arms and looks at the floor. "Well, tell him I asked about him." Frank assures him he will. "Alright. Get out of here, okay? There's gonna be a scene in a minute, and I don't want you guys to see it." He leaves.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Seth and Cindy,</i> you realize after a moment's thought. It makes you sick, since <i>you're</i> the one who set it up.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon asked how you're doing," Frank says with faint irony.<br/>
<br/>
"That was nice of him," you say, and turn the water back on.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The cheerleaders are already streaming in as you and Frank are leaving. Outside the doors, you pause. "I'll catch up later," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure you will. We don't share a class till after lunch."<br/>
<br/>
You wait with a sinking heart. Ten minutes later, Cindy Vredenburg, her face buried in the crook of her arm, runs out of the gym.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Professor's House, and What Happened There-1
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It seems best to keep Gordon in the loop, so you call him. "I think I found a lead on the book," you say, and tell him about this "former owner."<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty freaking weird that he'd let it get away from him," he says when you're done. "But let's talk to him. Now. I got nothing better to do." You give him the address off the card.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It proves to be a villa on the outskirts of town, near where farm country starts. It's a big, two-story affair surrounded by a whitewashed stone wall. The grounds are extensively landscaped, but utterly dead; there isn't even any grass, and the only plant life is a yew tree by the corner of the house, near a stone shed. You and your friend--who is still dressed out like Justin--exchange an uneasy glance when you see the doorbell: It's sitting inside the mouth of a ravening wolf. Justin just raps sharply at the door.<br/>
<br/>
It is opened a few minutes later by a portly gentleman. He is middle-aged and dressed in polyester slacks and a tight, black pullover. He has a moustache and a goatee, and a bad combover trails limply over his broad scalp. His smile is thin and quizzical. "Professor Blackwell?" you ask. He nods. "Ted Arnholm gave us your card. We were asking him about a book we bought at his shop."<br/>
<br/>
A gleam comes into the professor's eyes and his smile widens without growing any warmer. "Ah, I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear that. Do come in, gentlemen." He lets you into the foyer and closes the door behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You introduce yourself and Justin. "Mr. Arnholm told us you were interested in buying the book back--"<br/>
<br/>
"Let us be clear," he interrupts. "We are speaking of the <i>Libra Personae</i>?" His smile fades a little as you just stare back at him. "A leather-bound book about this big--" He gestures with his hands. "Illustrated on its title page by some rather cunning drawings?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's it," Justin says. "The name is a little hard to read."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have it with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Actually, we came out because we wanted to ask you about it. We're a little curious about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you?" he muses quietly. "Well, I can tell you something of its provenance, but the most important detail is the price I would pay to retrieve it. Six hundred dollars? After such a transaction, I would be most happy to discuss it at length with you."<br/>
<br/>
"It's that valuable?" Justin says after the ensuing pause has become awkward.<br/>
<br/>
"Not in itself," he says. "The book itself is merely a curiosity, but it was part of an extensive collection that I am endeavoring to reassemble for Keyserling's museum. I am afraid I am having to pay a steep price for my carelessness in accidentally parting with it."<br/>
<br/>
You and Justin exchange a glance. <i>Bullshit,</i> you silently agree.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell reads your glance. "Mm," he says. "Perhaps if you joined me in the library, I could answer any questions you might have."<br/>
<br/>
He gestures you down a short hall and through an arched doorway. The library is extremely large. Three of its walls are dominated by bookshelves rising to a high ceiling--so tall that a wheeled ladder must be used to reach the top shelves. The fourth wall has tall windows and French doors looking westward. A discordant ticking comes from one corner: two grandfather clocks, set at right angles to each other, are ticking out of phase with each other. Stuffed animals sit in various alcoves. Your eye is caught by one in particular: It looks like a hairless monkey baring fanged teeth. It has a single eyeball in the center of its forehead, which glares back at you with an expression of frothing, gleeful malice.<br/>
<br/>
There are several large desks in the middle of the room, and Blackwell gestures you and Justin to sit at one. He sits opposite you, and from a drawer takes out a silver pen, which he twiddles absent-mindedly between his fingers. "You'd much prefer to have the money to the book, wouldn't you, boys?" he says softly. "Think of what you could buy if you split six hundred dollars. The book is just an antique. Just an antique."<br/>
<br/>
"It may be an antique," says Justin, "but it can do some interesting things."<br/>
<br/>
"Pshaw," says Blackwell. "Some funny drawings and interesting designs. It's not even written in real Latin, just a mongrel approximation scribbled out by a madman." The pen flashes between his fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but you can make these masks," Justin says.<br/>
<br/>
"Not even proper Halloween masks," Blackwell softly insists.<br/>
<br/>
"And some other things."<br/>
<br/>
You have to work to tear your eyes off the pen. What is your friend up to, babbling away about the book? Your head feels cottony, and you wonder if you missed that part of the conversation where Blackwell asked about the book. "Trinkets," Blackwell says dismissively, and your eye is again caught by the glittering pen.<br/>
<br/>
"Golems," Justin says.<br/>
<br/>
The pen stops moving. "What is a golem?" Blackwell asks, and sets the pen in motion again.<br/>
<br/>
"A fake person. An automaton. And if you put a mask on it--"<br/>
<br/>
The pen stops again, and the library--which you now realize had been fading away--comes flooding vividly back. You look up sharply to see Blackwell staring at Justin. "You've made a mask <i>and</i> a golem?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Justin says in a low growl. "And we put the mask <i>on</i> the golem. So don't bullshit us about how the book is just a 'curiosity'."<br/>
<br/>
"I see," says Blackwell. "You are rather clever boys, aren't you," he continues in a faint sneer. "Or you think you are. And yet you came looking for me. Pumping me in an extraordinarily unsubtle fashion, for information." His beard bristles as he smiles nastily. "What kind of trouble have you gotten yourselves into?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who says we're in trouble?"<br/>
<br/>
"You have," says Blackwell. "Just by coming here."<br/>
<br/>
You look around the library, and the sense of unease that had settled on you suddenly crystalizes into fear. You put your hand on Justin's arm. "Let's get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a dangerous book," Blackwell says, and starts to twiddle the pen again. "Very dangerous. You don't want to hang on to it. You want to get rid of it. You want to give it back to me."<br/>
<br/>
"We want you to tell us about golems," Justin insists. "And how to control them."<br/>
<br/>
"Control them?" he asks. "If you're clever enough to have made one, you're certainly clever enough to--"<br/>
<br/>
"We got one, but it's kind of recalcitrant," Justin says. "Acts kind of funny. Doesn't always do what we want it to do."<br/>
<br/>
"We?" Blackwell laughs softly. "Perhaps you've confused it. It will only obey one person." Your attention settles again on the pen. You have the impression that you were trying to say something or do something, but can't quite place what it was.<br/>
<br/>
"This one says it's supposed to obey <i>us,</i>" Justin says. "But it doesn't. Not really, and not always."<br/>
<br/>
"Which of you crafted it?"<br/>
<br/>
Justin shifts in his seat. "A friend of ours. He's got the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah," says Blackwell. "Has <i>he</i> noticed anything-- But perhaps he should come out himself to discuss things. And bring the book with him."<br/>
<br/>
You smile to yourself. You like the suggestion, but you make no move to take out your phone. The clocks tick, and you find yourself counting their strokes. You have to invent some new numbers to keep track of them ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're sitting in the library, feeling very peaceful. You're not staring at anything in particular. A few times you glance over at Justin. He's also sitting there with a faint smile on his face. Your attention returns to the far wall, where that monkey is sitting. Dimly, you realize that Blackwell is no longer sitting opposite you. Well, it's his house and he can move around it as he likes. You yourself are content to just sit here and let its air of learning settle about you, silting up around your feet and legs and chest and--<br/>
<br/>
The monkey's single eye flashes, and it's like a shuriken to your eyeball. You sit bolt upright and turn with a gasp toward Justin. He's halfway out of his chair and clutches at your arm. His mouth is a perfect circle. "You didn't fucking call Roth, did you?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"You think I'm stupid? I called--"<br/>
<br/>
A scream rents the air, a shrill, inhuman sound that tears at your eardrums. You jog the table hard as you leap to your feet and scramble from the library.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell is standing in the front doorway, gazing out. But at the sound of your approach he swings around and slams the door, twisting the lock in place. You grab at him, but he holds firm. "Stay where you are!" he says in a terrible voice, and his face is white. "For the love of all that's--"<br/>
<br/>
The scream rises again. You try thrusting him out of the way, but he is very heavy and has his feet planted firmly, and he sags back against the door. "Get out of the way, you--"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't go out there!" he cries. "It'll get you too!"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck is--?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't comprehend the force at play," he shouts over the screams. "This house and its grounds--"<br/>
<br/>
The scream trails off into a weak wail, and a dreadful silence falls. Blackwell grasps the knob tightly, his knuckles whitening. He shakes his head frantically and motions you to be silent. His face has turned an unnatural color.<br/>
<br/>
Something scratches at the door, and there's a thump. Then something sounding heavy and sharp, like an iron claw, drags slowly across it.<br/>
<br/>
You and Justin stare at the professor, while he stares past your shoulders with a stricken expression on his face. After a very long minute, he turns and slowly unlocks the door. He opens it a crack and peers out. <br/>
<br/>
You push him aside. Will Prescott is laying on the walk, halfway between the door and the gate.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Professor's House, and What Happened There-2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Blackwell blocks the door, and tentatively puts his head out. He glances around, then steps back. He mops his brow. "Bring him inside," he says in a hoarse voice. "Quickly, quickly. And if you hear footsteps, drop him and get back inside." He stops you with a firm hand. "Please do as I say," he says with enormous gravity. "Beware of footfalls."<br/>
<br/>
You and Justin look at each other, and then move past him. The late afternoon air is a golden color, and you feel as though you are at the bottom of a deep but transparent sea. Or perhaps the house and its grounds are at the bottom of a well. There is something oppressive in the air, and the motionless body of Will Prescott looks like a broken toy that has drifted in on a current.<br/>
<br/>
You and Justin hustle out, ears straining for any sound of pursuit, but there is only the crunch of your own shoes on the dirt walk. You hastily gather up Prescott--he feels light in your strong arms--and hurry him back to the house. Blackwell waits by the wide-open door, and closes and double-locks it when you are back inside. "Into the library," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"You got some kind of guard dog?" Justin asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Some kind," mutters Blackwell. "It is very curious that--" He shoots you and your friend a sharp glance as you drop Prescott onto an empty table. Your double is pale, but there are no marks on him. His eyes are open and staring, and his chest doesn't move. <br/>
<br/>
Blackwell brushes you back and leans over him. He puts an ear to his chest, and then to his mouth. "You gonna try CPR?" Justin asks. <br/>
<br/>
"There's not much point in that," Blackwell says as he peers into Prescott's eyes. He looks up at you. "You boys told me that you made masks?" Justin answers the question with a jerk of his head. "Then you won't be surprised when I do this." Blackwell puts a hand to Prescott's face, mutters under his breath, and pulls.<br/>
<br/>
But you <i>are</i> surprised, and can tell that Blackwell is too, when the mask comes away. Prescott vanishes, to be replaced by something black. A sickly sour odor--a stench raw and loathsome--rolls out into the room, and all three of you gag. The form on the table crumbles into a loose pile of earth, restrained only by the clothes.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell puts his fist over his mouth, and you and Justin step back. For nearly a minute, the three of you can only stare at it. It's no longer a golem. It looks like the stuff that you used to make it.<br/>
<br/>
The professor turns over the mask in his hand and studies the inner surface. "William Martin Prescott," he says. "That's your friend who had the book?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's complicated," you say after a moment's hesitation. "The book is with someone else. This--"<br/>
<br/>
"This was the, ah, 'recalcitrant golem'?" Blackwell asks. "You'll have to make a new one. This one, I suppose, is now better classified as an 'ex-golem'."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck did you do to it," Justin asks in a furious whisper. He advances a step. "The fuck did you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"I?" Blackwell gasps. "I did nothing! I am only relieved to see that we have not suffered an actual casualty! My dear lads, if you knew the horror I felt when I thought--"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me what's going on!" Roth yells, and steps up with a fist raised high by his ear. "Black! Grab this asshole and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't threaten <i>me,</i> boy!" Blackwell says in a harsh voice, but he has turned very pale, and his cheek twitches as he looks up at you. "This is--" He wavers. "I don't know <i>what</i> this is, but I am as perturbed as you. There is something going on here that I do not understand."<br/>
<br/>
Justin doesn't lower his fist, and he plants his other hand, open-palmed on Blackwell's chest. You also step up close to the professor. "Then tell us what you <i>do</i> know," Justin says. "About that book, about golems, and about whatever just happened."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's lip curls, but he also swallows in a way that conveys fear. "Very well," he says. "It will help me to think aloud." His eyes dart about furtively. "The <i>Libra</i> was mine, and I was using it to conduct research of a very esoteric nature. I too have created a golem, one that has never given me any grief, and which has been in and out of this house many times without ever being ... attacked."<br/>
<br/>
"Attacked by what?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"By the <i>gwarcheidwad.</i> It's a kind of guardian spirit that roams these grounds. Yes, I confess before you lodge the accusation! I am a student of the occult!" Of course, you're not surprised. "The <i> gwarcheidwad </i> is mostly powerless during the day, at least against humans," he continues. "And it has never betrayed any animus toward <i>my</i> golem. I can't begin to guess why it would attack <i>yours</i>, or how it-- I must conduct some research."<br/>
<br/>
You and Justin exchange a long glance. "Knock yourself out," Justin says, and nods at the French doors. "Can we open those?"<br/>
<br/>
"We would <i>all</i> like some fresh air," Blackwell says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Justin sit in a far corner and watch the professor. He leaves for a few minutes, and returns in some large rubber gloves and carrying a vacuum cleaner. After scooping up a handful of the golem's remains onto a paper, he vacuums up the remainder and sets the clothes in a pile on the patio outside the French doors. "I doubt anyone would want to put <i>those</i> on again," he says. "And it wouldn't be healthy to." After that, he spends a quarter hour tracing some kind of elaborate pattern onto the now-empty desk, sprinkles some powders over it, and mutters long and elaborately over it. Ghostly blue flames--like those that had appeared when the golem was burning--flare out briefly, and then vanish. He then takes down some books and sits heavily at a table. <br/>
<br/>
Not long after, you hear the front door open and close. Blackwell exits the library, and you and Justin follow. You are surprised to find him in conversation with a beautiful young woman. It takes you a moment to place her, and then you nudge Justin sharply. He nods. It's Lucy Vredenburg: the older sister of your classmate, Cindy Vredenburg.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell gives you a pinched look before turning back to Lucy. "Wait upstairs in the bedroom," he tells her. She nods and slides past you and Justin, giving you each a coolly appraising glance as she passes. Strong desires stir in you. She is nicely packed in all the places that count, and many is the time that Will Prescott and Gordon Black have longed to clench those places in hungry hands. She vanishes up a staircase.<br/>
<br/>
"She one of your students?" Justin asks.<br/>
<br/>
"She is one of my <i>projects,</i>" Blackwell says. "I'd rather you gentlemen had stayed where you were. She is a <i>golem,</i> and as you can see, her arrival, as ever, was much less dramatic than that of <i>your</i> golem."<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of dangerous, isn't it, having another Lucy Vredenburg running around?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell freezes. "Oh, you know the girl? Well, no fears. There are ways to prevent them from running into each other." His expression is furtive. "I brought her out," he continues, "because we need to explore the memories inside that mask your golem left behind. None of us, I fancy, wishes to don the mask and 'remember' what happened outside a little while ago. The golem can answer our questions instead."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>We</i> can tell you everything it knows, at least up until lunchtime," Justin says. "We were both inside its mask then. It was acting weird, and we wanted to check up on it."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell snorts. "I've told you boys what little I know," he says in a peevish tone. "Perhaps if you told <i>me</i> about yourselves and your misadventures, I would be in a better position to help you." <br/>
<br/>
He doesn't sound like he much wants to help, but you give him the short version: How you and Justin Roth and Perry Small and Shep Tsosie and Gordon Black have been experimenting with the book. He asks which of you "crafted" the golem; you tell him that Perry and Justin got the materials together, and that you and Perry actually set it on fire. "But which of you put his <i>hair</i> in it," Blackwell impatiently asks.<br/>
<br/>
You can only blink. It was quite a few days ago, and Perry's memories have completely faded from your head. Justin, though, raises his hand. "That would have been me. Well," he adds. "It would have been someone who was looking like this at the time." He points to his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that not your own face?" Blackwell asks. "No, wait, let's not add to the confusion. Just tell me how it transpired. <i>Whose</i> hair is in the golem?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Justin says. "Perry Small put the stuff together. He was wearing this mask--" Again, he points to his face "--while he was working. He clipped off some hair. I remember, because it took him almost ten minutes to find some scissors--"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait," says Blackwell, raising a hand. "Is that a mask you are wearing?" Justin nods. "And the person--the young fool who prepared the spell--was wearing it, and clipped off some of its hair to use?" Justin nods again. "I begin to see the problem," Blackwell mutters. "Come with me."<br/>
<br/>
He leads you into the kitchen, where he takes out a pair of scissors and snips off a lock of Justin's hair. "Watch," he says, and holds up the hair. <br/>
<br/>
Nothing happens. "What are we looking at," you ask, but Blackwell motions you to be silent.<br/>
<br/>
And then you have to blink, for the thick brown hair has suddenly dissolved into a thin wisp of smoke, and vanished.<br/>
<br/>
"The problem," says Blackwell, "is that no one's <i>essentia</i> got used in your golem."<br/>
<br/>
"And that's a problem?" Justin asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Possibly, it's a very <i>serious</i> problem."</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122112211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Professor's House, and What Happened There-3
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What kind of problem?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"At the very least, it explains why you found the golem 'recalcitrant'," Blackwell says. "To craft a golem, one must add <i>essentia</i> to it. The spell uses hair to encompass this necessity. The use of <i>essentia</i> puts the golem under the spell-caster's control. If there is no <i>essentia</i>--" He tugs at his beard. "I am surprised the thing was animate. But even animate, it would not have been under anyone's control. It would have been an independent agent." He looks between you and Justin. "How did it act?"<br/>
<br/>
"Surly," says Justin. "Willful." Blackwell nods. "There were some weird blank spots in its memories."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of blank spots?"<br/>
<br/>
Justin shrugs. "Random, like the record button didn't get pushed."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell frowns deeply. "<i>Memory</i> is a function of the masks,  not of the golem." He snorts again. "It is extremely regrettable that the <i>Libra</i> should have fallen into the hands of <i>amateurs.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you managed to get rid of it for us," Justin snarls, "so maybe that just solves the problem and we can--"<br/>
<br/>
"But I'm far from convinced it <i>does</i> solve the problem," Blackwell says. "You are playing with deep forces, dangerous forces, and having cocked things up--" Again he snorts. "I should leave you to your fate, but I have a strong enough sense of responsibility--and no little sense of fear--"<br/>
<br/>
Justin starts to reply, but you restrain him. "Let's see what the pointy-head here can figure out about it," you say. Justin gives you a sour look, but relents. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Blackwell leads you back into the library and returns to his books. You and Justin retreat to your corner, to quietly discuss the afternoon's odd events. "Think we should bring Roth and them out here?" you ask. <br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. "I called the golem because I didn't want them bringing over anything, and wanted him to look at the thing. Didn't expect he'd wind up dissecting it. But let's not let him out of our sight again. Ten to one he's just stringing us along."<br/>
<br/>
So you keep a close watch on the professor, and when he takes a sheet of paper from a drawer, you stride over to look over his shoulder. It's a sigil. You ask him about it.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a copy of the device that crafts a golem," he says. "Useless for creating one, but I kept copies of all the sigils. As I told you, I was engaged in <i>research.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Probably involving the private parts of Lucy Vredenburg,</i> you snort to yourself, remembering the thing waiting upstairs. "What do you mean it's 'useless'?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean one cannot use it to create a golem," he snaps. "Only the spells inside the book itself have the power to do that."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Another reason to keep the book itself away from him.</i> You say nothing about the copies you had made, or the fact that you used them to make some more masks. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The sun has long since set, and you are stiff with boredom, when Blackwell sits up abruptly and sucks in his breath. He peers at the little pile of golem earth at his elbow, and then takes out a new sheet of paper and begins to sketch on it. He pulls down another book, and mutters to himself as he consults it while continuing to draw out a pattern. When you can't stand it anymore, you ask him what he's found.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know yet," he mutters sharply. "Pray do not interrupt. This is very delicate work." After drawing the rubber gloves on again, he puts a pinch of the earth into the new design. He bustles from the room. You and Justin hurry after, but only find him in the kitchen, looking through a cabinet. "Holy water, holy water," he says. "Never use the stuff, so there should still be some-- Ah!" With a grimace he pulls out a clear glass bottle, and you follow him back to the library. Carefully, he lets a single drop fall from the bottle onto the little pile of dirt. It hisses, and an acrid odor fills the room.<br/>
<br/>
"You fools!" Blackwell wheels on you, his face turning purple. "You callow striplings! You--! You--!" He has to close his eyes and take a deep breath in order to master himself. "Well, I suppose it is alright. We <i>did</i> manage to destroy it."<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't tell us what--" Justin starts again.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't even <i>know</i> what to call it," Blackwell says. "The most learned masters won't have a name for it. 'Ghost', I suppose, however vulgar, will have to suffice."<br/>
<br/>
"Ghost?" you hollowly echo. "What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face. "Yes, a ghost! What else do you find in graveyards?" He sits down heavily. "That's where the earth for a golem comes from, doesn't it? Well, all superstitions begin with a grain of truth, and the grain of truth about haunted graveyards is that they hold more than the decaying bodies of the deceased. They hold their decaying spirits as well. So one must <i>purify</i> the earth that goes into a golem. The use of <i>essentia</i> is a part of the purification process. Without the <i>essentia</i> those decayed spiritual things--the rotted, gibbering, insane remnants of the dead--can remain in the golem's flesh and take control of it." He fixes hard eyes on you. "You brought back a ghost and you gave it a body and then you gave it a mind and a set of memories when you put a mask on it. And then you let it loose."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him, and a shudder ripples through your body. It sounds crazy. But then, the idea of magical masks and golems would have sounded crazy until last week.<br/>
<br/>
"Whose ghost?" Justin asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Whose ghost?" Blackwell's laugh is a bark. "Drop a few thousand corpses into a blender, hit the puree button, and then scoop out a spoonful of the goop. Whose corpse is it? No one's. Everyone's. Death doesn't discriminate and comes to all alike. You think there is discrimination <i>after</i> death?<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, but my <i>gwarcheidwad,</i>" he says. "<i>It</i> knew. <i>It</i> smelled death on the thing, and it feasts on such as was animating it. It tore the rot from its unholy flesh, and left only dust behind. Bless me," he says with a shudder. "Bless us all."<br/>
<br/>
"Well," Justin finally says. "All's well that ends well. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
But Blackwell sits very still. "If we are lucky," he says at length. "But you said there were 'blank spots' in some of the masks' memories? I don't like that. It could be a problem with the masks, but-- Come. Let us see what is inside this mask the golem left behind."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Will Prescott stares, and then starts yelling and punching the air. Blackwell, though, is able to still him with a sharp word. <br/>
<br/>
You had found Cindy upstairs in a bedroom, undressed, but laying underneath the sheets. She had merely smiled as Blackwell had pulled the mask off, revealing a lumpen thing like what you had made. He had then put the Prescott mask onto it.<br/>
<br/>
"William," Blackwell says firmly. "You must do as I say." Your stomach twists at the thought of "yourself" under the control of this man. "Think back to this afternoon, after lunch. What did you do?"<br/>
<br/>
Your double blinks and looks around. "I went to class. Goofed off. Went out to Maize Tsosie's after school when Justin Roth called." He looks at your friend. "So you're part of the new club now?"<br/>
<br/>
"New club?" Justin asks slowly. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Prescott says with a cheerful calmness that makes every hair on your body stand on end. "You know, we grabbed you, knocked you out, then set you on fire."<br/>
<br/>
Deathly silence settles. You have to leave it to Blackwell to carry out the subsequent interrogation.<br/>
<br/>
So: Will Prescott had gone to Tsosie's, where he and Tsosie had grabbed the real Justin, used Victoria's mask to subdue him, and then laid him on the book. They had sprinkled powders and fuels and some of the cemetery dirt on him--after removing Victoria's mask--and then set him aflame. "He looks like a statue of himself now," Prescott says with an innocent smile. "Same with Perry. Then someone called me--whoever was pretending to be Justin--and told me to come out to some address. Well, me and the others needed to get the mask of Justin back and get the other two guys converted too. But when I got out there--"<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell had ripped the mask off it at that point.<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck was it talking about," Justin demands in a trembling voice. "What the fuck was it talking about, setting people on fire, and converting them, and statues--"<br/>
<br/>
You're back down in the library. You are gripping the edge of a table, and Blackwell himself is shaking all over. He had taken out another sheet of paper, and is studying it.<br/>
<br/>
"It's the next spell in the book," he says in a quaver. "I hadn't executed it yet when I lost the book, but I did copy out the sigil for study."<br/>
<br/>
"It uses a human body, I know that," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," he says. "I had a candidate--" He abruptly shuts his mouth. "But this is worse. This is--"<br/>
<br/>
"What did that <i>thing</i> up there do to our friends?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"It turned them into golems," Blackwell says. "Soulless, masterless things like the thing we destroyed this afternoon. Golems shouldn't be able to do magic, but <i>these</i> can. And they are making more like themselves, and they used some of your friends to do it."<br/>
<br/>
He takes a deep breath. "I think you boys had better spend the night with me," he says. "You don't know what you're going to find out there."</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221122111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Sally Into the Dark
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't like the thought of spending the night in this house, and with this man, but until you get better answers you're going to stick close to him. Your friend's expression suggests he feels the same way.<br/>
<br/>
"We need to get better acquainted," Blackwell says, and takes out a fresh sheet of paper.<br/>
<br/>
"You ain't puttin' <i>me</i> in any of your spells," Justin sputters.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell smiles faintly. "I only mean, that you should tell me who your friends are, what masks you have, and who is pretending to be whom." <br/>
<br/>
"Okay," you say. "There's Justin Roth, Perry Small, Shep Tsosie. Gordon Black. Will Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"The young man who was upstairs," Blackwell says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but that's <i>me,</i>" you say. Blackwell gives you an amused glance. "This mask, it's Gordon Black."<br/>
<br/>
"And where is Mr. Black?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's me," says Justin. "I'm wearing Justin Roth's mask."<br/>
<br/>
"And where is Justin Roth?" Blackwell asks as he scribbles out the names, and draws lines connecting the real people to aliases.<br/>
<br/>
"Being himself," Justin says. "Well, until--" He glances uneasily upstairs. Blackwell draws an arrow from Roth's name to an "X." "Same with Perry and Maize. Masks, but they weren't wearing them."<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Prescott's mask is upstairs," Blackwell muses. "Any others?"<br/>
<br/>
"Last I knew, there was a mask of Dane Matthias, and one of Victoria Rodriguez," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Do they know about the <i>Libra</i> and--?" He writes the names as you shake your head. "So." He adds a circled "g" next to the names of Roth, Tsosie and Small. "Messrs. Small and Tsosie will probably have returned to their houses, since there are masks the golems could have donned. Heaven knows where Mr. Roth is." He sniffs. "There is a small possibility that the golems are attempting only to replace those--such as <i>yourselves</i>--who know about the masks, but I rather doubt they will stop there. Certainly the masks of Mr. Matthias and Miss Rodriguez will tempt them into inducting <i>their</i> originals into their ranks. From there? They can execute the transformation spell, which argues that they can execute the spells that make additional masks. That means they can continue."<br/>
<br/>
"Continue?" you ask, your heart sinking. "How many--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Indefinitely?" Blackwell says. "Until the <i>world</i> is a walking cemetery? In practice, until we recover the <i>Libra</i> from them. But they will be guarding it closely, and I fear they will be using it at every opportunity."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Justin whispers.<br/>
<br/>
"Well might we pray," says Blackwell grimly. "And they will be looking for <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What if we hit them first," you ask. "Go out to Tsosie's? Maybe the book is still there."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell glances at the clock. "You have time for that," he says. "But I want you back here by eleven. I really don't mean to alarm you boys, but you should not go home. They will be looking for you there. You must hide tonight, at least, where they will not know to look for you."<br/>
<br/>
"They can't get us at our houses," you say. "Our families will be there."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell looks very grave. "I said I don't want to alarm you. But they may have already been to your houses, and left them booby-trapped."<br/>
<br/>
You and Justin stare at each other in horror.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's a light in Tsosie's window when you pull up. "You sure you want to go in like that?" you ask Justin. "It might be better if it were two dudes built like this." You tap your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"I can take him," Justin says. "We just won't give him a chance."<br/>
<br/>
And you don't. As soon as the door opens you bust in hard and grab Tsosie in a tight embrace. He fights, but Justin gets a hold of his face and rips at it.<br/>
<br/>
He ceases to struggle. Statues can't move.<br/>
<br/>
You look palely at each other, then shut the door and ransack the house. The book isn't there--only a second statue, this one looking like Justin Roth.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon takes off Justin's mask and puts Tsosie's on. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"It's not here," he says when he's recovered himself. He paces the room, head down, brow furrowed in concentration. "And the mask has been on and off that thing a couple of times. Fuck! They know enough not to leave any memories behind. They--! Shit, they got another copy of me!"<br/>
<br/>
"What? How?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." His eyes are feverish. "But after they got Perry they brought it out again. Put it onto Justin. Then they pulled the mask off Tsosie. Prescott was gone by the time they put it back on him. I guess maybe he'd gone out to Blackwell's. Black, the fake one, then left. Oh, Jesus, if he went back to my place--"<br/>
<br/>
He stops, and you don't finish the thought you both share: The only thing worse than Russell Black would be a Russell Black who is actually an undead thing only pretending to be Russell Black.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But no one is at Gordon Black's house. Time is running short--Blackwell had been vehement about eleven o'clock as a curfew--and after a short but intense argument, you decide to go by Perry Small's. Force will be useless there, so you go in disguise: Gordon puts on Tsosie's mask again, and you take off Gordon's. That way you will appear to be undead-Perry's confederates: Shep Tsosie and Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
His step-dad answers the door, and gruffly calls Perry down. He smirks when he sees you, and saunters out into the yard with you. "What's the good word?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"We tracked down the other two," Maize says. "We're on our way to meet them. Since one of them is looking like Gordon Black, we came by for reinforcements."<br/>
<br/>
"Excellent," Small laughs. "Once we get Gordon-- Ha! Patterson, Chelsea, Lynch, Huber, Delacroix, the cheerleaders." He snaps his fingers. "Summon 'em up to the fuck room and do 'em hard. Life'll be sweet, and then we'll get their folks." He glances back at the house. "Tom's already-- Hey, how come you're driving Black's car?"<br/>
<br/>
Maize grabs him, and you rip at his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Tom? Tom's what?" you gasp as you bundle the statue into Gordon's Bug. "Already a golem?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." He fingers Perry's mask. "I could put it on and see."<br/>
<br/>
"It's ten-thirty now," you say. He swears, and you both get in the car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're less than pleased when Blackwell reveals that the real curfew was midnight, but now it's too late to do anything. "Do <i>not</i> open this door until seven o'clock at the earliest," he tells you as he puts you in the bedroom that had held Lucy's golem. (He had sent it away during your absence.) "The thing that destroyed the golem prowls the house at night, and if you break the seal that is about this portal, it will do worse to you than it had done to the golem."<br/>
<br/>
"Nice fucking guard dog," Gordon mutters. "What's wrong with a Rottweiler?" <br/>
<br/>
The day's events have left you stressed out, and the stress isn't improved by seeing that you and Gordon will be sharing a bed. You both keep your clothes on, and by some mutual consent lay down on opposite sides of the bed. You hear noises a little after midnight, but they're not so bad that you can't sleep.<br/>
<br/>
You wake to find Gordon's arms around your torso, and his boner in your crotch. You manage to disentangle yourself without waking him, and as it's after seven go downstairs, where you find Blackwell. He is in a somber mood, but he fixes you breakfast. Gordon comes down a little later. "I got to get to practice," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I agree that you should go to the school," says Blackwell, "but not as yourselves. You have a variety of aliases to choose from, and any secret confederates will be more likely to approach you in them."<br/>
<br/>
"That's true," says Gordon, and makes a face. "Besides, there's gonna be a scene today after practice. Right, Prescott?" He whaps you hard on the side of the head. <i>Like the Seth and Cindy business matters now.</i> <br/>
<br/>
And then his eyes widen. "Oh, shit! And there's <i>those</i> guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Those Durras douches."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are they?" Blackwell asks sharply.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know," you tell him. "It's these two guys. They were at Eastman--we're at Westside, you know--and they overheard me talking about magic and that book." Blackwell frowns. "And then yesterday they showed up at our school. Transferred. The golem was being me, and they talked to it about magic and stuff. They seemed interested. It told them it had had a book of magic, but had buried it."<br/>
<br/>
"We wondered if maybe <i>they</i> were the ones who were screwing with the golem," Gordon adds.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell sinks into a chair. "Describe them." You and Gordon do your best: jock basketball players, one dark and quiet and smart, the other blonde and loosey-goosey. "They don't sound like the types who'd be interested in fantasy role-playing," he muses when you're done. "But neither do they sound like serious students of the occult. It probably means nothing," he says, "but it would be best if you steered clear of them."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Gordon get dressed: Him as Tsosie, you as Perry, and drive out to the school in Justin's car, which is more non-descript than your other choice of vehicles. "I'll look for Dane," your friend says. "Check him for damage. More than usual." His mask and Victoria's were missing from Tsosie's.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves you free to hang out. As you're leaning against the wall near the gym, trying to stay in character by sneering at the passing parade, you see the Durrases go walking by.<br/>
<br/>
Despite Blackwell's warning, you find yourself wondering if maybe you don't need more allies.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211221111
author_id: seuzz
title: New Allies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You watch Frank and Joe out of the corner of your eye as they go into the gym. From what Blackwell said, it seems unlikely that they had anything to do with the golems or the oddball events of the past few days. They're probably just be kids with unusual interests. But they still strike you as being unusual in and of themselves. And they can't be worse eggs than Blackwell himself.<br/>
<br/>
If you're going to talk to them, though, it would be better to do it in the guise of "Will Prescott." That way you can hide out from them again without having blown your cover as "Perry Small."<br/>
<br/>
You have forty minutes until practice ends, and you think some more about how to make the approach. You should change clothes, to be absolutely safe; they might recognize you even in disguise if you had on the same duds. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Perry has an extra shirt in his locker, and you change and pull off the mask in the bathroom. You're not paying attention as you head back over to the gym, and physically bump into Lisa. "Hi Will," she says, and you look back with a jerk of the head. "I missed you last night," she says coolly.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry," you mutter. "Something came up."<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay. I got together with Geoff."<br/>
<br/>
"That's great," you say, and resume walking. <i>There's no solution to a small problem like acquiring a big one.</i><br/>
<br/>
Cindy Vredenburg is the first one to leave the gym after you arrive--you'd seen her and other cheerleaders going in--and she looks utterly distraught, but you ignore her. Ten minutes later, Frank and Joe come out, and they instantly clap eyes on you. "Hey, speak of the devil," Joe says. "We were gonna come looking for you, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"And here I am, looking for you," you reply nervously. "Convenient, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mighty convenient," says Frank. He puts a strong arm around your shoulder. "Let's talk." He pulls you hard, but you walk along willingly with them. No one speaks.<br/>
<br/>
They take you between wings, and you find yourself being led out to the portables. <i>Didn't take them long to figure out where privacy is to be had.</i> Your lone ally--Maize Tsosie--passes you going the other way, and you catch him looking at you hard. You clench your teeth in a tight smile. Joe turns to look at Tsosie after he's passed, but doesn't break stride.<br/>
<br/>
You round a corner to find Dane Matthias squatting behind a portable. "Company!" he laughs. "Pull up a piece of grass. Hang on, I got some--" He dips a hand in his pocket.<br/>
<br/>
"Get lost," Frank growls, hauling him up and hustling him away. <br/>
<br/>
"Harsh!" Dane cries, and then he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"You guys were asking me about magic and this book I found," you say when Frank has returned. "I told you I buried it in this time capsule--"<br/>
<br/>
"But it's not there," Frank says. "We know. We dug it up last night."<br/>
<br/>
Well, that's enough to tell you these guys are serious about this stuff. "Sure," you say. "How much do you guys know about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Enough to know that you shouldn't be fucking around with it," Frank says. He draws up close. "Where is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wish I knew. I really, <i>really</i> wish I knew. And yeah, we really fucked up with it."<br/>
<br/>
"We?" Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Me and my friends."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are your 'friends'?" Frank demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Me, Justin Roth, Gordon Black." You leave out Perry's and Maize's names for the moment. "Listen, it'll save time if you tell me how much you know about the book and what it can do."<br/>
<br/>
"It'll save time if you just spill everything," Frank says. "I'm getting really impatient, and when I lose my patience I lose my temper, and when I lose my temper, people start losing teeth."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," you gulp. So you tell him about making masks and golems. "Thing is, we fucked up when we made the golem. It's supposed to have this stuff in it, to make it a slave, but we left it out. Bad things, like evil spirits or things, got into it, and now it's on the loose. It's got the book, and it's <i>doing things</i> to people."<br/>
<br/>
Joe and Frank exchange a glance. "What makes you think it's evil spirits," Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Me and Gordon went out to see this professor yesterday," you say. "He used to own the book. He told us--"<br/>
<br/>
"This guy have a name?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell." They share another glance. "We got the golem out to his house, and something attacked it and killed it. The professor examined the remains, and he <i>freaked.</i> And this guy, I don't think he's the type to freak out. If you saw his house-- Well, I think he's used to this kind of thing. More used to it than me and Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
They share a long look. "If this golem thing is dead," Joe asks, "what's the problem?"<br/>
<br/>
"The problem is that it made more things like itself. It killed some of our friends and turned <i>them</i> into golems, and we think they're trying to make more. Lots more."<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," Joe interrupts. "It killed some of your friends? Who?"<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath, and say farewell to your disguises. "Justin Roth and Perry Small and Shep Tsosie."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Gordon?" Frank asks. "He wasn't at practice this morning."<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon's okay. Him and me came back to school, to see if we could spot any more golems, but we were in disguise."<br/>
<br/>
Frank pins you to the wall with a strong hand, and he and Joe talk in some foreign language; they both look calm but grim. "Okay, here's the deal," Frank says when they're done. "You and Gordon and me and Joe are gonna ditch class, and we're gonna go out and talk to this professor. Your story <i>stinks--</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm telling you the truth!"<br/>
<br/>
"Even if it's the truth, it stinks. So where's Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretending to be Maize Tsosie. We went out to his house and got the mask off the golem. We were hoping some of the other golems would think he was one of them, talk to him, reveal themselves."<br/>
<br/>
"He's got guts," Joe laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"More guts than brains," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"Like someone else I know," Joe grins.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The first bell has long since rung, and you spend first period at the portables giving Frank and Joe more details. Some students appear, looking to skip, but Frank sends them off. By the time the bell has rung again, they sound less skeptical of your story, but they still keep a firm hold on you as you go looking for Maize. He greets you neutrally when you find him.<br/>
<br/>
Joe puts a friendly arm around him. "Hey there, cap'n," he says. "Missed you at practice, but Patterson ran things in your stead." Tsosie says nothing. "Prescott's told us everything. We're all going to see this professor now."<br/>
<br/>
Tsosie gives you a very hard look, then shrugs his shoulders. "It's your funeral."<br/>
<br/>
"No, if what Prescott says is legit, it's the opposite of a funeral," Joe says. "And that's very bad news."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joe rides with you, while Frank drives Gordon in the brothers' truck. You ask Joe about him and Frank and why they're interested in the book. "Professional reasons," he says curtly. "This kind of thing is our specialty. I'm glad you thought to confide in us. This professor is <i>not</i> the kind of person you want to be working with."<br/>
<br/>
"He helped us out," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, and any help is better than none. But this business is going to end one way or another, and you don't want to be left alone with him at the end."<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing about whether you want to be left alone with Frank and Joe when it's over.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's car is gone from out front when you arrive. The four of you slowly dismount. Frank opens the gate but doesn't step through, and restrains you and Tsosie. He and Joe stare long and hard at the house. "He's a professor," you say when you can't stand the silence any longer. "He might have classes."<br/>
<br/>
"Possibly," Frank says. "Joe, check out the grounds."<br/>
<br/>
And then you have to blink, and Tsosie sucks in a sharp breath, for now there are two Joe Durrases standing next to you. One of them steps over to the gate, but Frank stops him with a word, and then fixes you and your friend with a piercing stare. "You guys need to know what you're dealing with," he says. "This house? Not a good scene. But we can handle it. We can handle <i>you,</i> too."<br/>
<br/>
Tsosie suddenly flies backward and slams hard into the wall. You gasp: He is hanging nearly two feet in the air, feet dangling, seemingly pinned against the stone by an invisible hand. <br/>
<br/>
Frank jerks his chin at your friend. "It's <i>me</i> doing <i>that,</i>" he says. "And Joe's just given you a little taste of what <i>he</i> can do. He can do worse, and so can I. We're not fellas you wanna fuck with. Your magician friend is strong enough on his own ground, but outside this gate I'm guessing he can barely keep his shoelaces tied. Me and Joe, though--" Tsosie makes a choking sound, and his face turns a bright red. "We can follow you and we can find you and we can fuck you up. And we're only in <i>training.</i> We got colleagues who can turn you inside out without batting an eyelash."<br/>
<br/>
Tsosie drops to the ground. He crouches and breathes hard.<br/>
<br/>
"Now, Joe and I are going in there," Frank continues. "And we're going to have a very long talk with Professor Blackwell. Chances are that you two won't want to see and hear anything. You'll be okay if you go back to school, so long as you just go to class and keep your eyes open and your hands to yourselves. But it's your choice."</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122112211111
author_id: seuzz
title: An Unlikely Alliance
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It's our business too," Tsosie says, and you nod your head too.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," says Frank. "Joe, check it out."<br/>
<br/>
One of the Joes trots onto the grounds. The other just grins with his hands in his pockets. "What is that thing," Tsosie asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Girls are always accusing me of having four hands," Joe laughs. "How little they know! Ugh. It's as ugly on the inside as the out. Looks poisoned. 'Cept for that tree, and I don't like the looks of <i>it.</i>" He lets out a low whistle. "He's got his own mausoleum." You cock your head, and then remember that "stone shed" you got a glimpse of yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
"He's got a 'thing' in there guarding it," Tsosie says. "It's what killed the golem."<br/>
<br/>
"That's why we're sending in the remote," Joe says. "I see it. Nasty looking fellow, and I'd hate to meet it on a moonless night, but it won't do anything."<br/>
<br/>
"What's it look like?" you ask, and peer in through the gate.<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't <i>look</i> like anything," Joe says. "But try to imagine a mouth. And inside that mouth are a million other mouths, each bigger than the mouth that holds them. And inside each mouth are a million teeth, each tooth bigger than--"<br/>
<br/>
"You can practice your powers of description later, Joe," Frank interrupts. "These guys don't need a picture of things that can't be drawn, and you've got other things to concentrate on."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I can't tell if anyone's home," Joe says. "There's too much interference. And we're going to have to be <i>very</i> polite when we knock on the door. Bah! I can't see anything else. Let's go."<br/>
<br/>
Frank leads you and the others up the walk; Joe's double has vanished or is hiding someplace else. Unlike you and Gordon, Frank has no compunction about putting his finger in the wolf's mouth and ringing the doorbell.<br/>
<br/>
It opens only a few inches. Blackwell scowls out, and his glance is murderous. "May I help you," he asks in a very pinched voice.<br/>
<br/>
"May we come in, Professor Blackwell?" Frank asks with a smile.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"My name is Frank, and this is my brother, Joe. You know Will Prescott and Gordon Black already."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's eyes glimmer at the mention of Gordon's name, for Gordon is looking like Shep Tsosie. "I knew them this morning," he replies. "Whether <i>these</i> are the same foolish innocents who left my house is a very pertinent question."<br/>
<br/>
"You think they've been replaced by golems?" Frank asks. "You think my brother and I are golems?"<br/>
<br/>
"What I think is immaterial. It is a matter of preserving my own skin."<br/>
<br/>
"I understand," Frank says in a much gentler voice. "In your position, I would be very frightened too."<br/>
<br/>
Maybe he shouldn't have used the word "frightened," for Blackwell glowers.<br/>
<br/>
"If you would invite me over your threshold--" Frank starts.<br/>
<br/>
"I will not be issuing any invitations," Blackwell snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"I would submit to a search by you. Any test you might contrive to relieve your anxieties."<br/>
<br/>
"I will not be issuing any invitations," Blackwell repeats.<br/>
<br/>
Frank sighs. "Then I will simply walk in."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell considers this very long and hard, then opens the door to admit Frank, who keeps his eyes open and his features relaxed as Blackwell mutters and pulls at his face, and mutters and pulls again. "I suppose you will vouch for the others," he says sourly when he is satisfied.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course."<br/>
<br/>
"But I will not take your word, young man. This is dangerous business--"<br/>
<br/>
"Then test them."<br/>
<br/>
It's tedious, as each of you enters singly and submits to a probe, Blackwell himself included. Gordon's mask comes off, of course, and he slumps to the floor. No one pays him any heed, though. Joe and Frank step back outside. "Now, Professor," Frank says in a very firm voice. "An invitation."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?" Blackwell barks, and his expression is, if possible, even darker than before.<br/>
<br/>
"My name is Giuseppe Braccioforte," Frank says, putting a lilt onto the name, "though my friends call me 'Frank'. My colleague is Franz Liebesspruch, though everyone calls him 'Joe'. Of myself, I will just say two words. Malacandra and Lurga. Of Joe, Arbol and Viritrilbia. We have sworn fealty to one who walks with--"<br/>
<br/>
"Stellae," Blackwell says in a hoarse whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. Now invite us in. Please."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It took nearly five minutes of argument and strained pleading on both sides before Blackwell, with tremendous formality despite the twitching in his hands, bid your quartet make entrance. He had suggested the living room as a meeting place, but Frank and Joe had instantly swerved toward the library as they passed it. Frank had stood just outside the archway and stared watchfully into it, but Joe had charged in, his head swiveling. He made directly for the grandfather clocks and peered at them closely with his hands behind his back. "Ingenious," he had said; the professor had turned crimson, whether from pride, embarrassment, shame, anger, or some combination of these, you couldn't say. <br/>
<br/>
But now the five of you are settled around one of Blackwell's desks. Frank asks Blackwell to relate yesterday's events and his interpretation of them. Blackwell obliges, telling of your visit, the death of the golem, and what happened when he took the mask off it. "It took me several hours to diagnose its meaning," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"How?" Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell shows him the sketches he had made last night, and starts to explain them, but Joe silences him with a wave of the hand. "Arbol, remember?" he says, and taps his chest.<br/>
<br/>
As he studies them, Frank asks Blackwell--and you and Gordon--to again relate the remainder of last night's adventures. You tell of going out to Maize's and Perry's houses, and what you found there. "Our friends," you say, "or what's left of them, are upstairs."<br/>
<br/>
"And those are the only victims you know of?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Gordon says. "I checked Dane this morning, just before I saw you. He was okay."<br/>
<br/>
"But there's a mask of him and this girl still out there," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"Also one of me," says Gordon. "But maybe we got all the golems?"<br/>
<br/>
Frank pulls at his lip. "But then where is that mask of you? And the book? You look inside the masks of these other guys, see what they knew?"<br/>
<br/>
"We have all the masks, except for that extra one of Gordon, and of Dane and Victoria," you say. "We looked in each of them. We don't know where the book is, or where that other mask of Gordon is."<br/>
<br/>
"Then there's another golem out there," says Frank. "Either Gordon's mask is sitting on a golem, or, if it came off the golem, then another golem <i>took</i> it off its confederate. Since none of the masks you have has a memory of such a thing happening, then there must be <i>another</i> mask on another golem. And as long as even one of these things is running around and has the book, then it can make more."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what are we sitting around for?" Gordon explodes. "The professor here thinks maybe they got our families!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's <i>exactly</i> why we're sitting here," says Frank. "There's no place that's safe for you two. Anyway, we need to confirm what we're up against."<br/>
<br/>
"It makes sense to me, Frank," says Joe, and lays the sheets down. "The professor knows what he's talking about. These guys let some revenants loose. We're gonna have to call Dad."<br/>
<br/>
"Dad put <i>us</i> in charge of this operation, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"Dad put us in charge of recovering the <i>Libra.</i> He didn't put us in charge of stopping an invasion from Hell. We're going to call Dad," he says as Frank objects again, "and <i>Dad</i> is going to send Rick and Nash at the very least, and maybe Miko, too."<br/>
<br/>
"And what deficiencies can <i>they</i> correct," Blackwell asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Perelandra, Eldibria, Kenadandra, Catilindria, if Miko shows up," says Joe. "At least one more Malacandran, which will be useful. With Dad running things from a distance, we'd only lack a Sulvan on the scene, but there's none available at the moment."<br/>
<br/>
"You're panicking, Joe. You always get overexcited--"<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm telling you--"<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell puts his palm on the table between them. "If I may offer my own counsel," he says, and both Frank and Joe frown at him. "I am inclined to agree that reinforcements are wanted. And if you consider how, ah, <i>awkward</i>, that would render my position, you will understand <i>just how seriously</i> I take our present crisis."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't <i>want</i> your help or advice," Frank snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"Will you get off your high horse," Joe says hotly. "There's greater and lesser evils in the world, and compared to what we're facing, the professor's hat is looking pretty white to me."<br/>
<br/>
Frank retreats into a stony silence. Blackwell flushes deeply. And then he gets up and takes that horrible monkey out of its alcove and sets it on the table. Frank and Joe rear back.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell grasps the thing by its base. "Give me any oath you require of me, Stellae," he says in a hoarse voice. "And I will stake myself on <i>this</i> thing to help."<br/>
<br/>
The brothers look shocked, even frightened, and no one says anything for a good long time. And then Frank extracts a promise from the professor, who swears his agreement. Instantly, he yanks his hand back with a cry. Blood trickles out of his palm.<br/>
<br/>
Discussion then turns to what course to take next. Gordon is all for charging out, but Frank wants you and him to stay safely tucked away at Blackwell's.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221122111112
author_id: seuzz
title: Team Players
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'm not staying here!" Gordon says. "There's <i>things</i> out there, and--"<br/>
<br/>
"And that's why you <i>are</i> staying here," Frank says firmly. "We're not losing two more people--"<br/>
<br/>
"You think I can't take care of myself?" Gordon yells.<br/>
<br/>
"Stakes are too high. You're gambling everything--your <i>life</i>, Black--"<br/>
<br/>
"Soldiers gamble their lives," Gordon says. "You think--"<br/>
<br/>
"Soldiers are <i>trained</i> for it. You'd just be cannon fodder, and you'd wind up playing for <i>their</i> team."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon turns very red.<br/>
<br/>
"We need eyes out there, Frank," Joe says quietly. "Prescott and Black know the lay of the land, and someone needs to go back out there as Tsosie and the other two."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>We'd</i> go out as Tsosie and them," says Frank. "And inside their masks we'd know the lay of the land too."<br/>
<br/>
"There's only two of us, and there's three that need impersonating. Four, if the golems still think Prescott is one of them."<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott is a prime target, Joe," says Frank. "If anyone leaves this house looking like him, it has to be one of us."<br/>
<br/>
"And <i>I'm</i> supposed to handle the other three?" Joe asks wryly. "You can't put a mask on my remote."<br/>
<br/>
"Then maybe Prescott, like Black, goes missing for the duration."<br/>
<br/>
"They can't stay here. They'll go crazy." Joe glances around the library. "No offense, Professor."<br/>
<br/>
"None taken," Blackwell says. "But I think your colleague is right. The golems may have already tried contacting the boys they replaced, and drawn conclusions from their disappearance. Conclusions not conducive to these boys' safety. It would have been better if Messrs. Black and Prescott had maintained their impostures instead of coming here with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Do <i>I</i> get a vote?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a democracy," Frank snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm with Gordon anyway. I don't want to just stay here. And Small and Roth and Tsosie are friends. They'd hang out anyway, and as them we'd be watching each other's backs without it being weird."<br/>
<br/>
The arguments continue, but you are insistent, Gordon is forceful, and Joe is persuasive; and Frank and Blackwell eventually give in.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The golems and the masks are in a spare bedroom upstairs, and Blackwell leads your quartet up before returning downstairs. Frank claims your mask for himself and lets Gordon pick Justin--a familiar home to him. Then he looks at his watch. "It's almost lunchtime at the school," he says. "We can put that to use. Black, leave the mask off for the time being. Now, which of these other guys would it look most natural for you to hang out with, you being yourself?" Frank points to the remaining masks.<br/>
<br/>
"None of them, really," he says grumpily.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, pick one."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoever Prescott picks. If I gotta have someone dangling off my shorts, I want it to be him."<br/>
<br/>
"No, pick another. We're gonna split up in pairs, and you and Prescott can't be--"<br/>
<br/>
"Then whoever Josephine--" He catches himself. "Whoever Joe picks."<br/>
<br/>
"You got something you wanna get off your chest, Black?" Frank asks angrily.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon turns a very dark shade, and steps up to Frank, staring down hard at him. <i>Jesus, Gordon, this isn't the time and these are the dudes,</i> you find yourself silently praying.<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme explain something, Durras," Gordon says. "You think I got a problem with you? You think it's 'cos I'm used to being in charge, because I run the Westside squad? You think I'm an asshole? Well, I run my squad the way I do because I don't just want us to win. I want us to <i>stomp</i> the other teams into puddles of blood and shit. You get that? And I stomp all over our guys so <i>they'll</i> stomp all over the other teams. So they'll <i>fuck</i> them!" He sticks out his lower lip. "And that's my attitude toward a bunch of guys getting together for a friendly game of ball. So how the <i>fuck</i> do you think I feel about those <i>things</i> out there and what they're <i>doing?</i>" His voice is ragged with rage.<br/>
<br/>
"And it's my responsibility as team captain," he continues, "to make sure everyone does their job. I'm in charge because I'm the <i>best</i> one to run it, and I demand everything and <i>more</i> from the guys under me so they'll get the job done. So where the <i>fuck</i> do you get off thinking <i>I</i> got a problem with <i>authority</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
He steps back, but continues to glare. "And if you <i>don't</i> want to give me a choice, and if you <i>don't</i> want me hanging out with <i>this</i> one--" He jerks his head at Joe. "Then fucking <i>say</i> so, instead of being a passive-aggressive <i>pansy-ass</i> about it! <i>You're</i> the expert at this business, and <i>you're</i> in charge, and if you don't <i>tell</i> me what to do--and <i>if you don't run me at least as hard as I run my guys--</i>then you're a fucking pussy and I don't got any respect for you. <i>Fuck</i> you if you think I don't take you and this shit seriously! <i>Fuck you!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Frank has been staring calmly at him all this time, but now just the faintest smile plays on his lips. He glances at the floor, and then puts out a hand. Gordon takes it. They hold each other's grip. Frank's composure remains unruffled, but Gordon turns very, very red, and his eyes screw up, and his teeth clench before Frank lets go of him.<br/>
<br/>
Frank turns, and there's no missing the gleam of amusement in his eye. "Well, now that we've sucked each other off, let me tell everyone what they're going to do."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
His plan is to use the lunchtime break as an excuse to go by various houses, as those will be prime targets for the golems. Gordon (as himself but with Justin's mask in his keeping) will go with Joe (as Perry) by the Black and Small households; you (as Tsosie) and Frank (as Will Prescott) will go by Prescott's house. That puts you in the passenger-side of your own truck as he drives.<br/>
<br/>
You try making conversation. "You gotta understand about Gordon, and his home life," you start.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't gotta understand, Prescott," he says, and his tone of command sounds like a whine when it's in your voice. "And shut up. I'm busy enough trying to review things from <i>your</i> point of view." So you fall silent.<br/>
<br/>
There's no cars in front of your house, and there's no one inside. "Mom might be out shopping. Dad's at work. Robert's at school," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I know," he snaps. "Let's make a quick search." But you find nothing incriminating, much to your relief.<br/>
<br/>
Back in the truck, your partner directs you to go to Robert's school. "If he's still himself," he says grimly, "then your parents are probably okay too," he says. Your heart tries to hammer itself out of your chest at the thought that Robert might now be one of "them."<br/>
<br/>
That's probably why you don't think to say anything as you pass the old elementary school on your way out to Robert's school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There are lots of kids out front of Schuyler Middle School as you pull into the front parking lot, and you and Will crane your necks as you scan the crowd. "There he is," you point. Him and some of his idiot friends are leaning against the wall.<br/>
<br/>
"Robert! Hey, piss-face!" Will yells. Robert turns with a glare. He stares, and then advances slowly toward the truck. "Hurry up, I don't got all day!" Will calls again. Robert trots forward a little more quickly. <br/>
<br/>
And then his eyes fall on you. He stops, and his expression turns hooded. Will pounds on the side of the truck.<br/>
<br/>
Robert springs away, running back into the building. "Shit!" your double yells, and leaps from the cab. "Come on, Prescott, move it!"<br/>
<br/>
But it takes you a minute to pull yourself together. Your limbs have gone limp with horror. There is no reason Robert should have run away. No reason the <i>real</i> Robert should have.<br/>
<br/>
But then you get it in gear, and run hard after your double and your ... Well, you can still hope it's your brother. But he has vanished, and as you pound up and down the hallways, looking in all the classrooms, you can find no sign of him.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, we'll get the office to call him on the intercom," Prescott says, and the two of you sprint back toward the front. He has to show ID before they will summon Robert, and you and he sit down, to jog legs nervously.<br/>
<br/>
They repeat the summons, and you get them to repeat it a third time. Robert doesn't come. "Ma'am, it's really important," Prescott pleads.<br/>
<br/>
"Does he have a cell phone," the receptionist asks in a tired tone. "Maybe you could try that?"<br/>
<br/>
Prescott hesitates, and you can read his mind: Robert will recognize his brother's number. "I forgot it at home, and my friend here doesn't--"<br/>
<br/>
She sighs, and takes out her own, and dials the number he gives her. "There's no answer," she says after a minute, and returns to her work.<br/>
<br/>
You and Prescott look at each other. Surreptitiously, he takes out his own phone and dials. Over and over again when there is no answer.<br/>
<br/>
Twenty minutes later, a custodian comes in, and says he needs an administrator's help. You and your colleague quietly trail along behind. They lead you to a janitor's closet. Inside, dressed in his clothes, is a thing that looks like an uncannily exact stone reproduction of Robert Prescott. The phone in his pocket is tweeting loudly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Will Prescott lays claim to it as his brother's "property," and the school lets you transfer it to the truck. There is no sign of a mask. "One of his friends is also a golem," Will says grimly as you lay it in the truck bed. "Or a teacher. We need to go by your house again."<br/>
<br/>
But now you <i>have</i> remembered the basement, and something that golem-Tsosie had left there: A copy of a new spell, traced out by the golems.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211221111121
author_id: seuzz
title: Plan B
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"We should stop by the elementary school basement on the way back," you say. "Gordon and I didn't think of it last night--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just spit it out!"<br/>
<br/>
"Those copies of the spells. You know I made some, right? Tsosie and Gordon--the evil one, you know--took them out to the basement last night--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shit, those copies!" Prescott exclaims. "Fuckin' good thing you remembered. If the golems got their hands on them, they could double their production speed." He suddenly shoots you a very piercing glance.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, they might not work for them," you continue. "After they converted Roth and Small, they were able to turn a new page in the book. You know how that works, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Will you stop talking like I'm <i>not</i> you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, they got a new spell. I'm not totally clear on what it does, but it's like a new kind of layer that can go into a mask. It uses the same ingredients as in a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Prescott says after a pause, and his knuckles whiten around the wheel. "That sounds bad. It sounds a lot more convenient than setting people on fire."<br/>
<br/>
"But they couldn't get it to work. They copied it out and tried it on Victoria's mask, but nothing happened. So they left it and the other copies back at the basement. They had the book by then, after all."<br/>
<br/>
"Still, we definitely need to pick up the copies <i>you</i> made."<br/>
<br/>
"But if they can't get them to work--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, they'll be able to use the copies <i>you</i> made," he says grimly. "I'm pretty sure <i>anybody</i> will be able to use them. Which is why we don't mention them to Blackwell," he adds in a vehement snarl.<br/>
<br/>
"Why? What's so important--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just keep your mouth shut and leave them with me and Joe. Blackwell's place is a hideout, and the man himself can offer some help. But he's as bad as that thing he has prowling his grounds, and we can't trust him."<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't he take an oath to help?" you ask stonily.<br/>
<br/>
"He's a scorpion, and they can't help their nature. It's a kindness to keep any and all temptations out of his way, or he'll wind up fucking himself."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To your relief, the spell copies are still at the basement. Your phone--the one your twin is carrying--rings as you're returning to the truck. He listens with a taut expression on his face. "Then they're running," he says. "They got Prescott's brother at least, and that means his folks, too." He doesn't look over at you. Briefly, he tells about what you found at Robert's school. "So there's someone at that school who's also a golem. It probably alerted the others, and they'll have gone to ground. We'll double check on this end, but I'm not hopeful.<br/>
<br/>
"There was no one at Black's house or Small's," he tells you when he's hung up. "And they're not answering their phones." He dials a number and puts the phone to his very pale cheek.<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you calling?" you ask, dreading the answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Your dad," he says. His face grows longer as the silence extends. "We'll have to go check out at Salopek after we go by your house again. I'm sorry, Prescott, but--"<br/>
<br/>
You can only swallow. At least it doesn't seem real yet, not without the evidence staring you in the face, as it had with Robert.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's still no one at your house, and your mom doesn't answer her phone either. Out at Salopek, they tell Will Prescott that his father suddenly left around lunch time on an emergency errand. "They're definitely running," he says as you jog back out to the truck. <br/>
<br/>
"Why? What are they doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"They don't want us getting into any of the masks," he says. "If we recovered one of the masks, we'd instantly have the identities of all their current converts, and could start rolling them up. That's why the golem at the school took your brother's mask. The rest of them are probably gathering in some safe location. Masks are coming off, and the old golems are being stowed away by their new confederates until they can get new, safe masks made for them. Or they'll go to work mass producing masks and other paraphernalia, since there's not enough public disguises to go around."<br/>
<br/>
"How did they get to them so fast? My folks, Gordon's dad? Perry's family was okay last night when we grabbed him. We looked inside his mask last night at Blackwell's, after--"<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon's dad is a cop. That's a mighty convenient guise for getting into someone's house in the middle of the night. Ring the doorbell, ask the man of the house to come out to the cruiser because there's some emergency--"<br/>
<br/>
"If they're converting cops, what chance have we got?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"There's a limit," he says. "They have to use the book. Assume one conversion an hour, which is pretty damn fast, and they'd still likely be limited to twenty or so conversions a day, max. Cops aren't the right tools for fast production. They'd only be useful for night work, like they probably used to get the Smalls, and maybe <i>your</i> family. So there's probably only one or two cops who have been converted. <br/>
<br/>
"No," he says grimly. "If <i>I</i> were doing it, I'd park the book someplace where there are <i>lots</i> of potential victims, where you can get them one at a time quietly, and the victims can be taken off for processing without anyone asking any awkward questions."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus. Perry was talking about using the school last night!"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. Blackwell was wrong, Prescott," he says grimly. "It's a really good thing you found me and Joe, and that we left before things got rolling out there."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Frank calls his brother back, and arranges to rendezvous with him and Gordon; fifteen minutes later you find them waiting in the parking lot of a strip center. The mutual debriefing is quick, and there is a quick consultation on how to proceed. It is clear that the disguises as Perry and Justin and Maize have been blown. There's only one unchecked lead: Joe--who is still wearing Perry's mask--puts in a quick call to Traci Small, who is also a student at Schuyler, and gets no answer. "She'll just be another statue someplace out there," Prescott says grimly.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's phone tweets, and he gets a pained look. "That's Chelsea," he says. "She's been calling for the last hour, but I haven't been answering."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't let him," Perry explains. "We had a job to do." He gives Gordon a careful, sidelong look. "But if the golems have gone for the families, they'll be going for the friends next. If they haven't caught her, we should sweep her up, keep her safe. If they have--" He hesitates as Gordon's jaw clenches. "Well, it would be a lead."<br/>
<br/>
The phone has gone silent by now, but Prescott gives Gordon a brief word, and he calls her back. The conversation is mostly one-sided, with Gordon just grunting that he's "skipping" and "put the phone down someplace." And then his face turns a peculiar color. "Yeah, I'd come back up for that," he murmurs. You the others exchange a glance.<br/>
<br/>
"She wants to hook up with me in the gym loft," he says after he's hung up. "She's feeling <i>affectionate.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't afford to be sentimental, Black," Prescott says.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon gives him a hard look. "I'm feeling <i>sick.</i>" He looks away.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," says Prescott. "We'll all go back with you. We'll keep these faces on. If she's still herself, it won't look too odd. And if she's baiting a trap, she'll be happy to see <i>us</i>--" He indicates you and Perry and himself-- "show up too."<br/>
<br/>
Your quartet separates again, and you join your twin in your truck. "Last night, when we caught up to Perry, he said something about using the loft as the place to make the changes," you say. "There's a pretty good chance they've got the book up there, right?" You're feeling pretty certain you'll be walking into a trap.<br/>
<br/>
"We can hope. That's the key to stopping it. If we can get the <i>Libra</i> back, then they just become a lot of fakes. I suppose they could still do some damage, just out of a spite, but we'll be able to hunt them down and roll them up."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe there will be a spell that reverses what they did to these people?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like I say, we can hope. But do you mind shutting up? Joe can talk, flirt, text, compose poetry, and solve quadratic equations simultaneously, but I have to concentrate when I'm thinking."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Lunchtime is well and truly over as you pull into the school. You risk interrupting Frank's train of thought as you dismount from your truck: "Don't think I'm scared to go up there, but do you need me along? Maybe I should keep watch down here?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's no danger up there," he says. "It's just Chelsea, and even if there's more golems, me and Joe can handle them easy. I'd rather not leave you alone, either." He pauses, then shrugs. "Still, maybe it's a good idea to have a lookout. I'll leave it up to you." So saying, he trudges off to join Gordon and Perry.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122112211111211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Fight in the Fuck Room
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You grimace a little in shame. You said you weren't "scared," but maybe you were, a little; and you don't like the way Frank seems to be giving you an out.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe it’s the truculence you feel flowing out of Tsosie's mask that causes you jog up and fall alongside the others. <br/>
<br/>
"You go in alone while we wait outside the door," the boss is telling Gordon. It looks very risible: Will Prescott, Westside nobody, telling the hulking captain of the basketball team what to do. "Don't fuck around. You're big and she isn't, so get ahold of her and try getting a mask off. If there's no mask, you can explain it all to her later. Either way, we're giving you only about thirty seconds, and then we're coming in." Gordon nods, and you notice he is quite pale.<br/>
<br/>
The way to the gym is clear, but the gym itself is full of students playing ball. "Hey Gordon!" a voice calls, and you look over to see Steve Patterson standing at the sidelines. He gives Black a salacious grin and a thumbs up, but his expression shifts as his eyes fall on the rest of you. You look quickly away, for you don't want to be caught staring back. But the thought can't help forming in your head: <i>It's definitely a trap.</i><br/>
<br/>
Gordon must have had the same thought, for he pauses with one foot on the bottom stair, and sags. He mutters something when Prescott pokes him in the back, and slowly trudges up.<br/>
<br/>
He taps at the door, and steps through it at the muffled call from within.<br/>
<br/>
"Stay out of the way," Prescott says, and presses you gently into a corner. "I don't want you in the crossfire if we gotta fight anyone." You swallow and nod.<br/>
<br/>
"Guys!" That's Gordon calling from inside. <br/>
<br/>
Almost simultaneously: "The fuck you assholes think you're doing?" That's Patterson, looking up from the bottom of the stairs. There's a hungry look on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon says it's a party!" Perry says, then he and Prescott duck into the loft. You shrink back into your corner.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson's feet sound loudly on the stairs as he charges up, and he swings hard as he reaches the top, punching you in the stomach and clipping you across the face. The world goes red and black.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Maize, you playing for the other side now?" The voice is familiar and loathsome: Jason Lynch. Your vision has just begun to clear when another hard fist slams into the side of your face. But you're more prepared now, and lash out with a blow of your own. It connects only glancingly, and Lynch sniggers. "That the best you got?" Another blow sends you to your knees, but you lunge forward, grabbing with both arms at anything you might clasp. You close around hips and legs, and push forward, knocking him down.<br/>
<br/>
"Black! Patterson's face!" That's Prescott calling. "Joe, help out--!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck!" That's Jason again. Something kicks you in the jaw, but there's no force behind it, and you grapple harder at him. You feel a rippling motion under your arms, and then Lynch goes stiff all over.<br/>
<br/>
"Get him inside! Prescott, get up!"<br/>
<br/>
You shake the dark clouds from your vision and ignore the sharp, grinding pain in your jaw and cheekbones and gut. You clamber up shakily and stumble into the loft. Someone brushes past you.<br/>
<br/>
You look around. Gordon, his eyes wide, is standing between two figures, and he is almost as white as they are: Steve Patterson and Chelsea Cooper. On the floor is another statute: Jason Lynch. Perry gives you a grim smile, and hands over a mask. You look down at it dumbly: Lynch's name floats over its glowing blue surface. You set it down on a nearby crate, and fight the urge to vomit.<br/>
<br/>
Prescott is on the landing outside the door, peering down the stairwell, his hand cocked. After a few moments, he comes back in and closes the door. "There might be more," he says. "Joe, cover the door, blind anyone who comes in." Perry takes up station with his back to your trio.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, this is a mess," Prescott continues, his hands on his hips. "Not unexpected, though. You did good, Black." Gordon flushes angrily, but Prescott ignores him. "Three catches."<br/>
<br/>
"And you're really happy about it, aren't you, Durras?" Gordon snaps. "If we'd come up here first instead of fucking around--"<br/>
<br/>
But he goes silent as Prescott raises a finger. The entire room goes silent.<br/>
<br/>
It's silent for almost a full minute. You can hear the muffled traffic from outside the windows. No one moves: not Perry, by the door. Not Gordon. Not Prescott. Not yourself. And not the three statues.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm not happy," Prescott says quietly. "But we take the hand we're dealt. If we're lucky--" He looks around. "If we're lucky we'll find the <i>Libra</i> up here. If we're extremely lucky, your friends will have been the last victims. And if we're not lucky, we still have to use what we've caught." He kicks at the floor. "I'm not going to order you to do anything, Black. But you see the play." He looks up at Gordon. "Whose mask do we check out from the inside? And who puts it on?"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon glares at the ground.<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott," your twin says. "Let's tear this place apart, find that book."<br/>
<br/>
So you start looking, opening cabinets and crates. You've just begun when Gordon snatches up a mask and lays out on the floor. A moment later, an unconscious Steve Patterson materializes in his place.<br/>
<br/>
Prescott gives him a moment, then crouches by him. He snaps a finger over his nose, and Steve instantly sits up with a snort. "Christ, I was dreaming--" he starts, and stops with a gasp. He groans. "And it wasn't a dream."<br/>
<br/>
"Is the book up here?" Prescott asks.<br/>
<br/>
The other one stares, a blank look on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Black," Prescott says in a low tone.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm here," Patterson says peevishly. "Just give me a minute to-- The book? Yeah. No, it's not here, but I know where it is." He scrambles to his feet. "I can get it, no problem."<br/>
<br/>
"Joe, go with him," Prescott says. "And you and me," he says to you, "can start getting these other guys undressed. Even with the book back, we'll have to step in for them, so we can start rounding up the rest."<br/>
<br/>
You look over at Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
But Prescott nudges you. "We'll leave her to Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Alas, Frank's optimism proves premature. You've only just got Lynch and Patterson divested of their things, and the golems hidden in a corner under a bunch of junk, when the others return. "It wasn't there," Patterson says. He and Perry both look grim.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" Prescott demands. And then, to your alarm, he clenches a fist, and Perry goes stiff. "Black, get his face off."<br/>
<br/>
"Frank, it's <i>me,</i>" Perry says.<br/>
<br/>
"It has to come off anyway, and I wanna be sure."<br/>
<br/>
Perry sighs, and Patterson reaches over to tug the mask off. Joe reappears, and slumps gently to the floor as Prescott relaxes his grip. "What's the story?" he demands again of Steve.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea--" He quails a little over the name, then starts again in a firmer voice. "Chelsea told me to put the book and the other stuff in the custodian's closet in B wing. That was after we-- After they changed Jason. That's where Steve put it. But it's not there now."<br/>
<br/>
"So there's another golem in the school. Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. There's Steve, Chelsea and Jason. That's all I know."<br/>
<br/>
Prescott shoots you a glance. "If they got your friends, Black--"<br/>
<br/>
"They probably got mine," you say, finishing his thought. By this point--after seeing your brother, and Chelsea and Steve and Jason, and knowing about your parents--it doesn't really hurt when you say it.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll check inside these other two first," Prescott says, indicating Chelsea's and Jason's masks. "We'll check Caleb and Keith out too, if we have to." He drops down next to Joe. "We left Chelsea for you to handle," he says to Patterson over his shoulder as he revives his brother. "You can decide who scopes her out from the inside. It doesn't really matter, otherwise."<br/>
<br/>
You keep your gaze averted as Gordon settles next to his petrified girlfriend, and sidle over to the Durrases. From his backpack Prescott extracts the spell copies you'd retrieved from the elementary school basement. "I want you to go back over to Blackwell's," he tells Joe, and doesn't seem to mind your presence. "You and him work out what <i>this</i> spell does," he says, showing him one of the sheets. <br/>
<br/>
"Do I take Prescott with me?" Joe asks, glancing at you.<br/>
<br/>
"No, we got three people here that need impersonating--"<br/>
<br/>
"Lynch can sit it out," Patterson says from behind you.<br/>
<br/>
Prescott pauses and turns around to stare at Gordon. You do too. "<i>Lynch</i> can sit it out?" your twin asks with slight incredulity.<br/>
<br/>
"You can play Chelsea's part, Durras," he replies quietly. "She's used to being in charge anyway."<br/>
<br/>
Prescott looks at you, and then looks back at Gordon. "Prescott still has to stay with us. We can't raise suspicions by letting one of these guys go missing. They have to think these golems are still in play. If you want me--"<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter," Patterson says gruffly. "I'm just telling you that--" He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
<i>He's just saying that he's being a team player,</i> it occurs to you, <i>and will accept anyone in Chelsea's mask.</i><br/>
<br/>
Prescott looks at you, and shrugs as well.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221122111112112
author_id: seuzz
title: New Faces ... And New Mysteries
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You echo Gordon: "You take her."<br/>
<br/>
Prescott shrugs again, and turns back to Joe. "Go out to Blackwell's," he repeats. "Figure out this new spell the golems uncovered. Stars help us if they've gotten nastier shit in the meantime."<br/>
<br/>
"What about these others? Blackwell's already got copies--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know, but keep them hidden from him. Under no circumstances is he to know about them."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" Joe asks impatiently. "If he's got his own copies--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he has copies of <i>these five,</i>" Prescott says. "And the golems made <i>this</i> copy," he sighs impatiently as Joe settles back with narrowed eyes, "But Prescott made these, and he used them to make up some new masks and shit. You understand what I'm saying?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe stares , and then blinks hard. "You saying they're <i>live?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. That's how come Blackwell isn't to get his hands on them."<br/>
<br/>
"Reilly told us the book is supposed to be proofed against monkey business."<br/>
<br/>
"I know what he told us--"<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell's copies aren't--"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>know,</i> Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"But if--"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Shut. Up.</i> I <i>know.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Joe's eyes go over to you. They are wide, but there's a flintiness in them.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, everyone get changed," Prescott says.<br/>
<br/>
So everyone starts pulling off clothes. You have to clench your jaw at the sight of someone who looks like you standing next to the partially undressed Chelsea Cooper, who he will soon be impersonating. You wonder what's going through his mind. You wonder if <i>your</i> thoughts are going through his mind, and what he's thinking as he entertains them.<br/>
<br/>
What <i>are</i> you thinking? That it would be a lot of fun to be inside Chelsea Cooper, to have her boobs and butt and legs and all the other bits to play with? You would have thought that only yesterday, but it's all very serious now. Is Frank feeling excited?<br/>
<br/>
It's not a profitable speculation. You lay back and obliterate your consciousness by tearing at your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake to find Steve Patterson looking down at you. "Hey Stevie," you snicker, and--<br/>
<br/>
It's like a wave hitting you, and you plunge far beneath before popping back up again with a gasp and the knowledge of who and where you are.<br/>
<br/>
You've a short little fireplug of a body, on strong legs and with strong arms. Your eye travels down your physique appreciatively, until it hits--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit. All those rumors about Jason Lynch's tiny cock would have to turn out to be true.</i><br/>
<br/>
You grimace and put out a hand so Patterson can help you up, but he just leans back, leaving you to scramble up. "It's just one new team after another, ain't it?" you snicker again.<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't take you long to get in character, does it?" he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, gimme a minute." You jog the side of your head with the heel of your hand. "Sometimes I gotta think hard a'fore I remember who I really am." You clap your triceps appreciatively.<br/>
<br/>
"Stop feeling yourself up. Remember who you are and we're supposed to be doing."<br/>
<br/>
"What period is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fifth. We got Spanish next."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, right. Como es el cono?" you laugh. Patterson whaps you on the head. "Keep those fucking flippers to yourself, Stevie," you growl.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you <i>trying</i> to be an asshole?"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I get it. I'm sorry." You snatch up Lynch's baby-blue tidy whities and pull them on, snapping the elastic hard. "But I figured it'd be easier for you, if, you know, I was bein' in character."<br/>
<br/>
He gets a pained look. "If you can't see what's in front of your fucking face, you little--" His jaw works. "Look at where I am, and why I'm here, and--" He folds his arms, tucking his hands under his pits. "And Chelsea over there--"<br/>
<br/>
You look around, goggling, and he whaps you on the head again. "You're the one who--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know," he says. "Doesn't mean I like it."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you guys ready over there?" a querulous female voice calls from the other side of some crates, where golden hair is bobbing up and down. A blue dress flashes over it, and then she's pulling her hair free.<br/>
<br/>
Steve slaps you again. "Finish getting ready."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A few minutes later, and it's just like normal up in the loft. There's you, Jason Lynch, looking furtively around and trying not to catch the eye of Steve Patterson, who is glaring coldly at Chelsea Cooper, who has her arms crossed over her chest. Only Gordon is missing in body--though of course he is here in fact, as Steve--which leaves three people who don't much like each other, and hang out only because Gordon keeps them tied together.<br/>
<br/>
You need to get to class, but there's things to talk about first. Chelsea is frowning fiercely and her eyes dart about distractedly. Obviously, Frank is trying to figure out what she knows, about the golems' plans and about the <i>Libra.</i> But you-- "I don't know anything, guys," you say when the silence has become unbearable. "All I know is Stevie here pulled me up to the loft this morning--"<br/>
<br/>
"We know all <i>that,</i>" Patterson snaps. "We were there, remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"And then you guys had me hang loose after Chelsea got ahold of Gordon on the phone."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you're a dumb son of a bitch."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't let these personalities get to you," Chelsea says. "We're not here to role play."<br/>
<br/>
"If we're gonna pass as--"<br/>
<br/>
"Do it in public, not in private." She suddenly inhales sharply and takes out her phone. "Check your emails, guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," you chortle. "You tell us not to get in character, and suddenly you're all into your phone messages?"<br/>
<br/>
Maybe Frank isn't trying to play Chelsea, but it's her regular look of pure murder she gives you. "This <i>is</i> business. You dipshits--" She catches herself. "You should have a message with link to a new email account and password." She taps her own phone with a long fingernail. <br/>
<br/>
So you check yours. "Huh," you say. "Newjasonlynch71213."<br/>
<br/>
"I got one too," Steve says as he stares at his own phone. "Newstevepatterson71213. What do the numbers mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," Chelsea says. "I got the same. But look at who it's from. Newgordonblack71213. I-- Chelsea found it early this morning, right after she got caught. Because <i>she</i> checks her messages--"<br/>
<br/>
"How did they get her?" Patterson asks with an edge in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Your dad, Gordon," she says quietly. "He pulled her over on the way to school, took her back into his cruiser to 'talk' about you. He put a mask on her, and the next thing she was sitting up in the back seat with a whole new outlook on life. Very curious."<br/>
<br/>
"What is?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She looks up at Patterson. "She knew <i>exactly</i> how to execute the transformation spell," she says. "Chelsea got Steve up here, and got a mask on him, and laid him on the <i>Libra,</i> and did the spell, as if she'd done it a dozen times before. Same as she and the new Steve did with Jason." Her eyes flick over to you.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson nods thoughtfully. "There was also that other mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I know you guys like keeping me in the dark and dumping shit all over me," you say. "But can you stop being so mysterious?"<br/>
<br/>
"After Chelsea got Steve transformed, she put a mask on him," Chelsea says. "It turned him into Gordon Black. But he didn't say anything, and she didn't say anything either. They just looked at each other while she sealed up Steve's mask. Something <i>else</i> Chelsea suddenly knew how to do. Then she took Gordon's mask off the golem and put Steve's onto it."<br/>
<br/>
"And you don't know what that was about?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No more than you do," Patterson says. "Chelsea and Steve did the same thing to Jason when they got him up here."<br/>
<br/>
"But I don't remember anything about-- Is this that other mask of Gordon's?" You're feeling utterly bewildered.<br/>
<br/>
"It must be," says Chelsea. "I bet Gordon's dad did the same thing to Chelsea." She looks back at the corner where the golems are now hidden. "This is bad. It looks to me like they're using that other mask as a kind of thumb drive, transferring information and instructions directly into the new golems without going through the masks." She looks back down at her phone. "Same as they're using this pseudonymous email account to send orders. They're being very careful about covering their tracks."<br/>
<br/>
"Something about this doesn't make any sense," Steve mutters, and paces on his long shanks. <br/>
<br/>
"We just need to find out who's running the 'newgordon' account," Chelsea says. "Find that person, and we'll find the <i>Libra,</i> I bet." She looks at you. "We need to check out--" Her jaw works. "Your friends. I've already forgotten--"<br/>
<br/>
"Talk about gettin' into character," you chortle sourly. "Caleb Johansson and Keith Tilley." She rolls her eyes. "I can bring 'em up here. We use this place for all kinds of entertainin', don't we, Stevie?"<br/>
<br/>
"You do, 'cos you can't get laid." He continues to look distracted.<br/>
<br/>
"Or I guess I can just talk to 'em," you muse. "If they got the book, they'll know what I'm talkin' about. If they don't know, that means they're okay."<br/>
<br/>
"You can't be sure of that," Chelsea says. "Just check them for masks. And you two stick close together. Don't change out for practice after school," she tells Patterson. "I don't want you alone with anyone in the locker room. Prescott and I will watch practice together."<br/>
<br/>
"Never miss it," you chortle.<br/>
<br/>
"I know you don't," she snorts.<br/>
<br/>
You glance up Steve. You bet you could handle Caleb and Keith by yourself, but it might be easier if he were to help drag them up to the fuck room.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211221111121121
author_id: seuzz
title: Enemy Territory
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Westside High School is now enemy territory.<br/>
<br/>
But hasn't it <i>always</i> been enemy territory? <br/>
<br/>
Haven't you always dreaded--even a little bit, even on good days--walking onto its grounds, waiting for the slap and humiliation from the bullies, the rolling eyes from the teachers, the mortification from looking at the girls and knowing that they will only resent your looking at them?<br/>
<br/>
But now it's enemy territory of a different kind. There are monsters here, monsters who look and can act just like people that you know: smiling friends and glowering enemies. Monsters who can act completely normal, right up until the moment that they grab another unsuspecting victim and shove them into a closet or a classroom (or a private loft) and turn them into soulless duplicates of themselves. <br/>
<br/>
You tramp along the hall, eyes crinkling, searching out the scene.<br/>
<br/>
There's Erik Carstairs, for instance, leaning against a locker and grinning at Nathan Hall. Are they thinking about their next victim and who it will be? Maybe it will be Jamie Bornholm, who has just walked past, and whose lithe, swimmers' form they are now following with their roving eyes? Or is Erik thinking about how he'll pull Nathan into the locker room and push him into the shower and shove a mask onto him? Is Nathan--who has just clapped his arm around Erik's shoulder--thinking about how he and Erik will be able to turn the rest of the football players into golems after Erik has been converted? They are following Jamie now. Maybe <i>she</i> is thinking about how useful they will be at grabbing more victims once she has lured them into a closet with the promise of a deep exploration of her body, and turned <i>them</i> into golems.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson turns down another hallway, but you tug at his shirt. "This way," you say. "I got those guys to visit with. You know who."<br/>
<br/>
He looks down at you coldly. "Can't you handle it yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Sure, but it's faster if it's the two of us."<br/>
<br/>
He looks around, and his frown deepens. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice how people skirt carefully around him and you both, trying to avoid your gaze. You spot Brent Pruitt, and you have to jerk your arm back, for you've almost instinctively lunged for his shirt, to pull him over so you can hassle him. Pruitt's spotted you too, and he pales a little and hunkers down. You just give him a quick grin, to keep it in character.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson plucks at your shoulder. "I gotta wash my hands. Lemme dry 'em on your shirt."<br/>
<br/>
You follow him a few feet down to the boys' bathroom, where he gestures at the door. You grin and kick it open.<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta take a shit!" you holler at the three boys within. "Anyone here wanna be my friend, you stay after and lick my asshole clean!" You snigger as they scamper out. "Aw, looks like no one likes me." Normally, you'd catch one and "tease" him about it until he cried, but apparently you're here for a conference, not fun. Patterson leans against the door, wedging it shut while you check the stalls for laggards. It's clean.<br/>
<br/>
"So where do we find these guys?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"C wing. We need to hurry."<br/>
<br/>
But Patterson settles back more firmly against the door. "I don't understand what's going on," he says. "We know there's another golem in the school--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's how come Frank told us to check out Johansson and Tilley."<br/>
<br/>
"But why do we <i>have</i> to check them out? Why don't we <i>know</i> it's them, or who it is? Why the secrecy? Why take the book from <i>us</i> to give to <i>them</i> instead of having us give it to them directly? And you heard Small last night. They want the fuck room for headquarters."<br/>
<br/>
"That was last night. Maybe they've got the nurse's office or the front office?"<br/>
<br/>
"So why secure the fuck room if they ain't gonna use it?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're also at Schuyler, and maybe they took it over there to do some work."<br/>
<br/>
"But why not <i>tell</i> us, so we can all coordinate? Why make this anonymous drop? It slows them down."<br/>
<br/>
"Like Frank says, they're being careful. They don't want us figuring out who all they got."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson stares at the wall behind you, and as you watch, his eyes slowly widen and the color drains from his face. "It's a <i>cell</i> structure," he says in a hoarse whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"A what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Like terrorists use. A lot of little cells that don't know about the others. But there's one mastermind--whoever's got that anonymous account--that they take orders from. That way, if one cell gets taken down, all the others remain intact. The mastermind will just move the book from one cell to the others, depending on where it needs to be." He looks at you. "You and me and Chelsea, we're supposed to just wait our turn. The book'll come back to us, and that's when <i>we're</i> supposed to use the fuck room to make more."<br/>
<br/>
"That makes sense," you mutter. "If that's what they're doin'. Which is how come we need to bust--" The bell rings. "Too late now. I guess we'll get 'em before next period." You glower at him. "Frank's not gonna--"<br/>
<br/>
"If it's a cell structure, we should leave them alone," Patterson says. "We're not <i>supposed</i> to know who's a fake and who isn't. If we go looking for fakes, it'll blow our cover."<br/>
<br/>
"But Frank says--" you start to insist. But you shut your mouth at the look he gives you. <i>Dammit.</i> Even Lynch is frightened of Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
"We can still do it," he says. "But not here. Outside school. After practice. You know where to find them, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know where the <i>real</i> ones would likely be," you say. "But if they're fakes-- And Frank <i>ordered</i> me--"<br/>
<br/>
"You have Chelsea sixth period. You can talk to her then," he says. "Come on. I won't get in trouble for being tardy, but <i>you</i> might."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chelsea is sitting in the back row of English class, arms folded and legs crossed, chin down, glaring darkly at Kim Walsh, who is sitting in the chair in front of her. You pause just inside the door to take in the entire scene. It's a little odd to see the student council president conferring with the head cheerleader-- Oh, but there's the answer. Cindy Vredenburg, her face puffy, sitting on the other side of the room, staring at the front of the room. That bust-up between her and Seth Javits this morning. The bust-up that <i>you</i> arranged.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't have anything to do with it," Chelsea is saying in a firm but dull voice. "If Seth wanted to break up with Cindy, that's his business, not mine."<br/>
<br/>
"But the <i>way</i> he did it, Chelsea," Kim says. "In front of everyone, and the things he said--"<br/>
<br/>
"You weren't there," Chelsea says sharply. "And if people are giving you an exaggerated story--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't accuse people of <i>lying,</i> Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't accuse <i>me</i> of lying, Kim." Chelsea flushes deeply.<br/>
<br/>
"Everyone says it was <i>ugly--</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"So you hear the word 'ugly,' and the first person you think of is <i>me.</i>" Chelsea's tone turns shrill. "It's nice to know what you really think of me, Kim."<br/>
<br/>
Now it's the other's turn to redden. "You know you have a reputation, Chelsea. And if you don't like that reputation, maybe you shouldn't do the kinds of things that <i>gave</i> it to you."<br/>
<br/>
"If I've got that kind of reputation--" Chelsea's smile is hard, tight, and grim. "Maybe you should worry about pissing me off, Kim."<br/>
<br/>
Kim grasps the back of the chair, and her knuckles whiten.<br/>
<br/>
You decide to intervene before things turn even worse. "Hey Kimmie, can I have that seat," you say as you saunter up.<br/>
<br/>
She gives a little jerk as she raises her face to yours. "Whatever." She gets up. "This isn't over, Chelsea," she says, but you can hear the quaver in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing's over till <i>I'm</i> finished with it," Chelsea hisses. You take the chair, and there's a fell light in her eyes as she turns them on you. "You take care of that business like I told you to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Business, Chelsea?" you ask with fake innocence. "You don't give people business to do, do you? It's not like you <i>arrange</i> for--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, you little shit," she snaps. "Just answer the question."<br/>
<br/>
"Not yet. Send you a note about it." You turn around and slip your phone out as the teacher goes up to the blackboard.<br/>
<br/>
It's a fraught little email conference that ensues. You explain Steve's apprehensions in a longish note. <i>Just do it,</i> she replies. You say you'll do it after school. She demands to know if you've got anything better to do. You insist you'll get it taken care of. <i>Make sure you do. I'm going to KILL you and Black.</i> You ask, <i>What did we do?</i> The conversation erupts into real-time at that point when she kicks your chair hard. "Cindy," she growls aloud.<br/>
<br/>
That pisses you off. It's not Frank's business, even though he's having to deal with the aftermath thanks to this disguise. <i>Swap place with me, and I'll eat the shit sandwich,</i> you text back. <i>Just do your job,</i> she says.<br/>
<br/>
When class is over, she stalks out without speaking to you, and you can't help noticing the swish of her skirt on her pert ass as she goes. You're still staring when you feel Kim at your elbow. "What do <i>you</i> know about this Cindy business?" she demands bluntly.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothin', Kimmie," you snicker. "But I can pump Chelsea for you." She snorts and walks away too.<br/>
<br/>
You look back at Cindy, who is slowly gathering her stuff. Frank wants you to find Caleb and Keith, but you've got all afternoon for that. Maybe you can use the next hour to give Cindy and Seth a little happiness.<br/>
<br/>
Before <i>they</i> get turned into golems.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122112211111211211
author_id: seuzz
title: Gossip and More Gossip
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Hey Cinders," you say as you walk up to Cindy. She flinches a little, but doesn't look at you. "You got a few minutes?" You try to keep the snigger out of your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have time for your shit," she says, and you can hear the emotion she's trying to keep out of her voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, this is kind of serious, and you probably want to hear it."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to hear <i>anything</i> you have to say, from you or any of those <i>assholes</i>--" She starts to step away, but you grab her. She snarls and yanks her arm from your hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I know what happened, but it'll all be okay if you just listen," you blurt out. <i>It'll all be okay.</i> There are monsters trying to take over the world, and you're trying to get her and Seth back together again. How stupid can you be?<br/>
<br/>
She turns a fierce frown on you, and tears well up behind her red and puffy eyes. But she listens.<br/>
<br/>
You step up real close, but hesitate, for you have to improvise a story. "The thing with Seth is, it was just a test. Just some shitty stuff he had to do because Gordon and Steve told him to."<br/>
<br/>
She sucks in her breath with a harsh hiss. "Yeah, I <i>know,</i>" she says, and her eyes flash. "Those assholes-- You and those assholes--"<br/>
<br/>
You hold up your hands placatingly. "I didn't have nothin' to do with it. That's Gordon's and Steve's business. They're all about teamwork and makin' sacrifices, and that was just them testin' out Seth, to see if he was, you know, team material."<br/>
<br/>
"It's shit, Jason, shit! You don't do that to people, and--" Her expression wavers, and nearly dissolves into a wet fury. But she holds it together.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I told you, it wasn't my idea. Thing is, Seth proved himself, so--"<br/>
<br/>
Charles Hartlein materializes behind Cindy, and the sight of his smug, gay-ass face nearly unhinges you with fury. There is no one in the school that Jason hates more than Charles Hartlein. "Is this a private conversation, or can someone who <i>matters</i> join?" he archly asks.<br/>
<br/>
You feel the blood nearly bursting from your face. "Get the fuck outta here, you faggot, before I--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!" he gasps and laughs. "You're so adorable, Jason, you make me wanna squeeze and bite you all over!"<br/>
<br/>
Your fists clench, and you take a step toward him. But Cindy stops you with a word. "If there's anything you want to say, Jason, you can say it in front of Charles."<br/>
<br/>
You blink and dart your eyes between them. You're already feeling horribly out of character--the Jason Lynch inside your head is screaming at you to let these two queens just go off together--but you tamp it back. "Gordon proved his point," you say through a clenched jaw. "And as far as he's concerned, if you and Seth wanna get back together, you're welcome to."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy blinks, but Charles throws his head back with a laugh. "I <i>knew</i> this was about all that! You're <i>so</i> cute, Jason, when you're lying. You're the cutest little rattlesnake--"<br/>
<br/>
"You call me a liar and I'll--!"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll what?" He looks at you slyly. "When did Gordon tell you all this? I haven't seen him all day."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit.</i> "Well, I just know," you stammer. "Him and Steve--"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," Charles says. "And what does <i>Chelsea</i> think? Hmm?" He tucks his arm in Cindy's. "Come on, sweetie. You can cry on <i>my</i> shoulder. <i>I</i> won't try to cop a feel when you do." He pulls her away, but glances mischievously over his shoulder. "Not that Lynch would, either. Unless he was the one crying on my shoulder." He sniggers, and you can only watch helplessly as he and Cindy leave. "Someplace quiet," is all you can catch him saying as they murmur to each other.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Well, that was a total cock up. You should go find Caleb and Keith, but you're too angry and rattled, and instead head toward the gym to meet up with Chelsea and Steve. You glance into Walberg's classroom as you pass, and spot Dane Matthias sitting lazily in a chair. That's the only thing you see before Walberg steps up and shuts the door in your face.<br/>
<br/>
<i>If they've got teachers, and Dane's mask,</i> you find yourself thinking. The ensuing feeling of helplessness only reinforces your desire to find Frank.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea gives you a narrow look as you approach and sit on the bleacher behind her, but she says nothing, being flanked by Kendra Saunders and Gloria Rea. And she remains quiet. <br/>
<br/>
Uncharacteristically quiet. "Heard there was some 'citement a'fore squad practice, girls," you laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"That's old news," Chelsea mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, gimme some gossip, Chels. Any day that sees Cindy bawlin' her head off has <i>got</i> to be a good day for you." You hate this character you're playing, but you have to do it.<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>don't</i> want to talk about it."<br/>
<br/>
You catch Kendra giving her a sidelong glance. "Who are you, and what've you done with the real Chelsea Cooper?" you softly tease.<br/>
<br/>
Your windpipe briefly closes, but apparently Frank has taken the hint. "That's old news," she repeats in a firm voice. "It's Kelsey and Karl I'm thinking about. He's totally wrong for her, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a total mismatch," Kendra agrees. "I can't believe--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's totally believable. Totally predictable," Chelsea says. "Exactly like her, to get a thrill by <i>slumming</i> while trying to keep it a secret. It's not fair to him. <i>That's</i> who I'm thinking of. Poor Karl. He doesn't deserve a bitch like--" She catches herself, then takes out her cell phone. "I wish Maria were here. We could talk about it with her, tell her what we think, but tell her we think it's a <i>great</i> idea that they're seeing each other. She could then tell Kelsey what we think, but poor Maria gets everything <i>backwards,</i> you know, so after Kelsey and Karl went public and we <i>totally</i> shot it down, it wouldn't look like--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're lookin' real purdy these days, Kendra," you say in a loud voice, cutting the fake Chelsea off as Kendra and Gloria both turn wondering expressions on her and the uncharacteristically transparent way she's plotting in front of them. Chelsea looks past Kendra at you, to make a face like she's going to puke, before returning her attention to practice.<br/>
<br/>
You run your finger up Kendra's spine. "Real purdy," you repeat. "Chelsea, whaddaya think o' me and <i>Kendra</i> as an item?" Kendra stiffens.<br/>
<br/>
"Kendra can think for herself. Can't you, Kendra?" Chelsea says primly.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just askin' your opinion, Chels."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> are asking for <i>my</i> opinion," she asks archly. "Who are <i>you</i>, and what have <i>you</i> done with the real Jason Lynch?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I don't give a shit what you think, Chels," you snigger back. "But Kendra does, and I know if you gived her permission-- I mean, if you <i>let it be known</i> that we might look cute together--"<br/>
<br/>
"Kendra can make up her own mind."<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, looks like <i>Stevie</i> catches <i>all</i> the breaks from you." <br/>
<br/>
Patterson is standing on the edge of the court in the attitude of a coach, so the implication is like a slow, fat pitch that hits Kendra in the side of the head. She moves to the other side of Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After practice, you and the other two part, to take separate cars. But you stop at your locker, and are the last to leave. As you're passing the gym on your way to the parking lot, the door opens. James Lamont and Carson Ioeger step out. They freeze at the sight of you.<br/>
<br/>
Instinct takes over, and you swing your backpack around hard, catching James full in the face and knocking him to the floor. "Whoops!" you giggle. You drop your pack at his feet. "Pick it up," you snigger. <br/>
<br/>
Really, you shouldn't be wasting time this way. But Lamont is one of Jason's pet projects.<br/>
<br/>
James gets up slowly, and then darts out a hand, snatching up the pack. He sprints away.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, you little--" you yell. Carson makes a move, but you're too fast, and catch him in an embrace and fling him against the wall. You punch him hard--gut, crotch and chin--and he crumples. You yank that filthy bandana from his head and grab a fistful of hair. "You call your girlfriend back over here with my shit, you little faggot, or I make a new pack from your skin!"<br/>
<br/>
"And what'll he find in it?" Ioeger gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"The can of whupass I'm gonna open on--"<br/>
<br/>
You see the look in his eye, and something catches in the back of your throat. You grab his face and mutter a magical phrase through clenched teeth.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing happens. He grapples with you, but you're strong, and he can't break your grip as you try again. But his face is anchored to the front of his skull. You release him and give him a vicious kick. "The fuck you think you're doing?"<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces hard as he clutches himself. "The fuck are <i>you</i> guys up to?" he gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck you asking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno."<br/>
<br/>
You drop onto him and punch him until he howls. "We've been listening to you guys," he hisses weakly when he can't take it any more. <br/>
<br/>
"Listening to <i>what,</i> you little pansy?"<br/>
<br/>
"You guys up in the loft. Today and yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Listening at keyholes? Bull. Shit. Ioeger." You punch him again. "Ain't no keyholes up in our fuck room."<br/>
<br/>
"Ventilation ducts." Thick brown drool flows from his mouth. "You and Patterson and some other people today. Black and Will Prescott yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself turning pale.<br/>
<br/>
He looks up, his eyes wide but unfocused as he flinches from the reverberations of the beating you've put on him. "There's something going on around here. And it's freaking us out."<br/>
<br/>
There's no way James and Carson are magicians like Frank and Joe. But maybe you should take them out to Blackwell's to keep them safe. They're friends of Will Prescott's, and that makes them potential targets.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221122111112112111
author_id: seuzz
title: More Hands to Help
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Lamont has your backpack, but you've still got your phone. You whip it out while pinning Ioeger to the floor with a foot and a hard glare. "Yo, I gotta guy here, and another if I can catch him," you say when Chelsea picks up. "I wanna take 'em out to the professor's."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?" she asks sharply.<br/>
<br/>
"I caught 'em listenin' to us," you say. "Some shit about ventilation ducts. They heard us up in the loft today, and they heard some other things yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are they?"<br/>
<br/>
"Carson Ioeger and James Lamont. I checked Ioeger out and he's still the little faggot he was last week. I'll check out Lamont once I catch his skinny ass."<br/>
<br/>
"Then there's no point--"<br/>
<br/>
"They <i>heard</i> stuff, and maybe they heard stuff that <i>we</i> don't know about. They know somethin' screwy's goin' on. And they hang out with Will Prescott, so they may need keepin' safe."<br/>
<br/>
"We can't turn Blackwell's into a hideout for refugees."<br/>
<br/>
"What if they get caught after what they heard today?"<br/>
<br/>
Silence. "Alright," she says. "You're still at the school? Then wait out in the parking lot until I get back."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, Ioeger," you snarl as you haul him to his feet. "You and me are <i>friends</i> now, and you're gonna call Lamont and tell him to bring my things out to the parking lot. Capice?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You say nothing more to him, or to Lamont when he shows up. You all watch as Chelsea pulls into the lot. As she gets out of the car, Lamont's legs go out of from under him, and he's dragged by an invisible force across the rough asphalt to her feet. He goes rigid as she probes at his face. She does the same thing to Ioeger. You grit your teeth for the same treatment, but she just nods her head, and you walk over under your own power. The other two stare up at you and the head cheerleader, stark terror on their faces.<br/>
<br/>
"You're making things complicated," she says. "But is there anybody else we ought to be picking up?"<br/>
<br/>
"The lady asked you a question," you snarl down at the hapless boys. "And if you think <i>I'm</i> an asshole, you just got a taste of what the cunt can do. Anyone else know about the fucking ductwork?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," Lamont gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Have you told anyone else what you've heard?" Chelsea asks them. They shake their heads. "Okay, you guys are going to come with us. With <i>me,</i> specifically." She opens her car trunk. "Get in," she says in quiet but hard voice when neither one moves. "Before I fold you up and put you in myself."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, Chelsea, you big enough to fit both of 'em up inside yourself?" you chortle before you can stop yourself. An invisible hand slaps your face. "Alright," you mutter. "I'll go lookin' for Johansson and Tilley now."<br/>
<br/>
"No, now I want you to follow me," she says as she slams the trunk shut on Ioeger and Lamont. "These guys need debriefing, and you need to be there for that." She steps up close, and there's a hard glint in her eye. "I'm used to having my orders followed, Prescott," she says quietly. "So don't let this lucky accident--stumbling on these assholes--go to your head."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"We shoulda used the loft today to check for fakes," Patterson mutters. "Pulled 'em in one at a time and given 'em a deep cavity probe."<br/>
<br/>
"We can start doing that tomorrow," Chelsea says.<br/>
<br/>
"And how many people are they gonna fuck up tonight while we're sitting on our asses?" Patterson says. "A bunch more'll start showin' up tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Good," Joe says without raising his eyes from the sigil. "The more targets, the better our chance of hitting one."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't have to wait till tomorrow to start hunting," Chelsea says before Patterson can explode. She gives you an angry look, but stops you with a gesture when you turn toward the door.<br/>
<br/>
"No?" Steve asks. "'Cos I got a little list of assholes I could start hassling tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"So start writing down names. Start with the ones <i>these</i> guys give you." She indicates James and Carson.<br/>
<br/>
It's a little after five, and you're all sitting in the living room of the house that Joe and Frank Durras took for the duration of their stay in Saratoga Falls. You had followed Chelsea out there; inside, she had seated herself like a queen on the sofa and put James and Carson on their knees in front of her. She had questioned them closely about what they had heard and seen and deduced and suspected, and particularly if they'd seen any students get pulled briefly out of class. Neither liked to speak, and they were shifty and truculent despite looking scared. Finally, with a sigh, she had ordered you to take Lynch's mask off.<br/>
<br/>
You'd woken in time to catch the last half of her explanation of what is going on at the school. She had then let each of them take a turn inside Lynch's mask so that they could see things for themselves. Joe and Patterson had shown up while that demonstration was going on, which drew strange looks from them. But the demonstration succeeded in its aim: It loosened their tongues, and they had then joined more enthusiastically in the conversation, even though it meant confessing their eavesdropping ways to a Gordon Black who is now also looking like Steve Patterson. Probably they also felt better because you had not put Jason's mask back on afterward. <br/>
<br/>
Instead, you'd gone into the dining room with Joe, who had put you to work drawing a copy of the sigil used in the new spell. He'd declined to explain why it was necessary, or what the spell would do.<br/>
<br/>
So you are listening now to James and Carson with only half your attention as Joe and Chelsea start talking about the sigil. "Will it work?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
Joe runs his finger over it. "It's giving me a tingle. So are you." His head jerks sharply to the side, and a red welt appears on his cheek. He suppresses a small smile. "I know you think you're in charge of that thing, bro, but it's a lot of fun seeing that mask <i>influence</i> you in subtle but characteristic ways."<br/>
<br/>
It might go the other way, too. Chelsea is looking extraordinarily healthy, with a strong flush running down her limbs, which are firm and toned and sticking out of that short, tight, sleeveless dress in a provocative way. Her breasts have never looked plumper, and her lips are cherry-colored, and her golden tresses trail in a way that makes you want to comb them out very slowly under your nose-- You shake your head and look away and fight to tamp down the boner that has sprung up.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll have to get the golems out of Blackwell's," she is saying.<br/>
<br/>
"Gonna be awkward. We'll have to carry them out if they don't leave under their own power," Joe says. "And Blackwell will want to know what we're doing."<br/>
<br/>
"Then we'll use the ones up in the loft." A nearby phone tweets. "That'll be Dad. You answer. I don't wanna explain why I sound the way I do."<br/>
<br/>
"Dad always wanted a girl," Joe says as he puts the phone to his ear.<br/>
<br/>
"What's this about golems?" you ask Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
"It's that new spell. Providential in the circumstances. With it we can-- What did you just say?" she asks Carson.<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates. "I said Lisa Yarborough got called into the office during third period." His eyes flick over to you. <br/>
<br/>
So do Chelsea's. Your heart flip-flops. "Could either of you pay her a visit, check her out?" Chelsea asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Why not one of <i>you</i> guys?" James asks. "You're the experts." He has turned pale.<br/>
<br/>
"It would look weird. Lisa doesn't socialize with the people we're disguised as."<br/>
<br/>
"She doesn't socialize with Prescott anymore?" Carson asks with faint sarcasm.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm willing to go," you say. "After I get done with Caleb and Keith."<br/>
<br/>
"If she's not herself--" Chelsea starts to say.<br/>
<br/>
"I can handle it."<br/>
<br/>
"And if she <i>is?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Better and better." Hope springs up in your chest. "Maybe we could explain all this to her? Bring her in on it? Bring in Keith and Caleb if they're--"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need the distraction. Black's doing a good job of holding together. I'd worry about <i>you,</i> though."<br/>
<br/>
You flush at the implication. "We have to <i>check,</i>" you insist. "And there's no other way except by going out."<br/>
<br/>
"That's the problem. We have to check <i>everybody</i> in town, and we need to prioritize based on probabilities, not based on--"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, isn't there another way of checking?" Carson interrupts. "What about these new email addresses you said these things are using? It's the same formula for each, right? Well, there's how you can check without running around town. You got a laptop?"<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea leads him into the dining room; you follow. "Let's try this," Carson says. "Set up a new address and spam suspects, using that formula, with fake Viagra emails or something. If the system bounces it back, they're clean. If not, we've pinged a fake with one of these new addresses."<br/>
<br/>
"You just earned yourself a bonus, Ioeger," Chelsea says. "Try newkendrasaunders71213, newgloriarea71213, and newlisayarborough71213." <br/>
<br/>
She restrains you as Carson types. The first two messages quickly bounce back. Her grip on your shoulder tightens as the third elicits no response.<br/>
<br/>
"She has to be neutralized, Prescott," she says. "Black is letting someone else use his girlfriend's face. And Lisa's <i>not</i> your girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"I know," you say quietly. But one thought will follow on another: "Try newgeoffmansfield71213," you tell Carson. He arches his eyebrows, but sends it.<br/>
<br/>
It also vanishes, presumably into the mailbox of a golem.<br/>
<br/>
Chelsea puts her hands on her hips. "So there's two more to go with your other friends," she says. She glances around. "We'll break into pairs and start making sweeps. Joe can go with Gordon to check out his list. You and I can check out-- Well, I'll leave it to you," she says quietly.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211221111121121112
author_id: seuzz
title: The New Lisa
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Dad says that Nash and Rick will be here tomorrow," Joe says as he saunters into the dining room. "Which means we gotta bust some fakes if we're gonna have enough aliases for everyone. What's going on in here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe Durras, you are <i>so cute,</i>" Chelsea suddenly exclaims in a teeth-achingly sweet voice. She tickles at his stomach and then at his crotch. Joe springs back, concentric white and red circles showing up in his cheek like bulls-eyes. She pursues him. "So <i>cute</i>," she repeats. And then her voice hardens. "And such an <i>idiot.</i> Ioeger could think <i>rings</i> around you."<br/>
<br/>
Joe flushes. "The fuck are you--"<br/>
<br/>
"Those stupid email addresses. It's a fucking formula, so Carson just shot out some spam and pinged us two new golems. James! Steve! Get in here! We're gonna start writing down names, and Carson's gonna start dropping depth charges. We make a sweep--"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," Joe cries. "Much as I <i>love</i> being only the <i>second</i>-fairest in the land, I'll make one last shot in the talent competition. We can't make a sweep tonight without prepping masks. That'll take time, and we need supplies, and at least three people need to go home, if for no other reason than to make sure that their families are still real people."<br/>
<br/>
"The way you're describing this spell, Joe, we don't need a lot. Some chemicals--"<br/>
<br/>
"Expensive chemicals."<br/>
<br/>
"--and cemetery dirt."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait a minute," you exclaim. "That sounds like stuff for making golems."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," says Chelsea. "That's exactly what we're doing."<br/>
<br/>
You and the others stare at the Durras boys.<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, guys," Joe says. "And we have to do it if we're going to stem this flood of fakes. Maybe if I explain."<br/>
<br/>
And he does. People still look nervous after he's done, but you choose to look on the bright side. "So, we put this stuff inside the masks we take off the golems. Then when we put them back on them, they have to obey <i>us?</i>" you ask. Joe nods. "So we can treat Lisa's mask this way, and no one has to pretend to be her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea too," Chelsea adds. "Which will probably be a relief to at least two people." Steve says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's do it that way," you say. "I'll take over for Mansfield."<br/>
<br/>
"No one has to take over for <i>him</i> either," Chelsea says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well maybe I <i>want</i> to."<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't a petting party, Prescott," Steve says.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe I want to see what <i>she</i> sees in him," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Then you'd be better off inside--" Joe shuts up as you shoot a glare at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's get them secured and then we'll see if anyone has to take over for anyone else," Chelsea says. "Ioeger, Lamont? Joe will give you a list of supplies we need. You two go pick them up. And call your folks, tell them you're spending the night with friends. The rest of us will go home, check on our families, and meet back here before going back out again. And check your emails, in case the golems are trying to contact you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You feeling okay, son?" your dad asks as you pick at your plate. "Not much appetite, it looks like."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm okay, sir," you say. Jason is unfailingly polite and respectful to his parents. You push the food around a little more. It's dreadful business, not knowing if these are real people you're eating with. And how are you going to test their faces? You can't just grab them.<br/>
<br/>
But you do see a chance with Jason's mom as you're helping her clean up the kitchen after dinner. She wipes her face with a soapy hand, and you touch her at the elbow. "You got some shmutz on you, Mom," you say, and turn her around. You restrain her hand, and she closes her eyes as you reach for her face. Her brow furrows as you lightly tug.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing, Jason?" she asks in a querulous tone.<br/>
<br/>
"It's grime. Hang on." You tug some more, muttering the releasing spell again. To your relief, nothing happens. "Got it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, thank heavens. It felt like you were--"<br/>
<br/>
You kiss her on the cheek before she can finish the sentence, and she blushes and slaps affectionately back at you. <i>She's so nice. How did she manage to raise such a shit for a son?</i><br/>
<br/>
You're able to work the same trick on his dad when he's out in the garage. Then you give them a story about needing to meet with Steve for a few hours. "You boys working on a project?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes sir. A big 'un, too."<br/>
<br/>
You're still nervous, though, as you drive off. Then you realize it's because of the mission to come.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your feet are very heavy as you walk up to Lisa's front door, and you tug at your shirt. It, like the rest of your clothes, are Carson Ioeger's, as he's the closest to you in size. For you are back in your own form. Frank reasoned that "Will Prescott," though an object of suspicion to the golems, would be the best bait for Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
At least he didn't use the word "bait" when he explained why you'd be undertaking this mission outside a mask.<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Yarborough greets you cheerily at the door, and calls Lisa down. Her eyes widen when she sees you. "Will! This is a surprise."<br/>
<br/>
<i>You bet it is.</i> "Listen," you say aloud. "Can we go off someplace? I gotta talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I've been worried about you. We can talk, and then we can go hang out with some people. You've been looking lonely."<br/>
<br/>
That motor-mouthed commentator in your head: Between Gordon and Frank and Joe, you're not sure you've <i>ever</i> had such a busy social life.<br/>
<br/>
She tells her dad she'll be back in a bit and follows you out. You try not to flinch as she puts her arm in yours. And a little bit of you dies inside: If that email hadn't settled it, this would. Only a golem looking to trap you would act this affectionate.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's your truck?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Trouble. I had to borrow James Lamont's car."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we could go see him afterward."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart skips. <i>Does that mean she has the book?</i> You open the door for her, and she slides in. She smiles up at you. And then she goes rigid. <br/>
<br/>
You close the door and slowly go around to the driver's side. You get in, say a silent prayer, and look over.<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting next to a statue.<br/>
<br/>
"Good work, Prescott," Frank says from the back seat. He drops the mask between you and her. "You want the honor of undressing her?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know, you may be the alpha dog, but you're a fucking asshole!" you yell as you whirl around at him. "You and Gordon! You're so busy being--! And you're no fucking better than him either! I know you think you're all fucking moral and that he's just a fucking bully, but you're both just--!" You sputter to a stop.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry," Frank says. "That was a tasteless thing to say. Joe's not the only one with a humor reflex, but my sense of humor is a little more, well, saturnine."<br/>
<br/>
You turn on the car and pull out into the street. "And why do we need to undress her? Why can't we just take her back to the house and put that goop in her mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because Lisa is our key to getting Geoff. Before we treat her mask, one of us is going to have to put it on and go see him."<br/>
<br/>
"You can do it yourself. You're good at playing girls."<br/>
<br/>
"Adjust the mirror and check your blind spot, Prescott," he says. "You can be an asshole too."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You park in a dark spot in a deserted strip center and pace outside the car while Frank makes the change. Fifteen minutes later, a slim hand beckons you back the car, but you get in the back so you won't have to look at your colleague. (He had put Lisa in the trunk as part of the changeover.) You lay under a blanket when she parks in front of Mansfield's house. It's stuffy and smelly, and your skin prickles with dread and anticipation. A few minutes later, doors open and the seats creak. "I got that weird email too," Mansfield says. "I don't like it. I alerted newgordon."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Geoff," Lisa sighs. "I really wish you hadn't done that." The seats creak again. "You can come out now, Will." You raise up, and a mask gets thrust at you. "Better get in to see what the damage is. Ioeger's idea was too good to last."<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa and Geoff knew each other were golems?" you ask. You're in no hurry to get in the mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Along with Martin Gardinhire, Ricky Golia, Anthony Kirk, Amanda Ferguson, Kelsey Blankenship, Brooke Galloway, Deanna Showalter, Rachel Burton, Megan Farris, and Kim Walsh. It looks like Black was right about it being cells, and this was a big one. No wonder they needed the book after Chelsea was done with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Do they still have it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa doesn't. Oh, and they didn't do it in the office. They did it in Hagerman's classroom. He's one of them too."<br/>
<br/>
"During class? How'd they--?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll see once you're in the mask. Are you going to put it on now, or do I need to drive around?"<br/>
<br/>
"We have to go back to your place to treat Lisa's mask, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm-hmm. But we've got another problem, which the size of this cell just emphasizes. We can only use this new spell on forty golems."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll explain later. But there's going be eight of us fighting them, and each of us can only be the master of five golems. There's going to be five fakes who are going to be your slave." She turns to look at you, and you're glad it's dark and can't see her clearly. "Do you want Lisa to be one of them?"</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122112211111211211122
author_id: seuzz
title: Into the Life of Geoff Mansfield
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You try to wrap your head around what he's just said. "Forty? But there's already got to be, like, forty golems out there!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's true," Lisa says in a very calm voice, and puts the car in drive. "But when we get the <i>Libra</i> from them--and though I'm not usually the type to look on the bright side of things, I'm going to assume we will--when we get it back that'll stop their production. At that point, their cell-like organization will start working to <i>our</i> advantage."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you figure that?"<br/>
<br/>
"It looks like each cell is mostly passive <i>except</i> when it is actively producing new members. If the cells don't know the book has been taken from them, they'll just go around and act like the real people. You know, doing normal things that won't cause comment. We might even leave some of them loose, though under observation, until we can find a way of turning the victims back to normal. But the key is getting the <i>Libra</i> and neutralizing whichever intelligence is running the newgordon account."<br/>
<br/>
You're glad you can't see her face. It's creepy enough hearing the girl you love talking in this way about this subject.<br/>
<br/>
"Meanwhile," she continues, "we only need to find and penetrate each cell with a few replacements of our own, rather than take them over completely. That will husband our resources to a certain extent. But we also need to keep our eye on the conclusion to this adventure. We've got to prioritize our own conversions. You, for instance, might want to save three of your choices for your family, so you can bring your dad and mom and brother back. Or you might leave them missing altogether, since they have already disappeared."<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself riling at the very cool way she is talking about the fate of your family.<br/>
<br/>
"Or," she continues. "You might want to bring them back, but leave the new golems under the control of someone else. You might find it a little too creepy being able to order your parents around like slaves."<br/>
<br/>
"Can we talk about this later?" you ask. "When we actually have to decide?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, we have to talk about it now," she says. "Because whose slave is Lisa going to be? That is, if we're going to turn her into one of <i>our</i> golems--"<br/>
<br/>
You scream, long and loudly.<br/>
<br/>
But when your breath gives out, she just continues to talk, as though your cry of anguish had been nothing worse than the inconvenient scream from a passing train. "We're going to partner up. Two of us are going to infiltrate her cell. We might go in as Lisa and Geoff, or as Geoff and some other member while Lisa stays a golem. And that's why--"<br/>
<br/>
You scream again.<br/>
<br/>
"If you're trying to give me a hint, consider it given. But it has to be discussed. We're almost back to the house."<br/>
<br/>
You lay down with a groan and close your eyes. Eventually the car stops and the motor dies. Lisa says nothing for moment. "I'll be inside. When you're ready, come in. I'll be looking like myself again."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You tell yourself you're going to wait ten minutes before going in, but you get bored first. As you leave the car, you push the lifeless Geoff Mansfield over so he won't be visible in the car.<br/>
<br/>
Frank isn't there when you step in, but all the others are, and they all look up at you. "What?" you ask, drawing back.<br/>
<br/>
"Frank said you need to get into that new mask so you can check email," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all?" You don't like their expressions.<br/>
<br/>
"We've been pinging more emails," Carson says from the laptop. He sucks on his cheek. "Spam to Caleb and Keith didn't come back."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck. Though not unexpected.</i> "Well, I guess they can join Lisa and Geoff and their friends. Did Frank tell you?" Joe shakes his head. You rattle off as many of those names as you can remember. Since they all socialize, it's not hard to. "What about Jenny and Paul and Yumi?" you ask with no little peevishness.<br/>
<br/>
"Those bounced," James says, you can tell he's trying not to look relieved. "I guess we're not important."<br/>
<br/>
"You and they <i>will</i> be if we don't--! Fuck it. Can you guys go get Mansfield undressed and out of the car while I change?"<br/>
<br/>
The bathroom door is locked, so you go into a bedroom. There's only one in the house, and in a spasm of irritation you wonder if Frank and Joe sleep in the same bed and fuck each other every night.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You feel dead when you awake--a feeling similar to when you awoke as Jason. But unlike with him, you don't feel a sudden wash of personality. You feel chilly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I'm Geoff Mansfield,</i> you think to yourself. It's almost like you have to will yourself into his mind and memories. Maybe you really don't want to be here.<br/>
<br/>
How did they convert him? You close your eyes and think back to the morning ...<br/>
<br/>
He went to Hagerman's class, and the teacher said he'd be meeting with students one at a time to review their progress in the class. He'd sent everyone to the library, but kept Lisa behind. <i>Priorities,</i> you reflect. She'd come into the library looking very normal and told Geoff it was his turn. He'd gone back to the classroom. Hagerman had smiled and asked him to sit, then moved around behind him and--<br/>
<br/>
And you'd sat up. "Send Kelsey in next," Hagerman had said. "And check your email." There was the new contact point. You'd gone back and sat with Lisa and Gardinhire until it was his turn, and when he'd left you'd scooted over so you could put your arm around Lisa and nuzzle her. "I want to fuck you," you'd murmured in her ear. "I am going to fuck you. When are you free?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not really necessary," she'd said softly back. You'd kissed. <br/>
<br/>
"But I want to."<br/>
<br/>
"You're just saying that."<br/>
<br/>
"But it's the truth."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't have to be like this. Not when it's just us."<br/>
<br/>
"It's fun."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, Geoff. And you do feel good. You know that?"<br/>
<br/>
And you'd kissed and nibbled and fondled and gasped until a new voice interrupted you. "Don't mind me, kids," Gardinhire had said from behind his shades. He'd tucked his collar up and folded his arms. "Lemme know when Brooke gets back. Don't want you hogging all the fun."<br/>
<br/>
There's a knock at the door, and it opens as you raise yourself up. Joe flings some clothes in. "Get dressed. We gotta talk."<br/>
<br/>
You get up with a sigh and disrobe and change into Geoff's things: nice slacks, a navy blue polo shirt, dress socks, and loafers. You rifle the money clip--nearly a hundred dollars--before dropping it into your pocket with the keys and loose coins. You pat your seat to double check the presence of the wallet. You pause. It's almost a formulaic action. Maybe part of the low-level OCD that sends Geoff in for a trim once every ten days so his hair is always perfect and unchanging.<br/>
<br/>
"You decide what to do about Lisa," Frank asks when you're back in the dining room. <br/>
<br/>
"Let someone else have the mask," you shrug. "It wouldn't be any fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Done. Now check your email. Newgordon sent out a mass message telling everyone to shutter their current email and create a new one and send him the contact info. We've spotted a bunch of golems, thanks to Ioeger, but they noticed that we noticed the pattern. They'll have to assume that we compromised one of the cells, so we're giving up on Chelsea and her group. It's the one they'll probably assume we caught. Fortunately, we got enough pings that it won't matter much."<br/>
<br/>
"Are we picking up more of Lisa's and Geoff's friends?" you ask. <br/>
<br/>
"One more, if we're using Lisa's mask to make our own golem. But Ioeger hit a few more cells that need infiltrating. You and Joe will handle Geoff's friends while me and Black take the wrestling team." He jerks his chin at the dining room table, where two masks are sitting. "Ioeger and Lamont, you'll spend the night here. We don't got a <i>gwarcheidwad,</i> but we can rig a spell that'll keep the doors and windows locked. Two more guys from me and Joe's group will show up tomorrow. Then you'll each pair with one of them then and hit the field. Joe, put some of Ioeger's hair in Lisa's mask."<br/>
<br/>
Carson's eyes turn furtive. "Does that mean she'll be--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll snap your dick off if you try anything with her," you tell him.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want me as your girlfriend?" Joe laughs. "Frank says we're supposed to be partners. You're not even going to dignify that with a response?" he asks when you say nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"I need to think of someone else for you to be," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't make me a girl," he gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Serve you right if I did."<br/>
<br/>
He falls on his knees, clasping his hands. "I'll be good! I promise you! Just don't turn me into a girl!"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't fall for that briar patch routine of his," Frank says. "He'd like nothing more than to have a pair of breasts to fondle. Come on, Black."<br/>
<br/>
"Please don't leave me as a guy!" Joe begs without skipping a beat. "I'll be good! I promise you! Just turn me into a girl!"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
If you're going to turn him into a girl, Rachel Burton would be a good choice. She's friends with Lisa, which means she could hang out with you and the new golem easily, and her quiet passivity would probably make for a good blind. As a guy, Joe would work best as Martin Gardinhire, who is Geoff's best friend.<br/>
<br/>
"Get Lisa's mask done while I think about it," you tell him. "And use Lamont's hair, if that's the stuff that makes these things slaves." You assume that James--who has a huge crush on Jenny Ashton--won't try taking advantage of an enslaved Lisa.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221122111112112111221
author_id: seuzz
title: Blackwell's Request
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You hide in the backyard while the changeovers are going into effect; you don't want to see them. After twenty minutes, a rap at the sliding glass door summons you inside.<br/>
<br/>
Frank and Gordon have vanished; now it's Laurent Delacroix and Chris Ratliff with Joe and Carson and James. You press a knuckle into the center of your forehead. <i>So many changes going on.</i><br/>
<br/>
Lisa is there too, looking fresh and lovely and serene, if slightly vacant. "How is she going to act?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Normal," says Laurent. "For herself and for an evil golem. Lamont relayed my instructions. She is to keep you and Joe apprised of anything she hears or sees when she's close to you. Isn't that right, Lisa?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course." But she looks at you quizzically. "Geoff, who are these people?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just friends." You stiffly put an arm around her; she is more relaxed as she wraps hers around you. "Come on, let's go see Rachel." You nod at Joe.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Aw, nuts," she moans. "I haven't got any <i>assets.</i> Not seriously."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know if you wanted to be a boy or a girl. So I put you halfway between."<br/>
<br/>
"You're so <i>clever,</i> Geoff. No wonder everyone hates you."<br/>
<br/>
"Do they?" you ask with a hopeful note in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"You're a prick, but you're going places." She finishes buttoning up her blouse.<br/>
<br/>
"Rachel, I wish you wouldn't--" Lisa starts in a wounded tone.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry Lisa, but I liked Will Prescott better."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you trying to flatter me?" you grumble.<br/>
<br/>
"I said you were better, I didn't say you were <i>perfect</i> for her. Okay, take me home. I got messages to check."<br/>
<br/>
"What do I do with--" You glance into the backseat, where Rachel, frozen with a look of surprise on her face, is sitting next to Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
"The statuesque beauty back there, you mean?" She grunts in a very unladylike way. "You can't put her in the loft, can you? Maybe you should take her to Blackwell's. Our place is getting crowded, and she'll more at home in a nightmare pile like his."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Lisa?"<br/>
<br/>
"What about her?"<br/>
<br/>
"What should we--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Use your imagination, Geoff. Though with Lamont's <i>essentia</i> in her, it'll be a challenge."<br/>
<br/>
After dropping the new Rachel off, you take Lisa home. She hums on the way, and turns toward you expectantly as you mount her front steps. Your heart goes into your throat as she gives you a chaste kiss. "Goodnight Geoff," she says. "It was fun."<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if golems are capable of feeling--let alone expressing--irony.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You call Blackwell, telling him you'll be over soon. "Hustle up the walk, and don't follow any footfalls you may hear," he says.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh yeah. That thing at the house.</i><br/>
<br/>
You'll need his help moving Rachel, so you dash to the door before unloading her, and rap hard. Nervously you wait, wishing he had simply left the door open so you could come straight in. Oh, but then maybe the <i>thing</i> could get in too. <br/>
<br/>
Something soft settles onto your hair. You brush at it. It sticks to your palm, and you frown down at it. It's white and wispy, like cotton candy.<br/>
<br/>
Dizziness sweeps you, and the world reels.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake to find yourself on a deep, soft sofa in a duskily lit room. As you sit up, Blackwell--sitting on the other side of the sofa--leans forward and solicitously extends a steaming mug. "Here, drink this," he says. "It will invigorate you."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?" you ask in alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"Please accept my apology, Mr. Prescott. I could have warned you, but I prefer apologies to permissions. And I err on the side of caution in this business. I booby-trapped my front door."<br/>
<br/>
You stare. "Yeah, you could've warned me, instead of knocking me out or whatever you did."<br/>
<br/>
He smiles thinly. "Ah, but you would've been knocked out anyway, wouldn't you? I would have insisted on removing that mask before letting you in. Like this morning? And I <i>did</i> remove it, to check, while you were unconscious. That was the point."<br/>
<br/>
You're still offended. "I guess. But if I was a golem, wouldn't your gwacharwhatever have attacked me?"<br/>
<br/>
"It attacked a golem of one sort," he says, "but they are making golems of a different sort, no? And we have already confirmed that it <i>wouldn't</i> have attacked them, for some of your friends are already in my upstairs bedrooms. So it would not have attacked <i>you</i> if--"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright." You peer suspiciously at the mug he's holding. "What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"A restorative. And a peace offering? It is slightly medicinal, but mostly tasty."<br/>
<br/>
Despite misgivings, you take and sip it. It is thick, but good--like honey and ginger--and you do feel strength flowing through you. "So I guess Frank called and told you we'd be spending the night outside?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Under the circumstances--my new security system--it is probably more convenient that way, though I am quite certain those two boys have <i>other</i> reasons for avoiding me."<br/>
<br/>
He stares at you intently, and you can see the worry and the fear in his eyes. You say nothing, and just sip more deeply from the mug.<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Prescott," he says in a tense voice. "You <i>must understand</i> my position, particularly vis-à-vis those lads. I am in a terrible spot."<br/>
<br/>
"We all are. We got zombie pod people on the loose."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, of course, I know that, and <i>that</i> is a threat and a terror far beyond Frank and Joe Durras, to allow them their preferred aliases. I have sworn to aid them, and I will, but I myself am in danger from them. Terrible danger!"<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
His face creases. "I am not a bad man!" he exclaims. "Certainly I do not think of myself as such. It is true that I have--" He swallows. "You are a school boy, and have a school boy's morality. But the world is a complex place, and if you have a life of comfort--a life eased by machinery and chemistry and medicine and technology--it is only because men in the past have committed terrible <i>sins.</i> Vivisectionists and resurrectionists, dabblers in explosives and corrosives, the architects of catastrophic weaponry. Men who make fictional mad scientists like Dr. Frankenstein and Dr. Moreau look like little girls playing teatime under the benevolent eye of a nursemaid."<br/>
<br/>
 A chill runs down you. "You say you've done things like--"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Some</i> things, I suppose," he says, averting his gaze from yours. "Not too bad, I hope. But there are always been those who try to stop progress and experimentation. The church, the courts of princes and archbishops, peasants with pitchforks, university faculties. In the case of the occult, it will be exorcists--with whom, I hasten to add, I am in <i>complete</i> accord--and the organization that those two boys belong to."<br/>
<br/>
"And what is it?" you ask a little reluctantly. Your unwillingness to listen to this man is overborne by your curiosity about what he will say.<br/>
<br/>
"It's called the Stellae Errantes, and you will find very little written on them. They are magicians themselves, and extraordinarily powerful. They are jealous, and stop all research, and exterminate all rivals. And when I say 'exterminate' I mean something worse than 'put to death'. Death--physical death, as our present crisis may have convinced you--is only one step in the process of annihilation. It is only the first, and only if you are lucky is it the last." His expression had been grave, but now terror creeps into it.<br/>
<br/>
You speak slowly. "And you think that when all this stuff is done, that they'll--"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>know</i> they will!" he says in a hoarse and horrified whisper. "I know it!"<br/>
<br/>
"But you took an oath to work with them."<br/>
<br/>
"I did! You see how serious I am about stemming this ... this <i>invasion</i> from the realm to which they would banish me without even giving me the benefit of death! Without even killing me, they would--! I took an oath, but they took no similar oath with me! Do you understand? There is <i>nothing</i> to stop them from putting me in a hole with <i>those things</i> we are fighting! Buried alive with them, for all of eternity, as they gnaw at my own sanity, my own identity, my own--!"<br/>
<br/>
You rear back, and he masters himself. <br/>
<br/>
"I took an oath because I cannot fight the Stellae," he says. "And because our common enemy is greater. But I doubt they even need my help," he says, and a look of maudlin self-pity washes over his face. "Maybe they will use me for some little thing. But when it is over, even if we are victorious, they will come for me, and I will not be able to stand against them."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you telling me this?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks up at you sharply. And then from behind he draws out a mask. "You can help me hide," he says. "I have some relics from when I briefly owned the <i>Libra,</i> like the golem. This is the last of them. Make me a face, so I can disappear when--"<br/>
<br/>
"You want me to copy someone so you can--!"<br/>
<br/>
"No! No, not that! I would never ask you to do <i>that!</i> But you can put more than one face into it. Put two faces, or three, or four, and bring it to me so I can seal it. It will be a new face, a new alias for me, so that I can hide from them. No one will be hurt. I will merely move far away, and establish myself again in some innocent occupation.<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Prescott, I am <i>begging</i> you. Help me! Do not let them put me in the place that even the denizens of <i>Hell</i> regard with gibbering terror!"<br/>
<br/>
You can't refuse his request by turning away the mask, and you accept it from him without saying anything. But that doesn't mean you have to act on it. Maybe you should talk to Frank and Joe first.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211221111121121112212
author_id: seuzz
title: Old Scenes Glimpsed from Under New Faces
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You drive home slowly, absorbed in thought. Aside from Blackwell, there's Lisa to consider. There are Geoff's friends, all golems as well. There's Rachel (the disguised Joe) to coordinate with. Frank and Gordon, under their new guises. <br/>
<br/>
And Mansfield's own parents, you reflect as you pull up. Geoff himself didn't do anything to them. But if the police have been by ...<br/>
<br/>
Geoff's mother is seated on a sofa and doing some office work. You come up softly behind her and give her a peck on the cheek. And then you put your hand to her forehead. "You feel warm, Mom. Are you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just the pleasure of your company, Geoff." But you leave your hand in place. You're pretty sure you've got it positioned correctly, even though it's a little awkward, and test things with the phrase. Nothing happens. "What are you doing?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Just holding you. Where's Dad?"<br/>
<br/>
"His office."<br/>
<br/>
"Has anyone been by? This evening or--"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Are you expecting someone? Martin?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, just wondering." You decide they're probably okay, and go up to your room.<br/>
<br/>
It's neatly picked up, and you drop the contents of your pockets into the little tray on the dresser. You sit at the desk and wake up the laptop. The social sites all look normal, with your golemized friends acting normal, with each other and with others. You check various emails. There is nothing except for the message from newgordon about changing email accounts, so you make a new one--mansfieldgod31217--and send it to him. You send the same address to an account Frank had set up for long-distance coordination among the team members, and tell him you need to talk when he has a chance.<br/>
<br/>
Gardinhire calls while you're scratching out some homework. "Something going on?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah. I'm just bored. Brooke blew me off. Some things don't change, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"How's your folks?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, I guess. I don't pay attention. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you find it a little strange, going back home after ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Not particularly. Anyway, I figure it'll be the same even after after."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what's the point of all this?"<br/>
<br/>
He says nothing immediately. "You're a politician, not a philosopher. Just think about your constituency and getting ahead. Other heads, if you know what I mean."<br/>
<br/>
You decide you'd better stop before you give him grounds for suspicion. "I suppose we'll each be in charge of converting our families when the time comes. I should email newgordon, tell him to give me the stuff so I can milk my folks for the cause."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what Kelsey and Megan are for, right? Besides we could carry the operation ourselves for a month just with our own pocket money."<br/>
<br/>
You glance back at the money clip. <i>Yes, you could.</i> "I dunno. I guess I'm just bored too."<br/>
<br/>
"So get together with Lisa. Or with me."<br/>
<br/>
"I got homework to do anyway. Hang on, I got another call. Is there anything we really need to talk about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah. I'll see you tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
You switch to the other line. It's Laurent Delacroix, a.k.a. Frank Durras. "What's up?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell. Are you going over there at any point? Because he's got this new security system."<br/>
<br/>
"It's getting too late to do that. That thing of his gets very scary after dark."<br/>
<br/>
"Well--" You tell him what happened to you. "And he gave me a blank mask. He wants to me to make him a new face using lots of other faces, so he can hide from you and Joe when all this is over."<br/>
<br/>
Silence. "So the fucker was holding out on us. Well, I guess I don't blame him. But it's not going to do him any good now, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not your business."<br/>
<br/>
"He's helping us. You and Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"I know. That's a point in his favor. But the fact is, it's not going to be me and Joe's business either. Our Dad'll be the one to decide."<br/>
<br/>
"What do I do in the meantime? About the mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, can you at least tell me a little more about you two, and the people you work with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ask Joe tomorrow. You and Rachel can get together, can't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
"Do so. He's got some stuff he needs to talk to you about anyway. Now try to get some sleep. The first day is rarely the busiest in this kind of business."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning you check the weather on the laptop instead of looking out the window. It promises to be fairly warm, so you dress in a polo shirt and Bermuda shorts and tennis shoes. You slip the usual contents into the proper pockets; pat your back pocket. You stow books in your bag, organizing them neatly and logically. You check yourself in the mirror. A long but confident face gazes back. You pull out a comb and tuck a few stray hairs back in place.<br/>
<br/>
A quiet breakfast with the parents, them with a newspaper and you with an iPad. Then you drive to school: a smooth and comfortable ride in Geoff's car. Gardinhire and Golia pause when they see you pull in, and wait. You take out your cellphone to check messages while walking up to them. New message from newgordon during the night: "Watch for Patterson Lynch Chelsea. Send alert if seen." "Guys," you say as you come up to your confederates. "What's up with the fuck room crew? Are they next?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me," Golia says. "Maybe it's to do with Black and Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"Are those guys still loose?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know as much as us."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, as long as Black is MIA, I don't give a rat's ass," you say. "Not after Monday."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want an excuse to finally take it to the next level with Lisa?" Golia crooks air quotes around "Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
"Have you and Amanda taken it to the next level?" you ask, crooking your own fingers around the name.<br/>
<br/>
"No comment," he says sulkily.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, they're as frigid as they were before," Gardinhire says with sudden heat. "I thought <i>at least</i> we'd be able to get it on with the girls we hang out with, and maybe with Chelsea and her--"<br/>
<br/>
"Tsh!" you caution him. "Pruitt."<br/>
<br/>
That's Brent Pruitt, who's jogging up with that wet and eager look he always gets when he's with the gods of the AP class. Not that he isn't as smart as them, and he takes the same classes, but-- "Hey guys!"<br/>
<br/>
"Where were you yesterday?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I had a meeting up at the college, with the math and engineering people." His fingers work nervously on the strap of his back pack. "Yeah, you know I was telling you about that scholarship--"<br/>
<br/>
"You missed some excitement."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" He looks worried.<br/>
<br/>
"No," says Gardinhire. "Nothing for <i>you</i> to get excited about."<br/>
<br/>
Brent asks again what he missed, but you and the others just shrug dismissively, and Ricky and Golia start talking about weekend plans. Brent listens intently, and tries to interrupt at a few points, but they just talk over him. Standard treatment for Pruitt.<br/>
<br/>
You fall back, though, and when they're a few steps ahead, you pause to take out your phone. "Catch up to you guys in a minute," you say when you see Martin looking back. He shrugs, and continues on.<br/>
<br/>
You're texting newgordon: "Brent Pruitt is back. Take him?" You send Rachel a text message directly, since there's nothing odd about talking to her: "Let's talk. Important." Besides hearing from Joe whatever you need to hear, you can mention Brent. There's a good chance you and Rachel will be tasked with converting Brent if newgordon takes the bait, since Brent is sweet on her. Then you resume walking to the library.<br/>
<br/>
You glance casually around you as you go. It's the usual scene as you pass the gym and cafeteria: Students, many of them dressed like you, standing in knots or leaning against the wall. David Kirkham, a toothpick in his mouth, lounges with Gary Chen and the rest of their crew near the main doors. Scoping out targets? Or scoping out those who have targeted them? A passel of freshmen scurry by. <i>Fuck.</i> You've not only your own class to worry about, but the junior and sophomore and freshman classes as well. Hagerman--and other teachers--might have been busy all day converting students whose names you can't guess and whose faces are just blurs.<br/>
<br/>
You pause just inside the main doors as the wave of noise hits you. So many voices, so much flesh, so many places for golems to hide. That red-headed girl turning a crinkled smile up at that fat, dorky kid. It would be so easy for one of them to be a fake. She puts his hand on his arm, and a tiny shudder goes through you. Her hand might be warm on the surface, but is it cold and dead underneath?<br/>
<br/>
So you have to jump when a hand suddenly clasps your own arm. "What are you thinking about, Geoff?" Deanna Showalter asks with a mischievous smile.<br/>
<br/>
You can't help swallowing a little at the thought of the lifeless, masklike face you know is beneath the freckles and dimples. You just shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"Lisa?" she asks knowingly.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"You two look so good together." Her hand tightens just a little, and she tugs at you. You walk along while trying not to return her touch.<br/>
<br/>
"Is she here yet?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"We could go look for her. Just the two of us."<br/>
<br/>
A tremor passes through you. <i>Maybe they've guessed, or suspect, that you're an imposter pretending to be an imposter?</i> You say nothing, but let your eye rove desperately across the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
And so you see them: Caleb Johansson and Keith Tilley, swinging casually along. They turn down a hall. And a dozen feet behind them, you see Seth Javits--Keith's personal bully. His mouth is twisted up.<br/>
<br/>
He pauses where they had turned, and you see his sneer harden. He turns to follow them.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122112211111211211122122
author_id: seuzz
title: A Missed Connection
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Whatever is going on down that hallways is none of Geoff Mansfield's business. Maybe it's just Seth looking to hassle Keith; maybe it's a meeting of golems under cover of bullying. But golem-Mansfield isn't supposed to know about golem-Keith and golem-Caleb, not if the theory of "cells" is correct.<br/>
<br/>
And golem-Deanna seems quite insistent on leading you off someplace. She holds your arm tightly and presses her hip against yours, and alternately pushes and tugs you through the halls and down C wing toward the back of the school. You take out your cellphone and open it to the address menu. If she's taking you off to a trap, maybe you can ring Rachel's number with a warning or a cry for help before they grab you.<br/>
<br/>
You and Deanna step back out into the morning air. She hasn't said anything--it's been too noisy to speak--but now you ask where you're going. "The portables," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"What's at the portables?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just us, hopefully."<br/>
<br/>
Chances are it will be "just you." The portables, in fact, are mostly abandoned. At least, you've never had a class at them, and have never known anyone else to have a class in them. They are ratty and badly kempt. That's what makes them a place for when you want privacy, and they generally only draw people who truly want to be alone; hence, once the few private corners are occupied, no more people gather. And it's early, so students, alone and in knots, are streaming toward you, toward the building. Your eye darts over faces. You can put names to some: Noah Baker, Cassie Harper, Olivia Byrne, Zach Reynolds, Katie Byrd, Molly Shaw. Others you just know the faces: a gaggle of dumpy girls, laughing quietly to themselves, who you vaguely remember from sophomore year. Most of them are unfamiliar to you, though their dress is utterly undistinguished: t-shirts, jeans, shorts, blouses and skirts, tube tops; hair long, hair short; expressions bright, worried, exhausted, trepidatious, pissed off. Only a few eyes meet yours, but briefly, and without any interest.<br/>
<br/>
Deanna leads you around one portable, past the place where--it seems several lifetimes ago--you stumbled onto Justin and Shep and Perry and gave them that magical book. For not the first time in your life, you wish reality came with saved checkpoints and reload features.<br/>
<br/>
She leads you to the portable in the farthest corner ("P6"), and its wooden steps sag under her feet. From her pocket she fishes a key. "What's that?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She smiles slyly at you. "You're so <i>innocent,</i> Geoff. Chelsea and her friends aren't the <i>only</i> people with a secret clubhouse on campus."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart hammers as she twists the key in the lock and pushes the door open. She takes your limp hand and pulls you in.<br/>
<br/>
You both stop cold, for you are not the first ones here.<br/>
<br/>
Charles Hartlein is looking up at you sharply from a slightly defensive crouch, and his short blonde hair seems to bristle. His blue eyes gleam, and his lip is caught in a slight snarl. But he takes only a few seconds to take you in, and instantly relaxes and falls back into his usual attitude of sneering dismissiveness. "Oh, it's just <i>you,</i>" he says, and waves his hand. "Close the door, will you? This is a private party."<br/>
<br/>
"We can leave," you say. Whatever "private party" Charles has going, you don't want to be a witness to it, let alone a participant.<br/>
<br/>
He just sniffs. "Whatever. But we're all friends here." He steps to the side.<br/>
<br/>
There's a fourth person in the portable, laying on the abandoned teacher's desk. If your heart was hammering before, it nearly leaps from your chest now. <i>Have you just caught a transformation?</i> You step forward to look more closely, for it is too dark in the portable to make out who it is.<br/>
<br/>
It's a boy, very small, and nearly drowned inside much-too-large clothes. He has dark hair and dark freckles, and his black eyes dart over to stare at you. He can't be more than seven years old. You step very close to look down at him, but he doesn't say anything. His expression is grave, but a trace of amusement comes into it. It's not a happy amusement either. It drips with malice.<br/>
<br/>
You clench your hands to keep from crying out. <i>They are copying and replacing children.</i> But why here? "What--?" you start to ask, but stop. Maybe you're supposed to know.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Or maybe not.</i> "Like it's any of your business," Charles retorts. Then he sighs impatiently. "Well, it might be at some point. Anyway, we got tired of all the ripped clothes when it was Gordon's mask. No ripped clothes this way." He sniggers. "Even if it was <i>adorable</i> when it was--" He smiles privately to himself. "Anyway. You think you're finished?" he asks the sprout.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he croaks in a sweet soprano voice.<br/>
<br/>
He closes his eyes as Charles puts a hand over his face. Mere seconds later, the golem turns into a statue. In the gloom you can't make out who it is, though based on the clothes it will be a guy.<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath. The book has to be here, but you don't see it under the new golem. Has Charles got it back in his bag? If you can just grab it and run ...<br/>
<br/>
Charles distracts you with a gesture, and you look up to see him showing you a new mask. "What a waste, right?" he sneers. But he turns it away before you can read the name, leaving you with only the impression of its blue inner surface.<br/>
<br/>
He drops it onto the golem, and color washes over it. It takes you a moment to place him: Christian Knouse, a skinny blonde kid that you (Will Prescott) have sometimes seen down at the comic book shop playing with an RPG group in the in-store café. Charles hands him his glasses, which he slides back on as he sits up. "Thanks man," Christian says, then turns to you and Deanna, arching a quizzical eyebrow as he stares hard at you. "Anything I need to do with my crew?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell you later," Charles murmurs. "Just keep killing orcs in the meantime."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, that's who I <i>play</i> as."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I care." Charles turns to his bag.<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," you say, and put out a hand, stopping him after he's got it unzipped. "Lemme see that mask a minute."<br/>
<br/>
"It's none of your affair, Mansfield," Charles says, but hands it to you anyway. Behind you, you hear the door open and close as Christian leaves.<br/>
<br/>
You cock your head and pretend to study it while surreptitiously looking at the bag. You can't see the book inside it, but it's stuffed with school materials. So you turn the mask over to look at its inner surface. It's blue, of course, and it has a name band, but there is no name on it. Instead there is just a fuzzy blur, like an out of focus image. "Feeling a little curious about how it all works," Charles asks satirically.<br/>
<br/>
"Naturally."<br/>
<br/>
"We <i>all</i> know the mechanics, and that's enough." He reaches to take the mask from you, but with a small smile of your own you pull his bag open and rifle through it, looking for a slot to insert it. The book, the book ... It's not here. Biting down your sense of disappointment and puzzlement, you push the mask into his bag.<br/>
<br/>
Charles smiles sourly at you. "Well, I'll leave this place to you two then. I didn't know <i>you</i> had a key to it." He says it like you're the least worthy person to have it.<br/>
<br/>
"Deanna," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
He does a little double take, then gasps out a laugh. "Oh, <i>Deanna!</i> Of course <i>Deanna</i> would have a key!" She turns red. "You're a lucky guy, Mansfield. Lisa. <i>Deanna.</i>" He chuckles nastily. "Well, I got people to catch up to, get Micah put back with the rest of the stuff. We weren't even supposed to <i>be</i> working at Westside today." He leaves.<br/>
<br/>
"Thank <i>God,</i>" Deanna says. "Asshole. He's such a <i>bitch.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You don't say anything; you're trying to puzzle the pieces together. <i>Put Micah with the rest of the stuff.</i> "Micah" must be the kid they're using to transfer information around. "The rest of the stuff." Would that be the book and the blank masks? Christian had been transformed into a golem, so they had to have had the book here. Charles must have brought him here with someone else, and that person must have taken the book away right after the transformation. It must have been someone you passed on the way out here. <i>Who?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Geoff?" Deanna's voice pulls you out of your reflections.<br/>
<br/>
"What was Hartlein talking about?" you ask. "The key to this place?"<br/>
<br/>
Her face curls up in an expression of frustration. "Oh, <i>fuck it.</i> What's the point of pretending anymore?" She throws her arms around you and gazes up hungrily into your face. "Fuck me, Geoff. Fuck me here, hard, right on the desk."<br/>
<br/>
"Deanna!" you squeal, and stumble back a step.<br/>
<br/>
But she follows. "You're still not getting any from Lisa, are you? Not even after--" She presses her lips together. "It doesn't matter any more, what people think, does it? Masks can go on and then they can come off, right? You make me so fucking horny!"<br/>
<br/>
She pushes you back against the desk, and you have to lean back to get away from her. But she follows, clambering up to stand on her knees on the desk, raising herself over you. She pushes in, pressing her lips against yours and prying them apart with her tongue.<br/>
<br/>
You're dazzled by the fireworks that go off inside your head, but suddenly it makes sense: All those sniggering references you've heard Kelsey and Amanda making about Deanna when she's not around, the lightly pointed queries they've made when you've mentioned being with her.<br/>
<br/>
As for Geoff Mansfield's own feelings: Well, she's here, she's available, and to say that she's "willing" is to put it mildly. But "mild" would also best express his own feelings about Deanna Showalter.</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221122111112112111221222
author_id: seuzz
title: What's Changed, and What Hasn't
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Deanna," you try to say around her tongue. Her fingers grip your torso tightly. "Deanna," you say again, though it comes out more like "Dmphgh."<br/>
<br/>
You put your hands on her hips, and she groans. But you push her firmly back; her lips seem to extend several feet from her face, still sucking at yours, even as you shove her to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Deanna, Lisa and I--"<br/>
<br/>
"But it's <i>not</i> Lisa and you!" she cries. "Except it really is her, isn't it, if she's still not giving you-- But it really is <i>me,</i> this is what <i>I</i> want, and you can have it if you stop being-- Oh, but I <i>want</i> you to be Geoff, I want you to be Geoff with me, and <i>inside</i> me, and--"<br/>
<br/>
She lunges at you again, but you block her. "I have to get to class."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you <i>bastard!</i>" she spits. "I guess it really is like Amanda says, it hasn't <i>changed.</i> Ricky, still trying to get in her panties, and you won't get in <i>mine!</i> But why <i>can't</i> it change?"<br/>
<br/>
She bursts into tears and turns away, wiping at her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You stand dumbfounded. Is this some kind of trick? Is she trying to manipulate you into showing you're an imposter golem by getting you to act out of character as Geoff? It's impossible to believe that the dead things inhabiting the stone flesh beneath the masks could feel real passion; the only passion they've shown is for fucking up the world by replacing people. Or is it the masks? Even as murder-minded golems, Geoff's friends were acting in character. It's in character for them to talk of their sexual frustrations and to wish them--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Like Amanda says.</i> Gardinhire said something similar. Maybe, in a sense, the masks haven't changed or disguised anything at all.<br/>
<br/>
The thing in front of you is still snuffling, but you've no desire to try comforting it. "I'll see you around," you say, and shuffle out the door. Your sense of social reality, though, is such that you wonder if the humiliated golem-Deanna will try to make trouble for you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Class hasn't started yet when you slip into Walberg's. It feels odd as you take your seat, and it's a moment before you figure it out. But it's simple to see, once you look around: You're sitting in Geoff Mansfield's usual desk. The one you usually take is empty. Caleb Johansson is slumped next to it, and he looks over to find you gazing at him. "Where's Prescott?" you ask, and feel a little thrill at the easy, supercilious way it comes out. Caleb (golem-Caleb, you have to remind yourself) just shrugs and turns away.<br/>
<br/>
You turn around too. Kelsey Blankenship and Brooke Galloway are in the next row, the former chattering away shrewishly at the latter. Behind you, Martin Gardinhire is looking at the class from behind his shades. Rachel Burton (really, Joe Durras) is sitting in front of you; just beyond her is Laurent Delacroix (really, Frank Durras). He is turned around and giving her a toothy grin from beneath wickedly twinkling eyes. He curls a huge bicep and lets her squeeze it. She gasps appreciatively. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeuggh.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's not much better to look to your right, at Lisa. That's at least eight fakes in this room, eight that you know of. Four of them--maybe three-and-a-half, since Lisa has only been enslaved to your side--are good guys. The other four are bad. And the other students in the room? Of course, you can't tell.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa turns toward you and smiles vacantly. For a moment that worries you, and you stare at her hard. She catches your expression, and frowns quizzically.<br/>
<br/>
And it hits you like a punch in the stomach. There is nothing the least bit odd about her expression. You're just seeing it with Geoff's eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<i>She's a ditz and an airhead, and though you really, really, really want to fuck her, you're bored when you're around her.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," you mutter at her, and turn around as Walberg steps up to the podium. You hate yourself and you hate Geoff Mansfield a little more, as if that's even possible.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You guys are really gross, you know that?" you say dryly.<br/>
<br/>
"Just putting on a show," Laurent murmurs back. He turns a blinding grin on Rachel, and she squeals back and lightly clutches his arm.<br/>
<br/>
Laurent is sitting cross-legged on the grass, his dark, powerful legs peeking out of purple shorts, and arms and chest bulging against a tight white t-shirt. As with Chelsea, you don't think you've ever seen the form inhabited by Frank Durras looking so healthy. Rachel, by contrast, is looking rather bland. Her hair is twisted up into a ponytail that sticks up out of the top of her head before cascading down the back of her neck, and her pale face looks pallid in the sunlight.<br/>
<br/>
You're leaning against the wall with your arm tucked loosely about Lisa's waist, and she has hers around yours. Mostly, though, you're ignoring her.<br/>
<br/>
Your quartet are sitting out alone, not quite hidden around the corner of A wing, where you can see the other students at lunch while being mostly hidden yourselves. If you glance to your left you can see Jenny Ashton and Paul Davis having a quiet lunch alone; James Lamont and Carson Ioeger, who would normally be with them, are of course back at the Durras's house. Caleb and Keith--who occasionally eat out on the grass with them--are somewhere else, doing what you don't want to know.<br/>
<br/>
"So Hartlein is one of them too," Laurent says. "I suppose that makes sense, him being such a butterfly. Sucks that you missed the book by less than a minute, but it's more amazing that you came so close to it." Laurent, in your experience, has a very placid temper, and you're glad that it seems to be having some effect on Frank.<br/>
<br/>
"So we're going to grab him, right?" Rachel says. <br/>
<br/>
"As long as we know who and what he is, he can keep," Laurent replies. "Sounds like the book has left Westside for the day anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"But we can daisy chain after it, now that we know where to find a lead," Rachel says. She peers up at the sun and shades her eyes. "Get Charles, find out who he gave it to. Find that person, and find who <i>they</i> gave it to. So on and so forth until we hit it."<br/>
<br/>
"That's an excellent idea," Laurent says after a moment's thought. "But we don't have the stuff with us to put inside his mask after we catch him."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>told</i> you we should've brought it."<br/>
<br/>
"And <i>I</i> told you I didn't want us getting caught here using it. We can catch him outside of school."<br/>
<br/>
"But the book's getting farther away from us," you point out. "Passing from person to-- golem to golem to golem."<br/>
<br/>
"It'll keep as long as we have that lead," Laurent says. "And besides, if we grab Charles here at school, <i>someone</i> will have to get inside his mask and impersonate him."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have a problem with the homosexual community, do you, Laurent?" you dryly ask. "Or pretending to be one?"<br/>
<br/>
Before he can answer, Rachel gives him a quick peck on the cheek. "Put <i>me</i> in for him and I'll give you a blow job."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, now you <i>are</i> being gross," Laurent retorts. "No, the problem is that if we did that we'd have to hide Charles's remains somewhere. Kind of hard to hide a big, gay, dorkwad like him, and if they found him, it would be very bad for whoever had taken over for him."<br/>
<br/>
You're unconvinced by his reasoning, and so is Joe, and you both say so, but Frank holds firm. <i>Fuck, it's like between him and Laurent he's got three votes to you and Joe's two.</i> "Where's Gordon?" you irritably ask, wondering if you can secure a majority with his vote.<br/>
<br/>
"Off with the rest of the wrestling team," Laurent says. "Most of them were converted yesterday, but some weren't. He was keeping an eye on them, in case they decide to round up the rest."<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of dangerous, leaving him by himself, isn’t it?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"No more than leaving <i>you</i> by yourself with <i>your</i> friends, Geoff. Besides, Chris Ratliff was the first wrestler they got. Another one of Hagerman's captures. He's the <i>last</i> one they'd suspect of playing for our side.<br/>
<br/>
Rachel starts to take up the argument again, but he brushes her to silence as he takes out his phone. That reminds you that you haven't checked for messages from "newgordon" since the start of school, and take out <i>your</i> phone. You nudge Lisa--"Check your messages"--and Rachel does too.<br/>
<br/>
You have to groan at the two messages from "newgordon": "Check P6, work with Golia etc.," followed by "Countermand previous mssg." It looks like you missed the book a second time. If you'd stayed with Deanna or stopped Charles--<br/>
<br/>
Now that you think about it, it's odd that Charles knew that Geoff and Deanna were golems even though neither of you knew about him. Maybe <i>Charles</i> is "newgordon"?<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck," Laurent mutters as he looks at his email. "Message from Rick. He just pulled up at our house."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with that?" Rachel asks. "Don't we want--?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted Nash getting here first. Lamont and Ioeger are there, and Nash makes a better first impression," he says. Rachel stifles a laugh. "And he wants us out there right now."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You're</i> in charge, Frank," Rachel says. She puts her arm in his. "And so <i>cute,</i> too, all of a sudden, too."<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, babe," Laurent says. "I'm cute, but I don't know if I'm still in charge." He sucks in his cheek. "Okay, looks like you and me have to miss the rest of the school day. Let's give everyone an eyeful so they'll think they know <i>exactly</i> why we're skipping." He pulls Rachel up and gives her a very deep kiss.</span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211221111121121112212221
author_id: seuzz
title: Reinforcements Arrive
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Should I go too?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Laurent starts to shake his head, but Rachel pokes him in the ribs. "Might be a good idea," she says. "He's the one who saw Charles, and Rick might want to debrief him directly."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, but separately," Laurent says. "Give us a one-minute head start." He and Rachel stroll off together, snuggling closely.<br/>
<br/>
"I wish I knew what you guys were talking about," Lisa pouts.<br/>
<br/>
"No you don't," you say, and pull her to her feet. On a sudden impulse you push in close to her, feeling for her mouth with yours.<br/>
<br/>
"Geoff!" she says, and pulls back. "We don't have to be all, you know." You must have made a face, because she draws close to you again. "I like being with you so much. You're so smart, and you're so smart when you're being, well--" She runs her hand lightly up your back. "Not like the other guys around here."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean not like Will Prescott?" you say before you can stop yourself.<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. "You guys are a lot alike, you know," she says. "You are!" she insists when--again, before you can stop yourself--you snort dismissively. "He was-- He <i>is</i> very sweet and considerate and thoughtful, like you. He made me feel happy. <i>You</i> make me feel happier. You're so good looking," she giggles.<br/>
<br/>
"Better than Prescott." That comment is deliberate, to see if--<br/>
<br/>
"Mm-hmm," she says, and buries her face in your chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, come on."<br/>
<br/>
"Where are we going?"<br/>
<br/>
"Off with Laurent and Rachel."<br/>
<br/>
"Who says? It's almost time for class."<br/>
<br/>
"We're ditching the rest of the day."<br/>
<br/>
She draws back. "Who says," she says more archly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Dammit, you forgot that you can't order this bubble-headed creature around.</i> "Well, <i>I</i> gotta go," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Geoff, you can't just skip class and take off."<br/>
<br/>
"Watch me."<br/>
<br/>
She gasps hard at that, but you just swing away, hands in pockets, lurching along on your long legs across the quad. You half hope and half dread that she'll come running up behind, but you make it to the cafeteria without pursuit. That's when you run into Kelsey and her crew. "Where are you going, Geoff?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Off campus. Lisa and I had a fight."<br/>
<br/>
"Honestly," you catch Kelsey muttering. "These guys and their dicks recently."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
On the drive back over to Frank and Joe's, you wonder what's up with the golems and their slightly berserk attitudes. Is it something to do with the <i>things</i> inside them? Blackwell called them "gibbering, insane" creatures.  Is it something to do with the spell that binds them to the golems, causing some kind of progressive loss of control? Is it just teenage surliness at finding that being a pod-person in a community of pod-people doesn't bestow everything you want? You'll have to remember to ask Frank and Joe and Gordon if <i>they've</i> noticed anything.<br/>
<br/>
There's a pile of cars in front of the house when you arrive, and you find a pile of people inside. You know all but one, of course: James and Carson are huddled in the corner, looking more than a little freaked out. Laurent and Rachel, to your relief, are not only disentangled from each other but are actually standing on opposite sides of the room. The center of the room, meanwhile, is dominated by a newcomer, who is slouched in the middle of the sofa with an enormous tumbler of brown liquid in his hand.<br/>
<br/>
He may be the shabbiest-looking man you've ever seen outside a homeless shelter. He's wearing thin, dirty trousers and a sports coat over a stained t-shirt. His hair, which is brown but streaked with wolfish gray, is stringy and unwashed and hangs down to his jawbone. His face is puffy and feverish and covered with several days of stubble. His eyes seem bleary until they land on you, and then you have the impression that he has just turned you inside out and upside down and picked up all the loose secrets that fell out of your pockets.<br/>
<br/>
Laurent turns at your entrance. "This is the guy who found it. Will Prescott, though he's looking like Geoff Mansfield at the moment. Prescott, this is Rick Bredon, another member of our company."<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Bredon," you say as courteously as you can to this bum.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell him to call me Rick," the newcomer replies in a weary voice. He rubs his forehead, and stares at the residue on his fingertips. "How many more we got to work with?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's one more student," Laurent says. "I left him at school and he won't be here until after. There's also a warlock--"<br/>
<br/>
"He isn't even <i>that,</i>" Rachel snorts. "There's a fat old fucker who teaches at the college," she tells Rick. "Nothing but bookwork, though he was sharp enough to figure out we were dealing with revenants."<br/>
<br/>
"Revenants ain't subtle, but you still gotta have half a brain to see 'em," Rick sighs. He sniffs at his drink, and takes a very long swallow--though it seems to leave the contents of the glass undiminished. "When's Nash due in?"<br/>
<br/>
"Anytime, I think," Laurent says. "I thought he'd beat you here."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, he probably stopped to help every broken down car on the way," Rick says. "Doubled their gas mileage and slipped some machine guns behind the head lamps." He rubs his cheek. "If nothing else, I can get him to look at <i>my</i> junker while he's here. Been havin' some--"<br/>
<br/>
"Can we please talk about what's going on at our school?" Carson asks in an uncharacteristically shrill voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you what I'd do to you if you didn't keep your mouth shut, twerp," Rick retorts. "It still stands." One of Carson's cheeks turns pale, and the other red. <br/>
<br/>
"You wanna look at the sigils, see what kind of shit we're dealing with?" Rachel asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah. Leave that to Edison. Gimme the strategic view. What are we dealing with, what are they doing, how are they doing it, and how far have they gotten?"<br/>
<br/>
Between them, Laurent and Rachel get him up to speed on the golems' plot: They are using the <i>Libra Personae</i> to manufacture masks with which they copy people, then turn them into golems like themselves. They are able to put some kind of basic knowledge into each other using masks like thumb drives, and then put the copied face onto the golem. They describe how the golems are trying to leave as little information inside masks as possible, to the extent of pulling compromised golems off the street, and of organizing themselves into cells. "Geoff Mansfield and Laurent Delacroix," the latter says, pointing to you and himself respectively, "belong to different cells. Neither cell seems to have had knowledge of the other." He goes on to describe how you identified several cells via an email formula, and how that formula got changed after you'd stumbled on it. "They're taking orders from an anonymous email account, though, and we figure if we nail the owner of that account, we can recover the book and roll up the cells."<br/>
<br/>
"It might be Charles Hartlein running things now," you break in at this point, and describe your epiphany related to his knowing about Geoff and Deanna.<br/>
<br/>
But Rick just grunts. "Oh, you'll find it's layers and layers," he says. "Maybe this kid you're talking about is running things, but it'll only be your school. It's gonna be a pyramid structure. Cells inside your school, run by one anonymous puppet master." He stares into his glass. "He'll have an anonymous puppet master over him who is managing the puppet masters at the other schools. Same with the ones running the cops and hospitals and any other place these things think useful. Then there'll be a single puppet master over <i>those</i> puppet masters, running the city, same as there'll be a single puppet master over each city once they get established in them. And so on and so forth, on up and up. No, you guys were smart enough to see the cell structure, but they got some real brains workin' for 'em."<br/>
<br/>
"But it's just high school kids, Rick," Laurent protests. "Okay, sure, maybe a few cops and teachers, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't you do any research on this burg," Rick asks peevishly. "There's a military research station on the edge of town. That'll be one of the first places they'll have hit. Whole 'cell' idea probably came outta there."<br/>
<br/>
A horrified silence falls on the room. "Sure, Fort Suffolk!" Carson gasps. "Oh, Jesus, if they've got the <i>military--</i>!"<br/>
<br/>
Rick's arm moves so fast you don't see it: all you know is he's suddenly brandishing the biggest and scariest knife you've ever seen. "I ain't tellin' you again, twerp. Keep your trap shut." <br/>
<br/>
<i>What's the deal?</i> you find yourself wondering.<br/>
<br/>
But Rick is still speaking. "No point in sitting inside these 'cells' you found. Billion to one against you're ever seeing or even hearing a rumor about the <i>Libra.</i> Thing to do is tag this kid you caught using it earlier, and chase after whoever he gave it to until you run it to earth. Anyone else you know might've handled the book?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mr. Hagerman," Laurent says. "But that'll be old news. He'd just lead to Hartlein."<br/>
<br/>
"But he's a teacher," Rick says. "He might lead to a higher cell that knows something. Kid," he says, turning to Rachel. "You wait for Nash, and the two of you go huddle with this warlock. Call your dad and get a promise of safe treatment for him. Work with him, tell Nash we need a way of spotting golems, and a better understanding of these spells. I'm going after this Hartlein kid. Frank, you grab this teacher."<br/>
<br/>
"We should each take a partner," Laurent says.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I'll take anyone who hasn't got a big mouth." <br/>
<br/>
Carson flushes again.<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks between you and James; obviously, Rick has left the choice to him. But you've already decided who <i>you</i> want to go with, if you've got any say in the matter.</span></div></div>


path: 113311211121112211111211112221122112211111211211122122212
author_id: seuzz
title: Swimming with a Shark
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's more than a little frightening the way Rick Bredon keeps threatening Carson. But he is, plainly, a senior member in this screwy company that Frank and Joe are a part of, and if you're going to hunt golems, you want the best protection you can. <br/>
<br/>
Of course, you don't put it that way: "I'll go with Rick, if it doesn't make a difference." You nod at Lamont. "James might be happier with you, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
And James does look relieved when Laurent nods. "We should change masks around," the latter says. "I can meet Hagerman under my own face. I've got him for a class." <i>That's right. The same class as Mansfield and his friends.</i> With a shiver, you wonder if Hagerman would have caught and converted Frank if you hadn't tried to see him and Joe yesterday morning. "Give Mansfield's mask to James," he is saying to you. "Rick, you wanna go undercover as Rachel over there, or as this guy?" He points to himself.<br/>
<br/>
Rick's eyes shift between the two figures, and an amused smile twitches onto his lips. "Say we catch this kid. Which one of these two would look more natural in his company?"<br/>
<br/>
"Rachel would," the girl herself says, raising a hand. "We have mutual acquaintances."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll take Rocky Balboa there," Rick says, nodding slightly at Laurent. "I'll switch into the other one after we get him."<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, Geoff," Rachel says with a wicked smile. She sways over to you and takes your arm. "We can get naked together, and then tell Lisa <i>all</i> about it." She leads you back into the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
You wait until you're in the bedroom before speaking. "What am I getting into with Rick?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just do what he says, as fast as you can," she says, closing the door and pulling off her sweater in one move. "He'll keep you safe, but he won't babysit you."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the deal between him and Carson?" You sit on the bed and start peeling off your own clothes.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Probably Carson said something. You know what Carson's like. Help me with this bra? Me and Frank got in only a minute before you, and found Carson and James in that corner hugging each other so hard you'd think they were trying to pull off reverse mitosis or something. Rick asked if we could vouch for them. He put the knife away after we said we could."<br/>
<br/>
"What is he, paranoid?" You pull off the rest of your clothes and sit back to watch the last of Rachel's things come off.<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't call it 'paranoia,' but it's kept him alive." She steps back and takes you in top to bottom in one long drink. "Speaking of paranoia. You were acting an awful lot like Mansfield today. So much so I found myself wondering what I'd find if I peeled that mask off you." Her smile turns sharp.<br/>
<br/>
"Ladies first," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm." She snaps her fingers, and a flame dances at the end of her thumb. "You really wanna fight me for the honor?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's <i>me,</i> Joe," you say. "And I can prove it. And what about the way you and <i>your brother</i> were carrying on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Playacting, and it was hard. Almost as hard as me admitting it was hard, because I come from a long line of skilled prevaricators. I don't think these masks like me and Frank."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I don't know what to say, Joe. Like I told Gordon-- God, was it only yesterday? These things hit me hard, and sometimes it takes me a moment to figure out who I really am."<br/>
<br/>
"Interesting," she says. "We're gonna have to talk about that. We missed our chance today. As for what you can <i>say,</i> though, how about--"<br/>
<br/>
She seizes your hand and puts it to your forehead, and says the magic words. You smile wanly, and repeat them while clutching your forehead.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake to find two masks between you and Joe, who is lying unconscious by your side. You avoid looking at him from the neck down, and just grab up Rachel's mask. And, remembering what you'd told him before taking Geoff's mask off, you murmur a little chant before dropping it onto your face. "I'm William Prescott, William Prescott, William Martin Prescott." With all the changes you've been through lately, you feel a strong need to hang onto yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm William Martin Prescott," you hear yourself murmuring as you open your eyes. With a sigh you add, "And I'm Rachel Marie Burton."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Rachel Marie!</i> It's your grandmother's sharp but affectionate voice you hear in your head. You sniff and let your hands run down your naked body. Small breasts, but pert and plump. A smooth, curved stomach. You wriggle your hips, then sit up and clasp your inner thighs, framing your pussy. You look around vaguely. <i>Where's Joe? He's so cute, and he was just here a minute ago, and he was naked and laying next to you!</i><br/>
<br/>
You shake your head, clearing it of that slightly feverish thought. Clearly Joe himself, not needing to put on another mask, just left the bedroom. You need to get dressed too.<br/>
<br/>
He left her stuff in a mess on the floor, but the panties are on top, and you draw them quickly on. Then the bra. Rachel's skin is pale, despite her being not just a swimmer but a member of the Westside swim team, for she does all her practice indoors. She is smooth and lean and strong, though without being big. Graceful enough, though not as graceful as--<br/>
<br/>
You make a face. <i>Fucking Andrea. Spooky Andrea.</i> That'll be the "mutual acquaintance" linking Rachel to Charles. Andrea scares you, scares you whether you think of her as Rachel or as yourself. But she scares Rachel more. Andrea Varnsworth is so skilled and so natural in the water. And she carries herself with such a cool and calm air of superiority. Rachel has to quail a little when she turns that hooded and slightly haughty face on her. Not that Andrea is mean. She doesn't have to be. She just has to speak, and Rachel scampers into line like a mouse that doesn't dare piss off the cat.<br/>
<br/>
You slowly button up the crisp blouse, and wrap the brown tweed skirt around your hips.  Socks and snowy jogging shoes (but with pink laces!). The lemon-yellow sweater. You feel your long, brunette hair frizz and fly away, but you haven't a brush, and can only pat it down into place with your fingers.<br/>
<br/>
The living room is subtly different. Frank and James are gone; Joe, clad only in track pants, stands where Frank had been. A figure is still sprawled where Rick had been, but now it is Laurent Delacroix. If he had looked extraordinarily healthy when Frank was wearing the mask, the new Laurent is looking more than a little green. "I have never felt healthier in my life," he mutters. "And I feel <i>horrible.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's get you on your feet," says Joe. He holds out a hand. <br/>
<br/>
Laurent rubs his temples long and hard before taking it. Joe has to do most of the work to pull him up; and when he's on his feet he sways in place, like his feet are fixed to the floor. "Someone stop the Tilt-a-Whirl," he mutters. "I didn't pay my two bits." He sags into Joe's arms.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong," you ask in alarm. "Is it the mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gotta be the liquor," Carson snorts. "No one can function with what <i>he's</i> been pounding back."<br/>
<br/>
"Rick <i>can't</i> function unless he's got about six shots in him," Joe retorts. "Oh, well, he can <i>function,</i>" he hastily adds as his superior raises his head and shoots him a murderous glance. "But Rick sober is like a normal person <i>seriously</i> hung over."<br/>
<br/>
"How does that work? Is his metabolism fucked up?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Twerp, I <i>warned</i> you, and now you're--" Laurent lunges at Ioeger, but stumbles and reels back onto the couch instead.<br/>
<br/>
You're as bewildered as Carson. "What, is it the DTs? Isn't it a bad idea having an alco--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up before you say something you'll really regret, Prescott," Joe says brusquely. Then he grips you by the arm and leads you to the side. <br/>
<br/>
"It's <i>magic,</i> okay," he says in a quiet but bitterly satirical tone. "<i>Magic,</i> to use more or less exactly the wrong word. Carson's not wrong," he continues, shooting a quick look at Laurent. "It's kind of like something special to Rick's metabolism. But it's not a hangover. More like too much sobriety. You know how when you get drunk you don't see or feel or <i>mind</i> things quite so much?" You shrug, since you've not gotten drunk very often; and Rachel hasn't at all. "Well, Rick has to get <i>stinking</i> drunk so he can be <i>exactly</i> as sober as the rest of us, so that--" He chews on the inside of his cheek. "There's things out there most people don't see, and so don't mind. But Rick sees them, and he <i>minds</i> them, and he has to get drunk so he'll <i>stop</i> minding them quite so much." Joe fixes you with a very serious look. "God invented beer because He loves us and wants us to be happy. And He fits even teetotalers with beer goggles because He loves us and doesn't want us perpetually freaked out by the way things <i>really</i> look."<br/>
<br/>
You're a little staggered by this, but the mission is more important than figuring out exactly what Joe is getting at. "But he can't go out like <i>that</i>, can he?" you say. "Sagansky or a teacher will pull him into the office for--"<br/>
<br/>
"It looks like he has to sober up," Joe says. "He's got Laurent's beer goggles, I guess, but now he's as drunk as Laurent himself would be."<br/>
<br/>
"How long?" You look at that tumbler Rick had been clutching. It is very big, and had been very full, but is now almost empty.<br/>
<br/>
"A few hours, even if we pour lots of coffee into him," Joe says. "Think you can find Hartlein on your own? Bring him back here if you do."</span></div></div>


path: 1133112111211122111112111122211221122111112112111221222122
author_id: seuzz
title: Gizmos
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I don't know if I can handle it by myself, Joe," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"All you have to do--"<br/>
<br/>
"Then he doesn't go out," Laurent says from behind the clenched fists he has against his eyes. "If he hesitates now, he'll hesitate in the field." He drops his hands with a gasp. "Go pick us up some grub. Take <i>that one</i> with you." He jerks his head at Carson, then groans.<br/>
<br/>
You gesture at your friend, and Joe tosses Carson the keys to his truck.<br/>
<br/>
"What did you <i>say</i> to him," you demand as soon as you're outside.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't take that tone with me, <i>Rachel,</i>" he retorts. "I've had just about all of this freaky business I can--"<br/>
<br/>
"Then stop being a pest. You've got it easy. You don't have to go out and <i>deal</i> with these things."<br/>
<br/>
"You think it's easy being cooped up with--" He glances over his shoulder as he starts the truck. "Sometimes I feel like Rachel--the <i>real</i> Rachel and her friends--have it easiest. They don't have to worry about things anymore."<br/>
<br/>
"Then gimme the keys and you go stand in front of a bus. It'll send you to where they are. But as much as you seem to be pissing people off, I'd rather have you here with us, instead of walking around turning <i>other</i> people into--" You have to break off. "But what did you <i>say</i> to him? I don't want to accidentally set him off if I'm gonna be--"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing! I don't think I said anything. He just rang the doorbell. I opened the door, and that stinky homeless guy was standing there. I asked who he was, and he pulled out that knife and told me if I didn't shut up he'd turn me into a recliner. Then he pushed me and James into a corner and looked around, and held us there until you guys showed up."<br/>
<br/>
"Then it must've been the <i>way</i> you said it. Honestly, Carson, you can be so--"<br/>
<br/>
"And <i>you</i> can be--"<br/>
<br/>
Well, that sets off a discussion of the way Carson can be (an insolent know-it-all and blowhard) and the way Rachel can be (a prissy suck up and bitch) and the way Will Prescott can be (an annoying little dipshit who's forever knocking dominoes over) that lasts all the way down to the McDonalds and most of the way back. At least it clears the air; and then Carson forgets all about it when you pull up back at the house to find a new car parked out front. "Will you look at that," he says in a low, admiring voice.<br/>
<br/>
You do look at it, though you're much less impressed. But it's a striking car: a very old-fashioned black sports coupe with tastefully sculpted tailfins and the streamlined appearance of a manta ray. Carson is so taken by it that he leaves you to lug the bags of burgers and fries and shakes while he gets out to run admiring eyes over it. "I don't know how fast it can go, but if it looks this good standing still, I'd cream my jeans to see it in motion."<br/>
<br/>
"It's just a <i>car.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Homemade, too," he says. "Some kind of kit. But I bet it's tricked out with all kinds of specialized touches."<br/>
<br/>
"When did you get interested in cars?" you demand, and press a bag into his hand. He takes it mindlessly.<br/>
<br/>
"Never have been, really," he murmurs back. "But I can recognize <i>quality.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You find the owner inside the house. He's a short, compact man, with curly, close-cropped iron-gray hair. His eyes gleam from behind tiny rimless spectacles, and he bites a burning cigarette between his teeth. "Chammed," he says in a strong Northeastern accent, and wipes his palms with a handkerchief before giving you a firm handshake. "Padden the grease. Nash Cannes."<br/>
<br/>
"Carnes," Joe murmurs in a low, amused voice.<br/>
<br/>
"'Swat I said," Nash retorts. "Call me Nash, if ya like."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that your ride out there?" Carson asks as he enthusiastically pumps Nash's hand. "She looks real--"<br/>
<br/>
"Sweet, ain't she? Built 'er m'self. You like? C'meer." He jerks his head and hops toward the door. "Lemme shew yer summa the--"<br/>
<br/>
"Nash, can it wait," Joe quietly asks. "We got some other--"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh, right. Bizniz." He looks quickly between you and Carson. "So witcha you's wearin' a dingus?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me," you say. "And that guy on the sofa. It's really--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yah, I reco'nized the signs. Keep 'er t'geddah oveh theh, Rick! Yeh don't want me breakin' out my toolbox on yah." Laurent just grimaces and takes a huge swig from the massive coffee mug he's nursing.<br/>
<br/>
Nash turns back to peer closely at your face, grunting as he touches your chin to shift your head back and forth a little. "Whew!" He rolls the cigarette into one corner of his mouth and whistles out the other corner. "That's some reel nice craffsmanship. Ganna be had ter penetrate."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't need you to get it off me," you say. "I know how to take it off."<br/>
<br/>
"Curse ya do. Snot what I meant. You as pretty unnerneath?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm a guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Really! Kinda plummin' you got?" He grabs the front of your skirt, and instinct takes over as you slap it back down. "Sorry. Strickly perfessional innerest, y'annerstan'."<br/>
<br/>
"We've got the blueprints, Nash," Joe says, fighting down a grin. "And we've got some models in the back that aren't being used. Guys, get Rick set up with some nourishment," he adds to you and Carson.<br/>
<br/>
You unload the food in the kitchen as Joe leads Nash into the dining room. Carson joins them while you take a plate in to Laurent. He keeps his eyes clenched shut even after you drop it into his lap. You think about sitting with him, but he doesn't look like he wants the company. His face is flushed and filmy with sweat, and his hair looks greasy. Even his dark limbs look mottled. You wait until he shoves some fries into his mouth, and then silently go into the dining room to join the others.<br/>
<br/>
You don't have much to say, of course, and neither does Carson. The few times you <i>do</i> say something it's to report on Rick's progress in the living room when Joe sends you in to check. Nor do Joe and Nash talk much as the latter pores over the sigils you'd copied. He takes out something like a jeweler's loupe a couple of times to peer at the details. He chain smokes, and Joe puffs at a cigarette too.<br/>
<br/>
After nearly thirty minutes, Nash looks up at Joe. "First ting I can tell yah is me and Reilly're ganna have a long tack when this is done. Latta things 'bout the asshole who made these things stattin' t'make sense. Latta myst'ries ganna get cleah'd up."<br/>
<br/>
"First we gotta--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shuah shuah. But theh's technique heah that-- Mm mm mm." He shakes his head in admiration. "Fellah 'at made 'em? He did some bad, bad things b'foah he--"<br/>
<br/>
"Rick says we need some way of detecting golems without taking their masks off."<br/>
<br/>
"Yah, I can oblige, I think. Ganna hafta take a refreshah on rev'nants--"<br/>
<br/>
"There's a black magician in town with a tricked out library," Joe says. "He's working with us and we're supposed to go over there."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Now dis'n--" Nash pulls out the sigil Frank and Joe had used to coat the inside of Lisa's mask. "This is bad. Reel bad if dese golems can figgah outta way ter use it."<br/>
<br/>
"I know. We've been trying not to think about it," Joe says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. Lucky f'us, I don't tink dey can." And here he launches into a very long and intricate lecture you can't even begin to follow, and compares that sigil to the one that turns people into golems. "Simmly a questioner mass. Ain' enough room in th'masks f'wat they need ter getta pehchase. Oh, I s'ppose they could filla mask widda coupla hunner poundsa dett, but dat kina defeats th'pehpose."<br/>
<br/>
"So they're stuck using this one, then?" Joe asks, and points to the sigil that transforms victims.<br/>
<br/>
"Likely. Prob'ly. I don't see a way 'roun' the mass isshyer, so I don't see how <i>dey</i> could. An' I'll say one t'ing fer the goddam' basted who--" He taps the sigils. "He wrote dese tings out reel cleah like."<br/>
<br/>
Joe chews his lip and looks up at you. "Tell us what you saw this morning. This kid you caught them transforming."<br/>
<br/>
You tell about Christian--and notice that Carson jumps a little at the news that Christian has also been turned--and Joe questions you closely. "So he was a golem when you found him? Did you happen to see the inside of the mask that Hartlein put on him? What color was it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Blue, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you asking me for?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're all blue, aren't they?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe grimaces. "I don't want an assumption. Tell me what you saw."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Charles showed me the name before he put it on, but it was so fast I couldn't read it. But I'm pretty sure it was blue. It was dark in the portable, but the mask seemed to be glowing."<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose we can confirm it once we get Charles," Joe says. "But it sounds like good news."<br/>
<br/>
"What does it matter?" Carson asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Because they'll be slowed down if they're stuck using the trick they've been using," Joe says. "But if they could use <i>this</i> spell--" He indicates the one he and Nash had been worrying over. "Then they could move so fast we'd never be able to catch them."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you sure they <i>can't</i>?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Nash says nothing. He just twists a piece of paper into a little origami sculpture and sets it on the table. By this point, you're not surprised when it hops about under its own power for a  minute before he snatches it up again and crumples it. "Nuttin' is evah f'shuah," he says. "An' I gotta read up on dese tings, double-check my calc'lations. An' I'll need a li'l cemetery dett if I'm ganna make you fellas a gizmo. Summon wanna run out an' gimme some?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can do that," Carson says. "If I can borrow your car." </span></div></div>


path: 11331121112111221111121111222112211221111121121112212221222
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Odd Facts About Will Prescott
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Nash nods and tosses Carson some keys. "Scratch 'er up if yah like," he grins. "Gimme an excuse to slippa new skin onner." Carson's eyes light up, and he bounds out the door. Joe also disappears, into the back to get a shirt.<br/>
<br/>
That leaves you alone with Nash, who seems much nicer company that Rick. But there's an odd gleam in his eye when you turn back toward him, and you find he's looking at you with a keen and appraising glance. "What?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yer deh one 'at made dese tings?" He taps the sigils.<br/>
<br/>
"I just copied them out of that book."<br/>
<br/>
"Like I asked." He screws that loupe back into his eye and looks you up and down. He whistles and slips another cigarette into his mouth. "Joe or Frank say anyt'ing t'yer 'bout dat?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance nervously over your shoulder toward the bedroom. "They've been treating me kind of funny," you say. "And I'm supposed to talk to Joe about <i>something,</i> but there hasn't been time."<br/>
<br/>
"Yah, yer ganna get a good tackin' to," Nash grins, and the loupe gleams in his eye. But he slaps your arm cheerfully. "Don' worry 'bout it. Yer should tack t'me 'bout it, though. Er maybe not. I might confuse yeh."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we've got a little bit of time before I can head out with Rick," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm ready," Joe says, bounding back into the room like Tigger; he's still in the track pants and barefoot, but he's in a clean tee. <br/>
<br/>
Nash points to you. "Ain't haddat tack widdim, Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"Talk? Oh, yeah." Joe's face tightens. "But we should get over Blackwell's, and do that later."<br/>
<br/>
Nash grunts and runs his tongue behind his lower lip. "Ting is, I'm wunnerin' if we shouldn' be keepin' dis'n atta ham's way."<br/>
<br/>
Joe's eyes briefly flick in your direction. "I don't think copies can make copies, Nash," he says in a careful tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Snot what I meant an' you know it, Joe. I'm tackin' 'bout affaward."<br/>
<br/>
"We can talk afterwards. We need to get to Blackwell's. Don't we, Rick!" he hollers into the living room.<br/>
<br/>
"What's biting you, Edison?" Laurent calls back.<br/>
<br/>
Nash looks between you and Joe, and gestures you to follow him into the living room, where he stands in front of the still-prone Laurent with his hands on his hips.<br/>
<br/>
"It's dis gal heer, Rick. She cappied out summada sigils in dat book weer tryin' t'get back."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not really a girl," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
They ignore you. "So?" Laurent asks.<br/>
<br/>
"'Sway she did it, Rick. She jimmied the lack affem when she made 'em. Theah live." Laurent's eyes pop open, and he stares intently at you. Nash continues. "Neet weck, too. Not shuah I coulda done it m'self."<br/>
<br/>
"You found it, too, didn't you?" Laurent says to you.<br/>
<br/>
"I bought it in the book store, but I gave it to some guys," you protest.<br/>
<br/>
"But you made those copies."<br/>
<br/>
You nod. <i>What are they getting all in your face about it for?</i><br/>
<br/>
"You and the kid get over to the warlock's," Laurent says Nash. "I'll babysit Lockpick Lucy here."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatcha ganna do widder?"<br/>
<br/>
"Turn her inside out and then decide."<br/>
<br/>
You pale, but Nash shrugs, and he and Joe head out. Laurent stares at you, and you do have the impression that he's peeling you back, layer by layer, quickly but thoroughly. "Why'd you make those copies?" he finally asks.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It feels like a lifetime ago, and things have changed radically since then.</i> In fact, it was several lifetimes ago--the lifetimes of Rachel and Geoff and Jason and Maize and Gordon and Perry and Justin. "I was sharing the book with some guys, but I wasn't sure I trusted them with it. I wanted some copies of my own, in case, well--"<br/>
<br/>
"In case they got it into their heads that they wanted to get rid of you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Something like that, I guess." It now seems very foolish and melodramatic, the thought that Justin and Perry might have tried "getting rid" of you.<br/>
<br/>
"Or in case you got it into your head that you might want to get rid of them?"<br/>
<br/>
That's like a slap. "No! I wouldn't--! I just wanted some insurance."<br/>
<br/>
"I've done a lot of work with people who wanted and had insurance," Laurent says. "It was a bad sample set and I'm a cynical son of a bitch, but most of them were scam artists. These masks are perfect for pulling off scams, aren't they?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess they could be used that way," you say sulkily.<br/>
<br/>
"And you got into it."<br/>
<br/>
"I gave the book away, uh, Mr. Bredon--"<br/>
<br/>
"Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"--but they pulled me back into it. Into doing things with them with it."<br/>
<br/>
"No one can force anyone to do anything. What did they show you, promise you, with it?"<br/>
<br/>
You turn deeply red. "They'd made a mask of a girl. They were taking turns putting it on and--" You and Rachel both choke on the word. "And fucking each other in it."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all?" Laurent says. "They didn't get rid of this girl?" You shake your head violently. "Didn't use it to raid her bank account, screw with her friends, take over her life?" You shake your head again. "Just a cross-dressing pajama party?" You nod tightly and grimly. "Psh. Kids today. Got no imagination. Ruined by bad movies and videogames." He sounds genuinely disgusted at the lack of immoral enterprise. "Tell me all about it. Every detail."<br/>
<br/>
He questions you closely about it from the beginning, and at each step, on each detail, and on your motives and on the motives you discerned in your friends. He is utterly impassive. You describe things past the point where you'd made the golem, but when you get to your meeting with Blackwell, and his diagnosis of where the problem arose, he circles back to it. "So you didn't actually put the goods together, did you?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I think it was Perry. Yeah. He was wearing a mask at the time--"<br/>
<br/>
"But it wasn't <i>you</i> who mixed the stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." You're too exhausted by his questioning to feel smugness or relief.<br/>
<br/>
"Shoulda been. We could've avoided a lot of this stupidity."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Show me your hands."<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't wait for you to comply of your own will, and leans forward to seize them. Rachel's psyche thrills at having Laurent holding her this way.<br/>
<br/>
He stares down into them, and touches them, and strokes them, but not in a romantic way. After a minute, he pushes you away.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Edison's right. Kid too, but of course he'd have made the same deduction."<br/>
<br/>
"What deduction, Mr.-- Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"Just Rick," he says, showing a trace of irritation. "You shouldn't have been able to copy those spells from the book. Or, what I mean is, you coulda made copies, but you shouldn't have been able to use them to make things. Books like what you found almost always come with a kind of lock on them to keep live sigils from being copied out of them. That book you found would've been doubly, triply locked against it."<br/>
<br/>
"But I made some copies," you protest.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. That takes skill. The kind of skill that me and Edison and the kid and the cadet have. No one else. Not even that warlock you and your friends hooked up with could do it."<br/>
<br/>
You just stare at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Since you're just standing there like a statue of a pale Pocahontas, I'll lay it out square for you," he says. "You're a natural-born magician, and there's never more than a few dozen like you in the world at any one time. Thirty minutes ago, twenty percent of them were standing in this room. One of 'em was <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your head is still spinning half an hour later when you and Rick head out in Laurent's car. He hasn't spoken anymore about it, but what he said was enough to daze you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>You? A magician?</i><br/>
<br/>
And that's pretty much the sum of what you're capable of thinking. You have to thrust it aside and concentrate on listening to Laurent. He directs you to text Charles Hartlein, asking to meet with him right after school lets out. That'll be in only twenty minutes: enough time to get there. Charles agrees in his quick reply.<br/>
<br/>
Rick then calls Joe, and tells him that the two of you are heading out. "I'll keep him with me," he says, clearly referring to you. "It's just a quick in and out. If he can follow directions, he'll be fine, and I'll call you when it's done."<br/>
<br/>
"I can follow directions," you assure him as he hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Not sure your twerp friend can. No one's seen him since he left."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You and Laurent walk side by side toward the school; there's no bullshit holding of hands or waists, and you have struggle to keep up with him against the surging tides of students pouring from the doors. He pushes through without seeming to notice, but he's big that way. You have to swim in his wake.<br/>
<br/>
You're at the intersection of G and H wings when a voice calls your name. It's Andrea, and you pale a little. Golem or not, she's scary.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Laurent!" you turn at that voice, too. Chris Ratliff. <i>Shit.</i> You and everyone forgot that Gordon was still at school, pretending to be Chris and keeping an eye on the rest of the wrestling team. You look up to catch Laurent frowning.<br/>
<br/>
"That's another one of our guys," you say, whispering in Laurent's ear. Then you hop over to Chris. "I gotta talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta talk to <i>you,</i>" he replies. "One of you. I guess it doesn't matter which."<br/>
<br/>
You look back at Laurent. Andrea is standing by him, watching you with a hooded look. Laurent cocks his head, and calls you back over.</span></div></div>


