# chapters

path: 1122111111121222212221211211122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Life of One Who Walked Away
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"The answer is still no," you say. "I'm done all with this."<br/>
<br/>
Joe shrugs and clucks his tongue. "Okay. It was just a thought. Let's get your golem out here. You want your life back? Then let's get it done."<br/>
<br/>
The thing that's been keeping your life warm shows up thirty minutes later. You get his most recent memories out of the mask, and then Frank and Joe send you on your way. They'll take care of the homeless man you'd hidden under the mask of yourself.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It ought to feel strange, returning home after weeks of being away. But you've got the golem's memories, so it feels like you've never been gone. Your family, of course, doesn't notice your return.<br/>
<br/>
You go back to school on Monday. It's as bad as you'd feared. Worse even. All the pent-up aggressions felt by Gordon Black and Steve Patterson and Jason Lynch and David Kirkham and the Molester and all the others explode. The administration intervenes at one point, but that just means the torture moves into corners where it can't be witnessed. Bruises and humiliations pile up on bruises and humiliations. Your friends are no comfort either. Caleb and Keith are totally alienated from you. James Lamont wants nothing to do with you, and that means Carson Ioeger and Jenny Ashton and Paul Davis--who you sometimes hang out--also tend to avoid you. For lack of better company you wind up hanging around Christian Knouse and Hugh Flake and Howie Baylor, doing RPG stuff. It's fun, you suppose, but a little nerdy for your tastes.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa ignores you, though she's pleasant the few times you speak to her. Mansfield and his goons just smirk at you. Early in the spring semester you start hanging around with Cassie Harper, a chatterbox who's always been nice to you. By the end of the semester, you're even "dating" in a way, though it's not very satisfying.<br/>
<br/>
Somehow you power through the seven months. Your solace is the thought that it will all be over in May. You do up college applications, feeling a lot of hope and anticipation, but Wills College, a small liberal-arts school in the eastern part of the state, is the only place that accepts you with a financial package. Even Keyserling, the local university, turns up its nose at you. So even your exit from Westside is depressingly anti-climactic.<br/>
<br/>
As graduation approaches, you find yourself hoping that Joe and Frank will show up, to make you another offer, for by this point you're seeing the truth of Joe's warning. But you've too much pride to contact them yourself, even though Joe left you a card and the admonition not to hesitate at using it. But finally, you can't stand it any more, and go looking for it. You'll call Joe, tell him you've changed your mind, tell him you want to see him and Frank and Nash, and want to join that society of theirs.<br/>
<br/>
But you've lost his card. Sometime when cleaning up your room, you accidentally tossed it out.<br/>
<br/>
That night, in a desultory way you try playing around with sigils. But you can't remember them, not clearly. And when the paper you're scribbling on starts screaming, you tear it up, and never try doing anything with magic again.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Third Partner
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Joe clasps his hands over yours. "Do you trust me, Melody?" he asks, and gazes deeply into your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<i>No, you don't. If he's really mixed up in magic, he'll just try taking your new position and possessions from you. Probably he'll try doing to you what you did to Blackwell.</i><br/>
<br/>
He laughs softly when you don't answer. "I know, I'm a smooth talking son of a bitch. And I haven't been completely honest with you." From his satchel he draws a leather ID case. "My partner and I have been interested in Professor Blackwell for a little while now. We noticed you at his place, and that got us worried. Girls seem to disappear around him."<br/>
<br/>
You look at the ID with a feeling of astonishment. "Is this genuine? You're FBI?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know, I look young. So does my partner. The fresh-faced guys draw the assignments when it's a college case." His manner grows subtly more adult even as his smile remains puckish. "But I'm older than I look. I mean, come on, Melody. How many twenty-year-olds could talk to you about the Regency in languages other than English?"<br/>
<br/>
You hand back his ID. "What's this about girls disappearing around Blackwell?" <i>Did somebody notice you getting rid of Lucy's SUV?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well, we don't have anything nailed down," Joe says. His smile falls into a frown. "Mostly it's just a hunch. He's had a bad odor for a long time. It's not just an antiquarian interest in witchcraft that attracts him. Don't tell me you haven't noticed it. That faint air of the Satanic that lingers about him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't believe in all that Satanist bullshit," you say, channeling Melody's own skepticism.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not, a level-headed girl like you. But it's not a question of whether <i>you</i> believe in the devil, or whether <i>I</i> believe in the devil. The question is whether Professor Blackwell believes in the devil, and what he might do to people if he thinks the devil of his imagination demands it."<br/>
<br/>
"And he's hurt girls?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He leans back in his booth. "We're not sure. But we know he likes to, ah, <i>profile</i> girls, and some of those girls have disappeared under some rather spooky circumstances. I'm afraid my little interrogation earlier--" He gestures at that placemat. "It was the kind of questionnaire that <i>he</i> likes to give people, and your answers were the kind of answers that are unhealthy to give him."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow. "Is it for my own safety that you want me going back to your place?"<br/>
<br/>
He reads the skepticism in your question. "No," he replies. "I wouldn't mind talking to you there, and I'd really like to keep you safe. But I won't ask you to do anything that will make you uncomfortable." He gives you an appraising look. "But here's one thing you can do for me. I'd like to get in his house and look around."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you need a search warrant?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eventually. But I can do a recon first. Visit while pretending to be your boyfriend? You could go out there tomorrow, pretending to show him some of your research, and I could tag along?"<br/>
<br/>
That certainly seems safer than going home with him. And you'd like to get a closer look at him, so you agree.<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome. What time?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
He agrees, and raises your hand to kiss it. "Everything will be alright, Melody," he says. "You can trust me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But he can't trust you. Naturally, you're worried about being followed, so you go to Melody's dorm, where you do some hard--and slightly frightened--thinking. <br/>
<br/>
<i>FBI?</i> Fucking Bullshit Instead. Blackwell, you know from your time inside him, has only victimized Lucy Vredenburg. Blackwell can't have been the only magician in the world, and you'd bet large sums of money that Joe is either a rival, or is working for a rival. That "poltergeist" activity is probably just a trick he's rigged up to put Melody into a receptive state of nerves. You want to learn everything there is to know about Joe. You could get a mind-band onto him; you could get a mask onto him. But the most thorough way, it occurs to you--<br/>
<br/>
You call Blackwell's. Someone with Melody's voice answers. "Can you make up another <i>anima</i> band?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," she says. "I'm not a golem, so it shouldn't be a problem. What's up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just make another one," you say. "I won't be coming home tonight--"<br/>
<br/>
"Taking things to the next level with Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"In a manner of speaking. I'll tell you tomorrow. But have it ready. Go to school tomorrow as Blackwell--"<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh."<br/>
<br/>
"--and tell Prescott to stay away. I'll stop by Blackwell's office in the morning to explain."<br/>
<br/>
You're nervous when you hang up, and work it off by doing some of Melody's schoolwork before going to bed at two.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Is there a family crypt under this place?" Joe asks as you lead him up to Blackwell's front door the next day.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. What makes you think--?"<br/>
<br/>
"It just feels like the kind of place where vampires would live," he says. "Don't you feel it?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's just Blackwell," you say, and make a face.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. I think a smart girl like you would've seen the signs."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't believe in that kind of thing, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll see if you do after we talk this evening," he says as you rap at the door.<br/>
<br/>
<i>We certainly will,</i> you think to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell opens it, and smiles in an oily way. "Ah, Ms. Weiss, thank you for coming out."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry I didn't have it with me when I stopped by your office today," you say. You put your hand into your satchel and grasp the <i>anima</i> band that Blackwell had given you when you'd met him a little after noon.<br/>
<br/>
"Do come in," he says, opening the door wider. "I'd like to look it over before accepting it, if you don't mind." He casts a quizzical glance at Joe.<br/>
<br/>
"This is my, uh, new boyfriend," you say, and put your other arm around Joe's waist. You thrill as he reciprocates.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, how delightful. Please." Blackwell ushers the both of you in. "Your money for the last two weeks is on the table there."<br/>
<br/>
You pause to scoop up the envelope. Blackwell himself continues into the library, nonchalantly skirting the rug that is draped just inside the entrance. Joe gives you a quick glance, but does a double take as he looks into the library. With an eager step he follows Blackwell--<br/>
<br/>
And fetches up short as he hits the rug, tumbling forward: his feet are stuck to it.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell catches him as he falls. "Oh my dear fellow, do be careful."<br/>
<br/>
Before Joe can reply, you leap behind him, reaching around to put the <i>anima</i> band to his forehead. He slumps into Blackwell's arms.<br/>
<br/>
You bend and murmur the release spell over the sigil hidden beneath the rug--it's another of your designs; the "bear trap", you call it--and Blackwell, huffing heavily, hauls Joe into the library and drops him into a chair. Joe's face has gone chalky beneath his golden tan, and his eyes roll in his head. "Is he alright?" Blackwell asks anxiously. <br/>
<br/>
"I hope so," you mutter. "Melody-- I mean, <i>you</i> were already unconscious when I put the first one on you."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell leans against the desk while you crouch at Joe's feet. Despite his pallor, he's a healthy-looking specimen. Your psychological twin had grumbled at finding itself inside Melody Weiss, but you doubt this twin--this <i>triplet</i>--will complain about--<br/>
<br/>
Joe takes a deep breath and raises his head. He blinks furiously a few times and looks around. You'd finished making the <i>anima</i> band inside Blackwell's office, taking Melody's mask off long enough to press it to your forehead, so your new twin might be momentarily disoriented at finding himself in a room that he won't remember returning to. But after a few seconds he lets out a breath and relaxes. "Done and done," he says, and a wide grin splits his face. "Cool!"<br/>
<br/>
"Everything okay in there?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Better than okay." He raises a clenched fist toward the ceiling, and a hard flash of gold comes off his hair. He opens his fist, and you stumble back as a flame like that of a torch blazes out of his palm. "Dudes, we have scored the <i>jackpot!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm not really too keen on your taking it off me," Melody Weiss says with a frown. She looks more than a little ridiculous in Blackwell's clothes.<br/>
<br/>
"We need to secure Frank," Joe says impatiently. "Leave that to me. And trust me, you'll like being there."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but--"<br/>
<br/>
Joe's hand is a blur, and before she can finish she has slumped over, and Joe is fingering the <i>anima</i> band he's pulled from her.<br/>
<br/>
"Shouldn't you ask me permission before doing stuff like this?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," he drawls. "Can I take that band off her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Look, I know you're not a golem--"<br/>
<br/>
"Damn straight, I'm not. Good thing, too. Golem couldn't do what I can do, and you'll be glad I can. And don't think about trying to get my <i>anima</i> band offa me." He points to his temple. "Aside from the fact that guys wearing them don't like parting with them--" He jerks a thumb at Melody. "You don't want Joe and Frank on the loose."<br/>
<br/>
"Who <i>are</i> these guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell you later. Right now, I think you better get out of Melody's face. I'm betting the real girl's gonna remember everything she was doing while under our influence."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Our influence?</i><br/>
<br/>
You don't have time to say it aloud, for Joe's hand moves faster than you can see, and a moment later the world goes dark.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You have a headache when you wake, and are grateful for Melody's proffered hand. "What--? Where's Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gone," she says. "Honestly, boss, I'm not sure I like this new partner."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122
author_id: seuzz
title: One Into Three Without Division
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You've got your doubts as well; the possessed Joe seems awfully eager to take charge. But you'll give him the benefit of the doubt at least until he gives you reason to take it back. So you resist Melody's suggestion that you set another trap. "Besides," you add. "He's got <i>me</i> riding around inside him. He'll know what to look for. But let's get my own double out here, and get Blackwell's mask back on the golem. If things are going to come to a vote, I want to outnumber him."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's almost three hours before you hear back from Joe, and it's when you hear him calling after the front door has opened. "Yo, me!" He saunters in with a wicked grin.<br/>
<br/>
He's changed clothes, from the button-down shirt and jeans to a t-shirt and shorts. He looks almost sickeningly healthy. <br/>
<br/>
And then the other one comes in. He's half a head taller, with dark hair and eyes, and a watchful expression. If Joe looks healthy, this one seems to have an almost supernatural potency rippling beneath him. "Everyone, this is Frank," Joe says, jerking his head at the newcomer. "Frank, you know everyone here, of course."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course," Frank says with a smile that is sharp but cool. "Prescott," he drawls, sounding amused as he nods at you, Will Prescott, Melody Weiss, and Aubrey Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly, the idea of overpowering these two seems utterly ludicrous.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you get that other, uh--" You nod at Frank. "Onto him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft, you think I'm an incompetent?" Joe snorts. "No fucking way I'd bring Frank here without taming him. So what do you think, Frank? Belly of the beast."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a fucked up scene, Joe," he says with an approving nod. "You should be proud, Prescott," he adds, and relaxes into a chair with the attitude of someone who owns the room. "Not many assholes can claim what you've got."<br/>
<br/>
"And what's that?" Your nerves are prickling hard.<br/>
<br/>
"A tricked out library," Frank says. "A black magician under your thumb. And us for allies."<br/>
<br/>
"And who <i>are</i> you?" you demand.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Will Prescott, of course," Frank coolly replies. "Pretending to be--" He shoots Joe an amused look, and Joe throws his head back and laughs. "Well, call me Frank Durras."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Will Prescott too," Joe chortles. "Pretending to be Joe Durras."<br/>
<br/>
"You guys married or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't make me hurt you," Frank says with a mirthless smile. "It would be really weird, considering we're the same person, just in three different bodies. Frank and Joe are brothers. Adoptive brothers, but they grew up together. Partners, but not the way you were asking about in an asshole way."<br/>
<br/>
"Not FBI, either," Joe adds. He throws himself into a handstand on the desk. He walks along to the far edge. "Maybe Blackwell's heard of us, though. <i>Stellae Errantes,</i> prof?" He balances, trembling, then drops back to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Stellae</i>?" Blackwell gasps. "Good heavens, Will, if these boys are telling the truth--"<br/>
<br/>
"We always tell the truth," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"We also have ways of making other people tell the truth," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell is pale. "Are there any other of your kind in town?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Nope. Lucky for you," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
"What is the-- The Stella--?" you stutter.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Stellae Errantes,</i>" Joe says. "It means 'Wandering Stars'. The planets, in plain language. Melody's got the wits to understand <i>that</i> much. Don't you, babe?" He snaps playfully at her ear, and she shrieks and dashes to the other side of the room.<br/>
<br/>
"It's an ancient society of magicians," Blackwell says.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't like that word," Frank says. "Blackwell was a magician. We're people with talent."<br/>
<br/>
"And we don't need to read a lot of horseshit in books or fuck around with potions," Joe says. "Oh, don't get me wrong. Reading is good for you, and it saves time. But we're the ones who invented most of it. It's fuckers like <i>you</i> who've been riding around on our coattails," he tells Blackwell in a gloating voice.<br/>
<br/>
You are really not liking this now. These guys may have your <i>anima</i> inside them, but they sound like they're drunk on power, and like they don't have any respect for <i>you.</i><br/>
<br/>
You also feel like you need to reestablish your control before they take over completely. At the same time, you feel like you can't be too blunt, or they'll squash you. So you aim for a middle course:<br/>
<br/>
"So what does this mean for me?" you ask. "I mean, if I've got you guys under my control now--"<br/>
<br/>
"You hear that, Frank?" Joe laughs. "<i>He's</i> got <i>us</i> under <i>his</i> control!"<br/>
<br/>
"He sounds nervous, Joe," Frank replies with a smile of his own. "As well he should be. But don't shit yourself, dude. We <i>are</i> you, so we'll be treating you as an equal," he adds in what he probably thinks is a tone of generosity.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right," Joe says. "You'll be like our little brother. You <i>are</i>, in a way." He comes over, and you stiffen as he throws his arms loosely around you. "We're you, and you're one of us."<br/>
<br/>
"Because we share the same <i>anima</i>?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"And the same kind of <i>essentia,</i>" Joe says. He steps back, but clasps your shoulders as he beams. "You're a <i>Stellae</i> too!"<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure what that means, but the sharp hiss from Blackwell suggests that he does. Joe shoots the golem a satirical glance. "That's right, fuck face," he says to Blackwell. "Maybe your original suspected. Too bad he didn't move fast on it." He squeezes your shoulder. "Bro, you're lucky that old bastard was as incompetent as he was. If he'd been even a halfwit, he'd have done to you what he did to Lucy, and then pounded you to dust with a sledgehammer. Guys like <i>him</i> really don't want guys like <i>us</i> around."<br/>
<br/>
"I still don't understand--"<br/>
<br/>
"All in good time, brother o' mine," Joe says. "I really oughta make sure first, but it's already a ninety percent sure thing. Frank, go up and do that thing we were talking about on the way out here. I'll take care of Will."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay," he says, sounding more impatient by the second. "You wanna know about the <i>Stellae</i>? Fastest way is by getting inside my head. Or Frank's. He's gonna copy himself up a mind band. In the meantime, we're gonna have another question and answer session like last night. But without Melody's bullshit getting in the way. Come on, we'll take the living room."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He pushes you onto one end of the sofa, and takes the other end with a big sketch pad. It's a repeat of last night, though with a somewhat different set of questions: some straightforward, and some totally corkscrew. He pays little attention to you as he scribbles furiously at the pad. "It's kind of like a horoscope," he says during a brief break, when you ask him what all this is. "I-- Well, <i>Joe</i> got enough of a sense of things while talking to you last night that he thought it worth pursuing. Oh, that gizmo I had you play with? A kind of <i>essentia</i> detector. It told him that you--well, the person who was looking like Melody--had some special juice." He then returns to the questions.<br/>
<br/>
It takes a couple of hours, and the sun has gone down before he finishes. "All done?" he asks Frank as the latter appears in the doorway. "What a co-inky-dink," he adds as Frank tosses him a mind band. "I just got done too. He's definitely <i>Stellae,</i> Frank. Congratulations, Prescott. There's only about forty of us in the world." <i>Forty?</i> "And he's a rare one, too, Frank. Sulva, Kenandandra."<br/>
<br/>
"Sulva?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yep. Dunno what it'll be good for, but I like being tripled with a Kenandandra. I'll get him set up. You can wait in the car." Frank nods and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
"Frank's memories," Joe says, leaning forward to hand you the band. "His brain's not a tenth as good as mine, but I was kind of busy with you. We'll make a copy of me for you tomorrow, and then the two of us will <i>tear</i> the <i>Libra</i> to little bits and suck it down." He grins.<br/>
<br/>
You take the band gingerly. "Can you prepare me a little for what I'm going to find in here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I probably should. Frank can be a little intense," Joe says, and settles back on the sofa. "The thing you gotta know about us--and yourself, too--is that we got a different kind of <i>essentia.</i> We're entangled with the planets. Not the actual rocky, gaseous bodies, but their <i>ousiarchs.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh-see--"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. They're like intellectual substances. I'd call them 'angels' or 'gods', but you'd get the wrong idea. They haven't got personalities or psychologies. But anyway, being entangled with them, we've got some special properties of our own. Magical fu powers, you might call them. You've got them too. Kenandandra--that's Pluto--that's how come you're so good with sigils and at making up little contraptions. And without training, too. Once we start getting you trained, there's no telling what you'll be able to pull off for us."<br/>
<br/>
"Training? Partners?" Your head is spinning.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. You're a total newbie. Me and Frank have ten years of training behind us. Follow our lead, do what we say, and after a few years we'll have you up at our level."<br/>
<br/>
"Doing what?"<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a pitying look. "Having fun. And surviving." He sucks on a cheek. "The rest of the <i>Stellae</i> are gonna wanna catch up to us, 'cos they'll think we've gone retrograde. But with the <i>Libra,</i> they're not gonna catch us."<br/>
<br/>
"I still don't--"<br/>
<br/>
"Just put it on, dude," he says, and gently nudges the mind band toward you. "You'll see."</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221
author_id: seuzz
title: Inside a Stellae
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Joe claps you on the knee. "You'll wanna spend a little while in there. I'll take off. Call me tomorrow. You'll know how to reach me." With a rolling saunter he leaves.<br/>
<br/>
You lay back on the sofa and put the band to your forehead.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You stare through the telescope eyepiece at the blurry disk. "That's-- Is that really where we get our powers?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a little more complicated than that, Giuseppe," says the man you've come to call "Dad." His voice is gentle and warm, but there's a little gravel in it, as befits a man with white whiskers and a balding pate. "That is just a planet. Your <i>ousiarch--</i>" You feel him touch your chest. "You'll feel him here when the time comes."<br/>
<br/>
"So why am I looking at Mars if that isn't--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because it's neat!" That's Franz, the little blonde kid Dad brought back from Europe last year. "Come on! Let <i>me</i> see!"<br/>
<br/>
But you're bigger and stronger than him, and he can only push you one step to the side. Still, your head hits the telescope as you tussle. "Whoa there, boys," Dad says, and gently pulls you apart. "We'll put the telescope away before someone breaks it."<br/>
<br/>
"But I didn't get a chance to see!" Franz wails.<br/>
<br/>
"It'll still be there tomorrow night, son," Dad says. "It's been there for millions of years, and it'll be there tomorrow. In a few months we'll be able to look at Saturn, too." He picks the lens cap up off the grass. "Now go clean your rooms, and we'll have a little ice cream before bedtime."<br/>
<br/>
"I still don't understand what's so important about the planets," you grumble as you and your "little brother" trudge back into the house.<br/>
<br/>
"They're our <i>ousiarchs,</i>" Franz sighs. "Don't you understand anything?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't understand," you hotly retort. "You're just pretending."<br/>
<br/>
"You're so dumb. That's how come you think <i>I'm</i> dumb." <br/>
<br/>
As he opens the back door, you shove him hard, sending him sprawling. "You think you're so smart, because you--"<br/>
<br/>
He grins up at you in that infuriating way when you can't finish the sentence. "I'm smarter than you because the <i>Sun</i> is one of my planets," he says smugly.<br/>
<br/>
"The Sun isn't a planet," you sneer. "I know that."<br/>
<br/>
He rolls his eyes. "It is according to Dad, and he's smarter than everyone else in the world put together. The Sun is one of <i>his</i> planets, too. Well, one of his <i>ousiarchs.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"But those aren't <i>planets,</i>" you shout. "Dad said--"<br/>
<br/>
"They're <i>connected</i> to the planets," he says. "It's like with chicken pox." You scratch uneasily at your chest, and Franz smirks lightly. "You knew you have chicken pox because you had those spots and all that itching. But chicken pox is a virus inside you." He sounds very proud about knowing all this. "It's inside you, but it's connected to the spots and the itching. So the <i>ousiarchs</i> are inside us, but they're connected to the planets. Doctors see the chicken pox by looking at the spots, and we can study the <i>ousiarchs</i> by looking at the planets."<br/>
<br/>
"Did Dad explain all that to you," you ask dubiously.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I just--"<br/>
<br/>
"Then you're just making it up," you sneer, and Franz turns pink. "If the <i>ousiarchs</i> are inside us, why do I have to look at the planets?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't," he groans. "If you don't want to, and there's something wrong with you if you don't think the planets are neat."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's like that cross you pray to every night."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't pray to the crucifix!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know you don't. But it helps you think of the person you <i>are</i> praying to, right? Because it's like a symbol?" You glower at him. "It's like the same thing with the planets. Looking at the planets helps you concentrate on the <i>ousiarchs.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You let it drop, because the subject is giving you a headache. But Franz's comparison to the crucifix raises another problem, and after finishing your chores and having your reward, you go looking for Dad. He gives you a querying glance as you lurk nervously in the doorway to his parlor.<br/>
<br/>
"Why didn't the fathers at the orphanage tell us about the planets and the <i>ousiarchs</i>?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"They didn't know about them," Dad says. "It's a very great secret."<br/>
<br/>
"Why? Is there something bad about them?" Fear clutches at your little heart. "I don't want to learn about this stuff if-- Did God make the <i>ousiarchs?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, He did, Giuseppe," Dad says, and puts out his hand. Your doubt and fear balance against a desire to believe him, but you let him tug you close. "You don't have to worry about--"<br/>
<br/>
"But if the Church doesn't know about--"<br/>
<br/>
"Some in the Church do," Dad says. "You'll meet a Father soon who knows all about the <i>ousiarchs.</i> He has them too. God made many wonderful things, like elephants and <i>ousiarchs.</i> The Church doesn't teach us about elephants, and it doesn't teach us about <i>ousiarchs.</i> But it teaches us how we should treat them, and honor them. And we only teach good boys and girls about the <i>ousiarchs.</i> You're a good boy, Giuseppe," he says, and draws you into his lap. "You've nothing to worry about. As long as you're a good boy, you'll use your gifts the way God wants you to use them. That's why He gave you those gifts."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>will</i> be a good boy," you say fervently, and hug your adoptive father.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"It's exciting, isn't it, Giuseppe?" Kali Valentine says. Her tone is dry, arched, amused.<br/>
<br/>
You feel your cheeks flush, and swallow. Your hand is trembling, but the drinking glass--unsupported by an visible means--hangs motionless in the air. Not a ripple disturbs the surface of the water.<br/>
<br/>
Kali is here, and so is Franz. Your "brother" is staring at the glass with astonishment, and it pleases you to see the pleasure in his gaze. He turns his face toward you, and his eyes shine.<br/>
<br/>
You grin back, but don't lose your concentration. It is only you and Franz and Kali in this empty landscape of rust-colored dunes and rocks; the open sky is black above you. But it's not Mars. It's <i>Malacandra</i>, one of your <i>ousiarchs,</i> that surrounds you, and through your limbs you feel its iron power, stretching through you and grasping the glass. But it's your will bending and guiding that power.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The power.</i> A hard thrill goes through you, and you shudder hard. That <i>thing</i> in your jeans is stirring too, and it rises, rock hard and bursting with a shuddering power of its own. You gasp and twist, trying to force it down. Your hand spasms, and the glass shatters.<br/>
<br/>
Malacandra vanishes, and you're back in Kali's Los Angeles apartment. You hang your head, but Kali smiles, and without a reprimand goes into the kitchen. You crouch on the floor, to pick at the glass shards, but also to hide the shameful erection you'd given yourself. Franz kneels to help you, and you shove him away. <i>You</i> made the mess and <i>you</i> should be the one to clean it up. So when Kali returns with the dustpan and mop and paper towels, you take them from her.<br/>
<br/>
"These powers are dangerous, aren't they?" you say quietly when you find her in her office an hour later, after she has guided Franz through his own meditation exercise.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course they are, child," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Then what's to keep--? Have any <i>Stellae</i> done bad things with them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," she says quietly. "We call it 'retrograde motion' when it happens. Anyone can go bad. Even <i>Stellae.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What happens when they do?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's not something to worry about," she says. "It will be part of your training, to stop that from happening."<br/>
<br/>
"But if it does happen, if it <i>has</i> happened--?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's why we have friends and colleagues," she says. "To help us stay true. You will always have Charles and Franz and me, and we'll always have you, to help us."<br/>
<br/>
"So how does it happen?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're too young to worry about it, child. The fact that you <i>do</i> worry shows that you don't need to."<br/>
<br/>
Her words don't still your sense of unease, but you accept them.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're a little dizzy and confused, what with the crush of memories and perceptions. You are, of course, deeply impressed by and envious of the powers you see in Frank's memories, but as a <i>Stellae</i> you will have similar powers.<br/>
<br/>
But you're also impressed by the--<br/>
<br/>
Well, there's no other word to describe it. You're impressed by the sheer <i>decency</i> of the people you see in Frank's memories. Sure, some of them are assholes, and many of them are difficult personalities. By they are trying very hard, in a dirty world, to do the right thing. Fighting monsters. Saving people from nasty and occult things. Fixing the problems caused by people like Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
Fixing problems caused by people like yourself.<br/>
<br/>
And here you are, perverting two of their agents.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're still sitting on the couch, staring intently ahead, when Melody comes in. She's got her arms folded, and she looks worried. "Hey boss," she says. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not a huge fan of those guys. I liked it better when it was just us."<br/>
<br/>
"You already said that."<br/>
<br/>
"You're wearing one of their mind bands now, right?" she asks. You don't reply. "What do you think after getting an inside look?"</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211
author_id: seuzz
title: The New Black Magic
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You turn to Melody with a puzzled expression. "Why, what are you asking?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I'm asking what we're going to do about them."<br/>
<br/>
"We're not going to do anything. They're <i>me.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"They don't seem like they're treating you real nice."<br/>
<br/>
"They're advanced. Like, really advanced at this stuff. But that's good. I want to learn from them."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's your funeral, boss," she says, and turns away.<br/>
<br/>
"It's my <i>essentia</i>, not theirs, inside you, Melody, so you don't have to do what they say. But treat them with respect, okay?" you call after her.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that an order?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"Will do. I'll see you later."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You sit in the living room a little longer, reviewing Frank's memories and proclivities more deeply, trying to get a sense of him. It would help you to predict what the real guy is going to do. That's because there's not much difference between your situation and his. Frank, wearing your <i>anima</i> band; you wearing his mind-band: you're both acting like Will Prescott sitting inside Frank Durras's mind.<br/>
<br/>
He's got a suspicious, truculent streak. He's quick to doubt people and their motives, but he tries to be fair. You feel his influence, to the extent that you can't help feeling somewhat paranoid about the <i>anima</i>-controlled brothers. They have a lot of talents, far more than you. For all the advances that you felt so pleased to have made over the past few weeks, you are a soft, green novice in their company. But Frank also has a stubborn sense of loyalty; and between that loyalty and the <i>anima</i>'s own identification with you, you think you can trust him. You also think he can keep Joe in line.<br/>
<br/>
Out in the main house, you discover that your own double has left, and that Frank and Joe left Blackwell disencumbered of the mask. You don't replace it, and lock up for the night. Upstairs, in his bedroom, you stare out the window for a long time at the black sky. The moon hangs there, shining palely. <i>That's one of my</i> ousiarchs, you reflect. Somewhere else in the sky--or beneath your feet--is Pluto, your other <i>ousiarch.</i> It's very odd to think of yourself attached by invisible chords to those impossibly distant objects. But that's where the magic of it all is.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Frank and Joe show up early the next morning, hollering at you from downstairs. "We brought donuts and coffee," Joe cries joyfully. "Best way to start the weekend is with dessert!" he adds as you come thundering downstairs to meet them.<br/>
<br/>
"Stuff's fuckin' bad for you, Joe," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"I can burn it off. You know my metabolism." Joe drums his tummy. "So, me and Frank spent most of last night talking about what we were going to do," he continues as he leads your company into the dining room. "Wrestled with the problems, wrestled with each other." He rips open the donut box, and sends donuts flying all over Blackwell's table. "You don't mind us planning things out, do you?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're the experts," you say, a little uneasily.<br/>
<br/>
"That's right, but we don't want you feeling like we're railroading you. It's all for your own good. We're the Three Musketeers and all that, but we wanna get you up to our level as fast as we can, for our sake as well as your own."<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to have to do some hard work," Frank observes. He sips some coffee--black--while Joe smashes a jelly donut into his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
"F'shur, f'shur," Joe mumbles through the mess. "But we figured out a set up that'll make it fun for you too. Guaranteed. You're gonna be me," Joe grins, showing lots of teeth covered in raspberry jelly.<br/>
<br/>
"You have to do two things, Prescott," Frank says as you look between them with a slightly dumbfounded feeling. "You have to learn what we know, and you have to internalize it. You'll spend roughly eight hours a day being Joe, wearing his mask and going to school as him. This will give you direct access to the stuff he knows, which is closer to what you need to know than what <i>I</i> know."<br/>
<br/>
"Where will Joe be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Somewhere else," Joe says carelessly. "I know exactly where, we need it for our long-range plans, but the name won't mean anything to you right away. But we'll get together after school every day. You'll take my mask off, and work at it all again, so that the stuff you picked up while in my mask doesn't disappear on you. I won't lie, it's gonna be intense for you, but it'll work out great. You'll pick up a fucking lot, fucking fast. And you'll have fun as me at school."<br/>
<br/>
"This is at the college, right?"<br/>
<br/>
They both stare at you, and Joe busts out laughing. "Nah, that was a blind to get Melody. You were wearing Frank's mind band last night, you know where we are."<br/>
<br/>
"I did. But, most of it's faded."<br/>
<br/>
"Right," Frank says. "And that's how come we'll be working you outside of Joe's mask. So the new stuff doesn't fade. But we're enrolled at Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"Not that we need the education," Joe says. "Well, I don't, because I know it all already. And Frank stopped learning shit back in third grade." That earns him a look from his brother.<br/>
<br/>
"Where will you be, Frank?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Being myself, mostly. I might move from place to place, depending on what we need."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you talking about making more golems?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"At least two more," Joe says. "One for my new hiding place, and one for-- Well, you'll see. Beyond that, we'll have to play it as it lays."<br/>
<br/>
"They'll be <i>our</i> slaves, though," Frank says. "You're stretched almost to the breaking point." He ticks the names off on his fingers. "Yourself, Blackwell, Yumi, Melody."<br/>
<br/>
"And we should get started," Joe says, brushing away crumbs and getting up. "Frank'll start making up the masks we need. Let's you and me sort through Blackwell's library for books."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's the work of several hours, for you and Joe debate what your study courses should be. He wants you to concentrate on developing your "Kenandandra" techniques by concentrating on sigils and sigilistic logic; you are still interested in the theory underlying the four metaphysical elements. He mostly bullies you out of it, though: "Dude, you were only chasing that because you wanted to know what Blackwell saw in you, and now you know. Leave the theory to me." But he does relent enough to let you pick out some books on <i>imago,</i> so you can continue working on the hex for your own golem.<br/>
<br/>
And he insists, in fact, on your taking books on hexes and curses and lots of other nasty whatnots. "It's not that I'm that big on these things, you understand," he says. "But they could be useful as stuff to take part, study, practice on. And dude, you could, like, so totally weaponize this shit it wouldn't be funny."<br/>
<br/>
By eleven, though, you've got the books sorted out, and Joe runs them back to the house that he and Frank (and now you) are sharing near the college. Frank stays with you, to help finish up on the masks. He hands you a half-done mind band. "What are we going to do about your colleagues? The <i>Stellae</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"Try to stay out of their way," he grunts. "Lucky we don't have a time limit on this job. We told Dad--Charles Brennan, the old man who runs it--about Blackwell, but we'll tell him it turned out to be a blind. We've got something we can use to back it up. Joe didn't tell you what we found at Eastman?" You shake your head. "We found a box of stuff hidden in the basement. Masks and shit. A notebook. Nothing to directly tie it to the <i>Libra,</i> but we'll make a up a bullshit excuse saying that we think we've got a lead at Eastman, and that we'll keep looking." He pushes a crick out of his neck. "We might have to sacrifice Blackwell, though. Make it look like he got it back, then lost it in an accident."<br/>
<br/>
"What about taking over more of these <i>Stellae</i> types? Using more <i>anima</i> bands on them?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd like to avoid that," he says. "The others are dangerous, a lot more dangerous than me and Joe. They keep in touch with each other pretty closely, and we don't want anyone noticing anything funny going on with them." He sighs. "I'm worried that Dad--the old man--will notice something funny going on with Joe and me. He sits at the center of a web, and he might feel a tremble from us, even at a distance. The <i>Stellae</i> can be pretty spooky that way."<br/>
<br/>
"You guys said something about a 'long-range plan'."<br/>
<br/>
"Long-range plan is to disappear using the <i>Libra.</i> Hide out with it. Set up our own little operation. That's what <i>you</i> were going to do, wasn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I hadn't really thought about it. You know that. I was just doing research."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that kind of research tends to attract the <i>Stellae.</i> And if they get us back, Prescott," he says, "it's not going to be a pretty scene." He raises his head to fix you with a hard look. "Me and Joe don't want these bands taken off us, and you don't want to know what we'll do to you if they <i>do</i> come off. Remember that."<br/>
<br/>
If you weren't planning on leading the life of a black magician, it sounds like you are stuck with it anyway.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Kid in the Castle
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Joe returns just after noon, and helps polish up the last little bit and to contribute his hair to one of three jars of "golem sealant." "We need it for where we're going," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"And where is this?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll see," Joe says. "You'll love it too, even if you're not going to be living there."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're outraged when you pull up in front of your own house. "Keep your shirt on," Joe says. "We're just picking up the other Prescott. I called just before heading out."<br/>
<br/>
"But he doesn't have to obey you," you object.<br/>
<br/>
"He knew there was fun afoot," Joe retorts, and sure enough your double leaps enthusiastically into the back of the Durras brothers' truck.<br/>
<br/>
You head downtown, but it's only for a brief stop in a back alley, where your golem takes off his clothes before Joe removes his mask, leaving an old hobo asleep on the filthy pavement. Frank then drives the three of you into the country. Fields and woodland spread out to the horizon. He turns the truck down an empty street which terminates at an imposing gate and wall. He gives his name into a camera, and the gate swings open. Joe excitedly grabs your arm and squeezes it.<br/>
<br/>
You drive along for half a mile, toward a screen of trees, and when you're through it the vista opens up again. It is dominated by a house.<br/>
<br/>
And what a house! It's somewhere between the biggest mansion you've ever seen and a small castle. Walls of grey slate loom up several stories, punctuated by a tower or two; wings ramble off, rising to steeply pitched roofs with gables and half a dozen chimneys. The road terminates in a broad semicircle in front of an immense garage. The doors are open, but there's a car out front: a low, silver sports coupe. "Porsche," Joe says. "Cost a hundred grand. Early graduation present for the kid I'm going to be. And there he is."<br/>
<br/>
From out of the garage saunters a tall guy in a simple but stylish polo shirt, gray track pants, and brilliant white running shoes. His hair is so blonde it's almost white, setting off tanned cheeks and bright blue eyes. He grins and jerks his chin at you and your friends as Frank roars to a stop.<br/>
<br/>
"Jonathan!" Frank calls as he gets out. "You give up on us?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm used to it," he laughs back. "It always takes people longer to get out here than they plan for."<br/>
<br/>
"Straussler!" Joe shouts. He climbs out the other side of the truck, swinging the bag that's got all your mask supplies. "You takin' care of my wheels there?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not yours until you win that bet."<br/>
<br/>
"I brought my skimpiest shorts. Warm her up, and I'll <i>show</i> you I can outrun her!"<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan's eyes twinkle, even after they fall on you. "Hey, Jonathan Straussler," he introduces himself, and puts out a slim but powerful hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Will Prescott," you reply, taking his.<br/>
<br/>
"Will goes to Westside," Joe says. "We're trying to talk him into moving to Eastman. Thought we'd show him the kind of place he might start hanging out at."<br/>
<br/>
"What can you tell me about Westside's ball team?" Jonathan asks with a sharp grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Jonathan plays for the Eastman squad," Frank says. "Like us."<br/>
<br/>
"Hope you don't hold it against us," Jonathan says.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't pay much attention to school sports," you say. An awkward silence ensues.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, come on," Joe says, slapping Jonathan playfully in the chest. "Take us to your hidey-hole, and then we'll hit the game room. Is Monique here? Or coming over?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe later," Jonathan says, and leads you off toward the side of the house. "We had a date last night, so I probably won't see her till this evening."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm jealous," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
"Of me?" Jonathan says. "You're the one who's got girls following him around everywhere."<br/>
<br/>
"So do you," Joe retorts. "You just don't notice because you've got your eyes locked on Monique."<br/>
<br/>
It's a longish walk around to the back, where a small, semi-detached wing looms. Jonathan leads you through some French doors into a large, high-ceilinged living room. It's tastefully furnished with a couple of low couches and beanbags; a large-screen, hi-def TV; and the biggest aquarium you've ever seen outside an institution. There's an open dining nook with a large, six-chair table setup, looking out through tall windows onto a patio and fountain; and a kitchen with a full-size refrigerator, stove, sink and pantry. A door opens onto another room through which you can glimpse a large desk with a big computer monitor. A staircase leads up to a landing with two closed doors.<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan catches the way you're gaping. "My punishment corner," he says with a graceful shrug. "When I'm bad, my parents make me hang out in the main house. So I try to stay on their good side."<br/>
<br/>
"You should see the ski lodge up in the mountains," Joe exclaims as he drops his bag onto the floor. "Fuck, <i>I'd</i> like to see it. The way Carpenter describes it, it's more like a <i>chapeau!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Chateau,</i> Joe," Frank corrects with more than a little irritation.<br/>
<br/>
"You giving me the high hat?" Joe yells back.<br/>
<br/>
"No, <i>you're</i> giving Jonathan the--"<br/>
<br/>
Joe charges Frank, and Jonathan leaps away like a slim, two-legged gazelle as the brothers collide and grip each other. "So how long've you known these guys?" he asks you.<br/>
<br/>
Joe answers for you. "Only a few days," he gasps from inside Frank's headlock. "Though it feel like we've known each other all our lives. Will grows on you fast." There's a brief scrimmage, and Frank topples back onto the sofa with Joe on top. "Ha! What a pussy!" He punches Frank hard, then leaps nimbly to his feet.<br/>
<br/>
"Can I get you guys anything?" Jonathan asks, and steps toward the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, now that you mention it, yeah," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your poison? I got--"<br/>
<br/>
"All of it, Straussler," Joe says, and his voice is suddenly hard. "Frank, I gotta raging boner for this asshole's life." He unzips his bag. "Grab him, and let's get this exchange made."<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan's face crinkles in puzzlement. Frank gives you a thin smile, and holds up a clenched fist. Jonathan's face goes white, and he stiffens and gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"You like sharing your stuff, Straussler," Joe says, advancing on his classmate. "Don't think I'm ungrateful, but I want more than you've been handing out." He slaps a mask onto Jonathan's face.<br/>
<br/>
You feel your own knees tremble a little at the brutality of it all.<br/>
<br/>
Straussler's head lolls to the side, but he remains upright despite going limp all over. Frank jerks his hand, and Straussler, still erect, slides across the floor and tumbles face first onto another sofa. Joe snaps his fingers at you as he digs back into the bag. "Clothes off, Prescott," he says. "My shit's going on you. Your mask is going on him. And his face is going on me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Waking inside Joe Durras's head is like waking to a golden dawn; you blink, and have a hard time concentrating, for thoughts seem to slide with a quicksilver ease. You're distracted by a motion out of the corner of your eye. Jonathan Straussler stands up from tying his shoes, and snaps a little gold chain around a tanned wrist. "Stage one complete," he murmurs, and lifts his chin with a trace of a smile. "Commencing stage two. Come on guys, lemme introduce you to my dad, a.k.a., the root of all evil."<br/>
<br/>
You'd put on Joe's clothes before donning the mask, so you scramble quickly to your feet. You feel very powerful, and lightly flex your arms. Straussler gives you a crooked grin, and with a wave of his hand gestures you toward a door under the stairway. With another gesture he indicates that Will Prescott--who is looking slightly disordered--should remain behind.<br/>
<br/>
The door leads onto a curved hall that connects to the main house. As you and Frank stride along in Straussler's wake, he points out various doors and where they lead. "Indoor swimming pool. Tennis courts. Squash court. Second kitchen. Life is sweet before you die." You pass through hallways and galleries until you're dizzied by the size of it all. Up a broad staircase and through more halls, until you come to a double set of doors. Jonathan pauses to take a deep breath before opening them.<br/>
<br/>
It's a huge office with tall windows looking out onto the lawn. At the far end, behind a mammoth desk, crouches a balding man with a gray moustache. He's on the phone, and he frowns as he looks up. Jonathan motions you and Frank to stand just inside the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
The man growls and grumbles into the phone, and looks up with a slight scowl when he hangs up. "You need something, son?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, these are some friends of mine," Jonathan says with a suave casualness. "We wanna talk about giving them some of my allowance."<br/>
<br/>
"That's your business," the man replies.<br/>
<br/>
"They want more than I can carry them for. Frank?"<br/>
<br/>
The man freezes and stiffens just as Jonathan had done. Like the practiced athlete he is, Straussler leaps nimbly across the desk and puts the last blank mask to his father's face.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll have him set up some hidden accounts," he says to you. "He'll deposit a few million for our use. Not enough that anyone would notice, and he'll invent a bullshit excuse if the accountants ask." He shakes his head. "Fucker's got slush funds all over the place. So many politicians needing so many bribes," he sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"So, you wanna hang out here for the day," he then asks you. "Or go have fun with some other dudes? Maybe some girls?"</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Projects of Will Prescott
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You settle back on your heels. You've got Joe's thoughts--up to date with last night, you see, when they'd taken the <i>anima</i> band off him long enough to get an unimpeded copy of him into a new mask. But you know from experience that <i>plans</i> don't copy well. "I thought I was supposed to spend my time synthesizing your knowledge base and mine," you say. "Not on goofing off."<br/>
<br/>
"So synthesize while goofing off," Jonathan says. "Or take the weekend off. Get started in earnest on Monday."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd kind of like to do some work," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin' Kenandandra," Jonathan snorts. "All work and no play makes Joe a dull boy."<br/>
<br/>
"I think he's right, Joe," Frank says. "We should make every moment count."<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan shrugs. "I got more moments than most. Joy of being Viritrilbian. Okay, you can wait back in my--" He grins at the appropriated pronoun. "My punishment corner. Frank and I will finish up with Daddy Moneybags."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You probably wouldn't have been able to make it to back to Jonathan's hide-away if you didn't have Joe's good memory to guide you; as it is, you still manage to make a few wrong turns. Will Prescott is waiting. "Oh, good, it's you," he says with relief as you come in.<br/>
<br/>
"Why, you got a problem with the other guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? No, except for them being a little scary. No offense, given who you're looking like," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"None taken." You try a handstand on the back of the sofa. It's a bit of a strain, but you manage to do a few pushups before tumbling easily back onto the floor. "So what's eating you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just don't know where we are."<br/>
<br/>
<i>That's right. The golem will only remember up until the moment you took the mask off it downtown.</i> You give him a quick rundown. "It sounds like you can be a regular here, if you want."<br/>
<br/>
"It would be a relief from Westside."<br/>
<br/>
You shove your hands into your back pockets and regard him thoughtfully. Perched high on the peak that is Joe Durras, the golem of Will Prescott seems almost beneath your notice. But you still remember the good times working with him, and his problem is still your problem. That fucking hex.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to be reading up on hexes anyway," you tell him. "You're a perfect test specimen." He cringes a little. "I didn't mean it like that," you say, and pull him into a tight but friendly headlock. "We've got your <i>imago</i> in that mind band. If I could figure out a way to--"<br/>
<br/>
And suddenly you see how to do it. Not fix the hex, of course, but how to get a grip on that insane, static-y jumble of sigils that makes it up. Will makes a choking noise as you squeeze him excitedly. "Oh, fuck me," you shout as you bounce around on your toes. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"<br/>
<br/>
Prescott turns very pale, and fumbles at the front of his jeans.<br/>
<br/>
You shove him again. "Not like that! I just mean that this is fucking awesome is all!" You grab him up in another hug and dance all over the room.<br/>
<br/>
Thoughts that were like quicksilver are now like molten diamonds. It's all right there: you can see it, you can almost grasp it, and as soon as you can calm down and concentrate, you'll be able to plan it out and put it all together. "Where the fuck are those cocksuckers? I gotta get to work!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Nice to see you being productive for once, Joe," Frank murmurs. <br/>
<br/>
He doesn't raise his head from his homework; you don't look up from your own work. "I'm always productive, Frank. It's not always obvious, but--"<br/>
<br/>
He's scratching away at paper, but you're fiddling with some tools. The table is covered with several dozen cheap off-the-rack glasses, the spoils of a shopping trip financed entirely out of Jonathan Straussler's folding money. You need them for analyzing <i>imago.</i><br/>
<br/>
It was an obvious revelation in retrospect: although the insane number of nested sigils are all connected to each other in myriad ways, there will still be a "bottom" layer that attaches to the underlying <i>substantia</i>, and a "top" layer that manifests as the appearance. Polarize and strip them away, and you'll get new "bottom" and "top" layers; strip those away, and a new set will appear. And so on until they have all been sorted. Each resulting layer might still be unimaginably complex, but they will be magnitudes less complex than the complete <i>imago.</i> The eyeglasses are for storing the separated layers for individual viewing. At the moment you are fiddling with a sigil that should light up each layer and transfer it to a set of glasses.<br/>
<br/>
"Did, uh, 'Jonathan' say anything about how he'd be spending his weekend?" you ask after a bit.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't ask," Frank says. "I shut him up after he said something about trying to talk Monique into having unprotected sex."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm. I wonder how he'd explain that. He can't say that 'Jonathan' is just a full-body condom that some other dude is wearing to trick her. And what about you, Frank? Any thought of losing your virginity finally?"<br/>
<br/>
"Some," he says. "To be honest, I'm having a hard time navigating Frank's psychology."<br/>
<br/>
You glance up from beneath your brows. "I love you like a brother and an alter ego, dude, so don't take it the wrong way. But you don't <i>look</i> like the kind of guy who'd have any trouble scoring pussy. Just make yourself available."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I love <i>you</i> like a brother and an alter ego too, so don't get the wrong idea when I tell you my cock has been throbbing for the past couple of hours." You're both silent for a bit. "There's also the problem of disentangling myself afterward."<br/>
<br/>
"You pull out, tell them you'll see them around, and then don't," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm talking about the emotional entanglements."<br/>
<br/>
"So am I."<br/>
<br/>
"Is Joe really like that?" he asks quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"No. He knows how to let them float away without hurting them."<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm too hard in too many wrong ways," he says, and doesn't react to your snicker. "It would be easier if I could just make 'em forget, or think the whole thing was just a daydream they'd had."<br/>
<br/>
You look up to gaze over his shoulder. "Blackwell knew some mesmeric words," you say softly. "I bet there's a way of turning <i>those</i> to that kind of advantage."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" he asks, sounding piqued.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. You could--" You're seized by the same kind of glittering, quicksilver vision you'd had at Straussler's: This time, it's of a special sigil twined inside a Valentine's card. You drum your fingers on the table. "Oh, fuck." You start to tremble. "That would be another project. An awesome one, but I'm busy with this. Fuck!" You slap the table.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just too many ideas! This synthesis of Joe's brain and mine! Arbol with Kenandandra! I look at the universe, and I see how to grab it and bend it and twist it into a yo-yo I can play with!" You stretch your hands, seeking to grip the vast, glittering vision. "Joe should be here helping me, the fucker. You should be inside Jonathan, screwing your brains out inside Monique, and he should be here helping me with these projects! He's got my <i>anima</i> in him, he's got my memories, he could keep up with me, we could double our speed, finish twice as much--"<br/>
<br/>
"Would it really be the same with you guys?" Frank asks. "I always thought the gifts<br/>
 had to do with <i>essentia,</i> not with <i>anima</i> or <i>imago.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sure," you admit. "I got his knowledge base, and quickness of thinking--" You bend back over the sigils so he can't see your face. "And he'd have some of my tinkerers' ability. But I'm pretty sure I don't have a tenth of his real candlepower, and he wouldn't have the same practical dexterity I've got."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're still right. I'm definitely wishing I was playing Jonathan with Monique."<br/>
<br/>
You smile internally; it sounds like he didn't hear your private thought, which nearly slipped out:<br/>
<br/>
<i>What good is Sulva?</i> Joe had dismissively asked.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The Moon is a mirror,</i> you think. <i>It concentrates and reflects light and power.</i> You'd bet a lot of money that you can amplify the shadows of Joe's mental powers that come with his <i>imago</i> a lot more than Joe could amplify those that come with yours.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Gyah!" Jonathan rips the spectacles from his face. "How can you look at that and not get a headache?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I've been popping Tylenol like candy corn,"  you reply. You're peering intently into a different pair of spectacles, at the swimming sigils within. You tip the frames down long enough to scribble some notes.<br/>
<br/>
"And you can actually <i>see</i> stuff in there?" Jonathan asks incredulously. <br/>
<br/>
"It takes a lot of concentration," you admit. "It's like snakes or spiders skittering through all that static. But the sigils in each layer do contain fragments of larger sigils. Those fragments combine with other fragments in other layers to make complete sigils."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind?" Jonathan asks.<br/>
<br/>
"So far, I've spotted the basic sigils connected to the humors, the Empedoclean elements, and some of the zodiac signs. Those larger sigils will form larger ones still. You'd have to put, like, six glasses on a once in order to see them." You shake your head free of the last static-filled vision, and slide on another pair. "I'm not sure, but I think I'm seeing a sigil associated with 'green', but it's smeared across at least eight layers."<br/>
<br/>
"And this is gonna help you find that hex?"<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott's been working on the notes Blackwell left behind. It's an old gypsy curse, but he's got it analyzed down to its fundamental constituents. Once I find them, I'll be able to reconstruct it and locate it in the <i>imago.</i> You wanna help?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not with this. Anything else?"</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Fun of Being Joe
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You push the <i>Libra</i> at Jonathan. "If you want to make yourself useful, see if you can figure out the next spell in here." He shrugs and takes it into the living room.<br/>
<br/>
It's Sunday afternoon at Frank and Joe's place. You spent all of Saturday night on the polarization sigil that will let you copy your portions of your <i>imago</i> into separate layers for study, and  into separate eyeglasses, and most of the morning getting those layers into different sets of spectacles. You'd only finished sixty pairs--just a fraction of what you'll require, probably--before Frank insisted that you take off Joe's mask and tackle the job again using only your own head. You'd been at a loss initially, but it hadn't taken you long to get back into it. Your own gift is for application, and looking at the results had given you the theoretical side again. You feel now that you've a solid understanding of how <i>imago</i> are generated and can be manipulated, both in theory and in practice.<br/>
<br/>
But before breakfast, Frank had sat you down for your first experience at meditation. It had been a short but exhausting affair, though not much had happened. After a lot of deep breathing and concentrating in a dark room, you'd received a vision of the Moon and of a dark, throbbing planetoid, and that was all. Frank had professed himself satisfied, saying that more would come, and that it would get easier after practice. You will do it at least three times a day under his direction.<br/>
<br/>
After that you had donned Joe's mask and gone for an invigorating run around the neighborhood--chirping cheerfully at the college girls you'd passed, and even falling into conversation with a few--before showering and eating and tackling the spectacles again. You now have extensive notes on which sigils show up across which layers.<br/>
<br/>
It's now a little after one, and Jonathan--Joe--has dropped by to brag about how nasty he'd gotten with Monique. "Had to do it with a rubber," he grimaced. "But I talked her into anal for the first time."<br/>
<br/>
"And how out of character was that?" Frank snapped.<br/>
<br/>
"I was totally in character," Jonathan retorted. "Straussler's a sweetie pie." He tucked his arm into Frank's and leaned his head on his shoulder. "You could talk me into anything, you know," he'd said softly. "I'd do anything to make you happy. God, you know you could probably talk me into doing anal?" Frank shoved him away roughly. That's when you gave him a project.<br/>
<br/>
So now he's in the living room, and Frank is back to doing his homework, like yesterday. There's a debate meet coming up, and Frank is expected to anchor one of the teams.<br/>
<br/>
You concentrate on the spectacles. But you've only been at it for ten more minutes when you spot it: a telltale pattern indicating the presence of the "surd" sigil. That's one of the fundamental elements in the "horror" sigil your own double had found in the gypsy curse. Here, then, is your first direct glimpse of the hex. With trembling hands, you push glasses on and off as you track down the rest of it.<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan comes in and talks to Frank. You try ignoring them, but their voices are so loud--<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck it," you snarl, and sweep your work into Joe's bag. "I'm going out to Blackwell's where there aren't any distractions." You swing the pack onto your shoulder, but Jonathan catches your arm. You look up into his stony face. <br/>
<br/>
"Are you at least going to have fun as me at school tomorrow?" he asks. "Because you don't seem to be having fun now."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm in the zone, Joe. But I'll be fine tomorrow. A total goofball."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be keeping an eye on you."<br/>
<br/>
"Do that." You jerk your arm away, and stalk out the door.<br/>
<br/>
It's nearly midnight before you return. Frank leads you through another meditation exercise before putting you to bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh God, Joe, you know <i>exactly</i> where to touch me!" Becky gasps.<br/>
<br/>
You grasp her more tightly around the hips with one hand, and with the other play your fingertips up and down her spine, like the keys to an accordion. You nip and bite at her neck. She shifts and you follow, letting her feel your straining cock through your shorts and against hers. You're behind the gym, between periods, at Eastman High, and Becky Torres, cheerleader, is like a hefty meal for a starving man.<br/>
<br/>
She has wide eyes and a wide mouth with an adorable little gap between her teeth. You've heard she's a little self-conscious about it: Her folks are not well off, and her teeth are good enough that she didn't need braces for medical reasons. You cradle the side of her face in your palm.<br/>
<br/>
A few hours before: "So, are you ready for this?" Frank growled as he parked the truck in the lot.<br/>
<br/>
"Thpfht!" you said, and slapped your head a couple of times with spastic hands. Joe is as brilliant as Frank is strong, but it's part of their cover that they hide their gifts. So Frank cruises through athletics at about forty percent of capacity, which is enough to make him one of the better Eastman athletes, while Joe pretends to be an addled blonde himbo. <br/>
<br/>
"X is three, Joe," Mr. Jones said through gritted teeth in the remedial algebra class. "So what is x squared plus 3x?" You said nothing. "It's eighteen." He tapped at the board with the chalk.<br/>
<br/>
"How do you figure?" you'd asked.<br/>
<br/>
"It's right there in the equation. It says x squared plus 3x equals eighteen."<br/>
<br/>
"So why are you asking me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you, since that seems the only way to--"<br/>
<br/>
"Cool! So x is eighteen?"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe, use 'impetus' in a sentence please," Mrs. Cunningham said in the remedial English class.<br/>
<br/>
"I drove my Chevy Impetus to the mall." The other kids laughed.<br/>
<br/>
"It means 'forward motion', Joe," she said.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, yeah, I don't drive backwards to the mall. Except on a dare."<br/>
<br/>
"And what happened in 1840, Joe?" Ms. Cussler asked in a pained voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Did they celebrate Christmas back then? Because <i>that</i> would have happened."<br/>
<br/>
But with girls Joe practices post-graduate advanced physics. You wrap Becky in the crook of your arm and gently take the curl of her ear between your teeth. She breathes softly. "What are you doing?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Shh," you hiss, and go back to holding her ear in a gentle nip. You squeeze, rather than bite. She suddenly goes very liquid in your arms, and you pull her close; it's like trying to hold a column of water. The trick doesn't work with every girl, but you figured you'd gotten her worked into a state where a little dental acupuncture would release all the accumulated tension. You cradle her, and suck at the base of her neck.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm," she sighs, you let her sag to the ground. Her eyes are dreamy, and you crouch between her splayed thighs, gazing deeply into hers while stroking the underside of her breasts with light fingertips. "Is this what you call foreplay?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's what I call goofing off. If you want foreplay, I'd have to do some serious stretching first."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"There's the ladykiller," Jonathan Straussler says as you saunter (alone) up to the cafeteria table shortly afterward. He's got his arm draped loosely around Monique Travers. The latter is a small, brunette freshman with big eyes and a faun-like shyness. "How's Becky doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Buy me a diamond bracelet, Straussler, and I'll give you a blow job that'll leave you embedded in the ceiling." You give his shoulders a brief massage as you pass. There are a few awkward laughs from the other Eastman athletes as you drop your tray onto the table with a clatter.<br/>
<br/>
"What if I just gave you the cash equivalent?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd tie you to the bedposts, then drive your car to Vegas. I do it for love, Straussler." You shift your attention to Alyssa Randal, the head cheerleader. "Speaking of things I'd do for love, I could get lost in a tub of pudding with you, Alyssa."<br/>
<br/>
"You could get lost in an empty room with an 'Exit' sign over the door, Joe," she retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but put me in a tub of pudding with you and a spoon, and I could eat my way out." You lasciviously suck down some apple sauce.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be crude, Joe," Ian Carpenter, the captain of the basketball team says with a faint glower.<br/>
<br/>
"Just sharing food for thought."<br/>
<br/>
"You know, if you spent one tenth of your sex energy on schoolwork, you'd be a fucking genius," Straussler observes.<br/>
<br/>
"No, he'd still be getting Ds," Ian says.<br/>
<br/>
"Am I getting a D in Jones?" you gasp. Ian is the teacher's aide in there.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you happy about that?" Kyle Lakewood asks, sounding staggered.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure! I thought I'd be getting, like, a Q in there. Or an X, since that's all Jones seems to--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're only getting a D because I'm propping you up," Ian says. "I don't want to see you forced off the team."<br/>
<br/>
"Speaking of people with brains trying to impress the girls," says Alyssa in a smug voice, "where's your brother, Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Last I saw, Chief Walks With Broomstick Up His Ass was heading toward B wing."<br/>
<br/>
"Last I saw him, he was heading toward Munson's with Tina," Alyssa dimples.<br/>
<br/>
"Frank and a <i>girl?</i>" you exclaim. "He must've been reading up for Biology class and discovered there <i>are</i> such things. The only time he talks about 'feeling lucky' is when he's using Google."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But when you do see Frank, he's got another girl to talk to you about. "What do you want to do about Yumi?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck her senseless?"<br/>
<br/>
"Be serious. She's not earning her keep, and you're bumping up against your five golem limit. If you don't have a use for her, we do."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Shadow of Magic
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What kind of a use?" you ask Frank. The halls are crowded and noisy, and you doubt anyone can overhear you.<br/>
<br/>
"We can use her mask to unlock another spell, one that erases <i>imago</i>. It'll take the rest of the stuff out too, apparently. Pull you back from your limit."<br/>
<br/>
You rub your mouth. As much as Yumi leaves you drooling--and your cock stirs as you think of her, waiting for you, unresisting--you're not actually using her. "Sure, that sounds like a plan. You can do it out at the old elementary school, release her there."<br/>
<br/>
"Drop you off at the house first?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No, let me take the truck after school. You hitch a ride with Straussler. I left all my stuff over at Blackwell's, and I got stuff I can do there for the rest of the day."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've been at it for several hours in Blackwell's library before noises from the kitchen tell you that you are no longer alone in the house. "Is that you, professor?" you call.<br/>
<br/>
"Indeed!" he calls back, and a moment later shuffles into view. He looks like a whipped dog. "I said hello when I came in, but you didn't notice."<br/>
<br/>
"I've been distracted." You indicate the mess of glasses.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd ask what all this is, but I fear you have advanced beyond my understanding," he says, sounding pinched.<br/>
<br/>
"It's <i>imago,</i>" you say. "Layers and layers of it. Trying to find that damn hex you put on me." He smiles thinly. "It's getting easier as I go along, finding the patterns," you muse, more to yourself than to him. "But it's a witch."<br/>
<br/>
"Speaking of witchcraft," he says, "I have a report for you on Cuthbert."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't ask for a report."<br/>
<br/>
"Then it was one of your alter egos. He telephoned on Saturday. I assumed you'd be of a like mind, and complied with his request."<br/>
<br/>
You could use a break, so you ask him for it. From his briefcase he draws a few sheets of paper. You glance through them as he summarizes their contents.<br/>
<br/>
"I am quite certain they are descended from the 'Schlabonenmann' of Saxony," he says. "The witch that was burned at the stake was almost certainly a blind of some kind. Or perhaps a traitor to the clan. Data, of course, is incomplete as to their peregrinations. But a troupe answering to the name appeared in Pennsylvania in the middle of the eighteenth century, and disappeared into the wilderness. There are records of some of that name in the nineteenth century, sprinkled in amongst increasingly common references to 'Shabbleman.' They were well established in Cuthbert by the end of the nineteenth century."<br/>
<br/>
"What about upstate New York?" you ask. "That's where the <i>Libra</i> was."<br/>
<br/>
"That is unclear. The woman had been institutionalized in a catatonic state more than fifty years ago. The <i>Libra</i> was in her effects. But she was not in the care of any of her kinsmen. Rather, a trust had been established to care for her."<br/>
<br/>
"By who?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. It was all screened."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. So why did you say 'speaking of witchcraft'? Is there witchcraft in Cuthbert?"<br/>
<br/>
"The signs were apparent when I visited," he says. "You may be a <i>Stellae</i>, Mr. Prescott, but some magical abilities are keyed to the humors, and those may pass down through the blood."<br/>
<br/>
"You think I might be doubly gifted?" You can't help grinning.<br/>
<br/>
He only shrugs. "We would have to examine some of your kin, and compare their humors to your own."<br/>
<br/>
You lean back, and suck on the earpiece to the pair of glasses you'd just taken off. <i>You'd have to get ahold of one of those kinsmen first.</i> "You say there are signs of witchcraft up there," you muse, and he nods. "If you went up there, and said you wanted an apprentice, what do you think they would say?"<br/>
<br/>
He turns a little pale. "They would certainly be suspicious," he says. "They do not like outsiders, and they would not like the hint that an outsider knows or suspects something about them."<br/>
<br/>
"Still, it seems to me you could do with an apprentice," you say. "Someone to boss around, now that you haven't got <i>me.</i>" You smile wickedly.<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose I could take another trip up there this weekend," he sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"Do that," you say. You'd rather send him up tomorrow, but he's got classes to teach.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That was Monday. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday pass in much the same manner. You go to school as Joe, where you goof off and flirt hard with girls. You don't discuss business with Frank and Jonathan at school, and they go off together immediately after basketball practice each day, leaving you to take the Durras's truck out to Blackwell's, where you continue to map your <i>imago.</i> You've figured out that there is no single "anchor" for the hex, which means that you'll have to trace out the entire hex before figuring out how to remove it. You do that work outside of Joe's mask, and return home before midnight, to meditate with Frank, which is the only "business" you transact before starting over again the next morning. He tells you he's really impressed with the way you are coming along on your exercises; you wonder if it's connected to the "mapping" work you're doing. It seems to be doing wonders for your powers of concentration.<br/>
<br/>
And then, on Friday, in the gym showers after an intense after-school basketball practice: "You've been keeping to yourself a lot, Joe," Jonathan says as he rubs the water from his taut body. You've already got a towel around you. "Well, you've been keeping after the girls at school, like I asked. But after school--"<br/>
<br/>
"You inviting me out to your place, Straussler? Cool!"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I'd rather you invited me out to yours. Well, out to that villa. You know the one. Frank and I've been working on an extracurricular project, you know, but we've run into a snag."<br/>
<br/>
"I've been meaning to ask how that was going."<br/>
<br/>
"I hope you're not going to be pissed," he says, and wraps a towel around his own waist, to follow you back into the changing rooms. It's empty, except for Frank, who is getting dressed. "There's a few things to talk about."<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure you like the sound of this.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Fucking hell!" you scream, and kick one of Blackwell's chairs so hard it flies across the room. "And you assholes went ahead and did all this stuff without clearing it with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not our boss, and you're not president of the club, Prescott," Frank says, and his eyes glint with anger. "It's a democracy, and we outvoted you."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't even let me vote!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's all academic," Jonathan says. "We would have outvoted you anyway--"<br/>
<br/>
"I might've argued you out of it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Or we would've argued you into it. Don't forget, we <i>are</i> you. If we'd have done it, you would have too."<br/>
<br/>
You really hope that's not true. "So how many people have you killed?"<br/>
<br/>
"'We,' Prescott," Frank growls. "Remember, one person, three bodies."<br/>
<br/>
"A couple," Jonathan says evasively, in answer to your question. "I'm not sure how to count them."<br/>
<br/>
Your partners have made rapid progress, getting through ten spells since last Sunday. Some of them are quite useful. Joe is now able to flip between his face and Jonathan's without pulling off the mask, because three of the spells combined to let him put multiple faces into a single mask. Also, now only Joe and Frank can remove their <i>anima</i> bands, because they made special kind of nail has bonded them to their foreheads. They have also uncovered a spell that can strip all the materials out of masks and bands--they released Yumi, and recycled her mask into a blank--and another that can copy the contents of masks and bands into blanks, to make duplicates. They also found a weird little spell that shrinks golems.<br/>
<br/>
But then there are the awful ones.<br/>
<br/>
The first strips minds from people, leaving them as catatonic, fleshy husks. They'd done this to Melody after removing the mask from her, then hidden the results by putting it back on. Then they'd practiced the spell after that on her, and turned her into a golem, and not a golem like Lucy. "It left nothing but <i>substantia</i> behind," Jonathan says. "That's an interesting difference from the earlier spell. I bet there's a way to reverse that early one, but not this one." <br/>
<br/>
Not that there's anything left of the golemized Lucy anymore: Joe and Frank had used the last spell to copy the imprisoned Jonathan onto the her. The result was a doppelganger of Jonathan, and he didn't appear to be a golem, either, for he was argumentative. And when they'd stripped that <i>imago</i> away again, Lucy wasn't around anymore.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you can't count up your victims," you snarl, "but I can see lots of problems. No wonder you want to--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," Frank says. He doesn't yell, but there's such authority in his voice that you do snap your jaw closed. "The problem we have now is that we can't get any further in the book."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. But what is it, another torn page?"<br/>
<br/>
"No." Jonathan starts to open the <i>Libra,</i> then stops. "I'm not even sure I want to show it to you. It's some kind of optical illusion, an illustration. You look at it, even glance at it, and it knocks you out."<br/>
<br/>
"That's a mercy, it sounds like."<br/>
<br/>
"We want to master this thing," Frank says. "We're only nineteen spells in, and there's lots of pages to go."<br/>
<br/>
"We've got plenty to work with," you retort. "Blackwell's library, Cuthbert, maybe--"<br/>
<br/>
"What about Cuthbert?" Jonathan asks sharply. You tell him what Blackwell had told you, and how he'll be traveling up this weekend to fetch someone down. "Don't send that old fool," he says. "One of us should go up there, pretending to be Blackwell." Frank nods.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211
author_id: seuzz
title: Vacuums and Vortices
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You'll probably be outvoted anyway, and since both of them are looking more than a little pissed at the way you've gotten pissed, you surrender with as much grace as you can muster. "I'll put this on the backburner to look at that problem you found," you say, and push aside the mess you've been working on. "You guys can check out Cuthbert. But Blackwell seems to think it's dangerous up there. Be careful, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm glad you still care about us," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
You wince. "Look, I'm sorry I yelled. It's just a shock, is all. I should have kept myself in the loop."<br/>
<br/>
"No harm," Jonathan says. "We got some useful stuff." He points at the mask--the mask of Joe you'd taken off--that's sitting on the desk. "You want we should do this thing up so it's like my mask? Flipping faces is better than having to take masks off and on." He demonstrates again, flicking rapidly between Jonathan's <i>imago</i> and his own.<br/>
<br/>
"That'd be good," you say. "How many faces can you put in a mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think there's a limit. Are there any other faces you want to put in there? Frank's, maybe?"<br/>
<br/>
You talk it over a little more with them, and are still talking it over when Blackwell arrives. The final decision is to make up three masks, each with a complete set of all the disguises you have available: one mask for each of you. That way you and Joe and Frank can, with a flick of the hand, become Will Prescott, Joe Durras, Frank Durras, Aubrey Blackwell, Melody Weiss, and Jonathan Straussler as the situation demands. They also make up one of those nails, so you can attach your mask to your face. Calls go out to the golems of Melody Weiss and Will Prescott, summoning them to the house, so it can all be completed.<br/>
<br/>
And since there are now multiple people capable of imitating Blackwell, it is decided that Frank will go up to Cuthbert in his guise, and will leave in the morning.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you and Frank are looking like yourselves later that evening, when you're back at his house. "You should try looking at that creepy page while I'm still here," he says. "That way I can revive you after it knocks you out."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'll do it when I see Joe at Straussler's tomorrow," you reply, staring down into the open <i>Libra.</i> "I want to study these other spells first."<br/>
<br/>
"He won't--" Frank starts, but you're not paying attention.<br/>
<br/>
There are no longer any instructions or even lists of ingredients to any of the spells that come after the one that puts a golem inside a mask. That by itself would show that the "torn page" was only a test put in by the book's author, a trick to separate the novices from the experts. Now the spells take the form only of sigils, and you have to be able to read them in order to understand how to use them. Your own intense studies over the past few weeks, though, have left you able to navigate them without undue effort.<br/>
<br/>
There's not much to the spells that let you put multiple <i>imago</i> inside a mask. It's another kind of sealant that closes off an <i>imago</i> and any attached mind bands, letting you insert new <i>imago</i> and mind bands; a complicated gesture across the face will change the wearer's appearance; and landing in a blank layer will bring the wearer's own face to the fore.<br/>
<br/>
Nor is there much to the "nail": A small spike, some <i>essentia</i>, and the sigil will craft a nail; drive it into your forehead, and any masks or bands you are wearing can only be removed by the person whose <i>essentia</i> went into its crafting.<br/>
<br/>
There's a bit more to the next spells: One that removes the contents from masks and bands, allowing them to be recycled. One that lets you copy the contents of masks and bands into blanks. (You smile over that one; you'd basically figured out earlier how to do it with a simple "recapitulate" spell.) Though you've kissed and made up to your partners, the "stripping" spells still leave you feeling shuddery. The one that strips "minds" away actually strips a person of their <i>anima;</i> the one that strips "bodies" strips them of <i>anima, essentia</i> and <i>imago.</i> You don't linger over them, though you've a nagging feeling that the sigils contain exploits that might be used for other effects.<br/>
<br/>
You don't pay much attention to the "shrink golem" spell, for you see no use for it. Neither had Joe and Frank, and to execute it they had made a special trip out to the cemetery to retrieve Blackwell's golem, which had been buried inside Lucy's mask.<br/>
<br/>
You closely study the last one, the one that makes a "doppelganger." Joe and Frank had pulled in your own twin, taking the Will Prescott mask off of Straussler and knocking him out with some of Blackwell's special powder. They had used the golemized Lucy as the required golem. The result had been another Straussler, which they had had to sedate after it had revived and become quarrelsome. They had then used the "strip body" spell to return it to the form of a golem, and put Prescott's mask back on the original Straussler.<br/>
<br/>
They had called it a "doppelganger" spell when describing it to you, but you're not so sure. Certainly it copies <i>imago</i> and <i>anima</i> over, but there's no transference of <i>essentia.</i> The result is a "free golem," not an exact duplicate of the original person. As with the spell that shrinks golems, you're not sure what use it could be. But as with the two "strip" spells, you've a sense that there is a hidden exploit that you're not seeing.<br/>
<br/>
At eleven o'clock, Frank nudges you out of your studies with the demand that you meditate.<br/>
<br/>
On earlier nights, your meditation exercises hadn't shown you much; mostly, you'd just seemed to traverse the starry nightscapes in the company of your two <i>ousiarchs.</i> But tonight's session seems different.<br/>
<br/>
The two planetoids are quite different in aspect: the Moon is a silvery disc pocked with smudges of craters, while Pluto is a coal-black disc speckled with glittering particles. The Moon seems pale and retiring and passive, even empty. Pluto throbs with tightly bound energy. On previous nights, you had done little but hang in the sky in their company. Tonight, though, the two discs move into a conjunction, with the Moon neatly covering the other. Or is it Pluto covering the Moon? They seem to merge into each other, and then vanish. But something is left: small, rocky places, unconnected to each other, but hanging where the planetoids had been.<br/>
<br/>
But are the remaining fragments actually unconnected to each other? You have the impression that something else has remained, binding what is left of the planets behind. You study it for the longest time, convinced that there is some secret thing here. And then it fades.<br/>
<br/>
When you open your heavy eyes, Frank is smiling at you. "Congratulations," he says. "You floated." You ask what he means, but he just maintains that inscrutable smile and tells you to go to bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's gone when you get up the next morning, leaving only a note saying that he's gone to Blackwell's to pick up the latter's car for the trip to Cuthbert. You switch to Joe's face, do some stretches, and go for a run. After that, you shower and eat. You watch a few cartoons--getting your mind nice and loose and awake--before turning your attention to the <i>Libra.</i> From what Joe said, it's going to be a lulu. <br/>
<br/>
You open it up to the spell that creates that "doppelganger", then with gritted teeth turn the page. That illustration stares up at you. <br/>
<br/>
It's like a vortex, and it's more than an illustration or optical illusion. Your vision reels and you start to sink sideways. It isn't just disorienting. It's drawing you in. Objects in your peripheral vision fade away, and all you can see is the vortex rushing up to engulf you.<br/>
<br/>
You could easily surrender to it, fall into it, let it have its way with you. Terrible winds and centrifugal forces tear at you, pushing you toward its raging walls. But as you spin, you see a path through the maelstrom. They are like tiny stepping stones, themselves rootless and whirling, appearing out of the wind and vanishing into it. You cannot stay on one too long without being swallowed into the violent clouds about you. But if you move rapidly, intuitively, leaping from one to the next, you are able to keep to your feet, diving deeper and deeper down the throat of the thing.<br/>
<br/>
<i>It's just a platformer,</i> you think to yourself, and almost lose your footing.<br/>
<br/>
On and on the path leads, and the neck of the thing grows narrower and narrower. You have no body, but the winds whirl closer and closer to you, threatening to tear you to pieces. Finally there is room only for your concentrated gaze, and a small still place at the very center of the winds.<br/>
<br/>
It is a lock, and inside the lock is a key. You grab it, and twist it--<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are on the sofa, with the <i>Libra</i> in your lap. Where there had been an illustration of the vortex, there is now only the illustration of a lock and a key. You touch it, and <i>know</i>: <br/>
<br/>
You can turn the page now. Or you can turn the key. If you turn the key, that illustration will appear again, and you will have to renavigate that whirlwind to again unlock it. <br/>
<br/>
Frank and Joe can't do it, you are quite certain, or else they wouldn't have passed the book back to you. Do you tell them that you have penetrated deeper into the book, or keep it a secret for now?</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Rich Life
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You tell yourself you are not betraying or tricking your confederates by keeping your progress a secret. You will tell them at some point. Probably soon. But Frank will be returning with a Shabbleman, and it seems best (so you tell yourself) to keep something like this a secret until you know there are no untoward risks associated with the newcomer.<br/>
<br/>
You turn the page, anticipating (though not expecting) some kind of terrible surprise.<br/>
<br/>
It's just another sigil. You're able to study it for about an hour before the phone rings.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Straussler hunches, slowly drumming the ball from one palm to the other, and grins at you. You hunch in front of him, blocking him from the basket. Fucker's got a full court of his own out back--if there is such a thing as a "back" to this castle he lives in--next to the tennis courts.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Slap, slap, slap.</i> He pauses. You tense. He feints in one direction, but you're not fooled, and lunge in the other. But he's past you in a blur, and you only brush at his back. He bounces along for an easy lay up.<br/>
<br/>
"Cheat!" you cry. "Cheating cheater who cheats!" He just laughs and tosses the ball to you. "Straussler can't--!"<br/>
<br/>
"He can as long as <i>I'm</i> being him," Jonathan chortles. "I've had to hold back at school. You, on the other hand, are slacking."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm putting everything I got into it. I can't help it if--" He laughs as you bluster inarticulately. "Fucking speed demon."<br/>
<br/>
"That's me! But Ian's noticed that, uh, Joe's been a little off his game. He can't quite--" His hand moves in a blur, and you lose the ball to him, and he does another lay up. "He can't quite move as fast as he used to be able to."<br/>
<br/>
"Then maybe we oughta switch places before Joe's reputation takes a hit."<br/>
<br/>
"I told him you probably just have a cold. But switching is fine with me, for the weekend at least. That's why I invited you out today."<br/>
<br/>
You straighten. "You want me to take over for Straussler?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," he says. "You've been too intense the last week. Oh, don't get me wrong. I like what you've been doing with Becky, and Kyra and Rhianna and Mandy and Nikki and Kristy and Eileen and Amy--"<br/>
<br/>
"When was I with Amy? Amy Rhodes?"<br/>
<br/>
"You were studying with her on Thursday in the library."<br/>
<br/>
"That was only studying."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "Tell that to her. Didn't you notice the way she kept gasping and blushing?" He fans his face and rolls his eyes and grins inanely.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, alright, I was flirting too. A little."<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. But how about doing it with Monique?"<br/>
<br/>
"Would you be okay with that?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
It's a stupid question, and he rolls his eyes again. "That's a dumbass question even for you, Dumbass. Switch over to Straussler's face and ask me again if you shouldn't slip her a little bar of gold. Come on." He takes you by the shoulder and leads you back toward his apartments. "You should clean up and change before she gets here."<br/>
<br/>
Inside, you run upstairs to the bedroom. It's actually quite small, having only about enough room for a king-size bed, a dresser and wardrobe, and some shelves with a bunch of trophies. Of course, given the rest of the apartment, it doesn't have to be big. More than half the upstairs space, in fact, is given over to a walk-in closet. <br/>
<br/>
Jonathan peels off his shoes and shorts and t-shirt, then runs his hand in front of his face. A naked Will Prescott appears, then a naked Frank Durras, a naked Aubrey Blackwell (yuck!), a naked Melody Weiss-- "Hold it," you say, and she does a little double-take of surprise at you. You look her up and down with an appreciative chuckle; she sticks out her tongue, and flicks her hand across her face. Now it's Joe sticking his tongue out at you.<br/>
<br/>
You laugh, and reach out to brush your fingertips over his chest. "Who needs Monique when we're both looking like this? Ever thought about making out with yourself, Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
Light dimples show in his cheeks as he smiles tightly. "It'd be like kissing your sister. Come on. Show me Straussler."<br/>
<br/>
So you pull off your own clothes and brush your fingers over your face. The room turns a little smaller: You're now Frank. Another brush of your fingers. The room shrinks a little more. You look over your shoulder into the mirror. There he is: Jonathan Straussler, tall, slim, and tan all over. Pronounced cheekbones, a sharp chin, satirical eyes. You brush past Joe--the top of his head barely meets your eyes--to the dresser and take out some fresh boxers. "Is there anything I need to know? You do anything with Monique last night? How's the beast?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't talk to her, and the beast hasn't bothered Jonathan for a few days." <br/>
<br/>
You turn, for it's not Joe's voice. He's put Frank's face back on, and is digging through the bag he'd asked you to bring over. "You gonna spend the weekend as your brother?"<br/>
<br/>
"I feel like a challenge," he says. He draws on underwear and some heavy jeans. "Maybe we could go hang out with some of Monique's friends." He pulls a tight, white t-shirt down over his torso.<br/>
<br/>
After some thought, you don khaki shorts and a polo shirt. It's cool outside, but not so cool you can't show calves. You and your partner plop down on the bed to put on shoes. Then you go downstairs, where you ask if he wants a beer. "Water," he says brusquely. "How are you getting along with the <i>Libra?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Can you make up your mind?" you ask as you get him and you both some mineral water. "First you want me to have fun, and then you put on--"<br/>
<br/>
"Fun can wait until Monique shows up. And there's not much point to switching faces if you're not going to act in character when you're inside them."<br/>
<br/>
"In that case-- The fuck is this <i>Libra</i> you're asking me about?"<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces. "Just answer the fucking question."<br/>
<br/>
"I think I see how that crazy page works," you say, not wanting to give him a total lie. "It's another test, like the torn page. Gimme a little while and I think I can get us past it. But you and, uh, 'your brother', found enough in the meantime to keep us busy."<br/>
<br/>
"The new mask set up is convenient, and the copy spell is useful," he grunts. He glares at the wall while swallowing half the water bottle. "The rest is bullshit."<br/>
<br/>
"There's theory behind it. Probably some useful applications if we think about them."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm all for practical applications--" he starts to say, but shuts up at the gentle knock at the door. It opens, and Monique peers in.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, it's my little songbird," you smile, and gesture her in. She scampers across the room and cradles up next to you, barely coming over your shoulder, and you bend down to kiss her forehead. "I was about to call you. I was getting worried."<br/>
<br/>
"My mom kept me," she says shyly. "Hi Frank." He smiles and nods back. She looks up at you, but refuses when you offer her the water. "You didn't call me last night."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry, I had some business." You stroke her back, and gently press her onto the sofa. You curl up next to her with your arm around her. "I was thinking about you, though." You lean in and kiss her by the ear. And then you kiss her on the cheek. "Thinking lots--" Kiss. "And lots." Kiss. "About you." Your cock slithers up through the folds in your shorts.<br/>
<br/>
She lifts her face to gaze at you. She has big, dark eyes in a pale face, and brown hair falls from around her broad forehead. Her mouth is small, and she doesn't wear makeup, since she's only in ninth grade. But that just leaves her looking very young and very fresh. Jonathan doesn't much like the girls that cake it on and strive to look like mature women.<br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking about you too," she says, but squirms away as you lean in for a kiss on her mouth. "Where's your brother, Frank?"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't <i>always</i> hang out together," he says as he collapses into a bean bag. "He's home right now. Figuring out how long it takes a train traveling at sixty miles an hour to make a sixty mile trip."<br/>
<br/>
You snicker. Your memories of being Joe have been replaced by those of Jonathan's, but it's exactly the kind of problem that Joe pretends to be baffled by. Monique squirms a little more in the crook of your arm. "Wouldn't it take an hour?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Joe'll never figure it out," Frank sighs. "When I left him, he was asking how many locomotives were pulling the train."<br/>
<br/>
"How someone can be so fast on the court and so slow in the classroom--" You shake your head in wonderment. "He's better than you in the gym, though," you add.<br/>
<br/>
"He's got baby brother syndrome, always trying to show me up. He's hopeless at the academics, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"Monique has a little sister," you say. "Angelique. She's adorable. How old is she?" you ask Monique.<br/>
<br/>
"Eleven, and she's a pain in the derriere."<br/>
<br/>
You talk a little more about siblings, and sibling rivalry, and why Jonathan is an only child. ("They couldn't improve on you," Monique says. "They lost all hope," you counter.) After awhile, you offer to treat everyone to lunch. "I have to powder my nose first," Monique says, and leaps off the sofa for the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
"I should take a rain check," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought we were gonna hang out, find you a date."<br/>
<br/>
"We could," he says. "But I lifted some of Blackwell's knockout powder while we were out there yesterday. It's in the closet." He holds your eye meaningfully. "Fuck her, man, then put some in her face. Get a copy of her in that mask of yours while she's out."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Bonds That Tie
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Fuck her, Straussler," your alter ego says. "Then get a copy of her into that mask of yours."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him. "And we want a copy of her because--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Use your imagination. Or Straussler's imagination, if you're an idiot."<br/>
<br/>
You'd rather he said it out loud. <i>On second thought, you'd rather he didn't.</i> Even if he doesn't want to replace her with a golem, he'll want a copy he can have fun with.<br/>
<br/>
A few feet away, you hear a toilet flush. Time to decide is running out.<br/>
<br/>
Frank gets to his feet, but says nothing as the bathroom door opens. "Where are we going to?" Monique asks brightly. It won't be McDonald's. Anyone who has ever had Straussler pay for a meal knows that much.<br/>
<br/>
"Frank just got a call, and he has to take off," you say. You don't want this guy being angry, so it seems best to go along with this suggestion.<br/>
<br/>
"My stupid brother," Frank mutters. "He asked Dad for help, and Dad told him to ask me, so now <i>my</i> ass is hanging on his grade." He puts out his hand. "See you later."<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow, maybe?" you say. "You, me, Kyle and Jenny? They worry about you, think you should--" You take Monique's hand and peer down at her. "What do you think, Monique? Who'd look good with Frank's arm around her?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," she murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll surprise you with someone," you tell Frank.<br/>
<br/>
He looks a little discomfited. "You don't have to--"<br/>
<br/>
"We wouldn't set you up, don't worry. But if we've got another girl along--"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs, and with a "Later" and a curt wave goes out the door.<br/>
<br/>
You look down at Monique, to find her looking back up at you with a worried frown. "What's that look for?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"You guys can be such jerks," she says. "If Frank doesn't want--"<br/>
<br/>
"He <i>wants</i>, Monique. Every guy wants--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not a competition. It's not like basketball."<br/>
<br/>
"Who said it was?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. "He doesn't want to compete with his brother, Jonathan."<br/>
<br/>
"What's Joe got to do with--?"<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't want it to look like he's competing with Joe, trying to-- to score with--" She stumbles over the crude phraseology.<br/>
<br/>
You grin at her discomfort. "Oh, you had to say the magic word, didn't you? Score," you explain when she frowns. You catch up her hands. "Suddenly I'm not hungry. Well, not for food."<br/>
<br/>
She jerks her hands away. "Jonathan, you're being so--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be. Frank likes to play rough, and sometimes I forget. But tell me you're not mad at me?" You duck your head.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not mad at you," she sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me I'm sweet?" You put light hands on her waist.<br/>
<br/>
She blushes and smiles and looks away. "You're sweet, Jonathan."<br/>
<br/>
You draw her close, and bend to kiss the top of her head. "No, I'm not. I'm a big, stinky boy, and I don't know why you put up with me."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know either," she says, and pulls you close. "I just really do--" She buries her face in your chest.<br/>
<br/>
You squeeze her gently in one arm, and lightly brush her back and shoulders with your fingertips. She is so small, and tender, and vulnerable. Except she's got a spike of steel in her, and Jonathan has tripped over it many times. Always gotten up with a grin, though. Before she can pull away, you crouch at the knees and scoop her up, holding her under the ass with a strong arm. She gasps as you raise her face to yours. "We'll go get something to eat," you say. "But can we nibble on something first?" She blushes, but suffers to let you bite her lips. And then she's biting you back, and then the kisses become soft and wet. You stagger back onto the sofa, letting her fall into your lap. You hold each other close, kissing and kissing and kissing ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh, God, Jonathan, what's gotten into you?" Monique gasps.<br/>
<br/>
She's stripped down to her cotton panties and is lying on your bed. You're also stripped to your underwear; your cock is pointing straight out through the front. But you're huddled next her, one arm under her shoulders, the other under the knee of one of her raised legs. You crouch over her, kissing her hip and the side of her tummy. Devouring them, more like.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you murmur back breathlessly. "But lately I just can't stop thinking about you." You kiss and suck at her. "It's all I want to do. I think I really, really--"<br/>
<br/>
You straighten up as you realize how feverish you sound, and look over at her. She's raised her head, and her expression is more than a little alarmed.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I don't know," you say, and climb onto the bed to lay next her, your head propped under a hand. You trace a finger over and under her exposed breasts. "I'm trying not to be obsessive over you. Trying not to keep calling you. Giving you distance and stuff. I mean-- Oh, God!" You fall back and cover your eyes with an arm. "I'm a senior and you're a freshman. What are we doing?"<br/>
<br/>
It is an odd situation. You--Jonathan--can't help suspecting that Monique's parents allow this relationship because Jonathan seems a decent sort, but mostly because the Strausslers' wealth runs well over ten figures: "The Beast" owns a high-tech defense company with close links to the university and to the military research station just outside of town. Jonathan's parents probably allow it because they think people of their class are entitled to anything they want.<br/>
<br/>
"I know you're going to go off to college next year," Monique says in a small voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I want you to go with me," you say, swinging back toward her.<br/>
<br/>
"I have to finish school!" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me take care of you! Or--" Your breath comes in hard gasps as you yank your underwear fully off. "We have to make the most of it. Now." With a knee, you pry open her legs.<br/>
<br/>
She bites her lip, and her eyes grow wet. "Okay, Jonathan," she says in a small voice. You yank open the bedside stand and pull out a condom, putting it to your mouth so you can tear the wrapper open with your teeth. She swallows. "I mean, if you want to do it, without--" Her eyes roll with fear. "I guess it would be okay."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at her, then bury your face in her neck, kissing at her hard. You prop yourself on an elbow, and with your free hand guide your member toward her, and then into her.<br/>
<br/>
It's all perfectly safe, and she's nothing to worry about. Jonathan Straussler is just a full-body condom for Will Prescott. You spend yourself in her twice, leaving her limp and docile on the bed before you go to the closet with the excuse of getting dressed. Her eyes are closed when you return, and she doesn't even see you open the container to take out the powder.<br/>
<br/>
Afterward, you take her to the most expensive restaurant in town for lunch. She's very quiet throughout, and just squeezes your hand under the table as you eat.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's early evening, and Monique has left and you're finishing up Straussler's homework when the call comes from the security office: Joe Durras is on his way in. You don't want to be unfriendly, but you also don't want to have to make the long trek out to meet him. Besides, he knows where to find you.<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later he raps on the door and enters at your shout. He strokes his chin and raises an enquiring eyebrow. "Yeah, I got her," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. Can I see?"<br/>
<br/>
You sigh and flick your fingers across your face. The room swells; your shoes fall off, and all your clothes settle around you. "Hi Joe," you dimple softly. "I missed you this afternoon. Your brother's cute, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"But he's an asshole, yeah," Joe snickers. "I heard he was badmouthing me up here this morning. Pfft. Everyone knows a train doing sixty could cover a coupla hundred miles in an hour."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what you're gonna say on your homework?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's what you're going to say," he retorts. <br/>
<br/>
Your face falls a little. "Am I going back home as you tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah." He falls onto the sofa next to you and picks up a game controller. "You can stick it out until Sunday night. Oh, Frank called. He said he made the pitch to some old woman up in Cuthbert about bringing someone back to study with him."<br/>
<br/>
"I hope he's back by Monday morning."<br/>
<br/>
"You can go in for him if he's not. I can skip." He looks over at you, his eyes traveling up and down Monique's small frame. "You look very cute." He drops the controller and puts a tentative hand behind your shoulder. "Very inviting." He plucks at the folds of your shirt.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you coming on to me, Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"I sure am. We're friends, aren't we? More than friends, right? You were asking me earlier if I'd like to make out with myself."<br/>
<br/>
"You want me to--" <br/>
<br/>
You raise your hand to your face, but he grabs your wrist firmly. "No, you stay like that. I'll put on any face you want, though. Even Melody or Blackwell, if that's your thing."<br/>
<br/>
You stare back, expecting the explosive laugh that will defuse the joke. But his eyes are hungry. "Are you really serious?" you quietly ask.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "We could call it a bonding exercise. You know, these <i>anima</i> bands make us basically the same person, but there's still old habits. Ol' Joe here has a long history with Frank, and it's hard to resist that, well, tug of loyalty, even when I'm wearing a different face. You and I could form a bond of another kind."</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211111
author_id: seuzz
title: Molten Love
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You and I could form a bond of another kind," Joe says, and runs a fingertip up the side of your calf.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that why you asked me to copy Monique?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure what I was thinking at the time," he says. "But now? Sure."<br/>
<br/>
"This is kind of weird," you say, and swallow.<br/>
<br/>
"It's just sex," he says. "Monique puts out for Jonathan. If it would make you feel better--"<br/>
<br/>
"It would still be weird, no matter who you'd look like. I'm not even sure who you are," you say, and he looks up at you sharply. "I mean, that's supposed to be my <i>anima</i> in you--"<br/>
<br/>
"If I was really Joe we wouldn't be having this conversation," he says bluntly. "It's me, dude. Will Prescott. Same as you."<br/>
<br/>
You see an exploit. "So what if we reversed roles? I put on Joe's face, and you put on Monique's?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes go a little shifty. "Think you could pull it off? Ol' Joe putting the moves on Monique?"<br/>
<br/>
"I have his <i>imago.</i> It shouldn't be any harder for me than it is for you."<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces. "Well, we could do that later. We'd have to copy Monique into my mask. What about right now?" He nudges closer, putting his arm all the way around your shoulders, and his face into yours.<br/>
<br/>
You open your mouth to answer, but he grabs the chance. He kisses you.<br/>
<br/>
And then you're kissing him back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The clothes fell off you on the way up the stairs, and Joe threw his away. You'd barely fallen onto Jonathan's bed when he was on top of you, pushing your legs apart and putting his hands behind your shoulders. He kisses you across your upper chest, nibbling his way across and down, closer and closer to your small but sensitive nipples. You shift about under him, and throw your legs on either side of his hips.<br/>
<br/>
He raises himself and puts a palm on your pussy. You feel a warm flare, and twinge all over. "Jesus, what was that?" you cry.<br/>
<br/>
"Something I've been wanting to try on a girl for a long time," he grins. "You like?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm! It was--" Another flare, and this one doesn't die away as rapidly as the other. It's like a hot pad, and you begin to grow very warm and wet. You gasp and gurgle in the back of your throat.<br/>
<br/>
"Now, how about--?" He gets off you, to lay by your side, one hand supporting your shoulders, the other pressing between your thighs. You feel a low thrumming down there, like a--<br/>
<br/>
Neither you nor Monique have ever used a vibrator, but it's what you imagine one is like. A low buzz that sets all the layers of skin and muscles and tendon and bone to vibrating in harmony. It builds and spreads, and you feel a vibrating finger pushing its way inside you. You suck hard on your upper lip. You squirm and look over at Joe. His hair is golden and his eyes glimmer like quicksilver, and his smile gleams. He is the most stunning creature you have ever--<br/>
<br/>
It erupts within you all at once, and you're bouncing up and down, screaming. You get only one yell out, and then he covers your mouth with his, biting your lips closed between sharp teeth. You taste blood, but that just sets you off more. Your hands scramble over his hard, taut body, and something inside you is writhing to get out. You feel a secondary explosion down below, so violent you wonder if something has torn, and for a terrible moment you have the vision of Will Prescott's cock ripping through Monique Travers' <i>imago</i> and thrusting out through her pussy. You reach down to grasp it, but only meet Joe's burning hand. You grab it and sink backward into yourself as something molten and golden thrusts into you. With a shudder, you pass out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake to darkness, and push your hair out of your face as you sit up. The only light is coming from the open doorway. "Joe?" you call. "Joe?" Your heart beats. What's going on?<br/>
<br/>
Feet sound on the stairway, and a tall figure appears. The light flicks on. "Jonathan!" you gasp. For a moment terrible panic sweeps over you: Your boyfriend, catching you in his bed, after having sex with one of his teammates!<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he drawls as he leans against the doorway. "The Beast called, and you weren't in any state to answer, so I answered for you. After that--" He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
You look around. "What time is it? How long was I--?"<br/>
<br/>
"About thirty minutes. You were <i>zonked.</i> I'm sorry, I didn't know it was going to do any of that to you."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you <i>do?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure, actually," he laughs. "Used some of my <i>Stellae</i> gifts in ways that they probably weren't intended for. I had fun for a little while in you, but even your reflexes went cold, so I pulled out until you could recover." He looks at his watch. "I should go."<br/>
<br/>
You sit up. You are aching between your thighs, and when you reach down-- "Oh, God, it's <i>filthy</i> down here! I need to wash!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just change back to Jonathan. It should evaporate." He runs his hand over his face, and Joe reappears. "So, uh, I could bring the <i>Libra</i> tomorrow, and we could copy Monique into this mask and we could try it the other way."<br/>
<br/>
"If that was your <i>essentia</i> at work, I don't think I could match it."<br/>
<br/>
"No, you couldn't match that. Prescott's probably got some tricks, but you'd have to do a lot more meditating before unlocking them. I wonder what they are?" He regards you speculatively. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't even have any of the normal tricks," you mutter. <br/>
<br/>
"So do it as me. As Joe. Take notes. Alternate, so you internalize it, like with the--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shit, it's like I have to learn <i>everything</i> from you."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" He laughs. "Don't you wish you could do an actual body swap instead of just wearing <i>imago</i> or sticking some fake <i>anima</i> in me?" He grins, and with a wink leaves.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next day, though, after noon you get a call from Ian Carpenter, and since Jonathan has a large circle to maintain you spend the balance of the day with him and Alyssa Randal and Monique. The latter is very quiet, and as you drive her back home to drop her off you ask her what's wrong. "Nothing," she says. "I'm just thinking about us." She declines to expand on the reply.<br/>
<br/>
You're thinking about her too; you're worried that Joe will want to replace her with a golem, and you'd rather not do that.<br/>
<br/>
But when Joe calls at around five, it's not to talk about her or about the <i>Libra</i> or about "bonding." It's with news that Frank is back, and that you need to meet him at Blackwell's.<br/>
<br/>
You beat Joe out there, since you've got the Porsche and can cover the country miles at something greater than sixty miles an hour. Blackwell's car is out front, and there's a green, vintage Chevy Corvette--an early 70s model, by its look--next to it. You run an admiring palm over its hood as you pass. Frank answers the door when you knock. "Is that you, Prescott?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"It always is, even when it's Joe," you retort. "Even when it's you." You push past him.<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and it is. Why are you looking like that? I thought--"<br/>
<br/>
"I got sick of Blackwell's face and fat. Your cousin" --He grins mirthlessly over the word-- "is in the library."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus. Did you show him--?" Frank shakes his head. "Then how--"<br/>
<br/>
"I knocked him out as soon as I got him inside. Joe's bringing the <i>Libra</i> over. We're gonna copy him into our masks. I already got a golemized mask onto him."<br/>
<br/>
You step into the library, and a tall figure turns to glare at you. For a moment you think it's another duplicate of Frank, but then the similarity falls away. He's dark and saturnine, like Frank, but he has an evil, surly cast to his face. Lank hair is plastered to his chalky white forehead, and close set eyes glimmer on either side of a thin nose, above pale and bloodless lips. He's dressed in dirty work jeans, with a heavy leather jacket over his t-shirt. "This is Will Shabbleman," Frank says by way of introduction. "I suppose we'll have to call him 'Shabbleman' to keep you and him straight."<br/>
<br/>
<i>A cousin, huh?</i> You don't see much of a resemblance, and of that you're glad. He looks normal enough, not like the horrors you remember seeing in Cuthbert on your last trip up there. You don't remember this one, though, despite his seeming to be about your age. "What's the story on him? What's his excuse for being down here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Genealogy," Frank says. "That's the excuse I gave. Research into the Shabbleman family. I've hired him as my assistant."<br/>
<br/>
"So what'll we do with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"That depends on what we find inside after we copy him. After looking around Cuthbert, I've got a feeling there are lots of interesting things to investigate up there."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Will Shabbleman sits in four different places in Blackwell's library. The one in the leather jacket sulks, having been told to shut up. "Get a golem mask onto Grandmother," says the Shabbleman who is dressed like Joe. "That'll give us the town."<br/>
<br/>
"Too dangerous," says the one dressed like Frank. "Even her relatives don't know what she's capable of."<br/>
<br/>
They continue to argue. And since it's a democracy, they finally look to you to cast the tie-breaking vote.<br/>
<br/>
The old witch is certainly dangerous, with wiles you can only guess at. But she's also got secrets. Some probably related to the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
Yes, she knows about the <i>Libra.</i> She told her grandson to keep an eye out for it.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111112
author_id: seuzz
title: Into Another's Shoes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It would look suspicious if Shabbleman and Blackwell showed up back in Cuthbert so soon after leaving," you say. "We should wait a bit, think about it."<br/>
<br/>
"So we keep him here in the meantime?" Frank says. "Doing what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keeping him busy with scutwork," Joe says. <br/>
<br/>
"Grandmother's going to be checking up on him," Frank observes. "I should stay as him so I can feed her some plausible lies." He licks his lips and smiles thinly. "We'll put the real one under a mask of me."<br/>
<br/>
And so it is decided. Will Shabbleman, trapped under a mask of Frank, goes home with you, who switch back into Joe's form. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're secretly glad for this arrangement, for it lets you return to work on the <i>Libra</i> while keeping Frank out of your hair. You hide in Joe's bedroom while golem-Frank does homework out in the main part of the house.<br/>
<br/>
You find that the spells are getting harder. The first new spell after the illusion trap consists of a lot of fragmentary ones; it takes you nearly an hour--even with Joe's brain as a crutch--to realize that they are a set of gnomic instructions, written like a rebus. It will require two masks, one of which you will have to design yourself.<br/>
<br/>
You spend the rest of the night--only going to sleep at around two--taking apart the sigil provided. It looks simple, but you realize that's because it is also incomplete. It's almost like an exercise that has been left for the magician to complete--another test. The only hint you can solidly decipher is that it is a "one mind in two places" spell. But you already have something like that with the <i>anima</i> bands that you've put on Joe and Frank. Read another way, the hint can translate as "stand in another's shoes." But you've been able to do that since the very first spell. You look down into the palms of your open hands. Two masks. "One mind in two places." "Stand in another's shoes." You puzzle and puzzle until your puzzler is sore. But you have school tomorrow, and when no answers come you go to bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The answer, when it comes, appears in the heat of argument. Pre-class basketball practice goes off fine, but when you run into Straussler (that would be Joe, again) in third period he gives you the fish eye. "I got some kind of stink on me?" you demand when he just snarls at your cheerful greeting.<br/>
<br/>
He grabs at you; you push him off, but relent when he insists on dragging you out of the room and around the corner of one of the wings. "The fuck did you do with Monique?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
"I fucked her and got a copy of her," you retort. "You remember the weekend."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you while you were just being <i>with</i> her? She's treating me cold. You <i>said</i> something or did something."<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing <i>you</i> haven't done, <i>Jonathan,</i>" you say. "Did it without protection, so that was new."<br/>
<br/>
"That is a little weird," he says with a growl. "What else?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just talked. About the future. You're going off to college and she's--"<br/>
<br/>
"You idiot!" He swings his fist, and you're not fast enough to dodge, and stagger back. "You <i>don't</i> talk to girls about the future! Especially when--" He glowers.<br/>
<br/>
You nurse the side of your face, which is ringing from his blow. "Well, fuck me then! I was being in character!"<br/>
<br/>
"And left it up to me to fix!"<br/>
<br/>
"If you want to find a bathroom and switch places, I'm game," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"You'd fuck it up even more. <i>She's</i> the one that needs fixing."<br/>
<br/>
"By turning her into a golem?" You're angry enough that the words spring out unbidden. "Is that what you've been thinking?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's not worth the expense," he growls. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you don't want me jumping into her shoes after jumping her bones--"<br/>
<br/>
You stop short. <i>That's the answer.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Never mind," you say when he asks what you were going to say. "I just had another idea. Something that might fix things."<br/>
<br/>
"How?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure yet. There's lots of possibilities and I just saw one. Give me a few days, and we'll talk."<br/>
<br/>
"She'll probably be over it by then," he grumbles. "But you've planted a real land mine in our relationship."<br/>
<br/>
"Look at who you are," you say. "It was always a potential problem. You take Straussler, you take the bad as well as the good. What little there is of it."<br/>
<br/>
He hisses, and doesn't speak to you the rest of the day.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Back at the house, after school, you sketch out the possible designs. It's so simple once you see what the hints were aiming at.<br/>
<br/>
It's a kind of remote control. Two masks. You put one on yourself, and one on a victim. The mask on the victim contains a golem shell, so it is docile and under your control anyway. But with a word or gesture of command, you can put your own consciousness inside the remote mask. It would be as if you had switched masks, but without having to take them off, and you would find yourself wherever your victim happened to be.<br/>
<br/>
And the hole in the sigil? You see now that's where the "key" goes. The masks--the control mask you would wear, and the remote mask that goes on the victim--have to be "tuned" to each other with some unique code that would go in both. The most obvious code would be the name--when translated into sigilistic logic--of the spell crafter.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm playing around with some of those spells you and Joe uncovered," you tell Will Shabbleman (really Frank) when you show up at Blackwell's at around eight. "We still have any blank masks and bands? Sealant?" He nods. "I'll take a few back with me. How are you getting along?"<br/>
<br/>
"This place stinks," he says in a sneer, which looks like a natural expression on Shabbleman's face. "I'm going out of my mind with boredom."<br/>
<br/>
"You heard from the family?" You run up the stairs, and he follows.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I sent Grandmother a text--she's at least that much up to date--telling her that Blackwell's got me doing housework and yard work while 'testing' me out. And that's <i>how</i> I've been trying to keep occupied."<br/>
<br/>
"Then go up to the college. You can hang out in some classes, try to continue your education."<br/>
<br/>
"Feh. Being this asshole's got me all out of sorts."<br/>
<br/>
"It's no fun with the original back at your place," you say. "Even under a Frank mask. There's something-- I dunno. Just something <i>wrong</i> about him."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Back at the house, you start by taking off your mask--it requires removing the nail from your forehead first--and putting a new layer into it. The control mask, you figure, doesn't need to be in a mask of its own. You draw the sigil on the new, blank layer and fill it with your name and with a sigilistic description of the gesture that will let you switch into the remote. The only downside you can see is that you yourself, while occupying the remote, will be immobile, for there will be no "golem" to take over for yourself, and the spell doesn't seem designed to let you put one in.<br/>
<br/>
It's careful and exacting work, but not so intense you can't spare a little concentration to think through the design as you work. The remote mask will also need a sigil of a similar sort--just with a few key terms reversed--and as you think about it you realize that should be enough. You break off long enough to frown over your notes and over the <i>Libra</i>, but stare and puzzle as much as you can, you do not see why the spell calls for <i>essentia</i> in the remote. It should work without the <i>essentia.</i> The only reason you can see to put it in--<br/>
<br/>
Well, it's only a practical reason. The sigil will bind the remote mask onto the victim--it has "hooks" that connect it directly to the victim's <i>substantia</i>--but the <i>essentia</i> is there so the result will be a golem. Leave the <i>essentia</i> out, and the victim will still be awake and alert except during those times when the magician isn't controlling him or her.<br/>
<br/>
Which is a good idea. Still, you smile to yourself at how evil it would be to leave the <i>essentia</i> out. The result would be a kind of "sleeper agent": a free person you could "possess" whenever you wanted. It would suck to be them, of course, to find themselves seized and guided into doing all kinds of mischief. <br/>
<br/>
But there's practical reasons to leave it out too. First, a magician only has so much <i>essentia</i> to go around. Put it into the remote masks, and he'll be limited to six remotes. Leave the <i>essentia</i> out, and he could seed dozens, hundreds, even thousands of "sleeper agents" around the world.<br/>
<br/>
An even better reason to leave it out, you reflect, is that in some cases the <i>essentia</i> could cripple the victims. Like if the victims were Frank and Joe Durras.<br/>
<br/>
You got <i>anima</i> bands onto Frank and Joe, and for that reason they still have the gifts bestowed by their <i>essentia.</i> But if you put them under remote masks--turning them into golems under your control-- their powers would be blocked. Even you wouldn't be able to exercise their powers if you used remote masks to get inside them.<br/>
<br/>
But if you put a remote mask on them, while leaving out the <i>essentia</i>, you could switch into them <i>and</i> have their powers. The downside is that you wouldn't be able to let go of your victim afterward, for they would regain control of themselves. And even with your <i>anima</i> band inside them, you doubt they'd take kindly to your hijacking them.<br/>
<br/>
Still, it might be a way of reasserting your control over your two erstwhile allies.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111122
author_id: seuzz
title: Progress Comes Quickly
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're still thinking about this when you call your own replacement the next day and tell him to meet you after school. "You have a cure for that hex yet?" he eagerly asks after he arrives. You're at the river, far from prying eyes, so you can test out the new project in secrecy. <br/>
<br/>
"Still working on it," you say. "It got really busy this weekend."<br/>
<br/>
"It's always something else with you," he whines.<br/>
<br/>
"So how about <i>you</i> some work on it," you retort. "I'll bring you up to date with my memories, and starting tomorrow you can spend the day at Blackwell's sorting through those sigil layers." He groans, and you have to speak sharply to him. Then you push him onto the ground and take his mask off. The stinky old hobo that's been sleeping under your face appears.<br/>
<br/>
It'll take awhile to turn this mask into a remote, but you use some knockout powder to keep him out. You then set to diligent work. You start by putting the mask to your own face, so you can pick up all the memories the golem has accumulated, but you don't trouble over them. You use the <i>Libra</i> to strip your old mask clean, then put a complete set of your memories back into it before sealing it up. On the inside you carefully copy the "remote" sigil, using your <i>essentia</i> in the "paint" that you're using. It's long and exacting work to be done before you can put it back on the hobo. "All set?" Will Prescott asks when he reappears, for with your most recent memories he knows exactly what is going to come next.<br/>
<br/>
You nod, and lay down on the grass as he scrambles to his feet. You close your eyes, concentrate, and mutter the incantation you'd invented.<br/>
<br/>
It's as if you'd blinked. You are now standing by the river, staring down at yourself: He--<i>you</i>--is sprawled on the ground, jaw slack and eyes unseeing. You suck in a sharp breath. <i>Yes, you are definitely in the golem's body.</i><br/>
<br/>
You crouch next to your real body and study it. It is warm and breathing, and its pulse is strong. It appears to be in a catatonic state.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa, perfect," you say, and clap your hands. The movements feel very self-conscious, for you know you're doing them only to see what the golem will remember when you release it again. You mutter the words that will return yourself to control of your own body.<br/>
<br/>
Another blink. You're staring at the sky. You don't feel the least bit sleepy or muffle-headed, and sit up abruptly. The golem takes a step back. "Whoa again. That is you, isn't it, boss?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You laugh softly. "The earth moved. How was it for you?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "Suddenly I wasn't in control of myself. Did stuff I didn't mean to." He smiles faintly. "We gonna use this trick on those assholes?"<br/>
<br/>
You could, but it would involve bringing in a partner, because there would be two people--Joe <i>and</i> Frank--that would need controlling. But you could make a partner. Just slap an <i>anima</i> band on Caleb or Keith or--<br/>
<br/>
Or your own brother, Robert. <i>The Prescott brothers, pretending to be the Durras brothers?</i><br/>
<br/>
But you shake your head. "Too tricky. And don't tell Joe or Frank anything about this."<br/>
<br/>
"Duh, I'm you, not an idiot," he retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's hope <i>I'm</i> not an idiot. Now let's nail your mask back into place so Frank and Joe can't go snooping inside it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Thursday.</i> Jonathan--Joe--has been in a better temper, so in the showers after school you broach the subject of his girlfriend again. "How are things with Monique?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maintaining," he says. He closes his eyes and squeezes the lather from his scalp. "She's still thinking about that crap you put in her head, I can tell, but-- You said you had an idea for how to deal with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I couldn't figure out a way to make it work."<br/>
<br/>
"What was the theory?"<br/>
<br/>
"The theory was fucked up. Fiddling with her mental <i>imago</i> inside a band and then getting the changes into the original's head."<br/>
<br/>
"Memories are a function of <i>anima,</i>" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"That's why the theory was fucked up. I've got a new project."<br/>
<br/>
Ian Carpenter comes in and turns on a shower. "Have you made any headway on that new chapter?" he asks Jonathan.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, it's a mess. Too hard."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you asking Joe for help with your homework?" Ian snorts.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just want to see if he's getting anywhere with his," Jonathan says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a book about a big whale," you say. "Who gives a shit about a big whale?"<br/>
<br/>
"What? <i>Moby Dick?</i> English?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. <i>The Scarlet A.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Ian does a double take. "You mean <i>The Scarlet Letter</i>? There's no whales in <i>The Scarlet Letter.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, shit. I picked up the wrong one!" you holler.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After you're alone with Straussler again, you ask him about that golem that he and Frank shrank. "What did you do with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's back at Blackwell's. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanted to look at it. I couldn't make much of the sigil, thought if I looked at the thing itself it might show me something about what it's used for. I'll go over there and pick it up."<br/>
<br/>
"Call Frank, tell him to bring it by the house. He sounds like he's going nuts out there."<br/>
<br/>
"Anyone would, but I want an excuse to get away from the fake Frank back at the house for a bit."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean the Frank that has Shabbleman underneath? What's wrong with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. Haven't you noticed how creepy he is?"<br/>
<br/>
"Frank's always creepy."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mean that. I mean, it's like Shabbleman's shining through the mask. Or something."<br/>
<br/>
"I hadn't noticed."<br/>
<br/>
But you have. He makes you nervous. Maybe it's because he's a fake version of a <i>Stellae,</i> and is therefore missing something. Maybe the golem is aware of what he's missing. You feel like he's watching you furtively.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you don't linger long at Blackwell's after Frank has given you the golem. It's about a foot long, though it retains the proportions of the original, and has quite a bit of heft to it, as though it's made of lead. After spending an hour with Frank, listening to him complain, you go back home and lock yourself in the bedroom. Even there you feel oppressed. It's as though something outside the door is trying to get in.<br/>
<br/>
You flip through the <i>Libra</i> to the spell after the one that makes the remote and control masks. That's why you wanted the shrunken golem: the new spell calls for one. As with the previous spells there are no instructions, and you have to understand its mechanics in order to work it out. But it's not hard, for it's a simplification of the control/remote sigil. After an hour of tracing the logic you suck in a breath. It's very good news.<br/>
<br/>
You remove the nail from your forehead and pull off the mask you've been wearing. You brush your hand over it until your own face appears in it. You lay it face down onto the sigil and lay the miniature golem into the concave interior. You rest your palm on it, and murmur the prescribed words while closing your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Your bodily <i>imago</i> appears in your head, and you almost pass out from shock. It's like the first time you went to an IMAX screening. The image is vast, almost three-dimensional, and though you can take it in at a glance, it is so huge you feel as though you are floating in space next to a monumental statue.<br/>
<br/>
The <i>imago</i> isn't just huge, it is detailed. Like a mosaic, it is composed of sigils. You shake your head at the futility of your earlier project with those glasses. <i>This</i> is what you were trying to construct: your <i>imago,</i> complete and minutely detailed. You were building it up; this spell gives you the finished result.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe all your work with those sigils and glasses wasn't for nothing. You doubt you could handle the overwhelming reality of this vision if you hadn't trained yourself by studying the sigils you'd put inside those glasses.<br/>
<br/>
You look over this model of yourself, picking out details. Picking out? They spring out at you. You can see all the little pieces and how they lock together to give you your physical attributes. You see how to tweak them. You could do anything to it, from shifting the birthmark on your cheek to totally changing yourself into a duplicate of another person. The latter would be very hard work, of course. But right now you're looking for--<br/>
<br/>
There it is. That damnable hex.<br/>
<br/>
It looks like a spider or a tick stuck to the bridge of your nose just between your eyes. It is deeply dug into your <i>imago</i>, with roots and filaments burrowing throughout your body. You concentrate, and pull out one filament, and then another, and then the rest. You pinch at the body of the thing and pull it away. It vanishes.<br/>
<br/>
You release the golem and open your eyes. The real world rushes in, and you shake the dizziness from yourself.<br/>
<br/>
You don't feel any different, but you know how the spell works. You didn't just remove the hex from the <i>imago</i> in the mask. The sigil established a connection to your own bodily <i>imago</i>, and you know that you've removed the hex from yourself. You're now cured. You only have to copy your repaired <i>imago</i> into a mask and set it on the golem, and it will be cured as well.<br/>
<br/>
Which might not be good news for the golem. The hex is the only thing keeping your doppelganger safe from Westside's bullies. Remove the hex, and they'll attack it with a vengeance.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you'll think about that later. Now there will be a new spell to investigate.<br/>
<br/>
Something brushes at the door, and with a jerk you look over at it. Is it the enslaved Shabbleman? There's something odd about the thing in the other room. You wonder what you'd find if you studied Shabbleman's <i>imago.</i></span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211111221
author_id: seuzz
title: Bits and Pieces, and How to Get Them Off People
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wrench open the bedroom door. Nothing. Still, you can't shake the feeling that something has been trying to eavesdrop on you. You close the door with a frown.<br/>
<br/>
You'll have to talk to Frank and Joe about it, but you should arm yourself with something other than your sense of unease. <br/>
<br/>
So you pick up your mask and flick the images until Will Shabbleman's face appears in it. Again you lay the mini-golem into the mask and grasp it. You close your eyes, and the <i>imago</i> of Will Shabbleman appears.<br/>
<br/>
He's no more handsome in this slightly abstract form than he is in real life. In fact, it's probably more unpleasant, since in its monumental way his <i>imago</i> looms over you. You grit your teeth and look him over.<br/>
<br/>
There's nothing odd about his face, which is where you'd found the hex on your own <i>imago.</i> You concentrate and turn him about. Nothing about the head or shoulders or torso. You scan lower and lower, and--<br/>
<br/>
At the genitals. What is that?<br/>
<br/>
There's a glow, dull and metallic. Luckily, studying the <i>imago</i> of a guy's cock isn't nearly as distasteful as it would be to study the thing itself. It's just a lot of formulas.<br/>
<br/>
Some you recognize. The genitals are one place where <i>imago</i> and <i>essentia</i> interact, and you see the "hooks" where those two metaphysical elements can merge. Semen comes charged with <i>essentia</i>, you remember from your reading, and it's through that merger that <i>essentia</i> can manifest physically. It's the "plumbing" that allows semen or hair or fingernail clippings or blood or any other bodily effluvia to be used in the crafting of golems.<br/>
<br/>
But right now it's that metallic thing that's got your attention. It's a foreign object, but like the hex it is bound deeply into his <i>imago.</i> You'd have to pull it free in order to study it. Without thinking, you pluck at it as you'd plucked at the hex. The binding strands dissolve, and too late you realize what you're doing. As the last binding thread vanishes, the glow itself flares and fades away, leaving nothing behind.<br/>
<br/>
You drop the golem, and with senses reeling lunge for the door. You half crawl, half scramble into the hallway and to your feet. Golem-Frank looks up with a puzzled expression as you dash into the dining room. "You doing your meditation exercises," he asks, for you're outside of Joe's mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," you say. "I gotta see--" You grab at his face, but he grabs your wrist.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Let go, Frank," you demand through gritted teeth, for he's hurting you.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't gotta do what you say, Prescott. That's for Frank to--"<br/>
<br/>
"And Frank would let me look. I gotta look at the asshole you have under that face."<br/>
<br/>
His frown deepens, but after a moment's thought he releases you. "This better not be a trick, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"It's fine. I was just snooping around inside Shabbleman's head, and I saw something I want to double check."<br/>
<br/>
With a scowl he lets you twist the mask from his face. Shabbleman appears. You grimace hard as you unbutton his jeans and root around until you find his penis. Your fingertips also find--<br/>
<br/>
You pull it out. It's a little golden ring.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I don't see anything special about it," Jonathan says. He fingers the ring, peering at it. "It's a hell of a thing to have to wear down there--"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what it is either," Shabbleman says. That would be Frank, still in disguise. It's Thursday night, and you've called an emergency meeting at Blackwell's. "And I don't like remembering what it was like when they put it on."<br/>
<br/>
"And his grandmother didn't tell him what it was for?" Jonathan asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Switch over into his face, and you can have the whole story for yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"I already checked," you say. "Just before I called you guys. It's something like a chastity belt. Keeps him from jerking off."<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't get it when we copied him," Jonathan says.<br/>
<br/>
"And thank goodness for that," Shabbleman says. "Not that I've been jerking off while wearing this goddamned face," he hastily adds. "But I remember it being fucking uncomfortable."<br/>
<br/>
"We didn't get it on our copies because it's like jewelry," you say. "But the original still had it on him."<br/>
<br/>
"So?" Jonathan asks. "And how did you get it off him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was fucking around with one of the spells," you say. You're wearing Joe's face, so you're able to tell a half-truth without sounding evasive. "Trying to isolate some of its elements, make something new and useful. I used Shabbleman as a guinea pig. I got curious about that cock ring of his, and decided to see if I could use the new spell to get it off him."<br/>
<br/>
"And you did," says Jonathan. "So?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sew buttons. The trick I invented isn't even really useful, and I didn't write it down. But I went snooping in Shabbleman's head afterward, to find out what the cock ring was for, since it needed magic to get it off."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the crisis?" He's sounding more and more impatient with you.<br/>
<br/>
"No crisis, Joe. I just thought you'd be interested."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not," he snorts. With a jerk he flings the ring onto the table. "And now I'm really not interested, now that I realize I've been fingering another dude's junk jewelry."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," you grumble. "So it's not a big deal. Fuck me for keeping you guys in the loop with what I'm doing. It's not like either of you are--"<br/>
<br/>
"What <i>have</i> you been doing, Prescott?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"A little of this, a little of that," you say defensively. "Look, this is all real new to me. New spells, new crap, even the whole idea of magic is still new. I'm not like you guys. I've been meditating--" <br/>
<br/>
Their expressions are stony.<br/>
<br/>
"If you guys are bored or something, how about you go take care of Joe and Frank's old partners, the <i>Stellae</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're not going to lay our cocks in front of a buzz saw," Frank says. "We're not going to do <i>anything</i> until we've got a better idea of what we can do with the <i>Libra</i> and with <i>your</i> talents. I don't feel like I've been seeing a lot of the latter--"<br/>
<br/>
"There's a lot of stuff in the <i>Libra</i> to figure out," you repeat. "If you guys want to have fun with the <i>Libra</i>, go make masks of some cheerleaders, or of Jonathan's girlfriend--"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, we're not doing anything until--"<br/>
<br/>
"Then leave me alone until I've got something for you!" You master your anger. "Here's the thing about the <i>Libra,</i>" you say, leaning forward. "It's giving us all these spells, but it's also giving us the <i>technique</i> behind the spells. I can <i>feel</i> it. There are things we can do that it's not telling us we can do. We have to figure those extra things out ourselves. But I have to have time to take the pieces apart and see how they might go back together."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have <i>any</i> ideas for the kinds of things we could do?"<br/>
<br/>
You slouch, hating the ambush. "Well," you say, improvising. "That spell that turns people into golems, the one you used on Melody?" The girl herself is gone; there's just a golem walking around with her mask. "It's not just an asshole spell. It works by stripping <i>imago</i> and <i>essentia</i> and <i>anima</i> out of a person. That's why there's only <i>substantia</i> left behind. That's what a golem basically is. But if you could take the sigil apart, you could come up with a  spell that would only remove <i>anima,</i> let's say. Then maybe you could modify the spell that copies people <i>onto</i> golems, modify it so that it only copies <i>anima</i> onto them. Maybe with that you could switch people's <i>anima</i> around without using those bands like I put on you guys."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the use of that?" Frank demands.<br/>
<br/>
"There wouldn't be any bands to detect," Joe says thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," you say. "That's one reason you guys don't want to run into the other <i>Stellae,</i> right? They might spot those things on you. But if you had my <i>anima</i> inside you, instead of riding around on a band--"<br/>
<br/>
"We'd be perfect fakes," Joe finishes for you.<br/>
<br/>
You nod. In truth, this idea has surprised even yourself. You'd not thought of it before, and can only figure that your subconscious has been at work on it while you were otherwise preoccupied. <br/>
<br/>
"You know how to do that?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Not yet," you say. "I don't even know how to start. But that's the kind of thing I'm talking about. But you have to give me time."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a neat idea," Frank says. "Work on it."<br/>
<br/>
"There's other things I'd have to work on first. But I'll make that a long-range goal."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The meeting breaks up soon afterward, to your relief. It was nasty for awhile, but you feel better for clearing the air, and feel like you've bought yourself some time. And Frank's suggestion--though it was phrased as something harsher than a "suggestion"--will give you a goal around which to center your research.<br/>
<br/>
But first you want to see if you have any more ideas bubbling down inside you that you've not been aware of. Back at the house, you take off Joe's mask and do the night's meditation.<br/>
<br/>
You don't have many visions when you meditate, and you don't have any visions now, but when you come out of it you've a strong sense that you've noticed something without actually noticing it. You relax and try to let the answer come.<br/>
<br/>
You're interrupted by the chirp of the phone. Golem-Frank gets it, but then he comes to knock on your door. It's Frank, who's still at Blackwell's. "Just got a call from Grandmother," he says. "She wants me to come back home."<br/>
<br/>
"Great. Something to keep you busy," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a jerk, but yeah, it will. I'm calling to ask if you want to come along too. They're your relatives."</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111112212
author_id: seuzz
title: A Portal from the Past
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It would be a little weird if I showed up, wouldn't it?" you ask. The idea does not fill you with enthusiasm.<br/>
<br/>
"I could tell her I found you. You're a long-lost relation, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Why does she want her grandson back home?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me why <i>anyone</i> would want this asshole back," Frank grumbles. It's an ironic-sounding statement, since he's been wearing Shabbleman's face all this time. "And I didn't ask. You don't ask Grandmother her reasons."<br/>
<br/>
"You taking off tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"In the morning."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, watch yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have anything to worry about, Prescott. <i>She</i> does, maybe, depending on what I find out there. I'll call Joe with an update tomorrow night. You just keep working on our project." He hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Our</i> project, you snort to yourself. Frank hasn't done anything connected to the <i>Libra</i> since his conversion to your side. Even Joe has done more by playing around with Monique. So it's real nice of him to pretend like he's had anything to do with anything at all since he and his brother--<br/>
<br/>
And then very dimly the memory comes to you. It's just out of reach, for it's not your memory. It's only a memory of a memory, something you vaguely remember from your time inside Joe's mask. Something to do with ... drains? That doesn't make sense. You scribble the word down and put your mask back on, flipping it to Joe's face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Drains.</i> You're inside Joe's body and mind, frowning at the note you'd left yourself. You free associate, trying to grab that shadow you'd clutched at. <i>Drains. Cisterns. Pipes. Sewers. Basements.</i><br/>
<br/>
Basements! You scramble over to Joe's closet. The old box is in the corner: the old box that Joe and Frank had found in a sub-cellar at Eastman High School. It had been the damnedest thing. Joe had stumbled on it while looking for a private makeout spot beneath the gym. And they weren't sure what they'd found. But it contained a couple of masks and a notebook filled with sigils and gibberish, which suggested to them that it was connected to the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
You haul out the box and dump the contents on the floor. It only takes a glance to see that Joe and Frank had been correct: the masks are identical to the ones you've been making. You pick up the notebook first.<br/>
<br/>
It's an old-style composition book, like an elementary school tablet. The pages are yellowed and brown and brittle. The handwriting is spidery. But you've only to glance at it to see that it contains notes on the <i>Libra</i> spells. Whoever wrote it had the <i>Libra</i> at hand, or was long familiar with it, and had written down as much as possible about it, the spells, and its workings. You flip casually through it, but don't see anything that you don't already know. The notes are sketchy, too, and you doubt that anyone who didn't already know the <i>Libra</i> would be able to glean anything from them.<br/>
<br/>
But that's not what you were remembering. It's one of the masks. Two of them look normal, but the third one has a sigil inside it. You smile faintly as you study it. "So someone else was making remote controlled robots," you murmur, for it's a "remote" mask like the one you made up.<br/>
<br/>
You trace the sigil work with a fingertip, finding the spot where the spellcaster put his name. Well, it might be his name, and it might not. It only has to be a unique code, something to link it to the remotes, and the spellcaster could use his mother's name, or the name of a President, or even "Daffy Duck" if he wanted to. But you feel you know magicians well enough to feel certain that this is the name of the man who made the mask: "Julius Keyserling."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Keyserling.</i> That's the name of the local university. You are vaguely aware that it took its name after receiving a big endowment. Could these be the same Keyserlings? <br/>
<br/>
It would have to be. Blackwell's villa belonged to the Keyserlings as well. You hadn't thought much of that fact--it seemed a bit of trivia--when you found it while trawling his memories. But now ...<br/>
<br/>
You lay back on the floor and let your mind and Joe's pull the threads together. Blackwell, living in a house that belonged to the family that endowed the university. A member of that family apparently had the <i>Libra</i>, and got deep enough into it to fashion a remote control mask. Somehow that mask, and a notebook--Julius Keyserling's? But it looks like an old lady's handwriting--got into Eastman. But the <i>Libra</i> only recently found its way to Saratoga Falls. Where had it been? In upstate New York, where it had been discovered in a deceased woman's estate.<br/>
<br/>
And her name was Shabbleman. The <i>Libra</i> and the rest of her estate was supposed to go to Cuthbert, but Blackwell waylaid it.<br/>
<br/>
You almost call Frank, to tell him you will go up to Cuthbert with him. But you decide to let him snoop around on his own first. You can join him later.<br/>
<br/>
For now ...<br/>
<br/>
You're not an idiot, and you're not going to put on this old control mask. The box is so ancient that the remote might be sitting on a corpse, and then you'd be stuck in a coffin with no way to get out. But you don't have to leave it here.<br/>
<br/>
You go out into the garage, where there are a few mask makings, and with them you put a fresh layer into your own mask, just after the control sigil that links you to your own golem. You then use the "copy" spell in the <i>Libra</i> to transfer the control sigil from the old mask into your own. Now you'll be carrying it around with you, and if you ever figure out where the remote is, you'll be able to access it even without taking off your own mask.<br/>
<br/>
It's been a good night's work, but you're not ready to give up yet. You flip to the next spell in the <i>Libra.</i> It only takes you an hour to figure it out, for it's very similar to the previous one. It leaves you smiling. <i>That can be very useful,</i> you think to yourself as you prepare for bed.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>The next morning.</i> "Switch with me." You nudge Jonathan. <br/>
<br/>
You're in the showers after pre-class practice, and it's only the two of you. He looks over, startled. "Now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. It's safe." You wave your hand in front of your face. "I wanna hang out with Monique. You can have her after school."<br/>
<br/>
He grumbles but accedes, and draws his hand over his face in the arcane gesture. <br/>
<br/>
You do likewise, and the floor falls away a few inches. Now you're looking down at Joe Durras. "Anything I need to know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fake it," he says. "See how you do. I'll be watching."<br/>
<br/>
You just grin, and wander back into the changing room.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Whether you cock anything up, you don't know; certainly, no one says anything to you, and you slide through Jonathan Straussler's day without incident. At lunchtime you pull Monique aside and eat with her alone in back of the school. She's shy and a little distant, and you wonder if <i>this</i> is what Joe was wanting to watch; but you bully through her defenses with a lot of light flirting, and by the end you've got her in your lap. "Shh, don't squirm," you say, for she keeps trying to turn to look at you, and you clasp your arms more firmly about her. "I like this. Looking at the world over your shoulder. The two of us, against the world." Actually, it's the two of you against the football practice field and the screen of trees hiding a subdivision beyond, but it can stand in for "the world."<br/>
<br/>
She relents and drops her head back against your shoulder. She's silent, and your breath and hers mix. You wait until you feel her relax. Then your hand creeps over to the open bag at your side. The mask--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Dammit. It's wedged in with the books.</i><br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?" she asks, looking over.<br/>
<br/>
"Just a little something I wanted to show you," you say, and she stiffens at your words. "Close your eyes." She doesn't move, and you put your free hand over her brow. "Come on. It's a surprise."<br/>
<br/>
She sighs.<br/>
<br/>
You get the mask free and bring it up to her face, jerking your other hand aside just as you press it to her. She goes limp, but only for a moment, and then she really does start to squirm. "What are you doing?" she demands, and twists herself off you.<br/>
<br/>
You kneel over the bag, rummaging through it. "I put it down in-- Oh, fuck." You slap at the bag. "Never mind. I forgot it at home, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"What is all this--"<br/>
<br/>
"It was just a little present I got for you," you say. You scramble over to her, putting your face close to hers. "You know I like to give you little things." <br/>
<br/>
You press in for a kiss, but she pulls back. "The bell's gonna ring," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Come out to my place after school, so I can give it to you?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a weary look. "Maybe. I've already got a ton of homework."<br/>
<br/>
You smile to yourself. <i>She'll be out there. She won't be able to help herself.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yo, stupidus!" you yell into the house as you slam the door. "Frank! Where'd you get off to? Carpenter was--" But the house is empty. Golem-Frank disappeared from school, and he's not here.<br/>
<br/>
But you just shrug and go back into Joe's bedroom, to throw yourself on the bed. <i>This is gonna be great.</i> You brush your hand over your face until you come to the "control sigil" layer.<br/>
<br/>
The world goes blank. This bothers you for a moment, until you see the two patterns floating nearby, like spider webs suspended in a breeze. As you look at them, you instinctively know: One is Will Prescott; the other is Monique Travers. You touch the latter.<br/>
<br/>
The world reappears. You're in a small bedroom, a pencil clutched between your fingers. You blink, and stare, then let a small smile twitch onto your lips.  </span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111122121
author_id: seuzz
title: A Hijacking
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The t-shirt binds tightly to your pert breasts, and you clutch your trim tummy as a hot flush of excitement runs through you. Your breath comes in short gasps, and a long strand of brown hair falls into your face.<br/>
<br/>
You are inside Monique Travers's body. This isn't a disguise, you are in her actual body, and somehow that makes it even more exciting than just looking like her. These are her breasts, and you're thinking with her brain, and if you looked in a mirror--<br/>
<br/>
You jump away from the desk and scamper into the bathroom across the hall, shutting the door before turning on the light. And there it is in the mirror: Monique's face. The wide, staring eyes. The mouth hanging slightly open in wonder and delight. You lean against the vanity and softly brush your cheeks. This isn't just a perfect disguise, it's the girl herself!<br/>
<br/>
You squeal and jump lightly on the balls of your feet.<br/>
<br/>
You have to show Joe. <i>No.</i> You'll just tease him, play the part of the girl. You're not ready to tell him yet what you've found in the book. And you still need to make sure that the new spell works.<br/>
<br/>
The mask you'd put on her was a remote mask, like the one you've got on the Will Prescott golem. It doesn't copy her, and it hasn't got any <i>essentia</i> inside it. It's just sitting on her, carrying the remote sigil, so that you can switch into her whenever you want. But she will still be in control of herself when you're not inside her, overriding her. And she'll remember what she's done during those times.<br/>
<br/>
Like right now. You realize you're squeezing one of her breasts. A lovely shiver runs through you, and your nostrils flare.<br/>
<br/>
<i>So let's test things. Then I'll go see Jonathan.</i><br/>
<br/>
You return to the bedroom and take up the pencil again. You brush the hair from your face, and murmur the words that will return you to your body.<br/>
<br/>
Her bedroom fades, and you find yourself staring again at the ceiling of Joe Durras's bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
You swing to your feet and grab the <i>Libra</i> from the nightstand; from under the bed you pull out the golem doll. You pull the nail from your forehead and yank the mask off; the world reels, but you don't pass out. Blinking hard, you flip through the mask until Monique's face appears. You lay the mask onto the newest sigil and lay the golem doll into it. You grasp it, and concentrate.<br/>
<br/>
A complicated pattern swims into your mind's eye, and you shut your eyes to concentrate on it. It's Monique's <i>anima,</i> the stuff that makes her into <i>her.</i> More importantly, at the moment, it's her mind and memories. You grasp it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The fuck?</i> Panic sweeps over you, and it takes you a moment to disentangle yourself from it. It's not your panic, but Monique's. It's her terror at having found herself seized and manipulated by an outside force. You tighten your grip on her, forcing your will onto hers. You cannot see through her eyes, but you sense her relaxing, going numb. You stroke her and soothe her, and soon she is purring beneath your ministrations.<br/>
<br/>
Then you set to work. You are inside her mind, as though you are wearing her mind band. You cannot manipulate her body, but you can think her thoughts for her, if only you can--<br/>
<br/>
You squirm and slither deeper into her. It's like fitting into a complicated glove. <i>What was I doing? What the hell was all that about? I was just doing my homework and then-- <br/>
<br/>
I should just forget about,</i> you think for her. <i>Just forget it. It didn't happen. Just pick up the pencil again. It's this stupid algebra. God, I hate this stuff. It's all so-- Where was I?</i><br/>
<br/>
You pull back, slightly, as she concentrates on the math. But worry over the sudden attack still runs in the background. You trace the memory of that attack: it's like a smooth ribbon. You find the start, and you find the end point, where she bent back over her books to resume her work.<br/>
<br/>
You snip the memory out, and make it vanish.<br/>
<br/>
Now she's working on math, but she's still worried. <i>Why do I feel sick?</i> you think for her. <i>Why have I got the butterflies so hard suddenly? Oh, it's just this stupid math.</i><br/>
<br/>
You withdraw again, but still watch. Gradually her nervousness dissipates. Soon, there is no sign that she was ever panicked by anything, and she doesn't remember what she had done while you were in her. You release her fully.<br/>
<br/>
You're breathing hard as you open your eyes, and you're trembling as though from hard physical exercise; you've even got a bit of a headache. You rub your arm over your forehead. <i>That was only a little bit of remote manipulation.</i> If you have to do anything harder--<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but you want to. There's no point in doing this if you can't--<br/>
<br/>
You push everything aside and put the mask back on. You're still exhausted, and stiff as you flop back onto the bed. You hope the tiredness doesn't carry over when you-- You activate the sigil again, grasp control of Monique, and--<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"There's my snookie-wookums," you dimple as you pull off the helmet and hang it on the handlebars of the moped. Monique lives on the same side of town as Jonathan, and only about five miles away, so it's easy for her ride over when her parents let her get away. You'd had to make an excuse about getting help with homework. You doubt they had believed you, but hadn't kicked.<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan's eyes narrow. "I don't like 'snookie-wookums'," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't talking to you," you retort, and bed over to rub the head of his dog, who pants happily back and wags his tail. "I've got other names for <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Mm." He doesn't sound happy; maybe he's worried about what his colleague got up to while pretending to be Jonathan at school with her. "You bring your math over?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, just me." You hug him, and crane your neck to look up into his face. "Take me inside?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not carrying you." He just takes you in a light embrace and leads you around the corner of the house, back to his apartments.<br/>
<br/>
It's a little after five, and you intend to spend the whole evening with him, so you don't push things. Mostly it's just game playing. You take a long walk to another part of the house, to the game room with its antique arcade games and pool table, and spend a relaxing time sinking pool balls; you let him guide you through the finer points of handling a cue, laughing the whole time. Back in his "punishment corner" you play on the game console. You laugh and flirt and giggle and take nothing seriously. But he remains cool and quizzical throughout. "Is something wrong," you finally ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"I was going to ask you that," he says. "You're being--" He trails off.<br/>
<br/>
You scrunch up your nose. "There's nothing wrong with <i>me.</i> Maybe I'm being stupid. I've decided to forgive you."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"For being a senior and going off to college next year."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" he asks guardedly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you sigh, and snuggle up close to him. "I liked talking to you today. You made it all seem okay."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm glad," he says, and relaxes enough to put his arm around you. "What exactly did I say that made it all okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing in particular," you shrug. "I think it was just the way you said it. You made me feel--" <br/>
<br/>
You stare at him; he stares back. Then you leap into his lap--he lets out an "oof"--and grab a hard hold of him. "We have the rest of the year. I want <i>everything</i> from you, before-- I don't want to think about it. I just want what we've got <i>now.</i>" You squeeze him hard. "I want <i>nothing</i> between. Just you and me." Your breath comes in hard gasps. "Naked."<br/>
<br/>
He carries you upstairs, and you take your clothes off, and he slides inside you. You grip him tightly. It's like stoking a volcano, and you scream raggedly as you cum. <i>Monique's body. Monique's tightly, lovely body</i> shudders and thrashes.<br/>
<br/>
You'll set it up so that she's always willing to do this. And it will be totally safe, since Jonathan will always be a fake with her.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's very dark by the time you've done it, and eaten, and done it again, so Jonathan drives you back home. The fun with him is over, but you figure it'll be easier to manipulate Monique into the desired state if you put her to bed and to sleep. You work until nearly midnight, finishing up her stacks of homework and pushing her into exhaustion. Before going to bed you indulge yourself in a nice, hot shower, and you're not shy about exploring her body while you do so. You get all nice and shuddery and excited again, touching yourself all over in the shower and with the coarse towel afterward. You get in nice, soft pajamas. You're just padding into her bedroom when the world suddenly spins violently and vanishes.<br/>
<br/>
"Gah!" You gasp hard, and your back arches. You blink and swallow.<br/>
<br/>
You're staring up at a dingy ceiling lit by an equally dingy yellowish light. You shift, and find that your arms are bound tightly behind your back. Your ankles are also bound. You twist to look around.<br/>
<br/>
Frank is standing nearby, smirking darkly at you. Your eyes fall to his hands: he is holding a mask. "There he is, Grandmother," he says in a voice not quite his own. "The real one. Will Prescott. Distant, lowland relation."<br/>
<br/>
"I know the name," a harsh voice answers. You look down at your feet. An immensely fat, immensely old woman stares back at you; in each gnarled hand she fondles the handle of a cane. Her black eyes gleam with malice, and her mouth curls up in an evil smile. <br/>
<br/>
"It's bin many years, William," she says. "My, but you've grown."</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211111221211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Prisoner in Cuthbert
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your head swims as you look between your captors. You can only gasp one word: "Frank?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's me," he smirks back.<br/>
<br/>
"What--?"<br/>
<br/>
But the old woman interrupts. "I'll be leaving yew alone wich'er thoughts, William," she says, and with much creaking and groaning gets to her feet. "Be comfortable, as much as yew can. Thankee, boy," she says to Frank as he helps her up. "Yew did well, very well, and I'll keep account of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Thank you, Grandmother," he murmurs, and helps her hobble through the doorway. He shoots you one last, malicious glance before shutting you in.<br/>
<br/>
You twist around to get a better look at your prison. It's a small room, very dingy, with a single window. There's a wardrobe and small shelf covered in porcelain knickknacks; the floor is hardwood. You're laying on a bed covered with a thin, floral-patterned comforter. <i>An old lady's room,</i> you think to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
You lay back, trying to get as comfortable as you can, considering that your arms are bound behind you. You search back for memories. You only have your own--and the very dim memories associated with your various guises and disguises--which means you're in your own body. That mask Frank had: it must be your mask. But how did he get it off you? The nail should have--<br/>
<br/>
You groan. In your hurry to get back into Monique, you hadn't nailed the mask to your face after putting it back on. So that's how Frank got it off you.<br/>
<br/>
The more important question, of course, is why he took it off you, and why he's cooperating with--<br/>
<br/>
The old woman. She seems very familiar, but you can't quite place her.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Think, you moron, think!</i><br/>
<br/>
Okay, Frank went up to Cuthbert this morning--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Cuthbert. Will Shabbleman.</i> It's been several days since you were inside your cousin's head, and you don't really remember anything from the short time you were there. But that clicks. Frank mentioned an old woman in Cuthbert, and talked about "Grandmother." That must be her.<br/>
<br/>
You don't like thinking about her. She was huge, malignant, ugly as mortal sin. Frank had also seen signs of "witchery" in Cuthbert on his first trip. Did the old woman somehow get Frank's mask off him, and enchant him into becoming a slave?<br/>
<br/>
Or--your throat constricts--has the "Will Prescott" that controls Frank switched sides, and chosen to work with her for his own selfish purposes?<br/>
<br/>
That would be terrifying, but either that was your erstwhile alter ego you saw, or it's the golem that has Will Shabbleman underneath. <br/>
<br/>
But the golem wouldn't have been able to get a mask off you; golems can't do magic. <br/>
<br/>
So that's got to be the real Frank. Either he only pretended to go to Cuthbert, or he drove back to get you while you were diddling around inside Monique. <br/>
<br/>
And if Frank is now working for the old woman, presumably he would have told her everything, including everything about the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
You feel your cheeks pale. If Frank found you in Joe's bedroom, he would have also found the <i>Libra</i> there. It's a terrible thought, the <i>Libra</i> in the hands of that hideous old woman. Almost as bad as the thought that one of your partners--someone who is, in a sense, <i>you</i>--is a traitor.<br/>
<br/>
There's got to be another explanation. Maybe "Frank" isn't Frank, maybe it's actually the golem. Maybe Grandmother got control of it, and sent it back to Saratoga Falls, and she was the one who pulled the mask from you. After all, the <i>Libra</i> used to belong to the Shabbleman clan, and maybe they still know how to use it.<br/>
<br/>
But how would she know anything about the golem, so as to get control of it long-distance? <br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes again and think about Grandmother and Will Shabbleman. What do you know about them? Not much. There was that thing she put on him, that cock ring--<br/>
<br/>
The cock ring. You didn't get a good look at the sigil that dissolved when you took it off him, but you do remember the feeling of unease you had around the fake Frank. And there was that moment--you'd almost forgotten--when you'd felt something pressing at the door of Joe's bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
There are ways of spying on people at a distance. Blackwell knew how to make them up. You never used them--there was no need--so you never studied that kind of spell. But now you wonder if that cock ring wasn't a "watcher" set on Will Shabbleman. It would make sense that an old witch would spy on one of her kin while sending him out to spy for her. Maybe that was the reason she let him go: so she could spy directly on those who had sought her out. If so, then she would have seen, even heard, everything that was done in the presence of golem-Frank. Then she would have known almost from the start that her grandson had been captured and replaced. <br/>
<br/>
She called him, Frank had said. She wanted him to return to Cuthbert. Maybe she trapped Frank. Maybe she killed him. That would have broken his control over the golem, resurrecting Will Shabbleman and giving him control of the "Frank" mask you had put on him.<br/>
<br/>
Dread and horror overwhelm you. Which is worse: that Frank might be a traitor, or that he is dead?<br/>
<br/>
You fight the bonds, but they are cruelly tight.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A very long time passes, and you grow chillier and sweatier. You flinch at each footstep outside the door. Your only hope is Joe, and he doesn't know what has happened. <br/>
<br/>
You twist and turn, and as exhausted as you are you cannot even fall into a stupor, let alone sleep, for fear and dread.<br/>
<br/>
How many hours pass, you can't tell; and with the light burning in the ceiling you can't even tell if it's morning through the window. <br/>
<br/>
But they haven't forgotten you. After many hours, the doorknob rattles, and you turn stiffly as the door opens.<br/>
<br/>
Someone who looks just like you comes into the room. "How you doin', buddy," he asks in a nasal whine. "Get any sleep? I didn't either, but I bet I was more comfortable than you."<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing.<br/>
<br/>
He smirks and wipes at his face. His too-large clothes tighten as he frame swells. "These masks are da bomb," Joe Durras says. "I haven't figured out which face I like best--" Another wipe. "I'm not fond of this one," Aubrey Blackwell grimaces as his clothes tighten around his bulk, threatening to burst. "Or this one," says Melody Weiss. "My Rosalie doesn't like me looking like this," says Will Shabbleman. "So I think I'll stick to this look," concludes Frank Durras. "Be easier to manage you, too."<br/>
<br/>
This display, of course, tells you nothing about who this asshole is. <br/>
<br/>
He brandishes a scary-looking knife, and grins nastily before bending over to slice away the cords at your ankles. "Get up. Grandmother has business with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Where am I?" you croak. Your mouth and throat are now very dry. You are very stiff as you swing to your feet.<br/>
<br/>
"Nowhere you want to be," says Frank. "And that's exactly where we want you."<br/>
<br/>
He pushes you roughly toward the door, and you stumble to one knee. He hauls you up rudely and pushes you into a hallway. An ornate stairway leads up to a second floor. A bony, middle-aged woman peers out through a doorway before hurriedly withdrawing. Frank grasps you by the back of the pants and hustles you through a foyer and outside.<br/>
<br/>
It is morning--very early by the look of the light and the feel of the cold air--and the grass squelches wetly under your feet. You glance around. There are a few ramshackle houses across the street; your prison was a large, two-story house. Frank shoves you along around the corner.<br/>
<br/>
There's a huge wooden crate here, looking and smelling very foul. The front is hinged and has been opened up. Grandmother, leaning against two canes, looms beside it. "Good morning, young William," she says. "Yew rest well?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where am I?" you ask again.<br/>
<br/>
Frank laughs. "Yeah, he's as stupid as he looks."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't underestimate him, boy," the old woman says sharply. "Your cousin has many hidden talents." Her eyes shift to you. "I would prefer not to have to ... <i>extract</i> them."<br/>
<br/>
You swallow hard.<br/>
<br/>
She leans forward, like a fat, gouty old crow. "Yew're in Cuthbert, William," she says. "Yew remember Cuthbert?" You nod. "We don't like strangers in Cuthbert. But yew're not a stranger, are ye, William? Yew're kin. Yewr mother was a Martin, and yewr grandmother was a Stewart, and yewr great-grandmother was a Shabbleman. Same as me. We're cousins at some degrees removed, young William, but yew can call me 'Grandmother'. Ev'yone does." She twists the canes.<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing. Her expression darkens.<br/>
<br/>
"Yew're kin, William," she says. "Wi'ch is why I'm willin' to bargain wi'chyew. We don't bargain with lowlanders in Cuthbert. We take what we want from 'em. An' I've taken what I've <i>long</i> wanted." Behind you, Frank laughs harshly. "Aye," Grandmother continues. "I have it now, an old heirloom. I will have <i>yew</i> too, by one means or another. In my generosity, I leave the choice to yew."<br/>
<br/>
She fumbles at a handbag hanging on the crook of her arm, and from it draws something wrinkled that has a shaggy black wad of hair at the end. She pulls it free and shakes it out. It looks like a costume of some kind. She holds it up. "Shall I have yew, or only yer <i>skin,</i>" she leers.<br/>
<br/>
And then you recognize the deflated, baggy thing in her hand. It's Frank Durras.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111112212111
author_id: seuzz
title: What Happens to Bad Boys
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your knees almost give out as you stare as the monstrosity Grandmother brandishes at you. It hangs limp and loose, like a deflated balloon, but as she turns it this way and that you can't mistake it for anything but what it is: the skin of Frank Durras. It is brown and mottled, and the face is stretched into what looks like a wordless scream; the eyeholes are empty, except where a bit of the back of his head shows.<br/>
<br/>
"What did you do to him?" you hoarsely murmur, and tear your eyes from the ghastly sight.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah kin shew yew, if'n yew want," she says. "Tho' yew won't survive the demonstration."<br/>
<br/>
It takes all your strength just to remain upright, and your heart hammers in your chest. She killed him. Somehow she caught him--despite his talents and strength and training--and she killed him. And she has you entirely at her mercy. "What do you want from me?" you ask thickly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yer home, William," she says. "Home and wi'chyer kin. Act accordin'ly."<br/>
<br/>
Your chest is heavy as you speak. "Whatever you say." You swallow, trying not to vomit. "Grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"Yer a good boy, William," she jeers. "Or, at least, yer clever enough. Kiss yer grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
You raise your eyes. She leers back: little, black, piggy eyes peering out from under a beetling brow, over thick rolls of rouged, bristly cheeks; a sunken mouth over a weak chin. You suppress a shudder, and step forward. You brush lips over her cheek, and taste something harsh and bitter in the back of your throat.<br/>
<br/>
"Good, William," she says as you step back. "Now. Into the box with ye." She points at the crate.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"There are good boys and bad boys. B'fore I shew yew favor, I will shew yew what we do to naughty children. And yew've been very naughty, holding my keepsakes from me. Into the box."<br/>
<br/>
Frank--Shabbleman, under a mask, you now know--grabs you and folds you in half, thrusting you backward into the crate. You land hard on your tailbone. You've just time to see his leering face before he slams the door shut.<br/>
<br/>
You're hunched up, knees under chin, arms behind your back. You have to hunch, for there's no room to straighten up. You shift to your side, trying to find a way to get comfortable, but there's no room. You're wedged in. You vaguely remember watching old movies with your dad where prisoners got put into things like this. Sweat boxes, you think they were called. At least it's not summer. The air is musty, and something in the box stinks, but it's cool.<br/>
<br/>
You blink into the dark. How long will they leave you here? It's going to hurt before long, but if you can just power through, it will be over eventually. It's like when you had to have three teeth pulled on the same day, back when you were twelve. You'd laid back in the chair and reminded yourself that in a little while--<br/>
<br/>
Something rustles behind you. You twist your head, but you can't really turn it, and it's dark. But what could it be? Your bowels loosen. Are they going to put rats in here with you? <i>Oh, God!</i> If they're not just going to shut you up in here--<br/>
<br/>
Something hairy brushes your cheek, and you jerk away, banging your head. But the thing sits on your shoulder, brushing your cheek. It's not a rat. It's long, and bristly, like a snake in a fur coat. You shrink back.<br/>
<br/>
Another hairy thing touches your hands. A third drops over your head. It's climbing over you!<br/>
<br/>
And then, even though you're in a small box, in pitch darkness, you can see it, in your imagination, at least.<br/>
<br/>
It's a monstrous spider. A tarantula, as big as a horse, settling over you. You can even see the gleam in its multiple eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You scream.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
How long you were in the box you were never sure. How long the thing crawled around you, caressing you, spreading its stink, pressing its horrible, bloated, body against your face, gagging and suffocating you ... You shut out the memory afterward, as best you could.<br/>
<br/>
And then the snakes came-- The pythons--<br/>
<br/>
Even after the door to the crate opened, and you were hauled out to lay panting on the grass, you could feel the things writhing around you. Your skin felt like it was trying to shake itself off your very frame as you were pulled to your feet and pushed inside the house. The dry air of the house was like bats' wings beating at your head, and the low, dirty sofa rolled beneath you like a living thing. When the cords were finally, blessedly cut from your wrists, you fell onto your side and curled into a ball and shuddered and shuddered and shuddered--<br/>
<br/>
"Drink this," a soft voice says.<br/>
<br/>
You look up.<br/>
<br/>
It's a girl. A young woman, actually. She looks like she's about your age. Her face is rather pretty, with large, grave eyes and pale cheeks with just the lightest flush of roses. Dirty-blonde hair falls in loose ringlets about her face.<br/>
<br/>
She holds out a glass containing a few fingers of a brown liquid. "Drink this," she says again. "You'll feel better."<br/>
<br/>
You could hardly feel worse. Feeling has returned to your hands and arms, and you're able to take it without trembling. The girl watches carefully as you raise it to your lips. The smell is harsh--it's Scotch or whiskey or something--and you gasp and choke as it goes down. But it warms and steadies you. "Thanks," you say as you return the glass to her.<br/>
<br/>
"Grandmother told me to give it to you," she says. She glances nervously over her shoulder. "My name's Rosalie," she says softly.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm Will," you say, and slowly rise to a sitting position. "They put me in--"<br/>
<br/>
"Shh," she says. "I know where they put you. They put everyone there. Just try to--" Again, she looks over her shoulder. "Forget about it," she whispers. She straightens up. "Grandmother wants to see you," she says more loudly and firmly, and holds out a hand. "Come on."<br/>
<br/>
She helps you up--she is stronger than she looks--and guides you along. You seem to be in a parlor, and she leads you into a foyer and past the staircase into the back. Through one doorway you see a dining room and a kitchen beyond, but she takes you around another corner and down a long corridor. At the end is a tall doorway.<br/>
<br/>
Grandmother is standing in it, hunched over her canes. "Feeling better, William?" she asks. "Yew ready to be a good boy again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes ma'am," you say dully.<br/>
<br/>
Her lips twist, and her eyes flick between you and the girl. "Such a pretty pair you make," she says. "My other William will have to watch hisself a little more carefully." She regards you appraisingly, then gestures you to follow her into the room. Rosalie closes the door, leaving you alone with the old crone.<br/>
<br/>
Briefly, you wonder if you could overpower her. Beat her brains in.<br/>
<br/>
The room is close, windowless. It's bare of anything but a small bookshelf and a huge chair and a stool and an antique desk. The <i>Libra</i> lays open on the latter. Grandmother points at the stool while settling into the chair with a groan. You sit before her, knees tight together.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm shewing yew great and early favor, William," she says. "I only put yew the box for a little while. And I've brought yew into my study, here--" She gestures proudly at the little room. "Where <i>none</i> may step. Where I keep all my secret treasures."<br/>
<br/>
You glance around. There don't seem to be a lot of treasures. Certainly her library is only a fraction of the size of Blackwell's.<br/>
<br/>
"We've much to discuss, young William," she says, and leans forward. "My other Will, the one you kidnapped--" Her lip curls hard. "He has told me much since recovering hisself. It was good of yew to put him inside a mask, with the faces of people who knew how to use them." Her eyes glitter. "But we must be careful not to share all of our secrets wi'ch'im. He is crafty. And he would put <i>yew</i> in the box and never let you out."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do whatever you want, Grandmother," you say. The drink has steadied you, but there is no way you will resist her.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. He told me much, as I said. But <i>yew</i> tell me yer story now. All of it." She leans forward eagerly.<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath. "It's a long one, ma'am."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't bore easily. Not at the <i>truth,</i> William." There's no mistaking the menace in her tone.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So you tell her everything, as much as you can, from the beginning. Arnholm's. Blackwell. The hex. Your destruction of the magician and your taking his legacy. Catching Frank and Joe, and kidnapping her grandson. She listens intently throughout.<br/>
<br/>
"Yew're most resourceful," she says at the end of it all. "Most talented." She trembles as she opens a desk drawer and takes out four items: two nails, a mask, and a metal band. You catch your breath at the latter: It's one of your <i>anima</i> bands. "I've not studied the old <i>Libra</i> yet," she murmurs. "But I kin reco'nize craftsmanship when I see it. You and I, young William, together--" She gasps, and you can see the hunger--the lust--in her eyes, and shrink back. She doesn't notice. "Your blood, your essence, is what I've been searching for my whole life."<br/>
<br/>
An idea comes to you. You point to the <i>anima</i> band. "If you put that thing on yourself--"<br/>
<br/>
"That won't be happening," she snaps, and for a moment you think you've overplayed your hand. "And I would know why not!" She leans forward, eyes blazing.<br/>
<br/>
"Ma'am?" you squeak, leaning back.<br/>
<br/>
"I tried this mask!" She clutches it in a claw-like hand. "My Will had to pull it from me, for it burned there. The <i>Libra</i> is mine, and young Will sports a mask. But they will not work for <i>me!</i> Why? Tell me!" Her expression is terrible.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111122121111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Witch-Queen of Cuthbert
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I don't understand, ma'am," you squeak. Grandmother frowns fiercely. "I want to help, but you have to tell me exactly what you mean."<br/>
<br/>
She grasps the mask tightly. "I put it on myself," she rasps. "To see for myself. My Will, he lies, as <i>yew</i> lie!" You shrink back. "I would see the truth for myself. And these are <i>mine,</i> yea, as the <i>Libra</i> is mine, and I will parcel out my gifts to those that deserve them!" Her eyes glitter madly. "But it burned on my brow. I saw nothing, and Will had to wrench it from my face!" She leans in on you. "What curse did you place on it, boy?"<br/>
<br/>
"None, ma'am," you squawk. "Anyone should be able to--!"<br/>
<br/>
You stop cold. An idea has come to you.<br/>
<br/>
Her hand darts out, grasping your wrist. Her grip is like iron. "What do yew know, boy?"<br/>
<br/>
"The only ones that can't use them-- Ma'am." You swallow. "You can do magic, can't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I kin do worse than that!"<br/>
<br/>
"The mask on your grandson. Can you take it off him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Aye." Her lips slaver. "Once he taught me the words. I practiced on him, but let him keep it afterward, as a favor."<br/>
<br/>
<i>So she's not a golem.</i> "Then I don't know what the problem is. Unless it has something to do with--"<br/>
<br/>
"With what?" Her grip tightens around your wrist.<br/>
<br/>
You squirm. "Let me put that mask on, Grandmother. I'm trying to help you, I don't want to go back in the box! But I don't know-- There's a face in that mask, he knows the theory a lot better than me. If I could get into his face, use his brain to think about it--!"<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes are rheumy, and feverish with suspicion. Her breath slithers in and out of her mouth raggedly. She stares at you, through you. Probably it's only because you are genuinely uncertain that she relents.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly she pushes the mask toward you. "Have a care, boy," she says. "There's worse places than the box. And after them-- Yewr skin!"<br/>
<br/>
You shudder and gulp and nod. Your hands tremble as you put the mask to your face. The world goes in and out of focus. You're still in your own face, and raise your hand to switch to Joe's.<br/>
<br/>
But then you pause. <i>She can't wear one of the masks. But she's not a golem. There's another out there who is not a golem: Monique Travers. What would happen if you put a mask on her? For she is already wearing a mask.</i><br/>
<br/>
You brush your face, and feel yourself change. Joe Durras. Another gesture. Frank Durras. Melody Weiss. Aubrey Blackwell. Will Shabbleman. And then yourself again. You're sitting in the layer where you copied the mysterious control sigil.<br/>
<br/>
It's the sigil you found in an old mask recovered by Frank and Joe. A mask crafted by you know not who, very long ago. A mask that was in the possession of a very old woman, now dead, in upstate New York. An old woman who was a Shabbleman.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart beats hard. Where would you find yourself if you plunged into it? Could you recover yourself?<br/>
<br/>
You look at Grandmother, and realize you'd be perfectly safe. Even if you landed someplace bad, she would rip the mask from your face once she saw you settle into a trance. And if the remote sigil is where you now suspect it is--<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes, and plunge into the mystery sigil.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Will Prescott slides off the stool, onto the floor. You stare down at him. <i>Liar! Fool!</i> a voice screams in your head.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Clever son of a bitch,</i> you correct yourself. You grip the cane in your crooked hand and bend forward, as far as you can over your bloated belly, and peer at him. He is pale, green, even. He hasn't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours.<br/>
<br/>
You can correct that.<br/>
<br/>
You grasp the other cane and force yourself to your feet. Bones scream. But you've got Florence Shabbleman's will to help, and her old body knows better than to fail you.<br/>
<br/>
You lurch to the door and open it. "Will!" you screech. "Boy! Shew yerself!" Footsteps, and Will Shabbleman--still in Frank's face--appears. "Yer cousin's fainted. Fetch him up to my bedroom." <br/>
<br/>
Shabbleman nods, and squeezes past as you continue down the hallway. <br/>
<br/>
"Rosalie!" you call. "Rosalie!" The slim girl who'd revived you earlier appears, her head ducked deferentially. "Yer lowlander cousin's in a poor way. Your Will is taking him to my bedroom. Look after him. He is sickly, and apt not to recover without nourishment. Make him a good broth and feed it to him. See that he don't choke on it. His skin's worth a hundred of yewrs."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Grandmother," she says, and hurries past to help her intended.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Her intended.</i> Will and Rosalie are to be married. Will and Rosalie are the best of the Shabbleman clan, bred as free of deformity as possible, and with an eye toward--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Essence. The blood is the life,</i> Florence Shabbleman's own grandmother had taught her. <i>Blood is </i>essentia. <i>The new Will has it, with a purity and power like none that the Shabblemans could ever suspect.<br/>
<br/>
That's why he was able to hijack the old witch's body,</i> you grin to yourself as you hobble into the parlor. That, and an ability to gamble right when all the chips were against him.<br/>
<br/>
And they were all against you. Nate Shabbleman, the town constable, is waiting just inside the front door. "Yew bring it?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"Shew it to me." You settle heavily onto the couch and grip your canes hard, steeling yourself for the sight of--<br/>
<br/>
From a dirty bag at his shoulder Nate pulls out a skin. "It's a handsome one," he says. "Many'd be in your debt to wear it for the week it lasts."<br/>
<br/>
He holds up the limp, shapeless remains of Joe Durras by his mop of hair.<br/>
<br/>
"A week?" you cackle. "I've lately learned ways of making these things last much longer than that."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" His eyebrows go up.<br/>
<br/>
"Yew've done well for me these last two days, Nathaniel," you say softly. "Yew know I keep accounts."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"But leave it for now. I must think a spell."<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes, and hear Nate trudge out. And then you hear Will and Rosalie dragging your comatose body upstairs. That last will be the most important thing. You've got to keep your real body alive, until you figure out a way of safely relinquishing this temporary abode.<br/>
<br/>
But until then you are perfectly safe. For now you are in possession of Florence Shabbleman, the witch-ruler of Cuthbert.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Young Will'll be driving up in a few hours," she had told Nate yesterday morning. "Meet him at Jasper's, take 'im to Hank's for a belt. Tell Hank you want his best. I'm pleased with my grandson." A few hours later Hank--to whom she'd given separate, careful orders--called to say that Will and Nate had both collapsed in their booth. <i>Naturally,</i> since she'd had Hank give them tainted hooch. She'd seen enough through the Watcher in Saratoga Falls to give no quarter to the imposter who'd returned under her grandson's face.<br/>
<br/>
She'd not even given him a chance to recover before having him hauled to the church and drained by The Still, leaving only his skin and three other items that had fallen from him. Not fifteen minutes later, she'd gotten a frantic phone call from someone professing to be her grandson, telling her that he'd been trapped by--<br/>
<br/>
"I know well what befell ye," she'd told him. "Yew're now in the mind and body of one who called himself 'Frank'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes'm."<br/>
<br/>
"There'll be another in the house--"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"Fetch him up here, if'n yew can, and mark well that you bring anything that mind of yours says is important."<br/>
<br/>
Thirty minutes later he'd called to say he'd caught Joe in the bedroom and bound him up. "He's in some kind of trance." And in that state he'd brought him, along with many other prizes.<br/>
<br/>
But there remained one more to catch. After some accidents with masks, she'd ordered young Will to use his "Frank" guise to lure the third to Cuthbert. He, too, had fallen into the trap, and while Will Prescott was screaming in the box she'd had Joe drained in The Still.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Help me to my bed, girl," you tell Rosalie, and put out a hand. You've barely the strength to rise, and lean on her as well as your canes as you slowly shuffle down the hallway to the master bedroom on the ground floor. "What thought yew of your new cousin?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"Yew will like him. He is a lowlander. He is not like us. He will be kinder to yew."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
You sink onto your bed. "Undress me." Off come the shawls and the blouses and the undergarments, revealing your walrus-like body in all its hideousness before a sleeping gown goes on. "Yes, yew and yer new cousin must become better acquainted. He is a fitter one for yew than your intended."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"So look after him. He is likely to die without you. Keep him well fed, though he seems to sleep. Yew would prefer him to yewr Will, would you not?"<br/>
<br/>
"I prefer the one you tell me to prefer, Grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"I will be kind to yew, Rosalie, and end yewr engagement to Will, so long as the other one lives."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Grandmother." She swallows. "Thank you, Grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"Do not tell yewr Will. Leave that to me. We must make him more ... pliant." Your voice fades, and you close your eyes even before Rosalie puts out the lights.<br/>
<br/>
But you are wide awake, and lay watchfully in the dark. <br/>
<br/>
Despite its advantages, this is a horrible body. But craftiness is one of Grandmother's best traits, and you think you see a way of escaping it while still keeping the secret control you have won.<br/>
<br/>
But it would involve sacrificing Rosalie.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211111221211111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Transformation, Part 1
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your gamble paid off nicely: the mysterious remote mask that Frank and Joe found has been resting on Florence Shabbleman, probably for decades, without her realizing it. That's why you could slip into her body and take control of her. <br/>
<br/>
But you don't want to stay in her grotesque old body. Lucky you've got Grandmother's cunning old mind to help. So you rise early the next morning and put an alternate plan into action.<br/>
<br/>
"Fetch a crew," you order Nate. "Tear out the floor to the church and put in a ramp. I have need to operate The Still."<br/>
<br/>
"I kin operate it fer yew, Grandmother," he protests. "Long as you guide me."<br/>
<br/>
"Do as yer told," you snap back, and he scurries to carry out your directive. You then order Aunt Sarah, the bony old woman who watches the town through the eyes of her idiot daughter, to fetch a set of supplies from a list you've drawn up. "Mind yew get it right," you warn her.<br/>
<br/>
While she's gone you take the sack of Joe's remains back into the study. You place the mask he'd been wearing onto the <i>Libra</i> and erase all its contents, leaving a fresh new mask in its place. You then summon Rosalie. "There's a change coming to Cuthbert," you tell her. "I have great plans fer yew, girl. You must put this to your face." Docilely--she is always docile--she sits on the floor as you direct and dons the mask. "Yew'll thank me in time," you tell her when she's recovered. "But not yet. Go prepare a large breakfast--food for a hungry, growing boy--and fetch it upstairs to yer charge."<br/>
<br/>
"Do I feed it to him?" she hesitantly asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Just leave it. Now send Sarah in."<br/>
<br/>
Aunt Sarah leaves you with the supplies she'd bought, and with them you mix a sealant that fixes Rosalie's <i>imago</i> in the fresh mask. You also prepare a single mind band.<br/>
<br/>
Sarah then helps you up the stairs to the room where your real body lies unconscious on the bed. You're looking bad, but you'll soon put that to rights, for the breakfast Rosalie had prepared sits steaming nearby. After dismissing Sarah, you take from her box of purchases Hank's special bottle of hooch and draw a long pull. It burns going down. As the room swims, you wave your hand over your face in a complicated gesture ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Grandmother Shabbleman glares at you weakly as you sit up. "I'll turn yer bones to milk," she cries. But that curse is all she can manage before her head sags. But it chills you enough that you don't smile. You pull the remote mask from her face--and glance inside it, to see the twin of the control sigil that you'd fortuitously copied into your own mask--and press the new mind band to her forehead. When it reappears, you put the remote back onto her.<br/>
<br/>
You're so hungry you don't even feel pangs anymore. But you gobble down the pile of scrambled eggs and sausages and ham and toast and potatoes, chasing it with hot coffee. Your strength somewhat restored, you review your plans, to see that you've got them correctly set up. Then, satisfied with your progress, you brush your face again, returning to Grandmother's body.<br/>
<br/>
By the clock, it is nearly two hours before you regain consciousness.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's late afternoon before a dirty and sweaty Nate Shabbleman returns with word that the temporary ramp has been erected. "Good," you tell him. "Now, there's a boy upstairs. He can't move, being in a deep sleep. Fetch him to the church. I'll meet yew there. Sarah! Rosalie!" The two women appear as Nate goes upstairs. "Help me to the car. Sarah, take that bag." You point to the sack that contains the supplies you'll need.<br/>
<br/>
You note Will Shabbleman--still done up like Frank--watching you from the side of the street. You don't speak to him, but: <i>You'll get yours soon,</i> you think to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
It's a short drive of about a mile to the church, a dirty pile of polluted stonework that hasn't been used for its original purpose in many decades. Sarah and Rosalie help you up the stairs to the main door and into the sanctuary; your progress is so slow that Nate and Sam Gibson--who are carrying your real body--pass you on the way in. There's a gaping hole in the floor where a huge chunk of the foundation has been ripped away; a rough plywood ramp leads down into it, running parallel to a set of stairs that normally offers entrance to the blasphemy in the basement.<br/>
<br/>
You dismiss Sarah and rely on Rosalie to help you down. "Yew know I've always intended the best fer yew, girl," you mutter. "The hopes of me and mine have rested on you since the day yew were born."<br/>
<br/>
"If you say so, Grandmother," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't sass me, girl," you snap. "If I've treated yew badly at any time, it's been to prepare ye. Yew've a kingdom awaiting yew." She says nothing. "Yew'll do as I say, knowin' it's fer yer own benefit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Grandmother," she says quietly. But her tone is hopeless.<br/>
<br/>
You almost relent. The poor girl spent many times in the box. She doesn't deserve--<br/>
<br/>
But you've your own skin to worry about.<br/>
<br/>
Yes. <i>Skin.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Sam, yew kin go," you tell him. "Nate. Rosalie. Stay and help." You point to your prone body. "That boy there, he's the one we've been needing. He has the power in him that--" You raise your eyes to regard the horror.<br/>
<br/>
It's been there since before your time--since before Florence Shabbleman's time, you silently correct yourself. The monstrosity constructed more than a hundred years ago, but which has only partially functioned in the years since--<br/>
<br/>
You can't stop the characteristic scowl from forming on your face. <i>In the seventy years since the Keyserling mob stormed the town, burning the church and many other buildings. In the seventy years since they wrecked everything the Shabbleman clan had carefully built up. In the seventy years since they looted the place, stealing the </i>Libra<i> and kidnapping your twin sister, Margaret.</i><br/>
<br/>
Margaret Shabbleman. Now a dead woman. <br/>
<br/>
As Florence herself soon will be.<br/>
<br/>
As for the thing beneath the church: You call it "The Still," for that's what it resembles. Three huge steel tanks hang from the ceiling, each sprouting a mare's nest of tightly coiled metal tubes. These all lead to a bulbous glass cylinder, and it hurts your eyes to look at it; the curves on it seem all wrong, and you have the unsettling impression that it is inside out. Another glass tube leads from it to a thing that looks like a pressure cooker suspended by wires from the ceiling. And from this hangs a rubber tube, ending in a long, vicious-looking needle that hangs next to a chair.<br/>
<br/>
"The boy. Lay him beneath the console." The latter is a large wooden box, with thin tubes coming out one side to connect to the mass on the ceiling, and other tubes disappearing into the walls, where they connect to the pipe organ upstairs. "And now, Rosalie, I need yew to sit in that chair."<br/>
<br/>
Rosalie looks at it fearfully, and for a moment you think she will refuse. But she's been bred and broken to obey. And so, looking like a girl who knows she is about to die, she takes her seat. "Now bind her, Nate," you order the constable. "So that she don't thrash and hurt herself while we make the change."<br/>
<br/>
Nate looks at you, and beneath his poker-face exterior you can see the loathing and hatred for the old woman you are possessing. The chair has straps at the ankles and wrists, and he buckles Rosalie in. Her face goes very long, and a single tear runs down her cheek.<br/>
<br/>
"The needle, now."<br/>
<br/>
Nate jabs it into the back of Rosalie's neck. She gasps, and her eyes bulge.<br/>
<br/>
You could order Nate to perform the rest of the tasks, but you prefer to busy yourself; it will keep you from having to look at the girl. So you lurch about, adjusting nozzles and valves and tubes; there are a few knobs to turn as well. When you are satisfied, you flick a switch.<br/>
<br/>
Rosalie gurgles long and low. You keep your back to her. You know what you would see, and prefer not to see it. Soon, the racket of tanks groaning and tubes gurgling drowns out her soft death agonies.<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later, Nate speaks. "It's done, Grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"Set her to the side," you say. "Now help <i>me</i> into the chair."<br/>
<br/>
Nate looks up sharply from the mess of skin and clothing he is disentangling from the needle and tubes. "Grandmother?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yew heard me. Help me in. Then do <i>exactly</i> as I say."<br/>
<br/>
He is very tentative at touching you as he helps you in, and binds the straps to you only loosely. You crane your neck to watch and bark orders as he makes the small adjustments necessary for the machine to work again. "Now. When I am gone, toss my skin and clothes to the side. I won't be needing them again. But take Rosalie's skin, and hook it back up to the needle." Nate's eyes widen. "As I said, Nathaniel. Then yew will turn <i>that</i> switch--" You point. "--to the left, and <i>that</i> one so it points upward. Start The Still agi'n. Then <i>leave.</i> Wait outside." You glare hard at him. "Give a girl her privacy for when she reappears." You flash Grandmother's most evil grin.<br/>
<br/>
Nate swallows hard, but nods. "Yes ma'am."<br/>
<br/>
You settle back. There is only one great gamble to make, and it's not on Nate's disappearing when you have to make the old switcheroo on him. It's when--<br/>
<br/>
You gasp and jump sharply as he jabs the needle into the back of your neck. It grinds hard against bone. <i>Probably the asshole enjoyed himself doing it.</i><br/>
<br/>
And then with a growl The Still roars to life.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111112212111111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Transformation, Part 2
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's like a great sucking deep inside you.<br/>
<br/>
No surprise. That's exactly what it is.<br/>
<br/>
You feel it first in your toes, which curl up tight. Impossibly tight. You lose all feeling in them. Then your feet go numb. You grip the arms of the chair, tighter and more tightly still, and grip them unwillingly. Your eyes bulge from their sockets as you look down. Your fingers are flat, like empty gloves.<br/>
<br/>
You don't see much more, for the light begins to dim, and the wall opposite seems to draw away, as though disappearing down a tunnel. A sound like water roars in your ears. You gasp and gargle, trying to scream as your brain tears away from your skull. Something invisible is ripping at your face, wrenching, clawing at it. There's a cracking noise, and something shatters--<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your eyes snap open, and you blink until the thing comes into view: the underside of a wooden box.<br/>
<br/>
You're back in your own body. Just as the masks and bands fell from Joe and Frank when they were put in the still, the remote mask must have fallen from Grandmother after the thing got a good hard hold of her.<br/>
<br/>
That's what you were gambling on--that you'd escape the force of The Still even as it sucked Grandmother down. But now you sense a new danger. What will Nate do when he finds a mask has fallen off his mistress?<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and listen, pretending to still be catatonic. But all you can hear is the roar of The Still as it fills with another victim: its fourth in only three days.<br/>
<br/>
Gradually, it quiets down, and you can again hear Nate. He moves around, fumbling with skin and clothes. He mutters to himself, but you can make out no words. Then there's a snap of switches, and The Still groans again.<br/>
<br/>
You count to thirty before opening your eyes and looking around. <br/>
<br/>
The basement is empty. Whatever his doubts, Nate has left.<br/>
<br/>
You scramble out of your resting place. Yes, you're alone. The Still works, but impotently: the settings you'd given him should do nothing. You grab the sack you'd taken down into the basement and hide in another corner, working quickly.<br/>
<br/>
You take out the <i>Libra</i> and Rosalie's mask, then remove your mask from your face. With trembling hands and trembling jaw you set them onto the page that copies <i>imago</i>, and transfer Rosalie's physical <i>imago</i> into a new layer of the mask. Then, into that layer you glue the mind band you'd copied off Grandmother.<br/>
<br/>
You let out a deep breath. Grandmother's mind and Rosalie's body. It's what the old witch would have wanted.<br/>
<br/>
<i>I guess I really am a Shabbleman now,</i> you reflect grimly to yourself as you raise the mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Hair in ringlets falls into your face. You brush it back. Then it falls back across your face you stare down at your hand. It's slim. Young. Graceful.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Rosalie was always beautiful,</i> you think to yourself. <i>Worthless, but beautiful.</i><br/>
<br/>
You shove Grandmother's spiteful thoughts away.<br/>
<br/>
But you cup a breast, lifting it to stare at the rosy tip. It's hard, but tender, and prickles in the dry, cold air of the basement. <i>So young and beautiful. And now mine.</i><br/>
<br/>
Just as the town of Cuthbert is still yours.<br/>
<br/>
You rise to your feet, feeling strong and confident. You stride over to the chair, where a ragged thing hangs from the end of the needle. Trying not to touch the skin of the girl, you pull her clothes off: a coarse, pleated skirt, a slip, a brassiere, and a woolen blouse. You pull them on one at a time, wondering what Rosalie felt when she dressed. You've still a copy of her mind, trapped in that other mask. At some point, perhaps, you can bring her mind and body back together.<br/>
<br/>
But not now. You have to be Grandmother, if you're to run the town.<br/>
<br/>
You button yourself in, feeling stronger and fresher as you finish, and when you slip the sandals on you again feel yourself as a young girl in the springtime of her life. You pull back your hair, and from force of habit almost twist it into a bun. But then you let it fall. You have the body. Keep the style.<br/>
<br/>
You wrap up Rosalie's skin and jam it down deep into the sack, covering it with the <i>Libra</i> and the mind band and the masks. As for Grandmother's old skin and clothes, you leave them behind. But you take her two canes.<br/>
<br/>
You dodge the ramp and instead scamper up the steps and the ladder leading to trapdoor beneath the pulpit. Nate is by the side door as you poke your head out, and his eyes widen fearfully. "Grandmother?" he says uncertainly.<br/>
<br/>
You smile faintly. "It did take the years from me, didn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that really you?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't believe, Nate, maybe I could lay my canes against the old bruises I gave you as a boy, see if they match?"<br/>
<br/>
His cheek twitches.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, it's me, Nate. I told you yesterday how pleased I was with you. Would you like a more handsome look? One that won't rot off after a week of hard wear?"<br/>
<br/>
His Adam's apple bobs.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'll think about it," you continue. "For now, you will find the remains of an old woman down below. Gather them up, and burn them."<br/>
<br/>
"What about the boy?"<br/>
<br/>
"You won't find him. He was the missing piece of The Still. It swallowed him, and he will be able to power it through many more such--" You draw your palm across the top of your breasts. "Transformations."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Aunt Sarah is by the car, and she jumps as you call her. "Take these back to the Big House," you tell her, handing her the sack and the canes. "Put them in my bedroom."<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you queerly as she takes them. "Are you feeling alright, Rosalie?" she asks quietly. "What happened down--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not Rosalie, Sarah," you snap. "I'm your mother's sister. You know what The Still can do." Sarah gasps. "I've not availed myself of it before, for until now there was no way to make it permanent. But I've now found a way. This is <i>my</i> body now, and it will be mine for a very long time." Sarah's cheeks turn ashen, but you ignore her. "Drive on ahead, tell the women at the house what they can expect to see, and how to behave. I'll walk home, since I'm feeling so much stronger." Then, to nail down the fact that you are still the mistress of the town, you add: "Then return to your duties. You know what trouble Sally gets into when you're not there to ... steer her." Your crooked smile is very meaningful.<br/>
<br/>
Aunt Sarah flutters and trembles as she puts the things into the car and drives away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You take a very leisurely stroll, enjoying the feel of cold autumn air on bare, firm skin. The old car is out front when you walk up to the Big House. Sarah has performed her appointed task well, for the half dozen girls who keep the house clean are lined up on the porch, and they curtsy as you approach. You ignore them, except to ask when supper will be ready. They scurry off to finish preparing it.<br/>
<br/>
Will Shabbleman--still in Frank's face--is in the parlor as you sweep in. He must have heard the news from Sarah along with the others, for he ducks his head deferentially. You sweep past and sit on the couch, crossing your legs and throwing your arms out along the back. "Would you like to give your grandmother a kiss, boy?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He flushes, but murmurs, "If you'd like." He steps forward.<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't like," you snap back, and examine your fingernails. "Not now. Maybe not ever. Or maybe I would, later." You look up at him from under your brows. "You lost your intended, boy. She's mine now. But I intended great things for you. There are still ways of bringing them to fruition. Perhaps even with--" You splay your fingers over your chest. "Rosalie was bred as your intended, and though she's mine now--" You trail off.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean we might still--"<br/>
<br/>
"If not me, then you'll have to wed Sally," you say. "Sarah's little Sally," you add, as though there might be another. "What think you of Sally?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sally's all wrong in the head."<br/>
<br/>
"We all know that. She's knows nothing. You couldn't hurt her. That's a point in her favor." You hold his eye. "You will do as I command, boy, as you've always done. But you might have some say in the matter. I <i>might</i> ask your preference, and I might even take your preference into consideration." You let the implications sink in. "Think on it."<br/>
<br/>
He ducks his head again, and starts to leave, but you stop him with a word.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't give you permission to leave, boy. You presume too much, that I am nought but the girl whose body I now have."<br/>
<br/>
"I meant no disrespect, Grandmother, I thought--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't think, boy. You did me a great favor. Don't make me forget it." Now he makes a full bow to you. "You may go now. <i>After--</i>" You jab a hard finger at him. "After you remove that face. Take it off. Now."<br/>
<br/>
He swallows unhappily, but raises his hands. An instant later, he is no longer Frank Durras, but Will Shabbleman holding a mask; at your direction he lays it on the end table. Then, with a wave of the hand, you dismiss him. You take the mask to your study, with the rest of your treasures.<br/>
<br/>
Cuthbert is now yours, and it's a safe and secure hiding place. You could rest here, work here, research here. There's The Still to study, maybe even to fully repair.<br/>
<br/>
But there's also Saratoga Falls to consider. The university. It was the base for the Keyserlings, the Shabbleman's ancient enemies. They're gone now, but they've probably left treasures. Through Blackwell, you could probably find them.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111122121111111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Minotaur
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You don't like Will Shabbleman's attitude. Not that you ever did, but he's a loose end and a danger. He's had a taste of power, having been inside a mask. Worse, it's a taste of the kind of power that Frank and Joe Durras had. He knows how the masks work, and what kinds of things can be found inside the <i>Libra.</i> He will resent the loss of his Rosalie: his promised wife. You'll have to figure out a way of dealing with him.<br/>
<br/>
First, though, you have to make your own position secure. <br/>
<br/>
You lock yourself in Grandmother's workroom, and from the supplies Aunt Sarah fetched you fashion a new nail, which you use to secure the mask to your face: now there will be no chance of Shabbleman--if he suspects a trick--of trying to pull it off you. Then you hide the <i>Libra</i> behind the secret panel: the double-safe hiding place in the room no one dares enter.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Grandmother!"<br/>
<br/>
You spring awake at the name and at the rude hands roughly shaking you in your bed. Out of sheer habit you slap at the unfortunate girl. "Leave off, Mae! What's ailing you, girl?"<br/>
<br/>
Mae--who's pushing fifty--continues to tug at you. "Nate said to fetch you quick! He's out at the barns!" Terror shows in her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You suck in your breath. If her shaking wasn't enough to wake you, this would be. Before you can ask another question, a rifle shot sounds. And then another. "My coat and galoshes, Mae. Now! if you value your heart's blood."<br/>
<br/>
She scrambles from the room, and you're quickly behind her, your old flannel nightgown flapping around your new body. Hair falls in your eyes, and you rapidly twist it into a bun as Mae throws a heavy coat over your shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
It and the boots are Grandmother's old things--too big for Rosalie's body--but they'll have to do as you jog into the chill morning air. A front must have come through during the night, for the air bites hard. "Start the car while I run ahead," you yell back to Mae. "Catch up when you can." You double your speed as more rifle shots sound.<br/>
<br/>
<i>The barns.</i> The Minotaur.<br/>
<br/>
His name was once Henry Wainwright. As a genealogist he'd presented himself to the town twenty years ago; as a magician he'd revealed himself when Nate's father--town constable at the time--had tried to deal with him. It took three chains of enchanted silver to finally bind him after he'd killed half a dozen townsfolk in his attempt to flee. Grandmother could have struck his head off, but she had other plans for him.<br/>
<br/>
So she'd imprisoned him in the old barn near where the town's "crop" grew, and fed him on Cuthbert's numerous stillbirths and abortions, waste products Grandmother had charged within sigils of her own design. Fattened on those gruesome feasts he had grown large and loathsome, bursting his skin and losing his reason, turning into a titan of fury and muscle. His strength is now prodigious, nurtured against the day that any police force too great for the constabulary might try to visit the town.<br/>
<br/>
That day hasn't yet come. Sometimes Grandmother has wondered if he's really worth the trouble. Now you regret that she'd saved him against a day that has never come.<br/>
<br/>
You're nearing the far edge of town when a car horn sounds behind you: Mae with the old sedan. "Nate say what the fool trouble is?" you bark as you jump into the car.<br/>
<br/>
"No'm," Mae gasps. "He only sent word there was trouble at the barns and to fetch you."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll have the skin of him who--"<br/>
<br/>
A pickup looms ahead, and Mae jerks the wheel, sending the sedan flying up onto the sidewalk as the truck squeals past and halts. You and the occupants of the truck are out and on your feet almost simultaneously. "Gabe! What's this fool business about?"<br/>
<br/>
"The Minotaur, ma'am!" Gabe Shabbleman gasps. He casts a terrified glance back up the street whence he and his mates had flown. Another rifle shot cracks nearby. "Nate's trying to lead it back to the woods--"<br/>
<br/>
"How'd it get loose? Where's Bo?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ain't seen, Bo, ma'am. Me and the boys were in the greenhouse when we heard it bellowin'. Good thing Nate and young Will was on hand--"<br/>
<br/>
A horrible bellow breaks out, and you turn. The Minotaur crashes from a screen of trees. <br/>
<br/>
It's ten feet high at the immense, bowed shoulders, and it lumbers along on tiny back legs and the knuckles of its immense arms. Almost lost at the top of the mountainous torso is the tiny, skull-like head.<br/>
<br/>
It leaps along the road toward you; the men yelp and scramble back. Mae screams as the Minotaur draws even with the sedan, and with a flick of its arm sends the sedan shuddering several feet to the side. It is bearing down on you hard, but you stand firm in its path.<br/>
<br/>
"Asterion!" you cry in a hard voice, and the silver emblem stitched into the flesh of its chest blazes forth. "Heel!" you cry, and stamp your foot.<br/>
<br/>
The thing crashes to a halt in mid-leap, bowing like a dog that's been whipped hard. It snarls. <br/>
<br/>
"Asterion! Down! Down!" It drops to its knees and elbows. You don't have your canes here, so you can't deal with it properly; you can only daunt it with the magical words and the seal of control. "Go back to the Big House," you order Gabe over you shoulder while keeping your blazing eyes locked on the Minotaur's. "In the shed in back you'll find a big iron chain. Melody can show you the one if you're not sure. Fetch it here." Nate and Will, shotguns in their hands, appear; the Minotaur snuffles the air and turns at them in a rage, pawing the ground. It takes a half dozen sharp words from you to force it back down. "Hurry, Gabe. I can't hold it here forever."<br/>
<br/>
You're actually surprised you can hold it all. The thing can't be terrified of the words, only of the threat behind them, and you've not got Grandmother's tools here with you.<br/>
<br/>
"What happened, Nate," you ask the constable as you keep a fierce glower bent on the beast.<br/>
<br/>
"It broke loose about fifteen minutes ago, Grandmother," he says. "Will'd been in to feed it--"<br/>
<br/>
"What's this about feeding it?" you demand of your horrible cousin.<br/>
<br/>
"I gave it the skins of them two lowlanders, Grandmother," he says.<br/>
<br/>
Only the need to keep the Minotaur daunted stops you from turning on Will with all your fury. "What happened to Bo?" is all you say. He's the one charged with keeping the Minotaur under control; like you, he knows the words of command, and can make them stick. <br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," Will says. "I threw the skins in to it and left. Was talkin' to Nate and them when we all heard a bellowin', and the thing came busting out of the barn.<br/>
<br/>
"And who told you go feedin' old Henry here, let alone feed him <i>those</i> things?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one, ma'am," Will says sulkily. "It seemed to me a good idea. I know what it likes to eat, and them two's not around to get any use from--"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait for me back at the house, Will," you say. "Have Beater and Biter out for me."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Beater and Biter.</i> Your two canes. You only call them that when you're going loose a really magical punishment on someone. Will says nothing, but you can imagine him swallowing hard.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Gabe returns with the chain; it only has to touch the Minotaur, and the monster swoons. It takes Nate and a crew nearly twenty minutes to loft it onto the bed of Gabe's pickup to return it to the barn.<br/>
<br/>
You go on ahead, to find the ruined holding pen and the other things inside: Bo's body in one corner, and his head--ripped off by powerful hands--in another. Both are already covered with a mat of black, stinging flies.<br/>
<br/>
After the men have dragged the beast into a new pen, you have them dig a deep grave in front of the barn door while Mae goes back to town to fetch a special lime and ash mix. You use this to scatter the flies, then have a thick tarpaulin thrown over what's left of Bo. "Careful you don't touch 'im," you warn the men as they drag his remains to the grave and push them in. You mutter a few magical words over what's left of the keeper, and leave the men to cover him up again. Maybe in death Bo will prove a better guardian than he had in life; thanks to those words, the Minotaur will shy away from the grave and the barn door it lies in front of.<br/>
<br/>
Will is very pale when you arrive back at the Big House; he's laid the two canes atop the sofa. You pick them up, hefting them thoughtfully. "The Minotaur is not your business, Will," you tell him quietly. "And I gave you no orders for its feeding, or for the disposition of those boys' remains."<br/>
<br/>
He says nothing. There's nothing he can say.<br/>
<br/>
"Trousers down, boy. And grab your ankles. This is going to hurt."<br/>
<br/>
Quickly--but with obvious reluctance--he complies. His pale, spotty ass gleams up at you as he bends over. You lay Beater against his quivering cheeks, and draw it back for a slap. You murmur the words that will make it <i>really</i> hurt--<br/>
<br/>
And the cane flies from your hand, clattering loudly to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart skips. It's never disobeyed you before.<br/>
<br/>
Correction: <i>It's never disobeyed Grandmother before.</i> But you're not Grandmother.<br/>
<br/>
You cover your embarrassment with a quick word to Will. "You understand your disgrace, boy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes'm," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Then into the box with you. I'll fetch you in an hour." You keep your back to him as he shuffles out.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211111221211111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Something Special in the Blood
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You scrutinize the canes thoughtfully, carefully. They're made of hickory wood, but not only of that hard, sturdy material. Grandmother fashioned them herself, infusing them with her blood, making them magical.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Her blood.</i> Her <i>essentia.</i><br/>
<br/>
The old witch had magical talents and magical instincts, but little learning. She had no notion of theory, only knew that her blood--the blood of the Shabblemans--gave her power.<br/>
<br/>
It's <i>her</i> power in the canes, so they will not obey you.<br/>
<br/>
You'll have to do something about that. And The Still is the place to start.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After lunch you walk over to the church and descend into the basement. The Still hangs malignantly from the ceiling. You study its pipes and tubes and chambers, using Grandmother's own memories to guide you.<br/>
<br/>
She didn't build it, and it's been a partial ruin for most of her life. But--<br/>
<br/>
The needle goes into a victim. The fluid is drawn into that pressure cooker. Two tubes lead from it: a small one leads up into the ceiling, while a much larger one leads to the huge glass chamber. The latter is an evil-looking swirl of curves and bulbs that your eyes can barely take in; and your mind rebels from contemplating it too closely. From there large metal pipes lead to the three steel tanks. Each of them, in turn, has a kind of faucet hanging from the far end. It's from these that the tanks can be flushed.<br/>
<br/>
There's a lot more to it than that--many wires and valves and dials, and there's that wooden console box in the corner. That's the device that connects the whole diabolical apparatus to the organ upstairs. You go back up the ladder to examine the latter.<br/>
<br/>
It's a pipe organ, a thing even more complicated than The Still itself, and all the more complicated for being attached to the thing in the basement. It's a kind of control board for The Still, and Grandmother has used it in the past to flush the contents from the tanks. She has no idea of what the stuff is that comes out, but has always saved off the contents.<br/>
<br/>
Sitting on the organ is a kind of hymnal: a manual for using the organ. Grandmother never uses any but the page of music it is opened to, for she only knows that it works to flush out The Still. And now that machine contains the remnants of four people: Frank and Joe Durras; Rosalie Stewart; and Grandmother herself. You've no idea how much The Still can hold, but you know it keeps its victims' fluids segregated, for Grandmother has used the machine on more than one person before prior to flushing it. It works on a "first in, last out" principle, so you know whose fluids will come pouring out with each action of the organ.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It takes the whole afternoon to draw off the tanks, and you do it with Nate's help: Upstairs, you work the organ controls while he draws off the fluids into some of Grandmother's special glass bottles. You'd need his help anyway, for some the bottles are very heavy: two of the tanks discharge a glowing fluid, but the third squirts a heavy, gray, viscous paste that must be incredibly dense, for each bottle it fills weighs at least a hundred pounds. You have Nate arrange them in four groups of three bottles each, and after you've dismissed him you label each bottle with the name of a victim: "Frank Durras"; "Joe Durras"; "Rosalie Stewart"; but you leave the last batch blank, for you are not going to put Grandmother's name on them. You lock up the church as night is falling, and return to the Big House to let Will Shabbleman out of the box.<br/>
<br/>
"You've lost all credit with me, boy, after that foolishness with the Minotaur," you tell him afterward in the parlor. You're lounging on the sofa, one leg lazily crossed over the other, arms spread out, taunting him with the loveliness of the girl he can no longer claim for himself. "Only that credit stayed my hand with Beater and Biter."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Grandmother," he says. He looks very drawn, and he is still twitching from his time in the box. But there's a gleam in his eye; and there looks like the faintest shadow of a smirk at his lip.<br/>
<br/>
"But I've one last task for you before we consider your future. The boys whose skins you so foolishly fed to the Minotaur, they would have left certain items down in the lowlands. We want to leave nothing that might draw interest up here. Go back down to Saratoga Falls, and bring all their things up here. I want no sign left of them for others to follow."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what all that might be," he objects.<br/>
<br/>
"Then take this with you." You hold out the mask he'd been wearing. "In that, you won't miss anything."<br/>
<br/>
"When do I leave?" he asks as he takes it.<br/>
<br/>
"No time like the present, boy. You do yourself no credit here."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That mission will get him out of your hair for a little while, but you still need to find a way of dealing with him permanently. Oh, sure, maybe you could trap him under a golemized mask. But your resentment of him is such that you'd like to do more to him. That will require some experimentation.<br/>
<br/>
You rise early the next morning and return to the church. Joe, when he came out to Cuthbert, had brought one useful little device with him, and you're eager to try it out on the fluids you'd drawn out of The Still.<br/>
<br/>
It's that little golden disk he had used to test "Melody Weiss", the one with a little silver bead that slides over its surface. It's a kind of <i>essentia</i> detector. Though it doesn't work at long ranges, it is very good at close quarters in confirming the presence of alchemically charged <i>essentia</i>--the kind of stuff that gives you (and which gave Frank and Joe) their magical powers. You are wondering if Grandmother had any of that special juice inside her.<br/>
<br/>
Once you've got the church door locked, you swipe your face until you bring up Joe's form. <i>Kinky,</i> you think to yourself, for you're still in Rosalie's clothes. But there's no time to enjoy the feel of the dress against your (male) body, and trot down into the basement, to kneel beside the jars.<br/>
<br/>
<i>First in, last out.</i> That would be Frank Durras. You maneuver the silver bead over the golden surface. "Maneuver it"? The bead practically leaps to the symbol confirming that one of his bottles contains the magic stuff. You shift over to the second group of bottles: Joe's stuff. Your skin prickles as you work. You're in Joe's form, and it feels weird--even a little creepy--to think that these bottles contain the disassembled metaphysical constituents of the guy whose <i>imago</i> you're wearing.<br/>
<br/>
You stop short at that thought. That thought was Joe's own, and it suddenly makes sense to you. You press the disk against the bottle with the golden fluid: Yes, that's his <i>essentia.</i> The bottle of thick, gooey, heavy paste? That will be the <i>substantia.</i> The skin that got left behind will be a remnant of his <i>imago.</i> And that would make the third bottle, whose contents glow like a liquid, radioactive metal-- Is that his <i>anima</i>? You glance up at the ceiling: You're going to have to look through that hymnal very closely, but you suspect the hunch is correct.<br/>
<br/>
So that's Joe and Frank accounted for, in all their metaphysical pieces. You shift over to the last group, the ones that contain Grandmother. But no matter how you manipulate the disk, the bead steadfastly refuses to slide down the groove that would confirm she had alchemically charged <i>essentia.</i> Instead, it wants to point back at you yourself. No surprise, since you also have the same kind of stuff.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh, but don't give up. For the sake of completeness, you tackle the last batch of stuff, the fluids drawn from Rosalie. The bead quivers and slides and--<br/>
<br/>
You almost drop the disk. <i>Rosalie?</i><br/>
<br/>
You try again, and it turns up the same result. As with Joe's and Frank's bottles, Rosalie's indicates the presence of special <i>essentia.</i><br/>
<br/>
You frown. Could you have gotten the sets mixed up and mislabeled? Could Rosalie, that shy, foolish slip of a girl have actually had the makings of a <i>Stellae</i> inside her?<br/>
<br/>
You puzzle over it for a long time, and then give it up as a profitless lot of speculation. Whether it was Rosalie or Grandmother, it hardly matters. The fact is that you've a <i>third</i> set of special <i>Stellae</i> stuff in your collection.<br/>
<br/>
You switch back into Rosalie's form, and sit cross-legged for a very long time, meditating on what to do, and how to do it. Do you use Will Shabbleman as a test subject? He's expendable; indeed, you'd very much like to get rid of him, and victimizing him in a series of experiments would be a pleasant way of doing it.<br/>
<br/>
But your resentment is also such that you're tempted to save him for <i>after</i> you've finished your experiments, to use against him the results of what you hope to learn.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111112212111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Return of Frank and Joe Durras
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You worried it'll hurt, Will?" you needle your cousin. He glares at you from the floor of the church basement, but doesn't speak. Nor can he move, being wrapped in an enchanted, paralyzing chain.<br/>
<br/>
It had been no trick wrapping him up such like after his return from Saratoga Falls. You'd only had to order him to put the chain on, for he was not going to refuse. You'd then had Nate carry him down into the church basement.<br/>
<br/>
It's just the two of you now, and you can't stop yourself from gloating a little. "I don't know but this might sting a little," you tell him as you push the open <i>Libra</i> beneath him. "But no pain, no gain, so they say. Well, no gain for me without a little pain for you." You set a blank mask--one you'd made specially for this experiment--beside him.<br/>
<br/>
You murmur the words that activate the spell.<br/>
<br/>
A shaft of lightning springs from your cousin's chest. Briefly it arcs and branches, feeling about the air before grounding itself on the mask. You shield your eyes; the air crackles and smokes. <br/>
<br/>
And then it's clear. Where Will Shabbleman had lain, there is now a golem.<br/>
<br/>
You unbutton the shirt that still wraps the stony form, then pick up the bowl containing the thin paste. You're pretty sure this will work, but it's still an experiment. Instead of putting a remote-control sigil into a mask, and setting it on him, you're going to put the sigil directly onto the golem, then return his <i>imago</i> to it. You've mixed some of your own <i>essentia</i> into the paste, so if it works as you think it will, he will be your slave, even without there being a mask on him. And if the remote sigil works as you're guessing it will, you will even be able to step in and take control of him directly.<br/>
<br/>
Then the only person in Cuthbert who might guess at your imposture will be your most obedient servant.<br/>
<br/>
You have the mask he'd worn down to Saratoga Falls with you, and you flip through its features until Shabbleman's own face comes up. You tug the <i>Libra</i> out from under him, and set the mask on it. At your murmured words, another bolt of magical lightning bursts out and grounds onto the golem. Where the first bolt had stripped him of his <i>imago</i>, this one will put a copy of it onto him. <br/>
<br/>
The lightning crackles, and fizzles out. Will Shabbleman opens his eyes, and looks over at you.<br/>
<br/>
There is murder in his eyes. But there's fear, too.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to release you now, Will," you tell him quietly, and twist the key in the lock. He sits up slowly as the chain falls away, his eyes fixed on your face. "Now put that chain on <i>me,</i>" you order him.<br/>
<br/>
He raises his eyebrows, but complies. You sink to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
"You'd like to kill me, wouldn't you, Will?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes'm," he growls.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you?"<br/>
<br/>
Not a muscle moves, except for a twitch in his cheek. "No." He grits his teeth. "No, I can't."<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Release me now."<br/>
<br/>
It wasn't as risky a test as it looked: you'd altered the chain's spell beforehand, so that it wouldn't bind <i>you.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Now let's get a look from inside <i>you,</i> Will." You brush your hand over your face, flicking between forms, until the control sigil comes up. You plunge into it.<br/>
<br/>
Three constellations hang before you, but you've only to glance at them to know whose they are: Will Prescott, Monique Travers, and Will Shabbleman. You pull the latter onto you.<br/>
<br/>
You blink and take a step back. The skinny form of Will Prescott lays on the floor, staring up glassily at the ceiling. <i>Thump thump thump.</i> Your heart hammers briefly in your chest before settling down.<br/>
<br/>
Your lips twitch into smirk. "Well, hey there, cousin," you drawl. "Wish I could say I was surprised to see it really <i>was</i> you all along, but--" You cock your head as your dick stirs. "Wish there was a way of flipping your face back so you looked like Rosalie again. I wouldn't mind giving <i>her</i> a--"<br/>
<br/>
You cut yourself off. Plainly you won't have any trouble imitating the surly Will Shabbleman if and when you need to step into his place. <br/>
<br/>
But you've got more important business to take care of, you suddenly realize. <br/>
<br/>
Almost from the start, your cousin had wondered if there wasn't some funny business going on with "Grandmother." And he had noticed your problem with the canes.<br/>
<br/>
Worse than that, he had acted on his suspicions. He had made a phone call while down in Saratoga Falls.<br/>
<br/>
Someone very dangerous is now on his way to Cuthbert.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You pull back into your own body, and spend a good thirty minutes working your new slave over, giving him a less hostile, more compliant attitude before sending him away and turning back to the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
You need Frank and Joe back. Nate might raise an eyebrow to see them resurrected, but you can handle him with a word or two. And your experiment with Will Shabbleman shows how you can do it.<br/>
<br/>
But you need two golems first, and there's no time to make them up the old-fashioned way.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you could find two victims in town and turn <i>them</i> into golems. But your eye instead wanders over to the bottles in the corner.<br/>
<br/>
You're pretty sure that the bottles with the heavy gray goop contain <i>substantia</i>. And a golem is itself just <i>substantia</i>; in a sense, you're pretty sure, you've got four bottled golems already on hand.<br/>
<br/>
But how to get them out of the bottles?<br/>
<br/>
After racking your brains, you decide to just try it out on the bottled stuff. The results might be messy, but with Grandmother's memories you've got a lot of experience dealing with messes.<br/>
<br/>
With great difficulty you roll one of the bottles of <i>substantia</i> onto the page that copies <i>imago</i>. Beside it you set the mask your cousin had been wearing, and flip the face to Frank's. You take several steps back before activating the spell, and shield your face. You mutter the incantation. There's a loud <i>crack,</i> and when you peer out find your experiment a success: Frank Durras is now laying on the <i>Libra,</i> surrounded by a fine dust of shattered glass.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't move, for you'd only activated that part of the spell that copies physical <i>imago</i>; you tug the book out from under him, flip to the spell that erases <i>imago</i>, and turn him back into a golem. Then it's a simple matter of painting a remote sigil onto the chest and putting Frank's physical and mental <i>imago</i> back onto it.<br/>
<br/>
Now he does sit up. There's a confused look on his face. "The fuck has been going on," he growls. "I feel like--"<br/>
<br/>
"Like what, Frank?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes narrow. "Like a lot of assholes have been using me as a sock puppet." He flexes a strong hand, but nothing happens. "Shit. I'm still a golem, aren't I?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't resist smiling. "Sorry, but yes you are. And who's your boss?"<br/>
<br/>
"You are," he says glumly. He looks around. "Is Joe here? Misery loves company."<br/>
<br/>
"Not yet. He's next. You can do the honors, in fact." You pull up the control sigil: There's Frank's, hanging with the others, and you dive into it.<br/>
<br/>
You get up with a groan as Will Prescott sags onto the cold floor. "A sock puppet again," you murmur. Then you smirk. "Yep. Rick Bredon'll be in a for a real surprise when he gets here."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Rick Bredon.</i> One of the most dangerous of the <i>Stellae Errantes.</i> It was he who Will Shabbleman had called while he was back in Saratoga Falls.<br/>
<br/>
It was the deadliest stroke your cousin knew to make against you. Or his Grandmother. By the time he'd screwed up his nerve to make the play, he probably didn't much care who he was fighting. All he knew was that he wanted to destroy the master-mistress of Cuthbert.<br/>
<br/>
So, in Frank's mask, he had called Rick, and told him that he and Joe had traced the <i>Libra</i> back to Cuthbert. "Keep your distance from that place," Rick had growled.<br/>
<br/>
"We kind of figured that," your cousin had said. "We made a quick drive through, and got out fast. We couldn't put our fingers on what was wrong--"<br/>
<br/>
"But there's plenty. I checked it out a couple of months ago, got out fast myself. How'd you trace the book to Cuthbert?"<br/>
<br/>
"Through that magician, Blackwell. Either he had a connection up there, or he made one. Someone from the town was working with him. He went back to Cuthbert. Me and Joe staged a quiet raid on Blackwell's, but turned up nothing, so we're thinking the <i>Libra</i> went up into the mountains. That's where it was originally headed, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right. I'll be out in a day or two, make another recon of Hell's Little Acre, then meet up with you and kid, plan from there."<br/>
<br/>
Your cousin had hung up feeling very pleased with himself. <br/>
<br/>
But you only feel pleased after you've manufactured a replacement for Joe. "You guys are going to be meeting up with Rick Bredon in a day or two," you tell him after you're done, and are back in your own form. "Is Rick going to be able to pick up on the fact that you guys are ... <i>missing</i> something?" Though there are no masks in play, your puppets lack both <i>essentia</i> and <i>anima.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Oh, who knows with Rick," Joe sighs. "The guy is spooky. Eldibrian and all that. You say you painted sigils onto our <i>substantia?</i> He might pick up on that. Oh, you <i>bastard,</i> Will!" He mimes throwing a punch at you. "And there we were, thinking we had you under our thumb back in Saratoga Falls. "</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111122121111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Tour of Cuthbert
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Then we'll just have to hit him fast, before he notices anything," you say. You flip through your mask until Rosalie reappears. <br/>
<br/>
"Who is this girl you're looking like?" Joe asks as you walk up the ramp to the main floor of the church.<br/>
<br/>
The question surprises you, until you remember that Joe doesn't know anything about the town. Frank speaks while you're still putting these pieces together: "Her name's Rosalie, right? I talked to her a few times-- " He breaks off and frowns sourly. "I remember what I said and did, but I don't remember what any of it meant. Someone else was pulling my strings at the time."<br/>
<br/>
"I forgot I need to bring you guys up to speed," you say. "So here's the deal. You need to call me 'Grandmother' while we're here in Cuthbert. Shut up," you snap as Joe hoots with laughter. "It's a long story." You give them an outline of the last few days. "So I'm supposedly the old woman who runs this town, and everyone thinks she's swapped herself into the body of her granddaughter." You point to your chest. "Yeah, her name was Rosalie. I've still got her mind and memories in a mask someplace, but--" You stop short as a feeling like hundreds of tiny spiders skitter beneath your skin. "But it's supposed to be Grandmother's brain with this body, so I'll be acting like her."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm." Joe peers down at you from beneath his bangs. "So how long's it been since Granny had a good lay? The girl's awful cute, and I know you didn't mind doing it with me when it was us and Monique."<br/>
<br/>
Several different emotions whip through you: Grandmother's own ambivalent feelings about pleasuring this young body, and your own. Yes, you did it with Joe down in Saratoga Falls, but you felt like you had to humor him; on the other hand, you did enjoy it. As for Grandmother: She shudders at the idea of putting herself beneath any man; but what's the point of having a slim, tender young body if you don't squeeze it of all its advantages?<br/>
<br/>
So you temporize: "I don't know what people around here would say if Grandmother fell into bed with a lowlander stranger. So, uh ... We'll see."<br/>
<br/>
Joe groans.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's late afternoon already, and you spend the balance of the day giving your revived puppets a tour of the town; you know everything there is to know about Cuthbert already, but you want them to know about it too, so they don't accidentally get into any trouble. "That's where we'll be staying," you say, nodding down to the Big House. "Grandmother runs the town, even though there's a useless mayor around. Use your cell phones if you need to make any calls. All the lines in town go through the exchange, and you'd run into trouble if you tried the land lines."<br/>
<br/>
You then take them over to the jail and introduce them and the town constable to each other. Nate's eyes narrow at their appearance, though he naturally accepts your instruction that they are to have free run of the town. But he looks unhappy enough that you send Frank and Joe away so he can speak freely to you. "I thought you got rid of them two," he says when you're alone.<br/>
<br/>
"I did," you say. "That's how come them two you met can be trusted. They ain't real, Nate."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes widen. "But their skins--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, I know what your idiot cousin did. But I got ways now of bringing people back, or making copies of them." You hold his eye. "Keep that in mind, Nathaniel. Ain't no one in Cuthbert who can't be replaced if they lose my confidence, and ain't no one in Cuthbert who would notice the difference." He swallows hard, and you smile to yourself: Yes, anyone can be replaced, as you've replaced Will Shabbleman.<br/>
<br/>
After that, you take Joe and Frank to the barns. "You or the guys you used to work with ever hear of a guy named Wainwright?" you ask, but they shake their heads. "He was a magician of some kind, like Blackwell, I think. He showed up in Cuthbert a few years back, and killed a few people before Grandmother got him chained up." You lead them inside the barn, to the pen where the Minotaur is now slumbering uneasily. "That's what she did to him."<br/>
<br/>
Joe lets out a low whistle. "How?"<br/>
<br/>
"With snips and snails and dragons' tails. She wasn't even sure what exactly she did to him, or how it worked. That's the way it was with her. She just knew lots of tricks, and tried them all out whenever and wherever she could."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the point of all this?" Frank suddenly demands. His countenance is dark, severe. "What was the old witch doing? What are <i>we</i> doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"She was just fucking around, keeping the family business going," you say. "It's what the Shabblemans have been doing for generations. Breeding monsters and cutting them up to see what makes them work. Trying to purify the Shabbleman blood to make it more powerful. That's something we'll need to look at," you add, turning to Joe. "There's a machine in the church, where we were, that takes people apart. That's what Grandmother did to the real Frank and Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean we're--" Frank's color turns a mottled blend of red and white. "You mean our originals--"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, don't worry about who was real and who is fake," you tell him. "You two are the only ones around who look like Frank and Joe, or have their memories. Well, except for me." You point to your face, and mime waving your hand over it. "But you two are basically them now."<br/>
<br/>
"Except we haven't got their prodigies," Frank says, and Joe also looks unhappy.<br/>
<br/>
"But those are still around," you say. They both perk up a little, with curiosity. "I said that machine takes people apart. There are some bottles out there that contain their <i>essentia</i> and their <i>anima.</i> Their <i>imago,</i> well, that's copyable, and I think we can get their <i>essentia</i> and <i>anima</i> back into you--"<br/>
<br/>
"You could put us back together again?" Joe's eyes light up.<br/>
<br/>
"In theory, maybe," you say. "That's something to check out after we've got Rick taken care of--"<br/>
<br/>
"What's the plan there?" Frank demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Use an <i>anima</i> band on him," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Like you did with us?" Joe's expression turns mirthful.<br/>
<br/>
"Think it won't work on Rick?" you ask in some alarm.<br/>
<br/>
Joe and Frank exchange a long glance. "I'm sure it will," Joe says. "If it worked on us. But--" He suppresses a smile. "We were kind of a handful, weren't we?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just need to get it onto him long enough so I can do to him what got done to you two."<br/>
<br/>
"Which takes us back to my earlier question," Frank says. "What's the point of all this? What are we--" He slouches. "Okay, you're the boss now. What are <i>you</i> trying to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Stay alive," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Stay alive.</i> It seems like that's what you've been trying to do for weeks now, ever since you accidentally sent Aubrey Blackwell to a harrowing doom. You'd been trying repair the hex he'd put on you; trying to survive the sudden attention from Joe and Frank Durras; trying to survive Grandmother Shabbleman and Will Shabbleman and the creatures of Cuthbert; now you're trying to survive the imminent arrival of a very dangerous member of the <i>Stellae Errantes.</i> At some point, you hope, you'll be able to catch a breath, survey your position, and lay some positive plans. <br/>
<br/>
But after the evolutions of the past few weeks--all in unexpected and unpleasant directions--you have to face the fact that you've no idea where you will be when you finally do come to some sort of rest.<br/>
<br/>
So until then, you just have to improvise.<br/>
<br/>
Back at the Big House you introduce Frank and Joe as important visitors, and show them some of Grandmother's trinkets. "The whole town is under surveillance," you tell them when you've got the parlor to yourselves. "There's little invisible spies flitting all around the air, or hiding in the woods." You nod at the little porcelain birds and animals on the shelves. "Just pick up one of those, concentrate, and you'll be able to see whatever it's looking at." Joe snatches one up and settles back on the divan, closing his eyes. "I can't get it to work," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Remember what you are," you retort. "Golems and magic don't mix."<br/>
<br/>
He opens one eye. "There's other kinds of magic," he leers. "Whose bed am I sleeping in tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your own. Downstairs."<br/>
<br/>
"And me?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You've kept yourself under control," you say, and slip a slim arm about his waist.<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces, and Joe glowers.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You while away a few hours terrorizing the staff, then repair upstairs with Frank for the night. In the dark bedroom you slip out of your skirt and blouse and lay your supple body back on the bed. It's been decades since Grandmother--whose mind is with yours, in Rosalie's body--has felt any carnal desire, and she shudders a little. But that's part of why you want to do this--it'll be a way of curbing her very strong personality. <br/>
<br/>
In the dark you can make out Frank's strong, bulky silhouette as he discards his clothes. He climbs on top of you, and his warm breath envelops your cheek.<br/>
<br/>
And then a cell phone tweets. "Shall I get that," he grunts.<br/>
<br/>
"You better," you sigh. "Only one person it could be."<br/>
<br/>
As he fumbles through his things, searching for the phone, you brush your hand over your face, and plunge inside the Frank golem. The cell buzzes again in your hand. "Frank here," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's 'here'?" Rick asks. "You and the kid better not be--" </span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211111221211111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Catch a Falling Star
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You and the kid better not be in Cuthbert," Rick says.<br/>
<br/>
"We're not. Not technically," you improvise. "We're camped a few miles outside, in the woods. You know what Joe's like."<br/>
<br/>
"You need to learn how to sit on him," Rick growls. "You got it in you. What do you think you're accomplishing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe's out doing what bears do in the woods, that's what <i>he's</i> accomplishing. Where are you, Rick?"<br/>
<br/>
"In town. Looking for you guys, and your place is dark."<br/>
<br/>
"So you coming up to Cuthbert now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Cuthbert ain't a place to visit after dark. Those woods don't look enchanted, either, so you two watch yourselves. Feh. If I thought you'd listen I'd tell you hightail it outta there."<br/>
<br/>
"I can tell Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"No point now. Just watch yourselves. I mean it. One of you keep watch while the other sleeps. I'll crash here and meet up with you on the road in the morning. Look for me around nine." He hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
You put the phone down and regard the catatonic Will Prescott appraisingly for a minute before pulling out of golem-Frank and back to your own body. "That felt weird," Frank mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Get used to it. That's why I set you up that way. Go get Joe. You guys are going camping."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you coming too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I'll be there, don't worry about me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You go down to Grandmother's study, where she collected all the bits and pieces that fell of the original Durras boys. That includes the two <i>anima</i> bands you'd used to enslave them. <br/>
<br/>
Problem is that "enslave" is too strong a word; Joe and Frank still had their original personalities, even though it was your own will riding around inside them, guiding them. You're not keen on repeating the experiment, but you can't see another way of quickly dealing with Rick Bredon. And he needs quick dealing with. Just being inside Frank for those few minutes reminded you of how dangerous he is.<br/>
<br/>
Behind the locked door to the study, you take off the mask long enough to press one of the bands to your forehead, to charge it with your most recent set of memories. After passing it on to Frank and Joe, you stop one of the girls long enough to tell her that you're not to be disturbed under any circumstances until you rise in the morning. "Ain't gonna be no crisis that needs me," you insist. The only crisis you'll need to deal with will be directly in front of you when you meet Rick.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You hop up and down in place, clapping your arms against the bitter chill of the early morning air. How long until Rick shows up? You're sorely tempted to return to the cozy bedroom, where you left your body snuggled up under blankets and quilts. <br/>
<br/>
"Leave the talking to me," you tell Frank. "You get that bottle into his hands."<br/>
<br/>
"He's not going to go for it, Joe." His lips work; maybe he's about to ask if it's really Joe or "the boss" inside Joe's body. But finally his shoulders just twitch. "Rick won't touch anything unless he's--"<br/>
<br/>
"He will if he sees you take a pull from it. Tip some of it onto the ground." You jostle his hand, and some of the whiskey spills out. "There. Now it looks like we've been into it. It's cold enough we might've been." You hop around some more.<br/>
<br/>
But you've not long to wait. The highway into Cuthbert is deserted, and you hear the grumble of Rick's old car before it comes into view. With a rattle, it stops on the shoulder. Rick peers out.<br/>
<br/>
The senior <i>Stellae</i> is in his fifties, and it's a hard-worn five decades that sit on him. His wolf-gray hair is long and lanky and filthy, and his face is bloated. Dark eyes shift between you and Frank. "Boys," he says. "What's the disposition?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tell you when we're in the car," you reply as you jump in the front seat. "Your heater working?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, busted. Ain't got the scratch to--" He glances into the back seat as Frank gets in. Making a face, your partner sucks down a mouthful of the liquor; he chokes a little and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "What are you guys doing with that shit?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's cold out," you say. "Knew it would be, so we stocked up in Saratoga Falls before coming up here. You'll want some, man, before heading into town? It's a bad scene, and you don't want to see it with Eldibrian eyes."<br/>
<br/>
"I've seen it," he says. <br/>
<br/>
"But have you seen the church?" you insist as you take the bottle from Frank. His hand shakes, and he sinks back into the seat, his eyes crossing and uncrossing.<br/>
But you ignore him, and hold the bottle out to Rick. "We saw some people going in and out of it, and it wasn't for Sunday school."<br/>
<br/>
Rick holds your eye, staring into you and through you. But Joe is a very skilled liar, and even better when he's larded a falsehood with a lot of truth. Rick slowly takes the bottle from you. But he doesn't drink. "What about this church got you interested?"<br/>
<br/>
"The people we saw going in. People we were interested in. Frank told you about Will Shabbleman?"<br/>
<br/>
"That was the kid hanging out with the magician?"<br/>
<br/>
You avoid staring at the bottle he's got hovering near his mouth. "Yeah. Obviously, we don't know what the story is with him. But he left Saratoga Falls to come back up here. He's one of the ones we saw going into the church. Doesn't seem like the church-going type anyway. And maybe me and Frank can't see the things <i>you</i> can see, Rick, but that church does <i>not</i> look good. Creepiest place in town, and that's saying something, considering what the rest of--"<br/>
<br/>
"How long were you two in town? Who'd you talk to? They don't like--"<br/>
<br/>
"We <i>know</i> what they don't like, believe me. Town cop stopped us to talk, lots of leading questions. We told him we were college students doing field research for an anthropology class. Paper on small towns. He didn't like that, told us we should check out some other places. But we were parked over by the church while he was grilling us, and that's when--"<br/>
<br/>
"What was <i>your</i> sense of things, Frank?" Rick asks. <br/>
<br/>
Frank doesn't answer. "Let him rest his eyes, Rick," you say. "He watched all night while I slept. Heap big tough Injun. Say, if you can't get the heater working, and you're not going to--" You grasp the bottle.<br/>
<br/>
But he doesn't relinquish it. "You have any problems last night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Frank says something sat down in the woods and watched us, but he didn't say any more about it. Fucker told me I'd have nightmares if he described it. The weirdest thing was when we tried finding our way back to the highway. We camped just inside the eaves, but it took us almost thirty minutes to find our way out. It was like the trees had moved in the night."<br/>
<br/>
And those prove to be the magic words. Rick tipples back a big slug from the triple-strength knockout hooch. "I don't like this," he growls. "I can't put my finger on it, but even out here-- I don't want to go in, not if it's feeling like--" He turns sharply, and his eyes are like daggers. "So you two just drove around and talked?" His voice is suddenly very hard.<br/>
<br/>
"That was enough for us. Honestly, when you called we were on the verge of packing it in and driving back to Saratoga Falls."<br/>
<br/>
"I really wish you'd done that," he says. His words are slurred. "Town's got influences. I can feel it from-- Feel it on--" He blinks.<br/>
<br/>
You drop your hand to near your jacket pocket, where the <i>anima</i> band is.<br/>
<br/>
Rick grabs your wrist. "What are you doing, kid?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's your deal, Rick? If you're not feeling okay, I can drive us--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're--" he says slowly. His eyes are still hard, but they've begun to turn a little bleary. "You're not here, kid. I can tell. You're-- You're very far away." His voice trails off.<br/>
<br/>
You hold your breath, hoping the sedatives kick in soon.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes widen, and he drops the bottle. Still gripping your wrist, with his free hand he pulls a big, scary-looking knife from his coat pocket. "Rick, for stars' sake!" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"You tell me where and what-- They got you while you were there." He blinks furiously, and his grip on your arm slackens. "They go' something on you. Or they pulled it out. Tha's it." His voice fades and falters. "You're missing something, kid. Something's been--" His head lolls.<br/>
<br/>
You pull free of his grasp, and draw out the <i>anima</i> band. As quick as you can manage without Joe's own amazing speed, you get it onto Rick's forehead. It burns briefly there, then vanishes inside him.<br/>
<br/>
But the liquor has done its work, and it's almost an hour before he wakes. By then, you've driven into town and parked by the church.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Dude, you really should be glad you can't see it," Rick says.<br/>
<br/>
"What can't I see?" You peer up at The Still.<br/>
<br/>
"The thing. The thing that does the actual work." He shudders, and hunches up inside his jacket.<br/>
<br/>
You're in the church basement, back inside the form of Rosalie Stewart. Joe and Frank (the former uncharacteristically quiet since you'd left off possessing him) stands to the side.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess it's my job to look at it," Rick sighs. "Unless you want to do to me what you did to the kid and the cadet so you can eyeball it yourself."</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111112212111111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Disassembly Required
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"If I did that, you wouldn't be 'Rick Bredon' anymore," you say. "You'd lose your <i>essentia.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"But you'd still have it," he says, and jerks his chin at the jars that still sit in the corner of the basement. "In bottled form."<br/>
<br/>
"Lotta good that does me until I figure out how to get it back into you guys," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
He squats beside the bottles. "That was you pulling the kid's strings out in the car, wasn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. What tipped you-- What tipped off <i>Rick</i> that there was something wrong with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just instinct," he shrugs. "Gut feeling that something was missing from them."<br/>
<br/>
"Their <i>essentia?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Rick Bredon's not one for theory." He kneads his temple with a hard knuckle, and looks up fearfully at The Still again. "Shit. I really don't like being here. I <i>see</i> things."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to know," he says, but you press him. "Things. Vines, tendrils, tentacles. The magic stuff that makes the machinery do its stuff." There's a haunted, hollow shadow to his countenance as his eyes trace unseen connections among the pipes and tubes and chambers. "Can't give you the theory, obviously, but I can draw you up a schematic. There's parts of this thing that are busted, but the magical piping is still there, just waiting for mechanical parts to fill them in."<br/>
<br/>
"It already works at pulling stuff out of people," you say. "What more could it do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe put it back in 'em," Rick says. "Like the Calice de Tenebres."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
He shuts his eyes tight and rubs them. "A dingus. Like this thing, but a lot smaller. It sucks the <i>essentia</i> of people, but then you can drink from it and get the <i>essentia</i> for yourself." He picks up one of the bottles and examines it. "The stuff in this form doesn't look especially potable."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Drinkable essentia?</i> "You mean if I'd used this Calice thing on Joe or Frank, and then drunk it--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you'd get their <i>essentia</i>, to go with your own. Probably kind of dangerous, though. People aren't supposed to have more than two <i>ousiarchs,</i> and piling thirds and fourths on top--" He chews his lip. "One of the <i>Stellae</i> went retrograde not too long ago, got hold of the Calice, and used it on a colleague. He didn't survive."<br/>
<br/>
You look at the bottles, and you look over at the Durras brothers. "Still, if we got their <i>essentia</i> back into Frank and Joe--"<br/>
<br/>
"You'd have some real good counterfeits," Rick finishes for you. "Not perfect, mind you, since they still wouldn't have their <i>anima--</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"But I wouldn't want them to have their <i>anima.</i>" You look at him sharply. "I want them like they are now."<br/>
<br/>
"And you want Rick the same way," he says dryly. "But they should have <i>some anima</i> inside them, so there aren't any <i>holes</i>, for people like Rick to pick up on." He looks back up at The Still. "Yeah, there might be ways of doing that, using this thing. A set of instructions would be useful, though."<br/>
<br/>
Joe pipes up: "There's that hymnal up in the organ loft."<br/>
<br/>
You all look at each other. "Then that's the place to start," you announce. "I'll check out the hymnal. You start diagramming this thing down here."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Rick" cautions that you've probably only got a week to get it figured out: "After that, I'll have to call the boss man and give him a story." You affect not to be worried, for surely a week will be enough time.<br/>
<br/>
But that's before you get a look at the hymnal.<br/>
<br/>
At least half of it is a standard hymnal--and the thought of those very proper and old-timey hymns sitting in a damned and blasted place like the Cuthbert church feels blasphemous--but the back half is hand-written. Since Joe is the one with musical talent, you switch into his form and huddled with golem-Joe up in Grandmother's old bedroom. You discover that, musically, the melodies and harmonies are garbage: crashing discords and blind, jagged tunes. But after a few hours of study you begin to notice some patterns. You scribble out and argue with golem-Joe over some possible sigilistic interpretations of them, but only get more garbage.<br/>
<br/>
Nor do you get help when Rick shambles in shortly after supper with diagrams of The Still. As a stranger in town, he gets some startled looks from the house staff, but you quickly shut them up with the simple expedient of treating the newcomer like a trusted confederate. "Here's that diagram of the stuff in the basement," he says as he unrolls the makeshift blueprints. "I need a serious drink now. Something that hasn't got any lullaby juice in it. Aw, hell, I <i>would</i> take some of that, after--"<br/>
<br/>
"Where does this bit lead?" you ask, pointing to a trailing tendril that leads off the page.<br/>
<br/>
"Up to the organ. There's gonna be a mess in that thing, and we'll probably have to take it apart for me to get a look at it. You get anything from the hymnal?" <br/>
<br/>
"Joe and I couldn't make anything of it. If it goes with the organ, we're definitely going to have to take it apart."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck me, then. I'm going to a bar."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's the work of nearly three days to disassemble and diagram the organ, even with the help of Frank and Joe; and you're often interrupted by town business. There are no real crises to deal with--no more escaped monsters--but you have to keep your fingers in all the pies so no one gets any ideas about acting uppity. <br/>
<br/>
Four days after capturing Rick your quartet huddles over the sketches and the hymnal. You and Joe compare the notes in the hymnal to the diagram of the keys they would depress and the magical connections they would activate. But after two hours of work you've made hardly any headway, and that ends in a blank wall. "It definitely controls what goes on inside The Still," Joe says, rubbing his forehead like he's got a headache equal to the one you are nursing. "But it's just issuing instructions. The actual work-- You know, we haven't seen a trace of a sigil in any of the workings."<br/>
<br/>
That's bothered you too. "It's a different kind of mechanism. Maybe it doesn't use sigils?"<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit. Only the most basic kinds of spells don't use sigils. Something this complicated <i>needs</i> them to operate."<br/>
<br/>
"But where are they? Are they invisible?" You look at Rick.<br/>
<br/>
He pulls at his nose. "Not invisible,  not the way you're thinking," he says. "But maybe they're someplace we can't see them."<br/>
<br/>
"But we've take the organ apart." You nod at the wreckage of the pipe organ. "And all the pieces and parts of The Still are out where they can be seen."<br/>
<br/>
"Not all of them," he says. "The needle and pipes pull stuff out of people. But the separation and storage, that goes on inside those big steel tanks."<br/>
<br/>
Joe raises his head. "You think maybe--"<br/>
<br/>
Frank gets to his feet. "I'll go get some metal-working tools."<br/>
<br/>
And two hours later you have the three tanks opened up on the basement floor. Their interiors are a swirl of sigils, all gleaming as brightly as though they'd been cut into the metal surfaces only yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
Then things progress very quickly after you've got them copied down into a more standard form. They are very familiar, being variations on some of the sigils contained in the <i>Libra.</i> You shake your head ruefully after you've made the comparisons. "I'm such an idiot," you mutter. "I knew I was missing something when I was looking through the book. It's all right there, in the stuff we already had. You just have to know how to pull out the right bits."<br/>
<br/>
Joe cranes his head. "I'd take your word for it, but I'd rather you explained it."<br/>
<br/>
You flip between the various pages. "Start with this one here. You and Frank thought it just turned people into golems," you say, pointing to the sigil that strips people of everything but their <i>substantia.</i> "But it's actually three different sigils, all interlocked. One for removing <i>imago.</i>" You flip back to the start of the book, to the sigil that makes a mask for copying bodies. "This one here. It's in that complicated spell, woven through with the sigil for removing <i>anima.</i> This one, I mean." You flip to the sigil that makes <i>anima</i> bands. <br/>
<br/>
You return to the spell that seems to turn people into golems. "So that's two sigils inside this one. I bet anything there's a third sigil, one specially constructed to remove <i>essentia.</i> That's how come it only leaves <i>substantia</i> behind, a thing like a golem. It doesn't just grab stuff up and erase it. It erases each little bit, singly."<br/>
<br/>
You point to one of the steel tanks. "There's four sigils in that tank. Two are for removing <i>anima</i> and <i>imago</i>--I'd have to look more carefully to be sure, but that's what they look like. The third has got to be for removing <i>substantia</i>--which is where the bottled golems come from--and the other is for removing <i>essentia.</i> And I'll bet more than anything that we'll find one of those sigils inside the <i>Libra</i> here, inside some of its spells." Again, you tap the golem-making spell. "That'd confirm it.<br/>
<br/>
"But that's not all." You feel your excitement mounting. "The four sigils in that tank over there are reversals of the sigils that remove the metaphysical elements. Those are the sigils that will put <i>essentia</i> and everything else <i>back</i> inside people."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111122121111111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: What You Found in Rosalie
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Joe looks around the basement. "You think that's what all this set up was for? Taking stuff out of people and putting new stuff in?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "It fits with what I know about the place and its history. The Still hasn't worked right in decades, not since Grandmother was a little girl. She only knew how to work the one trick. But I bet there were lots of settings, so you could swap out pieces and parts of people." You look over the bits still hanging from the ceiling. "Like, you could probably pull the <i>anima</i> out of one person and put the <i>anima</i> from a different person inside. Like a soul swap. Pull <i>imago</i> off one person and put it onto someone else. Swap out <i>essentia.</i> Speaking of which--"<br/>
<br/>
You scramble over the bottles, still laying their corner. "Frank's and Joe's <i>essentia</i> is here, but there's some other stuff that we need to check out. I used your magic dingus to confirm which bottles had your <i>essentia,</i> but I got a third hit. This bottle here--" You pick up the one that has Rosalie's name on it. "The disc said this stuff is <i>also</i> special."<br/>
<br/>
"Like <i>Stellae</i> special?" Joe asks, hurrying over. "The cute girl?" He grins at you, for you're looking like Rosalie at the moment.<br/>
<br/>
"Unless I got the labels switched around," you say. "But the disc gave a positive reading."<br/>
<br/>
Joe pulls at his lip. "The disc picks up anyone and anything that's got real juice in it," he says. "The odds that there was a <i>Stellae</i> here are pretty remote. And if the town's been trying to breed their own special kind, it might just be a really potent form of their own <i>essentia.</i> Something to do with the humors rather than the planets."<br/>
<br/>
"How can we tell?"<br/>
<br/>
"We can't, not by looking at it directly," Joe says. "The thing to do is make a chart, like I did for you. Interview the girl." He looks at you expectantly.<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't got her memories in here with me," you point out. "Only Grandmother's. But they're in a mask back at the house."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess that's one thing to work on," says Frank, who's been listening. "But the big job will be putting all this stuff back together again." He glances around the basement with a marked lack of enthusiasm.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think we'll have to," you say. "And besides, we'd have to build lots of new parts to repair the stuff that got ripped out. But give me a day or two to think things through. Maybe we can reconstruct it so that we can use the sigils directly without the machinery."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what was the point of all the machinery, if you can just do it with sigils?" Frank sticks out his lower lip truculently.<br/>
<br/>
"It was a way of getting the <i>essentia</i> and all the rest into those bottles," you say, sounding more confident than you actually feel. "I bet it also had to do with setting up the organ. If you tie it into a machine, anyone, not just a magician, to pull it all off. Look, just shut up," you add as  he opens his mouth again. "I wanna get this all figured out."<br/>
<br/>
"See if you can make it snappy," Rick advises. "I've still got a deadline hanging over me."<br/>
<br/>
So excited are you that you hardly need the added incentive.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You divide your time between reconstructing and recombining the sigils you'd found inside The Still and reviving Rosalie. First, though, you sit for a diagnostic interview with Joe. It doesn't take long; only a few questions, and Joe concludes that the old witch had no special planetary influences on her. That doesn't mean the special <i>essentia</i> is Rosalie's, but you and Joe both have a hunch that it is.<br/>
<br/>
So you turn to reviving the girl in golem form. It's simple: You pull Rosalie's <i>substantia</i> out of the bottle, leaving an unencumbered golem on the floor of the church basement. Onto it you place the mask that you'd copied her body and memories into. The resulting fake is frightened and confused when she wakes, but you (in Frank's form) and Joe quiet and reassure her, and then Joe questions her and draws up her chart. He grows thoughtful as he proceeds, which is enough to tell you that he's finding out interesting things. He takes a very long time about it, and is very quiet when he's finished and you've taken the mask off the golem again. "So, was it her <i>essentia</i> that set the disc off?" you finally ask.<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "Definitely. And she is a <i>Stellae.</i> Was a <i>Stellae,</i>" he corrects himself.<br/>
<br/>
"Could be again," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"It would be interesting to revive her fully," he says, staring at the floor. "It's quite a combination. Sulva and Glundandra."<br/>
<br/>
"Another Sulva, like me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yep. Interesting, given that you have the same birthday. Same day, same year, you noticed that. And you and her even look a lot like each other. Well, her and Will Prescott look a lot alike, even when Will Prescott isn't wearing her face. But Glundandra--"<br/>
<br/>
"Like Dad," you say, for you know what that means, given that you're inhabiting Frank Durras's form at the moment.<br/>
<br/>
"Yep. That makes her the second one. Well, the first, technically. We thought Malaika was the first, that the second hadn't been born yet. But Rosalie was older than Malaika, which means Malaika was bringing up the rear."<br/>
<br/>
"How long does that give Dad and Fyodor?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ten years? At most?"<br/>
<br/>
You are not Frank Durras, but you feel the unease he would feel. Glundandra is Jupiter, the king of the planets, and the <i>Stellae</i> who have him as their <i>ousiarchs</i> preside over the <i>Stellae Errantes.</i> There are never more than four in play at once, and when the two successors appear, the incumbents never live for more than a score more years. "And what happens then?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe lays back on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling. "Then Malaika become head of the <i>Stellae.</i> Assuming, of course, that Rosalie doesn't become the head."<br/>
<br/>
"She wouldn't, if we don't revive her, or they never find her."<br/>
<br/>
"What if they did?" Joe's expression darkens. "What if they found her, and--" He abruptly shuts his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
When he doesn't finish, you lay back on the floor and wipe your hand over your face. The sigils for your puppets--Will Prescott, Monique Travers, Frank Durras, and Joe Durras--appear. You plunge into the latter, and find yourself staring up at the ceiling. The faint shadows left by the golem's words still echo in the empty place where its mind would be.<br/>
<br/>
<i>What if they found her, but it was </i>Will Prescott<i> inhabiting her body, lurking inside it, manipulating it, the way you are manipulating the golem of Joe Durras?<br/>
<br/>
And what if Rosalie Stewart wasn't a mere golem? What if she had been revived, restored with her <i>essentia,</i> and with an <i>anima</i>--maybe her own, maybe the <i>anima</i> of another--inside her? What if she looked and acted just like Rosalie Stewart, but had a remote sigil inside her, and Will Prescott was operating her body?<br/>
<br/>
Or what if you swapped </i>essentia<i> with her? What if you used the reconstructed Still to remove your </i>essentia<i> and gave yourself hers? What if you turned yourself into the missing Glundandran, and presented yourself to the </i>Stella<i>?<br/>
<br/>
What if </i>you<i> became the head of the order? With Frank and Joe Durras, and Rick Bredon, and maybe others, as your puppets?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, what if they found her, and it was really <i>you?</i>" a voice asks.<br/>
<br/>
You sit up sharply. Rick Bredon detaches himself from the wall where he'd been leaning.<br/>
<br/>
"How long have you been there?" you demand sharply.<br/>
<br/>
"Long enough," he says. "Long enough to know what the kid was thinking, and what you'd be thinking after--" He mimes switching faces, then squats beside you. "It's dangerous, trying to fool the old man. You never know what he might pick up on."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't have to decide right away."<br/>
<br/>
"But we should decide pretty fast. I have to tell the old man something when I report back in."<br/>
<br/>
You don't have to decide what to do about Rosalie any time soon, but you have to decide what to do about Rick. "You can't go back while you've got that <i>anima</i> band on you."<br/>
<br/>
"So take it off me," he says sourly. "Pull Rick Bredon inside out, like you did with Joe and Frank. I won't squawk."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" you ask cautiously. "I thought-- Well, you remember how Frank and Joe acted when they had <i>anima</i> bands on them. They didn't like the idea of me taking them off them."<br/>
<br/>
"That was Joe and Frank. Yeah," he says dryly. "It's a bit like committing suicide." His dark eyes flick over to your face. "It's me in here. You. Will Prescott. And if you took the band off Rick, it would be like killing me." His face becomes drawn, and he hunches his shoulders. You realize he's trying very hard not to look at The Still. "But it's no fun being here. You wouldn't like riding around inside his body, seeing the things he can see."<br/>
<br/>
"But that's because of his <i>essentia.</i> Joe says that's how come he's so twitchy."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's a nasty gift, like poisoned chocolates."<br/>
<br/>
"But the other Eldibrians in the <i>Stellae</i>-- Maria doesn't have Rick's problems."<br/>
<br/>
"She's got Perelandra as her other <i>ousiarch.</i> Lucky Rick, he's got Malacandra. He gets to <i>see</i> the things he has to fight."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at Rick. Joe's thoughts come quickly: "But what if we could change that around? The <i>Libra</i> has spells for modifying <i>imago.</i> What if there's a way of doing it for <i>essentia?</i>"</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211111221211111111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: Where No Magician Has Gone Before
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It can't be that simple," Rick says. "You're born with your <i>essentia,</i> it's all blended together--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're born with your face, too," you retort, "and I can change that around."<br/>
<br/>
"Like you haven't got enough projects to keep you busy," he grunts.<br/>
<br/>
"Then I should get started."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Back in the Big House, hide yourself away in Grandmother's work study with the <i>Libra.</i> You start by searching out the next spell. In all the recent excitement, you've not had the time or opportunity to see what lies beyond the spell that alters distant victims' memories.<br/>
<br/>
It's a shock: The next page is blank, but refuses to turn.<br/>
<br/>
You frown. The <i>Libra</i> is a thick book, and it looks like you're only about ten percent of the way through it. It must be another test. The rest of the book can't be empty.<br/>
<br/>
You try every trick Grandmother knows about invisible writing, but that turns up nothing.<br/>
<br/>
Giving it up as a puzzle for later, you turn to the other projects: Reconstructing the sigils from The Still, and figuring out a sigil for modifying <i>essentia.</i> Both projects involve breaking earlier sigils down into more basic components and studying how they are each built. Your intuitions prove mostly on the mark.<br/>
<br/>
There are four basic sigils: one each for dealing with <i>substantia, essentia, anima,</i> and <i>imago.</i> You've also been able to isolate sigils that copy and sigils that extract these metaphysical elements, and from The Still you isolate sigils that can put them back together again.<br/>
<br/>
You then turn to the spells that modify the physical and mental properties of real people. These are more complex. For a start, they do not contain sigils for <i>imago</i> (for modifying the body) or for <i>anima</i> (for modifying memories and other mental states); rather, they contain a kind of placeholder into which <i>imago</i> and <i>anima</i> can be inserted as variables. They also contain sigils that allow the spell to interface with the "voodoo doll" that acts as a temporary receptacle for the <i>imago</i> and <i>anima</i>, and sigils that force the changes onto distant victims. But after many hours of hard work--and lots of chicken-scratching on waste paper--you isolate the "modify" sigil itself.<br/>
<br/>
After that you take a break for a quick meal and a head-clearing walk around the town. Joe sees you leaving the house, and falls in beside you. "You look exhausted," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's been a tough few days," you admit. "But I'm making headway."<br/>
<br/>
"Rosalie doesn't look like she's built for that kind effort," he says with kind diplomacy. "She's a girl made for running through fields of wildflowers in the springtime."<br/>
<br/>
"With a pretty boy running toward her from the other side?" you retort with mild asperity.<br/>
<br/>
"It's hard for me not to flirt," he says. "You know me."<br/>
<br/>
"Inside and out. There aren't any <i>Stellae</i> your age, are there?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's Frank."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean girls."<br/>
<br/>
"No, there aren't." He gives you a sidelong look. "It makes me wonder about might-have-beens."<br/>
<br/>
"And could-be-stills? You want Rosalie back. I think I do too. It's no fun being locked up with Grandmother's head." You frown at the girl in the white shift on the other side of the street, who is staring openly at you. "Go home, Sally!" you shout at her. With glassy eyes the twelve-year-old girl lurches away. "Sarah's been spying on me. The whole town's been spying on me."<br/>
<br/>
"It's just your nerves."<br/>
<br/>
"It's the truth. Well, I spy on them." You shudder. "I want out of this place."<br/>
<br/>
"Strike out on our own? We <i>were</i> going to set up our own little gang. We could still. And between us, and with Rosalie, we've got eight of the ten planets represented."<br/>
<br/>
You run through the names and associated <i>ousiarchs</i> in your mind, and see that he's right: Arbol and Viritrilbia (Joe); Sulva (you and Rosalie); Malacandra (Frank and Rick); Glundandra (Rosalie); Lurga (Frank); Eldibria (Rick); and Kenandandra (you). You're only missing Perelandra and Catilindria. "You mean we could be the 'evil <i>Stellae</i>'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do we have to be evil?"<br/>
<br/>
You look over at Joe; doubt sits heavily on his face. "You're still his twin in a lot of ways, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
He grunts. "Modified a little, for having <i>you</i> inside me for a few weeks."<br/>
<br/>
"What would it be like if I put myself back inside you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Another <i>anima</i> band?"<br/>
<br/>
"A copy of my <i>anima.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You can't just go spreading that stuff around," he warns. "It's like <i>essentia</i>, you've only got so much of it."<br/>
<br/>
"Enough for half a dozen people, though. Less than that." You do a fast calculation. "If we got all ten <i>ousiarchs,</i> and if I can figure out a way of separating them out and recombining them, we could get all ten into five people, myself included."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess. And you'd be jumping in and out of four of them."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," you echo. You and Joe hold each other's eyes, and you know you're sharing the thought--insofar as a golem is capable of having a thought of its own. <br/>
<br/>
<i>You'd like to get inside Joe Durras, and Frank Durras, and the others, and exercise the powers that you intend to restore to them.</i><br/>
<br/>
You sigh deeply, and break away first. The cold air has been refreshing, but it hasn't been enough. "Let's go back to the house. But then I'm going to put <i>you</i> to work."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
And so, back inside the cramped study, you wedge yourself into a corner, bring up the control sigil, and plunge into the golem of Joe Durras. Your lips twitch at the sight (again) of Will Prescott in a dress, then turn to bend over the notes you'd drawn up earlier.<br/>
<br/>
It's fortunate that you'd decided to look at things with Joe's brain, for with it you're able to spot some mistakes you'd made. The first is with the "copy" sigils: You see now that the terms don't allow it to work on <i>essentia</i> or <i>substantia.</i> Other corrections are more advantageous, for they allow you to simplify some of the designs and lock them into each other. After a few hours, with Joe's fluid draftsmanship, you're able to sketch out an extremely complicated sigil that can substitute for The Still: With it, you'll be able to extract and recombine the four metaphysical elements that make up people.<br/>
<br/>
As for modifying them: Again, thanks to Joe's attention to detail, you are able to construct a sigil that, in theory, can modify <i>essentia.</i> "In theory," you mutter to yourself as a caution. <i>Essentia</i> isn't like <i>imago</i> or <i>anima</i>; it is radically more simple, which paradoxically will make it more difficult to deal with. You know what it looks like when you open up <i>imago</i> and <i>anima,</i> and they are a complex of simple elements that can be tweaked, internally and in relation to each other. But <i>essentia?</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After the dinner time table has been set, you banish the other members of the household and lock the doors so it is only you and Rick and Joe and Frank around the table. You keep your voices low against possible eavesdroppers as you talk.<br/>
<br/>
"So it looks like it's doable," Joe says, speaking on your behalf as you bite off hunks of fried chicken. "At the very least, we can take people apart and put them together again in any combination we want. We might even be able to split our <i>essentia</i> and put it together into new combinations. And we can do all of it without that thing in the basement."<br/>
<br/>
"Which means we don't have to hang out in Cuthbert anymore," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"So what are you thinking of doing," Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
You and Joe and Rick exchange glances. "If it all works, then there aren't really any limits. Except for-- Well, except for the <i>Stellae.</i> If we don't want to mess with them."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"We could put you and Joe back together again, but with my <i>anima</i> inside you. Fix up Rick the same way. Revive Rosalie." You take a deep breath. "Try to take over the <i>Stellae</i> from the inside."<br/>
<br/>
No one looks very happy at that.<br/>
<br/>
"Or we set up our own gang. What Joe and Frank were talking about down in Saratoga Falls. If we got hold of some Perelandran and Catilindrian <i>essentia</i> we'd have a complete set of <i>ousiarchs,</i> shared among the five of us."<br/>
<br/>
"You also have to think about how to exit Cuthbert," Rick says. "If we go out on our own, we'll have to disappear. Otherwise the <i>Stellae</i> will be after us."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that have to do with exiting Cuthbert?" Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Simplest way to disappear is to stage a catastrophe. Blow up the town, pretend we all went up with it."<br/>
<br/>
Everyone looks at everyone else. You can see it in their expressions, and feel it in your own.<br/>
<br/>
Everyone <i>likes</i> the idea of wiping Cuthbert from the map.<br/>
<br/>
"To do that," Rick continues, "we should get Miko out here. A Catalindrian like her in this place? It's a Nagasaki waiting to happen."<br/>
<br/>
"And she'd provide Catalindria for us," Joe says, turning to you.<br/>
<br/>
"We should make sure about being able to split <i>essentia</i> first," you say.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111112212111111111111111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Shadows of Cuthbert
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The experiment, of course, is fraught with risk. You're not so much worried about something blowing up in your face. But splitting someone's <i>essentia</i>, if you've not calculated correctly, risks losing something very valuable. Rosalie's <i>essentia,</i> for instance, contains an extremely rare and valuable connection to Glundandra; and if you screw up, you will compromise your chances of infiltrating the <i>Stellae.</i><br/>
<br/>
But her <i>essentia</i> is more expendable than any of the others. So that's the bottle you pick up the next morning when your quartet tramps down into the church basement.<br/>
<br/>
You start by extracting Grandmother's old <i>substantia</i> from its bottle and turning it into a "voodoo doll." You then spread out the sigils you think you will need for the complex task to come. First is the "modify <i>essentia</i>" you had drawn up; next to it you lay another new sigil: "extract <i>essentia.</i>." Onto the former you lay the voodoo doll and the bottle containing Rosalie's <i>essentia</i>; onto the latter you lay one of Grandmother's special empty bottles. "Wish there were some crates to hide behind," Rick mutters as you grip the doll in one hand, and the empty bottle in the other.<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and murmur the incantation that will activate the "modify" sigil. Your heart hammers in your chest.<br/>
<br/>
A vast darkness encloses you. It's not an oppressive darkness, but an open darkness. You are gripped by vertigo, and everything reels.<br/>
<br/>
Then your eye is drawn by an object. You have no body, but it seems to be above you, and you look up. It's the Moon, the disc long familiar from your own meditation exercises. And yet it seems different. Alien. It chills you with its uncanny countenance. Panic overwhelms you as it occurs to you that you are committing a great sin.<br/>
<br/>
But you press on, staring at it, daunting it back. A sense of normality reasserts itself when realize why the lunar face seems so strange. It is the Moon, the same one that you have seen, but it is the aspect it presents--or would have presented--to Rosalie.<br/>
<br/>
You are inside what the girl would have had. You are violating a sanctified space that the girl herself never got to glimpse. Again, the feeling that you are doing something loathsome overcomes you.<br/>
<br/>
But you press on, and reach out to grasp the Moon. Of course, it is enormous. Of course, it is impossibly distant.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, it fits in your hand, like a smooth billiard ball. You are apprehending it through a spell that lets you do that. Despite the enormity of your action, you smile to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Though you are in a strange space, and are gripping a celestial object, you can also sense the doll and the empty bottle in your hands. You clench the latter more tightly, and murmur the words that activate the "extract" spell. The Moon lurches in your grip, and you guide it gently toward--<br/>
<br/>
Toward another place. You release it, and it vanishes. But the bottle in your hand grows very warm.<br/>
<br/>
Now you're alone in the void.<br/>
<br/>
Except you're not. There's still something here. You glance around, turning and turning--<br/>
<br/>
You almost swoon. The other presence overwhelms you so much that you lurch backward, releasing everything.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You grab at the hand brushing over your forehead and gasp. You open your eyes. Joe is cradling you in his lap. "Are you okay?" he asks quietly. "Are you there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm here." You groan and sit up. Your body shakes all over. "Were there fireworks?"<br/>
<br/>
Frank is huddled next to you as well, but Rick hangs back. "No, you just collapsed," the latter says, and hunches down to examine the bottles. They are both glowing. "So, it was a success?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. That's Sulva in there." You nod at the once-empty bottle. "And that one--"<br/>
<br/>
You shudder. The memory is faded, but it still overwhelms. <i>Glundandra.</i> The impossibly big, the impossibly grand. You're glad you saw and dealt with Sulva before glimpsing it.<br/>
<br/>
"I think that's enough for now," Frank says. "You look--" He trails off.<br/>
<br/>
"And that's how I feel." You swallow shakily. "I think it would be easier with anybody else's <i>essentia.</i> But Rosalie's-- Yeah, that's enough for one day."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You feel ill the rest of the day, and can hardly concentrate on anything. Nate Shabbleman tromps into the house in mid-afternoon, telling you that a couple of strangers have shown up, looking to purchase some of the town's "cash crop." "Don't like the looks of them, Grandmother," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"So deal with them," you snap. "You know how."<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta hunch they might be gummint men."<br/>
<br/>
"Rick! Richard!" you shout, closing your eyes and nursing your forehead with the cold compress. Footsteps sound, and when you open your eyes he's standing before you, next to Nate. "Go with Nate, check out these men he's yammering about. Nate, you do what Richard here says." Nate gives the other a shifty glance. "Do as I say! He'll know what to do. He's got my confidence. More'n you do." With shrugs, they both leave.<br/>
<br/>
But as soon as they're gone, Joe steps into the room. "What do <i>you</i> want?" you snap. "A body's feeling poorly--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be like this, Grandmother," he says. "You know. Like Grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"I've got a town to run--"<br/>
<br/>
"You've got too much to run. Step out of yourself. Or, better yet--" He holds out his hand.<br/>
<br/>
You grumble, but take it, and he lifts you to your feet and supports you as you sag into the crook of his arm.<br/>
<br/>
"Let me help you relax," he says, and leads you up the stairs to Grandmother's bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
"Still trying to get me into bed," you mutter, for that's exactly where he lays you. "Fine."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be crude. Just let me--" Lightly, gently, he lifts your foot and slips off the sandal. "Let your mind go blank. Live in the moment and let me do the work."<br/>
<br/>
You inhale and exhale deeply, and close your eyes. His fingers press and rub the arch of one foot, and then the other. He works up your ankles and calves, then draws off your skirt. He sits next to you and unbuttons your blouse, and you squirm around, letting him pull it and your slip and bra off. You're too weak to respond to his touches, and he contents himself by slipping an arm beneath you and laying next to you. He takes you in both arms and pulls you close. He kisses your cheek and nuzzles your ear.<br/>
<br/>
He is warm and gentle, and though your body doesn't unstiffen, you do slip from consciousness.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's dark when you wake, and you're cold and alone. You feel a little better, but not much, and haven't the strength to get dressed. So you get up just long enough to stumble to the door and doubly lock it before collapsing back onto the bed. You brush your face until the control sigil comes up. Inside it are the keys to your puppets. You could dip into Joe, see what he got up to after you passed out. But there are others, ones you've not checked out in a long time. The golem of yourself, back in Saratoga Falls. Monique Travers. Not much interesting there, probably. <br/>
<br/>
Will Shabbleman. He's kept away from you since you'd converted him to a golem.<br/>
<br/>
Prodded by some sense that he needs checking up on, you dive into his consciousness.<br/>
<br/>
You catch him in mid-stride to Nate's car. The town constable slides behind the wheel while you join him in the front. They're just leaving the jail, where the two strangers are now locked up on Rick Bredon's orders.<br/>
<br/>
But Nate doesn't start the car. He just sits there, staring off into the darkness. You wait expectantly for a bit before speaking. "What's chewing you, Nate?"<br/>
<br/>
He's silent, then guarded when he does reply. "You know about them young'uns that came up from Saratoga Falls. You brought 'em to Grandmother, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yep."<br/>
<br/>
"You surprised to still see 'em around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Grandmother's got her ways. She told me they're a coupla fakes."<br/>
<br/>
"She tole me the same thing. What's she tole you 'bout the other one? That mangy ol' hippie?"<br/>
<br/>
"What's she told you?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean she ain't told you nothin' about 'im?"<br/>
<br/>
"She ain't told me he's a fake, if that's what you're askin'. He acts like he knows them other two." You roll down the window and spit dismissively out it. "They're her <i>fav'rites,</i> now."<br/>
<br/>
"How's she feel about yew, Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Since turnin' herself into Rosalie, she ain't show me no gratitude."<br/>
<br/>
"An' you done a lot for her, Will. Same as me. An' now she's actin' like that old hippie's in charge. You know he was out here a coupla months ago."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I run 'im out. But he comes back, an' he's all friendly like with Grandmother. Friendly like with them two young'uns. I wunner if he knows they're fakes. I wunner if <i>he's</i> a fake."<br/>
<br/>
"She'll be likin' her fakes," you observe. "Long as they're around, we'll jus' be shit under her shoes. More'n usual."<br/>
<br/>
Nate is quiet, and you fancy you can sense him trembling. "I'm gonna tell you somethin' I saw, Will. I'm gonna trust you."<br/>
<br/>
"Same as I gotta trust you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yep. I was peekin' in the winder at the Big House a spell back. Up to nothin' bad, just wantin' to check Grandmother's mood before going in. You was talkin' to her. Least, I think it was you. Your face-- Well, it changed a few times. You was lookin' like one o' them boys for a bit."<br/>
<br/>
"Didn' know you saw that, Nate. But yeah. That's how we was able to catch them sumbitches. Wisht we hadn', now."<br/>
<br/>
"How's it work?" He swallows. "Could you, could one of us--" Now there is definitely a tremble in his voice. "Could someone do hisself up to look like Grandmother? Like Rosalie, I mean?"<br/>
<br/>
Of course, you don't reply. But it's obvious what he's suggesting: That if disguises are a possibility, someone in Cuthbert could <i>replace</i> Grandmother. </span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111122121111111111111112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Return of the Stellae
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>They're plotting against you.<br/>
<br/>
You shouldn't be surprised. You aren't surprised, except by the fact that one potential conspirator has opened up to another. But that's what you get--you suppose--for pushing Rick into Nate's business.<br/>
<br/>
At the moment, you have to play for time. "I guess it's a possibility, Nate," you say. "I'd know how to do it. But Grandmother took the stuff from me. After she got her new fav'rites."<br/>
<br/>
"Could you get it back?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. You know how tight she keeps her stuff. But if yer askin' about the possibility, well, I gotta ask <i>you</i> somethin'. You talkin' about copyin' Rosalie's face and pretendin' to be ... Pretendin' to be the person what's got it now?"<br/>
<br/>
Nate says nothing. Caution prevents him from making an overtly damning confession.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's say that's what you're talkin' about," you continue. "Who pretends to be Rosalie? Who gets that power?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can it be shared?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope. Or, if it can, only Grandmother knows how. So only one person gets to be Rosalie. If that person has a partner, what's in it for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Favors?"<br/>
<br/>
"What kinda favors, Nate? Rosalie was my intended, you know."<br/>
<br/>
You let the inference hang in the air.<br/>
<br/>
Nate turns away with a soft grunt. "It's a lot to ask of a man."<br/>
<br/>
"If it's to be partners, it should be shared all the way, Nate. 'Specially if one of 'em--meanin' <i>me,</i> I assume--is supposta run a awful risk by gettin' the makings back."<br/>
<br/>
"An' what if <i>you</i> got Rosalie's face, and the power, Will?" he retorts. "What would <i>you</i> share?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a lot to ask of a man, like you say. But I'd be willin' to share my bed, I think, with another man, ifn' he happened to have <i>my</i> face."<br/>
<br/>
Nate twists in his seat to stare at you. "You sayin' you'd have relations with a feller 'at looked like <i>you,</i> Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Wouldn' <i>you,</i> Nate? I mean, with a feller 'at looked like Nate Shabbleman?" He turns away. "If you was to start runnin' the town, cuz you was lookin' like Rosalie," you continue. "You'd wanna make sure the town constable was your partner, right?" You shrug. "I could live with the promotion. If'n you could."<br/>
<br/>
You can hear Nate swallow thickly.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll leave the choice to you, Nate," you say. "You pick the person that gets to be Rosalie, and the person who gets to be her squire."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll have to think about it," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Do that. I won't kick either way. Better take me home now."<br/>
<br/>
After he drops you off, you trudge into the shack where Will Shabbleman has hung his cap for the past ten years, ever since his parents died. You turn on the light and lean against the dresser, staring into the mirror. His pale face, with those thin, bloodless lips and that lank hair and those feverish eyes, stares back. "You know what you have to do, Will Shabbleman," you tell the golem. "You know who's moving your legs and working your mouth and telling Nate Shabbleman what he wants to hear. You know who your master is. Play along with Nate, but keep me informed every step of the way.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Will," you say on his behalf. "Everything I hear and say. Everything I do, it is to serve you."<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes, and retreat back to your own body.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>The next morning.</i> It takes you longer than you'd like to copy the sigil on the basement floor, for it's a tremendously complex piece of work, combining as it does four different sigils, each capable of being activated independently. Joe offers corrections the few times that you make a slip.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll start with some fresh <i>substantia,</i>" you say, rubbing your hands together as a light tremble runs through your body. "Doesn't matter which we use." You roll one of the heavy bottles into the center of one of the interlocked sigils. You hold your hands out palm down and mutter the activating incantation; with a soft <i>pop</i> a lump of raw golem flesh appears in the center of the four sigils.<br/>
<br/>
From your pocket you take a pen with a steel nib and hunch over the mass. "What are you doing?" Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Putting a remote sigil on it," you murmur back. "Carving it into it, actually. This way there won't be any goop for anyone like Rick to detect."<br/>
<br/>
"But that means it won't be a golem when it wakes up."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to put my own <i>anima</i> inside it, so--"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you <i>sure</i> about that?" he gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"With the remote, I'll be able to move in and out. If we merge at least once a day, I think we can keep aligned."<br/>
<br/>
Joe falls silent until you finish up.<br/>
<br/>
"Now let's give him his magic back." You retrieve a glowing bottle that has "Joe Durras-essentia" written on its label. You place it in the center of the second sigil, and surround it with ten candles. You light each one, murmuring the name of a different <i>ousiarch</i> for each. Again, with palms turned down, you mutter an incantation. The bottle glows, and eight of the candles snuff out. You raise your voice and cry out the third incantation.<br/>
<br/>
The flames of the two tapers rocket toward the ceiling; the air fills with a fizzing and popping sound. With a single, strong word of command, you activate the sigil. The air screams, and a line of hot fire races from the bottle toward the golem. Flames engulf it. It burns hotly but briefly, and then all the lights go out.<br/>
<br/>
You blink away the phantom lights from your eyes. The two candles for Arbol and Viritrilbia have melted completely, leaving small pools of smoking wax; the bottle is now dark and empty and seemingly covered in soot.<br/>
<br/>
"Now to fill that 'hole' Rick says he felt." Joe still looks dubious as you pull out a freshly made band containing a copy of your own <i>anima</i> and lay it on the third sigil. Another incantation, and an arc of spitting lightning briefly connects the band and the golem. <br/>
<br/>
"And now to wrap him in a skin." You pull your mask off and lay it in the fourth sigil after flipping the face to the unaltered physical and mental <i>imago</i> of Joe Durras. You draw a deep breath. Your voice trembles as you utter the last incantation, and two bolts of lightning arc out to the golem.<br/>
<br/>
In the center of the sigil, a naked Joe Durras blinks his eyes open and sits up. He smiles narrowly at you. You smile back, and advance on your mask.<br/>
<br/>
And then it's gone. <br/>
<br/>
You blink and look around. The naked Joe is now on the far side of the basement, grinning. He holds up the mask. "Looking for this?"<br/>
<br/>
You suppress a nervous swallow. "Come on, don't horse around."<br/>
<br/>
"Who you talkin' to?" he chortles. "Me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Or me?" Another Joe Durras, as naked as the first, appears next to him.<br/>
<br/>
"I coulda told you it'd be like this," golem-Joe sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a jerk," you tell the new Joe, the one with the mask. He lets you advance until you're nearly atop him, then he steps to the side--<br/>
<br/>
--and materializes on the far side of the basement. "Keep away," he sings. His twin vanishes.<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna have fun too," you say plaintively.<br/>
<br/>
"Why didn't you say so?" he says from directly behind you. You leap and wheel. With a smile he hands the mask to you. "Frankly, I'm dying to see if it works."<br/>
<br/>
A hard tremble runs through you, and your knees nearly buckle as you sit cross-legged and put the mask to your face. You flip through faces until the control sigil appears, bringing with it the portals to the other faces. One of them glows far more brightly than the others, and you plunge into it--<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You blink down at Will Prescott, who's fallen over to the side, and bite back a smile. You look up at golem-Joe. "Is that you in there, boss?" he asks cautiously.<br/>
<br/>
A sensation like molten gold boils within you. It feels familiar, natural, easy to manipulate. You form a gossamer shell around you--your illusory twin--and with a little concentration dive into the streaming river of time. The world darkens into a purple twilight as you stroll over to the golem; he and the rest of the world are frozen until you're standing directly behind him. You step back into the regular time stream, and slide a tendril of control into the sock puppet you left behind. "In the flesh, so to speak," you make it say. You dip into it a little deeper, and are now looking at the golem from the front and from the back, simultaneously. "Gimme your clothes," you make your immaterial double say.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do with <i>me?</i>" the golem asks as he disrobes.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, but I don't need you anymore," you say from behind him. He spins around. Again, the world turns a purple shade as you cock your fist. "Not with the <i>real</i> Joe being back and all."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You disassemble that golem before reconstructing Frank using the same process. "Stars, this feels good," you say as you flex his invisible "fist of Malacandra" for him. "I bet that fake out there has been missing it."<br/>
<br/>
"So call him in and ask him," a voice says from the corner of the room. You wheel: It's Rick, lounging against the wall.<br/>
<br/>
"Stars, Rick," you gasp. "You're always popping up."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I got a message for you from Will Shabbleman," he drawls. "Nate says he wants to be Rosalie. That's the message. What's it mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"It means--"</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211111221211111111111111122
author_id: seuzz
title: Three Fakes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It means we've found a fall guy," you say. Rick's brow furrows. "Nate's plotting to take over Cuthbert. He figured out that there's masks and disguises around. He thinks that him and Will Shabbleman are going to make a copy of Grandmother--you know, the girl who looks like Rosalie--then get rid of the old bat and pretend to be her. Nate gets to play Grandmother, and Will gets to have sex with her as often as he wants."<br/>
<br/>
"Kinky," Rick says dryly. Joe makes retching noises.<br/>
<br/>
"So I figure we let him," you continue. "Though I should probably think it over using your brain, Rick. You've got all that experience figuring out insurance scams."<br/>
<br/>
"But you're thinking of letting Nate win," Rick says. "He takes over for Grandmother, we let him think he's killed us--"<br/>
<br/>
"Which would explain our disappearance."<br/>
<br/>
"--and then the rest of the <i>Stellae</i> swoop in, decapitate the town, hold a big funeral for all the fallen heroes--"<br/>
<br/>
"While we take off and do our own thing!" Joe whoops and jumps around, punching the air.<br/>
<br/>
"Lotta angles to figure out," Rick sighs. He slips off his dirty sports coat, revealing an even grimier t-shirt beneath. "So you'll wanna get started on it." He lays in the middle of the sigils and closes his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You gonna be able to handle ol' Jape?" You look into the rearview mirror, at Rick. The old gas station is now only a few hundred yards away.<br/>
<br/>
"If you can do it, kid, I can," Rick snaps back. "We got the same stuff inside us."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," you laugh. "Though it's the differences that count."<br/>
<br/>
"And shouldn't you be calling us by our aliases?" Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's hear you do the voices," Rick says.<br/>
<br/>
"Fair 'nuff," Frank says, dipping into Zach Martin's warbling, Cuthbert yowl.<br/>
<br/>
"Heh heh heh," you cackle in Sam Gibson's voice. "Yeah, ol' Frankie ain't so good at pertendin', even with hisself a mask." Frank--Zach--glares darkly over at you.<br/>
<br/>
Your body is locked inside Grandmother's study; but your consciousness is inside Joe Durras, and Joe Durras is hiding inside a mask of fat, uncouth Sam Gibson. You shift restlessly in your seat, trying to get the roiling paunch to sit more comfortably. Frank is now disguised as lanky, bent-backed Zach Martin, the owner of a barbecue/fish fry (one of the town's few social centers) and overseer of the town's drug crops. Rick is still looking like himself, but that won't be for long.<br/>
<br/>
The old gas station comes into view, and the balding tires of Sam's pickup squeal as you pull to a stop. You lean on the horn good and long, then you and "Zach" dismount. "Jape!" you call. "Jape! Getcher pimply ass out here!" Zach goes over to the service bay and leans against its side.<br/>
<br/>
It feels like a long minute before the door to the station office opens and Jasper "Jape" Johnson staggers out. He's tall and thin and walks with a hobble; one of his shoulders is noticeably higher than the other, and his face is disfigured by a hideous crop of warts. He squints belligerently at you. "Where's the fire, Sam? It's cold out here."<br/>
<br/>
"Got business wit'chya. Zach!"<br/>
<br/>
Zach raises a clenched hand, and Jape goes rigid, then falls over hard to the ground. "Sumbitch!" he gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Tha's us, Jape," you cackle. "Gran'mother's got need of yew. Well, yer face. Gotta be the first time <i>that's</i> e'er happened!" Zach twitches his hand, and Jape slides roughly over the ground inside the service bay. You look back at the sound of a car door closing: Rick is advancing with the satchel of supplies.<br/>
<br/>
Jape continues cursing at your trio until Rick puts a blank mask on him. Then he slips the open <i>Libra</i> under Jape's body and hands you a jar of sealant. After the mask reappears on Japes' face, you set to work coating its inner surface. Rick, meanwhile, sets another mask next to the still-unconscious Jape. Rick mutters in an inaudible tone, and lightning arcs discharge Jape's <i>imago, essentia</i> and <i>anima</i> into the mask, where they evaporate. Rick kicks that mask aside and lays a third next to Jape. He looks at you expectantly, but you grin: "You said you could do it all yerself, Rick." So with a grumble at the back of his throat, Rick straddles the golem, takes the sealant (which contains some of Rick's own <i>essentia</i> in it) and slathers a patch of it onto the golem's chest. He then rises and executes the last of the spells: When the last lightning show clears up, there's another Rick Bredon, this one lying on the ground, dressed in Jape's dirty long johns and overalls.<br/>
<br/>
"We'll give yew a little privacy, Rick," you chortle as the two Ricks start to disrobe. "C'mon, Zach."<br/>
<br/>
"Any idea how long we're gonna have to go around like this?" your brother asks as you get back into the truck--scant protection from the cold.<br/>
<br/>
"Wha'chew grousin' about? Zach's a good-lookin' feller. For these parts." It's true. Zach Martin's face is twisted up sourly, but it's the expression of personality, not genes. He's probably some near cousin of yours, and the Martins have, for the most part, been able to steer clear of the Shabbleman entanglements, so everyone in that branch is relatively normal looking.<br/>
<br/>
"I just want to get out of here," he mutters. "Will said anything to you about how long it's gonna take?"<br/>
<br/>
Frank and Rick don't know that you're riding around inside Joe, and you've not told them. Not that you mean to spy on them, but it's something to do. You spent the afternoon making up a bunch of masks to handle the complicated impostures: Joe was the first, taking over the role of Sam Gibson while Sam himself got erased and had Joe's <i>imago</i> set over the remains. Then Zach Martin went to Frank. With Rick stepping in for Jasper Johnson, you'll have hidden your three alter egos in key Cuthbert naties, and left three fakes behind for Nate to destroy.<br/>
<br/>
No, you don't mean to spy on them, but you're curious to see how they'll act. So you lift yourself out of Joe, and put yourself inside Frank; there's a brief moment of hiatus until the scene inside the cab switches. "Depends on how long it takes Nate," Sam says after a brief pause. He looks a trifle uneasy, then shakes it off. "He's the one supposedly runnin' the conspiracy against 'Grandmother'." He says the latter word so you can hear the scare quotes. "Faster he moves against her, faster we'll be outta here."<br/>
<br/>
"We should light a fire under Prescott, get him to light one under Nate," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Leave it to Prescott," Sam retorts. "He's got things movin'."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jus' a gut feeling I got." He looks over at you. "We're <i>all</i> of us Will Prescott, right? If yer impatient, I'm sure he is too."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt and fall silent until the new fakes of Rick Bredon and Jape Johnson--each now appropriately attired--come back out. Jape--that's really Rick--gives a sour wave before heading into the station; Rick comes over. But you lock the door and roll down the window. "Gimme the sack," you tell him. "Yew can hoof it inta town. Sam, let's go. I'll treat ya ta some spare ribs back at the Shack. <br/>
<br/>
"You forget I know where yew get yer supplies," Sam retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Them gummint men ain't smoked enough," you say. "Feed ya real pork, I will. 'Nother reason to beat it outta town," you add.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You close the front door, clap some feeling back into your arms, and stamp your booted feet. "Aunt Sarah?" you call. "Charity? Anyone?" There's no answer.<br/>
<br/>
Nor should there be. You'd dismissed the staff earlier in the day, and made sure Aunt Sarah was busy in back running little Sally. You trudge down the hallway, briefly catching your reflection--Will Shabbleman's--in the large mirror. The door to the work room is unlocked. A catatonic Will Prescott slouches in Grandmother's chair. From his elbow you pick up the mask. This one is for Nate: It has Rosalie's body but no attached mind. You smirk lightly to yourself before stepping back into the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
But your noises have attracted attention. Aunt Sarah is standing there, with that permanently spooked expression on her face. "Will!" she gasps. "What are you--? Grandmother's in there!"<br/>
<br/>
"I know, Aunt Sarah," you reply. "She called me over. Had an errand for me."<br/>
<br/>
"She didn't tell me."<br/>
<br/>
"She didn't have to, did she?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't hear any phone calls," Aunt Sarah says. She's craned her neck to peer at the door behind you.<br/>
<br/>
"Grandmother's got lots of ways of contacting people," you say. "She also says not to bother her."<br/>
<br/>
Aunt Sarah wrings her hands. "If you say so, Will," she says doubtfully.<br/>
<br/>
You brush past the bony old woman, and she scrambles away. You feel a slight twinge of worry: She might turn out to be a loose end. Her job is to spy on the town through the eyes of her idiot daughter, Sally, and you can't be sure what she's seen. It was enough of a shock to discover that Nate had seen more than you'd intended; and you'd briefly given thought to putting one of your confederates in for Sarah. But it seemed wiser to replace three of the other key people.<br/>
<br/>
Unless Aunt Sarah has seen something, and shares it with Nate. She's very sweet on him.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111112212111111111111111221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Old Ladies Club
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Aunt Sarah has no part in your scheme, but you suddenly see a way of making her useful. So you pull out of Will Shabbleman and back into your own body and into Rosalie's form. "Sarah!" you call as you open the door; the old woman jumps at your harsh summons. "Come in here, girl. I've need of you."<br/>
<br/>
If Aunt Sarah--a woman in her fifties--finds it odd being called "girl" by a seventeen-year-old girl, she doesn't show it as she hurries into the study; and she only looks at you with terror as you pick up one of the several blank masks you have on hand. <br/>
<br/>
"I need to put this to your face," you say, and shove it onto her with no other warning or explanation. <i>It's so easy getting people to do what you want.</i> It's probably the only thing you'll miss about being in Cuthbert, about playing the part of Grandmother.<br/>
<br/>
As the mask copies your latest victim, you pull the nail from your forehead and take off your own mask. You pull Aunt Sarah out of the chair and lay her on the floor, setting another blank mask beside her. Frank and Joe had dropped the <i>Libra</i> and the other supplies off earlier, and you open it to the same spell you'd used on Sam Gibson, Zach Martin, and Jasper Johnson. The study is so small you have to step into the hallway when you activate the sigil, for you don't want to be accidentally struck by stray lightning bolts.<br/>
<br/>
Once you've reduced her to a golem, you paint a strip on its chest with some of your <i>essentia,</i> then copy onto it from your own mask the <i>imago</i> you've been walking around with: Rosalie's body and Grandmother's mind. The new golem blinks its eyes in puzzlement when it sits up. It's a lovely form--weeks of wandering around Cuthbert have left you feeling very appreciative of Rosalie's understated normality--but the eyes have the hard, nasty light of Grandmother inside them. The golem glares at you narrowly.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't get any ideas, Grandmother," you chide it. "You know who's running the show, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"You are, William," she snaps. "Same as you've been running it ever since--" Her smile is sour but a little admiring. "My, but you impress a body with your cunning."<br/>
<br/>
"You know what the new plan is?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head: "I think you're improvising."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. Don't know why I didn't see it before." She scrambles back into the chair as you kneel on the floor to flip through the <i>Libra,</i> but you pull her into the hallway as again you activate a light show, one that this time puts Aunt Sarah's form and mind inside your mask. "I'll be taking over for Aunt Sarah for the duration," you tell her. "You carry on being Grandmother, but listen and take orders from me. Or cousin Will. Or Joe or Frank or Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"Sam, Zach and Jape, you mean."<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. Now come on. We need to swap clothes."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your bones ache and groan, and no matter how you shift yourself you can't get them settled comfortably. Your hands flutter nervously, and you flinch at the slightest sound. As bad as it was being Grandmother, it's far worse being one of her crutches.<br/>
<br/>
It's the eyes that get you--that get Aunt Sarah, that is. The air is full of them, and she more than most is acutely aware of their existence. Most people in Cuthbert have the sense that they're being watched, but Aunt Sarah is one of the few who knows just how pervasive the spy network is. For she sits near the center of it.<br/>
<br/>
With a shudder you pick up the little figurine that is Sarah's constant companion: it and her hands have worn themselves into complementary shapes. The other figurines, as you'd told Frank and Joe, are linked to airborne spirits, but the spirit associated with this one is earthbound. It sits inside the body of little Sally, the idiot girl who silently wanders around Cuthbert, staring and staring, and it guides her.<br/>
<br/>
Or, rather, the person holding this figurine guides her. That is the job of Sarah--little Sally's mother. When the poor little infant was only a newborn, Grandmother had pressed the twin of this figurine into the little babe's head, through the soft spot where her skull hadn't yet knit, destroying her mind and leaving her a puppet. So Sarah spends her days sitting erect and unseeing in a back parlor, looking at the world through her poor little daughter's eyes, nudging her along from place to place, and reporting back to Grandmother all that she sees.<br/>
<br/>
But you've no interest in looking at the world from a Sally's-eye view as you mount the stairs to the bare little bedroom where Aunt Sarah sleeps. Grandmother will tell everyone else in the house to leave "Sarah" alone; and undisturbed in her bedroom you will be able to flit from each of your puppets to the others while golem-Grandmother carries on the job of running the town.<br/>
<br/>
Running it until it's time for Nate Shabbleman to push her from her perch, that is. Now "Grandmother" can die in a way that doesn't touch you.<br/>
<br/>
You lock the doors to the bedroom, sit on the bed to slip off the hard, sensible shoes that Aunt Sarah wears, and flick your mask back to the remote sigil. Then, while grasping Sally's control rod, you return to Will Shabbleman's body.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Why would you want to take it off?" you find yourself replying to Nate's worried query. "You don't want anyone catching you outside it."<br/>
<br/>
"That's a point," Nate says, and leans back in the old wooden chair at his rickety desk in the jail. "But yew know how to get it off, case there's a need?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." You grin unpleasantly as he licks his lips and stares down into the mask. "Havin' second thoughts, Nate?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Jes' a big step is all. I'm just gonna be lookin' like her, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's right. Ain't no way I know of to copy what's on the inside," you lie.<br/>
<br/>
"Then how'm I s'pposedta pull off this impersonation?"<br/>
<br/>
"Grandmother's got ever'body in town trained to jump when she orders. An' ever'one knows who she's lookin' like these days."<br/>
<br/>
"But--"<br/>
<br/>
"You've lived in town long enough, been around the old witch long enough. You can fake it." You smirk lightly. "Same as I can fake it when I'm wearing <i>your</i> face."<br/>
<br/>
"Yew still plan on doin' that bit?" He peers up at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Thought that was part o' the plan, Nate. Less'n you want <i>me</i> givin' you sexual favors after you take over."<br/>
<br/>
He mutters something inaudible, and his expression grows pinched. "When's that gonna happen? I mean, when're yew plannin' on--" He swallows rather than describe the sequel.<br/>
<br/>
"After we take care of Grandmother. I was takin' my life in my hands just by sneakin' in and gettin' this one mask away from her. Be safest to make the final swap after gettin' Grandmother out of the way."<br/>
<br/>
"An' how're we gonna do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Do I gotta do all the plannin' for us? Well, lucky then that I've put some thought into it." You describe the scheme that Rick Bredon had laid out for the conspirators to use. "I figure we do it tomorrow. Early. Wait until you see them leaving the Big House, then you follow and get them to come with you. I'll be waiting."<br/>
<br/>
"It's no sure thing--"<br/>
<br/>
"Ain't no sure things when you're fightin' Grandmother, but this's the way t'do it. She'll never see it coming."<br/>
<br/>
He stares long at you, and you know what he's wondering: <i>Can he trust you?</i><br/>
<br/>
"I want this, Nate," you say, trying to quiet his unstated worries. "I want Grandmother gone. And I want Rosalie in my bed. I'm worried more about what <i>you</i> want."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After leaving Nate, you walk over to Zach's Fish Fry Shack, where the owner will be entertaining his cronies after closing up. There's a poker game in progress, and voices--husky from cigarette smoke and loosened by lots of liquor--are very loud. Zach looks up from the table with a glittering eye and waves you over, but rises and comes to you when you beckon him back. "Siddown a spell, Will," he says. "Lose some o' that pocket money Grandmother likes to give you."<br/>
<br/>
"She don't gimme enough to make it worthwhile," you snort back. "Slight change in plans," you say, dropping your voice. You tell him what you've done with Aunt Sally. "Look for me inside Will here. If I dip inside Joe or Rick, I'll tell you guys that's where I am." He nods. "Also, you and Joe call up your golems, tell them to go with Nate tomorrow when he pulls them over."<br/>
<br/>
"We doing it that soon?"<br/>
<br/>
"The sooner the better. We all want out of here, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Naturally. Means Rick better call the <i>Stellae.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"That's where I'm off to now." You peer over his shoulder at the raucous company. "I think maybe I will join you for a few hands." Zach claps your shoulder and tugs you over to the table.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you shift your focus even before Will Shabbleman has sat down, materializing inside a dim and dirty shack on the outskirts of town. You're naked, in bed with a couple of hot water bottles. Jasper Johnson's bones scream as you shift around and pull the mask off. As Rick Bredon, you dsn't like the look of the place any better when you wake up again. You pick up his cell phone and call Charles Brennan, to whom you outline a plan for infiltrating Cuthbert with Frank and Joe. "I want back up," you tell him. "Miko or Maria."<br/>
<br/>
"Miko's busy," he says. "But if you need Catilindria, I can send you Aparijita."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111122121111111111111112212
author_id: seuzz
title: Fakes Inside Fakes
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Aparijita.</i> She's not one of the <i>Stellae,</i> but a member of the Akshardham, their Indian equivalent. For millennia people with planet-governed <i>essentia</i> have been showing up, and organizing themselves into groups. The <i>Stellae</i> grew up in Europe and the Middle East, and extended into the Americas after Columbus. China and the Indian subcontinent have their own schools with which the <i>Stellae</i> have cooperative relations. "What's she doing in the States," you ask Charles.<br/>
<br/>
"Doing favors for us," Charles says. "If you're asking for Miko, it sounds like you expect some fighting. She's got some skills there--"<br/>
<br/>
"But she's not Malacandran." <i>No, her </i>ousiarchs<i> are Perelandra and Catilindria. You quickly run through the combinations, and realize with a leaping heart that Aparijita's planets are the only two you've not captured for your own constellation.</i> "But we could probably use Perelandra out here," you say. "There's a lot of underbrush. When can you have her out here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Tomorrow evening, if someone can pick her up at the airport. Where's the nearest one?"<br/>
<br/>
"A puddle jumper can bring her in to Saratoga Falls. I'll meet her."<br/>
<br/>
"How are the boys doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty good. They chased the <i>Libra</i> to Cuthbert, and were smart enough to call me in after doing a recon. Why are you asking?"<br/>
<br/>
"Paternal concern, Rick. It's their first real solo mission."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's turned into a humdinger. I don't like this town. I told you about it after my first recon through it."<br/>
<br/>
"John's been researching it. It's no surprise the <i>Libra</i> should have gravitated there. It was probably trying to get there."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't like the thought of it in their hands. Get Aparijita out here quick, so we can hit them hard and fast."<br/>
<br/>
Charles gets to work on setting up the flight, and calls back thirty minutes later with flight information. You then put Jasper's mask back on, and after that withdraw back into your own body. You set Aunt Sarah's alarm for an early wake up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You pace the church basement impatiently, checking your watch. There's no schedule set, but it feels like things are taking too long. You don't relax even when Sam Gibson calls with word that "Frank and Joe" have left the Big House, because that puts the ball in Nate's court, and you've not an enormous amount of faith in his ability to pull things off.<br/>
<br/>
So your nerves are in a tense state when you hear a noise from upstairs, and you scramble back into a corner as voices come nearer: Joe (loud) and Nate (inaudible). "So how long are we gonna have to wait," Joe says impatiently as he and Frank and Nate enter. He does a little double take when he sees you, but says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"Grandmother'll be along in her own sweet time," Nate says. He gestures at the chair sitting under the reassembled Still. "Take a seat." Joe just jams in hands in his pockets.<br/>
<br/>
"Nate said to take a seat," you say. Joe and Frank turn, and both of them start. As well they should, for you've a pistol aimed at them. "I suggest you take it."<br/>
<br/>
They turn at the click of a pistol from Nate's direction. "I'm a pretty good marksman, and even ol' Will ain't likely to miss at this distance," he says. "You, Blondie, sit in the chair. Will, put the other one in the cell." He indicates the small jail-like cell in the corner.<br/>
<br/>
You wave the pistol and cock the hammer. Frank stares at you. If they were the real <i>Stellae</i>, he and Joe would have the guns out of your and Nate's hands by now, and would be feeding you chunks of concrete torn from the floor. But these are the fakes, and they've been instructed to follow your demands. So Joe slumps into the chair, and Frank slowly moves into the cell, where you lock him in.<br/>
<br/>
You bind golem-Joe into the chair while Nate keeps him covered. "You know howda work this thing, Will?" Nate asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I seen Grandmother do it a couple of times. You?"<br/>
<br/>
"Done it myself under her direction a few times recently. 'Tween us, I guess we can get it right." He cocks his head doubtfully. "But she says these two are fakes--"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>know</i> they're fakes. Fed their skins to the Minotaur myself."<br/>
<br/>
"--so it might not work."<br/>
<br/>
"We want 'em out of the way anyhow, Nate. One way or the other." You shrug.<br/>
<br/>
Nate shrugs too, and the two of you set to work. You jam the needle into the back of golem-Joe's neck while Nate busies himself with switches and whatnot. You spot a few errors and try to correct them, and it's only after some argument that Nate lets you set things up correctly. You then switch on the machinery.<br/>
<br/>
It clunks and gurgles in a way that sounds worse than normal, but it works as it should. Maybe the extra noises are because it's trying to extract <i>essentia</i> and <i>anima,</i> which are not inside the victim. But otherwise the golem is built just like a normal person, and it sags and deflates just like the original Joe would have done, leaving only a skin and clothes behind. <br/>
<br/>
Nate then directs golem-Frank into the chair, and destroys him.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd feel better if we knew what they talked to Grandmother about," Nate says as the two of you separate the skins from the clothes. "If we're gonna pull this off--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be such an old lady, Nate. You're almost as bad as Aunt Sarah." He glares at you. "We just need to tell her that we saw Nate and Will skulking around the church. No need to get fancy. Now, who do you want to wear?" You pull the last bit of clothing off Frank's skin. "The blonde guy or this one?"<br/>
<br/>
It seems fitting that Nate should pick Joe. His is the skin you'd originally tempted him with.<br/>
<br/>
You can't help grinning raffishly to yourself as you slip your legs through Frank's mouth, guide them through his baggy skin, and fill his thicker legs with Will Shabbleman's. So many layers of deception: You are remotely controlling the body of a fake Will Shabbleman, and are clothing it with the skin of a fake Frank Durras; and all this in the service of a con at the expense of the man who is clothing himself like Joe Durras. You take an inordinately long time at it, too, drawing out the process of slipping your legs into Frank's; your cock into his; your buttocks into his; your torso into his, and your arms into his. Nate already has Joe fully donned, and has finished dressing in jeans, tennis shoes, and a gray hoodie while you're pulling Frank's head over yours. The world goes dark, then reappears as you snap your eyes open behind Frank's. You rub your face, settling cheeks and jaw more firmly, then run your fingers through your hair. "How do I look, Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like an asshole," he replies in a voice more dour than the chirpy Joe uses. "Come on, shake a leg."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You hear Rosalie in the parlor, barking at someone, when you walk into the Big House. "Leave Sarah alone," she is saying. "She's doing what she's s'pposed to be doing."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes'm," a meek voice replies, and instant later Melody Shabbleman flies out of the parlor, blinking back tears. It bothers you that someone has been trying to disturb your real self (locked in the bedroom upstairs), but put it aside. At least golem-Grandmother has been doing her job of protecting you. <br/>
<br/>
But she's fully in character, too, and glares at you and "Joe" as you tramp into the parlor. "You boys take care of what I put you on," she demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes ma'am," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
"But we seen something else too," you interject. "Do Will and Nate have business out at the church?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because we saw them heading in there on our way back."<br/>
<br/>
She frowns. "You ask after their business?"<br/>
<br/>
"No ma'am. We came straight here."<br/>
<br/>
Grandmother's frown deepens, and doesn't reply. But you rose early and snuck into her bedroom, to tell her what would be happening, and how to play along. And so after a moment's thought she springs to her feet. "Then let's go ask 'em." She brushes masterfully past you, and you and your confederate fall into her wake. Her ass is terribly inviting, and you stare at it all the way over to the church.<br/>
<br/>
But naturally you find the basement deserted. "You sure they came out here," golem-Grandmother asks. "If so they didn't stay long."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that there then?" Joe asks, pointing to a pile of clothes next to the chair.<br/>
<br/>
She strides over, and stares down at them. "Nate's uniform," she murmurs, then raises her head to look around. "What the devil would he be--"<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Joe shouts. You spring over and grab Grandmother about the torso. "Cover her mouth! Don't let her--!" You clap a hand over the struggling girl's jaw. "Get her into the--!"<br/>
<br/>
"Just get that needle into her!" you holler in turn. Grandmother fights, but you keep a tight grip. Still, it's hard for Nate, who's flailing behind you, to get a clear line so he can disable her. Only when you twist the girl around, exposing the back of her neck, can he get the needle in. She gasps and goes rigid. "Never mind the chair! Just hit the switch, Nate!" He leaps over to one of the big pipe and with a heavy <i>click</i> turns The Still on. You set the girl into the chair as the pipes begin to wheeze and groan.<br/>
<br/>
Fifteen minutes later, there's nothing left but a skirt and blouse and sandals, and a skin that looks like the one Rosalie Stewart used to have. "I guess this is when the fun begins," Nate says quietly. He's already pulled off Joe's skin.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211111221211111111111111122121
author_id: seuzz
title: The End of One Conspiracy ...
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"First we need to make up a mask of you, Nate," you remind him. "That was the deal, right? You get to be Grandmother, and I get to be you. Besides, the town constable can't disappear, can he?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess not," Nate grunts doubtfully. "But I should put this mask on before we go back to the Big House."<br/>
<br/>
"That ain't necessary. I can get in, now that Grandmother's out of the way. Be back in a spell."<br/>
<br/>
So you trot back to the house, where you pick up another blank mask and a tub of the special sealant. No one stops you.<br/>
<br/>
Nate is pacing nervously when you return. "We should burn these skins," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll take care of them," you say. "And no, I won't feed them to the Minotaur."<br/>
<br/>
"If that thing gets loose again--"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll dig through Grandmother's things, figure out a way of killing it or something. Now here--" You hold up the blank mask. "Just put this on. It'll copy you for me."<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna be able to handle my job?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've watched you. And you can give me pointers. We're gonna be real close, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"A'course, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, <i>really</i> close. Right?" You lean on the words.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure." But he looks sick. Gingerly, he takes the mask from you. As you direct, he sits on the floor and puts it to his face.<br/>
<br/>
And while he's unconscious, you paint the inside of the Rosalie mask with sealant that will turn it into a golem under your control. You're so quick about it that you get it done even before his mask has reappeared on his face, and you slip Rosalie's mask onto him, trapping him under the disguise. The new "Grandmother" wakes instantly. Despite what you'd told Nate, the mask does contain the old witch's memories, so this golem will be able to play the part of Grandmother perfectly while following your orders.<br/>
<br/>
You catch her bare arm as she reaches for her clothes. "A grandson does love his grandmother," you murmur with a soft leer. "Especially when she's--"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Especially when she's such a tender and inviting thing.</i> There are roses in her cheeks, and a pink flush down her firm limbs. Her nipples are hard and erect in the chill of the church basement. Her breath comes in short, hard gasps as you pull her to her feet and wrap your arms around her.  "Kiss me," you whisper, and open your mouth to hers. She is stiff and unresponsive, but you don't need any help from her as you tug down the front of your pants and guide your throbbing cock inside her. You take her standing up.<br/>
<br/>
Only afterwards do you remember that you're still wearing the skin of a "Frank Durras." You tug it off--it is sticky and wet, and you turn it inside out as it peels off. Freshly nude in Will Shabbleman's form you become excited all over again; you drop down a pad of discarded clothes--Frank's and Joe's and Rosalie's and Nate's--and lay her onto it. "You love me, Rosalie. You love me and would do anything for me." Under this prodding the golem relaxes and reciprocates your affections, wrapping her legs about your hips as you thrust rhythmically inside her.<br/>
<br/>
You're exhausted by this point, but you've got a plot to finish, so you seal up your just-made mask of Nate Shabbleman--like the Rosalie/Grandmother mask, it has a mind band inside it to help with the impersonation--and put it on. You wake to find the girl/woman dressed, but you pull her onto the ground with a grin, and fuck her for a third time in a third face, this time from beneath. "Hell of a lot better'n the lays ol' Nate's been gettin' all this time," you snuffle and snort when you're done. "Ah, fuck you, Nate. Fuck <i>me,</i> I mean. You weren't gonna put out for me, were you, y'old dick." You sit up with a groan and pull the constable's uniform out from under you. Rosalie's getting dressed as you start pulling on the heavy trousers and blue shirt and boots. "Gimme them things," you say to her as you buckle the heavy belt and holster around your hips, and she hands you the skins of Frank and Joe Durras and Rosalie Stewart. You wrap them up and take them back to the jail, where you hang them in the closet, so they can be easily found by any that care to search.<br/>
<br/>
"Any" meaning the <i>Stellae</i> who will come searching for their missing colleagues in a week or so.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"'Lo, Jape," you say as the station's operator hobbles out front to meet you a little before noon. "Been any traffic through?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah." He nods at Rick's car, which you've driven up in. "Yew bring that over fer choppin'?"<br/>
<br/>
"We've need of it. Yew know that. Brung you some clothes, too." You hand him a bundle--Rick Bredon's sports coat and shirt and slacks and socks and shoes. "Aparijita gets in at seven. You're going to meet her, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"So it all went down according to plan?" He leads you back into the station office, which isn't much warmer than it is outside, despite the oil-burning heater.<br/>
<br/>
"Easy peasy. Jes' got back from lunch wit' Sam 'n Zach, fillin' 'em in on it. Had a nice laugh when I tole 'em 'bout puttin' them skins on an' takin' 'em off. Well, Sam laughed. Zach looked a little sick."<br/>
<br/>
"The cadet ain't one for jokes," Jape says as he pulls off his clothes. "You probably thought it was funnier than--" He pauses, and stares hard at you. "Just so we're clear," he says slowly. "You put Nate--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I trapped him inside a fake Grandmother. She'll run things the way we want until the <i>Stellae</i> show up, but won't be able to tell them anything."<br/>
<br/>
"And unless I miss my guess--" he starts.<br/>
<br/>
The world darkens into a night sky dominated by constellations--three of them brighter than the others--before it reappears. "--I'm talking to Will Prescott right now," you find yourself saying as you shake out Rick Bredon's clothes.<br/>
<br/>
Nate Shabbleman pauses and looks a little shifty for a moment. "Yep," he finally says, and grins. "Will Prescott pretending to be Will Shabbleman pretending to be Nate Shabbleman."<br/>
<br/>
You hold his eye, waiting for him to confess that the spirit of Will Prescott is no longer operating his body and intelligence, but he continues to smirk idiotically. <i>Interesting that a fake will continue to pretend to be operated by you. Probably useful, too, since it will keep the other fakes on their toes, not knowing where you are.</i><br/>
<br/>
So you grunt rather than correct him. "You trust me to handle Aparijita?"<br/>
<br/>
That catches him a little off guard. "Sure," he says, and glances down at your clothes. "It's Rick Bredon who'll be taking care of things. Right?" Then he grins again. "Unless I decide to switch points of view and help you take care of whatshername directly."<br/>
<br/>
You pull off the last of Jape's clothes, and glance out the window. "Or maybe you'll be thinking of that girl back there in the Big House. You give her a hard tumble after you got the mask onto Nate?"<br/>
<br/>
"Naturally." He leers. "But she's back at her house now--"<br/>
<br/>
"Meaning you might decide to visit her under some other face." You shake your head. "If you go out there as the kid, looking like Sam Gibson-- Well, I hope you're gentle enough to take the bottom."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs very loudly. "Jes' get a move on, y'old fucker." He indicates that you should finish by taking off Jape's mask and leaving under Rick Bredon's guise.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a six hour drive back to Saratoga Falls, long enough and boring enough that you spend much of it flitting between your various bodies. Will Shabbleman--under Nate's mask--sits in the gas station, watching the road, and you play a few lazy hands of solitaire. You switch over into Frank Durras--under Zach Martin's face--and find him and Sam Gibson cleaning up the church basement after having reduced the fake Rick Bredon to skin and clothes. You reveal yourself to Joe--acting the part of Sam--long enough to tell him that they'll need to take the Rick skin over to Nate's to hang with the others. While Zach is thus preoccupied, you switch over into Joe/Sam's consciousness long enough to arrange the other pieces of your upcoming escape from Cuthbert by piling up the Durras truck with supplies and driving it to the outskirts of town.<br/>
<br/>
But you spend most of the time concentrating on the drive.<br/>
<br/>
Aparijita's flight arrives on time, you meet her at the baggage claim. She and Rick Bredon have met only a few times, and only briefly. But she recognizes him, and you recognize her. Her skin is dark, the color of black, fertile earth; her eyes are liquid pools; and her thick mane of hair seems to crackle with electricity. Her limbs are strong, and even in jeans and a jacket she exudes an aura of power. A floral scent wafts from her--not perfume, but the verdant essence of Perelandra itself.<br/>
<br/>
You exchange blunt and rather pedantic pleasantries; Rick isn't one for small talk, and Aparajita seems wilted from her flight. Magnanimously, you wheel her carryon out to the car; she doesn't thank you.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, she doesn't speak for the longest time, even after you've put her in the passenger seat of the sedan and leaned over to quickly slap an <i>anima</i> band onto her forehead. She seems wary when she wakes, and only mutters a quick "Will Prescott, as if you didn't know" when you ask who you're now talking to. Only when you're back on the highway does she expand. "And am I talking to myself as well?" she asks in Aparijita's dulcet tones.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Malaika is in Olympia. Aparijita was supposed to take her back to the Akshardham for some special training. Do we want to try to seize her too?"</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111112212111111111111111221212
author_id: seuzz
title: ... And a Return to Home
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Malaika Mbulu.</i> The successor-in-waiting. The girl who sooner or later--probably sooner--will become the head of the <i>Stellae Errantes.</i> If you were able to seize her, as you've seized Frank and Joe and Rick--and as you plan to seize Aparijita--you'd have control that powerful, esoteric order in a few years. It's an idea you'd toyed with, but set aside as too risky.<br/>
<br/>
And it still strikes you as too risky. "We can't do anything with her, not directly, not as long as Charles and Fyodor and Margaret are still around," you say after a long moment's thought.<br/>
<br/>
"This is a perfect chance," Aparijita insists.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't fight me on this," you tell her. "I'm in charge, and I'm playing not to lose. Thing to do--" you continue over her attempted interruption. "Is to wait for her to succeed to the office. Then find a new <i>Stellae</i> before the others do. We're due for another Eldibrian/Catilindrian, for instance. Haven't seen an Arbolean/Kenandandran in a while either. We find them, do a substitution, and get them alone with Malaika when the time is ripe. <i>That's</i> when we make our play for all the marbles."<br/>
<br/>
Your passenger acquiesces. "Where are we going now? To Cuthbert?"<br/>
<br/>
"No need. The others are just waiting for my call to pull out. We gotta couple of houses here and some arrangements to make. Including getting <i>you</i> taken apart."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you like me the way I am," she purrs. "Aparijita is fully trained--"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't thought that far ahead. Only far enough to know that--" <br/>
<br/>
You look over at her. The <i>anima</i> band is inside her, but with Rick's eyes you can see the malignant stain on her forehead.<br/>
<br/>
"Only far enough to know that Rick Bredon won't be surviving," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You drive over to the house Joe and Frank had been renting, where you find the mailbox overflowing, and a musty smell inside the house. You take Aparijita into the garage, and she watches with cursory interest as you use your notes to scribble the complicated sigils on the oil-stained concrete ground. You set out bottles and masks in the necessary places, then rip the <i>anima</i> band before she can react. You throw her unceremoniously onto the sigil and activate the spell. Her <i>imago</i> leaps in a great flame and copies itself into a mask. After that, with more care and leisure, you strip her of her own <i>anima</i> and <i>essentia</i>, leaving a bare, clay-like golem. You carefully label the bottles but do nothing more with them; later, you will have to decide whether to split her <i>essentia</i> into its two components, and put them into some new combination. She was right: it's a good combination of elements, and Aparijita wore them well. You'd rather regret not getting to know her better.<br/>
<br/>
When that's all done you wolf down what's left of the edible food in the pantry and call your confederates in Cuthbert. "Time to collect Aunt Sarah," you tell Sam Gibson. "Time to come home."<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't we gonna add Aparwhatshername's skin to Nate's collection?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"We're leaving enough behind. You got all the stuff out of the church?"<br/>
<br/>
"All stowed away."<br/>
<br/>
"Then Aunt Sarah will meet you downstairs at the house."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The suitcase is light in your hand as you totter down the staircase. You jump and squeal a little as Melody materializes around the banister on the ground floor. "Sarah, what are you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Grandmother's sending me away," you reply with a flutter. "My health--" You swallow. "It's not all it should be."<br/>
<br/>
Melody watches you gravely, then catches your arm as you pass. "Sending you away," she echoes. "Where is she--?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you whisper back, feigning great fright. "She just told me-- Oh, Melody, do think of me." You clutch her, and she clutches you back. Then, putting on a brave face, you go into the parlor. The golem-witch of Cuthbert looks up at you in puzzlement. "I'm ready to go now, Grandmother," you say.<br/>
<br/>
She stares back at you with a lack of comprehension. But the golem can sense your presence, and knows not to argue. "Godspeed, girl," she says, and looks away.<br/>
<br/>
But you've one last set of instructions, and bend over her to whisper in her ear. "Keep Nate close," you murmur. "Listen to him. Do as he says."<br/>
<br/>
She shudders, but nods.<br/>
<br/>
You straighten up--as best you can with Sarah's bent bones--at the sound of a car engine. Outside, Zach Martin scoots over as you get into the truck cab next to him. Sam Gibson leans to look past him at you. "You plannin' on lookin' like that all the way back to Saratoga Falls, Willie boy?" he cackles.<br/>
<br/>
"No more than you're planning on looking like a three hundred pound sack of shit, Joe Durras," you retort. He laughs. "But not till we get onto the highway. Come on, let's get going."<br/>
<br/>
As you blow past the gas station, you shift faces, bringing up the remote sigil, and plunge into Will Shabbleman's golem-like body. To your disgust, you find yourself out back of the station, jerking off into the darkness. You snort and tuck yourself back in. "We're out of here," you say aloud to yourself. "Stick close to Grandmother. When strangers show up--probably about in a week--call Frank Durras's cell number."<br/>
<br/>
Then you pull back into your own body. It feels stiff and ungainly in Aunt Sarah's frock, and Joe laughs long and loudly at your discomfort.<br/>
<br/>
Until you flip your face to his, putting a twin of his inside the dress.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Fuck, that was an adventure and a half," Joe says the next morning as he shuffles into the dining room, clad only in his boxers. "Glad it's over, though. Shit, some of the girls up there were starting to look <i>good.</i>" He shudders.<br/>
<br/>
Frank, dressed in track pants and a t-shirt, slurps from his coffee. "But we're still not set up here." He looks between you and Rick, who are nursing coffees of your own. "We can't go back to Eastman, not after missing so many classes without an excuse."<br/>
<br/>
"You couldn't go back anyway," Rick says. "Frank and Joe Durras are now just a couple of skins hanging up in Cuthbert. We shouldn't even be <i>here.</i> We need to hide out at Gandalf's until we figure out our next move."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright," Joe grumbles. "Thanks for letting me sleep in till--" He glances at the clock. "Fuck! Seven? No wonder I feel like I only got four hours of sleep." He scratches his scalp deeply.<br/>
<br/>
"Move it, kid!" Rick shouts, and Joe vanishes in a blur, to reappear only seconds later in fresh jeans and a button-down shirt.<br/>
<br/>
"We should get rid of Blackwell, too," you say as you get up. "Burn his house down. No loose ends."<br/>
<br/>
"But where do we hide out then?" Frank asks as he and Rick stand in turn. "Straussler's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Lots of room there," you reply. "From there we can infiltrate--"<br/>
<br/>
You stop and blink stupidly to yourself. This is the place you've been fighting your way toward since Frank and Joe showed up in your life: a secure spot, safe from pursuit or persecution, where you can plot out the rest of your life as you wish. But you've made no plans beyond getting to this spot.<br/>
<br/>
"We could get back into Eastman by using Straussler," Joe says. "We got friends there. Friendships to renew. Friends to recruit." He grins. "Friends to <i>become.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"There's Westside, too," Frank says, glancing at you. "There's another Will Prescott out there, and he's probably been wondering what happened to us."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you guys thinking about high school still?" Rick says. "Of all the juvenile--"<br/>
<br/>
"'Cos it's <i>high school,</i> man," Joe exclaims. "There's parties and girls and--" His mouth falls open. "Oh, fuck, forget high school! We should get into Keyserling!"<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell's set up to give us that," Frank says, cocking an eyebrow.<br/>
<br/>
"We need to get rid of him," Rick says.<br/>
<br/>
"Which one of us is Will Prescott pretending to be," Joe demands with a frown. He looks around, and does a double take at you. "Oh yeah. Looking like that, it'd be <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, do I get to make the decisions now?" you ask with heavy sarcasm.<br/>
<br/>
"Unless--" Joe peers at you narrowly. "You got that special mask of yours nailed to your face? None of us can--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course, and no you can't."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I guess it's not a democracy anymore," he sighs. "But if you want my advice--" He pauses, as though expecting you to interrupt with a demurral. When you just continue to listen politely, he actually looks pleased. "Well, if you want my advice," he says again, "we'll go back to one of the high schools."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were suddenly hot for college."<br/>
<br/>
"Time for that next year," he shrugs. "You only get to be a senior once."<br/>
<br/>
"Eastman's too obvious a place to hide, Joe," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"So make it Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"Keyserling," Rick says firmly.<br/>
<br/>
They all look at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's go see Blackwell," you say in lieu of making a decision.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you do think about it on the drive over. You feel like Rick's right: There are investigations to pursue at Keyserling, and Blackwell (and Melody Weiss's golem) gives you an entre there. And to return to high school, after all you've done ...<br/>
<br/>
... Actually, it might be kind of a trip. You feel very powerful now. There's no one at either school that could stand up to you.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111122121111111111111112212121
author_id: rugal
title: Preparing for the College Life
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So yeah, I've decided: no high school," you state as you stand outside of Rick's car in the street in front of Blackwell's villa, "The university it is."<br/>
<br/>
Joe looks a bit crestfallen at that, "Man, really? Eastman would've been a trip to run," he states, "So many babes there! There's this one, Maddy; she's got boobs like... like whoa!"<br/>
<br/>
"That's nice and all, but no," you state more firmly.<br/>
<br/>
"And just think of what you could do at Westside," Joe continues, "You could have Gordon under you control. Chelsea under your control. You could become Mansfield and have Lisa for yourself. You could become some other guy and steal her from him." He then gives you a mischievous look, "Or you could just become Lisa yourself."<br/>
<br/>
That thought does give you a momentary pause. The thought of plunging your cock into Lisa gets you excited. The thought of Lisa's body being your body is tantalizing. But in the end it passes and you shake your head. "Look, I've decided alright? Keyserling it is," you then begin ticking off the benefits on your fingers, "One, Blackwell's villa's a good base for us; large, out of the way, filled with all the material we'll need. Two, having Blackwell's mind helping us would be a huge boon."<br/>
<br/>
"That's all well and good, man, but... high school," Joe says a bit desperately. <br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes at that and continue, "And three," this time it's your turn to give a mischievous smile towards him, "co-eds and frat parties."<br/>
<br/>
Joe's eyes go wide, "Of course! A bunch of sorority sisters having a good time. Truly we live in a beautiful country," Joe says with mock patriotism as he jokingly begins humming the Star-Spangled Banner.<br/>
<br/>
"Pipsqueak's making the right choice," Rick says motioning towards you, "Besides, Keyserling's a place you guys might want to look into in the future. It's a place that gives me a bad feeling so if you're looking to grow as magicians and take on the Stellae..."<br/>
<br/>
You nod and then clap Joe on the back, "So it's decided then: we're gonna be college students," you then turn to Rick, "I guess we'll see you later on. You're going to have to get that pile of junk back to Cuthbert."<br/>
<br/>
"This 'pile of junk' has been through a lot. Had some good times and a whole lotta bad ones," he replies.<br/>
<br/>
The sentimentality surprises you until you realize that he's referring as much to himself as he is to his car, "I'm really sorry, Rick," you state, "I wish it didn't have to come to this."<br/>
<br/>
Rick, for his part, just gives a shrug before putting the car into gear and driving off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yo prof! You home," Joe calls out as the three of you burt through Blackwell's front doors and into the foyer.<br/>
<br/>
"Heavens," Blackwell exclaims as he enters from the living room, "I was wondering where you were. I was worried sick!"<br/>
<br/>
"Prof, you've gotta stop lying," Joe says, clapping Blackwell on the shoulder as he walks by, "you're no good at it."<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to be seeing a lot more of us anyway," you add as the four of you walk towards the living room, "We're going to into Keyserling and we're and we're going to need a place to do all of our research, store our stuff, perform our too spooky hocus pocus..."<br/>
<br/>
"He's saying we're going to be using this place as our base," Frank states.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, yes I had gotten the implication," Blackwell replies rather dryly.<br/>
<br/>
"That's not going to be a problem, is it," you ask turning to look at him.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell stiffens and you think that he probably wants to say something but know that at this point he knows he really doesn't have much of a say in the matter. So he shakes his head. "No," he mutters, "there will not be any problem."<br/>
<br/>
"Good," you reply simply, "So then let me ask you: we have something we're going to be working on. Something big and loud. Which would be the better set up for it, the workroom or the basement?"<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell gives it a moment of thought, "The basement most likely. It is larger, no clutter and any noise would probably not escape as much."<br/>
<br/>
"You see that? He's already paying dividends," you say to Joe with a smug smile that he dismisses with a wave of his hand, "Anyway we're going to need some equipment. You got a phone?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cell phone, "Still here, thankfully."<br/>
<br/>
"Good, call up Straussler and tell him to drop by," you tell him, "The two of you are going to go out and get some of the stuff we need."<br/>
<br/>
"Stuff like what," Joe asks.<br/>
<br/>
"A sheet of steel to act as our little magical operating table," you explain, "Some tools too."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you know Straussler's still going to be Joe's control after what happened," Frank asks, eying you skeptically.<br/>
<br/>
You just shrug in response, "Only way to know is by trying," you state.<br/>
<br/>
Both brothers look at you for a moment but then Joe breaks into a wide grin, "Look at you," he exclaims, "Didn't think you'd ever actually sac up."<br/>
<br/>
You flip him off and he laughs before calling up Straussler. After a brief conversation Joe confirms that Straussler is still under his control and gives you a thumbs up. It's not long before Straussler makes his way over and then him and Joe are off to get the needed supplies.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You sigh as you plop down onto the couch in the living room. You're still waiting for Rick, as well as Joe and Jonathan, to come back. "Fuck," his the only thing you can say. This causes Frank to eye you, "Nothing, it's just this is the first time in a long time I've really had to rest. Not since those Hills Have Eyes rejects took me."<br/>
<br/>
Frank raises an eyebrow, "Weren't those people still your family," he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You wave off his concerns, "Distant family. I always hated having to go up there and actually spending all that time there," you shudder, "No, I'm not going to miss any of it. That place was fucked up. To be honest it's an abomination. You've got my anima in you though, you should know all this."<br/>
<br/>
Frank seems to ignore that however. "Even still, it did help give you the knowledge for what we're going to be doing going for," he states, "The separation of imago, essentia, anima and substantia."<br/>
<br/>
"It did, yeah, but it doesn't change how I feel about the place," you state before adding emphatically, "Fuck Cuthbert."<br/>
<br/>
"So what are we even going to do here," Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug, "For right now? Get set up, try and better our knowledge, see how much of this place we can take over," you say rather flippantly, "This is all the lead up to the main event anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Even still, it's probably not good to go in half-cocked."<br/>
<br/>
You dismiss his concern, "There's no 'going in half-cocked' about it right now," you state, "At the moment we're going to be concerned with getting some identities and figuring out who we can put this extra essentia in." You then smile a bit, one that means you've got wheels turning, "Or try to figure out a way of <i>adding</i> essentia. Give us extra ousiarchs."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, I've been meaning to ask about that," Frank states before quickly adding, "The identities and partners. We've got a way into the college right now, you know."<br/>
<br/>
"Melody," you say and Frank nods, "You think she'd be good?"<br/>
<br/>
"She gives us a foothold," he states before hitting a realization, "She's organized, clever, good with languages... she'd make a good Kenandandran or Virtrilbian. A good home for you or Joe."<br/>
<br/>
You laugh, "You think Joe would want to be Melody? Figure someone like him would want a better pair of tits if he had the choice."<br/>
<br/>
"Honestly, he's so horny I don't think he really cares," Frank replies, "What about you? Would you have any problem being Melody?"<br/>
<br/>
Yet another shrug, "I dunno. Probably not, there's worse places to be I guess," you state, "She's unassuming and quiet so she'd make a good place to look for potential other faces for you guys though. And actually having her mind combined with mine would probably help us a lot in the book. Like you said, she's clever."<br/>
<br/>
So it goes and you figure that once you've got everything you need set up, you'll call Melody out here and in due time you'll no longer be Will Prescott physically but Melody Weiss. But a thought does hit you: you'd be Melody because being her would be a huge boon potentially in helping you get through the book. But Melody in general would be a huge boon whether you were her or had your anima running her. So do you really have to become Melody Weiss? Or would you be better off giving her your anima and bringing her in as one of your partners?</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121122111221111122121111111111111112212122
author_id: seuzz
title: But Where Is Home?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Yes, you want to return to high school. There's nothing that says you can't explore the university from that vantage point. And there will be fun to be had.<br/>
<br/>
But which one? Westside is familiar ground to you; but "Will Prescott" is still deeply unpopular over there. On the other hand, that very fact would make it a delicious challenge.<br/>
<br/>
But you've also an obvious way of getting into Eastman, via Jonathan Straussler. It seems a waste to not make use of that fabulously rich perch.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211221112211111221211111111111111122121221
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: A New Kid on the Block
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I don't want to skip ahead in my life," you say as Rick parks the car in front of Blackwell's villa.<br/>
<br/>
"So you just want to jerk around at your old high school," Rick sighs. "Typical. If you were looking at it from my point of view--"<br/>
<br/>
"Call it 'practice,' Rick," you retort. "And I wasn't going to go back to Westside. Too many bad memories." You look over at the others. "I was thinking of moving over to Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"And we already have Straussler in hand," Frank says thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly." You open the car door. "Come on, let's go tell the professor his services are no longer required."<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Blackwell is on his way out to the university when you barge in on him. "Good heavens," he exclaims. "Where have you been? I've been worried."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit," Frank says. "You were hoping we'd disappeared so you'd have the run of things again." Blackwell scowls at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Go to class," you order him. "We've got some stuff to do here. Bring Melody Weiss back with you when you return."<br/>
<br/>
"The girl could be useful for getting in the university," Rick says after Blackwell is gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I don't see any reason to get rid of her," you reply. You notice he's hanging back in the foyer. "What's wrong with you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who says there's anything wrong with me? Everything's working like it should." He looks around furtively. "Too well."<br/>
<br/>
"You have to get your car back up to Cuthbert anyway," you say. "For the Stellae to find. How about you take care of that while the rest of us deal with the house."<br/>
<br/>
Rick chews on the inside of his cheek, and then with a shrug departs.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
The library looks disused, and you and Joe and Frank look over the many shelves of books with mounting despair at the amount of work that faces you. It would be easiest to burn most them with the house, but you don't know which ones will ultimately prove useful. "Go get us some boxes, Frank," you say. "Lots and lots of book boxes."<br/>
<br/>
"I should take care of the house guardian first," he replies, nodding at the vampire cyclops-monkey in its niche. "This time of day it'll be at its weakest."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll go get boxes," Joe says. "No point in starting to unload shelves until we've got a place to stow them. Blackwell's already got them nicely organized. What're you gonna do in the meantime?" he asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Sort out the workroom upstairs." You watch Frank as he strides over to the guardian. You nearly call out a warning as he grasps it, but he's got it well in hand. He flinches a little as he pulls it from its niche.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you're not getting any blood outta me, you son of a bitch," he grins. "Bite my mailed fist, will you? I hope you chipped a tooth."<br/>
<br/>
While your partners are away you scour the house for any and all useful trinkets, potions and ingredients, and pack them up in some cardboard boxes you find in the laundry room. Then after Frank and Joe are back, the three of you start unloading shelves and packing boxes. "I guess we'll stow these at Straussler's," you observe as you work. "Oh, what did you do with him when you left town for Cuthbert?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno," Joe grunts, wiping a dirty hand across his dirty brow. "That was the first Joe Durras handling things. I've only got the memories you had in your mask. But I assume he shoved Straussler back under his own golemized mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Better check. Call and get him out here."<br/>
<br/>
Joe's hunch proves correct: Jonathan Straussler arrives a little after noon (bringing a pizza, as Joe had ordered him), and under his mask you find the still-slumbering Eastman student. "Is there room at your place for all these books?" you ask the golem when you've got it reactivated.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a big place," he says with lazy confidence. "Dad'll find room for 'em all."<br/>
<br/>
"It's going to have to a secure place," Frank says. "Someplace no one can get into except us."<br/>
<br/>
"They make locks for things like that."<br/>
<br/>
It looks like it'll work out fine: Since Joe's essentia is back in play, the Straussler-bot is obeying him; that means that his dad's golem will obey Frank.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, that's something that hadn't occurred to me," you say aloud as the thought strikes you. The others look at you with cocked eyebrows. "Golems. There's a limit to the number we can put out there. I can only have six golems under my control. Seven, if I want to take a big risk. But it'll be the same with you guys, and with Rick and Rosalie and the other one, once I've got them up and running. Six golems for each of you guys. That's thirty-six golems for our gang to run on the side."<br/>
<br/>
Frank and Joe exchange a glance. "Thirty-six golems for us?" Joe asks with lazy insolence. "Or for you? Since you can run our golems from inside our bodies?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't going to mention that little dividend," you say smugly.<br/>
<br/>
"Thirty-six little spies and slaves," Joe muses. "All inside Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
"Straussler's dad and Melody are on the outside," you say. "Maybe one or two more, if they seem useful."<br/>
<br/>
"But how useful are a bunch of golems inside Eastman?" Frank says. "I know you're thinking about 'practice', but you have to think long-range."<br/>
<br/>
"I will. But the ones who'll be useful long-range will also be useful at the school. Guys who are good inside the school will be good outside of it."<br/>
<br/>
"We could give you some names,'' Frank looks at Joe and Straussler, before returning his gaze at you, ''Unless you prefer to snoop inside our heads yourself.''<br/>
<br/>
''No'', you quickly try to extinguish that thought from yourself and from your other associates, ''But I'm going to get one more opinion.'', you try to suppress a sly smile as you finish the sentence.<br/>
<br/>
Your declaration is met with confusion much to your delight, after all, you just managed to out think Joe and Frank. But the feeling of satisfaction doesn't last very long. Joe notices the way you've been looking at Straussler.<br/>
<br/>
Joe claps his hands with delight. "Oh! Of course! That's perfect!"<br/>
<br/>
''What's perfect?'', Frank sheepishly turns to his brother.<br/>
<br/>
''Travers!'', Joe says excitedly, ''Isn't it?''. He doesn't need to wait for your confirmation, ''That's brilliant! I could use Straussler's mask too and give you a hand.''<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Eager as you are to move on Monique Travers, you've got to get your own forces organized. That means figuring out what to do with the various minds and bottles of essentia you've extracted. The problem grows more acute when Rick returns a little after ten, having driven back into town in Jape's tow truck. "I'll dump it someplace in the morning," he says as he slouches in the living room with a stiff drink. "Or one of you will. You don't need me anymore, and I'd just as soon end it all tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about, Rick?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
Rick glances over at you. "It's no fun being Rick Bredon," you explain on his behalf. "And we don't need his Malacandran ousiarch. We'll take him apart, split him up like we did with Rosalie, and recombine his essentia."<br/>
<br/>
"You want to do the same to us?" Joe asks, looking alarmed.<br/>
<br/>
"No, you guys are fine the way you are. There's also that Indian woman to think about. Catilindria and Perelandra," you murmur thoughtfully to yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"We've also got Glundandra from Rosalie," Joe says. "You'll get Eldibria from Rick--"<br/>
<br/>
"So there's a couple of ways you can do things," Rick says. "Aparijita suggested leaving her essentia intact. Pair her essentia with her memories, and you'll have a full-fledged Stellae working with you."<br/>
<br/>
"We'd have another one if we left you in one piece," Frank points out. "I'd hate to lose you, Rick."<br/>
<br/>
"I love you too, Frank," Rick says with some waspishness. "But boy-Merlin is right. You only need one of my ousiarchs. Easiest thing to do is to merge my Eldibrian with the Glundandran you got from Rosalie."<br/>
<br/>
"But where do we put it?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Where do we put Aparijita's essentia?" Joe replies rhetorically. "We put it, and the Glundandran-Elidibrian combo, inside someone new. A new recruit. Two of them."<br/>
<br/>
"They won't know how to manage their prodigies."<br/>
<br/>
"With Aparijita's memories," Rick says, "your Catilindrian-Perelandran will know how to manage them. The other one would have to start from scratch." He pours a long drink down his throat. "If you split up Aparijita's essentia and swap things around, you'd have two of them you'd have to train." He looks over at you and sniffs. "Well, three of them. The sprog still has a lot of growing to do."<br/>
<br/>
"So what are the combinations?" Joe asks, pulls a small notebook out of the end table by the sofa. "Catilindria-Perelandra," he mutters. "I don't know what Aparijita's skill set was--"<br/>
<br/>
"Manna," Rick says. "She was like a battery, could draw life force from the vegetation and share it with her colleagues. She was also good at manipulating plant life, like a dryad. She also had a lot of sex appeal. Could make the sap rise in anyone she concentrated on."<br/>
<br/>
Joe turns pink, and his gaze grows distant. Only when you clear your throat does he retrieve himself from his reverie. "Okay," he says, shaking himself. "If we leave her alone, we could pair Glundandra and Eldibria. What would that be like?"<br/>
<br/>
"Depends on who gets it," Rick says. "They're gonna be a boss, that's clear, but what kind of boss depends on the recipient's personality. Same thing with Eldibria. I doubt they'll see what I can see. But if it pairs with a management type--" He rubs his cheek. "The human body is mostly water. The person who gets that combination is probably going to be extremely persuasive and good at managing emotions."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like you'd be setting yourself up a rival," Frank says to you.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112112211122111112212111111111111111221212211
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: When A Good Plan Comes Together
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Frank's point troubles you until Rick speaks again: "That doesn't matter. Whoever gets Glundandra, in whatever combination, is going to seem like a rival.”<br/>
<br/>
“What would the other combinations be like,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“Glundandra and Perelandra,” muses Rick. “You should have taken Malaika for that. Could end up with a pretty little thing. The kind of leader who inspires devotion in her followers. As for Glundandra and Catilindria: A revolutionary. Someone who turns the established order on its head.”<br/>
<br/>
That gives you food for thought. Every combination seems to have potential. “If I paired Glundandra with one of those two, what would the spares be like?”<br/>
<br/>
Rick snorts a little at the question. “The last guy we had with Eldibria and Catilindria had direct water control powers, but he was abrasive. Ended up going off the deep end.” You frown, that doesn’t sound so good. “Perelandra and Eldibria means you end up with someone like Maria Cardozo – Good at making people love her. It doesn’t matter though, as long as you’ve got that magic mask, you can be them any time you like.”<br/>
<br/>
That reassures you; better, the thought of using that kind of power to help manage erstwhile colleagues--partners who are independent of you, even if they share your anima--is also appealing.<br/>
<br/>
Though Rick has pointed out it would be easier to combine Glundandra with Eldibria, you instead tell Frank and Joe that you are going to keep your options option and maybe switch the ouisiarchs around. Flexibility is important, you tell Frank and Joe. They accept your decision without any kind of demurral. Whether that is because they agree or because they’ve just been reminded of your ability to make the decision for them, you don’t know.<br/>
<br/>
"Great," Rick says. "If we're finally done with that, I'm ready to put an end to this farce. This house is creepier than anything back in Cuthbert. Let's stain it with Rick Bredon's blood and be done with it." He wobbles as he stands up.<br/>
"Where do want us to set up the dissection table," you ask Rick.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care," he says, his voice rising. "Come find me upstairs when you get it figured out." Swaying, he strides from the room.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I said I hated to lose him," Frank says quietly when he's gone. "But it looks like it would be a kindness to--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know what you mean," you say. "Joe, how about you get some of Blackwell's knockout drops, put him under. He seems a little--"<br/>
<br/>
But Joe's already vanished in a blur.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
You leave Rick sleeping until morning, and put him under again at mid-morning. That's because after talking things over with Frank and Joe, you've decided to expand your arsenal of tools.<br/>
<br/>
It's a great pain having to draw any sigil, but the one you've had to use when dissecting and reanimating people is an especially heavy-duty one. It's too big to fit inside a book--and you know of no tricks to reduce it in size--so you decide to make up a life-size permanent model that you can cart around. "Now I understand why they turned it into a machine in Cuthbert," you say. "It's just easiest."<br/>
<br/>
But your model will be more portable. Frank drives out to metal-supply store and returns with a large sheet of steel and some tools. Over the course of the rest of the day--a Sunday, which makes it seem extra-blasphemous--you carve the hyper-complicated sigils into the sheet; the line work glitters in the light with bitter blues and lurid crimsons. Meanwhile, Frank and Joe transfer the boxed up books to Straussler's over the course of several trips.<br/>
<br/>
"The old man set us up with a special room," Joe says after one such trip. "Used to be a ballroom or something. We've told him to buy a lot of shelves, and he'll put an electronic lock on it."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll need someplace for this thing," you say, indicating your half-finished job.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, there'll be room enough for it there. Plenty of room for dancing and necromancy."<br/>
<br/>
The latter word gives you some pause, but you put it aside to return to your work.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
You become increasingly nervous as the time for making the final transference comes closer and closer. You have the feeling that you're overlooking something. But after talking it all over with Frank and Joe and Rick (awake again, and ready for his final disposition), you decide it's all set. Everything you need from Blackwell's has been moved to the Straussler's. Frank and Joe have also emptied their own house of the few things they will want. As twilight deepens, you spread some magical arson stuff throughout Blackwell's villa.<br/>
<br/>
But the next to the last thing is to take care of Rick. He disrobes and lays onto the metal sheet. You activate sigils, and bit by bit he dissolves into his constituents: a bare golem; two bottles of essentia; a bottle containing your own anima (retrieved from Rick); and his imago preserved in case of later need in a mask.<br/>
<br/>
"You think he'd be okay without his essentia giving him those visions?" you ask Frank as the three of you drive away from the villa.<br/>
<br/>
"I think he was too damaged," Frank says thoughtfully. "And how would you bring him back? Put that mask onto someone?"<br/>
<br/>
"We've found lots of ways of doing lots of things," you say. "One of those spells, you know, lets you modify memories inside people. Maybe we could merge his memories with someone else's? Give them a double set?"<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks over at you. "Maybe you could do it somehow with Aparijita too," he says. "That way at least whoever you give one of her ousiarchs to, they’d at least know a little about using them.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t be an idiot Frank,” says Joe. “Chances are giving someone a different second ouisiarch would change the way the first one works too. She’d be learning from scratch again either way.” He is interrupted by a flash of light behind you: the villa, exploding in a fireball. "Pretty fireworks," he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Then it's out to the Straussler's, where you transfer the rest of your loot to the ballroom: It's a vast, dim, echoing space, paved with tile, that's easily ten times the size of Blackwell's old library. You waste no time breaking it in: You put Straussler onto the sigil, lift the mask from him, and reduce him to bare substantia. But Joe takes the mask instead of putting it onto the golem. "I've been missing this," he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
"Just in time for classes tomorrow," you say after he wakes up again.<br/>
<br/>
"Just in time for Monique," he smiles as he stretches and rises.<br/>
<br/>
''Talking about Monique,'' you pause and look slowly at Joe and Frank, ''Have you got any candidates yet?''<br/>
<br/>
''Well, Frank and I have been discussing and we both came to the same conclusion. Alyssa Randal.'', he then grabs Straussler's phone and fiddles with it, while you ponder at the name. <i>Alyssa Randal</i>, you've surely heard that name before.<br/>
<br/>
''Here's her Facebook profile,'' Joe hands Straussler's phone to you.<br/>
<br/>
You look at it thoughtfully, and browse through her uploaded photos, ''Isn't she the head cheerleader? Eastman's I mean,'' you say, finally remembering that you've seen her in one of the basketball matches between Westside and Eastman. ''Is she a lot like Chelsea?''<br/>
<br/>
''Yes and no,'' Joe takes the phone back, ''Eastman's a lot different than Westside.''<br/>
<br/>
''Okay,'' you mumble, not really knowing what to say, ''Anyone else?''<br/>
<br/>
''Alyssa's the closest to our aims and our liking,'' Frank grins, "Yeah, even though I'm like this, it's still you here,'' he motions to his head.<br/>
<br/>
''Let me see what Monique thinks." With that, you lay down on a sleeping bag you've laid out earlier and brush over your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Monique's mind appears before you. Frustration and exasperation abound in her mind. When you inspect the source of her unrest, you discover it's again related to math problems. So you force a tighter grip on her mind. You stroke her mind, not unlike petting a kitten and her mind soon purrs under your ministration.<i> I should take a break</i>, you think her thoughts for her, <i>Have a lie down</i><br/>
<br/>
As soon as she does that, you dredge out everything in her mind about Alyssa Randal. It doesn't take long before you get to know the girl that Joe and Frank have chosen, and she doesn't disappoint.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
''I don't get it,'' Alyssa's gaze falls on Jonathan-disguised Joe and then to you in Monique's body, ''You want me in your team? What team?'' The three of you are gathered in Jonathan's private suite after school has ended. You let Joe know about your decision that morning and he must've done a fair bit of persuasion to get Alyssa to cancel whatever plans she has in the afternoon to meet in Straussler's mansion.<br/>
<br/>
''We want you to be our new partner,'' Jonathan explains, which doesn't really help with Alyssa's understanding of whatever he is talking about. ''Frank would explain it better,'' he adds, and flashes an enigmatic smile as the door bursts open to reveal Frank standing on the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
''Frank?,'' Alyssa spins around wildly, ''Is Joe here too?!''. Frank gives a sly smile and clenches his hand. Immediately Alyssa freezes and topples over, but quickly, Jonathan catches her.<br/>
<br/>
Swiftly, you take out a blank mask with a mind band soldered on it and slam it against Alyssa's face. ''Quickly,'' you breathe as Frank lifts the unconscious figure of Alyssa Randal as if she's as light as feather. There should be enough time for you to make it to the makeshift library before Alyssa regains consciousness, but you don't want to take the chances.</span></div></div>


